Red Building of Deepest Mystery

A five-minute walk from my workplace lies a red building of great mystery. It is worthy of capitalization: The Red Building. I have walked around it hundreds of times in eight years and did not see it the first seven. It is accessible but guarded by taller structures. No one enters or leaves. A view through the windows shows abandoned lab benches, hoods and offices, covered with dust. No bodies are visible, at least not directly. It is unacknowledged — the campus map pretends it is a wing of an adjacent edifice, which it is assuredly not. It is a place of someone’s fear, an unsettling enigma, a place of desperate ignorance.

Aerial View


Today, I visited bees, perhaps a dozen varieties, including a 4 foot ceramic one of alien and exciting coloration. “Welcome to our garden!”, said a kindly man of academic beard, who warned of little cups of colored liquid on the paths. I avoided them adroitly, but did notice varying numbers of dead bees therein. Bee Haven, while an idyllic refuge for sober hard workers, capitally punishes its drunkards.