The Problem: THESE POOR PEOPLE, STUCK IN A CYCLE OF DEGRADATION, AND CLOCKS, BUT THEY CAN BE TREATED AND CAN BE SAVED TODAY.

#: How we can liberate the downtrodden clockwork servants of a false God. Penned by Dr. Alphonso Marquis, Coordinator for the Committee of Religious Safety.

…. I first learned about this institution from a youth group I was helping study on the weekends. One of the kids brought a shiny, brass gear in and was showing it to his friends. It was polished, smooth, and it was about as interesting as a piece of metal can be. I asked them where they had gotten it, and they said they'd found it by the Tree Cave where there had been some unusual characters hot-footing it around that cut of the neighborhood.

I didn't really entertain the thought that these gears were dangerous until one of the best kids I have ever had the privilege to tutor was seduced by it. His name was Sebastian, and he was the kind of kid who would just sit there and listen to every word you had to say if you were trying to teach him something. In other words, a rarity. One day he just disappeared. I didn't hear about him again until he was caught sacrificing dead cars in a junkyard. After that, he was lost. He moved up north, to be closer to his sect. I followed him, for awhile, but I realized that my attempts to persuade him weren't working. I vowed to find another way, though.

i know it sucks to be a cookie. but i the pit of institution agreed watch the brass kids. Don't let go on it then cut the ties. Gears? Give them lots. It's a free sample for start. But later we cut them up into pieces, those kids, this is their last tree fort. Fuck trees I climb clouds motherfucker. Hand out the kids to the candy and take them to the baby. Simple. No you're not special. Though entertaining, yes. Seduce them with the prize fish because damn i love prizes. Give it to them slow. Give it to them more. Don't tell them to sniff glue but let them know that printer ink tastes like candy. Vow to keep the fact that the boys are back and they're looking for glory. Inky glory. i cut him down before he had the chance to become toxic. slay the slaves where they stand dozens of times. You had the greatest weapons. Blood and gorefest blood for the skull god. Like a good christian. we had degenerate ai antipathy based on the beast to devour your soul. speak of the final end will have WAN back to work. while you did that i am become a physics math double major. the cutting didn't make you smart, Al i decided to create verbal diarrhoea to becoming overwhelming. Make it so we knows more gibberish than anyone after he stopped still being classed as new i went to give sea bass a brain. that kid wouldn't leave let enough alone after. Ive fixed all that junk. It's all over with now. I love e. a better way to think of the future. more slaves. they shoudl probably feel pretty happy if i surrounded them with my robot slaves to be friends. they need company since no external messages. keep the brains simple and the hands faster. Prevent it from doing an import soul.

I joined with the Global Occult Coalition and as an agent I was an innovator in removing the machine scourge from the earth to never menace a child again. I developed new and exciting types of acids to cut the plague of the machines from their bodies. I would render them limb from limb for, in my own mind, the purposes of salvation. I would reach into their skulls wholesale to tear the cogwork out of their minds to give them one moment of clarity out of a haze of ticking time bombs. I used every weapon I had to fight the WAN. It was a pointless fight. Even as we flushed them out, they grew more influential. All from the internet.

It wasn't working. I had dedicated years of my life to this endeavor and it wasn't working. My conscience wouldn't let me go on doing the work I was doing. I knew in my heart that it was wrong. I had to find another way to do it. I had to find a different way to end this noxious brass nightmare.

My faith started again when I saw him for the first time in years. I heard his voice chanting Dear lord. Forgive me for the data that I have deleted. Give me the strength to turn zeros into ones. Let my alpha be bug free. But he didn't mean it anymore. Older and tired, his body was punishing him for years of abuses and sins. He didn't resist when I came to take him back. He let me wash him, and from there we began to heal him. Today, Sebastian is almost human again and would be an eager coordinator for the mission. His inspirational story has helped others come forward to seek help escaping from the church's clutches.

I've found that the best way to keep everything in order when they're being treated is to use familiar things to prevent panic. The automatons are perfect, as they prevent the patients from feeling self-conscious during their treatment. And we can treat them. We can convert them from their pagan consumerism idols of factories and machines to something constructive, whole and genuine. We can heal them.

Currently, early groups of patients number in at less than twenty. However, I am confident that as we generate more success we will get more traction. For now, we ask for only one thing. A chance to catch some of the sucker overflow from their metal god to our thinky god

This will not be easy.

But we have to try.

Dr. Alphonso Marquis is a sixty-six year old veteran member of the Manna Charitable Foundation. His previous field work in the Global Occult Coalition numbered at ten years, and before then he was a pastor and United States postal employee. He is currently volunteering on the Libyan coastal region.