”You know,” Malcolm said quietly, “you may be the first person ever to do that.”
”Huh. You got lousy friends, then. They can’t see what’s right in front of ’em. Money’s not everything.” She flushed suddenly, realizing she’d just insulted Malcolm’s friends-at least one of whom was Kit Carson.
”How right you are,” Malcolm said with a smile. “I’m glad you’re beginning to see that. Some people never figure it out This way..” He nodded toward Urbs Romae. “Better hustle or we’ll be late.”
Paula Booker’s establishment was tucked away in one corner of the Commons. Margo was expecting a hair styling salon. What they entered looked more like the waiting room of an upscale medical clinic. Just as they entered, two men emerged from an inner sanctum. One assisted the other, who shuffled awkwardly as though his groin hurt. The first one said sympathetically, “You think that’s bad, you should see what she did to mine.”
”Yeah,” the second man said through clenched teeth, “but a whole new foreskin? God, I hurt ….”
Margo stared until they had passed through the outer door and vanished down the Commons.
”What was that all about?”
”Zipper Jockeys.” Astonishingly, Malcolm Moore wore the blackest scowl she’d ever seen.
”Zipper jockeys?’ she echoed
”They’re here for one of the sex tours. Bastards go down time and spend the whole trip brothel hopping. Paula takes revenge on ’em, though. Does corrective surgery on them more than deserve, so their modern circumcisions won’t arouse suspicion. Most places TT-86’s gates lead to, circumcisions were practiced only by the Jewish. Anti-Semitism being the ugly thing it was in many down-time cultures …”