Time In the Round

In a gleaming future park, children gather around the towering crystal of the Time Theater, their playthings a menagerie of sleek, synthetic dogs that snap, whirl, and bite with programmed ferocity. A lanky boy named the Butcher watches these mechanical fights with a detached curiosity, his mind drifting back to stories of a harsher past where blood and grit defined existence. The scene is a vivid blend of neon‑lit leisure and a lingering echo of ancient conflict, hinting at a world that has both perfected and sanitized aggression.

The Butcher’s fascination with the old‑world brutality fuels his quiet rebellion against the sanitized norms of his society. He questions the meaning of “uninjurable” creations, debates the value of real danger, and even muses about a future where warfare might return under his own direction. This opening sets up a thought‑provoking clash between nostalgic violence and a meticulously engineered peace, inviting listeners to ponder what it means to be truly alive in a world of perfect simulations.