THE FOREVER WAR by Joe Haldeman

It was surprisingly clean on the inside, dimly lit and furnished in fake leather and fake pine. I went to the bar and got some fake bourbon and, presumably, real water for 120K. The water cost 20K. A waitress came over with a tray.

“Pop one, brother-boy?” The tray had a rack of oldfashioned hypodermic needles.

“Not today, thanks.” If I was going to “pop one,” I’d use an aerosol. The needles looked unsanitary and painful.

She set the dope down on the bar and eased onto the stool next to me. She sat with her chin cupped in her palm and stared at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

“God. Tuesdays.”

I mumbled something.

“You wanna go in back fer a quickie?”

I looked at her with what I hoped was a neutral expression. She was wearing only a short skirt of some gossamer material, and it plunged in a shallow V in the front, exposing her hipbones and a few bleached pubic hairs. I wondered what could possibly keep it up. She wasn’t bad looking, could have been anywhere from her late twenties to her early forties. No telling what they could do with cosmetic surgery and makeup nowadays, though. Maybe she was older than my mother.

“Thanks anyhow.”

“Not today?”

“That’s right.”

“I can get you a nice boy, if-”

“No. No thanks.” What a world.

She pouted into the mirror, an expression that was probably older than Hoino sapiens. “You don’t like me.”

“I like you fine. That’s just not what I came here for.”

“Well. . . different funs for different ones.” She shrugged. “Hey, Jerry. Get me a short beer.”

He brought it.

“Oh, damn, my purse is locked up. Mister, can you spare forty calories?” I had enough ration tickets to take care of a whole banquet. Tore off a fifty and gave it to the bartender.

“Jesus.” She stared. “How’d you get a full book at the end of the month?”

I told her in as few words as possible who I was and how I managed to have so many calories. There had been two months’ worth of books waiting in my mail, and I hadn’t even used up the ones the Force had given me. She offered to buy a book from me for ten grand, but I didn’t want to get involved in more than one illegal enterprise at a time.

Two men came in, one unarmed and the other with both a pistol and a riot gun. The bodyguard sat by the door and the other came over to me.

“Mr. Mandella?”

“That’s right.”

“Shall we take a booth?” He didn’t offer his name.

He had a cup of coffee, and I sipped a mug of beer. “I don’t keep any written records, but I have an excellent memory. Tell me what sort of a job you’re interested in, what your qualifications are, what salary you’ll accept, and so on.”

I told him I’d prefer to wait for a job where I could use my physics-teaching or research, even engineering. I wouldn’t need a job for two or three months, since I planned to travel and spend money for a while. Wanted at least 20,000K monthly, but how much I’d accept would depend on the nature of the job.

He didn’t say a word until I’d finished. “Righty-oh. Now, I’m afraid. . . you’d have a hard time, getting a job in physics. Teaching is out; I can’t supply jobs where the person is constantly exposed to the public. Research, well, your degree is almost a quarter of a century old. You’d have to go back to school, maybe five or six years.”

“Might do that,” I said.

“The one really marketable feature you have is your combat experience. I could probably place you in a supervisory job at a bodyguard agency for even more than twenty grand. You could make almost that much, being a bodyguard yourself.”

“Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to take chances for somebody else’s hide.”

“Righty-oh. Can’t say I blame you.” He finished his coffee in a long slurp. “Well, I’ve got to run, got a thousand things to do. I’ll keep you in mind and talk to some people.”

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