He stood up. “Don’t eat too many sandwiches. I’m going to take you out to a restaurant where there will be food, among other things… and such food as Zeus promised the gods-and failed to deliver.”
“I don’t want to take up too much of your time, sir.” Don was still hoping to get out on the town by himself. He had a dismaying vision of dinner in some stuffy rich man’s club, followed by an evening of highfalutin talk. And it was his last night on Earth.
“Time? What is time? Each hour ahead is as fresh as was the one we just used. You registered at the Caravansary?”
“No, sir, I just checked my bags at the station.”
“Good. You’ll stay here tonight; we’ll send for your luggage later.” Dr. Jefferson’s manner changed slightly. “But your mail was to be sent to the hotel?”
“That’s right.”
Don was surprised to see that Dr. Jefferson looked distinctly worried. “Well, we’ll check into that later. That package I sent to you—would it be forwarded promptly?”
“I really don’t know, sir. Ordinarily the mail comes in twice a day. If it came in after I left, it would ordinarily wait over until morning. But if the headmaster thought about it, he might have it sent into town special so that I would get it before up-ship tomorrow morning.”
“Mean to say there isn’t a tube into the school?”
“No, sir, the cook brings in the morning mail when he shops and the afternoon mail is chuted in by the Roswell copter bus.”
“A desert island! Well… we’ll check around midnight. If it hasn’t arrived then—never mind.” Nevertheless he seemed perturbed and hardly spoke during their ride to dinner.
The restaurant was misnamed The Back Room and there was no sign out to indicate its location; it was simply one of many doors in a side tunnel. Nevertheless many people seemed to know where it was and to be anxious to get in, only to be thwarted by a stern-faced dignitary guarding a velvet rope. This ambassador recognized Dr. Jefferson and sent for the maître d’hôtel. The doctor made a gesture understood by headwaiters throughout history, the rope was dropped, and they were conducted in royal progress to a ringside table. Don was bug-eyed at the size of the bribe. Thus he was ready with the proper facial expression when he caught sight of their waitress.
His reaction to her was simple; she was, it seemed to him, the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, both in person and in costume. Dr. Jefferson caught his expression and chuckled. “Don’t use up your enthusiasm, son. The ones we have paid to see will be out there.” He waved at the floor. “Cocktail first?”
Don said that he didn’t believe so, thank you.
“Suit yourself. You are man high and a single taste of the flesh-pots wouldn’t do you any permanent harm. But suppose you let me order dinner for us?” Don agreed. While Dr. Jefferson was consulting with the captive princess over the menu, Don looked around. The room simulated outdoors in the late evening; stars were just appearing overhead. A high brick wall ran around the room, hiding the non-existent middle distance and patching in the floor to the false sky. Apple trees hung over the wall and stirred in the breeze. An old-fashioned well with a well sweep stood beyond the tables on the far side of the room; Don saw another “captive princess” go to it, operate the sweep, and remove a silver pail containing a wrapped bottle.
At the ringside opposite them a table had been removed to make room for a large transparent plastic capsule on wheels. Don had never seen one but he recognized its function; it was a Martian’s “perambulator,” a portable air-conditioning unit to provide the rare, cold air necessary to a Martian aborigine. The occupant could be seen dimly, his frail body supported by a metal articulated servo framework to assist him in coping with the robust gravity of the third planet. His pseudo wings drooped sadly and he did not move. Don felt sorry for him.
As a youngster he had met Martians on Luna, but Luna’s feeble field was less than that of Mars; it did not turn them into cripples, paralyzed by a gravity field too painful for their evolutionary pattern. It was both difficult and dangerous for a Martian to risk coming to Earth; Don wondered what had induced this one. A diplomatic mission, perhaps?