Some offices are desert with only a desk and empty chairs facing each others. Shelves formerly filled with reports, documents and listings are already empty. The identities of their former and last occupants are still on the doors. All of them left their office clean and in order, still motivated by a moral duty and the will to let behind them the souvenir of people caring their job. In other rooms, computers are still ligthed and a few papers give the idea there is yet work to do. In other offices, some technicians are still in place, working as if nothing has occured, as if they wanted to take, for an ultimate time, what will be soon their past forever disappeared.
On the floors of stages, sheets with graphs and figures display statistics people don't pay attention. Some of these informations already break away and will soon fall on the ground as dead leaves passers-by will walk on. More surprising, some technicians record their presence to the timekeepers of the factory as they had to do it like "before". The temperature is low. In the first chilly days of the season, the factory is not heated. The doors are opened, leaving a cold wind grabing the place. Within a few weeks, the dry air will invade the long and deserted corridors of the Technicolor factory. All lifetime of work will be gone with the wind.
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