He sounded worried. I hadn't even heard him come back. The girl was
looking worried, too, I guess because I was shaking so hard I was
spilling my drink. I put some money on the table without even counting
it.
"It's all right," I said. "We were just going."
"We were?" She looked confused. But she came along with me. They always
do, once they find out you've been to Mars.
* * * * *
In the next place, she said, between trips to the powder room, "It must
take a lot of courage to sign up for something like that. Were you
scientifically inclined in school? Don't you have to know an awful lot
to be a space-flyer? Did you ever see any of those little monkey
characters they say live on Mars? I read an article about how they lived
in little cities of pup-tents or something like that--only they didn't
make them, they grew them. Funny! Ever see those? That trip must have
been a real drag, I bet. What is it, nine months? You couldn't have a
baby! Excuse me-- Say, tell me. All that time, how'd you--well, manage
things? I mean didn't you ever have to go to the you-know or anything?"
"We managed," I said.
She giggled, and that reminded her, so she went to the powder room
again. I thought about getting up and leaving while she was gone, but
what was the use of that? I'd only pick up somebody else.
It was nearly midnight. A couple of minutes wouldn't hurt. I reached in
my pocket for the little box of pills they give us--it isn't refillable,
but we get a new prescription in the mail every month, along with the
pension check. The label on the box said: