Angelo DiTocco
“Yes! It finally works!” I exclaimed as my code successfully ran and gave me the expected result. It was 9:50 PM, nearly a whole hour after my lab was supposed to end. But I was just super unlucky today. Not only was this the most advanced lab assignment of the semester, but I just kept running into issues that seemed unsolvable no matter how much guidance I got from the TA and from random StackOverflow users. This lab took so long that even the TA dipped and left me on my own. “Just submit it on Brightspace when you get it done,” he said.
So I did just that. Excited to finally go home, I closed my laptop, packed up my stuff, and walked out of the computer lab in LN-G709, where I would inevitably be returning to do it all over again next week. I took my usual route to the nearest staircase—a route that took me three weeks to memorize. After a few twists and turns, I was finally there.
I pushed on the door to access the staircase, but it wouldn’t open. That’s strange, I thought to myself, I thought this door was always unlocked. So I pushed on the door another time, but to no avail. It was clearly locked. I guess I have to go a different way.
I then retraced my steps and made my way towards the main exit of the library basement. You know, that giant room in the middle with the fancy staircase going up to the main floor. There was no way that would be locked. And indeed, the door was unlocked to let me into the room. But as I started walking up the stairs, what I saw was unbelievable.
There were a bunch of metal pipes and fences blocking my way up! It seemed that during my extraordinarily long lab assignment, the expert Binghamton construction team decided it was the perfect time to renovate the library lobby. Not only was this creating yet another detour in my route to class tomorrow, but it was also trapping me in!
Surely there was at least one exit that wasn’t blocked off. The only problem was that I had no idea how to navigate the maze that was the Bartle basement. Luckily, there was a map on the wall. I took a picture on my phone, figured out where the next closest staircase was, and headed over there. This one had a “pull” door on it. I tried to turn the handle and, you guessed it, this door was locked as well. Was I ever going to find a way out of here?
I looked back at the map. There were still a few more staircases to try. I again made my way towards the next one, passing by a bunch of empty classrooms and bulletin boards before getting there. This staircase had a double door—there was no way that both of them would be locked, right? I started by pushing the door on the left. It wouldn’t budge. Then I pushed the door to the right, and suddenly, everything went dark. As startling as it was, I knew it was really no big deal—they must have just programmed the lights to go out at a certain time.
I turned on my flashlight, went back to the map, and kept navigating the now-unlit hallways in search of yet another stairwell. But as I passed by another classroom, I heard a sound coming from one of them. I stopped to listen. It was a faint tune that almost sounded like a jack-in-the-box, but with a slightly different melody. But it made no sense. Why would this be playing from a classroom? I figured I’d just been stuck in that lab for so long that I was starting to hallucinate things. I continued on my way.
As I attempted—unsuccessfully—to access the next staircase, I started hearing that same tune again. And this time, it was getting louder, as if whoever was playing it was getting closer. I quickly turned around and shined my flashlight across the hallway. There was something walking towards me! I only saw it for a split second, but I knew that whatever it was, it was up to no good. So I immediately started sprinting away.
I bolted around the corner and started trying the door to every classroom, hoping that one of them was open so that I had a place to hide. But it was no use. The ominous tune once again got louder and louder, the creature approaching me yet again. So I just kept running.
Rounding another corner, I took another look at the map. There had to be at least one staircase that I could escape from. The only problem was that I had no idea where I was. All I could do was run around randomly and hope to find a staircase or at least an unlocked classroom to hide in. I kept pushing through this endless maze—left, right, left, left—just praying that I’d live to see another day.
It wasn’t until I was nearly out of breath that I finally found a room whose door was open. It was the Q Center. I FUCKING LOVE GAY PEOPLE, I thought to myself as I ran into the Gender Bender closet and shut myself in. I waited there for a few minutes, hearing the creature and its weird music box passing by several times. Surely it’s not gonna find me here, I reasoned.
But on the creature’s next pass, I heard it stop as it reached the Q Center. The footsteps then got closer and closer. Oh no; he knows where I am, I worried as I ducked behind a rack of androgynous clothing. The closet door had a lock on it, but still, there was no telling what this thing was capable of.
BOOM! The creature slammed on the door causing the whole room to shake as I quivered in fear. BOOM! The mirror shattered and fell off the wall. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Eventually, CRASH! The door went right off his hinges. “PLEASE! HAVE MERCY!” I shouted, hoping my end in this rainbow-colored grave would at least be a quick one.
“Are you ok bro?” A voice said.
“Huh?” I looked up. It was Baxter Bearcat. No hyperrealistic eyes or teeth or blood or anything—it was the same mascot that cheered on the Binghamton teams and occasionally took pictures with people on campus. “Baxter? What are you doing in the library basement?”
“My name is Steve, not Baxter. I’m a regular person trapped in this mascot suit.”
“Why? Who’s making you do this?”
The mascot went on to tell his story. It all started in 1946, when the university was first founded. He was a freshman just trying to find his classes, and one of them was in the library basement. So he went to the room he thought his class was in, but when he opened the door, there was an important meeting going on instead.
The man at the front of the table went off on him. “HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT OUR CONFERENCE! AS PUNISHMENT, I CONDEMN YOU TO SERVE AS THE BINGHAMTON UNIVERSITY MASCOT FOREVER!!!” he bellowed. That was Glenn G. Bartle himself. Before the poor freshman knew it, he was permanently stuck in the bearcat suit and condemned to live in the library basement when he wasn’t cheering on the sports teams.
I was shocked. I’d heard stories before about the Bite of ‘46, but I had no idea it was actually real.
“It’s been so lonely being the mascot. Everyone wants to take pictures with me, but no one really cares about me. They don’t even know I’m a real person!” he complained.
I felt bad for him. I had always taken the detours to avoid Baxter whenever he was standing in my way to class. It never occurred to me that I was treating an actual person with such disrespect. “Damn bro, that’s crazy,” I replied.
The mascot took out his Bluetooth speaker once again and played that same familiar tune. He then started singing along:
I’m waiting every night
To roam this basement and invite
Freshmen to come study here
For many years I’ve been all alone
I’m forced to stand and cheer
The games Bing loses every year
Glenn has me imprisoned here
In this labyrinth so queer
Please come here and stay
Don’t go out of my way
I’m not like what you’re thinking
I’m a regular guy
Who has been trapped inside
This prison of fur and hide
I’ve been left all alone
Like I don’t have a soul
Since almost 80 years ago
Please let us be friends
Lest your lab never ends
After all you’ve only got Five Nights at Bartle!
“I guess we can keep in touch,” I said as I gave the guy my phone number, fully intending to ghost him afterwards.
“Thanks,” he replied. “There’s a staircase down that hall and to the right. That one should be unlocked.”
Sure enough, the door opened and I was finally free from Glenn G. Bartle’s dungeon. As I walked back to my room, I swore to never spend that long in the lab again.