FOR US THE LIVING BY ROBERT A. HEINLEIN

“No, that is a replica. It’s a museum of California history.”

“There’s Nob Hill! And the Fairmont Hotel.”

“You’re right, but I don’t see how you recognized it. It’s only been there ten years.”

“I can see how it’s not the same building. But it’s in the right place.” The car changed course and commenced leisurely to circle the city in a clockwise direction. Several other aircraft were in the same circle at the same speed.

“The streets are decked over, aren’t they? What’s that moving under the glass decks?”

“Those are the streets, with people traveling on them.”

“But how? I don’t see any automobiles or other vehicles, yet they are going pretty fast.”

“The streets move in strips. The strip nearest the buildings goes five kilometers an hour, then next ten and so on to the middle. Those have seats on them and travel forty kilometers.”

“How about the end of the line?”

“The end of the line? Oh, they travel in loops. If you stay on one you come back to where you started. The cross traffic is on a lower level, naturally. Shall we land, Perry?”

His brow furrowed. “What do you think? I probably don’t know how to behave. Besides I can’t go into a city like this, can I?” He indicated his bare condition.

“No real reason why you shouldn’t, except to avoid being conspicuous. But the public kit you bought yesterday is by you in the locker under the bench you are sitting on.” Diana dug it out, and gave it to him. Perry donned it. It consisted of a kilt of bright blue silk hung on a broad leather belt with pockets and hooks in it. A strap over one shoulder helped to support the belt. Slashes in the kilt were lined with bright silver stuff which glittered as he moved. The belt and strap were black with chromium fittings which matched his sandals. Diana surveyed him.

“There. All set? Then I’ll land us.” Diana put the car down carefully through a maze of traffic onto a platform on Nob Hill. Before leaving the car she picked up a garment of her own and slipped it on. It was a Grecian tunic of black velvet, caught at the right shoulder with a jeweled silver clip. The right side hung open. The left shoulder and breast were bare. Perry whistled.

“Dian’, you look perfectly gorgeous in that outfit, but in my home town they would toss us in jail and throw away the key.”

“What for?”

“Indecent exposure.”

“How silly. Let’s go.”

Diana received a check from the parking attendant, and they started for the stairs. It was cold on the platform. Perry felt goose flesh form on his chest and a sharp wind fluttered his kilt. Diana appeared not to mind. But it was warm in the stairway. As they rode to the street level Perry glanced at the other passengers. Apparently he and Diana were sufficiently clad. Most of the women wore as much as Diana, but several of them wore more provocative clothes. Passing the seventh level he noticed leaning in a doorway marked CORECTIV MASAJ a big Scandinavian girl clad only in a bored look. No one seemed to take special note of her. The men’s costumes were varied. Many of them wore coveralls of heavy cloth. These Perry judged to be mechanics from the platform. A goodly number were dressed much as Perry was. He noticed one old gentleman in a Roman toga, who read a newspaper as he rode. But in a moment they debarked at the street level and Perry was too busy to worry much about clothes. They were caught in a swirl of foot traffic at the landing which separated him from Diana. He felt a wave of panic as he looked for her and failed to find her. Then a little warm hand slipped into his and he heard her voice. “Let me hold your hand. I nearly got carried away.” He looked down at her face and knew that she was being diplomatic, but he didn’t care. He held her hand tightly.

“What do you want to see, Perry?”

“Gosh, I don’t know. Suppose you show me around a bit. If I think of anything, I’ll tell you.”