“Have you ever considered the advantages offered by really up-to-date life-insurance?”

“I’ve never really seen the point in someone else having a vested interest in my being dead,” I said. “Don’t encourage people, that’s what I say.”

“I could get you a really good premium . . .”

“I’m John Taylor.”

There was a pause. “Ah, yes. I see. Right; forget it. Would you like to change your provider for your mobile-phone service? And no, I don’t know where the satellites are, so don’t ask. Oh do say yes; I get a really nice bonus for every person I get to sign up.”

“What use is a bonus to an elevator?” I said. “What use do you have for money?”

“I’m saving up to have my conscious downloaded into something a little more upwardly mobile. Socially speaking . . . Preferably something with legs and hands. You can do a lot if you’ve got legs and hands. Could I perhaps interest you in taking out a new credit card, from those wonderfully friendly people, EnGulf & DeVour?”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“Do you?”

“Look,” I said, “it’s up to you . . . Either you stop trying to sell me things, or I’ll push all your buttons before I get out and send you up and down the building for ages.”

“Beast!” muttered the elevator. “It’s not my fault. Never wanted to be an elevator anyway.”

“If you are about to tell me that you really wanted to be a lumberjack, you and I are about to have a serious falling out.”

Perhaps fortunately, just then the elevator stopped at the third floor and opened its doors. I stepped out, and the doors slammed shut behind me so quickly they nearly trapped the tail of my trench coat.