Martian Time-Slip Read Online Free PDF Page A

of bugs, as large as donkeys. The damn things were called
boxers
, because they were often seen propped up erect and squaring off at one another in a ritual battle which generally ended up with one killing and eating the other. Bert and Ned had gotten their pet boxers trained to do manual chores of a low caliber, and not to eat each other. And the things were their companions; children on Mars were lonely, partly because there were still so few of them and partly because…Arnie did not know. The children had a large-eyed, haunted look, as if they were starved for something as yet invisible. They tended to become reclusive, if given half a chance, wandering off to poke about in the wastelands. What they brought back was worthless, to themselves and to the settlements, a few bones or relics of the old nigger civilization, perhaps. When he flew by 'copter, Arnie always spotted some isolated children, one here and another there, toiling away out in the desert, scratching at the rock and sand as if trying vaguely to pry up the surface of Mars and get underneath…
    Unlocking the bottom drawer of his desk, Arnie got out the little battery-powered encoding dictation machine and set it up for use. Into it he said, “Anne, I'd like to meet with you and talk. That committee has too many women on it, and it's going the wrong way. For example, the last ad in the
Times
worries me because—” He broke off, for the encoding machine had groaned to a stop. He poked at it, and the reels turned slowly and then once more settled back into silence.
    Thought it was fixed, Arnie thought angrily. Can't those jerks fix nothing? Maybe he would have to go to the black market and buy, at an enormous price, another. He winced at the thought.
    The not-too-good-looking secretary from the pool, who had been sitting quietly across from him waiting, now responded to his nod. She produced her pencil and pad and began as he dictated.
    “Usually,” Arnie Kott said, “I can understand how hard it is to keep things running, what with no parts hardly, and the way the local weather affects metal and wiring. However, I'm fed up with asking for competent repair service on a vital item like my encoding machine. I just got to have it, that's all. So if you guys can't keep it working, I'm going to disband you and withdraw your franchise to practice the craft of repairing within the settlement, and I'll rely on outside service for our maintenance.” He nodded once more, and the girl ceased writing.
    “Shall I take the encoder over to the repair department, Mr. Kott?” she asked. “I'd be happy to, sir.”
    “Naw,” Arnie grumbled. “Just run along.”
    As she departed, Arnie once more picked up his New York
Times
and again read. Back home on Earth you could buy a new encoder for almost nothing; in fact, back home you could—hell. Look at the stuff being advertised…from old Roman coins to fur coats to camping equipment to diamonds to rocket ships to crabgrass poison. Jeez!
    However, his immediate problem was how to contact his ex-wife without the use of his encoder. Maybe I can just drop by and see her, Arnie said to himself. Good excuse to get out of the office.
    He picked up the telephone and called for a 'copter to be made ready up above him on the roof of the Union Hall, and then he finished off the remains of his breakfast, wiped his mouth hurriedly, and set off for the elevator.
    “Hi, Arnie,” the 'copter pilot greeted him, a pleasant-faced young man from the pilot pool.
    “Hi, my boy,” Arnie said, as the pilot assisted him into the special leather seat which he had had made at the settlement's fabric and upholstery shop. As the pilot got into the seat ahead of him Arnie leaned back comfortably, crossed his legs, and said, “Now you just take off and I'll direct you in flight. And take it easy because I'm in no hurry. It looks like a nice day.”
    “Real nice day,” the pilot said, as the blades of the 'copter began to rotate. “Except for