The sun shone modestly across the Earth, sending light refracting through the gaps in between the light clouds; despite the cloud cover of eight oktas, it managed to discover a ripple within the patchwork, and blind pedestrians. Escaping from the pew, being more formal than Corbin, and her elongated, dusky gardening boots- that had a mane of faux fox fur at its entrance- clicking at contact with the stone deck, she trudged through the kempt grass, wary to get ticks for they were in their apex (March to October) even though she knew that the cleaning staff had sprinkled a silty powder along the terrain to dehydrate them . All her life, she had despised the emotions and anxiety achieved when she encountered ticks and fleas, as they would summon nasty rashes: Corbin often joked about her being allergic to them when she proudly stated to medical employees that she had no known allergies. As she stepped along the pathway of greenery and onto the surprisingly steep terrace, where a rocket were to be nested, her footfall embedded light depressions into the flora. Using the launch platform as a shortcut to her place, she hauled herself up the towering, reinforced concrete stairs- pulling herself up with the copper railing at its side: it had bracelets of nails every decimeter. After scaling numerous stairs (about twenty) she appeared at the flat baseplate that was the top- the only noticeable difference being the tiles on the floor changing into an industrial white from the metals added to survive the heat from blasts- and scurried to the middle to decrease the chances of her being discovered up there and possibly threatened with a warning; this was technically trespassing, but it was like biking on the pavement- just respect pedestrians and people are okay with it. At the same placement a vessel would rest in a few months time, she stood, and stared mundanely at the bleak monolith, that she constructed and criticized rocket examples. It was segmented thrice like an upright ant, and, within the indents, floodlights dispersed from the claustrophobic cacophony of stairs, that connected each cube (that was like the shade of a carnivorous crow) to the other. To actually make it visible during dusk, the plumage system (pipes) were cladded in a plumage of neon orange paint, and acted as an outline; using them to support oneself, installers had spraypainted legal graffiti and symbols across the sides of the walls, only to abandon their projects for an indefinite amount of time. When she approach the behemoth, she suddenly froze for a moment, embarrassingly forgetting where the camouflaged door was positioned, despite its daily use. Remembering it was on its right, Suzie jogged over, her tote, with IHIMAP's logo embedded on it and provided as a welcome gift, berating her flank with her phone and her house keys- surveillance would've captured that. The tote was an ordinary beige, like all others, and had violet, synthetic leather mangled into the linework of their minimalistic signature; below that, the company's slogan displayed in a casual, serif font, "Curiosity Fuels Us". 
Suzie noticed its sleek, glinting hinges, and swiftly felt across from them in hopes to locate the edge of the fenestration for minimum leverage. When she pushed it open, she was greeted by a buzzing ceiling lamp, and a dilated pupil glaring at her, which was ubiquitous in every room. Ignoring that, she fixed her gaze on the reception ahead: a rounded, locally-imported spruce frame, that was accessorised with an artificial drape of maple leaves. The desk was top-heavy, with a pattern of zigzags at where the two widths met. Supported by it was a 2D monitor and keyboard by Apple, with the keyboard as a laptop's (a mouse pad on it instead of a separate entity) and several plastic tubs and cups of stationery and signed papers; mandating it all, behind it, was Shannon.
"Hey, Suzie!" she lifted her gaze from her computer, stopped typing, presumably an E-mail, and raised her hands to her ribs, and began lightly waving in her genial nature, "Welcome back! I'll sign you in." Returning back to her original stance, her fingers continued grazing the keys, "Talk to me, what d'you have?" Wiping her stubborn, ginger, curly fringe away from her sight, she repeatedly glanced up at the monitor: she still had not learnt to type without having the aid of her eyes watching the keyboard. "Just the usual, a breakfast roll." Suzie approached the desk and laid her hand on its barrier. As Shannon clicked enter to send the updated register, she chirped, Yep, of you go!" She went back to her constant tsunami of messages whilst Suzie stepped through another invisible port, and into the endless corridors of offices and research faculties' creation and simulation ground; you could tell them apart because offices were cramped together, when the other type had several extra metres for appropriate prototypes. She was due to be in "22L" in five minutes time, which meant scaling an elongated, whitewashed stairwell, that had a unmaintained, rusted railing, to overcome the janitors sector, before jogging across the whole maze of rouge carpet to reach it.
ns216.73.217.69da2
and then Add to home screen.