Nest of Worlds Read Online Free

son was busy; he was almost grown, his red hair stiffened into a Mohawk. In front of a mirror, he adjusted his black leather jacket, which had skulls on it. From upstairs came the cry of a baby.
    “Mrs. Eisler?” asked the official.
    The woman stepped back, pulling the housecoat around her bosom.
    “Yes . . . yes, come in. We’ve been waiting since noon,” she clucked. She put on a tight nylon windbreaker, her son’s. The stairs were outside, behind the building, made of wood.
    The apartment was modest: two rooms, a kitchen, a bathroom. The small windows would let in little light. The floor was covered with a shag rug. No furniture, only an inflatable mattress, rolled up.
    “In the newspaper ads, this is one of the cheapest places. The location is not bad, and you have a lot of room,” said the official. “What are you asking per month?” he asked the woman.
    “Three hundred eighteen packets. And if my cooking is acceptable to you, Dave, it’s another sixty-four packets for dinners.” They had told her the name of her future boarder.
    Gavein already heard these rates, at the airport. They were waiting now for his decision.
    “And what other terms are there?”
    “Yes, as everywhere,” she said quickly. “For the first and last month you pay in advance, a deposit. Then at the beginning of each month. Gas, electricity, and heat are included.”
    “All right.” He took out a roll of bills.
    “You’re carrying that much cash?” The official whistled. “To the bank with it! Why tempt fate?”
    The woman looked sidelong at the money and nodded. It was hot in the room, stuffy. Gavein took off his jacket. Under it he had another one, gray, a military-style tunic.
    “There’s nothing to sit on,” he said, surprised.
    “People sit on the rug,” said the official. “The place settings at the table are disposable plastic.”
    “My husband and I couldn’t get used to it either,” said the woman, “so we bought a lot of furniture. Chairs for the dining room . . . and in general.”
    “But this room is empty.”
    “Yes, I think we should have a longer orientation period for new arrivals,” said the official. “But staying at the airport is expensive. It would put you more in the hole. The halfway hotels aren’t cheap either. You can always buy yourself some furniture. But it costs more than in Lavath, much more.”
    The woman said, “What you need is a car, a telephone, a TV . . . Spend less on clothing, as little as possible on furniture. No one here dresses up.” She was trying to brief him.
    “In Lavath the clothing is no fancier than here, but what people wear is more appropriate,” said Gavein, immediately aware that the remark wasn’t tactful.
    “What does that mean?”
    “I don’t know. Appropriate to the occasion.”
    The woman smoothed the jacket she wore.
    “This apartment is fine,” he said, breaking the silence. Actually, he thought it was cramped and depressing, but he couldn’t afford anything better. The walls were dirty, but at least the white paint underneath brightened the place. The paint on the window frames was flaking in several places.
    “We have another room like this on the first floor, and another in the basement,” she said.
    “This will do.”
    “Call me Edda. Dinner is in an hour. You’ll meet my husband and the other boarders. We all eat together.”

7
    In light sport shoes, he fell on the sheet of ice that covered the porch and almost broke a tooth. He got up and knocked on the door. A formality, it wasn’t locked, and they could see him through the window. The others were waiting for him at the table; apparently he was the main attraction that evening.
    Leo Eisler, R, was smaller and trimmer than Edda, but his hair was as red. When he lowered his head over his plate, his bald spot gleamed under the lightbulb, showing freckles.
    Haifan Tonescu, B, and his wife, Gwenda, also B, were both sure of themselves and loud; they were obviously the important people