To Live Again and The Second Trip (12 page)

Kravchenko obligingly sent one of his own choice memories bubbling up from the storehouse: Elena nude in Kravchenko’s bachelor apartment in Rome, sprawled on a divan like a Venus by Titian, one hand coyly resting on the plump
mons,
the eyes beckoning, the breasts heaving, the dark-hued nipples erect, the firm flesh tense and taut with anticipation.

—You’ll never get anywhere with her if you let her down now, pal. It’s now or never, and she holds grudges.

“All right,” Noyes said. “I won’t go back on my word. Jubilisle for us, Elena!”

“I’m so glad, Charles.”

He slid his arm around her waist. The scales of her gown pricked his skin. He felt the roll of meat at her hip. Sweeping her forward, he joined the flow of pleasure-seekers rushing aboard the ferry. A robot ticket-vendor held out a hand as though expecting Noyes to put cash in it. Noyes shook his head and offered his thumb instead. The robot, adapting smoothly and without comment, rang up the credit transfer, billing Noyes’ account for six dollars, and the barrier dropped, admitting them to the ferry. Minutes later they were speeding across New York Harbor toward the pleasure dome. Ahead lay the bright glow of Jubilisle; behind rose the majestic black-capped somberness of the Scheffing Institute tower, with the rest of the Lower Manhattan skyline behind it. Noyes looked from island to tower. Those who could not buy rebirth at one could purchase distraction at the other.

He and Elena found a place at the rail for the ten-minute journey to the anchored artificial island. She stood close to him. The warmth of her body on this cool spring evening was welcome, and the fragrance of her perfume helped obliterate the rank stench of the mob all about them. She had been kind to him last week at Dominica, when he had had that awful convulsion at Kaufmann’s beach party; a touch of the sun, she said, deftly concealing the truth, which was that he had suffered a sudden and nearly successful rebellion by Kravchenko. She was kind, yes. Tender, almost motherly, though she was several years younger than he was. That vast bosom of hers, he thought. It makes her seem the mother of us all.

But his interest in her was not at all filial. He had Kravchenko’s testimony that Elena was seducible, and her own willingness to make herself available for this night on the town backed him up. Furthermore, she was Kaufmann’s mistress and probably Santoliquido’s as well, so that it enhanced Noyes’ own sense of self to be out with her. Lastly, Roditis approved. In the final analysis, what mattered to Noyes was how well or how poorly each of his actions served the interests of John Roditis, and in squiring Elena Volterra to Jubilisle he was in a position to serve Roditis handsomely.

Elena said, “I imagined you came here often. Isn’t Jubilisle one of Roditis’ properties?”

“Yes, of course. One of his most successful. But I don’t think I’ve been here more than three times in the ten years it’s been open.”

“Don’t you like amusement parks?”

“There are amusements and amusements,” Noyes said. He lowered his voice. “It happens that Jubilisle is designed mainly to please plebs. I’m not being snobbish when I tell you that; it’s the truth. That’s why we put it here, right in the shadow of the Scheffing building, so these people could look up and see the tower and think deep thoughts about rebirth. Which, since they can’t have it unless they’ve got lots of money, will inspire them to gamble heavily here, making John Roditis a little wealthier.”

“Very clever.” Elena glanced around. “Now that you mention it, I see that we’re a trifle out of place here. Most of them were paying
cash
to get aboard.”

“You noticed that.”

“It fascinated me. I don’t think I’ve ever touched cash myself, not even once. I wouldn’t recognize a bill if I found it in the street. Why do they bother?”

“They like the feel of money,” Noyes said. “The central computer balance is a little impersonal for them. Here—I always carry a bill with me, just for luck. Would you like to see it?”

He slipped his wallet out and found his hundred-dollar bill. It was a slender plastic card which bore the atom symbol, a serial number, the Arabic numeral
100
in black type, and the inscription,
The Bank of the United States Government has on deposit One Hundred Dollars Fissionable Material as security for this note. Legal Tender.
Elena studied the bill as though it might be a mounted butterfly from another planet. “Fascinating,” she said at last, handing it back. “Can you get me one?”

“Of course,” he said.

He took her by the hand and led her across the deck to a refreshment stand where an automatic servitor was dispensing soft drinks. When the scanner beam flashed in his direction Noyes said, “Give me a hundred-dollar bill.” He put his thumb to the charge plate. A bill popped through the slot and he handed it gravely to Elena, who examined it a moment, grinned dazzlingly, and slipped the little card into the deep valley between her breasts. Onlookers gaped in astonishment.

“Thank you,” she said, as they returned to the rail. “I’ll treasure this little souvenir.”

“You’ll certainly keep it warm,” Noyes said, and they both laughed.

The ferry was nearing Jubilisle’s approach slip, now. The great arching dome of the pleasure island rose precipitously before them, topped with a layer of living light that pulsed from one end of the spectrum to the other. A hundred acres of area, six separate levels, the capacity to amuse half a million people at once—that was Jubilisle, and Noyes could not deny it was an impressive sight. Even Elena looked moved.

“Roditis owns it all?” she asked in a whisper.

“Through a nominee corporation, yes. I helped plan the financing soon after I joined his organization. It was his first great coup.”

“It must have cost
billions!
”

“It did. And of course Roditis didn’t have that kind of money yet, so we had to juggle. He pledged everything as collateral. Paul Kaufmann was willing to put up a construction loan of two billion, but he wanted a fifty-percent equity. Roditis said no. Kaufmann was so astonished he lent the two billion anyway. At ten percent, but he lent it. And Roditis kept the full equity. He owns the place outright. The last debenture was paid off in January. He’s thinking of arranging a mortgage, now. Say, about seven billion, from a consortium of banks, and using the money to finance Jubilisle Canton and Jubilisle Rio. Eventually he’ll have a dozen of them on every continent. Am I boring you with all this money talk?”

“Not at all,” Elena said. She did look genuinely enthralled. “I’m very much interested. Roditis must be a terribly exciting man. I’d love to meet him.”

“You never have?”

“Never. We just haven’t crossed paths. You know, I spend so much of my time with Mark, and Mark is so hostile to Roditis.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

“But I think one day I will happen to meet Roditis. And he and I will both find the meeting rewarding.”

“Powerful men intrigue you, eh, Elena?”

“Why not?”

“Mark Kaufmann—Santoliquido—”

She looked startled. “Santo and I are just good friends.”

“Is that all?” He saw the color rising in her cheeks. Laughing, he said, “
Very
good friends, I imagine.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Nothing. Nothing.”

The ferry was at rest. The gangways extruded themselves and the crowd started ashore. Noyes and Elena let the flow carry them along.

A brilliant directory board in at least six colors confronted them. Twenty feet high, thirty feet wide, the board provided a detailed map of Jubilisle’s offerings. Noyes paused to study it, but Elena tugged him along. “Let’s just wander,” she said. “One level’s as good as another.”

“That’s not true. They’re aimed for different sectors of the population.”

“What does that matter? We’re slumming tonight!”

He shrugged and yielded, and they stepped aboard the moving ramp leading to Level D. Noyes was hazily familiar with the structure of Jubilisle from his past visits; he recalled that the island was cunningly laid out in a series of mazes and dead ends, so that the bemused visitor might roam for hours without arriving at any clear knowledge of how much remained to be seen. The intention was to prod the clientele into realizing that it was impossible to see more than a small fraction of Jubilisle on any one visit, and thus one must return again and again.

The island was devised to offer something to every economic stratum, from those who lived off government credit to those who could afford a dozen persona transplants. Generally, the pull of Jubilisle was stronger in the lower middle brackets, those people who could not afford to traffic in the Scheffing process but who had enough disposable income to part with some here. There was no admission charge at Jubilisle; Roditis made his money partly from the ferry ride, but mainly from the income of the booths and concessions. Noyes had seen the analysis: each visitor spent some fifteen dollars fissionable per trip, on which Roditis’ net profit was about thirty-five percent. With half a million visitors at any one time, and perhaps three or four million on a busy Saturday night between sunset and dawn, it was easy to see the source of Roditis’ affluence. Jubilisle had competitors now, of course, but it was the first of its kind, and the most successful. The powerful Kaufmann interests, having missed their chance to gain an equity investment in the original Jubilisle, had not deigned to open an imitation, much to Roditis’ pleasure. Officially, it was because they had no desire to pander to the debauched tastes of the ignorant, but Noyes thought it was more likely the Kaufmanns stayed out of the pleasure-island business out of fear that they would not meet Roditis’ level of success.

The inner core of the island provided the highest-priced delights. Those who came specifically to gamble large sums, to purchase costly sexual experiences, or to indulge in the illicit sensory stimulations of forbidden drugs, generally proceeded by a direct route to that area of Jubilisle. But Noyes had come merely as a casual sightseer, as had Elena, and they moved without plan down the glowing halls and galleries and chambers.

At a gambling pavilion, close to the perimeter of the island, the rhythms of exploding atoms determined the payoffs. A barker claimed that the process was completely random and so must be utterly honest. “Everyone stands an equal chance, folks. I don’t mind telling you that some games favor the house, but not here, not here, not here! Step right up…”

“Can that be so?” Elena asked. “A truly random game of chance?”

“Maybe so,” Noyes told her. “Notice that it’s on the outside of the island. If people win steadily here, they’re encouraged to try the games within. Which are not quite so impartial.”

“But Roditis must lose money on this, even so.”

Noyes shook his head. “Not if it’s truly random. He’ll break even, and all he’ll lose is his overhead, which isn’t consequential. Call it a promotional loss. Let’s try it?”

“All right.”

They stepped up. You could pay cash, and most did, but of course Elena had no cash except the souvenir nestling between her breasts, and Noyes thumbed the plate to establish a gambling balance for her. The game was intricate; he scarcely understood its workings himself, and those about him must be wholly baffled by it. In the center of the platform lay what purported to be a block of polonium, flanked by a comically ornate gamma detector; an array of tubes and pipettes emerged from it, filled with scintillating colored fluids. A turquoise fluorescence paid off at 3 to 1; carmine yielded 5 to 1; a yellow streak in the ebony fluid produced a 10 to 1 payoff. The barker chanted rhythmically; the polonium atoms disgorged their component particles; the lights lit and went out. The crowd pressed close. A bell rang and a certificate dropped from a hopper.

“You’ve won ten dollars,” Noyes said.

“Glorious! I want to play again!”

“There’s much else to see,” he reminded her.

They moved on. At a fortune-telling booth a spectral hooded figure predicted long fife for them both, and numerous children. Then, looking Noyes over cunningly, the prophet added, “You will have many rebirths.” Noyes tapped the plate and added a dollar to the soothsayer’s credit balance.

“How did he know we were recorded?” Elena asked.

“He guessed. He saw how well-dressed we were and figured we were wealthy, and if we were wealthy we must be on file with the Scheffing people. In any case, it’s flattery to wish us rebirths, even if we’re not in the class that lives again.”

“Perhaps he recognized us,” Elena suggested.

“I doubt it.”

“I’d like a mask, in any case.”

Many of the fairgoers were masked, particularly the women. Girls bare to the hips tripped along, cloaked only by striped dominoes. At Elena’s insistence Noyes took her to a masking booth and purchased a concealment for her: a dark band of pseudoliving glass that took possession of her face in a kind of caress, slipping snakelike into place from ear to ear. They laughed. She pulled him close and kissed him fleetingly on the lips. “Buy a mask yourself,” she said.

He did. Hidden now from the stares of the curious, they moved through the gallery, taking a dropshaft to the one below on a sudden whim. Noyes felt buoyant, relaxed. Within him Kravchenko was dormant for once, and Elena, warm and exciting on his arm, seemed to promise eventual ecstasies. The evening was going well after a poor start. The giddiness of Jubilisle had broken through his habitual melancholy. Yet there was always the
memento mori
not far below the surface; they paused in a closed arcade to embrace, and Noyes drew Elena so tightly against him that the soft mound of her left breast felt the impress of the flask of lethal carniphage that he carried always with him. When they separated, she touched the bruised place tenderly and said, “You hurt me. Something in your pocket—”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d feel it.”

“What do you have there, a gravity bomb?”

“Just a flask of carniphage,” he told her pleasantly. “In case a suicidal mood hits me.”

Of course she did not believe that, and so she showered a silvery cascade of laughter over him.