Monday, 30 November 2009

Noises in the Night


11:22 p.m.

I sit quietly, at an undisclosed location. The low, deep thrum of great machines resonates below and around. The last two nights, flashing amber lights and strange noises have surrounded what I shall call “factory x”. Supposedly they make yogurt, but certain events might lead one to believe otherwise.

11:30 p.m.

The noises have intensified slightly. I can identify a powerful motor fluctuating wildly in speed, and a deep grinding sound.

12:35 a.m.

I decide I have no choice but to investigate. I collect my Maglite and camera, put on my rainbow yak wool earflap hat—for camouflage—and venture out into the dark. The rain falls in a lazy half-drizzle-half-mist. I can hear the sounds more clearly now. They drift on the wind, but there—phasing in and out—is the very same grinding and droning I could hear from inside. Now it is much more distinct, and I can make out even more detail as I get closer.

12:41 a.m.

I catch a glimpse of factory x through the trees. There is no sign of activity at all, but the droning and grinding is louder than ever now. It seems to be coming from inside, or behind, or under the central building, just to the right of the smokestack. I steady my camera on a wet fence post and snap a few long exposure photos.


12:44 a.m.

I notice there’s a CCTV camera by the main gates, and I make out the silhouette of another one further ahead against the sodium lights. I quickly palm my own camera, covering the LCD as I switch it off, and put my hands in my pockets. A security van sits quietly in the parking lot. Tinted windows. Makes me nervous. I keep walking.

12:46 a.m.

Standing on the bridge now, on the other side of factory x. Still no outward sign of activity, but the noise...now I think I know what is happening. The sound must be of tunnelling, excavating...but why? And why in the dead of night? A bunker for long-term yogurt storage? I think that perhaps it is nearing time to go.

12:47 a.m.

I decide I can’t see anything conclusive from here, and “No Trespassing” signs and razor wire have been sprinkled liberally about the perimeter, so I turn back. It’s cold, and I’m wet, and I have a weird feeling about this place. It’s making me very uneasy. My return is uneventful, but the machines continue their graunching and thrumming. They seem more distant now, but I can still feel them vibrating through the ground.

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