Paul followed his towering, acrobatically talented and exceedingly fit savior into the building. They must have been about five stories above the Expanse floor. The platform was a bare balcony with a softly flowing rail structure and the entrance to the building was an arch about twelve feet tall at the apex and was paned with a black glass that didn’t hold his reflection. It didn’t reflect anything at all, and the effect tickled the back of Paul’s brain in a fashion most eldritch and unholy.
Oh, this hallowed ground.
Be merciful and let us once again expand upon thee.
In Ludd's Name, amen.
Sometimes it's dangerous carrying analogies too far. Such was the case for the creators of the Hawking Bomb. Their screams still echo in the midnight halls of yesterday's dreams. Damn them to hell for unleashing such nightmares.