[ WP ] You just discovered England 's biggest secret : every time they say long live the queen it extends the queens life .

The royal architect swore quietly under his breath, cursing not only for making the postern tunnel so small, but also for not having been aghast at the Choir from the start. Rather, he *had* been quite horrified. 
 
 The vibrations continued. Increased. 
 
 Maybe he cursed the fact that he had n't said No. But no. Her Majestic would have just put him in the Organ. Curse Dr. Jest. No, the royal architect corrected himself. 
 The air in the confined stone tunnel was stifling, and beginning to stink. Sweat, fear. And even more blood and urine than last time. 
 
 Curse me. 
 
 He was close enough that he could *almost* make out the different parts of the orchestra. The tenors sounded in rare form. Tripping, he caught himself on his own clever handholds. 
 
 I Am Cursed, he corrected himself. The waxed cotton in his ears was pointless, and he wept as it grew lighter & the arches in the stone stairwell opened into the amphitheater. 
 
 The stairs opened, widened, shallowed pleasantly. And it grew light enough to see her Majesty's choir pit. And her M- 
 
 He forced himself to look on the Thing. The organ. 
 
 Row upon row of pinioned slaves screaming her name, or at least moaning it - using the one musical note their surgically-modified vocal cords could produce. Though several were clearly near death, our dear Dr.Jest's irons, razors, acids, pincers and bloodied loved-ones produced a song for our Queen. l am too awed to continue. l must tell Her Majesty of the cracks appearing. But the harmony, and the knowing She is immortal... 
 When l saw the twitching pile of the Singers' loved-ones, sacrificed to increase the Name-Count, l swallowed back the vomit and counted it as a delicacy. ( l was unable to swallow the 2nd, but no one saw where it went. ) 
 
 You all know how She won the Last War. 
 
 The grit in our teeth is dust from the stonework overhead. l am running waving my arms, toward Her eunuchs.. 
 But l know it is terribly too late. 
 Occasionally now, gravel bits fall out. The bass undertones of Her Majesty's Name will soon drop the vault's keystone. The Thames will drop in to silence th 
 
 - 
 
 The rumbling slowly subsided, becoming muffled screams and creaks of dying architecture, and the roar of the water coming in, he smiled with what was left of his face. 
 
 Knowing Her eggs were safe. 
 
 edit letters & l know the tense and person is all messed up
