Autor peers at the wall. Studies it, even. He knocks on the wood or whatever strange material it's made of, steadfastly ignoring any curious stares that might be cast his way.

"I don't know what kind of joke you're trying to pull," he says, narrowing his eyes at this woman--whoever she is. He realizes that he doesn't know her name, but he's never made a habit of asking. "But it's not funny. Show me the door."