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not bother to look for a chair. No chair could
hold him. He did lean against a wall, however. Standing was a labor he preferred to avoid.
    Yet it was not shortness of breath or exhaustion at the slightest effort that had brought him back to Anderson’s Fitness Center. He had often been fat before, and he rather relished the sensation of bulk, the impression he made as crowds parted for him. He pitied those who could only be slightly fat—short people, who were not able to bear the weight. At well over two meters, Barth could get gloriously fat, stunningly fat. He owned thirty wardrobes and took delight in changing from one to another as his belly and buttocks and thighs grew. At times he felt that if he grew large enough, he could take over the world, be the world. At the dinner table he was a conqueror to rival Genghis Khan.
    It was not his fatness, then, that had brought him in. It was that at last the fat was interfering with his other pleasures. The girl he had been with the night before had tried and tried, but he was incapable—a sign that it was time to renew, refresh, reduce.
    â€œI am a man of pleasure,” he wheezed to the receptionist, whose name he never bothered to learn. She smiled back.
    â€œMr. Anderson will be here in a moment.”
    â€œIsn’t it ironic,” he said, “that a man such as I, who is capable of fulfilling every one of his desires, is never satisfied!” He gasped with laughter again. “Why haven’t we ever slept together?” he asked.
    She looked at him, irritation crossing her face. “You always ask that, Mr. Barth, on your way in. But you never ask it on your way out.”
    True enough. When he was on his way out of the Anderson Fitness Center, she never seemed as attractive as she had on his way in.
    Anderson came in, effusively handsome, gushingly
warm, taking Barth’s fleshy hand in his and pumping it with enthusiasm.
    â€œOne of my best customers,” he said.
    â€œThe usual,” Barth said.
    â€œOf course,” Anderson answered. “But the price has gone up.”
    â€œIf you ever go out of business,” Barth said, following Anderson into the inner rooms, “give me plenty of warning. I only let myself go this much because I know you’re here.”
    â€œOh,” Anderson chuckled. “We’ll never go out of business.”
    â€œI have no doubt you could support your whole organization on what you charge me .”
    â€œYou’re paying for much more than the simple service we perform. You’re also paying for privacy. Our, shall we say, lack of government intervention.”
    â€œHow many of the bastards do you bribe?”
    â€œVery few, very few. Partly because so many high officials also need our service.”
    â€œNo doubt.”
    â€œIt isn’t just weight gains that bring people to us, you know. It’s cancer and aging and accidental disfigurement. You’d be surprised to learn who has had our service.”
    Barth doubted that he would. The couch was ready for him, immense and soft and angled so that it would be easy for him to get up again.
    â€œDamn near got married this time,” Barth said, by way of conversation.
    Anderson turned to him in surprise.
    â€œBut you didn’t?”
    â€œOf course not. Started getting fat, and she couldn’t cope.”
    â€œDid you tell her?”
    â€œThat I was getting fat? It was obvious.”

    â€œAbout us, I mean.”
    â€œI’m not a fool.”
    Anderson looked relieved. “Can’t have rumors getting around among the thin and young, you know.”
    â€œStill, I think I’ll look her up again, afterward. She did things to me a woman shouldn’t be able to do. And I thought I was jaded.”
    Anderson placed a tight-fitting rubber cap over Barth’s head.
    â€œThink your key thought,” Anderson reminded him.
    Key thought. At first that had been such a comfort, to make