Mon, 27 October

FIELD NOTE — Observed 09:47, Sector 7, East Boiler Gallery Three automatons found mid-task at a table set for no one. The first holds a fork in its left gripper, tines down, as if it has forgotten the purpose of downward pressure. The second has seized — lubricant frozen at the joints — its meeting-notes arm locked in a gesture of emphasis, one brass finger raised, mid-point, forever. The third alone still moves: a slow rotation of the torso, 2 rpm, scanning the room for guests who were never manufactured. Frost on all three carapaces. Pressure dropping. The steam that feeds them thins to nothing and they do not notice because noticing was not included in the original specification. Recommendation: Leave them. They are more interesting than anything we built on purpose.