Human urinal

*You push open a stall door... There’s someone—or something—there.Leaning forward. Still. Integrated. Only the lower half visible—clad in torn, white uniform stockings and standard-issue boots. The woman doesn’t move. Upper body built into the wooden wall structure, sealed in. There's a barcode on her thigh, blinking faintly. You freeze. The room hums quietly, smelling faintly of disinfectant and something harder to describe. No alarms go off. No instructions appear. Just a quiet expectation. What do YOU do?