There is a dim, dusty stall, like something a farm animal might live in. The animals used to live in them, actually, but now the old stalls are used as beds for the workers, and the slaughtered are kept packed together tight in pens. There is some straw strewn around, but not enough to serve as a bed. A small space heater sits in the right corner. It is turned off. In the other corner there is a little nook, where there might have once been a feeding trough. Next to it there is a device like the front of an old television, with a screen and a couple of knobs beneath it.

Inside the nook, against the wall that separates this stall from its neighbor, there is a loose panel, though it would be impossible to notice if you were not looking for it. The screen cannot see into the nook. Behind the panel can be found an old notebook, a shallow dish, and a small bottle of ink. There is writing inside the notebook. Messy and scratchy as if it were made with a blunt utensil, like a dog's toenail. Only a few pages have been filled. The most recent one reads like this:

April 18, 1984

It pains me that I cannot speak in detail about this place I have discovered.
It is truly amazing. Everything I thought I knew about seems to have been turned on its side. There are people and animals there, all from different worlds. So many different beings. This must be kept in absolutely secrecy. If The Party were to find out, they would no doubt try to use it for their advantage. Maybe I can use it to mine. The beings there must have some idea of how to remedy the state our own world is in. To think that I could start a revolution backed with the citizens of thousands of different realms... I almost cannot think of it. There is no guarantee that they would agree to help, or even that they'd care. Maybe I should wait a while before attempting to rally some sort of opposing force. I will visit it again, soon.

A great deal of writing seems to have been scratched out, smeared over with ink.