A bank of equipment along one of the many abandoned corridors of Horsingdon Bunker, haunted by the ghosts of the past - or perhaps by the speculative phantoms of an incomprehensible and horrifying future. Despite having been disconnected from the installation's generators for at least two decades, the machinery sometimes thrums suddenly and unexpectedly to life at seemingly random moments, briefly churning out strange equations: numeric strings which, if they ever proved to be calculable by any human system of mathematics, might foreshadow the world's ending.
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