It's like this great mystery. Or a mediocre mystery with a coating of huh, why? So I, being rather bored, what with the computers being down and my mentor still kind of bitter about that entire encyclopedia dramatica link, so yeah, not going in that cubicle until I'm armed with placation in the form of food and goods, decided it was time to find out The Truth.
So I asked. Blank looks all around. Door, they say, chewing on a sandwich and never meeting my eyes. A door in the bathroom?
A door in the handicapped bathroom stall, I explain. With a handle. And light coming from underneath.
So I found a floor plan (they're hanging everywhere) and lo, there's a mysterious space that hooks to that mysterious door. A space, they say as I point emphatically to the space. Right, that door! Why didn't you say so? That is a closet.
Do they always leave the lights on, I ask suspiciously, watching for tentacles (I know I've seen this movie, and I've been reliably told, fire. Kill it with fire).
Lights? They ask blankly. What lights?
So far, I have yet to hear any noise from it--and isn't that suspicious? Of course, me leaning against the door looking frantic is probably equally suspicious, but luckily my reputation precedes me--most of them are aware I'm subject to random fits of curiosity that sometimes end with me hunting up a screwdriver and taking things apart.
If I vanish, I will be in the mysterious light-filled closet.
At this point in my life, I make my own fun. Carry on.