The Stainless Steel Rat for President

"Whee," I said, attempting to get into the spirit of the thing. I dug into my pocket and extracted the bottle of amber liquid the welcoming girl had given me. Undoubtedly some loathsome native concoction made from rotted fruit or old socks. I uncapped it and drained it. "Whee!" I said, and meant it this time. I called to Jorge who had the nerve to actually straddle and ride one of the horses. He thundered over at my command. I held up the bottle for his examination.

"What is this stuff, pardner? Liquid sunshine? Best booze I have tasted since I was weaned." "We are pleased that you like it. It is made from the fermented juice of the cana and is called ron." "Well, baby, this ron stuff is something else again. Only thing wrong with it is that it comes in such small bottles." "In all sizes," he laughed, and dug into his saddle bag to extract another bottle of more reasonable dimension.

"How can I ever thank you?" I enthused, snatching it from his grip.

"Easily. It will appear on your bill." He galloped away, "Not going to get polluted this early in the day, are you?" Angelina asked as I lowered the bottle from my lips and sighed.

"Never, my sweet. Just getting in the old holiday mood. Join me?" "Later. I'm enjoying the scenery now." It was indeed something to see. Our road wandered in easy loops down through green fields to the shore. The sand glistened cleanly in the sun and the blue ocean beckoned. Very nice. But where were the locals? Other than the drivers and Jorge there were none of them in sight. We were getting the tourist treatment all right. Fine, Jim, enjoy it for the moment. Don't . be a spoilsport.

"Why look there, papa," one of my fellow tourists called out in ringing tones, "Aren't they just too cute for words?" I looked there and didn't think they were cute at all. If anything they looked kind of miserable despite the smiles directed our way. A group of men and women were working in the field beside the road. Cutting down the tall green plants with long and lethal-looking knives. The sun was hot, the work hard, and if they weren't fatigued and drenched •with sweat they weren't human. I raised the camera and clicked off some shots.

Our driver turned about in his seat when he heard the buzz of the mechanism-so I photographed him as well. For a moment his fixed smile almost slipped, then his white teeth shone in a grin.

"You must save your film for the beautiful gardens and the beautiful hotel," he said.

"Why? Is there anything wrong with taking pictures of the people working in the fields?" "No, of course not, but it is so uninteresting." "Not to the people there. They looked tired. How many hours a day do they work?" •"I have no way of knowing those things." "What do they get paid?" I was talking to his back. He shook the reins and did not answer me. I caught Angelina's eye and winked. She nodded back.

"I think I'll try some of that ron now," she said.

The hotel was as luxurious as promised, our quarters expensively attractive. Our luggage was waiting-well-searched no doubt-and I left Angelina to do the unpacking. Since I was sure that all of my fellow tourists were male chauvinist pigsunlike me-1 was forced to fall into that role no matter how personally unattractive I found it.

"See you around when you finish that, honey," I said, then quickly slipped out the door before I could hear her forceful rejoinder.

I pottered about the grounds, looked in on the bar, then stopping awhile by the swimming pool. I started to take a photograph of a few of the attractively nude female sunbathers, then desisted when a chill passed through me at the thought of Angelina's reaction if she happened to run across this picture. Very possessive, my wife, and I loved it. I think. I wandered on and found the tourist shop.

It took an effort not to shudder at the little ships made of gilded clamshells, the cutesy sailor caps lettered with inspiring messages such as KISS ME YOU MAD, PASSIONATE FOOL! and KEEP ON CLANKING! With averted eyes I passed them and went on to a section filled with souvenir cards and guide books. I was looking them over when a soft voice spoke in my ear.

"May I help you, sir?" Lovely, young, limpid eyes, fall of figure, golden of skin, ruby-lipped and as exotic as a tiger .., "You certainly can!" I said hoarsely, then restrained my enthusiasm. Not with Angelina on the same planet! "I want... that is I want a guide book." "We have many excellent ones. Anything in particular?" "Yes. A history of Paraiso-Aqui. Not a propaganda puff for tourists, but something real. Do you have anything like that?" She penetrated me with a low and smoky gaze-before turning to the shelves. When she turned back she had a thick volume in her hand that she extended to me.

"I think you will find what you want in here," she said before turning lithely and walking slowly away.

To work, Jim! I told myself, pulling my eyeballs away from her fascinating form and fixing them on the book before me.