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. When
we reached her ring, Gwen took both pieces of luggage and I did not argue. The
trip took less than a half hour. I could have ordered a freight cage-but we
might still be waiting for it. A "labor-saving device" often isn't.
Gwen put down her burdens and spoke to her door.
It did not open.
Instead the door answered, "Mistress Novak, please call the Manager's
housing office at once. The nearest public terminal is at ring one-hundred-five,
radius one-thirty-five degrees, acceleration six-tenths gravity, next to the
personnel transport facility. That terminal will accept your call free of
charge, courtesy of Golden Rule."
I cannot say that I was much surprised. But I admit that I was dreadfully
disappointed. Being homeless is somewhat like being hungry. Maybe worse.
Gwen behaved as if she had not heard that dismal announcement. She said to
me, "Sit down on the duffel bag, Richard, and take it easy. I don't think I'll
be long."
She opened her purse, dug into it, came up with a nail file and a bit of
wire, a paper clip, I believe. Humming a monotonous little tune she started to
work on the compartment's door.
I helped by not offering advice. Not a word. It was difficult but I managed
it.
Gwen stopped humming and straightened up. "There!" she announced. The door
opened wide.
She picked up my bonsai maple-our bonsai maple
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