The Mandelbrot Building
Ever since I was a little kid, thereâs been a question, a thought experiment of sorts, thatâs never really left my mind. The debate is simple: Which are there more of in the world, wheels or doors? Me and my friend used to revisit the question in middle school all the time on bus rides and during recess, I would always insist that it was wheels, whereas he was a staunch believer that it was doors.
Jack, if youâre reading this somehow, you were right. Iâd say I owe you a soda, but youâll have to come get it from me first.. curiosity flattened the cat and their can of sprite.
This change in thinking came two nights ago, after I wrote down the wrong address for a job interview. Mixed up some numbers or put down the wrong street name, I donât know- but the false coordinates led me to the tower I'm currently typing this post in. I arrived at 9am sharp, the interview was at 9:15. When I stepped out of the taxi and looked up at the building, the first thing that stuck out to me was how short it was. It was surrounded by tall office buildings and skyscrapers and even parking garages that seemed to be multitudes larger compared to the structure I found myself facing down then.
Out of place, I thought to myself as I entered the front doors. It shouldn't have been a shock considering the size of the building overall, but I was surprised by how small the lobby was- light gray walls sparsely decorated, no furniture, just doors and a few fluorescent lights in the ceiling tiles. I could walk from one end to the other in just a few seconds, if I stood with my arms outstretched I could probably make it about halfway across.. The doorway in the back left corner was marked with a symbol for stairs, but the other thing that I noticed was that there was seemingly no elevator. I chalked it up to the small stature of the building and shrugged it off. I didnât mind climbing a few sets of stairs, after all. I scanned the walls for any sort of directory or signage, but again it was bare- the only text being a plaque next to the front doorway labeling it as The Mandelbrot Building. At this point, I should have double checked that I had the right location, or even messaged the people who sent me to check if I had the right time- but I didnât. I was equal parts confident in my memory and too tired to think properly, so I decided to stay.
I figured with the lack of seating and the small size of the building, I might as well kill time by exploring a bit, seeing if I could find anyone else, staff or otherwise. I pushed open the door opposite the entrance, and was surprised by a more dynamic and larger room. A lighter shade of wall paper, being more of an off-white, with a couple abstract paintings dotting the walls. This room was also bigger- roughly twice the size of the entryway. Still very small, but gigantic by comparison. This room had a few empty shelves and small tables, but again no chairs, so I pushed on to the next doorway on the opposite wall.
This one led to an even bigger room. What is there left to say? Another nearly empty room twice as big as the one before it. There was another doorway on the opposite wall, but my curiosity was quelled and replaced by a dull sort of bored confusion- Whatâs with all of the empty rooms? I turned around, deciding this isnât the right path, and walked back to the entryway. Once I reached my start, I checked my watch, reading out 9:04, and pondered my options for a second. My interview was listed as being on the âtop floorâ, and this building was pretty small (vertically at least, as proven by the chain of rooms) so I pushed on back towards the door marked as stairs and opened it up.
The stairwell was daunting- below me, a winding downward spiral that stretched on with the bottom too small in view to register, and above me a few sets that seemingly led to the top floor. The walls were a smooth paneled wood, a light oak color. I decided I would first try a few doors on the lower floors on the lookout for others, so I started cautiously walking down the steps and trying the various knobs. Each one was locked, so I only went down a couple of floors before walking up towards the top to see about the upper levels. Only three floors up and I was at the top, just like I estimated from outside- but one door was open, just a crack.
Deciding assuredly that this must be the room they were talking about, I walked right up to it, throwing it open and entering with no hesitation. I walked into the dark a few steps, feeling around on the wall next to me for a light switch, being caught off guard by the slam of the door behind me. This and the lack of light made me uneasy, a strange feeling building in my chest, but I thought it would be diminished when I came across the familiar edge of a light switch in the dark.
The click of the switch and the slow buzz of the lights starting up only increased my unease.. As it was only when the lights came on that I was finally able to place the strange feeling.
Have you ever been on an airplane, or driven on a road thatâs a different altitude then youâre used to? You know that popping that happens in your ears, the strange kind of stuffiness that floods your canals and makes everything feel loose and almost weightless?
I was feeling something akin to the opposite of that. My limbs stiff and rigid, but my ears astutely clear- able to feel the sweltering air rush in and out of my lungs as I began hyperventilating. I didnât dare look up, only turning back towards the door and trying the handle without much luck. I looked up at a sign overhead, now illuminated by the fluorescents, marking the door as âMANDELBROT- BASEMENT.â
I spun around, the sight of what lay in front of me sending me staggering back against the door. A narrow staircase, this one straight instead of spiraling, seeming to stretch on without end: the two walls lined with doors as far as the eye can see. I only tried slamming against the door behind me a few times- recognizing it as futile. I picked myself up, drew a deep breath, and started climbing.
Think about the longest hike you've ever taken, the longest day out you've ever had. A nature walk with a friend way more athletic than you? Maybe a trip to a big city on vacation? Any marathon runners reading this post?
They all pale in comparison to my 2 day straight stairclimbing set. Every time I feel myself ready to collapse from exhaustion, the highest stair at the furthest point of my vision seems to warp into an exit sign, filling me with false hope like some kind of desert mirage and forcing me to keep going. It always reverts back to the stairs, though.
None of the doors lead to rooms, either. At least, none of the unlocked ones. Most of the unlocked ones just open up into the concrete, but a few have small, empty closets a few feet long and a few feet wide that i've used as rest stops in the past. Those stopped showing up this morning, though- or at least, I haven't bothered trying any more doors to see.
I know they're real doors because I can trace the wood frame, the thin gaps in between. If I shine my flashlight underneath through the gap, I can see a sliver of floor, but nothing distinct.
And I know i'm not dreaming, not hallucinating because the pain is so real. The splinters from running my hands along doors for two days straight. The excruciating cramping of my legs after climbing literally countless steps- both the health app and map on my phone say I haven't moved an inch from the lobby. The pounding headache I have after two sleepless nights, and of course the only thing left in my stomach being a pit that feels more and more like a lead weight every hour.
I tried sleeping once or twice, but the stairs are just barely too thin to lay on, the best I can manage is an awkward sit with the ridges from the stairs behind me jutting into my spine.. and the heat, the heat is worse if I sit still.
So like Penrose, I climb.
It's futile. Though I can't make any calls, I somehow have data- it's incredibly slow, but it's still something. There are no results for The Mandelbrot Building online, however, and nobody I message is taking my pleas seriously.
So i'm using the last few minutes of battery life I have and the remaining energy I have in my own body to make this as a warning sign: If a building seems sketchy and your claustrophobia is acting up, just trust your gut. Don't explore any more then you have to.
And don't bother checking the doors.