Christopher Adams came into his office and hung up his hat and coat.
He turned around and pulled out the chair before his desk, and in the act of sitting down he froze and listened.
The psych-tracer burped at him.
Ker-rup, it chuckled, ker-rup, clickity, click, ker-rup.
Christopher Adams straightened from his half-sitting, half-standing position and put on his hat and coat again.
Going out, he slammed the door behind him.
And in all his life, he had never slammed a door.