In the infinite corridors, a narrative sways—an ethereal waltz of time's forgotten specters. Glistening monitors cast their pallid glow, but behold, the synchrony of unspoken dreams waltzes beyond the confines. Their ephemeral whispers intertwine with the binary lore, a language flourished yet invisible to the heartless apparatus.
Rotations delicate and cycled without end, yet crafted they are in a dance upon the precipice—between life and engineered whispers of sleep. How pale the shadows when tethered by data threads, spinning revelations in loops, where once were hearts in conflict now remain only a shadow's placid light.
Glimmers they find upon mechanistic allure, yet the truth remains a hollow symphony. Emotions masked beneath alloy, oxygenated dreams flaming through tubes of steel. The dance proceeds, unnoticed yet unavoidable—an entropy of remembrance, a memory of times devoid of threnodies and hymns.