I walk in every morning, clutching my lunch bag, into a non-descript gray, aluminum-encased building, bristling with security cameras. After the security guard checks me in, I drop off my personal effects in my locker.
I put my lunch in one of the large shared refrigerators in the lunchroom. In the mornings when I don my HEV suit and jog down to the test chamber, I always ask myself, am I getting paid enough for this? I mean, all it is just diagnostic testing on whatever odd devices are sent in from the other parts of the facility. If necessary, reclamative emendation is done in front of an array of LCDs. Maybe I’m just unnerved because the rest of the facility is so mysterious. I can’t get a word of exposition out of anybody. I see large boxes everywhere and many clean rooms, but access isn’t allowed to the likes of me, those on a “need-to-know” basis. The mysterious administrators seem to be the only ones in any position of enlightenment.
As long as we don’t have anymore resonance cascades like on my first day, then it looks to be pretty boring from here on out.