Prologue

Just as a minor disclaimer, the following task took place in a building that was in-use and full of scientific experiments. As such, while I was going through, I generally did not try to get into locked areas, for a couple of reasons. First, some of the experiments are very sensitive to factors I can't even consider. And second, some are very dangerous. So when I came to a locked door, I typically left it be. If I had the right set of keys, this may have been a completely different adventure. As it stands, well, read on!

"Going down
Going down
Down where my breath is the only sound
Going down".

- Blue Man Group, The Current

Welcome to the Life Sciences Center.



This is where I work. It's a building- one of the more infamous- on the Dalhousie University campus. It sits at the far end of the campus, hidden by the much more presentable Henry Hicks and the university Quad. There, it lurks, squat and misshapen, like a swamp beast skulking in the quagmire.

I could spend days tasking here- provided I had a week's worth of rations, supplies, and a team of the most skilled Players culled from each of the groups*. In fact, this isn't the first time I've tasked in the LSC- way back in '08, before I faded from the public eye, Sponty and I did our Ariadne Unemployed task here.

That was a long time ago, but the LSC hasn't changed. It's still a structure filled to bursting with wonder, mystery, danger and eldritch knowledge. But most importantly for today, it had an underworld.

I'd actually discovered the underworld quite by accident. It was between when I left the City and when I returned the month before last. I'd been leaving a class and, instead of going to the door labelled "Exit", I took a wrong turn and pushed through the door on the wrong side of the room. Where it led was a corridor with strange markings on the walls, bizarre structures and shapes, and the promise of Cthonic horror around every corner.

Needless to say, I would return many times, oft with friends. While undoubtedly well-used and an integral part of the structure, the entire area became something of a secret passageway for us. An escape route that only we knew of, a hint of mystery in an otherwise dull, bleak, boring place. Like audience members who had suddenly stumbled into the back stage of the world, we would take the time to wander and explore, and see what it had to offer.

I went there many times, but it's been years since. Now, I'd like to return, and I'd like to bring you all with me.

First we have to find it.

To be honest, setting out, I'm not completely sure where the room I used to enter through is. I know it's a room where I used to take Discrete Math, and I remember very clearly the look of the room, but calling to mind its actual location in time and space is difficult. Ordinarily this wouldn't pose much of a problem, but it's the only entrance I know.

It doesn't help that the floor structure in the LSC is screwed up. This place has got a real alien geometry thing going on. If you enter from the front, you come in on the third floor. Enter from the side or the rear, and you come in on the second floor. The first floor, paradoxically, is pretty much all underground, unless you enter through one of the loading docks (conveniently located on the sides and rear).

I don't know if there are technically basement floors, but I shudder to think what may be lurking on them if there are.

I found myself with a little extra time to explore after work, so the first thing I did was trundle on over to the elevator and push in the grotty little chunk of plastic marked "DOWN".



The doors sealed shut with a clatter and clank, and the elevator slowly, inexorably made its way down. I was already feeling a bit of a twinge, as the elevators in the building aren't known for their reliability, but I was fortunate enough to be deposited on the first floor without any incident.



I was greeted by a locked set of double doors, and this would turn out to be a recurring theme, as it happened. I was presented with, as usual, two options: left, or right? Left had always served me well in the past, so I turned on a heel and kicked it, immediately being greeted by something that looked like the Ecto-Containment Unit from Ghostbusters.



It was going to be a good day. I could tell.

I was already feeling a bit bored down there. In truth, the underside of the building didn't look much different from the overside. In some places, the same old brown tiling. In others, the same blue linoleum. The doors were the same half-opaque, half-glass that delineated the chambers of the upper floors. But things were about to take a turn for the weird.



After passing the big red block, I came to a door marked "NO EXIT". It seemed as though my journey would be cut regrettably short, but a closer examination revealed that the phrase "after 5 PM" was scrawled in faded Sharpie beneath that. I gingerly pressed on the metal panel, found it yielding, and followed through.



I found myself in a short hallway punctuated by a couple of dark blue doors, similar to the ones I'd just come through. The one to my right was locked, but the one immediately ahead of me opened with a soft shove, and I carried on.



This was new. I'd never been in this part of the building before. The first thing to hit me was the smell- the entire place reeked of oil and exhaust. At least, that's what I hope it was. That's what I tell myself it was. My sense of smell is a finicky thing at best, and my capacity to link scents to sources is hazy. But I decided in that moment that it smelled how I thought exhaust smelled, if only to preempt the discovery of the actual source.

The next thing that bothered me was the lighting. The other parts of the building had been well-lit by the harsh glare of fluorescent bulbs, but the lighting here was softer, dimmer. It was inviting whilst at the same time disquieting. This isn't the lighting of a campus building in use. The lighting was the colour of hearth and home, soft oranges and warm yellows- and the fact that it was artificial left me with an odd knot in my gut.

I pressed on, and after some investigation, found I was still under the Oceanography department, thanks in part to a sign on a locked door-



It was the Oceanography loading dock, where our Zodiacs and whatnot come in and where crates of... fish are loaded and unloaded? Actually, truth be, I have no idea what we do with this loading dock. I was used to the idea of loading docks being full of life and vigour, populated by men with five-o-clock shadow and women with hair tied back in tight ponytails, all dressed in coveralls and work gloves- stagehands of the city. Seeing the whole place empty was disconcerting. In spite of having just left a lab all a-bustle with people and experiments, I suddenly felt like the last man on Earth.



It didn't help that the lighting went from inviting-but-strange to downright bizarre.



I decided to follow the tunnel a ways just to get my bearings (and some fresh air). I passed a wall covered in strange black ooze-



- and wound up staring down the outside door.



I wasn't ready to take off just yet, but I still jogged up to the entrance and took a few breaths of clean summer air before I headed back in. I kept on my original course through the loading dock, leaving out the other side and taking as a memento the scent, which lingered in my nostrils like the one party guest you can't convince to leave.



Passing through the doors brought me to a small room (again) with a locked door (again!).



But one door was open (again!) and so, I kept on going.



A quick jaunt brought me out here. Again, the terrain changed on me completely. I recognized this place well- it was the Psychology department. And it showed- the entire place looked like a set from a late-70s psychological sci-fi horror film. Sterile white walls, long hallways, harsh white lights.



It felt like I stumbled around those halls for ages. I realized I was pretty lost, my price for not watching where I was going. I finally found a door at the bottom of a small incline that seemed a little more inviting than the antiseptic white hallways. I slid down the slope and poked my head in.



I was greeted by a congregation of fridges. I'm not kidding- I counted about six, which is more fridges than I've seen outside of an appliance store. I don't even remember what else was in the room. I couldn't be sure if it was a lab or a lounge. There was only one thing I could be sure of, and that was fridges. I briefly contemplated opening one, but my hand hesitated over the handle. What could be in there? This was the psychology wing, where they did... the experiments. Studies of things man was never meant to know. I mean, I don't know much, but I've heard. The things they tell me would turn you white and curl your toenails. They're the things that keep you up at night. The things that keep you looking over your shoulder at work. And sometimes, all the way in the Oceanography wing, you can hear the noises. They weren't human noises- but they may have been... once.

I was later informed that the fridges were probably just being stored in anticipation of their removal, since the government had recently swept through and replaced all the fridges with more energy efficient models, and also that the noises were of construction being done outside my office. Egg on my face!

I left the psychology wing, painstakingly backtracking my way out having run into (all together now) locked doors. I passed by some stairs, which only served to remind me that I was still underground.



Shortly after, I found myself back in the Oceanography wing, having done some kind of loop.



I made fairly good time through here- most of the doors led to offices, and I was in no mood to try picking the lock to someone's office. Actually, I hadn't seen another living soul the entire time I'd been here. I'd heard footsteps, occasionally a far off voice receding into the distance, but I'd yet to see another actual human entity.



Plenty of fridges, though.



And more of the Ecto-containment things.



So it was that I found myself back in the place I'd started. I decided to go right this time. Look how left had turned out!



The first door was the door to the Aquatron, which is not, surprisingly, the submarine-shaped transforming robot that we keep on the premises (that's called "Waveshatter" and we have to keep it in the harbour). It's actually a big fishtank where people can do experiments on... well, fish. I've never been inside, but that's something for another day.

The only other thing to which the corridor led was a locked door and a collection of plastic and bolts in buckets arrayed along a wall.



I was a little befuddled. I'd futzed around for nigh-on an hour and I'd yet to find any kind of entryway to the place I'd been looking for. Had I imagined the whole thing? Or was it behind one of the many locked doors that I'd been unable to access? I decided I had one last shot, and that was to head upstairs, through the building, and to the only other access point I could think of.



Dig that concrete overhang- in the LSC, even when you're outside, you're underground.



See, the LSC has this handy little underground corridor that runs between the Killam Library, the Chemistry building, and the LSC itself. It makes it really handy for getting around in winter, because it means you can get through a large part of the campus without going outside.

On the way, I stopped to peek into some of the classrooms to see if any were the ones through which I accessed the basement before.



Alas, none were- but they were an object lesson in how creepy dark classrooms can be. Check it:



Those spaces are practically begging for horrible things to fill them. As I poked my head in, horrible unseens lurked just on the edge of perception, snatching at me just as I backed out.



A quick stumble down the hall and I was in, on my way to the underground again.



There wasn't much to see in these hallways. Again, most of the doors go to classrooms and offices, and those are locked this time of day, since everyone's gone home.



There was a single opened door leading into a darkened lounge, but there was nothing of interest in there, so I let it lie.



I emerged in the underside of the Chemistry building, near some (locked) doors. Of all the places I'd been thus far, this one looked the most like a university campus. It was clean and well-kept, free of rubble and debris, well lit, and neutrally coloured. In truth, it was probably merely comforting because I knew it very well. As I said, it was a common route to take in the harsh winter, where I would often have to trek across campus for classes. I'd walked these roads many times with friends and strangers, and they were well known to me.

There was a minor abnormality; a door open that was usually closed. I initially passed it by, but doubled back- after all, I am to explore the underworld, am I not?

The first thing I saw was an elevator, its sole button indicating "UP", indicating that I was, again, underground.



The hall was lit with a bizarre and sickly shade, and the hallway rapidly truncated in a series of three doors. Each was locked, and each one had behind it a strange noise. One, to my left, hissed as I came ever nearer, and I could not tell if it was the sound of a nightmare serpent on the other side or if it was just gas escaping through the thin seal. One door concealed a clicking, like a mechanism snapping into place. As I approached, I could swear it slowed imperceptibly, as though completing its preparations and gearing up to rise. The third door hid the most unsettling noise. Behind the cold grey doors and the sign indicating the myriad normal dangers within, the third door kept silence. Mercifully they were locked, but as I turned, I heard a small noise on the edge of hearing emanate from under the third door. A quiet laugh, knowing, and nothing more.



I returned to the main hallway with all haste. After all, time was short, and I would have to be home soon. But as I approached the stairs leading to what would be my final exploration, I saw a door, wide open and inviting, labelled "Chemical Storage".

Well. What choice did I have?



Sadly, I didn't find much there- some wooden pallets and stacked crates, little else. All the good stuff was safely behind lock and key. I put it aside and headed back on track.



There wasn't much worth looking at down here. I'd been this way many times before, and explored it a little more each time. Take it from me- there's very little down here worth looking at.



I got so into the groove, the rhythm of walking the path I'd always walked, that I realized I'd forgotten something. There was yet a single place I'd never been.

A fork in the road not taken, a path as yet unbeaten. I decided there was certainly no harm in checking it out. By now I had long forgotten any hope of finding my hallway. I had come here mostly as an afterthought, something to cap off the tale, a moment of familiarity for the sake of reflection and introspection.



In any case, I took the fork, and came to another. One fork took me to a collection of- surprise- locked doors.



The other went to an exit. It was getting late and I decided it was as good a time as any to leave.



I shouldered the old door open and stepped through. Inside was a narrow stairwell, the steps concrete and cold, even in the summer heat. An "EXIT" sign sputtered forlornly in the darkness, encroached on all sides by shadow and fighting a losing battle. I nodded it a token salute as I inched my way under it.



The steps only got more foreboding from here. At the height of a narrow stair was the exit door, tempting but just out of reach. I concede to being a bit creeped out by the cramped space and run-down appearance, but I'm no sissy and I began the climb. Then I heard the rumbling.

At first I couldn't place it. It seemed to come from every direction at once. Soft, but persistent, like the buzz of carrion flies, the droning of approaching locusts. With each step, it grew louder and louder.



I couldn't put my finger on where it was coming from until I was scarcely five steps from the exit, and then it hit me.

The noise was coming from behind me.

I'm no sissy, I said. But I've got a self-preservation instinct that's more finely honed than a Hendrix solo, and legs that'll keep on pounding long after the lungs have given out. So when I realized something was approaching with upsetting alacrity from behind me, I took off like an F-18 strapped to a rocket ship. My feet slammed against the steps, only just a second below the thundering cadence of my heartbeat.

One.

The rumbling grew louder and louder, drowning out the driving staccato of my footfalls.

Two.

The cobwebs on the edges of the step sent out diaphanous tendrils that wrapped around my shins, as I fought desperately to keep my balance.

Three.

The walls closed in as the very steps conspired to trip me up and force me back into the roiling noise behind me, back into the maw of whatever creature I had unleashed in my hubris.

Four.



I rammed the exit door with the force of a freight train, crying out as I emerged into the open air, screaming with joy and fear as I looked up at the sky, a sight I had never been happier to see. My primal shouts of triumph cut off with a squeak as I realized a passing smoker was giving me a funny look.

"Art project", I said after a moment.

This seemed enough for him, and he continued. I was about to sit down and take a deep breath when I realized the rumbling hadn't stopped. I leapt to my feet and turned, preparing to bolt, and only finding myself face to face with the source of the rumbling.



Oh. Construction. Egg on my face!



Suitably abashed, I turned to the nearest set of stairs, and focused on up, up, only up.

The trip left me with a bad taste in my mouth. I'd had quite a walk around, but there was no story- no conclusion. I'd set out to find something and hadn't. The whole thing ended on a rather depressing cliffhanger. Submitting the praxis just felt wrong. Cheap. Like I was cheating you guys out of a tale.

So it was that this praxis lay fallow, sitting in the back of my mind like an itch that wouldn't be scratched. It wasn't until a few days later that something miraculous happened. I was sitting in my office, munching on some cookies and reading spooky stories on the Internet (typical lunch break activities), when another fellow from the office whom we'll call Rip for the sake of protecting his identity, wandered by. He appeared to be headed for my coworker's space- my coworker was on vacation, and Rip, his boss, apparently needed something from his hermetically sealed oxygen-cocoon (we don't get offices at the LSC). But, midway to reaching the door, he stopped in front of my hole in the wall, shook his head, and loudly declared "Nope. I'm not gonna do it that way". He turned, then almost as quickly whirled back, muttering "But I still need that stuff, so... might as well".
Perplexed by these antics and bizarre declarations, I decided to offer a show of solidarity, saying "I wholeheartedly support you in whatever it is you're doing which I know nothing about". He poked his head in and grinned.
"Thanks, I find your support heartwarming".
"I'm glad", I said, for I was. "I'm glad we had this talk".
He darted into my coworker's place, then emerged carrying a toolbox.
"In fact", he said in my direction, "I find your support so heartwarming that I'm going to borrow you for a minute to help me lift some boxes, when you're done eating lunch".
"Lifting heavy boxes? That's my favourite thing to do!" In truth, I was merely leaping at the opportunity to do literally anything other than look at the sizable stack of FORTRAN '90 code awaiting me.

Rip and I grabbed a cart and headed through the halls. After emerging from the oceanography department, we made a quick jaunt over to Geology, still on the second floor, where we went to a different set of elevators than the ones I'd previously used. Rip headed in, tapped the button for the first floor, and we descended.

And when we came out, we were in my corridor. I recognized every inch of it- I even saw where the hallway curved back into the classroom from second year. I saw the exit out to the loading dock. Everything was just as I'd left it. I looked around, stunned, as we went and collected the crate we were to pick up, wondering how I could have possible missed it.

"You know the funniest part", Rip said as we headed back into the elevator. "The place we need to take this is on the first floor, but we have to go back up to the second and around because they don't connect".

They don't connect, I repeated in my head.

It would yet be several days before I would have the opportunity to backtrack and explore- I had to leave immediately on the day of my revelation, and then I had the long Natal Day weekend before I was back at the LSC. So it was that at the conclusion of my work day the following Tuesday, I hitched up the rucksack and bolted for the elevators.



I left the Oceanography department with a spring in my step and joy in my song as I made for the elevators in the Geology department that would drop me in the exact spot I'd hunted for so long.



Sure enough, I stepped out, and there it was, every tile, every block the same. Even the grey garbage skip was there, right where I'd left it all those years ago. I wanted to run, I wanted to go back and rediscover the childlike sense of adventure that I'd known back then. But, there was a passage off to my right...



...and I wanted to delay the gratification.



The first few doors I saw all led to Wet Labs, where they keep tanks of fish and whatnot. These all had a small sign on them indicating that they were "OPEN", this was, in fact a lie. Every one of them was locked. I managed to snap a few shots through the glass, but I didn't get much.



I was all set to turn around, but this part of the building wasn't done with me yet. I saw a door leading to something to do with crystals and, much to my surprise, it was unlocked. I decided it sounded like a cool place, what with all the crystals and whatnot, and so I headed through the door. The first thing I saw upon entering was this:



That's an ill-omen, when something in the LSC is left without maintenance, that's probably for a very good reason. I blanched at the thought of what might be beyond that door. Still, I'm here for a reason, right?



The next room was stacked to the ceiling with junk. I don't just mean old scientific equipment. It was filled to bursting with heaps of trash, buts of wood, giant green behemoths whose purpose I couldn't fathom, and all manner of strange contraptions, the likes of which I had never seen. I wanted to leave, sure that at any moment some horrible creature constructed of trash and garbage would come tearing out of the heaps to either side, ready to add my broken and battered corpse to its pile. But the door in front of me was open, and, well, what had I to lose?

I slipped through the door quietly (there wasn't another human being in sight, but I do so hate to disturb a silence). And as it happened, I was right to press on.



One of the side doors led off into one of the wet labs I'd been previously unable to enter. This room was a cavalcade of strangeness in its own right, full of roiling, sputtering cauldrons full of strange experiments. Some were too bubbly and indistinct to see into.



Some were murky, and coated with a thin layer of crusty slime.



Some were full of snails.



Some had windows in the side, offering views of plant life, turning and twisting in the flow.



Once I'd had all I could take of that, I headed back into the junk room, noting with no small measure of chagrin that the door nearest me was open, leading into another room full of trash.



I was rather stunned, in truth. Where did all this crap come from? The LSC has tons of waste, yes, but we bloody well dispose of it. Why, oh why, was there a room full of naught but waste and refuse?



There was so much in here whose purpose I couldn't even conceive, it was overwhelming. I noted with relief that I was fast approaching a wall, and that meant I could turn around and get out of this strange and disconcerting room.

But then I saw it.



One more open door.

I didn't want to go through the door. In my mind, that door was the final threshold. Past that door was darkness, and doom. The bizarre curator of this museum of fossilized trash was waiting there to pounce, prepared to crush the life from my body between his fingers of trash.

But I knew I had to go. I had to explore the underworld to its fullest and brave any demons it could throw at me. So, setting my jaw (and sweating profusely) I headed through.



What was in there was less frightening than I'd imagined, but somehow more bothersome. It was full of yet more trash. No demons. No monsters. Just... more junk.

I had expected an explanation, however horrific. I had hoped for a denoument, even in spite of my fear. But there were no answers, just more garbage. It would have seemed a worryingly apt metaphor for life itself if I wasn't so profoundly bemused by the whole affair. I made my way back to the hallway and looked at the door I'd come through.

"Crystal Isolation Facility". My narrow ass, it was.

I slowly made my way back to my hallway, closer than I'd ever been since way back when, but I still wasn't quite ready. I felt like a little more anticipation would just sweeten the deal. So I made my way down the opposite route towards the exit, seeing on my way pegboards covered with posters...



Bizarre configurations of wood...



And finally, an exit door.



I stepped outside, wanting to see where I'd emerge.



Indeed, it led out into the clean air and sunlight. But something was off. The smell was wrong. It didn't smell like trees, or grass, or dirt. It didn't have any of the normal campus smells like pigeon crap or hot dogs.

It smelled like exhaust.

You best be joking, Dal, I said as I saw that familiar black ooze.

You best be joking!

No!

Oh COME ON!

I had been so close! So close all that time, and I'd never known. If I'd but taken one step further on my way for a quick breath, I'd have seen it.

Harumph. And double harumph. Egg on my red ol' face.

Ah, but it was all worth it. For hark! I was finally there!



It was my old hallway, my little secret passage, just where I'd left it, everything just as it had been.



It was good to be back. I have so many good memories associated with this place. Memories of friends, and of exploring, and of the kind of wonder that comes with finding something secret and new. I immediately set about trying to make my way back to the classroom from which I'd come, bringing the loop full circle. I wholly expected it to be locked, but I had to take this as far as possible. I took the first unlocked door.



It led to a hallway not unlike the one that led to my classroom, but mine had no stairs, and was a touch longer.



Nonetheless, I went along, and indeed, it did lead to a classroom. But, as I'd thought, the door was locked.



I did se one other unlocked door, but it only led into a small locker room, presumably for the maintenance personnel, with a small poster for The Mikado propped up against the wall.



I passed broken-down desks...



And doors that hid dangers untold...



But finally, I found it.



This was it. This was the hallway I'd discovered so long ago. I walked as quietly as I could, reverently taking in each sight, each brick of chalk graffiti. Some of it, I even recognized.



It's a hard feeling for me to explain, how this felt. The feelings it brought back to me. Let me put it to you this way:

Do you remember the first time you kept a secret? Do you remember the first time you found an Easter Egg in a video game? Do you remember the first time you told an in-joke that only you and a friend laughed at while everyone else exchanged confused glances? Do you remember the first time you heard about SF0?

That's how this felt. The feeling that there was a secret, and I was part of it. Those were the feelings that came rushing back.

I came to a door leading to a classroom, though I knew off the bat it wasn't mine. Mine had been 240, and this was 236. I opened it up anyway.



Finally, at the tail end of the hallway, was the object of all my pursuit.



Rooms 240, and 242. I went through 242 first. It was, strangely, well-lit and almost welcoming. Only the lights on the stairs were on, but they glowed with a bright, vibrant light that clearly illuminated the whole room. I went in without fear, and snapped a few photos.



Then I went to 240. Much to my surprise and relief, it wasn't locked. I pulled it open, ready to stride in and claim the prize for which I had so long laboured.



Yeah, no.

I slammed the door shut and began puttering off home. There was nothing good in that room. That was a room of silence, and hopelessness, and crushing, dark, demise. That was a room of strangling death and blindness and crying when no one can hear. That was a room of very bad things.

Yes, I'm afraid of the dark. We all got our hangups.

But something grabbed hold of me and I squatted on the floor, pensive. Could I abandon this now? Could I really just up and leave it? Isn't this why I came? Isn't this why I wanted to do this task, why I was sad when I couldn't get here, why I held off sending in the proof?

If not this...

Then what?

Am I just going to get up and go? Am I that afraid?

Yes, I said, as I packed up my camera, tossed it in my bag, and left.











No, I said, as I turned around. I ripped the door open and confidently strode in, hearing it creak shut behind me and eventually, click, sealing me in.

I braced myself against whatever was to come. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, afraid to see for fear of what might be waiting for me in the space I couldn't see. I heard things swirling around my head, taunting me, laughing at me, closing in on me- crushing me. I felt the last vestiges of hope go out in my chest.

And then, something happened. Something I wasn't expecting. Something swelled inside me. It started in my gut, a low rumble that squirmed and forced its way around my knotted insides. It moved up into my chest, blasting past my heart and my lungs on a whirlwind course up my throat. Finally, it came to rest in my head and blasted out my nose in a sneeze of such profound proportions that it echoed off the walls for seconds afterwards. That was when it hit me- silence. The sneeze had forced my eyes to open, and I saw precisely what had been there all along. Nothing.

There was nothing there. Because of course there was nothing there. Damn, man, a 22 year old man afraid of the dark, can you believe it? It's like the old saying goes, man, there's nothing in the dark that wasn't there when the lights were on. I looked around and realized now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and the classroom was the same old room I'd known, where I'd taken Discrete Math those many years ago. It seemed friendly. Safe.

There was nothing there, waiting in the darkness.



Nothing, and me.

Er, incidentally, that's not actually just a black square there, that is actually a picture of me in that room. In the bigger versions you can actually see my arm and part of my shirt, which is a little creepier, but I kind of like the punctuation the empty black square provides.

* After working out the math and doing some basic logistics (viz making things up), it is my estimation that a successful multiple-day tasking expedition in the LSC would require the following personnel:

- No fewer than one member from each group of rank 3 or higher.
- A pair of hand-picked Biome players of rank 5 or higher in the event we get lost and need to live off the land, plus two more of any rank to act as forward scouts.
- One Humanitarian Crisis representative of rank 4 or higher in the interest of keeping morale strong and providing counseling to those irreparably damaged by the psychitecture of the building.
- A five-player squad of S.N.I.D.E representatives to aid the Biome representatives as forward scouts and guards against the encroaching forces of boredom and drudgery inherent in the building.
- One Chrononaut of rank 2 or higher to help track time, both real and imagined, spent on the expedition.
- One representative of the BART PA to document the trip and keep track of the building's psychogeography.

Necessarily since team members may experience irreparable psychic damage (viz frustration) or functional expiry (viz getting fed up with the whole operation and heading to the exit door which is right over there you guys, seriously, Jesus), it is highly recommended that all involved personnel be of sound mind, body, and Drive, and that they be committed to the expedition. Any personnel who prove to not meet those requirements will receive the designation PP-1093 ("Wet Blanket") and be told to buck up.