The old truck scale sits in the middle of what was Nettleton Avenue Slip.
I did not take the escape ladder to the surface, but I am told it pops up in the middle of a hill next to the missile silo doors.
At sunset the light skips from puddle to stagnant puddle across the whole foundry room, playing with the classic sawtooth roof with half-hearted shadows.
This mean-looking thing had a purpose, probably, but that function has been lost to decades of expansion.
The corner of the elevator… lumber armored with steel for fireproofing and water resistance.
This wide skyway connected two of the inner factory buildings, where parts would have to be transported to keep the operation moving, which is why it is much wider than other bridges in the plant.
Another perfect Indianan sunset alights like a bird on the tops of the vent houses and tree-packed smokestacks.
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.