This place was inevitable. No one trapped inside of it could tell you how it came to be, but few can escape the fact that it is, and an unlucky fewer still have discovered hints of its true age during their aimless sojourns through its churning, intestinal corridors. Don't look for an exit. A smiling receptionist at a clean, organized front desk. Don't try every dead phone you come across in search of medical help for the mental conditions you've attributed to yourself to explain your situation. You won't find any windows, there is no fresh air, and there will be no shimmering glass doors that open to a world you can hardly remember. That world is a fantasy here.
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