Show Notes
On a dead world beyond the last navigation beacons, an alien city is still at work. Ten-foot beings sow fields of dust with empty hands, walk grooves their feet have worn knee-deep into solid rock, and sit on the steps of a great hall with the calmest faces a veteran surveyor has ever seen. Inside that hall stand rows of bone-white frames.
He is here on a black expedition, kept off every record by the nameless men who buy and sell the labor contracts of convicts. Then he watches a frame take hold of the city's one restless child, and his employers see exactly what he sees: a way to turn anyone into perfect, tireless calm.
They want a trial on human prisoners. He picks the men himself, the most violent on the list, so no one can claim the frames only work on the meek. One by one they go in fighting and walk out serene, ready to work without rest or complaint.
He signs every report that says there is nobody left behind those faces. He has looked into enough of them to be certain.
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This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.
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