But his interest in her was not at all filial. He had Kravchenko’s testimony that Elena was seducible, and her own willingness to make herself available for this night on the town backed him up. Furthermore, she was Kaufmann’s mistress and probably Santoliquido’s as well, so that it enhanced Noyes’ own sense of self to be out with her. Lastly, Roditis approved. In the final analysis, what mattered to Noyes was how well or how poorly each of his actions served the interests of John Roditis, and in squiring Elena Volterra to Jubilisle he was in a position to serve Roditis handsomely.
Elena said, “I imagined you came here often. Isn’t Jubilisle one of Roditis’ properties?”
“Yes, of course. One of his most successful. But I don’t think I’ve been here more than three times in the ten years it’s been open.”
“Don’t you like amusement parks?”
“There are amusements and amusements,” Noyes said. He lowered his voice. “It happens that Jubilisle is designed mainly to please plebs. I’m not being snobbish when I tell you that; it’s the truth. That’s why we put it here, right in the shadow of the Scheffing building, so these people could look up and see the tower and think deep thoughts about rebirth. Which, since they can’t have it unless they’ve got lots of money, will inspire them to gamble heavily here, making John Roditis a little wealthier.”
“Very clever.” Elena glanced around. “Now that you mention it, I see that we’re a trifle out of place here. Most of them were paying cash to get aboard.”
“You noticed that.”
“It fascinated me. I don’t think I’ve ever touched cash myself, not even once. I wouldn’t recognize a bill if I found it in the street. Why do they bother?”
“They like the feel of money,” Noyes said. “The central computer balance is a little impersonal for them. Here — I always carry a bill with me, just for luck. Would you like to see it?”
He slipped his wallet out and found his hundred-dollar bill. It was a slender plastic card which bore the atom symbol, a serial number, the Arabic numeral 100 in black type, and the inscription, The Bank of the United States Government has on deposit One Hundred Dollars Fissionable Material as security for this note. Legal Tender. Elena studied the bill as though it might be a mounted butterfly from another planet. “Fascinating,” she said at last, handing it back. “Can you get me one?”
“Of course,” he said. He took her by the hand and led her across the deck to a refreshment stand where an automatic servitor was dispensing soft drinks. When the scanner beam flashed in his direction Noyes said, “Give me a hundred-dollar bill.” He put his thumb to the charge plate. A bill popped through the slot and he handed it gravely to Elena, who examined it a moment grinned dazzlingly, and slipped the little card into the deep valley between her breasts. Onlookers gaped in astonishment.
“Thank you,” she said, as they returned to the rail. “I’ll treasure this little souvenir.”
“You’ll certainly keep it warm,” Noyes said, and they both laughed.
The ferry was nearing Jubilisle’s approach slip, now. The great arching dome of the pleasure island rose precipitously before them, topped with a layer of living light that pulsed from one end of the spectrum to the other. A hundred acres of area, six separate levels, the capacity to amuse half a million people at once — that was Jubilisle, and Noyes could not deny it was an impressive sight. Even Elena looked moved.
“Roditis owns it all?” she asked in a whisper. “Through a nominee corporation, yes. I helped plan the financing soon after I joined his organization. It was his first great coup.”
“It must have cost billions!”
“It did. And of course Roditis didn’t have that kind of money yet, so we had to juggle. He pledged everything as collateral. Paul Kaufmann was willing to put up a construction loan of two billion, but he wanted a fifty-percent equity. Roditis said no. Kaufmann was so astonished he lent the two billion anyway. At ten percent, but he lent it. And Roditis kept the full equity. He owns the place outright. The last debenture was paid off in January. He’s thinking of arranging a mortgage, now. Say, about seven billion, from a consortium of banks, and using the money to finance Jubilisle Canton and Jubilisle Rio. Eventually he’ll have a dozen of them on every continent. Am I boring you with all this money talk?”
“Not at all,” Elena said. She did look genuinely enthralled. “I’m very much interested. Roditis must be a terribly exciting man. I’d love to meet him.”
“You never have?”
“Never. We just haven’t crossed paths. You know, I spend so much of my time with Mark, and Mark is so hostile to Roditis.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“But I think one day I will happen to meet Roditis. And he and I will both find the meeting rewarding.”
“Powerful men intrigue you, eh, Elena?”
“Why not?”
“Mark Kaufmann — Santoliquido—” She looked startled. “Santo and I are just good friends.”
“Is that all?” He saw the color rising in her cheeks. Laughing, he said, “Very good friends, I imagine.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” The ferry was at rest. The gangways extruded themselves and the crowd started ashore. Noyes and Elena let the flow carry them along.
A brilliant directory board in at least six colors confronted them. Twenty feet high, thirty feet wide, the board provided a detailed map of Jubilisle’s offerings. Noyes paused to study it, but Elena tugged him along. “Let’s just wander,” she said. “One level’s as good as another.”
“That’s not true. They’re aimed for different sectors of the population.”
“What does that matter? We’re slumming tonight!” He shrugged and yielded, and they stepped aboard the moving ramp leading to Level D. Noyes was hazily familiar with the structure of Jubilisle from his past visits; he recalled that the island was cunningly laid out in a series of mazes and dead ends, so that the bemused visitor might roam for hours without arriving at any clear knowledge of how much remained to be seen. The intention was to prod the clientele into realizing that it was impossible to see more than a small fraction of Jubilisle on any one visit, and thus one must return again and again.
The island was devised to offer something to every economic stratum, from those who lived off government credit to those who could afford a dozen persona transplants. Generally, the pull of Jubilisle was stronger in the lower middle brackets, those people who could not afford to traffic in the Scheffing process but who had enough disposable income to part with some here. There was no admission charge at Jubilisle; Roditis made his money, partly from the ferry ride, but mainly from the income of the booths and concessions. Noyes had seen the analysis: each visitor spent some fifteen dollars fissionable per trip, on which Roditis’ net profit was about thirty-five percent. With half a million visitors at any one time, and perhaps three or four million on a busy Saturday night between sunset and dawn, it was easy to see the source of Roditis’ affluence. Jubilisle had competitors now, of course, but it was the first of its kind, and the most successful. The powerful Kaufmann interests, having missed their chance to gain an equity investment in the original Jubilisle, had not deigned to open an imitation, much to Roditis’ pleasure. Officially, it was because they had no desire to pander to the debauched tastes of the ignorant, but Noyes thought it was more likely the Kaufmanns stayed out of the pleasure-island business out of fear that they would not meet Roditis’ level of success.