When I enter an elevator I know where I am, where my car is with respect to my current location, where major roads are, the locations of offices along the hall, but, after the ride and the elevator doors open, it’s as if I am transported to a new dimension, floating in an ambiguous cartesian coordinate system where I know virtually nothing about my position in the universe. Where is the front of the building? No idea. Where is my car? On Mars as far as I can tell. Whether there is one wall of elevators or two facing elevators doesn’t matter. Which way to the doctor’s office? I couldn’t tell you. Ever.