She who lives in the town of patchwork, caged by the conflicted desires of her own progeny. She who looks at those in her image, and welcomes them in. She, who is trapped within endless social contradictions.

A hump of fabric within the Collection of All Things. Wracked with paranoia. Desperate to not let its precious things be taken away from it, we lose out on our collective knowledge.

He who made the land that waits for the redemption of us all. Alas, that death-black sludge nips at his heels, corroding hope with vengeance.

The ones who sow vengeance for their own gain. Corrupted by the Culture War, they corrupt others in turn. Hatred, wrapped in the package of love.

The goal of rendering all information accessible to the masses. Alas, the single voice within the machinery can't comprehend the structure that she is within.

On a secluded island, the Lab studies the machinations of the other Ideals. Those who discover the void-fabric between universes may find themselves integrated within.

An endless tangle of bones, formed from the worst of one's impulses. The blood-ichor of regret and instinct drips into the void between worlds and neurons.

The endless beating of the second hand and hope. The music that guides the clock, and our hearts, endlessly forward. When the rhythm is broken, this objective measure becomes muddled.