I'm not sure when or how I got here. I sort of became aware of it one day, but it's possible I might have always been here. I do know that I'm the only one at this never ending headquarters of a company that seems to have the capability to make every possible thing and probably did. The production floors, offices, and stock rooms go on forever. All the facilities and equipment are intact and functional, but certainly aren't getting any newer.
The warehouses are packed tight with items like un-awarded runner's up trophies for all variety of competition already engraved with the recipient's names. The offices are so expansive, I believe they are every office.
Impossible to leave
I tried to leave on foot once but turned back at dusk while the parking lots continued on for miles under the streetlights. When it's not night it's approximately 3:45 in the afternoon all the time and the sunlight slices through every window.
The factory is definitely somewhere in the heart of the country. The address on all the stationary says Cutler, Missouri. But that doesn't make sense because Cutler's not a real place.
Who are you?
My name's Nathan. I suppose I'm the custodian of this place.
May I visit the factory?