With time endless that corruption evolved in things. Spoiled, free of genealogical difference, the thing began to produce itself solely. Clones of clones, ideological inbreeding. This thing seeks only to reproduce the conditions of its own inception, this, being the one precondition to doom. A feign thing, power begetting power, money worth less than its debt, the simulacrum, the great machine. A feign thing has seeped into all that humankind has ever touched, and it burns my skin to bear it.