Heart of Disorder

The steam, encrusted with the astringent smell of rust, permeated the entire factory, and the copper pillars of the differential engine reflected the cold light of the assembly line. The colonists reveled with champagne glasses, chewing the flesh and blood of the New World between their teeth. The strong men coughed up bloody sputum stained with coal dust from their broken lungs. The female worker who died suddenly huddled under the thin board of the yarn machine, with unfinished cotton wool still stuck between her fingers. The priests in robes held the bluish ore, shouted "the anointing oil of the Lord" between the pillars and on the steps, and sprinkled the broken ore into the silverware of the altar. When the faint blue light penetrated into the copper and iron texture, overflowing the soldiers' spears and the iron ships drowning in the ocean, the wise people were shocked: the so-called lion-like pioneering was nothing more than digging through the dust of the years, and quietly welcoming the eliminated curses, ferocious monsters, and even the departed gods back to the world from the old time.