---
John smiled despite the room. "Marking," he said, as another bundle slid into the black. The void-mill hummed — a deep, far sound, like a millstone turning under a river you could not see.
[Ding! System notifications: Feeding channel open. Pulverized nutrient routed to egg. Hatch Progress: 1% → 2%.]
John's shoulders loosened a fraction. "It works," he said.
"Of course it works," Fizz said, mouth full. "You are you and I am me. Two geniuses and a hole." He swallowed and pointed with the bread again. "That one. No, not the one that looks like a shoe. The one that looks like a folded dog. Yes."
Time has thinned. Work took over. Sack after sack lifted and slid into the soft black. Bones went with a faint whisper, like small secrets. The rare hard spines rang once, a sound too high for normal rooms, then were gone. Old blood did not splash. It simply rose, poured like tar into darkness, and the darkness drank it without pride.
Fizz sang again.
Ode to the Bucket (Chorus)-
