"This is… one hell of a way to… make… a living. Hold on… I think… I think it's starting to happen. Yeah… I think… I'm… falling in love…"

Felicity didn't look impressed. "I don't… wait a minute."

Her eyes closed and her fists clenched.

"Wait… a… minute!"

She began to rock from side to side on her stool. Her thighs involuntarily rubbed themselves together.

"Oh, Jesus-yes!"

"Oh!"

"Oh, yeah! Yeah!"

"Don't stop! Please!"

Connie and Felicity became a two-voice counterpoint of groans and whimpers. Then, simultaneously, both women's backs arched. They both cried out. Felicity's voice was low and deep in her throat; Connie's was a high-pitched wail. Finally they both slumped.

There was a long silence. Felicity sat with her head drooping on her chest. Connie was sprawled out on the bed. Finally Connie opened her eyes. She regarded Felicity from under heavy, languid lids.

"How did you like them apples, darling?"

"There's a few minutes to go yet." It was the very end of the shift. Ralph's speech was slurred. He made no attempt at even seeming sober. He sat propped up against a cabinet with his legs stretched out in front of him. Not only was he drunk, he was also querulous.

"If they don't turn up in the next couple of minutes, I'll just get up and fuck off."

"You shouldn't do that, Ralph."

"You just see if I don't."

"You know we ain't supposed to leave until the next shift comes on. It's against regulations."

Ralph sniffed. "So wait for them."

Sam blinked and looked unhappy. "I wouldn't like to stay here on my own."

Sam was in almost as bad a condition as Ralph. He too was slumped against a cabinet. His knees were drawn up so he was a fat, fetal ball. Ralph had occasionally noticed, when he was capable of noticing, that if he drank more, Sam swallowed more pills. When he was capable of wondering, which was less often than he was of noticing, even, he wondered if it was coincidence or cause and effect. Most of the time he didn't care anyway, particularly at the end of a shift. Each day seemed to drain off everything except hostility, hostility that he took out on Sam.

"There's always Artie. He's probably around somewhere to keep you company.''

"I don't think I'd really like to be left alone with Artie."

"You might be, and sooner than you think."

"What's that supposed to mean, Ralph?"

"You'll find out."

"You ain't talking about quitting again, are you, Ralph?"

"Maybe."

"You won't quit, Ralph, you won't ever quit."

"Don't be so sure."

"You won't quit."

"What makes you so smart?"

"I just know."

"Yeah?"

Sam didn't answer. When Ralph looked up, he saw Sam's eyes were shut. How could the bastard go to sleep a minute to leaving time? The silence between them was harder for Ralph to take than the conversation. He looked bitterly across the vault. He'd show them. He'd show all the bastards. Maybe he'd even quit tonight. He imagined himself strolling in the next day, suitably late, and telling the motherfuckers upstairs that he was through. He was so lost in his own fantasies that Sam startled him when he spoke.

"What about Artie, Ralph?"

"What about him?"

"We ought to do something about him. I ain't seen him in so long I even forget what he looks like."

Ralph scowled. "I remember what the perverted son of a bitch looks like."

"I wish he'd come back."

Before Ralph could answer he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Across on the far side of the vault something was moving. A golf cart was silently making its way along the rows of cabinets.

"About time, too."

Sam raised his head. "Not Artie?"

"Of course not. Bob, Dave, and Ali finally decided to come to work."

The golf cart came closer. It was a bit more beat up than the immaculate white ones used by the clean-cut young men from upstairs, the ones who wore the starched white suits. Riding on it were three men. They were dressed in the same drab tan overalls as Sam and Ralph. They also had the same dead complexions that came from spending too much of their lives in an underground vault.

The golf cart finally rolled to a halt beside Sam and Ralph. The men climbed off the cart with the stiff weariness of those who have dragged themselves out of bed before they were good and ready. They all stared wanly at Sam and Ralph, who had not yet bothered to get to their feet.

"Jesus Christ, will you look at this sorry pair?"

"You fuckers can go home now."

"If you got homes."

Ralph got up with difficulty. He lurched a couple of unsteady paces and yawned. "You took your fucking time."

Ali, the biggest of the three and the one who normally took control, squinted at Ralph. "You drunk again, you sick bastard?"

Ralph stuck out his chin. "What if I am?"

"Just don't take it out on us. It ain't none of our business."

"Damn right it ain't."

Sam, by now, was also up on his feet. He looked around blinking.

"I guess it's time to go."

Ali glanced at Sam and then turned back to Ralph. "Don't he ever change?"

"Never."

Ali shrugged. 'I'll call in, then you guys can go."

"Just hurry it up, will you?"

Ralph's drunken aggression was starting to get on Ali's nerves. His lip curled into a sneer. "You had a heavy day or something?''

"Just cut the crap, and make the call."

Ali put his hand on the wall phone and then stopped. He turned and faced Ralph. "One of these days I'm going to lose patience with your bullshit and just blow the whistle on your drinking."

Ralph took a step back and made vague fending-off motions with his arms. "Lighten up, will you?"

Ali turned to Bob and Dave in outraged amazement. "Did you hear that guy? He's telling me to lighten up."

Bob shrugged. "What do you expect from a lush?"

Ralph advanced drunkenly on Bob with clenched fists. "Who are you calling a lush?"

Sam, moving with incredible speed for one with his chemical balance, got between Ralph and the other three. He put a hand on Ralph's arm. "They don't mean nothing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ralph turned and wandered away muttering to himself. Ali picked up the phone and waited. After a while someone at the other end appeared to answer. Ali straightened up.

"This is 5066. We're just changing shift."

There was a pause.

"5066! Why don't you listen?"

Another pause.

"We're changing over shift."

Pause.

"Right, Bob and Dave and Ali coming on and… That's right, this is me, Ali… Okay, and there's Sam and Ralph…"

Sam moved up beside Ali. "And Artie. Tell them 'Artie.' "

Ali's eyes rolled heavenward. "… and Artie are coming off. Okay?" He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "You still covering for that guy?"

"He's our buddy."

"Jesus Christ! What?" He took his hand away from the mouthpiece. "Say what? Yeah, sure, yeah. Sure everything's alright. Listen… No, you listen, just because you got trouble up there, don't take an attitude with me, boy. Okay! Okay!"

Ali banged the phone back into its cradle. Ralph looked interested for the first time in hours.

"Trouble?"

Ali raised an eyebrow. His eyebrows were particularly pronounced and bushy. They reminded Sam of a pair of furry caterpillars he had seen when he was a kid.

"You ain't heard?"

Ralph shook his head. "I ain't heard nothing."

"You had one die on you down here, didn't you?"

"Yeah, so what? It ain't no skin off my back. A stiff's got to die now and again. It stands to reason."

"The way I heard it, it ain't just now and again."

"Huh? We only had one die on us. What's all this about?"

"If you didn't drink so much, you might notice what's happening."