Nim was shaving. It was shortly after 7 am on a Thursday in late August.

Ruth had gone downstairs ten minutes earlier to prepare breakfast. Leah and Benjy were still sleeping. Now Ruth returned, appearing at the bathroom door with a copy of the Chronicle-West.

"I hate to start your day off badly," she said, "but I know you'll want to see this."

"Thanks." He put down his razor and took the newspaper with wet 1hands, scanning the front page. Below the fold was a single-column item: GSP & L,.

Rate Hike Disallowed Electricity and gas rates are not going up.

This was revealed yesterday afternoon by the California Public Utilities Commission in announcing its turndown of an application by Golden State Power & Light for a 13 percent increase in gas and electric rates which would bring the giant utility another $580 million annual revenue.

"We do not see the need for an increase at this time," the PUC stated in a decision arrived at by a 3-2 vote of the commissioners.

At public bearings GSP & L had argued that it needs more money to offset rising costs due to inflation and to raise capital for its construction program.

High officials of GSP & L were not available for comment, though a spokesman expressed regret and concern for the future energy situation in California. However, Davey Birdsong, leader of a consumers group-power & light for people hailed the decision as . . .

Nim put the newspaper on the toilet tank beside him while he finished shaving; he had learned of the decision late yesterday so the report was confirmation. When he went downstairs Ruth had his breakfast ready-lamb kidneys with scrambled eggs-and she sat opposite him with a cup of coffee while he ate.

She asked, "What does that commission decision really mean?"

He grimaced. "It means that three people, who got jobs because of politics, have the right to tell big corporations like GSP & L and the phone company how to manage their aff airs-and do."

"Will it affect you?"

"Damn right it will! I'll have to revamp the construction program; we'll cancel or slow down some projects and that will lead to layoffs. Even then there'll be a cash bind. Long faces this morning, especillly Eric's." Nim cut and speared a kidney. "These are great. You do them better than anybody."

Ruth hesitated, then said, "Could you get your own breakfast for a while, do you think?"

Nim was startled. "Sure, but why?"

"I may be going away." In her quiet voice Ruth corrected herself. "I am going away. For a week, perhaps longer."

He put down his knife and fork, staring across the table. "Why? Where?"

"Mother will have Leah and Benjy while I'm gone, and Mrs. Blair will come in as usual to clean. So it will just mean you're having dinner out, and I'm sure you can arrange that."

Nim ignored the barb. He insisted, his voice rising, "You didn't answer my question. Where are you going, and why?"

"There's no need for either of us to shout." Beneath Ruth's composure he sensed an uncharacteristic hardness. "I heard your question, but the way things are between us, I don't believe I should have to answer. Do you?"

Nim was silent, knowing precisely what Ruth meant: Why should there be a double standard? If Nim chose to break the rules of marriage, have a succession of affairs, and stay out many evenings for his own diversions, why shouldn't Ruth exercise similar freedom, also without explanations? On that basis, her declaration of equality-which it clearly was seemed reasonable. Just the same, Nim felt a stab of jealousy because he now was sure Ruth was involved with another man. Originally be hadn't thought so; now he was convinced, and while he knew that give and-take arrangements existed in some marriages, he found it hard to accept them in his own.

"We both know," Ruth said, interrupting his thoughts, "that for a long time you and I have only been going through the motions of being married. We haven't talked about it. But I think we should." This time, despite an attempt at firmness, there was a tremor in her voice.

He asked, "Do you want to talk now?"

Ruth shook her head. "Perhaps when I come back." She added ' "As soon as I work some things out, I'll let you know when I'm leaving.

Nim said dully, "All right."

"You haven't finished your breakfast."

He pushed the plate away. "I don't feel like eating anymore."

Though the exchange with Ruth-jolting in its suddenness-preoccupied Nim during his drive downtown, activity at GSP & L headquarters quickly eclipsed personal thoughts.

The ruling of the Public Utilities Commission took priority over all other business.

All morning a procession of executives from the utility's financial and legal departments, their expressions serious, hastened in and out of the chairman's office. Their comings and goings marked a succession of conferences, each concerned with the essential question: Without any increase whatever in the rates it could charge customers, how could GSP & L carry out its needed construction plans and stay solvent? the consensus: Without some drastic and immediate cutback in expenses, it simply wasn't possible.

At one point J. Eric Humphrey paced the rug behind his desk and demanded rhetorically, "Why is it that when the price of bread goes up because of inflation, or meat prices soar, or it costs more to get into a ball game or a movie-no one is ever surprised and it's all accepted? But when we point out, truthfully, that we can't produce electricity at our old rates because our costs have gone up too, nobody believes us."

Oscar O'Brien, the general counsel, answered while he lit one of his inevitable cigars. "They don't believe us because they've been conditioned not to-mostly by politicians trying to suck up to voters and looking for an easy target. Public utilities have always been one."

The chairman snorted. "Politicians! they disgust me! they invented inflation, created it, worsened it, keep it going as they build public debt -all so they can buy votes and bang onto their jobs. Yet those charlatans, those obscurers of the truth, blame inflation on everybody else unions, business-anyone, anything, except themselves. If it weren't for politicians, we wouldn't be asking for a rate increase because we wouldn't need to."

Sharlett Underhill, executive vice president of finance and the fourth person in the chairman's office, murmured, "Amen!" Mrs. Underhill, a tall brunette in her forties, capable, normally unruffled, today appeared harried. Which was understandable, Nim thought. Whatever financial decisions were made as a result of the PUC turndown, they would inevitably be harsh and Sharlett Underhill would have to implement them.

Eric Humphrey, who had stopped his pacing, asked, "Does anyone have a theory about why everything we sought was rejected? Did we misjudge the profiles? Where was our strategy wrong?"

"I'm not sure our strategy was wrong," O'Brien said. "And we sure as hell studied the profiles, and acted on them."

Behind the question and answer was a common practice of utility companies-but also a closely guarded secret.

Whenever a Public Utility Commissioner was appointed, companies which would be affected by the new commissioner's decisions began a detailed undercover study of the individual, including a psychiatric profile. The resultant material was pored over by experts in psychology who searched for prejudices to be guarded against or weaknesses to be exploited.

Later an executive of the utility would attempt to strike up a friendship in the course of which the commissioner would be entertained at the executive's home, invited to play golf, share bard-to-get seats at sports events, or taken trout fishing at a Sierra hideaway. The entertainment was always pleasant, private, and discreet, but never lavish. During casual conversations some discussion might occur about the utility's affairs, but no direct favors were asked; the influence was more subtle.

Often the tactic worked in a utility's favor. Occasionally it didn't.

"We knew two of the commissioners would vote against us anyway," the lawyer said, "and we knew for sure that two of the other three were in our corner. So that left Cy Reid's as the swing vote. We'd worked on Reid, we thought he'd see things our way, but we were wrong."

Nim knew about Commissioner Cyril Reid. He was a Ph.D. economist and former university lecturer whose practical business experience was nil. But Reid had worked closely with California's incumbent Governor through two election campaigns and insiders now believed that when the Governor moved from Sacramento to the White House, as he hoped to, Cy Reid would go with him as chief of staff. According to a confidential file which Nim had read, Commissioner Reid was once an ardent believer in Keynesian economics, but had recanted, now accepting that the deficit spending doctrines of John Maynard Keynes had led to economic disaster worldwide. A recent report from a senior vice president of GSP & L, Stewart Ino, who had cultivated Reid, declared that the commissioner had "faced up to the realities of income statements and balance sheets, including those of public utilities." But perhaps, Nim thought, Cy Reid the politician had been laughing at them all along, and was doing so right now.

"During the pendency of the case," the chairman persisted, "surely there were backstage discussions with commission staff? Weren't compromises reached?"

Sharlett Underhill answered, "The answer to both questions is yes."

"Then if compromises were agreed on, what happened to them?"

Mrs. Underhill shrugged. "Nothing done behind scenes is binding. Three of the commissioners, including Reid, ignored recommendations of their staff."

Something else most people never knew about, Nim thought, were negotiations which proceeded, out of sight, during and after public hearings.

Utilities like GSP & L, when seeking more revenue through a rate increase, often asked more than was needed and more than they expected to get. What followed was a ritualistic dance in which PUC commissioners joined. The commissioners lopped off some of what was asked, thus appearing to be vigilant in their public duty. The utility, though seemingly rebuffed, in fact got what it wanted, or thereabouts.

Essential details were worked out by the commission's staff during off-the-record talks with other staff from the public utility. Nim had once attended such a session in a small, closed room and heard a PUC staffer ask, "Now how big an increase do you people really need? Never mind the public hearings bullshit. Just tell us, and we'll tell you how far we can go. Frankness -on both sides- had followed, with the outcome settled privately in much less time than was occupied in public hearings.

On the whole, the system was reasonable and it worked. But this time, obviously, it hadn't.

Aware that the chairman was still seething, Nim said cautiously, "It doesn't look as if inquests, at this moment, will do a lot of good."

Humphrey sighed. "You're right." He addressed the finance vice president.

"Sharlett, financially speaking, how do we get through next year?"

"The options are limited," Mrs. Underhill said, "but I'll go over them."

She spread out several sheets of complex calculations.

The discussions continued through most of the day, with still more staff members summoned to the chairman's office, their input sought. But in the end it became evident there were two choices only. One was to cut back on all planned construction, curtail maintenance and reduce customer service. The other was to cease paying dividends to shareholders. It was affirmed that the first was unthinkable, the second could be disastrous because it would send GSP & L's stock plummeting and place the company's future in jeopardy. However, it was also agreed that no other courses of action were possible.

Late in the afternoon, J. Eric Humphrey, visibly tired and downcast, pronounced the verdict which the small top-level coterie had known from the beginning to be inevitable. "Management will recommend to the board of directors that payment of all dividends on the company's common stock be suspended immediately and indefinitely."

It was a historic decision.

Since the formation of Golden State Power & Light three quarters of a century earlier when its predecessor company was combined with several others to become a single entity, the corporation had been a model of financial rectitude. Never in the ensuing years had it failed to meet its obligations or to pay a dividend on its stock. As a result, GSP & L was known among investors large and small as "old faithful" and "the widows' and orphans' friend." Retirees in California and elsewhere put their life savings confidently into GSP & L shares, relying on regular dividends as their means of support. Cautious trustees of other people's money did the same. Thus the omission of dividends would have widespread effect, not only in lost income but in reduction of capital when the value of the shares dropped, as was bound to happen.

Shortly before the chairman's anguished pronouncement, the original morning quartet had reassembled-Eric Humphrey, Oscar O'Brien, Sharlett Underhill, and Nim-plus Teresa Van Buren. The PR bead had been called in because of the major public impact the decision would soon have.

A regular board of directors meeting was already scheduled for 10 am next Monday, and the directors' finance committee would meet a half hour earlier. Presumably at both sessions the management decision would be confirmed, after which an immediate public statement would be made. Meanwhile, precautions were necessary to guard against informational. leaks which might trigger speculative trading in the company's stock.

"Outside this room," Sharlett Underhill now reminded the others, "there must be no whisper of what is intended until that official statement.

Also, as financial officer, I must caution everyone that because of the inside information the five of us possess, any personal trading in the company's shares, prior to Monday's announcement, would be a criminal offense under Securities and Exchange Commission laws."

In an attempt at lightness, Nim said, "Okay, Sharlett, we won't sell short and make our fortunes." But no one laughed.

"I presume," Teresa Van Buren observed, "that everyone has remembered the annual meeting is in two weeks. We're going to face a lot of angry shareholders."

"Angry!" O'Brien grunted; he was relighting his cigar, which had gone out. "They're all be foaming at the mouth and that meeting will need a riot squad to handle it."

"Handling it will be my job," J. Eric Humphrey said; for the first time in several hours the chairman smiled. "I've been wondering, though, if I shouldn't wear a bulletproof vest."

4.

Twice since receiving Karen Sloan's letter at Devil's Gate Camp, Nim had talked to her on the telephone. He promised to visit her again when he could. But the letter had arrived on the day that was marred by Wally Talbot's tragic accident and, since then, other events had crowded in, so Nim's intended visit was postponed. He still hadn't made it. Karen had remembered him, however-with another letter. He was reading it now, in his office, in a moment of quietness. Across the top of Karen's elegant blue stationery she had typed in capitals: I WAS SAD WHEN YOU TOLD ME OF YOUR FRIEND'S.

ACCIDENT AND WHEN I READ ABOUT HIS INJURIES.

Below was still more of her immaculate stick-in-mouth typing.

Tell him from one who knows: A sputtering candlewick Though burning dimly Is brighter by far Than Cimmerian blackness.

For life, On whatever terms, Outranks oblivion.

Yes!-the "if onlys" do persist forever As hovering, wraithlike, used-up wishes,

Their afterburners spent:

"If only" this or that On such and such a day Had varied by an hour or an inch; Or something neglected had been done Or something done had been neglected!

Then "perhaps" the other might have been,

And other others . . . to infinity.

For "perhaps" and "if only" are first cousins Addicted to survival in our minds.

Accept them, And all else.

For what seemed a long time Nim sat still and silent, reading and rereading Karen's words. At length be became aware that his telephone was buzzing and realized it had done so twice before.

As he picked it up his secretary's voice said brightly, "Did I wake you?"

"Yes, in a way."

"Mr. London would like to see you," Vicki said. "He can come now if you're free."

"Tell him okay."