White Factory

The research center is a cube building with a neat chimney plunged into the right side. The researchers are covered head to toe in white cloth. Unrelatedly, they are sexless. They don't draw lakes in forests. They don't play classic guitar.

The endless sound of plastic curses mankind: through endless observation, experimentation, and verification, this hypothesis is becoming as scientifically sound as the flight formation of migrating birds. All existing types of truth have the same status. Researchers, who are pursuers of truth, dream of egalitarianism.

Truth goes beyond consent and nonconsent, tolerance and distrust. The researchers prefer facts over truth and falsehood. As a matter of fact, facts have no feelings. Facts don't require consolation.

What the researchers are fond of isn't a picture but a photo. This photo—which required over two hundred million altitude measurements, which is a combination and synthesis of over a thousand photos, which shows the entirety of the surface of Mars—illustrates what form of love the researchers are pursuing.

The collection of facts isn't a matter of taste. The researchers want a revolution.