Dopecentury XIV --- The Building
This short fiction is part of Dopecentury, an experimental project where I attempt to channel the aural aesthetics of Dopesmoker into written text. (Dopesmoker is the legendary stoner-doom metal masterpiece by the band Sleep, of which it is said: “the monotony rarely becomes tedious.”) My plan is to listen to the single hour-long track of Dopesmoker while writing each of these “Dopecentury” entries. And repeat that 100 times. See the Dopecentury project page for more details.
[↓ Start reading on the ground floor ↓]
Roof
Building systems. Huge machines. Compressors and heaters. Fans and ductwork.
Stone laid down over tarpaper.
Steel pipes with smoke or steam that rises up into the air far above the rooftop.
A cylindrical water tower and its accompanying piping and pump.
Floors 33-34: Penthouse
A key is required to get the elevator to stop on the penthouse floors. Duplex with views from the top of the building. Two staircases between floors on the north and south side of the interior part of the building. A balcony along the entire south side of the building, never with a person to be seen on it.
Large tasteful plants. Colorful canvases of paint that stretch floor-to-ceiling and match the sofa.
The building owner lives here.
Floors 27-32: High-income housing
One-quarter and half floor plate homes for the wealthy. Exquisite views of the city through floor-to-ceiling windows installed in the remodeled exterior of this part of the building. All-new appliances and reclaimed hardwood floors.
Balconies for each apartment, never with a person to be seen on them.
Floors 31-32 are full floor plate homes.
There is a separate elevator that serves only floors 25-34.
These units are sold, not rented.
Floors 25-27: Upscale commercial services
Art galleries. Furniture showrooms. Specialty meat and cheese shops.
A 2-star restaurant occupies one whole windowed side of the building on floor 25.
An upscale grocery fills the interior space of floor 27.
The rent checks get sent down to the 21st floor.
Floors 19-25: Office space
Offices for small corporations. Government offices. Advertising agencies. Small financial and investment firms.
City planning rents one half of floor 19. A financial services floor the other half.
The real estate management offices occupy interior spaces of floor 21. The rent checks go here.
Floors 15-19: Artist studios
Lofted spaces carved out of former facilities for small manufacturing. Cheaply assembled plywood and lumber walls. Nailed shut large windows with cloudy glass.
Bigger spaces with doors left open and box fans running for ventilation. Huge canvases stacked against the walls.
Smaller spaces with shelves of unfired clay pots. Throwing wheels with projects begun but not finished in the center. Random objects of inspiration aligned on the windowsills.
An eerie quiet and mystery of mostly-closed doors.
The rent checks get sent up to the 21st floor.
Floors 5-15: Mixed-Income Housing
Long, dark, echoing hallways. Apartment doors that swing heavily shut.
Quaint small apartments with old, thick walls of plaster.
The rent checks get sent to the 21st floor.
Floors 2-4: Commercial space
Office blocks on the outer wall of the building (with windows) have services: a pediatrician and a dentist, an injuries lawyer and a graphic design firm, a psychic does readings in one small office — all businesses that might benefit from having a sign in the window.
Interior blocks have wholesalers: fabrics, machine parts, hats and wigs, reclaimed furniture.
The rent checks get sent up to the 21st floor.
Ground Floor
Street level. Broken sidewalks. Trash blows into the corners. Cigarette butts. Black gum stains.
Stores and stalls face the sidewalk.
A fruit stand with boxes that spill out across the sidewalk, nearly to the street, mounds of color: yellows reds green and orange.
A small cafe, set back in the building wall. Stools at a counter. Linoleum floors turning brown in the corners and back under the booth tables. A grumpy staff, happy to have customers leave.
A cobbler. His store dark and deep. He breathes fumes of various glues.
A bodega that sells everything in individual units, even batteries and disposable razors.
The rent checks get sent up to the 21st floor.
Parking levels 1-3
A vast slab of concrete with lines painted on it. Low clearance. Cars crammed in door-to-door.
Some cars shine with expense and wax.
Others are deep in dust, obscenities scrawled on the flat empty space of the hoods or on windows.
Sub-basement
Building systems. Huge machines. Compressors and heaters. Fans and ductwork. Labyrinthine.
A din of electric motors whir, grind, start and stop.
A handful of greasy attendants, wearing ear protection. Access panels off, staring into the innards of one of the machines.