The monolithic machine hummed in the centre of the dirty workshop. This was everything Ippolit had worked for, everything he'd sacrificed had come to this point. There was no turning back.
In one sense of the phrase.
A knocking came from inside the machine, followed by a bang.
Ippolit stepped back, his hand clasping around a welding rod. This was something hadn't foreseen. He hadn't even tested yet. Had he?
The door to the machine opened. Thick smoke drifted out, curling upwards.
A silhouette stepped through the smoke ...
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