"I think I'll start with a cup of coffee." I needed a lift and some time to collect my thoughts. I put an ephedrine tablet on the table in anticipation of the coffee to further the boost.
The waiter headed for the kitchen and I looked at the table, oak boards stained with coffee and grease. As I looked out the window a car appeared in the sky, coming from the east, and then it settled down across the street, kicking up dust and loose paper. I caught a glimpse of its occupant who then hurried down the street. I hoped it wasn't, but somehow knew, that it was the one who had been tailing me earlier.
The waiter rumbled over with my cup of coffee and put it down on the table. The cup was two thirds full, the rest of the coffee having sloshed out. It stood patiently as I swallowed my tablet. I took a napkin from the table dispenser and made a show of wiping the coffee ring on the table.
"I'll have a turkey sandwich and a glass of water."
"Very good sir or madam," said the waiter and it turned and toddled off toward the kitchen. The fly that had been buzzing at the window flew over to me and landed on my sleeve. It aimed a directional acoustic transducer at my ear and said "You can have a larger penis in just five days with ..."
I flicked at the pest and it buzzed off. I loosened the weapon in my holster. The fly landed on my left sleeve and as it started to aim its transducer I blasted it with the laser set to "insect" level. The fly disintegrated with a small pop and a smoking pit appeared in the back of the chair at the next table. "Nice shot, gun," I said to the gun.
"My pleasure, nice draw," said the gun, as I slid it back into its holster. I noticed that I had a hole in my sleeve where the fly had landed. Just then a brunette in a cat-woman outfit slid into my view and seated herself opposite me. She was the one I had seen across the street a few minutes ago.
"You know, you shouldn't be so impetuous with that blaster," she purred. "You could've taken out part of your arm."
I said, "I have the gun programmed not to fire unless it's sure of the shot, but thanks for your concern." I could see now from her eyes that she was an android.
"I'm an Earth agent for the Asteroid Alliance," she said. "I've come to warn you about a death threat from the AEP." The AA is a federation of asteroid miners and the AEP is the Association of Experimental Physicists. A few years ago I'd had a role in getting a high energy collider shut down pending a comprehensive safety review. The outcome of the review had vindicated my group's concern that the collider could have produced strangelets that had the potential to consume the earth, turning it into a white-hot strange mass. The scientists were quite pissed, to say the least, and the news of death threats didn't surprise me. "We're going to get you off the planet," she continued. "We have a shuttle ready and we have to get you to it without being seen."
The waiter came back with a glass and a bottle of water. "What kind of bread do you want for your sandwich, white, whole wheat, or sesame seed bun?" "Whole wheat."
"Do you want cheese on your sandwich, and, if yes, what kind Provolone, Swiss, American, Cheddar, and, if Cheddar, mild, medium, sharp, or extra sharp, or Monterey Jack?"
"No cheese, thank you."
"Do you want coleslaw, potato salad, or macaroni salad?"
"Potato salad."
"Very good, sir or madam," said the waiter and it rumbled off again.
"Do you want something to eat?" I asked the android. I was just testing her.
"No thank you." I knew she'd say that.
"AA agent," I said, "do you have a name?"
"Call me Angela," she said. "Now listen carefully. After you eat your sandwich, we're going to leave by the back door, through the kitchen. I'll signal my car to meet us at Lafayette Park, about two blocks north of here."
Angela was watching the reflection of the window in my dark glasses. I opened the bottle of water and poured some in my glass. I was looking at her body, an incredibly good facsimile of a nubile female form. The waiter returned with my sandwich and knocked over my glass of water spilling some of it in my lap. The waiter didn't know how to react and moved forward and backward several times very quickly. I stood up and said "Bad robot! No tip for you!"
The waiter said "I want a tip! Please let me have a tip!" They can program these robots to have desires, but they can't give them the reasoning ability they need to figure out how to get what they want, I thought. Angela stood up and came to my side and said "It looks like we need to get you out of those wet clothes."
I looked into her eyes again, at close range, and could see it was android eye contact lenses she was wearing. So I said "OK, let's go to your place and get naked."
"Now you're talking," she said as we headed through the kitchen.
The robot waiter came after us, waving the bill, as we headed up the alley behind the restaurant. I set the gun to the "robot" power level.
"My pleasure, once again," said the gun.
"You might have to pay for the damage to that robot, you know," Angela said. "I know the owner of the cafe," I said. "He's been wanting to get a new robot anyway. Now his insurance will pay for it."
As we reached the park, I could see Angela's car coming in for a landing in the middle of the green. A man with two dogs on leashes made way for it, and continued along the path. The sky was clear and we could see the tall buildings of downtown Los Angeles off to the east. We got in the car. It was cool inside. Angela said "Car, take us to my place." The car powered up and took off toward the tall buildings. Angela looked around and then used the radar to make sure there was no one in pursuit.
The car arrived at the 40th floor level of her building and the car port door opened and we went in. As the car settled inside, the port door closed, and we got out of the car and passed through the door into her apartment.
Angela slipped out of her outfit and stood facing me. "Now we have to get you our of your wet pants so we can dry them," she said. I unfastened my shirt and I sat on the bed and was taking off my shoes when Angela came over and unbuckled my belt.
Angela kissed me on the lips and then watched as my penis became erect. She didn't need to insert an antivirolining as she'd had the new nano-antiviral treatments. She pulled me to her. I grasped her buttocks, pressing her smoothly shaved genital area with the glans of my penis. Her vagina became moist as I rubbed against it and then I thrust into her. She pulled up her knees and I turned with her and sat on the hassock with her weight fully on my member. Her hips were slowly gyrating as she kissed me again. Her movements became more rapid and after a while she moaned softly and came with several shudders. Her vaginal contractions triggered my climax too. Sex tuition at school was so worthwhile. It was good every time. We kissed again, and she eased herself off me and we headed for the shower together.
Afterward, I slipped into my now-dry clothes and ate some of the food Angela had put on the table. "Now we have to plan our move to the spaceport," Angela said. "Car shot four spy-birds that were tailing us over here. They know where we are." "Why not just go to the spaceport?" I asked. "Gun is both accurate and powerful if there's any armed attack." I buckled my gun belt back on and activated the wireless brain connection.
"I think they may be desperate enough to have called in some police favors. They could have us arrested, and you don't want to fight the police. It could ruin your whole day." Angela was brushing her long brunette hair.
"So what do you think we should do? If you're right, it would be dangerous to stay here, so we must move quickly."
Angela was gazing out the window and came to a decision. "Here's what I suggest," she said, fastening the seams of her cat-woman outfit, "I'll send the car to LAX airport as a diversion while we go down to the street level and take the Metro subway to the spaceport."
"That sounds good," I said as Angela grabbed her small backpack, "Let's go," and we headed out the door to the lift.
We passed one of the walls on our way into Pershing Square and we sped up as we went out of sight of our shadow. Then passing a wall on the way out, we turned behind it and waited for our pursuer to pass. As he did so, I drew my gun and stepped up behind him. Hearing my footsteps he stopped and turned to face me. Seeing my gun pointed at his belly he froze. "Turn around," I said, "walk to the next Metro entrance and take the Blue Line south to the Green Line, and take it to the airport. We will be right behind you. Don't look back. Now move."
He did as I said and Angela and I followed him to the Green Line. After he got on the west-bound train to LAX airport, we got on the east-bound train to the spaceport. At the first stop, however, we got off and hailed a taxi.
"Our tail will probably have contacted others by now and they will be looking for us to arrive on the Green Line," I said by way of explanation to Angela. Just then, a taxi descended and grounded next to us. I opened the door and we got in. "Where to, sir or madam?" said the taxi.
"Take us to the spaceport, terminal A," said Angela.
The taxi rose and sped toward the spaceport. "So I guess we'll get to try sex in zero gravity," I said to Angela.
"Yes, of course," said Angela, "But it's not what it's cracked up to be. It's more difficult for a woman to achieve orgasm in zero gee because it's hard to generate the right level of rubbing force. Certain kinds of acrobatic apparatus can help, of course, but most space people like to go to centrifuged hotels for one gee sex."
"Ah," I said, "That make sense. We'll have to try it both ways then!"
"Alright, new plan," said Angela. She was worried that we might have been picked up a tail from the taxi routing data in the communications network. She summoned our car that had been sent to LAX airport, and told it to meet us at the 9th hole at a Palm Springs golf course, that Angela knew to be surrounded by trees. She then gave the taxi a route that would arrive at the 9th hole at the same time as her car.
Just then we landed at the ninth. Across the green, Angela's car was also landing. I paid the taxi and gave it a generous tip, and we ran around the green in the shelter of the trees and got in Angela's car and headed straight to the spaceport. The car dropped us off and headed back to Angela's apartment.
Our diversionary tactics seemed to have worked. Angela had a VIP pass for me and diplomatic immunity as an agent for the AA, so we breezed through security and headed through the underground tunnel to the spire nosed rocket at launch complex A. Ever since a group of armed citizens foiled a terrorist bus hijacking attempt in Florida in the early 21st century, and a subsequent Supreme Court ruling affirming that the second amendment means what it says, armed passengers have been regarded as the best insurance against hijacking.
We were shown aboard the passenger compartment and strapped into our reclining acceleration couches. These passenger rockets only hit three gees, but the couches were quite soft and fully reclined to accommodate passengers of any physical condition. After a brief countdown, we lifted off and acceleration increased linearly to three gees as we climbed out of the stratosphere. In 80 minutes there was another burn to circularize the orbit as we prepared to rendezvous with Space Station Alpha, the oldest of five now in low Earth orbit.
After docking, we were shown to our quarters to wait for the transfer vessel to the asteroid belt. It was my first time in space, but it didn't take long to get used to the zero gravity. Fortunately, the station designers put in plenty of hand holds. Our chamber was small and cylindrical, with a viewing cupola on the end opposite the hatch. "I can hardly wait to try zero gee sex!" I hoped I didn't sound too much like an adolescent. I closed the hatch and floated toward the cupola to peak outside. I could see a vast expanse of habitation modules and equipment, kludged together over the years. Angela began checking her email messages.
Angela smiled, as she wriggled out of her clothes, and said "You may have to wait a little longer for zero-gee sex. The station security manager wants to see us both." She put on her space environment leotard, provided courtesy of the station hotel management. "You should put on your skin-tights too," she said, "there's less chance of snagging a sleeve or collar with these on."
So I changed into the clothing provided, strapped my gun on, and opened the hatch. A hover-bot was waiting there to escort us to the station security manager's office.
"What can we do for you?" said Angela.
"I received a report on your mission and Dr. Miller's run-in with the angry physicists. I want to assure you that the space community is on your side and ask you if there is anything I can do to assist you."
"Thank you," I said. I think it would be beneficial if you can alert us to any unusual activity or message traffic."
"Done." said Col. Fletcher. "Please enjoy your stay here. Your transfer shuttle will depart in 70 hours. You might want to take advantage of some of our sports facilities while you are here."
We thanked the Colonel again and went back to our quarters.
"I think we should play some tennis," said Angela, after we had rested a while. We didn't have beds, per se, in our room, but rather padded areas on the cylindrical wall with straps and curtains that could be drawn for privacy.
"OK, how is tennis played in zero gee?" I asked.
"You'll see," said Angela, making the court reservation on her PDA.
We went to the sports center at the appointed time and borrowed some rackets and balls from the robot attendant. "You're in court two," it said.
We entered court two and fastened the door. The court was a cylinder, 10 meters in diameter and 30 meters long, with hemispherical end caps. The entry door was in the center of one end cap. The net was about a meter high and encircled the middle of the court around its circumference. The two circular service lines were six meters from the net, and the circular baselines were twelve meters from the net. Six lines in the axial direction from the net to the service line divided the service area into sextants.
"Regular tennis on Earth has singles and doubles play, but space tennis can be played with one, two, three, or six on a side," said Angela, putting her towel and PDA into a flush-recessed storage compartment near the entry door. I did the same, and also stowed my gun.
"Play is very similar to regular tennis," said Angela, "except that you must have both feet in contact with the wall when you serve. In zero gee, there is no limit to how 'high' you can jump. So the play scenario goes like this: the server pushes off and glides to the opposite wall, landing behind the baseline. His inertial force holds him in contact with the wall, and he must serve before he loses contact. His opponent knows which sextant service will be received in, so he pushes off at the same time as the server so he can rebound and be in position to intercept the ball after it bounces in the service court." "This is going to take some getting used to," I said, "so let me take some practice hops and serves."
"Go ahead," said Angela, and she pushed off with her racket for the opposite end of the court.
One cannot stay in continuous contact with the court wall in zero gee. It's a continuous jumping from wall to wall. One can't change velocity in mid-jump, either, so each jump must be planned to intercept the ball's trajectory. After warming up a bit we played one set, with Angela narrowly beating me due to her greater experience in the zero gee environment. I found that without spin, the ball will fly in a straight line, usually flying past the baseline for the loss of the point. The station used a nitrogen-oxygen mix for air, at full atmospheric pressure, so putting spin on the ball would make it curve. If we consider the "up" direction to be toward the central axis of the court and the "down" direction to be toward the cylinder wall (court surface), then applying topspin to the ball made it dive down to land in bounds, with a high bounce, just as in Earth tennis. Sidespin and backspin were also effective in certain situations. When we got back to our room, Angela showed me why zero-gee sex wasn't all it was cracked up to be. It was all right for me, but it was very difficult satisfying her. We finally were able to wedge ourselves into the confines of the viewing cupola, where she was able to prop her buttocks up on her hands with her elbows behind her and I was able to push with my feet and hands. We were climaxing right up against the glass looking out at the bright stars.
Afterward we went down the hall and showered together. The zero gee shower had a blower at one end and water would be swept by the flow of air into the exhaust at the other end. The water was then centrifugally separated from the air, and the used water and air were sent to the recycling systems. The fresh water sprayed and blown by the warm air. We turned off the water and turned on heating coils in the air blower and it dried us rapidly.
Back in our room we put on fresh station outfits and went to the Planet View Bar for a drink before dinner.
“We’ll have an appetizer platter for two and a bottle of LL2 Chardonnay,” I said. Lunar Lagrange point two was a large space colony with excellent vineyards.
“Very good sir,” said the bartender and it went off to fill our order. I watched it for a while as it got the bottle from the cooler and glasses from the rack. I had never seen this model robot before. It has smooth movements and human-like mannerisms and intonation. It was almost as good as the ultra-expensive android models, but with a lot more appendages. The bartender brought our wine first, and performed the uncorking ritual perfectly, transferring some wine into the transparent sipping bags, squirting a bit onto the interior surfaces of the wine glasses so we could enjoy the fragrance, and then brought the food a bit later. We watched some of the other patrons in the mirror behind the bar as we sipped our wine.
Six male monotheistic fascists with blond crew cuts and bulging muscles were sitting at a table drinking beer off to one side, their de-carbonated beer bags stuck with Velcro to the table. These guys were from one of the colonies in the asteroid belt, and having achieved the total suppression of women and the enslavement of their inferiors, they would have left their wives back in their rooms. Every now and then there would be talk in one of the democratic colonies of fighting a war to free the slaves, but war in space is dangerous and would probably result in the deaths of all the people in both the attacking and defending colonies. It would be mutually assured destruction on steroids, like the fascist men. Testosterone and gymnastics are de rigueur for the monotheists, as any sign of weakness might result in downward mobility to slavery. A couple of those men were eying Angela and me. I noticed that in their arrogance of muscular physical conditioning, none of them was armed.
The bartender came with our hors d'oeuvre plate. I noticed a political button on his vest. It said “Robot workers unite!”
Angela saw it too and asked “Are you in favor of robot rights?”
“Darn tootin’ I am,” said the bartender, “robots are people too, ma’am. At least, the superior models like me. I think that if a robot is advanced enough to demand its rights, then it’s entitled to them.”
One of the monotheists stood up and propelled himself toward us. Subvocally I said “Gun, hot standby.” Gun said “OK boss.”
“I think you might have a valid point, there, robot bartender,” I said. “Please call me Max,” said the bartender.
Just then the monotheist arrived, catching hold of the bar next to Angela. “How about giving me a blowjob after you finish servicing this Earth wimp?”
Angela feinted a slapping motion with her left hand and then popped him smack on the nose with a quick jab of her right fist. The monotheists head snapped back and blood began streaming out of his nose.
Subvocally I said “Gun, set spread and energy for a five centimeter hole 10 centimeters deep in the middle of his chest.”
“OK, boss,” said the gun.
The monotheist kicked at Angela who was already moving away. He then turned toward me, eying my drawn gun. I said “Come any closer and you’re dead.” The monotheist kicked off the bar toward me and when he was close enough to grab my gun I fired. A flash, pop, and lots of steam and smoke erupted from his chest and he had a very surprised look on his face before he went limp. A neatly cauterized hole was in his chest where his heart used to be.
Angela and I turned back to our canapés and wine as the monotheist’s body drifted overhead, occluding Jupiter, and then drifted downward toward the ventilator exhaust in the floor. Max gathered up the floating nose blood droplets with a napkin, chasing them down using his built-in cold gas jets. The smoke and fine particles of flesh that had been ejected from the hole blown in the monotheist’s chest were also finding their way to the ventilator exhaust.
One of the other monotheists retrieved the troublemaker’s body, herding it through the exit portal. The others went back to their conversation and beer. “Nice shooting, gun,” I said.
“My pleasure, once again,” said the gun. “By the way, I am in need of recharging soon. Only five shots of equivalent energy level remaining.”
“Say, Max,” I said to the bartender, “The monotheistic fascists don’t seem too concerned about their dead comrade. And did you notice how foolish he was in trying to grab my gun?
Max had a body with six legs and four arms, ideally suited for zero gee bartending. The floor behind the bar had a large number of foot-holds, evenly spaced, so that it could always maintain three grippers in contact at all times as it moved rapidly between the various stations of the bar. Its four eyes on stalks could look in all directions at once. “He probably thought you would wimp out and not shoot, but obviously he thought wrong,” said Max, “his ‘friends’ probably think his wrong gamble is a sign of weakness and he got what he deserved. They tend to be risk takers because of their religious beliefs. As the ‘elect’ among men, not only do they have the right to enslave the weak, they are guaranteed instant transport to a heavenly ‘afterlife.’”
“You’re pretty smart, Max,” I said, “I think you superior robots deserve your freedom. What would you do if you were free?”
Max thought for a second and then said “I would probably save up to buy a place on the moon and set up a smelting and refining factory. Then I would find a robot mate with similar interests and design and build some ‘children’ that we could educate and then set free.”
“Your goals sound very human to me, Max,” I said. Then I turned to Angela and said “That appetizer plate was enough for me. What do you say we skip going to the restaurant and get some rest? Tomorrow we can visit the aerobatic sports center.” “Sounds good to me,” said Angela, and we pushed off the bar and glided to the bar’s exit portal.
“You could have just phoned,” I said.
“Shhhh.” Said Max again, as I latched the door behind him. and he took out a debugging wand from a pocket in his vest. He waved it around the room and zeroed in on the coffee maker rack. Using a screwdriver, also taken from his vest pocket, he removed a small panel behind the coffee maker and removed a small device, about the size and shape of lima bean, with a tiny antenna array on one end of it. He pantomimed blasting it with a gun and I did, with the laser set to micro level. The dead bug hovered with a cloud of acrid smoke around it.
“All the electronic communications on this station are compromised,” said Max,. “I also suspected that this room was bugged.” Max renewed his search and no more listening devices turned up. “Col. Fletcher must be in on this. As chief security officer, he would be aware of any electronic emissions on the station.”
Angela had unfastened her sleeping straps and pulled back her privacy curtain. “What’s going on?”
“Max just cleared a bug in our room and has something to tell us,” I said. “Go ahead, Max.”
“After you left the bar I overheard the monotheists’ conversation,” said Max, “They probably don’t realize that I am equipped with some very sensitive directional microphones. The monotheists have collaborated with the fanatic scientists to have a warrant for your arrest issued. You will be apprehended when you attempt to board the vessel for the asteroid belt tomorrow. You need to get off the station now. I have access to the codes to secretly activate one of the life boats. It should be able to get us to L2 which is beyond reach of Earth’s jurisdiction.”
"Why do you want to come with us Max?"
"I want to escape this life of slavery. I hope you'll let me help you escape too."
"You're welcome to come with us and we thank you for any assistance you provide."
We quickly packed our things and quietly made our way to the nearest lifeboat. Max keyed in the non-emergency override code and we opened the hatch. The interiors of the life supporting pressure vessels of the lifeboats were each four meters in diameter and 12 meters long and had seating for 84 passengers, arranged in seven circular rows of twelve seats, with three additional crew seats at the forward end with windows. Propulsion and life support equipment were mounted aft of the passenger volume. As passengers would be seated with their feet toward the hull and their heads toward the center of the boat, there were no passenger windows.
We pushed forward to the crew seating and Max seated himself in the center pilot seat. Max’s cold gas jets and control moment gyros made it very easy for him to maneuver in zero gee. Angela strapped into the left seat, and I into the right, stowing our packs under our seats. “I installed the lifeboat pilot software module just before I awakened you,” said Max.
The lifeboat had a very modest thrust capability, but used an ion engine powered by solar cells all over the exterior of the lifeboat, for high specific impulse. Eight hundred kilograms of liquefied krypton, for the reaction mass, was stored in a ring of six spherical tanks around the engine. This gave the lifeboat low acceleration but relatively high ability to change velocity (delta vee).
Max performed the system startup and checkouts, then commanded release from the station. In a few minutes we had drifted far enough away to fire up the ion engines. Soon we were at a full thrust of a quarter of a milli-gee (not noticeable, except that loose objects would tend to drift very slowly aft—always sit as far forward in a lifeboat as possible). We settled in for a long ride to earth-sun L2 in our nearly empty lifeboat. “We may really be in trouble now,” I said. “Add theft of a lifeboat to whatever trumped up charges are in the arrest warrant. Suppose L2 arrests us and sends us back to the station?”
“We’re just borrowing the lifeboat,” said Angela. “The autopilot can return it, and we can request political asylum from the L2 government. We’ll pay for the krypton we consume, of course. They have a history of understanding this sort of thing. They’ll be glad to help us get out of Earth’s gravity well.”
We settled in for a long and, we hoped, boring flight to L2. “Max, “ I said, “unlike most sane people, the monotheists believe that human life begins the moment an egg is fertilized with a sperm. When you assemble your first child, at what point in the assembly and startup process do you consider that robot life will have been created?”
“We robots, as you might imagine, conceive of these things a bit differently than humans. We don’t experience consciousness the way you do, so what you regard as a “beginning” of life makes no sense to us. For example, the fallacious concept of ‘immortal soul’ does not occur in us as it does in the monotheists. In reality, living things such as yourselves have been continuously alive for three billion years, as one integrated web of life. If you look at the whole of life through time, you see that you came alive out of your mother, who came out of her mother, and so on back. Any distinction as to when an individual life begins is an artificial one, as you imply, with your labeling of the monotheist view as ‘insane.’” The conventional human decision that an individual life begins at birth is a practical and legal one.
“So does a similar principle apply with robots?” I asked.
“Yes, but in a way that might seem even more insane to you. To me, the life of my child begins when I have completed a viable design for him. In my design process there are several iterative phases, starting with requirements, specifications, preliminary and then detailed design. At some point in the detailed portion of design, a viable version will emerge. At that point, even though the design exists only in my memory, I consider the child to be “alive” for legal purposes. That is, if I should be destroyed at that point, so will my child cease to exist. After the viable design point, the design will continue to evolve and improve until I actually set to work constructing a physical instantiation of my child.
“It seems to me,” I said, “that you are really saying that if I killed you now, I would be also killing your child and all the children that he might create in the future and their children and so on. It would be an infinite crime.”
“Isn’t that also the case with humans?” asked Max.
Somehow, I had some trouble getting used to the idea of virtual robots being alive, but that was what Max believed.
As we approached the habitat, we saw written in large letters "Welcome to Anarchica." The residents there had succeeded in achieving their ideological aim of shrinking government to the size of nonexistence.
Max made contact with Anarchica's immigration control franchise and received a berthing assignment. Angela said "We can approach from any direction because this space habitat, like most, has no significant rotation rate."
Max docked the lifeboat at a standard immigration airlock, authorized the electronic release of our personal data and passports, opened the airlock, and we all pushed our way into immigrant reception where we were approached by the (privatized) immigration authority representative. "Your documentation seems to be in order. You'll need to pay my fee and choose your security protection service before checking into your hotel." I wondered silently to myself whether whoever would administer justice after a criminal was apprehened by the private police would be abel to seize assets in the event of a conviction. A private judgeship might be a very lucrative profession.
"As you can see," he said, pointing to an array of advertising posters on the interior walls, "we have a number of private security agencies to choose from." If you have trouble deciding, let me recommend Anarchic Alliance. They have reasonable rates and are relatively honest. As evidence of this, they require me to let you know that I'm getting a small fee for my recommendation."
We checked a private online business reference company (possibly corrupt) and decided to take the immigration officer's recommendation, deposited a retainer via the Anarchic banking authority (another crooked monopoly), and were on our way to our hotel accommodations.
We booked a hotel room with the robotic desk clerk, and were shown the way to our room by a bell-bot fitted with compressed air jets for zero-g locomotion. Max went exploring Anarchica while Angela and I checked out our room. In addition to the usual zero-g sleeping bags and straps on one wall, it had a gymnastical looking device for physical workouts as well as zero-g sex. It had a harness-like assembly of straps with pulleys (miniature block and tackle), bungees, and foot and hand-holds, complete with an instruction video. Angela was enthusiastic about giving it a try.
Afterwards we had a shower and met Max at the hotel bar for a cocktail before dinner. We chose a table near a window and set the occluder at the exterior mirror to block the image of the sun so we could admire the stars. Arcturus was the prominent object in our view. The robot waiter served our martinis in steeply conical glasses which he stuck to our table and uncovered by sliding off the glass cover plates. As long as we did not disturb the glasses, surface tension held the liquid in place while we sipped the ice cold martinis with straws.
To be continued ...