My life… my everything… it used to be at the bottom of the bottle. We were not scientists, we were assembly line workers. It didn’t matter how useful our abominations were, as long as they were present. So I found solace in a melange of liquors hard and brutal. As I pulled my blood soaked arms out of its gaping cranium, my heart was heavy. The brain was wired, the switch was flipped. It stared at me, blankly, for nearly five minutes. Then it smiled, and hung on my every word with unflinching adoration. Was this unconditional love? No, there was a dire condition: lobotomization. But I needed something to grab hold of to haul myself out of the pit of this despair. This seems to be working. Hmm, I’ll feel terrible about him down the road? You know what? Whatever.

Hey Deluxe! Or as the kids down here would say, "Dude!" I hope this postcard finds you well! We really miss you down here, but I hear you've been promoted to the Stonehenge position! Congrats, that's "mondo gnarly!" The company vacation is going "way past tubular man!" The sea is so lovely and clean! Juana's here too! She has finally been taken off the Mountain assignment, so we're thinking seriously about out future now! Can't wait to talk to you, "bro," your good pal forever, -Ghost Of.

An organic machine hard-coded into spacetime. Covered in blades, cutting edges and razorwire, time is its to command. Incomprehensible speed and precision, and access to its Tree of Pain - a vicious implement to broadcast pain in an effort to ferret out a furtive deity. (Crossover between StarMan DX and The Shrike from Hyperion Cantos).