WILLIAM E. LOPEZ

Approx. 1,323 words

A Difficult Day

W. E. Lopez

I was both angry and fearful when I left my office at Three Planets Assurance and Casualty that afternoon. My boss, Gene Hagerty, had given me a thorough scolding concerning my job performance of late, and an ultimatum that I had better show maximum improvement in the next two weeks or I would find myself at the government council’s reassignment office seeking new employment.

If that weren’t bad enough, Rita Pangborn, my mistress for the past eleven months had called to inform me she was six weeks overdue on her monthly and what did I intend to do about it? Hardly an hour later my wife called, having heard from a gal-friend of hers about Rita. Stella told me that I would immediately have to choose between her and the kids or some bimbo-blonde girlfriend.

To describe the events of today as difficult would be like describing a major earthquake as a periodic seismic adjustment.

Pleading a stomach upset, I left my office two hours after lunch. Originally I planned to walk around the corner to Joe’s Diner and have a drink or six until I could develop a plan of action to deal with my boss, my wife, and my mistress.

Joe’s is nothing like any diner you’ve ever heard of. In the first place, it is not a diner. It’s an elegant watering hole for those who can afford Dianah’s prices. She is a stunning brunette, thirty-two years old, who enjoys the wry humor of calling her establishment Joe’s Diner, instead of Chez Magnifique, Le Maison d’Amour, or some other equally pretentious name.

Halfway down the block I decided I could not find the solution I needed in the bottom of a bottle. My empty head might squeeze down the neck, but my shoulders would never make it. Instead, I turned around and headed the opposite way until I found a robo-cab stand.

To make a splendid day even more splendid, when I swiped my IdentI-Card through the reader, a message flashed in front of me advising that the next auto-cab would not be available for at least forty-five minutes. Disappointed that I would have to share accommodations in a public shuttle, I climbed to the elevated platform to await the next shuttle.

If nothing else, the government council insures public transportation is inexpensive and convenient. Public shuttles stop at numerous platforms every quarter hour and one was pulling in to load at this very moment. Except for myself, the platform was empty, so I quickly entered the shuttle after passing my card through the reader.

I was surprised again to find the car empty as I dropped into a seat just opposite the door and waited for the shuttle to leave the city. It had been a difficult day and I was glad no one else was aboard because I wanted to be alone. I needed to think and, perhaps, come up with a course of action.

Being an actuary by profession, I had known the probabilities that Stella would learn of my affair with Rita would increase as time went by. I calculated a 100% probability after 17 months, and firmly vowed to end our affair after fourteen months when the probability would be less than 60%. Unfortunately, as every odds maker knows, probabilities represent only a statistical mean surrounded by varying degrees of chance. The dice on the crap table of my life had come up snake eyes too early for me to save myself.

I was so deep in my own thought I have no idea of where she came from. Had I failed to see her when I boarded the shuttle, or had she simply materialized as I sat brooding?

Immediately I knew she was a Pledian.

The Pledian’s had arrived in our solar system a hundred years ago just as we Earthlings had begun terraforming Mars. They were far ahead of us in biotechnology and eagerly traded their knowledge of medicine for our knowledge of engineering and cyber-technology. In just under five years, with their help, we had wiped out a dozen varieties of cancer, learned how to re-grow severed limbs, failing organs and bud new teeth. As a result, dentures were no longer manufactured except as temporary replacements during the period when new teeth were being grown.

In payment for their magic, we traded engineering and cybernetic technology, which they happily took back to their home world for their own mysterious uses.

Now that Mars had been terra-formed to the point where humans could freely move about the surface unprotected the Pledians, who enjoyed a cooler planet with a weaker gravity than Earth, had naturally set up enclaves among the human colonists of Mars. The two races got along well, but tended to remain apart socially. The reasons were varied.

Because of their advanced medical knowledge, virtually every Pledian one encountered was a perfect physical specimen; the kind one normally refers to as “a Greek God,” or in the case of the one sharing my shuttle, “a Greek Goddess.” Except for the giant economy size protuberances upon her torso, she was streamlined to do at least Mach 7. Mortal Earthlings tend to avoid such perfection in social encounters.

Another factor worth considering is that Pledians have a sex-quotient at least five times higher than that of humans. They look at copulation in the same light we humans look at shaking hands; an everyday courtesy one extends to another as a means of introduction. Despite the fact that they are as alike as we, to about six decimal points, scientists tell us that coupling between our two species cannot bear fruit, without the need for artificial preventatives.

Outweighing the possibility that one’s spouse might easily gravitate toward an affair with a Pledian, we humans are also suspicious of their well-documented psi ability to influence human behavior and attitudes.

The girl was standing at the far end of the shuttle, gazing out the rear observation window at the ruddy scenery of Mars passing by. She was standing with her left side toward me and wearing something that resembled a shimmering blue fog that swirled and opaleced about her perfect form. The fog was quite translucent and offered enticing glimpses of her glamorous form. She seemed only just now to become aware of my presence and gave me ten mega-watt smile.

I sat transfixed as she moved toward me, while all thought of my problems dwindled. Perhaps she was interested in me and wanted to make my acquaintance? I was only too aware of where that would lead and I knew a quiet public sleeping dorm not far from our next stop on the route.

Then I thought also of the help this lovely vision could render to me. She could persuade Rita to abandon the relationship with me without the messiness of a paternity suit, at the same time feeling glad to be free again. She could easily persuade Estelle that my dalliance with Rita was a harmless detour from our married life and aside from being over; it should have no impact upon our marriage.

She could also persuade my boss that not every employee can be expected to continuously perform at the peak of excellence month after month, and that I was only temporarily experiencing a cyclical period of job performance. I would certainly exceed all past performance levels at work in just a short time.

She could do all that, but would she? What could I offer her in return for such favors?

Slowly and deliberately she reversed the backrest of the seat in front of me so she could sit facing me. She lowered her voluptuous form into the cushions opposite me, and I was speechless when she said, “Excuse me, sir. I didn’t mean to stare. Did you know that your fly is unzipped?”