The Cold Store

Polished concrete under a film of water, in a refrigerated warehouse nobody has stored anything in for years — and there is no grip anywhere in it. Nothing accelerates and nothing slows down, so whatever order the field is in at the first corner is roughly the order it keeps, unless somebody arrives sideways, which somebody always does. Whatever you come in with is what you leave with, dented in the same places. The warehouse is still kept refrigerated, for a reason nobody on the staff has ever been able to establish.