"My name's Doran. Gus Doran. Call me Gus."
They walked back to the deaconette's booth and Matheny cashed what
remained of his winnings.
"I don't want to--I mean if you're busy tonight, Mr. Doran--"
"Nah. I am not doing one thing in particular. Besides, I have never met
a Martian. I am very interested."
"There aren't many of us on Earth," agreed Matheny. "Just a small
embassy staff and an occasional like me."
"I should think you would do a lot of traveling here. The old mother
planet and so on."
"We can't afford it," said Matheny. "What with gravitation and
distance, such voyages are much too expensive for us to make them for
pleasure. Not to mention our dollar shortage." As they entered the
shaft, he added wistfully: "You Earth people have that kind of money,
at least in your more prosperous brackets. Why don't you send a few
tourists to us?"
"I always wanted to," said Doran. "I would like to see the what they
call City of Time, and so on. As a matter of fact, I have given my
girl one of those Old Martian rings last Ike's Birthday and she was
just gazoo about it. A jewel dug out of the City of Time, like,
made a million years ago by a, uh, extinct race ... I tell you, she
_appreciated_ me for it!" He winked and nudged.
"Oh," said Matheny.
* * * * *
He felt a certain guilt. Doran was too pleasant a little man to
deserve--
"Of course," Matheny said ritually, "I agree with all the archeologists
it's a crime to sell such scientifically priceless artifacts, but what
can we do? We must live, and the tourist trade is almost nonexistent."
"Trouble with it is, I hear Mars is not so comfortable," said Doran. "I
mean, do not get me wrong, I don't want to insult you or anything, but
people come back saying you have given the planet just barely enough
air to keep a man alive. And there are no cities, just little towns and
villages and ranches out in the bush. I mean you are being pioneers and
making a new nation and all that, but people paying half a megabuck for
their ticket expect some comfort and, uh, you know."
"I do know," said Matheny. "But we're poor--a handful of people trying
to make a world of dust and sand and scrub thorn into fields and woods
and seas. We can't do it without substantial help from Earth, equipment
and supplies--which can only be paid for in Earth dollars--and we can't
export enough to Earth to earn those dollars."
By that time, they were entering the Paul Bunyan Knotty Pine Bar &
Grill, on the 73rd Level. Matheny's jaw clanked down.
"Whassa matter?" asked Doran. "Ain't you ever seen a ecdysiastic
technician before?"
"Uh, yes, but--well, not in a 3-D image under ten magnifications."
Matheny followed Doran past a sign announcing that this show was for
purely artistic purposes, into a booth. There a soundproof curtain
reduced the noise level enough so they could talk in normal voices.
"What'll you have?" asked Doran. "It's on me."
"Oh, I couldn't let you. I mean--"
"Nonsense. Welcome to Earth! Care for a thyle and vermouth?"