Three days ago I woke up in the middle of a god-forsaken desert at the base of a machine-mountain. There was nothing but scorched earth and hot sun all the way to the horizon in every direction, so I did what any reasonable man does in the face of certain death and headed for the shade of the mountain. There was a path, which in retrospect I should have thought was odd, but I didn't question it: wasn't like anybody was going to have the answers. Sometimes the path went inside, and I could hear and feel that mountain humming, like deep down at the heart of it a big cog was turning slow but strong. Outside, it was quiet except for the sound of my breathing and the occasional muttered curse.
The mountain was huge, and I could see it wasn't a natural structure; nature doesn't fit metal gears and hydraulics together into massive labyrinths. The farther up I went, the more intricate the machinery became, with parts that looked like they should be able to move and change configurations, and all the while that humming got louder and louder.
Hours of climbing up that mountain and the only thing that changed was the hum,