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THE HATED
By PAUL FLEHR
_After space, there was always one more river to cross ... the far side of hatred and murder!_
Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS
The bar didn't have a name. No name of any kind. Not even an indicationthat it had ever had one. All it said on the outside was:
Cafe EAT _Cocktails_
which doesn't make a lot of sense. But it was a bar. It had a big TV setgoing ya-ta-ta ya-ta-ta in three glorious colors, and a jukebox thattried to drown out the TV with that lousy music they play. Anyway, itwasn't a kid hangout. I kind of like it. But I wasn't supposed to bethere at all; it's in the contract. I was supposed to stay in New Yorkand the New England states.
Cafe-EAT-_Cocktails_ was right across the river. I think the name of theplace was Hoboken, but I'm not sure. It all had a kind of dreamy feelingto it. I was--
Well, I couldn't even remember going there. I remembered one minute Iwas downtown New York, looking across the river. I did that a lot. Andthen I was there. I don't remember crossing the river at all.
I was drunk, you know.
* * * * *
You know how it is? Double bourbons and keep them coming. And after awhile the bartender stops bringing me the ginger ale because gradually Iforget to mix them. I got pretty loaded long before I left New York. Irealize that. I guess I had to get pretty loaded to risk the pension andall.
Used to be I didn't drink much, but now, I don't know, when I have onedrink, I get to thinking about Sam and Wally and Chowderhead and Gilveyand the captain. If I don't drink, I think about them, too, and then Itake a drink. And that leads to another drink, and it all comes out tothe same thing. Well, I guess I said it already, I drink a pretty goodamount, but you can't blame me.
There was a girl.
I always get a girl someplace. Usually they aren't much and this onewasn't either. I mean she was probably somebody's mother. She was aroundthirty-five and not so bad, though she had a long scar under her eardown along her throat to the little round spot where her larynx was. Itwasn't ugly. She smelled nice--while I could still smell, you know--andshe didn't talk much. I liked that. Only--
Well, did you ever meet somebody with a nervous cough? Like when you saysomething funny--a little funny, not a big yock--they don't laugh andthey don't stop with just smiling, but they sort of cough? She did that.I began to itch. I couldn't help it. I asked her to stop it.
She spilled her drink and looked at me almost as though she wasscared--and I had tried to say it quietly, too.
"Sorry," she said, a little angry, a little scared. "_Sorry._ But youdon't have to--"
"Forget it."
"Sure. But you asked me to sit down here with you, remember? If you'regoing to--"
"_Forget it!_" I nodded at the bartender and held up two fingers. "Youneed another drink," I said. "The thing is," I said, "Gilvey used to dothat."
"What?"
"That cough."
She looked puzzled. "You mean like this?"
"_Goddam it, stop it!_" Even the bartender looked over at me that time.Now she was really mad, but I didn't want her to go away. I said,"Gilvey was a fellow who went to Mars with me. Pat Gilvey."
"_Oh._" She sat down again and leaned across the table, low. "_Mars._"
* * * * *
The bartender brought our drinks and looked at me suspiciously. I said,"Say, Mac, would you turn down the air-conditioning?"
"My name isn't Mac. No."
"Have a heart. It's too cold in here."
"Sorry." He didn't sound sorry.
I was cold. I mean that kind of weather, it's always cold in thoseplaces. You know around New York in August? It hits eighty, eighty-five,ninety. All the places have air-conditioning and what they really wantis for you to wear a shirt and tie.
But I like to walk a lot. You would, too, you know. And you can't walkaround much in long pants and a suit coat and all that stuff. Not aroundthere. Not in August. And so then, when I went into a bar, it'd have oneof those built-in freezers for the used-car salesmen with their dates,or maybe their wives, all dressed up. For what? But I froze.
"_Mars_," the girl breathed. "_Mars._"
I began to itch again. "Want to dance?"
"They don't have a license," she said. "Byron, _I_ didn't know you'dbeen to _Mars_! Please _tell_ me about it."
"It was all right," I said.
That was a lie.
She was interested. She forgot to smile. It made her look nicer. Shesaid, "I knew a man--my brother-in-law--he was my husband's brother--Imean my ex-husband--"
"I get the idea."
"He worked for General Atomic. In Rockford, Illinois. You know wherethat is?"
"Sure." I couldn't go there, but I knew where Illinois was.
"He worked on the first Mars ship. Oh, fifteen years ago, wasn't it? Healways wanted to go himself, but he couldn't pass the tests." Shestopped and looked at me.
I knew what she was thinking. But I didn't always look this way, youknow. Not that there's anything wrong with me now, I mean, but Icouldn't pass the tests any more. Nobody can. That's why we're allone-trippers.
I said, "The only reason I'm shaking like this is because I'm cold."
It wasn't true, of course. It was that cough of Gilvey's. I didn't liketo think about Gilvey, or Sam or Chowderhead or Wally or the captain. Ididn't like to think about any of them. It made me shake.
You see, we couldn't kill each other. They wouldn't let us do that.Before we took off, they did something to our minds to make sure. Whatthey did, it doesn't last forever. It lasts for two years and then itwears off. That's long enough, you see, because that gets you to Marsand back; and it's plenty long enough, in another way, because it's likea strait-jacket.
You know how to make a baby cry? Hold his hands. It's the most basicthing there is. What they did to us so we couldn't kill each other, itwas like being tied up, like having our hands held so we couldn't getfree. Well. But two years was long enough. Too long.
The bartender came over and said, "Pal, I'm sorry. See, I turned theair-conditioning down. You all right? You look so--"
I said, "Sure, I'm all right."
He sounded worried. I hadn't even heard him come back. The girl waslooking worried, too, I guess because I was shaking so hard I wasspilling my drink. I put some money on the table without even countingit.
"It's all right," I said. "We were just going."
"We were?" She looked confused. But she came along with me. They alwaysdo, once they find out you've been to Mars.
* * * * *
In the next place, she said, between trips to the powder room, "It musttake a lot of courage to sign up for something like that. Were youscientifically inclined in school? Don't you have to know an awful lotto be a space-flyer? Did you ever see any of those little monkeycharacters they say live on Mars? I read an article about how they livedin little cities of pup-tents or something like that--only they didn'tmake them, they grew them. Funny! Ever see those? That trip must havebeen a real drag, I bet. What is it, nine months? You couldn't have ababy! Excuse me-- Say, tell me. All that time, how'd you--well, managethings? I mean didn't you ever have to go to the you-know or anything?"
"We managed," I said.
She giggled, and that reminded her, so she went to the powder roomagain. I thought about getting up and leaving while she was gone, butwhat was the use of that? I'd only pick up somebody else.
It was nearly midnight. A couple of minutes wouldn't hurt. I reached inmy pocket for the little box of pills they give us--it isn't refillable,but we get a
new prescription in the mail every month, along with thepension check. The label on the box said:
CAUTION
_Use only as directed by physician. Not to be taken by persons suffering heart condition, digestive upset or circulatory disease. Not to be used in conjunction with alcoholic beverages._
I took three of them. I don't like to start them before midnight, butanyway I stopped shaking.
I closed my eyes, and then I was on the ship again. The noise in the barbecame the noise of the rockets and the air washers and the sludgesluicers. I began to sweat, although this