...Walking across the Harvard Bridge toward Boston, the wind bitterly cold, jacket pulled up around the throat, the night fresh, stars overhead, the Smoots passing slowly by underfoot, little bump where paint lies. Cars swoosh by, and bikes wind their way down the sidewalk, must move to side, walk slower, walk faster, ignore stench and sound of cars and buses.... Below, the river is a dark, wide road, with splotches of ice here and there. Boston glimmers ahead, its lights reaching up into the hazy, star-pricked sky, and the red Sheraton sign stares balefully like a red eye. Citgo, ever changing, reminds you just how far it is yet to Deli Haus that rests nigh under its shadow....

...Doodling on scrap paper in 10-280 or building 16; the air heavy and muggy. Sunlight streaming in, bright. Dice rattle onto the table, and potato chip bits lie spattered about. A faint breeze manages to sneak in through the window, providing some relief, and soda cans and 2-liters sit perspiring on the table. "Make a perception roll," the GM says cheerfully, and the clatter of dice follows....

...Quiet... Night sky above; clouds sparse, cold stars gleaming distantly; tree tops gently swayed by soft wind; air sharp, yet not bitter; passing reflection of oneself in the dark classrooms' windows ... no plants in the round concrete planters yet, but soon ... Ahead and up, the glass and stone walkway bridge, crossing from the Dreyfus BuILDINg to 56, from concrete to steel, night sky through it, soft light from it, harsh angles, hanging above, overpass overhead, gateway; Gateway to MIT; Gateway to the Infinite Corridor ahead; larger-than life Gateway in a small life, and there are stars above and lights ahead; ... now passing beneath, 18 to the left, feet stepping on diagonal lines in the rough concrete underfoot; dark grass to the left, leaning trees to the right, and lights: Building 16 there, glass and light, the waiting doors, the waiting elevators; or the way to the Main Infinite Corridor ahead and to the left; watch as the neo-classic walls rear up ahead, the tall tall windows dark or lit, the roof a horizon against the sky; up the stepped ramp, puddles on the concrete, and pull open the door, entering into the welcoming warmth and light ... just up a few stairs....

...Not as light...contrast, solitude ... the Infinite Corridor at night; darkness behind, darkness far ahead, warm dark light; occasional people striding by, eyes riveted forward; footsteps, shuffling sounds echo off the walls, and poster-covered boards march past (car ads, program ads, party ads); to the side the music practice hall; stairways leading up and down; there goes the gleaming bank machines; Lobby 10, quiet and resplendent in its darkness and solitude; the lit Fishbowl, empty for once, its terminals ever ready for the login; and ahead, Lobby 7; resounding echoes, great curved ceiling, mighty pillars, checkered floor; yellow, tan; great glass wall ahead, and automatic doors, corridors leading away, and balconies above; Student Center glowing in the distance, nighttime traffic swishing by; look up, look at the skylight, no hacks? yellow light filtering down, and everywhere the echoes, street noise when the doors open, hushed conversations over by the potted plants' benches, the whispers of hackers, hacking away, and one's own footsteps, echoing down and around and up and away; Lobby 7, the end of the Infinite Corridor, and the entrance to MIT; Lobby 7!

Text copyright 1995, 2006 by Eri Izawa. Written in 1992, when I wasn't sure when I would next return to the Institute. I then re-discovered it a few years later and decided to post it on the (then-new) web. Edited again in 2006.