by Jack Vance
A cavernous bathroom was shared by both sexes, personal modesty having succumbed to egalism. Jantiff diffidently made use of the facilities, wondering what his mother would say, then thankfully retired to his chamber.
In the morning, after Wyst’s short night, Jantiff rose from his bed to find Dwan already halfway up the sky. Jantiff looked out across the city in great interest, studying the play of light among the blocks and along the man-ways. Each of the blocks showed a different color, and, possibly because Jantiff was bringing to bear an expectant vision, the colors seemed peculiarly rich and clean, as if they had just been washed.
Jantiff dressed and, descending to the ground floor, took advice from the desk clerk as to the location of Block 17882. Giving the restaurant and its two-ozol breakfast a wide berth, Jantiff set off along the man-way: a sliding surface thronged with Arrabins, rapid toward the center, slow at the edges.
Dwan-light illuminated the city-scape to either side in a manner Jantiff found entrancing, and his spirits rose.
The man-way curved westward; the blocks in lines to right and left marched away to the horizon, dwindling to points. Laterals poured human streams upon the man-way; Jantiff had never imagined such vast crowds: a marvelous spectacle in itself! The city Uncibal must be reckoned one of the wonders of the Gaean universe! Across his course at right angles slid another of the mighty Arrabin man-rivers: a pair of boulevards flowing in opposite directions. Jantiff glimpsed rank behind rank of men and women riding with faces curiously serene.
The man-way swerved and joined another, larger, man-way. Jantiff began to watch the overhanging signs which gave warning of lead-offs. He diverted to a slow neighborhood feeder and presently stepped off in front of a weathered pink block, two hundred feet square and twenty-three stories high. Block 17-882, his designated home.
Jantiff paused to inspect the face of the structure. The surface paint, peeling off in areas, showed blotches of pink, old rose and pale pink which gave the block a raffish and restless air, in contrast to its neighbor, which was painted a supercilious blue. Jantiff found the color congenial and congratulated himself on the lucky chance of his allotment. Like all the other blocks, the walls showed no windows, nor any openings except for the entrance. Over the parapet surrounding the roof hung foliage from the roof garden. Constant traffic passed in and out of the portal: men, women and a few children in identical garments, of colors somewhat too garish for Jantiff’s taste, as if the folk were dressed for a carnival. Their faces likewise were gay; they laughed and chattered and walked jauntily; Jantiff’s spirits rose to look at them, and his misgivings began to dwindle.
Jantiff passed into the lobby and approached the desk. He presented his requisition to the clerk, a short round-bodied man with gingery hair arranged in ear-puffs and elaborate love-locks. The round cheerful face instantly became petulant “My aching bowels! Is it yet another immigrant?”
“No, indeed,” said Jantiff with dignity. “1 am a visitor.”
“What’s the odds? You’re one more cup of water in the full bucket. Why don’t you start an Egalism Society on your own world?”
Jantiff replied politely: “People aren’t so inclined on Zeck.”
“Neither Zeck nor the whole elitist covey! We can’t absorb their ne’er-do-wells indefinitely. Our machines break down, so what happens when the sturge stops and there’s no more wump? We’ll all go hungry together.”
Jantiff’s jaw dropped. “Are there really that many immigrants?”
“Too true! A thousand each and every week!”
“But surely some of them leave?”
“Not enough! Only six hundred, or hopefully seven; still, hope won’t mend machines.” He handed Jantiff a key. “Your roommate will show you the wumper, and explain the rules. You’ll receive a drudge schedule this afternoon.”
Jantiff said tentatively: “I’d prefer a single apartment, if any are available.”
“You’ve got a single apartment,” said the clerk. “It comes with two beds. If the population rises another billion well put in hammocks. Floor 19, Apartment D 18. I’ll call up and mention that you’re coming.”
The ascensor conveyed Jantiff to the nineteenth floor. He found Corridor D and presently arrived at Apartment 18. He hesitated, raised his hand to knock, then decided that under the circumstances he was entitled to effect his own entry; accordingly he touched his key to the latch plate. The door slid aside to reveal a sitting room furnished with a pair of low couches, a table, a set of cases and a wall screen. A patterned beige and black rug covered the floor; from the ceiling hung a dozen globes fashioned from wire and colored paper. On one of the couches sat a man and a woman, both considerably older than Jantiff.
Jantiff stepped forward, feeling a trifle sheepish. “I’m Jantiff Ravensroke, and I’ve been assigned to this apartment.”
The man and the woman showed gracious smiles and jumped smartly to their feet. (Later, when Jantiff recalled his sojourn at Uncibal, he never failed to reflect upon the careful etiquette by which the Arrabins eased the circumstances of their lives.)
The man was tall and elegant, with a fine straight nose and flashing eyes. He wore his black hair in glossy ear-puffs, with artful cusps down the forehead; of the two he seemed the more forthright. He gave Jantiff a friendly salute which conveyed nothing of the desk clerk’s disapproval. “Welcome to Arrabus, Jantiff! Welcome to Old Pink and to this excellent apartment!”
“Thank you very much,” said Jantiff. This affable and intelligent man was evidently to be his roommate and Jantiff’s misgivings dissolved.
“Allow me to perform the introductions. This lady is the miraculous Skorlet, a person of charm and capability, and I am Esteban.”
Skorlet spoke in a quick husky voice: “You seem clean and quiet, and I’m sure that we’ll have no difficulties. Please don’t whistle in the apartment, or inquire the purpose of my work more than once, or belch loudly. I can’t abide a belching man.”
With an effort Jantiff maintained his sangfroid. Here was a situation which he, had not anticipated. With desperate facility he said: “I’ll keep your remarks very much in mind.” He surveyed Skorlet from the corner of his eye. An introverted woman, he thought, perhaps a bit tense. She stood almost as tall as he was with rather heavy arms and legs. Her face was pale and round; her features were unremarkable except for the eyes glowing under strong black eyebrows. She wore her ear-puffs small, with black curls piled in a heap above: a woman neither comely nor yet repulsive. She might not be so easy a roommate as Esteban, however. He said: “I hope you won’t find me too difficult.”
“I’m sure not. You seem a nice lad. Esteban, borrow three mugs from the wumper;. I’ll pour out a taste of swill[11] to mark the occasion. You brought in a pack or two of bonter, or so I hope?”
“Sorry,” said Jantiff. “The idea never occurred to me.”
Esteban went off on his errand; Skorlet rummaged under the case and brought out a jug. “Please don’t think me nonmutual.[12] I just can’t believe that an occasional jug, of swill will destroy Arrabus. You’re sure there’s not even a trace of bonter in your luggage?”
“I don’t carry any luggage; only this handbag.”
“Pity. There’s nothing like pickles and pepper sausage to advance the swill. While we’re waiting, I’ll show you your bed.”
Jantiff followed her into a small square chamber, furnished with two wardrobes, two cases, a table, now cluttered with Skorlet’s small belongings, and two cots separated by a flimsy curtain. Skorlet brushed the trinkets to one side of the, table. “Your half,” she said, “and your bed.” She jerked her thumb. “During my drudge the apartment is: at your disposal, should you wish to entertain a friend, and vice versa. Things work out well unless we draw the same stint, but that’s not too often.”
“Aha, yes, I see,” said Jantiff.
Esteban returned with three blue glass mugs; Skorlet solemnly poured them full. “To the. Centenary!” she called in a brassy voice. “May the Con
natic do his duty!”
Jantiff drank down the murky liquid and controlled a grimace at the aftertaste, which he associated with mice and old mattresses.
“Very bold,” said Esteban approvingly. “Very bold indeed. You have an active thumb for the swill!”
“Yes, very good,” said Jantiff. “And when does the Centenary occur?”
“Shortly—a matter of a few months. There’s to be a simply explosive festival, with free games and dancing along the ways, and probably no end of swill. I’ll surely put down a good supply. Esteban, can’t you scrounge me a dozen jugs?”
“My dear, I’ve drawn the vitamin stint only once, and the Mutual stood right on top of me, watching my every move. I was lucky to capture the two of them.”
“Then we must do without swill.”
“Can’t you use a plastic bag?” Jantiff suggested. “After all, the container need not be rigid.”
Esteban ruefully shook his head. “It’s been tried many times; our plastic bags all leak.”
Skorlet said: “Old Sarp has a jug which he’s too parsimonious to use . I’ll have Kedidah put the merge on it. That’s three jugs at least. Now where’s the gruff?”
“I’ll contribute from lunch,” said Esteban.
“If it’s needed,” said Jantiff, “I will too.”
Skorlet looked at him approvingly. “That the spirit! Who said the immigrants are lampreys sucking our juices? Not the case with Jantiff!”
Esteban said meditatively: “I know a chap in Purple Vendetta who taps sturge from the pipe and he makes a very fierce swill indeed. I might just promote a bucket or two of raw sturge; it’s worth the experiment.”
Jantiff asked: “What is ‘sturge’?”
“Simple food pulp. It’s piped out from the central plant. In the kitchen it magically becomes gruff, deedle and wobbly. No reason why it shouldn’t make good swill.”
Skorlet carefully poured each of the three mugs half full. “Well—once again to the Festival, and may the Connatic put all would-be immigrants to work making pickles and pepper sausage, for consignment to Uncibal I”
“And let the Propuncers gnaw last week’s gruff!”
“Save some for the Connatic. He can be as egal as the rest of us.”
“Oh, he’ll dine on banter at the Travelers Inn; no fear of that.”
Jantiff asked: “Is the Connatic actually coming to the Festival?”
Skorlet shrugged. “The Whispers are going out to Lusz to invite him, but who knows what he’ll say?”
“He won’t come,” said Esteban. “Total fool he’d feel at the ceremony, with everybody screaming ‘Hurrah for egalism!’ and ‘Egalism for the Cluster!’”
“And ‘Low drudge for the Connatic, just like the rest of
“Exactly. What could he say?”
“Oh, something like, ‘My dear subjects, I’m disappointed that you haven’t laid red velvet along Uncibal River for my delicate feet. Now it’s not well known, and I’d never reveal it anywhere but here on Arrabus, but I’m actually a chwig.[13] I command that you fill me a tank with your best banter.”
Half amused, half scandalized, Jantiff protested: “Really. you do him injustice! He lives a most sedate life!”
Skorlet sneered. “That’s all smarm from his Bureau of Acclamation. Who knows what the Connatic’s really like?”
Esteban drained his blue glass mug and looked in calculation toward the jug.
“We all know that the Connatic often disappears from Lusz. Now I’ve heard—this is admittedly rumor, but where there’s smoke there’s fire—that during these exact intervals, and only during these intervals, Bosko Boskowitz[14] makes his depredations. This correspondence has been thoroughly researched, so I’ve heard, and there’s no doubt about it.”
“Interesting!” said Skorlet. “Doesn’t Bosko Boskowitz maintain a secret palace among the starments staffed only with beautiful children, who must obey his every whim?”
‘That’s the case! And isn’t it odd that the Whelm never interferes with Bosko Boskowitz?”
“More than odd! That’s why I say: ‘Egalism across the Cluster!’”
Jantiff said in disgust: “I don’t believe a word of it.”
Skorlet laughed her gloomy laugh. “You’re young and naive.”
“As to that I can’t say.”
“No matter.” Skorlet peered into the jug. “I suppose we might as well put a term to it.”
“Excellent idea!” declared Esteban. “The strength is always at the bottom of the jug.”
Skorlet raised her head. “No time now; there goes the gong. Let’s go for wump. Then, afterwards, why not conduct our new friend around the city?”
“Certainly) I’m always ready for a promenade! It’s a fine day after the rain. And what of Tanzel? We could pick her up along the way.”
“Yes, of course. Poor little dear; I haven’t seen her for days. Fl call her right now.” She went to the screen, but pushed buttons in vain. “It still won’t go! Idiotic thing! There’s been maintenance on it twice!”
Jantiff went to the screen, touched the buttons, listened. He slipped up the retainer ring and lowered the screen upon its hinge.
Skorlet and Esteban came to look over his shoulder. “Do you understand these things?”
“Not really. As children, we’re trained to elementary circuits, but I haven’t gone much further. Still, this is very simple equipment; all plug-ins, and the telltale shows when they’re bad… Hm. These are all in order. Look here; this filter bank isn’t slotted accurately. Try now.”
The screen glowed. Skorlet said bitterly: “The maintenance fellow studied his instruction book for two hours and still couldn’t do the job.”
“Oh well,” said Esteban, “he was just someone like me on high drudge.”
Skorlet merely gave a sour grunt She touched buttons, and spoke to the woman whose face appeared. “Tanzel, please.”
A girl nine or ten years old looked forth from the screen. “Hello, Mother. Hello, Father.”
“We’re dropping by in about an hour, and we’ll go for a nice promenade. Will you be ready?”
“Oh, yes! I’ll wait in front.”
“Good! In just about an hour.”
The three turned to go. Jantiff stopped short. “P11 just put my bag in the wardrobe; no harm starting out tidy at least.”
Esteban clapped Jantiff on the shoulder. “I think you’ve got a jewel here, Skorlet.”
“Oh, I suppose he’ll do.”
As they walked along the corridor Jantiff asked, “What happened to your last roommate?”
“I don’t know,” said Skorlet. “She went out one day and never came back.”
“How strange!”
“I suppose so. No one ever knows what’s in another person’s mind. Here’s the wumper.”
The three entered a long wide room, lined with tables and benches, and already filled with chattering residents of Level 19. An attendant punched their apartment numbers into a register; the three took covered trays from a dispenser and went to a table. The tray contained exactly the same rations Jantiff had been served the previous evening at the Travelers Inn.
Skorlet put a cake of gruff to the side. “For our next swill.”
Esteban with an expression of whimsical grief did likewise. “For swill, any sacrifice is worthy.”
“Here’s mine,” said Jantiff. “I insist on contributing.”
Skorlet gathered the three cakes together. “I’ll take them back to the apartment, and we’ll all just pretend that we’ve eaten them.”
Esteban jumped to his feet. “A good idea, but let me! I’ll be glad to run the errand.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Skorlet. “It’s only a step or two.” Esteban said, laughing, “We’ll both go, if you’re so stubborn.”
Jantiff looked from one to the other, bemused, “Is it really such a point of courtesy? I’ll come too, in that case.”
“ Esteban sighed and shook his head. “Of course not.
Skorlet is merely a wayward person… None of us will go.”
Skorlet shrugged. “As you wish.”
Jantiff said, “We can easily restrain our appetites. At least I can. And we’ll drop off the gruff on our way out.”
“Of course,” said Esteban. “That’s the fair way.”
Jantiff wondered at the exquisite nicety of Esteban’s politesse.
“Eat the wump and shut up,” said Skorlet.
The meal was taken in silence. Jantiff inspected his fellow residents with interest. There was no reserve and anonymity; everyone seemed to know everyone else; cheerful greetings, banter, allusion to social events and mutual friends rang around the room. A slender girl with fine honey-colored hair paused beside Skorlet and whispered something in her ear, with an arch side glance toward Jantiff. Skorlet gave a dreary laugh. “Go on with you! It’s all nonsense, as well you know!”
The girl went on to a nearby table, where she joined friends. Jantiff thought her slender round body, her charming features and her saucy spontaneity all attractive, but made no comment.
Skorlet noticed the direction of his gaze. “That’s Kedidah. The old sandpiper yonder is Sarp, her roommate. He tries to copulate a dozen times a day, which makes for an inconvenient roommate; after all, one’s social life is usually elsewhere. She just offered to trade you for Sarp, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Esteban is always handy when I’m in the mood, which perhaps isn’t as often as it should be.”
Jantiff, spooning up his wobbly, forbore comment.
Upon leaving the refectory, the three stopped by the apartment where Skorlet dropped off the three cakes of gruff. Skorlet turned to Jantiff. “Are you ready?”
“I’m just debating whether to bring my camera. My family wants photographs by the dozen.”
“Better not this time,” said Esteban. “Wait till you know the ropes. Then you can get some really dramatic photographs. And also you’ll have learned to cope with the, alas, all too prevalent snergery.”
“‘Snergery’? What is that?”
“Theft, to put it bluntly. Arrabus abounds with merges. Haven’t you heard?”
