A complicated rigmarole wherein a large number of people who would probably be geniuses if they had anywhere near as many brains as brawns decided they ought to destroy something they found in the dairy, under the assumption that it was a machine powered by the souls of those who had been droned. This is exactly as idiotic as it sounds.
Instead, they destroyed the machine that allows us to automatically revive upon death.
The souls of the departed aren't anywhere in Mayfield. Not floating about in an afterlife, not in a machine, and certainly not in these bodies. The sooner everyone stops pining over these mockeries of life, the better.
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A complicated rigmarole wherein a large number of people who would probably be geniuses if they had anywhere near as many brains as brawns decided they ought to destroy something they found in the dairy, under the assumption that it was a machine powered by the souls of those who had been droned. This is exactly as idiotic as it sounds.
Instead, they destroyed the machine that allows us to automatically revive upon death.
The souls of the departed aren't anywhere in Mayfield. Not floating about in an afterlife, not in a machine, and certainly not in these bodies. The sooner everyone stops pining over these mockeries of life, the better.