A huge pile of scrap metal, twisted fittings and ruined piping, was piled in the base of the room.
I regarded it with unease; Pyestock appeared remarkably intact but had the long awaited demolition
started in here? Try as I might, I simply couldn’t figure out where it’d been taken from,
as everything looked intact. Further inspection revealed the metal as extremely flimsy,
and not of the durable, industrial inch-thick turbine-testing might of the rest of the room.
At this point, our experience turned sour.
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