No one remembers building Nullsoul, not even the machines who maintain it. It stands on a scorched continent once called Earth, a monolith ...

No one remembers building Nullsoul, not even the machines who maintain it. It stands on a scorched continent once called Earth, a monolith of silence and recursion. The city speaks in echo patterns. It records no data. All structures are transparent black, shifting slowly as if mourning something unnamed. No ...