"We’re situated in the plant’s control room, which resembles the deck of the Starship Enterprise except older and bleaker. We’re hemmed in by the cracked monitor boards and peeling computer desks. There’s exposed tubing and cables on the walls and low ceilings that seem to crawl around like lizards. My skin squirms as I duck and eye loose wires. The computers are at least fifteen years old, their keyboard letters worn off and smudged, so it appears the typist routinely comes in after changing his motor oil. A computer mouse seems out of place here, as does a $5,000 copy machine resting in one corner. 

    I hear a terrific hum, and a red light flashes, though Ben Fish, our guide, glances at it once like he would a passing cardinal. The light glows again, accompanied by a blaring siren, but Fish pays it no mind. Only then I realize that we’re the only people in the room."