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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4b889c4 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63687 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63687) diff --git a/old/63687-0.txt b/old/63687-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d4cfd16..0000000 --- a/old/63687-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,941 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Geisha Memory, by Winston Marks - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: The Geisha Memory - -Author: Winston Marks - -Release Date: November 08, 2020 [EBook #63687] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GEISHA MEMORY *** - - - - - With a song in their hearts the - celibates of Mars gaily relived-- - - THE GEISHA MEMORY - - By WINSTON MARKS - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Fall 1954. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Peter Duncan lay strapped, drugged and supine on one of the eighty -narrow bucket-couches on the passenger deck and was miserably, -continuously sick. It was not a nice steady nausea that a man could -adjust to. Nor even a rhythmic vertigo like one suffered from an -ocean liner wallowing in ground swells. It was a shifting, sliding -instability in three dimensions, as the Mars-bound vessel responded to -automatic radar controls. - -The concept of interplanetary space being empty was long since -an exploded myth Duncan was reminded as the space ship veered, -accelerated, decelerated and corrected course to avoid collision with -meteorites approaching from thousands of miles away. - -That seventy-nine other passengers and the whole crew were suffering -as much as he, was little comfort. They, at least, had a substantial -reason for being here. Aside from the money, in which Duncan, too, -shared, these others were vital players in an enormous game, supplying -energy-starved earth with fissionable materials from the inexhaustible -mines of Mars. - -The single ship was the only link between the two planets, and it -represented earth's greatest extravagance in history. The passengers, -replacements for eighty mine workers who had served their four years -and 100 days contract time, provided the essential manpower. For -them it was important work and brought them not only the $100,000 -contract fee, but also membership in the highly honored and exclusive -fellowship of the Mars Society. Back on earth they were assured a -life-long position of fame and wealth. To facilitate the recruiting of -future crews, public relations man, Peter Duncan, was to see to it that -romance and glamour surrounded the Mars Society with honor bright and a -yard wide. - -And it wasn't easy. The rigors of the round trip, alone, were no -secret on earth. After thirty years operation, most visions of romance -in space flight had been dissipated by the grim details of the -stomach-wrenching journey. - -Duncan was new to the job. And too young for the job, he had thought. -But now the joker was apparent. Senior publicity men in the employ of -General Fission enjoyed the high pay and conventional public relations -work with their feet comfortably secure on earth. But G.F. needed a -25-year-old for this assignment that broke all precedents. Experience -came only with age. And age was the disqualifier for space ship travel. -It was not his Phi Beta Kappa key his employers admired, but his -youthful circulatory system, his sturdy, compact skeletal structure and -above all his emotional stability quotient. - -And the world-shaking assignment for this proud package of manhood was -to track down the meaning and implications of a song. A song that had -seeped out of the bistros and night clubs of earth, a song that could -have no other origin than returned space miners. There were endless -verses to it, but the last lines were always similar. Several stanzas -ran through Duncan's brain to the tune of the ancient patriotic ballad, -_America The Beautiful_. - - Farewell to Mars - And frigid stars - That light the rusty sands! - My one regret: - I'll not forget - Those ever-loving hands. - - My stint is done, - My fortune's won. - Break out the earthling bands! - I'm glad to go, - But yet I know - I'll miss those loving hands. - - To breathe again - Like other men - And aereate my glands-- - For this, farewell - To all that's hell-- - Except those loving hands. - - * * * * * - -"We want to know," Duncan had been told, "what the devil is going on -out there!" - -"Why not cross-examine the returned miners?" Duncan had asked. -The answer was simple. They wouldn't talk. There appeared to be a -conspiracy to keep secret the significance of the song's suggestive -last lines. - -Never had a taint of immorality touched the Mars operation. When the -first party of young women were included in the crew ten years ago, -eyebrows had been raised. But subsequent returnees had given no cause -for the slightest whisper of impropriety. - -They couldn't afford to. - -The rules were hard and uncompromising. On Mars, no female member of -the company was allowed to associate with any male except in working -hours and within the strictest limitations of her official duty. -Twenty women and one hundred forty men lived in complete segregation. -Violation of this rule imposed a $10,000 fine on each of the violators. - -When Duncan had asked the obvious question he learned the fantastic -truth: In spite of General Fission's world-wide recruiting campaign, -they couldn't fill their quota of 80 men for the half shift change -every other year. After the physical examinations reduced the thousands -of applicants to a few hundred, the emotional tests took their toll. Of -the remainder, 10 berths always remained open--the housekeeping, supply -and medical care jobs went begging. Women were the only answer. - -It was not difficult to recruit suitable female candidates for the -20 berths. The complications came with the problem of a mixed crew -in isolation for over four years. Marriages would be inevitable if -allowed. But in Mars' reduced atmospheric pressure pregnancy would be -fatal to mother and child. Hence, the segregation rule. - -Until the song reached Earth, all had gone well. Young people -selected for their emotional stability seemed able to withstand the -terrible loneliness. But now--the song. And the whisperings that were -threatening to disrupt the whole recruiting campaign. These young -people were subject to the influences of their parents, churches and -sweethearts. Even this tenuous wisp of smoke might indicate fire. And -if the verses of the song became one shade more ribald, G.F. would -whistle for qualified applicants. A wide open scandal could wreck the -whole enlistment program. - -Back on earth the problem had presented Duncan with a provocative -challenge. Now, 20 days out, with 42 days travel ahead, his thoughts -were wrapping into a tight spiral of resentment. His imagination had -run the gamut of every possible situation he might find, each more -lurid and revolting than the last. He cursed man's lustful nature that -made this whole mission necessary, and in particular he blamed the Mars -colony for the physical discomfort he was being forced to endure. What -kind of medal might they award him for spying on a herd of billy-goats -and weak-willed nannies? - -A buzzer vibrated under his arm. It was his turn for exercise. Wearily -he unfastened the webbing that strapped him to the g-couch and hauled -his way forward to the tiny physical therapy chamber. They were in -so-called free flight, but the lurches required that he hold fast to -the padded rail and move hand-over-hand. - -There would be the tension exercises, then a "shower" with a damp -towel. Then meal time. He made a face at the thought. So far he had -been able to eat fewer than a dozen meals orally. His arms already -were becoming freckled with scars from the intravenous feedings and -anti-vertigo injections. - - * * * * * - -To his considerable surprise he was able to step through the air-lock -and descend the steep, cleated ramp to the surface of Mars under his -own power. The setting sun was a tiny, hot eye burning across the -reddish orange plains. A light breeze refreshed his face after the rank -humidity of the space ship. But the mask through which he breathed and -the oxygen bottle on his back reminded him it was an unfriendly wind, -the movement of a thin ocean of nitrogen in which a man could drown -within minutes. He sucked gratefully at the low-pressure oxygen, and in -silence shuffled after their guide. - -Gravity was only a third of earth's. After weeks of free-fall and the -last hours of heavy deceleration, the replacements stumbled drunkenly -seeking their land legs. A half mile from the ship the lights of -the mine and lesser glow from the settlement alongside guided their -course. As they neared the village he could make out a sprawl of -squat, box-like buildings of a dull, silvery finish. They were the -thin-walled, magnesium alloy structures in which Duncan would sleep, -eat and spy until the next ship-landing. - -Behind him the holds were gasping open and beginning to disgorge the -massive supply cargo that must keep 160 souls alive for 780 terrestrial -days. Fragile appearing trucks rumbled out and passed the group. A pair -of spindly cranes that could barely have supported their own weight on -earth, jounced behind tiny jeep-like tow-cars. - -Now the sun was below distant low hills. Duncan noted the suddenness -of the sunset, and as he looked, Phobos, the nearer moon rose out of -the west, a huge crescent like the stage moons on earth. Only 3700 -miles from Mars' surface, it would race overhead in the space of -minutes. Even in the dark, its progress could be followed by the disk -of blackness against the stars. Now the crescent lay horizontal and -narrow, but even as he watched, the sliver fattened and separated -itself from the low mountain range. - -The new group was waved into the largest building, through a double -entrance of curtains. Inside was air. Everyone was removing his mask. -Evidently this was the recreation room. A small stage at one end held a -man and ten women. - -When they were all seated in the rows of chairs, the man on the rostrum -arose and spoke. "Fellow PhD's and fatheads, may I welcome you to -your new home for the next," he looked at his wrist watch, "781 days, -six hours and 18 minutes." He was short, blond, powerfully built and -pleasant of face. A rather pale, symmetrical blotch of skin containing -his mouth, nose and part of each cheek, was outlined by his heavily -sunburned complexion. That would be the shadow of his oxygen mask, -Duncan surmised. "My name is Lee Bowen, your newly elected spokesman," -he went on. "My chief qualification is the biggest mouth and the -loudest voice on Mars. Before you leave you will have two elections -in which to vote, but until the next ship comes you'll have to put up -with me. And the girls here." He waved forward one of the slack-suited -females. Like the others she looked intelligent, but her closely -cropped brown hair and loose-fitting clothes almost concealed her sex. -Her face was pretty but seemed pale without make-up. "Discretion is the -better part of pallor," Duncan punned to himself. - -"Dr. Martha Rice is spokesman for the ladies." Bowen bowed briefly and -stepped back. - -The girl smiled and looked them over thoughtfully. "We have problems -here. I would like to emphasize a couple of them. Please don't -cut yourself, shaving or working. The slightest wound in our low -atmospheric pressure requires a compress bandage. They are nuisances. A -modestly deep gash can cost you your life." - -She paused and studied them some more. "And so I hope you are all -careful or at least thick-skinned. For another reason, too. Our second -problem here is the high price of love." The nine girls behind her -laughed as she looked back at them, but her face became serious. - -"You were led to believe that a kiss would cost you only $10,000.00. -Well, you were misled. The price is $20,000, and the market is wide -open. Any one of us will accommodate you, but you'll have to pay our -fine as well as your own." - -Duncan gasped at her first words, then, as they sank in, he smiled. -Morale, good. Morals, even better if this wasn't just an act. Applause -was enthusiastic, but there were no whistles. - -Bowen came up again as the girl sat down. "Remember that, gentlemen. -You came up here to earn a tenth of a million dollars. Believe me, -you'll earn it. But don't kiss it away. It's only worth five kisses up -here, and these girls will put you on report if you lay a finger on -them. If they don't, _they_ go on report." - - * * * * * - -The first two days were spent unloading supply cargo and stowing -it. The out-going passengers took care of loading the stockpile of -concentrated minerals, so Duncan had no chance to talk with them. On -the third morning the ship was launched. The bustle of activity died, -and Duncan moved into the smooth mining routine like the polished cog -that he was. - -Personnel training was done on earth. All were preassigned to their -tasks, so the old crews had only to point. The mining operations went -on as if no replacements had been made. The men's work was roughly -divided into outside and inside work. Duncan's inside specialty was -feeding samples to a spectrograph and assisting the nuclear chemist -in charge of the lab. On alternate days he took his turn in the field -tending excavating equipment. - -Since the mine was located near the equator, this alternation of the -whole crew was necessary to reduce exposure to the miniature sun that -provided so little useful heat, yet whose ultra-violet pierced the -cloudless, thin atmosphere with vicious intensity. - -No one went hungry, but as the weeks passed the seeming variety of -food rations disappeared. The monotony of dehydrated vegetables and -meats palled. But worst was the silence. For ten hours each day almost -no communication passed among the workers. All breathable oxygen -had to be extracted from the oxides of minerals, and the by-product -oxygen from the mining operation was barely enough to supply the total -demands of their masks. So even the inside working areas were left to -Mars' unbreathable gases, and masks could be removed only in off-duty -quarters. - -Chief occupations in off-hours were games of chess, reading, writing -and activities that used a minimum of conversation. No one felt like -talking much after a full shift of sucking hard at oxygen to keep up -with his body's demand. Although the lessened gravity appeared to make -all physical labor easy, Duncan could never remember such complete -fatigue at the end of a working day. He ate, worked, played chess and -slept 10 hours a day. - -The women replacements had disappeared into their compound and -were seen no more. He wondered at the type of indoctrination they -were getting. Did it include an item concerning the use of _loving -hands_? Strangely, the men made no reference to the women, and he was -reluctant to draw attention by broaching the subject. - -The living quarters, mess-hall and recreation spaces were grouped -intimately, but placed in such a manner that windows and entries -allowed no casual glimpses of the women from the men's areas. Complete -security in the matter of segregation appeared to be guaranteed on the -honor system alone. All 140 men slept in one long bunk-room, all 20 -women in another. - -Intelligent men are not easily bored, but Peter Duncan discovered a -certain restlessness developing among the new men during the fourth -month. There was a tendency to break off in the middle of a chess game, -or to speak tersely. Duncan ascribed this to a phase of adjustment, -because the second term crew seemed better tempered. - -Then it began to bother _him_. He found himself developing an -unreasoning impatience. He began using profanity at slight annoyances. -The stiff soreness of chest, neck and back muscles became chronic, and -he began laying awake listening to his own rapid breathing, begrudging -every inhalation of his overworked lungs. The devil with expense! Why -didn't they at least pressurize the sleeping quarters so a man could -get some decent rest? - -He recognized the symptoms of increasing irritability in himself as it -distracted him even during his work. But he couldn't put his finger on -the cause. It grew worse. During the twelfth month he reached a stage -of exasperation that almost cost him his life. - -He was tightening a bolt on one of the spindles. The second time his -wrench slipped off the nut he squared away and threw the spanner at -the horizon. Too late he saw his crew-mate, geologist Magnus Porter. -Horrified he watched the wrench arc three times as far as it would have -on earth, and strike Porter in the face. He went down. - -When Duncan reached him the scientist's face was gushing blood, and his -smashed mask hissed its charge into the sterile air. Fortunately, they -were on the camp side of the pits, only two hundred yards from sickbay. -Porter weighed no more than a blanket roll, and the odds seemed good at -first. But before Duncan had bounded half the distance his lungs pumped -to the bursting point. His vision dimmed, and his legs faltered. He -tore off his mask, pressed it to Porter's face, gulped a chest full of -dead air and screamed for help. - - * * * * * - -Red streaks of pain tore through his head, down his neck muscles and -into his chest. The slightest breathing movements racked his lungs, -but, incredibly, they sucked in rich, sweet oxygen, heavy and dense. - -He knew he must be in a compression tank. The whispering pump and -muffled sound of voices outside were evidence enough, although he -couldn't open his eyes. - -The mists cleared quickly now, and the voices formed words. He -recognized Martha Rice's voice. "--anoxia. I can't determine how -severe. Have to wait and see. He may be all right when he gets over the -headache. Then again there may be permanent brain damage." - -Duncan hurt too much to care. He passed out again. When he regained -consciousness he realized the pressure was reduced, for his lungs were -pumping hard again. Then the coffin clanked apart, the sides dropped -and he was trying to focus on the ring of female faces that surrounded -him. - -"Hiya, Mister?" Martha's face settled down to a recognizable fuzz-ball. - -His head was clear now, but his throat was too tight to consider -speaking. He stared back blankly. The physician shook her head, -misunderstanding his failure to respond. A nurse rigged an intravenous -bottle, and they left him to his thoughts. He slept again, restlessly -this time. He dreamed of the accident, the wrench floating with -terrible slowness toward Porter. Abruptly, he was back on earth. His -mother was rubbing his neck and shoulders. Her hands were soft and -reassuring. They kneaded down over his pectoral muscles and massaged -his whole chest. But how did his mother know his chest hurt. You don't -hurt your chest playing tennis. But this chest did hurt, and the firm, -supple hands brought it warmth and life. His mother understood-- - -His eyes flipped open, and he stared into the inverted face of a nurse, -stubby blonde curls bobbing crazily as her body swayed over him. "He's -up," she said aloud. - -Dr. Martha Rice moved into view. "I'll take over. Save yourself for -tonight, Muriel. It's getting rougher." - -The physician's hands replaced the nurse's, but the gentle, rhythmic -touch was the same. Duncan relaxed in an orgy of tactile ecstasy. - -"You are Peter Duncan. Do you understand?" she asked. He blinked, and -she took that for affirmation. "In fact," she continued, "you are now -Hero Peter Duncan." - -This didn't register right. Hero? They must have saved Porter's life, -but they didn't realize how it happened. And now she was misconstruing -his puzzled expression. "I am Dr. Martha Rice. Remember me?" - -All Duncan could think of now was the hands. _Loving hands._ What was -the right answer? If he answered wrong the hands would stop. He closed -his eyes. _Loving hands._ He remembered his mission. - -How could he have better arranged it? This was ideal. By feigning slow -recovery he could-- - -The hands stopped. A finger peeled back an eyelid. "You are awake. Come -to, mister!" - -Duncan opened the other eye and stared at her and let his lips part. -"Thuh!" he grunted. - - * * * * * - -It was night. Duncan was detached from the intravenous needle and tube, -and a small compress bandage covered the throbbing vein where his blood -had boiled out when the needle was withdrawn. He had decided to reveal -enough recovery to take oral nourishment. - -The wall chronometer, adjusted to the slightly longer Mars' day, read -2300, an hour before midnight. He was alone. It should have been quiet, -but several times heavy footsteps had passed down the hall near his -tiny room. The sick bay was attached to the women's quarters. - -Distinctly he heard an outside door open and the clump of safety boots -passed his room. Slipping off the high bed he opened his door and -looked into the hall. It was a man. Even in the dim light there was no -mistaking the broad physique. - -Duncan whipped a sheet around his nude body and followed a few yards -to where the visitor had disappeared through a curtained arch. Before -the curtains stopped swaying he saw the outlines of cots within. It was -the women's sleeping room! His stomach turned cold. - -So the legend of the song was based on fact. And his trip out here was -justified after all. And what now, after he had uncovered the mess with -his own eyes? - -He approached the curtains uncertainly. A sob from within startled him. -It was a man's cry. A girl's voice said something softly reassuring, -and all was still again. - -Duncan lurched through the arch and stood rooted. The denunciation died -in his throat. Twenty single bunks were spaced around the walls. Each -was occupied, but only three girls were asleep. The rest were sitting -on the edge with their feet on the floor. At each girl's feet with his -back resting against her legs was a member of the male company. The -pale light of Deimos, Mars' second moon, shone through the overhead -panes to reveal the secret of the loving hands. - -Duncan watched seventeen pairs of arms encircling the necks of as many -men, hands reaching down under loose jackets to massage aching chests -and rising to knead gently on tired shoulder muscles. Fingers strayed -tenderly over masculine foreheads and necks with unmistakable caressing -motions. - -The prone figure near him stirred, and a sleepy face looked up at him. -"Oh, my gosh, it's Duncan!" she said. It was Martha Rice. She slipped -from the blankets and drew him over to her bunk. "Sit down," she -invited. - -Stunned, Duncan lowered himself to the edge of the bed. "No, not there! -Down, boy! On the deck," she pointed. "The fellows would get the wrong -idea, patient or no patient." - -Duncan complied, leaning against her warm legs as the others were -doing. She sighed, yawned audibly, and began the massaging routine. -With the touch of her hands the confusion left Duncan's tortured mind. -Propaganda, morality arguments, missions into space and the importance -of $10,000 fines disappeared. This was real. A woman's heart reaching -out through her hands to comfort her man. It was physical, but it -transcended the physical. It justified the rigid segregation rules even -as it glorified them and violated them. - -The need of man for woman was too great for any barrier. And no woman -could refuse giving of herself when the need was desperate enough. - -Three more men came through the curtains. - -Two found girls, but the third stood hesitantly. A girl on the next -bunk from Duncan and Martha, rubbed her man's head briskly and said -quietly, "Good night, mister. Got another customer. See you soon." She -waved in the new man as the other heaved reluctantly to his feet. "Good -night, honey," he said simply and left. - -Men stepped over Duncan's legs coming and going, without remark, -without greeting. - -Almost no conversation took place. A whispered good night or a soft -word of comfort, and then minutes of silence except for the rustle of -deep sighing breathing. - -Then Martha's hands stopped. She pulled him to his feet and led him -toward the arch. Instantly several girls' heads turned toward them. -"Want help, Doctor?" one asked almost sharply. - -"No thanks, Claire. This boy's sick." - -She led him back to his room. He turned his back to the bed as though -to sit down, but instead he moved to her. She slid into his arms as -though it were rehearsed, and he crushed her close to him. Through -their light garments he felt her body strain for a brief moment then -completely relax. She peeled away from his lips. - -"Mister, that will cost you just $10,000. You're on report!" - -The shock of her voice was a cold plunge back to another reality. -Duncan's hands fell to his sides and he sat down heavily, head bowed. -Martha lifted his legs, untwined the sheet and tucked in the blankets. -Suddenly she dropped to him and pressed her face to his. "You poor -devil! You poor, poor, devil!" Her tears rolled down to his face, and -she cried unrestrainedly for more than a minute. Duncan kept his hands -at his sides, and it was his greatest triumph of self-control. - - * * * * * - -He gave himself two days to affect recovery. On the second morning he -called for Dr. Martha Rice. She came in alone, her darkly handsome face -inscrutable. "You are better, I hear. For exactly how long have you -been feeling better?" - -Duncan smiled. "Long enough to want to get out of here. How is Magnus -Porter?" - -"He left an hour ago. He'll wear a bandage for a week, but your mask -saved him from anything serious. That was quite a gesture, my boy. As I -mentioned the other night, you are on report--" - -Duncan winced. - -"--for a citation for heroism beyond the call of duty." - -"You're quite a girl, yourself," Duncan said. "Where are my pants? I -have some ore to get out before the next ship. We mustn't return short -of cargo, must we?" - -"What do you mean, _we_? You have a term and a half to complete," she -said. - -"I'm here on a special assignment, and we'll be going out together on -the next ship." - -"I will, but you--you! What kind of special assignment?" - -"Some fuddy-duds down sunward had some foolish ideas about reducing -the crew out here by some twenty persons. You know, trying to save -money. I'm to report upon your dispensability. I will be pleased to -report that the women's contingent is completely and magnificently -indispensable to General Fission. Which reminds me, will you have -dinner with me when we get home?" - -Martha was somewhat paler. She leaned against the door. "And _I_ put -_you_ on report!" - -"Answer my question, girl, and hand me my pants." - -"Your question? Oh. Yes. Yes, of course, I'll have dinner with you. -Here are your pants." - -"And breakfast and lunch?" - -"Is this a proposal?" - -"Proposals on Mars violate our contract. So do propositions, so let's -just call it a date." - -"Date?" Martha fondled the word that sounded so alien and lovely. She -smiled. "All right, Peter, it's a date." - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GEISHA MEMORY *** - -***** This file should be named 63687-0.txt or 63687-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/6/8/63687/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/63687-0.zip b/old/63687-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0538ace..0000000 --- a/old/63687-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63687-h.zip b/old/63687-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 54b3337..0000000 --- a/old/63687-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63687-h/63687-h.htm b/old/63687-h/63687-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 843a798..0000000 --- a/old/63687-h/63687-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1038 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Geisha Memory, by Winston Marks. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.poetry .stanza -{ - margin: 1em auto; -} - -.poetry .verse -{ - padding-left: 3em; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<pre style='margin-bottom:6em;'>The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Geisha Memory, by Winston Marks - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: The Geisha Memory - -Author: Winston Marks - -Release Date: November 08, 2020 [EBook #63687] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GEISHA MEMORY *** -</pre> -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<p><i>With a song in their hearts the<br /> -celibates of Mars gaily relived—</i></p> - -<h1>THE GEISHA MEMORY</h1> - -<h2>By WINSTON MARKS</h2> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Fall 1954.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Peter Duncan lay strapped, drugged and supine on one of the eighty -narrow bucket-couches on the passenger deck and was miserably, -continuously sick. It was not a nice steady nausea that a man could -adjust to. Nor even a rhythmic vertigo like one suffered from an -ocean liner wallowing in ground swells. It was a shifting, sliding -instability in three dimensions, as the Mars-bound vessel responded to -automatic radar controls.</p> - -<p>The concept of interplanetary space being empty was long since -an exploded myth Duncan was reminded as the space ship veered, -accelerated, decelerated and corrected course to avoid collision with -meteorites approaching from thousands of miles away.</p> - -<p>That seventy-nine other passengers and the whole crew were suffering -as much as he, was little comfort. They, at least, had a substantial -reason for being here. Aside from the money, in which Duncan, too, -shared, these others were vital players in an enormous game, supplying -energy-starved earth with fissionable materials from the inexhaustible -mines of Mars.</p> - -<p>The single ship was the only link between the two planets, and it -represented earth's greatest extravagance in history. The passengers, -replacements for eighty mine workers who had served their four years -and 100 days contract time, provided the essential manpower. For -them it was important work and brought them not only the $100,000 -contract fee, but also membership in the highly honored and exclusive -fellowship of the Mars Society. Back on earth they were assured a -life-long position of fame and wealth. To facilitate the recruiting of -future crews, public relations man, Peter Duncan, was to see to it that -romance and glamour surrounded the Mars Society with honor bright and a -yard wide.</p> - -<p>And it wasn't easy. The rigors of the round trip, alone, were no -secret on earth. After thirty years operation, most visions of romance -in space flight had been dissipated by the grim details of the -stomach-wrenching journey.</p> - -<p>Duncan was new to the job. And too young for the job, he had thought. -But now the joker was apparent. Senior publicity men in the employ of -General Fission enjoyed the high pay and conventional public relations -work with their feet comfortably secure on earth. But G.F. needed a -25-year-old for this assignment that broke all precedents. Experience -came only with age. And age was the disqualifier for space ship travel. -It was not his Phi Beta Kappa key his employers admired, but his -youthful circulatory system, his sturdy, compact skeletal structure and -above all his emotional stability quotient.</p> - -<p>And the world-shaking assignment for this proud package of manhood was -to track down the meaning and implications of a song. A song that had -seeped out of the bistros and night clubs of earth, a song that could -have no other origin than returned space miners. There were endless -verses to it, but the last lines were always similar. Several stanzas -ran through Duncan's brain to the tune of the ancient patriotic ballad, -<i>America The Beautiful</i>.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Farewell to Mars </div> - <div class="verse">And frigid stars </div> - <div class="verse">That light the rusty sands! </div> - <div class="verse">My one regret: </div> - <div class="verse">I'll not forget </div> - <div class="verse">Those ever-loving hands. </div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">My stint is done, </div> - <div class="verse">My fortune's won. </div> - <div class="verse">Break out the earthling bands! </div> - <div class="verse">I'm glad to go, </div> - <div class="verse">But yet I know </div> - <div class="verse">I'll miss those loving hands. </div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">To breathe again </div> - <div class="verse">Like other men </div> - <div class="verse">And aereate my glands— </div> - <div class="verse">For this, farewell </div> - <div class="verse">To all that's hell— </div> - <div class="verse">Except those loving hands. </div> - </div> - </div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"We want to know," Duncan had been told, "what the devil is going on -out there!"</p> - -<p>"Why not cross-examine the returned miners?" Duncan had asked. -The answer was simple. They wouldn't talk. There appeared to be a -conspiracy to keep secret the significance of the song's suggestive -last lines.</p> - -<p>Never had a taint of immorality touched the Mars operation. When the -first party of young women were included in the crew ten years ago, -eyebrows had been raised. But subsequent returnees had given no cause -for the slightest whisper of impropriety.</p> - -<p>They couldn't afford to.</p> - -<p>The rules were hard and uncompromising. On Mars, no female member of -the company was allowed to associate with any male except in working -hours and within the strictest limitations of her official duty. -Twenty women and one hundred forty men lived in complete segregation. -Violation of this rule imposed a $10,000 fine on each of the violators.</p> - -<p>When Duncan had asked the obvious question he learned the fantastic -truth: In spite of General Fission's world-wide recruiting campaign, -they couldn't fill their quota of 80 men for the half shift change -every other year. After the physical examinations reduced the thousands -of applicants to a few hundred, the emotional tests took their toll. Of -the remainder, 10 berths always remained open—the housekeeping, supply -and medical care jobs went begging. Women were the only answer.</p> - -<p>It was not difficult to recruit suitable female candidates for the -20 berths. The complications came with the problem of a mixed crew -in isolation for over four years. Marriages would be inevitable if -allowed. But in Mars' reduced atmospheric pressure pregnancy would be -fatal to mother and child. Hence, the segregation rule.</p> - -<p>Until the song reached Earth, all had gone well. Young people -selected for their emotional stability seemed able to withstand the -terrible loneliness. But now—the song. And the whisperings that were -threatening to disrupt the whole recruiting campaign. These young -people were subject to the influences of their parents, churches and -sweethearts. Even this tenuous wisp of smoke might indicate fire. And -if the verses of the song became one shade more ribald, G.F. would -whistle for qualified applicants. A wide open scandal could wreck the -whole enlistment program.</p> - -<p>Back on earth the problem had presented Duncan with a provocative -challenge. Now, 20 days out, with 42 days travel ahead, his thoughts -were wrapping into a tight spiral of resentment. His imagination had -run the gamut of every possible situation he might find, each more -lurid and revolting than the last. He cursed man's lustful nature that -made this whole mission necessary, and in particular he blamed the Mars -colony for the physical discomfort he was being forced to endure. What -kind of medal might they award him for spying on a herd of billy-goats -and weak-willed nannies?</p> - -<p>A buzzer vibrated under his arm. It was his turn for exercise. Wearily -he unfastened the webbing that strapped him to the g-couch and hauled -his way forward to the tiny physical therapy chamber. They were in -so-called free flight, but the lurches required that he hold fast to -the padded rail and move hand-over-hand.</p> - -<p>There would be the tension exercises, then a "shower" with a damp -towel. Then meal time. He made a face at the thought. So far he had -been able to eat fewer than a dozen meals orally. His arms already -were becoming freckled with scars from the intravenous feedings and -anti-vertigo injections.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>To his considerable surprise he was able to step through the air-lock -and descend the steep, cleated ramp to the surface of Mars under his -own power. The setting sun was a tiny, hot eye burning across the -reddish orange plains. A light breeze refreshed his face after the rank -humidity of the space ship. But the mask through which he breathed and -the oxygen bottle on his back reminded him it was an unfriendly wind, -the movement of a thin ocean of nitrogen in which a man could drown -within minutes. He sucked gratefully at the low-pressure oxygen, and in -silence shuffled after their guide.</p> - -<p>Gravity was only a third of earth's. After weeks of free-fall and the -last hours of heavy deceleration, the replacements stumbled drunkenly -seeking their land legs. A half mile from the ship the lights of -the mine and lesser glow from the settlement alongside guided their -course. As they neared the village he could make out a sprawl of -squat, box-like buildings of a dull, silvery finish. They were the -thin-walled, magnesium alloy structures in which Duncan would sleep, -eat and spy until the next ship-landing.</p> - -<p>Behind him the holds were gasping open and beginning to disgorge the -massive supply cargo that must keep 160 souls alive for 780 terrestrial -days. Fragile appearing trucks rumbled out and passed the group. A pair -of spindly cranes that could barely have supported their own weight on -earth, jounced behind tiny jeep-like tow-cars.</p> - -<p>Now the sun was below distant low hills. Duncan noted the suddenness -of the sunset, and as he looked, Phobos, the nearer moon rose out of -the west, a huge crescent like the stage moons on earth. Only 3700 -miles from Mars' surface, it would race overhead in the space of -minutes. Even in the dark, its progress could be followed by the disk -of blackness against the stars. Now the crescent lay horizontal and -narrow, but even as he watched, the sliver fattened and separated -itself from the low mountain range.</p> - -<p>The new group was waved into the largest building, through a double -entrance of curtains. Inside was air. Everyone was removing his mask. -Evidently this was the recreation room. A small stage at one end held a -man and ten women.</p> - -<p>When they were all seated in the rows of chairs, the man on the rostrum -arose and spoke. "Fellow PhD's and fatheads, may I welcome you to -your new home for the next," he looked at his wrist watch, "781 days, -six hours and 18 minutes." He was short, blond, powerfully built and -pleasant of face. A rather pale, symmetrical blotch of skin containing -his mouth, nose and part of each cheek, was outlined by his heavily -sunburned complexion. That would be the shadow of his oxygen mask, -Duncan surmised. "My name is Lee Bowen, your newly elected spokesman," -he went on. "My chief qualification is the biggest mouth and the -loudest voice on Mars. Before you leave you will have two elections -in which to vote, but until the next ship comes you'll have to put up -with me. And the girls here." He waved forward one of the slack-suited -females. Like the others she looked intelligent, but her closely -cropped brown hair and loose-fitting clothes almost concealed her sex. -Her face was pretty but seemed pale without make-up. "Discretion is the -better part of pallor," Duncan punned to himself.</p> - -<p>"Dr. Martha Rice is spokesman for the ladies." Bowen bowed briefly and -stepped back.</p> - -<p>The girl smiled and looked them over thoughtfully. "We have problems -here. I would like to emphasize a couple of them. Please don't -cut yourself, shaving or working. The slightest wound in our low -atmospheric pressure requires a compress bandage. They are nuisances. A -modestly deep gash can cost you your life."</p> - -<p>She paused and studied them some more. "And so I hope you are all -careful or at least thick-skinned. For another reason, too. Our second -problem here is the high price of love." The nine girls behind her -laughed as she looked back at them, but her face became serious.</p> - -<p>"You were led to believe that a kiss would cost you only $10,000.00. -Well, you were misled. The price is $20,000, and the market is wide -open. Any one of us will accommodate you, but you'll have to pay our -fine as well as your own."</p> - -<p>Duncan gasped at her first words, then, as they sank in, he smiled. -Morale, good. Morals, even better if this wasn't just an act. Applause -was enthusiastic, but there were no whistles.</p> - -<p>Bowen came up again as the girl sat down. "Remember that, gentlemen. -You came up here to earn a tenth of a million dollars. Believe me, -you'll earn it. But don't kiss it away. It's only worth five kisses up -here, and these girls will put you on report if you lay a finger on -them. If they don't, <i>they</i> go on report."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The first two days were spent unloading supply cargo and stowing -it. The out-going passengers took care of loading the stockpile of -concentrated minerals, so Duncan had no chance to talk with them. On -the third morning the ship was launched. The bustle of activity died, -and Duncan moved into the smooth mining routine like the polished cog -that he was.</p> - -<p>Personnel training was done on earth. All were preassigned to their -tasks, so the old crews had only to point. The mining operations went -on as if no replacements had been made. The men's work was roughly -divided into outside and inside work. Duncan's inside specialty was -feeding samples to a spectrograph and assisting the nuclear chemist -in charge of the lab. On alternate days he took his turn in the field -tending excavating equipment.</p> - -<p>Since the mine was located near the equator, this alternation of the -whole crew was necessary to reduce exposure to the miniature sun that -provided so little useful heat, yet whose ultra-violet pierced the -cloudless, thin atmosphere with vicious intensity.</p> - -<p>No one went hungry, but as the weeks passed the seeming variety of -food rations disappeared. The monotony of dehydrated vegetables and -meats palled. But worst was the silence. For ten hours each day almost -no communication passed among the workers. All breathable oxygen -had to be extracted from the oxides of minerals, and the by-product -oxygen from the mining operation was barely enough to supply the total -demands of their masks. So even the inside working areas were left to -Mars' unbreathable gases, and masks could be removed only in off-duty -quarters.</p> - -<p>Chief occupations in off-hours were games of chess, reading, writing -and activities that used a minimum of conversation. No one felt like -talking much after a full shift of sucking hard at oxygen to keep up -with his body's demand. Although the lessened gravity appeared to make -all physical labor easy, Duncan could never remember such complete -fatigue at the end of a working day. He ate, worked, played chess and -slept 10 hours a day.</p> - -<p>The women replacements had disappeared into their compound and -were seen no more. He wondered at the type of indoctrination they -were getting. Did it include an item concerning the use of <i>loving -hands</i>? Strangely, the men made no reference to the women, and he was -reluctant to draw attention by broaching the subject.</p> - -<p>The living quarters, mess-hall and recreation spaces were grouped -intimately, but placed in such a manner that windows and entries -allowed no casual glimpses of the women from the men's areas. Complete -security in the matter of segregation appeared to be guaranteed on the -honor system alone. All 140 men slept in one long bunk-room, all 20 -women in another.</p> - -<p>Intelligent men are not easily bored, but Peter Duncan discovered a -certain restlessness developing among the new men during the fourth -month. There was a tendency to break off in the middle of a chess game, -or to speak tersely. Duncan ascribed this to a phase of adjustment, -because the second term crew seemed better tempered.</p> - -<p>Then it began to bother <i>him</i>. He found himself developing an -unreasoning impatience. He began using profanity at slight annoyances. -The stiff soreness of chest, neck and back muscles became chronic, and -he began laying awake listening to his own rapid breathing, begrudging -every inhalation of his overworked lungs. The devil with expense! Why -didn't they at least pressurize the sleeping quarters so a man could -get some decent rest?</p> - -<p>He recognized the symptoms of increasing irritability in himself as it -distracted him even during his work. But he couldn't put his finger on -the cause. It grew worse. During the twelfth month he reached a stage -of exasperation that almost cost him his life.</p> - -<p>He was tightening a bolt on one of the spindles. The second time his -wrench slipped off the nut he squared away and threw the spanner at -the horizon. Too late he saw his crew-mate, geologist Magnus Porter. -Horrified he watched the wrench arc three times as far as it would have -on earth, and strike Porter in the face. He went down.</p> - -<p>When Duncan reached him the scientist's face was gushing blood, and his -smashed mask hissed its charge into the sterile air. Fortunately, they -were on the camp side of the pits, only two hundred yards from sickbay. -Porter weighed no more than a blanket roll, and the odds seemed good at -first. But before Duncan had bounded half the distance his lungs pumped -to the bursting point. His vision dimmed, and his legs faltered. He -tore off his mask, pressed it to Porter's face, gulped a chest full of -dead air and screamed for help.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Red streaks of pain tore through his head, down his neck muscles and -into his chest. The slightest breathing movements racked his lungs, -but, incredibly, they sucked in rich, sweet oxygen, heavy and dense.</p> - -<p>He knew he must be in a compression tank. The whispering pump and -muffled sound of voices outside were evidence enough, although he -couldn't open his eyes.</p> - -<p>The mists cleared quickly now, and the voices formed words. He -recognized Martha Rice's voice. "—anoxia. I can't determine how -severe. Have to wait and see. He may be all right when he gets over the -headache. Then again there may be permanent brain damage."</p> - -<p>Duncan hurt too much to care. He passed out again. When he regained -consciousness he realized the pressure was reduced, for his lungs were -pumping hard again. Then the coffin clanked apart, the sides dropped -and he was trying to focus on the ring of female faces that surrounded -him.</p> - -<p>"Hiya, Mister?" Martha's face settled down to a recognizable fuzz-ball.</p> - -<p>His head was clear now, but his throat was too tight to consider -speaking. He stared back blankly. The physician shook her head, -misunderstanding his failure to respond. A nurse rigged an intravenous -bottle, and they left him to his thoughts. He slept again, restlessly -this time. He dreamed of the accident, the wrench floating with -terrible slowness toward Porter. Abruptly, he was back on earth. His -mother was rubbing his neck and shoulders. Her hands were soft and -reassuring. They kneaded down over his pectoral muscles and massaged -his whole chest. But how did his mother know his chest hurt. You don't -hurt your chest playing tennis. But this chest did hurt, and the firm, -supple hands brought it warmth and life. His mother understood—</p> - -<p>His eyes flipped open, and he stared into the inverted face of a nurse, -stubby blonde curls bobbing crazily as her body swayed over him. "He's -up," she said aloud.</p> - -<p>Dr. Martha Rice moved into view. "I'll take over. Save yourself for -tonight, Muriel. It's getting rougher."</p> - -<p>The physician's hands replaced the nurse's, but the gentle, rhythmic -touch was the same. Duncan relaxed in an orgy of tactile ecstasy.</p> - -<p>"You are Peter Duncan. Do you understand?" she asked. He blinked, and -she took that for affirmation. "In fact," she continued, "you are now -Hero Peter Duncan."</p> - -<p>This didn't register right. Hero? They must have saved Porter's life, -but they didn't realize how it happened. And now she was misconstruing -his puzzled expression. "I am Dr. Martha Rice. Remember me?"</p> - -<p>All Duncan could think of now was the hands. <i>Loving hands.</i> What was -the right answer? If he answered wrong the hands would stop. He closed -his eyes. <i>Loving hands.</i> He remembered his mission.</p> - -<p>How could he have better arranged it? This was ideal. By feigning slow -recovery he could—</p> - -<p>The hands stopped. A finger peeled back an eyelid. "You are awake. Come -to, mister!"</p> - -<p>Duncan opened the other eye and stared at her and let his lips part. -"Thuh!" he grunted.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was night. Duncan was detached from the intravenous needle and tube, -and a small compress bandage covered the throbbing vein where his blood -had boiled out when the needle was withdrawn. He had decided to reveal -enough recovery to take oral nourishment.</p> - -<p>The wall chronometer, adjusted to the slightly longer Mars' day, read -2300, an hour before midnight. He was alone. It should have been quiet, -but several times heavy footsteps had passed down the hall near his -tiny room. The sick bay was attached to the women's quarters.</p> - -<p>Distinctly he heard an outside door open and the clump of safety boots -passed his room. Slipping off the high bed he opened his door and -looked into the hall. It was a man. Even in the dim light there was no -mistaking the broad physique.</p> - -<p>Duncan whipped a sheet around his nude body and followed a few yards -to where the visitor had disappeared through a curtained arch. Before -the curtains stopped swaying he saw the outlines of cots within. It was -the women's sleeping room! His stomach turned cold.</p> - -<p>So the legend of the song was based on fact. And his trip out here was -justified after all. And what now, after he had uncovered the mess with -his own eyes?</p> - -<p>He approached the curtains uncertainly. A sob from within startled him. -It was a man's cry. A girl's voice said something softly reassuring, -and all was still again.</p> - -<p>Duncan lurched through the arch and stood rooted. The denunciation died -in his throat. Twenty single bunks were spaced around the walls. Each -was occupied, but only three girls were asleep. The rest were sitting -on the edge with their feet on the floor. At each girl's feet with his -back resting against her legs was a member of the male company. The -pale light of Deimos, Mars' second moon, shone through the overhead -panes to reveal the secret of the loving hands.</p> - -<p>Duncan watched seventeen pairs of arms encircling the necks of as many -men, hands reaching down under loose jackets to massage aching chests -and rising to knead gently on tired shoulder muscles. Fingers strayed -tenderly over masculine foreheads and necks with unmistakable caressing -motions.</p> - -<p>The prone figure near him stirred, and a sleepy face looked up at him. -"Oh, my gosh, it's Duncan!" she said. It was Martha Rice. She slipped -from the blankets and drew him over to her bunk. "Sit down," she -invited.</p> - -<p>Stunned, Duncan lowered himself to the edge of the bed. "No, not there! -Down, boy! On the deck," she pointed. "The fellows would get the wrong -idea, patient or no patient."</p> - -<p>Duncan complied, leaning against her warm legs as the others were -doing. She sighed, yawned audibly, and began the massaging routine. -With the touch of her hands the confusion left Duncan's tortured mind. -Propaganda, morality arguments, missions into space and the importance -of $10,000 fines disappeared. This was real. A woman's heart reaching -out through her hands to comfort her man. It was physical, but it -transcended the physical. It justified the rigid segregation rules even -as it glorified them and violated them.</p> - -<p>The need of man for woman was too great for any barrier. And no woman -could refuse giving of herself when the need was desperate enough.</p> - -<p>Three more men came through the curtains.</p> - -<p>Two found girls, but the third stood hesitantly. A girl on the next -bunk from Duncan and Martha, rubbed her man's head briskly and said -quietly, "Good night, mister. Got another customer. See you soon." She -waved in the new man as the other heaved reluctantly to his feet. "Good -night, honey," he said simply and left.</p> - -<p>Men stepped over Duncan's legs coming and going, without remark, -without greeting.</p> - -<p>Almost no conversation took place. A whispered good night or a soft -word of comfort, and then minutes of silence except for the rustle of -deep sighing breathing.</p> - -<p>Then Martha's hands stopped. She pulled him to his feet and led him -toward the arch. Instantly several girls' heads turned toward them. -"Want help, Doctor?" one asked almost sharply.</p> - -<p>"No thanks, Claire. This boy's sick."</p> - -<p>She led him back to his room. He turned his back to the bed as though -to sit down, but instead he moved to her. She slid into his arms as -though it were rehearsed, and he crushed her close to him. Through -their light garments he felt her body strain for a brief moment then -completely relax. She peeled away from his lips.</p> - -<p>"Mister, that will cost you just $10,000. You're on report!"</p> - -<p>The shock of her voice was a cold plunge back to another reality. -Duncan's hands fell to his sides and he sat down heavily, head bowed. -Martha lifted his legs, untwined the sheet and tucked in the blankets. -Suddenly she dropped to him and pressed her face to his. "You poor -devil! You poor, poor, devil!" Her tears rolled down to his face, and -she cried unrestrainedly for more than a minute. Duncan kept his hands -at his sides, and it was his greatest triumph of self-control.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He gave himself two days to affect recovery. On the second morning he -called for Dr. Martha Rice. She came in alone, her darkly handsome face -inscrutable. "You are better, I hear. For exactly how long have you -been feeling better?"</p> - -<p>Duncan smiled. "Long enough to want to get out of here. How is Magnus -Porter?"</p> - -<p>"He left an hour ago. He'll wear a bandage for a week, but your mask -saved him from anything serious. That was quite a gesture, my boy. As I -mentioned the other night, you are on report—"</p> - -<p>Duncan winced.</p> - -<p>"—for a citation for heroism beyond the call of duty."</p> - -<p>"You're quite a girl, yourself," Duncan said. "Where are my pants? I -have some ore to get out before the next ship. We mustn't return short -of cargo, must we?"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, <i>we</i>? You have a term and a half to complete," she -said.</p> - -<p>"I'm here on a special assignment, and we'll be going out together on -the next ship."</p> - -<p>"I will, but you—you! What kind of special assignment?"</p> - -<p>"Some fuddy-duds down sunward had some foolish ideas about reducing -the crew out here by some twenty persons. You know, trying to save -money. I'm to report upon your dispensability. I will be pleased to -report that the women's contingent is completely and magnificently -indispensable to General Fission. Which reminds me, will you have -dinner with me when we get home?"</p> - -<p>Martha was somewhat paler. She leaned against the door. "And <i>I</i> put -<i>you</i> on report!"</p> - -<p>"Answer my question, girl, and hand me my pants."</p> - -<p>"Your question? Oh. Yes. Yes, of course, I'll have dinner with you. -Here are your pants."</p> - -<p>"And breakfast and lunch?"</p> - -<p>"Is this a proposal?"</p> - -<p>"Proposals on Mars violate our contract. So do propositions, so let's -just call it a date."</p> - -<p>"Date?" Martha fondled the word that sounded so alien and lovely. She -smiled. "All right, Peter, it's a date."</p> - -<pre style='margin-top:6em'> -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GEISHA MEMORY *** - -This file should be named 63687-h.htm or 63687-h.zip - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/6/8/63687/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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