Read Wyst: Alastor 1716 for Free Online

quickly made the entry and the clerk reached for the
validation stamp. A gong sounded; she dropped the stamp, rose to her feet and
went to the back of the wicket where she tossed a cape around her shoulders. A
young man entered the wicket: round-faced, boyish, his eyelids drooping as if
from lack of sleep. “Here I am!” he told the blond girl. “A trifle late, but
that’s not too bad; I’ve only just returned from a swill at Serce and directly
to drudge. Still, I might as well recover on drudge as off. Come to think, it’s
the best way.”
    “Lucky you. I’m low tomorrow. I’ll probably draw sanitation
or greasing the rollers.”
    “I drew a shoe machine last week; it’s really rather amusing
once you learn which handles to pull. Halfway through my stint the circuits
went wrong and the shoes all came away with funny big toes. I sent them on
anyway, in hopes of launching a new style. Think of it! Maybe I’ll be famous!”
    “Small chance. Who wants to wear funny shoes with big toes?”
    “Somebody had better want to wear them; they’ve gone into
boxes.”
    The fat man called over Jantiff’s shoulder: “Can’t we hurry
things just a bit? Everyone’s anxious to rest and have a bite of food.”
    The two clerks turned him identical stares of blank incomprehension.
The girl picked up her handbag. “Off to bed for me. I’m too tired eve4 to copulate.”
    “I know those days… Well, I suppose I’d better be earning
my gruff.” He stepped forward and picked up Jantiff’s papers. “Now then, let’s
see… First, I’ll need your green entry card.”
    “I don’t have any green card.”
    “No, green card? Then, my friend, you’d better get one. I
know that much, at least. Just run back to the ship and locate the purser; he’ll
fix you up in a jiffy.”
    “This white card supersedes the green card.”
    “Oh, is that how they do it now? Good enough then. So now,
what else? The blue questionnaire: I won’t bother with that; it’s boring for
both of us. You’ll want a housing assignment. Do you have any preferences?”
    “Not really. Where would you suggest?”
    “Uncibal, of course. Here’s a decent location.” He gave
Jantiff a metal disk. “Go to Block 17-882 and show this disk to the floor
clerk.” He lifted the stamp and gave Jantiff’s papers a resounding blow. “There
you are, my friend! I wish you the enjoyment of your bed, the digestion of your
gruff and lucky draws from the drudge barrel.”
    “Thank you. Can I spend the night in the hotel? Or must I go
to Block 17-whatever-it-is?”
    “The Travelers Inn by all means, if you’ve got the ozols. [10] The man-ways are wet tonight. It’s no time to be seeking out a block.”
    The Travelers Inn, an ancient bulk with a dozen wings and
annexes, stood directly opposite the terminal exit. Jantiff entered the lobby
and applied at the desk for a chamber. The clerk handed him a key: “That will
be seven owls, sir.”
    Jantiff leaned back aghast. “Seven ozols? For one room with
one bed? For a single night?”
    “Correct, sir.”
    Jantiff reluctantly paid over the money. When he saw the
chamber he became more indignant than ever; in Frayness such a room would be considered
minimal and rent for an ozol or less.
    Returning downstairs to the restaurant, Jantiff seated himself
at one of the enameled concrete counters. An attendant placed a covered tray in
front of him.
    “Not so fast,” said Jantiff. “Let me look at the menu.”
    “No menu here, my friend. It’s gruff and deedle, with a bit
of wobbly to fill in the chinks. We all eat alike.”
    Jantiff lifted the cover from the tray; he found four cakes
of baked brown dough, a mug of white liquid and a bowl of yellow paste. Jantiff
tasted the “gruff”; the flavor was mild and not unpleasant. The “deedle” was tart
and faintly astringent, while the “wobbly” seemed a simple custard.
    Jantiff finished his meal and the attendant gave him a slip
of paper. “Please pay at the main