Ch.2727. Factory.

# 27. The Factory.

It’s a trite observation, but this world has so many things that can’t be understood with the knowledge or common sense from the world I used to live in.

Of course, technological advancement and changes in eras inevitably lead to changes in the underlying knowledge and common sense.

And since understanding and knowledge have overlapping parts.

It’s only natural that I, still stuck in the past, cannot understand the culture and artifacts of this world.

I can make inferences through form or causality, but in this complex world, what’s visible to the eye rarely reveals the essence.

So I always try to be careful with my words, thinking it would be quite ridiculous to question or blindly criticize something just because I can’t understand it.

“Who on earth thought it was a good idea to build a factory in a place like this?”

But… at least with this factory, that’s not the case.

Between cities.

Who would have thought to build such an enormous factory in this barren field where nothing exists except for snow-covered train tracks and roads?

“Historically, factories—except in ancient times when things were made by hand—were built in suburbs considering pollution issues, agglomeration benefits, and distribution… or so I learned.”

…But what is this?

Looking up from below, the walls are so high they block the sky, stretching endlessly.

If it weren’t for the large number ’03’ and the word indicating this is a factory, I wouldn’t have known what this place was before entering—that’s how high and solid the walls surrounding this single factory are.

“Seeing ’03’ on the wall, there must be buildings 1 and 2 somewhere… but you guys saw that there weren’t any other buildings on our way here, right?”

If this had been an industrial complex with multiple factories clustered together, I could have understood it to some extent.

That unlike other cities, there was an industrial complex here, which explained why it was so far from the city with the black pillar.

But this factory stood entirely alone, and that was extremely peculiar.

It wasn’t the kind of building that would be built by people of an era efficient enough to house humans in homes that look like ours.

[What could that building possibly be, standing all alone in this snowfield?]

[Whatever it is, it’s something that can’t be understood with f̸̧͉̟͒͂͒a̶̞̩͎̚n̴̥̓̒ ̵̡̻̈’̵͕͉̩͚͈̋́̄̽̕ȩ̸̨̳̈́̀͑̈́͜ ̶͔̒̈̌͌̓2̵̭͕͓̘́́ͅ1̷̛̲̙͛̇̍̒̏e̸̡̗͐̃͝ ̴̻͒̂̑͂̊͝į̵̄̋͜ē̷̦͈͓̜͍̏̆̕ů̴̜̥̞͖̩.̴̣̒’s common sense.]

[At that distance, we’ll have to walk all day tomorrow just to reach it. Why is it so far away?]

It seemed the people watching the video had similar thoughts to mine, as all the incoming messages were curious about the factory.

Maybe it’s because it took two days to reach the building that was faintly visible since we built the house.

Or perhaps it’s because we finally have something interesting to talk about after seeing nothing but snow.

I found it a bit surprising that the messages, which usually contained differing opinions, were now in agreement.

I chuckled as I read those messages.

“Haha, it feels nice to have this sense of connection.”

Being from the distant future, I had worried about potential conflicts due to differences in thinking or personality if we ever met in person.

But after receiving messages day and night while walking through the snowfield, I realized those worries were unfounded.

While personalities differ from person to person, at least we seem to communicate well.

The level of knowledge also seemed surprisingly similar.

What I don’t know, these people don’t seem to know either.

Whether this city is special, or technology has regressed due to war or other reasons… it wasn’t such negative news.

“Thinking about it won’t give us answers, so let’s try to find an entrance. It may look strange, but the people here weren’t fools—they must have had reasons for building it this way.”

Why build a factory all alone in this place? And how did they receive and deliver goods when it’s not even near the sea?

Lastly, if they had the technology and materials to build something like this, why leave the surroundings as a barren field?

This world is truly filled with things I’d rather not know about, or things I’m desperately curious about, but dwelling on the meaning and trying to understand everything often leads to trouble.

The most essential skill for a wanderer isn’t knowledge but the ability to accept.

It would be nice to know the causes or history in detail, but that’s often impossible.

Rather than stubbornly persisting and wasting time and energy, it’s much better to simply acknowledge, “So there’s a factory even in a place like this,” and move on.

While joking with my friends that they must have had the technology to make, transport, and somehow dispose of waste.

[I wonder if we can go inside?]

“Hmm… there should be an entrance not far from the road…”

The factory was situated a little off to the side from the road leading to the black pillar.

Though narrow, there was a paved road leading to the factory, which meant cars or people must have come and gone.

“Considering they needed to transport goods or have employees commute, the entrance probably won’t be on the opposite side of the road. Of course, if they didn’t use any employees at all, that would be different…”

I walk slowly along the massive outer wall, wondering how long it would take to circle it completely.

Occasionally, I spot small gaps with palm-sized displays that might have served as entrances.

Unfortunately, the gaps are tightly sealed, barely noticeable, and like the city, the factory seems to have ceased functioning—the displays show no response when I bring my eyes or fingers close.

“I’m curious about what’s inside, and it’s getting dark, so I really want to get in… should I look for a way to force it open?”

But my trusty “key”—Maximus—won’t work here; the gaps are too narrow, and the outer wall is too solid.

“In old movies and comics, shooting at machines like these would cause them to malfunction and open closed doors, but I guess things won’t be that easy.”

I always carry a loaded gun in my bag for emergencies, so I could shoot if I wanted to.

But… malfunctions only apply to machines that are still alive, right?

Breaking a machine that’s already stopped probably won’t make closed doors swing open.

“Hmm… do I need to build another snow house?”

What should I do, what should I do?

I continue wandering around, pondering the elusive entrance.

Being careful not to lose my way or sense of direction, I keep track of the road’s position.

If necessary, the wall is white like a canvas. I could draw on it like I did in the slum, using the spray paint I brought along.

But it seems a bit wasteful to use the spray paint that glows softly even in darkness in a place like this.

“Ah! Here it is! Look at this. I told you it would be nearby!”

While walking along the outer wall lost in thought, I fortunately found an entrance not far away.

With a smile replacing the anxious expression that had been wondering “What if there’s no entrance?”, I confidently face the drone.

A large hole with black scorch marks, as if someone had detonated explosives from outside.

I approach, pointing at the traces of destruction that stand out against the pure white outer wall.

“Wow. Someone really blasted this open nicely. Who could have been so kind to make a door here?”

There’s no way a place like this wouldn’t have security robots or security facilities.

Isn’t this the era where turrets are set up in ordinary house corridors to chase away intruders?

Normally, security robots would have been deployed just for unauthorized people approaching the factory wall.

Or guns hidden in the wall would have popped out with threats to turn back.

But there are no bloodstains or robot tracks around.

Only a few unused explosives leaning diagonally against the wall.

“Based on the circumstances, maybe someone who survived after everything stopped, like me, was walking by, discovered the factory, and came in.”

There must have been people who, like me, left the train station and ventured outside instead of returning home.

“I don’t know who it was, but I’m grateful they made it easy for me to enter.”

I don’t know their face, name, or even when they lived.

Hoping that whoever visited this place safely reached the next city and is living happily, I enter through the opening.

“Sigh, I always wonder why the people who lived here built everything so big. Tall and large structures are impressive, but there’s a limit, you know.”

The factory I carefully entered, avoiding cuts from fragments… was incredibly vast.

So vast that I gasped the moment I looked up after entering.

“It’s quite different from what I knew, but this messy and complex feel is exactly what a factory should be like.”

If I had to describe this space in one word, “irregularity” would be most appropriate.

Buildings of varying heights stand without any consistent pattern, and pipes of all sizes along with various types of cables wrap around them, unifying them into a single factory.

Nothing within these huge walls is completely free from pipes and cables.

It’s such an irregular and chaotic space that it almost creates the illusion of thick black rain falling from the sky above.

Columns that once ceaselessly emitted smoke but have now stopped, and freight cars that have ceased operation.

I walk slowly and freely among the suffocatingly numerous lines and enormous shapes of unknown purpose.

“Where should I go to get further inside from here? …Come to think of it, I seem to be living quite a repetitive daily life.”

Entering through one entrance only to search for another.

Wandering around for a while, then looking for an exit at the last moment.

Hoping for something meaningful to happen in between.

Though I’m wandering more freely than anyone else in the world.

In the end, I’m just living the same repetitive days like everyone else.

Well, that’s fine too.