In the year 2200, the once blue planet has long been reduced to a desolate land with exhausted resources. In such a desperate situation of the end of the world, the wave of "mechanical renaissance" is sweeping the world. Human beings rely on the industrial relics left over from the old era to build "circulating mechanical cities" like steel forests. These cities are like huge metal behemoths, struggling to maintain their operations by relying on resources extracted from the ruins. The core energy of the city is called "Rust Core", a mysterious energy source that exudes a dark red luster. It is firmly controlled by the monopoly company "Iron Dome Technology" and has become the key to maintaining the lifeblood of the city. It has also become the Sword of Damocles hanging over the heads of the residents at the bottom.
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Very novel science fiction article
Give yourself a thumbs up
I don't know if you can spot it, but there's a wonderful Easter egg hidden in the title: "Gear rust" in mechanics is actually a protection mechanism. When the gears rust, the entire machine will stop.
Chapter 27 (Easter Egg)
"Rust Core Narrative"
The tunnel pulled the alarm into a string, and I crushed my own reflection and rushed on.
The brown stars in the water are mother's loose fingerprints.
There are always iron filings crying: they seep from the prosthetic joints,
In the tear ducts that wind at the base of the wall into the Book of Revelation - is it the prophet that has been corroded by rust, or the oracle that has been corrupted.
The girl's sleeves hide a piece of sea, looking at that sea,
The blue light carves a boat and seeks a sword in the veins.
The pursuers are a famine of metal, they eat the echo,
Chew "Lu Ye" into three hot shells.
The terminal hatches eggs in my chest,
Lin Xia's key pierced the privacy screen, as if sixteen cages were born.
Student status files are swimming on the screen like a school of fish.
Bite your sister's age - how fresh and tender this is!
At this moment, my palms began to generate electricity:
Rust spots are missing person notices burned into the skin,
Mother's face emerged from the burning pain. She is wiping her pupils, as if stroking something?
It was the bars of the cage of consciousness that caused sparks to splash into the stagnant water...
Look! Short-lived constellations in puddles,
He was holding up the phalanx of her index finger - seemed to be telling something?
Like holding the last clean coin of civilization,
A dream vending machine thrown at the end of the wasteland.
And the walls are telling prophecies:
Dark spots of old parts pulse with my steps,
Where the rusty tears fall, in this rusty cry, hope
Grow the umbilical cord of a new century.
Very novel science fiction article
Give yourself a thumbs up I don't know if you can spot it, but there's a wonderful Easter egg hidden in the title: "Gear rust" in mechanics is actually a protection mechanism. When the gears rust, the entire machine will stop. Chapter 27 (Easter Egg) "Rust Core Narrative" The tunnel pulled the alarm into a string, and I crushed my own reflection and rushed on. The brown stars in the water are mother's loose fingerprints. There are always iron filings crying: they seep from the prosthetic joints, In the tear ducts that wind at the base of the wall into the Book of Revelation - is it the prophet that has been corroded by rust, or the oracle that has been corrupted. The girl's sleeves hide a piece of sea, looking at that sea, The blue light carves a boat and seeks a sword in the veins. The pursuers are a famine of metal, they eat the echo, Chew "Lu Ye" into three hot shells. The terminal hatches eggs in my chest, Lin Xia's key pierced the privacy screen, as if sixteen cages were born. Student status files are swimming on the screen like a school of fish. Bite your sister's age - how fresh and tender this is! At this moment, my palms began to generate electricity: Rust spots are missing person notices burned into the skin, Mother's face emerged from the burning pain. She is wiping her pupils, as if stroking something? It was the bars of the cage of consciousness that caused sparks to splash into the stagnant water... Look! Short-lived constellations in puddles, He was holding up the phalanx of her index finger - seemed to be telling something? Like holding the last clean coin of civilization, A dream vending machine thrown at the end of the wasteland. And the walls are telling prophecies: Dark spots of old parts pulse with my steps, Where the rusty tears fall, in this rusty cry, hope Grow the umbilical cord of a new century.