One of the seemingly-untenanted corporate premises - leased by some nameless organisation engaged in some anonymous enterprise - which one finds scattered through the desolate business estates which constitute Horsingdon’s new edgelands.
In such occulted sites, it is said one may, on occasion, spy through the grimy windows of these buildings the vague outline of grotesque, malformed shapes, mindlessly labouring through a Byzantine bureaucracy: insensate, monstrous puppets engaged in the unthinking performance of a vast and complex ritual process - one encoded in perplexing and convoluted protocols and set in motion by…what? Perhaps something vast and inconceivable which has forced enough of its ineffable substance through the walls of our world to enact its vacuous schemes.
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