Everything preached by the missionaries from Gamma World felt far too unreal to them.
They could not believe such a world existed.
After all, from the day they were born, all they had ever known was this chaotic world saturated with radiation.
Of course.
Some were willing to believe. If a place like Gamma World truly existed, they would absolutely be willing to go there. Even if it only meant being able to eat ration bars and minced-meat protein paste every day, that would already be the wish of a lifetime.
The information spread by the missionaries of the Gamma World expeditionary force churned through the inner world of Tarelia.
The lower levels were practically the bloody factories of all Tarelia. Countless factories stood throughout the pyramid's lower tiers, stacked atop one another. The factories below produced components for certain instruments assigned by the Adeptus Mechanicus, while those above might manufacture parts for radiation-laced equipment.
On the assembly lines, modified Servitors welded to the conveyor belts had damaged throats and consciousnesses nearly worn away. Yet their altered bodies still mechanically repeated the mysterious gestures of praising the Omnissiah.
In another hive city, perhaps these Servitor workers could earn abundant rations for their families through nearly twenty-four hours of labor each day. But this was Tarelia. Their twenty-four hours of work merely allowed them to barely raise one child and give that child the chance to enter this factory and continue working.
Cloaked probes swept through the lower-level factories, recording their working conditions.
The souls of those Servitors left on the production lines had perhaps already been worn down to almost nothing.
Without souls, with even their bodies squeezed dry until little value remained, the lower levels had lost what value they once possessed as well.
Factories like these filled the