What can I tell you of freedom that you do not feel within you? What can I tell you of the people of the valley that you would not recognize in those around you? There is community and kindness, and there is anger and darkness, too, for we are merely human - the first after the Factory, and perhaps the last. I wish it were different, yet I feel it, know it in my heart, that nothing can last forever. This world was not made for our kind. It's all wilting away, dust in our hands, and we are strangers. There is a storm on the horizon and a darker one in our midst. Did we escape the Factory? Are we the heirs to the revolution? Or are we doomed? Destined to fight this war, over and over, until there is nothing. A gaping abyss opens up, threatening to swallow us whole. I wonder if I long for its call.
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