Before I quite knew what I’d done, I’d invited their representative over to Chez Stratos to assess the entire contents of my suite. Rich people fall on hard times and sell things, but I could tell, when I got through to the human assistants at Casa, that they were rather surprised—surprised and greedy. Of course, they’d cheat me. I looked at the receipt from E.M., seeing the wording for a S.I.L.V.E.R. The Sophisticated Format Robot, and at the charge. I’d get enough. And enough for other things, for a run-down apartment somewhere. And then, with the thousand I.M.U. card, I could manage there, if I was careful.
What was I doing? Did I know? Ice water ran down my back, my head throbbed, I felt sick. But I only drank some more wine, and got dressed and powdered my face to put up a barrier between me and the rep. from Casa Bianca. Then I gave admittance instructions to the lift, which said: “Hallo, Jane. Yes, Jane, I understand.”
The rep. arrived an hour later, very smart, about forty but not on Rejuvinex, or not on enough of it. She had long, blood-red nails, a bad psychological mistake in her line of work. Or perhaps it was done to intimidate. She looked predatory as she came out of the lift into the foyer.
“Good evening,” she said. “I’m Geraldine, representing Casa Bianca.”
“Please come this way,” I said. Party manners. Well, I’d often felt just as scared as this at parties.
We went up in the birdcage to the Vista.
“Excuse me,” said Geraldine, “is any of the rest of the house involved?”
“No. Just my suite.”
“Pity.”
We walked through the Vista, and she exclaimed. Indigo clouds were humped against the balcony-balloons with puddles of stars in them. The Asteroid blazed in the East like a neon, advertising something too ethereal to be real.
“My God,” said Geraldine, proclaiming a monopoly. “By the way,” she said, as we went up the annex stair, “I’m afraid we’ll require proof of your ownership of the properties you want to sell. You did realize that?”
She thought I was about ten years old and she would make corn hash of me. She probably would. I was allergic to her. I wished my mother would come home unexpectedly and end all this. What had I done?
“In here,” I said, as we went into my suite, which one of the spacemen had tidied.
“Oh, yes,” said Geraldine. “You said on the phone everything was to go.”
“If you can give me a reasonable price for it,” I said. My voice trembled.
“Why the heck are you leaving?” marveled Geraldine.
“I’m going to live with my lover,” I said. “And Mother wants to restyle the suite.”
Geraldine opened her big leather bag and removed a lightweight mini-computer which she set up on a side table.
“I’ll just run the ownership proof through now, if you don’t mind.”
I handed her the inventory tape. It had my individual body code, and the description and sonic match for everything in the rooms, which her computer would test and find correct. The inventory was kept in Demeta’s tape store, but I’d sent one of the spacemen for it.
As the computer chittered through its routine, Geraldine walked round and about, now and then picking things up and running a little calculator over them.
“The computer will take the full scan in a moment,” she said. “But you have some nice things. I think Casa Bianca will be able to take most of this off your hands.”
“There are clothes, too. And makeup cabinet. And a hairdresser unit. And all the tapes with the deck. You can take the bath fittings if you want, so long as you tie off the plumbing.”
“Well, I shan’t be doing it personally,” she corrected me.
I cringed, and just managed not to apologize to her.
“Well,” said Geraldine. “I just hope your lover can give you all of this.”
I kept quiet, this time. That was my business, wasn’t it.
What my lover, my love, my beloved, gave me. Or could he give me anything.
I opened the doll cupboard.
“My!” said Geraldine. “Some of these are—” she stopped herself. “Of course, secondhand toys are much harder to sell. But they seem well-preserved. Did you ever play with them?”
“They’re durables.”
My mother had wanted me to be able to work out my aggressions with my toys, so they were the kind whose hair didn’t come out, and whose ears didn’t fall off. There was my unicorn rocking horse, unscratched, and my bear in shining coal-black fur. “See,” I thought to them, “people are going to buy you and love you and play with you, after all.” I wouldn’t cry in front of Geraldine. I wouldn’t.
I poured some wine and didn’t offer her any. She hated me anyway.
The computer put up a white light and a piece of paper. Geraldine read it carefully. “Yes, that’s all in order. I’ll just switch on the scan. There. Our relay department can let you know the offer we’re prepared to make first thing tomorrow. Or late tonight, if you prefer.”
“I’m afraid I want everything cleared by tomorrow. And the money. Or else I’ll have to try another firm.”
“Oh, come on now,” said Geraldine. “Our service is fast. But not that fast. And no one’s is.”
If I held the glass much more tightly, I’d break it, like people do in visuals.
“Then I’m sorry to have wasted your time,” I said.
Geraldine stared at me. She looked impressed.
“So okay,” she said. “What’s the hurry? Your mother doesn’t know you’re doing this?”
“Your computer has just told you that I own everything in the suite.”
“Yup. But Mother still doesn’t know the bird’s flying the nest. Right?”
My mother did know. I’d told her.
Geraldine looked at the white leather suitcase.
“What’s in there? Don’t tell me. A few clothes, a bag of your favorite makeup, your boyfriend’s photo. What is this? You’ve fallen in love with some adolescent on Subsistence?”
The computer put up a yellow light and closed itself off. The scan was complete.
“What about the bathroom and bedroom?” I asked.
“Oh, Fred here can see through walls. What about you?”
I forced myself to turn and look at her. My eyes watered but I didn’t blink. The lenses of my eyes were flat and cruel. My face was silver.
“I want your firm to call me with its offer in no more than two hours. If I agree to it, I want your removal machinery in here and out in one hour more.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Geraldine. “I’ll pass on your message.”
“If I don’t get the call by ten P.M., I’ll go elsewhere.”
“Nobody else could take this on in the middle of the night,” said Geraldine. She re-bagged the computer, dropped in the calculator. “I might be able to swing it for you,” she said. She picked up the jade panther. “I might.”
I’m so slow. It was ages as she stood there with the panther, before I knew she wanted me to bribe her. I started to panic, as if I’d committed some breach of social etiquette. I didn’t know how to get over it. As I fumbled about in my mind, Geraldine put down the panther and walked crisply out.
I followed her into the birdcage lift and touched the button. Geraldine looked into space with her hard sad eyes that had parcels of lines in the thick mascara under them. I wondered frenziedly if everyone always tipped her with some valuable piece, if her apartment was stuffed with collectors items, against her compulsory retirement, which would have to be any year now. I began to feel sorry for her, her tired skin, her carnivorous nails.
We reached the foyer and she stepped out and over to the lift in the support. At the door she hesitated. She turned and looked at me.