For some, Geisel is home – a place to grab a coffee, settle into a height-adjustable spinny chair and watch YouTube videos of people playing “League” until ten minutes before your essay is due on TritonEd, previously known as Ted (RIP).

For others, Geisel is a place to be avoided at all costs – a strange tessellation of a building where finding an open computer can be more strenuous than finding a parking spot at 8 a.m. on Monday. (Mind you, without the satisfaction of letting out a cathartic blood-curdling scream in the privacy of your car to allay your irritation.)

But whether you be a Geiselee (-ette) or one who leads a Geisel-free lifestyle, there’s no escaping the shining spaceship-like structure that is Geisel Library. And at some point or another during your lifespan as a Triton, you’ll have to enter this freak of architecture. We at The Conch want to make sure you’re prepared.

First Floor: Welcome to UCSD’s very own catacombs. Here, you’ll find those students who are either cold-blooded or half-dead, relishing in the coolness of high-powered air conditioners paired with concrete walls. You can catch a movie at the Media Viewing Station, a legal option if you’re averse to torrenting, or rent headphones at the Media Desk to conceal your NSFW browsing habits.

Second Floor: The main floor of Geisel. Home to Audrey’s Cafe, the Digital Media Lab, an oddly placed diorama of a reptilian astronaut, and everyone who doesn’t take their schoolwork seriously enough to venture into the more studious floors above. Eating is allowed on this floor. So go ahead: Devour that orange chicken! Crunch those hot cheetos! Slurp that veggie curry bowl to completion! Maybe not the last one.

Third Floor: You’re outside. This is one of the main smoking spots on campus, hence it being where the most “No Smoking” signs are posted. Yay, anarchy!

Fourth Floor: The first rung of quiet study space and home of the East Asian collection of texts. Keep your mouth shut here, but coughing, laughing, sneezing, whispering your thoughts aloud, exchanging laconic sentences with your friends and dropping your pen are considered acceptable behavior. This is something that can’t be said for the floors above.

Fifth Floor: The second rung of quiet study space, making it (beware!) an extra quiet study space. Generally, the same rules apply as on the fourth floor, except laughing is certainly out of the question. What’s that? You saw a funny Pepe meme and couldn’t hold it in? Leave, you second floor peasant.

Sixth Floor: Now we’re getting into deafeningly quiet territory, a cave for humorless recluses and closet mutes. Don’t even think about using your headphones here. Your out of date EDM Spotify playlist will echo throughout the floor, causing the windows to vibrate and your peers’ souls to be shaken to the very core.

Seventh Floor: This floor is really silent. And so near to the silence of the eighth floor that you might as well go the distance. Or are you afraid? Weenie.

Eighth Floor: A vacuum. Don’t breathe, because the person next to you might find this natural bodily function obnoxious. And be sure to tread lightly, or you’ll suddenly be surrounded by a mob of silent insurgents. Whatever you do, don’t disturb the steady ecosystem of nothingness on this floor. Or else.

The next time you go to Geisel Library, keep this guide in mind so as not to venture into the wrong region of the building and behave unscrupulously. For behind every corner or eucalyptus tree, Geisel will be there, peering down on you, watching your every move.

Escape is futile.

Matthew Zamudio is a Student Life writer at The Triton.