Creepster Factor of 8

I am a lazy person. You may have gathered this from my sporadic blog posts. I like short cuts, and I like air conditioning. Both of these things usually lead me to cut through the Center for Advanced Medicine (a lovely building from HOK), on my way from work to the bus stop. Usually this is a brisk, fun walk through fancy medical land, but some days it's downright terrifying. Why? What could possibly be so creepy about a medical building?

Could it be scary patients with terminal illnesses, thus the threat of my own mortality dangled in front of me?
Nope.

Could it be the darkened and usually deserted hallways I cut through?
Nah.

Could it be the glossy black piano in the lobby?
You bet.

This is no ordinary baby grand. It's a fucking self-playing piano. Why is the self-playing piano (technical name: player piano) so goosebump inducing? Because it's like a one-instrument freak show. It's almost paranormal - the music comes out, just like a stereo, but it sounds like hammers hitting strings. I understand the appeal of player pianos for an outpatient medical center - you get the classiness of a piano and piano music without having to actually pay someone to play it. Evidently you also get piano versions of out of date pop songs, which I have had occasion to hear. However, what was the 1870s appeal of the household player piano? Hey look at us, we have enough money to buy a piano but we don't actually want to take the time to learn how to play it. The Industrial Era was truly odd.

CAM's particular player piano has no visible paper roll or software to dictate the notes. It's just a piano being played by no one. It's not just an oversized music box - it's a ghost piano. And that sir, is a creepy thing.