In one of the small offices there’s this machine that bills itself as “The Recorder.” I’m an old tech geek and I still don’t know what this really does.
A gate large enough to accommodate a missile, next to the ruins of the guard shack. Wyoming is the intersection of lonely and beautiful.
The sun sets in front of a huge concrete building—about four times the size of the power plant. Probably a corn storage bin from an ethanol operation that ran here in the 1980s.
The remains of the surgical suite.
A mid-line polishing booth. It was fun to see the thousands of lasers and other sensors that guided the robotic arms and tools around the bodies as they passed. Note the red/green stop/go lights in the distance.
Looking down Pommenicher Straße from Gaststätte Rosarius, the monstrous machine about to devour the town bites at the ground.
As the Barker steamed past the dock and island, the sunset casts the shadow of the Taconite Harbor receiving trestle on the boat. Through the fog, you can see some of the islands that were joined into a breakwater.
After Wilson Bros moved out, a furniture company moved in.
When a big motor rusted free of its ceiling mount, it smashed onto this workbench.