The Ministry of Perfect Public Order had to do without me for one last night. I planned to spend it moving into my new place. The next day, after lunch, I was supposed to report to the House by the Bridge and officially begin my job. Put simply, I had to figure out what was required of me in the course of a few hours, though doubts about my abilities were gradually disappearing.
The family amobiler arrived for Lady Melamori. The fragile, petite Master of Pursuit smiled as we bid each other goodnight and told me quietly that Sir Max was a strange name: a bit too short, but it sounded nice all the same. And off she rolled toward home in truly royal pomp and splendor. Besides the driver, her amobiler boasted two musicians, whose job it was to fulfill the role of a car stereo.
Lookfi and Lonli-Lokli set off for home in the company amobiler. Everyone has the right to do this, though not everyone takes advantage of the privilege. Old Kimpa, Sir Juffin Hully’s butler, came to pick us up. Juffin always leaves for home in his own amobiler, which he justifies by saying that the company vehicle makes him feel like he‘s still at work. In his own amobiler, however, he feels like he’s already home. And you’d have to be the last fool on earth to refuse to knock off work a half hour early. I think that makes perfect sense.
On our way back home we sat side by side in silent contentment. When you know what to talk about with someone, it’s a sign of mutual sympathy. But when you are moved to be quiet together—well, that’s the start of a real friendship.
“Should we sit another half hour over some kamra?” asked Juffin. It wasn’t really a question, but more a statement of fact on his part, as we stood in the doorway of the house. Little Chuff met us in the foyer, wagging his stubby tail. Max has come! But he is leaving, going far far away, the mournful thoughts of the old dog reached me.
“I won’t be that far, Chuff!” I said to the dog. “I’d take you with me, but I know you couldn’t stand being away from your master. Besides, unlike Kimpa, I don’t know how to cook, and I know you have gourmet tastes. I’ll come visit you, all right?”
My furry friend sighed and licked his chops. You’ll come visit. For lunch, he responded with enthusiasm.
Sir Juffin was pleased.
“So you see, everything is taken care of. That a boy, Chuff! A healthy, pragmatic attitude, and no sentiment whatsoever!”
We settled ourselves in comfortable armchairs in the parlor, and Chuff lay down at my feet, allowing himself this slight disloyalty to Juffin in view of the occasion. Kimpa served us kamra and cookies. I enjoyed lighting up my last cigarette, as my reserves had finally run out. My new life was about to begin. I would switch to smoking a pipe or quit smoking altogether. Neither choice seemed particularly appealing, but there were no others in sight.
We exchanged a bit of gossip about my new acquaintances—Juffin’s curiosity seemed to know no bounds. Now he wanted to know my opinion: Did I like Kofa? What about Lookfi? And Melamori? Since the topic had come up anyway, I decided to ask about office romances. Were they outlawed by some regulation in the Code of Krember? Because if they were forbidden, Juffin was free to arrest me right then and there for criminal intent.
“I’m not aware that such things are forbidden. A strange idea, really . . . Is it where you come from? Forbidden, I mean?” he asked in surprise.
“No, not really. But having a relationship with someone at work is frowned upon. Although that’s all anyone ever does.”
“Your World is an odd place, Max! You think one thing, but you do the opposite. We don’t ‘think’ anything. The law stipulates what is required of us, superstition is a matter of inner conviction, traditions attest to our love of habit; but even so, everyone is free to do what he wishes. Go ahead and give it a try, if you feel like it. Although, I don’t think it’s such a good idea. Lady Melamori is a strange young woman. She’s an incurable idealist, and I do believe she enjoys her solitude. Melifaro has been courting her for several years now, without success. She enjoys telling everyone about it; but what good can come of it?”
“Oh, I can just imagine what Melifaro’s attentions are like! ‘Please be so kind as to remove your splendiferous backside from my presence, dear, for its divine shapeliness is distracting me!’”
Sir Juffin laughed. “You guessed it, Max! You really are clairvoyant!”
“Not at all. It’s just that some things go without saying.”
“Regardless, Melifaro is a favorite among the ladies. Although he is no redhead; but then again, neither are you! Do as you wish, though I fear your efforts will not meet with success.”
“I’ve never really had any luck with women in my life. Well, at first I was fairly lucky. Then all of a sudden, they all thought they had to get married for some reason. And not to me. It’s especially strange, because I almost always fell in love with very smart girls. Even that didn’t help matters. I don’t see how any intelligent person could seriously want to get married. In any case, I’m used to it.”
“Well, if that’s how it is, it means you’re either the most thick-skinned or the slipperiest son-of-a-werewolf in the entire Unified Kingdom.”
“Neither. This is probably another one of those cultural differences. We forget pain quickly, and those who can’t at least dull it are apt to inspire pity mixed with incomprehension. Their relatives may also try to persuade them to see a psychoanalyst. I suppose that’s because we don’t live very long, and spending several years on one sorrow would be a ridiculous extravagance.”
“How long do you live?” asked Sir Juffin in surprise.
“About seventy or eighty years. Why do you ask?”
“You die so young? Every one of you?”
“But you see, we’re old by that time.”
“How old are you, Max?”
“Thirty . . . at least, I will be soon. Perhaps I already am. When is my birthday? I’ve lost count since I came here.”
Sir Juffin became seriously alarmed.
“Still a child! Oh dear! I hope you’re not going to die prematurely in forty or fifty years time. Now, let me take a good look at you.”
Juffin jumped out of his chair. A second later he was poking my back with his hands, which suddenly became ice-cold and heavy. Then his hands grew hot, and I felt that my mind, which always used to occupy a place somewhere behind my eyes, was shifting, moving down my spine. I could “see” the warm radiance of his coarse palms with my . . . back! Then it ended, just as unexpectedly as it had begun. Sir Juffin returned to his place, thoroughly satisfied with the results of his examination.
“It’s all right, boy. You’re no different from me, though you may find it hard to believe. That must mean that it isn’t your nature, but your lifestyle that determines your life expectancy. Here in the World you can live for well over three hundred years—as long as no one kills you, that is. You had me frightened for a moment there, Sir Max! What kind of place is your homeland anyway? What sort of hellhole did I pull you out of?”
“The World of the Dead, apparently,” I said with a rueful laugh. “Your city’s taletellers had it almost right. But it’s not all that bad. When you’ve known only one world since childhood, it’s inevitable that it all seems natural. When I left home, I didn’t regret a thing. I doubt, though, that you’ll find many like me. I don’t count, anyway, because I was always a dreamer. I suppose I really was a classic loser. Most people would tell you that nothing good could come of dreaming. The life expectancy you have here, on the other hand, could get a lot of folks to switch sides. If you plan to recruit more of my people, keep that in mind.”