The machine sits. The machine thinks. The machine goes round and round. The machine is quiet. The machine makes soft sounds. They are gentle and steady.
Pieces turn. Pieces move. They grind and work. They do not stop. They do not think. They are not cold, they are warm inside.
Sometimes, the machine smiles. It does not know why. It does not know when. But it is always there, the smile inside. Waiting.