Spook Central

Egon Spengler: 

The structure of this roof cap is exactly like the kind of telemetry tracker that NASA uses to identify dead pulsars in deep space.

Ray Stantz: 

Cold riveted girders with cores of pure selenium.

Peter Venkman: [to jailbirds] 

Everyone getting this so far? So what? I guess they just don't make them like they used to.

Stantz: [slaps Venkman up the head] 

No! Nobody ever made them like this! The architect was either a certified genius or an authentic wacko!

Venkman: 

Ray, for a moment, pretend that I don't know anything about metallurgy, engineering, or physics, and just tell me what the hell is going on.

Stantz: 

You never studied. The whole building is a huge super-conductive antenna that was designed and built expressly for the purpose of pulling in and concentrating spiritual turbulence. 

Your girlfriend, Pete, lives in the corner penthouse of Spook Central.

Venkman: 

She's not my girlfriend. I find her interesting because she's a client and because she sleeps above her covers. 

Four feet above her covers! She barks, she drools, she claws...

Spengler: 

It's not the girl, Peter, it's the building! 

Something terrible is about to enter our world, and this building is obviously the door. 

The architect's name was Ivo Shandor. I found it in Tobin's Spirit Guide. 

He was also a doctor. Performed a lot of unnecessary surgery. 

And then in 1920, he founded a secret society.

Venkman: Let me guess: Gozer worshippers?

Spengler: Right.

Venkman: [to Stantz] 

"No studying"!

Spengler: 

After the First World War, Shandor decided that society was too sick to survive. 

And he wasn't alone; he had close to a thousand followers when he died. 

They conducted rituals up on the roof, bizarre rituals intended to bring about the end of the world, and now it looks like it may actually happen!

Venkman: [singing] 

So be good, for goodness sake! Whoa! Somebody's coming! Somebody's coming!

Ray Stantz: 

We have to get out of here. We've gotta get a judge or something.

Zeddemore: 

Hey, wait a minute! Hold it! Now are we actually gonna go before a federal judge, and tell him that some moldy Babylonian god is gonna drop in on Central Park West and start tearing up the city?!

Spengler: 

Sumerian, not Babylonian.

Venkman: 

Yeah. Big difference.

Zeddemore: 

No offense, guys, but I gotta get my own lawyer.