"Momma stopped." She hated him like this, his face creased and puffy from sleep. She had never thought he would get fat. He gulped his breakfast and left. Sometimes she hated him for just being. The gridbell rang. It was a salesman. He insinuated she didn't have the money to buy his product. She said his merchandise stank. He left grinning but she didn't feel better. The bell rang. A young man muttered, "Mis-grid," and disappeared. She had gotten to the dress when she heard the door open. She eyed the hall reflector and saw Ferren, her mother's brother, slip into the cook. She dressed hastily. Ferren would order breakfast and keep the silver to turn in from his own grid for the deposit. * * * * * He was plumped up to the counter, a wooly haired man, attacking a stack of eggcakes. "Let me have them." He purred, taking spoon and knife from a pocket. "The government allowance is hardly sufficient for a man of my tastes. Shielded by your father's fortune as you are--" "You could get a job." She punched coffee. She wished he would go away. He was always watching, smiling, spinning together soft words. "And add to the work shortage?" He wagged his wooly head. "Then don't complain. There should be a syrup pitcher too." He produced it, purring. The gridbell rang. Two pig-faced men in black Gridco uniforms blocked the doorway. "You got Ferren Carmichaels inside, lady." "No." You always lied to Gridco collectors. "We traced him here from Dallas." "Well, he isn't here now." "How come we heard him talking?" "He isn't here." Gridco could not remove a grid even though the subscriber refused to pay his quarterly bill. The grid was held by law to be essential to human existence in the twisting, walled alleys of suburbia. Gridco could only send collectors to follow until their quarry fell or was pushed into their hands. And a man who had once fallen into Gridco hands paid eagerly forever after. "We can pull another trace." "Do that!" She slammed the door. She had time for a quick swallow of coffee before the bell rang. "He didn't go no farther." She sighed. "Well, he won't come out. I can't make him." "He'll come sometime." They leaned back against nothing, waiting. "You're blocking my grid." Dutifully they stepped into the narrow corridor. She slammed the door. "They are going to stand there until you go out." Ferren drained his coffee cup. "I'll settle here, then." "If you--" He tutted. "Thank you for the lunch invitation." "I--" She bit her tongue. She would not get mad. He wagged his head. "I'll peruse Brendel's books. Fine collection for a young man, books." Gritting her teeth, she hurtled back to the dress. * * * * * The collectors rang every five minutes after that. They kept ringing until she went and told them Ferren would not come out.