I was into something horrible, and I didn’t know precisely what!

“Auditor! Auditor! Is there an Auditor in the car?” yelled Da Campo, twisting around in his seat.

“Da Campo, what are you doing? Help me, get me off this train, I don’t know where I’m going, and I haveto be at the office!” I was getting hysterical, and Da Campo kept looking from me to the back of the car, screamingfor an Auditor, whatever that was.

“I can’t help you, Weiler, I’m just like you. I’m just another commuter like you, only I go a little further towork every day.”

The whole thing started to come to me then, and the idea, the very concept, dried my throat out, made mybrain ache

“Auditor! Auditor!” Da Campo kept yelling.

A man across the aisle leaned over and said something in that, hyphenated gibberish, and Da Campo’s lipsbecame a thin line. He looked as though he wanted to slap his forehead in frustration.

“There isn’t one on the train. This is the early morning local.” He made fists, rubbed the thumbs over thetightened fingers.

A sign began flashing on and off, on and off, in yellow letters, over the door of the car, and everyonelowered his newspaper with a bored and resigned expression.

The sign blinked HUL-HUBBER on and off.

“Translation,” said Da Campo briefly, and then the car turned inside out.

Everything went black and formless and limp in the car and for a split split-second my intestines weresloshing around in the crown of my hat and my shoe soles were stuck to my upper lip. Then the lights came back on,everyone lifted his paper, the sign went dead, and I felt as though I wanted to vomit.

“Good Lord above, what was that?” I gasped, holding onto the back of Da Campo’s seat.