My Landlord Is the Universe

How it begins

Irene Vale challenged her rent increase and received a reply from the universe. It began Dear Occupant and ended with a diagram of a black hole.

She read it at the kitchen table while the radiator clicked. The increase was eleven percent. The explanation cited expansion, rising entropy and improvements to the local gravitational environment. None mentioned the leak above her cooker.

Samir Moss came from the tenants' advice office with a folder and a face suggesting he had expected an easier afternoon.

'Who signed it?'

Irene showed him. The signature moved very slowly across the page, forming a spiral that made the room seem larger than its measurements.

'Perhaps a holding company,' he said.

The paper displayed a new sentence. ALL MATTER IS CURRENTLY HELD.

Irene folded her arms. At fifty-nine, she had repaired enough electrical systems to dislike powerful entities explaining ordinary obligations with grand language.

'What improvements?'

The ceiling vanished. For one terrifying, beautiful second, stars burned directly above the table. Then the plaster returned, including the damp patch.

Samir wrote demonstrated partial repair capacity in his notes.

The letter rustled. A list of unauthorized tenant alterations appeared: fire, agriculture, radio, antibiotics, jazz. Beside each stood a retroactive fee.

'Jazz?' Irene said.

A distant trumpet sounded from nowhere. The letter added a late charge.

Samir turned to the lease's first page. 'We need to see the original agreement.'

The radiator stopped clicking. The room became very still.

For the first time, the universe took a long time to answer. Irene knew that silence. Landlords produced it when asked for paperwork they assumed nobody would request.

The black hole in the signature began shrinking, like an embarrassed pupil. She put the kettle on.

'You can explain entropy after tea,' she told the ceiling. 'First, we'd like to know who authorized you to let the place.'