Strange recorder was found on the outskirts of the Machine. First two entries were stone tablets written in Plain Human symbols. Rest were screens covered in the language of the Mechanicals. It is believed to be the diary of Almon Fivegear, the creator of this madness. Whatever this Angel thing is... Pray he did not make his horrible abominations infective.
Crimson NightI have met the much-spoken about Angel. Those blank-eyed traders from the forests claim he is their God, a God of Death. He has promised to help me with my attempts at advancing our terribly backward society. My inventions have not worked out. Our universe does not seem to have a rhythm, a unifying theory of reality. The Angel was clad in a dark robe and had a bird mask. I thought he was a vagrant before he talked. He talked in a such a voice that I knew it was him when I heard it. I invited him into my hut cautiously. He talked to me about inventions and the world, and how I could have a part. All he needed me to do was to follow his every need. He would do the rest. I agreed. He disappeared, and I couldn't find him in the night.
A Fortnight After Crimson NightI am surrounded by hundreds of wonderful inventions! I have created what I have been aiming for, something that would free us from the Gods! Using materials I never thought to use, and using ideas I thought were impossible grew to making huge leaps! The villagers loved them, and now everything is so simple. We have electric fires, automatons who do everything of need, and beautiful lights that never run out. The Angel visited again, and asked us to make a factory so that these wonders can be shared. How could I refuse? We had a deal.
The Founding Of The FactoryWe founded the factory outside the Forest of Tears. Our factory is going beautifully. Using these new recorders, we have no need for our pathetic symbols and prehistoric language. Now we speak the language of the future. Still, there are a few odd things. There is a mental disorder that causes our men to think they have become machines. They lose emotions, creativity, everything. We have prevented a few cases, but our new hospital is filled with men staring at a wall and listlessly trying to return to work. They don't seem to mind injuries, even losing limbs without a bother. The other thing is that the Angel has recommended we take on a few guards, to protect our inventions. They look exactly like him, and have tools made out of bone. When a trading party came by, they set them all on fire! He explained that we should not be talked to by such barbaric idiots. I don't feel good about this at all.
4/2/24I am beginning to wonder if I have been infected by this disease myself. I find myself working with the men, and yesterday I worked the whole day, never stopping for food or sleep. When I was done, I was starving! Strange... so very strange. Even stranger, the Mechanically Schizophrenic (We've taken to calling them that) have broken out just to work! They don't stop working, they've been at it for months. Every time we stop them and put them back, they simply return. More and more are going insane. Either they become Mechanically Schizophrenic or they start worshiping their machines. I stumbled across a dormitory with a wall filled with a depiction of a female goddess made out of gears and levers. I destroyed the mosiac and ordered the workers to take time off. It was the only way.
10/7/24The dorms lay empty. The shops, the food storage, even the damn places where we were meant to enjoy our inventions are empty. The food is rotting. Only I eat now. I resisted the disease. The Angel speaks to me at night in my lonesome dormitory. Increase production. More machines, more power. Could I resist now? We have created a monster of gears and pistons and cogs and blood powering the machines... Giant factories rip the blood out of the Earth as pitch black oil, put it in the machines and create more monstrous horrors. The women who joined up have now become horrible creatures creating more mechanical automatons. The men are listless automatons, constantly creating for nothing. What have I done?
18/7/24Run out of fuel. The White Knights kidnapped humans, force-fed them into our machines. They work now. Full conversion process completed on our men and women. I only remain flesh. The Angel recommends more power. More humans. More screaming. More blood. Bless the Angel. Someone help me, I can't stop this factory. Please, I wish I could take it all back. Bless the angel. Bless the angel! Burn him, kill him, but bless him. He is our God. He is our machine. We worship the machine. We call it The God Machine. Whatever used to be our food storage, the playrooms, the dormitories, are converted into temples to the God Machine. Prayers are written in blood on the walls and machines. We are in an endless loop. We need power to create. We need to take to power. We need to create. Steal anything who can scream in fear, feed them to our God, then create until the power runs out. Repeat until the end of time.
We are the Factory. We are the God Machine. We are all and you are nothing.
Have mercy on me, anything out there.
***
The Angel walks down the hall of machines. Men made out of clockwork feed a screaming child into one of their machines. It crackles to life, and they continue to create. They continue creating for the rest of the day and the rest of tomorrow and the rest of the next week. They will never stop. If you kill one, another shall replace it. When the power runs out, they feed more into the machine. This system will never stop. It is made to stay.
Almon stares at him. "What have you done? This wasn't how I wanted it." He is still flesh. He must be. There must always be a leader, and he will never leave because his workers will find him and drag him back.
"What did you want?" The Angel asked.
"I wanted a paradise." Almon gasped. "I wanted anything but this!"
"This is a paradise. You have a good life."
"I don't want to live in a place like this!"
"The outside will kill you. The Factory shall protect you. Increase the power, increase production of more workers. Tell your female unit to increase their output. Any other problems?"
"Apart from everything here?"
The Angel stared at Almon. "This is order. This is peace. Now... will you stay here and look after your workers?"
Almon smiled, and nodded. "Yes, I will."
"The machine will spit you out, don't try throwing yourself into it. If you succeed... I'll be happy to meet you on the black plains."
Almon frowned, and stared at the machine.
The Angel disappeared, and Almon was left alone apart from the sound of steam and creation.