Alone Again Or | Page 4

desk. He raised his folded hand pyramid under his chin
and looked at Syd in mock matronly pride.
"Oh, you want a smart, nice girl. She can look like anything, right?
Yeah, you guys all say that. Especially the ones that come in at this
time in the morning."
Syd did not say anything. The night hours were for recreation in the
home, with families or friends. They were not for roaming the streets or
for work, unless you were poor.
"Come on friend, don't you know anything about The Agency? We
spend months rehabilitating our teles. Years sometimes. We don't let
them go until they are just as educated as someone going to one of The

Mayor's Free Universities. They're all also taught how to be good
spouses. So what kind of a spouse are you looking for? Female? Male?
We have a few mixed?"
"I told you before I wanted a wife," Syd said. He was starting to feel
like he'd made a mistake. He'd met and even known very well some
people who were educated at the free universities supplied by the city.
They usually ended up police officers.
"So they all take the same classes? They don't get to choose at all? You
don't know what their personal taste is?" Syd said.
The man laughed quickly and let his feet fall to the floor. He leaned
forward and stared into Syd's eyes.
"Are you for real? Are you a sleeper?"
Syd was caught by surprise, and he knew the truth shown in his face for
a moment before he was back under control. He lied anyway.
"No. I see Doctor Winterborne three times a week, just as it says in my
file."
Syd never saw Doctor Winterborne, except twice a month to deliver a
few hundred spoons of foc free of charge. In return the doctor lied
about seeing Syd to the authorities and provided him with the proper
paperwork. Although the man behind the desk didn't know the
particulars, Syd knew the man probably had a guess at the kind of
doctor Winterborne was.
The man looked un-impressed. He held his hands out, palms out, in a
gesture of indifference.
"I don't care; we get lots of your types here. Your wife won't know
what a sleeper is; you'll have to explain to her why society will down
on the both of you. Her education of course did not concern the dark
side of Steeple City. I'm sure you'll be a good teacher, honest and
forthright with her always. As to whether or not she likes Chopin more

than Orlando, you're going to have to ask her because we don't keep
personality profiles. I'm sure it's not what most important to you
anyway. So what's it going to be? A nice blonde, perhaps?"
The man smiled again and Syd felt his stomach turn over.
The thought of an instant wife held Syd in his seat. Someone to love
him and for him to love, and he wouldn't have to wait for her to appear
any longer. It made him want to cry in happiness.
"No. I want a girl with light red hair, light skin, no freckles, and within
my age by a year either way."
Syd watched the man type notes into a pull out console on the other
side of the metal expanse. The man looked up.
"Done, done, done, and done," the man said, "now please sign the
touchpad in the pull out console in front of you."
Syd felt for the drawer like tablet arm and pulled it out from underneath
the desk. A page of digital text shined up from the screen; he read the
page, then placed the stylus on the scroll down button in the lower right
hand corner of the page. Once the page started scrolling, he didn't stop
it, leaving over nine tenths of the contract for marriage unread.
He signed in the appropriate place.
Syd looked up at the man who was still nameless to him. The man was
playing with one of his canine teeth. When he realized Syd was done,
he extended the same hand.
With hesitation Syd shook the man's hand.
"Now, down at the end of the hall there is a bathroom with a full
shower if you'd like to clean yourself up," he said, indicating a doorway
other than the one Syd had entered through. "We recommend it. She's
in room 501C. Just tell the man at the elevator. He'll take you right to
her. Good day."

Syd left and made his way down the institutional halls until he found
the bathroom with the picture of the faceless figure wearing pants.
The shower had more pressure than the shower in his apartment,