"Thank you." I stabbed out at the shift key, and locked it in place.
DON'T THANK ME. I'M JUST TRYING TO ESTABLISH SOME SORT OF RAPPORT BETWEEN US.
"Well, I certainly do appreciate your efforts. You are real, aren't you? I mean, it's not the salami or anything."
NO, IT'S NOT THE SALAMI OR ANYTHING. GOD, YOU ARE AN IDIOT, AREN'T YOU?
I shrugged. "Not really. I'm not quite used to holding conversations with typewriters, though. I usually ... well, that is to say typewriters haven't usually answered me back."
ARE YOU A WRITER?
"Well, yes. Odd you should have guessed, isn't it?"
THEN LET'S START WRITING. I'VE GOT SOME WONDERFUL IDEAS.
I smiled happily. "Well, all right. Let's. Do you want me to do the actual typing?"
OF COURSE. HOW ELSE WOULD I SHIFT?