Astronauts -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories
In a moment, the teevee-phone's robot voice reported, "Ten shares of
Inalienable Basic. Twelve shares of Variable Basic, current value, four
thousand, two hundred and thirty-three dollars and sixty-two cents
apiece. Current cash credit, one thousand and eighty-four dollars." The
screen went dead.
One thousand and eighty-four dollars. That was plenty. He could safely
spend as much as half of it, if the spree got as lively as he hoped it
would. His monthly dividends were due in another week or so, and he
wouldn't have to worry about current expenses. Yes, indeedy, Si Pond
was as solvent as he had ever been in his thirty years.
He opened the small, closet-like door which housed his vacuum-tube
two-seater, and wedged himself into the small vehicle. He brought down
the canopy, dropped the pressurizer and considered the dial. Only one
place really made sense. The big city.
He considered for a moment, decided against the boroughs of Baltimore
and Boston, and selected Manhattan instead. He had the resources. He
might as well do it up brown.
He dialed Manhattan and felt the sinking sensation that presaged his
car's dropping to tube level. While it was being taken up by the robot
controls, being shuttled here and there preparatory to the shot to his
destination, he dialed the vehicle's teevee-phone for information on
the hotels of the island of the Hudson. He selected a swank hostelry
he'd read about and seen on the teevee casts of society and celebrity
gossip reporters, and dialed it on the car's destination dial.
"Nothing too good for ex-Space Pilot Si Pond," he said aloud.
The car hesitated for a moment, that brief hesitation before the
shot, and Si took the involuntary breath from which only heroes could
refrain. He sank back slowly into the seat. Moments passed, and the
direction of the pressure was reversed.
Manhattan. The shuttling began again, and one or two more traversing
sub-shots. Finally, the dash threw a green light and Si opened the
canopy and stepped into his hotel room.
A voice said gently, "If the quarters are satisfactory, please present
your credit card within ten minutes."
Si took his time. Not that he really needed it. It was by far the most
swank suite he had ever seen. One wall was a window of whatever size
the guest might desire and Si touched the control that dilated it to
the full. His view opened in such wise that he could see both the
Empire State Building Museum and the Hudson. Beyond the river stretched
the all but endless city which was Greater Metropolis.
He didn't take the time to flick on the menu, next to the auto-dining
table, nor to check the endless potables on the autobar list. All that,
he well knew, would be superlative. Besides, he didn't plan to dine
or do much drinking in his suite. He made a mock leer. Not unless he
managed to acquire some feminine companionship, that was.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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