He was John Henry, and he knew that if the steam hammer caught him it would do more than cost him has job. Somehow he knew that machine was trying to kill him. But something was wrong! The hammer,
his hammer was fighting against him. His arms were refusing to swing, as if he was being held down! He couldn't shake them off, and he could hear that steam-powered beast getting closer...
"
It's getting closer! I can hear it! I can feel it!" Builder manages to cry out, before sinking back into the fever dream.
He was a miner, deep in the belly of the living mountain. He was a parasite sent in to bleed the mountain dry of its precious lifeblood. Down in the cold and the dark, alone and insignificant, with just a pickaxe, waging war against nature. Suddenly a rumble, and a crash, and he was pinned miles below the surface in the darkness...
Then he was one with the mountain. His breathing slowed, matching the cool sighs of the earth itself, and his perception grew outward. The cold stone, that was now so much a part of him, stretched out in every direction. He was once a hard man, but the hardness of men was nothing to what he might yet become.