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"You will call her Miss Moore, if you wish to keep working for me. Mr. Gaffney, keep out of my private life."
"No life is private anymore, I'm sad to say."
"Mr. Gaffney, when do we meet?" Yossarian demanded. "I want to look you in the eye and see who the hell I'm dealing with. I'm not easy with you, Mr. Gaffney."
"I'm sure that will change."
"I'm not sure it will. I don't think I like you."
"That will change also, after we talk in Chicago."
"Chicago?"
"When we meet in the airport and you see that I'm trustworthy, loyal, helpful, courteous, and kind. Better?"
"No. I'm not going to Chicago."
"I believe you will be, Mr. Yossarian. You could make reservations now."
"What will I be doing in Chicago?"
"Changing planes."
"For where?"
"To come back, Mr. Yossarian. From Kenosha, Wisconsin, after your visit to Mrs. Tappman. Probably, you will want to continue to Washington directly for your meetings with Mr. Minderbinder and Mr. Wintergreen, and perhaps Noodles Cook too."
Yossarian sighed. "You know all that about me now?"
"I hear things in my work, Mr. Yossarian."
"Who else do you work for when you hear things about me?"
"For whoever will pay me, Mr. Yossarian. I don't discriminate. We have laws now against discrimination. And I don't play favorites. I'm always objective and don't make distinctions. Distinctions are odious. And invidious too."
"Mr. Gaffney, I haven't paid you yet. You haven't sent me a bill or discussed the fees."
"Your credit is good, Mr. Yossarian, if the credit rating companies can be believed, and you can get that mortgage anytime you want. There are excellent lakefront properties available now in New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey, and good seashore values too in Santa Barbara, San Diego, and Long Island. I can help you with the mortgage forms, if you like, as well as with your DNA. This is a good time for a mortgage and a very good time to buy."
"I don't want a mortgage and I don't want to buy. And who was that friend you mentioned before?"
"Of your nurse?"
"I have no nurse, damn it. I'm in excellent health, if you're still keeping track, and by now she's a friend. Melissa."
"Nurse MacIntosh," Mr. Gaffney disagreed formally. "I am reading from the records, Mr. Yossarian, and the records never lie. They may be mistaken or out-of-date, but they never lie. They are inanimate, Mr. Y."
"Don't dare call me that!"
"They are not able to lie, and they are always official and authoritative, even when they are in error and contradict each other. Her friend is the nurse in the postoperative surgical recovery room you expressed a desire to meet. Her given name is Wilma but people are prone to call her angel, or honey, particularly patients as they emerge from anesthesia after surgery, and two or three physicians there, who now and then entertain ambitions of, as they put it, not I, getting into her pants. That may be a medical term. You may be joined by Miss Moore."
"Miss Moore?" Yossarian, with senses awhirl, was finding it still harder to keep up. "Who the hell is Miss Moore?"
"You call her Moorecock," reminded Gaffney, in a dropped tone of admonition. "Forgive me for inquiring, Mr. Yossarian. But our listeners have not picked up sounds of sexual activity in your apartment in some time. Are you all right?"
"I've been doing it on the floor, Mr. Gaffney," answered Yossarian steadily, "below the air conditioner, as you advised me to, and in the bathtub with the water running."
"I'm relieved. I was concerned. And you really should call Miss MacIntosh now. Her telephone is free at this moment. She has troubling news about the Belgian's blood chemistry, but she seems eager to see you. I would predict that despite the differences in your respective ages--"
