Don't ask me why. Suddenly he notices a paper tape, ruled off in squares and marked with 1's and 0's, running past him out the door and a long, long way down the street. He follows the tape to a booth in the back, the one specified in e-mail, and finds a wheeled, cylindrical object, a bit like the canister of an Electrolux vacuum cleaner, with the tape running through slots in its ends. The tape runs on past the restrooms and, apparently, out a back door.
Nothing happens for a long time.
At one point the machine actually bolts out the front door, but comes back almost immediately, erasing the marks on the tape as it goes. Catching the lovers in a discrete yet illicit embrace, he flies into a murderous rage and cuts the paper tape. The cellular automaton's universal replicator responds by creating twelve copies of itself, and Nick seems hopelessly outnumbered, but the authorities intervene.