Anyone from PRI that has stepped into the Natural Resources Studies Annex (NRSA) knows that it may lay claim to being the creepiest PRI building. Fortunately, the inhabitants of the Annex are generally enamored with some of the more frequent freaks of nature that visit.
Our occasional bat visitors are welcome, and usually yield a gaggle of biologists photographing them in fascination as our Chiropteran friends hang from the ceiling tiles, curious as to why no one is fleeing them in terror. Garter snakes also appear from time to time, enjoying elevator rides from floor to floor. The cockroaches, well, I suppose we could do without those.
Beyond the visitors, the cold-war era architecture is certainly befitting 80’s era sci-fi horror flicks. From massive, industrial-looking fume hoods roaring throughout the day, to an overgrown courtyard in the center of the square building, the Annex certainly has its spooky charm.
What many people don’t know, however, is that the Annex is haunted.
I suspect this comes as no surprise, given the Illinois State Geological Survey (ISGS) core storage bunker houses who-knows-what evils our ISGS geologists have dragged from the depths of the earth.
Our Annex apparition is a foreboding force. Its favorite hobby is mucking about with the electrical system, overloading circuit breakers, creating equipment destroying power-surges, and during our severe springtime thunderstorms, drawing lightning to the building, creating long-lasting power outages. And then there’s the constant shenanigans with the heating and air conditioning, no doubt the work of a nefarious ghoul.
Illinois Natural History Survey conservation biologist Mark Davis is the director of the INHS Collaborative Ecological Genetics Laboratory. Photo by L. Brian Stauffer
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Over the years, these efforts have failed to evict many of the Annex denizens (we’re a resilient bunch, if nothing else). So in recent years, our Annex apparition has resorted to more overt tactics.
For example, a few years ago I arrived early in the morning, as I am wont to do.
As I traipsed to my office on the second floor, I noticed the sign (you know, the old fashioned kind with black slots) that listed Annex scientists and their office numbers on the second floor had been rearranged and the case remained locked. Instead of listing the folks in the building, the letters had been rearranged to say “Cry, rot, die.” A warning? Perhaps. Biologically inaccurate? Definitely. Nevertheless, the Annex apparition had escalated to overt threats.
But things came to a head on October 5, 2019. I was working in NRSA's main genetics lab generating bat guano metabarcoding data for the Illinois Bat Conservation Program. Whilst setting up a PCR run to process DNA from the guano, I began to hear an unusual (yet familiar), intermittent noise. At first, I thought I was losing it, but then realized it is impossible to lose what one never had. Nevertheless, I continued working making sure I was pipetting the right reagents.
Buzz.
I heard it again. A quick, buzzing pulse cutting through the thrum of the fume hood and the Clash’s London Calling playing perhaps unnecessarily loud through the computer speakers.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
And then a period of prolonged silence.
“Tis some visitor,” I muttered,” interfering with my PCR. Only this and nothing more.”
Returning to my work, focusing on my pipetting.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
Another tube filled.
Buzz.
Another reagent added.
Buzz.
DNA added to the tubes.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
The frequency and intensity of the noise continued, flooding the room until the only sound I could hear was the incessant, ceaseless pulsing in my brain.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
I hurriedly threw my PCR plate in the thermocycler and launched the PCR program, then turned to investigate.
Buzz.
To ensure that, in the case of my untimely demise, my final moments would be chronicled I began recording video with my iPhone and searched the room.
Buzz.
The usual suspect, the thermostat, was unusually quiet. Other instruments and equipment were stock-still and silent.
Buzz.
And then I found it. A lonely vortexer amongst the water baths, pulsing. A chill ran through me, and I felt the presence of the Annex apparition, vortexing nothing into nothingness.
“Well, if you’re gonna do that,” I said, “You may as well pick up some tubes and a pipette, learn to do extractions, and earn your keep.”
