Now I understood it had never worked to begin with. Things happened. Random, horrible things no itty-bitty human could protect another itty-bitty human from. The machine was a black hole, a cold, lightless thing. It did not have nerves or blood-filled veins. It was not made for itty-bitty, ooey-gooey humans, and it did not care what became of us. It was a disinterested force, a mass’s gravity pulling us toward its center, the point where all things ended. The only thing you could do was to try not to stare at it as it pulled you closer.
