reproduction facility

The glass curtain rolls over every segmented and coded unit ready to plug into a conditioned lack. In the cavernous belly of the beast, only objects of warm and cozy domestic bliss can be found. The unctuous chain of production leads back to certain reflective surfaces that bounce any seekers back to the reproduction itself. And in the rafters of the subsidiary, the conglomerate shadows eavesdrop for absolute compliance in service to all desiring machines in all directions.