He said, How can you fuss with that layout and not chew He glanced around; the two of them appeared to be alone. Bending down he said softly to her, Come on and well chew some first-rate Can-D. Like you and I did before. Okay? His heart labored as he waited for her to answer; recollections of the last time the two of them had been translated in unison made him feel weak.

Helen Morris will be No, theyre cranking up the dredge, above. They wont be back down for an hour. He took hold of Fran by the hand, led her to her feet. What arrives in a plain brown wrapper, he said as he steered her from the compartment out into the corridor, should be used, not just buried. It gets old and stale. Loses its potency. And we pay a lot for that potency, he thought morbidly. Too much to let it go to waste. Although some not in this hovel-claimed that the power to insure translation did not come from the Can-D but from the accuracy of the layout. To him this was a nonsensical view, and yet it had its adherents.

As they hurriedly entered Sam Regans compartment Fran said, Ill chew in unison with you, Sam, but lets not do anything while were there on Terra thatyou know. We wouldnt do here. I mean, just because were Pat and Walt and not ourselves that doesnt give us license. She gave him a warning frown, reproving him for his former conduct and for leading her to that yet unasked.

Then you admit we really go to Earth. They had argued this pointand it was cardinalmany times in the past. Fran tended to take the position that the translation was one of appearance only, of what the colonists called accidents the mere outward manifestations of the places and objects involved, not the essences.

I believe, Fran said slowly, as she disengaged her fingers from his and stood by the hall door of the compartment, that whether its a play of imagination, of drug-induced hallucination, or an actual translation from Mars to Earth-as-it-was by an agency we know nothing of Again she eyed him sternly. I think we should abstain. In order not to contaminate the experience of communication. As she watched him carefully remove the metal bed from the wall and reach, with an elongated hook, into the cavity revealed, she said, It should be a purifying experience. We lose our fleshly bodies, our corporeality, as they say. And put on imperishable bodies instead, for a time anyhow. Or forever, if you believe as some do that its outside of time and s.p.a.ce, that its eternal. Dont you agree, Sam? She sighed. I know you dont.

Spirituality, he said with disgust as he fished up the packet of Can-D from its cavity beneath the compartment. A denial of reality, and what do you get instead? Nothing.

I admit, Fran said as she came closer to watch him open the packet, that I cant prove you get anything better back, due to abstention. But I do know this. What you and other sensualists among us dont realize is that when we chew Can-D and leave our bodies we die . And by dying we lose the weight of She hesitated.

Say it, Sam said as he opened the packet; with a knife he cut a strip from the ma.s.s of brown, tough, plant-like fibers.

Fran said, Sin.

Sam Regan howled with laughter. Okayat least youre orthodox. Because most colonists would agree with Fran. But, he said, redepositing the packet back in its safe place, thats not why I chew it; I dont want to lose anything I want to gain something. He shut the door of the compartment, then swiftly got out his own Perky Pat layout, spread it on the floor, and put each object in place, working at eager speed. Something to which were not normally ent.i.tled, he added, as if Fran didnt know.

Her husbandor his wife or both of them or everyone in the entire hovelcould show up while he and Fran were in the state of translation. And their two bodies would be seated at proper distance one from the other; no wrong-doing could be observed, however prurient the observers were. Legally this had been ruled on; no cohabitation could be proved, and legal experts among the ruling UN authorities on Mars and the other colonies had triedand failed. While translated one could commit incest, murder, anything, and it remained from a juridical standpoint a mere fantasy, an impotent wish only.

This highly interesting fact had long inured him to the use of Can-D; for him life on Mars had few blessings.

I think, Fran said, youre tempting me to do wrong. As she seated herself she looked sad; her eyes, large and dark, fixed futilely on a spot at the center of the layout, near Perky Pats enormous wardrobe. Absently, Fran began to fool with a min sable coat, not speaking.

He handed her half of a strip of Can-D, then popped his own portion into his mouth and chewed greedily.

Still looking mournful, Fran also chewed.

He was Walt. He owned a Jaguar XXB sports ship with a flat-out velocity of fifteen thousand miles an hour. His shirts came from Italy and his shoes were made in England. As he opened his eyes he looked for the little G.E. clock TV set by his bed; it would be on automatically, tuned to the morning show of the great newsclown Jim Briskin. In his flaming red wig Briskin was already forming on the screen. Walt sat up, touched a b.u.t.ton which swung his bed, altered to support him in a sitting position, and lay back to watch for a moment the program in progress.

Im standing here at the corner of Van Ness and Market in downtown San Francisco, Briskin said pleasantly, and were just about to view the opening of the exciting new subsurface conapt building Sir Francis Drake, the first to be entirely underground . With us, to dedicate the building, standing right by me is that enchanting female of ballad and Walt shut off the TV, rose, and walked barefoot to the window; he drew the shades, saw out then onto the warm, sparkling early-morning San Francisco street, the hills and white houses. This was Sat.u.r.day morning and he did not have to go to his job down in Palo Alto at Ampex Corporation; insteadand this rang nicely in his mindhe had a date with his girl, Pat Christensen, who had a modern little apt over on Potrero Hill.

It was always Sat.u.r.day.

In the bathroom he splashed his face with water, then squirted on shave cream, and began to shave. And, while he shaved, staring into the mirror at his familiar features, he saw a note tacked up, in his own hand.

THIS IS AN ILLUSION. YOU ARE SAM REGAN, A COLONIST ON MARS. MAKE USE OF YOUR TIME OF TRANSLATION, BUDDY BOY. CALL UP PAT p.r.o.nTO!

And the note was signed Sam Regan.

An illusion, he thought, pausing in his shaving. In what way? He tried to think back; Sam Regan and Mars, a dreary colonists hovel yes, he could dimly make the image out, but it seemed remote and vitiated and not convincing. Shrugging, he resumed shaving, puzzled, now, and a little depressed. All right, suppose the note was correct; maybe he did remember that other world, that gloomy quasi-life of involuntary expatriation in an unnatural environment. So what? Why did he have to wreck this? Reaching, he yanked down the note, crumpled it and dropped it into the bathroom disposal chute.

As soon as he had finished shaving he vidphoned Pat.

Listen, she said at once, cool and crisp; on the screen her blonde hair shimmered: she had been drying it. I dont want to see you, Walt. Please. Because I know what you have in mind and Im just not interested; do you understand? Her blue-gray eyes were cold.

Hmm, he said, shaken, trying to think of an answer. But its a terrific daywe ought to get outdoors. Visit Golden Gate Park, maybe.

Its going to be too hot to go outdoors.

No, he disagreed, nettled. Thats later. Hey, we could walk along the beach, splash around in the waves. Okay?

She wavered, visibly. But that conversation we had just before There was no conversation. I havent seen you in a week, not since last Sat.u.r.day. He made his tone as firm and full of conviction as possible. Ill drop by your place in half an hour and pick you up. Wear your swimsuit, you know, the yellow one. The Spanish one that has a halter.

Oh, she said disdainfully, thats completely out of fash now. I have a new one from Sweden; you havent seen it. Ill wear that, if its permitted. The girl at A F wasnt sure.

Its a deal, he said, and rang off.

A half hour later in his Jaguar he landed on the elevated field of her conapt building.

Pat wore a sweater and slacks; the swimsuit, she explained, was on underneath. Carrying a picnic basket, she followed him up the ramp to his parked ship. Eager and pretty, she hurried ahead of him, pattering along in her sandals. It was all working out as he had hoped; this was going to be a swell day after all, after his initial trepidations had evaporated as thank G.o.d they had.

Wait until you see this swimsuit, she said as she slid into the parked ship, the basket on her lap. Its really daring; it hardly exists: actually you sort of have to have faith to believe in it. As he got in beside her she leaned against him. Ive been thinking over that conversation we hadlet me finish. She put her fingers against his lips, silencing him. I know it took place, Walt. But in a way youre right; in fact basically you have the proper att.i.tude. We should try to obtain as much from this as possible. Our time is short enough as it is at least so it seems to me. She smiled wanly. So drive as fast as you can; I want to get to the ocean.

Almost at once they were setting down in the parking lot at the edge of the beach.

Its going to be hotter, Pat said soberly. Every day. Isnt it? Until finally its unbearable. She tugged off her sweater, then, shifting about on the seat of the ship, managed to struggle out of her slacks. But we wont live that long itll be another fifty years before no one can go outside at noon. Like they say, become mad dogs and Englishmen; were not that yet. She opened the door and stepped out in her swimsuit. And she had been correct; it took faith in things unseen to make the suit out at all. It was perfectly satisfactory, to both of them.

Together, he and she plodded along the wet, hardpacked sand, examining jelly fish, sh.e.l.ls, and pebbles, the debris tossed up by the waves.

What year is this? Pat asked him suddenly, halting. The wind blew her untied hair back; it lifted in a ma.s.s of cloudlike yellow, clear and bright and utterly clean, each strand separate.

He said, Well, I guess its And then he could not recall; it eluded him. d.a.m.n, he said crossly.

Well, it doesnt matter. Linking arms with him she trudged on. Look, theres that little secluded spot ahead, past those rocks. She increased her tempo of motion; her body rippled as her strong, taut muscles strained against the wind and the sand and the old, familiar gravity of a world lost long ago. Am I whats-her-nameFran? she asked suddenly. She stepped past the rocks; foam and water rolled over her feet, her ankles; laughing, she leaped, shivered from the sudden chill. Or am I Patricia Christensen? With both hands she smoothed her hair. This is blonde, so I must be Pat. Perky Pat. She disappeared beyond the rocks; he quickly followed, scrambling after her. I used to be Fran, she said over her shoulder, but that doesnt matter now. I could have been anyone before, Fran or Helen or Mary, and it wouldnt matter now. Right?

No, he disagreed, catching up with her. Panting, he said, Its important that youre Fran. In essence.

In essence. She threw herself down on the sand, lay resting on her elbow, drawing by means of a sharp black rock in savage swipes which left deeply gouged lines; almost at once she tossed the rock away, and sat around to face the ocean. But the accidents theyre Pat. She put her hands beneath her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then, languidly lifting them, a puzzled expression on her face. These, she said, are Pats. Not mine. Mine are smaller; I remember.

He seated himself beside her, saying nothing.

Were here, she said presently, to do what we cant do back at the hovel. Back where weve left our corruptible bodies. As long as we keep our layouts in repair this She gestured at the ocean, then once more touched herself, unbelievingly. It cant decay, can it? Weve put on immortality. All at once she lay back, flat against the sand, and shut her eyes, one arm over her face. And since were here, and we can do things denied us at the hovel, then your theory is we ought to do those things. We ought to take advantage of the opportunity.

He leaned over her, bent and kissed her on the mouth.

Inside his mind a voice thought, But I can do this any time. And, in the limbs of his body, an alien mastery a.s.serted itself; he sat back, away from the girl. After all, Norm Schein thought, Im married to her. He laughed, then.

Who said you could use my layout? Sam Regan thought angrily. Get out of my compartment. And I bet its my Can-D, too.

You offered it to us, the co-inhabitant of his mindbody answered. So I decided to take you up on it.

Im here, too, Tod Morris thought. And if you want my opinion n.o.body asked you for yours, Norm Schein thought angrily. In fact n.o.body asked you to come along; why dont you go back up and mess with that rundown no-good garden of yours, where you ought to be?

Tod Morris thought calmly, Im with Sam. I dont get a chance to do this, except here. The power of his will combined with Sams; once more Walt bent over the reclining girl; once again he kissed her on the mouth, and this time heavily, with increased agitation.

Without opening her eyes Pat said in a low voice, Im here, too. This is Helen. She added, And also Mary. But were not using your supply of Can-D, Sam; we brought some we had already. She put her arms around him as the three inhabitants of Perky Pat joined in unison in one endeavor. Taken by surprise, Sam Regan broke contact with Tod Morris; he joined the effort of Norm Schein, and Walt sat back away from Perky Pat.

The waves of the ocean lapped at the two of them as they silently reclined together on the beach, two figures comprising the essences of six persons. Two in six, Sam Regan thought. The mystery repeated; how is it accomplished? The old question again. But all I care about, he thought, is whether theyre using up my Can-D. And I bet they are; I dont care what they say: I dont believe them.

Rising to her feet Perky Pat said, Well, I can see I might just as well go for a swim; nothings doing here. She padded into the water, splashed away from them as they sat in their body, watching her go.

We missed our chance, Tod Morris thought wryly.

My fault, Sam admitted. By joining, he and Tod managed to stand; they walked a few steps after the girl and then, ankle-deep in the water, halted.

Already Sam Regan could feel the power of the drug wearing off; he felt weak and afraid and bitterly sickened at the realization. So G.o.dd.a.m.n soon, he said to himself. All over; back to the hovel, to the pit in which we twist and cringe like worms in a paper bag, huddled away from the daylight. Pale and white and awful. He shuddered.

Shuddered, and saw, once more, his compartment with its tinny bed, washstand, desk, kitchen stove and, in slumped, inert heaps, the empty husks of Tod and Helen Morris, Fran and Norm Schein, his own wife Mary; their eyes stared emptily and he looked away, appalled.

On the floor between them was his layout; he looked down and saw the dolls, Walt and Pat, placed at the edge of the ocean, near the parked Jaguar. Sure enough, Perky Pat had on the near-invisible Swedish swimsuit, and next to them reposed a tiny picnic basket.

And, by the layout, a plain brown wrapper that had contained Can-D; the five of them had chewed it out of existence, and even now as he lookedagainst his will he saw a thin trickle of shiny brown syrup emerge from each of their slack, will-less mouths.

Across from him Fran Schein stirred, opened her eyes, moaned; she focused on him, then wearily sighed.

They got to us, he said.

We took too long. She rose unsteadily, stumbled, and almost fell; at once he was up, too, catching hold of her. You were right; we should have done it right away if we intended to. But She let him hold her, briefly. I like the preliminaries. Walking along the beach, showing you the swimsuit that is no swimsuit. She smiled a little.

Sam said, Theyll be out for a few more minutes, I bet.

Wide-eyed, Fran said, Yes, youre right. She skipped away from him, to the door; tugging it open, she disappeared out into the hall. In our compartment, she called back. Hurry!

Pleased, he followed. It was too amusing; he was convulsed with laughter. Ahead of him the girl scampered up the ramp to her level of the hovel; he gained on her, caught hold of her as they reached her compartment. Together they tumbled in, rolled giggling and struggling across the hard metal floor to b.u.mp against the far wall.

We won after all, he thought as he deftly unhooked her bra, began to unb.u.t.ton her shirt, unzipped her skirt, and removed her laceless slipperlike shoes in one swift operation; he was busy everywhere and Fran sighed, this time not wearily.

I better lock the door. He rose, hurried to the door and shut it, fastening it securely. Fran, meanwhile, struggled out of her undone clothes.

Come back, she urged. Dont just watch. She piled them in a hasty heap, shoes on top like two paperweights.

He descended back to her side and her swift, clever fingers began on him; dark eyes alit she worked away, to his delight.

And right here in their dreary abode on Mars. And yetthey had still managed it in the old way, the sole way: through the drug brought in by the furtive pushers. Can-D had made this possible; they continued to require it. In no way were they free.

As Frans knees clasped his bare sides he thought, And in no way do we want to be. In fact just the opposite . As his hand traveled down her flat, quaking stomach he thought, We could even use a little more .

FOUR.

At the reception desk at James Riddle Veterans Hospital at Base III on Ganymede, Leo Bulero tipped his expensive hand-fashioned wubfur derby to the girl in her starched white uniform and said, Im here to see a patient, a Mr. Eldon Trent.

Im sorry, sir, the girl began, but he cut her off.

Tell him Leo Bulero is here. Got it? Leo Bulero. And he saw past her hand, to the register; he saw the number of Eldritchs room. As the girl turned to the switchboard he strode in the direction of that number. The h.e.l.l with waiting, he said to himself; I came millions of miles and I expect to see the man or the thing, whichever it is.

An armed UN soldier with a rifle halted him at the door, a very young man with clear, cold eyes like a girls; eyes that emphatically said no, even to him.

Okay, Leo grumbled. I get the picture. But if he knew who it was out here hed say let me in.

Beside him, at his ear, startling him, a sharp female voice said, How did you find out my father was here, Mr. Bulero?

He turned and saw a rather heavy-set woman in her mid-thirties; she regarded him intently and he thought, This is Zoe Eldritch. I ought to know; shes on the society pages of the homeopapes enough.

A UN official approached. Miss Eldritch, if youd like we can evict Mr. Bulero from this building; its up to you. He smiled pleasantly at Leo and all at once Leo identified him. This was the chief of the UNs legal division, Ned Larks superior, Frank Santina. Dark-eyed, alert, somatically vibrant, Santina looked quickly from Leo to Zoe Eldritch, waiting for a response.

No, Zoe Eldritch said at last. At least not right now. Not until I find out how he found out dad is here; he cant know. Can you, Mr. Bulero?

Santina murmured, Through one of his Pre-Fash precogs, probably. Isnt that so, Bulero?

Presently Leo, reluctantly, nodded.

You see, Miss Eldritch, Santina explained, a man like Bulero can hire anything he wants, any form of talent. So we expected him. He indicated the two uniformed, armed guards at Palmer Eldritchs door. Thats why we require both of them, at all times. As I tried to explain.

Isnt there any way I can do business with Eldritch? Leo demanded. Thats what I came here for; Ive got nothing illegal in mind. I think all of you are nuts, or else youre trying to hide something; maybe youve got guilty consciences. He eyed them, but saw nothing. Is it really Palmer Eldritch in there? he asked. I bet it isnt. Again he got no response; neither of them rose to the jibe. Im tired, he said. It was a long-type trip here. The h.e.l.l with it; Im going to go get something to eat and then Im going to find a hotel room and sleep for ten hours and forget this. Turning, he stalked off.

Neither Santina nor Miss Eldritch tried to stop him. Disappointed, he continued on, feeling oppressive disgust.

Obviously he would have to reach Palmer Eldritch through some median agency. Perhaps, he reflected, Felix Blau and his private police could gain entry here. It was worth a try.

But once he became this depressed, nothing seemed to matter. Why not do as he had said, eat and then get some needed rest, forget about reaching Eldritch for the time being? The h.e.l.l with all of them , he said to himself as he left the hospital building and marched out onto the sidewalk to search for a cab. That daughter , he thought. Tough-looking, like a lesbian, with her hair cut short and no makeup . Ugh.

He found a cab and rode airborne for a time while he pondered.

Using the cabs vidsystem he contacted Felix back on Earth.

Im glad you called, Felix Blau said, as soon as he made out who it was. Theres an organization thats come into existence in Boston under strange circ.u.mstances; it seems to have sprung up overnight completely intact, including Whats it doing?

Theyre preparing to market something; the machinery is there, including three ad satellites, similar to your own, one on Mars, one on Io, one on t.i.tan. The rumor we hear is that theyre preparing to approach the market with a commodity directly competing with your own Perky Pat layouts. Itll be called Connie Companion Doll. He smiled briefly. Isnt that cute?

Leo said, What aboutyou know. The additive.

No information on that. a.s.suming there is one, it would be beyond the legal scope of merchandising operations, presumably. Is a min layout any use minus the additive?

No.

Then that would seem to answer that.

Leo said, I called you to find out if you can get me in to see Palmer Eldritch. Ive located him here at Base III on Ganymede.

You recall my report on Eldritchs importation of a lichen similar to that used in the manufacture of Can-D. Has it occurred to you that this new Boston outfit may have been set up by Eldritch? Although it would seem rather soon for that; however, he could have radioed ahead years ago to his daughter.