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He smiled. "Mr. Broadhead," he said, "I think you should know two things. The
first is that it is often desirable to keep a convalescent patient unconscious
for some time. With electrically stimulated muscle exercise, massage, good
diet, and proper nursing care there is no impairment of function, and it's a
lot easier on the patient's nervous system. And everybody else's, too."
"Yes, yes," I said, not very interested. "What's the other thing?"
"The other thing is that you were operated on forty-three days ago this
morning. You can do just about anything you want to now. Including taking a
ride on a loop."
Time was when the road to the stars led through Guiana or Baikonur or the
Cape. You had to burn about a million dollars' worth of liquid hydrogen to get
into orbit, before you could transship to something going farther away. Now we
had the Lofstrom launch loops spaced around the equator, immense gossamer
structures that you couldn't see until you were almost beside them-well,
within twenty kilometers, which was where the satellite landing field was. I
watched it with pleasure and pride as we circled and descended to touchdown.
In the seat beside me Essie was frowning and muttering to herself as she
worked on some project-a new kind of computer programing, or maybe a pension
plan for her Big Chon employees; I couldn't tell which, because she was doing
it in Russian. On the pull-down console in front of me Albert was displaying
my new ship, rotathg the image slowly while he recited the statistics of
capacity, accessories, mass, and amenities. Since I had put quite a few
million dollars and a lot of my time into that plaything, I was interested,
but not as interested as I was in what was coming next. "Later, Albert," I
ordered, and obediently he winked out. I craned my neck to keep the loop in
view as we entered final approach. Faintly, along the top of the ski-jump
launch section, I could see capsules speeding up through three gravities'
acceleration and neatly, gently detaching themselves at the steepest part of
the upslope to disappear into the blue. Beautiful! No chemicals, no
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combustion, no damage to the ozone layer. Not even the energy-
wastage of a Heechee lander launch; some things we could do even better than
the Heechee did!
Time was when even being in orbit was not enough, and then you had to take the
long, slow Hohmann journey to the Gateway asteroid. Usually you were scared
out of your bird, because everybody knew that more Gateway prospectors got
killed than got rich; and because you were space sick and cramped and
condemned to inhabit that interplanetary slammer for weeks or months on end
before you even got to the asteroid; and most of all because you'd risked
everything you owned or could borrow to pay for it. Now we had a Heechee Three
chartered and waiting for us in low-Earth orbit. We could transship in our
shirtsleeves and be on our way to the far stars before we'd finished digesting
our last meal on Earth-that is, we could, because we had the muscle and the
money to pay for it.
Time was when going out into that interstellar nothingness was a lot like
playing Russian roulette. The only difference was that if the luck of the draw
was favorable, whatever you found at the end of the journey might make you
rich beyond richness forever-as it ultimately did me. But what you mostly got
made was dead.
"Is much better now." Essie sighed as we climbed down out of the aircraft and
blinked around in the hot South American sun "Now, where is damn courtesy van
from crummy fleabag hotel?"
I did not comment on her reading my mind. After all the time we had been
married I was used to it. Anyway, it wasn't telepathy; it was what any human
being would think if he were doing what we were doing at that time. "I wish
Audee Waithers were going with us," I said, looking out at the launch loop. We
were still kilometers away, on the far shore of Lake Tehigualpa. I could see
the loop reflected in it, blue at the center of the lake, greeny-yellow near
the shore, where they had sown edible algae, and it was a pretty sight.
"If you wanted him with you, should not have given him two mil to chase his
wife with," said Essie practically, and then, looking at me more closely, "How
you feeling?"
"Absolutely in the pink," I said. It wasn't far from true. "Quit worrying
about me. When you've got Full Medical Plus they don't dare let you die before
you reach a hundred-it's bad for business."
"Don't have much to say about it," she said gloomily, "when customer is
reckless desperado who spends time chasing for make-believe Heecheet
Anyway," she added, brightening, "here is van for fleabag, hop in."
So when we were inside the van I leaned over and kissed the back of her neck-
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