At first I heard behind me, behind the door, a loud voice. I recognized her voice, the voice of I-330 , tense, metallic⁠—and another one, almost inflexible, like a wooden ruler, the voice of U- . Then the door came open with a crack and both of them shot into the room. Shot is the right word.

I-330 put her hand on the back of my armchair and smiled over her shoulder but only with her teeth, at U- . I should not care to stand before such a smile.

“Listen,” she said to me, “this woman seems to have made it her business to guard you from me like a little child. Is it with your permission?”