The streets and highways were a thick rubbery material that gave a nice ride and was easy on the pedestrians' feet. The car rolled out on the street in manual drive. He could have given his destination verbally to the vehicle's computer and sat back while it got there by itself by the quickest route. Very few people used this automatic system, though, since they enjoyed driving.
Proceeding at twenty miles an hour - the car's limit was thirty-five - Orme steered down the street and on to a main highway. This took him in great curve around the main part of the city and out into the country. There were no stop signs, lights, or road signs. There weren't even street signs. It was assumed that a citizen would know his own community. If he was a stranger, he could find out where somebody lived by asking another citizen or consulting a computer. There was also no postal system. People used their TV sets to communicate or to transmit printed papers.
Orme had found out that the cavern in which he lived was the first one to be made. By consulting a government informational facility through his TV, he had been shown a map of the tunnels and caverns. No doubt his call had been monitored, but nobody had said anything about it nor had any information been refused. He had not asked for the location of the entrance to the tunnels that led to the surface. He'd try to figure that out himself.
After fifteen minutes of pleasant travel, no dust, very few other cars to worry about, no blasting of horns, he turned off to a road that would lead him to the highway that ran along the perimeter of the cavern. Here he had to slow down to ten mph because the road went through a small town. The largest building here was a dome about twenty feet high with a diameter of three hundred feet. This was the top of an underground station which received grain brought in by farmers.
Orme slowed even more to drive around some small children playing a game like lacrosse. They stopped to stare at the black man. He grinned back at them, evoking smiles from a few. Then a woman carrying a large leather bag ran up to him and asked him to stop. He did so, wondering what she wanted.
'Are you going to Yishub?' she said.
'I don't know. Where's that?'
'About six miles straight down this road. I have business there, and all the cars are taken. I'd walk, but that'd make me late.'
'I'm going that way. Get in.'
She threw the bag into the back seat and got in beside him.
'I'm Gulthilo Ribhqah bat-Yishaq. I know who you are, of course. Richard Orme, the Earthman.'
She was good-looking, several inches taller than he, busty, slim-ankled, with curly yellow hair and dark blue eyes. He wasn't surprised at her Gothic name, meaning Little Golden One, since some of the Terrestrials brought here had been picked up in Northern Europe. That accounted for such names as Fauho, Rautha, Swiglja, and Haurnja.
Nor was he surprised to encounter a blonde. Though most of the human Martians were dark-skinned Mediterranean types, there were some with blue and green eyes and red or yellow hair. They did not get these naturally, however. Some of their ancestors may have been blondes, but the genes for light pigmentation had been wiped out during the twenty generations of inbreeding. However, occasionally parents wanted a lighter colouring for their children for the sake of variety, so the bio-engineers accommodated them with genetic tampering. Thus, Gulthilo resembled her remote namesake ancestress.
He started driving again, and said, 'What do you do?'
'I teach flute-playing at farms and some of the towns. Usually, if I can't get a car, I ride my bicycle. But mine broke down this morning, and everybody was using theirs, so I couldn't borrow one. Fortunately, you came along. I'm very pleased, since this may be the only chance I'll get to talk to one of you.'
Her story sounded reasonable, except that it seemed odd that no bicycles were available. Perhaps some unusual activity had required them. However, she could have been planted here. Maybe the authorities hoped he would let his guard down if he thought his meeting her was accidental.
I'm not really paranoid, he told himself. My suspicions are based on reality.
Perhaps, though, I'm doing her an injustice.
'Where are you going?’ she said with that open curiosity that distinguished these people. Like children, they did not fear strangers, not even those from another planet.
'I'm just riding around to enjoy the scenery and see something different. I got tired of the university. I wanted to relax.'
'Are you married?'
Though he was getting used to the Martian frankness, he was startled by this. He said, 'I was, but my wife divorced me.'
'There was a programme on you Earth people the other day. Did you get to see it? No. Well, the commentator said that there are many divorces there. You can get one for any reason or no reason at all. That seems strange. Here only unbelief, adultery, cruelty, or a high incompatibility are grounds for divorce. Infertility used to be grounds, but no one is sterile now. And everyone believes in the Messiah of course. Though that doesn't stop some few evil people from secretly opposing him.'
So even here there were dissenters.
'When my wife married me she knew that I only wanted to be an astronaut... a space-voyager. But after I had a near-accident, she wouldn't give up trying to make me quit and get a safe job. So we parted.'
'Are you engaged?'
He smiled. Then he said, 'Are you married or spoken for?'
'No, my husband was two hundred and forty years old when I married him. He died shortly after our youngest child entered the university two years ago. I have a dozen suitors, but I haven't made up my mind yet. Besides, I am rather enjoying my freedom from marital responsibilities. You might say I'm on a vacation.'
Orme wondered how it felt to know your father was two hundred years old when you were born. If you were a Martian, you probably wouldn't think anything at all about it.
Orme was excited by this woman. Though the robe was pinned to the neck and it was ankle-length, its thinness showed her lush figure and long legs. Her face was sensuous: full lips, a slightly curving but delicate nose, dark thick eyebrows, soft skin. And a bright light in her blue eyes. He sighed. She could never be his, even temporarily.
Finally, as they passed a farmhouse, he said, 'Two years is a long time without a man. Or don't you think so?'
He looked at her when he said that, and she blushed.
He thought, 'Oh, oh! I've gone too far.' But blushing! He didn't remember seeing a female blush since he was a child.
She said, 'How long have you been without a woman? Six months? Isn't that a long time?'
'It hardly seems forever,' he said and laughed.
She was silent for a moment. Then she said, 'Pull over under that tree.'
He looked at her but said nothing. When he'd stopped the car, he observed that the tree and the field of tall sheshunit, a sunflower-type plant, kept them from being seen by anyone except a passerby on the road. And there hadn't been one in the last five minutes.
She moved over close to him. Her thigh was touching his.
'Now,' she said smiling, 'don't get me wrong. But I do want this.’
Her arms came around his neck, and her lips were pressed against his. Then her tongue slipped in and moved against his.
This can't be happening, he thought. But it was.
She allowed him to feel her breast, but when he tried to unpin the robe, she drew away. Both were panting.