One thousand rusted boilers, two thousand like new. All of them fell from grace, as one, linked by design and Newton's Law. Their crash upon the surface of Serpentine, catastrophic. Casualties, negative.

They struck on and around the Great Wheelhouse as they call it, just as the star settled into a meditative prism of Earth shades.

Heh. Earth. The root of the problem.

Anyway, I stood a ways off, scope to the eyes, near the top of Bronze Mound. You can't sit on Bronze, no sir. But it's the best spot for watching the Newness tumble on in.

Boilers ruptured, split across the hard and soft mash like metal egg sacs. Some still held water. Brand new engines, rubbed out by the thoughtless. I always maintained this place needs to hold thoroughly used junk and nothing better. But who am I to say?

Dead Castle Mound missed getting a hole blown into its side by one of them. Was a close call. Me? I'd have rather watched it blow out. Too many swords under there. Axes. Stirrups. A hundred forms of Grendel and columns what ain't even accurate. Ah well. You can have everything. Especially me.

Them boilers fell first until the airships joined in on the fun. Doggone things. Not one of them was on fire. Six got their bags stuck on the Wheelhouse spokes and swung in the wind.

My guess? They won't come down until He's near finished, when the Inevitable Dark shuts us both down. Bet on it.

Airships, parasols, steam golems (or similar facsimile thereof), zippy like Ray guns recline burning half the landfill as they tumbled about. Had to duck twice...waitaminute...three times!

Place is getting ornery. I should go. Get out before He rejects the Next Big Thing.

Wonder what it'll be? Rockets? Skyscrapers? Cars? We still got the Apocalyptic ones in the back hereabouts.

Google grief, what if it's nuclear?

I worry too much. But look at the state I'm in. All this ruckus makes even me start to fret. Maybe I should call Him, tell him not to pollute so much, so often. It's dangerous, reckless. Could turn deadly.

But who am I? He listens but doesn't hear. I try, He nods and goes but wants the Next Big Thing and so EJECT! More waste.

So I watch.

This is the life. You can't convince Him to stick to one point. He's a writer, and super indecisive at that.

I'm just his Confidence, dumped into the Serpentine pit like the rest. Might run off and dig up Attention Span and Focus.

Soon as I figure what Mound were they under...