Some stories are so old that their sharp strangeness is smoothed away, like driftwood worn to a twisting shine by the relentlessness of the waves.
Once, there was a man who stole fire from the gods…
Once, a boy soared aloft on wings made of feather and wax, and then plummeted to the earth in his hubris…
Once, there was a great civilization that sank into the sea and disappeared from memory and time…
Rozum was a cunning jewel-box of a city, sparkling with brass and silver and lamplight. Travelers came from all around to study with its researchers, admire its architects’ and engineers’ towering buildings, and wonder at their marvels of innovation: particularly the lives of leisure afforded by their clockwork automatons.
But then, one day, without warning, Rozum disappeared from the map. Venerable history became the stuff of bedtime story and nursery rhyme. Soon, people began to question whether it had ever existed at all.
Until now.