a pristine factory manufactures little trinkets and bells and whatnot. skinny metallic arms dangle from the celieng, tinkering with every toy until it is perfect. strangely, every knickknack it creates is unique. "quite un-factory like, if i do say so myself!" you exclaim (internally). even stranger, the moment each of these novelties is finished, they are promptly destroyed, with little conveyorbelts leading them towards a furnace. tiny tilting tins then carry the salvaged and melted materials back to the front of the factory, ready to be reborn as something completely different. how curious. perhaps this mechanical monster has a mind of it's own, manufacturing every thought and desire it experiences. or, perhaps, it was made by a mad man. regardless of it's purpose, you've never seen such a mesmorizing machine. you can sit, you can watch, but you must NOT interfere.