At the edge of The Great-Salt-Lake-Desert a chalk-line separates the livable from the lifeless. So long as one is not blinded by a ray, they will be able to cross the stretch without event in under a half-an-hour.
Awed by the landscape, they notice vehicles parked between the highways. The sun’s reflective glare obscures everything; the building’s shadow is what gives it away.
As one pulls off the Interstate and enters this backwards world where the road is alive and the landscape is barren, they are excited and dreading the exit from their ambient bubble.
To approach the rest-stop one must walk under the Interstate to be blinded by the sun as they emerge, stumbling in the expanse of the desert. The buildings are all around; some small caves of salt and one a large-snaking-line encased in a protective shell.
They are in the desert; they feel its satiated emptiness.