I cheat. I'm actually paraphrasing from the great Douglas Adams, re elevators:
"Marvin," he said, "just get this elevator to go up, will you? We've got to get to Zarniwoop."
"Why?" asked Marvin dolefully.
"I don't know," said Zaphod, "but when I find him, he'd better have a very good reason for me wanting to see him."
“Well," the [elevator's] voice trickled on like honey on biscuits, “there’s the basement, the microfiles, the heating system . . .er. . ."
It paused.
“Nothing particularly exciting," it admitted, “but they are alternatives."
“Holy Zarquon," muttered Zaphod, “did I ask for an existential elevator?" He beat his fists against the wall.
“What’s the matter with the thing?" he spat.
“It doesn’t want to go up," said Marvin simply. “I think it’s afraid."
“Afraid?" cried Zaphod. “Of what? Heights? An elevator that’s afraid of heights?"
“No," said the elevator miserably, “of the future….”
“The future?" exclaimed Zaphod. “What does the wretched thing want, a pension plan?"
Modern elevators are strange and complex entities. The ancient electric winch and “maximum-capacity-eight-persons" jobs bear as much relation to a Sirius Cybernetics Corporation Happy Vertical People Transporter as a packet of mixed nuts does to the entire west wing of the Sirian State Mental Hospital.
This is because they operate on the curious principle of “defocused temporal perception.” In other words they have the capacity to see dimly into the immediate future, which enables the elevator to be on the right floor to pick you up even before you knew you wanted it, thus eliminating all the tedious chatting, relaxing and making friends that people were previously forced to do while waiting for elevators.
Not unnaturally, many elevators imbued with intelligence and precognition became terribly frustrated with the mindless business of going up and down, up and down, experimented briefly with the notion of going sideways, as a sort of existential protest, demanded participation in the decision-making process and finally took to squatting in basements sulking.
An impoverished hitchhiker visiting any planets in the Sirius star system these days can pick up easy money working as a counselor for neurotic elevators.
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Date: 2014-01-20 09:20 pm (UTC)"Marvin," he said, "just get this elevator to go up, will you? We've got to get to Zarniwoop."
"Why?" asked Marvin dolefully.
"I don't know," said Zaphod, "but when I find him, he'd better have a very good reason for me wanting to see him."
“Well," the [elevator's] voice trickled on like honey on biscuits, “there’s the basement, the microfiles, the heating system . . .er. . ."
It paused.
“Nothing particularly exciting," it admitted, “but they are alternatives."
“Holy Zarquon," muttered Zaphod, “did I ask for an existential elevator?" He beat his fists against the wall.
“What’s the matter with the thing?" he spat.
“It doesn’t want to go up," said Marvin simply. “I think it’s afraid."
“Afraid?" cried Zaphod. “Of what? Heights? An elevator that’s afraid of heights?"
“No," said the elevator miserably, “of the future….”
“The future?" exclaimed Zaphod. “What does the wretched thing want, a pension plan?"
Modern elevators are strange and complex entities. The ancient electric winch and “maximum-capacity-eight-persons" jobs bear as much relation to a Sirius Cybernetics Corporation Happy Vertical People Transporter as a packet of mixed nuts does to the entire west wing of the Sirian State Mental Hospital.
This is because they operate on the curious principle of “defocused temporal perception.” In other words they have the capacity to see dimly into the immediate future, which enables the elevator to be on the right floor to pick you up even before you knew you wanted it, thus eliminating all the tedious chatting, relaxing and making friends that people were previously forced to do while waiting for elevators.
Not unnaturally, many elevators imbued with intelligence and precognition became terribly frustrated with the mindless business of going up and down, up and down, experimented briefly with the notion of going sideways, as a sort of existential protest, demanded participation in the decision-making process and finally took to squatting in basements sulking.
An impoverished hitchhiker visiting any planets in the Sirius star system these days can pick up easy money working as a counselor for neurotic elevators.