Transcriptor

Barcelona shrouds

They brought the Transcriptor to the basement. Its grey concrete blotched with organic stains, square pillars receding into black. One can rot happily here. Behemoth brought a table whose top was fitted to rubber pipes, an electric pump, sterile containers and surgical lamps. Near the shaft, the Clocks were chivying the Six from the van, flooding bad air with lilacs and decay.

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