I wouldn't have been on Mars in the first place if it hadn't been for an argument I had with Suzi back on Terra just before she was scheduled to blast off for Mars to cover the Interplanetary Games. Suzi is a sports reporter, see. She covers the meets from the woman's angle. What she really wanted to do was write books about primitive culture; and what I wanted her to do was spend the rest of her life being my wife. Neither of us seemed to have much of a chance of making good.
As usual, Suzi was giving me kert. If you'll pardon my language. "I don't know why I bother with you, Jak," she said scowling. "You've had the book a week and don't know a thing about it. You're nothing but a drip, a square."
"Listen," I said resentfully. "Don't use those mythological terms on me. Last time it took me all day to look them up. Besides, I try don't I? My manager's going crazy because I've been spending so much time reading instead of training for my next meet."
You get the idea. The girl was just gone on the ancients. She wouldn't have tolerated me for an hour if I hadn't been willing to let her cram her nonsense into me at every opportunity.
"How long do you expect to be on Mars?" I asked her.
She shrugged. "Perhaps three months, Terra time."
"Three months!"
She patted my hand. "Don't worry about me, Jak. I'm taking along an extensive micro-film library dealing with the literature and drama of Twentieth Century North America. As you undoubtedly know, it reached its height in the comic books and cartoon movies of the time. Besides," she went on, "Alger Wilde will be there, covering the meet from the society angle. He'll be good company. Alger is quite an authority on prehistoric literature."
"And also on today's women," I yelped. "You didn't tell me that makron was going to be on Mars with you."