This corridor goes on forever. It felt like a quarter mile, and may actually have been. A ways down, there are several employee vehicles parked -- where they came in I haven't a clue -- and a shelf full of brand-new tires to play with. A few people, with their credentials prominently displayed, are going about their business, and all look up, surprised to see a stranger with no photo ID attached to his shirt walking along. It feels almost like a movie, where someone walks into a party and the music stops while everyone sizes up the newcomer.
Finally, we arrive at one last set of metal doors; Nicoghosian taps his entry pass and I'm greeted by a scene that is simultaneously everything and nothing I expected. As I walk into that hallowed room, I'm greeted not by golden rays and singing angels, but a sea of bright, crisp, fluorescent light that forms an odd juxtaposition against the somewhat stale, quite dusty air.