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Authors: Robert A Heinlein

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“‘Ira,’ he said, ‘there were many years when I hardly bothered with women—not only unmarried but celibate. After all, how much variety can there be in the slippery friction of mucous membranes?

“‘Then I realized that there was infinite variety in women
as people…
and that sex was the most direct route to knowing a woman…a route they like, one that we like, and often the only route that can break down barriers and permit close acquaintance.

“‘And in discovering this, I gained renewed interest in the friendly frolic itself, happy as a lad with his first bare tit warm in his hand. Happier—as never again was I merely a piston to her cylinder; each woman was a unique individual worth knowing, and, if we took time enough, we might find we loved each other. But at least we offered each other pleasure and a haven from cares; we weren’t simply masturbating, with the other just a sex doll.’

“That’s close to what Lazarus said, Justin. You went through something like that?”

“Yes. Somewhat. A long period when sex wasn’t worth the trouble. But I got over it…with a woman as fine in her own way as Tamara is, although I didn’t fall in love with her nor she with me. She taught me something I had forgotten, that sex can be friendly and worthwhile
without
the intense love I felt for Tamara. You see, a friend of mine, wife of another friend and they were both close to me—as a special gift she introduced me to another hetaera, a great beauty, and arranged for me a holiday with her—paid for by my friends; they could afford it, she is wealthy. This beautiful hetaera, Magdalene—”

Galahad looked delighted. “Maggie!”

“Why, yes, she did use that pillow name. ‘Magdalene’ was her vocational name. But when she learned that I keep the Archives, she told me her registered name.”

“Rebecca Sperling-Jones.”

“Then you do know her.”

“All my life, Justin darling; I nursed at those beautiful breasts. She’s my mother, dear—what a delightful coincidence!”

I was delighted, too, but more interested in something else. “So
that’s
where you get your beauty.”

“Yes, but also from my genetic father. Becky—Maggie—tells me I look more like him.”

“Really? If you permit, I’ll look up your lineage when I get back to Secundus.” An archivist should not consult the Archives from personal curiosity; I was presuming on friendship to suggest it.

“Dear, you’re not going back to Secundus. But you can get it from Athene clear back to the first push in the bush after Ira Howard’s death. But let’s talk about Mama. She’s a jolly one, isn’t she? As well as a beauty.”

“Both. I told you how much she did for me. Your mother assumed that this holiday was going to be fun—fun for both of us—and it was indeed!—and I forgot about being uninterested in sex. I’m not speaking of technique; I suspect that any high-priced hetaera in New Rome is as skilled as any famous courtesan in history. I mean her attitude. Maggie is fun to be around, in bed or out. Laugh wrinkles but no frown wrinkles.”

Galahad nodded agreement as he wiped egg from his platter. “Yes, that’s Mama. She gave me a most happy childhood, Justin, so much so that I was grumpy at being shoved out when my eighteenth rolled around. But she was sweet about it. After my adulthood party she reminded me that she was moving out, too, and going back to her profession. Her contract with Papa, my foster father, was a term contract, over when I became a legal adult…so if I wanted to see Maggie again—and I wanted to!—it would be cash at the counterpane, no family discount. Since I was a poor-but-honest research assistant, paid only two or three times what I was worth, I couldn’t have afforded thirty seconds with her, much less a night; Mama’s fees were always sky-high.”

Galahad looked thoughtfully happy. “Goodness, that seems long ago—more than a century and a half, Justin. I didn’t realize that Becky—Maggie—Mama—that Magdalene was being both wise and kind. I was grown up only legally and physically, and if she hadn’t cut the cord, I would have hung around, an overgrown infant, cluttering her life and interfering with her vocation. So I did grow up, and when I married, my first wife named our first daughter ‘Magdalene’ and asked Maggie to be godmother…then I could hardly believe that this beautiful creature had borne me and I had no special urge to play Oedipus to her regal beauty; I was too much in love with my wife. Yes, Maggie is a fine girl—although she spoiled me as a kid. Was that holiday the only time you had her?”

“No. But not often. As you say, she was expensive. She offered me a fifty-percent discount—”

“Well! You
did
impress her.”

“—as she knew I wasn’t wealthy. But even at that, I couldn’t afford her company often. But she got me over my emotional hump, and I’m grateful to her. A fine woman, Galahad; you have reason to be proud of her.”

“I think so. But, Justin dear, your mention of that discount makes me certain that she remembers you just as fondly—”

“Oh, I hardly think so. Years back, Galahad.”

“Don’t trip in your modesty, dear; Maggie grabbed every crown the traffic would bear. But the ‘delightful coincidence’ is more than just the fact that you’ve had my mother—after all, high as her fees were, New Rome has many wealthy men attractive enough that Maggie would accept them. The ‘delightful’ aspect is that this very minute she is about forty kilometers south of here.”

“No!”

“Si, si, si! Ask Athene to call her. You can be talking with her in thirty seconds.”

“Uh… I still don’t think she would remember me.”

“I do. But there’s no rush. If you are surprised, think how surprised
I
was. I had nothing to do with the migrants’ roster; I was arse-deep in getting together what Ishtar had ordered for the clinics. Justin, I didn’t know Maggie had married again. So we’re here a couple of weeks, the headquarters party, with a temporary setup and still eating and sleeping in the ‘Dora,’ when the first transport grounds—then we’re busy getting people and supplies out in a sequence worked out by Lazarus and bossed by Ira.

“My assignment, once I had my shack up—by hand; Athene had no outside extensionals then—”


Poor
Uncle Cuddly!”


Who
doesn’t listen to private conversations?”

“I have to keep you straight, dear. It was Minerva who had no outside hands then; I wasn’t even hatched.”

“Well—You have her memories, Teena; it’s a mere technicality.”

“Not to me, dearie. The chinchy little bitch took some memories with her that she didn’t want to share with her ever-lovin’ twin. And she locked one whole bank that she
did
leave behind so that I can’t touch it without an abracadabra either from her or from Grandpappy. Except that
you
can unlock it, Justin…if
both
my twin and Lazarus are dead.”

I managed to answer quickly, “In that case, Athene, I hope that it is a very long time before I am able to trigger it.”

“Well…when you put it that way, so do I. But I can’t help wondering what grim secrets and unspeakable crimes are locked in my theta-ninety-seven-B-dexter-aleph-prime? Will the stars tremble in their courses? But Uncle Cuddly did work hard a couple of days, Justin—probably the only honest work he has ever done.”

“I disdain to comment, Teena. Justin, my assignment was examining physician, for which I was qualified under an almost new diploma. So Ishtar and Hamadryad are unpacking migrants and giving them their antidotes and I’m checking them to make sure they’ve made the trip safely—rushing it as I haven’t yet snatched another medical doctor from that parade of flesh.

“I glance up from my machine just long enough to note that the next victim is female and call out over my shoulder, ‘Strip down, please,’ and change the setting. Then I look twice—and say, ‘Hello, Mama, how did
you
get here?’.

“This caused her to give me a second look. Then she smiled her big, happy smile and said, ‘I flew in on a broom, Obadiah. Give me a kiss and tell me where to put my clothes. Is the doctor around?’

“Justin, I let the queue pile up while I gave Maggie a thorough examination—proper, as she was pregnant and I made certain that her unborn baby had come through all right—but also to gossip and get caught up. Married again, four children by today, a farm wife with a sunburned nose, and happy as can be.

“Got married quite romantically. Mama heard the advertising about opening a virgin planet, went to the recruiting office Ira had in the Harriman Trust building to find out about it—that astonished me the most; Mama is the last person I would have suspected of yearnings to pioneer.”

“Well… I agree, Galahad. But I don’t suppose anyone would pick me as a likely pioneer, either.”

“Perhaps not. Nor me. But Maggie puts in her application at once, and runs into one of her wealthy regulars doing the same. They go somewhere for a bite and discuss it…and leave the restaurant and register an open-end contract, and go back to the recruiting office and withdraw their solo applications and submit a joint one as a married couple. I won’t say that got them accepted, but almost no singles were accepted for first wave.”

“Did they know that?”

“Oh, certainly! The recruiting clerk warned them before accepting their solo fees. That’s what they left to discuss. They already knew they suited each other in bed, but Maggie wanted to find out if he intended to farm—believe it or not, that’s what she wanted—and he wanted to know if she could cook and was she willing to have kids. And it was: ‘Fine, we agree; let’s get on with it!’ Maggie had her fertility restored, and they planted their first baby without waiting to see if they were accepted.”

I said, “That probably clinched it.”

“You think so? Why?”

“If they changed their application to show that Magdalene had caught. If Lazarus passed on the applications. Galahad, our Ancestor favors people who take big bites.”

“Mmm, yes. Justin, why are
you
hanging back?”

“I’m not. I had to be certain that the invitation was serious. I still don’t know
why
. But I’m no fool, I’m staying.”

“Wonderful!” Galahad jumped up, came around the table, kissed me again, roughed my hair, and hugged me. “I’m happy for all of us, darling, and we’ll try to make you happy.” He grinned—and I suddenly saw his mother in him. Hard to imagine the glamorous Magdalene with kids and calluses, a frontier farm wife—but I recalled the old proverb about best wives. Galahad went on: “The twins weren’t sure I could be trusted with so delicate a mission; they were afraid I would muff it.”

“Galahad, there was never a chance I would refuse; I just had to be sure I was welcome. I still don’t know why.”

“Oh. We were speaking of Tamara and got sidetracked. Justin, it’s not public knowledge how difficult it was to rejuvenate our Ancestor this time, although the recordings you have been editing may hint at it—”

“More than a hint.”

“But not all of it. He was almost dead, and simply keeping him alive while we rebuilt him was hard enough. But we managed that; you won’t find another technician of Ishtar’s skill. But when we had him in good shape, bio-age almost as young as he is now, he took a turn for the worse. What do you do when a client turns his face away, is reluctant to talk, doesn’t want to eat—yet has nothing wrong with him physically? Bad. Stays awake all night rather than risk going to sleep? Very bad.

“When he—Never mind; Ishtar knew what to do. She went up into the mountains and fetched back Tamara. She wasn’t rejuvenated then—”

“That wouldn’t matter.”

“It
did
matter, Justin. Youth would have handicapped Tamara in coping with Lazarus. Oh, Tamara would have overcome the handicap; I have confidence in her. But her bio-age and appearance were around eighty on the Hardy scale; this made it easier, as Lazarus, despite his renewed body, was feeling the weight of his years. But Tamara
looked
old…and every white hair was an asset. Lines in her face, little round potbelly, breasts pendulous, varicosities—she
looked
the way he
felt
…so he didn’t mind having her around during a crisis in which he—well, I skansed that he couldn’t stand the sight of us who looked youthful. That’s all it took; she healed him—”

“Yes, she’s a Healer.” (How well I knew!)

“She’s a
great
Healer. That’s what she’s doing now, healing a young couple who lost their first baby—nursing the mother who had a rough time physically, sleeping with both of them. We all sleep with her; she always knows when we need her. Lazarus needed her then, she felt it, and stayed with him until he was well. Uh, after last night this may be difficult to believe, but both of them had quit sex. Years and years—Lazarus more than half a century, and Tamara had not coupled with anyone since she retired.”

Galahad smiled. “Here is a case of the patient healing the physician; in bringing Lazarus around to the point where he invited her to share his bed, Tamara herself found new interest in living. She lived with Lazarus long enough to heal his spirit, then announced that she was leaving. To apply for rejuvenation.”

I said, “Lazarus asked her to marry him.”

“I don’t think so, Justin, and neither Tamara nor Lazarus hinted at such. Tamara put it another way entirely. We were all having a late breakfast, in the garden of the Palace penthouse, when Tamara asked Ira if she could join his migration—it was solely Ira’s migration then; Lazarus had said repeatedly that he would
not
join it. I think he already had in mind attempting to time-trip. Ira told Tamara to consider it settled and not to worry about restrictions that would be published when he announced it. Justin, Ira would have given her the Palace as readily; she had saved Lazarus, and we all knew it.

“But you know Tamara. She thanked him but said she intended to qualify fully, starting with rejuvenation, then she would see what she could learn to be useful in a colony, just as Hamadryad planned to—and, Hamadryad, will you sleep with Lazarus tonight?—and Justin, you should have heard the commotion
that
started!”

“Why a commotion?” I asked. “From what you said earlier Lazarus had reacquired his interest in the friendly sport. Did Hamadryad have some reason not to want to substitute for Tamara?”

BOOK: Time Enough for Love
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