On my first self-guided tour, the calculator was caught my eye because it was one of the few things left behind in the laboratories that filled the second floor. On my next trip, it had been smashed to pieces.
Punchcards near the plant clinic.
1950s safety posters about static and proper footware hide in remote offices, where the curious haven’t stolen them… yet.
Workers in the basement tunnels had to communicate with the workhouse operators 100 feet above and vice versa. Alarms and bells were installed to signal trouble over the sound of the elevator machinery.
Employee lockers near the stage, Service Building.
We mark our world in unexpected ways… this is how patient possessions would be stored during their stay in the old asylum wards. It’s about the size of a shoebox, and this particular drawer has a name where the others do not. Its place reminded me of the hospital cemetery where more than 3,000 are buried and less than 1% of whom are recorded by stone or plaque in their resting place.
A leftover swatch remembers the last fabric sewn here.
The machine stood the Atlas missile up vertically over the blast pit, launching position, once the roof opened.