World Without War

"Why?" Mark demanded. "It's just a scarf. I always wear one."

"You know why," the other man said coldly. "This is a tetotal party. If I let somebody slip a weapon or something in, it would be an awful brawl in no time. You know how people are."

The man was right, of course. You can conceal a lot of things in the fabric of a sheer scarf. Reluctantly, Mark undid the catch and handed it over.

"Okay. You can pick it up at the entrance when you leave." The officer's amused eyes wrinkled as he looked Mark up and down. "Say, that's a pretty nice job you've got there, man. Mind if I ask who made it?"

"It's pretty good." Mark said cautiously. "It's custom made to a private specification."

The officer grinned goodnaturedly. "Sure, I understand. That's all right. I'm not from the revenue department. I don't have to do anything about bootlegging."

"I don't mean that." Mark protested. "There's nothing illegal—"

The man waved his disregard anyway. "Forget it. It's a nice one, though. And that copper color is coming back soon, too. These fashions run in cycles, you know."

"Yes," Mark murmured diffidently. "I thought so, too."

"Sure." The officer eyed it speculatively for a moment. "Two point oh one centimeter naval, isn't it? They're the best, of course." Mark nodded shortly, looking away from the talkative officer, hoping he would stop. But the man went on. "And I don't have any use for these new non-feeders they've been coming out with recently."

"No," Mark mumbled.

"It's all right to fix it so that the food is not necessary, and it really is a bother to have to feed those old models whether you want to or not. But sometimes you like to eat something just for the fun of it, and with the non-feeder models there's no receptacle for it."

Mark nodded, his eyes searching the huge anteroom, gazing hopefully between the moving ranks of robot servants. Then he saw her and caught his breath.

Jennette. His lips formed a low whistle in time-honored acclamation of excellence. The officer followed his gaze and agreed.

"Yes," he said in a low voice, "that girl is really something. Private spec for everything, and she sure knows how to use it. Take that little golden job she's wearing tonight. Nothing to it. But with her, it's terrific."

He was right. Jennette was wearing a slender, soft-looking golden little body that Mark had never seen before. But it was a real prize. Being hostess, she could have clothes on, and sported a half dozen little bracelets and a jet black bandana around her throat. The thing was draped down over her left breast, and the whole effect was really quite stunning.

"Oh Mark!" she exclaimed, running up with an odd sort of breathlessness. "You're late."

"Sorry Jennette," he replied. "Ran into a little trouble and had to go back for another body."

"You must have missed," she said with amused accusation. "I'm surprised at you."

"Aw, there were three of them," he protested. "And the last one used a broad beam."

"Never mind. I forgive you," she told him. "Come along. Let's go look at my garden."

Mark grinned happily. "Wonderful idea. But what about your guests? Are you just going to leave them like that?"

"This is my birthday," she said. "They can amuse themselves."

Then she pulled him down and put her lips to his ear. "Besides," she whispered. "I've got an identical copy with electronic works. No one will even know I've left, unless they get too friendly with it."

"Pretty clever," Mark admitted thoughtfully. "But I wouldn't always be so ready to break the law like that."

"Who's to know except you, Mark?" She looked up at him with burning, gold-flecked eyes. "You wouldn't tell anybody, would you?"

Mark shook his head uncomfortably.

"All right, then."

They entered the elevator that took them down another half mile to the central living quarters of the ancient shelter. It had been built early in the flux period and remodelled several times. It was one of the best equipped on the planet.

"Tell me," Jennette said, gazing appreciatively at the heavy bronze shoulders, "where on earth did you get that?"

"I—Oh, it was just lying around somewhere," Mark mumbled.

"I bet," she said. "But it's nice. I like it."

Mark just grinned at her, happy for the moment, secure in the knowledge that it would be impossible for her ever to know that it was really identical with his protobody. Not that it would matter, just so long as it was artificial. He listened to the humming of the elevator for a few minutes. When it stopped the door vanished, and the two of them moved out into a sea of wild, colorful beauty. High above them was a simulated sun that made as good a substitute for the real thing as had been developed since the underground movement.

"Bright," Mark commented.

"Oh, that's right. I've been forcing some Venerian puffers and scent flowers, and raised the radiation level ten decibels. They always do well under a strong sun, you know." She left his arm and moved to a control panel beside the entrance to the elevator. She manipulated something and the sun dimmed a little. "There," she turned around. "Better?"

Mark looked at the landscape, then back to her. He grinned. "Too much light."

"Oh you—" she murmured. She touched the controls, and the sun disappeared, being replaced by a huge, mellow moon that sailed majestically on the simulated horizon. It was impossible to tell it from the real thing.

"How's that?"

"A little dark."

Ignoring his comment, she came back and took his arm, and they went strolling across the flowers and grass. "Don't you like my moon, Mark?"

"Sure. It's fine. Sort of aphrodisiac, of course, but—"

"Isn't that what it's for?" Jennette asked innocently.

"I dunno. I never had a moon."

"Let's sit down here," she said abruptly.

They were eating pomegranates, biting briefly into them and sucking on the sour juices. The moon had risen higher during the past hour, becoming a little smaller in appearance. It was a peaceful, contemplative scene. Jennette snuggled up against Mark, thoughtfully tracing a design with fruit juice on his arm.

"This is fun," she said softly. "So much more fun than the usual things a person has to do."

"Mmmm?"

"Oh, you know. Checking reports from the factory, making sure there is plenty of ammunition all the time, pestering the body manufacturers so you'll always have something decent to wear. Always watching or somebody will sneak in and blow up part of your shelter."

"Yeah. Well, guess that's life."

Jennette sighed and picked up another fruit. "It gets so tiresome, always having to keep on the look-out and fighting people. Don't you get bored by it."