Tridents were laid thin along the ivory toned stonework, behind the mouth of the revert gate. In the great wall beyond, a male USB was the centre of radiating ridges in acorn wax, fifty feet across and tall. They opened the roller doors with lightning in the mornings, when the dew lent its softening to strength.
In the morning, before the piercing faces worm their ways in through the colonnades, they shift the sliding sheets across the escarpment, with the cheese-stone heaps outside. Then they range the tridents against them – all is kept safe in the record.