Alma for her hospitality and looks for a dropshaft. Instead he finds a liftshaft, and somehow, pretending it is an accident, he gets off at 530. Heading for Romeâs sonic center. Dark there. The instruments still on stage. Quietly he slips down in front of the vibrastar. Switches it on. His eyes are wet. He dredges up some phantom images of his trip. The faces, the thousand floors. The ecstasy. Oh what a beautiful place. Oh how I love it here. Oh this is the real thing. Oh! Certainly he felt that way. But no longer. A thin sediment of doubt is all that remains. Asking himself: Is this how it was meant to be? Is this how it has to be? Is this the best we can do? This building. This mighty hive. Dillonâs hands caress the projectrons, which feel prickly and hot; he depresses them at random andsour colors drift out of the instrument. He cuts in the audio and gets sounds that remind him of the shifting of old bones within flabby flesh. What went wrong? He should have expected it. You go all the way up, then you come all the way down. But why does down have to be so far down? He cannot bear to play. After ten minutes he switches the vibrastar off and goes out. He will walk to San Francisco. 160 floors down. Thatâs not too many levels; heâll be there before dawn.
FOUR · 4
Jason Quevedo lives in Shanghai, though just barely: his apartment is on the 761st floor, and if he lived only one level lower he would be in Chicago, which is no place for a scholar. His wife Micaela frequently tells him that their lowly status in Shanghai is a direct reflection of the quality of his work. Micaela is the sort of wife who often says things like that to her husband.
Jason spends most of his working time down in Pittsburgh, where the archives are. He is a historian and needs to consult the documents, the records of how it used to be. He does his research in a clammy little cubicle on the urbmonâs 185th floor, almost in the middle of Pittsburgh. He does not really have to work down there, since anything in the archives can easily be piped up to the data terminal in his own apartment. But he feels it is a matter of professional pride to have an office where he can file and arrange and handle the source materials. He said as much when he waspulling strings to have the office assigned to him: âThe task of recreating previous eras is a delicate and complex one, which must be performed under optimal circumstances, orââ
The truth is that if he didnât escape from Micaela and their five littles every day, heâd go flippo. That is, accumulated frustration and humiliation would cause him to commit nonsocial acts, perhaps violent ones. He is aware that there is no room for the nonsocial person in an urban monad. He knows that if he loses his temper and behaves in a seriously unblessworthy way they will simply throw him down the chute and turn his mass into energy. So he is careful.
He is a short, soft-spoken man with mild green eyes and thinning sandy hair. âYour meek exterior is deceptive,â lovely Mamelon Kluver told him throatily at a party last summer. âYour type is like a sleeping volcano. You explode suddenly, astonishingly, passionately.â He thinks she may be right. He fears the possibilities.
He has been desperately in love with Mamelon Kluver for perhaps the last three years, and certainly since the night of that party. He has never dared to touch her. Mamelonâs husband is the celebrated Siegmund Kluver, who though not yet fifteen is universally recognized as one of the urbmonâs future leaders. Jason is not afraid that Siegmund would object. In an urban monad, naturally, no man has a right to withhold his wife from anyone who desires her. Nor is Jason afraid of what Micaela would say. He knows his privileges. He is simply afraid of Mamelon. And perhaps of himself.
For ref. only. Urbmon sex mores.
Univ. sex. accessibility. Trace decline of proprietarymarriage, end of
FOUR · 4
Jason Quevedo lives in Shanghai, though just barely: his apartment is on the 761st floor, and if he lived only one level lower he would be in Chicago, which is no place for a scholar. His wife Micaela frequently tells him that their lowly status in Shanghai is a direct reflection of the quality of his work. Micaela is the sort of wife who often says things like that to her husband.
Jason spends most of his working time down in Pittsburgh, where the archives are. He is a historian and needs to consult the documents, the records of how it used to be. He does his research in a clammy little cubicle on the urbmonâs 185th floor, almost in the middle of Pittsburgh. He does not really have to work down there, since anything in the archives can easily be piped up to the data terminal in his own apartment. But he feels it is a matter of professional pride to have an office where he can file and arrange and handle the source materials. He said as much when he waspulling strings to have the office assigned to him: âThe task of recreating previous eras is a delicate and complex one, which must be performed under optimal circumstances, orââ
The truth is that if he didnât escape from Micaela and their five littles every day, heâd go flippo. That is, accumulated frustration and humiliation would cause him to commit nonsocial acts, perhaps violent ones. He is aware that there is no room for the nonsocial person in an urban monad. He knows that if he loses his temper and behaves in a seriously unblessworthy way they will simply throw him down the chute and turn his mass into energy. So he is careful.
He is a short, soft-spoken man with mild green eyes and thinning sandy hair. âYour meek exterior is deceptive,â lovely Mamelon Kluver told him throatily at a party last summer. âYour type is like a sleeping volcano. You explode suddenly, astonishingly, passionately.â He thinks she may be right. He fears the possibilities.
He has been desperately in love with Mamelon Kluver for perhaps the last three years, and certainly since the night of that party. He has never dared to touch her. Mamelonâs husband is the celebrated Siegmund Kluver, who though not yet fifteen is universally recognized as one of the urbmonâs future leaders. Jason is not afraid that Siegmund would object. In an urban monad, naturally, no man has a right to withhold his wife from anyone who desires her. Nor is Jason afraid of what Micaela would say. He knows his privileges. He is simply afraid of Mamelon. And perhaps of himself.
For ref. only. Urbmon sex mores.
Univ. sex. accessibility. Trace decline of proprietarymarriage, end of
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