A Machine for Living In

Joe’s been building a machine, and it’s taken over everyone and everything in his life.

  • Excerpt

    Joe stepped back to rest one arm on the machine, caressing a rough weld like an old scar. And now I had a second, I recognized the damn thing. Joe’d been drawing it since eighth grade, endlessly iterating it in pencil and pen, with precisely ruled lines and almost abstract splotches of ink. It was his machine.

    “It looks like you,” I finally told him. “Exactly like something you’d build.”

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