On the far edge of Saturn’s outer moon, where strange tides pull at time itself, a young explorer pauses beside an alabaster stairway carved into the rock. His guide, a tall clockwork automaton with eyes like old copper pennies, hums quietly with each step. Perched on a nearby boulder, a patient tortoise—its shell plated in brass—carries a tiny flying saucer as if it were the most ordinary thing in the universe. Here, gravity bends politely, machines dream in color, and every step forward is a step into the wonderfully weird.
