Dwan-light.
Jantiff became interested in the colors. Each no doubt exerted
a symbolic influence upon those who lived with them. Peach, blotched with
stump-water tan—who chose these colors? What canons were involved?
Lavender-white, blue, acid green—on and on, each color no doubt dear to the
folk who lived there… Tanzel tugged at his elbow. Jantiff looked around to
see Esteban moving swiftly away to the right. Tanzel said somberly: “He just
remembered an important engagement; he asked me to express his regrets to you.”
Skorlet, her face flushed with annoyance, stepped smartly past.
“Something I’ve got to do! I’ll see you later!” She likewise was gone through
the crowd, and Jantiff was left with Tanzel. He looked at her in bewilderment. “Where
did they go so suddenly?”
“I don’t know, but let’s go on. I could ride Uncibal River
forever!”
“I think we’d better go back. Do yon know the way?”
“Of course! We just revert to Disselberg River, then cross
to 112th Lateral.”
“You show me the way. I’ve had enough promenading for the
day. Strange that both Esteban and Skorlet decided to leave so suddenly!”
“I suppose so,” said Tanzel. “But I’ve come to expect
strange things… Well, if you want to go back, we’ll take the next turnaround.”
As they rode Jantiff gave his attention to Tanzel: An appealing
little creature, so he decided. He asked if she enjoyed her school. Tanzel
shrugged. “I’d have to drudge otherwise, so I learn counting, reading and
ontology. Next year I’ll be into personal dynamics, and that’s more fun. We
learn how to express ourselves and dramatize. Did you go to school?”
“Yes, indeed: sixteen long years.”
“What did you learn?”
“An amazing variety of facts and topics.”
“And then you went out to drudge?”
“No, not yet. I haven’t found anything I really want to do.”
“I don’t suppose you live at all egalistically.”
“Not as you do here. Everyone works much harder; but most
everyone enjoys his work.”
“But not you.”
Jantiff gave an embarrassed laugh. “Pm willing to work very
hard, but I don’t quite know how. My sister Ferfan carves mooring posts.
Perhaps I’ll do something like that.”
Tanzel nodded. “Someday let’s talk again. There’s the crèche;
I’ll turn off here. Your block is straight along; it’s Old Pink, on the left.
Good-bye.”
Jantiff proceeded along the man-way and presently saw ahead
that block which he now must consider “home”: Old Pink.
He entered, ascended to Level 19 and sauntered around the
corridor to his apartment. He opened the door and tactfully called out: “Pm
home. It’s Jantiff!”
No response. The apartment was empty. Jantiff entered and
slid the door shut. He stood for a moment wondering what to do with himself.
Still two hours until dinner. Another ration of gruff, deedle, and wobbly.
Jantiff grimaced. The globes of paper and wire caught his eye; he went to
examine them. Their function was not at all clear. The paper was green flimsy,
the wire had been salvaged from another operation. Perhaps Skorlet intended to
decorate the apartment with gay green bubbles. If so, thought Jantiff, her
achievement was remarkably slipshod. [15] Well, so long as they pleased Skorlet, it was none of his affair. He looked
into the bedroom, to appraise the two cots and the not-too-adequate curtain.
Jantiff wondered what his mother would say. Certainly nothing congratulatory.
Well, this was why he had come traveling, to explore other ways and other
customs. Though for a fact, since matters were so casual he would definitely
have preferred the young woman—what was her name? Kedidah?—whom he had noticed
in the refectory.
He decided to unpack his satchel and went to the wardrobe
where he had left it. He looked down in consternation. The lock was broken; the
lid was askew. Opening the case, Jantiff examined the contents. His few clothes
apparently had not been molested, except for
Jantiff became interested in the colors. Each no doubt exerted
a symbolic influence upon those who lived with them. Peach, blotched with
stump-water tan—who chose these colors? What canons were involved?
Lavender-white, blue, acid green—on and on, each color no doubt dear to the
folk who lived there… Tanzel tugged at his elbow. Jantiff looked around to
see Esteban moving swiftly away to the right. Tanzel said somberly: “He just
remembered an important engagement; he asked me to express his regrets to you.”
Skorlet, her face flushed with annoyance, stepped smartly past.
“Something I’ve got to do! I’ll see you later!” She likewise was gone through
the crowd, and Jantiff was left with Tanzel. He looked at her in bewilderment. “Where
did they go so suddenly?”
“I don’t know, but let’s go on. I could ride Uncibal River
forever!”
“I think we’d better go back. Do yon know the way?”
“Of course! We just revert to Disselberg River, then cross
to 112th Lateral.”
“You show me the way. I’ve had enough promenading for the
day. Strange that both Esteban and Skorlet decided to leave so suddenly!”
“I suppose so,” said Tanzel. “But I’ve come to expect
strange things… Well, if you want to go back, we’ll take the next turnaround.”
As they rode Jantiff gave his attention to Tanzel: An appealing
little creature, so he decided. He asked if she enjoyed her school. Tanzel
shrugged. “I’d have to drudge otherwise, so I learn counting, reading and
ontology. Next year I’ll be into personal dynamics, and that’s more fun. We
learn how to express ourselves and dramatize. Did you go to school?”
“Yes, indeed: sixteen long years.”
“What did you learn?”
“An amazing variety of facts and topics.”
“And then you went out to drudge?”
“No, not yet. I haven’t found anything I really want to do.”
“I don’t suppose you live at all egalistically.”
“Not as you do here. Everyone works much harder; but most
everyone enjoys his work.”
“But not you.”
Jantiff gave an embarrassed laugh. “Pm willing to work very
hard, but I don’t quite know how. My sister Ferfan carves mooring posts.
Perhaps I’ll do something like that.”
Tanzel nodded. “Someday let’s talk again. There’s the crèche;
I’ll turn off here. Your block is straight along; it’s Old Pink, on the left.
Good-bye.”
Jantiff proceeded along the man-way and presently saw ahead
that block which he now must consider “home”: Old Pink.
He entered, ascended to Level 19 and sauntered around the
corridor to his apartment. He opened the door and tactfully called out: “Pm
home. It’s Jantiff!”
No response. The apartment was empty. Jantiff entered and
slid the door shut. He stood for a moment wondering what to do with himself.
Still two hours until dinner. Another ration of gruff, deedle, and wobbly.
Jantiff grimaced. The globes of paper and wire caught his eye; he went to
examine them. Their function was not at all clear. The paper was green flimsy,
the wire had been salvaged from another operation. Perhaps Skorlet intended to
decorate the apartment with gay green bubbles. If so, thought Jantiff, her
achievement was remarkably slipshod. [15] Well, so long as they pleased Skorlet, it was none of his affair. He looked
into the bedroom, to appraise the two cots and the not-too-adequate curtain.
Jantiff wondered what his mother would say. Certainly nothing congratulatory.
Well, this was why he had come traveling, to explore other ways and other
customs. Though for a fact, since matters were so casual he would definitely
have preferred the young woman—what was her name? Kedidah?—whom he had noticed
in the refectory.
He decided to unpack his satchel and went to the wardrobe
where he had left it. He looked down in consternation. The lock was broken; the
lid was askew. Opening the case, Jantiff examined the contents. His few clothes
apparently had not been molested, except for
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