InteriorsInteriorsSiloReading: Open fileReadingOpen fileNeed to knowMy clearancePreview cardDistrictsPitol TractPossible conversations60'WARNING: FALL HAZARD.'Lines1"Hey, bud!"Lines222A blurry photo of protestors hurling bricks. The headline: 'NESTOR MUST GO.'Lines1A bottle, left intentionally. A past visitor, nodding at a future one.Lines1A discarded junction, meant for fluid lines.Lines1A dry watering hole. Small packs gathered here to sip and trade grunts.Lines1A grey, gelatinous slime thrives at the bottom of the rusted pails.Lines1A picture of a great steel chariot, signed by the hands that built it.Lines1A punch-card scanner. The screen would've shown on-site personnel.Lines1A small vessel that once tried to fill the emptiness with songs.Lines1A smear of dirt bisects your reflection. Both halves equally on edge.Lines1A theatre of inorganic decay.Lines1More conversations 48A welder's mask with few burn marks.Lines1A wheel once turned to perform kinetic miracles.Lines1A whiff of old ammonia. Still burns the throat.Lines1A Zatiros-3 unit -- manufactured in Tsun's Arc, not Portofiro.Lines1All around, shadows leer, studying you with cold attention.Lines1An identification plate above the door has been pried off.Lines1Cellulose-fat silverfish scatter as you approach.Lines1Chunky, sticky buttons. Relics of a tactile world filled with pleasant clacks.Lines1Clinks and chuckles echoing. Two shadows toasting to the abyss.Lines1Clinks, fading quickly. A small life fleeing your alien presence.Lines1Cracked screens, shattered keys. Someone wanted this thing dead.Lines1Damp cardboard. 'FLOOR SEALED', badly scribbled over.Lines1Dated: 76. We were teens. Life loomed. And now, we're here.Lines1Dozens of personnel files, the specifics redacted with a roller-stamp.Lines1Dried white paint -- matte. Good for covering up steel.Lines1Dustless below the tarp, awaiting an unveiling that will never come.Lines1Empty OXEN Bocks bottles. Label says they expire in two years.Lines1Fat residue on old cardboard.Lines1Flimsy latch on that drawer. Wouldn't be hard to pop.Lines1Heavy-duty chemical signatures. Not for partying.Lines1High-contrast paint, indicating sub-level FOUR.Lines1It all happens in milliseconds. A sharp blow to your elbow, the flashlight flying out of your grasp...Lines160Its function long forgotten, the mysterious lever calls out to be used.Lines1Large glass eyes, milky with cataracts, stare back.Lines1Last inspected: 77. The machine-spirit long departed.Lines1Lineworker gloves, swollen and cracked. Signs of heavy kerosene exposure.Lines1Metal shudders and groans beneath your feet, reverberating downwards.Lines23Might be worth popping this thing open, yeah?Lines1Mind the gap.Lines1Nitrogen, hastily discarded.Lines1Old metal groans into the void. Acoustics suggest a fifty metre drop.Lines1Phosphor etched across the screen: a spectral rocket, all systems clear.Lines1Propellant cylinders. The warning signs are in Mircean.Lines1Rust halfway through devouring the support beams.Lines1Safety guidelines for contractors, stamped by a Portofiran office.Lines1Scattered star stickers, edges curled, cling to the EXIT sign.Lines1Small white and blue feathers, a few droppings. Birds made a home.Lines1Some serious protection gloves were left here.Lines1Steel levers, frozen mid-pull.Lines1The glint of a glass bottle -- miraculously unbroken.Lines1The huffing stranger breaks into a smile as he notices you.Lines1The plank's a recent addition, no trace of rot.Lines1The smell of a box opened after decades, the air of another age trapped inside.Lines1The tarp clings to the railing, stiff with long-dried oil stains.Lines1Water gurgles somewhere below, punctuated by high-voltage crackles.Lines1Water through a pipe, four levels down. Human activity.Lines1Whatever light that's slipped in from above has nearly drained away.Lines108You can't see much at all. You need a light.Lines1Other interiorsHolocene RoomPuzzle RoomMy accountContribute
