Honestly, I didn’t think it was real.
It was only when I saw it again that I was completely certain.
I was a passenger on one of those buses that keep running even after late at night. And if my word still holds any value after what I’m about to relate, then let me tell you, those late-night buses are more crowded than you can imagine.
Sitting alone in the corner by the window, I clutched my backpack every time someone crossed the aisle. Not that I lacked confidence in the safety of public transportation during the early hours. It was that the night had its own charms, and it seemed to enjoy concealing people’s features, making them even darker than they already appeared to be.
I rested my head against the window and gazed outside. We passed empty streets and convenience stores about to close. Except for a few busy bars playing samba loudly that would continue all night, everything was quiet, and the city itself seemed ready to sleep.
The small, lined buildings merged with the shadows, forming a unique landscape, an uneven complex, as if designed by some mad architect, coexisting under the embrace of a dark blue sky.
I stared at that sky as if searching for something hidden where there was nothing. Suddenly, I was stunned when it was consumed by such darkness that, for a brief moment, I thought the world was ending.
The darkness dissipated in the next instant, revealing the other end of that black monolith in my field of view. No, it was actually a building. A building so tall and black that the darkness of the sky seemed to pale in comparison.
It was as if the night had responded to my search for something different in that monotonous urban landscape.
I searched my memory for any hint of such a building. Although I hadn’t lived in the city for long, I knew it well enough to recognize its landmarks. However, this was completely new. I thought maybe it could be a government building, or the headquarters of a foreign corporation. But, to be honest, it seemed too large for either of them.
It didn’t help that it was so far away and shrouded in shadows to the point that there were no external windows in sight, let alone any signage or logo identifying it.
The bus veered and we entered a tunnel, sweeping away the entire landscape, including the building, from my line of sight. I got distracted, as it often happens, and didn’t think about it until I arrived at my apartment.
It was already past midnight when I finally got home. I didn’t even take a shower or do anything; I just went straight to bed. I was exhausted, even though I shouldn’t have felt that way. And that was the end of it.
I only remembered the building the following week. Considering how I described it and the strong impression it left on me, you might wonder how I could forget it so quickly and for so long. To be honest, I don’t have a good explanation. Aside from hyperbole, the situation was just a momentary oddity, with little room to persist in the mind of a tired and overloaded college student.
So the week passed, and following my daily routine and taking the same route home almost every night, one day I found myself gazing at an empty spot in the sky, and suddenly, I remembered the building. And, as if anticipating my recollection, it appeared again. I stared long enough to confirm that it was truly colossal, making all the other visible buildings in the area appear minuscule by comparison. I had the courage to look away to check if anyone - another passenger on the bus - was also seeing it, but the few people present were paying no attention.
Strange. It was all very strange. Given the route that the bus took, I knew that the building must be somewhere near the city center. Perhaps close to the café where I worked. I made a mental note to check when I went to work the next morning, and, to my surprise, this time I didn’t forget.
I took my lunch break to explore the city center. I cycled a few blocks and was sure it would be easier to find a massive building in the middle of the city, but there was no sign of it. I asked for directions from some friendly faces, but no one seemed to know what I was talking about.
It was as if the building didn’t exist.
However, there was a moment when I thought I had found the exact location where it should be, according to the trajectory and angle my bus took every night. But all I found was a vast vacant lot, the remnants of some abandoned construction project.
Defeated, I returned to work. But my search was far from over.
I texted some friends who told me there wasn’t a building of that size and proportions in the center. I searched the internet, but found no results. I even thought that maybe all of this was just in my head, and my memories were merging with dreams, the product of sleepless nights.
Maybe that was the truth. Doubting myself was not something I was unaccustomed to.
Despite this possibility, when I left work in the late afternoon and had to hitch a ride to get to the university, I was determined to get my answer that night, one way or another. When I took the bus back home was when I would be sure.
True to my intentions, I arrived early at the bus stop. The fifteen-minute journey between the university and the point where I had a wide view of the city center turned into a tortuous battle against my anxiety. Nevertheless, we arrived, and sitting in my usual seat, I waited anxiously to see the building. And without a doubt, it appeared again. A large black monolith against the night sky.
What went through my mind was to take out my phone and take a picture or make a recording to confirm that it was really there. However, what I did almost unconsciously was something quite different. I got up from my seat, held onto the bus railing, and prepared to get off at the next stop.
I was determined to go there.
I would be lying if I said that the important facts didn’t cross my mind, but at that moment, they simply didn’t seem to matter. Yes, I was still far from home, and the chances were that I would have to walk back. Perhaps more importantly, there was also a significant distance to the city center, which involved crossing dark streets and corners late at night. I chose not to think about the dangers that must lurk in the dark alleyways and in the quiet of the night, ill-intentioned individuals waiting for idiots like me to cross those unaccompanied domains, waiting to become victims of robbery, kidnapping, or worse.
In fact, I think I simply didn’t care if it was dangerous or not. In the end, I didn’t have much to lose.
Walking alone at that hour, I felt quite content. There was a sense of freedom that the early morning offered, which was simply unparalleled. It was as if I had the whole world to myself, without having to share it with the crowd. I felt like I could go anywhere I wanted - which may not have been true, but I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me at that moment. It just didn’t matter.
The stars were more visible in the early morning. The wind was cooler and whistled louder. And at least for me, through that silence, the world seemed more alive. But I’m not a very poetic person, so I’ll limit my description. What matters is that I enjoyed that walk a lot, and even though I wasn’t entirely alone - from time to time, a car passed by, or a drunk person walked down the sidewalk going home, while homeless people slept on the corners covered in old rags and torn cardboard - none of it really mattered.
And all the while, the building was well within sight, getting larger as I approached. Even when I was distracted or looked away, I continued walking towards it, as if being drawn by a magnet, or perhaps like an insect drawn to the light.
I arrived in the city center, where things were still somewhat busy. I crossed the street, cut through the square in the center of a roundabout, and as I continued to walk, I could hardly see the sky. The darkness of the building obscured everything just above me.
I knew that path well. In fact, I had walked that same path earlier that day. It was there that I had come across an empty lot, but now there was a broad staircase leading to the building’s entrance. At the end of the staircase, double glass doors concealed whatever secret lay within that place.
I stopped before stepping onto the first step. First, I let out a sigh of relief for having made it there and for not being completely insane. I looked around, noting that the street was deserted. The only lights were those escaping from the glass doors of the building. Not even the lampposts were on, for some reason.
Next, I looked for any signs, billboards, or something that might help identify the building. It certainly wasn’t residential; that much was clear. But upon closer inspection, as a tower that seemed to pierce the sky, it was undoubtedly the tallest thing in the entire city. Yet there was nothing that identified it.
Whatever it was, I was tired of delaying the answer. I climbed the staircase and, after a slight hesitation, pushed one of the doors to enter the building.
I really don’t know what I was expecting to find on the other side of those glass doors, but truth rarely lives up to expectations. I found myself in a spacious reception area, somewhat semicircular in shape, with wooden synthetic walls - similar to what is often seen in corporate buildings - opening to a narrow hallway that seemed to lead to the elevator doors. The place was well-lit, and I must add, quite empty.
There were no potted plants, paintings on the walls, or those magazine racks often found in waiting rooms. Not that these things are as common as I’m making them seem, but I want to emphasize that the place lacked a ‘human touch.’ And if it weren’t for the reception desk to the right of the entrance, it would be completely empty.
The desk was sleek and modern, and I could say the same about the receptionist. A fair-haired, blue-eyed woman, her hair pulled up in a bun. She wore one of those very refined women’s suits, and indeed, she looked more like a lawyer or perhaps a councilwoman than a receptionist. But I’m not one to judge people by their appearance.
Her gaze was fixed on a computer monitor, and in the entire room, the only sound was the agile fingers typing away. Click, click, click. She didn’t seem to have noticed my presence.
I circled the reception room, pretending not to care. But when I realized she wasn’t taking the bait, content to ignore my presence, I approached the desk.
Her eyes remained glued to the screen. The relentless typing showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. No, she wasn’t ignoring me – even from that distance, she simply hadn’t noticed me.
I took another glance around the room, noting that there were no cameras, at least none that I could see. With few alternatives, I took the first step.
‘Excuse me,’ I said, in a quieter tone than intended.
If she heard me, she didn’t show it. Realizing that maybe I had spoken too softly, I tried again.
‘Excuse me?’
Nothing.
‘Miss,’ I said firmly.
Finally, a reaction. It was as if she snapped out of a trance, quickly diverting her gaze, stopped typing, and looked at me, or rather, at something behind me because, for a brief moment, it was as if she saw through me. For someone with such a serious expression, she seemed strangely distracted.
‘Sorry to interrupt, I… ‘ I tried to articulate something, but it was as if her icy gaze froze me in place.
We stared at each other for a few seconds that seemed longer than they should, and words seemed to be stuck in my throat.
But, to my surprise, it was she who broke the ice. With an almost stoic indifference, the receptionist pressed a key and leaned closer to a small microphone, saying:
‘Support request. We have an unaccompanied aberration in the reception.’
And with that, she went back to typing, her eyes focused on the monitor.
Aberration, that was the word she used. I have no idea in what context it applied, but I knew well enough it wasn’t a good thing. I decided not to risk my chances and, without wasting much time, I turned around.
Unimpeded, I left the building, descending the steps as if in a hurry and not wanting to show it. All the while wondering if a security guard would come running after me, but nothing happened. Returning to the fresh air, I noticed that the night was darker than I remembered, and the shadow projected by the building was even deeper, engulfing the entire block and the buildings beyond.
With my back facing it, it was almost as if the monolith was watching me leave. I admit the feeling was a bit disturbing. Scary, even.
I should probably go home for now.