A Bungled Heist (One)
You can’t really dispute the significance of this place.
We called it the Ark. Part warehouse, part museum. Acre upon acre of crated and preserved relics of forgotten science, engineering and craft. Stacked fifty high in places. A mausoleum of forgotten technology.
When the resources started to dwindle, someone had the foresight to start bagging this stuff up. The military grade tech was first. It is rumoured that somewhere in this labyrinth is a whole regiment of Gen 7 Bobs! Almost un-imaginable, that we once had the means, materials and know how to create such things. They were in there somewhere, catalogued, numbered and forgotten.
After the hi-tech stuff came all the tech that had made it into people’s homes. Domestic appliances created to make everything easier. Metal, plastic boxes thousands of uses. Regardless of their menial or benign nature, they were all bagged, tagged and stacked.
Occasionally, nowadays, a new crate would be delivered at the front gate. We’d flip coins to decide who would get the task of forklifting into its allocated storage position. A pink delivery docket the only clue as to what was contained in the box. We’d discuss it of course, and the theories were usually exotic and terrifying. But the chances were, the new item was just some metal box for cooking food in under thirty seconds or something. Junk we’d learned to live without.
Most times, we just played poker in the guard house. That little hut, four rent-a-cops, a ten foot high wire perimeter fence and a bunch of cameras protecting a collection of junk that nobody really needed.
Hidden in plain sight.