+
+ <i>There is but one problem --
+ the only one in the world --
+ to restore to men a spiritual
+ content, spiritual concerns....</i>
+ <b>-- A de St. Exupery</b>
+
+
+ The customs inspector had a round smooth face which
+registered the most benevolent of attitudes. He was
+respectfully cordial and solicitous.
+ "Welcome," he murmured. "How do you like our sunshine?" He
+glanced at the passport in my hand. "Beautiful morning, isn't
+it?"
+ I proffered him my passport and stood the suitcase on the
+white counter. The inspector rapidly leafed through it with his
+long careful fingers. He was dressed in a white uniform with
+silver buttons and silver braid on the shoulders. He laid the
+passport aside and touched the suitcase with the tips of his
+fingers.
+ "Curious," he said. "The case has not yet dried. It is
+difficult to imagine that somewhere the weather can be bad."
+ "Yes," I said with a sigh, "we are already well into the
+autumn," and opened the suitcase.
+ The inspector smiled sympathetically and glanced at it
+absent-mindedly. "It's impossible amid our sunshine to
+visualize an autumn. Thank you, that will be quite all
+right.... Rain, wet roofs, wind...
+ "And what if I have something hidden under the linen?" I
+asked -- I don't appreciate conversations about the weather. He
+laughed heartily.
+ "Just an empty formality," he said. "Tradition. A
+conditioned reflex of all customs inspectors, if you will." He
+handed me a sheet of heavy paper. "And here is another
+conditioned reflex. Please read it -- it's rather unusual. And
+sign it if you don't mind."
+ I read. It was a law concerning immigration, printed in
+elegant type on heavy paper and in four languages. Immigration
+was absolutely forbidden. The customs man regarded me steadily.
+ "Curious, isn't it?" he asked.
+ "In any case it's intriguing," I replied, drawing my
+fountain pen. "Where do I sign?"
+ "Where and how you please," said the customs man. "Just
+across will do."
+ I signed under the Russian text over the line "I have been
+informed on the immigration laws."
+ 'Thank you," said the customs man, filing the paper away
+in his desk, 'Now you know practically all our laws. And during
+your entire stay -- How long will you be staying with us?"
+ I shrugged my shoulders.
+ "It's difficult to say in advance. Depends on how the work
+will go."
+ "Shall we say a month?"
+ 'That would be about it. Let's say a month."
+ "And during this whole month," he bent over the passport
+making some notation, "during this entire month you won't need
+any other laws." He handed me my passport. "I shouldn't even
+have to mention that you can prolong your stay with us to any
+reasonable extent. But in the meantime, let it be thirty days.
+If you find it desirable to stay longer, visit the police
+station on the 16th of May and pay one dollar... You have
+dollars?"
+ "Yes."
+ "That's fine. By the way, it is not at all necessary to
+have exclusively a dollar. We accept any currency. Rubles,
+pounds, cruzeiros."
+ "I don't have cruzeiros," I said. 'I have only dollars,
+rubles, and some English pounds. Will that suit you?"
+ "Undoubtedly. By the way, so as not to forget, would you
+please deposit ninety dollars and seventy-two cents."
+ "With pleasure," I said, "but why?"
+ "It's customary. To guarantee the minimum needs. We have
+never had anyone with us who did not have some needs."
+ I counted out ninety-one dollars, and without sitting
+down, he proceeded to write out a receipt. His neck grew red
+from the awkward position. I looked around. The white counter
+stretched along the entire pavilion. On the other side of the
+barrier, customs inspectors in white smiled cordially, laughed,
+explained things in a confidential manner. On this side,
+brightly clad tourists shuffled impatiently, snapped suitcase
+locks, and gaped excitedly. While they waited they feverishly
+thumbed through advertising brochures, loudly devised all kinds
+of plans, secretly and openly anticipated happy days ahead, and
+now thirsted to surmount the white counter as quickly as
+possible. Sedate London clerks and their athletic-looking
+brides, pushy Oklahoma farmers in bright shirts hanging outside
+Bermuda shorts and sandals over bare feet, Turin workers with
+their well-rouged wives and numerous children, small-time
+Catholic bosses from Spain, Finnish lumbermen with their pipes
+considerately banked, Hungarian basketball players, Iranian
+students, union organizers from Zambia...
+ The customs man gave me my receipt and counted out
+twenty-eight cents change.
+ "Well -- there is all the formality. I hope I haven't
+detained you too long. May I wish you a pleasant stay!"
+ "Thank you," I said and took my suitcase.
+ He regarded me with his head slightly bent sideways,
+smiling out of his bland, smooth face.
+ "Through this turnstile, please. <i>Au revoir.</i> May I
+once more wish you the best."
+ I went out on the plaza following an Italian pair with
+four kids and two robot redcaps.
+ The sun stood high over mauve mountains. Everything in the
+plaza was bright and shiny and colorful. A bit too bright and
+colorful, as it usually is in resort towns. Gleaming
+orange-and-red buses surrounded by tourist crowds, shiny and
+polished green of the vegetation in the squares with white,
+blue, yellow, and gold pavilions, kiosks, and tents. Mirrorlike
+surfaces, vertical, horizontal, and inclined, which flared with
+sunbursts. Smooth matte hexagons underfoot and under the wheels
+-- red, black, and gray, just slightly springy and smothering
+the sound of footsteps. I put down the suitcase and donned
+sunglasses.
+ Out of all the sunny towns it has been my luck to visit,
+this was without a doubt the sunniest. And that was all wrong.
+It would have been much easier if the day had been gray, if
+there had been dirt and mud, if the pavilion had also been gray
+with concrete walls, and if on that wet concrete was scratched
+something obscene, tired, and pointless, born of boredom. Then
+I would probably feel like working at once. I am positive of
+this because such things are irritating and demand action. It's
+still hard to get used to the idea that poverty can be wealthy.
+And so the urge is lacking and there is no desire to begin
+immediately, but rather to take one of these buses, like the
+red-and-blue one, and take off to the beach, do a little scuba
+diving, get a tan, play some ball, or find Peck, stretch out on
+the floor in some cool room and reminisce on all the good stuff
+so that he could ask about Bykov, about the Trans-Pluto
+expedition, about the new ships on which I too am behind the
+times, but still know better than he, and so that he could
+recollect the uprising and boast of his scars and his high
+social position.... It would be most convenient if Peck did
+have a high social position. It would be well if he were, for
+example, a mayor....
+ A small darkish rotund individual in a white suit and a
+round white hat set at a rakish angle approached deliberately,
+wiping his lips with a dainty handkerchief. The hat was
+equipped with a transparent green shade and a green ribbon on
+which was stamped "Welcome." On his right earlobe glistened a
+pendant radio.
+ "Welcome aboard," said the man.
+ "Hello," said I.
+ "A pleasure to have you with us. My name is Ahmad."
+ "And my name is Ivan," said I. "Pleased to make your
+acquaintance."
+ We nodded to each other and regarded the tourists entering
+the buses. They were happily noisy and the warm wind rolled
+their discarded butts and crumpled candy wrappers along the
+square. Ahmad's face bore a green tint from the light filtering
+through his cap visor.
+ "Vacationers," he said. "Carefree and loud. Now they will
+be taken to their hotels and will immediately rush off to the
+beaches."
+ "I wouldn't mind a run on water skis," I observed.
+ "Really? I never would have guessed. There's nothing you
+look less like than a vacationer."
+ "So be it," I said. "In fact I did come to work"
+ "To work? Well, that happens too, some do come to work
+here. Two years back Jonathan Kreis came here to paint a
+picture." He laughed. "Later there was an assault-and-battery
+case in Rome, some papal nuncio was involved, can't remember
+his name."
+ "Because of the picture?"
+ "No, hardly. He didn't paint a thing here. The casino was
+where you could find him day or night. Shall we go have a
+drink?"
+ "Let's. You can give me a few pointers."
+ "It's my pleasurable duty -- to give advice," said Ahmad.
+ We bent down simultaneously and both of us took hold of
+the suitcase handle.
+ "It's okay -- I'll manage."
+ "No," countered Ahmad, "you are the guest and I the host.
+Let's go to yonder bar. It's quiet there at this time."
+ We went in under a blue awning. Ahmad seated me at a
+table, put my suitcase on a vacant chair, and went to the
+counter. It was cool and an air conditioner sighed in the
+background. Ahmad returned with a tray. There were tall glasses
+and flat plates with butter-gold tidbits.
+ "Not very strong," said Ahmad, "but really cold to make up
+for that."
+ "I don't like it strong in the morning either," I said.
+ I quaffed the glass. The stuff was good.
+ "A swallow -- a bite," counseled Ahmad, "Like this: a
+swallow, a bite."
+ The tidbits crunched and melted in the mouth. In my view,
+they were unnecessary. We were silent for some time, watching
+the square from under the marquee. gently purring, the buses
+pulled out one after another into their respective tree-lined
+avenues. They looked ponderous yet strangely elegant in their
+clumsiness.
+ "It would be too noisy there," said Ahmad. "Fine cottages,
+lots of women -- to suit any taste -- and right on the water,
+but no privacy. I don't think it's for you."
+ "Yes," I agreed. "The noise would bother me. Anyway, I
+don't like vacationers, Ahmad. Can't stand it when people work
+at having fun."
+ Ahmad nodded and carefully placed the next tidbit in his
+mouth. I watched him chew. There was something professional and
+concentrated in the movement of his lower jaw. Having
+swallowed, he said, "No, the synthetic will never compare with
+the natural product. Not the same bouquet." He flexed his lips,
+smacked them gently, and continued, "There are two excellent
+hotels in the center of town, but, in my view..."
+ "Yes, that won't do either," I said. "A hotel places
+certain obligations on you. I never heard that anything
+worthwhile has ever been written in a hotel."
+ "Well, that's not quite true," retorted Ahmad, critically
+studying the last tidbit. "I read one book and in it they said
+that it was in fact written in a hotel -- the Hotel Florida."
+ "Aah," I said, "you are correct. But then your city is not
+being shelled by cannons."
+ "Cannons? Of course not. Not as a rule, anyway."
+ "Just as I thought. But, as a matter of fact, it has been
+noted that something worthwhile can be written only in a hotel
+which is under bombardment."
+ Ahmad took the last tidbit after all.
+ 'That would be difficult to arrange," he said. "In our
+times it's hard to obtain a cannon. Besides, it's very
+expensive; the hotel could lose its clientele."
+ "Hotel Florida also lost its clients in its time.
+Hemingway lived in it alone."
+ "Who?"
+ "Hemingway."
+ "Ah... but that was so long ago, in the fascist times. But
+times have changed, Ivan."
+ "Yes," said I, "and therefore in our times there is no
+point in writing in hotels."
+ "To blazes with hotels then," said Ahmad. "I know what you
+need. You need a boarding house." He took out a notebook.
+"State your requirements and we'll try to match them up."
+ "Boarding house," I said. "I don't know. I don't think so,
+Ahmad. Do understand that I don't want to meet people whom I
+don't want to know. That's to begin with. And in the second
+place, who lives in private boarding houses? These same
+vacationers who don't have enough money for a cottage. They too
+work hard at having fun. They concoct picnics, meets, and song
+fests. At night they play the banjo. On top of which they grab
+anyone they can get hold of and make them participate in
+contests for the longest uninterrupted kiss. Most important of
+all, they are all transients. But I am interested in your
+country, Ahmad. In your townspeople. I'll tell you what I need:
+I need a quiet house with a garden. Not too far from downtown.
+A relaxed family, with a respectable housewife. An attractive
+young daughter. You get the picture, Ahmad?"
+ Ahmad took the empty glasses, went over to the counter,
+and returned with full ones. Now they contained a colorless
+transparent liquid and the small plates were stacked with tiny
+multistoried sandwiches.
+ "I know of such a cozy house," declared Ahmad. "The widow
+is forty-five and the daughter twenty. The son is eleven. Let's
+finish the drinks and we'll be on our way. I think you'll like
+it. The rent is standard, but of course it's more than in a
+hoarding house. You have come to stay for a long time?"
+ "For a month."
+ "Good Lord! Just a month?"
+ "I don't know how my affairs will go. Perhaps I may tarry
+awhile."
+ "By all means, you will," said Ahmad. "I can see that you
+have totally failed to grasp just where you have arrived. You
+simply don't understand what a good time you can have here and
+how you don't have to think about a thing."
+ We finished our drinks, got up, and went across the square
+under the hot sun to the parking area. Ahmad walked with a
+rapid, slightly rolling gait, with the green visor of his cap
+set low over his eyes, swinging the suitcase in a debonair
+manner. The next batch of tourists was being discharged
+broadcast from the customs house.
+ "Would you like me to... Frankly?" said Ahmad suddenly.
+ "Yes, I would like you to," said I. What else could I say?
+Forty years I have lived in this world and have yet to learn to
+deflect this unpleasant question.
+ "You won't write a thing here," said Ahmad. "It's mighty
+hard to write in our town."
+ "It's always hard to write anything. However, fortunately
+I am not a writer."
+ "I accept this gladly. But in that case, it is slightly
+impossible here. At least for a transient."
+ "You frighten me."
+ "It's not a case of being frightened. You simply won't
+want to work. You won't be able to stay at the typewriter.
+You'll feel annoyed by the typewriter. Do you know what the joy
+of living is?"
+ "How shall I say?"
+ "You don't know anything, Ivan. So far you still don't
+know anything about it. You are bound to traverse the twelve
+circles of paradise. It's funny, of course, but I envy you."
+ We stopped by a long open car. Ahmad threw the suitcase
+into the back seat and flung the door open for me.
+ "Please," he said.
+ "Presumably you have already passed through them?" I
+asked, sliding into the seat.
+ He got in behind the wheel and started the engine.
+ "What exactly do you mean?"
+ "The twelve circles of paradise."
+ "As for me, Ivan, a long time ago I selected my favorite
+circle," said Ahmad. The car began to roll noiselessly through
+the square. "The others haven't existed for me for quite a
+while. Unfortunately. It's like old age, with all its
+privileges and deficiencies."
+ The car rushed through a park and sped along a shaded,
+straight thoroughfare. I kept looking around with great
+interest but couldn't recognize a thing. It was stupid to
+expect to. We had been landed at night, in a torrential rain;
+seven thousand exhausted tourists stood on the pier looking at
+the burning liner. We hadn't seen the city -- in its place was
+a black, wet emptiness dotted with red flashes. It had rattled,
+boomed, and screeched as though being rent asunder. "We'll be
+slaughtered in the dark, like rabbits," Robert had said, and I
+immediately had sent him back to the barge to unload the
+armored car. The gangway had collapsed and the car had fallen
+into the water, and when Peck had pulled Robert out, all blue
+from the cold, he had come over to me and said through
+chattering teeth, "Didn't I tell you it was dark?"
+ Ahmad said suddenly, "When I was a boy, we lived near the
+port and we used to come out here to beat up the factory kids.
+Many of them had brass knuckles, and that got me a broken nose.
+Half of my life I put up with a crooked nose until I had it
+fixed last year. I sure loved to scrap when I was young. I used
+to have a hunk of lead pipe, and once I had to sit in jail for
+six months, but that didn't help."
+ He stopped, grinning. I waited awhile, then said, "You
+can't find a good lead pipe these days. Now rubber truncheons
+are in fashion: you buy them used from the police."
+ "Exactly," said Ahmad. "Or else you buy a dumbbell, cut
+off one ball and there you are, ready to go. But the guys are
+not what they used to be. Now you get deported for such stuff."
+ "Yes. And what else did you occupy yourself with in your
+youth?"
+ "And you?"
+ "I planned on joining the interplanetary force and trained
+to withstand overstress. We also played at who could dive the
+deepest."
+ "We too," said Ahmad. "We went down ten meters for
+automatics and whiskey. Over by the piers they lay on the
+seabed by the case. I used to get nosebleeds. But when the fire
+fights started, we began to find corpses with weights around
+their necks, so we quit that game."
+ "It's a very unpleasant sight, a corpse under water --
+especially if there is a current," said I.
+ Ahmad chuckled "I've seen worse. I had occasion to work
+with the police."
+ "This was after the fracas?"
+ "Much later. When the anti-gangster laws were passed."
+ 'They were called gangsters here too?"
+ "What else would you call them? Not brigands, certainly.
+'A group of brigands, armed with flame throwers and gas bombs,
+have laid siege to the municipal buildings,' " he pronounced
+expressively. "It doesn't sound right, you can feel that. A
+brigand is an ax, a bludgeon, a mustache up to the ears, a
+cleaver --"
+ "A lead pipe," I offered.
+ Ahmad gurgled.
+ "What are you doing tonight?" he asked.
+ "Going for a walk."
+ "You have friends here?"
+ "Yes. Why?"
+ "Well... then it's different."
+ "How come?"
+ "Well, I was going to suggest something to you, but since
+you have friends..."
+ "By the way, " I said, "who is your mayor?"
+ "Mayor? The devil knows, I don't remember. Somebody was
+elected."
+ "Not Peck Xenai, by any chance?"
+ "I don't know." He sounded regretful. "I wouldn't want to
+mislead you."
+ "Would you know the man anyway?"
+ "Xenai... Peck Xenai... No, I don't knew him; haven't
+heard of him. What is he to you -- a friend?"
+ "Yes, an old friend. I have some others here, but they are
+all visitors."
+ "Well," said Ahmad, "if you should get bored and all kinds
+of thoughts begin to enter your head, come on over for a visit.
+Every single day from seven o'clock on I am at the Chez
+Gourmet. Do you like good eating?"
+ "Quite," said I.
+ "Stomach in good shape?"
+ "Like an ostrich's."
+ "Well, then, why don't you come by? We'll have a fine
+time, and it won't be necessary to think about a thing."
+ Ahmad braked and turned cautiously into a driveway with an
+iron gate, which silently swung open before us. The car rolled
+into the yard.
+ "We have arrived," announced Ahmad. "Here is your home."
+ The house was two-storied, white with blue trim. The
+windows were draped on the inside. A clean, deserted patio with
+multi-colored flagstones was surrounded by a fruit-tree garden,
+with apple branches touching the walls.
+ "And where is the widow?" I said.
+ "Let's go inside," said Ahmad.
+ He went up the steps, leafing through his notebook I was
+following him while looking around. I liked the mini-orchard.
+Ahmad found the right page and set up the combination on the
+small disc by the doorbell. The door opened. Cool, fresh air
+flowed out of the house. It was dark inside, but as soon as we
+stepped into the hall, it lit up with concealed illumination.
+Putting away his notebook, Ahmad said, "To the right is the
+landlord's half, to the left is yours. Please come in. Here is
+the living room, and there is the bar. In a minute we'll have a
+drink. And now here is your study. Do you have a phonor?"
+ "No."
+ "It's just as well. You have everything you need right
+here. Come on over here. This is the bedroom. There is the
+control board for acoustic defense. You know how to use it?"
+ "I'll figure it out."
+ "Good. The defense is triple, you can have it quiet as a
+tomb or turn the place into a bordello, whatever you like...
+Here's the air-conditioning control, which, incidentally, is
+not too convenient, as you can only operate it from the
+bedroom."
+ "I'll manage," I said.
+ "What? Well, okay. Here is the bathroom and powder room."
+ "I am interested in the widow," I said, "and the
+daughter."
+ "All in good time. Shall I open the drapes?"
+ "What for?"
+ "Right you are, for no reason. Let's go have a drink."
+ We returned to the living room and Ahmad disappeared up to
+his waist in the bar.
+ "You want it on the strong side?" he asked.
+ "You have it backwards."
+ "Would you like an omelette? Sandwiches?"
+ "How about nothing?"
+ "No," said Ahmad, "an omelette it shall be -- with
+tomatoes." He rummaged in the bar. "I don't know what does it,
+but this autocooker makes an altogether astonishingly good
+omelette with tomatoes. While we are at it, I will also have a
+bite."
+ He extracted a tray from the bar and placed it on a low
+table by a semicircular couch. We sat down.
+ "Now about the widow," I reminded him. "I would like to .
+present myself."
+ "You like the rooms?"
+ "They'll do."
+ "Well, the widow is quite all right, too. And the daughter
+is not bad either."
+ He extracted a flat case from an inside pocket. Like a
+cartridge clip it was stacked with a row of ampoules filled
+with colored liquids. Ahmad ran his index finger over them,
+smelled the omelette, hesitated, and finally selected one with
+a green fluid, broke it carefully, and dripped a few drops on
+the tomatoes. An aroma pervaded the room. The smell was not
+unpleasant, but, to my taste, bore no particular relation to
+the food.
+ "Right now," continued Ahmad, "they are still asleep." His
+gaze turned abstracted. "They sleep and see dreams."
+ I looked at my watch.
+ "Well, well!"
+ Ahmad was enjoying his food.
+ "Ten-thirty!" I said.
+ Ahmad was enjoying his food. His cap was pushed back on
+his head, and the green visor stuck up vertically like the
+crest of an aroused mimicrodon. His eyes were half-closed. I
+regarded him with interest.
+ Having swallowed the last bit of tomato, he broke off a
+piece of the crust of white bread and carefully wiped the pan
+with it. His gaze cleared.
+ "What were you saying?" he asked. "Ten-thirty? Tomorrow
+you too will get up at ten-thirty or maybe even at twelve. I,
+for one, will get up at twelve."
+ He got up and stretched luxuriously, cracking his joints.
+ "Well," he said, "it's time to go home, finally. Here's my
+card, Ivan. Put it in your desk, and don't throw it out until
+your very last day here." He went over to the flat box and
+inserted another card into its slot. There was a loud click.
+ "Now this one," he said, examining the card against the
+light. "Please pass on to the widow with my very best
+compliments."
+ "And then what will happen?" said I.
+ "Money will happen. I trust you are not a devotee of
+haggling, Ivan? The widow will name a figure, Ivan, and you
+shouldn't haggle over it. It's not done."
+ "I will try not to haggle," I said, "although it would be
+amusing to try it."
+ Ahmad raised his eyebrows.
+ "Well, if you really want to so much, then why not try it?
+Always do what you want to do. Then you will have excellent
+digestion. I will get your suitcase now."
+ "I need prospects," I said. "I need guidebooks. I am a
+writer, Ahmad. I will require brochures on the economic
+situation of the masses, statistical references. Where can I
+get all that? And when?"
+ "I will give you a guidebook," said Ahmad. "It has
+statistics, addresses, telephone numbers, and so on. As far as
+the masses are concerned, I don't think we publish any such
+nonsense. Of course, you can send an inquiry to UNESCO, but
+what would you want with it? You'll see everything for
+yourself. Just hold on a minute. I'll get the suitcase and the
+guidebook."
+ He went out and quickly returned with my suitcase in one
+hand and a fat bluish-looking little tome in the other.
+ I stood up.
+ "Judging by the look on your face," he announced, smiling,
+"you are debating whether it's proper to tip me or not."
+ "I confess," I said.
+ "Well then, would you like to do it or not?"
+ "No, I must admit."
+ "You have a healthy, strong character," Ahmad approved.
+"Don't do it. Don't tip anybody. You could collect one in the
+face, especially from the girls. But, on the other hand, don't
+haggle either. You could walk into one that way too. Anyway,
+that's all a lot of rot. For all I know you may like to have
+your face slapped, like that Jonathan Kreis. Farewell, Ivan,
+have fun, and come to Chez Gourmet. Any evening at seven. But
+most important of all, don't think about a thing."
+ He waved his hand and left. I picked up the mixture in the
+dewy glass and sat down with the guidebook.
+
+
+<ul><a name=2></a><h2>Chapter TWO</h2></ul>
+
+ The guidebook was printed on bond paper with a gilt edge.
+Interspersed with gorgeous photographs, it contained some
+curious information. In the city there were fifty thousand
+people, fifteen hundred cats, twenty thousand pigeons, and two
+thousand dogs (including seven hundred winners of medals). The
+city had fifteen thousand passenger cars, five thousand helis,
+a thousand taxis (with and without chauffeurs), nine hundred
+automatic garbage collectors, four hundred permanent bars,
+cafes, and snack bars, eleven restaurants, and four first-class
+hotels, and was a tourist establishment which served over one
+hundred thousand visitors every year. The city had sixty
+thousand TV sets, fifty movie theaters, eight amusement parks,
+two Happy Mood salons, sixteen beauty parlors, forty libraries,
+and one hundred and eighty automated barber shops. Eighty
+percent of the population were engaged in services, and the
+rest worked in two syntho-bakeries and one government shipyard.
+There were six schools and one university housed in an old
+castle once the home of crusader Ulrich da Casa. In the city
+there were also eight active civilian societies, among them the
+Society of Diligent Tasters, the Society of Connoisseurs and
+Appraisers, and the Society for the Good Old Country Against
+Evil Influences. In addition, fifteen hundred citizens were
+members of seven hundred and one groups where they sang,
+learned to act, to arrange furniture, to breast-feed, and to
+medicate cats. As to per-capita consumption of alcoholic
+beverages, natural meat, and liquid oxygen, the city was sixth,
+twelfth, and thirteenth highest in Europe respectively. The
+city had seven men's clubs and five women's clubs, as well as
+sport clubs named the Bulls and Rhinos. By a majority of
+forty-six votes, someone by the name of Flim Gao had been
+elected mayor. Peck was not among the municipal officials.
+ I put the guidebook aside, took off my jacket, and made a
+thorough examination of my domain. I approved of the living
+room. It was done in blue, and I like that color. The bar was
+full of bottled and refrigerated victuals so that I could at a
+moment's notice entertain a dozen starving guests.
+ I went into the study. There was a large table in front of
+the window and a comfortable chair. The walls were lined with
+shelves tightly filled with collected works. The clean bright
+bindings were arranged with great skill so that they formed a
+colorful and appealing layout. The top shelf was occupied by
+the fifty-volume encyclopedia of UNESCO. Lower shelves were
+kaleidoscopic with the shiny wrappers of detective novels.
+ As soon as I saw the telephone on the table, I dialed
+Rimeyer's number, perching on the chair arm. The receiver
+sounded with prolonged honkings and I waited, twirling a small
+dictaphone which someone had left on the table. Rimeyer did not
+answer. I hung up and inspected the dictaphone. The tape was
+half-used-up, and after rewinding, I punched the playback
+button.
+ "Greetings and more greetings," said a merry male voice.
+"I clasp your hand heartily or kiss you on the cheek, depending
+on your sex and age. I have lived here two months and bear
+witness that it was most enjoyable. Allow me a few points of
+advice. The best institution in town is the Hoity Toity in the
+Park of Dreams. The best girl in town is Basi in the House of
+Models. The best guy in town is me, but I have already left. On
+television just watch Program Nine; everything else is chaff.
+Don't get involved with Intels, and give the Rhinos a wide
+berth. Don't buy anything on credit -- there'll be no end to
+the runaround. The widow is a good woman but loves to talk and
+in general... As for Vousi, I didn't get to meet her, as she
+had left the country to visit her grandmother. In my opinion
+she is sweet, and there was a photograph of her in the widow's
+album, but I took it. There's more: I expect to come back next
+March, so be a pal, if you decide to return, pick another time.
+Have a --"
+ Music followed abruptly. I listened awhile and turned off
+the machine.
+ There wasn't a single tome I could extract from the
+shelves, so well were they stuck in, or maybe even glued on,
+and as there was nothing else of interest in the study, I went
+into the bedroom.
+ Here it was especially cool and cozy. I have always wanted
+just such a bedroom, but somehow never had the time to get
+around to setting one up. The bed was big and low. On the night
+table stood an elegant phonor and a tiny remote-control box for
+the TV. The screen stood at the foot of the bed, while at the
+head the widow had hung a very natural-looking picture of field
+flowers in a crystal vase. The picture was painted with
+luminous paints and the dewdrops glistened in the darkened
+room.
+ I punched the TV control at random and stretched out on
+the bed. It was soft yet somehow firm. The TV roared loudly. An
+inebriated-looking man launched himself out of the screen,
+crashed through some sort of railing, and fell from a great
+height into a colossal fuming vat. There was a loud splash and
+the phonor exuded a smell. The man disappeared in the bubbling
+liquid and then reappeared, holding in his teeth something
+reminiscent of a well-boiled boot. The unseen audience broke
+out in a storm of horse laughs. Fade out... soft lyrical music.
+A white horse pulling a phaeton appeared out of green woods and
+advanced toward me. A pretty girl in a bathing suit sat in the
+carriage. I turned off the TV, got up, and went to look at the
+bathroom.
+ There was a piny smell and flickering of germicidal lamps.
+I undressed, threw the underwear into the hopper, and climbed
+into the shower. Taking my time, I dressed in front of the
+mirror, combed my hair, and shaved. The shelves were loaded
+with rows of vials, hygienic devices, antiseptics, and tubes
+with pastes and greases. At the edge of one shelf there was a
+pile of flat colorful boxes with the logo "Devon." I switched
+off the razor and took one of the boxes. A germicidal lamp
+flickered in the mirror, just as it did that day in Vienna,
+when I stood just like this studiously regarding just such a
+little box, because I did not want to go out to the bedroom,
+where Raffy Reisman loudly argued about something with the
+doctor; while the green oily liquid still oscillated in the
+bath, over which hung the steamy vapor and a screeching radio
+receiver, attached to a porcelain hook for towels, howled,
+hooted, and snorted until Raffy turned it off in irritation.
+That was in Vienna, and just as here, it was very strange to
+see in a bathroom a box of Devon -- a popular repellent which
+did an excellent job of chasing mosquitoes, chiggers, gnats,
+and other bloodsucking insects which were long forgotten in
+Vienna and here in a seaside resort town. Only in Vienna there
+had been an overlay of fear.
+ The box which I held in my hand was almost empty, with
+only one tablet remaining. The rest of the boxes were still
+scaled. I finished shaving and returned to the bedroom. I felt
+like calling Rimeyer again, but abruptly the house came to
+life. The pleated drapes flew open with a soft whine, the
+windowpanes slid away in their frames, and the bedroom was
+flooded with warm air, laden with the scent of apples. Someone
+was talking somewhere, light footsteps sounded overhead, and a
+severe-sounding female voice said, "Vousi -- at least eat some
+cake, do you hear?"
+ Thereupon I imparted a certain air of disorder to my
+clothes (in accordance with the current style), smoothed my
+temples, and went into the hall, taking one of Ahmad's cards
+from the living room.
+ The widow turned out to be a youthful plump woman,
+somewhat languid, with a pleasant fresh face.
+ "How nice!" she said, seeing me. "You are up already?
+Hello, my name is Vaina Tuur, but you can call me Vaina."
+ "My pleasure," I said, shuddering fashionably. "My name is
+Ivan."
+ "How nice," said Aunt Vaina. "What an original
+soft-sounding name! Have you had breakfast, Ivan?"
+ "With your permission, I intended to have breakfast in
+town," I said, and proffered her the card.
+ "Ah," said Aunt Vaina, looking through the card at the
+light. "That nice Ahmad, if you only knew what a nice
+responsible fellow he is. But I see you did not have breakfast.
+Lunch you can have in town, but now I will treat you to some of
+my croutons. The major general always said that nowhere else in
+the world could you have such wonderful croutons."
+ "With pleasure," said I, shuddering for the second time.
+ The door behind Aunt Vaina was flung open and a very
+pretty young girl in a short blue skirt and an open white
+blouse flew in on clicking high heels. In her hand she held a
+piece of cake, which she munched while humming a currently
+popular song. Seeing me, she stopped, flung her pocketbook on
+its long strap over her shoulder with a show of abandon, and
+swallowed, bending down her head.
+ "Vousi!" said Aunt Vaina, compressing her lips. "Vousi,
+this is Ivan."
+ "Not bad!" said Vousi. "Greetings."
+ "Vousi," reproached Aunt Vaina.
+ "You came with your wife?" said Vousi, extending her hand.
+ "No," said I. Her fingers were soft and cool. "I am
+alone."
+ In that case, I'll show you all there is to see," she
+said. "Till tonight. I must run now, but we'll go out this
+evening."
+ "Vousi!" reproached Aunt Vaina.
+ Vousi pushed the rest of the cake into her mouth, bussed
+her mother on the cheek, and ran toward the door. She had
+smooth sunburned legs, long and slender, and a close-cropped
+back of the head.
+ "Ach, Ivan," said Aunt Vaina, who was also looking at the
+retreating girl, "in our times it is so difficult to deal with
+young girls. They develop so early and leave us so soon. Ever
+since she started working in that salon..."
+ "She is a dressmaker?" I inquired.
+ "Oh no! She works in the Happy Mood Salon, in the old
+ladies' department. And do you know, they value her highly. But
+last year she was late once and now she has to be very careful.
+As you can see she could not even have a decent conversation
+with you, but it's possible that a client is even now waiting
+for her. You might not believe this, but she already has a
+permanent clientele. Anyway, why are we standing here? The
+croutons will get cold."
+ We entered the landlord's side. I tried with all my might
+to conduct myself correctly, although I was a bit foggy as to
+what exactly was correct. Aunt Vaina sat me down at a table,
+excused herself, and left. I looked around. The room was an
+exact copy of mine, except that the walls were rose instead of
+blue, and beyond the window, in place of the sea was a small
+yard with a low fence dividing it from the street. Aunt Vaina
+came back with a tray bearing boiled cream and a plate of
+croutons..
+ "You know," she said, "I think I will have some breakfast
+too. My doctor does not recommend breakfast, especially with
+boiled cream. But we became so accustomed... it was the
+general's favorite breakfast. Do you know, I try to have only
+men boarders. That nice Ahmad understands me very well. He
+understands how much I need to sit just like this, now and
+then, just as we are sitting, and have a cup of boiled cream."
+ "Your cream is wonderfully good," said I, not insincerely.
+ "Ach, Ivan." Aunt Vaina put down her cup and fluttered her
+hands. "But you said that almost exactly like the major
+general... Strange, you even look like him. Except that his
+face was a bit narrower and he always had breakfast in his
+uniform."
+ "Yes," I said with regret, "I don't have a uniform."
+ "But there was one once," said she coyly, shaking a finger
+at me. "Of course! I can see it. It's so senseless! People
+nowadays have to be ashamed of their military past. Isn't that
+silly? But they are always betrayed by their bearing, that very
+special manly carriage. You cannot hide it, Ivan!"
+ I made a very elaborate non-committal gesture, said, "Mm
+-- yes," and took another crouton.
+ "It's all so out of place, isn't that right?" continued
+Aunt Vaina with great animation. "How can you confuse such two
+opposite concepts -- war and the army? We all detest war. War
+is awful. My mother described it to me, she was only a girl,
+but she remembers everything. Suddenly, without warning, there
+they are -- the soldiers, crude, alien, speaking a foreign
+tongue, belching; and the officers, without any manners,
+laughing loudly, annoying the chambermaids, and smelling --
+forgive me; and that senseless commander's meeting hour... that
+is war and it deserves every condemnation! But the army! That's
+an altogether different affair! Surely you remember, Ivan, the
+troops lined up by battalion, the perfection of the line, the
+manliness of the faces under the helmets, shiny arms, sparkling
+decorations, and then the commanding officer riding in a
+special staff car and addressing the battalions, which respond
+willingly and briefly like one man."
+ "No doubt," said I, "this has impressed many people."
+ "Yes! Very much indeed. We have always said that it is
+necessary to disarm, but did we really need to destroy the
+army? It is the last refuge of manhood in our time of
+widespread moral collapse. It's weird and ridiculous -- a
+government without an army...."
+ "It is funny," I agreed. "You may not believe it, but I
+have been smiling ever since they signed the Pact."
+ "Yes, I can understand that," said Aunt Vaina. "There was
+nothing else for us to do, but to smile sarcastically. The
+Major General Tuur" -- she extricated a handkerchief -- "passed
+away with just such a sarcastic smile on his face." She applied
+the handkerchief to her eyes. "He said to us: 'My friends, I
+still hope to live to the day when everything will fall apart.'
+A broken man, who has lost the meaning of life... he could not
+stand the emptiness in his heart." Suddenly she perked up.
+"Here, let me show you, Ivan."
+ She bustled into the next room and returned with a heavy
+old-fashioned photo album.
+ I looked at my watch at once, but Aunt Vaina did not take
+any notice, and sitting herself down at my side, opened the
+album at the very first page.
+ "Here is the major general."
+ The major general looked quite the eagle. He had a narrow
+bony face and translucent eyes. His long body was spangled with
+medals. The biggest, a multi-pointed starburst framed in a
+laurel wreath, sparkled in the region of the appendix. In his
+left hand the general tightly pressed a pair of gloves, and his
+right hand rested on the hilt of a ceremonial poniard. A high
+collar with gold embroidery propped up his lower jaw.
+ "And here is the major general on maneuvers."
+ Here again the general looked the eagle. He was issuing
+instructions to his officers, who were bent over a map spread
+on the frontal armor of a gigantic tank. By the shape of the
+treads and the streamlined appearance of the turret, I
+recognized it as one of the Mammoth heavy storm vehicles, which
+were designed for pushing through nuclear strike zones and now
+are successfully employed by deep-sea exploration teams.
+ "And here is the general on his fiftieth birthday."
+ Here too, the general looked the eagle. He stood by a
+well-set table with a wineglass in his hand, listening to a
+toast in his honor. The lower left corner was occupied by a
+halo of light from a shiny pate; and to his side, gazing up at
+him with admiration, sat a very young and very pretty Aunt
+Vaina. I tried surreptitiously to gauge the thickness of the
+album by feel.
+ "Ah, here is the general on vacation."
+ Even on vacation, the general remained an eagle. With his
+feet planted well apart, he stood an the beach sporting
+tiger-stripe trunks, as he scanned the misty horizon through a
+pair of binoculars. At his feet a child of three or four was
+digging in the sand. The general was wiry and muscular.
+Croutons and cream did not spoil his figure. I started to wind
+my watch noisily.
+ "And here..." began Aunt Vaina, turning the page, but at
+this point, a short portly man entered the room without
+knocking. His face and in particular his dress seemed strangely
+familiar.
+ "Good morning," he enunciated, bending his smooth smiling
+face slightly sideways.
+ It was my erstwhile customs man, still in the same white
+uniform with the silver buttons and the silver braid on the
+shoulders.
+ "Ah! Pete!" said Aunt Vaina. "Here you are already.
+Please, let me introduce you. Ivan, this is Pete, a friend of
+the family."
+ The customs man turned toward me without recognition,
+briefly inclined his head, and clicked his heels. Aunt Vaina
+laid the album in my lap and got up.
+ "Have a seat, Pete," she said. "I will bring some cream."
+ Pete clicked his heels once more and sat down by me.
+ "This should interest you," I said, transferring the album
+to his lap. "Here is Major General Tuur. In mufti." A strange
+expression appeared on the face of the customs man. "And here
+is the major general on maneuvers. You see? And here --"
+ "Thank you," said the customs man raggedly. "Don't exert
+yourself, because --"
+ Aunt Vaina returned with cream and croutons. From as far
+back as the doorway, she said, "How nice to see a man in
+uniform! Isn't that right, Ivan?"
+ The cream for Pete was in a special cup with the monogram
+"T" surrounded by four stars.
+ "It rained last night, so it must have been cloudy. I
+know, because I woke up, and now there is not a cloud in the
+sky. Another cup, Ivan?"
+ I got up.
+ 'Thank you, I'm quite full. If you'll excuse me, I must
+take my leave. I have a business appointment,"
+ Carefully closing the door behind me, I heard the widow
+say, "Don't you find an extraordinary resemblance between him
+and Staff Major Polom?"
+ In the bedroom, I unpacked the suitcase and transferred
+the clothing to the wall closet, and again rang Rimeyer. Again
+no one answered. So I sat down at the desk and set to exploring
+the drawers. One contained a portable typewriter, another a set
+of writing paper and an empty bottle of grease for arrhythmic
+motors. The rest was empty, if you didn't count bundles of
+crumpled receipts, a broken fountain pen, and a carelessly
+folded sheet of paper, decorated with doodled faces. I unfolded
+the sheet. Apparently it was the draft of a telegram.
+ "Green died while with the Fishers receive body Sunday
+with condolences Hugger Martha boys." I read the writing twice,
+turned the sheet over and studied the faces, and read for the
+third time. Obviously Hugger and Martha were not informed that
+normal people notifying of death first of all tell how and why
+a person died and not whom he was with when he died. I would
+have written, "Green drowned while fishing." Probably in a
+drunken stupor. By the way, what address did I have now?
+ I returned to the hall. A small boy in short pants
+squatted in the doorway to the landlord's half. Clamping a long
+silvery tube under an armpit, he was panting and wheezing and
+hurriedly unwinding a tangle of string. I went up to him and
+said, "Hi."
+ My reflexes are not what they used to be, but still I
+managed to duck a long black stream which whizzed by my ear and
+splashed against the wall. I regarded the boy with astonishment
+while he stared at me, lying on his side and holding the tube
+in front of him. His face was damp and his mouth twisted and
+open. I turned to look at the wall. The stuff was oozing down.
+I looked at the boy again. He was getting up slowly, without
+lowering the tube.
+ "Well, well, brother, you are nervous!" said I.
+ "Stand where you are," said the boy in a hoarse voice." I
+did not say your name."
+ "To say the least," said I. "You did not even mention
+yours, and you fire at me like I was a dummy."
+ "Stand where you are," repeated the boy, "and don't move."
+He backed and suddenly blurted in rapid fire, "Hence from my
+hair, hence from my bones, hence from my flesh."
+ "I cannot," I said. I was still trying to understand
+whether he was playing or was really afraid of me.
+ "Why not?" said the boy. "I am saying everything right."
+ "I can't go without moving," I said. "I am standing where
+I am."
+ His mouth fell open again.
+ "Hugger: I say to you -- Hugger -- begone!" he said
+uncertainly.
+ "Why Hugger?" I said. "My name is Ivan; you confuse me
+with somebody else."
+ The boy closed his eyes and advanced upon me, holding the
+tube in front of him.
+ "I surrender," I warned. "Be careful not to fire."
+ When the tube dented my midriff he stopped and, dropping
+it, suddenly went limp, letting his hands fall. I bent over and
+looked him in the face. Now he was brick-red. I picked up the
+tube. It was something like a toy rifle, with a convenient
+checkered grip and a flat rectangular flask which was inserted
+from below, like a clip.
+ "What kind of gadget is this?" I asked.
+ "A splotcher," he said gloomily. "Give it back."
+ I gave him back the toy.
+ "A splotcher," I said, "with which you splotch. And what
+if you had hit me?" I looked at the wall. "Fine thing. Now you
+won't get it off inside of a year. You'll have to get the wall
+changed."
+ The boy looked up at me suspiciously. "But it's Splotchy,"
+he said.
+ "Really -- and I thought it was lemonade."
+ His face finally acquired a normal hue and demonstrated an
+obvious resemblance to the manly features of Major General
+Tuur.
+ "No, no, it's Splotchy."
+ "So?"
+ "It will dry up."
+ "And then it's really hopeless?"
+ "Of course not. There will simply be nothing left."
+ "Hmm," said I, with reservation. "However, you know best.
+Let us hope so. But I am still glad that there will be nothing
+left on the wall instead of on my face. What's your name?"
+ "Siegfried."
+ "And after you give it some thought?"
+ He gave me a long look.
+ "Lucifer."
+ "What?"
+ "Lucifer."
+ "Lucifer," said I. "Belial, Ahriman, Beelzebub, and
+Azrael. How about something a little shorter? It's very
+inconvenient to call for help to someone with a name like
+Lucifer."
+ "But the doors are closed," he said and backed one step.
+His face paled again.
+ "So what?"
+ He did not respond but continued to back until he reached
+the wall and began to sidle along it without taking his eyes
+off me. It finally dawned on me that he took me for a murderer
+or a thief and. that he wanted to escape. But for some reason
+he did not call for help and went by his mother's door,
+continuing toward the house exit.
+ "Siegfried," said I, "Siegfried, Lucifer, you are a
+terrible coward. Who do you think I am?" I didn't move but only
+Turned to keep facing him. "I am your new boarder; your mother
+has just fed me croutons and cream and you go and fire at me
+and almost splotched me, and now you are afraid of me. It is I
+who should be afraid of you."
+ All this was very much reminiscent of a scene in the
+boarding school in Anyudinsk, when they brought me a boy just
+like this one, the son of a sect member. Hell's bells, do I
+really look so much the gangster?
+ "You remind me of Chuchundra the Muskrat," I said, "who
+spent his life crying because he could not come out into the
+middle of the room. Your nose is blue from fear, your ears are
+freezing, and your pants are wet so that you are trailing a
+small stream...."
+ In such cases it makes absolutely no difference what is
+said. It is important to speak calmly and not to make sudden
+movements. The expression on his face did not change, but when
+I spoke about the stream, he moved his eyes momentarily to take
+a look. But only for a second. Then he jumped toward the door,
+fluttering for a second at the latch, and flew outside, dirty
+bottoms of his sandals flying. I went out after him.
+ He stood in the lilac bush, so that all I could see was
+his pale face. Like a fleeing cat looking momentarily over its
+shoulder.
+ "Okay, okay," said I. "Would you please explain to me what
+I must do? I have to send home my new address. The address of
+this house where I am now living." He regarded me in silence.
+"I don't feel right going to your mother -- in the first place,
+she has guests, and in the second--"
+ "Seventy-eight, Second Waterway," he said.
+ Slowly I sat down on the steps. There was a distance of
+some ten meters between us.
+ 'That's quite a voice you have," I said confidentially.
+"Just like my friend the barman's at Mirza-Charles."
+ "When did you arrive?" said he.
+ "Well, let's see." I looked at my watch, "About an hour
+and a half ago."
+ "Before you there was another one," he said, looking
+sideways. "He was a rat-fink. He gave me striped swimming
+trunks, and when I went in the water, they melted away."
+ "Ouch!" I said. "That is really a monster of some sort and
+not a human -- he should have been drowned in Splotchy."
+ "Didn't have time -- I was going to, but he went away."
+ "Was it that same Hugger with Martha and the boys?"
+ "No -- where did you get that idea? Hugger came later."
+ "Also a rat-fink?"
+ He didn't answer. I leaned back against the wall and
+contemplated the street. A car jerkily backed out of the
+opposite driveway, back and forthed, and roared off.
+Immediately it was followed by another just such a car. There
+was the pungent smell of gasoline. Then cars followed one after
+another, until my eyes blurred. Several helis appeared in the
+sky. They were the so-called silent helis, but they flew
+relatively low, and while they flew, it was difficult to talk.
+In any case, the boy was apparently not going to talk. But he
+wasn't going to leave, either. He was doing something with his
+splotcher in the bushes and was glancing at me now and then. I
+was hoping he wasn't going to splotch me again. The helis kept
+going and going, and the cars kept swishing and swishing, as
+though all the fifteen thousand cars were speeding by on Second
+Waterway, and all the five hundred helis were hung over Number
+78. The whole thing lasted about ten minutes, and the boy
+seemed to cease paying attention to me while I sat and wondered
+what questions I should ask of Rimeyer. Then everything
+returned to its previous state, the smell of exhaust was gone,
+the sky was cleared.
+ "Where are they all going -- all at once?" I asked.
+ "Don't you know?"
+ "How would I know?"
+ "I don't know either, but somehow you knew about Hugger."
+ "About Hugger," I said. "I know about Hugger quite
+accidentally. And about you I know nothing at all... how you
+live and what you do. For instance, what are you doing now?"
+ "The safeguard is broken."
+ "Well then, give it to me, I'll fix it. Why are you afraid
+of me? Do I look like a rat-fink?"
+ "They all drove off to work," he said.
+ "You sure go to work late. It's practically dinnertime
+already. Do you know the Hotel Olympic?"
+ "Of course I know."
+ "Would you walk me there?"
+ He hesitated.
+ "No."
+ "Why not?" I asked.
+ "School is about to end -- I must be going home."
+ "Aha! So that's the way of it," said I. "You are playing
+hookey, or ditching it, as we used to say. What grade are you
+in?"
+ "Third."
+ "I used to be in third grade, too," I said.
+ He came a bit out of the bushes.
+ "And then?"
+ "Then I was in the fourth." I got up. "Well, okay. Talk
+you won't, go for a walk you won't, and your pants are wet, so
+I am going back in. You won't even tell me your name."
+ He looked at me in silence and breathed heavily through
+his mouth. I went back to my quarters. The cream-colored hall
+was irreparably disfigured, it seemed to me. The huge black
+clot was not drying. Somebody is going to get it today, I
+thought. A ball of string was underfoot. I picked it up. The
+end of the string was tied to the landlady's half-doorknob. So,
+I thought, this too is clear. I untied the string and put the
+ball in my pocket.
+ In the study, I got a clean sheet of paper from the desk
+and composed a telegram to Matia. "Arrived safely, 78 Second
+Waterway. Kisses. Ivan." I telephoned it to the local PT&T and
+again dialed Rimeyer's number. Again there was no answer. I put
+on my jacket, looked in the mirror, counted my money, and was
+about to set out when I saw that the door to the living room
+was open and an eye was visible through the crack. Naturally, I
+gave no sign. I carefully completed the inspection of my
+clothing, returned to the bathroom, and vacuumed myself for a
+while, whistling away merrily. When I returned to the study,
+the mouse-eared head sticking through the half-open door
+immediately vanished. Only the silvery tube of the splotcher
+continued to protrude. Sitting down in the chair, I opened and
+closed all the twelve drawers, including the secret one, and
+only then looked at the door. The boy stood framed in it.
+ "My name is Len," he announced.
+ "Greetings, Len," I said absent-mindedly. "I am called
+Ivan. Come on in -- although I was going out to have dinner.
+You haven't had dinner yet?"
+ "No."
+ "That's good. Go ask your mother's permission and we'll be
+off "
+ "It's too early," he said.
+ "What's too early? To have dinner?"
+ "No, to go. School doesn't end for another twenty
+minutes." He was silent again. "Besides, there's that fat fink
+with the braid."
+ "He's a bad one?' I asked.
+ "Yeah," said Len. "Are you really leaving now?"
+ "Yes, I am," I said, and took the ball of string from my
+pocket. "Here, take it. And what if Mother comes out first?"
+ He shrugged.
+ "If you are really leaving," he said, "would it be all
+right if I stayed in your place?"
+ "Go ahead, stay."
+ "There's nobody else here?"
+ "Nobody."
+ He still didn't come to me to take the string, but let me
+come to him, and even allowed me to take his ear. It was indeed
+cold. I ruffled his head lightly and pushed him toward the
+table.
+ "Go sit all you want. I won't be back soon."
+ "I'll take a snooze," said Len.
+
+<ul><a name=3></a><h2>Chapter THREE</h2></ul>
+
+ The Hotel Olympic was a fifteen-story red-and-black
+structure. Half the plaza in front of it was covered with cars,
+and in its center stood a monument surrounded by a small
+flowerbed. It represented a man with a proudly raised head.
+Detouring the monument, I suddenly realized that I knew the
+man. In puzzlement I stopped and examined it more thoroughly.
+There was no doubt about it. There in front of Hotel Olympic,
+in a funny old-fashioned suit with his hand resting on an
+incomprehensible apparatus which I almost took for the
+extension of the abstract-styled base, and with his eyes
+staring at infinity through contemptuously squinting lids, was
+none other than Vladimir Sergeyevitch Yurkovsky. Carved in gold
+letters on the base was the legend "Vladimir Yurkovsky,
+December 5, Year of the Scales."
+ I couldn't believe it, because they do not raise monuments
+to Yurkovskys. While they live, they are appointed to more or
+less responsible positions, they are honored at jubilees, they
+are elected to membership in academies. They are rewarded with
+medals and are honored with international prizes, and when they
+die or perish; they are the subjects of books, quotations,
+references, but always less and less often as time passes, and
+finally they are forgotten altogether. They depart the halls of
+memory and linger on only in books. Vladimir Sergeyevitch was a
+general of the sciences and a remarkable man. But it is not
+possible to erect monuments to all generals and all remarkable
+men, especially in countries to which they had no direct
+relationship and in cities where if they did visit, it was only
+temporarily. In any case, in that Year of the Scales, which is
+of significance only to them, he was not even a general. In
+March he was, jointly with Dauge, completing the investigation
+of the Amorphous Spot on Uranus. That was when the sounding
+probe blew up and we all got a dose in the work section -- and
+when we got back to the Planet in September, he was all spotted
+with lilac blotches, mad at the world, promising himself that
+he would take time out to swim and get sunburned and then get
+right back to the design of a new probe because the old one was
+trash.... I looked at the hotel again to reassure myself. The
+only out was to assume that the life of the town was in some
+mysterious and potent manner highly dependent on the Amorphous
+Spot on Uranus. Yurkovsky continued to smile with snobbish
+superiority. Generally, the sculpture was quite good, but I
+could not figure out what it was he was leaning on. The
+apparatus didn't look like the probe.
+ Something hissed by my ear. I turned and involuntarily
+sprang back. Beside me, staring dully at the monument base, was
+a tall gaunt individual closely encased from head to foot in
+some sort of gray scaly material and with a bulky cubical
+helmet around his head. The face was obscured behind a glass
+plate with holes, from which smoke issued in synchronism with
+his breathing. The wasted visage behind the plate was covered
+with perspiration and the cheeks twitched in frantic tempo. At
+first I took him for a Wanderer, then I thought that he was a
+tourist executing a curative routine, and only finally did I
+realize that I was looking at an Arter.
+ "Excuse me," I said "Could you please tell me what sort of
+monument this is?"
+ The damp face contorted more desperately. "What?" came the
+dull response from inside the helmet.
+ I bent down.
+ "I am inquiring: what is this monument?"
+ The man glared at the statue. The smoke came thicker out
+of the holes. There was more powerful hissing.
+ "Vladimir Yurkovsky," he read, "Fifth of December, Year of
+the Scales... aha... December... so -- it must be some German."
+ "And who put up the monument?"
+ "I don't know," said the man. "But it's written down right
+there. What's it to you?"
+ "I was an acquaintance of his," I explained.
+ "Well then, why do you ask? Ask the man himself."
+ "He is dead."
+ "Aah... Maybe they buried him here?"
+ "No," I said, "he is buried far away."
+ "Where?"
+ "Far away. What's that thing he is holding?"
+ "What thing? It's an eroula."
+ "What?"
+ "I said, an eroula. An electronic roulette."-
+ My eyes popped.
+ "What's a roulette doing here?"
+ "Where?"
+ "Here, on the statue."
+ "I don't know," said the man after some thought. "Maybe
+your friend invented it?"
+ "Hardly," said I. "He worked in a different field."
+ "What was that?"
+ "He was a planetologist and an interplanetary pilot."
+ "Aah... well, if he invented it, that was bully for him.
+It's a useful thing. I should remember it: Yurkovsky, Vladimir.
+He must have been a brainy German."
+ "I doubt he invented it," I said. "I repeat -- he was an
+interplanetary pilot."
+ The man stared at me.
+ "Well, if he didn't invent it, then why is he standing
+with it?"
+ "That's the point," I said. "I am amazed myself."
+ "You are a damn liar," said the man suddenly. "You lie and
+you don't even know why you are lying. It's early morning, and
+he is stoned already.... Alcoholic!"
+ He turned away and shuffled off, dragging his thin legs
+and hissing loudly. I shrugged my shoulders, took a last look
+at Vladimir Sergeyevitch, and set off toward the hotel, across
+the huge plaza.
+ The gigantic doorman swung the door open for me and
+sounded an energetic welcome.
+ I stopped.
+ "Would you be so kind," said I. "Do you know what that
+monument is?"
+ The doorman looked toward the plaza over my head. His face
+registered confusion.
+ "Isn't that written on it?"
+ "There is a legend," I said. "But who put it up and why?"
+ The doorman shuffled his feet.
+ "I beg your pardon," he said guiltily, "I just can't
+answer
+ your question. The monument has been there a long time,
+while I came here very recently. I don't wish to misinform you.
+Maybe the porter..."
+ I sighed.
+ "Well, don't worry about it. Where is a telephone?"
+ "To your right, if you please," he said looking delighted.
+ A porter started out in my direction, but I shook my head
+and picked up the receiver and dialed Rimeyer's number. This
+time I got a busy signal. I went to the elevator and up to the
+ninth floor.
+ Rimeyer, looking untypically fleshy, met me in a dressing
+gown, out of which stuck legs in pants and with shoes on. The
+room stank of cigarette smoke and the ashtray was full of
+butts. There was a general air of chaos in the whole suite. One
+of the armchairs was knocked over, a woman's slip was lying
+crumpled on the couch, and a whole battery of empty bottles
+glinted under the table.
+ "What can I do for you?" asked Rimeyer with a touch of
+hostility, looking at my chin. Apparently he was recently out
+of his bathroom, and his sparse colorless hair was wet against
+his long skull. I handed him my card in silence. Rimeyer read
+it slowly and attentively, shoved it in his pocket, and
+continuing to look at my chin, said, "Sit down."
+ I sat.
+ "It is most unfortunate. I am devilishly busy and don't
+have a minute's time."
+ "I called you several times today," said I.
+ "I just got back. What's your name?"
+ "Ivan."
+ "And your last name?"
+ "Zhilin."
+ "You see, Zhilin, to make it short, I have to get dressed
+and leave again." He was silent awhile, rubbing his flabby
+cheeks. "Anyway there's not much to talk about.... However, if
+you wish, you can sit here and wait for me. If I don't return
+in an hour, come back tomorrow at twelve. And leave your
+telephone number and address, write it down right on the table
+there...."
+ He threw off the bathrobe, and dragging it along, walked
+off into the adjoining room.
+ "In the meantime," he continued, "you can see the town,
+and a miserable little town it is.... But you'll have to do it
+in any case. As for me, I am sick to my stomach of it."
+ He returned adjusting his tie. His hands were trembling,
+and the skin on his face looked gray and wilted. Suddenly I
+felt that I did not trust him -- the sight of him was
+repellent, like that of a neglected sick man.
+ "You look poorly," I said. "You have changed a great
+deal."
+ For the first time he looked me in the eyes.
+ "And how would you know what I was like before?"
+ "I saw you at Matia's. You smoke a lot, Rimeyer, and
+tobacco is saturated regularly with all kinds of trash
+nowadays."
+ "Tobacco -- that's a lot of nonsense," he said with sudden
+irritation. "Here everything is saturated with all kinds of
+tripe.... But perhaps you may be right, probably I should
+quit." He pulled on his jacket slowly; "Time to quit, and in
+any case, I shouldn't have started."
+ "How is the work coming along?"
+ "It could be worse. And unusually absorbing work it is."
+He smiled in a peculiar unpleasant way. "I am going now, as
+they are waiting for me and I am late. So, till an hour from
+now, or until tomorrow at twelve."
+ He nodded to me and left.
+ I wrote my address and telephone number on the table, and
+as my foot plowed into the mass of bottles underneath, I
+couldn't help but think that the work was indeed absorbing. I
+called room service and requested a chambermaid to clean up the
+room. The most polite of voices replied that the occupant of
+the suite categorically forbade service personnel to enter his
+room during his absence and had repeated the prohibition just
+now on leaving the hotel. "Aha," I said, and hung up. This
+didn't sit well with me. For myself, I never issue such
+directions and have never hidden even my notebooks, not from
+anyone. It's stupid to work at deception and much better to
+drink less. I picked up the overturned armchair, sat down, and
+prepared for a long wait, trying to overcome a sense of
+displeasure and disappointment.
+ I didn't have to wait for long. After some ten minutes,
+the door opened a crack and a pretty face protruded into the
+room.
+ "Hey there," it pronounced huskily. "Is Rimeyer in?"
+ "Rimeyer is not in, but you can come in anyway."
+ She hesitated, examining me. Apparently she had no
+intention of coming in, but was just saying hello, in passing.
+ "Come in, come in," said I. "I have nothing to do."
+ She entered with a light dancing gait, and putting her
+arms akimbo, stood in front of me. She had a short turned-up
+nose and a disheveled boyish hairdo. The hair was red, the
+shorts crimson, and the blouse a bright yolk yellow. A colorful
+woman and quite attractive. She must have been about
+twenty-five.
+ "You wait -- right?"
+ Her eyes were unnaturally bright and she smelled of wine,
+tobacco, and perfume.
+ She collapsed on the hassock and flung her legs up on the
+telephone table.
+ "Throw a cigarette to a working girl," she said. "It's
+five hours since I had one."
+ "I don't smoke. Shall I ring for some?"
+ "Good Lord, another sad sack! Never mind the phone .. or
+that dame will show up again. Rummage around in the ashtray and
+find me a good long butt."
+ The ashtray did have a lot of long butts.
+ 'They all have lipstick on them," said I.
+ "That's all right; it's my lipstick. What's your name?"
+ "Ivan."
+ She snapped a lighter and lit up.
+ "And mine is Ilina. Are you a foreigner, too? All you
+foreigners seem so wide. What are you doing here?"'
+ "Waiting for Rimeyer."
+ "I don't mean that! What brought you here, are you
+escaping from your wife?"
+ "I am not married," I said quietly. "I came to write a
+book."
+ "A book? Some friends this Rimeyer has. He came to write a
+book. <i>Sex Problems of Impotent Sportsmen</i>. How's your
+situation with the sex problem?"
+ "It is not a problem to me," I said mildly. "And how about
+you?"
+ She lowered her legs from the table.
+ "That's a no-no. Take it slow. This isn't Paris, you know.
+All in good time. Anyway, you should have your locks cut --
+sitting there like a perch."
+ "Like a who?" I was very patient as I had another
+forty-five minutes to wait.
+ "Like a perch. You know the type." She made vague motions
+around her ears.
+ "I don't know about that," I said. "I don't know anything
+yet as I have just arrived. Tell me about it, it sounds
+interesting."
+ "Oh no! Not I! We don't chatter. Our bit is a small one --
+serve, clean up, flash your teeth, and keep quiet. Professional
+secret. Have you heard of such an animal?"
+ "I've heard," I said. "But who's 'we' -- an association of
+doctors?
+ For some reason, she thought this was hilarious.
+ "Doctors! Imagine that." She laughed. "Well, wise guy,
+you're all right -- quite a tongue. We have one in the once
+like you. One word, and we're all rolling in the aisles.
+Whenever we cater to the Fishers, he always gets the job, they
+like a good laugh."
+ "Who doesn't?" said I.
+ "Well, you are wrong. The Intels, for instance, chased him
+out. 'Take the fool away,' they said. Or also recently those
+pregnant males."
+ "Who?"'
+ "The sad ones. Well, I can see you don't understand a
+thing. Where in heaven's name did you come from?"
+ "From Vienna."
+ "So -- don't you have the sad ones in Vienna?"
+ "You couldn't imagine what we don't have in Vienna."
+ "Could be you don't even have irregular meetings?"
+ "No, we don't have them. All our meetings are regular,
+like a bus schedule."
+ She was having a good time.
+ "Perhaps you don't have waitresses either?"
+ "Waitresses we do have, and you can find some excellent
+examples. Are you a waitress then?"
+ She jumped up abruptly.
+ "That won't do at all," she cried. "I've had enough sad
+ones for today. Now you're going to have a loving cup with me
+like a good fellow...." She began to search furiously among the
+bottles by the window. "Damn him, they're all empty! Could be
+you're a teetotaler? Aha, here's a little vermouth. You drink
+that, or shall we order whiskey?"
+ "Let's begin with the vermouth," said I.
+ She banged the bottle on the table and took two glasses
+from the window sill.
+ "Have to wash them. Hold on a minute, everything's full of
+garbage." She went into the bathroom and continued to speak
+from there. "If you turned out to be a teetotaler on top of
+everything else. I don't know what I would do with you.... What
+a pigsty he's got in his bathroom -- I love it! Where are you
+staying? Here too?"
+ "No, in town," I replied. "On Second Waterway."
+ She came back with the glasses.
+ "Straight or with water?"
+ "Straight, I guess."
+ "All foreigners take it straight. But we have it with
+water for some reason." She sat on my armchair and put her arms
+around my shoulders. We drank and kissed without any feeling.
+Her lips were heavily lipsticked, and her eyelids were heavy
+from lack of sleep and fatigue. She put down her glass,
+searched out another butt in the ashtray, and returned to the
+hassock.
+ "Where is that Rimeyer?" she said. "After all, how long
+can you wait for him? Have you known him a long time?"
+ "No, not very."
+ "I think maybe he is a louse," she said with sudden ire.
+"He's dug everything out of me, and now he plays hard to get.
+He doesn't open his door, the animal, and you can't get through
+to him by phone. Say, he wouldn't be a spy, would he?"
+ "What do you mean, a spy?"
+ "Oh, there's loads of them.... From the Association for
+Sobriety and Morality.... The Connoisseurs and Appraisers are
+also a bad lot...."
+ "No, Rimeyer is a decent sort," I said with some effort.
+ "Decent... you are all decent. In the beginning, Rimeyer
+too was decent, so good-natured and full of fun... and now he
+looks at you like a croc."
+ "Poor fellow," I said. "He must have remembered his family
+and become ashamed of himself."
+ "He doesn't have a family. Anyway, the heck with him! Have
+another drink?"
+ We had another drink. She lay down and put her hands over
+her head. Finally she spoke.
+ "Don't let it get to you. Spit on it! Wine we have enough
+of, we'll dance, go to the shivers. Tomorrow there's a football
+game, we'll bet on the Bulls."
+ "I am not letting it get to me. If you want to bet on the
+Bulls, we'd bet on the Bulls."
+ "Oh those Bulls! They are some boys! I could watch them
+forever, arms like iron, snuggling up against them is just like
+snuggling against a tree trunk, really!"
+ There was a knock on the door.
+ "Come in!" yelled Ilina.
+ A man entered and stopped at once. He was tall and bony,
+of middle age, with a brush mustache and light protruding eyes.
+ "I beg your pardon, I was looking for Rimeyer," he said.
+ "Everyone here wants to see Rimeyer," said Ilina. "Have a
+chair and we'll all wait together."
+ The stranger bowed his head and sat down by the table,
+crossing his legs.
+ Apparently he had been here before. He did not look
+around, but stared at the wall directly in front of him.
+However, perhaps he just was not a curious type. In any case,
+it was clear that neither I nor Ilina was of any interest to
+him. This seemed unnatural to me, since I felt that such a pair
+as myself and Ilina should arouse interest in any normal
+person. Ilina raised up on her elbow and scrutinized him in
+detail.
+ "I have seen you somewhere," she said.
+ "Really?" said the stranger coldly.
+ "What's your name?"
+ "Oscar. I am Rimeyer's friend."
+ "That's fine," said Ilina. She was obviously irritated by
+the stranger's indifference, but she kept herself in check.
+"He's also a friend of Rimeyer." She stuck her finger at me.
+"You know each other?"
+ "No," said. Oscar, continuing to look at the wall.
+ "My name is Ivan," said I. "And this is Rimeyer's friend,
+Ilina. We just drank to our fraternal friendship."
+ Oscar glanced indifferently in Ilina's direction and
+nodded his head politely. Ilina picked up the bottle without
+taking her eyes off him.
+ "There's still a little left here," she said. "Would you
+like a drink, Oscar?"
+ "No, thank you," he said, coldly.
+ "To fraternal friendship!" said Ilina. "No? You don't want
+to? Too bad!"
+ She splashed some wine in my glass, poured the rest in
+hers, and downed it at once.
+ "Never in my life would I have thought that Rimeyer could
+have friends who refuse a drink. Still, I have seen you
+somewhere before."
+ Oscar shrugged his shoulders.
+ "I doubt it," he said.
+ Ilina was visibly becoming enraged.
+ "Some sort of a fink," she said to me loudly. "Say there,
+Oscar, you wouldn't be an Intel?"
+ "No."
+ "What do you mean, no?" said Ilina. "You're the one who
+had a set-to with that baldy Leiz at the Weasel, broke a
+mirror, and had your face slapped by Mody."
+ The stone visage of Oscar grew a shade pinker.
+ "I assure you," he said courteously, "I am not an Intel
+and have never in my life been in the Weasel."
+ "Are you saying that I'm a liar?" said Ilina
+ At this point I took the bottle off the table and put it
+under my armchair, just in case.
+ "I am a visitor," said Oscar. "A tourist."
+ "When did you arrive?" I said to discharge the tension.
+ "Very recently," replied Oscar. He continued to gaze at
+the wall. Obviously here was a man with iron discipline.
+ "Oh, oh!" said Ilina suddenly. "Now I remember! I got it
+all mixed up."
+ She burst out laughing, "Of course you're no Intel! You
+were at our office the day before last. You're the salesman who
+offered our manager some junk like... 'Dugong' or 'Dupont..."
+ "Devon," I prompted. "There is a repellent called Devon."
+ Oscar smiled for the first time.
+ "You are quite right, of course," he said. "But I am not a
+salesman. I was only doing a favor for a relative."
+ "That's different," said Ilina and jumped up. "You should
+have said so. Ivan, we all need to drink to a pledge of
+friendship. I'll call... no, I'll go get it myself. You two can
+have a talk, I'll be right back."
+ She ran out of the room, banging the door.
+ "A fun girl," said I.
+ "Yes, extremely. You live here?"
+ "No, I'm a traveler, too.... What a strange idea your
+relative had!"
+ "What do you have in mind?"
+ "Who needs Devon in a resort town?"
+ Oscar shrugged.
+ "It's hard for me to judge; I'm no chemist. But you will
+agree that it's hard for us to comprehend the actions of our
+fellow men, much less their fancies.... So Devon turns out to
+be - What did you call it, a res...?"
+ "Repellent," I said.
+ "That would be for mosquitoes?"
+ "Not so much for as against."
+ "I can see you are quite well up on it," said Oscar.
+ "I had occasion to use it."
+ "Well, well."
+ What the devil, thought I. What is he getting at? He was
+no longer staring at the wall He was looking me straight in the
+eyes and smiling. But if he was going to say something, it was
+already said.
+ He got up.
+ "I don't think I'll wait any longer," he pronounced. "It
+looks like I'll have to drink another pledge. But I didn't come
+here to drink, I came here to get well. Please tell Rimeyer
+that I will call him again tonight. You won't forget?"
+ "No," I said, "I won't forget. If I tell him that Oscar
+was in to see him, he will know whom I am talking about?"
+ "Yes, of course. It's my real name."
+ He bowed, and walked out at a deliberate pace,
+ramrod-straight and somehow unnatural-looking. I dipped my hand
+in the ashtray, found a butt without lipstick, and inhaled
+several times. I didn't like the taste and put out the stub. I
+didn't like Oscar, either. Nor Ilina. And especially Rimeyer --
+I didn't like him at all. I pawed through the bottles, but they
+were all empty.
+
+<ul><a name=4></a><h2>Chapter FOUR</h2></ul>
+
+ In the end I didn't wait long enough to see Rimeyer. Ilina
+never came back. Finally I got tired of sitting in the smoky,
+stale atmosphere of the room and went down to the lobby. I
+intended to have dinner and stopped to look around for a
+restaurant. A porter immediately materialized at my side.
+ "At your service," he murmured discreetly. "An auto? Bar?
+Restaurant? Salon?"
+ "What kind of salon?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
+ "A hair-styling salon." He looked at my hairdo with
+delicate concern. "Master Gaoway is receiving today. I
+recommend him most strenuously."
+ I recollected that Ilina had called me a disheveled perch
+and said, "Well, all right."
+ "Please follow me," said the porter.
+ Crossing the lobby, he opened a wide low door and said
+into the spacious interior, "Excuse me, Master, you have a
+client."
+ "Come in," replied a quiet voice.
+ I entered. The salon was light and airy and smelled
+pleasantly. Everything in it shone -- the chrome, the mirrors,
+the antique parquet floor. Shiny half-domes hung from the
+ceiling on glistening rods. In the center stood a huge white
+barber chair. The Master was advancing to meet me. He had
+penetrating immobile eyes, a hooked nose, and a gray Van Dyke.
+More than anything else he reminded me of a mature, experienced
+surgeon. I greeted him with some timidity, He nodded and,
+surveying me from head to foot, began to circle around me. I
+began to feel uncomfortable.
+ "I would like you to bring me up to the current fashion,"
+said I, trying not to let him out of my field of view.
+ But he restrained me gently by my sleeve and. stood
+breathing softly behind my back for a few seconds. "No doubt!
+No doubt at all", he murmured, then touched me lightly on my
+shoulder. "Please," he said sternly, "take a few steps forward
+-- five or six -- then turn abruptly to face me."
+ I obeyed. He regarded me pensively, pulling on his beard.
+I thought he was hesitating.
+ "On the other hand," he said, "sit down."
+ "Where?" I said.
+ "In the chair, in the chair."
+ I lowered myself into its softness and watched him
+approach me slowly. His intelligent face was suddenly suffused
+with a look of profound chagrin.
+ "But how is such a thing possible?" he said. "It's
+absolutely awful."
+ I couldn't find anything to say.
+ "Gross disharmony," he muttered. "Repulsive... repulsive."
+ "Is it really that bad?" I asked.
+ "I don't understand why you came to me," he said, "since
+you obviously don't place any value at all on your appearance."
+ "I am beginning to, from this day on," I said.
+ He waved his hand.
+ "Never mind... I will work on you, but..." He shook his
+head, turned impulsively, and went to a high table covered with
+shiny devices. The back of the chair depressed smoothly, and I
+found myself in a half-reclining position. A big hemisphere
+descended toward me from above, radiating warmth, while
+hundreds of tiny needles seemed to sink into the nape of my
+neck, eliciting a strange combination of simultaneous pain and
+pleasure.
+ "Is it gone yet?" he asked.
+ The sensation abated.
+ "It's gone," I said.
+ "Your skin is good," growled the Master with a certain
+satisfaction.
+ He returned with an assortment of the most unlikely
+instruments and proceeded to palpate my cheeks.
+ "And still Mirosa married him," he said suddenly. "I
+expected anything and everything, except that. After all that
+Levant had done for her. Do you remember that moment when they
+were both weeping over the dying Pina? You could have bet
+anything that they would be together forever. And now, imagine,
+she is being wed to that literary fellow."
+ I have a rule: to pick up and sustain any conversation
+that comes along. When you don't know what it's all about, this
+can even be interesting.
+ "Not for long," I said with assurance. "Literary types are
+very inconstant, I can assure you, being one myself."
+ For a moment his hands paused on my temples.
+ "That didn't enter my head," he admitted. "Still, it's
+wedlock, even though only a civil one.... I must remember to
+call my wife. She was very upset."
+ "I can sympathize with her," I said. "But it did always
+seem to me that Levant was in love with that... Pina."
+ "In love?" exclaimed the Master, coming around from my
+other side. "Of course he loved her! Madly! As only a lonely,
+rejected-by-all man can love."
+ "And so it was quite natural that after the death of Pina,
+he sought consolation with her best friend."
+ "Her bosom friend, yes," said the Master approvingly,
+while tickling me behind the ear. "Mirosa adored Pina! It's a
+very accurate term -- bosom friend! One senses a literary man
+in you at once! And Pina, too, adored Mirosa."
+ "But, you notice," I picked up, "that. right from the
+beginning Pina suspected that Mirosa was infatuated with
+Levant."
+ "Well, of course! They are extremely sensitive about such
+things. This was clear to everyone -- my wife noticed it at
+once. I recollect that she would nudge me with her elbow each
+time Pina alighted on Mirosa's tousled head, and so coyly and
+expectantly looked at Levant."
+ This time I kept my peace.
+ "In general, I am profoundly convinced," he continued,
+"that birds feel no less sensitively than people."
+ Aha, thought I, and said, "I don't know about birds in
+general, but Pina was a lot more sensitive than let's say even
+you or I."
+ Something bummed briefly over my head, and there was a
+soft clink of metal.
+ "You speak like my wife, word for word," observed the
+Master, "so you most probably must like Dan. I was overcome
+when he was able to construct a bunkin for that Japanese
+noblewoman... can't think of her name. After all, not one
+person believed Dan. The Japanese king, himself..."
+ "I beg your pardon," I said. "A bunkin?"
+ "Yes, of course, you are not a specialist.... You remember
+that moment when the Japanese noblewoman comes out of prison.
+Her hair, in a high roller of blond hair, is ornamented with
+precious combs..."
+ "Aah," I guessed. "It's a coiffure."
+ "Yes, it even became fashionable for a time last year.
+Although a true bunkin could be made by a very few... even as a
+real chignon, by the way. And, of course, no one could believe
+that Dan, with his burned hands and half-blind .. Do you
+remember how he was blinded?"
+ "It was overpowering," I said.
+ "Oh yes, Dan was a true Master. To make a bunkin without
+electro-preparation, without biodevelopment... You know, I just
+had a thought," he continued, and there was a note of
+excitement in his voice. "It just struck me that Mirosa, after
+she parts with that literary guy, should marry Dan and not
+Levant. She will be wheeling him out on the veranda in his
+chair, and they will be listening to the singing nightingales
+in the moonlight -- the two of them together."
+ "And crying quietly out of sheer happiness," I said.
+ "Yes," the voice of the Master broke, "that would be only
+right. Otherwise I just don't know, I just don't understand,
+what all our struggles are for. No... we must insist. I'll go
+to the union this very day...."
+ I kept quiet, again. The Master was breathing uneasily by
+my ear.
+ "Let them go and shave at the automates," he said suddenly
+in a vengeful tone, "let them look like plucked geese. We let
+them have a taste once before of what it's like; now we'll see
+how they appreciate it."
+ "I am afraid it won't be simple," I said cautiously, not
+-- having the vaguest idea of what this was about.
+ "We Masters are used to the complicated. It's not all that
+simple -- when a fat and sweaty stuffed shirt comes to you, and
+you have to make a human being out of him, or at the very best,
+something which under normal circumstances does not differ too
+much from a human being... is that simple? Remember what Dan
+said: 'Woman gives birth to a human being once in nine months,
+but we Masters have to do it every day.' Aren't those
+magnificent words?"
+ "Dan was talking about barbers?" I said, just in case.
+ "Dan was talking about Masters. 'The beauty of the world
+rests on our shoulders,' he would say. And again, do you
+remember: 'In order to make a man out of an ape, Darwin had to
+be an excellent Master.'"
+ I decided to capitulate and confess.
+ "This I don't remember."
+ "How long have you been watching 'Rose of the Salon'?"
+ "Well, I have arrived just recently."
+ "Aah, then you have missed a lot. My wife and I have been
+watching the program for seven years, every Tuesday. We missed
+only one show; I had an attack and lost consciousness. But in
+the whole town there is only one man who hasn't missed even one
+show -- Master Mille at the Central Salon."
+ He moved off a few paces, turned various colored lights on
+and off, and resumed his work.
+ "The seventh year," he repeated. "And now -- can you
+imagine -- the year before last they kill off Mirosa and throw
+Levant into a Japanese prison for life, while Dan is burned at
+the stake. Can you visualize that?"
+ "It's impossible," I said. "Dan? At the stake? Although
+it's true that they burned Bruno at the stake, too."
+ "It's possible," he said with impatience. "In any case, it
+became clear to us that they want to fold up the program fast.
+But we didn't put up with that. We declared a strike and
+struggled for three weeks. Mille and I picketed the barber
+automates. And let me tell you that quite a lot of the
+townspeople sympathized with us."
+ "I should think so," I said. "And what happened? Did you
+win?
+ "As you see. They grasped very well what was involved, and
+now the TV center knows with whom they are dealing. We didn't
+give one step, and if need be, we won't. Anyway we can rest on
+Tuesdays now just like in the old days -- for real."
+ "And the other days?"
+ "The other days we wait for Tuesday and try to guess what
+is awaiting us and what you literary fellows will do for us. We
+guess and make bets -- although we Masters don't have much
+leisure."
+ "You have a large clientele?"
+ "No, that's not it. I mean homework. It's not difficult to
+become a Master, it's difficult to remain one. There is a mass
+of literature, lots of new methods, new applications, and you
+have to keep up with it all and constantly experiment,
+investigate and keep track of allied fields -- bionics, plastic
+medicine, organic medicine. And with time, you accumulate
+experience, and you get the urge to share your knowledge. So
+Mille and I are writing our second book, and practically every
+month, we have to update the manuscript. Everything becomes
+obsolete right before your eyes. I am now completing a treatise
+on a little-known characteristic of the naturally straight
+nonplastic hair; and do you know I have practically no chance
+of being the first? In our country alone, I know of three
+Masters who are occupied with the same subject. It's only to be
+expected -- the naturally straight nonplastic hair is a real
+problem. It's considered to be absolutely
+nonaestheticizable.... However, this may not be of interest to
+you? You are a writer?"
+ "Yes," I said.
+ "Well, you know, during the strike, I had a chance to run
+through a novel. That would not be yours, by any chance?"
+ "I don't know," I said, "What was it about?"
+ "Well, I couldn't say exactly.... Son quarrels with
+father. He has a friend, an unpleasant fellow with a strange
+name. He occupies himself by cutting up frogs."
+ "Can't remember," I lied -- poor Ivan Sergeyevitch.
+ "I can't remember either. It was some sort of nonsense. I
+have a son, but he never quarrels with me, and he never
+tortures animals -- except perhaps when he was a child"
+ He backed away again and made a slow circuit around me.
+His eyes were burning; he seemed to be very pleased.
+ "It looks as though we can stop here," he said.
+ I got out of the chair. "Not bad. Not bad at all,"
+murmured the Master. I approached the mirror. He turned on
+spotlights, which illuminated me from all sides so that there
+were no shadows on my face.
+ In the first instant I did not notice anything unusual
+about myself. It was my usual self. Then I felt that it was not
+I at all. That it was something much better than I. A whole lot
+better. Better looking than I. More benevolent than I.
+Appreciably more significant than I. I experienced a sense of
+shame, as though I were deliberately passing myself off as a
+man to whom I couldn't hold a candle.
+ "How did you do this thing?" I said in a strangled tone.
+ "It's nothing," said the Master, smiling in a very special
+way. "You turned out to be a fairly easy client, albeit quite
+neglected."
+ I stood before the mirror like Narcissus and couldn't tear
+myself away. Suddenly, I felt awed. The Master was a magician,
+and an evil one at that, although he probably didn't realize it
+himself. The mirror reflected an extremely attractive lie. An
+intelligent, good-looking, monumental vapidity. Well, perhaps
+not a total vacuum, for after all I didn't have that low an
+opinion of myself. But the contrast was too great. All of my
+inner world, everything I valued in myself -- all that could
+just as well have not existed. It was no longer needed. I
+looked at the Master. He was smiling.
+ "You have many clients?" I asked.
+ He did not grasp my meaning, but after all, I didn't
+really want him to understand me.
+ "Don't worry," he replied, "I'll always work on you with
+pleasure. The rawest material is the most intriguing."
+ "Thank you," said I, lowering my eyes so as not to see his
+smile. "Thank you. Goodbye."
+ "Just don't forget to pay," he said placidly. "We Masters
+value our work very highly."
+ "Yes, of course," I caught myself. "Naturally. How much do
+I owe you?"
+ He stated how much I owed.
+ 'What?" said I regaining my equilibrium.
+ He repeated with satisfaction.
+ "Madness", I said forthrightly.
+ "Such is the price of beauty," he explained. "You came
+here as an ordinary tourist, and you are leaving a king of this
+domain."
+ "An impersonator is what I am leaving as," I muttered,
+extracting the money.
+ "No, no, not that bad!" he said confidentially. "Even I
+don't know that for sure. And even you are not convinced of it
+entirely.... Two more dollars, please. Thank you. Here is 50
+pfennigs change. You don't mind pfennigs?"
+ I had nothing against pfennigs. I wanted to leave as fast
+as possible.
+ I stood in the lobby for a while, becoming myself again,
+and gazing at the metallic figure of Vladimir Sergeyevitch.
+After all, all this is not new. After all, millions of people
+are not what they pass themselves for. But the damnable barber
+had made me over into an empiriocritic. Reality was masked with
+gorgeous hieroglyphics. I no longer believed what I saw in this
+city. The plaza covered with stereo-plastic was probably in
+reality not beautiful at all. Under the elegant contours of the
+autos lurked ominous and ugly shapes. And that beautiful
+charming woman is no doubt in fact a repulsive malodorous
+hyena, a promiscuous dull-witted sow. I closed my eyes and
+shook my head. The old devil!
+ Two meticulously groomed oldsters stopped nearby and began
+to debate heatedly the relative merits of baked pheasant
+compared with pheasant broiled with feathers. They argued,
+drooling saliva, smacking their lips and choking, snapping
+their bony fingers under each other's noses. No Master could
+help these two. They were Masters themselves and they made no
+bones about it. At any rate, they restored my materialist
+viewpoint. I went to a porter and inquired about a restaurant.
+ "Right in front of you," said he and smiled at the arguing
+oldsters. "Any cuisine in the world."
+ I could have mistaken the entrance to the restaurant for
+the gates to a botanical garden. I entered, parting the
+branches of exotic trees, stepping alternately on soft grass
+and coral flagstones. Unseen birds twittered in the luxuriant
+greenery, and the discreet clatter of utensils was mixed with
+the sound of conversation and laughter. A golden bird flew
+right in front of my nose, barely able to carry the load of a
+caviar tartine in its beak.
+ "I am at your service," said the deep velvety voice.
+ An imposing giant of a man with epaulettes stepped toward
+me cut of a thicket.
+ "Dinner," I said curtly. I don't like maitres-d'hotel.
+ "Dinner," he said significantly. "In company? Separate
+table?"'
+ "Separate table. On second thought..."
+ A notebook instantaneously appeared in his hand.
+ "A man of your age would be welcome at the table of
+ Mrs. and Miss Hamilton-Rey."
+ "Go on," I said.
+ "Father Geoffrois..."
+ "I would prefer an aborigine."
+ He turned the page.
+ "Opir, doctor of philosophy, just now has sat down at his
+table."
+ "That's a possibility," said I.
+ He put away the book and led me along a path paved with
+limestone slabs. Somewhere around us there were people eating,
+talking, swishing seltzer. Hummingbirds darted like
+multicolored bees in the leaves. The maitre-d'hotel inquired
+respectfully, "How would you like to be introduced?"
+ "Ivan. Tourist and litterateur."
+ Doctor Opir was about fifty. I liked him at once because
+he immediately and without any ceremony sent the maitre-d'hotel
+packing after a waiter. He was pink and plump, and moved and
+talked incessantly.
+ "Don't trouble yourself," he said when I reached. for the
+menu. "It's all set already. Vodka, anchovies under egg -- we
+call them pacifunties -- potato soup..."
+ "With sour cream," I interjected.
+ "Of course!... steamed sturgeon a la Astrakhan... a patty
+of veal..."
+ "I would prefer pheasant baked in feathers."
+ "No -- don't; it's not the season... a slice of beef, eel
+in sweet marinade."
+ "Coffee," I said.
+ "Cognac," he retorted.
+ "Coffee with cognac."
+ "All right, cognac and coffee with cognac. Some pale wine
+with the fish and a good natural cigar."
+ Dinner with Doctor Opir turned out to be most congenial.
+It was possible to eat, drink, and listen. Or not to listen.
+Doctor Opir did not need a conversation. He required a
+listener. I did not have to participate in the talking, I
+didn't even supply any commentaries, while he orated with
+enthusiastic delight, almost without interruption, waving his
+fork, while plates and dishes nonetheless became empty in front
+of him with mystifying speed. Never in my life have I met a man
+who was so skilled in conversation while his mouth was so fully
+packed and so busy masticating.
+ "Science! Her Majesty!" he exclaimed. "She matured long
+and painfully, but her fruits turned out to be abundant and
+sweet. Stop, Moment, you are beautiful! Hundreds of generations
+were born, suffered, and died, and not one was impelled to
+pronounce this incantation. We are singularly fortunate. We
+were born in the greatest of epochs, the Epoch of the
+Satisfaction of Desires. It may be that not everybody
+understands this as yet, but ninety-nine percent of my fellow
+citizens are already living in a world where, for all practical
+purposes, a man can have all he can think of. O, Science! You
+have finally freed mankind. You have given us and will
+henceforth provide for us everything -- food -- wonderful food
+-- clothing of the best quality and in any quantity, and to
+suit any taste! -- shelter -- magnificent shelter. Love, joy,
+satisfaction, and for those desiring it, for those who are
+fatigued by happiness -- tears, sweet tears, little saving
+sorrows, pleasant consoling worries which lend us significance
+in our own eyes.... Yes, we philosophers have maligned science
+long and angrily. We called forth Luddites, to break up
+machines, we cursed Einstein, who changed our whole universe,
+we vilified Wiener, who impugned our godlike essence. Well, so
+we really lost that godlike substance. Science robbed us of it.
+But in return! In return, it launched men to the feasting
+tables of Olympus. Aha! Here is the potato soup, that heavenly
+porridge. No, no, do as I do... take this spoon, a touch of
+vinegar... a dash of pepper... with the other spoon, this one
+here, dip some sour cream and... no, no... gently, gently mix
+it.... This too is a science, one of the most ancient, older in
+any cue than the ubiquitous synthetic.... By the way, don't
+fail to visit our synthesizers, Amalthea's Horn, Inc. You
+wouldn't be a chemist? Oh yes, you are a litterateur! You
+should write about it, the greatest mystery of our times,
+beefsteaks out of thin air, asparagus from clay, truffles from
+sawdust.... What a pity that Malthus is dead'! The whole world
+would be laughing at him! Of course, he had certain reasons for
+his pessimism. I am prepared to agree with those who consider
+him a genius. But he was too ill-informed, he completely missed
+the possibilities in the natural sciences. He was one of those
+unlucky geniuses who discover laws of social development
+precisely at that moment when these laws cease to operate. I am
+genuinely sorry for him. The whole of humanity was but billions
+of hungrily gaping mouths to him. He must have lost sleep from
+the sheer horror of it. It is a truly monstrous nightmare -- a
+billion gaping maws and not one head. I turned back and see
+with bitterness how blind they were, the shakers of souls and
+the masters of the minds of the recent past. Their awareness
+was dimmed by unbroken horror. Social Darwinists! They saw only
+the press of the struggle for survival: mobs of hunger-crazed
+people, tearing each other to pieces for a place in the sun, as
+though there was only that one single place, as though the sun
+wasn't sufficient for all! And Nietzsche... maybe he was
+suitable for the hungry slaves of the Pharaohs' times, with his
+ominous sermons about the master race, with his supermen beyond
+good and evil... who needs to be beyond now? It's not so bad on
+this side, don't you suppose? There were, of course, Marx and
+Freud. Marx, for example, was the first to understand that it
+all depended on economics. He understood that to rip the
+economics out of the hands of greedy nincompoops and
+fetishists, to make it part of the state, to develop it
+limitlessly, was the very way to lay the foundations of a
+Golden Age. And Freud showed us for what, after all, we needed
+this Golden Age. Recollect the source of all human misery.
+Unsatisfied instincts, unrequited love, and unsated hunger --
+isn't that right? But here comes Her Majesty, Science, and
+presents us with satisfactions. And how rapidly all this has
+come to pass! The names of gloomy prognosticators are not yet
+forgotten, and already... How do you like the sturgeon? I am
+under the impression that the sauce is synthetic. Do you see
+the pinkish tint? Yes, it is synthetic. In a restaurant we
+should be able to expect natural sauce. Waiter! On second
+thought -- the devil take it, let's not be so finicky. Go on,
+go on... Now what was I saying? Yes! Love and hunger. Satisfy
+love and hunger, and you'll see a happy man. On condition, of
+course, that your man is secure about the next day. All the
+utopias of all times are based on this simplest of
+considerations. Free a man of the worry about his daily bread
+and about the morrow, and he will become truly free and happy.
+I am deeply convinced that children, yes, precisely the
+children, are man's ideal. I see the most profound meaning in
+the remarkable similarity between a child and the carefree man
+who is the object of utopia. Carefree means happy -- and we are
+so close to that ideal! Another few decades, or maybe just a
+few more years, and we will attain the automated plenty, we
+will discard science as a healed man discards his crutches, and
+the whole of mankind will become one huge happy family of
+children. The adults will be distinguished from the children
+only by their ability to love, and this ability will, again
+with the help of science, become the source of new and
+unheard-of joys and pleasures.... Excuse me, what is your name?
+Ivan? So, you must be from Russia. Communist? Aha... well,
+everything is different there I know.... And here is the
+coffee! Mm, not bad. But where is the cognac? Well, thank you!
+By the way, I hear that the Great Wine Taster has retired. The
+most grandiose scandal befell at the Brussels contest of
+cognacs, which was suppressed only with the greatest of
+difficulties. The Grand Prix is awarded to the White Centaur
+brand. The jury is delighted! It is something totally
+unprecedented! Such a phenomenal extravaganza of sensations!
+The declaratory packet is opened, and, oh horrors, it's a
+synthetic! The Great Wine Taster turned as white as a sheet of
+paper and was physically ill. By the way, I had an opportunity
+to try this cognac, and it's really superb, but they run it
+from crude and it doesn't even have a proper name. H ex
+eighteen naphtha fraction and it's cheaper than hydrolyzed
+alcohol.... Have a cigar. Nonsense, what do you mean you don't
+smoke? It's not right not to have a cigar after a dinner like
+this.... I love this restaurant. Every time I come here to
+lecture at the university, I dine at the Olympic. And before
+returning, I invariably visit the Tavern. True, they don't have
+the greenery, nor the tropical birds, and it's a bit stuffy and
+warm and smells of smoke, but they have a genuine, inimitable
+cuisine. The Assiduous Tasters gather nowhere but there -- at
+the Gourmet. In that place you do nothing but eat. You can't
+talk, you can't laugh, it's totally nonsensical to go there
+with a woman -- you only eat there! Slowly, thoughtfully..."
+ Doctor Opir finally ran down, leaned back in his chair,
+and inhaled deeply with total enjoyment. I sucked on the mighty
+cigar and contemplated the man. I had him well pegged, this
+doctor of philosophy. Always and in all times there have been
+such men, absolutely pleased with their situation in society
+and therefore absolutely satisfied with the condition of that
+society. A marvelously well-geared tongue and a lively pen,
+magnificent teeth and faultless innards, and a well-employed
+sexual apparatus.
+ "And so the world is beautiful, Doctor?"
+ "Yes," said the doctor with feeling, "it is finally
+beautiful."
+ "You are a gigantic optimist," said I.
+ "Our time is the time of optimists. Pessimists go to the
+Good Mood Salon, void the gall from their subconscious, and
+become optimists. The time of pessimists has passed, just as
+the time of tuberculars, of sexual maniacs, and of the military
+has passed. Pessimism, as an intellectual emotion, is being
+extirpated by that self-same science. And that not indirectly
+through the creation of affluence, but concretely by way of
+invasion of the dark world of the subcortex. Let's take the
+dream generator, currently the most popular diversion of the
+masses. It is completely harmless, unusually well adopted to
+general use, and is structurally simple. Or consider the
+neurostimulators...."
+ I attempted to steer him into the desired channel.
+ "Doesn't it seem to you that right there in the
+pharmaceutical field science is overdoing it a bit sometimes?"
+ Doctor Opir smiled condescendingly and sniffed at his
+cigar.
+ "Science has always moved by trial and error," he said
+weightily. "And I am inclined to believe that the so-called
+errors are always the result of criminal application. We
+haven't yet entered the Golden Age, we are just in the process
+of doing so, and all kinds of throwbacks, mobsters, and just
+plain dirt are under foot. So all kinds of drugs are put out
+which are health-destroying, but which are created, as you
+know, from the best of motives; all kinds of aromatics ... or
+this... well, that doesn't suit a dinner conversation." He
+cackled suddenly and obscenely "You can guess my meaning -- we
+are mature people! What was I saying? Oh yes, all this
+shouldn't disturb you. It will pass just like the atom bombs."
+ "I only wanted to emphasize," I remarked, "that there is
+still the problem of alcoholism, and the problem of narcotics."
+ Doctor Opir's interest in the conversation was visibly
+ebbing. Apparently he imagined that I challenged his thesis
+that science is a boon. To conduct an argument on this basis
+naturally bored him, as though, for instance, he had been
+affirming the salubriousness of ocean swimming and I was
+contradicting him on the basis that I had almost drowned last
+year.
+ "Well, of course..." he mumbled, studying his watch, "we
+can't have it all at once.... You must admit, after all, that
+it is the basic trend which is the most important.... Waiter!"
+ Doctor Opir had eaten well, had a good conversation --
+professing progressive philosophy -- felt well-satisfied, and I
+decided not to press the matter, especially as I really didn't
+give a hang about his progressive philosophy, while in the
+matters which interested me the most, he probably would not be
+concretely informed at all in the final analysis.
+ We paid up and went out of the restaurant. I inquired, "Do
+you ]mow, Doctor, whose monument that is? Over there on the
+plaza."
+ Doctor Opir gazed absent-mindedly. "Sure enough, it's a
+monument," he said. "Somehow I overlooked it before.... Shall I
+drop you somewhere?"
+ "Thank you, I prefer to walk."
+ "In that case, goodbye. It was a pleasure to meet you....
+Of course it's hard to expect to convince you." He grimaced,
+shifting a toothpick around his mouth. "But it would be
+interesting to try. Perhaps you will attend my lecture? I begin
+tomorrow at ten."
+ "Thank you," I said. "What is your topic?"
+ "Neo-optimist Philosophy. I will be sure to touch upon a
+series of questions which we have so pithily discussed today."
+ "Thank you," I said again. "Most assuredly."
+ I watched as he went to his long automobile, collapsed in
+the seat, puttered with the auto-driver control, fell back
+against the seat back, and apparently dozed off instantly. The
+car began to roll cautiously across the plaza and disappeared
+in the shade and greenery of a side street.
+ Neo-optimism... Neo-hedonism... Neo-cretinism...
+Neo-capitalism... "No evil without good," said the fox. So, I
+have landed in the Country of the Boobs. It should he recorded
+that the ratio of congenital fools does not vary as a function
+of time. It should be interesting to determine what is
+happening to the percentage of fools by conviction. Curious --
+who assigned the title of Doctor to him? He is not the only
+one! There must have been a whole flock of doctors who
+ceremoniously granted that title to Neo-optimist Opir. However,
+this occurs not only among philosophers.
+ I saw Rimeyer come into the hall and forgot Doctor Opir at
+once. The suit hung on Rimeyer like a sack. Rimeyer stooped,
+and his face was flabby. I thought he wavered in his walk. He
+approached the elevator and I caught him by the sleeve there.
+ He jumped violently and turned on me.
+ "What in hell?" he said. He was clearly unhappy to see me.
+ "Why are you still here?"
+ "I waited for you."
+ "Didn't I tell you to come tomorrow at noon?"
+ "What's the difference?" I said. "Why waste time?"
+ He looked at me, breathing laboriously.
+ "I am expected. A man is waiting for me in my room, and he
+must not see you with me. Do you understand?"
+ "Don't shout," I said. "People are noticing."
+ Rimeyer glanced sideways with watery eyes.
+ "Go in the elevator," he said.
+ We entered and he pressed the button for the fifteenth
+floor.
+ "Get on with your business quickly," he said.
+ The order was startlingly stupid, so that I was
+momentarily disoriented.
+ "You mean to say that you don't know why I am here?"
+ He rubbed his forehead, and then said, "Hell, everything's
+mixed up.... Listen, I forgot, what is your name?"
+ "Zhilin."
+ "Listen, Zhilin, I have nothing new for you. I didn't have
+time to attend to that business. It's all a dream, do you
+understand? Matia's inventions. They sit there, writing papers,
+and invent. They should all be pitched the hell out."
+ We arrived at the fifteenth floor and he pressed the
+button for the first.
+ "Devil take it," he said. "Five more minutes and he'll
+leave.... In general I am convinced of one thing, there is
+nothing to it. Not in this town, in any case." He looked at me
+surreptitiously, and turned his eyes away. "Here is something I
+can tell you. Look in at the Fishers. Just like that, to clear
+your conscience."
+ "The Fishers? What Fishers?"
+ "You'll find out for yourself," he said impatiently. "But
+don't get tricky with them. Do everything they ask." Then, as
+though defending himself, he added, "I don't want any
+preconceptions, you understand."
+ The elevator stopped at the first floor and he signaled
+for the ninth.
+ "That's it," he said. "Then we'll meet and talk in detail.
+Let's say tomorrow at noon."
+ "All right," I said slowly. He obviously did not want to
+talk to me. Maybe he didn't trust me. Well, it happens!
+ "By the way," I said, "you have been visited by a certain
+Oscar."
+ It seemed to me that he started.
+ "Did he see you?"
+ "Naturally. He asked me to tell you that he will be
+calling tonight."
+ "That's bad, devil take it, bad...." muttered Rimeyer.
+"Listen... damn, what is your name?"
+ "Zhilin."
+ The elevator stopped.
+ "Listen, Zhilin, it's very bad that he has seen you....
+However, what the hell is the difference. I must go now." Re
+opened the elevator door, "Tomorrow we'll have a real good
+talk, okay? Tomorrow... and you look in on the Fishers. Is that
+a deal?"
+ He slammed the door with all his strength.
+ "Where will I look for them?" I asked.
+ I stood awhile, looking after him. He was almost running,
+receding down the corridor with erratic steps.
+
+<ul><a name=5></a><h2>Chapter FIVE</h2></ul>
+
+ I walked slowly, keeping to the shade of the trees. Now
+and then a car rolled by. One of these stopped and the driver
+threw open the door, leaned out, and vomited on the pavement.
+He cursed weakly, wiped his mouth with his palm, slammed the
+door, and drove off. He was on the elderly side, red-faced,
+wearing a loud shirt with nothing under it.
+ Rimeyer apparently had turned into a drunkard. This
+happens fairly often: a man tries hard, works hard, is
+considered a valuable contributor, he is listened to and made
+out as a model, but just when he is needed for a concrete task,
+it suddenly turns out that he has grown puffy and flabby, that
+wenches are running in and out of his place, and that he smells
+of vodka from early morning.... Your business does not interest
+him, while at the same time, he is frightfully busy, is
+constantly meeting someone, talks confusingly and murkily, and
+is of no help whatsoever. And then he turns up in the alcoholic
+ward, or a mental clinic, or is involved in a legal process. Or
+he gets married unexpectedly -- strangely and ineptly -- and
+this marriage smells strongly of blackmail. ... One can only
+comment: "Physician, heal thyself."
+ It would still be nice to hunt up Peck. Peck is hard as
+flint, honest, and he always knows everything. You haven't even
+finished the rundown on the tech control, and haven't had a
+chance to get off the ship, before he is buddy-buddy with the
+cook, is already fully informed and involved in the
+investigation of the dispute between the Commander of the
+Pathfinders and the chief engineer, who didn't settle the
+matter of some prize; the technicians are already planning an
+evening in his honor, and the deputy director is listening to
+his advice in a quiet corner... Priceless Peck! He was born in
+this city and has spent a third of his life here.
+ I found a telephone booth, and rang information for Peck
+Xenai's number and address. I was asked to wait. As usual, the
+booth smelled of cats. The plastic shelf was covered with
+telephone numbers and obscene images. Someone had carved quite
+deeply, as with a knife, the strange word "SLUG." I opened the
+door, to lighten the string atmosphere, and watched the
+opposite shady side of the street, where a barman stood in
+front of his establishment in a white jacket with rolled-up
+sleeves, smoking a cigarette. Then I was told that according to
+the data at the beginning of the year, Peck resided at No. 31
+Liberty Street, number 11-331. I thanked the operator and
+dialed the number at once. A strange voice told me that I had a
+wrong number. Yes, the number was correct, and so was the
+address, but no Peck lived there, and if he had, they didn't
+know when he left or where he had gone. I hung up, left the
+booth, and crossed the street to the shady side.
+ Catching my eye, the barman came to life and said from
+afar, "Come in, why don't you?"
+ "Don't know that I'd like to," I said.
+ "So you won't be friendly, eh?" he said. "Come in anyway.
+We'll have a talk. I feel bored."
+ I stopped.
+ "Tomorrow morning," I said, "at ten o'clock, at the
+university, there will be a philosophy lecture on Neo-optimism.
+It will be given by the renowned Doctor Opir from the capital.
+ The barman listened with avid interest -- he even stopped
+inhaling.
+ "How do you like that!" he said. "So they have come to
+that! The day before yesterday, they chased all the girls out
+of a night club, and now they'll be having lectures. We'll show
+them lectures!"
+ "It's about time," I said.
+ "I don't let them in," he continued, getting more
+animated. "I have a sharp eye for them. A guy could be just
+approaching the door, when I can spot him for an Intel
+'Fellows,' I say, 'an Intel is coming.' And the boys are all
+well picked; Dodd himself is here every night after training.
+So, he gets up and meets this Intel at the door, and I don't
+even know what goes on between them, but be passes him on
+elsewhere. Although it's true that sometimes they travel in
+bunches. In that case, so there wouldn't be a to-do, we lock
+the door -- let them knock. That's the right way, isn't it?"
+ 'That's okay by me," I said. I had had enough of him.
+There are people who pall unusually quickly. "Let them."
+ "What do you mean -- let them?"
+ "Let them knock. In other words, knock on any door."
+ The barman looked at me with growing alertness.
+ "What say you move on," he said.
+ "How about a quick one," I offered.
+ "Move along, move along," he said. "You won't get served
+here."
+ We looked at each other awhile,, then he growled
+something, backed up, and slid the glass door in front of him.
+ "I am no Intel," I said. "I am a poor tourist. A rich
+one."
+ He looked at me with his nose flattened against the glass.
+I made a motion as though knocking a drink back. Re mumbled
+something and went back into the darkness of the place -- I
+could see him wandering aimlessly among empty tables. The place
+was called the Smile. I smiled and went on.
+ Around the corner was a wide main thoroughfare. A huge
+van, plastered with advertisements, was parked by the curb. Its
+back was swung down for a counter, on which were piled
+mountains of cans, bottles, toys, and stacks of
+cellophane-wrapped clothing and underwear. Two teenage girls
+twittered some sort of nonsense while selecting blouses.
+"Pho-o-ny," squeaked one. The other, turning the blouse this
+way and that, replied, "Spangles, spangles and not phony."
+"Here by the neck it phonies." "Spangles." "Even the star
+doesn't glimmer."
+ The driver of the van, a gaunt man with huge, horn-rimmed
+dark glasses, sat on the step of the advertising rotunda. His
+eyes were not visible, but, judging by his relaxed mouth and
+sweat-beaded nose, he was asleep. I approached the counter. The
+girls stopped talking and stared at me with parted mouths. They
+must have been about sixteen, and their eyes were vacant and
+blue, like those of young kittens.
+ "Spangles," I said. "No phonying and lots of sparkle."
+ "And around the neck?" asked the one who was trying on the
+blouse.
+ "Around the neck it's practically a masterpiece."
+ "Spangles," said the other uncertainly.
+ "OK, let's look at another one," offered the first
+peacefully. "This one here."
+ "This one is better, the silvery one with the frame."
+ I saw books. They were magnificent books. There was a
+Strogoff with such illustrations as I had never even heard of.
+There was <i>Change of Dream</i> with an introduction by
+Saroyan. There was a Walter Mintz in three volumes. There was
+almost an entire Faulkner, <i>The New Politics</i> by Weber,
+<i>Poles of Magnificence</i> by Ignatova, The <i>Unpublished
+Sian She-Cuey</i>, <i>History of Fascism</i> in the "Memory of
+Mankind" edition. There were current magazines, and almanacs,
+pocket Louvres, Hermitage, and Vatican. There was everything!
+"It phonies too but it has a frame." "Spangles." I grabbed the
+Mintz. Holding the two volumes under my arm, I opened the
+third. Never have I seen such a complete Mintz. There were even
+the émigré letters.
+ "How much will that be?" I called.
+ The girls gaped again; the driver sucked in his lips and
+sat up.
+ "What?" he said huskily.
+ "Who is the owner here?" I said.
+ He got up and came to me.
+ "What would you like?"
+ "I want this Mintz. How much is it?"
+ The girls giggled. He stared at me in silence, then
+removed his glasses.
+ "You are a foreigner?"
+ "Yes, I am a tourist."
+ "It's the most complete Mintz."
+ "Of course, I can see that. I was stunned when I saw it."
+ "Me too," he said, "when I saw what you were after."
+ "He is a tourist," twittered one of the girls. "He doesn't
+understand."
+ "It's all free," said the driver. "Personal needs fund. To
+take care of personal needs."
+ I looked back at the bookshelf.
+ "Did you see <i>Change of Dream</i>?" asked the driver.
+ "Yes, thank you, I have it."
+ "About Strogoff I will not even inquire."
+ "How about the <i>History of Fascism</i>?"
+ "An excellent edition."
+ The girls giggled again. The driver's eyes popped in
+sudden wrath.
+ "Scram, snot faces," he barked.
+ The girls jumped. One of them thievishly grabbed several
+blouse packages. They ran across the street, where they stopped
+and continued to gaze at us.
+ "With frames!" said the driver. His thin lips twitched. "I
+should drop this whole idea. Where do you live?"
+ "On Second Waterway."
+ "Aha, in the thick of the mire.... Let's go -- I will drop
+you off. I have a complete Schedrin in the van, which I don't
+even exhibit; I have the entire classics library; the whole
+Golden Library, the complete Treasures of Philosophic Thought."
+ "Including Doctor Opir's?"
+ "Bitch tripe," said the driver. "Salacious bum! Amoeba!
+Rut do you know Sliy?"
+ "Not much," I said. "I don't like him. Neo-individualism,
+as Doctor Opir would say."
+ "Doctor Opir stinks," said the driver. "While Sliy is a
+real man. Of course, there is the individualism. But at least
+he says what he thinks and does what he says. I'll get some
+Sliy for you.... Listen, did you see this? And this!"
+ He dug himself up to his elbows in books. He stroked them
+tenderly and his face shone with rapture.
+ "And this," he kept on. "And how about this Cervantes?"
+ An oldish lady of imposing bearing approached and started
+to pick over the canned goods.
+ "You still don't have Danish pickles... didn't I ask you
+to get some?"
+ "Go to hell," said the driver absent-mindedly.
+ The woman was stunned. Her face slowly turned crimson.
+ "How dare you!" she hissed.
+ The driver looked at her bullishly.
+ "You heard what I said. Get out of here!"
+ "Don't you dare!" said the woman. "What is your number?"
+ "My number is ninety-three," said the driver,
+"Ninety-three -- is that clear enough? And I spit on all of
+you. Is that clear? Any other questions?"
+ "What a hooliganism!" said the woman with dignity. She
+took two cans of delicacies, scanned the counter, and with
+great precision, ripped the cover off the <i>Cosmic Man</i>
+magazine. "I'll remember you, number ninety-three! These aren't
+the old times for you." She wrapped the two cans in the cover.
+"We'll see each other in the municipal court."
+ I took a firm hold on the driver's arm. His rigid muscles
+gradually relaxed.
+ "The nerve!" said she majestically and departed.
+ She stepped along the sidewalk, proudly carrying her
+handsome head, which was topped with a high cylindrical
+coiffure. She stopped at the corner, opened one of the cans,
+and proceeded to pick out chunks with elegant fingers.
+ I released the driver's arm.
+ "They ought to be shot," he said suddenly. "We ought to
+strangle them instead of dispensing pretty books to them." He
+turned toward me, and I could see his eyes were tortured.
+"Shall I deliver your books?"
+ "Well, no," I said. "Where will I put them?"
+ "In that case, shove off," said the driver. "Did you take
+your Mintz? Then go and wrap your dirty pantaloons in it."
+ He climbed up into the cab. Something clicked and the back
+door began to rise. You could hear everything crashing and
+rolling inside the van. Several books and some shiny packets,
+boxes, and cans fell on the pavement. The rear panel had not
+yet closed completely when the driver shut his door and the van
+took off with a jerk.
+ The girls had already disappeared. I stood alone on the
+empty street and watched the wind lazily turn the pages of
+History of Fascism at my feet. Later a gang of kids in striped
+shorts came around the corner. They walked by silently, hands
+stuck in their pockets. One jumped down on the pavement and
+began to kick a can of pineapple, with a slick pretty cover,
+like a football down the street.
+
+<ul><a name=6></a><h2>Chapter SIX</h2></ul>
+
+ On the way home, I was overtaken by the change of shifts.
+The streets filled up with cars. Controller copters appeared
+over the intersections, and sweaty police cleared constantly
+threatening jams with roaring bull horns. The cars moved
+slowly, and the drivers stuck heads out of windows to light up
+from each other, to yell, to talk and joke while furiously
+blowing their horns. There was a instant screech of clashing
+bumpers. Everyone was happy, everyone was good-natured, and
+everyone glowed with savage glee. It seemed as though a heavy
+load had just fallen from the soul of the city, as though
+everyone was seized with an enviable anticipation. Fingers were
+pointed at me and the other pedestrians. Several times I was
+prodded with bumpers while crossing -- the girls doing it with
+the utmost good nature. One of them drove alongside me for
+quite a while, and we got acquainted. Then a line of
+demonstrators with sober faces walked by on the median,
+carrying signs. The signs appealed to people to join the
+amateur club ensemble Songs of the Fatherland, to enter the
+municipal Culinary Art groups, and to sign up for condensed
+courses in motherhood and childhood. The people with signs were
+nudged by bumpers with special enthusiasm. The drivers threw
+cigarette butts, apple cores, and paper wads at them. They
+yelled such things as "I'll subscribe at once, just wait till I
+put my galoshes on," or "Me, I'm sterile," or "Say, buddy,
+teach me motherhood." The sign carriers continued to march
+slowly in between the two solid streams of cars, unperturbed
+and sacrificial, looking straight ahead with the sad dignity of
+camels.
+ Not far from my house, I was set upon by a flock of girls,
+and when I finally struggled through to Second Waterway, I had
+a white aster in my lapel and drying kisses on my cheeks, and
+it seemed I had met half the girls in town. What a barber! What
+a Master!
+ Vousi, in a flaming orange blouse, was sitting in the
+chair in my study. Her long legs in pointy shoes rested on the
+table, while her slender fingers held a long slim cigarette.
+With her head thrown back, she was blowing thick streams of
+smoke at the ceiling, through her nose.
+ "At long last!" she cried, seeing me. "Where have you been
+all this time? As you can see, I've been waiting for you."
+ "I've been delayed," I said, trying to recollect if I had
+indeed promised to meet her.
+ Wipe off the lipstick," she demanded. "You look silly!
+What's this? Books? What do you need books for?"
+ "What do you mean by that?"
+ "You are really quite a problem! Comes back late, hangs
+around with books. Or are those pornos?"
+ "It's Mintz," I said.
+ "Let me have them!" She jumped up and snatched the books
+out of my grasp. "Good God! What nonsense -- all three are
+alike. What is it? <i>History of Fascism</i>... are you a
+Fascist?"
+ "How can you say that, Vousi!"
+ "Then, what do you need them for? Are you really going to
+read them?"
+ "Reread them."
+ "I just don't understand," she said peevishly. "I liked
+you from the first. Mother says you're a writer, and I went and
+bragged to everyone, like a fool, and then you turn out to be
+the next thing to an Intel."
+ "How could you, Vousi!" I said with reproach. By now I had
+realized that it was impermissible to be taken for an Intel.
+"These bookos were simply needed in my literary business,
+that's all."
+ "Bookos!" she laughed. "Bookos! Look at what I can do."
+She threw back her head and blew two thick streams of smoke out
+of her nostrils. "I got it on the second try. Pretty good,
+right?"
+ "Remarkable aptitude," I remarked.
+ "Instead of laughing at me, you should try it yourself.
+... A lady taught me at the salon today. Slobbered all over me,
+the fat cow... Will you try it?"
+ "How come she did that?"
+ "Who?"
+ "The cow."
+ "Not normal. Or maybe a sad sack.... What's your name? I
+forgot."
+ "Ivan."
+ "An amusing name! You'll have to remind me again. Are you
+a Tungus?"
+ "I don't think so."
+ "So-o... and I went and told everyone that you are a
+Tungus. Too bad.... Say, why not have a drink?"
+ "Let's."
+ "Today I should have a strong drink to forget that
+slobbering cow."
+ She ran out into the living room and came back with a
+tray. We had some brandy and looked at each other, not having
+anything to say. I felt ill at ease. I couldn't say why, but I
+liked her. I sensed something, something I couldn't put my
+finger on; something which distinguished her from the
+long-legged, smooth-skinned pin-up beauties, good only for the
+bed. I had the impression that she sensed something in me, too.
+ "Beautiful day, today," she said, looking away.
+ "A bit hot," I observed.
+ She sipped some brandy; I did too. The silence stretched.
+ "What do you like to do the most?" she asked.
+ "It depends. And you?"
+ "Same with me. In general, I like to have fun and not have
+to think about anything."
+ "So do I," I said. "At least I do right now."
+ She seemed to perk up a little. I understood suddenly what
+was the matter: during the whole day, I had not met a single
+truly pleasant person, and I simply had gotten tired of it.
+There was nothing to her, after all.
+ "Let's go somewhere," she said.
+ "We could," I said. I really didn't want to go anywhere, I
+wanted to sit and relax in the cool room for a while.
+ "I can see you're not too eager," she said.
+ "To be honest, I would prefer to sit around here for a
+bit."
+ "Well then, amuse me."
+ I considered the problem, and recounted the story of the
+traveling salesman in the upper bunk. She liked it, but I think
+she missed the point. I made a correction in my aim, and told
+her the one about the president and the old maid. She laughed a
+long time, kicking her wonderfully long legs. Then, taking
+courage from another shot of brandy, I told about the widow
+with the mushrooms growing on the wall. She slid down to the
+floor and almost knocked over the tray. I picked her up under
+the armpits, hoisted her back up in the chair, and delivered
+the story of the drunk spaceman and the college girl, at which
+point Aunt Vaina came rushing in and inquired fearfully what
+was going on with Vousi, and whether I was tickling her
+unmercifully. I poured Aunt Vaina a glass, and addressing
+myself to her personally, recounted the one about the Irishman
+who wanted to be a gardener. Vousi was completely shattered,
+but Aunt Vaina smiled sorrowfully and confided that Major
+General Tuur liked to tell the same story, when he was in a
+good mood. But in it there was, she thought, a Negro instead of
+the Irishman, and he aspired to the duties of a piano tuner and
+not a gardener. "And you know, Ivan, the story ended somehow
+differently," she added after some thought. At this point I
+noticed Len standing in the doorway, looking at us. I waved and
+smiled at him. He seemed not to notice, so I winked at him and
+beckoned for him to come in.
+ "Whom are you winking at?" asked Vousi, through lingering
+laughter.
+ "It's Len," I said. It was really a pleasure to watch her,
+as I love to see people laugh, especially such a one as Vousi,
+beautiful and almost a child.
+ "Where's Len?" she wondered.
+ There was no Len in the doorway.
+ "Len isn't here," said Aunt Vaina, who was sniffing the
+brandy with approval, and did not notice a thing. "The boy went
+to the Ziroks' birthday party today. If you only knew, Ivan..."
+ "But why does he say it was Len?" asked Vousi, glancing at
+the door again.
+ "Len was here," I said. "I waved at him, and be ran away.
+You know, he looked a bit wild to me."
+ "Ach, we have a highly nervous boy there," said Aunt
+Vaina. "He was born in a very difficult time, and they just
+don't know how to deal with a nervous child in these modern
+schools. Today I let him go visit."
+ "We'll go, too, now," said Vousi. "You'll walk with me.
+I'll just fix myself up, because on account of you everything
+got smeared. In the meantime, you can put on something more
+decent."
+ Aunt Vaina wouldn't have minded staying behind to tell me
+a few more things and maybe show me a photo album of Len, but
+Vousi dragged her off and I heard her ask her mother behind the
+door, "What's his name? I just can't remember it. He is a jolly
+fellow, isn't he?"
+ "Vousi!" admonished Aunt Vaina.
+ I laid out my entire wardrobe on the bed and tried to
+imagine what Vousi would consider a decently dressed man. Until
+now, I had thought I was dressed quite satisfactorily. Vousi's
+heels were already beating an impatient rat-a-tat on the study
+floor. Not having come up with anything, I called her in.
+ "That's all you have?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.
+ "It really isn't good enough?"
+ "Well, it will pass. Take off the jacket and put on this
+Hawaiian shirt... or better yet, this one here. They sure have
+dressing problems in your Tungusia! Hurry up. No, no, take off
+the shirt you have on."
+ "You mean, without an undershirt?"
+ "You know, you really are a Tungus. Where do you think you
+are going -- to the pole or to Mars? What's this under your
+shoulder blade?"
+ "A bee stung me," I said, hurriedly pulling on my shirt.
+"Let's go!"
+ The street was already dark. The fluorescents shone palely
+through dark foliage.
+ "Which way are we bound?" I asked.
+ "Downtown, of course.... Don't grab my arm, it's hot! At
+least you know how to fight, I hope?"
+ "I know how."
+ "That's good. I like to watch."
+ "To watch, I like, too," I said.
+ There were a lot more people out in the streets than in
+the daytime. Under the trees, in the bushes, and in the
+driveways there were groups of unsettled-looking individuals.
+They furiously smoked crackling synthetic cigars, guffawed,
+spat negligently and often, and spoke in loud rough voices.
+Over each group hung the racket of radio receivers. Under one
+streetlight a banjo twanged, and two youngsters, twisting in
+weird contortions and yelling out wildly, were performing
+fling, a currently fashionable dance, a dance of great beauty
+when properly executed. The youngsters knew how. Around them
+stood a small crowd, also yelling lustily and clapping their
+hands in rhythm.
+ "Shall we have a dance?" I offered.
+ "But no, no..." hissed Vousi, taking me by the hand and
+increasing her pace.
+ "And why not? You do fling?"
+ "I'd sooner hop with alligators than this crowd."
+ "Too bad," I said, "They look like regular fellows."
+ "Yes, each one by himself," said Vousi, "and in the
+daytime."
+ They hung around on the corners, huddled around
+streetlights, gauche, smoked to the gills, leaving the
+sidewalks behind them strewn with bits of candy paper,
+cigarette butts, and spittle. They were nervous and showy
+melancholic, yearning, constantly looking around, stooped. They
+were awfully anxious not to look like others, and at the same
+time, assiduously imitated each other and two or three popular
+movie stars. There were really not that many, but they stood
+out like sore thumbs, and it always seemed to me that every
+town and the whole world was filled with them -- perhaps
+because every city and the whole world belonged to them by
+night. And to me, they seemed full of some dark mystery, But I
+too used to stand around of evenings in the company of friends,
+until some real people turned up and took us off the streets,
+and many a time I have seen the same groups in all the cities
+of the world, where there was a lack of capable men to get rid
+of them. But I never did understand to the very end what force
+it is that turns these fellows away from good books, of which
+there are so many, from sport establishments, of which this
+town had plenty, and even from ordinary television sets, and
+drives them out in the night streets with cigarettes in their
+teeth and transistor sets in their ears, to stand and spit as
+far as possible, to guffaw as offensively as possible, and to
+do nothing. Apparently at fifteen, the most attractive of all
+the treasures in the world is the feeling of your own
+importance and ability to excite everyone's admiration, or at
+least attract attention. Everything else seems unbearably dull
+and dreary, including, perhaps above all, those avenues of
+achieving the desirable which are offered by the tired world of
+adults.
+ "This is where old Rouen lives," said Vousi. "He has a new
+one with him every night. The old turnip has managed it so that
+they all come to him of their own will. During the fracas, his
+leg was blown off.... You see there is no light in his place,
+they are listening to the hi-fi. On top of which, he's ugly as
+mortal sin."
+ "He lives well who has but one leg," I said
+absent-mindedly.
+ Of course she had to giggle at this, and continued.
+ "And here lives Seus. He is a Fisher. Now there's a man
+for you!"
+ "Fisher," I said. "And what does he do, this
+Seus-Fisher?"'
+ "He Fishers. That's what Fishers do -- they Fisher. Or are
+you asking where he works?"
+ "No, I mean to ask where does he Fisher?"
+ "In the Subway." Suddenly she stopped. "Say, you wouldn't
+be a Fisher?"
+ "Me? Why, does it show?"
+ "There is something about you, I noticed at once. We know
+about these bees that sting you in the back."
+ "Is that right?" I said.
+ She slipped her arm through mine.
+ "Tell me a story," she said, cajoling. "I never had a
+Fisher among my friends. Will you tell me a story?"
+ "Well now... shall I tell you about the pilot and the
+cow?"
+ She tweaked my elbow.
+ "No, really..."
+ "What a hot evening," I said. "It's a good thing you had
+me take off my jacket!"
+ "Anyway, everybody knows. Seus talks about it, and so do
+others."
+ "Ah, so," I said with interest. "And what does Seus tell?"
+ She let go of my arm at once.
+ "I didn't hear it myself. The girls told me."
+ "And what did they tell?"
+ "Well, this and that.... Maybe they put it all on. Maybe,
+you know. Seus had nothing to do with it."
+ "Hmmm," I said.
+ "Don't think anything about Seus, he's a good guy and he
+keeps his mouth closed."
+ "Why should I be thinking about Seus?" I said to quiet
+her. "I have never even laid eyes on him."
+ She took my arm again and enthusiastically announced that
+we were going to have a drink now.
+ "Now's the very time for us to have a drink."
+ She was already using the familiar address with me. We
+turned a corner and came out on a wide thoroughfare. Here it
+was lighter than day. The lamps shone, the walls glowed, the
+display windows were lambent with multicolored fires. This was,
+apparently, one of Ahmad's circles of paradise. But I imagined
+it differently. I expected roaring bands, grimacing couples,
+half-naked and naked people. But here it was relatively quiet.
+There were lots of people, and it seemed to me that most were
+drunk, but they were all very well and differently dressed and
+all were gay. And almost all smoked. There was no wind, and
+waves of bluish smoke undulated around the lights and lanterns.
+Vousi dragged me into some establishment, found a couple of
+acquaintances, and disappeared after promising to find me
+later. The crowd was dense, and I found myself pressed against
+the bar. Before I could gather my wits, I found myself downing
+a shot. A brown middle-aged man with yellow whites of the eye
+was booming into my face.
+ "Kiven hurt his leg -- right? Brush became an antique and
+is now quite useless. That makes three -- right? And on the
+right they haven't got nobody. Phinney is on the right, and
+that's worse than nobody. A waiter, that's what be is."
+ "What are you drinking?" I asked.
+ "I don't drink at all," replied the brown one with
+dignity, breathing strong fumes at me. "I have jaundice. Ever
+hear of it?"
+ Behind me, someone fell off a stool. The noise modulated
+up and down. The brown one, sitting down next to me, was
+shouting out some story about some character who almost died of
+fresh air after breaking some pipe at work. It was hard to
+understand any part of it, as various stories were being
+shouted from all sides.
+ "... Like a fool, he quieted down and left, and she called
+s taxi truck, loaded up his stuff, and had it dumped outside
+the town..."
+ "... I wouldn't have your TV in my outhouse. You can't
+think of one improvement on the Omega, my neighbor is an
+engineer, and that's just what he says -- you can't think up an
+improvement on the Omega..."
+ "... That's the way their honeymoon ended. When they
+returned home, his father enticed him in the garage -- and his
+father is a boxer -- and trounced him until he lost
+consciousness. They called a doctor later..."
+ "... So, all right, we took enough for three... and their
+rule is, you know, take as much as you wish, but you get to
+swallow all of it... and they are watching us by now, and he is
+carried away -- and says -- let's take more... well, I says to
+myself, enough of this, time to break knuckles..."
+ "... Dear child, with your bust, I wouldn't know any
+grief, such a bosom is one in a thousand, but don't think I'm
+flattering you, that's not my style..."
+ A scrawny girl with bangs down to the tip of her nose
+climbed up on the vacant stool next to me and began to pound
+with puny fists on the bar, yelling, "Barman, barman, a drink."
+ The din died down again, and I could hear behind me a
+tragic whisper -- "Where did he get it?" "From Buba, you know
+him, he is an engineer." "Was it real?" "It's scary, you could
+croak." "Then you need some kind of pill --" "Quiet, will you?"
+"Oh, all right, who would be listening to us? You got one?"
+"Buba gave me one package, he says any drugstore has them by
+the ton... here, look." "De... Devon -- what is it?" "Some sort
+of medicine, how would I know?" I turned around. One was
+red-faced with a shirt unbuttoned down to his navel, and with a
+hairy chest. The other was strangely haggard-looking with a
+large-pored nose. Both were looking at me.
+ "Shall we have a drink?" I said.
+ "Alcoholic," said the pore-nose.
+ "Don't, Pete. Don't start up, please," said the red-faced
+one.
+ "If you need some Devon, I've got it," I said loudly.
+ They jumped back. Pore-nose began to look around
+cautiously. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see several
+faces turn toward us and grow still.
+ "Let's go, Pat," said red-face. "Let's go! The hell with
+him."
+ Someone put a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and saw
+a handsome sunburned man with powerful muscles.
+ "Yes?" I said.
+ "Friend," he said benevolently, "drop this business. Drop
+it while it's not too late. Are you a Rhinoceros?"
+ "I am a hippopotamus," I joked.
+ "No, don't. I'm serious. Did you get beat up, maybe?"
+ "Black and blue."
+ "All right, don't feel bad about it. Today it's you,
+tomorrow it's them.... As for Devon and all that -- that's
+crap, believe me. There's lots of crap in the world, but that
+is the crap of all crap."
+ The girl with the bangs advised me, "Crack him in the
+teeth... what's he sticking his nose in for... lousy dick."
+ "Lapping it up, and doing it up brown, aren't you?" said
+the sunburned one coolly, and turned his back on us. His back
+was huge, and studded with bulging muscles under a tight
+half-transparent shirt.
+ "None of your business," said the girl at his back. Then
+she said to me, "Listen, friend, call the barman for me -- I
+can't seem to get through to him."
+ I gave her my glass and asked, "What's to do?"
+ "In a minute, we'll all go," replied the girl. Having
+swallowed the alcohol, she went limp all at once. "As to what
+to do -- that's up to luck. Without luck, you can't make out.
+Or you need money if you deal with promoters. You're probably a
+visitor? Nobody here drinks that dry vodka. How is it your way,
+you should tell me about it.... I'm not going anywhere today,
+I'll go to the salon instead. I feel terrible and nothing seems
+to help.... Mother says -- have a child. But that's dull too,
+what do I need one for?"
+ She closed her eyes and lowered her chin on her entwined
+fingers. She looked brazen, but at the same time crestfallen. I
+attempted to rouse her but she stopped paying attention to me,
+and suddenly started shouting again, "Barman, barman, a drink!"
+ I looked for Vousi. She was nowhere to be seen. The cafe
+began to empty. Everyone was in a hurry to get somewhere. I got
+off my stool, too, and left the cafe. Streams of people flowed
+down the street. They were all going in the same direction, and
+in about five minutes, I was swept out onto a big square. It
+was huge and poorly lighted, a wide gloomy space bordered by a
+ring of streetlights and store windows. It was full of people.
+ They stood pressed against each other, men, women, and
+youngsters, boys and girls, shifting from foot to foot, waiting
+for I knew not what. There was almost no talking. Here and
+there cigarette tips flared, lighting hollow cheeks and
+compressed lips. Then a clock began to strike the hour, and
+over the square, gigantic luminous panels sprang into flaming
+light. There were three of them -- red, blue, and green,
+irregularly shaped rounded triangles. The crowd surged and
+stood still. Around me, cigarettes were put out with subdued
+movements. The panels went out momentarily and then started to
+flash in rotation: red-blue-green, red-blue-green... I felt a
+wave of hot air on my face, and was suddenly dizzy. They were
+astir around me. I got up on tiptoes. In the center of the
+square, the people stood motionless; I had the impression that
+they were seized rigid and did not fall only because they were
+pressed in by the crowd. Red-blue-green, red-blue-green.
+Wooden, upturned faces, blackly gaping mouths, staring, bulging
+eyes. They weren't even winking there, under the panels. A
+total quiet fell, so that I jumped when a piercing woman's
+voice nearby yelled: "Shivers!" All at once, tens of voices
+responded: "Shivers! Shivers!" People on the sidewalk on the
+square's perimeter began to clap hands in rhythm with the
+flashes, and to chant in even voices, "Shi-vers! Shi-vers!
+Shi-vers!" Somebody prodded me in the back with a sharp elbow.
+I was pressed forward to the center, toward the panels. I took
+a step and another and started through the crowd, pushing the
+stiffened bodies aside. Two youngsters, rigid as icicles,
+suddenly started thrashing wildly, grabbing at each other,
+scratching and pounding with all their strength, but their
+faces remained frozen in the direction of the flashing sky...
+red-blue-green, red-blue-green. And just as suddenly as they
+started, they grew still again.
+ At this paint, finally, I understood that all this was
+extraordinarily amusing. Everyone laughed. There was lots of
+room around me and music thundered forth. I swept up a charming
+girl and we began to dance, as they used to dance, as dancing
+should be done and was done a long, long time ago, as it was
+done always with abandon, so that your head swam, and so that
+everyone admired you. We stepped out of the way, and I held on
+to her hands, and there was no need to talk about anything, and
+she agreed that the van driver was a strange man. Can't stand
+alcoholics, said Rimeyer, and pore-nose is the most genuine
+alcoholic, and what about Devon I said, how could you be
+without Devon when we have an excellent zoo, the buffaloes love
+to wallow in the mud, and bugs are constantly swarming out of
+it. Rim, I said, there are some fools who said that you are
+fifty years old -- such nonsense when I wouldn't give you over
+twenty-five -- and this is Vousi, I told her about you, but I
+am intruding on you, said Rimeyer; no one can intrude on us,
+said Vousi, as for Seus he's the best of Fishers, he grabbed
+the splotcher and got the ray right in the eye, and Hugger
+slipped and fell in the water and said -- wouldn't it be
+something for you to drown -- look your gear are melting away,
+aren't you funny, said Len, there is such a game of boy and
+gangster, you know, you remember we played with Maris... Isn't
+it wonderful, I have never felt so good in my life, what a
+pity, when it could be like this every day. Vousi, I said,
+aren't we great fellows, Vousi, people have never had such an
+important problem before, and we solved it and there remained
+only one problem, Vousi, the sole problem in the world, to
+return to people a spiritual content, and spiritual concerns,
+no, Seus, said Vousi, I love you very much, Oscar, you are very
+nice, but forgive me, would you, I want it to be Ivan, I
+embraced her and felt that it was right to kiss her and I said
+I love you...
+ Boom! Boom! Boom! Something exploded in the dark night sky
+and tinkling sharp shards began to fall on us, and at once I
+felt cold and uncomfortable. There were machine guns firing!
+Again the guns rattled. "Down, Vousi," I yelled, although I
+could not yet understand what was going on, and threw her down
+on the ground and covered her with my body against the bullets,
+whereupon blows began to rain on my face.
+ Bang, bang, rat-tat-tat-tat... around me people stood like
+wooden pickets. Some were coming to and rolling their eyeballs
+inanely. I was half reclining on a man's chest, which was as
+hard as a bench, and right in front of my eyes was his open
+mouth and chin glistening with saliva... Blue-green,
+blue-green, blue-green... Something was missing.
+ There were piercing screams, cursing, someone thrashed and
+screeched hysterically. A mechanical roar grew louder over the
+square. I raised my head with difficulty. The panels were right
+overhead, the blue and green flashing regularly, while the red
+was extinguished and raining glass rubble. Rat-tat-tat-tat and
+the green panel broke and darkened. In the blue remaining light
+unhurried wings floated by, spewing the reddish lightning of a
+fusillade.
+ Again I attempted to throw myself on the ground, but it
+was impossible, as they all stood around me like pillars.
+Something made an ugly snap quite near me, and a yellow-green
+plume rose skyward from which puffed a repulsive stench. Pow!
+Pow! Another two plumes hung over the square. The crowd howled
+and stirred. The yellow vapor was caustic like mustard, my eyes
+and mouth filled, and I began to cry and cough, and around me,
+everyone began to cry and cough and yell hoarsely: "Lousy bums!
+Scoundrels! Sock the Intels!" Again the roar of the engine
+could be heard, coming in louder and louder. The airplane was
+returning. "Down, you idiots," I yelled. Everyone around me
+flopped down all over each other. Rat-tat-tat-tat! This time
+the machine gunner missed and the string apparently got the
+building opposite us. To make up for the miss, the gas bombs
+fell again right on target. The lights around the square went
+out, and with them the blue panel, as a free-for-all started in
+the pitch-black dark.
+
+<ul><a name=7></a><h2>Chapter SEVEN</h2></ul>
+
+ I'll never know how I arrived at that fountain. It must be
+that I have good instincts and ordinary cold water was exactly
+what I needed. I crawled into the water without taking off my
+clothes, and lay down, feeling better immediately. I was lying
+on my back, drops rained on my face, and this was unbelievably
+pleasant. It was quite dark here, and dim stars shone through
+the branches and the water. It was very quiet. For several
+minutes I was watching a brighter star, for some reason unknown
+to me, which was slowly moving across the sky, until I realized
+that I was watching the relay satellite Europa. How far from
+all this, I thought, how degrading and senseless to remember
+the revolting mess on the square, the disgusting foul mouthings
+and screechings, the wet phrumping of the gas bombs, and the
+putrid stench which turned your stomach and lungs inside out.
+Understanding freedom as the rapid satisfaction and
+multiplication of needs and desires, I recollected, people
+distort their natures as they engender within themselves many
+senseless and stupid desires, habits and the most unlikely
+inventions....
+ Priceless Peck, he loved to quote old pundit Zosima as he
+circled around a well-laid table, rubbing his hands. We were
+snot-nosed undergrads then and ingenuously believed that such
+pronouncements, in our time, were meant only to show off
+flashes of humor and erudition.... At this point in my
+reflections, someone noisily plunged into the water some ten
+paces from me.
+ At first he coughed hoarsely, spat and blew his nose, so
+that I hurried to leave the water, then he started to splash,
+finally became quiet, and suddenly discharged himself of a
+string of curses:
+ "Shameless lice," he growled. "Whores, swine... on live
+people! Stinking hyenas, rotten scum... learned prostitutes,
+filthy snakes." He hawked furiously again. "It bothers them
+that people are having a good time! Stepped on my face, the
+crud!" He groaned nasally and painfully, "The hell with this
+shiver business. That will be the day when I'll go again."
+ He moaned again and rose. I could hear the water running
+from his clothes. I could dimly perceive his swaying figure. He
+saw me too.
+ "Hey, friend, have a smoke on you?"
+ "I did," I replied.
+ "Low-lifers! I didn't think to take them out. Just fell in
+with everything on." He splashed over to me and sat down
+alongside. "Some moron stepped on my cheek," he informed me.
+ "They marched over me, too," I said. "The people went
+ape."
+ "But, you tell me, where do they get the tear gas?" he
+said. "And machine guns?"
+ "And airplanes," I added.
+ "An airplane means nothing," he contradicted. "I have one
+myself. I bought it cheap for seven hundred crowns.... What do
+they want, that's what I don't understand."
+ "Hoodlums," I said. "They should have their faces pulped
+properly, and that would be the end of that argument."
+ He laughed bitterly.
+ "Someone did! For that you get worked over good.... You
+think they didn't get beat up? And how they got beat up! But
+apparently that isn't enough.... We should have driven them
+right into the ground, together with their excrement, but we
+passed up the chance.... And now they are giving us the
+business! The people got soft, that's what, I tell you. Nobody
+gives a damn. They put their four hours in, have a drink and
+off to the shivers! And you can pot them like clay pigeons." He
+slapped his sides in desperation. "Those were the times," he
+cried. "They didn't dare open their mouths! Should one of them
+even whisper, guys in black shirts or maybe white hoods would
+pay a night visit, crunch him in the teeth, and off to the camp
+he went, so there wouldn't be a peep out of him again.... In
+the schools, my son says, everyone bad-mouths fascism: Oh dear,
+they hurt the Negroes' feelings; oh dear, the scientists were
+witch-hunted; oh dear, the camps; oh dear, the dictatorship!
+Well, it wasn't witch-hunting that was needed, but to hammer
+them into the ground, so there wouldn't be any left for
+breeding!" He drew his hand under his nose, slurping long and
+loud.
+ "Tomorrow morning, I have to go to work with my face all
+out of shape.... Let's go have a drink, or we'll both catch
+cold."
+ We crawled through the bushes and came out on the street.
+ "The Weasel is just around the corner," he informed me.
+ The Weasel was full of wet-haired half-naked people. They
+seemed depressed, somehow embarrassed, and gloomily bragging
+about their contusions and abrasions. Several young women, clad
+only in panties, clustered around the electric fireplace,
+drying their skirts. The men patted them platonically on their
+bare flesh. My companion immediately penetrated into the thick
+of the crowd, and swinging his arms and blowing his nose with
+his fingers, began to call for "hammering the bastards into the
+ground." He was getting some weak support.
+ I asked for Russian vodka, and when the girls left, I took
+off my sport shirt and sat by the fireplace. The barman
+delivered my glass and returned at once to his crossword in the
+fat magazine. The public continued its conversation.
+ "So, what's the shooting for? Haven't we had enough of
+shooting? Just like little boys, by God... just spoiling some
+good fun."
+ "Bandits, they're worse than gangsters, but like it or not
+that shiver business is no good, too."
+ "That's right. The other day mine says to me, 'Papa, I saw
+you; you were all blue like a corpse and very scary' -- and
+she's only ten. So how can I look her in the eyes? Eh?"
+ "Hey anybody! What's an entertainment with four letters?"
+asked the barman without raising his head.
+ "So, all right, but who dreamed all this up -- the shiver
+and the aromatics? Eh and also..."
+ "If you got drenched, brandy is best."
+ "We were waiting for him on the bridge, and along he comes
+with his eyeglasses and some kind of pipe with lenses in it. So
+up he goes over the rail with his eyeglasses and his pipe, and
+he kicked his legs once and that was that. And then old Snoot
+comes running, after having been revived, and he looks at the
+guy blowing bubbles. "Fellows," he says, "What the hell is the
+matter with you, are you drunk or something, that's not the guy
+-- I am seeing him for the first time..."
+ "I think there ought to be a law -- if you are married,
+you can't go to the shiver."
+ "Hey somebody," again the bartender, "What's a literary
+work with seven letters -- a booklet, maybe?"
+ "So, I myself had four Intels in my squad, machine gunners
+they were. It's quite true that they fought like devils. I
+remember we were retreating from the warehouse, you know
+they're still building a factory there, and two stayed behind
+to cover us. By the way, nobody asked them, they volunteered
+entirely by themselves. Later we came back and found them
+hanging side by side from the rail crane, naked, with all their
+appurtenances ripped off with hot pincers. You understand? And
+now, I'm thinking, where were the other two today? Maybe they
+were the very same guys to treat me to some tear gas, those are
+the types that can do such things."
+ "So who didn't get hung? We got hung by various places,
+too!"
+ "Hammer them into the ground right up to their noses, and
+that'll be the end of that!"
+ "I'm going. There is no point in hanging around here, I'm
+getting heartburn. They must have fixed everything up by now,
+back there."
+ "Hey, barman, girls, let's have one last one."
+ My shirt had dried, and as the cafe emptied, I pulled it
+on and went over to sit at a table and to watch. Two
+meticulously dressed gentlemen in the corner were sipping their
+drinks through straws. They called attention to themselves
+immediately -- both were in severe black suits and black ties,
+despite the very warm night. They weren't talking, and one of
+them constantly referred to his watch. After a while, I grew
+tired of observing them. Well, Doctor Opir, how do you like the
+shivers? Were you at the square? But of course you were not.
+Too bad. It would have been interesting to know what you
+thought of it. On the other hand, to the devil with you. What
+do I care what Doctor Opir thinks? What do I think about it
+myself? Well, high-grade barber's raw material, what do you
+think? It's important to get acclimatized quickly
+ and not stuff the brain with induction, deduction, and
+technical procedures. The most important thing is to get
+acclimatized as rapidly as possible. To get to feel like one of
+them.... There, they all went back to the square. Despite
+everything that happened, they still went back to the square
+again. As for me, I don't have the slightest desire to go back
+there. I would, with the greatest of pleasure at this point, go
+back to my room and check out my new bed. But when would I go
+to the Fishers? Intels, Devon, and Fishers. Intels -- maybe
+they are the local version of the Golden Youth? Devon... Devon
+must be kept in mind, together with Oscar. But now the Fishers.
+ "The Fishers; that's a little bit vulgar," said one of the
+black suits, not whispering, but very quietly.
+ "It all depends on temperament," said the other. "As for
+me, personally I don't condemn Karagan in the slightest."
+ "You see, I don't condemn him either. It's a little
+shocking that he picked up his options. A gentleman would not
+have behaved that way."
+ "Forgive me, but Karagan is no gentleman. He is only a
+general manager. Hence the small-mindedness and the
+mercantilism and a certain what I might call commonness..."
+ "Let's not be so hard on him. The Fishers -- that's
+something intriguing. And to be honest, I don't see any reason
+why we should not involve ourselves. The old Subway -- that's
+quite respectable. Wild is much more elegant than Nivele, but
+we don't reject Nivele on that account."
+ "'You really are seriously considering?"
+ "Right now, if you wish.... It's five to two, by the way.
+Shall we go?"
+ They got up, said a friendly and polite goodbye to the
+bartender, and proceeded toward the exit. They looked elegant,
+calm, and condescendingly remote. This was astounding luck. I
+yawned loudly, and muttering, "Off to the square," followed
+them, pushing stools out of my way. The street was poorly
+illuminated, but I saw them immediately. They were in no hurry.
+The one on the right was the shorter, and when they passed
+under the street lights, you could see his safe, sparse hair.
+As near as I could tell, they were no longer conversing.
+ They detoured the square, turned into a dark alley,
+avoided a drunk who tried to strike up a conversation, and
+suddenly, without one backward glance, turned abruptly into a
+garden in front of a large gloomy house. I heard a heavy door
+thud shut. It was a minute before two.
+ I pushed off the drunk, entered the garden, and sat down
+on a silver-painted bench under a lilac bush. The wooden bench
+was situated on a sandy path which ran through the garden. A
+blue lamp illuminated the entrance of the house, and I
+discerned two caryatids supporting the balcony over the door.
+This didn't look like the entrance to the old subway, but as
+yet, I couldn't tell for sure, so I decided to wait.
+ I didn't have to wait long. There was a rustle of steps
+and a dark figure in a cloak appeared on the path. It was a
+woman. I did not grasp immediately why her proudly raised head
+with a high cylindrical coiffure, in which large stones
+glistened in the starlight, seemed familiar. I arose to meet
+her, and said, trying to sound both respectful and mocking,
+"You are late, madam, it's after two."
+ She was not in the least startled.
+ "You don't say!" she exclaimed. "Can it be my watch is so
+slow?"
+ It was the very same woman who had the altercation with
+the van driver, but of course she did not recognize me. Women
+with such disdainful-looking lower lips never remember chance
+meetings. I took her by the arm, and we mounted the wide stone
+steps. The door turned out to be as heavy as a reactor-well
+cover. There was no one in the entrance hall. The woman,
+without turning, flung the cloak on my arm and went ahead, and
+I paused for a second to look at myself in the huge mirror.
+Good man, Master Gaoway, but it still behooved me to stay in
+the shadows. We entered the ballroom.
+ No, this was anything but a subway. The room was enormous
+and incredibly old-fashioned. The walls were lined with dark
+wood, and fifteen feet up, there was a gallery with a railing.
+Pink blond-curled angels smiled down with only their blue lips
+from a far-flung ceiling. Almost the entire floor of the room
+was covered with rows of soft massive chairs covered with
+embossed leather. Elegantly dressed people, mostly middle-aged
+men, sat in them in relaxed and negligent poses. They were
+looking at the far end of the room, where a brightly lit
+picture blazed against a background of black velvet.
+ No one turned to look at us. The woman glided toward the
+front rows, and I sat down near the door. By now, I was almost
+sure that I had come here for nothing. There was silence and
+some coughs, and lazy streams of smoke curled upward from the
+fat cigars; many bald pates glistened under the chandeliers. My
+attention turned to the picture. I am an indifferent
+connoisseur of paintings, but it looked like a Raphael, and if
+it was not genuine, it was certainly a perfect copy.
+ There was a deep brassy gong, and simultaneously a tall,
+thin man in a black mask appeared by the side of the picture. A
+black leotard covered his body from head to toe. He was
+followed by a limping, hunchbacked dwarf in a red smock. In his
+short, extended pawlike arms, he held a dully glinting sword of
+a most wicked appearance. He went to the right of the picture
+and stood still, while the masked individual stepped forward
+and spoke in a measured tone: "In accordance with the bylaws
+and directives of the Honorable Society of Patrons, and in the
+name of Art, which is holy and irreproducible, and the power
+granted me by you, I have examined the history and worth of
+this painting and now --"
+ "Request a halt," sounded a curt voice behind me.
+ Everyone turned around. I also turned around and saw that
+three young, obviously very powerful, and immaculately dressed
+men were looking at me full in the face. One had a monocle in
+his right eye. We studied each other for a few seconds, and the
+man with the monocle twitched his cheek and let it drop. I got
+up at once. They moved toward me together, stepping softly and
+soundlessly. I tried the chair, but it was too massive. They
+jumped me. I met them as best I could and at first everything
+went well, but very quickly it became evident that they wore
+brass knuckles, and I barely managed to evade them. I pressed
+my back against the wall and looked at them while they,
+breathing heavily, looked at me. There were still two of them
+left. There was the usual coughing in the auditorium. Four more
+were coming down the gallery steps, which squeaked and groaned
+loudly enough to reverberate in the hall. Bad business, thought
+I, and launched myself to force a breach.
+ It was hard going, just like the time in Manila, but then
+there were two of us. It would have been better if they were
+armed, as I would have had a chance to expropriate a gun.
+ But all six of them met me with knuckles and truncheons.
+Luckily for me it was very crowded. My left arm went out of
+commission, and then the four suddenly jumped back, while the
+fifth drenched me with a clammy liquid from a flat container.
+Simultaneously, the lights were extinguished.
+ These tricks were well known to me: now they could see me,
+but I could not see them. In all probability that would have
+been the end of me, were it not that some idiot threw open the
+door and announced in a greasy basso, "I beg forgiveness, I am
+terribly late and so sorry..." I charged toward the light, over
+some bodies, mowed down the latecomer, flew across the entrance
+hall, threw open the front door, and pelted down the sandy path
+holding my left arm with my right hand. No one was pursuing me,
+but I traversed two blocks before it dawned on me to stop.
+ I flung myself down on a lawn and lay for a long time in
+the short grass, grabbing lungfuls of the warm moist air. In no
+time, the curious gathered around me. They stood in a
+semicircle and ogled me avidly, not saying a word. "Take off,"
+I said, getting up finally. Hurriedly, they scooted away. I
+stood awhile, figuring out where I was, and began a stumbling
+journey homeward. I had had enough for today. I still didn't
+get it, but I had had quite enough. Whoever they were, these
+members of the Honorable Society of Art Patrons -- secret art
+worshippers, extant aristocrat-conspirators or whoever else --
+they fought cruelly and without quarter, and the biggest fool
+in that hall of theirs was still apparently none other than I.
+ I passed by the square, where again the color panels
+pulsed rhythmically, and hundreds of hysterical voices
+screamed, "Shi-vers! Shi-vers!" Of this too I had had enough.
+Pleasant dreams are, of course, more attractive than unpleasant
+ones, but after all, we do not live in a dream. In the
+establishment where Vousi had taken me, I had a bottle of
+ice-cold soda water, observed with curiosity a squad of police
+peacefully camped by the bar, and went out, turning into Second
+Waterway.
+ A lump the size of a tennis ball was rising behind my left
+ear. I weaved badly and walked slowly, keeping close to the
+fences. Later, I heard the tap of heels behind me and voices:
+ "... Your place is in the museum, not in a cabaret."
+ "Nothing of the sort, I am not drunk. Can't you
+und-derstand, only one measly bottle of wine..."
+ "How disgusting! Soused and picking up a wench."
+ "What's the girl got to do with it? She is a m-model!"
+ "Fighting over a wench. Making us fight over her."
+ "Why in hell d-do you believe them and don't believe me?"
+ "Just because you're drunk! You're a bum, just like they
+all are, maybe worse...."
+ "That's all right. I'll remember that scoundrel with the
+bracelet quite well.... Don't hold me! I'll walk by myself!"
+ "You'll remember nothing, friend. Your glasses were
+knocked off in the first instant, and without them, you aren't
+even a man, but a blind sausage.... Stop kicking, or it will be
+the fountain for you...."
+ "I'm warning you, one more stunt like that, and we'll
+throw you out. A drunken <i>kulturfuhrer</i> -- it's enough to
+make you sick."
+ "Stop preaching at him, give a man a chance to sleep it
+off."
+ "Fellows! There he is, the l-louse!"
+ The street was empty, and the louse was clearly me. I
+could bend my left arm already, but it hurt like the devil, and
+I stepped back to let them pass. There were three of them. They
+were young, in identical caps, pushed over their eyes. One,
+thickset and low-slung, was obviously amused and held the other
+one, a tall, open-faced, loose-jointed fellow, with a powerful
+grip, restraining his violent and sporadic movements. The
+third, long and skinny, with a narrow and darkish face, was
+following at some distance with his hands behind his back. As
+he got alongside me, the loose-jointed one braked determinedly.
+The short one attempted to nudge him off the spot, but in vain.
+ The long one passed by and then stopped, looking back
+impatiently over his shoulder.
+ "Thought you were gonna get away, pig!" he yelled
+drunkenly, attempting to seize me by the chest with his free
+hand.
+ I retreated to the fence and said, addressing myself to
+the short fellow, "I had no business with you."
+ "Stop being a rowdy," said the distant one sharply.
+ "I remember you very well indeed," yelled the drunk.
+"You're not going to get away from me! I'll get even with you!"
+ He advanced upon me in surges, dragging the short one,
+ who hung on with bulldog grimness, behind him.
+ "It's not him," cajoled the low-slung one, who was still
+very merry. "That guy went off to the shivers and this one is
+sober."
+ "You won't fool me."
+ "I'm warning you for the last time. We are going to expel
+you."
+ "Got scared, the bum! Took off his bracelet."
+ "You can't even see him. You're worthless without your
+glasses."
+ "I can see everything pe-erfectly!... And even if he isn't
+the one..."
+ "Stop it! Enough is enough!"
+ The long one finally came back and grasped the drunk from
+the other side.
+ "Will you move on!" he said to me with irritation, "Why
+the devil are you stopping here! Haven't you ever seen a
+drunk?"
+ "Oh, no! You aren't going to get away from me."
+ I continued on my way. I had not far to go by now. The
+trio dragged along behind me noisily.
+ "I can see right through him, if you please. King of
+Nature! Drunk enough to retch, and to beat up whoever comes
+along. Got beat up himself, and that's all he needs.... Let go
+of me, I'll hang a few good ones on his mug...."
+ "What have you come to, we have to walk you along like a
+hood."
+ "So don't walk me!... I loathe them.... Shivers, wenches,
+whiskey... brainless jelly..."
+ "Sure, sure, take it easy, just don't fall."
+ "Enough of your reproofs... I am sick of your hypocrisy,
+your puritanism. We should blow them up, shoot them! Raze
+everything off the face of the earth!"
+ "Drunk as a coot, and I thought he was sobered up!"
+ "I am sober. I remember everything... the twenty-eighth,
+right?"
+ "Shut up, you fool."
+ "Shh! Right you are! The enemy is on the alert....
+Fellows, there was a spy here somewhere.... Didn't I talk to
+him?... The son of a bitch took off his bracelet... but I'll
+get that dick before the twenty-eighth!"
+ "Will you be quiet!"
+ "Shh! And not another word. That's it! And don't worry,
+the grenade launchers are my baby."
+ "I am going to kill him right now, the bum!"
+ "Lay it on the enemies of civilization.... Fifteen hundred
+meters of tear gas -- personally... six sectors... awk!"
+ I was already by the gate to my house. When I turned
+around to look, the burly man was lying face down, the short
+one was squatting alongside, while the long fellow stood
+rubbing the edge of his right hand.
+ "Why did you do that?" said the short man. "You must have
+maimed him."
+ "Enough prattle," said the long one furiously. "We can't
+seem to learn to stop prattling. We can't learn to stop
+boozing. Enough!"
+ Let us be as children, Doctor Opir, thought I, slipping
+into the yard as quietly as possible. I held the latch to keep
+it from clicking into place.
+ "Where did he go?" said the long one, lowering his voice.
+ "Who?"
+ "The guy who went ahead of us."
+ "Turned off somewhere."
+ "Where? Did you notice?"
+ "Listen, I wasn't concerned about him."
+ "Too bad. But all right, pick him up, and let's go."
+ Stepping into the shadow of the apple trees, I watched
+them drag the drunk by the gate. He was wheezing horribly.
+ The house was quiet. I went to my quarters, undressed, and
+took a hot shower. My shirt and shorts smelled of tear gas and
+were covered with the greasy spots of the luminous liquid. I
+threw them into the hamper. Next, I inspected myself in the
+mirror and marveled once more at how lightly I had gotten away:
+a bump behind the ear, a sizable contusion on the left
+shoulder, and some scraped ribs. Also skinned knuckles.
+ On the night table, I discovered a notice which
+respectfully suggested that I deposit a sum to cover the rent
+for the apartment for the first thirty days. The sum was quite
+considerable, but tolerable. I counted out a few credits and
+stuffed them into the thoughtfully provided envelope, and then
+lay down on the bed with my hands behind my head. The sheets
+were cool and crisp, and a salty sea breeze blew in through the
+open window. The phonor susurrated cozily behind my ear. I
+intended to think awhile before falling asleep, but was too
+exhausted and quickly dozed off.
+ Later, some noise in the background awakened me, and I
+grew alert and listened with eyes wide open.
+ Somewhere nearby, someone either cried or sang in a thin
+childish voice. I got up cautiously and leaned out the open
+window. The thin halting voice was intoning: "... having stayed
+in the grave but a short time, they come out and live among the
+living as though alive." There was the sound of sobs. From far
+away like the keening of a mosquito came the chant "Shi-vers!
+Shi-vers!" The pitiable little voice went on -- "Blood and
+earth mixed together they can't eat." I thought that it was
+Vousi, drunk and lamenting upstairs in her room, and called out
+softly, "Vousi!" No one replied, The thin voice cried out:
+"Hence from my hair, hence from my flesh, hence from my bones,"
+and I knew who it was. I climbed over the window sill, jumped
+onto the lawn, and went to the apple grove, listening to the
+sobbing. Light appeared through the trees, and soon I came to a
+garage. The doors were cracked open and I looked in. Inside was
+a huge shiny Opel. Two candles were burning on the workbench.
+There was a smell of gasoline and hot wax.
+ Under the candles, seated on a work stool, was Len,
+dressed in a full-length white gown, in bare feet, with a
+thick, well-worn book on his knees. He regarded me with
+wide-open eyes, his face completely white and frozen with
+terror.
+ "What are you doing here?" I said loudly and entered.
+ He continued to look at me in silence and started to
+tremble. I could hear his teeth chattering.
+ "Len, old friend," I said, "I guess you didn't recognize
+me. It's me -- Ivan."
+ He dropped the book and hid his hands in his armpits. As
+earlier today, in the morning, his face beaded with cold sweat.
+I sat down alongside of him and put my arm around his
+shoulders. He collapsed against me weakly. He shook all over. I
+looked at the book. A certain Doctor Neuf had blessed the human
+race with <i>An Introduction to the Science of Necrological
+Phenomena</i>. I kicked the book under the bench.
+ 'Whose ear is that?" I asked loudly.
+ "Mo... Mama's..."
+ "A very nice Ford."
+ "It's not a Ford. It's an Opel."
+ "You're right -- it is an Opel... a couple of hundred
+ miles per hour I would guess..."
+ "Yes."
+ "Where did you get the candles?"
+ "I bought them."
+ "Is that right! I didn't know that they sold candles in
+our time. Is your bulb burned out? I went out in the garden,
+you know, to get an apple off a tree, and then I saw the light
+in the garage."
+ He moved closer to me and said, "Don't leave for a while
+yet, will you?"
+ "OK. What do you say we blow out the lights and go to my
+place?"
+ "No, I can't go there."
+ "Where can't you go?"
+ "In the house and to your place." He was talking with
+tremendous conviction. "For quite a while yet. Until they fall
+asleep."
+ "Who?"
+ "They."
+ "Who are -- they?"
+ "They -- you hear?"
+ I listened. There was only the rustle of branches in the
+ wind and somewhere very far away the cry of: "Shi-vers!
+Shi-vers!"'
+ "I don't hear anything special," I said.
+ "That's because you don't know. You are new here and
+ they don't bother the new ones."
+ "But who are they, after all?"
+ "All of them. You've seen the fink with the buttons?"
+ "Pete? Yes, I saw him. But why is he a fink? In my
+ opinion, he's an entirely respectable man."
+ Len jumped up.
+ "Come on," he said in a whisper, "I'll show you. But be
+quiet."
+ We came out of the garage, crept up to the house, and
+turned a corner. Len held my hand all the time; his palm was
+cold and wet..
+ "There -- look," he said.
+ Sure enough, the sight was frightening. My customs friend
+was lying on the porch with his head stuck at an unnatural
+angle through the railing. The mercury vapor light from the
+street fell on his face, which looked blue and swollen, and
+covered with dark welts. Through half-open lids, the eyes could
+be seen, crossed toward the bridge of the nose.
+ 'They walk among the living, like living people in the
+daytime," murmured Len, holding on to me with both hands. "They
+bow and smile, but at night their faces are white, and blood
+seeps through their skin." I approached the veranda. The
+customs man was dressed in pajamas. He breathed noisily and
+exuded a smell of cognac. There was blood on his face, as
+though he'd fallen on his face into some broken glass.
+ "He's just drunk," I said loudly. "Simply drunk and
+snoring. Very disgusting."
+ Len shook his head.
+ "You are a newcomer," he whispered. "You see nothing. But
+I saw." He shook again. "Many of them came. She brought them...
+and they carried her in... there was a moon... they sawed off
+the top of her head... and she screamed and screamed... and
+then they started to eat with spoons. She ate, too, and they
+all laughed when she screamed and flopped around..."
+ "Who? Who was it?"
+ "And then they piled on wood and burned it and danced
+around the fire... and then they buried everything in the
+garden... she went out to get the shovel in the car... I saw it
+all... do you want to see where they buried her?"
+ "You know what, friend?" I said. "Let's go to my place."
+ "What for?"
+ "To get some sleep, that's what for. Everyone is sleeping
+-- only you and I are palavering here."
+ "Nobody is sleeping. You really are new. Right now no one
+is sleeping. You must not sleep now."
+ "Let's go, let's go," said I, "over to my place."
+ "I won't go," he said. "Don't touch me. I didn't say your
+name."
+ "I am going to take a belt," I said menacingly, "and I
+will strap your behind."
+ Apparently this calmed him. He clutched my hand again and
+became silent.
+ "Let's go, old pal, let's go," I said. "You're going to
+sleep and I will sit alongside you. And if anything at all
+happens, I will awaken you at once."
+ We climbed into my room through the window (he absolutely
+refused to enter the house by the front door), and I put him to
+bed. I intended to tell him a tale, but he fell asleep
+immediately. His face looked tortured, and every few minutes he
+quivered in his sleep. I pushed the chair by the window,
+wrapped myself in a bathrobe, and smoked a cigarette to calm my
+nerves. I attempted to think about Rimeyer and about the
+Fishers, with whom I had not met up after all; about what must
+happen on the twenty-eighth; and about the Art Patrons, but
+nothing came of it and this irritated me. It was annoying that
+I was unable to think about my business as something of
+importance. The thoughts scattered and jumbled emotions
+intruded, and I did not think so much as I felt. I felt that I
+hadn't come for nothing, but at the same time, I sensed that I
+had come for altogether the wrong reason.
+ But Len slept. He did not even awake when an engine
+snorted at the gate, car doors were slammed, there were shouts,
+chokes, and howls in different voices, so that I almost decided
+that a crime was being committed in front of the house, when it
+became clear that it was just Vousi coming back. Happily
+humming, she began to undress while still in the garden,
+negligently draping her blouse, skirt, and other garments over
+the apple branches. She didn't notice me, came into the house,
+shuffled around upstairs for a while, dropped something heavy,
+and finally settled down. It was close to five o'clock. The
+glow of dawn was kindling over the sea.
+
+<ul><a name=8></a><h2>Chapter EIGHT</h2></ul>
+
+ When I woke up, Len was already gone. My shoulder ached so
+badly that the pain pounded in my head, and I promised myself
+to take it easy the whole day. Grunting and feeling sick and
+forlorn, I executed a feeble attempt at set-ting-up exercises,
+approximated a wash-up, took the envelope with the money, and
+set out far Aunt Vaina, moving edge-wise through the doorway.
+In the hall, I stopped in indecision: it was quiet in the
+house, and I wasn't sure that my landlady was up. But at this
+point the door to her side of the house opened, and Pete, the
+customs man, came out into the hall. Well, well, thought I. At
+night he had looked like a drowned drunk. Now in the light of
+day, he resembled a victim of a hooligan attack. The lower part
+of his face was dark with blood. Fresh blood glistened on his
+chin, and he held a handkerchief under his jaw to keep his
+snow-white braided uniform clean. His face was strained and his
+eyes tended to cross, but in general, he held himself
+remarkably calm, as though falling face-down into broken glass
+was a most ordinary event for him. A slight misadventure, you
+know, can happen to anybody; please don't pay it any attention;
+every-thing will be all right.
+ "Good morning," I mumbled.
+ "Good morning," he responded, politely dabbing his chin
+cautiously and sounding a bit nasal.
+ "Anything the matter? Can I help?"
+ "A trifle," he said. ' The chair fell."
+ He bowed courteously, and passing by me, unhurriedly left
+the house. I observed his departure with a thoroughly
+unpleasant feeling, and when I turned back toward the door, I
+found Aunt Vaina standing in front of me. She stood in the
+doorway, gracefully leaning on the jamb, all clean, rosy, and
+perfumed, and looking at me as though I was Major General Tuur
+or, at least, Staff Major Polom.
+ "Good morning, early bird," she cooed. "I was puzzled --
+who would be talking at this hour?"
+ "I couldn't bring myself to disturb you," I said,
+shuddering fashionably and mentally howling at the pain in my
+shoulder. "Good morning, and may I take the }liberty to hand
+you --"
+ "How nice! You can tell a real gentleman right away. Major
+General Tuur used to say that a true gentleman never makes
+anyone wait. Never. Nobody..."
+ I became aware that slowly but very persistently, she was
+herding me away from her door. The living room was darkened,
+with the drapes apparently drawn, and some strange sweet smell
+was wafting out of it into the hall.
+ "But you did not have to be in such a rush, really..."
+ She was finally in a convenient position to close the door
+with a smooth negligent gesture. "However, you can be sure that
+I will value your promptness appropriately. Vousi is still
+asleep, and it's time for me to get Len off to school. So if
+you will excuse me... By the way, we have the newspapers on the
+veranda."
+ "Thank you," I said, retreating.
+ "If you'll have the patience, I would like to ask you to
+join me for breakfast and a cup of cream."
+ "Unfortunately, I will have to be going," I said, bowing
+out.
+ As to newspapers, there were six. Two local, illustrated,
+fat as almanacs; one from the capital; two luxurious weeklies;
+and, for some reason, the Arab <i>El Gunia</i>. The last I put
+aside, and sifted through the others, accompanying the news
+with sandwiches and hot cocoa.
+ In Bolivia, government troops, after stubborn fighting,
+had occupied the town of Reyes. The rebels were pushed across
+the River Beni. In Moscow, at the international meeting of
+nuclear physicists, Haggerton and Soloviev announced a project
+for a commercial installation to produce anti-matter. The
+Tretiakoff Gallery had arrived in Leopoldville, official
+opening being scheduled for tomorrow. The scheduled series of
+pilotless craft had been launched from the Staryi Vostok base
+on Pluto into the totally free flight zone; communications with
+two of the craft were temporarily disrupted. The General
+Secretary of the UN had directed an official message to
+Orolianos, in which he warned that in the event of a repetition
+of the use of atomic grenades by the extremists, UN police
+forces would be introduced into Eldorado. In Central Angola, at
+the sources of the River Kwando, an archaeological expedition
+of the Academy of Sciences of the UAR had uncovered the remains
+of a cyclopean construction, apparently dating from well before
+the ice age. A group of specialists of the United Center for
+the Investigation of Subelectronic (Ritrinitive) Structures had
+evaluated the energy reserves available to mankind as
+sufficient for three billion years. The cosmic branch of Unesco
+had announced that the relative population growth of
+extraterrestrial centers and bases now approached the
+population growth on Earth. The head of the British delegation
+to the UN had put forth a proposal, in the name of the great
+powers, for the total demilitarization, by force if need be, of
+the remaining militarized regions on the globe.
+ Information about how many kilos were pressed by whom and
+about who drove how many balls through whose goal posts I did
+not bother to read. Of the local announcements, I was intrigued
+by three. The local paper, Joy of Life, reported: "Last night a
+group of evil-minded men again carried out a private plane raid
+on Star Square, which was full of citizens taking their
+leisure. The hooligans fired several machine-gun bursts and
+dropped eleven gas bombs. As a result of the ensuing panic,
+several men and women suffered severe injuries. The normal
+recreation of hundreds of respectable people was disrupted by a
+small group of bandit (excuse the term) intelligentsia with the
+obvious connivance of the police. The president of the Society
+for the Good Old Country Against Evil Influences informed our
+correspondent that the Society intended to take into its own
+hands the matter of the protection of the well-earned rest of
+fellow citizens. In no equivocal manner, the president let it
+be known whom specifically the people regarded as the source of
+the harmful infection, banditism, and militarized
+hooliganism..."
+ On page twelve, the paper devoted a column to an article
+by "the outstanding proponent of the latest philosophy, the
+laureate of many literary prizes, Doctor Opir." The treatise
+was titled "World Without Worry." With beautiful words and most
+convincingly indeed, Doctor Opir established the omnipotence of
+science, called for optimism, derided gloomy skeptics and
+denigrators, and invited all "to be as children." He assigned a
+specially important role in the formation of contemporary
+(i.e., anxiety-free) psychology to electric wave
+psychotechnics. "Recollect what a wonderful charge of vigor and
+good feeling is imparted by a bright, happy, and joyful dream!"
+exclaimed this representative of the latest philosophy. "It is
+no wonder that sleep has been known for over a hundred years to
+be a curative agent for many psychic disturbances. But we are
+all a touch ill: we are sick with our worries, we are overcome
+by the trivia of daily routine, we are irritated by the rare
+but still remaining few malfunctions, the inevitable frictions
+among individuals, the normal healthy sexual unsatisfiedness,
+the dissatisfaction with self which is so common in the makeup
+of each person. ... As fragrant bath salts wash away the dust
+of travel from our tired bodies, so does a joyful dream wash
+away and purify a tired psyche. So now, we no longer have to
+fear any anxieties or malfunctions. We well know that at the
+appointed hour, the invisible radiation of the dream generator,
+which together with the public I tend to call by the familiar
+name of 'the shivers,' will heal us, fill us with optimism, and
+return to us the wonderful feeling of the joy of being alive."
+Further, Doctor Opir expounded that the shivers were absolutely
+harmless physically and psychologically, and that the attacks
+of detractors who wished to see in the shivers a resemblance to
+narcotics and who demagogically ranted about a "doped mankind,"
+could not but arouse in us a painful incomprehension, and,
+conceivably, some stronger public-spirited emotions that could
+be dangerous to the malevolently inclined citizens. In
+conclusion, Doctor Opir pronounced a happy dream to be the best
+kind of rest, vaguely hinted that the shivers constituted the
+best antidote to alcoholism and drug addiction, and insistently
+warned that the shivers should not be confused with other (not
+medically approved) methods of electric wave application.
+ The weekly Golden Days informed the public that a valuable
+canvas, ascribed in the opinion of experts to the gifted band
+of Raphael, had been stolen from the National Art Galleries.
+The weekly called the attention of the authorities to the fact
+that this criminal act was the third during the past four
+months of this year, and that neither of the previously stolen
+works of art had ever been found.
+ All in all, there was really nothing to read in the
+weeklies. I glanced through them quickly, and they left me with
+the most depressing impression.
+ All were filled with desolate witticisms, artless
+caricatures, among which the "captionless" series stood out
+with particular imbecility, with biographies of dim
+personalities, slobbering sketches of life in various layers of
+society, nightmarish series of photos with such titles as "Your
+husband at work and at home," endless amounts of useful advice
+on how to occupy your time without, God forbid, burdening your
+head, passionately idiotic sallies against alcoholism,
+hooliganism, and debauchery, and calls to join clubs and
+choruses with which I was already familiar. There were also
+memoirs of participants in the "fracas" and in the struggle
+against organized crime, which were served up in the literary
+style of jackasses totally lacking in taste or conscience.
+These were obviously exercises of addicts of literary
+sensationalism, loaded with suffering and tears, magnificent
+feats and saccharine futures. There were endless crosswords,
+chainwords, rebuses, and puzzle pictures.
+ I flung the pile of papers into the corner. What a dreary
+place they had here! The boob was coddled, the boob was
+lovingly nurtured, and the boob was cultivated; the boob had
+become the norm; a little more and he would become the ideal,
+while jubilant doctors of philosophy would exultantly dance
+attendance upon him. But the papers were in full choreographic
+swing even now. Oh, what a wonderful boob we have! Such an
+optimistic boob, and such an intelligent boob, such a healthy
+alert boob, and with such a fine sense of humor; and oh boob,
+how well and adroitly you can solve crossword puzzles! But most
+important of all, boob, don't you worry about a thing,
+everything is quite all right, everything is just dandy,
+everything is in your service, the science and the literature,
+just so you can be amused and don't have to think about a
+thing.... As for those seditious skeptics and hoodlums, boob,
+we'll take care of them! With your help, we can't help but take
+care of them! What are they complaining about, anyway? Do they
+have more needs than other people?
+ Dreariness and desolation! There had to be some curse upon
+these people, some awful predilection for dangers and
+disasters. Imperialism, fascism, tens of millions of people
+killed and lives destroyed, including millions of these same
+boobs, guilty and innocent, good and bad. The last skirmishes,
+the last putsches, especially pitiless because they were the
+last. Criminals, the military driven berserk by prolonged
+uselessness, all kinds of leftover trash from intelligence and
+counterintelligence, bored by the sameness of commercial
+espionage, all slavering for power. Again we were forced to
+return from space, to come out of our laboratories and
+factories, to call back our soldiers. And we managed it again.
+The zephyr was gently turning the pages of <i>History of
+Fascism</i> by my feet. But hardly had we had the time to savor
+the cloudless horizons, when out of these same sewers of
+history crept the scum with submachine guns, homemade quantum
+pistols, gangsters, syndicates, gangster corporations, gangster
+empires. "Minor malfunctions are still encountered here and
+there," soothed and calmed Doctor Opir, while napalm bottles
+flew through university windows, cities were seized by bands of
+outlaws, and museums burned like candles.... All right.
+Brushing aside Doctor Opir and his kind, once again we came out
+of space, out of the labs and factories, recalled the soldiers,
+and once again managed the problem. And again the skies were
+clear. Once more the Opirs were out, the weeklies were purring,
+and once more filth was flowing out of the same sewers. Tons of
+heroin, cisterns of opium, and oceans of alcohol, and beyond
+all that something new, something for which we had no name....
+Again everything was hanging by a thread for them, and boobs
+were solving crosswords, dancing the fling, and desired but one
+thing: to have fun. But somewhere idiot children were being
+born, people were going insane, some were dying strangely in
+bathtubs, some were dying no less strangely with some group
+called the Fishers, while art patrons defended their passion
+for art with brass knuckles. And the weeklies were attempting
+to cover this foul-smelling bog with a crust, fragile as a
+meringue, of cloyingly sweet prattle, and this or that
+diplomaed fool glorified sweet dreams, and thousands of idiots
+surrendered with relish to dreams in lieu of drunkenness (so
+that they need not think)... and again the boobs were persuaded
+that all was well, that space was being developed at an
+unprecedented pace (which was true), and that sources of energy
+would last for billions of years (which was also true), that
+life was becoming unquestionably more interesting and varied
+(which was also undoubtedly true, but not for boobs), while
+demagogue-denigrators (real-thinking men who considered that in
+our times any drop of pus could infect the whole of mankind, as
+once upon a time a beer putsch turned into a world menace) were
+foreign to the people's interests and deserved of universal
+condemnation. Boobs and criminals, criminals and boobs.
+ "Have to work at it," I said aloud. "To hell with
+melancholy! We'd show you skeptics!"
+ It was time to go see Rimeyer. Although there were the
+Fishers. But all right, the Fishers could be attended to later.
+I was tired of poking around in the dark. I went out in the
+yard. I could hear Aunt Vaina feeding Len.
+ "But, Mom, I don't want any!"
+ "Eat, son, you must eat. You are so pale."
+ "I don't want to. Disgusting lumps l"
+ "What lumps? Here, let me have some myself! Mm! Delicious!
+Just try some and you'll see it's very tasty."
+ "But I don't want any! I'm ill, I'm not going to school."
+ "Len, what are you saying? You've skipped a lot of days as
+it is."
+ "So what?"
+ "What do you mean, so what? The director has already
+called me twice. We'll be fined."
+ "Let them fine us!"
+ "Eat, son, eat. Maybe you didn't get enough sleep?"
+ "I didn't. And my stomach hurts... and my head... and my
+tooth, this one here, you see?"
+ Len's voice sounded peevish, and I immediately visualized
+his pouting lips and his swinging stockinged foot.
+ I went out the gate. The day was again clear and sunny,
+full of bird twitter. It was still too early, so that on my way
+to the Olympic, I met only two people. They walked together by
+the curb, monstrously out of place in the joyful world of green
+branch and clear blue sky. One was painted vermilion and the
+other bright blue. Sweat beaded through the paint on their
+bodies. Their breaths heaved through open mouths and the
+protruding eyes were bloodshot. Unconsciously I unbuttoned all
+the buttons of my shirt and breathed with relief when this
+strange pair passed me.
+ At the hotel I went right up to the ninth floor. I was in
+a very determined mood. Whether Rimeyer wanted to or not, he
+would have to tell me everything I wanted to know. As a matter
+of fact, I needed him now for other things as well. I needed a
+listener, and in this sunny bedlam I could talk openly only to
+him, so far. True, this was not the Rimeyer I had counted on,
+but this too had to be talked cut in the end....
+ The red-headed Oscar stood by the door to Rimeyer's suite,
+and, seeing him, I slowed my steps. He was adjusting his tie,
+gazing pensively at the ceiling. He looked worried.
+ "Greetings," I said -- I had to start somehow.
+ He wiggled his eyebrows and looked me over, and I was
+aware that he remembered me. He said slowly, "How do you do."
+ "You want to see Rimeyer, too?" l asked.
+ "Rimeyer is not feeling well," he said. He stood hard by
+the door and apparently had no intention of letting me by.
+ "A pity," I said, moving up on him. "And what is his
+problem?"
+ "He is feeling very bad."
+ "Oh, oh!" I said. "Someone should have a look."
+ I was now right up against Oscar. It was obvious he was
+not about to give way. My shoulder responded at once with a
+flare of pain.
+ "I am not sure it's all that necessary," he said.
+ "What do you mean? Is it really that bad?"
+ "Exactly. Very bad. And you shouldn't bother him. Not
+today, or any other day!"
+ It seems I arrived in time, I thought, and hopefully not
+too late.
+ "Are you a relative of his?" I asked. My attitude was most
+peaceable.
+ He grinned.
+ "I am his friend. His closest friend in this town. A
+childhood friend, you might say."
+ 'This is most touching," I said. "But I am his relative.
+Same as a brother. Let's go in together and see what his friend
+and brother can do for poor Rimeyer."
+ "Maybe his brother has already done enough for Rimeyer."
+ "Really now... I only arrived yesterday."
+ "You wouldn't, by any chance, have other brothers around
+here?"
+ "I don't think there are any among your friends, with the
+exception of Rimeyer."
+ While we were carrying on with this nonsense, I was
+studying him most carefully. He didn't look too nimble a type
+-- even considering my defective shoulder. But he kept his
+hands in his pockets all the time, and although I didn't think
+he would risk shooting in the hotel, I was not of a mind to
+chance it. Especially as I had heard of quantum dischargers
+with limited range.
+ I have been told critically many times that my intentions
+are always clearly readable on my face. And Oscar was
+apparently an adequately keen observer. I was coming to the
+conclusion that he obviously did not have anything there at
+all, that the hands-in-the-pocket act was a bluff. He moved
+aside and said, "Go on in."
+ We entered. Rimeyer was indeed in a bad way. He lay on the
+couch covered with a torn drape, mumbling in delirium. The
+table was overturned, a broken bottle stained the middle of the
+floor, and wet clothes were strewn all over the room. I
+approached Rimeyer and sat down by him so as not to lose sight
+of Oscar, who stood by the window, half-sitting on the sill.
+Rimeyer's eyes were open. I bent over him.
+ "Rimeyer," I called. "It's Ivan. Do you recognize me?"
+ He regarded me dully. There was a fresh cut on his chin
+under the stubble.
+ "So you got there already..." he muttered. "Don't prolong
+the Fishers... doesn't happen... don't take it so hard ...
+bothered me a lot... I can't stand..."
+ It was pure delirium. I looked at Oscar. He listened with
+interest, his neck stretched out.
+ "Bad when you wake up..." mumbled Rimeyer. "Nobody... wake
+up... they start... then they don't wake up..."
+ I disliked Oscar more and more. I was annoyed that he
+should be hearing Rimeyer's ravings. I didn't like his being
+here ahead of me. And again, I didn't like that cut on
+Rimeyer's chin -- it was quite fresh. How can I be rid of you,
+red-haired mug, I wondered.
+ "We should call a doctor," I said. "Why didn't you call a
+doctor, Oscar? I think it's delirium tremens."
+ I regretted the words immediately. To my considerable
+surprise, Rimeyer did not smell of alcohol at all, and Oscar
+apparently knew it. He grinned and said, "Delirium tremens? Are
+you sure?"
+ "We have to call a doctor at once," I said. "Also, get a
+nurse."
+ I put my hand on the phone. He jumped up instantly and put
+his hand on mine.
+ "Why should you do it?" he said. "Better let me call a
+doctor. You are new here and I know an excellent doctor."
+ "Well, what kind of a doctor is he?" I objected, studying
+the cut on his knuckles -- which was also quite new.
+ "An exemplary doctor. Just happens to be a specialist on
+the DT's."
+ Rimeyer said suddenly, "So I commanded... <i>also
+spracht</i> Rimeyer... alone with the world..."
+ We turned to look at him. He spoke haughtily, but his eyes
+were closed, and his face, draped in loose, gray skin, seemed
+pathetic. That swine Oscar, I thought, where does he get the
+gall to linger here? A sudden wild thought flashed through my
+head -- it seemed at that moment exceedingly well conceived: to
+disable Oscar with a blow to the solar plexus, tie him up, and
+force him then and there to expose everything he knew. He
+probably knew quite a lot. Possibly everything. He looked at
+me, and in his pale eyes was a blend of fear and hatred.
+ "All right," I said. "Let the hotel call the doctor."
+ He removed his hand and I called service. While waiting
+for the doctor, I sat by Rimeyer, and Oscar walked from corner
+to corner, stepping over the liquor puddle. I followed him out
+of the corner of my eye. Suddenly he stooped and picked up
+something off the floor. Something small and multicolored.
+ "What have you got there?" I inquired indifferently.
+ He hesitated a bit and then threw a small flat box with a
+polychrome sticker on my knees.
+ "Ah!" I said, and looked at Oscar. "Devon."
+ "Devon," he responded. "Strange that it's here rather than
+in the bathroom."
+ The devil, I thought. Maybe I was still too green to
+challenge him openly. I still knew but very little of this
+whole mess.
+ "Nothing strange about that," I said at random. "I believe
+you distribute that repellent. It's probably a sample which
+fell out of your pocket."
+ "Out of my pocket?" He was astonished. "Oh, you think that
+I... But I finished my assignments a long time ago, and now I'm
+just taking it easy. But if you're interested, I can be of some
+help."
+ That s very interesting, I said. "I will consult --"
+ Unfortunately, the door flew open at this point, and a
+doctor accompanied by two nurses entered the room.
+ The doctor turned out to be a decisive individual. He
+gestured me off the couch and flung the drape off Rimeyer. He
+was completely naked.
+ "Well, of course," said the doctor. "Again..."
+ He raised Rimeyer's eyelid, pulled down his lower lip, and
+felt his pulse. "Nurse - cordeine! And call some chambermaids
+and have them clean out these stables till they shine." He
+stood up and looked at me. "A relative?"
+ "Yes," I said, while Oscar kept still.
+ "You found him unconscious?"
+ "He was delirious," said Oscar.
+ "You carried him out here?"
+ Oscar hesitated.
+ "I only covered him with the drape," he said. "When I
+arrived, he was lying as he is now. I was afraid he would catch
+cold."
+ The doctor regarded him for a while, and then said, "In
+any case, it is immaterial. Both of you can go. A nurse will
+stay with him. You can call this evening. Goodbye."
+ "What is the matter with him, Doctor?" I asked.
+ "Nothing special. Overtired, nervous exhaustion... besides
+which he apparently smokes too much. Tomorrow he can be moved,
+and you can take him home with you. It would be unhealthy for
+him to stay here with us. There are too many amusements here.
+Goodbye."
+ We went out into the corridor.
+ "Let's go have a drink," I said.
+ "You forgot that I don't drink," corrected Oscar.
+ "Too bad. This whole episode has upset me. I'd like a
+snort. Rimeyer always was such a healthy specimen."
+ "Well, lately he has slipped a lot," said Oscar carefully.
+ "Yes, I hardly recognized him when I saw him yesterday."
+ "Same here," said Oscar. He didn't believe a word of it,
+and neither did I.
+ "Where are you staying?" I asked.
+ "Right here," said Oscar. "On the floor below, number
+817."
+ "Too bad that you don't drink. We could go to your room
+and have a good talk."
+ "Yes, that wouldn't be a bad idea. But, regretfully, I am
+in a great rush." He was silent awhile. "Let me have your
+address. Tomorrow morning, I'll be back and drop in to see you.
+About ten -- will that suit you? Or you can ring me up."
+ "Why not?" I said and gave him my address. "To be honest
+with you, I am quite interested in Devon."
+ "I think we'll be able to come to an understanding," said
+Oscar. "Till tomorrow!"
+ He ran down the stairs. Apparently he really was in a
+hurry. I went down in the elevator and sent off a telegram to
+Matia: "Brother very ill, feeling very lonesome, but keeping up
+spirits, Ivan." I truly did feel very much alone. Rimeyer was
+out of the game again, at least for a day. The only hint he had
+given me was the advice about the Fishers. I had nothing more
+definite. There were the Fishers, who were located somewhere in
+the old subway; there was Devon, which in same peripheral way
+could have something to do with my business, but also could
+just as well have no connection with it at all; there was
+Oscar, clearly connected with Devon and Rimeyer, a player
+sufficiently ominous and repulsive, but undoubtedly only one of
+many such unpleasant types on the local cloudless horizons;
+then again there was a certain "Buba," who supplied pore-nose
+with Devon.... After all, I have been here just twenty-four
+hours, I thought. There is time. Also, I could still count on
+Rimeyer in the final analysis, and there was the possibility of
+finding Peck. Suddenly I remembered the events of the night
+before and sent a wire to Sigmund: "Amateur concert on the
+twenty-eighth, details unknown, Ivan." Then I beckoned to a
+porter and inquired as to the shortest way to the old subway.
+
+<ul><a name=9></a><h2>Chapter NINE</h2></ul>
+
+ "You would do better to come at night. It's too early
+now."
+ "I prefer now."
+ "Can't wait, eh? Perhaps you've got the wrong address?"
+ "Oh no, I haven't got it wrong."
+ "You must have it now, you are sure?"
+ "Yes, now and not later."
+ He clicked his tongue and pulled on his lower lip. He was
+ short, well knit, with a round shaved head. He spoke
+hardly moving his tongue and rolling his eyes languidly under
+the lids. I thought he had not had enough sleep. His companion,
+sitting behind the railing in an easy chair, apparently also
+had missed some. But he did not utter a word and didn't even
+look in my direction. It was a gloomy place, with stale air and
+warped panels which had sprung away from the walls. A bulb,
+dimmed with dust, hung shadeless from the ceiling on a dirty
+cable.
+ "Why not come later?" said the round-head. "When everybody
+comes."
+ "I just got the urge," I said diffidently.
+ "Got the urge..." He searched in his table drawer. "I
+don't even have a form left. Eli, do you have some?"
+ The latter, without breaking his silence, bent over and
+pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper from somewhere near the
+railing.
+ The round-head said, yawning, "Guys that come at break of
+day... nobody here... no girls... they're still in bed." He
+proffered the form. "Fill it out and sign. Eli and I will sign
+as witnesses. Turn in your money. Don't worry, we keep it
+honest. Do you have any documents?"
+ "None."
+ "That's good, too."
+ I scanned the form. "In open deposition and of my own
+ free will, I, the undersigned, in the presence of
+witnesses, earnestly request to be subjected to the initiation
+trials toward the mutual quest of membership in the Society of
+VAL." There were blank spaces for signature of applicant and
+signatures of witnesses.
+ "What is VAL?" I asked.
+ "That's the way we are registered," answered round-head.
+He was counting my money.
+ "But how do you decipher it?"
+ "Who knows? That was before my time. It's VAL, that's all
+there is to it. Maybe you know, Eli?" Eli shook his bead
+lazily. "Well, really, what do you care?"
+ "You are absolutely right." I inserted my name and signed.
+ Round-head looked it over, signed it, and passed the form
+to Eli.
+ "You look like a foreigner," he said.
+ "Right."
+ "In that case, add your home address. Do you have
+relatives?"
+ "No."
+ "Well then, you don't have to. All set, Eli? Put it in the
+folder. Shall we go?"
+ He lifted up the gate in the railway and walked me over to
+a massive square door, probably left over from the days when
+the subway had been fitted out as an atomic shelter.
+ "There is no choice," he said as though in self-defense.
+He pulled the slides and turned a rusty handle with
+considerable effort. "Go straight down the corridor and then
+you'll see for yourself."
+ I thought that I heard Eli snickering behind him. I turned
+around. A small screen was fitted in the railing in front of
+Eli. Something was moving on the screen, but I could not see
+what it was. Round-bead put all his weight on the handle and
+swung back the door. A dusty passage became visible. For a few
+seconds he listened and then said, "Straight down this
+corridor."
+ "What will I find there?" I said.
+ "You'll get what you were looking for. Or have you changed
+your mind?"
+ All of which was clearly not what I was looking for, but
+as is well known, nobody knows anything until he has tried it
+himself I stepped over the high sill and the door shut behind
+me with a clang. I could hear the latches screeching home.
+ The corridor was lit by a few surviving lamps. It was
+damp, and mold grew an the cement walls. I stood still awhile,
+listening, but there was nothing to be heard but the infrequent
+tap of water drops. I moved forward cautiously. Cement rubble
+crunched underfoot. Soon the corridor came to an end, and I
+found myself in a vaulted, poorly lit concrete tunnel. When my
+eyes accommodated to the darkness, I discerned a set of tracks.
+The rails were badly rusted and puddles of dark water gleamed
+motionless along their length. Sagging cables hung from the
+ceiling. The dampness seeped to the marrow of my bones. A
+repulsive stench of sewer and carrion filled my nostrils. No,
+this was not what I was looking for. I was not of a mind to
+fritter away my time and thought of going back and telling them
+that I would be back some other time. But first, simply out of
+curiosity, I decided to take a short walk along the tunnel. I
+went to the right toward the light of distant bulbs. I jumped
+puddles, stumbled over the rotting ties, and got entangled in
+loose wires. Reaching a lamp, I stopped again.
+ The rails had been removed. Ties were strewn along the
+walls, and holes filled with water gaped along the right of
+way. Then I saw the rails. I have never seen rails in such a
+condition. Some were twisted into corkscrews. They were
+polished to a high shine and reminded me of gigantic drill
+bits. Others were driven with titanic force into the floor and
+walls of the tunnel. A third group were tied into knots. My
+skin crawled at this sight. Some were simple knots, some with a
+single bow, some with a double bow like shoelaces. They were
+mauve and brown.
+ I looked ahead into the depths of the tunnel. The smell of
+rotting carrion wafted out of it, and the dim yellow lights
+winked rhythmically as though something swayed in the draft,
+covering and uncovering them periodically. My nerves gave way.
+I felt that this was nothing more than a stupid joke, but I
+couldn't control myself. I squatted down and looked around. I
+soon found what I was looking for -- a yard-long piece of
+reinforcing rod. I stuck it under my arm and went ahead. The
+iron was wet and cold and rough with rust.
+ The reflection of the winking lights glinted on slippery
+wet walls. I had noticed some time back the round,
+strange-looking marks on them, but at first did not pay them
+any attention. Then I became interested and examined them more
+closely. As far as the eye could reach, there were two sets of
+round prints on the walls at one-meter intervals. It looked as
+though an elephant had run along the wall -- and not too long
+ago at that. On the edge of one of the prints, the remains of a
+crushed centipede still struggled feebly. Enough, I thought,
+time to go back. I looked along the tunnel. Now I could plainly
+see the swaying curves of black cables under the lamps. I took
+a better grip on the rod and went ahead, holding close to the
+wall.
+ The whole thing was getting through to me. The cables
+sagged under the arch of the tunnel, and on them, tied by their
+tails into hairy clusters, hung hundreds upon hundred of dead
+rats, swaying in the draft. Tiny teeth glinted horribly in the
+semi-dark, and rigid little legs stuck out in all directions.
+The clusters stretched in long obscene garlands into the
+distance. A thick, nauseating stench oozed from under the arch
+and flowed along the tunnel, as palpable as glutinous jelly.
+ There was a piercing screech and a huge rat scurried
+between my feet. And then another and another. I backed up.
+They were fleeing from there, from the dark where there was not
+a single lamp. Suddenly, warm air came pulsing from the same
+direction. I felt a hollow space with my elbow and pressed
+myself into the niche. Something live squirmed and squeaked
+under my heel; I swung my iron rod without looking. I had no
+time for rats, because I could hear something running heavily
+but softly along the tunnel, splashing in the puddles. It was a
+mistake to get involved in this business, thought I. The iron
+rod seemed very light and insignificant in comparison with the
+bow-tied rails. This was no flying leech, nor a dinosaur from
+the Kongo... don't let it be a giganto-pithek, I thought,
+anything but a giganto-pithek. These donkeys would have the wit
+to catch one and let it loose in the tunnel. I was thinking
+very poorly in those few seconds. And suddenly for no reason at
+all I thought of Rimeyer. Why had he sent me here? Had he gone
+out of his mind? If only it was not a giganto-pithek!
+ It raced by me so fast that I couldn't discern what it
+was.
+ The tunnel boomed from its gallop. Then there was the
+despairing scream of a caught rat right close by and...
+silence. Cautiously I peeked out. He stood about ten paces away
+directly under one of the lamps, and my legs suddenly went limp
+from relief.
+ "Smart-alec entrepreneurs," I said aloud, almost crying.
+'They would dream up something like this."
+ He heard my voice and raising his stern legs, pronounced:
+"Our temperature is two meters, twelve inches, there is no
+humidity, and what there isn't is not there."
+ "Repeat your orders," I said, approaching him.
+ He let the air out of his suction cups with a loud
+whistle, twitched his legs mindlessly, and ran up on the
+ceiling.
+ "Come down," I said sternly, "and answer my question."
+ He hung over my head, this poor long-obsolete cyber,
+intended for work an the asteroids, pitiable and out of place,
+covered with flakes of corrosion and blobs of black underground
+dirt.
+ "Get down," I barked.
+ He flung the dead rat at me and sped off into the dark.
+ "Basalts! Granites!" he yelled in different voices.
+"Pseudo-metamorphic types! I am over Berlin! Do you copy! Time
+to get to bed!"
+ I threw away the rod and followed him. He ran as far as
+the next lamp, came down, and began to dig the concrete
+rapidly, like a dog, with his heavy work manipulators. Poor
+chap, even in better times his brain was capable of performing
+properly only in less than one one-hundredth of a G, and now he
+was altogether out of his mind. I bent over him and began to
+search for the control center under his armor. "The rotters," I
+said aloud. The controls were peened over as though battered
+with a sledge. He stopped digging and grabbed me by the leg.
+ "Stop!" I shouted. "Desist!"
+ He desisted, lay down on his side, and informed me in a
+basso voice, "I am deathly tired of him, Eli. Now would be the
+time for a shot of brandy."
+ Contacts clicked inside him and music poured forth.
+Hissing and whistling, he gave a rendition of the "Hunters'
+March." I was looking at him and thinking how stupid and
+repulsive it all was, how ridiculous and at the same time
+frightening. If I had not been a spaceman, if I had been
+frightened and run, he would almost certainly have killed me.
+But nobody here knew I had been in space. Nobody. Not one
+person. Even Rimeyer didn't know.
+ "Get up," I said.
+ He buzzed and started to dig the wall, and I turned around
+and went back. All the time while I was returning to my
+turn-off I could hear him rattling and clanging in the pile of
+contorted rails, hissing with the electrowelder and ranting
+nonsense in two voices.
+ The anti-atomic door was already open, and I stepped over
+the sill, swinging it shut behind me.
+ "Well, how was it?" asked round-head.
+ "Dumb," I replied.
+ "I had no idea you were a spaceman. You have worked out on
+the planets?"
+ "I have. But it's still dumb. For fools. For illiterate
+keyed-up boobs."
+ "What kind?"
+ "Keyed-up."
+ "Well -- there you got it wrong. Lots of people like it.
+Anyway, I told you to come at night. We don't have much
+amusement for singles." He poured some whiskey and added some
+soda from the siphon. "Would you like some?"
+ I took the glass and leaned on the railing. Eli gloomily
+regarded the screen, a cigarette sticking to his lip. On the
+screen careened shifting views of the glistening tunnel walls,
+twisted rails, black puddles, and flying sparks from the
+welder.
+ 'That's not for me," I announced. "Let barbers and
+accountants enjoy it. Of course, I have nothing against them,
+but what I need is something the likes of which I have not seen
+in my entire life."
+ "So you don't know yourself what you want," said
+roundhead. "It's a hard case. Excuse me, you aren't an Intel?"
+ "Why?"
+ "Well, don't take offense -- we are all equal before the
+grim reaper, you understand. What am I trying to say? That
+Intels are the most difficult clients, that's all. Isn't that
+right, Eli? If one of your barbers or bookkeepers comes here,
+he knows very well what it is he needs. He needs to get his
+blood going, to show off and be proud of himself, to get the
+girls squealing, and exhibit the punctures in his side. These
+fellows are simple, each one wants to consider himself a man.
+After all, who is he -- our client? He has no particular
+capabilities, and he doesn't need any. In earlier times, I read
+in a book, people used to be envious of each other -- the
+neighbor is rolling in luxury and I can't save up for a
+refrigerator -- how could you put up with that? They hung on
+like bulldogs to all kinds of trash, to money, to cushy jobs --
+they laid down their lives for such things. The guy with a
+foxier head or a stronger fist would wind up on top. But now
+life has become affluent and dull and there is a plenty of
+everything. What shall a man apply himself to? A man is not a
+fish, for all that, he is still a man and gets bored, but can't
+dream up something to do for himself. To do that you need
+special talents, you need to read a mountain of books, and how
+can he do that when they make him throw up. To become
+world-famous or to invent some new machine, that's something
+that wouldn't pop into his head, but even if it did, of what
+use would it be? Nobody really needs you, not even your own
+wife and children if you examine it honestly. Right, Eli? And
+you don't need anybody either. Nowadays, it seems, clever
+people think things up for you, something new like these
+aerosols, or the shivers, or a new dance. There is that new
+drink -- it's called a polecat. Wanna me knock one together for
+you? So he downs some of this polecat, his eyes crawl out of
+their sockets, and he's happy. But as long as his eyes are in
+their sockets, life is just as dull as rainwater for him. There
+is an Intel that comes here to us, and every time he complains:
+Life, he says, is dull, my friends... but I leave here a new
+man; after, say, 'bullets' or 'twelve to one,' I see myself in
+a completely new light. Right, Eli? Everything becomes sweet
+all over again, food, drink, women."
+ "Yes," I said sympathetically. "I understand you very
+well. But for me it's all too stale."
+ "Slug is what he needs," said Eli in his bass voice.
+ "What's that again?"
+ "Slug is what I said."
+ Round-head puckered in distaste.
+ "Aw, come on, Eli. What's with you today?"
+ "I don't give a hoot for the likes of him," said Eli. "I
+just don't like these guys. Everything is insipid for him,
+nothing suits him."
+ "Don't listen to him," said round-head. "He hasn't slept
+all night and is very tired."
+ "Well, why not," I contradicted. "I am quite interested.
+What is this slug?"
+ Round-head puckered his face again.
+ "It's not decent, you understand?" he said. "Don't listen
+to Eli, he is a good enough guy, a simple fellow, but it's
+nothing for him to lambaste a man. It's a bad term. Certain
+types have taken to writing it all over the walls. Hooligans,
+that's what they are, right? The snot-noses hardly know what
+it's about, but they write anyway. See how we had to plane off
+the railing? Some son of a bitch carved into it, and if I catch
+him, I'll turn his hide inside out. We do have women coming
+here too."
+ "Tell him," pronounced Eli, addressing himself to
+roundhead, "that he should get hold of a slug and quiet down.
+Let him find Buba..."
+ "Will you shut up, Eli?" said round-head, now angry.
+"Don't pay any attention to him."
+ Having heard the name Buba, I helped myself to another
+drink and settled more comfortably on the railing.
+ "What's it all about?" I said. "Some kind of secret vice?"
+ "Secret!" boomed Eli, and let out an obscene horselaugh.
+ Round-head laughed, too.
+ "Nothing can be a secret here," he said. "What had of
+secrets can there be when people are living it up at the age of
+fifteen? The dopes, the Intels, manufacture secrets. They'd
+like to get a fracas going on the twenty-eighth, they are all
+in a huddle, took some mine launchers out of town recently to
+hide them, like kids, honest to God! Right, Eli?"
+ "Tell him," the good simple fellow Eli was persisting.
+"Tell him to be off to Hell and gone. And don't go protecting
+him. Just tell him to go to Buba at the Oasis and that's that."
+ He threw my wallet and form on the railing. I finished the
+whiskey. Round-head said soberly, "Of course, it's entirely up
+to you, but my advice is to stay away from that stuff. Maybe
+we'll all come to it someday, but the later, the better. I
+can't even explain it to you, I only feel that it is like the
+grave: never too late and always too soon."
+ "Thank you," I said.
+ "He even thanks you." Eli let loose another horselaugh.
+"Have you seen anything like it! He thanks you!"
+ "We kept three dollars," said round-head. "You can tear up
+the blank. Or let me tear it up. God forbid something should
+happen to you, the police will come looking to us."
+ "To be honest with you," I said, putting the wallet away,
+"I don't understand how they haven't closed your office
+already."
+ "Everything is on the up and up with us," said round-head.
+"If you don't want any, no one is forcing you. But if something
+should happen, it's your own fault."
+ "No one is forcing the drug addicts either," I retorted.
+ "That's some comparison! Drugs are a profiteering corrupt
+business!"
+ "Well, okay, I'll be seeing you," I said. "Thanks,
+fellows. Where did you say to look for Buba?"
+ "At the Oasis," boomed Eli. "It's a cafe. Beat it."
+ "What a polite fellow you are, my friend," I said. "It
+gets me right in my heart."
+ "Go on, beat it," repeated Eli. "Stinking Intel."
+ "Don't get so excited, pal," I said, "or you'll earn
+yourself an ulcer. Save your stomach, it's your most valuable
+possession."
+ Eli started to move slowly out from behind the railing,
+and I left. My shoulder had started to ache again.
+ A warm, heavy rain was falling outside. The leaves on the
+trees shone wetly and joyfully, there was a smell of ozone,
+freshness and thunderstorm. I stopped a taxi and named the
+Oasis. The street ran with fresh streams, and the city was so
+pretty and comfortable that it seemed improper to think of the
+moldy and abandoned Subway.
+ The rain was pelting in full swing when I jumped out of
+the car, ran across the sidewalk, and burst into the Oasis.
+There were quite a few people, most of them were eating,
+including the bartender, who was spooning some soup out of a
+dish placed among drinking glasses. Those who had finished
+eating sat smoking and abstractedly staring out of the
+streaming window at the street. I approached the bar and
+inquired in a low voice whether Buba was there. The bartender
+put down his spoon and surveyed the room.
+ "Naah," he said. "Why don't you have something to eat now,
+and he'll be along soon enough."
+ "How soon?"
+ "Twenty minutes, half an hour maybe."
+ "So!" I said. "In that case I'll have dinner, and then
+I'll come over and you can point him out to me."
+ "Uhuh," said the bartender, returning to his soup.
+ I picked up a tray, collected some sort of a meal, and sat
+down by the window away from the rest of the patrons. I wanted
+to think. I sensed that there was enough data to ponder the
+problem effectively. Some sort of pattern seemed to be forming.
+Boxes of Devon in the bathroom. Pore-nose spoke about Buba and
+Devon (in whispers). Eli talked of Buba and "slug." A clear
+chain of links -- bath, Devon, Buba, slug. Further: the
+sunburned fellow with the muscles cautioned that Devon was the
+worst of junk, while the roundhead saw no difference between
+slug and the grave. It all had to fit together. It seemed to be
+what we were looking for. If so, then Rimeyer had done the
+right thing to send me to the Fishers. Rimeyer, I said to
+myself, why did you send me to the Fishers? And even order me
+to do as I was told and not to fuss about it? And you didn't
+know, after all, that I was a spaceman, Rimeyer. If you did
+know, there were still the other games with bullets and "one
+against twelve," besides the demented cyber. You really took a
+dislike to me for something or other, Rimeyer. Somehow I have
+crossed you. But no, said I, this cannot be. It is simply that
+you did not trust me, Rimeyer. It is simply that there is
+something that I do not know yet. For example, I do net know
+just who this Oscar is who trades in Devon in this resort city
+and who is connected with you, Rimeyer. Most likely you have
+been meeting with Oscar before our conversation in the elevator
+... I don't want to think about that.
+ There he was lying like a dead man and here I was thinking
+such things about him when he could not defend himself.
+Suddenly I felt a repulsive cold crawling feeling inside. All
+right, suppose we trapped this gang. What would change? The
+shivers would remain, lop-eared Len would be up all night as
+before, Vousi would be coming home disgustingly drunk, while
+customs inspector Pete would be smashing his face into broken
+glass. And all would be concerned about the "good of the
+people." Some would be irrigated with tear gas, some would be
+driven into the ground up to their ears, others would be
+converted from apehood into something which passes muster as
+human.... And then the shivers would go out of style and the
+people would be presented with the super-shivers, while in lieu
+of the extirpated slug a super-slug would surface. Everything
+would be for the good of the people. Have fun, Boobland, and
+don't think about a thing!
+ Two men in cloaks sat down at the next table with their
+trays. One of them seemed to me in some way familiar. He had a
+haughty thoroughbred face, and were it not for a thick white
+bandage on the left side of his jaw, I was sure I would
+recognize him. The other was a ruddy man with a bald pate and
+fussy movements. They were speaking quietly, but not so as to
+be inaudible, and I could hear them quite well where I was
+sitting.
+ "Understand me correctly," the ruddy one said with
+conviction while hurriedly consuming his schnitzel, "I am not
+at all against theaters and museums. But the allocation for the
+municipal theater for the past year has not been expended
+fully, while only tourists visit the museums."
+ "Also picture thieves," inserted the man with the bandage.
+ "Drop that, please, we don't have pictures that are worth
+the theft. Thank God, they have learned how to synthesize
+Sistine Madonnas out of sawdust. I wish to call your attention
+to the point that dissemination of culture in our time must
+occur in an entirely different manner. Culture must not be
+inculcated into the people, rather it must emanate from the
+people. Public chorister, do-it-yourself groups, mass games --
+that is what our public needs."
+ "What our public needs is a good army of occupation," said
+the man with the bandage.
+ "Please stop talking that way, when you actually don't
+believe what you are saying. Our coverage by the various
+associations is really at an unacceptably poor level. For
+instance, Boella complained to me last night that only one man
+attends her readings, and he apparently only does so out of
+matrimonial intentions. But we need to distract the people from
+the shivers, from alcohol, from sexual pastimes. We need to
+raise the tone --"
+ The other interrupted, "What do you want from me? That I
+should defend your project against that ass, our honorable
+mayor, today? Be my guest! It is absolutely all the same to me.
+But if you would like to hear my opinion about tone and spirit,
+let me tell you it does not exist, my dear Senator; it is long
+dead! It has been smothered in belly fat! And if I were in your
+place I would take that into account and only that!"
+ The ruddy man seemed to be crushed. He was silent for a
+while and then groaned suddenly, "Dear God, dear God, to think
+of what we have been driven to concern ourselves with! But I
+ask you -- is not someone flying to the stars? Somewhere meson
+reactors are being built, new learning systems are being
+devised! Dear God, I just recently grasped that we are not even
+a backwater, we are a preserve! In the eyes of the whole world
+we are a sanctuary of stupidity, ignorance, and pornocracy.
+Imagine, Professor Rubenstein has a chair in our city for the
+second year. A sociopsychologist of world renown. He is
+studying us like animals. Instinctive Sociology of Decaying
+Economic Structures -- that's the name of his work. He is
+interested in people as bearers of primeval instincts, and he
+complained to me that it was very difficult for him to gather
+data in countries where instinctive activity is distorted and
+suppressed by pedagogical systems! But with us he is in seventh
+heaven! In his own words, we don't have any activity other than
+instinctive! I was insulted, I was ashamed, but, good Lord,
+what could I say to contradict him? You must understand me! You
+are an intelligent man, my friend, I know you are a cold man,
+but I can't really believe that you are indifferent to such a
+degree."
+ The man with the bandage looked at him haughtily and then,
+abruptly, his cheek twitched. I recognized him at once: he was
+the character with the monocle who had thrown the luminous slop
+all over me so deftly yesterday at the Art Patrons' hall.
+ Why, you vulture, thought I. You thief. So you need an
+army of occupation! Spirit smothered in lard indeed!
+ "Forgive me, Senator," he said. "I do understand it all,
+and that's precisely why it is perfectly clear to me that
+everything surrounding you is in a state of dementia. The final
+spasm! Euphoria!"
+ I got up and approached their table.
+ "May I join you?" I asked.
+ He stared at me in astonishment. I sat down.
+ "Please excuse me," I said. "I am, to be specific, a
+tourist and just a short time here; while you seem to be
+natives and even to have some connection with the municipal
+government. So I decided to inflict myself on you. I keep
+hearing about Art Patrons, Art Patrons. But what it's all about
+no one seems to know."
+ The man with the bandage experienced another tie in his
+cheek. His eyes grew wide -- he too recognized me.
+ "Art Patrons?" said the ruddy one. "Yes, there is such a
+barbarous organization with us here. It is very sad that such
+is the case, but it's so."
+ I nodded, studying the bandage. My acquaintance had
+already regained his composure and was eating his jelly with
+his accustomed haughty look.
+ "In essence they are simply modern-age vandals. I simply
+couldn't find a more appropriate word. They pool their
+resources and buy up stolen paintings, statues, manuscripts,
+unpublished literary works, patents, and destroy them. Can you
+imagine how revolting that is? They And some pathological
+delight in the destruction of examples of world culture. They
+gather in a large, well-dressed crowd and slowly, deliberately,
+orgiastically destroy them!"
+ "Oh my, my, my!" I said, not taking my eyes off the
+bandage. "Such people should be hung by their legs."
+ "And we are after them," said the ruddy one. "We are in
+pursuit of them on the legal level. We are unfortunately unable
+to get after the Artiques and the Perchers, who are not
+breaking any laws, but as far as the Art Patrons are concerned
+--"
+ "Are you finished yet, Senator?" inquired the bandaged
+one, ignoring me.
+ The ruddy one caught himself.
+ "Yes, yes. It's time for us to go. You will excuse us,
+please," he said, turning to me. "We have a meeting of the
+municipal council."
+ "Bartender!" called the bandaged one in a metallic voice.
+"Would you call us a taxi."
+ "Have you been here long?" asked the ruddy man.
+ "Second day," I replied.
+ "Do you like it?"
+ "A beautiful city."
+ "Mm -- yes," he mumbled.
+ We were silent. The man with the bandage impudently
+inserted his monocle and pulled out a cigar.
+ "Does it hurt?" I asked sympathetically.
+ "What, exactly?"
+ "The jaw," I said. "And the liver should hurt, too."
+"Nothing ever hurts me," he replied, monocle glinting. "Are you
+two acquainted?" the ruddy one asked in astonishment.
+ "Slightly," I said. "We had an argument about art."
+ The bartender called out that the taxi had arrived. The
+man with the bandage immediately got up.
+ "Let's go, Senator," he said.
+ The ruddy one smiled at me abstractedly and also got up.
+ They set off for the exit. I followed them with my eyes
+and went to the bar.
+ "Brandy?" asked the bartender.
+ "Quite," I said. I shuddered with rage. "Who are those
+people I just spoke to?"
+ 'The baldy is a municipal counselor, his field are
+cultural affairs. The one with the monocle is the city
+comptroller."
+ "Comptroller," I said. "A scoundrel is what he is."
+ "Really?" said the barman with interest.
+ 'That's right, really," I said. "Is Buba here?"
+ "Not yet. And how about the comptroller, what is he up
+ to?"
+ "A scoundrel, an embezzler, that's what he is," I said.
+ The bartender thought awhile.
+ "It could well be," he said. "In fact he's a baron -- that
+is, he used to be, of course. His ways, sure enough, are
+unsavory. Too bad I didn't go vote or I would have voted
+against him. What's he done to you?"
+ "It's you he's done. And I've given him some back. And
+I'll give him some more in due time. Such is the situation."
+ The bartender, not understanding anything, nodded and
+said, "Hit it again?"
+ "Do," I said.
+ He poured me more brandy and said,
+ "And here is Buba, coming in."
+ I turned around and barely managed to keep the glass in my
+grip. I recognized Buba.
+
+<ul><a name=10></a><h2>Chapter TEN</h2></ul>
+
+ He stood by the door looking about him as though trying to
+remember where he had come and what he was to do there. His
+appearance was very unlike his old one, but I recognized him at
+once anyway, because for four years we sat next to each other
+in the lecture halls of the school, and then there were several
+years when we met almost daily.
+ "Say," I addressed the bartender. "They call him Buba?"
+ "Uhuh," said the bartender.
+ "What is it -- a nickname?"
+ "How should I know? Buba is Buba, that's what they all
+call him."
+ "Peck," I cried.
+ Everyone looked at me. He too slowly turned his head and
+his eyes searched for the caller. But he paid no attention to
+me. As though remembering something, he suddenly started to
+shake the water out of his cape with convulsive motions, and
+then, dragging his heels, hobbled over to the bar and climbed
+with difficulty on the stool next to mine.
+ "The usual," he said to the bartender. His voice was dull
+and strangled, as though someone held him by the throat.
+ "Someone has been waiting for you," said the barman,
+placing before him a glass of neat alcohol and a deep dish
+filled with granulated sugar.
+ Slowly he turned his head and looked at me, saying, "Well,
+what is it you want?"
+ His drooping eyelids were inflamed red, with accumulated
+slime in the corners. He breathed through his mouth as though
+suffering with adenoids.
+ "Peck Xenai," I said quietly. "Undergraduate Peck Xenai,
+please return from earth to heaven."
+ He continued to regard me without a change in his manner.
+Then he licked his lips and said, "A classmate, perhaps?"
+ I felt numb and terrified. He turned around, picked up his
+glass, drank it down, gagging in revulsion, and began to eat
+the sugar with a large soup spoon. The bartender poured him
+another glass.
+ "Peck," I said, "old friend, don't you remember me?"
+ He looked me over again.
+ "I wouldn't say that. I probably did see you somewhere."
+ "Saw me somewhere!" I said in desperation. "I am Ivan
+Zhilin. Could it be you have completely forgotten me?"
+ His hand holding the glass quivered almost imperceptibly,
+and that was all.
+ "No, friend," he said, "forgive me, please, but I don't
+remember you."
+ "And you don't remember the 'Tahmasib' or Iowa Smith?"
+ "This heartburn has really got to me today," he informed
+the bartender. "Let me have some soda, Con."
+ The bartender, who had listened with curiosity, poured him
+a soda.
+ "Bad day, today, Con," he said. "Can you imagine, two
+automates failed on me today."
+ The bartender shook his head and sighed.
+ "The manager is bitching," continued Buba, "called me on
+the carpet and bawled me out. I am going to quit that place. I
+told him to go to hell and he fired me."
+ "Complain to the union," the bartender advised.
+ "To hell with them." He drank his soda and wiped his mouth
+with the palm of his hand. He did not look at me.
+ I sat as though spat upon, forgetting completely what it
+was I wanted Buba for. I needed Buba, not Peck -- that is, I
+needed Peck too. But not this one. This was not Peck, this was
+some strange and repulsive Buba, and I watched in horror as he
+sucked up the second glass of alcohol and again set to
+shoveling spoonfuls of sugar into himself. His face effloresced
+with red spots, and he kept gagging and listening to the
+bartender as he animatedly recounted the latest football
+exploits. I wanted to cry out, "Peck, what has happened to you?
+Peck, you used to hate all this!" I put my hand on his shoulder
+and said imploringly, "Peck, dear friend, hear me out, please."
+ He shied away.
+ "What's the matter, friend?" His eyes were now completely
+unseeing. "I am not Peck, I am Buba, do you understand? You are
+confusing me with someone else, there isn't any Peck here....
+So what did the Rhinos do then, Con?"
+ I reminded myself where I was, and forced myself to
+understand that there was no more Peck, and that there was a
+Buba, here, an agent of a criminal organization, and this was
+the only reality, while Peck Xenai was a mirage -- a memory
+which must be quickly extirpated if I intended to press on with
+my work.
+ "Hold on, Buba," I said. "I want to talk business to you."
+ He was quite drunk by now.
+ "I don't talk business at the bar," he announced. "And
+anyway I am through with work. Done. I have no more business of
+any kind. You can apply to the city hall, friend. They'll help
+you out."
+ "I am applying to you, not the city hall," I said. "Will
+you listen to me!"
+ "You I hear all the time, as it is. To the detriment of my
+health."
+ "My business is quite simple," I said. "I need a slug."
+ He shuddered violently.
+ "Are you out of your mind, pal?"
+ "You should be ashamed," said the bartender. "Right out in
+front of people... you have lost all sense of decency."
+ "Shut up," I told him.
+ "You be quiet," the barman said menacingly. "It must be
+some time since you've been busted? Watch your step or you'll
+get exported."
+ "I don't give a damn about the exportation," I said
+insolently. "Don't stick your snoot in other people's
+business."
+ "Lousy sluggard," said the bartender.
+ He was visibly incensed, but spoke in a low voice. "A slug
+he wants. I'll call an officer right now and he'll give you a
+slug."
+ Buba slid off the stool and hurriedly hobbled toward the
+door.
+ I left off with the bartender and hurried after him. He
+shot out into the rain, and forgetting to cover himself with
+his cape, started to look around in search of a taxi. I caught
+up with him and grasped him by the sleeve.
+ "What in God's name do you want from me?" he said
+miserably. "I'll call the police."
+ "Peck," I said. "Come out of it, Peck. I am Ivan Zhilin,
+and you must remember me."
+ He kept looking around and wiping the streaming water from
+his face with the palm of his hand. He looked pitiful and run
+down, and I, trying to suppress my irritation, kept insisting
+to myself that this was my Peck, priceless Peck, irreplaceable
+Peck, good, intelligent, joyful Peck, kept trying to remember
+him as he was in front of the Gladiator's control console, and
+I couldn't because I couldn't imagine him anywhere except at
+the bar over a glass of alcohol.
+ "Taxi," he screeched, but the car flew by, full of people.
+ "Peck," I said, "come with me. I'll tell you all about
+it."
+ "Leave me alone," he said, his teeth chattering. "I won't
+go anywhere with you. Leave off! I didn't bother you, I didn't
+do anything to you, leave me be, for God's sake."
+ "All right," I said, "I'll let you alone. But you must
+give me a slug and also your address."
+ "I don't know of any slugs," he moaned. "God, what kind of
+a day is this!"
+ Favoring his left leg, he wandered off and suddenly dove
+into a basement under an elegant and restrained sign. I
+followed. We sat down at a table and a waiter immediately
+brought us hot meat and beer, although we hadn't ordered
+anything. Buba was shivering and his wet face turned blue. He
+pushed the plate away with revulsion and began to swallow the
+beer, both hands around the mug. The basement was quiet and
+empty. Over the sparkling counter hung a white sign with gold
+letters reading, "Paid Service Only."
+ Buba raised his head from the beer and said pleadingly,
+"Can I go, Ivan? I can't... What's the point of all this talk?
+Let me go, please."
+ I put my hand on his.
+ "What's happening to you, Peck? I searched for you. There
+is no address listed anywhere. I met you quite by accident, and
+I don't understand anything. How did you get involved in this
+mess? Can I help you possibly, with anything? Maybe we could
+--"
+ Suddenly he jerked his hand away in a rage.
+ "What an executioner," he hissed. "The devil lured me to
+that Oasis.... Stupid chatter, drivel. I have no slug, do you
+understand? I have one, but I won't give it to you. What'll I
+do then -- like Archimedes? Don't you have any conscience? Then
+don't torture me, let me go."
+ "I can't let you go," I said, "until I get the slug. And
+your address. We must talk."
+ "I don't want to talk to you, can't you understand? I
+don't want to talk to anyone about anything. I want to go home.
+I won't give you my slug. What am I -- a factory? Give it to
+you and then chase all over town?"
+ I kept silent. It was clear that he hated me now. That if
+he thought he had the strength he would kill me and leave. But
+he knew that he did not have the strength.
+ "Scum," he said in a fury. "Why can't you buy one
+yourself? Don't you have the money? Here! Here!" he began to
+search convulsively in his pockets, throwing coppers and
+crumpled bills on the table. "Take it, there's plenty."
+ "Buy what? Where?"
+ "There's a damned jackass! It's... what is it? Hmm... how
+do you call it... Oh hell!" he cried. "May you drop straight to
+hell!"
+ He stuck his fingers into his shirt pocket and pulled out
+a flat plastic case. Inside it was a shiny metal tube, similar
+to a pocket radio local oscillator-mixer subassembly. "Here --
+get fat!" He proffered me the tube. It was quite small, less
+than an inch long and a millimeter thick.
+ "Thank you," I said. "And how do I use it?"
+ Peck's eyes opened wide. I think he even smiled.
+ "Good God!" he said almost tenderly. "Can it be you really
+don't know?"
+ "I know nothing," I said.
+ "Well then, you should have said so from the start. And I
+thought you were tormenting me like a torturer. You have a
+radio? Insert it in place of the mixer, hang it, stand it
+somewhere in the bath, and go to!"
+ "In the tub?"
+ "Yes."
+ "It must be in the bath?"
+ "But yes! It is absolutely necessary that your body be
+ immersed in water. In hot water. What an ass you are!"
+ "And how about Devon?"
+ "The Devon goes in the water. About five tablets in the
+water and one orally. The taste is awful, but you won't regret
+it later. And one more thing, be sure to add bath salts to the
+water. And before you start, have a couple of glasses of
+something strong. This is required so that... how shall I say?
+-- so you can loosen up, sort of."
+ "So," I said. "I got it. Now I've got everything." I
+wrapped the slug in a paper napkin and put it in my pocket. "So
+it's electric wave psychotechnics?"
+ "Good Lord, now what do you care about that?"
+ He was up already, pulling the hood over his head.
+ "No matter," I said. "How much do I owe you?"
+ "A trifle, nonsense! Let's go quickly... what the hell are
+we losing time for?"
+ We went up into the street.
+ "You made the right decision," said Peck. What kind of
+world is this? Are we men in it? Trash is what it is and not a
+world. Taxi!" he yelled. "Hey, taxi!"
+ He shook in sudden excitement. "What possessed me to go to
+that Oasis... Oh no... from now on I'll go nowhere ...
+nowhere."
+ "Let me have your address," I said.
+ "What do you want with my address?"
+ A taxi drew up and Buba tore at the door.
+ "Address," I said, grabbing him by the shoulder.
+ "What a dumbhead," said Buba.. "Sunshine Street, number
+eleven... Dumbhead!" he repeated, seating himself.
+ "I'll come to see you tomorrow."
+ He paid no more attention to me.
+ "Sunshine," he threw at the driver. "Through downtown, and
+hurry, for God's sake."
+ How simple, I thought, looking after his car. How simple
+everything turned out to be. And everything fits. The bath and
+Devon. Also the screaming radios, which irritated us so, and to
+which we never paid any attention. We simply turned them off. I
+took a taxi and set out for home.
+ But what if he deceived me, I thought. Simply wanted to be
+rid of me sooner. But I would determine that soon enough. He
+doesn't look like a runner, an agent, at all, I thought. After
+all, he is Peck. However, no, he is no longer Peck. Poor Peck.
+You are no agent, you are simply a victim. You know where to
+buy this filth, but you are only a victim. I don't want to
+interrogate Peck, I don't want to shake him down like some
+punk. True, he is no longer Peck. Nonsense, what does that
+mean, that he is not Peck. He is Peck, and still I'll have
+to... Electric wave psychotechnics... But the shivers they're
+wave psychotechnics too.... Somehow, it's a bit too simple. I
+haven't passed two days here yet, while Rimeyer has been living
+here since the uprising. We left him behind, and he had gone
+native and everyone was pleased with him, although in his
+latest reports he wrote that nothing like what we were looking
+for existed here. True, he has nervous exhaustion... and Devon
+on the floor. Also there is Oscar. Further, he did not beg me
+to leave him be, but simply pointed me in the direction of the
+Fishers.
+ I didn't meet anyone either in the front yard or in the
+hall.. It was almost five. I went to my rooms and called
+Rimeyer. A quiet female voice answered.
+ "How is the patient?" I asked.
+ "He is asleep. He shouldn't be disturbed."
+ "I won't do that. Is he better?"
+ "I told you he fell asleep. And don't call too often,
+please. The phone disturbs him."
+ "You will be with him all the time?"
+ "Till morning, at least. If you call again, I'll have the
+phone disconnected."
+ "Thank you," I said. "Just, please, don't leave him till
+morning, I'll not trouble you again."
+ I hung up and sat awhile in the big comfortable chair in
+front of the huge absolutely bare table. Then I took the slug
+out of my pocket and laid it in front of me. A small shiny
+tube, inconspicuous and completely harmless to all outward
+appearances, an ordinary electronic component. Such can be made
+by the millions. They should cost pennies.
+ "What's that you got there?" asked Len, right next to my
+ He stood alongside and regarded the slug.
+ "Don't you know?" I asked.
+ "It's from a radio. I have one like it in my radio and
+it's breaking all the time."
+ I pulled my radio out of my pocket and extracted its mixer
+and laid it alongside the slug. The mixer looked like the slug,
+but it was not a slug.
+ "They are not the same," said Len. "But I have seen one of
+those gadgets, too."
+ "What gadget?"
+ "Like the one you have."
+ All at once, his face clouded over and he looked grim.
+ "Did you remember?"
+ "No, I didn't," he said. "I didn't remember anything."
+ "All right, then." I picked up the slug and inserted it in
+place of the mixer in the radio. Len grabbed me by the hand.
+ "Don't," he said.
+ "Why not?"
+ He didn't reply, eyeing the radio warily.
+ "What are you afraid of?" I asked.
+ "I'm not afraid of anything. Where did you get that idea?"
+ "Look in the mirror," I said. "You look as though you are
+afraid for me." I put the radio in my pocket.
+ "For you?" he said in astonishment.
+ "Obviously for me. Not for yourself, of course, though you
+are still scared of those... necrotic phenomena."
+ He looked sideways.
+ "Where did you get that idea," he said. "We're just
+playing."
+ I snorted in disdain.
+ "I am well acquainted with these games. Rut one thing I
+ don't know: where in our time do necrotic phenomena come
+from?"
+ He glanced around and began backing up.
+ "I'm going," he said.
+ "O no," I said decisively. "Let's finish what we started.
+Man to man. Don't think that I am altogether an ignoramus."
+ "What do you know?" He was already near the door and
+talking very quietly.
+ "More than you," I said severely. "But I don't want to
+shout it all over the house. If you want to talk, come on over
+here. Climb up on the desk and have yourself a seat. Believe
+me, I'm not a necrotic phenomenon."
+ He hesitated for a whole minute, and everything for which
+he hoped and everything of which he was afraid appeared and
+disappeared on his face. At last, he said, "Just let me close
+the door."
+ He ran into the living room, closed the door to the
+hallway, returned to close the study door tight, and approached
+me. His hands were in his pockets, the face white, contrasting
+with the protruding ears, which were red but cold.
+ "In the first place, you are a dope," I pronounced,
+dragging him toward me and standing him between my knees. "Once
+there was a boy who lived in such a fear that his pants never
+dried out, not even when he was on a beach, and his ears were
+as cold as though they had been left in a refrigerator
+overnight. This boy trembled constantly and so well that when
+he grew up his legs were all wiggly, and his skin became like
+that of a plucked goose."
+ I was hoping that he would smile just once, but he
+listened very intently and very seriously inquired, "And what
+was he afraid of?"
+ "He had an elder brother, who was a nice fellow, but a
+great one for drinking. And, as often happens, the tipsy
+brother was not at all like the sober brother. He got to look
+very wild indeed. And when he really drank a lot, he got to
+look like a dead man. So this boy..."
+ A contemptuous smile appeared on Len's face.
+ "He sure found something to be scared of. When they are
+drunk is when they turn good."
+ "Who are they?" I asked immediately. "Mother? Vousi?"
+ "That's it. Mother is just the opposite -- in the morning
+when she gets up, she's always nasty, and then she drinks
+vermouth once, then twice, and that's it. Toward evening she is
+altogether nice because night is near."
+ "And at night?"
+ "At night that creep comes around," Len said reluctantly.
+ "We are not concerned with the creep," I said in a
+businesslike manner. "It's not from him that you run to the
+garage."
+ "I don't run," he said stubbornly. "It's a game."
+ "I don't know, I don't know," I said. "There are, of
+course, certain things in this world of which even I am afraid.
+For instance when a boy is crying and trembling. I can't look
+at such things, and it just turns me over inside. Or when your
+teeth hurt and it is required by circumstances that you keep on
+smiling -- that's pretty bad and there is no way of ignoring
+it. But there are also just plain stupidities. When, for
+example, some idiots help themselves, out of sheer boredom and
+surfeit, to the brain of a living monkey. That's no longer
+frightening, it's just plain disgusting. Especially as they
+didn't think it up by themselves. It was a thousand years ago
+when they thought of it first, and also out of excessive
+affluence, the fat tyrants of the Far East. And contemporary
+idiots heard and rejoiced. But they should be pitied, not
+feared."
+ "Pity them?" said Len. "But they don't pity anybody. They
+do whatever they like. It's all the same to them, don't you
+see? It they are bored, then they don't care whose head they
+saw apart. Idiots... Maybe in the daytime they are idiots, but
+you don't seem to understand that at night they are not idiots,
+they are all accursed."
+ "How can that be?"
+ "They are cursed by the whole world They can have no
+peace, and they won't ever have it. You don't know anything.
+What's it to you? As you arrived, so you will leave... but they
+are alive at night, and in the daytime they are dead,
+corpselike."
+ I went to the living room and brought him some water. He
+drank down the glass and said, "Will you leave soon?"
+ "Of course not, how can you think that? I just got here,"
+I said, patting him on the shoulder.
+ "Could I sleep with you?"
+ "Of course."
+ "At first I had a padlock, but she took it away for some
+reason. But why she took it she won't say."
+ "OK," I said. "You will sleep in my living room. Do you
+want to?"
+ "Yes."
+ "Go ahead and lock yourself in and sleep to your heart's
+content. And I will climb into the bedroom through the window."
+ He raised his head and gazed at me intently.
+ "You think your doors lock? I know all about this place.
+ Yours don't lock either."
+ "It's for you they don't lock," I said as negligently as
+possible. "But for me they'll lock. It's only a half-hour's
+work."
+ He laughed unpleasantly, like an adult.
+ "You are afraid, too. All right, I was only joking. Don't
+be afraid, your locks do work"
+ "You dope," I said. "Didn't I tell you I wasn't afraid of
+anything of that sort?" He looked at me questioningly. "I
+wanted to make the lock work for you in the living room, so you
+could sleep in peace, as long as you are so afraid. As for me,
+I always sleep with the window open."
+ "I told you, I was joking."
+ We were silent for a bit.
+ "Len," I said, "what will you be when you grow up?" "What
+do you mean?" he said. He was quite astonished. "What do I
+care?"
+ "Now, now -- what do you care. It's all the same to you
+whether you will be a chemist or a bartender?"
+ "I told you -- we are all under a curse. You can't get
+away from it, why can't you understand that? When everybody
+knows it?"
+ "So what?" I said. "There were accursed peoples before.
+And then children were born who grew up and removed the curse."
+ "How?"
+ "That would take a long time to explain, old friend." I
+got up. "I'll be sure to tell you all about it. For now, go on
+out and play. You do play in the daytime? Okay then, run along.
+When the sun sets, come on over, I'll make your bed."
+ He stuck his hands in his pockets and went to the door.
+There he stopped and said aver his shoulder, "That gadget you'd
+better take it out of the radio. What do you think it is?"
+ "A local oscillator-mixer," I said.
+ "It's not a mixer at all. Take it out or it will be bad
+for you." "Why will it be bad for me?" I said.
+ "Take it out," be said. "You'll hate everybody. Right now
+you are not cursed, blat you will become cursed. Who gave it to
+you? Vousi?"
+ "No."
+ He looked at me imploringly.
+ "Ivan, take it out!"
+ "So be it," I said. "I'll take it out. Run along and play.
+And never be afraid of me. Do you hear?"
+ He didn't say anything and went out, leaving me sitting in
+my chair, with my hands on the desk. Soon I heard him puttering
+about in the lilacs under the windows. He rustled, stamped
+about, muttering something under his breath, and softly
+exclaimed, talking to himself, "Bring the flags and put them
+here and here... that's it... that's it... and then I got on a
+plane and flew away into the mountains." I wondered when he
+went to bed. It would be all right if it were eight o'clock or
+even nine; maybe it was a mistake to start all this business
+with him. I could have locked myself in the bathroom and in two
+hours I would know everything. But no, I couldn't refuse him --
+just imagine I was in his place, I thought. But this is not the
+way; I am catering to his fears, when I should think of
+something more clever. But try to come up with it -- this is no
+Anyudinsk boarding school.
+ A boarding school this certainly is not, I thought. How
+different everything is, and what lies ahead of me now, which
+circle of paradise, I wonder? But if it tickles, I won't be
+able to stand it! Interesting -- the Fishers -- they too are a
+circle of paradise, for sure. The Art Patrons are for the
+aristocrats of the mind, and the old Subway is for the simpler
+types, although the Intels are also aristocrats of the mind and
+they get intoxicated like swine and become totally useless,
+even they are useless. There is too much bate, not enough love
+-- it's easy to teach hate, but love is hard to teach. But
+then, love has been too well overdone and slobbered over so it
+has become passive. How is it that love is always passive and
+hate always active and is thus always attractive? And then it
+is said that hate is natural, while love is of the mind and
+springs from deep thought.
+ It should be worthwhile to have a talk with the Intels, I
+thought. They can't all be hysterical fools, and what if I
+should succeed in finding a Man. What in fact is good in man
+that comes from nature -- a pound of gray matter. But this too
+is not always good, so that he always must start from a naked
+nothing; maybe it would be good if man could inherit social
+advances, but then again, Len would now be a small-scale major
+general. No, better not -- better to start from zero. True he
+would not now be afraid of anything, but instead he would be
+frightening others -- those who weren't major generals.
+ I was startled to suddenly see Len perched in the branches
+of the apple tree regarding me fixedly. The next moment he was
+gone, leaving only the crash of branches and falling apples as
+an aftermath. He doesn't believe me in the slightest, I
+thought. He believes nobody. And whom do I believe in this
+town? I went over everyone I could recall. No, I didn't trust
+anyone. I picked up the telephone, dialed the Olympic and asked
+for number 817.
+ "Hello! Yes?" said Oscar's voice.
+ I kept quiet, covering the radio with my hand.
+ "Hello, I'm listening," repeated Oscar irritably. "That's
+the second time," he said to someone aside. "Hello!... Of
+course not, what sort of women could I be carrying on with
+here?" He hung up.
+ I picked up the Mintz volume, lay down on the couch, and
+read until twilight. I dearly love Mintz, but I couldn't
+remember a word I read that day. The evening shift roared by
+noisily. Aunt Vaina fed Len his supper, stuffing him with hot
+milk and crackers. Len whimpered and was fretful while she
+cajoled him gently and patiently. Customs inspector Pete
+propounded in a commanding yet benevolent tone, "You have to
+eat, you have to eat, if Mother says eat, you must comply."
+ Two men of loose character, if one could judge by their
+voices, came around looking for Vousi and made a play for Aunt
+Vaina. I thought they were drunk. It was growing dark rapidly.
+At eight o'clock the phone in the study rang. I ran barefooted
+and grabbed the receiver, but no one spoke. As you holler, so
+it echoes. At eight-ten, there was a knock on the door. I was
+delighted, expecting Len, but it turned out to be Vousi.
+ "Why don't you ever come around?" she asked indignantly
+from the doorway. She was wearing shorts decorated with
+suggestively winking faces, a tight-fitting sleeveless shirt
+exposing her navel, and a huge translucent scarf: she was fresh
+and firm as a ripe apple. To a surfeit.
+ "I sit and wait for him all day, and all the time he is
+sacked out here. Does something hurt?"
+ I got up and stuck my feet into my shoes.
+ "Have a chair, Vousi." I patted the couch alongside me.
+ "I am not going to sit by you. Imagine -- he is reading.
+You could at least offer me a drink."
+ "In the bar," I said, "How is your sloppy cow?"
+ "Thank God she was not around today," said Vousi,
+disappearing in the bar. "Today I drew the mayor's wife. What a
+moron. Why, she wants to know, doesn't anyone love her?... You
+want yours with water? Eyes white, face red, and a rear end as
+wide as a sofa, just like a frog, honest to God. Listen, let's
+make a polecat, nowadays everybody makes polecats."
+ "I don't go for doing like everybody."
+ "I can see that for myself. Everyone is out for a good
+time, and he is here -- sacked out. And reading to boot."
+ "He -- is tired," I said.
+ "Oh, so? Well then, I can leave!"
+ "But I won't let you," I said, catching her by the scarf
+and pulling her down beside me. "Vousi, dear girl, are you a
+specialist only for ladies' good humor or in general? You
+wouldn't be able to put a lonely man whom nobody loves into a
+good humor?"
+ "What's to love?" She looked me over. "Red eyes and a
+potato for a nose."
+ "Like an alligator's."
+ "Like a dog's. Don't go putting your arm about me, I won't
+allow it. Why didn't you come over?"
+ "And why did you abandon me yesterday?"
+ "How do you like that --.abandoned him!"
+ "All alone in a strange town."
+ "I abandoned him! Why, I locked for you all over. I told
+everyone that you are a Tungus, and you got lost -- that was a
+poor thing for you to do. No -- I won't permit that! Where were
+you last night? Fishering, no doubt. And the same thing today,
+you won't tell any stories."
+ "Why shouldn't I tell?" I said. And I told her about the
+old Subway. I sensed at once that the truth would be
+inadequate, and so I spoke of men in metallic masks, of a
+terrible oath, of a wall wet with blood, of a sobbing skeleton,
+and I let her feel the bump behind my ear. She liked everything
+very well.
+ "Let's go right now," she said.
+ "Not for anything," I said and lay down.
+ "What kind of manners is that? Get up at once and we'd go.
+Of course, no one will believe me. But you will show your bump,
+and everything will be just perfect."
+ "And then we'll go to the shivers?" I wanted to know.
+ "But yes! You know that turns out to he even good for your
+health."
+ "And we'll drink brandy?"
+ "Brandy and vermouth and a polecat and whiskey."
+ "Enough, enough... and no doubt we'll also squeeze into
+cars and drive at a hundred and fifty miles per hour?...
+Listen, Vousi, why should you go there?"
+ She finally understood and smiled in discomfiture.
+ "And what's wrong with it? The Fishers also go."
+ "There is nothing bad," I said. "But what's good about
+it?"
+ "I don't know. Everybody does it. Sometimes it's a lot of
+fun... and the shivers. There everything -- all your wishes
+come true."
+ "And that's it? That's all there is?"
+ "Well, not everything, of course. But whatever you think
+ about, whatever you would like to happen, often happens.
+Just like in a dream."
+ "Well then maybe it would be better to go to bed?"
+ "What's the matter with you?" she said sulkily. "In a real
+dream all kinds of things happen... as though you don't know!
+But with the shivers, only what you like!"
+ "And what do you like?"
+ "We-e-ll! Lots of things."'
+ "Still... imagine I am a magician. And I say to you, have
+three wishes. Anything at all, whatever you wish. The most
+impossible. And I will make them come true. Well?"
+ She thought very hard so that even her shoulders sagged.
+Then her face lit up.
+ "Let me never grow old," she said.
+ "Excellent," I said. "That's one."
+ "Let me..." she began inspiredly and stopped.
+ I used to enjoy tremendously asking my friends this very
+question and used to ask it at every available opportunity.
+Several times I even assigned compositions to my youngsters on
+the theme of three wishes. And it was always most amusing that
+out of a thousand men and women, oldsters and children, only
+two or three dozen figured that it is possible to wish not only
+for themselves personally, or their immediate close ones, but
+also for the world at large, for mankind as a whole. No, this
+was not witness to the ineradicable human egotism; the wishes
+were not invariably strictly selfish, and the majority in
+subsequent discussions, when reminded of missed opportunities
+and the large problems of all mankind, did a double take and in
+honest anger reproached me that I hadn't explained at the
+beginning. But one way or another they all began their reply
+along the lines of "Let me..." This was a manifestation of some
+kind of ancient subconscious conviction that your own personal
+wishes cannot change anything in the wide world, and it makes
+no difference whether you do or do not have a magic wand.
+ "Let me..." began Vousi once more, and again was silent. I
+was watching her surreptitiously. She noticed this, and
+dissolving into a broad smile, said with a wave of her hand,
+"So that's your game. Some card you are!"
+ "No -- no -- no," I said. "You should always be prepared
+to answer this question. Because I knew a man once who always
+asked it of everyone, and then was inconsolable -- 'Oh what an
+opportunity I missed, how could I not have figured it out?' So
+you see it's entirely in earnest. Your first wish is never to
+grow old. And then?"
+ "Let's see -- what else? Of course, it would be nice to
+have a handsome fellow, whom they would all chase, but who
+would be with me only. Always."
+ "Wonderful," I said. "That's two. And what else?"
+ Her face showed that the game had already palled on her,
+and that any second she'd drop a bomb. And she did. All I could
+do was blink my eyes.
+ "Yes," I said, "of course that, too. But that happens even
+without any magic."
+ "Yes and no," she argued and began to develop the idea,
+based on the misfortunes of her clients. All of which was very
+gay and amusing to her, while I, in ignominious confusion,
+gulped brandy with lemon and tittered in embarrassment, feeling
+like a virgin wall flower. Well, if all this went on in a night
+club, I could handle it. Well, well, well... some fine
+activities go on in those salons of the Good Mood. How do you
+like these elderly ladies...
+ "Enough," I said. "Vousi, you embarrass me, and anyway I
+understand it all very well now. I can see that it's really
+impossible to do without magic. It's a good thing that I am not
+a magician."
+ "I really stung you well," she said happily. "And what
+would you wish for yourself, now?"
+ I decided I'd reciprocate in kind.
+ "I don't need anything of that sort," I said. "Anyway, I
+am not good at things like that. I'd like a good solid slug."
+ She smiled gaily.
+ "I don't need three wishes," I explained, "I can do with
+one."
+ She was still smiling, but the smile became empty, then
+crooked, and then disappeared altogether.
+ "What?" she said in a small voice.
+ "Vousi!" I said, getting up. "Vousi!"
+ She didn't seem to know what to do. She jumped up and then
+sat down and then jumped up again. The coffee table fell over
+with all the bottles. There were tears in her eyes, and her
+face looked pitiable, like that of a child who has been
+brutally, insolently, cruelly, tauntingly deceived. Suddenly
+she bit her lip and with all her strength slapped my face.
+While I was blinking, she, now in full tears, kicked away the
+overturned table and ran out of the room. I sat, with my mouth
+open. An engine roared into life and lights sprang up in the
+dark garden, followed by the sound of the motor traversing the
+yard and disappearing in the distance.
+ I felt my face. Some joke. Never in my life have I joked
+so effectively. What an old fool I was! How do you like that
+for a slug?
+ "May we?" asked Len. He stood in the door, and he was not
+alone. With him was a gloomy, freckle-faced boy with a cleanly
+shaved head.
+ "This is Reg," said Len. "Could he sleep here too?"
+ "Reg," I said, pensively smoothing my eyelids. "Of course
+-- even two Regs would be okay. Listen, Len, why didn't you
+come ten minutes earlier!"
+ "But she was here," said Len. "We were looking in the
+window, waiting for her to leave."
+ "Really?" I said. "Very interesting. Reg, old chum, how
+about what your parents will say?"
+ Reg didn't reply. Len said, "He doesn't have parents."
+ "Well, all right," I said, feeling a bit tired. "You're
+not going to have a pillow fight?"
+ "No," said Len, not smiling, "we are going to sleep."
+ "Fair enough," I said. "I'll make your beds and you can
+give all this a quick clean-up."
+ I made their beds on the couch and the big chair and they
+took off their clothes at once and went to bed. I locked the
+door to the hall, turned out their lights, and went into my
+bedroom, where I sat awhile listening to them whispering,
+moving furniture, and settling down. Then they were quiet.
+About eleven o'clock there was the sound of broken glass
+somewhere in the house. Aunt Vaina's voice could be heard
+singing some sort of marching song, followed by more breaking
+glass. Apparently the tireless Pete again was falling down face
+first. From the center of town came the cry of "Shivers,
+shivers." Someone was loudly sick on the street.
+ I locked the window and lowered the shades. I also locked
+the door to the study. Then I went to the bathroom and turned
+on the hot water. I did everything per instructions. The radio
+went on the soap shelf, I threw several Devon tablets in the
+water, together with some salt crystals, and was about to
+swallow the tablet when I remembered that it was propitious to
+"loosen up." I didn't want to disturb the boys, but it wasn't
+necessary -- an open bottle of brandy stood in the medicine
+chest. I took a few swallows right out of the bottle, stripped
+down to the skin, climbed into the bath, and turned on the
+radio.
+
+<ul><a name=11></a><h2>Chapter ELEVEN</h2></ul>
+
+ I intentionally did not set the thermo-regulator, so that
+when the water cooled off, I returned to consciousness. The
+radio was still shrieking and the sparkle of white light on the
+walls hurt my eyes. I was thoroughly chilled and covered with
+goose bumps. Switching off the radio, I turned on the hot water
+and remained in the bath, basking in the flooding warmth and a
+very strange, very novel sensation of total, cosmically
+enormous emptiness. I expected a hangover, but there wasn't
+any. I simply felt good. And there were very many memories.
+Also my thoughts flowed inordinately well, as though after a
+long rest in the mountains.
+ In the middle of the last century, Olds and Miller had
+conducted experiments on brain stimulation. They inserted
+electrodes into the brains of white rats. They employed a
+primitive technology and a barbarous methodology, but having
+located pleasure centers in the rats' brains, they succeeded in
+having the animals press the lever which closed the contacts to
+the electrodes, hour after hour, producing up to eight thousand
+auto-excitations per hour. These rats did not need anything in
+the real world. They weren't in the slightest interested in
+anything but the lever. They ignored food, water, danger,
+females; they were indifferent to everything except the
+stimulation lever. Later, these experiments were tried on
+monkeys and produced the same results. Rumors were about that
+someone carried out similar experiments on criminals condemned
+to death....
+ That was a difficult time for mankind: a time of struggle
+against atomic destruction, a time of increasing limited wars
+over the entire face of the planet, a time when the majority of
+mankind was starving, but even so, the contemporary English
+writer and critic Kingsley Amis, having learned of the
+experiments with rats, wrote: "I cannot be sure that this
+frightens me more than a Berlin or a Taiwan crisis, but it
+should, I believe, frighten me more." He feared much about the
+future, this brilliant and venomous author of <i>New Maps of
+Hell</i>, and: in particular, he foresaw the possibilities of
+brain stimulation for the creation of an illusory existence,
+just as intense as the actual, or more intense.
+ By the end of the century, when the first triumphs of wave
+psychotechnology were realized, and when psychiatric wards
+began to empty, amid the chorus of exulting cries of science
+commentators, the little brochure by Krinitsky and Milanovitch
+had sounded like an irritating dissonance. In its concluding
+section the Soviet educators wrote approximately as follows: In
+the overwhelming majority of countries, the education of the
+young exists on the level of the eighteenth and nineteenth
+centuries. This ancient system of education always did and
+continues to posit as its objective, first of all and above
+all, the preparation for society of qualified but stupefied
+contributors to the production process. This system is not
+interested in all the other potentialities of the human mind,
+and for this reason, outside of the production process, man, en
+masse, remains psychologically a cave dweller, Man the
+Uneducated. The disuse of these potentialities causes the
+individuals' inability to comprehend our complex world in all
+its contradictions, to correlate psychologically incompatible
+concepts and phenomena, to obtain pleasure from the examination
+of connections and laws when these do not pertain directly to
+the satisfaction of the most primitive social instincts. In
+other words, this system of education for all practical
+purposes does not develop in man pure imagination, untrammeled
+vision, and as an immediate consequence, the sense of humor.
+The Uneducated Man perceives the world as some sort of
+essentially trivial, routine, and traditionally simple process,
+a world from which it is possible only by dint of great effort
+to extract pleasures which are, in the end, also compulsively
+routine and traditional. But even the unutilized potentialities
+remain, apparently, a hidden reality of the human brain. The
+problem for scientific education consists precisely in
+initiating the action of these possibilities, in teaching man
+to dream, in bringing the multiordinality and variety of
+psychic associations into quantitative and qualitative
+coordination with the multiordinality and variety of
+interrelationships in the world of reality. This problem is the
+one which, as is well known, must become the fundamental one
+for mankind in the coming proximate epoch. But until this
+problem is resolved, there remains some basis to fear that the
+successes of psychotechnics will lead to such methods of
+electrical stimulation as will endow man with an illusory
+existence which can exceed the real existence in intensity and
+variety by a considerable margin. And if one remembers that
+imagination allows man to be both a rational being and a
+sensual animal, and if one adds to that the fact that the
+psychic subject matter evoked by the Uneducated Man for his
+illusory life of splendor derives from the darkest, most
+primitive reflexes, then it is not hard to perceive the awful
+temptation hidden in such possibilities.
+ And therefore -- slug.
+ It is now understandable, I thought, why they write the
+word "slug" on fences.
+ Everything is now understandable. It's odious, that I
+understand.... Better if I understood nothing, better if, upon
+regaining consciousness, I shrugged my shoulders and climbed
+out of the bath. Would it have been understandable to Strogoff
+and Einstein and Petrarch? Imagination is a priceless gift, but
+it must not be given an inward direction. Only outward, only
+outward... What a tasty worm some corrupter has dropped from
+his rod into this stagnant pool! And how accurately timed! Yes
+indeed, if I were commander of Wells' Martians, I would not
+have bothered with fighter tripods, heat rays, and other such
+nonsense. Illusory existence ... no, this is not a narcotic, a
+narcotic has a long way to go to approach it. In a. way this is
+exactly appropriate. Here. Now. To each time its own. Poppy
+seeds and hemp, the kingdom of sweet blurred shadows and peace
+-- for the beggar, the worn-out, the downtrodden... But here no
+one wants peace, here no one is dying of hunger, here is simply
+a bore. A well-fed, well-heated, drunken bore. It's not that
+the world is bad, it's just plain dreary. World without
+prospects, world without promise. But in the end man is not a
+carp, he still remains a man. Yes, it is no kingdom of shades,
+it is indeed the real existence, without detraction, without
+dreary confusion. Slug is moving on the world and the world
+will not mind subjecting itself to it.
+ Suddenly, for a fraction of a moment, I felt that I was
+lost. And it was cozy to be destroyed. Fortunately I grew
+angry. Splashing out water, I climbed out of the bath, cursing
+and stoking my ire, pulled my shorts and shirt over my wet
+body, and grabbed my watch. It was three o'clock, and it could
+have been three in the afternoon or three the following morning
+or three o'clock after a hundred years. Idiot, I thought,
+pulling on my trousers. Softened up and let Buba go when he was
+ready to give me the address of the gangsters' den. The
+operatives could have been there by now and we could have
+nabbed the whole accursed nest, the vile nest. The vermin nest.
+The repulsive cloaca... And at this instant against the very
+depth of my consciousness, like a dancing spot of light,
+flicked a very calm thought. But I could not fasten upon it.
+ I located some Potomac in the medicine cabinet, the
+strongest stimulant which I could find in it. I started into
+the living room, but the youngsters were snoring away there, so
+I climbed out the window. The city was resting, of course.
+Guffawing louts hung around under the street lamp on Waterway,
+bawling crowds surged on the brightly lit avenues. Somewhere
+songs were shouted, somewhere they were yelling "Shivers!"
+Somewhere glass was being broken. I picked out a chauffeurless
+taxi, found the index for Sunshine Street, and dialed it on the
+control console. The car took off across town. The cab smelled
+sour and bottles rolled underfoot. At one intersection it
+almost plowed into a daisy chain of howling humanity, and at
+another there was the rhythmic flashing of colored lights --
+apparently it was possible to set up the shivers elsewhere than
+the plaza. They were resting, resting with all their might,
+these benevolent patrons from the Happy Mood Salons, these
+polite customs inspectors, clever barbers, tender mothers and
+manly fathers, innocent youths and maidens -- they all
+exchanged their diurnal aspects for the nocturnal, they all
+worked hard to have fun and so that it wouldn't be necessary to
+think about a thing....
+ The taxi braked. It was the very same place. It even
+seemed as though there was that same burning smell...
+ ... Peck registered a hit on the armored carrier with the
+Fulminator. It spun on a single tread, hopping in the piles of
+broken bricks, and two fascists immediately jumped out in their
+unbuttoned camouflage shirts, flung a grenade apiece in our
+direction, and sped off into the darkness. They moved knowingly
+and adeptly, and it was obvious that these were not youngsters
+from the Royal Academy or lifers from the Golden Brigade, but
+genuine full-blown tank corps officers. Robert cut them down
+point-blank with a burst from his machine gun. The carrier was
+bulging with cases of beer. It struck us that we had been
+constantly thirsty for the last two days. Iowa Smith clambered
+into the carrier and began handing out the cans. Peck opened
+them with a knife. Robert, putting the machine gun against the
+carrier, punched holes into the cans with a sharp point on the
+armor. And the Teacher, adjusting his pince-nez, tripped on the
+Fulminator straps and muttered, "Wait a minute, Smith; can't
+you see I've got my hands full?" A five-story building burned
+briskly at the end of the street, there was a thick smell of
+smoke and hot metal, and we avidly downed the warm beer, and
+were drenched through and through, and it was very hot and the
+dead officers lay on the broken and crushed bricks, with their
+legs identically flung out in their black pants, and the
+camouflage shirts bunched at their necks, and the skin still
+glistening with perspiration on their backs.
+ 'They are officers," said the Teacher. "Thank God. I can't
+bear the sight of any more dead kids. Accursed politics! People
+forget God on account of it."
+ "What god is that?" inquired Iowa Smith out of the
+carrier. "I've never heard of him."
+ "Don't jest about that, Smith," said the Teacher. "This
+will all end soon, and from then on no one nowhere will be
+permitted to poison the souls of men with vanity."
+ "And how then shall they multiply?" asked Iowa Smith. He
+bent over the beer again, and we could see the burn holes in
+his pants.
+ "I am talking about politics," said the Teacher modestly.
+"The fascists must be destroyed. They are beasts. But that is
+not enough. There are many other political parties, and there
+is no place for them and all their propaganda in our land." The
+Teacher came from this town and lived within two blocks of our
+post. "Social anarchists, technocrats, communists, are of
+course -- "
+ "I am a communist," announced Iowa Smith, "at least by
+conviction. I am for the commune."
+ The Teacher looked at him in bewilderment.
+ "Also I am a godless man," added Iowa Smith. "There is no
+god, Teacher, and there's nothing you can do about it."
+ At which point we all began to say that we were all
+atheists, and Peck said that on top of that he was for
+technocracy, while Robert announced that his father was a
+social anarchist and his grandfather was a social anarchist and
+he, Robert, probably could not escape being a social anarchist,
+although he didn't know what it was all about.
+ "Well now, if the beer would get ice-cold, said Peck
+pensively, "I would at once believe in God with great delight."
+ Teacher smiled embarrassedly and kept wiping his glasses.
+He was a good man and we always kidded him, but he never took
+offense. From the very first night I observed that his courage
+was not great, but he never retreated without being commanded.
+We were still chattering and joking when there was a thunderous
+crash, the burning building wall collapsed, and straight out of
+the swirling flames and clouds of smoke and sparks swam a
+Mammoth attack tank, floating a yard above the pavement. This
+was a new horror, the likes of which we hadn't seen yet.
+Floating out in the middle of the street, it rotated its
+thrower as though looking around, and then, hovering on its air
+cushion, began to move in our direction, screeching and
+clanking metallically. I regained my wits only by the time I
+was behind a gate post. The tank was now considerably closer,
+and at first I couldn't see anyone at all, but then Iowa Smith
+stood up in full view out of the carrier, and propping the butt
+of the Fulminator against his stomach, took aim. I could see
+the recoil double him up. I saw a bright flash against the
+black brow of the tank. And then the street was filled with
+roar and flame, and when I raised my burned eyelids with great
+effort, the street was empty and contained only the tank. There
+was no carrier, no mounds of broken brick, no leaning kiosk by
+the neighboring house -- there was only the tank. It was as
+though the monster had come awake and was spewing waterfalls of
+flame and the street ceased being a street and became a square.
+Peck slapped me hard on the neck and I could see his glassy
+eyes right in front of my face, but there was no time to run
+toward the trench and break out the launcher.
+ We both picked up the mine and started running toward the
+tank, and all I remember is looking continually at the back of
+his head, and gasping for breath and counting steps, when the
+helmet flew off Peck's head, and he fell, so I almost dropped
+the mine and fell on top of him. The tank was blown up by
+Robert and Teacher. I still don't know how they did it or when;
+it must be they were running behind us with another mine. I sat
+until morning in the middle of the street holding Peck's
+bandaged head on my knees and staring at the awesome treads of
+the tank sticking out of the asphalt lake. That same morning
+the whole bloody thing came to an end all at once. Zun Padana
+surrendered with all his staff and was shot in the street by
+some crazed woman when already a prisoner....
+ This was the very same place. I even thought I smelled
+smoke and burned metal. Even the kiosk stood on the corner, and
+it too was a bit crooked in the latest style of architecture.
+The part of the street which the tank turned into a plaza
+remained a plaza, and on the site of the asphalt lake there was
+a small square in which someone was being beaten. Iowa Smith
+was an urban planner from Iowa, U.S.A., Robert Sventisky was a
+movie director form Krakow, Poland. The Teacher was a
+schoolteacher from this town. No one ever saw them again, even
+dead. And Peck was Peck, who had now become Buba
+ Buba lived in the same sort of cottage as I, and its front
+door was open. I knocked, but no one responded and no one -
+came out to meet me. I entered the dark hall. The lights did
+not go on. The door to the right was locked, and I looked into
+the one on the left. In the living room a bearded man, in a
+jacket, but without pants, was sleeping on a tattered couch.
+Someone's feet stuck out from under the overturned table. There
+was a smell of brandy, tobacco smoke, and of something else,
+cloyingly sweet, like in Aunt Vaina's room the other day. In
+the door to the study, I bumped into a handsome florid woman,
+who was not in the slightest surprised to see me.
+ "Good evening," I said. Please excuse me, but does Buba
+live here?"
+ "Here," she said, examining me out of glistening
+oily-looking eyes.
+ "Can I see him?"
+ "And why not -- all you want."
+ "Where is he?"
+ "Funny man. Where would he be?" she laughed.
+ I could guess where, but said, "In the bedroom?"
+ "You are warm," she said.
+ "What do you mean -- warm?"
+ "What a dunce, and sober yet! Would you like a drink?"
+ "No," I said, angry. "Where is he? I need him right away."
+ "Your prospects are poor," she said gaily. "But search on,
+search on. As for me, I must go."
+ She patted me on the cheek and went out.
+ The study was empty. There was a large crystal vase on the
+table with some kind of reddish fluid in it. Everything smelled
+of that nauseatingly sweet odor. The bedroom was also empty;
+crumpled sheets and pillows were scattered about. I approached
+the bathroom door. The door was full of holes, obviously made
+by bullets shot from the inside, judging by their shape. I
+hesitated, then took hold of the handle. The door was locked.
+ I opened it with considerable difficulty. Buba lay in the
+bath up to his neck in greenish water; steam rose from its
+surface. The radio howled and wheezed on the edge of the tub. I
+stood and looked at Buba. At the erstwhile cosmonaut
+experimenter, Peck Xenai. At the once-upon-a-time supple and
+well-muscled fellow, who at eighteen left his warm city by the
+warm sea, and went into space for the glory of man, and who at
+thirty returned to his country to fight the last of the
+fascists and to remain here forever. I was repelled to think
+that only an hour ago, I had looked like him. I touched his
+face and pulled his thin hair. He did not stir. Then I bent
+over him to let him sniff some Potomac, and suddenly saw that
+he was dead.
+ I knocked the radio off the edge of the tub and crushed it
+under heel. There was a pistol on the floor. But Peck had not
+shot himself; it must have been simply that someone interfered
+with him and he shot through the door in order to be left
+alone. I stuck my arms in the hot water, picked him up, and
+carried him to the bed. He lay there all limp and terrible,
+with eyes sunken under his brows. If only he were not my
+friend... if only he were not such a wonderful guy... if only
+he were not such an outstanding worker...
+ I called emergency aid on the phone and sat down beside
+Peck. I tried not to think of him. I tried to think about the
+business at hand. And I tried to be cold and harsh, because at
+the very bottom of my conscious mind, that flick of warm
+feeling, like a speck of light, flashed again, and this time I
+understood what the thought was.
+ By the time the doctor came, I knew what I was going to
+do. I would find Eli. I would pay any sum. Maybe I would beat
+him. If necessary, I would torture him. And he would tell me,
+whence this plague flows out upon the world. He would name
+names and addresses. He would tell me all. And we would find
+these men. We would locate and burn their secret laboratories,
+and as for themselves, we would ship them out so far that they
+would never return. Whoever they might be. We would catch them
+all, we would catch all who ever tried slug and isolate them,
+too. Whoever they were. Then I would demand that I, too, be
+isolated because I knew what slug was. Because I grasped what
+sort of thought I had, because I was socially dangerous, just
+as they all are. And all that would be only the beginning. The
+beginning of all beginnings, and ahead would remain that which
+was most important: to make it so that people would never,
+never, wish to know what slug was. Probably that would be
+outlandish. Probably many would say that it was too outlandish,
+too harsh, too stupid -- but we would still have to do it if we
+wanted mankind not to stop....
+ The doctor, an old gray man, put down his white case,
+leaned over Buba, looked him over, and said indifferently,
+"Hopeless."
+ "Call the police," I said.
+ Slowly he put away his instruments.
+ "There is no need of that whatsoever," he said. "There's
+no criminal content, here. It is a neurostimulator...."
+ "Yes, I know."
+ "There you are -- the second case this night. They just
+don't know when to stop."
+ "When did it start?"
+ "Not very long ago... a few months."
+ "Then why in hell do you keep it quiet?"
+ "Keep it quiet? I don't understand. This is my sixth call
+tonight, young man. The second case of nervous exhaustion and
+four cases of brain fever. Are you a relative?"
+ "No."
+ "Well, all right, I'll send some men." He stood awhile,
+looking at Peck. "Join some choruses," he said. "Enter the
+League of Reformed Sluts..."
+ He was mumbling something else as he left, an old, bent,
+uncaring man. I covered Peck with a sheet, pulled the drape,
+and went out into the living room. The drunks were snoring
+obscenely, filling the air with alcoholic fumes, and I took
+them both by the heels and dragged them out in the yard,
+leaving them in the puddle by the fountain.
+ Dawn was breaking once more and the stars were dimming in
+the paling sky. I got into the taxi and dialed the old Subway
+on the console.
+ It was full of people. It was impossible to get through to
+the railing, although it seemed to me that only two or three
+men were filling out the forms, while the rest were just
+looking, stretching their necks eagerly. Neither the
+round-headed man nor Eli were to be seen behind the barrier,
+and no one knew where they could be found. Below, in the
+cross-passages and tunnels, drunken, shouting, half-crazed men
+and hysterical women were milling about. There were shots,
+distant and muffled and some loud and close, the concrete
+underfoot shook with the detonations, and a mixture of smells
+-- gunpowder, sweat, smoke, gasoline, perfume, and whiskey --
+coated in the air.
+ Squealing and arm-waving teenagers surrounded a big fellow
+who dripped blood and whose pale face shone with a look of
+triumph. Somewhere wild beasts roared menacingly. In the halls,
+the audience was going wild in front of huge screens showing
+somebody blindfolded, firing a spray of bullets from a machine
+gun held against his belly, and someone else sat up to his
+chest in some black and heavy liquid, blue from the cold and
+smoking a crackling cigar, and another one with a
+tension-twisted face, suspended as though cast in stone in some
+sort of web of taut cords...
+ Then I found out where Eli was. I saw round-head by a
+dirty room full of old sandbags. He stood in the doorway, his
+face covered with soot, smelling of burnt gunpowder, the pupils
+of his eyes fully distended. Every few seconds he bent down and
+brushed his knees, not hearing me at all, so that I had to
+shake him to make him take notice of me.
+ "There is no Eli," he barked. "Gone, do you understand?
+Nothing but smoke -- get it? Twenty kilovolts, one hundred
+amperes, see? He didn't leap far enough!"
+ He pushed me away vigorously and took off into the dirty
+room, jumping over the sandbags. Elbowing the curious out of
+the way, he got to a low metal door.
+ "Let me through," he howled. "Let me at it once more. God
+favors a third time!"
+ The door shut heavily and the mob surged away, stumbling
+and falling over the bags. I didn't wait for him to come out.
+Or not to come out. He was no longer of any use to me. There
+was only Rimeyer left. There was also Vousi, but I couldn't
+count on her. So there was really only Rimeyer. I was not going
+to wake him. I'd wait outside his room.
+ The sun was already up and the filthied streets were
+empty.
+ The auto-streetcleaners were coming out of their
+underground garages to do their job. All they knew was work;
+they had no potentialities to be developed, but they also had
+no primitive reflexes. Near the Olympic, I had to stop for a
+long chain of red and green men followed by a string of people
+enclosed in some sort of scales, who dragged their shuffling
+feet from one street into the next, leaving behind a stench of
+sweat and paint. I stood and waited for them to pass, while the
+sun had already lit up the huge mass of the hotel and shone
+gaily in the metallic face of Yurkovsky, who, as he had while
+alive, looked out over the heads of all men. After they passed,
+I went into the hotel. The clerk was dozing behind his counter.
+Awaking, he smiled professionally and asked in a cheery voice,
+"Would you like a room?"
+ "No," I replied, "I am visiting Rimeyer."
+ ' Rimeyer? Excuse me -- room 902?"
+ I stopped.
+ "I believe so. What's the matter?"
+ "I beg your pardon, but he is not in."
+ "What do you mean, not in?"
+ "He checked out."
+ "Can't be, he has been ill. You are not mistaken? Room
+902?"
+ "Exactly right, 902, Rimeyer. Our perpetual client. It's
+an hour and a half since he left. More accurately, flew away.
+His friends helped him down and aboard a copter."
+ "What friends?" I asked hopelessly.
+ "Friends, as I said, but, excuse me, they were
+acquaintances. There were three of them, two of whom I really
+don't know. Just young athletic-looking men. But I do know Mr.
+Pebblebridge, he was our permanent guest. But he signed out --
+today."
+ "Pebblebridge?"
+ "Exactly. Lately he has been meeting Rimeyer quite often,
+so I concluded that they were quite well acquainted. He stayed
+in room 817. A fairly imposing gentleman, middle-aged,
+red-headed..."
+ "Oscar!"
+ "Exactly, Oscar Pebblebridge.
+ 'That makes sense," I said, trying to keep a hold on
+myself. "You say they helped him?"
+ "That's right. He has been very sick and they even sent a
+doctor up: to him yesterday. He was still very weak and the
+young men held him up by his elbows, and almost carried him."
+ "And the nurse? He had an attendant nurse with him?"
+ "Yes, there was one. But she left right after them -- they
+let her go."
+ "And what is your name?"
+ "Val, at your service."
+ "Listen, Val," I said. "You are sure it didn't look like
+they were taking him away forcibly?"
+ I looked hard at him. He blinked in confusion.
+ "No," he said. "Although, now that you have mentioned
+it..."
+ "All right," I said. "Give me the key to his room and come
+with me."
+ Clerks are, as a rule, quite savvy types. Their sense of
+smell, at least for certain things, is quite impressive. It was
+perfectly obvious that he had guessed who I was. And maybe even
+where I came from. He called a porter, whispered something to
+him, and we went up to the ninth floor.
+ "What currency did he pay in?" I asked.
+ "Who? Pebblebridge?"
+ "Yes."
+ "I think... ah yes, marks, German marks."
+ "And when did he arrive here?"
+ "One minute... it will come to me... sixteen marks ...
+precisely four days ago."
+ "Did he know that Rimeyer stayed with you?"
+ "Excuse me, but I can't say. But the day before yesterday,
+they had dinner together. And yesterday, they had a long talk
+in the foyer. Early in the morning while everybody was still
+up."
+ It was unusually clean and tidy in Rimeyer's room. I
+walked about looking over the place. Suitcases stood in the
+closet. The bed was rumpled, but I could see no signs of
+struggle. The bathroom also was clean and tidy. Boxes of Devon
+were stacked on the shelf.
+ "What do you think -- should I call the police?" asked the
+clerk.
+ "I don't know," I replied. "Check with your
+administration."
+ "You understand that I am in doubt again. True, he didn't
+say goodbye. But it all looked completely innocent. He could
+have given me a sign, and I would have understood him -- we
+have known each other a long time. He was pleading Mr.
+Pebblebridge: 'The radio, please don't forget the radio.'"
+ The radio lay under the mirror, hidden by a negligently
+thrown towel.
+ "Yes?" I said. "And what did Mr. Pebblebridge say to
+that?"
+ Mr. Pebblebridge was soothing him, saying, "Of course, of
+course, don't worry..."
+ I took the radio, and leaving the bathroom, sat down at
+the desk. The clerk looked back and forth from the radio to me.
+ So, I thought, now he knows why I came here. I turned it
+an. It moaned and howled. They all know about slug. No need for
+Eli, nor Rimeyer; you can take anyone at random. This clerk,
+for instance. Right now, for instance. I turned it off and
+said, "Please be good enough to turn on the combo."
+ He ran over to it with mincing steps, turned it on, and
+eyed me questioningly.
+ "Leave it on that station. A little softer. Thank you."
+ "So you don't advise me to call the police?"
+ "As you wish."
+ "It seemed you had something quite definite in mind when
+you questioned me."
+ "It only seemed so," I said coldly. "It's just that I
+dislike Mr. Pebblebridge. But that does not concern you."
+ The clerk bowed.
+ "I'll stay here for a while, Val," I said. "I have a
+notion that this Mr. Pebblebridge will be back. It won't be
+necessary to announce that I am here. In the meantime, you are
+free to go."
+ "Yes, sir," he said.
+ When he left, I rang up the service bureau and dictated a
+telegram; "Have found the meaning of life but am lonely brother
+departed unexpectedly come at once Ivan." Then I turned on the
+radio again, and again it howled and screeched. I took off the
+back and pulled out the local oscillator-mixer. It was no
+mixer. It was a slug. A beautiful precision subassembly, of
+obviously mass-produced derivation, and the more I looked at
+it, the more it seemed that somewhere, sometime, long before my
+arrival here, and more than once, I had already seen these
+components in some very familiar device. I attempted to
+recollect where I had seen them, but instead, I remembered the
+room clerk and his face with a weak smile and his
+understanding, commiserating eyes. They are all infected. No,
+they hadn't tried slug -- heaven forbid! They hadn't even seen
+one! It is so indecent! It is the worst of the worst! Not so
+loud, my dear, how can you say that in front of the boy... but
+I've been told it's something out of this world.... Me?... How
+can you think that, you must have a low opinion of me after
+all.... I don't know, they say over at the Oasis, Buba has it,
+but as for myself -- I don't know.... And why not? I am a
+moderate man -- if I feel something is not right, I'll stop....
+Let me have five packets of Devon, we have made up a fishing
+party (hee, hee!). Fifty thousand people. And their friends in
+other towns. And a hundred thousand tourists every year. The
+problem is not with the gang. That's the least of our worries,
+for what does it take to scatter them? The problem is that they
+are all ready, all eager, and there is not the slightest
+prospect of the possibility to prove to them that it is
+terribly frightening, that it is the end, that it is the last
+debasement.
+ I clasped the slug in my fist, propped up my head on it,
+and stared at Rimeyer's dress jacket with the ribbon bar on it,
+hanging on the back of the chair. Just like me, he must have
+sat in this chair a few months ago, and also held the slug and
+radio for the second time, and the same warm flick of desire
+wandered through the depths of his consciousness: there is
+nothing to worry about, because now there is light in any
+darkness, sweetness in any grief, joy in any pain....
+ ...There, there, said Rimeyer. Now you have got it. You
+just have to be honest with yourself. It is a little shameful
+at first, and then you begin to understand how much time you
+have lost for nothing.... ...Rimeyer, I said, I wasted time not
+for myself. This cannot be done, it simply cannot, it is
+destruction for everyone, you can't replace life with
+dreams.... ...Zhilin, said Rimeyer, when man does something, it
+is always for himself. There may be absolute egotists in this
+world, but perfect altruists are just impossible. If you are
+thinking of death in a bathtub, then, in the first place, we
+are all mortal, and in the second place, if science gave us
+slug, it will see to it that it will be rendered harmless. And
+in the meantime, all that is required is moderation. And don't
+talk to me of the substitution of reality with dreams. You are
+no novice, you know perfectly well that these dreams are also
+part of reality. They constitute an entire world. Why do you
+then call this acquisition ruin?... ...Rimeyer, I said, because
+this world is still illusory, it's all within you, not outside
+of you, and everything you do in it remains in yourself. It is
+the opposite of the real world, it is antagonistic to it.
+People who escape into this illusory world cease to exist in
+the real world. They become as dead. And when everyone enters
+the illusory world -- and you know it could end thus -- the
+history of man will terminate.... ...Zhilin, said Rimeyer,
+history is the history of people. Every man wants to live a
+life which has not been in vain, and slug gives you such a
+life.... Yes, I know that you consider your life as not having
+been in vain without slug, but, admit it, you have never lived
+so luminously, so fully as you have today in the tub. You are a
+bit ashamed to recollect it, and you wouldn't risk recounting
+it to others. Don't. They have their life, you have yours....
+...Rimeyer, I said, all that is true. But the past! Space,
+schools, the struggle with fascists, gangsters -- is all that
+for naught? Forty years for nothing? And the others -- they did
+it all for nothing, too?... ...Zhilin, said Rimeyer, nothing is
+for nothing in history. Some fought and did not live long
+enough to have slug. You fought and lived long enough....
+...Rimeyer, I said, I fear for mankind. This is really the end.
+It's the end of man interacting with nature, the end of the
+interplay of man with society, the end of liaisons among
+individuals, the end of progress, Rimeyer. AU these billions of
+people submerged in. hot water and in themselves... only in
+themselves.... ... Zhilin, said Rimeyer, it's frightening
+because it's unfamiliar. And as for progress -- it will come to
+an end only for the real society, only for the real progress.
+But each separate man will lose nothing, he will only gain,
+since his world will become infinitely brighter, his ties with
+nature, illusory though they may be, will become more
+multifaceted; and ties with society, also illusory but not so
+known to him, will become more powerful and fruitful. And you
+don't have to mourn the end of progress. You do know that
+everything comes to an end. So now comes the end of progress in
+the objective world. Heretofore, we didn't know how if, would
+end, But we know now. We hadn't had time to realize all the
+potential intensity of objective existence, it could be that we
+would have reached such knowledge in a few hundred years, but
+now it has been put in our grasp. Slug brings a gift of
+understanding of our remotest ancestors which you cannot ever
+have in real life. You are simply the prisoner of an obsolete
+ideal, but be logical, the ideal which slug offers you is just
+as beautiful. Hadn't you always dreamed of man with the
+greatest scope of fantasy and gigantic imagination....
+...Rimeyer, I replied, if you only knew how tired I am of
+arguing. All my life I have argued with myself and with others.
+I have always loved to argue, because otherwise life is not
+worth living. But I am tired right now and don't wish to argue
+over slug, of all things.... ...Then go on, Ivan, said
+Rimeyer....
+ I inserted the slug into the radio. As he had then, I got
+up. As he did then, I was past thought, past belonging in this
+world, but I still heard him say: don't forget to lock the door
+tight so that you won't be disturbed.
+ And then I sat down. ...So that's the way of it, Rimeyer!
+said I. So that's how it went. You surrendered. You closed the
+door tight. And then you sent lying reports to your friends
+that there wasn't any slug. And then again, after hesitating
+but a moment, you sent me to my death so that I wouldn't
+disturb you. Your ideal, Rimeyer, is offal. If man has to
+perform what is base in the name of an ideal, then the worth of
+such ideal is -- less than dross....
+ I glanced at the watch and shoved the radio in my pocket.
+I was past waiting for Oscar. I was hungry. And beyond that I
+had the feeling that for once I had done something useful in
+this town. I left my phone number with the room clerk -- in
+case Oscar or Rimeyer should return -- and went out onto the
+plaza. I did not believe that Rimeyer would come back or even
+that I would ever see him again, but Oscar could hold to his
+promise, though more likely, I would have to seek him out. And
+probably not alone. And probably not here.
+
+<ul><a name=12></a><h2>Chapter TWELVE</h2></ul>
+
+ There was but one visitor in the automated cafe.
+Barricaded behind bottles and hors d'oeuvres at a corner table
+sat a dark man of oriental cast, magnificently but outlandishly
+dressed. I took some yogurt and blintzes with sour cream and
+set to, glancing at him now and then. He ate and drank much and
+avidly, his face shiny with sweat, hot inside his ridiculous
+formal clothes. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and
+loosening his belt. The motion exposed a long yellow holster
+glistening in the sunlight under the clothing.
+ I was on my way into the last of the blintzes when he
+hailed me: "Hello," he said. "Are you a native here?"
+ "No," I said. "A tourist."
+ "So that means you don't understand anything either."
+ I went to the bar, threw a juice cocktail together, and
+approached him.
+ "Why is it empty here?" he continued. He had a lively
+spare face and a bold gaze. "Where are the inhabitants? Why is
+everything closed up? Everyone is asleep, you can't get any
+service."
+ "You just arrived?"
+ "Yes."
+ He pushed an empty plate away, moved up a full one, and
+gulped some light beer.
+ "Where are you from?" I asked. He glared at me menacingly,
+and I added quickly, "If it's not a secret, of course."
+ "No," he said, "it's not a secret," and went back to his
+eating.
+ I finished the juice and got ready to leave. Then he said,
+"They live well, the dogs. Such food and as much as you want,
+and all for free."
+ "Well, not quite for free," I contradicted.
+ "Ninety dollars! Pennies! I'll show them how to eat ninety
+dollars within three days!" His eyes stopped roving
+momentarily, "D-dogs!" he muttered and fell to again.
+ I was quite familiar with such types. They came from
+minuscule, totally milked kingdoms and prefectdoms, reduced to
+utter poverty, and greedily ate and drank, mindful of the hot
+dusty streets of their home towns, where in the niggardly
+ribbons of shade, moribund men and women lay dying and
+immobile, while children with distended bellies rummaged in the
+garbage piles of foreign consulates. They were surcharged with
+hatred and needed only two things -- food and weapons. Food for
+their own gang, which was the opposition, and weapons to fight
+the other gang, which was in power. They were the most flaming
+patriots, who spoke hotly and effusively of their love for the
+people, but resolutely refused all help from without, because
+they loved nothing but their power and no one but themselves,
+and were ready in the name of the people and the victory of
+high principles to mortify the same people, right down to the
+last man, if necessary, with hunger and machine gun.
+Microhitlers!
+ "Weapons? Food?" I asked.
+ He grew wary.
+ "Yes," he said. "Food and weapons. Only without any silly
+conditions. And as free as possible. Or on credit. True
+patriots never have any money. While the ruling clique drowns
+in luxury...."
+ "Famine?" I asked.
+ "Anything you want. While you here swim in luxury." He
+gazed at me with hatred. "The whole world is drowning in wealth
+and we alone are starving. But your hopes are in vain! The
+revolution cannot be stopped!"
+ "Yes," I said. "And whom is the revolution against?"
+ "We are fighting the blood leeches of Boadshah! We are
+against corruption and debauchery of the ruling top layer, we
+are for freedom and true democracy. The people are with us, but
+they have to be fed. And you tell us that you'll give us food
+only after we disarm. And even threaten intervention.... What
+filthy, lying demagogy! What deception of the revolutionary
+masses! To disarm in the face of those bloodsuckers -- that
+means to throw a hangman's noose over the heads of all the true
+freedom fighters! We answer you -- no! You will not deceive the
+people. Let Boadshah and his brutes disarm! Then we shall see
+what needs doing!"
+ "Yes," I said. "But Boadshah also, in all probability,
+does not wish a noose thrown over his neck."
+ He put the beer down savagely, and his hand moved toward
+the holster in a habitual gesture. But then he quickly caught
+himself.
+ "I should have known you don't understand a damn thing,"
+he said. "You who are well fed have grown drowsy from a full
+stomach, you are too conceited to understand us. You wouldn't
+have dared to talk to me like that in the jungle."
+ In the jungle, I would have talked differently to you,
+bandit, I thought, and said:
+ "I really don't understand many things. For instance, I
+don't understand what will happen when you gain the upper hand.
+Let us imagine that you have won, Boadshah has been hanged, if
+be, in his turn, hasn't fled to seek food and weapons --"
+ "He won't get away. He'll get his just deserts. The
+revolutionary people will tear him to shreds. That's when we'll
+go to work. We will regain the territory seized from us by
+affluent neighbors, we will carry out the entire program which
+the lying Boadshah constantly shouts about to deceive the
+people.... I'll show them how to strike! They'll learn about
+strikes with me on top -- there'll be no strikes! They'll all
+go under arms and forward march! We will win and then..."
+ He shut his eyes and moaned a bit, shaking his head.
+ "And then you will be well fed, you will swim in luxury
+and sleep till noon?"
+ He laughed.
+ "I deserve that. The people deserve it. No one will dare
+reproach us. We will eat and drink as much as we wish, we will
+live in real houses, we will say to the people: now you are
+free -- divert yourselves!"
+ "And don't think about a thing," I added. "But don't you
+think that all that could come out badly for you?"
+ "Forget it," he said. "That's sheer demagogy. You are a
+demagogue. Also a dogmatist. We too have all kinds of
+dogmatists similar to yourself. Man, they say, will lose the
+meaning of life. No, we reply, man will lose nothing. Man will
+acquire and not lose. You have to feel the people. You have to
+be from the people yourself. The people don't like sophists.
+What the hell for do I let myself be fed on by wood leeches and
+feed on worms myself?" Suddenly he smiled amiably. "You must
+have taken offense at me a bit, for calling you well fed and
+other things. Please don't. Affluence is bad when you don't
+have it, but your neighbor does. But achieved affluence --
+that's a great thing! It's worth fighting for. Everybody fought
+for it. It must be obtained with weapons in hand, and not
+traded for freedom and democracy."
+ "So your final goal is still abundance? Just abundance?"
+ "Obviously! The final objective always is abundance. The
+difference is that we are choosy about the means to get it."
+ "I have already grasped that. But what about man?"
+ "What do you mean, man?"
+ I did understand that it was futile to argue.
+ "You have never been here before?" I asked.
+ "Why?"
+ "Look into it, I said. This town gives excellent practical
+lessons in abundance."
+ He shrugged his shoulders.
+ "So far, I like it here." Again he pushed away an empty
+plate and replaced it with a full one. "These hors d'oeuvres
+are strange to me.... Everything is tasty and cheap.... It's
+enviable." He swallowed a few forkfuls of salad and growled.
+"We know that all great revolutionaries fought for abundance.
+We don't have time to theorize, but there is no need for it,
+anyway. There are enough theories without us. Furthermore,
+abundance is in no way threatening us. It won't threaten us for
+quite a while yet. We have much more pressing problems."
+ "To hang Boadshah," I said.
+ "Yes -- to begin with. Next we will need to do away with
+the dogmatists. I can perceive that even now. Next comes the
+realization of our legitimate claims. After that, something
+else will come up. And only then, and after many other things,
+will abundance arrive. I am an optimist, but I don't believe I
+will live to see it. Don't you worry -- we'll manage somehow.
+If we can stand hunger then we can take abundance for sure....
+The dogmatists prattle that abundance is not an end, but a
+means. We reply that every means was once an goal. Today,
+abundance is a goal. Tomorrow, perhaps it may become a means."
+ I got up.
+ "Tomorrow may be too late," I said. "It is incorrect of
+you to fall back on great revolutionaries. They would not have
+accepted your shibboleth: now you are free -- enjoy yourselves.
+They spoke otherwise: now that you are free -- work. After all,
+they never fought for abundance for the belly, they were
+interested in abundance for the soul and the mind."
+ His hand twitched toward the holster again, and again he
+caught himself.
+ "A Marxist!" he said with astonishment. "But then again,
+you are a visitor. We have almost no Marxists, we take them
+and..."
+ I kept control of myself.
+ Passing by the window, I took another look at him. He sat
+with his back to the street and ate and ate, his elbows stuck
+out.
+ When I got home, the living room was already vacant. The
+youngsters had piled the bedsheets and pillows in the corner.
+There was a note under the telephone on the desk. Written in a
+childish scrawl, it read: "Take care. She has plotted
+something. She was fussing in the bedroom." I sighed and sat
+down in the armchair.
+ There was still an hour until the meeting with Oscar,
+assuming he came. There was no sense in going to sleep, but in
+addition, it might not be safe -- Oscar could bring company,
+and come earlier than expected, possibly not through the door.
+I got the pistol out of the suitcase, put in a clip, and
+dropped it in my side pocket. Next I climbed into the bar,
+brewed myself some coffee, and went back to the study.
+ I took the slug out of my radio and the one out of
+Rimeyer's, lay them down in front of me on the table, and
+attempted again to recollect where indeed I had seen just such
+components and why I thought that I had seen them before and
+more than once. And then it came to me. I went into the bedroom
+and brought in the phonor. I didn't even need a screwdriver. I
+took the case off the phonor, stuck my index finger under the
+odorizer horn, and, catching it with my finger nail, extracted
+a vacuum tubusoid FX-92-U, four outputs, static field, capacity
+equals two. Sold in consumer electronic stores at fifty cents
+each. In local patois -- a slug.
+ It had to be, I thought. We are disoriented by
+conversations about a new drug. We are constantly derailed by
+talk about horrific new inventions. We have already made
+several similar blunders.
+ There was the time when Alhagana and Burris served up a
+complaint in the U.N. that the separatists were using a new
+type of weapon -- freeze bombs. We threw ourselves furiously
+into a search for underground laboratories and even arrested
+two genuine underground inventors (sixteen and ninety-six years
+old, respectively). And then it turned out that the inventors
+were in no way connected, and the awful freeze bombs were
+acquired by the separatists in Munich from a refrigerator
+warehouse -- and were in fact reject super-freezers. True, the
+effect of these super-freezers was indeed horrible. Used in
+conjunction with molecular detonators (widely used by undersea
+archaeologists in the Amazon for dispersing crocs and
+piranhas), the super-freezers were capable of instantaneous
+temperature depression of one hundred and fifty degrees
+centigrade over a radius of twenty meters. Afterward, we spent
+much effort indoctrinating ourselves with the concept that we
+should keep in mind that in our times, literally every month,
+masses of new inventions appear with the most peaceful of
+applications, but with the most unexpected side effects. These
+characteristics are often such that lawbreaking in the area of
+weapons manufacture and stockpiling becomes meaningless. We
+became extremely cautious about new types of armament, employed
+by various extremists, and only a year later got caught by
+another twist, when we went looking for a mysterious apparatus
+with which poachers lured pterodactyls from the Uganda Preserve
+at a great distance. We found a clever do-it-yourself
+adaptation of the "Up-down" toy in combination with a fairly
+generally available medical device.
+ And now we had caught slug -- a combination of a standard
+radio with a standard tubusoid and a standard chemical and very
+common plumbing-supplied hot water.
+ To make a long story short, there would be no need to
+search for secret factories. We'd have to look for some very
+adroit and unprincipled speculators who sensed very delicately
+indeed that they found themselves in the Country of the
+Boob.... They'd be like trichinae in a ham. Five or six
+enterprising self-seekers. An innocent cottage somewhere in the
+suburbs. Just go to a department store, buy the vacuum tubusoid
+for fifty cents, peel off the plastic wrapping, and place in an
+elegant box with a glassite cover. And then sell it for fifty
+marks -- "only to you and only through friends." True, there
+was still the inventor. Probably he was not alone, and most
+certainly he was not the only one.... But probably they had not
+survived; for this was nothing like a lure for pterodactyls.
+Anyway, was the matter really one of speculators? Let them sell
+another forty slugs, or a hundred. Even in the City of Boobs,
+people had to figure out in the end what it was all about. And
+when that happened, slug would spread like wildfire.
+ The first ones to see to that would be the moralists from
+the Joy of Living. They would be followed by Dr. Opir, who
+would sally forth and announce that according to scientific
+endings, slug was conducive to clarity of thought and was
+unsurpassed in the treatment of alcoholism and depression. In
+general, the future ideal was a vast trough filled with hot
+water. Then they would stop writing the word "slug" on the
+fences.
+ That's who should be taken by the throat, I thought, if
+anybody. The trouble is not the profiteers. The trouble is that
+there exists this Country of the Boob, this filthy
+misconstruction. It has taken the shivers under its wing and
+can't wait to legalize slug....
+ There was a knock on the door. Oscar came into the study,
+and he was not alone. With him was Matia himself, stocky, gray,
+with dark glasses and thick cane, as always, looking like a
+veteran who has lost his sight. Oscar was smirking
+self-satisfiedly.
+ "Hello, Ivan," said Matia. "Meet your back-up, Oscar
+Pebblebridge, from the southwest section."
+ We shook hands. What I have always disliked about our
+Security Council is the plethora of mossy traditions, and
+especially infuriating is the idiotic system of
+cross-investigation, due to which we are constantly tripping
+over each other's sleuthing, busting each other's mugs, and not
+uncommonly shooting each other with fair accuracy. I can hardly
+see that as serious work -- more like adolescents playing at
+detectives. Let them go soak their heads in a swamp.
+ "I was going to take you in today," confided Oscar. "Never
+in my life have I seen such a suspicious character."
+ Without saying a word, I took the pistol out of my pocket,
+unloaded it, and threw it in the desk drawer. Oscar followed my
+actions with approval. I said, addressing Matia, "I guess that
+the investigation would simply collapse, without getting
+started, had I known about Oscar. But I must inform you that I
+almost maimed him yesterday."
+ "I read you right," said Oscar smugly.
+ Grunting, Matia lowered himself into the armchair.
+ "I can't ever remember a situation," he said, "when Ivan
+was pleased with everything. But conspiracy is the foundation
+of our business.... Take a chair and sit down, both of you.
+You, Oscar, had no right to be maimed, and you, Ivan, had no
+right to be arrested. That's how you should regard it. And what
+have you got here?" he said, taking off his dark glasses to
+look at the slugs, "Taking up radio as a hobby in between your
+work? Laudable, laudable!"
+ It was evident that they didn't know a thing. Oscar was
+leafing through his notebook, where everything was encrypted in
+his own personal code, and was apparently preparing himself to
+make a report, while Matia scanned over the slugs with his
+fleshy nose, holding the glasses aloft in his hand. There was
+something symbolic in this spectacle.
+ "And so, agent Zhilin is enriching his leisure with radio
+technology," continued Matia, restoring his glasses and leaning
+back in his chair. "He has lots of free time, he has switched
+to a four-hour day.... And bow do you stand on the question of
+the meaning of life, agent Zhilin? It appears you may have
+found it. I hope it won't be necessary to take you away like
+agent Rimeyer?"
+ "It won't be required," I said. "I had not enough time to
+become addicted. Did Rimeyer tell you anything?"
+ "But of course not," he said with vast sarcasm. "Why
+should he do that? He was ordered to find the drug, and he did,
+and he used it, and now he apparently considers his duty
+discharged. He became an addict himself, don't you see. He is
+silent. He is loaded with this brew up to his ears, and it's
+useless to talk to him! He raves that he has murdered you and
+constantly asks for his radio." Matia stopped short and gazed
+at the radios. "Strange," he said and looked at me. "However, I
+like orderliness. Oscar got here first, and he has certain
+deductions both about the goodies and the conduct of the
+operation. Let's begin with him."
+ I looked at Oscar.
+ "About what operation?"
+ "The devil knows," said Matia.
+ "The raiding of the center. You haven't located the center
+yet?"
+ The hunt is on, I thought, and said, "No, I didn't. A
+center I haven't latched on to. But --"
+ "All in good order, in proper order," said Matia severely
+and banged the table with the flat of his hand. "Oscar, you may
+begin, and as for you, Ivan, you listen attentively and make
+your deductions. If you are still capable, that is."
+ Oscar began. Obviously he was a good worker. He moved
+fast, energetically, and purposefully. True, Rimeyer had
+twisted him around his finger as well as he had me.
+Nevertheless, Oscar had been able to grasp much in spite of it.
+He understood that the sought-for "goodies" were known locally
+as "slug." Very rapidly he had grasped the connection between
+slug and Devon. He divined that neither the Fishers, nor the
+Perches, nor the Sorrowers had any relation to our problem. He
+had deduced with superb insight that in this town it was
+practically impossible to hide any secret. He had even been
+able to insinuate himself into the confidence of the Intels,
+and had established beyond any doubt that there were only two
+truly secret societies -- the Art Patrons and the Intels. Since
+the Art Patrons could be eliminated, that left only the
+Intels....
+ "It was not contrary to the conviction which I had
+formed," said Oscar, "that the only people with access to
+laboratories and capable of conducting scientific or
+quasi-scientific research were the students and professors in
+the university. It's true that the factories in the city also
+have laboratories. There are only four of them, and I have
+investigated them all. These laboratories are stringently
+specialized and are loaded to the limit with ongoing work. As
+the factories work around the clock, there is no basis
+whatsoever to postulate that the industrial labs could become
+centers of slug manufacture. On the other hand, out of the
+seven university labs, two are obviously surrounded with an
+atmosphere of mystery. I was unable to determine what goes on
+in them, but I spotted three students, who, I believe, should
+know for sure...."
+ I listened to him intently, amazed at how much he had been
+able to accomplish here, but it was already all too clear to me
+where his main error lay. I could see he was following a false
+trail, and alongside of that, there grew within me a vague
+feeling of an even more significant error, of a most important
+error, the error in the underlying premises of the Council.
+ "I arrived at the visualization," he continued, "of a
+gangsterlike organization of the vertical type with rigorously
+separated functions in decentralized sections. The production
+section is involved in the manufacture and perfection of the
+slug.... I should inform you that slug, whatever it may be, is
+being perfected: I was able to establish that in the beginning.
+Devon was not employed at all.... Next, the marketing section
+is concerned with expanding the slug distribution, while the
+strong-arm section terrorizes the population and interdicts all
+debate on that topic.... The intimidation of the people..."
+ Now I understood it all.
+ "Just a minute, Oscar," I said. "Can you guarantee that in
+the entire city there are only two secret organizations?"
+ "Yes," he said. "Only the Art Patrons and the Intels."
+ "Please continue, Oscar," said Matia with displeasure. "I
+would ask you not to interrupt, Ivan."
+ "Sorry," I said. Oscar continued to talk, but I was no
+longer listening. Something flared in my mind. The traditional
+initial model for all our undertakings, with its invariant
+axiom predicating the existence of a ramified organization of
+evildoers, had been shattered into dust, and I was only amazed
+that I had failed heretofore to recognize its inane complexity
+in the context of this simple-minded country. There were no
+secret shops guarded by gloomy persons with brass knuckles,
+there were no wary, unprincipled businessmen, there were no
+traveling salesmen with double-walled shirt collars stuffed
+with contraband, and it was quite for nothing that Oscar was
+drafting the elegant chart of squares and circles, connected by
+a confusion of lines, and inscribed with the words "center,"
+"staff," and numerous question marks. There was nothing to
+demolish and be and no one to send off to Baffin Land.... But
+there was modern industry involved in everyday trade, there
+were state stores where slugs were sold for fifty cents apiece,
+and there were -- but only in the beginning one or two
+individuals not devoid of inventiveness and dying of inactivity
+and thirsting for new sensations. And there was the
+medium-sized country where, once upon a time, abundance and
+affluence were the end to be attained, and they never did
+become the means to another end. And that was all that was
+needed.
+ Someone inserted a slug into a radio by mistake and lay
+down in the bath to relax and maybe listen to some good music
+or to hear the latest news -- and it started. The news oozed
+and remnants of phonors found their way into the garbage ducts,
+then someone figured out that slugs could be obtained not only
+from phonors, but could simply be bought in stores. Someone was
+inspired to use aromatic salts and someone employed Devon.
+People started to die in their baths from nervous exhaustion,
+and the statistical department of the Security Council
+submitted a top secret report to the Presidium. It became
+apparent at once that all such deaths occurred with people who
+had come here as tourists. And furthermore, that there were far
+more such deaths in this country than anywhere else on the
+planet. As so often happens, a false theory was constructed on
+well-verified facts, and we, one after another, well schooled
+in conspiracy, were sent here to uncover the secret gang of
+dealers in a new and unknown drug, and we arrived here and did
+stupid things. But, as always, no labor goes for naught, and if
+you must look for the guilty, then all were guilty, from the
+mayor to Rimeyer, and if so, then no one was guilty, and now we
+have to --
+ "Ivan," said Matia irritably, "are you asleep?"
+ They were both looking at me. Oscar was extending me his
+notebook with the diagrams. I took the notebook and threw it on
+the table.
+ "Listen," I said. "Oscar has done wonders, of course, but
+we have come a cropper again! Oscar, you have seen such a lot,
+but you understood nothing. If there are any people in this
+land who hate slug, it's the Intels. The Intels are not
+gangsters, they are desperate men and patriots. They have but
+one aim -- to stir this bog. By any means. To give this city
+some kind of purpose, to force it away from the trough They are
+sacrificing themselves, do you understand? They invite fire
+upon themselves, they are attempting to arouse the town to come
+sort of common emotion, even if it has to be hatred. Can it be
+you haven't heard of the tear gas, the shooting up of the
+shivers? They are not making slug in the laboratories, they are
+building bombs and cooking tear gas ... and generally breaking
+the laws on weapons technology. They are preparing a putsch for
+the twenty-eighth, but as for slug -- here it is!"
+ I shoved one at each of them, and simultaneously expounded
+everything I thought on the subject.
+ At first, they listened to me in disbelief. Then they
+stared at the slugs, not taking their eyes off them until I'd
+finished, and when I did, they were quiet for quite a while.
+Matia held his slug as though it were a buzzing wasp. There was
+displeasure written on his face.
+ "Vacuum tubusoid... Hmmm... In fact... and radios ...
+there is something to it."
+ Matia stuck the slug in his shirt pocket and announced
+decisively, "There is nothing in it. That is, of course, I am
+very pleased with you, Ivan, since you have apparently found
+that which was needed, but your work is in the Council and not
+with the Commission of World Problems. They adore philosophy
+there, and haven't done a single useful thing to date. As for
+you, you have been working with us for ten years now, but you
+still haven't grasped the simple truth: if there is a crime,
+there must be a criminal."
+ 'That's not true," I said.
+ "That is true!" said Matia. "Don't start a debate with me!
+You are eternally debating!... Be quiet, Oscar. It's my turn to
+talk. I am asking you, Ivan, what is the worth of your version?
+What do you propose to do? But be concrete, please! Be
+concrete!"
+ "Concretely..." I faltered.
+ True enough, my version did not suit them.
+ They probably didn't even consider it a version.
+ For them it was just philosophizing. They were men, so to
+say, of resolute action, knights of immediate decisive
+measures., They let nothing slide. They cut through knots and
+demounted Damocles' swords. They made rapid decisions, and
+having made them, they no longer doubted. They didn't know how
+to be otherwise. That was their world-view -- and I was the
+only one to consider that their time had passed. Patience, I
+thought. I am going to need an awful lot of patience. Suddenly,
+I understood that life's logic was again ripping me away from
+my best comrades, and that now it would be especially hard for
+me, since the resolution of this argument would take a long
+time, a very long time.... They were both looking at me.
+ "Concretely," I repeated. "Concretely I suggest a plan for
+the development and spread of a humanistic viewpoint in this
+country."
+ Oscar grimaced with distaste, and Matia said biliously:
+ "Nah! I am talking seriously."
+ "So am I. What we need is not detectives, nor squads armed
+with machine pistols."
+ "We need a decision!" said Matia, "not conversations, but
+decisions!"
+ 'That's precisely what I am proposing -- a decision."
+ Matia reddened
+ "We have to save people," he said. "Souls we can save
+after we save the people.... Don't annoy me, Ivan!"
+ "While you are restructuring world-views," said Oscar,
+"people will be dying or turning into idiots."
+ I didn't want to argue, but said anyway, "As long as
+world-views are not restructured, people will be dying and
+turning into idiots, and no squads will help. Remember
+Rimeyer!"
+ "Rimeyer forgot his duty," raged Matia.
+ "Exactly," said I.
+ Matia slammed his mouth shut and, tearing off his glasses,
+was silent for a while, his eyes rotating angrily. He was,
+without a doubt, a man of iron; you could actually watch turn
+drive his rage inward. In a minute he was entirely calm and
+smiling placidly.
+ "Yes," he said. "It seems that I am forced to admit that
+intelligence as a social institution has regressed to the
+piteous end. Apparently we destroyed the last of the true
+operatives in the time of the last putsches. "Knife" --
+Dannziger; "Bamboo" -- Savada; "Doll" -- Grover; "Ram" --
+Boas... True, they were bought and they were sold, they had no
+country, they were scum, lumpens, but they worked! "Sirius" --
+Haram... worked for four intelligences and was a scoundrel. He
+was a filthy animal. But if he gave information, it was real
+information, clear, precise, and timely. I can recollect
+ordering him hung without the slightest pity, but when I look
+at my current co-workers, I can understand what a loss
+ that was.... Granted, a man can fail in the end and become
+a drug addict, as "Bamboo" Savada did finally. But why write
+lying reports? Rather resign, excuse yourself, don't write any
+reports at all.... I arrive in this town in the profound
+conviction that I know it through and through, because I have
+had here for ten years an experienced, proved, resident agent.
+And suddenly I determine that I know precisely nothing. Every
+local kid knows who the Fishers are. But I don't know. I know
+only that the KVS Society which occupied itself with about the
+same things as the Fishers was disbanded and outlawed three
+years ago. I know this from the reports of the resident. But at
+the local police I am informed that the VAL Society was formed
+two years ago, which I did not learn from the resident's
+reports. I am employing a simplified example, since I really
+don't give a damn about the Fishers, but this becomes
+transformed into a general style of work. Reports are delayed,
+reports lie, reports misinform... in the end reports are simply
+invented. One man openly resigns from the Council and doesn't
+consider it incumbent upon him to so inform his superior. He
+has enough, you see; he had intentions to communicate but
+somehow couldn't find the time.... Another, instead of fighting
+the drug problem, becomes an addict himself.... And the third
+philosophizes."
+ He nodded at me with regretful bitterness.
+ "Understand me correctly, Ivan," he continued. "I am not
+opposed to philosophy. But philosophy is one thing and our work
+altogether another. Judge for yourself, Ivan. If there is no
+secret headquarters, if we are faced with a deluge of
+do-it-yourself enterprise, then why all the secretiveness? All
+this conspiratorial atmosphere? Why is slug enveloped in such
+mystery? I allow that Rimeyer is silent because of pangs of
+conscience in general and specifically on your account, Ivan.
+But the rest? Slug is not illegal; everyone knows about it and
+yet everyone keeps it a secret. Oscar, here, doesn't
+philosophize; he postulates that the inhabitants are simply
+terrorized. I can understand that. And what do you postulate,
+Ivan?"
+ "In your pocket," I said, "there is a slug. Go in the
+bathroom. There's Devon on the shelf -- one tablet orally, four
+in the water. There's some whiskey in the medicine chest. Oscar
+and I will wait. And then you can tell us aloud, so we can
+hear, we your comrades in work and your underlings, about your
+sensations and experiences. And we -- better it should be Oscar
+-- should listen, but as for me, I think I'll leave."
+ Matia put on his glasses and stared at me.
+ "You are implying that I won't tell? You propose that I,
+too, will be derelict in my duty?"
+ "What you will learn will have no relation whatsoever to
+your duty. That you will renege on subsequently. As did
+Rimeyer. Comrades, this is slug. It's a cute device, which
+awakens fantasy and directs it where it will, particularly
+where you yourself subconsciously -- and I mean subconsciously
+-- would like to direct it. The further you are removed from
+the animal, the more inoffensive would slug be, but the closer
+to the animal, the more you would be impelled to adhere to the
+conspiratorial way. The animals themselves are altogether
+silent. They just know how to press the lever."
+ "What lever?"
+ I explained about the rats to them.
+ "Did you try it yourself?" asked Matia.
+ "Yes."
+ "And?"
+ "As you can see, I tend to silence."
+ Matia sibilated for some time and then said, "Well, I am
+no nearer to the animal than you are. How do you put it in?"
+ I loaded the radio and handed it to him. Oscar was
+following all this with interest.
+ "God be with me," said Matia, "Where is your bath? I'll
+wash after my trip while I'm at it."
+ He locked himself in, and we could hear him dropping
+things.
+ "Strange affair," said Oscar.
+ "It's really not an affair," I contradicted. "It's a piece
+of history, Oscar, and you would like to fit it into a file and
+tie it with a ribbon. But this is no gangster business. It
+should be obvious to a hedgehog, as Yurkovsky used to say."
+ "Who?"
+ "Yurkovsky, Vladimir Sergeyevitch. There was such a
+renowned planetologist. I worked with him."
+ "Aah," said Oscar, "By the way, on the plaza by the Hotel
+Olympic there is a monument to a Yurkovsky."
+ "The very same man."
+ "Really?" said Oscar. "On the other hand, it's quite
+possible. However, the monument was not put up because he was a
+renowned planetologist. It's simply that for the first time in
+the history of the city, he broke the electronic roulette bank.
+It was decided to immortalize such a feat."
+ "I expected something of the sort," I murmured. I felt
+depressed.
+ The shower began to hiss in the bathroom, and there was a
+frightful roar from Matia, At first, I decided that he turned
+on ice water instead of warm, but he kept yelling and then
+began to curse in the most horrendous terms. Oscar and I
+exchanged glances. He was generally calm, interpreting this as
+the typical action of slug, and his face exhibited a
+compassionate expression. The latch rattled wildly, the door
+flew open with a crash. Bare heels slapped in the bedroom, and
+a naked Matia rolled into the study.
+ "Are you some kind of an idiot?" he bellowed at me. "What
+sort of filthy trick is this?"
+ I went numb. Matia resembled a grotesque zebra. His
+well-fed body was covered with poison-green vertical stripes.
+He reared and stamped his feet, spraying emerald drops. When we
+regained our composure and investigated the site of the
+accident, we learned that the shower head had been stuffed with
+a sponge saturated with a green dye. I remembered Len's note
+and guessed that Vousi was the culprit. It took a long while to
+restore a normal atmosphere. Matia viewed the incident as a
+boorish joke and an inadmissible disregard of subordinate
+discipline and behavior. Oscar horse-laughed. I scrubbed Matia
+with a brush and explained. Then Matia announced that from now
+on he wouldn't trust anyone and would try out slug when he got
+home. He dressed and went into conference with Oscar on the
+plans for blockading the city.
+ I was cleaning up in the bath and thinking that with this,
+my work in the Council was coming to an end, and another kind
+of work was beginning -- which I did not know how to begin. I
+would have liked to include myself in the blockade planning,
+not because I considered it necessary, but because it was so
+simple, so much more simple than to return to people their
+souls which had been devoured by affluence, and to teach each
+one to think of world problems in the same way as his own
+personal ones.
+ "Isolate this pus bag from the rest of the world, isolate
+it totally, that's the total of our philosophy," orated Matia.
+That was aimed at me. But perhaps not even me. For Matia was a
+brilliant mind. He understood too well that isolation was
+always a defense, but here we had to attack. But he knew how to
+advance only with squads, and this was embarrassing to him.
+ To rescue. For how long would you need rescuing? When
+would you learn to rescue yourselves? Why were you eternally
+harkening to priests, fascists, demagogues, and imbecile Opirs?
+Why didn't you want to exert your brains? Why did you resist
+thinking so? Why couldn't you understand that the world is
+vast, complex, and fascinating? Why was everything simple and
+boring tc you? In what way did your mind differ from the mind
+of Rabelais, Swift, Lenin, Einstein, Makarenko, Hemingway, and
+Strogoff? Someday I would grow tired of all this. Someday when
+I had no more strength and conviction. For I was similar to
+you. But I wanted to help you, and you didn't want to help
+me....
+ <i>Reg and Len came over after school, and Len said, "We
+have decided, Ivan. We will go to the Gobi Central." He had red
+fuzz on his lip and huge red hands, and I could see that it
+divas he who had thought up the Gobi trip, and quite recently
+-- not more than ten minutes ago. Reg, as usual, was silent,
+chewing on a blade of grass and placidly studying me with his
+calm gray eyes. He has become altogether a square, I thought,
+and said, "Wonderful book, isn't it?" "Yes, indeed," said Len.
+"We understood at once where we should go." Reg was quiet.
+"Heat and stench are suspended in the shadow of these hard
+laboring dragons," I said from memory. "They devour everything
+under them -- the ancient Mongolian prayer gate, the bones of a
+two-humped beast fallen in some sand storm..." "Yes," said Len,
+while Reg went on chewing his blade of grass. "Every time," I
+continued (now from Ichin-dagli), "that the sun arrives at a
+mathematically precise required position, a strange mirage
+blossoms out in the East -- of a strange city with white towers
+which no one has yet seen in reality. " "One should see that
+with his own eyes," said Len, and laughed. "Friend Len," I
+said, "it's too fascinating and therefore too simple. You will
+see that it's too simple yourself and it will become an
+unpleasant disappointment." No, I hadn't said it right. "Friend
+Len," I said, "what sort of a mirage is that? Here is one.
+Seven years ago, in your mother's house, I saw a truly
+marvelous mirage: both of you standing before me almost grown
+up..." No -- I was saying that for myself, not for them. It
+should be said differently. "Friend Len," I said, "seven years
+ago you explained to me that your people were accursed. We came
+here and removed the curse from you and Reg and from many other
+children who had no parents. And now it's your turn to remove,
+the curse, which..."
+ It will be very difficult, but I'll explain it to them.
+One way or another, I'll get it across. We have known from
+childhood how to remove the curses on the barricades and on
+construction sites and in laboratories, and you will remove the
+last of the curses, you will be the future teachers and
+educators. In the last war -- the most bloodless and the most
+difficult for its soldiers.</i>
+ Upstairs Vousi screeched and Len started to cry piteously.
+Oscar's voice boomed in the study. How well off he is, I
+thought. Simple: slug is bad, harmful, unnatural. Therefore, it
+must be destroyed, forbidden by law, and then you must watch
+closely that the law is strictly enforced. Only Matia is
+smarter than that, because he is older and more experienced.
+Matia can still be pulled over to my side. My word doesn't mean
+anything to him, but others will be found to whom he will
+listen.... How wonderful that I can now cry out to the whole
+world and be heard by millions of like-thinkers!
+ And then I thought that I would not leave this place. I
+had been here only three days. It could not be that there was
+no one here who would be with us. No one who hated all this
+with a deadly hatred, who wanted to blast this dull sated world
+out of its stasis. Such people always existed and always will.
+Perhaps that bibliophile driver or that tall, harsh one of the
+Intels... and who knew how many more. They stumbled about as
+though they were blind. We would do everything in our power to
+help them so that they would not waste their anger on trifles.
+It was our place to be here now. And my place, too.
+ What a labor lies ahead, I thought, what a task! For the
+time being, I didn't know where to begin in this Country of the
+Boob, caught unprepared in a flood of affluence, but I knew
+that I wouldn't leave here as long as the immigration laws
+permitted. And when they stopped permitting it, I would break
+them....
projects / libcds.git / commitdiff