Somehow I found myself following Dr. Strange. With her staggering intellect, her impeccable taste and poise, and her beautiful blonde hair, Dr. Strange has no use for the likes of me. But it happened today that I was following her down the corridor, and she smiled at me friendlily enough as she held doors open for me.

As we progressed to the interior of the facility, the doors grew thicker and heavier. They gave Dr. Strange no trouble, however. It wasn't hard to imagine her climbing rocks in the off hours, then effortlessly switching to chipping at geodes with tiny ball peen hammers. Further inward we went, continuing on the same path. We'd never spoken before, so it was beginning to get awkward

As we closed on the core's security perimeter, the air began to warm. We crossed a few more doors, and it turned positively oppressive. Then it became clear that the walls themselves were sweating, and the lighting was growing darker and more alarmingly red. A heavy, meaty smell began to seep in. I'd never gotten as far as this vicinity before, but Dr. Strange seemed no more phased than ever. I suppose I have to admit that by this time she wasn't smiling anymore, though she still opened doors for me.

I finally arrived at a door marked: "WARNING: LEVEL 4 SAFETY PROCEDURES IN USE." But Dr. Strange continued on, down a hall with a sign that graciously offered the way "To Garage." She looked back once, half-smiling, but didn't say a thing.