I could hardly bear that chaos. But my companion apparently possessed a stronger constitution.

“This is my most beloved⁠—” she suddenly caught herself (again a smile⁠—bite, and white sharp teeth), “to be more exact, the most nonsensical of all ‘apartments.’ ”

“Or to be most exact, of all the States. Thousands of microscopic States, fighting eternal wars, pitiless like⁠—”

“Oh yes, it’s clear,” said I-330 with apparent sincerity.

We passed through a room where we found a few small children’s beds (children in those days were also private property). Then more rooms, glimmering mirrors, sombre closets, unbearably loud-colored divans, an enormous “fireplace,” a large mahogany bed. Our contemporary beautiful, transparent, eternal glass was represented here only by pitiful, delicate, tiny squares of windows.