Today I witnessed a man vomit out a bile black tar after prolonged work in the forgerium mines. Not one of his coworkers had taken pause to aid him, and all had walked over one they had spent hours toiling alongside and viewing in their everyday. Behind the fencing I could do not a thing to help, and the sight had left me so transfixed and fearful that I was permitted another revelation after hours had passed. There laid multiple men, face down, bile strewn about the stoned floor along their faces and how I realized my own abject horror and pause, my own terror and curiousity, my own observation and wonder, to the man who would return to his home well after the moon had risen and would return to the mnes well before the sun would rise. To return for his chance at death and to be stomped over, leading I to wonder if even the families of the men which I see laying upon the floor would shed a tear or perhaps at last sigh in guilted relief that at last their men are freed.
Something must be done. I cannot dare to witness such a sight and feel such a way, and continue about my life. Our world is controlled by mechanical creations powered by these sacrifices - and now I must wonder if perhaps the machines could be used to end it.