The office was long and narrow and occupied by two tables, at one of which sat a pleasant woman in her forties who got to her feet when we walked in. I shook the hand she held out to me without catching her name, although I assumed I’d get to know it in time. Besides, I wouldn’t have to spend much time in that office and sooner or later I’d end up working with Renzo.

For a while my friend lingered, singing my praises. The woman listened admiringly, throwing me the occasional knowing glance, which I returned with a modest smile. We would probably end up bowing to each other, I thought, and something like that did happen when Renzo, after another little slap on the back, left to go to his office three floors up.

“Are you a graduate?” the woman said as soon as we were alone.

“Yes,” I said. “I have a degree in patience.”

“Then you’ll do well here,” she said, laughing. “Besides, there are so many morons here, as long as you’re not an idiot people think you’re a genius.” This must have been a code phrase, so I didn’t say anything while she explained our work to me. It consisted of drafting press releases about the shows currently in production.

While she said this, I thought about the world outside. Was anything wrong? “It’s cold in here,” I blurted out, massaging my arm.

“Oh yes,” she said, “the air-conditioning’s quite powerful, it always has that effect the first time. But we can’t do anything about it, it’s a general system.”

“Long live the General,” I said, but she must have exhausted her reserves of humor for the morning because my subtle one-liner didn’t raise even the hint of a smile. Instead, she handed me a package of press releases so that I could learn the style.

I’d read better things, but I continued leafing through them until the fatigue from my sleepless night with Arianna and the rarefied climate finally gained the upper hand and I began to genuinely shiver with cold. I started to wonder if by any chance I could get an empty Ballantine’s bottle from the staff bar. But where to find hot water? Was anything hot in here? As for using it, I could have done so surreptitiously, below the table, holding it in my lap. Like an old man in a world where all his friends are dead.

“You know what you could do?” my colleague said as I looked out beyond the wall of glass at the sun beating down on the streets. “You could go to Signor Laurenzi’s office and get some information from him about the latest TV series being imported from America.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” I said with the appropriate enthusiasm. “Where would I find him?”

“Room 212. If it’s not a good time, just wait.”