But why! he asked. Why me?
He did not realize he had spoken his thoughts aloud until the typewriter answered him.
Because you’re average. Because you’re an average human being.
The telephone rang again and Crane lumbered to his feet and went to answer it. There was an angry woman’s voice at the other end of the wire.
‘This is Dorothy,’ it said.
‘Hi, Dorothy,’ Crane said weakly.
‘McKay tells me that you went home sick,’ she said. ‘Personally, I hope you don’t survive.’
Crane gulped, ‘Why?’ he asked.
‘You and your lousy practical jokes,’ she fumed. ‘George finally got the door open.’
‘The door?’