Prompt

A single, humming column of solidified fog and reversed gravity stands at the center of a vast, mirrored cavern carved from the inside of a frozen nebula, its structure not vertical but spiraling inward like a wound that never closed. The column does not growit unfolds, revealing layers of compressed data not from the past, but from the future, each layer etched with the faint, ghostly script of decisions that have not yet been made. The cavern walls are not stonethey are layers of inverted memory, arranged in a spiral that spirals outward like a breath held too long, each shelf glowing faintly with the afterimage of a handshake that never happened. Above, the ceiling is not skyit is a dense, swirling

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