A modern elevatoring system

There are two elevators in the main lobby of TIFR. For my first month or so here, the one on the right was being serviced. The doors often revealed the dingy mechanicals of the open column, guarded by a sign informed us that we would soon be enjoying a "modern elevatoring system". Not only is the newly operational lift modern, it is at times explicitly futuristic. It is, in fact, perhaps a post-modern elevatoring system, having deconstructed our quaint notions of consecutive dates and matching clocks, it replaces this information with capriciously selected times or emoticon like blips of ASCII. While the elevator on the left stoically intones via lcd display that we are on floor 2, going up at 10:30 AM on December 6th, 2006, the right elevator is more creative, and upon my exit from the straight laced lift, the third floor display tells me that had I waited for the door number two, I could have journeyed through m.. =1, 2016.



The strangenesses are not limited to the displays either. Within the box of brass plates and shiny dark-grained veneer, the right elevator extends its rebellion. The polished metal bezeling the buttons is complemented by elegantly engraved floor numbers that have been carefully filled in with a white-out pen for easier reading. The lift is moody in its movements as well. When confronted with a large crowd requesting a stop at every floor, the elevator reacts by declining to budge from the lobby. The crowd stands packed together, staring at the five green circles and wondering why nothing is happening.




Neither is the ride a silent one, as one would expect from a sleek machine of the modern era, where all the working parts are sequestered behind smooth surfaces and clean lines. The fan, just out of sight above the lighted roof, is slightly out of alignment. The speed of the fan and subsequently the amplitude of the wobble and the insistence of the tap-rattle correlates with the movement of the lift.




I tend to take the stairs.