Citizen in Spase. Stories / Гражданин в Космосе. Рассказы. Книга для чтения на английском языке

Collins stared at him. “Don’t try to kid me, mister. You A-ratings want to protect your monopoly, don’t you?”

The red-faced man put down his paper. “Mr. Collins,” he said stiffly, “my name is Flign. I am an agent for the Citizens Protective Union, a nonprofit organisation, whose aim is to protect individuals such as yourself from errors of judgement.”

“You mean you’re not one of the A’s?”

“You are labouring under a misapprehension,[26] sir,” Flign said with quiet dignity. “The A-rating does not represent a social group, as you seem to believe. It is merely a credit rating.”

“A what?” Collins asked slowly.

“A credit rating.” Flign glanced at his watch. “We haven’t much time, so I’ll make this as brief as possible. Ours is a decentralised age, Mr. Collins. Our businesses, industries and services are scattered through an appreciable portion of space and time. The utilization corporation is an essential link. It provides for the transfer of goods and services from point to point. Do you understand?”

Collins nodded.

“Credit is, of course, an automatic privilege. But, eventually, everything must be paid for.”

Collins didn’t like the sound of that. Pay? This place wasn’t as civilised as he had thought. No one had mentioned paying. Why did they bring it up now?

“Why didn’t someone stop me?” he asked desperately. “They must have known I didn’t have a proper rating.”

Flign shook his head. “The credit ratings are suggestions, not laws. In a civilised world, an individual has the right to his own decisions. I’m very sorry, sir.” He glanced at his watch again and handed Collins the paper he had been reading. “Would you just glance at this bill and tell me whether it’s in order?”

Collins took the paper and read:

One Palace, with Accessories … Cr. 45,000,000 Services of Maxima Olph Movers.....111,000

122 Dancing Girls ..............122,000,000

Perfect Health .................888,234,031

He scanned the rest of the list quickly. The total came to slightly better than eighteen billion Credits.

“Wait a minute!” Collins shouted. “I can’t be held to this! The Utilizer just dropped into my room by accident!”

“That’s the very fact I’m going to bring to their attention,” Flign said. “Who knows? Perhaps they will be reasonable. It does no harm to try.”

Collins felt the room sway. Flign’s face began to melt before him.

“Time’s up,” Flign said. “Good luck.”

Collins closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was standing on a bleak plain, facing a range of stubby mountains. A cold wind lashed his face and the sky was the colour of steel.

A raggedly dressed man was standing beside him. “Here,” the man said and handed Collins a pick.

“What’s this?”

“This is a pick,” the man said patiently. “And over there is a quarry, where you and I and a number of others will cut marble.”

“Marble?”

“Sure. There’s always some idiot who wants a palace,” the man said with a wry grin. “You can call me Jang. We’ll be together for some time.”

Collins blinked stupidly. “How long?”

“You work it out,” Jang said. “The rate is fifty credits a month until your debt is paid off.”

The pick dropped from Collins’s hand. They couldn’t do this to him! The Utilization Corporation must realise its mistake by now! They had been at fault, letting the machine slip into the past. Didn’t they realise that?

“It’s all a mistake!” Collins said.

“No mistake,” Jang said. “They’re very short of labour. Have to go recruiting all over for it. Come on. After the first thousand years you won’t mind it.”

Collins started to follow Jang towards the quarry. He stopped.

“The first thousand years? I won’t live that long!”

“Sure you will,” Jang assured him. “You got immortality, didn’t you?”

Yes, he had. He had wished for it, just before they took back the machine. Or had they taken back the machine after he wished for it?

Collins remembered something. Strange, but he didn’t remember seeing immortality on the bill Flign had shown him.

“How much did they charge me for immortality?” he asked.

Jang looked at him and laughed. “Don’t be naїve, pal. You should have it figured out by now.”

He led Collins towards the quarry. “Naturally, they give that away for nothing.”

A Ticket to Tranai

One fine day in June, a tall, thin, intent, soberly dressed young man walked into the offices of the Transstellar Travel Agency. Without a glance, he marched past the gaudy travel poster depicting the Harvest Feast on Mars. The enormous photomural of dancing forests on Triganium didn’t catch his eye. He ignored the somewhat suggestive painting of dawn-rites on Opiuchus II, and arrived at the desk of the booking agent.

“I would like to book passage to Tranai,” the young man said.

The agent closed his copy of Necessary Inventions and frowned. “Tranai? Tranai? Is that one of the moons of Kent IV?”