Marsbound Read Online Free PDF

that was a little daunting. I knew that Card would get ACCESS DENIED, which made me feel mature and privileged. (He'd probably devise a workaround in a couple of hours, but he could have it. I don't really get porn. After the first couple of times, it sort of looks like biology.)
    There were a couple of thousand video and virtual channels, but unlike home, the console didn't know what I liked; there was no SUGGEST button. But I could goowiki anything.
    The word “menu” started blinking in the corner of the screen, so I clicked on it. There were twelve standard choices for dinner, mostly American and Italian, with one Chinese and one Indian. Then there were ten “premium” meals, with wine, which had surcharges from $40 to $250. Some of them were French things I'd never heard of.
    I clicked on beef stew, safe enough, and wondered whether Dad was going to rack up a huge bill ordering French stuff made of unspeakable parts of various animals. Mother would probably rein him in, but they both liked wine. There goes the family fortune.
    You could toggle and zoom the window. I put the crosshairs on Puerto Villamil and cranked it up to 250X, the maximum. The image wobbled and vibrated, but then cleared up. I could see our hotel, and people walking around, the size of ants. With careful toggling, I found the rocky beach where I'd spent my last time actually alone.
    "Hey,” said a voice behind me, “that's where we met?” It was the pilot, of course, Paul Collins, crouching down so he could see what was on my screen. Was that impolite?
    "Yeah, where you nailed that iguana with a rock. Or am I imagining things?"
    "No, your memory is perfect. I wondered if you wanted to play some cards. We're getting a game together before anyone else claims the table upstairs."
    I was flattered and a little nervous, that he had come down to find me. “Sure, if I know the game."
    "Poker. Just for pennies."
    "Okay. I could do that.” The kids in high school had stopped playing poker with me because I always won, and they couldn't figure out how I was cheating. I wouldn't tell them my secret, which was no secret: fold unless you have something good. Most of the other kids just stayed in the game, trusting their luck, hoping to improve their hands at the last minute. That's idiotic, my Uncle Bert taught me; only one person is going to win. Make it be you, or be gone.
    I got my purse out of the little suitcase and glanced at Card. He was wrapped up in a game or something, virtual headset on. Mental note: that way nobody can sneak up behind you and see what you're doing.
    Upstairs, there were five people at the table, including Dad. “Uh oh,” he said. “Might as well just give her the money."
    "Come on, Dad. I don't always win."
    He laughed. “Just when I'm in the game.” He actually was a pretty bad poker player, not too logical for an engineer. But he played for fun, not money.
    We spent a pleasant couple of hours playing Texas hold ‘em and seven-card stud. I dealt five-card stud a couple of times, the purest game, but that wasn't enough action for most of them.
    Dad was way ahead when I left, which was both satisfying and annoying. I learned that pilot Paul plays pretty much like me, close to the chest. If he stayed in, he had something—or he bluffed so well no one found out.
    I went in with ten dollars and left with twenty. That's another thing Uncle Bert taught me: decide before you sit down how much you're going to win or lose, and stop playing at that point, no matter how long you've been in the game. You may not make any friends if you win the first two hands and leave. But poker's not about making friends, he said.
    The gravity was down to 0.95 when I went back to my chair, and I could almost tell the difference. It was a funny feeling like “Where did I leave my purse?"
    I could just see North America coming up over the edge of the world. Zoomed in on Mexico City, a huge sprawl of places you probably wouldn't like to visit