I leave my words etched in stone for those to come after me.
Stone… wood… blood… flesh… All of the elements of construction known to Man have formed the frame of this monstrosity. I was chosen to fashion this part of the Machine and I know that I will never live to see the light of day, nor see my work completed. One could say that I am yet another Aspect of its operation.
My part of the Machine seems to be something similar to the Labyrinths of Old Legend. I’ve lain traps and puzzles which – despite having personally created them – I fear I could never cross again. Each time I’ve tried to include a loophole, the Machine has ‘repaired’ it on its own.
I’ve recieved blueprints with vague instructions on how they would connect with the work of others like me. I work inexorably toward the goal, each detail of design meticulously planned… but by whom? Those who built the Machine? The Machine itself?
My sympathies to you, Traveler, and Good luck.