least not altogether, if you know what I mean. Way back in 1998
when they get it in the sky, they are more interested in it being useful
than pretty; anybody that got nasty and unsanitary ideas just forgot
them when they saw that iron casket floating in a sky that could be
filled with hydrogen bombs or old laundry without so much as a four-bar
intro as warning.

Frankie buys _Satellite II_ at a war surplus sale when moon flights
become as easy as commuters' trips, and he smoothes out its shape so it
looks like an egg and then puts a fin around it for ships to land on.
After that, it does not take much imagination to call it the _Saturn_.
Then he gets his Western Hemisphere license and opens for business.

My daydreaming stops, for suddenly Hotlips is grabbing my arm and
pointing out the window.

"What for are you grabbing my arm and waving your fist at the window,
Hotlips?" I inquire politely of him.

"Eddie," he whispers, all nervous and excited from something, "I see
one."

I give him a blank stare. "You see one what?"

"One flying cuspidor," he says, his face serious. "I see it hanging out
there by the _Saturn_ and then suddenly it is gone. Whoosh."

"Hallucination," I tell him. But I look out hard and try to see one too.
I don't, so I figure maybe I am right, after all.

I do not know about this "men from space" gimmick the science-fiction
people try to peddle, but lots of good substantial citizens see flying
cuspidors and I think to myself that maybe there is something to it. So
I keep looking back at the _Saturn_, but nothing unusual is going on
that I can see. My logic and super-salesmanship evidently convinces
Hotlips, for he does not say anything more about it.

Anyway, in a few minutes we joggle to a stop at Earthport, pile out,
wave our identification papers at the doorman with the lieutenant's
bars, and then take off for the _Atomic Cafe_ a block away.

Entering this gem of a drinking establishment, we make our way through
the smoke and noise to a quiet little corner table and give Mamie the
high-sign for two beers. A few minutes later she comes bouncing over
with the order and a cheery word about how invigorating it is to see us
high-class gentlemen instead of the bums that usually hang around a
joint like this trying to make time with a nice girl like her.

"That is all very nice," I say to her politely, "and we are overjoyed
beyond words to see you too, Mamie, but Hotlips and I have got stran