South Dakota? Preposterous!
And besides that, your directions were off. Somehow, you ended up outside an abandoned building that looked like it hadn't been touched in years. Sure that somebody was playing a prank on you, you pulled out your cell phone and began to dial.
"You won't get any service this far out."
You turned, nearly dropping your phone in surprise. What you saw was almost as strange as hearing a voice way out here.
"Arthur Nielsen," said the man, taking off his hat.
"Here," he added, handing you the instrument he was carrying. "Don't drop it! Who knows what might happen."
After he had tucked his hat under one arm, he held out a hand to you with a gruff smile. "You should probably just call me Artie." Not sure of what to say, you shook his hand. "I made cookies. Come in, come on in." Taking back his instrument, he waved you through a door into a long white hallway.
After warning you not to touch the posts labeled as explosive and passing several security checks, he led you into a cluttered office and let the door close behind him. There were already a few other people in the room, each of whom looked as confused as you felt. One was enjoying a plate of cookies, despite what was happening. The man- Artie- shooed everyone onto a balcony, confiscating the plate of cookies from the young man.
You stared in amazement at the vast rows of shelves, mouth almost hanging open in awe.
"Welcome," said the man, "To Warehouse 13."
