Mr. Nagisha had rented his own apartment out to as many people as it would hold and taken up residence on the bottom steps, but he wasn’t in the apartment, even though half of Sony’s population appeared to be. He’d better not say anything to me about my alien subletting half of his room, Chris thought. She went back out to Mr. Nagisha’s terminal, entered Mr. Hutchins’s name under Ohghhifoehnnahigrheeh and asked for a revised schedule.
“ ’Scuse me,” Charmaine said, putting down one high-heeled shoe next to the printer. “I gotta leave for work. My shift doesn’t start till nineteen, but I gotta walk on account of my makeup gets smeared on the bullet.”
“I can imagine,” Chris said. She tore off the printout and stood up. Charmaine was wearing a pink smock that stood out stiffly from her body and made her look much younger than she had in the hall. She had her hair done in an elaborate topknot. “You’d better take an umbrella. It might rain.”
“I thought on the L-5’s it was only supposed to rain at night after everybody’d gone to bed.”
“It is, but the sprinklers are set to come on when a given area gets overheated, and with all these people, they’ve been coming on at funny times. Mr. Ohghhi…,” she said, and glanced guiltily at her hand as if Hutchins were watching her, “foehnnahigrheeh and I got caught in the ginza yesterday.” He hadn’t been the least bit dismayed. He had gone into the nearest department store and bought five dozen oiled-paper umbrellas. “Why don’t you ask Mr. .… my alien to loan you an umbrella? He’s got more than enough.”
“Gee, thanks,” Charmaine said, and started up the stairs.
“He doesn’t speak English very well. Just say ‘umbrella’ and act it out.” She went through the motions of opening an umbrella and holding it above her head. “Better yet, ask Mr. Hutchins to ask him. He doesn’t seem to have any trouble communicating with him.”
“I bet he wouldn’t have trouble communicating with anybody,” Charmaine said, and clattered on up the stairs in her spike heels.
Chris printed out copies of the bathroom schedules and the apartment rules, tore them off, and started back up the stairs.
“He loaned me a red one to go with my fans,” Charmaine said, twirling it as she came down the stairs. “I love it. I might use it in my single. Can I ask you something about this guy Hutchins? Is he your boyfriend?”
“No,” Chris said. “I’m engaged.”
“I knew it,” Charmaine said. “The cute ones are always already taken. Even when the ratio of guys to women is as good as it is right now on Sony. Especially the tall cute ones.”
“I’m not engaged to Mr. Hutchins. I don’t even know him. NASA requisitioned half of my apartment for Mr. Ohghhi… my alien, and he sublet half of it to Mr. Hutchins.”
“Oh,” she said, opening and closing the umbrella.
“The little kids told me he was moving in with you, so I figured he was your boyfriend.”
“He is not my boyfriend. He is not my anything.”
“So you wouldn’t be mad if I put the moves on him, then? I mean, I’m here to try to find a husband, but I wouldn’t want to steal your boyfriend or anything.” She snapped the umbrella open and put it over her shoulder. “Is he a lawyer?”
“I don’t know,” Chris said, and frowned. Come to think of it, he hadn’t said a word about what he did for a living or why he was on Sony.
“I hope not. They always try to make marriage into a real-estate deal or something.” She sighed. “My old boyfriend down on earth was a lawyer, and gee, you woulda thought I was a condo or something. Well, I gotta go. See you at the show.” She flounced out, twirling the umbrella.
Chris started back up the stairs, maneuvering between rolled-up bedding and a stack of dishes from the deli next door. The old man was sitting up, watching Charmaine’s exit with a dazed expression. Mr. Nagisha’s cousins were watching, too, and eating fried fish. Molly and Bets were leaning over the landing railing, their chins resting on their arms.
“I told you thyee was a thlut,” Molly said. “Did you thee those fanth on her ath?”
“At least she’s really in show business,” Chris said. “Unlike some people I could name.”
She went back into the apartment. Hutchins was in the hall, leaning against the door of her room with the aspirin packet still in his hand as if he were too tired to take it.
“Mr. Hutchins,” she said, “I’m afraid this isn’t going to work. I know Mr. Ohghhi… he told you you could stay, but…”
“But you’ve been talking to Hedda and Louella, and they’ve been busily spreading the news that you have a live-in lover. Are you sure they’re not forty-year-old circus midgets?”
“No,” Chris said, feeling sorry for him all over again. He had leaned his head against the wall as if it hurt, and even though he was smiling at her, it looked like it took an effort.
“Am I supposed to ache all over?”
“Yes. Did you take the vitamin A?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She handed him the printouts. “These are the bathroom schedules. Everyone gets an initial two minutes in the morning using this schedule, which begins at five o’clock. At six-fifteen the second rotation begins, which allows you an additional five minutes. If you miss your turn, you automatically go to the end of the schedule. There’s soap, and water for brushing your teeth in the bathroom. You get your shower water from the tank in the basement. You’re allowed sixteen ounces.”
“No electrical appliances in the bathroom,” he said wearily.
“The apartment rules are on the other sheet. You’ll feel better as soon as the aspirin starts working. I’ll make you a cup of tea and you can lie down.” She started past him into the living room, but he put his arm up with surprising speed.
“It’s a great idea, but it won’t work,” he said.
“Why not? Did Mr. Ohghhi… my alien buy another piano while I was downstairs?”
“Worse,” he said. “He wants us all to go out on the town. ‘I want to drink sake and see a sutorippu,’ was the way he put it.” He handed Chris a card that said, “Luigi’s Tempura Pizzeria and Sutorippu. Topless. Bottomless. Continuous shows.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re not the one who wants to see the sutorippu’?” she said. “Mr. Ohghhifoehnn…” She stopped and read from her hand, determined not to let him intimidate her.
“… ahigrheeh doesn’t know enough English to say a sentence that long.”
“How do you know?” he said. “You’re so busy worrying about how to pronounce his name that you don’t even listen to him.”
“Well, you definitely shouldn’t go,” she said to change the subject. “This Luigi’s place is down in Shitamachi, on the equator. You’re shuttlelagged enough as it is. The last thing you need is full gravity.”
“I’m doing okay. Your vitamin A must be working. And anyway, we don’t have any choice in the matter. Your boyfriend said we had to do whatever Okee wanted, and what he wants is to watch a strip show.”
Ohghhifoehnnahigrheeh slid open the door to his room. He had combed down his wispy hair and put a pink tie on over his long orange coat. “Topless,” he said happily. “Bottomless. Continuous shows.”
They took the bullet. It was jammed. Chris spent the trip wedged between a large bearded man and a middle-aged woman who looked like she was the kind who did get nauseated on the shuttle. Ohghhifoehnnahigrheeh had bought a large paper kite on the platform when Chris wasn’t looking, and he and Hutchins were holding it above their heads so it wouldn’t get crushed.