“I need a place to sleep,” the girl said.
Her voice was clear and sweet and the young man decided that even before the rain had scrubbed her face she hadn’t worn makeup.
He said, “You don’t want to stay here. I’ll call you a cab.”
“I want to stay here,” the girl said in her clear voice. “I have to stay somewhere.”
“I have a communicator,” the young man said. He opened his coat to show it to her—a black box with a speaker, keys, and a tiny screen—then realized that he had made a fool of himself. Someone laughed.
“They’re not running.”
The old woman said, “What’s not running?”
“The cabs. Or the buses. There’s high water in a lot of places all over the city and they’ve been shorting out. I have a communicator too”—the blind girl touched her waist—“and the ruler made a speech just a few minutes ago. I listened to him as I walked and there was a newscast afterward. But I knew anyway because a gentleman tried to call one for me from the terminal, but they wouldn’t come.”
“You shouldn’t stay here,” the young man said.
The old woman said, “I got a room if you want it—the only one left.”
“I want it,” the girl told her.
“You’ve got it. Wait a minute now—I’ve got to fix this fellow some sandwiches.”
Someone swore at the old woman and said that the game was about to start.
“Five minutes yet.” She took a piece of boiled ham from under the counter and put it between two slices of bread, then repeated the process.
The young man said, “These look eatable. Not fancy, but eatable. Would you like to have one?”
I have a little money,” the blind girl said. “I can pay for my own.” And to the old woman: “I would like some coffee.”
“How about a sandwich?”
“I’m too tired to eat.”
The door was opening almost constantly now as people from the surrounding tenements braved the storm and splashed in to watch the game. The old woman turned the wall on and they crowded near it, watching the pregame warm-up, practicing and perfecting the intentness they would use on the game itself. The scarred young man and the blind girl were edged away and found themselves nearest the door in a room now grown very silent save for the sound from the wall.
The young man said, “This is really a bad place—you shouldn’t be here.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I don’t have much money,” he said. “It’s cheap.”
“You don’t have a job?”
“I was hurt in an accident. I’m well now, but they wouldn’t keep me on—they say I would frighten the others. I suppose I would.”
“Isn’t there insurance for that?”
“I wasn’t there long enough to qualify.”
“I see,” she said. She raised her coffee carefully, holding it with both hands. He wanted to tell her that it was about to spill—she did not hold it quite straight—but dared not. Just as it was at the point of running over the edge it found her lips.
“You listened to the ruler,” he said, “while you were walking in the storm. I like that.”
“Did they listen here?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t here. The wall was off when I came in.”
“Everyone should,” she said. “He does his best for us.”
The scarred young man nodded.
“People won’t cooperate,” she said. “Don’t cooperate. Look at the crime problem—everyone complains about it, but it is the people themselves who commit the crimes. He tries to clean the air, the water, all for us—”
“But they burn in the open whenever they think they won’t be caught,” the young man finished for her, “and throw filth in the rivers. The bosses live in luxury because of him, but they cheat on the standards whenever they can. He should destroy them.”
“He loves them,” the girl said simply. “He loves everyone. When we say that, it sounds like we’re saying he loves no one, but that’s not true. He loves
“Yes,” the scarred young man said after a moment, “but he loves Westwind the best. Loving everyone does not exclude loving someone more than others. Tonight he called Westwind ‘my eyes.’ ”
“Westwind observes for him,” the girl said softly, “and reports. Do you think Westwind is someone very important?”
“He is important,” the young man said, “because the ruler listens to him—and after all, it’s next to impossible for anyone else to get an audience. But I think you mean ‘does he look important to us?’ I don’t think so—he’s
