There was a pause in the voice and a break in the projection for the viewer to send forth a prayer of his own. Then, a single word – woggle – flashed on the wall, and the speaker continued. 'Devout believer Hal Yarrow:
'Here is the first of a list of words that have appeared recently in the vocabulary of the American-speaking population of the Union. This word – woggle – originated in the Department of Polynesia and spread radially to all the American-speaking peoples of the departments of North America, Australia, Japan and China. Strangely, it has not yet made an appearance in the Department of South America, which, as you doubtless know, is contiguous to North America.'
Hal Yarrow smiled, though there was a time when statements of this type had enraged him. When would the senders of these letters ever realize that he was not only a highly educated man but a broadly educated one, too? In this particular case, even the semiliterates of the lower classes should know where South America was, for the reason that the Forerunner had many times mentioned that continent in his The Western Talmud and The Real World and Time. It was true, however, that the schoolteachers of the unpros might never have thought to point out the location of South America to their pupils, even if they themselves knew.
'Woggle,' continued the speaker, 'was first reported on the island of Tahiti. This island lies in the center of the Polynesian Department and is inhabited by people descended from Australians who colonized it after the Apocalyptic War. Tahiti is, at present, used as a military spaceship base.
'Woggle apparently spread from there, but its use has been confined mainly to unprofessional. The exception is the professional space personnel. We feel there is some connection between the appearance of the word and the fact that spacefarers were the first to use it – as far as know.
'Truecasters have asked permission to use his word on the air, but this has been denied until further study.
'The word itself, as far as can be determined at this date, is used as adjective, noun, and verb. It contains a basically derogatory meaning close to, but not equivalent to, the linguistically acceptable words fouled-up and jinxed. In addition, it contains the meaning of something strange, otherworldly; in a word, unrealistic.
'You are hereby ordered to investigate the word woggle, following Plan No. ST-LIN-476 unless you have received an order with a higher priority number. Ir either case, you will reply to this letter not later than 12th Fertility, 550 B.S.'
Hal ran the letter to the end. Fortunately, the other three words had lower priority. He did not have to accomplish the impossible: investigate all four at once.
But he would have to leave in the morning after reporting to Olvegssen. Which meant not even bothering to unpack his stuff, living for days in the clothes he was wearing, perhaps not having time to have them cleaned.
Not that he did not wish to get away. It was just that he was tired and wished to rest before going on this trip.
What rest? he asked himself after removing the goggles and looking at Mary.
Mary was just getting up from her chair after turning off the tridi. She was now bending over to pull a drawer from the wall. He saw that she was getting out their nightclothes. And, as he had for many a night now, he felt sick in his stomach.
Mary turned and saw his face. 'What's the matter?' she said.
'Nothing.'
She walked across the room (only a few steps to traverse the length of the chamber, reminding him of how many steps he could take when he was on the Preserve). She handed him a crumpled-up mass of tissue-thin garments and said, 'I don't think Olaf had them cleaned. It's not his fault, though. The deionizer isn't working. He left a note saying he called a technician. But you know how long it takes them to fix anything.'
'I'll fix it myself, when I get time,' he said. He sniffed at the nightclothes. 'Great Sigmen! How long has the cleaner been out?'
'Ever since you left,' she said.
'How that man does sweat!' Hal said. 'He must be in a perpetual state of terror. No wonder! Old Olvegssen scares me, too.'
Mary's face became red. 'I have prayed and prayed that you wouldn't curse,' she said. 'When are you going to quit that unreal habit? Don't you know? . . .'
'Yes,' he said, interrupting harshly, 'I know that every time I take the Forerunner's name in vain, I delay Timestop just that much more. So what?'
Mary stepped back from the loudness of his voice and the curl of his lip.
' "So what?" ' she repeated incredulously. 'Hal, you can't mean it?'
'No, of course I don't mean it!' he said, breathing heavily. 'Of course I don't! How could I? It's just that I get so mad at your continual reminding me of my faults.'
'The Forerunner himself said we must always remind our brother of his unrealities.'
'I'm not your brother. I'm your husband,' he said. Though there are plenty of times, such as now, when I wish I weren't.'
Mary lost the prim and reproving look, tears filled her eyes, and her lips and chin shook.
'For Sigmen's sake,' he said 'Don't cry.'
'How can I help it,' she sobbed, 'when my own husband, my own flesh and blood, united to me by the Real Sturch, heaps abuse on my head? And I have done notning to deserve it.'
'Nothing except turn me in to the gapt every chance you get,' he said. He turned away from her and pulled the bed down from the wall.
'I suppose the bedclothes will stink of Olaf and his fat wife, too,' he said.
He picked up a sheet, smelled it, and said, 'Augh!' He tore off the other sheets and threw them on the floor. With them went his nightclothes.
'To H with them! I'm sleeping in my clothes. You call yourself a wife? Why didn't you take our stuff to oul neighbor's and get them cleaned there?'
'You know why,' she said. 'We don't have the money to pay them for the use of their cleaner. If you'd get a higher M.R., then we could afford it.'
'How can I get a higher M.R. when you babble to the gapt every time I commit a little indiscretion?'
'Why, that's not my fault!' she said indignantly. 'What kind of Sigmenite would I be if I lied to the good abba and told him you deserved a better M.R.? I couldn't live, with myself after that, knowing that I had been so grossly unreal and that the Forerunner was watching me. Why, when I'm with the gapt, I can feel the invisible eyes of Isaac Sigmen burning into me, reading my every thought. I couldn't! And you should be ashamed because you want me to!'
'H with you!' he said. He walked away and went into the unmentionable.
Inside the tiny room, he shed his clothes and stepped into the shower for the thirty-second fall of water allowed him. Then he stood in front of the blower until; he was dried. Afterward, he brushed his teeth vigorously, as if he were trying to scour out the terrible words he had uttered. As usual, he was beginning to feel the shame of what he had said. And with it the fear of what Mary would tell the gapt, what he would tell the gapt, and what would happen afterward. It was possible that his M.R. would be so devaluated that he would be fined. If that happened, then his budget, strained as it was, would burst. And he would be more in debt than ever, not to mention that he would be passed over when the next promotion time came.
Thinking this, he put his clothes back on and left the little room. Mary brushed by him on her way into the unmentionable. She looked surprised on seeing him dressed, then she stopped and said, 'Oh, that's right! You did throw the night-things on the floor! Hal, you can't mean it!'
'Yes, I do,' he said. 'I'm not sleeping in those sweaty things of Olaf's.'
'Please, Hal,' she said. 'I wish you wouldn't use that word. You know that I can't stand vulgarity.'
'I beg your pardon,' he said. 'Would you rather I used the Icelandic or Hebrew word for it? In either language, the word stands for the same vile human excretion: sweat!'
Mary put her hands to her ears, ran into the unmentionable, and slammed the door behind her.
He threw himself down on the thin mattress and put his arm over his eyes so the light would not get into them. In five minutes, he heard the door open (it was beginning to need oiling but would not get it until their budget and that of the Olaf Marconis could afford to buy the lubricant). And if his M.R. went down, the Marconis might petition to move into another apartment. If they could find one, then another, even more objectionable couple (probably one that had just been elevated from a lower professional class) would move in with them.
Oh, Sigmen! he thought. Why can't I be content with things as they are? Why can't I accept reality fully? Why must I have so much of the Backrunner in me? Tell me, tell me!
It was Mary's voice he heard as she settled into bei beside him. 'Hal, surely you aren't going to stick to this unshib?'
'What unshib?' he said, though he knew what she meant.
'Sleeping in your dayclothes.'
'Why not?'