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The first thing a visitor will come to is a large wooden door. When the knob is touched, the lineart lights up.
Opening the door reveals a vast space that looks like the ruins of an ancient temple somewhere in the desert. All is stone and sand and an oppressive silence hangs over everything. At the far end stands a wall with stairs. Nearby is a stone carved to resemble a hand with its index finger pointing upward, emblazoned with the words YOUR FUTURE AWAITS.
Nothing ominous about that.
The museum, in a wise decision, has cut down the number of stairs from the original. The last thing it needs is someone getting partway up, deciding, 'fuck this noise,' and leaving. So instead of hundreds of stairs there are maybe fifty. Goody. At least the stairs have some kind of rope railing.
At the top of the stairs there's a rope bridge across an unaccountable gorge. Why is that here? HOW is that here? Nobody knows. At the other end of the bridge is a cave in a cliff wall. Inside is a short hallway with some very bizarre bas-reliefs. Occasionally a little motorised track will run a string of rat figures along the floor.
At the other end of the hallway stands a big circular door, slightly ajar.
On the other side of the door is a large circular room with more of the same kind of encroaching piles of sand. The floor is littered with fragments of green glass. Nearby is a flat stone with a rectangular depression, just the right size to assemble the glass fragments in. Doing so will activate a whirling storm of green light and wind and sand around the edges of the room. It's loud. And some kind of infrasonic sound presses in on one's very brain. This lasts for about fifteen seconds, then cuts out abruptly. Now there's another entryway that leads into something that looks like... a service tunnel?
The floor here is wood and looks more precarious than it is, and the walls are cracked. There's evidence of construction or repair going on, here. And over there is a ramshackle wooden door that leads to a room filled with random objects, a battered old red armchair, and a table on which sits something that looks like a model of a stage. A small stack of cards sit on it, each with hand-painted images depicting a small scene. A futbol match. A game show. What might be a scene from Romeo and Juliet. The head of each figure in the images is carefully cut out with a round hole just big enough for, say, a rat to poke its head through. The sound of faraway domestic goings-on wafts through the room, as does the smell of some kind of food.
At the other end of the room there's a horizontal crack in the wooden wall that lets in warm light. And below the crack is a table apparently set for one--again, hand-painted. Looking through the crack reveals a well-kept room on the other side, clearly within a house, with a long dining table holding eleven place settings similar to what's painted on the table in here.
Well, that's a few kinds of depressing.
Another door, almost hidden, leads out of the exhibit.
The gift shop has, among its merchandise: frankly adorable rat plushies and all kinds of things made of bright green glass.
Opening the door reveals a vast space that looks like the ruins of an ancient temple somewhere in the desert. All is stone and sand and an oppressive silence hangs over everything. At the far end stands a wall with stairs. Nearby is a stone carved to resemble a hand with its index finger pointing upward, emblazoned with the words YOUR FUTURE AWAITS.
Nothing ominous about that.
The museum, in a wise decision, has cut down the number of stairs from the original. The last thing it needs is someone getting partway up, deciding, 'fuck this noise,' and leaving. So instead of hundreds of stairs there are maybe fifty. Goody. At least the stairs have some kind of rope railing.
At the top of the stairs there's a rope bridge across an unaccountable gorge. Why is that here? HOW is that here? Nobody knows. At the other end of the bridge is a cave in a cliff wall. Inside is a short hallway with some very bizarre bas-reliefs. Occasionally a little motorised track will run a string of rat figures along the floor.
At the other end of the hallway stands a big circular door, slightly ajar.
On the other side of the door is a large circular room with more of the same kind of encroaching piles of sand. The floor is littered with fragments of green glass. Nearby is a flat stone with a rectangular depression, just the right size to assemble the glass fragments in. Doing so will activate a whirling storm of green light and wind and sand around the edges of the room. It's loud. And some kind of infrasonic sound presses in on one's very brain. This lasts for about fifteen seconds, then cuts out abruptly. Now there's another entryway that leads into something that looks like... a service tunnel?
The floor here is wood and looks more precarious than it is, and the walls are cracked. There's evidence of construction or repair going on, here. And over there is a ramshackle wooden door that leads to a room filled with random objects, a battered old red armchair, and a table on which sits something that looks like a model of a stage. A small stack of cards sit on it, each with hand-painted images depicting a small scene. A futbol match. A game show. What might be a scene from Romeo and Juliet. The head of each figure in the images is carefully cut out with a round hole just big enough for, say, a rat to poke its head through. The sound of faraway domestic goings-on wafts through the room, as does the smell of some kind of food.
At the other end of the room there's a horizontal crack in the wooden wall that lets in warm light. And below the crack is a table apparently set for one--again, hand-painted. Looking through the crack reveals a well-kept room on the other side, clearly within a house, with a long dining table holding eleven place settings similar to what's painted on the table in here.
Well, that's a few kinds of depressing.
Another door, almost hidden, leads out of the exhibit.
The gift shop has, among its merchandise: frankly adorable rat plushies and all kinds of things made of bright green glass.