Chapter 3

THX sat alone in the holoroom, flipping channels at nearly eyeblink speed. A naked black mannequin dancing erotically, a newscaster rattling off the day’s events, a shapeless matron discussing drugs, a chrome police robot beating a man to death, and finally two men sitting at a table locked deep in discussion:

“… to stimulate the arithmetical and logical processes as an extension of the 5141. Never before have we been so contented, never before has life been so satisfying. A referendum of bliss, a gratification sustained by the benevolence of authority…”

Why can’t I be happy, then? What’s wrong with me?

He listened to the discussion for a few moments longer, then flicked back to the black dancer. But he felt nothing as she swung her rich shining body to the driving music. He flicked the hologram to the policeman, but the bloodied man crumpled on the floor and cried pitiably. Disgusted, THX turned off the hologram viewer completely. The picture vanished with a soundless bright flash.

He sat alone in the dark room. Then he heard something.

Jumping up from the chair, he called out, “LUH?”

No answer.

He walked into the main room, then to the bedroom, calling, “LUH, are you here?”

Standing alone in the empty bedroom, THX made a sudden decision. He left the apartment and headed for SEN’s quarters.

Out in the corridors the loudspeakers still called out their constant urgings:

“Save time, save lives.”

“Today only, blue dendrites are only forty-seven credits, buy now.”

“The consumer has a factor of advantage.”

“Did you repent today?”

THX tried to shut them out of his mind, but their voices—gentle, demanding, soft, strident—pried at his consciousness. He had heard them all his life and never really gotten accustomed to them. Maybe it was because the announcements were always being changed. All but:

“Did you repent today?”

By the time he reached SEN’s apartment area, THX calculated he had heard that one twenty times, at least.

In the corridor outside SEN’s apartment, a crew of men were piling multicolored packing boxes atop a power-cart. More men were inside, filling up more boxes with someone’s personal belongings. A woman supervisor, burlier than the movingmen, was checking items off a clipboard list:

“… sealed personal effects: three styrenes, an occupational syntax, a red magma base—old style, a box of neons, twenty-three hunter portapods.”

THX stepped past them to get through the front doorway of the apartment. The movers ignored him as they handled items and placed them in packing boxes.

“Where are the genotypes. Ahhh… could you come and look at this—these have been improperly labeled!”

“No they haven’t,” said another movingman, in a high, excitable voice. “I placed these in the proper categories myself.”

“But this isn’t genotyped…”

The woman waved her clipboard at them. “Your identification figures are all wrong. Get this mess straightened out or I’ll shift you to manual dredging!”

The two men scuttled out of her way.

THX looked through the apartment, stepping over packing boxes and around scattered personal belongings that had been strewn across the floor. He found SEN sitting hunched in a corner of the bedroom, looking as if he was trying to pretend there was no noise or upset in his apartment.

“Well?” SEN said as THX entered the bedroom. Then, seeing who it was, the older man beamed up at him. “It’s you… come in, come… You know, this is really odd. I was just thinking about you. What in the world are you doing here?”

THX didn’t answer. He merely stood over the other man, his mind confused, trying to think of what he should say, where he should begin. The uproar of the movers jangled from the next room.

SEN flashed his toothy smile. “Sit down, why don’t you… I must apologize for all this chaos. They materialized this morning,” gesturing toward the movers, “and it’s been going on all day. Well, it’s a cross I have to bear. My roommate was destroyed, you know.”

THX didn’t move.

“No… I guess you wouldn’t know.” He craned his neck for a glimpse of the female chief mover. “I can’t understand why everything has to be packed and crated if it’s going to be destroyed anyway… It’s a strange life.”

He shook his head, as if trying to puzzle out the meaning of it all. “You have to keep things in perspective. You know? Do what you can to make things… fit. Forget the rest. Why don’t you sit down?”

SEN hauled himself to his feet and padded barefoot into the sanitary. THX watched him shake out a yellow pill from an unlabeled bottle and swallow it.

“You never answered my question,” SEN called from the sanitary as he filled a cup with water.

What question? THX wondered. Slowly, he sank down on the bed and leaned his back tiredly against the wall.

SEN came back to the bedroom, and sat again on the bench in the corner. He hunched his shoulders slightly, as if trying to protect himself from unseen forces.

“I can accept things up to a point,” he said, glancing around. Gesturing to the empty bed next to the one THX sat on, “My former roommate, for instance. Some people might wonder what he did, to be destroyed. Waste of time. He did something, obviously, and now he’s gone. That’s that.”

THX wanted to reply, wanted to ask about LUH, but couldn’t seem to get the words started.

Leaning forward to make his point, his voice intense with earnesty, SEN said, “But if you get a chance to make… adjustments… you’d be foolish to pass them up. You feel that way, don’t you?” He stared intently at THX. “You’re perspiring. It’s not very hot in here. Are you sick?” SEN straightened up and looked around. “I’m sure it’s warmer in here than outside, though. I haven’t been outside yet, but it usually is… the control never works properly…”

Finally THX blurted, “Where is LUH?”

“What?”

The chief of the movers intruded her bulky form between them. “Count concluded.”

Looking up at her almost fearfully, SEN handed her his badge. She slipped it into a slot underneath her clipboard, then returned it to SEN together with a piece of pink paper.

“You must keep this,” she said.

“Yes, of course.” She left. The apartment was quiet.

“They really smell,” SEN said at last. “It’s quite disgusting. Did you notice it?”

THX asked stubbornly, “Why did you have LUH come here?”

“Why are you so concerned?”

“What’s going on?”

“I want you for my roommate.”

Ignoring that, THX asked again, “Where’s LUH?”

“It will be good for both of us,” SEN explained. “I’ve got it all arranged.”

THX finally realized what he was saying. “No… you can’t do that. Living selection is computed. You can’t… what have you done to LUH? She was here…”

Smiling, SEN said, “We had a long talk and she agreed that it would be a good idea for you to switch. She felt that you hadn’t been accurately roommated with her in the first place… You’re upsetting yourself. Would you like something to quiet your nerves?”

“You’re in violation!” THX said.

“Don’t say that,” SEN answered amiably. “You look… you’re not well.”

“She didn’t say that about me!”

Shrugging, SEN went on, “I know what you’re thinking… but program shifting isn’t that major a crime, is it? I know how to… arrange things like that. And LUH would only be a problem to you. I’ve watched her during work, and even for a birth-born she’s been acting very strangely. I don’t see how you can live with one of them.”

Feeling almost groggy, THX got to his feet.

SEN was right beside him, nearly pleading, talking right into his ear, “I can’t live alone, I must have another mate. You rate very high in sanitation. I’ve checked. In fact, I’m surprised that you were ever matched with LUH. Her ratings are very erratic—you know what I mean. We’ll be happy. Believe me, I’m trying to do you a favor!”

THX staggered toward the door. “I don’t feel well.” He fled from SEN’s apartment, running blindly down the corridor.

He found himself in a prayer booth, stomach heaving, drenched with sweat.

“What’s the matter with me? What am I to her or she to me? Nothing. She’s an ordinary roommate. I… I share…”

“Yes,” said OMM’s voice, expectantly.

“I share rooms with her. Our relationship is normal, conforming. We share nothing but space. What is she doing?…”

“Yes,” said the voice, knowingly.

“… to me. I think I’m dying.” He shuddered. His body was burning. His stomach twisting painfully.

“Yes,” said the tape, patiently.

Suddenly THX was vomiting, spewing yellow-green corruption and bile over the pure white tile of the prayer booth.

“You are a true believer,” OMM said serenely. “Blessings of the State. Blessings of the masses. Thou art a subject of the divine. Created in the image of man, by the masses, for the masses. Let us be thankful we have an occupation to fill. Work hard; increase production; prevent accidents; and be happy.”

The light flicked off and OMM’s picture disappeared. Absolutely empty and weak, THX clawed the door open and nearly fell as he tried to get out of the stinking booth. Another man pushed past him, started to enter the booth, then turned and looked sharply at THX.

After a stop at a Mercicontrol booth for cleaning up and a stimulant, THX felt better. I can make it home now. She’ll be there, she’ll be there.