KnifeEdgeProductions

Hours pass as I stare at a screen. Voices drone on and on, all speaking truth, all speaking lies. My mind is racing to keep up yet runs overtime. Everything slows to a crawl, and yet I’m still outpaced. I scream for help, and no one hears me. I am exhausted in my very soul, and the mere act of rest tires me further. I fight to keep afloat in water nobody else can see. I am at war, yet dishonorably discharged from myself.

Are You A Fan Of Monsters James Fletcher fancied himself a man of exquisite taste. The massive audience chamber his father had commissioned when James was just a boy was now filled with objects of various worth, both sentimental and financial, from all over Mars. His father had been much more utilitarian in his use of the family’s vast fortune than James. His mother had been a collector of artifacts from the early colonial period, hoarding pieces of old technology, despite the first settlers’ apparent cannibalization of the ships that had brought them here in order to begin building on-world settlements. Fletcher wasn’t one to be fascinated by history, but he did admire the work that went into colonizing a whole new world. What James enjoyed collecting were things considerably more primitive than old ship computers or old holotapes. He collected culture. Humanity had lost its identity upon leaving its ancestral home, and the settlers of the New World were eager to