I saw in my vision a sundial, upon which there stood twenty men, one held down by the rest. When the shadow of the dial touched the held man, the other nineteen killed him, and his blood spilled down from the surface of the table. As each drop fell upon the earth, it became bread, water, and metal. From the bread and water came forth more men, who took the metal to shed more blood.
As I watched, I saw the sacrifices continue, day after day. Each time the shadow touched the marked point, the blood of a man was shed. But now, there were more marked points, more sacrifices, but not all the blood of each was shed. Pieces of men, and not the whole of them, were cut off and butchered. The blood still flowed down the table, but now there was more metal than was needed to continue the sacrifice, and more men coming forth than needed to be sacrificed.
Men began to take the metal, and build around the tower of the dial new ways of marking time, at first crudely, then with increasing complexity. The places and times marked for sacrifice remained, and increased, but only the blood, and not the pieces, of men were shed. As the number of marks increased, the number of men who shed their blood increased, each giving less than the cycle before, although some in each cycle would give more than others.
The men began to live in the clocktower, building it up and decorating the facade, in a progress of growth and beautification that seemed unending. But as I lingered further in the garden, I noticed an agitation among the men. Some who lived high in the tower, looking down upon what portion of the stone table left uncovered, had seen the bloodstains, and were agitated. It was barbaric to live on what was build on a foundation of bloodshed, they said. Climbing down from the tower, they would pass by men, and knock knives out of their hands, chiding them for being so foolish, so self-destructive as to shed their own blood.
By the time the agitators had come to the bottom of the tower, they could look up and see the blood pouring down the turning gears of the clock, powering and renewing them. Upon them dawned the realization of how life in the tower was made, and how it had to continue. This realized, they began to make war upon the tower, smashing every gear they could get their hands on, imprisoning every citizen they could grab within padded chambers so that they could not shed their blood.
I saw the tower list, crack, and fall with a crash; overbalancing the sundial, leaving a wreck of material in which no life was.