i.
It is the time of the semester when the Education Building begins to smell. It is pouring outside, and the white fluorescence inside seems to illuminate the dankness: the sanitised feeling of rot and the cool moisture in the air. Here, grime festers in every corner, sourness seeps into the carpeted floors and coats door handles in a thin transparent film.
The building layout is unique at best, deeply confused at most. If viewed from the outside, the building is a castle of mismatched shapes, at once pointy and round with decorative checkered detailing and multi-coloured bricks. Inside; endless uses and iterations of grey and hospital blue, tables at random, a reception that, to my knowledge, is never manned. Each floor is a maze of hallways where classroom numbers fall abruptly out of logical order; a trick of the building that will have you walking around and around in circles, circling your own personal grey sensory-deprivation tank, until you can no longer remember what you are looking for at all.
Level 3, your entryway is friendlier at first glance. Though, more scrutiny (squint your eyes and cock your head) will soon dissolve this facade. You soon learn here that each door has a double meaning. It is never clear which way is back or forward or up or down. Entering an inconspicuous side door will lead you into a cavernous room (a black hole of sorts) dangling over the precipice of a cliff, until you descend the ravine and take your seat in the centre.
Each classroom faces a different direction. The stairs abruptly cut off at level 4. Confusion only grows from here, signs of life begin to wane as you ascend into the building. It is best you become well-acquainted with these tricks and deceptions before you find your class.
ii.
Class begins in the early morning. The uni at this time is only populated by stragglers, bereft of coffee and a full-night’s sleep. You are early, and last night’s rain has not yet completely tapered out before you take refuge in your classroom. The room is a windowless box; yellow and suffocating, on the wall a neglected noticeboard advertising events and opportunities from 2021. You are the only one here.
The classroom on level 5 is almost standalone — it borders one room on the southwall, with hallways bordering the other three walls. You can’t quite picture your location, imagining the scale of the building from the outside; you are lost in the deep perils of the Education Building. Sitting on the side of the room renders you small and lonely. In the corner of your eye, a shadow passes the slats of the door. A soft murmur comes and goes and reminds you that you are not alone. You cannot turn your head in time to view the source of any noise or shadow; these things only happen in the corner of your eye or when you turn away.
When class finally begins and you are joined by a handful of students, you breathe a sigh of relief. The dullness of your early morning seminar and the monotony of the building is only interrupted by a soft pounding coming from the right-side wall. Like fists on wallpaper, the sound is hollow and muted. No one, except you, seems to react to these knocks. Your consciousness is like a defect, a brief ripple in the fabric of this dreary class, a clear violation of the unspoken rules of pretend and isolation. Excusing yourself from the room will find no source to this noise. On the other side of the hall is an empty and soundless hallway.
It is best to return to the classroom, and resume your show of order and rationality. Pretend you do not hear the rhythmic pounding of fists through the wall, as if something is communicating directly with you.
iii.
If you are in need of a constant, I suggest pursuing an arts degree at the University of Sydney. Semester upon semester, you will enter and re-enter, come and go from the Education Building. You will see it on your timetable and it will evoke a wave of mental revulsion, a disgust you will inevitably repress each week. When class ends, you are the first out the door. The only escape route is the cement fire-escape stairwell. You may be tempted to detour; to the bathroom or otherwise. I remind you that each room here has its own riddle. None of them are secure or to be trusted.
The bathrooms here are a similar shade of blue-grey and desolate. One stall is always closed, though it seems to switch week-by-week, and really you are unsure if there is anyone ever in there. Emerging from the bathroom back into the hallway is like emerging from a portal into another realm. The hallway seems to have shape-shifted. It extends far and wide, left and right; it seems to have grown endlessly to stretch as far as the eye can see. This is how the building attempts to keep you trapped, circling the hallways forever.
Head straight to the fire-escape from your classroom. Descend down the endless grey loops (the exit is always one floor further than you expect) until you see the exit door. There is a gap between the final step and the door of approximately 6 or 7 steps. It is best that you cover these steps with haste. To the left is the final long and dark hallway. It is a black void in the corner of your eye that calls to you. You cannot bear to look for what you might find but the siren song is so tempting. Every student avoids this long, dark hallway though some brave individuals spare it a passing glance before crossing the threshold out of the exit. On the other side, there is finally sunlight.
iv.
It is a perfect summer night at Manning Bar. You’re here for some silly event, skin glistening with sweat and glitter. It’s hot and there’s a deep pink drink in your hands. You’re seated on the balcony, surrounded by friends with a brilliant view of the Education Building. Checkerboard printed details and brown brick; you almost see the vision. You can’t stop staring at the castle with a strange nostalgia for every class (first year to present) you’ve ever taken in the building. It’s robbing your attention from the live music and the atmosphere. This is the final trick of the building; how beautiful it looks from the right angle on the right night.
