After Miss Marple had miraculously managed to come twice more, we dressed and readied ourselves for our journey across town to police headquarters. I signaled Central Dispatch for transportation, and was informed, as always, that there would be a slight delay in getting a tube car over to us. I muttered, screamed, and finally cursed, but there was nothing to be done: we had to wait. With Miss Marple locked electronically to me, we stepped into an antigrav shaft and floated down some three hundred-odd floors to street level. Outside the building, the streets were mobbed, and, as anticipated, our transportation had not yet arrived.
"You're not from Earth, are you?" I asked, trying to make idle conversation.
Miss Marple turned absently toward me. "No, I'm not," she responded. Her eyes flashed with fascination between me and the somewhat cluttered but nonetheless breathtaking panorama that was the teeming megalopolis of Bos-Wash. Across from us was the monumental City Government Building, appropriately shaped like a mountain. It was the single most imposing sight in the city skyline. It seemed to dominate the horizon.
"Where are you from?" I asked.
Holding her arm, I pulled Valerie back into the doorway of the building from which we had just exited. Our presence in the middle of the walk paths had caused a momentary knot of traffic in the impatient and harried pedestrians as they tried to squeeze past us. "Ganymede."
"Oh, that's a nice little world. I was there once on holiday. Where on Ganymede did you live?"
"Ganymede City."
"How do you think our fair city measures up against it?" Even though Valerie Marple was my prisoner, I saw no reason not to be civilized about all this. Besides, I had as much civic pride as any citizen.
"It's fascinating," she said. Her deep blue eyes were wide with interest. "It's my first time on Earth. I've always dreamed of coming here."
"Have you seen the sights?"
She sighed. "No, all I've seen is the insides of one or another module. I've gone from one hiding place to another." She pointed at the City Government Building. "What's that over there? I didn't know there was a mountain right in the middle of the city."
"That's not a mountain," I explained. "It's a building. It's based on something called geo-architecture; its major tenant suggests that all architecture should be indistinguishable from sculpture."
"We certainly don't have anything like that back at home." She shook her head in awe.
"That's nothing compared to some of the developments that are taking place in the midwest. They're experimenting with single-unit cities: mega structures, completely sealed off from the environment, capable of housing up to twenty million people…"
"Jesus." Valerie shook her head and laughed. "I don't think there are that many people on the whole of Ganymede."
"If you think that's a mountain, you should see some of these mega structures. They literally are mountains. It's based on a concept developed by a twentieth century architect whore work is presently back in vogue. Schumann was his name, I think." I tried to remember then shrugged. "Well, anyhow, one of the larger mega structures measures something like ten kilometers in height…"
"My God, that's almost six miles high."
"And it's about two and a half kilometers wide, and it goes down into the Earth a little more than one kilometer. On the whole it's quite an undertaking. The only reason they weren't attempted sooner was because the materials necessary to build such a structure simple weren't developed…"
But Valerie wasn't paying attention to me any longer. A huge star-transport was passing overhead, and shy stopped to watch its ascent. The enormous craft floater weightlessly above us, casting its long shadow across the city, growing smaller and smaller, it seemed, as it rose higher and higher into the stratosphere.
"Brooklyn Space Center is nearby," I explained. "You get used to seeing those things living in Bos-Wash. One is either landing or taking off every five minutes or so."
"Brooklyn: what a quaint name. What does it mean?"
I shrugged. "I really don't know. It used to be part of the city in the old days, when Bos-Wash was a much smaller city. Actually, this area is made up of many areas which used to be cities in their own right."
"Oh, really? I didn't know that. This area we're it now, was it once part of a smaller city?"
"Oh, yes. At one time it was very famous. It used to be called New York. Have you ever heard of it?" Valerie screwed up her face in thought. "No-o, I don't think so. Should I have?"
I shrugged. "No. It's not really important."
Another transport appeared at the edge of the horizon, and for a moment, because we had nothing else to do, we watched it together. It passed directly overhead, then floated effortlessly upward until it vanished from sight. For a moment the sky was empty.
"There is, one thing that does puzzle me," Valerie confessed finally. "Where are the cars? What do you use for transportation? All I see are people."
"Do you see those empty spaces over there?" I pointed to the narrow corridors which lined the wide city streets on both sides, and at the intersections. Men and women were hurrying back and forth, up and down the streets and walk paths, but no one stepped into the corridors. I said: "With the exception of police and other emergency cars, all transportation in Bos-Wash is accomplished by public vehicle."
"But where are they? I don't see them."
"That's because they're not there… now." It was clear that she didn't understand. "For a long time," I explained, "we've been faced with the problem of safe transportation. In the past vehicles have run into each other, hit stationary objects, and have even collided with pedestrians. Well, we've finally come up with what we believe is a reasonable solution. Those corridors you see are depots for our tube cars. Tube cars are rocket propelled vehicles which criss-cross back and forth across the city, racing through time tunnels…"
"Time tunnels?"
"Holes punched through time," I explained. "The vehicles travel across this same space, but in a different time period. In a time period when there weren't any vehicles, or people for that matter, to obstruct their course. Of course all tube vehicles are regulated by the City Planning Computer so that their paths never intersect…"
"Oh look!" she cried, pointing. "I see one."
Across the wide street, a long tube bus appeared, gradually lengthening as it eased into the corridor. A cluster of men and women got off, and another got on. In a matter of minutes, the bus was gone, making its way across the city, making its way across time itself.
"Fascinating," she said, her eyes glowing. "Incredible. I'm sorry now that you arrested me so soon. I would have liked an opportunity to see the city before I'm sent away."
"Maybe that can be arranged," I said.
Valerie seemed confused. "But how? I thought I was going to be put in some sort of detention place?"
"Oh, good heavens, no. Where did you get an idea like that? We're quite civilized here in Bos-Wash. This is not one of those frontier settlements like you find on the fringes of the galaxy, you know. You'll only be detained for as long as it takes a psychotherapist to determine your area of faulty socialization. Then it's a matter of relearning and reintegration. You'll be well in no time."
In the corridor directly across from the building in which we were standing, something began to manifest itself.
"What's that?" Valerie asked, pointing at it. "That, I hope, is our transportation."
It was. Gradually, as it slipped back into our time zone, a tube car, painted bright yellow to signify the police, appeared. First the front bumpers, then the passenger area, and finally the rear portion, until, little by little, the entire length of the vehicle was there. A door appeared in the plasteel side of the car, and a tall thin man with a gaunt-looking face stepped out.
"Ah, I've found you," the man said as we stepped onto the crowded walk path.
I stretched my hand out to the tall thin man. "I'm Plain-clothes Detective Malachi Browne," I said. "This is Valerie Marple, my prisoner."
"My name is Holmes," the man said, gripping my hand with a strength for which I should hardly have given him credit. "Samuel Holmes, your driver."
"What kept you?" I asked. "We've been waiting for some time now."
"The usual," he said. He escorted us to the car. "Obstacles in our time path. I tried to get us an emergency zone; but the computer was tied up. Again, as usual."
Valerie slipped into the rear seat, and I sat in next to her. "Will the tunnels be free on the way across town? I've got an appointment with Commissioner Moran."
Holmes frowned. "I was afraid that you were going to be in a hurry." The door opening transformed itself back into the side of the car. Holmes walked down to the rear of the vehicle, then came up and around to the driver's side. He slipped into the front seat. "The computer has already scheduled us for a fifteen minute delay across," he said, leaning over the partition. "It seems that some prehistoric animal has chosen our particular path and time zone in which to die. Some kind of dinosaur or something. Anyway, we can't get across until the beast dies."
"Dammit," I muttered. "Can't we get reassigned to another level?"
"I've already tried."
"Use my authority."
"Hell, I've used Emergency Priority One authorization," Holmes explained, "and even that didn't do a damn bit of good. There's nothing we can do except wait it out."
I shrugged helplessly. "So, I guess we wait. You can't beat this city. Nothing can beat this city. It always wins in the end. So, we wait."
Valerie laughed. "All of this," she said, indicating the vast wealth and power of Bos-Wash, "and you still can't get across town. I might as well still be on Ganymede."
"Button yer lip," I muttered.
Holmes continued to stare over the partition.
"What is it, Holmes?" I asked, sighing with exasperation.
"Do you want to wait in the tunnel and watch the beast croak," he asked, clearing his throat and lowering his voice, "or would you mind if I… if I… uh…"
"What is it, Holmes?"
"Well… uh…" He exhaled loudly. "Well, sir, the fact of the matter is that I haven't had my break today. I've just been running my ass all over this city, and frankly, sir, I've as horny as a son-of-a-bitch. I've got a hardon that just won't go away. Would you mind, sir, if instead of waiting in the tunnel, I step out for a few minutes and stop off at an Erotiserie?"
"I thought you said we only have a fifteen minute wait? You can't be finished in fifteen minutes."
"All I want is a hand-job, sir," Holmes explained. "It will only take a moment."
I considered the request. "Oh, all right, just don't take too long. I've already late for my appointment with Commissioner Moran."
Holmes smiled and thanked me. "It won't take long, sir," he assured me. "In fact, there's an Erotiserie right down the block. Besides, there's never a line for handjobs. I'll be back in a second."
"Leave the lights flashing," I said, calling through the door opening on the driver's side. "I don't feel like getting a ticket for illegal parking."
Holmes grinned as he leaned through the opening. "Don't worry, sir," he said. He switched on the overhead lights. They began to pulse on and off. "I'm so horny I can almost taste it."
A moment later he was gone, lost in the crowd on the busy walk paths.
Valerie turned to me. "Malachi, what was he talking about? What's an Eroti… whatever it was he said?"
"An Erotiserie," I said. "Don't you have them on Ganymede?"
"I'm not sure. What are they?"
"Sex shops," I explained. "Businesses which deal in every form of sexual behavior. Someone once suggested that they were sexual 'luncheonettes', and I guess that describes them just as well as anything. They're businesses where any person can go to satisfy his sexual appetite, regardless of what it might be, whenever the mood strikes him."
"Oh, houses of prostitution…"
"Well, not quite. Nothing as elaborate as that, although we do, of course, have houses as well as Erotiseries. No, they're more geared to the mass market, much like a cafeteria would be in relation to an expensive restaurant. A person pays his money, gets on whatever line he wants – for a blow-job, for a quick fuck, or for just a hand-job like Holmes wants – goes into the cubicle, does his thing, and then he's out. Quick and efficient, one-two-three."
"That's very practical," Valerie observed. "Leave it to Earth to come up with something like that. It's a very good idea, though. I have to admit that."
"Do you have them back home?"
"Are you kidding? Ganymede is a hick moon in comparison to the Earth," she said. "Oh, I mean, we do have our porno theatres and live sex shows, and standard three-dee color sex stations on our wall screens, but nothing even remotely like an Erotiserie."
"Hum, that's something." A business plan flashed through my thoughts. "Someone should open one up out there. He'd really clean up. Erotiseries are making a fortune here on Earth."
Valerie laughed. "Maybe we could go into business."
"Why not," I suggested, half-seriously. "Just as soon as you're all readjusted psychologically, come back and let me know. Maybe we could work something out. There's a lot of money to be made in quick sex…"
"Oh, look at that!"
On the walk paths, coming toward us, was a thick-muscled, broad-shouldered workman striding briskly down the street. He had a tunic blouse on, but he was naked from the waist down. His cock was erect, and attached to the end of his shaft was a silver and plastic electronic masturbatory pump.
"How gauche," I said, shaking my head, looking upon the man with utter disdain. "If there is one thing that I really find offensive, it's masturbating in public. It's so uncouth. It just indicates a total lack of class."
Valerie sighed. "I know what you mean, Mal."
"Do you have much of that…" – I indicated the masturbating man – "back home?"
"Not too much. On Ganymede, people generally try to keep that sort of thing off the street, but there are always some people who have absolutely no regard for the rights of others."
"It's a matter of education," I said. "No matter how advanced a civilization may be, there will always be someone like that around. No class. None at all."
Holmes returned shortly after, and I observed that the thickness – which previously characterized his crotch – was now noticeably absent. He grinned from ear to ear. When Valerie politely asked him how it was, he said: "Great. A real pick-me-up."
The tunnel was now clear, and we shot across town in a matter of minutes. True to form, the moment we materialized in front of police headquarters, the City Planning Computer came through with the authorization which would have permitted us to take another, clear level.
"It figures," I muttered.
With Miss Marple in hand, we stepped into one of the antigrav shafts and floated up to Commissioner Moran's office.