Permian Run is one wellstream followed from the rock to the burner tip. A cart carries it along the pipe and stops at each of the twenty-six places where something is done to it, and the tag above the cart names whatever it is carrying right now — a seismic trace, drill cuttings, wet gas, a custody-transfer barrel, LNG at −260 °F. The cargo changes at every stop, so you can always see what state the hydrocarbon is in.
A real asset is not a line, it is a tree: one pad feeds a battery, the battery splits three ways, and the water leaves in the opposite direction from the gas. Drawing the tree honestly would mean drawing sixty wells and nothing would be legible.
So the twenty-six stops are laid out end to end in the order the molecule actually meets them, and the pipe between two stops is coloured for what is flowing in it — ink for oil, red for gas and NGL, grey for water. Where the line changes colour, the stream has split in real life: the tank battery sends vapour to the compressor, water to disposal and crude to the LACT, and the tour walks all three branches in turn rather than showing them at once.
Someone in their first months at a Permian operator, or at a minerals and royalty company, who keeps hearing words like allocation, BS&W and Waha basis in meetings and wants the machine behind them. The text is plain English, but the industry's words are kept on purpose — you will hear them daily — and every dotted term can be tapped for a one-sentence definition. Each stop ends with two notes: why it matters to the operator's money, and what it means if you own the minerals under the land.
The first time the cart reaches a stop it holds long enough to read that stop's explanation — between fifteen and twenty seconds depending on how much there is to say — and the bar under the panel text shows how long is left. Once every stop has been explained there is nothing new to read, so the tour speeds up to a watching pace. The guided first pass takes about eight minutes.
Space holds any stop for as long as you like, S skips to the next one, and the speed slider scales everything, reading time included. Clicking a structure pins the panel to it so the tour cannot pull you away mid-paragraph.
The isometric view is for spatial intuition: what these things physically are, how big they are relative to each other, and what order they sit in. Turn on Subsurface to drop the ground away and see the laterals landed in the Wolfcamp and the disposal well injecting below.
The P&ID view is the same twenty-six stops drawn the way an engineer would actually receive them. Every stop has its own assembly rather than a shared glyph: the test separator is a header of well valves into a two-phase drum, the three-phase separator is a drum with a weir, a water boot and level and pressure control, and the heater-treater is a free-water knockout ahead of a fired vessel. Valves carry their bodies — gate, control with a diaphragm actuator, check, three-way and relief — instrument bubbles hang off dashed signal leads, and the piped segments carry line numbers once you zoom in far enough to read them. The first six stops are a workflow rather than a pipe, so those connections are deliberately left unnumbered. Same tour, same panel text, different notation.
Each stop's panel carries a real photograph of the thing being described, found live on Wikimedia Commons and credited to its photographer under the image. They print in black and white, which is how this design system treats photography. If the photo cannot be reached — you are offline, or the network is filtered — the panel offers a search link to Commons instead, so the tour never depends on it.
The order of the stages and what each one physically does is real, and the numbers are typical Midland Basin figures rather than any single operator's: Wolfcamp A/B at 8,400–9,200 ft, ten-thousand-foot laterals, fifty to seventy frac stages, three to five barrels of water per barrel of oil, ethane rejected or recovered on the Mont Belvieu–Waha spread. They vary enormously between acreage positions and over time, so treat them as the shape of the problem rather than as an input.
Scaled down for the sake of the ride: one wellstream instead of a pad flowing in parallel, one line instead of a gathering system, and a field you can cross in a minute instead of a basin the size of South Carolina.
No build step, no dependencies. The only network calls are the web font and the stop photographs, and the page runs fine without either. Every shape on screen is drawn from plain polygons in a canvas.