course, a television, so that I drifted off with the knowledge that from there, from behind the glass plate, some giant face was grimacing at me, meditating over me, laughing, chattering, babbling… I was delivered by a sleep like death; in it, even time stood still.
TWO
My eyes still closed, I touched my chest; I had my sweater on; if I’d fallen asleep without undressing, then I was on watch duty. “Olaf!” I wanted to say, and sat up suddenly.
This was a hotel, not the
Looking for the bathroom, I accidentally found the bed; it was in a wall and fell in a bulging pearly square when something was pressed. In the bathroom there was no tub or sink, nothing, only shining plates in the ceiling and a small depression for the feet, padded with a spongy plastic. It did not look like a shower, either. I felt like a Neanderthal. I quickly undressed, then stood with my clothes in my hands, since there were no hangers; there was instead a small compartment in the wall, and I tossed everything into it. Nearby, three buttons, blue, red, and white. I pushed the white. The light went off. The red. There was a rushing sound, but it was not water, only a powerful wind, blowing ozone and something else; it enveloped me; thick, glittering droplets settled on my skin; they effervesced and evaporated, I did not even feel moisture, it was like a swarm of soft electrodes massaging my muscles. I tried the blue button and the wind changed; now it seemed to go right through me, a very peculiar feeling. I thought that once a person became used to this, he would come to enjoy it. At Adapt on Luna they didn’t have this — they had only ordinary bathrooms. I wondered why. My blood was circulating more strongly, I felt good; the only problem was that I did not know how to brush my teeth or with what. I gave up on that in the end. In the wall was still another door, with the sign “Bathrobes” on it. I looked inside. No robes, just three metal bottles, a little like siphons. But by that time I was completely dry and did not need to rub myself down.
I opened the compartment into which I had put my clothes and received a shock: it was empty. A good thing I had put my shorts on the top of the compartment. Wearing my shorts, I went back into the room and looked for a telephone, to find out what had happened to my clothes. A predicament. I discovered the telephone, finally, by the window — in my mind I still called the television screen the window — it leapt from the wall when I began to curse out loud, reacting, I guess, to the sound of my voice. An idiotic mania for hiding things in walls. The receptionist answered. I asked about my clothes.
“You placed them in the laundry,” said a soft baritone. “They will be ready in five minutes.”
Fair enough, I thought. I sat near the desk, the top of which obligingly moved under my elbow the moment I leaned forward. How did that work? No need to concern myself; the majority of people benefit from the technology of their civilization without understanding it.
I sat naked, except for my shorts, and considered the possibilities. I could go to Adapt. If it were only an introduction to the technology and the customs, I would not have hesitated, but I had noticed on Luna that they tried at the same time to instill particular approaches, even judgments of phenomena; in other words, they started off with a prepared scale of values, and if one did not adopt them, they attributed this — and, in general, everything — to conservatism, subconscious resistance, ingrained habits, and so on. I had no intention of giving up such habits and resistance until I was convinced that what they were offering me was better, and my lessons of the previous night had done nothing to change my mind. I didn’t want nursery school or rehabilitation, certainly not with such politeness and not right away. Curious, that they had not given me that betrization. I would have to find out why.
I could look for one of us; for Olaf. That would be in clear contravention of the recommendations of Adapt. Ah, because they never ordered; they repeated continually that they were acting in my best interest, that I could do what I liked, even jump straight from the Moon to Earth (jocular Dr. Abs) if I was in such a hurry. I was choosing to ignore Adapt, but that might not suit Olaf. In any case I would write him. I had his address.
Work. Try to get a job? As what, a pilot? And make Mars-Earth-Mars runs? I was an expert at that sort of thing, but…
Suddenly I remembered that I had some money. It wasn’t exactly money, for it was called something else, but I failed to see the difference, inasmuch as everything could be obtained with it. I asked the receptionist for a city connection. In the receiver, a distant singing. The telephone had no numbers, no dial; would I need to give the name of the bank? I had it written on a card; the card was with my clothes. I looked into the bathroom, and there they lay in the compartment, freshly laundered; in the pockets were my odds and ends, including the card.
The bank was not a bank — it was called Omnilox. I said the name, and, quickly, as if my call had been expected, a rough voice responded:
“Omnilox here.”
“My name is Bregg,” I said, “Hal Bregg, and I understand that I have an account with you… I would like to know how much is in it.”
Something crackled, and another, higher, voice said:
“Hal Bregg?”
“Yes.”
“Who opened the account?”
“Cosnav — Cosmic Navigation — by order of the Planetological Institute and the Cosmic Affairs Commission of the United Nations, but that was a hundred and twenty-seven years ago.”
“Do you have any identification?”
“No, only a card from Adapt on Luna, from Director Oswamm…”
“That’s in order. The state of the account: twenty-six thousand, four hundred and seven ets.”
“Ets?”
“Yes. Do you require anything further?”
“I would like to withdraw a little mon — some ets, that is.”
“In what form? Perhaps you would like a calster?”
“What is that? A checkbook?”
“No. You will be able to pay cash right away.”
“Yes. Good.”
“How high should the calster be?”
“I really don’t know — five thousand…”
“Five thousand. Good. Should it be sent to your hotel?”
“Yes. Wait — I’ve forgotten the name of this hotel.”
“Is it not the one from which you are calling?”
“It is.”
“That is the Alcaron. We will send you the calster right away. But there is one more thing: your right hand has not changed, has it?”
“No. Why?”
“Nothing. If it had, we would need to change the calster. You will receive it very soon.”
“Thank you,” I said, putting down the receiver. Twenty-six thousand, how much was that? I did not have the faintest idea. Something began to hum. A radio? It was the phone. I picked up the receiver.
“Bregg?”
“Yes,” I said. My heart beat stronger, but only for a moment. I recognized her voice. “How did you know where I was?” I asked, for she did not speak immediately.
“From an infer. Bregg… Hal… listen, I wanted to explain to you…”
“There is nothing to explain, Nais.”
“You’re angry. But try to understand…”
“I’m not angry.”
“Hal, really. Come over to my place today. You’ll come?”
“No, Nais; tell me, please — how much is twenty-six thousand ets?”
