Huxley is like a warren. One of those nightmarish places where every narrow, door-lined corridor you turn down looks exactly like the one before. The windows are dingy and high up and the classrooms are small and claustrophobic filled with these oversized tables that are impossible to get around. The doors have a pane of frosted glass with a tiny unfrosted circle in the centre for you to peer through, a little like those high-risk wings for the terminally insane.
Huxley is the place where they teach math and computer science and it is apparently the place where they keep the girls. And so many of them too.
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