Or was there? He saw soldiers patrolling the streets in pairs. The hostility between them and the people was palpable. Could there be a way to get these poor folk out of the dark ghetto and into the sunside? To provide enough daylight land for all of them?
He shook his head. He was no social worker. As long as domes were required to provide livable atmosphere, the common folk would be captive to those who built and controlled the domes. It was just the way Mars was.
The cab gained on an attractive woman with a sexy walk, seen from behind. She held a small child by the hand.
“Not bad, eh?” Benny inquired.
Quaid had to concede that even this hellhole had its bright spots. As they passed the woman, he turned around to see her face.
She was horribly deformed. Her child had the same congenital defect.
Darkness and poverty weren’t the only afflictions here! Quaid turned to Benny. “Tell me something. Why are there so many…?”
“Freaks?” Benny supplied helpfully. “Cheap domes, man. And no air to screen out the rays.”
Oh. No doubt the material of the domes, when properly placed, screened out harmful solar radiation while admitting the good part of the light. But a cheap dome would simply let it all through. Mars was farther from the sun than Earth was, so the light was less intense, but it still had harmful components. On Earth the ozone layer served to filter out a lot. There had been trouble when man’s carelessness had depleted that ozone, and nothing had been done about it until the skin-cancer rate quintupled. That finally got the attention of the politicians, and they started listening to the scientists who had been screaming warnings for decades, and put in motion programs to restore the ozone. It had been expensive, and had taken time, and the job was still being done, but the cancer rate was dropping. Here on Mars, it was evidently more than cancer; it was genetic damage. That was a tyranny that not even an enlightened social system could alleviate. It was inherent in the conditions of the planet.
If only there could be one simple, universal answer! One change that would solve all the problems of the powerless. But that was dreaming, and not sensibly.
The cab parked in front of The Last Resort. It was a seedy dive, even by the standards that obtained here.
“You sure you wanna go here, man? You’re liable to catch a disease.”
A sensible caution! Quaid did not find the place very appetizing. Yet where was he to look, if not where the confusing message had hinted?
Maybe it made sense. If the wrong person got the envelope and saw the ad and came here, looking for the promised good time, he would get disgusted at this point and give it up. But the right person would not be dissuaded. So it was a good way to couch the message.
“I know a much better house down the street,” Benny offered. “The girls are clean, the drinks aren’t watered, and—”
“The boss gives kickbacks to the taxi drivers,” Quaid finished.
Benny turned around and pleaded guilty with a broad smile. He had a mouthful of bad teeth, including two gold caps, one with a crescent moon design, the other with a star. “Hey, man, I got six kids to feed.”
Quaid handed him a large tip. “Take ’em to the dentist.”
Benny got excited as he counted the money. Quaid opened his door and got out. By the time Benny looked up, he was walking away.
“Hey, man!” Benny called after him. “I’ll be waiting for you. Take your time. Benny’s the name.”
Yes, he remembered. Quaid turned partway to wave the cabbie on, then entered The Last Resort. He hoped he wasn’t making a bad mistake.
CHAPTER 17
Melina
Quaid stopped just inside the door and cased the joint. It was evidently a low-class whorehouse for miners. Girls walked in and out, picking up clients and bringing them upstairs. The flyer had suggested no less—and no more.
He sat at the bar next to a couple of miners. The matter-of-fact bartender came over and waited for Quaid’s order. The man was big enough and ugly enough to warrant prompt attention; he probably moonlighted as a bouncer.
“I’m looking for Melina,” Quaid said.
Immediate suspicion clouded the man’s face. “She’s busy. But Mary’s free.”
Mary, a sexy, well-built prostitute, appeared from nowhere and approached Quaid. “Not free,” she purred. “Available.”
He looked at her. He noticed that she had three full breasts, prominently displayed in a special bikini top. For any man who got his main kicks in that department, here was extra measure! But he remembered Lori, illusory though his marriage to her had turned out to be, and knew he would have been spoiled for this even if sex had been his object. “Thanks. I’ll wait.”
“Earth slime,” she said. It was the type of response he had expected.
Then she farted and oozed over to another potential customer. That Quaid hadn’t expected. Maybe he hadn’t had enough experience with this type of place.
He returned his attention to the bartender. This time he pressed a red banknote into the man’s hand.
The bartender became less unfriendly. “Thing is, pal, Mel’s real picky. Kinda sticks to her regulars.”
If the woman could afford to be picky in a place like this, she had to be very special! “Get her. She’ll like me.”
With some trepidation, which Quaid noted with interest, the bartender called toward a table near the stairs. “Hey, Mel.” There was a pause, as of someone ignoring the call. “Melina.”
Quaid looked in the direction the bartender was calling. A woman sat at a table with some miners, laughing uproariously. She perched on the knee of a sullen, unshaven fellow, her back to the bar. One of the miners, facing the bar, saw the bartender trying to get Melina’s attention. He signaled her, and she turned around.
Quaid was stunned. She was the girl of his dreams!
“She’s with Tony,” the bartender murmured. “Fair warning, mister: if you don’t like to fight…”
“Some things are worth fighting for,” Quaid replied.
“Then take it outside. My employer values his furniture.”
Melina’s laughter had faded abruptly and her face registered shock. Her eyes darted to those of the miner across the table, then returned to Quaid’s. She made a decision. She rose from Tony’s knee and sashayed over to the bar. Quaid stood, waiting for whatever came. He knew already that he had made an invaluable contact—but what was its nature? This woman resembled his dream-vision only in appearance. There was little dignity in the cheap, seductive smile she gave him as she crossed the room.
“Well, if it isn’t the human hard-on,” Melina said. She stepped into him and gave him a wet and sloppy kiss. Then she ground against him, feeling his muscles under the shirt. “Still bulging, I see.” She looked down. “Ooo. Whatcha been feeding it?”
He realized that this was a public place, while anything between them was private. They couldn’t say anything here—if there was anything to say. So he played along. “Blondes.” Literally true; Lori was a blonde.
“I think it’s still hungry.” She pulled him toward the stairs. As they passed the miners at the table, Tony stuck out his leg to block their way.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Tony demanded.
“Relax, Tony,” Melina said. “There’ll be plenty left for you.”
Tony wasn’t satisfied. He grabbed Melina’s arm and pulled her onto his lap. “I was here first!” He turned to Quaid. “Take a number, pal.”
Quaid gripped Tony’s wrist and leaned in close. “This ain’t a bakery.”
Tony looked as though he was ready to try the question.