During my trek to the EA event at the Supper Club, I happened to pass by a building marked by its clear glass windows and sturdy green frame. Seeing a statue of the CNet logo, I knew where I was. At first, I didn't know how to react - with glee, respect, or an ordinary sense of acceptance - but one thing was sure. An arcade with Dance Dance Revolution Extreme and a pinball machine was blinking its happy lights on what have been the third or fourth floor. Alas, I'm a sucker for things that make pretty sounds.

And so my curiosity took the better of me. I opened the large glass doors (the same doors that Alex went through in the Big Rigs review), and well, I couldn't go very far. Two receptionists were at the desk, which marked where employees and wandering guests like me could go. Beyond the reception desk were two modern-looking gray staircases, held together by metal plates, metal railings, and metal wire. Very corporate, but also very cool.

There, I stood aimlessly - the kind of standing where you feel like you're doing nothing. I couldn't stop but wonder: Is this a vision of the future? Is this a dream that I desire, the dream to work here, to dedicate my life? Where else does the path of being a small-time editor lead? Is this place that greets me with metal and glass, a place where I can call home for at least a fleeting moment of my life? Or are these thoughts simply the wish of my inner child, against the truth that even if I were to become an editor here that life would just be harder?

So carelessly, I step back and turn toward the doors. Perhaps the receptionists wondered who that person was, that person who simply came and went. But I'm sure I wasn't the only one. Many others have passed through those doors to see a glimpse of a possible future. And so I turned away and walked up Second Street, smiling at what the future may hold.