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.Bach didn't doubt it.She had tried most of them.But when she had a little time, as shedid today, she liked to walk.She didn't have time to walk five miles, but compromised by walking tofile:///G|/rah/John%20Varley%20-%20Blue%20Champagne.htm (104 of 255) [2/17/2004 10:34:58 AM] Blue Champagnethe trolley station a mile away.Starting out on a brick walkway, she moved to cool marble, then over a glass bridge with lightsflashing down inside.This took her to a boardwalk, then down to a beach where machines made four-foot breakers, each carrying a new load of surfers.The sand was fine and hot between her toes.Mozartplatz was a sensual delight for the feet.Few Lunarians ever wore shoes, and they could walkall day through old New Dresden and feel nothing but different types of carpeting and compositionflooring.The one thing Bach didn't like about the place was the weather.She thought it was needless,preposterous, and inconvenient.It began to rain and, as usual, caught her off guard.She hurried to ashelter where, for a tenthMark, she rented an umbrella, but it was too late for her paper uniform.Asshe stood in front of a blower, drying off, she wadded it up and threw it away, then hurried to catchthe trolley, nude but for her creaking leather equipment belt and police cap.Even this stripped down,she was more dressed than a quarter of the people around her.The conductor gave her a paper mat to put on the artificial leather seat.There were cut flowers incrystal vases attached to the sides of the car.Bach sat by an open window and leaned one armoutside in the cool breeze, watching the passing scenery.She craned her neck when the GrafZeppelin muttered by overhead.They said it was an exact copy of the first world-girdling dirigible,and she had no reason to doubt it.It was a great day to be traveling.If not for one thing, it would be perfect.Her mind kept comingback to Charlie and her mother.She had forgotten just how big the Great Northern was.She stopped twice on her way down thelong dock to board it, once to buy a lime sherbet ice cream cone, and again to purchase a skirt.Asshe fed coins into the clothing machine, she looked at the great metal wall of the ship.It was paintedwhite, trimmed in gold.There were five smokestacks and six towering masts.Midships was thehousing for the huge paddlewheel.Multi-colored pennants snapped in the breeze from the forest ofrigging.It was quite a boat.She finished her cone, punched in her size, then selected a simple above-the-knee skirt in a gaudyprint of tropical fruit and palm trees.The machine hummed as it cut the paper to size, hemmed it andstrengthened the waist with elastic, then rolled it out into her hand.She held it up against herself.Itwas good, but the equipment belt spoiled it.There were lockers along the deck.She used yet another coin to rent one.In it went the belt and cap.She took the pin out of her hair and shook it down around her shoulders, fussed with it for amoment, then decided it would have to do.She fastened the skirt with its single button, wearing itlow on her hips, south-seas style.She walked a few steps, studying the effect.The skirt tended toleave one leg bare when she walked, which felt right.file:///G|/rah/John%20Varley%20-%20Blue%20Champagne.htm (105 of 255) [2/17/2004 10:34:58 AM] Blue Champagne"Look at you," she chided herself, under her breath."You think you look all right to meet a worlds-famous, glamorous tube personality? Who you happen to despise?" She thought about reclaimingher belt, then decided that would be foolish.The fact was it was a glorious day, a beautiful ship, andshe was feeling more alive than she had in months.She climbed the gangplank and was met at the top by a man in an outlandish uniform.It was allwhite, covered everything but his face, and was festooned with gold braid and black buttons.Itlooked hideously uncomfortable, but he didn't seem to mind it.That was one of the odd things aboutMozartplatz.In jobs at places like the Great Northern, people often worked in period costumes,though it meant wearing shoes or things even more grotesque.He made a small bow and tipped hishat, then offered her a hibiscus, which he helped her pin in her hair.She smiled at him.Bach was asucker for that kind of treatment and knew it perhaps because she got so little of it."I'm meeting someone in the bar on the top deck.""If madame would walk this way." He gestured, then led her along the side rail toward the stern ofthe ship.The deck underfoot was gleaming, polished teak.She was shown to a wicker table near the rail.The steward held the chair out for her, and took herorder.She relaxed, looking up at the vast reaches of the arco-mall, feeling the bright sunlightwashing over her body, smelling the salt water, hearing the lap of waves against wood pilings.Theair was full of bright balloons, gliders, putt-putting nano-lights, and people in muscle-powered flightharnesses.Not too far away, a fish broke the surface.She grinned at it.Her drink arrived, with sprigs of mint and several straws and a tiny parasol.It was good.She lookedaround.There were only a few people out here on the deck.One couple was dressed in full periodcostume, but the rest looked normal enough.She settled on one guy sitting alone across the deck.Hehad a good pair of shoulders on him.When she caught his eye, she made a hand signal that meant "Imight be available." He ignored it, which annoyed her for a while, until he was joined by a tinywoman who couldn't have been five feet tall.She shrugged.No accounting for taste.She knew what was happening to her.It was silly, but she felt like going on the hunt.It oftenhappened to her when something shocking or unpleasant happened at work.The police headshrinkersaid it was compensation, and not that uncommon.With a sigh, she turned her mind away from that.It seemed there was no place else for it to go butback into that room on Charlie Station, and to the thing in the bed
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