Tucked-into the side of the concentration mill… these machines were meant to crush underground rock into a fine dust for mineral extraction.
A 1960s style TV set in a sun room at the back of the poor house. The concrete room survived the roof collapse and was full of rotten children’s books and toys. Perhaps it was where donations were sorted, or perhaps it was a nursery/orphanage area.
In a protected wing of a launcher are these empty server racks where guidance and control computers were stored.
Play on, Hunter. (Two keys worked on this thing.)
Each patient had a card of record that reported major events. Births, changes in diagnosis, and for some, death.
One of the few windows that escaped steel plating the last time the hospital was sealed tight to let nature roam within.
Gloves hang in the basement of the former quality assurance labs.
A familiar scene in Control Tower B, though the microphone has not been used for years.
Before developers saw to cut and cut the flour mills inside Pillsbury, they stood at the ready beside various purposeful chutes the traversed the floors of between sorters. These machines were belt-driven by the power of Pillsbury’s Mississippi headraces and turbines, the force of which notoriously shook the building’s foundations themselves. The wheels would change the grade of the flour, or the size of the dust produced from crushing the kernels.