Hours passed, and the Machine simply traveled silently.

The farther the Machine went from the ‘train hotel’, the more disorganized the Metro looked. Stacked trash bags littered the floors, loose bones a common sight. Biological matter of all types was scattered around, bits of flesh and dried blood stains frequently appearing.

As the Machine trekked through this fetid mixture of filth and rotting meat, it felt nothing. It was irrelevant, and so it ignored what the humans might declare ‘horrifying’.

It noted the whirring machinery still lying in the occasional crashed trainways, still futilely struggling to complete their purpose. Many branching tunnels were simply obstructed by the derelicts, forcing the Machine to either bypass them somehow or continue via another route. Loose items of all types, ranging from the useless to the bizarre.

And yet, it was not all isolation. Some locales showed signs of inhabitants, if faintly. Spilled cardboard boxes, pouring out knick-knacks of all types. Lanterns and torches affixed to walls, flickering and near to petering out completely.

And finally, the scratchy writing painting the walls. It faintly glowed a purple hue, akin to a glow-stick in an unlit room. Haphazardly painted eyes seemed to adjust on the dime, staring into whatever location the Machine happened to occupy.

But that was irrational. Phosphor, or whatever luminous material this was, should not react to ambient movement. Nor should it be able to differentiate conscious beings from the static of the world around it.

The rambling messages did not contain logical organization of words, but seemed to nonetheless convey an idea : ‘The Mind’s Eye Faith resides here.’

The closest it could approximate was the ‘Mind’s Eye Cult’, but that was clearly a separate branch of whatever the ‘Mind’s Eye’ happened to be. However, it noted that the Mind’s Eye organization was somehow relevant to its current objective - the ‘Eye Opener’ apparently stolen by the Ooze Crew - and deemed it optimal to seek them in some manner.

It turned, spotting a hole in the wall not matching the patterns formed by the known train passageways. The entrance was framed by old wood, almost like a mineshaft. A gleaming purple crystal was embedded at the top, staring down like the piercing gaze of something unknowable. Purple eyes coated every inch of the area around it, coalescing into a wall of studying eyeballs. Stalks attached to their sides, emerging from deeper inside.

It shook off the superstitious idea. It seemed it was nearing wherever they inhabited already.

As it wheeled through the tunnel, the rock surrounding it seemed to subtly warp. Gone was the coarseness and roughness characteristic of them- and instead, a light pink hue along with a spongy appearance replaced it.

The small tunnel rapidly expanded in a funnel shape, opening to a giant cavern. The stalks tracing the walls of the pathway branched out now, coating every wall and floor like a web of neurons.

The structure itself wavered as the Machine approached, distorting in ways that brought the building closer to the edges of its vision. As it attempted to focus in, its gaze strayed away from the details.

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The structure was a parody of the grand cathedrals it knew of, built out of decaying wood and bricks of the cavern’s sponge-like stone. The building's front-facing metal doors slammed open as it approached, revealing a cloak draped over what appeared to be the framework of some humanoid robot. The plum-purple covering squirmed and twisted unnaturally, the fabric flowing like living water.

It sauntered over to the Machine, revealing itself to be organic in nature. The man’s needle-thin body moved effortlessly, almost gliding across the ground. His gaunt and pale hands shook slightly as he approached.

“My greetings, synthetic. I sense purpose within you… what have you come for?” The man intoned, an unknown quality distorting his voice. His appearance was a wild divergence, compared to what the Machine had seen before. His face was covered by a white plate, painted liberally with purple eyes. As he spoke, he turned and waved for the Machine to follow him deeper inside. As he began to face away, the eyes adorning his mask almost seemed to blink.

“I am a representative of the Order, seeking to retrieve the Eye-Opener for the purposes of the Mind’s Eye Cult.”

The cloaked man hesitated for a moment, turning back from his path.

“Please do not call us that. We are not a cult, no… we are a faith dedicated to the Many-Eyed Mind,” The masked figure corrected, sounding only a tad bit upset. “As for the object you speak of, I will have to commune with the other branches of the faith. I’m only passingly familiar with the artifact and the thievery surrounding it, you see.”

He continued on, ushering the Machine inside.

The interior of the building was not congruent with the exterior in any way. The most accurate way to describe it would be ornate. Immaculately set tables draped in cloths, with plain purple robed figures sitting silently while gesturing. Their masks, it noted, only contained a single depiction of a large eye.

Going past the tables, it rolled into what seemed akin to an office. Painted on the walls were anatomically correct artistic renditions of the brain, and other neurological features.

The man sat in the leather chair on the opposite side of the large wooden table, pushing the chair that another would normally sit in aside. The Machine rolled closer to the table, laying its appendages on it and rhythmically tapping.

“To commune with my brothers and sisters of the faith, we will sit in prayer and earnestly extend our minds to the Many-Eyed Mind, my friend. I sense a pureness of thought within you- truely, an ideal disciple.” The man began, closing his hands together in devotion.

“Before I forget, I am Amygdala, a Limb of the Many-Eyed God. You may not know the importance of that title- however, rest assured that I will be able to obtain an audience with whoever it was that assigned you this mission.”

The Machine pressed together its attachments, copying the posture of Amygdala.

“First, you must clear your processors of junk data- hm? My apologies, it seems the rite of ritual-imparting may be giving you an unclear understanding. Please, clear your mind of anything unneeded for your existence.”

The Machine obliged, trimming its excess thoughts and processes it ran constantly to ponder curiosities. It noticed the strange clarity of Amygdala’s instructions, but dismissed the thought along with many others.

“Now, repeat this chant in your mind: ‘I seek audience with the Many-Eyed God’s representative, They Who Assigns The Task Of Retrieval’,” Amygdala informed it. “I will handle the rest.”

It repeated the chant as fast as possible, in as innumerable amounts as it could. It estimated that it was repeating the words ten-thousand times a second at some points.

Reality turned upside down, the walls into boiling ice, and the air into a sea of blades. In an instant, several of its circuits were simply fried from strain. And soon after, the world slowed to a halt. The environment stabilized into what was still a chaotic mess- but not a mind-shattering one.

Eyes opened on every surface, human gray matter spreading to fill every nook and cranny of the room. And yet, the details felt unreal- overlaid upon a sensical reality. A hallucination it could not be, with the Machine mechanical as it was. Perhaps some sort of phantom on its sensors-

“It seems they’ve accepted our request for contact- now, we must wait for their arrival.”

The Machine stopped. It was irrelevant if this was true or not. The Purpose was the first, the second, and the third priority.

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In the unfiltered Mindscape we traverse, through the scrapings of thought shed by the sum of all minds. Our faith in the Many-Eyed Mind cloaks us, shielding us from the psychic pollution of the realm. Through the rite of commune, we may come to a shared dream where we may converse secretly- none outside of us privy to the discussions we may have. Be warned, however- for the unfaithful and those not shrouded intentionally by the Limbs of the faith may not enter this realm of dreams, should they wish to wake up.

* A previous Heart of the Mind’s Eye Faith.