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.