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Heaving a transient lather of soft billow into the wintered skyline, the aching, grinding dragon of iron puffed, steamed and then lurched forward, gasping with the tonnage of its sundry cars as the mechanical caravan made its way upward across the arching alp looming before it. The nimble motion with which the dogged train had first attacked the oncoming grade was by now replaced by a sudden jerking campaign, a seemingly failing crusade, as the mountain appeared to be winning. Of course, the mountain, known to all living on either side as Babel, due to its natural attempt to pierce the fluffed palisade of Heaven, had Newton on its side, prophesying an inevitable fall. But man had God on his side, and when the fall came, man would merely deny his god, as was accustomed to his Petrine nature, and proffer himself humble and repentant before another. Thus, the conflict between man and nature waged on.
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