newexperience--one to savor."
"Take pain, Martian!"
The Earthman with the black hat raised his arm, and the long heavylash fell on Gavir. He felt a savage sting in the arm he had thrown upto protect his eyes.
Gavir leaped at the Earthmen. He clubbed the man with the whip acrossthe face. As the others rushed in, Gavir flailed about him with longarms and heavy fists.
He began to enjoy it. It was rare that a Martian had an opportunity toknock Earthmen down. The mood of the _Song of Going to Hunt_ came overhim. He sprang free of his attackers and drew his glittering narvoon.
The man with the whip yelled. They looked at his knife, and then allat once turned and ran. Gavir drew back his arm and threw the knifewith a practiced catapult-snap of shoulder, elbow, and wrist. To hissurprise, the blade clattered to the street far short of hisretreating enemies. Then he remembered: you couldn't throw far in thegravity of Earth.
The Earthmen disappeared into a lift-force field. Gavir decided not topursue them. He walked forward and picked up his narvoon, and saw thatthe street on which it lay was solid black pavement, not aforce-field. He must be in the lowest level of the city. He didn'tknow his way around; he might meet more enemies. He forgot about thebooks he'd wanted, and began to search for his hotel.
* * * * *
When he got back to his room, he went immediately to bed. He sleptlate.
Malcomb woke him at 1100. Gavir told Malcomb about thestrangely-dressed men who had tried to kill him.
"I told you not to wander around alone."
"But you did not tell me that Earthmen might try to kill me. You havetold me that Earthmen are good and peace-loving, that there have beenno acts of violence on Earth for many decades. You have told me thatonly the MDC men are exceptions, because they are living off Earth,and this somehow makes them different."
"Well, those people you ran into are another exception."
"Why?"
"You know about the Regeneration and Rejuvenation treatment we havehere on Earth. A variation of it was given you to acclimate you toEarth's gravity and atmosphere. Well, since the R&R treatment wasdeveloped, we Earthmen have a life-expectancy of about one hundredfifty years. Those people who attacked you were Century-Plus. They areover a hundred years old, but as healthy, physically, as ever."
"What is wrong with them?"
"They seem to have outgrown their Ethical Conditioning. They livewildly. Violently. It's a problem without precedent, and we don't knowwhat to do with them. The fact is, Senile Delinquency is our numberone problem."
"Why not punish them?" said Gavir.
"They're too powerful. They are often people who've pursued successfulcareers and acquired a good deal of property and position. And thereare getting to be more of them all the time. But come on. You and Ihave to go over to Global Dreamcasting and collect our fee."
* * * * *
The impeccably affable producer of _Dreaming Through the Universe_gave Malcomb a check and then asked them to follow him.
"Mr. Davery wants to see you. Mr. _Hoppy_ Davery, executivevice-president in charge of production. Scion of one of Earth's oldestcommunications media families!"
They went with the producer to the upper reaches of the GlobalDreamcasting building. There they were ushered into a huge office.
They found Mr. Hoppy Davery lounging on a divan the size of aspace-port. He was youthful in appearance, as were all Earthmen, but asoft plumpness and a receding hairline made him look slightly olderthan average.
He pointed a rigid finger at Malcomb and Gavir. "I want you two tohear a condensed recording of statements taken from calls we receivedlast night."
Gavir stiffened. They _had_ gotten into trouble because of histhoughts about MDC.
A voice boomed out of the ceiling.
"That Martian boy has power. That song was a fist in the jaw. More!"
A woman's voice followed:
"If you let that boy go back to Mars I'll never dream a Global programagain."
More voices:
"Enormous!"
"Potent!"
"That hunting song drove me mad. I _like_ being mad!"
"Keep him on Earth."
Hoppy Davery pressed a button in the control panel on his divan, andthe voices fell silent.
"Those callers that admitted their age were all Century-Plus. The boyappeals to the Century-Plus mentality. I want to try him again. Thistime on a really big dream-show, not just an educational 'cast. Got aspot on next week's Farfel Flisket Show. If he gets the rightresponse, we talk about a contract. Okay?"
Malcomb said, "His visa expires--"
"We'll take care of his visa."
Gavir trembled with joy. Hoppy Davery pressed another button and asecretary entered with papers. She was followed by another woman.
The second woman was dark-haired and slender. She wore leather bootsand tight brown breeches. She was bare from the waist up and herbreasts were young and full. A jewelled clip fastened a scarlet capeat her neck. Her lips were a disconcertingly vivid red, apparently anartificial color. She kissed Hoppy Davery on the forehead, leaving redblotches on his pink dome. He wiped his forehead and looked at hishand.
"Do you have to wear that barbaric face-paint?" Hoppy turned sad eyeson Gavir and Malcomb. "Gentlemen, my mother, Sylvie Davery."
A Senile Delinquent! thought Gavir. She looked like Davery's youngersister. Malcomb stared at her apprehensively, and Gavir wondered ifshe were somehow going to attack them.
She looked at Gavir. "Mmm. What a body, what gorgeous blue skin. Howtall are you, Blue Boy?"
"He's approximately seven feet tall, Sylvie," said Hoppy, "and what doyou want here, anyway?"
"Just came up to see Blue Boy. One of the crowd dreamed him lastnight. Positively manic about him. I found out he'd be with you."
"See?" said Hoppy to Gavir. "The Century-Plus mentality. You've gotsomething they go for. Undoubtedly because you're--forgive me--such acomplete barbarian. That's what they're all trying to be."
"Spare me another lecture on Senile Delinquency, Our Number OneProblem." She walked to the door and Gavir watched her all the way.She turned with a swirl of scarlet and a dramatic display of healthyyoung flesh. "See you again, Blue Boy."
After Sylvie left, Hoppy Davery said, "That might be a goodprofessional name--Blue Boy. Gavir doesn't _mean_ anything. Now whatkind of a song could you do for the Farfel Flisket show?"
Gavir thought. "Perhaps you would like the _Song of Creation_."
"It's part of a fertility rite," Malcomb explained.
"Great! Give the Senile Delinquents another workout. It's not quiteethical, but its good for us. But for heaven's sake, Blue Boy, keepyour mind off MDC!"
* * * * *
The following week, Gavir sang the _Song of Creation_ on the FarfelFlisket show, and transmitted the images which it brought up in hismind to his audience. A jubilant Hoppy Davery called him at his hotelnext morning.
"Best response I've ever seen! The Century-Plussers have been riotingand throwing mass orgies ever since you sang. But they take time outto call us up and beg for more. I've got a sponsor and a two-yearcontract lined up for you."
The sponsor was pacing back and forth in Hoppy Davery's office whenMalcomb and Gavir arrived. Hoppy introduced him proudly. "Mr. JarvisSpurling, president of the Martian Development Corporation."
Gavir's hand leaped at the narvoon under his doublet.
Then he stopped himself. He turned the gesture into the proffer of ahandshake. "How do you do?" he said quietly. In his mind hecongratulated himself. He had learned emotional control from theEarthmen. Here was the man who had ordered his father crucified! Yethe had managed to hide his instant desire to strike, to kill, to carryout the oath of the blood feud then and there.
Jarvis Spurling ignored Gavir's hand and stared coldly at him. Therewas not a trace of the usual Earthman's kindliness in his square,battered face. "I'm told you
got talent. Okay, but a Bluie is a Bluie.I'll pay you because a Bluie on Dreamvision is good publicity for MDCproducts. But one slip like on your first 'cast and you go back to thePreserve."
"Mr. Spurling!" said Malcomb. "Your tone is hostile!"
"Damn right. That Ethical Conditioning slop doesn't work on me. I'velived too long on the frontier. And I know Bluies."
* * * * *
"I will sign the contract," said Gavir.
As he drew his signature pictograph on the contract, Sylvie Daverysauntered in. She held a white tube between her painted lips. The endof the tube was glowing and giving off clouds of smoke. Hoppy Daverycoughed and Sylvie