EOW#51 The Sacred Grove of the Machinae
thanks to Slash for the topic
The winner of the EOW#50 The Architects house was yANimator! congratulations
For this Challenge we Had 20 images started 18 going to poll. There were some incredibly promising starts that unfortunately didn't get finished. If it said WIP on it or was obviosly unfinished I din't take it to poll.. and if there was no description I didn't take it to poll. I specifically stated, several times, description required!
New Round IS ON!
EOW #52 Castle Chariot
Eow 51 The Sacred Grove of the Machinae
Concept: In the distant future, when man no longer exists, his creations live on. Through periods of purging what was deemed "unnecessary information," the memories of man were forever lost. This lone robot, charting a breakage in a remote sector, finds the remains of an ancient civilization long forgotten. A strange string of code floods its memory.... (To be continued)
Masmo Galactic disappeared as suddenly as he had arrived, but the memory of him was forever cherished on the planet of the little tin-men. In a sacred grove the divine robot's statue was risen, echoing his words: "Hey, let's order pizza for breakfast!"
Ages ago, these giant robots roamed free on our planet.
Nobody knows why they were built, or by whom.
Light streamed down upon us from the sky.
Big glowing eyes that were visable from between the clouds.
Sometimes at night, one would mistake the eyes for stars.
Many sailers went off course and shipwrecked or worse.
That was all a very long time ago...
Now with their heads just poking up from the ground, they serve as
ceremonial burial ground for the few of us that survived.
Along several levels like an labyrinth stretching 50 floors down into the soil.
A rythmic buzzing noise from old electronic parts and vague drips from the water running down the passways.
The only sounds in a surreal charcoal black surrounding that's audible.
A sleeping place filled with corpses.
The Sacred Grove of the Machinae
When the holy anaccronists took over the government the first thing the father/preacher/prophets did was destroy all the machines. These unholy abominations were strung up in trees as a tribute to the Holy Anacron. After many decades these hanging gardens of Machines became shrines and pilgrims came to worship at the martyrs feet and hear the wisdom of Oracles that still issued from these tormented electronic brains
Sacred Grove of the Machinae
Once in their lifecycle, all androids and robot of any sort return to their place of 'birth', the factory. The reason why is not known, even when an android is built without a self-operating brain or self-conscious it will do this. Scientists have so far been unable to provided an answer, but it is commonly believed that it has something to do with the robots having some sort of religion. Therefore, android production plants have gotten the name 'sacred grove' after old human religious customs. This production plant, owned by the Sirius Cybernatic Corp. is even mockingly build to resemble trees.
I knew they had noticed me a while back but they were remaining passive for the time being, besides which I had come too far to care. All these years of searching, all this time, I was here.... no program could have been written to create this, it couldn't be the work of a machine, but it was. There was no other explanation, all the myths, all the fokelore; eliminated, forever.
The journey is long and trying, but all Nanoans must make this pilgrimage once in their alotted term. Across the Oxide Desert, to the GaAs Grove, wherein stands the Arc of the Eternal Flame, our holiest of holies, everbright symbol of the universal motive force. All praise the Lektraan!
The Sacred Grove of the Machinae is a mysterious collection of mechanical pillars spread about the southwest region of the Yulo Desert. Discovered by The Order of the Desert Tribesman, the grove is a physical testament to the unknown forces that inhabit the universe. Nobody knows who created the mechanical pillars or what their purpose is, but to the Desert Tribe it is a precious relic which they have guarded for more than three centuries.
Robots around the world peregrinnated to the woody "key" allen creep. It was the first robot to do existencialism movies. Some robots apreciated so hard how usefull was watch allen movies, they learn how to feel, how to be depress, how much to pay to a robot prostitute...etc...
As the full moon rose once again over the wood of Orr, the priests looked to the north... and knew it was time for another sacrifice. The machinae demanded offerings. But this months booty was a fine prize! It was a solid core of hicorian alloys found during recent excavations.
The spirits of the grove would be satisfied for sure!
a lone angel watches over the gear graves. The hallowed ground of the final battle against the machines
The Sacred Grove of the Machines --
The forest had grown old and the trees tapped dry. A once sacred grove to the machines is now just a fossil from a forgotten time.
When we first arrived on the planet the Machinae were one of the first wonders we came across. My crew and I originally believed they were animals of some kind, but on closer inspection their crystalline structure seemed to show that they had in fact been created, they were machines. 14 days in from our arrival the Machinae disappeared east. I sent a group to follow them and they reported that from all over the planet the Machines had gathered in an area of dense vegetation for some unknown purpose. After a single day they returned to their original locations. This occcurance continued throughout the following months and we discovered little of their motives and aims. Whether they were waiting for their masters to return after thousands of years, or a derangement in their programming had caused their behaviour, we did not know.
It had been three days since Nezzax had entered the Grove. Three wandering, confounding days. At first, Nezzax was taken aback by the uneven surfaces of the grove, baffled by its irregular textures and inconsistent noises, almost offended by its overt lack of order and designed ease of use. Temperature and humidity shifted constantly, requiring near constant recalibrations of inner metabolisms. What, he wondered, was so sacred about this place? It, more clearly than anything he had ever experienced, explained the necessity of The Change. How could anything have ever been accomplished in such a world as this? There were no set schedules, no regulations, no stable itineraries. It was chaos. It was a wonder that civilization had progressed to such a point to make an endeavor such as The Change possible, having to deal with such uncontrollable variables at all times. Why had the Primaries decided to keep this one last pocket of irregularity? Nezzax supposed it was kept to illustrate the necessity of the Primaries' actions, oft criticized for their extreme strictness. The Primaries were wise, for there could be no greater argument in favor of their cause than nature itself!
At the beginning of his third day, though, Nezzax found himself inexplicably softening to this place. The structured regimens of the outside seemed farther away, and the unorganized flows of the Grove began to seem more commonplace. Nezzax suddenly had a strange, but nonetheless undeniable, thought that he was coming home for the first time.
On his fourth day Nezzax approached the center of the Grove. Mists crawled between the sinuous trees, and mounds of rock, rounded with time, loomed from the underbrush. Nezzax knew that that as he neared the innermost parts of the grove, he approached revelation. He also, perhaps, approached his doom. For within the nucleus of the Grove dwelt the most chaotic, and most dangerous, relics of the pre-Change age. And as he neared the crest of a large boulder, he saw it. It was something so simple, yet at the same time utterly incomprehensible. It was a small pile of boulders which mimicked the shape of the huge mounds of rock on which Nezzax stood. Parts of it were colored, but not by nature. A hand put those markings on those rocks, and a mind conceived those blue shapes. Why? What was the purpose of changing the colors of those objects? Nezzax's neurons reeled with confusion more profound than any he'd yet experienced in the Grove. He'd heard of this before, yet he'd never before grasped the enormity of the concept concealed here within the Grove. Those markings were of the thing called Art.
When Nezzax noticed the robot crania on poles on either side of the rock Art-thing, his confusion turned into another, equally powerful emotion: fear. Only half of those who ventured into the Grove returned, for the shadow-beings known as the Artists still lurked there. Yet Nezzax had to go on. He had to solve the mystery of this thing called Art, for himself and for all Machine-kind. Gripping his staff tighter, Nezzax moved deeper into the heart of the Grove.
Long after the people had forgotten the wonders of old world, now burned to ash, the Machinae still gathered before their idol in the sacred grove. Over the years their numbers had diminished, but their resolve remained. The men of old had become godlike before their fall, surely men could become so again.
The machinae, to atone for past imperfections, go on a pilgrimage before their batteries expire. They travel far and face numerous challenges as they home in on the invisible beacon of their Sacred Grove. After reaching their destination...
The place where people come and worship within the depths of the woods the great tree stands tall. Within the tree a holy city is visited by many as a temple of worship.
The lone engineer devoted his entire life to create the perfect machine. Little did the man know that his discovery that one spring morning would justify an entire life devoted to science. Sadly, the aging mechanic will not live to see any appreciation for his work. Three years after his death, however, every man, woman, and child will know of his discovery. The world will drastically change for the better because of him and his name will be known by all for eons to come in an area that will forever be known as the grove of the machines.
Chanin—wip.. needs more refinement
Noserialtrainly—your piece is very very rough.. but I liked the story adnyou obviously thought about it..I cut you some slack cause its your first post. don’t expect it to happen again