Venus Is a Man's World BY WILLIAM TENN Illustrated by GENE FAWCETTE [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction July 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Actually, there wouldn't be too much difference if women took over the Earth altogether. But not for some men and most boys! I've always said that even if Sis is seven years older than me--and a girl besides--she don't always know what's best. Put me on a spaceship jam-packed with three hundred females just aching to get themselves husbands in the one place they're still to be had--the planet Venus--and you know I'll be in trouble. Bad trouble. With the law, which is the worst a boy can get into. Twenty minutes after we lifted from the Sahara Spaceport, I wriggled out of my acceleration hammock and started for the door of our cabin. "Now you be careful, Ferdinand," Sis called after me as she opened a book called _Family Problems of the Frontier Woman_. "Remember you're a nice boy. Don't make me ashamed of you." I tore down the corridor. Most of the cabins had purple lights on in front of the doors, showing that the girls were still inside their hammocks. That meant only the ship's crew was up and about. Ship's crews are men; women are too busy with important things like government to run ships. I felt free all over--and happy. Now was my chance to really see the _Eleanor Roosevelt_! * * * * * It was hard to believe I was traveling in space at last. Ahead and behind me, all the way up to where the companionway curved in out of sight, there was nothing but smooth black wall and smooth white doors--on and on and on. _Gee_, I thought excitedly, this is _one big ship_! Of course, every once in a while I would run across a big scene of stars in the void set in the wall; but they were only pictures. Nothing that gave the feel of great empty space like I'd read about in _The Boy Rocketeers_, no portholes, no visiplates, nothing. So when I came to the crossway, I stopped for a second, then turned left. To the right, see, there was Deck Four, then Deck Three, leading inward past the engine fo'c'sle to the main jets and the grav helix going _purr-purr-purrty-purr_ in the comforting way big machinery has when it's happy and oiled. But to the left, the crossway led all the way to the outside level which ran just under the hull. There were portholes on the hull. I'd studied all that out in our cabin, long before we'd lifted, on the transparent model of the ship hanging like a big cigar from the ceiling. Sis had studied it too, but she was looking for places like the dining salon and the library and Lifeboat 68 where we should go in case of emergency. I looked for the _important_ things.