Picture this. A sprightly young Political Science student, right off his first year. He has done every compulsory course, tackling the dizzying heights of titans such as POLS1009 along the way. He is also fresh off a summer break of drinking, drinking, and regret — just another 19-year old during any semblance of free time.

Well, you’ve just pictured me at the start of last year. And let’s just say, I felt invincible. I had gotten a passing grade in everything I had touched thus far. And I was ready to go to my classes with a brand new vigour and a crippling case of alcoholism. However, that was the problem. For as much as an exemplary student I was, I was complacent. Every course I had thus far was largely confined to the walls of my home, or in the comforting arms of Marie Reay. Sure, I had the odd lecture out in some far-flung spot, but who goes to lectures anymore?

So, I felt fairly confident about going to a tutorial in the H. C. Coombs Building. I had heard rumblings of the worst tall tales you could imagine. About students disappearing and never coming back. But surely none of it could be true, right?

It takes a while to get there from my usual route. Marie Reay is just a straight shot down from Uni Ave, an easy spot to get to for any townie. However, Coombs requires a trek not too dissimilar from a walk up Kosciusko. A dizzying hike past the School of Art & Design followed by a harrowing journey past the Chancellery Building is bound to disorient anyone. And disorientation is the last thing you need for a beast like Coombs…

I walk in the front door. I check the time on my phone. 11:32. Perfect, more than enough time to find the spot for my 12pm tute. Or so I thought. Little did I know what lay before me. I check the building map. “Huh, this is certainly odd,” I think to myself. The three interlocking hexagons are an interesting design for a building. However, as cool as they are, they are also conniving. They will get you lost at every opportunity. As I soon found out. I wandered those halls for only around 5 minutes, but it felt like 5 decades. Every turn felt like it sent you in the wrong direction. Left, right, left, left, right, another right, left again.

I end up back out the front somehow. I have gone in circles, which is very strange for a hexagon-shaped building. However, I’m not broken just yet. It is only Week 2, after all. So I go back into the maze. I try retracing my steps to ensure I don’t follow them again. However, this building has many ways of deceiving you. I end up at the start. Again. How did that happen? I check the time. 11:43. I know that’s still more than enough time, but my hope wanes slightly. So I go back into the maze again. But this time, I decide to experiment. During my endless turns, I spot a door. I figure it won’t hurt to try, so I open it.

I’m in a field. There’s grass as far as the eye can see. Trees stand for miles into the distance. There’s no sign of civilization. Odd. I could’ve sworn this was on the inside of the building. I turn around and see the door again. So I go back in. I stumble around again for a bit, and then see another door. I open, and I see the entrance to Coombs on the other side.

At this point I’m questioning whether the hangover from the previous night has truly left. Nevertheless, I walked in. And yet again, I’ve been spat out to the front of Coombs. I check the time again. 11:38. Wait a minute, did I just… No time to think. I still have a tutorial to attend. I go back into the maze. This time the hallways are twisting in odd patterns. At one point I swear I was walking on the roof. However, I manage to make the right sequence of turns, and I end up right in front of the room my tutorial is supposed to be in. I check the time on my phone. 11:57. Perfect. Just in time.

I open the door. I go to sit down, but there’s nowhere to sit. Odd. I stand behind a desk. A man walks in. He starts talking about mitochondria. Oh dear.

“Hi Sir, what class is this?”

“Oh this is BIOL1004, my good lad!”

“Shit, I thought this was for POLS2119, my mistake.”

I laugh it off. He does not.

“Ah, not an uncommon mistake my boy! You’re looking for Room FA#348.560! This is FA#348.561!”

“Ah, of course, how could I make such a silly mistake?”

He doesn’t pick up my sarcasm.

“I don’t know, it’s very clearly signposted.”

I go to leave, however, I’m no longer taking any chances.

“Do you know where that room is by any chance?”

“Oh sure! It’s on Level 3.”

“What?!”

“What you need to do is turn right, then left, then right, then 3 more rights, then up the 3 flights of stairs, then turn left and right consecutively 17 times, then through the 3 doors, and then you’re there! If you hit the lamp, you’ve gone too far.”

I stand there flabbergasted.

“I don’t know why you look so confused, my good lad! Those were very clear instructions.”

“Well, could you at least, like, write them down for me or something?”

“No. I’m a very busy man, young lad! I have a class to teach right now!”

I look across the room. There’s only two people here.

“…They’ll be here soon. Now on your way, young lad!”

I head for the exit, not even beginning to question why a class on biology is currently in a CASS building.

I manage to reach the three flights of stairs, and go through the motions of the 17 consecutive lefts and rights. After what feels like enough turns, I see a door. I go through. I enter a room that I immediately recognise.

It’s the Marie Reay Superfloor.

At this point I feel my sanity start to slip. What is up with this building? Why has ANU somehow invented wormholes and time travel? Why did they cram all of this technology within one building? And where the fuck is this fucking tutorial? I see a door on the other side of the Superfloor. I BOLT towards it, fling it open, run through, and slam it shut. I see the lamp, but at this point I don’t care. I turn around.

“What are you still doing here?”

It’s the biology teacher from before. Oh my God.

“Clearly you turned right when you were supposed to turn left!”

“Well it would’ve been a lot EASIER if you WROTE DOWN THE INSTRUCTIONS!”

“No need to shout, young lad! At least you’re safe, the cops have been trying to find you for ages!”

“Huh?”

I check the time. It’s 12:36 on a Friday.

Three days after I entered.

 “What the fu—”

“Come on, I’ll get you back to the front. I’m sure everyone will be relieved.”

I follow him as close as I can, and I walk out the front. There’s a small army of people. Police, news reporters, family, friends, acquaintances, everyone. But at this point I’ve dissociated. I collapse on the concrete.

I wake up in my bed. I check the news. Every story is about the man who got lost in this building for three days. Everyone is talking about it. But there’s only one thing on my mind.

I open up MyTimetable and immediately assign myself to an online tute.

Never again.

And from that point forward, I committed to telling everyone I knew about those hallowed hexagons. People think I’m crazy, and then they go missing. Every single time.

Time to time, I still think about what I saw in there, even if no-one believes me. Maybe one day I’ll go back to figure out what exactly is going on. But for now I can only warn people about what lies behind the doors of the H. C. Coombs Building.