Old, grimy tire tracks down one branch of the long L-shaped main hall - somebody rode a motorcycle through here once, and the place hasn't been touched since.

Most doors are hanging from one hinge, if that. There's one that still fits neatly, vertically, into its frame; behind that is a room full of computers, all of them ancient even by this world's standards. There's no power, so now they're nothing more than dusty beige plastic relics.

All the other rooms have a few features in common. Desks, chairs, books, all in various states of destruction and disarray.