One thing I like about the oppressive globalist-wrought future is the idea of numerically subdividing spaces; my geek side sort of wants to live in a flat that can be sorted by as Dewey Decimal-like code.
One of my favorite signs. I imagine something like this happened when it was put up: “Wow, that’s a big sign.” “Yeah, you’re going to be putting it up in the elevator at the service door.” “Have you thought of may locking the door?” “What?” “You know, lock it so that there’s no risk, sign aside, of us going through and falling to our death.” “Shut up and just install the damn sign.”
A pink room with very heavy doors that reminds me of the rooms at some of the insane asylums that I’ve explored.
The entrance to the area where staff could sleep.
From factory to skate park to restaurant. This is in the skate park stage. The buildings to the right are demolished now, and in their place are hockey rinks.
This miner locker room has probably never been so clean.
The side of Stelco and its scrubber-stacks. This is demolished now.
Barrels were prepared across the street, then moved across the road with a special conveyor, seen crashed here. This is down the road from Old Taylor, and was probably a part of the Old Crow operation.
The piano must have been a nice distraction; there is very little to do in Roberts.
In the office at the end of the dock are two brooms. One is from the last ore train. One is from the last boat.