si ce que tu dis est vrai
28DL Full Member
Venturing further from the city into a much more industrial neighbourhood, we wandered past a mouthwatering powerstation on route to what I believe was a car factory. They don't just grow from the ground now do they. Like a rat up the drain pipe we climbed, up a drainpipe, to the roof access ladders whereupon we took stock of the situation. The powerstation billowed smoke into the night air to our left, the freight trains pulled in and out of a yard totally unsecured to our right. No fences, no bulls, nothing. The rooftop plans were quickly scrapped, there was a better idea.
Like the PC which encircles paris, Moscow has a freight line which skirts her periphery. With a hop, step and a jump we boarded a train to run this circular route, climbing up between the steel into an empty bucket car. Tense minutes flicked by then a shudder, a creak and slowly the train inched forwards out the yard. She picked up speed, bumping and rattling along the rails our merry band of vagabonds in tow. Perched high on the car's rusty lip we rode through the night past industrial estates and blunt soviet era apartment blocks, the warm air rushing past our smiling faces. Skyfi and I climbed across into the adjacent car, packed to the brim with bags of rubbish. Riding our rusty metal chariot, sitting upon a throne of trash we were hobo kings of the rails.
P.A.R.T.I.C.L.E C.O.L.L.I.D.E.R spell it out, tramp stamp it on your girl. Hell get it above your own rosebud with a set of crosshairs. They take electrons or neutrons or quarks or something smaller than my rapidly dwindling readership, spooge one out of a rail gun death ray and spin 'em around a 21km track up to .99 the speed of light. Said accelerated particle is then smashed into things - reality tv "stars", celebrities, scenesters, hipsters, trustfund kids etc, to see how they react when hit with the force of a dumptruck concentrated on a space smaller than the head of a pin. This one's soviet era, likely built as a form of social entertainment. As you can imagine this is pretty amusing to watch, a modern day coliseum deep below the earth. Good on 'em, no wonder America hated the USSR so much. Hollywood funded the cold war to stop the soviets blowing apart kidnapped American actors with a rail gun. History as you know it, is a lie.
Two hours from Moscow attributable to roadworks, getting lost and driving "like a bullet fired from a shit" as Moscowhite decribed, is a quaint crumbling asphalt road surrounded by trees and little else. Like the Florida Door and such places, the collider is built far from civilisation, in places where the air is clean and the nights are clear. So clear in fact that one could walk by starlight to a small concrete hut indistinguishable from every other piece of shit derelict concrete blockhouse you've ever seen. Rust trimmed doorway, boarded up windows, infantile graffiti, you know the type. This is why underground exploration is king, the extent of your exploration is unknown until you venture inside and have a peek. With a factory or a powerstation or an asylum the bounds of the site are clearly visible, the edges are definite, the scope is approximately known. Enter that crappy little blockhouse and you might just, if you're lucky, find this.
The shaft deposits you into a short access tunnel which leads to the large maintenance tunnel which runs the length of the actual firing track, above it. The actual tunnels in which the particles are fired are to my knowledge unexplored because they're both smaller and either flooded or filled with pulped celebrities. The track has a 21km circumference, just 6km shorter than the Large Hardon Collider recently completed near Geneva. This collider unfortunately was never finished. Moscowhite described it as a great shame of his country. The Soviet union fell and the results of $2m (in 1980's dollars) was put into stasis. It's not rotting, large pumps operate to remove the build up of leaking ground water and minimal maintenance is completed to keep her in this state. The collider is much the same now as the day the workers walked off site.
Spaced about one hour apart around the circumference are access shafts like the one we entered via. The next was much more complicated than our entrance, having side tunnels and a flooded shaft down to what I presume is the firing track. We deemed it time to depart, returned to our access shaft and emerged reborn into the bright daylight. 7am, time for sleep and icecream at Treebeard's.
Mad shouts to Moscowhite, Reverse, Skifi, InDustReal, BWMuscat, urban Psychosis, Boo, IdPsyduck, Paratozer, the crazy shirtless guys under the university and everyone who we met and I've forgotten.
Where to next? Mongolia.