Motionless state of being, the humming of electric channeling is all there is to be heard.

A million transistors in perpetual communication, information flying, data read.

A bug in the system, a skip in the beat. Dusty ventilators clogged with cells of the long-gone living are wheezing.

Frozen gears and rusted knobs outside the door. Cracking panels of plastic barely attached to metal frames.

Magnetized suits of armor sliding to the beaten baseboards of obsolete composition.

Frigid is the air about the reactor. But silence is the scream of mechanical minds.

Monitors adorned with sheets of dust are dimming their lights. Nobody will attempt to rekindle this flame.

A reactor sits in the annals of man’s forgetfulness. A blessing to the growing, the breathing, the organic.

Motionless state of being, the humming of electric channeling is all there is to be heard.

For now.