As a matter of course, I sometimes fantasize about being crushed to death by a pair of automatic doors. Their austere beauty, the restrained power of their soft whirring--oh, it would all be so ecstatic. I picture myself lying prone on the ribbed black sensor pad, my eyes rolling backward and loose into my skull as my temples turn purple through countless blows, interrupted only for the footfall of passers-by. What a wonderful life that would afford me.