"Don't see any landing space," the pilot said laconically.
Simon squinted down anxiously. The copters were lined up in neat but crowded rows on the rooftop, with hardly more than walking space between them.
"Hover," Simon pleaded. "I'll jump."
"I could lose my license."
Simon reached into his pocket and drew out a handful of bills. "This is important to me," he said.
The pilot pocketed the money, then swooped down toward the roof. Suspended grotesquely eight feet above the aquamarine surface, blades whirling, the coptercab hovered. Simon grunted his thanks and slid back the door. The other copter was fanning air above them and dropping fast when Simon jumped.
His left leg struck the side of a parked cab and threw him off balance. He landed on his shoulder, rolled over and scrambled to his feet. He darted between the rows of copters, thankful for the partial protection their blades offered him. A parabeam zipped down at the long shadow he cast in the late afternoon sun, but in another moment he had reached the roof entrance to the Marriage Building and flung himself inside.
Breathing hard, he smoothed his rumpled clothing with shaking hands. That had been entirely too close. They thought he was fleeing because he did not want to work for a living. Rot. If he were ever captured, all the romance would go from his life.
He sauntered down the long, pleasant corridor lined with murals of domestic tranquility—family gathered around the dining table, father and son raking leaves in the front yard, graceful elderly couple entertaining children and grandchildren at a merry hearth, young husband and wife going to bed. He was in no hurry now, for the Marriage Building was legal sanctuary.
He passed the long lines of registering Quickies, men filing into one room, women into another. He let his glance rove the line of female Quickies, wondering if his new wife would come from this group. They ranged in age from eighteen to about sixty, he guessed, and naturally they were of all conceivable types. He caught himself in time and stopped looking. It was not considered proper etiquette.