side.”
Julian thought about that as he ate. “I suppose that for every flow of tide, there’s an ebb. It’s true that back in the 1960s and ’70s, food as a whole was deteriorating. But, in rebellion, there was an increasing number of people who were boycotting drive-in hamburger stands, cafeterias and so forth, and cooking their own would-be gourmet meals in their homes. All over the country, gourmet food stores, natural food farms and such were springing up. I used to know a chap who practically hand-raised beef. He fed the steers largely with mash saturated with beer, and kept them in stalls, never allowing them to graze. Every day, each steer was massaged. The beef produced was superlative. You had to buy a whole steer, which he had butchered for you, and you put it down in a deep freeze.”
“It must have cost a fortune,” Doctor Leete said.
“I imagine,” Julian replied. “I wouldn’t know. My chef used to pick it up. Price was no object.” He looked over at the doctor’s wife. “The grim food was eaten by those who couldn’t afford such luxuries.”
Edith said, a bit tartly, “Had you no qualms about eating the best while most of your countrymen—”
“None whatsoever. We of the elite believed that we deserved the best.”
“Who decided you were the elite?” she inquired sarcastically.
“We did,” he said, amused at her snide tone.
“Hmmm,” Leete interjected. “The party roughens. Let’s change the subject.”
Julian put his fork down. “You know,” he began, “my stay here with you has afforded me the epitome of hospitality, but it can’t extend forever. I feel I am imposing. Isn’t there some manner in which I could acquire quarters of my own, so I wouldn’t be always under foot? A single room would be ample.”
Leete chuckled. “There is already an apartment at your disposal, Julian. And it has been since you came out of hibernation. It is on the same floor as this one, and you can move in whenever you wish. Of course, there are no restraints upon you whatsoever. If you wish, you can move to some other area of the country, take a house or cottage—or even acquire a mobile home, if you like. However, it has been the earnest hope of the University that you would remain in residence for a time at least, for additional observation and later, perhaps, for some lectures about your experiences.”
“It’s wonderful here,” Julian said quickly. “’You’ve all been most kind. However, I
“The rent is deducted from your Guaranteed Annual Income. As is everyone else’s.”
Julian frowned. “You mean, everybody pays the same rent, no matter how large the house or apartment?”
“Oh, no. The amount each citizen receives annually is large enough that he can do just about anything he wishes, but it is not infinite, obviously. Thus, some have larger apartments or homes than average, if that is what they particularly like. Others would rather spend less for rent, living in smaller quarters, and devote what they save to, say, travel—such places as Nepal, for mountain climbing, or Switzerland for skiing. Others are boating fans, possibly combined with such related sports as skin diving, fishing, water skiing and such. Some people, indeed, don’t have apartments or houses at all, but live on boats for which they also must pay rent. Oh, there are many ways to spend your credits on things other than high rents.”
“I see. Well, following breakfast, could you show me my apartment?” He added somewhat ruefully, “I won’t have much packing to do. In fact, I’m all packed. Everything I own is in my pockets.”
“Certainly.” The doctor had finished his breakfast. He put down his utensils. “Why don’t we go now?”
Julian West’s quarters were only a short way down the corridor.
The doctor said, “It was thought that to be handy to us in this manner would enable you to easily check if anything comes up you don’t understand. You are, of course, perfectly free to drop in on us at any time. My family is still assigned to adapting you to this new world.”
“Very kind of you,” Julian murmured.
Evidently the identity screen of the apartment had already been set to pick up his features; the door opened automatically at his approach.
He found the apartment more than satisfactory, though it gave him a somewhat impersonal feeling. He was going to have to work at locating some art objects, make a few changes in the furniture, acquire a differently colored rug.
While the doctor patiently sat in the living room which featured a window that composed the whole wall overlooking the university campus, Julian explored the place. Living room, bedroom, bath, small dining room, kitchenette complete with breakfast alcove, a study. The apartment was smaller than that of the Leetes, true, but amply spacious.
Exploration through, he returned to the living room and the doctor.
Leete came to his feet. “I’ll leave you now so you can accustom yourself to your new home. I assume you are fully acquainted with such matters as ordering from the kitchen and from the ultra-market, how to utilize the TV phone, and the National Data Banks library booster, your auto-teacher and so forth. But of course you are: you’ve been using them in my own apartment.”
“Yes, certainly.”
“Very well. Drop by as soon as you wish, my boy.” The doctor smiled. “Imagine me calling you that. I find it hard to accept that you are older than I am.”
Julian smiled too.
He left and for a moment, Julian wasn’t sure that he didn’t wish to follow Leete back to his apartment. Aside from the doctor, his wife, and Edith, Julian knew no one in this world. Or, at least, not in this part of it. There were surely past acquaintances throughout the country, who were still alive. By now they would be in their sixties, at least, and most in their seventies or more, but, sooner or later, he would get around to looking them up.
He could hardly have mentioned it to Leete, but his main reason for remaining in the Julian West University City was the fact that he was in love with Edith Leete. Though he had accepted that a permanent relationship with her was not possible, he still wanted to be near her, no matter how frustrating the contact.
He puttered around for a time, getting used to his new surroundings. The large window in the living room gave him the uncomfortable feeling of being in a goldfish bowl. He was on the fiftieth floor of the high-rise apartment building, however, and it was unlikely that anyone could see into his quarters. Then he noticed a dial at the side of the window. To his surprise, twisting it made the window go from completely clear to completely opaque. The day was superlative, so he returned it to transparency.
Well, his determination was to learn Interlingua as rapidly as possible. He entered the study and seated himself before the auto-teacher and activated it. In spite of everything that Edith and the others had said, he was going to make every effort to bring himself up to date at least to the point where he could communicate intelligently in this world of the year 2 New Calendar.
At that moment the door hummed.
He got up and went back into the living room. The door screen showed that it was Edith and someone he didn’t know. He activated the door and greeted them.
The stranger was a young man in his mid-twenties who looked amazingly healthy and alert; tall, blond, Scandinavian in appearance. It occurred to Julian that all the young people he had seen since coming out of stasis were unbelievably fit looking. In a world where all received the best nourishment and the best of medical care from cradle to grave, he supposed the unattractive in appearance would be few indeed.
Edith smiled with her usual charm. “Julian, this is Sean Mathieson O’Callahan. He’s a fellow student of anthropology.”
The two men shook hands. “Well, now I know four persons in this era. Come in,” said Julian.
He offered them seats.
“That’s quite an imposing name you have,” he said to the newcomer.
O’Callahan replied, “I think we’ve changed the method of naming since—since your time. We now follow the system the Spanish utilized. Sean, of course, is my given name. Mathieson is my father’s name, and O’Callahan is my mother’s. In short, descent is matrilineal, as it was through most of human history. It’s based on the truism that it’s a wise man who knows who his father is, but everyone knows his mother.”
Edith laughed. “I told you he was an anthropologist.”
Julian asked, “How is one named if the father isn’t known?”
“We just use the mother’s name then,” O’Callahan said. “It’s not particularly important. There is no such
