Finished Folds (1—8)
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2encompass all knowledge during the final stages of Information Collapse. The object was pockmarked like the saddest of eggs. He slithered his thumbtip into the largest indentation
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1A frame is only as strong as its glass. Fribalt thought about this as she polished the painting, pressing just a little too hard. She caught her own reflection as it
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1Sooner or later, it would mention her. It had known her from a child, when she was as soft as compost herself. The Mulch had been her only companion all these years. And now she
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1to become wood. But it knew that it could only become stone, cold and unyielding like the hunter. Inevitable and dense. This tunnel was not a tunnel of stone, but a tunnel of
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4releasing altered chipmunks from the lab. The chipmunks knew only themselves and the Earth. And the Earth was fear, and the chipmunks were rage. The city had sprawled inwards
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1She seized her ankles, hard, like a lobster, the King of the Milk. She seized them and she pulled, and soon she had escaped into herself. She emerged into a
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1spooned himself over the threshold, more liquid than man. The fear had turned him into that thick paste known only as "Bulch". There was nothing Gant hated more than
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1Spandarg pulsed his lemons. He loved to pulse the lemons. Loved it like a man loves his ghost. He pulsed them until they could take no more, and then he