K.S. made her way down the corridor, it was not bright nor colorful, refrigerators of varying heights, with an assortment of cardboard boxes on top, lined the concrete walls. Standing still for quite some time, K.S. peered down at the scrap of paper in her hand, it read "B10 R6B16". She continued her search for the new billet; figures darted noiselessly behind the diffused glass of office doors; low murmurs came from indistinct locations. The numbers on the wall seemed to follow a sequence for a bit, then suddenly change entirely with letters added and removed. A few workers were visible through the slightly opened door in a small corner room. K.S. pushed on the door and stuck her head inside for a look. Three workers stopped all movement with papers in hand and file cabinets open; they looked over at the visitor with no perceivable expression on their collective face.

K.S. felt is was getting late