During the writing process, I discovered this was a story about control. Before Roger Abbott was convicted, he was a jaded man. Pessimistic and hopeless. A disgraced journalist who lost his family and found himself in a pit of disillusionment. But he wanted to share his story. His whole truth.

Embalming is clearly a set of tools that achieves remarkable results in the preservation of bodies, but of course its intention is a communication—either to ourselves or to the gods—of our feelings about death and eternity. C. S. Lewis said (I’m paraphrasing here) that we are animals, and therefore live in time, but that we are also partially divine, and therefore contain an awareness of eternity.

One thing I find interesting is the cyclical nature of humanity, of repeating pasts and histories, of being unable to move forward somehow even as time passes, at the way we always seem to be causing our own destruction even when what we truly desire is peace. Injustice is something that has persisted throughout human history, and it is something that seem as though it will always be prevalent.

So, that closure thing I mentioned—what I’ve always needed to heal, in my experience, is the community of my friends. In some ways this story is a love/thank-you note to some friends who’ve gotten me through some rough times.

Almost as soon as I sat down to start writing, I realized what mecha stories from Gundam to Pacific Rim have already demonstrated—the only reason a civilization would have to create a superweapon in the shape of an enormous humanoid figure is shock and awe.