es--without guards save
themselves--will return to the subterranean cities, complex
philosophies, and cool, dry air of Mars when they have declared their
own sentences to be at an end.

Meanwhile, they labor to extract the wealth of Venus without the
bitterness and hate, without the savagery and fear of their neighbors.
Hence, they are regarded by all with the greatest suspicion.

The Federated States, after their fashion, plunder the land and send
screaming ships to North America laden with booty and with men grown
suddenly rich--and with men who will never care for riches or anything
else again. These are the fortunate dead. The rest are received into the
sloppy breast of Venus where even a tombstone or marker is swallowed in
a few, short weeks. And they die quickly on Venus, and often.

From the arbitrary point where the four territories met, New Reno flung
its sprawling, dirty carcass over the muddy soil and roared and hooted
endlessly, laughed with the rough boisterousness of miners and spacemen,
rang with the brittle, brassy laughter of women following a trade older
than New Reno. It clanged and shouted and bellowed so loudly that quiet
sobbing was never heard.

But a strange sound hung in the air, the crying of a child. A tiny
child, a boy, he sat begrimed by mud at the edge of the street where an
occasional ground car flung fresh contamination on his small form until
he became almost indistinguishable from the muddy street. His whimpering
changed to prolonged wailing sobs. He didn't turn to look at any of the
giant passers-by nor did they even notice him.

But finally one passer-by stopped. She was young and probably from the
Federated States. She was not painted nor was she well-dressed. She had
nothing to distinguish her, except that she stopped.

"Oh, my!" she breathed, bending over the tiny form. "You poor thing.
Where's your mama?"

The little figure rubbed its face, looked at her blankly and heaved a
long, shuddering sigh.

"I can't leave you sitting here in the mud!" She pulled out a
handkerchief and tried to wipe away some of the mud and then helped him
up. His clothes were rags, his feet bare. She took him by the hand and
as they walked along she talked to him. But he seemed not to hear.

Soon they reached the dirty, plastic front of the Elite Cafe. Once
through the double portals, she pulled the respirator from her face. The
air inside was dirty and smelly but it was breathable. People were