and let it sigh out. "How about Mars, Al? There aren't manyservice machines, and they even let women do lots of little detailedthings. I almost went, once."
He was watching her shrewdly. "Why didn't you?" He had fought this oneout with himself before.
"Oh--I don't know. Just never did."
"I'll tell you why you really didn't. It'd be too different. When theGovernment provides every convenience, every comfort you can think ofhere, you can't stand having to work in a mine, with an oxygen helmet,stuffed into heavy clothes. You can't stand the danger and the fear--andsomehow, inside, you must know it. I'm pretty strong, and I never met aman I was afraid of, but I know I couldn't stand Mars." He gripped therail and stared out over the wide, swarming street. "But Earth is atrap, Nedda. A big comfortable trap where you walk around endlesslywithout being any use at all."
She trod the brake and barely missed bumping a couple who had stopped toembrace. "_I'm_ some use, hon. Wait'll we get home." Her eyes held apromise she could barely restrain.
Automatically, he caressed her with a practiced hand--and grabbed thewheel when she suddenly strained against him, trembling, pressing eagerlips against his neck.
Christ, how long had she been protected? He felt a mounting angeragainst the social ennui which drove men's minds to such inhumanactivity. Departure was the only escape from this kind of thing, andfrom the city--from any city.
But the Departees had always been only a tiny minority. Did that meanthey--and he--were wrong? He brooded about it for seemingly the googolthtime, guiding the scooter without conscious thought, turning as Neddadirected.
A trap, he'd told her. Well, he could see no reason to change that. Theblazingly glorious sensotheaters, cafes, gymnasiums, dancing salons,amusement rides and hypnodream houses, crowding every main thoroughfarewith their fantastically ornate architecture, were--when you thoughtabout it--designed to trap people's minds, keep them from thinking ofanything but a gossamer, useless pursuit of personal pleasure. Andwasn't the design faulty when everyone was bored, when some choseDeparture and others sank to the unnatural practice of protection towhet their sated appetites?
Nor was there any apparent hope for the future. Theatre productions,dream tapes, even the elaborate home teleview shows were all historical.Why? Was Government admitting there was nothing but staleness in thepresent? Why the concern with backtime?
Because of Government entertainment diet, Allen could probably, with abit of practice, fish skillfully from an outrigger, make and use alongbow expertly, run a store profitably in the Money Ages, weave clothcorrectly, build complete wooden houses--oh, any number of ancientthings.
But he couldn't even talk the same language as the relative handful oftrained men who built and operated the unbelievably intricaterobomachinery which activated and maintained the complex cities ofEarth.
* * * * *
Nedda's soft voice broke into his thoughts. "Al--Dan Halgersen's comingup behind us on a single. He's one of Jeff's--"
"Hold on." Allen swung the scooter hard right and adroitly darted acrosstraffic toward an emblazoned theatre entrance. Here, now, was asituation he knew how to deal with. He said rapidly, out of the side ofhis mouth, "Jump off when I stop at the entry and kiss me like good-by.Register your plaque in the ID slot and head for the door--then lookback. If I'm down, go on in and lose yourself. If he's down, come back."
He made a wrenching stop at the very edge of the crowd, swung Neddathrough the opening between front and side rails and gave her a hard,sterile kiss.
She clung to him a moment. Without letting her eyes stray she said,"Slowing down right behind you. Luck, lover." Then she turned andstarted to pick her way across the walk.
Allen swung the scooter in a fast, tight circle to the left. Assuminghis opponent to be right-handed, this would help avoid a knife slashfrom the rear if the other rammed his scooter--further assuming the manhad _not_ been tricked into thinking his presence was unnoticed.
He hadn't. When Allen whipped his head around to look at him, there wasbarely time to brake the heavier double to avoid a shrewdly plannedcollision. Halgersen, Nedda had said. He was thick-set, with heavy browsand large jaw. The type Allen had learned to associate with power andendurance but not too much speed.
Halgersen was holding a knife in his right hand. Allen quickly slippedhis own blade from the sheath conveniently held at the front of hisbelt. They cut intricate patterns of feint, attack and withdraw, usingpassing vehicles as buffers. But not for long.
A voice from the crowd called, "Fight!" and space grew miraculouslyabout the combatants, leaving a huge clearing in the street rimmedsolidly with scooters and pedestrians. A few shouts of encouragementbegan to be heard as individuals selected one or the other of the men asa likely winner.
Allen dodged a sudden attempt at a side-swipe collision and theattendant vicious swipe of Halgersen's blade--and then drew first bloodby a lightning riposte to the arm. Legal knife target was arm, leg,abdomen and a forehead cut without thrust--which would obscure visionwith blood without doing organic damage.
The bright yellow luminescence of a police copter dropped and hovered asAllen tried to follow up his momentary advantage. The scene, he knew,would now be simultaneously filmed for possible legal record andbroadcast on all teleview news programs. Entertainment for adults,education for the teeners.
A feminine voice in the front ranks called, "Two stunts to one on greenjacket!" and was immediately taken up by another girl near by.
He had little time to think with satisfaction that no female had everbeen forced to pay off a bet of some ingeniously embarrassing publicbehavior on his account. Halgersen was now trying to maneuver him for astraight ram which would bring them definitely together. He wasn't beingweakened by the slow drip of blood from his arm and he didn't seem to bebothered by pain.
And then they were close to the circle rim. Allen swung his scooter sothe cooling downdraft from the copter--coming from above the center ofthe cleared area--was directly against his back, a method he had devisedfor knowing his position without having to take his eyes from a closeopponent. He let his shoulders droop suddenly, as though he was tired,and at the murmur of disappointment from many onlookers he began to backslowly away from Halgersen.
The blue-jacketed figure rolled into the trap scowling. He tried againfor a head-on ram. Allen let him come, and at the last possible instant,when Halgersen would be unable to reverse, stop, or even swerve, heflipped the bar to full power ahead. And braced himself accordingly.
The scooters met with a bone-jarring thud of perimeter rubber. Halgersenwas hurled neatly over his own guard rail to land gaspingly acrossAllen's.
Allen grasped the back of the other's belt in a grip that had dismayedmany a combatant, hauled him into position and hamstrung both legs withtwo dextrous thrust-and-cut movements. It took but a moment longer toleap above a desperate slash at his own legs, drag the heavier man tothe thick floor of the scooter and render him unconscious with astamping kick of one sandaled heel. It left an easy repair job for themedics, but would keep one Dan Halgersen from fighting again for morethan a week--and maybe make him think twice about joining in anotherprotection pact.
Allen leaped up and balanced on two guard rails while the police coptersettled down to pick up Halgersen. He signaled Nedda to move on alongthe walkway.
While the onlookers were clapping approval of the show, he removedHalgersen's plaque, leaped down and dodged an attempted kiss from thegirl who had given odds on him--glancing back warily in case her escortfelt insulted--then pushed through the mob to join Nedda.
She hugged his arm ecstatically. "Darling, every woman should have a guylike you."
"Yeah." He felt no sense of triumph. It had happened too many timesbefore. Everything had happened too many times before--repetitive,palling and purposeless. He tucked the won plaque into her decorativebelt. It was Nedda's proof that protection was ended, and Halgersenwould have to call for it accompanied by a witness.
"Where the hell is your place?" he asked. For a moment he wondered whyhe didn't just turn abruptly and leave her, social moresnotwithstanding. Then Nedda's perfume began its chemical magic again,and he carefully straightened his jacket and set his forelock in itsproper place.
* * * * *
"Nedda," he accused lazily, "you're a nymph. Ever triedpsychoconditioning?"
She gave him a tender, lingering kiss and burrowed more comfortably inhis arms. "Not yet, darling. Would you prefer me less--responsive?"
Allen patted her as carefully as possible to show approval withoutarousing her again. "No man would. But it must be rough between dates,isn't it?" And just why should he be worrying about anyone else at thisstage of the game? Maybe he wasn't.