It was quite dark. Perry waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit corridor and glanced back towards the elevator, brightly lit inside. When he turned to the darkness again he found himself face to face with a hulking metallic countenance and allowed a small gasp to enter between his lips.

The nostils of the armored face flared, a hot gust crossed his cheeks.

“Uh…uh, um. It’s raining?” Perry stammered.

“Is that a question or a statement?” asked a surprising voice: the words were uttered by the metal mouth but they were in the voice of a little girl. Perry tried not to smile.

“A statement,” he answered, his small amount of confidence renewed.

“Room 64 B. Down the hall to the left, take the stairs down one flight, pass through the black door at the bottom and place your finger on your nose. Have a nice day.”

Perry’s mouth twitched. The renewed confidence was lost once more, leaking out him like helium from a day old party balloon. And he’d thought it might get easier.
He was so wrong.