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Late one afternoon while I was at work I was so tired I could have slept until I realized that I was in another place. For the most part it looked the same as where I worked, but when I tried to leave, the stairs down to the lobby and entrance took me instead to several floors of a different office I had never seen, and the stairs going up had never been there before. The further I wandered, the bigger the place became.


Now I spend my days in the infinite offices, warehouses, and factory floors of a company called Cheap American Domestic. I'm sure that I'm the only person here. It's not all that bad. It's quiet, anyway. 


Leaving is impossible. Days after I started exploring, the door at the top of the stairwell opened to a closet rather than stairs. When I want to, I can exit the buildings, but the parking lot surrounds everything and has no end. 


It’s always late afternoon here. 



Who are you?

I’m Nathan Becka, an artist from Kansas City. 


What do you do here? 

I wander around, but I get the feeling I’m meant to be working. 


You mean what’s my relationship to the factory?

I suppose I’m the Custodian. I prefer to keep things tidy. But, as the only one here, a kind of caretaker, you could say I have custody of the factory. 


Is all this stuff real?

No, of course not. Nothing is real. 


Can I visit the factory?

No, but our products are already all around you.

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