It is a testimony to a naturally strong constitution that I was able to escape in seven "wakes"; for my worries and torments while in that hospital were innumerable.... I shall not describe them all; let me only say that the newspaper reporters alone were enough to give me a daily attack of chills and fever. The gentlemen of the press, thanks to the special privileges of their profession, did not confine themselves to "Visitors' Hour"; at any time of the day or night they would rouse me from pleasant slumbers, in order to secure my personal story for the Wakely Blare, or in order to learn my views on the topics of the day, such as the reasons for the peculiar charms of the women of Wu, or the desirability of improving men's clothing styles by further enlarging the V-slit on the back.
Naturally, I was irritated by such questions, and persistently refused to reply, for I did not see how my work for the Ventilation Company qualified me to express myself on native fashions, feminine beauty, or politics. The reporters, however, seemed to feel otherwise; and, in no way discouraged by my failure to speak, they were so obliging as to make my opinions for me when I would not mention them myself. Thus, I was later shown long articles in which I was described as "speaking volubly," and in which I read the views credited to me on subjects so diverse as "The Merits of Thuno Flâtum," "The Natural Superiority of Wu to Zu," "The Future of the Scootscoot," "Why I Am in Love With Wrinkles," etc.
It was with intense misgivings that I awaited my release, for how now avert the day of reckoning? How save myself from the fatal necessity of returning to Tan Trum's home? Luckily, this problem was solved for me by the Ventilation Company. Upon presenting myself for work, I was informed that the Company provided living quarters for its Inspectors in a great dormitory, so that they might be subject to call at any hour. While it was not compulsory to reside there, I had not the least hesitation about my course. I hastily dictated a letter to Tan Trum and his daughter, thanking them for past favors, but assuring them that, "much to my regret, the exigencies of my new work make it impossible for me to continue to accept your hospitality." I also promised that, as soon as I was able, I would pay back the sum I owed Tan Trum.
Unhappily, this was not the last I was to see of the Professor, nor of the Professor's daughter. But before reporting my next encounter with them, let me tell of my new duties for the Ventilation Company.
As was to be expected, in view of the doubling of my salary, my new labors were much less exacting than the old. It was my duty to travel from place to place, inspecting the ventilating tubes and outlets, and removing obstructions (this being assumed to be my specialty); and in order to accomplish this task, wherein I was pretty much my own master, I had to ride one of the Company-owned little vehicles, or "scootscoots," which I so intensely loathed. However, I found it easy enough to run the machine, whose driving mechanism, which was guaranteed as "moron-proof," was as simple as that of an elevator. But I was never able to balance myself on it cross-legged with the native ease, which came only of long practice; nor could I ever quite master my dread of an early and sudden "turnover," for I constantly observed collisions on all main thoroughfares; and since there were no traffic rules, speeding drivers shooting recklessly at one in all directions, survival was a matter of sheer good luck.
But by taking roundabout ways and choosing the less frequented thoroughfares, I succeeded in reducing the risk, till I estimated that I was about as safe as a voyager through a submarine zone in wartime, or a lone transoceanic aviator. So fortunate was I, indeed, that in the first few months I only suffered half a dozen minor mishaps. Except for some bruises on the head and shoulders, an abrasioned knee and a sprained wrist, I might be said to have escaped unscathed.
In the course of my new activities, I had an opportunity to inspect the ventilation in all its details, learning by precisely what system of motors, pumps, valves, and pipes the fresh air was forced down from the Overworld and distributed throughout Wu, somewhat as the lungs distribute oxygen to the body. Being an engineer not only by profession but by inclination, I made a more careful study of the details than duty required, until I had mastered the facts as a watchmaker masters the mechanism of a clock. But as yet I had no thought beyond my own natural mechanical interests, and had no anticipation of the striking part my newly acquired knowledge was to play.
It did, indeed, occur to me that, by exploring the ventilating connections with the outer world, I might find a way to escape from Wu. But, remembering my harrowing experiences on my first attempt at escape and knowing that a second attempt might not end so fortunately, I decided to bide my time and make no rash or premature dash for freedom.
Had it not been for one fact, I should have found life as Ventilating Inspector almost pleasant. The fly in the ointment was the menace of Loa. I use the word "menace" advisedly, for this is what it seemed to me. Not even by removing to the Ventilation Dormitory could I relieve myself of her attentions! Of course, I scrupulously avoided her whenever possible—but this proved to avail me little. Before I had been working in my new position for ten "wakes," disconcerting rumors began to reach my ears.