The Second Floor

There stood Stan, gazing up at the outside of the rectangular-shaped BB (Beer Brewing) building. The bright sun directly above made it difficult to look up for more than a few seconds at a time. The building was about 100 feet across the front and back sides, 50 feet on the sides, and about 50 feet high. Stan observed that only the front side had any windows, which were tinted with very dark glass. The windows were only present on the second floor, and stretched across the entire part of the front side of the building. If one were to look at the building from a distance, it would almost look like a rectangular block with a dark black horizontal slit which made up the 5 feet high windows across the front side. A voice broke Stan out of his trance-like stare.

"Hurry up, you'll be late!" someone from Stan's next class said as he walked past.

Stan's next class was in this 3 story high BB building. All of the "Beer Design" classes were held in the basement of this building. There were offices, beer labs, and many other things which gave the basement of this building a "student-friendly" feel. The first floor was reserved for a small auditorium for presentations, some extra offices for some of the guidance counselors, and building technicians. The third floor was big, sort of a "playground," with foosball, pool, ping-pong, chess, cafeterias, a bookstore, and some offices, giving the third floor an overall relaxed feel. Then, there was the second floor. Stan did not know what the second floor of this building was used for. This was his fourth year at this school, and he did not know
what was on the second floor of this building. He had been pondering this for at least a week now, and his curiosity had grown stronger and stronger.

Stan made his way inside the building and noticed the elevator door open. The elevator was empty. He decided he would take the elevator, rather than the stairs, down from the first floor to the basement. He got in as the elevator door automatically closed behind him. He looked at the available buttons that would take him to the different floors. They were "B," "1," "2," "3," a button for an emergency, a button to open the doors, one to close the elevator, a keyhole for the fire department, and another keyhole which was unmarked. He hovered his finger over the "B" and hesitated. He looked up at the markings on the top that showed which floor the elevator was on. Similarly, there was a "B," and a lit up "1," "2," and "3." Stan never really noticed these things much until recently. He moved his hand up to the "2" button, and waited. He didn't know what he was waiting for; he wanted to press it and find out what was there and end the nagging thought of not knowing.

He kept this position for a few seconds and got ready to press the "2," when suddenly, the elevator began to move. Indeed someone in the basement was calling the elevator down, and it was too late to press the button to go up. A few seconds later, the elevator door opened, and Stan got off, as two kids got on to go up. Stan looked up at the marking to show where the elevator was. In about 2 second intervals, it went from a lit "B," to a lit "1," to a lit "2," to a lit "3," and came to a stop. Stan temporarily gave up the thought as he walked through the halls to his class.

He took the only empty seat left, in the back. The teacher had already begun his lecture on different brewing techniques, and the use of hops. Stan was not able to concentrate on the lecture; his mind kept wandering to what was on the second floor. A few minutes later, realizing that trying to concentrate on the lecture was a lost cause, Stan turned to his left, and whispered to the guy sitting on the seat next to him.

"What is on the second floor of this building?" Stan whispered.

The guy thought about it for a moment and then replied.

"Hmm, that's a good question. I don't know!" he said as he now put on a pondering look.

Stan turned to his right, and whispered to the guy on the right.

"What is on the second floor of this building?"

The guy smiled and whispered back.

"No one seems to know. I asked a bunch of people, and none of them knew. I tried looking it up, but no information was provided. I asked professors, and counselors, but none of them seemed to know either! My theory is they have a top secret lab there where they use illegal substances to make super beer or something!"

Stan just stared at him silently.

"Ok, I don't know, ok! No one else seems to know either." the guy continued.

"Have you tried going there to find out for yourself?" Stan asked.

The guy thought for a second and replied.

"Honestly, no. The thought of doing something like that never occurred to me. Maybe I just didn't have any time to do that, or maybe deep down I am scared to find out…. or maybe I am just too drunk to remember anything…yeah I think that's it!" he said as he pulled a beer out of his pocket, and gulped it all down in 10 seconds.

Stan nodded his head to acknowledge the end of the conversation. He thought about it for a moment. How can no one know what is on the second floor? Not even the faculty and staff know what is there, so who knows then? Who uses the second floor? Apparently none of the students or professors or the building staff; then who would know what is there?

Stan was thinking about this too much, and almost had a panic attack. Just not knowing almost scared him. He tried to not think about it, and remained seated. This went on for about 2 minutes until he just couldn't take it anymore. He got up, left the room in the middle of the lecture, and walked down the empty halls to the elevator. It was already on the basement floor. He got in, and looked at the buttons. He waited, and then took a deep breath as he pressed "2." He waited, as nothing seemed to happen. He tried it again, and still nothing. He tapped it multiple times, but nothing happened. It was as if the button didn't work. The elevator remained where it was. He pressed the "door open" button, and got out. His curiosity got even stronger as his walking speed got faster as he neared the stairs. He went up two floors, and reached the door that led to the second floor. He looked at the door. "2nd Floor," a small green sign read. Stan got ready to open the door. He was almost scared to find out what was on the other side. He didn't want to waste any more time. He grabbed the knob, and tried to turn it. It wouldn't turn. He tried the other direction, and it still wouldn't turn. He pulled, it wouldn't open. He pushed. Nothing! He backed off, and looked at the knob. There was no keyhole or button, or anything that could be used to unlock/lock it from this side. He tried once more, with all his might to get it opened, but to no avail. He spent another 2 minutes trying everything he could think of to try to open the door. There seemed to be no way to open it. Stan finally concluded that the door was locked. He was now exhausted from all of his efforts. He thought for a second, and then knocked on the door. Nothing! He banged on it with both hands. Still nothing! He repeatedly pounded with all the power in his hands. Nothing. Now he was out of breath, and his hands were hurting. He couldn't believe it. The door wouldn't open.

Feeling defeated, and still frustrated from not knowing what was behind the door, he turned around to go back downstairs as he noticed someone slowly walking up the stairs toward him. It looked to be a man in his 50's, a custodial worker dressed in a blue uniform. Stan didn't care anymore for formalities, and got straight to the point.

"What is on the second floor!?" he asked, almost yelling.

The man came to a stop next to Stan. He looked at Stan, then at the door, then back at Stan.

"Oh…" he replied.

"The door is locked; what is in there?" Stan asked again.

"…..Nothing," was the reply.

"What do you mean nothing? How do you even get in?"

"The door is locked."

"Yes, so how do you get in? What is in there? Why can't you tell me what you know about it?" Stan pleaded.

"I told you, nothing. There's nothing of interest for you at least."

Stan was now getting even more frustrated.

"Can you at least tell me who uses the second floor, if nothing else?"

The man hesitated.

"No one…. No one uses the second floor, there is nothing there, don't worry about it," the man replied nervously.

With that, the man continued walking up the stairs toward the third floor, leaving Stan almost ready to explode with frustration. After about 5 minutes of pacing back and forth in the little space that was in front of this door, Stan was able to calm himself down. He turned to face the stairs leading down, and stopped. He quickly turned around, and gave the door one more try, but it still wouldn't open. He finally decided the door wasn't going to open and went back to his class in the basement.

The rest of Stan's day consisted of getting drunk in order to not totally lose his mind, and plotting. He was plotting how he was going to get past the door. He would go at around midnight. He knew the building would be closed by then, and it would be completely empty. He would break in and break down the door. He would use the power of a screwdriver along with a hammer to take out the bolts and screws that connect the hinges of the door to the wall.

It was midnight, and Stan was all set. He stood in front of the building, and looked up at the windows. Immediately he felt a rush of energy.

"Damn you, second floor!!! DAMN YOU!!!" he yelled out.

Stan looked around, making sure no one was there. He noticed a small rock on the sidewalk. He couldn't resist it, especially under the influence…of alcohol. He grabbed it, aimed it toward one of the many second floor windows of the building, and threw it. He backed off from under the window, as he expected the shattered glass to fall onto the sidewalk below. To his surprise, the rock hit the window, bounced off, came back, and hit the sidewalk, about 3 feet away from him. "It must be very strong glass," he noted. He looked around for something else, and remembered something. He pulled out a full can of beer from his pocket. He aimed for the window, and threw with all his strength. It bounced off the window, and came back to Stan who caught it. "The window must be made out of some sort of unbreakable glass," Stan concluded.

He shook his head, drank the beer, and continued on as planned. He would go in through the window in the back which he knew was never locked properly. He would need to play around with it to get it opened. Five minutes later, he was inside the building. It was all dark; he pulled out his flashlight, and made his way through the inside of the building toward the only staircase that was near the front. After many twists and turns through dark and silent hallways, he reached the stairs. He climbed up and finally arrived at the door. He looked at it for a second, and then gave it another try. It was still locked. He looked around, walked up a couple steps toward the third floor, and placed the flashlight on the 3rd step, facing the door, giving him plenty of light to work with.

He got to work on the hinges. There were 3. He started on the top one, using the tip of the screwdriver as a wedge in the hinges, and the hammer to hit the bottom of the screwdriver to loosen the hinge from the door. After this was done, he began unscrewing the metal part off the side wall. After 5 minutes, he finally was able to get one of the three off. He took a breath and got ready for the one in the middle next, when he heard someone's voice from behind him.

"You are just wasting your time," said a voice.

Stan turned around, and noted from the dim light from the flashlight that reached the area behind it, a few steps above, where the sound had come from. There was a figure sitting on the top step behind the flashlight. It looked like a man. He stood up, and walked down, past the flashlight, down the steps, and came to a stop next to Stan. It was the custodial worker Stan had seen earlier that day. The man looked at the flashlight, gave a soft chuckle, and looked back at Stan.

"I told you, there is nothing on the second floor," said the man.

"What are you doing here at this time of night?"

"My job, I watch over the place too," the man replied.

"You work 24 hours a day or something?"

The man laughed.

"You are a curious one!"

The man looked at the door, and observed Stan's progress.

"Tell you what…..go on!" he said, looking at Stan.

Stan hesitated for a moment, shrugged, and continued his work on the middle hinge. The man walked over to the steps, and took a seat next to the flashlight. Stan worked non-stop for the next 10 minutes on the remaining hinges. Finally, he was able to get them all off the door. Stan stood up, exhausted. Placing the screwdriver and hammer on the ground, he looked at the door. The man stood up as well, and looked at the fine job Stan was able to do in such a short time. The door hung there loosely, and could be pulled out with a little effort. Stan looked over at the man, who had a smirk on his face, looking at the door. Stan took a couple steps closer to the door, and got ready to do what he had worked so hard to do. With one final deep breath, he grabbed the door on the sides, pulled it out, and couldn't believe what he saw on the other side. It was a wall. A brick wall, behind this door. It was as if there had been a rectangular area carved out in the brick wall the door was on, for the door to fit in. Stan stood there for a few seconds, trying to grasp the idea that what he saw was the true reality. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to find when he removed it, but he certainly didn't expect this.

He put the door on the side wall, and looked at the man who still had that smirk on his face.

"What did I tell you? There's nothing behind the door," he said, chuckling.

"But….but…." replied Stan. He couldn't come up with words to vocalize what was going on in his head at the time. The man nodded and continued.

"The truth is, when this building was first built, there was no design that included the second floor. It is mainly a 9-10 feet high piece of block with cemented bricks as layers of walls. If you were to take a drill and start drilling through this wall, after a long time, you would end up outside, where the fake windows are. They aren't windows by the way, just some sort of material composed of metal and lead that was sort of plastered onto the outsides of the wall to make it appear like windows. Those windows exist only for the second floor because that way, we can make up different stories about the 2nd Floor to tell to those curious ones. We can say it's a meeting room, or that it's a floor for custodians to take their break, or office space reserved for certain occasions, etc. Mainly, however, it is there because, sub-consciously, the human brain would be less likely to be curious about it or wonder what is there if the windows appeared to be only for the second floor. It is complicated, it sounds counter-intuitive, but research had been done and it showed that putting the fake windows on the outside was the best route to take."

Stan continued listening, still in shock.

"There is nothing but the block of bricks all around where the second floor should be. This building doesn't have a second floor. The second floor is basically a brick foundation used to strengthen the base of the third floor. That is why the third floor is about 40% of the building, it takes up a large portion of the building, and the only way the people who designed the building could make it happen was to use the second floor as they did."

Stan took it all in, and sighed in disbelief. After a few moments, he finally spoke.

"But, why not just say there are 2 floors?" Stan asked.

"It would have violated one of the city regulations for a building with these proportions. I don't know the exact details on that, but it had to appear to all that there were 3 floors, in order to conform to these regulations. One of my jobs along with the other "custodians" is simply to make sure that this doesn't get out. There have been others before you that had this similar curiosity."

Stan continued to listen.

"None of them, however, had a curiosity as strong as yours. That is why I stayed here tonight. I had a feeling you would do something like this."

"But…now I know about it, so now what?"

"I just have to trust you, I'm sure you won't mention this to anyone. Plus, if you did, people with less curious minds, which include most people, would think you are just…crazy!" he replied.

"I see…" Stan said, as he looked back at the wall.

"How do I know there isn't a secret room or something behind this wall?" Stan asked.

The man laughed.

"Well you just have to take my word for it. I mean… how do you know you have a stomach, or lungs, or a liver inside your body? That is a "fact" that you believe. Similarly, this is something that you must believe, because it is a fact. The only way you would know for sure would be to drill your way through the entire second floor and find out for yourself," the man replied.

Stan didn't have a reply to that. He nodded his head as he understood what the man was saying. The man smiled and nodded his head.

"I left the backdoor open for you, have a good night."

Stan nodded his head, picked up his supplies and walked off. Using his own supplies and light, the man began putting the door back together.

As Stan walked toward the back exit, he thought to himself about what the man had said. Indeed, there was no way he could know for sure that what the man said about the second floor was true, just like he didn't know if there really were a liver or stomach inside of him like there supposedly were in the bodies of billions of others. Stan was not alive 100 years ago. He had to believe what is written in the history books about what happened back then. It was easy for him to believe that there were people around 100 years ago, from what he knew, and these people surely were the ones verifying what really happened at that time.

Here was one man telling him there was nothing on the second floor, and Stan had
to believe it because that was what the fact was. There really was no way of knowing for sure, from just that man telling him, but Stan had to believe him. Maybe the man was speaking the truth, or maybe he was lying to Stan, maybe the man wasn't even a custodian, just someone dressed like one and trying to hide something. Maybe there was no man there, and he had just imagined it, maybe the man lived inside the building or something. Maybe that man was insane, and made that story up. Stan understood the point. He understood that he was going on what the man told him.

As long as he realized this, realized that his views of facts are based on what he is told by someone, that was enough, just him knowing that. He felt good and relieved from this frustration for the first time in what seemed like years. Stan smiled as he climbed out the window he had come through, and began on his way back to where he lived, when a thought came to him. This building did not have a backdoor.