by James BrunnerThis is Room 100. It’s bare except or the television screaming in white. It never goes off, just gets bigger and smaller.
You may get the Tower Room. It’s exceeding long with high ceiling. Children make their noise en masse outside in the schoolyard. It comes with a fever. Not many choose it or can find it. It may no longer be there.
Room 612 has a view of the parking lot. It’s very reassuring.
On the fourth floor, all the rooms are one. Desks and beds are laid out for efficient work and rest. Please keep the lavatories clean. Or else.
Some choose to stay in the elevator. Saves choosing. They’re pleasant! And they work.
The north staircase is the most used. It doesn’t clean easily and still carries the smells of smokers past. Cockroaches can occasionally be seen. Some food trays may not have been cleared. It can get hot.
Room 202 has vast curtained windows. All the furniture is large. The carpet is thick. There’s a table for the Board of Directors. They’re not here; they rarely come. It’s very clean. You feel someone might walk in at any moment. With a request for you, or to take your request, or maybe with an order. Whatever it is you know you’ll accept it or maybe they’ll accept it. Whatever it is, it will be acceptable.
The central landing on the fourth floor is simply appointed with a couple of desks, chairs and framed pictures from old magazines. The window ledges are rather high. You have to stand almost on tiptoe and lean over to see the busy students and professors hurrying in the courtyard below. It’s a perfect place to consider suicide. Never been done, though.
The terrace is a good place to meet and talk. There’s a flow of people and there are spaces for little groups to form and dissolve naturally. Most people are happiest here, in between where they’re coming from and where they’re going to.
Here’s the first floor reception area. Remember: waiting is not the same as striving.
The men and women who work at the reception desk see you as an object to be processed by screening. Just do what they say. Don’t be affronted if they appear to regard you with curiosity or without curiosity, with or without interest, in a friendly or unfriendly way. They don’t care about you at all. You’re just passing through. Do so quietly.
In Room 100, you’re trying to figure out what the TV’s screaming about. Actually, it’s you screaming.
The power plant is very impressive. Nobody works there, they just oversee it. It works by itself, making power and moving it, heating and cooling. Always turned on and pumping--for your benefit and mine.
You can get there by train. Who are all those people, heads nodding? Are they waking or falling asleep? Some are fresh and some are wilted. They all seem to have been riding for a long time.
“Which room is mine?” Which would you like?
Choose one you can have and make it your own.
Room 617 has a small kitchen and dining room. A couple of plants here and there could make it quite cheery. Put a home entertainment system with cameras, speakers, phones and screens. Watch yourself or allow someone else to watch you. It’s like picking at a scab or eating potato chips though; you can’t always stop when you want to.
Some prefer the dormitories. They make it easy to be oneself by resembling someone else. Deserted throughout the day, by night they’re saturated with the warm, heavy smell of communal somnolence. What a thrill to escape from the severe rows of identical cots and lockers into wild, turbulent dreams. And how satisfactory the relief at returning, your departure not noticed or remarked upon.
Sometimes you don’t get enough privacy. The sound of someone else shitting, or trying to come, or sobbing may disturb or arouse you. Pretend you’re not aware.
