door with my fists. “Eleanor, let me in. It’s me—Sam.”
No reply.
I returned to the living room. “What the fuck is going on here?”
“Sam,” said the elderly chief of staff, “Eleanor will see you in a few minutes, but not before—”
“Eleanor!” I yelled, turning around to look at each of the room’s cams. “I know you’re watching. Come out; we need to talk. I want you, not these dummies.”
“Sam,” said Eleanor behind me. But it wasn’t Eleanor. Again I was fooled by her chief of staff who had crossed her arms like an angry El and bunched her eyebrows into a knot. She mimicked my Eleanor so perfectly that I had to wonder if El wasn’t projecting herself through it. “Sam, please get a grip and sit down,” she said in a conciliatory tone of voice. “We need to discuss your accident.”
But I wasn’t ready for any reconciliation yet. “My what? My accident? Is that what we’re calling it? I can assure you it was no accident! It was an assault, a rape, a vicious attack. Not an accident! ”
“Excuse me,” said Eleanor’s attorney general, “but we were using the word ‘accident’ in a strictly legal sense. Both sides have provisionally agreed—”
I left the room abruptly. I needed to pee again. Mercifully, the bathroom let me in. I knew I was behaving badly, but I couldn’t help it. On the one hand I was grateful that Eleanor was still there, that she hadn’t left me. On the other hand, I was hurt and confused and angry. All I wanted was to hold her, be held by her. I needed her at that moment more than I had ever needed anyone in my adult life. I had no time for holos. But it was reasonable that she should be frightened. Maybe she thought I was contaminated. My behavior was doing nothing to reassure her. I had to control myself.
My urine burned even more than before. My mouth was cotton dry. I grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water. Surprised at how thirsty I was, I drank glassful after glassful. I washed my face in the sink. The cool water felt so good that I stripped off my HomCom-issue clothes and stepped into the shower. The water revived me, fortified me. Not wanting to put the clothes back on, I wrapped a towel around myself and went to my bedroom, but the room was entirely empty. No furniture or carpets—even the paint was stripped from the walls. I went back to the living room and told the holos to ask Eleanor to get some clothes for me. I promised I wouldn’t try to force my way into the bedroom when she opened the door.
“All of your clothes were confiscated by the HomCom,” said the chief of staff, “but Fred will bring you something of his.”
Before I could ask who Fred was, a big man, a russ, came out of the back bedroom, the room I used for my trips to Chicago. He was dressed in a brown and teal jumpsuit and carried a brown bathrobe over his arm. Except for the uniform, he looked exactly like his clone brother officer back at the Utah facility.
“This is Fred,” said the chief of staff. “Fred has been assigned to—”
“What?” I shouted. “El’s afraid I’m going to throttle her holos? She thinks I would break down her door?”
“Eleanor thinks nothing of the kind,” said the chief of staff. “Fred has been assigned by the Tri-Discipline Council.”
“Well, I don’t want him here. Send him away. Go away, Fred.”
The russ remained impassive, silently holding the robe out to me.
“I’m afraid,” said the chief of staff, “that as long as Eleanor remains a governor, Fred stays. Neither she nor you have any say in the matter.”
I charged past the russ to the bathroom saying, “Just stay out of my way, Fred.” In the linen closet I found one of Eleanor’s terry robes. It was tight on me, but it would do.
Returning to the living room, I sat in the armchair facing Cabinet’s couch. “All right. What do you want?”
“That’s more like it,” said the chief of staff. She leaned back in the couch and relaxed as Eleanor
No reply.
I returned to the living room. “What the fuck is going on here?”
“Sam,” said the elderly chief of staff, “Eleanor will see you in a few minutes, but not before—”
“Eleanor!” I yelled, turning around to look at each of the room’s cams. “I know you’re watching. Come out; we need to talk. I want you, not these dummies.”
“Sam,” said Eleanor behind me. But it wasn’t Eleanor. Again I was fooled by her chief of staff who had crossed her arms like an angry El and bunched her eyebrows into a knot. She mimicked my Eleanor so perfectly that I had to wonder if El wasn’t projecting herself through it. “Sam, please get a grip and sit down,” she said in a conciliatory tone of voice. “We need to discuss your accident.”
But I wasn’t ready for any reconciliation yet. “My what? My accident? Is that what we’re calling it? I can assure you it was no accident! It was an assault, a rape, a vicious attack. Not an accident! ”
“Excuse me,” said Eleanor’s attorney general, “but we were using the word ‘accident’ in a strictly legal sense. Both sides have provisionally agreed—”
I left the room abruptly. I needed to pee again. Mercifully, the bathroom let me in. I knew I was behaving badly, but I couldn’t help it. On the one hand I was grateful that Eleanor was still there, that she hadn’t left me. On the other hand, I was hurt and confused and angry. All I wanted was to hold her, be held by her. I needed her at that moment more than I had ever needed anyone in my adult life. I had no time for holos. But it was reasonable that she should be frightened. Maybe she thought I was contaminated. My behavior was doing nothing to reassure her. I had to control myself.
My urine burned even more than before. My mouth was cotton dry. I grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water. Surprised at how thirsty I was, I drank glassful after glassful. I washed my face in the sink. The cool water felt so good that I stripped off my HomCom-issue clothes and stepped into the shower. The water revived me, fortified me. Not wanting to put the clothes back on, I wrapped a towel around myself and went to my bedroom, but the room was entirely empty. No furniture or carpets—even the paint was stripped from the walls. I went back to the living room and told the holos to ask Eleanor to get some clothes for me. I promised I wouldn’t try to force my way into the bedroom when she opened the door.
“All of your clothes were confiscated by the HomCom,” said the chief of staff, “but Fred will bring you something of his.”
Before I could ask who Fred was, a big man, a russ, came out of the back bedroom, the room I used for my trips to Chicago. He was dressed in a brown and teal jumpsuit and carried a brown bathrobe over his arm. Except for the uniform, he looked exactly like his clone brother officer back at the Utah facility.
“This is Fred,” said the chief of staff. “Fred has been assigned to—”
“What?” I shouted. “El’s afraid I’m going to throttle her holos? She thinks I would break down her door?”
“Eleanor thinks nothing of the kind,” said the chief of staff. “Fred has been assigned by the Tri-Discipline Council.”
“Well, I don’t want him here. Send him away. Go away, Fred.”
The russ remained impassive, silently holding the robe out to me.
“I’m afraid,” said the chief of staff, “that as long as Eleanor remains a governor, Fred stays. Neither she nor you have any say in the matter.”
I charged past the russ to the bathroom saying, “Just stay out of my way, Fred.” In the linen closet I found one of Eleanor’s terry robes. It was tight on me, but it would do.
Returning to the living room, I sat in the armchair facing Cabinet’s couch. “All right. What do you want?”
“That’s more like it,” said the chief of staff. She leaned back in the couch and relaxed as Eleanor
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