"But for the color of that river — which is murkier than the fetid swill dispensed by the so-called coffee machine," opined the giant as he glanced out the window, "the view from the break room would be almost pleasant."

"Use that contraption? Not a chance in Xandru's Nine Hells," scoffed the Cimmerian. "Too many sorcerous portals have I seen, in dungeon, tower, or crumbling ruin, that, upon entering, hurl the foolish wretch to lands distant. Or fates far worse."

Conan headed for the mechanical ticket gate.