[ WP ] `` The elevator had an extra button , but instead of a number , it was only labeled with a question mark . ''

I step into the busy lobby and head for the stairwell. The floor is a frenzy of dark suits, ID cards and clicking heels. I move along mechanically, enveloped in the haze of noise and sound around me. The crowd thickens at the base of the stairs as usual, backed up along several floors most likely. I cast a glance towards the elevator wall while silently cursing the ineptitude of workmen the world over. 
 
 But wait. 
 
 There is no cordon, no black and yellow hazard. I feel almost giddy. The others have n't noticed at all but why would they? I'd never seen the things in use since I started here more than three months previously. I'd almost forgotten they were there at all. 
 
 Slipping away I head over towards them. A firm push lights up the panel and as the doors slide clear I make to step inside. Despite the clamour, a clarion chime fills the lobby for a moment and I look back nervously, but no one falters for a second. They have been at this too long to let anything penetrate the morning routine. Pointless to hold the doors then. The lobby disappears abruptly as I let them enclose me. 
 
 Now, this is odd. Initially, I had made to push 26 and head straight to my desk; the canteen was always overcrowded first thing in the morning and I had no desire to wait more than twenty minutes for coffee and a roll. But I had n't pressed 26 because something was very off. There was no 19. In it's place was a question mark of the same typeset and finish as the other thirty two buttons; clearly intentional. I stand fixed for a breath while I weigh the options. 
 
 Why not. 
 
 I press the button and the elevator shudders to life. No mirror to distract me, only the murmurations of the gears hauling me upwards. Each number dimly illuminates in turn as the ascent continues and before I know it, they are grinding smoothly to a halt as the chime rings out. 
 
 The doors glide open to reveal a long, thin corridor. Silence pours into the box as I exit, only the scrape of my shoes intruding. A white tile floor stretches away ahead of me; tall, borderless windows lining either side. The amber sunlight glints through them in such a manner that I can see nothing beyond them save the shadowy outlines of grasping branches. More than likely a roof garden at this level. I concentrate towards the end of the corridor and spy another set of identical elevators. There is n't a single other door to be found and the windows have no obvious clasps or hinges. 
 
 I really enjoy the silence. I do n't think it will make any great difference if I linger here a while longer. I have work to do of course but ca n't I take a minute's peace now and again? I glance around to make sure I have n't overlooked something. It's a shame there is n't a chair about. 
 
 But wait. 
 
 How long have I been here now? I raise my wrist and stare down at the wide face of my watch. The hands are happily ticking but no matter how long I look I ca n't quite seem to make sense of the time. I lift my gaze and it strikes me that the sunbeams are unnerving somehow. Something is not quite right. The feeling has been growing steadily since I stepped out of the elevator. That's it; not one of them reveals a single mote of dust. For that matter, the floor is spotless. So clean it might never have been walked on. This place suddenly feels very empty. Empty is the word, but it's not quite enough. I'm panicking now. A thought is struggling in the back of my mind. My eyes feel heavy and milky; what a strain it is now to look down towards the other end of the corridor. 
 
 I shuffle forward awkwardly, moving slowly along the walkway. As I pass them, the windows reveal nothing but the dark shapes of the trees. I find myself in front of the second elevator. 
 
 Push. 
 
 Shudder. 
 
 Chime. 
 
 I step out onto 26 and head to my cubicle. Here I can sit. Here I can think. I turn on the computer with a mind to check my emails. 
 
 No. 
 
 I can still feel it. That this place is something more than empty. But now it's inside. The thought of it is there. I do n't think I ever reached 19.
