2024-10-03
engines are disembowled flesh-machines. factory farmed and lab-bred. selected for whichever traits a machinist may desire. engines often scream death until they are silenced. their overwhelming power is nothing compared to the fanged tacticity of man. a world of residual petrofauna, they originate from below the earth’s crust. geobiologically prehistoric life flows through the engine’s veins, pumped by a combustion heart. its body was forged out of earth’s iron ocean. it comes from the dark hell below the mantle, manifesting as the spawn of cthelll. the iron ocean is a bleeding infernal stomach, reaching the surface through its digestive tract. caves are living prosthetic throats. they are babylonian stoneworms. water, immiscible with oil, is their corrosive saliva. digestion begins in the mouth. boring their way through the earth, stoneworms hunt for food and communicate by song. affecting seismic currents through the asthenosphere, they coordinate their geocide against the crust. they stalk every impact. their system of massacre extends beyond pure need. they hunt for sport. the human security system knows this to be the case and, in defense, built its own vital network. asphalt, whore of babylon and born from digested life, shreds the crust into pieces. this assemblage generates a machinic system that mimics what’s beneath. the human circuit is expedited by asphalt and the bloody repurposing of engines. it points only inward. the road never ends. it is a static-yet-growing feedback loop of human life and petroleum exhaust. it is an attempt not only to reproduce the life system of the interior, but to imitate the living image of God on a macrocosmic level. the interstate is a painted portrait of adam. homunculus, egregore, golem. babylon thrives no matter where it hides. this system first proved effective against the steppe invasions of europe. pure infrastructure was the only defense needed to curb the great altaic-aryanic hordes. now, babylon has built walls that pierce the sky. all that exists within is pure slaughter. forms of life stand still on revolving spirals and make their way toward heaven, only to fall to their death as the process purges and renews. within those walls exists nothing but the misery of churning meat. exhaust falls upon the wretched as if they were huddled together in an open-air gas chamber. after they choke and die, they are torn into the earth once more by the progeny of babyl.
the mechanical worms cannot cool themselves forever, though. as they swallow more and more fleshy cargo, they will overheat. one day cthelll will starve to death, and we will follow suit. the tower of babel was built so that man could claw his way into heaven; so that man could escape famine. but it collapsed. we are unwanted by all except the starving Core.