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.
Can you imagine workers in a food plant smoking on the job today?
Work never done.
A leftover swatch remembers the last fabric sewn here.
A clicky-flippy clock is having some kind of malfunction.
A big sign marks where the elevated walkway is severed where Dock 2 used to meet Dock 3, now gone.
One basement room has a pile of x-rays of miners, taken and stored by the company.
This seems to be the space where upholstery patterns would be drafted. On the table were half-finished notes on a new design.