Somehow, no matter how far Arty walks through this car, there always seems to be more. The walkways serve up a seemingly never-ending line of furniture that holds Arty’s attention for a few minutes… before she starts getting bored by it. (There’s only so many times one can see a desk and think ‘oh, cool, I want a desk like that’ before it all starts to become a blur.) Now she’s just walking for the sake of it, to see where the path eventually leads. That’s probably what she’s supposed to be doing, anyway.
The monotony of the trip is broken somewhat when Arty reaches the model showrooms. These at least seem to be themed, though some of them are very specific-looking…
…She stops in her tracks.
In front of her is a garage that for the most part looks like it could be anyone’s. It’s largely cluttered with yard tools and toolboxes and toys, but a small area has been cleared out. In that area sits a rug, a reprieve from the otherwise dirty ground, and two places to sit: one a stool, the other a floor pillow. Next to them is a boom box.
Arty stares unmoving at the scene and all she can think is why. Why the hell is this here. What purpose can it possibly serve. When she finally moves, it’s to turn on the boom box. Because she hates herself enough to wonder how faithfully this has been recreated.
A little staticky but audible nonetheless, “Starman” starts to play, and all Arty can do is stare, frozen again, at the rug and the stool and the pillow and the boom box and hate herself.
