"He's sleepy," Laura said. "We're sleeping with you, Professor man."
"Yes, yes I am sleepy. Goodnight now," Kane said. "Goodnight."
He waited. They didn't take the hint. To them it was no hint at all. He knew they weren't going away. He knew that no matter what he said or did, they wouldn't go away. That was the thing he understood, incredible as it was, he knew now that no matter what he said or did, they wouldn't go away.
They only understood that he was somehow ill. He knew that too. They were right, so he was wrong. They thought they were doing what was best for him. That was obvious. It was all over their faces and actions. If they had any idea how he felt, they still considered his feelings only symptoms of some kind, and they seemed confident that Kane would soon be all right.
But his being all right had nothing to do with their going away.
Kane decided not to give way, not to scream or anything absurd like that. It wouldn't do any good. Calm, be calm and—well maybe just try pretending they're not there at all.
Then he remembered the bathroom and ran through several chairs, a table, and three people, and into the bathroom. He slammed the door and leaned against it and let out a long relieved breath.
He was taking off his shorts when the bathroom walls and the ceiling came alive.
What had been labeled "Boy's Room" down in the cocktail lounge was being projected into the bathroom of room 2004.