During his third rebirth, Edmund stumbled upon Lux Aeterna's darkest secret—rows of indulgence vending machines nestled in confession booth alcoves, their coin slots molded into infantile sucking lips. He inserted an antique silver coin engraved with Joachim's profile, but the machine spat out a yellowed diaper edged with faded Belisarius crest embroidery.
"Congratulations on the hidden prize!" The electronic nun's synthesized voice crackled with laugh tracks. "This masterpiece from your sixth year has been marinated in sacred oils for seven decades, complete with rebirth coordinates!"
Under moonlight, urine stains morphed into constellations. Edmund's mechanical irises auto-decoded twelve rebirth coordinates, the outermost stain stretching toward the kindergarten rooftop's bronze weathervane—a grinning infant version of himself sucking its thumb. Alarms blared, not for enemies but for fire drills. Fifty mechanized nuns tap-danced with flamethrowers, their transparent craniums displaying floating mini-brains of relatives. Edmund noted the "Margaret Beta" brain secreting blue mucus—identical to the amniotic fluid he'd stewed in for nine months.
"Uncle's humor remains deliciously vile." Cecilia emerged from fire-suppressant foam, her armor dusted with candy sprinkles. When her blade split the vending machine, a geyser of milk teeth erupted, each inscribed with family sins.
"Admire this." She kicked a canine tooth forward. Nano-etchings glowed under retinal scan: [Cecilia Belisarius, Age 4y7d — Attempted Theft of Creation Protocol Cookie Dough]
The system flashed a multiple-choice prompt:
[Select Disciplinary Action]
A. Palm Strikes (Traditionalist)
B. Solitary Confinement (Academic)
C. Demotion to Latrine Code (Innovator)
Edmund crushed the tooth, data residue tingling mint on his tongue. "You needed stricter upbringing."
A distorted pipe organ rendition of Two Tigers echoed from the nursery depths. Three hundred sixty-five surveillance screens looped Margaret's labor from every angle. Joachim's face suddenly hijacked all feeds, spring-loaded eyeballs penduluming before lenses: "Watch closely, nephew! Your thousandth birth reel!"
The delivery bed flipped with a metallic shriek, revealing interlocking gears below. Amidst wailing infants and machinery roars, Edmund saw his umbilical cord tethered not to a placenta but a data-cabled metal womb. Margaret's face peeled away, exposing Joachim's sneer: "Touching, isn't it? Dear mommy's just the incubator's screensaver!"
Cecilia's blade pierced the main monitor, spewing warm amniotic fluid instead of sparks. From the digital deluge, she fished out a memory crystal. Its refraction froze Edmund's coolant pump—five-year-old him shoving her embryonic capsule into an oven as Joachim adjusted temperatures: "Remember, big brothers must master heat control..."
"So we rehearsed genesis during playtime." Edmund crushed the crystal, its shards coalescing into lime-flavored truth serum. The system screeched: [Affection Critical! Initiate Embrace Therapy!]
Steam pipes in the boiler room pinned yellowed childcare logs. The latest entry's ink bled: [Cycle 13.0 Adjustments: Implement Bedwetting Penalty — Terminate when nocturnal output exceeds 200ml...] Subsequent text lay buried under bear stickers.
Mechanical maggots rained from vents, forming a poetry cult. Their corrosive secretions etched:
When Clockwork Madonna winds punishment's spring
Bedwetting Saint charts seas in amniotic ring
Lullaby hides godslaying voyage's toll
Pay your diaper dues, dear nephew-soul
Cecilia's purification flames charred verses to ash, only for embers to rearrange into Belisarius tax forms. On the receipt's back, umbilical blood scribbled: [Note: 7% Emotional Tax per Cycle as Childcare Fund]
As pursuers breached the doors, they stood before a colossal cradle woven from Yggdrasil roots. Joachim's hologram oozed from pacifier-shaped cameras: "Enjoy uncle's birthday surprise? P.S. Those music box gears you shattered..."
Five hundred mechanized nannies materialized, their arm-terminals brandishing Edmund's deepest fears across ages: medicine spoons at five, final exams at twelve, pyre branding irons.
"Option D." Edmund severed the World Tree's IV line, flooding the hall with honey-oil sludge. As Cecilia cursed, he swallowed the diaper's star chart, triggering rebirth.
The final image: Joachim tap-dancing through the deluge, crooning a twisted lullaby—"Hush little godkiller, uncle's jests never tire..."