I’m sitting under old flourescent lights in a lobby that smells of decades of clorox and fresh paint. The hum of the hvac gently rattles the vents high above while soft couches meet hard, sterile tile. There’s something eerie and noir about the moments just before sunrise, especially in places like this.

The cold concrete walls support generic art permanently affixed there to deter would-be thieves. Above is the new, false-ceiling, concealing even newer additions to the aged building. Here and there a conduit slinks down from the ceiling to produce new electrical sockets and a network of security cameras. Things these walls never considered when they were built. But the world grows and changes, in spite of the old building. My computer draws power from a conduit that disappears into the ceiling. As it goes, it criss crosses other conduits. A fire alarm here, a switch panel there.

As the hvac shuts off, the old building groans at the stress. It’s tired and eager to give way to new growth and development. But its silent voice warns not to fear the slinking conduits and added changes that will come with time. Those are just life’s way of reminding us how far we’ve come through things we never expected. And they will come as surely as the sun.