“ Anything not bolted down has a chance of moving about when unobserved. The items are smart enough to open simple latches, or break weak bindings. The rate of this oddness seems to follow certain astrological patterns.”
“ To become a warrior in a tribe. -no food, drink, or sleep for 4 days and nights. -change into special clothes and painted enter hut -slices of skin carved from their chest and shoulders -wooden skewers through the bleeding flesh behind the chest muscles -stout thongs, secured to rafters were tied to skewers -hoisted from floor by these and weights were attached to their feet -twirled around till fell unconscious -when recovered from this, given a hatchet to cut off their little finger -ropes then tied to wrists and force to run in circle like a horse until he passed out -if survive all this he can return to his family in honor knowing he is now a warrior.”
“ AutoMedon A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
'It's strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its' workings or even if the damn thing is' Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman”
