"Who are you, and where am I?" you ask, a bit bewildered.
"My name's Bob, the Janitor Dude, and you are in the janitor's closet."
"Oh," was your disappointed reply.
"Oh, it's not so bad. You get used to it after a while."
"Not so bad?" you ask. "How long have you been in here? Don't you leave?"
"I don't know how long I've been in here. Doors locked on the outside, well, I mean, can only be opened from the outside. It's really not all that bad. They toss you food every day, well, more like slide it under the door, and ya get to come out to clean up all their messes and stuff."
"Oh, I see," you say. "But I want out."
"Can't get out. Might as well make yourself comfy," Bob the Janitor Dude says while patting a pile of rags.
"But I want out," you say again.
"Can't get out," Bob repeats himself.
You look at the door longingly, then look at the rags. Door, rags, door, rags. Neither one sounded very appealing, well, no, one sounded very appealing, but it was locked. You sigh and sit down in the middle of the floor. It might be a very long time before you could get back to the Earth-link Transport Room, so you figured you might as well make yourself comfortable.
