The Last Straw
The Ventilating Company, as I soon discovered, was the most powerful corporation in Wu. It was literally the breath of the country, for it controlled the fresh air-supply, and, with the aid of ninety-six subsidiaries, was said to be highly influential in finance, politics, and war. Owned by a group of First Class citizens, who supported themselves in luxury on a fraction of their dividends, the Company was declared to number Dictator Thuno Flâtum himself among its stockholders; hence its interests were carefully considered in the councils of State, and a recommendation of its Directorate was tantamount to the enactment of a law. It was common gossip that more than one war had been commenced on the decision of the Ventilating officials, and that the current conflict with Zu had been stimulated by them, owing to the fact that the workers had been threatening a strike, and that it was believed that they needed something to distract their attention.
Whatever one might think of the management, one could easily understand the influence of the Ventilating Company. Truly, it brought a marvelous service to the people! The more I observed the vast system of air-tubes and wheels, the more I admired the ingenuity of its creators. I was informed how ventilating pipes, opening in narrow ducts in the Overworld, received a constant supply of the fresh air that always blew in that uninhabitable domain; and I was told how this air, forced downward by mighty pumps operated by the power of Mulflar, was delivered in pipes and conduits to every gallery, chamber and private residence in Wu. This it was that kept the air always fresh and sweet, and that had averted those noisome odors usually found in underground passageways. Yet stop the ventilating wheels for a few short hours only, and the whole country would be faced with danger of suffocation. Little did I realize what a deadly advantage I was later to find in this fact!
My work for the Ventilating Company began humbly enough in view of the tremendous rôle I was to play. Perched on a stone chair behind a stone railing in a large, draughty gallery, where a perfect torrent of air was blowing in order to display "ventilating efficiency," I had to interview customers, hear their complaints, accept the service fees which they paid every twenty "wakes," and attempt to sell the various air-machines displayed about the room. "Do your cleaning by air." "Have you tried our automatic air-baths?" "Remove dust and germs; air-filters at reduced rates." "Air-rays for health—recommended by leading physicians." "Air-heating apparatus—guaranteed for hot air." These were but a few of the signs I saw scattered about me on a multitude of curious-looking instruments, some of them reminding me of electric toasters, others of vacuum cleaners, and a few looming large and imposing like great dynamos.
Although I still did not know the principles behind these inventions, I was able to sell them easily enough. All I had to do was to look knowing, point to the company's guarantee, and state that the objects were on sale for a limited period only; and the prospective customers, particularly if of the fair sex, were rarely able to resist the lure, even though they understood nothing of the point or purpose of the apparatus they purchased. The sale of articles under such conditions, I found, was known to the people of Wu as "good business." It was said that, as a result of such "good business," nine-tenths of the population was constantly in debt to the Ventilating Company.
The other phases of my work were less interesting. What I particularly disliked was listening to complaints—and what a stream of them there were! Sometimes the line of complainers reached all the way across the office and fifty yards down the adjoining gallery! Here, for example would come a testy-looking old chalk-face, with a squeaky wail, "My air-service has been very poor of late! Haven't been able to breathe properly for wakes!"
... And after I had promised to send an air-man around to his home to see if his brakes were not out of order, a querulous young woman, hideous with wrinkles, would exclaim, "See here, young man! Look at this bill! It's robbery, highway, robbery! The meter must be wrong! I'm positive we couldn't have breathed that much air!" ... Following her in line would be a miserable-looking old dame, who would gloomily display a printed notice, "If you do not pay your bill within five wakes, we will turn off your air-supply." ... "If you do that, we'll all smother!" she would moan. "You must give us more time to pay!"
But I would have to inform her that the rules of the Company made no exception; that she might smother, for all the Ventilating officials cared.
There were constantly other complaints, of an equally grievous nature—complaints from persons whose air-supply was too hot, and from persons whose air-supply was too cold, and from persons whose air-supply had been interrupted, and from persons with an oversupply of air, and from persons who had ordered Grade A air for the children, and received only Grade B—in other words, so numerous were the charges that one would have supposed the entire country to be suffering from air-complaints.
My hours in the Ventilating Office were ten each wake, with one wake out of every five off duty. I was expected to stay half an hour after the office formally closed, in order to clean a great ventilating duct, which opened in a corner of the room. This was a task I disliked even more than listening to complaints; I would be obliged to creep into the tube, which was wide enough to admit two men standing abreast, and would have to reach into its dark recesses with a mop, so as to remove all dust and foreign matter. The tube, I was told, connected with the Upper Ventilating Corridors, and had to be kept in condition if our product were to remain pure.
After I had been in the Ventilating Office for twenty or thirty wakes, I could see that, in the monotonous routine of my labors, I was beginning to fall into that thoughtlessness which was the ideal of the chalk-faces. I had, in fact, been commended for speaking in that automatic manner and acting with that vacuity of expression which betokens an empty mind and an efficient worker; hence I began to fear that I would suffer from softening of the brain if I did not find some way to escape. But how was escape possible? Ever since swallowing the Oath of Fidelity and being granted my freedom, I had been looking about me for means of returning to the Overworld; but so completely had I been hedged about that the attempt had seemed hopeless. However, the time was soon coming when, in sheer desperation, I was to make the dash for liberty.
There was something else besides discontent with my work, which was urging me to flee. Although now supposedly a wage-earning citizen, I was still living upon the bounty of Professor Tan Trum, since my pay was going to the Unemployment Agent. Even after he had received his share, I should have to pay an Employment Tax to the Government, and various fines and charges to the Ventilating Company, and a fee for joining the Ventilation Union; and, after that, I would have to buy War Bonds from the Government, and pay War Taxes, and Residence Taxes, and Food Taxes, and Clothing Taxes, and Water Taxes, and Air Taxes, and several other taxes—so that, at a moderate estimate, it would be three years before I would have a penny for myself. During the first two and a half years, the more I worked, the more deeply I would be in debt!
Now all this would have occasioned me no worry; for the natives of Wu consider it honorable to be in debt, the more so the better; and, besides, Professor Tan Trum, thanks to his profits from his Mulflar stocks, was well able to support me. But what I could not endure was the necessity of living in the Professor's home—of living there in daily contact with his daughter Loa.
Alas! I was hopelessly trapped! I do not blame the poor girl; for some mysterious reason, she had succumbed to my attractions, and the melting light in her salmon eyes had long ago warned me to be cautious. Unfortunately, it had never occurred to her that she was not equally attractive. It was positively pitiable, the way she devoted herself for hours a day to her wrinkling-machine, diligently putting new wrinkles into her face, since the old ones did not suffice to win my affection! And it was even more pitiable the way she turned, still hopeful, to a new method, and began "producing," as they say in the native vernacular—in other words, adding on flesh by "producing powders," "producing baths," a "producing diet," and other means recommended by the dictators of fashion.
Now whatever I might have said about Loa's face when I first met her, I had thought her form perfect. But, owing to her "producing" methods, she soon grew rotund; her features bulged and puffed, with a double chin; her stomach protruded; her legs became so fat that she waddled when she walked; her arms, once graceful, seemed little more than flabby masses of flesh. Oh, if she had only been content to remain as nature had made her! Had she but retained her natural form and unwrinkled countenance, who knows? I might have come to love her! But, as it was, she daily grew more hideous in my eyes. And no word or hint of mine could deter her from her purpose. Fatness, next to wrinkles, was considered the supreme sign of beauty in women; and she seemed never to suspect that I would not be dazzled by her corpulent loveliness.
Since I had no choice but to remain in the same house with her, I of course had to be civil; but I thought it the best policy to avoid her as much as possible. Unhappily, in my ignorance of native customs, I was pursuing the road straight to ruin!
This fact became painfully evident one day when Professor Tan Trum, pausing in his researches into some dead and buried language, summoned me to his study and indicated that he had something important to say.
I noticed that he hemmed and hawed to an unusual degree as he motioned me to a seat opposite him, and seemed actually embarrassed as he began.
"My dear young man," he at last said, rising, and coming over to place a fatherly hand on my shoulder, "I have been requested—er—requested to speak to you by my daughter Loa. For a long time I have been—er—observing how matters are between you two."
"Why, I—I have always treated her like a gentleman," it was on my lips to say, feeling that he was about to upbraid me for my coldness.
But the kindly smile on his long, lean face showed that I had mistaken his intention.
"I have been observing—yes, observing how matters are between you," he repeated, gradually warming to his subject. "With becoming modesty, you have not made any undue approach. You have kept your feelings to yourself, as was only proper, in view of your Third Class status; you would not insult a Second Class lady by openly declaring yourself. But I have been observing, my dear young man, I have been observing! How, after all, could any one resist the allurements of my Loa?"
So astonished was I at this speech that I sat gaping at the Professor, my jaw hanging loose, as though I had been accused of a crime.
"Yes, I have been observing!" he went on, with a paternal blandness of manner. "I have been consulting with Loa, as was only a father's place, and have been assured that she—she reciprocates your feelings."
"She reciprocates my feelings?" I echoed, with a sudden sense that the world was falling from under my feet.
"Yes, she reciprocates your feelings! It is only natural, young man, that you should be overwhelmed—it isn't often that a Second Class lady reciprocates the feelings of a Third Class suitor! But I have no prejudices in the matter at all, my boy, no prejudices at all! Though you're a barbarian by birth, you've recently grown civilized! So, since my daughter is willing, I can only give my blessings! May your union be crowned with—"
But I did not hear the end of the sentence. My head was reeling; I believe I sank to the floor in a swoon. When I came to myself again, Loa was bending over me tenderly, tears in her eyes, a bottle of some strong-smelling solution in her hand. And in the background I saw the Professor looming, still smiling the same benignant smile. "Poor young man!" I thought I heard him say. "The shock of this happiness was more than he could bear!"
It was then that I decided that safety lay in flight.