{"id":27677,"date":"2026-04-26T01:11:13","date_gmt":"2026-04-26T05:11:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=27677"},"modified":"2026-04-26T01:21:04","modified_gmt":"2026-04-26T05:21:04","slug":"isaac-asimov-im-in-marsport-without-hilda","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/isaac-asimov-im-in-marsport-without-hilda\/27677\/","title":{"rendered":"Isaac Asimov: I\u2019m in Marsport Without Hilda"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis: <\/strong>\u201cI\u2019m in Marsport Without Hilda\u201d is a short story by American writer Isaac Asimov, published in November 1957 in Venture Science Fiction Magazine<\/em> and later included in the book Asimov’s Mysteries<\/em> (1968). Max, an agent of the Galactic Service, arrives in Marsport for a three-day stopover before returning to Earth. The occasion seems perfect: his wife, Hilda, will not be able to join him, leaving him free to call Flora, a former lover. But just when everything seems to be leading toward the long-awaited encounter, Rog Crinton, an official of the Service on Mars, assigns him an urgent mission: to discover which one of three important passengers is carrying a dangerous contraband substance capable of threatening space travel.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"Isaac<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

I\u2019m in Marsport Without Hilda<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Isaac Asimov
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It worked itself out, to begin with, like a dream. I didn\u2019t have to make any arrangements. I didn\u2019t have to touch it. I just watched things work out. Maybe right then\u2019s when I should have smelled catastrophe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It began with my usual month\u2019s layoff between assignments. A month on and a month off is the right and proper routine for the Galactic Service. I reached Marsport for the usual three-day layover before the short hop to Earth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ordinarily, Hilda, God bless her, as sweet a wife as any man ever had, would be there waiting for me and we\u2019d have a nice sedate time of it\u2014a nice little interlude for the two of us. The only trouble with that is that Marsport is the rowdiest hellhole in the system, and a nice little interlude isn\u2019t exactly what fits in. Only, how do I explain that to Hilda, hey?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Well, this<\/em> time my mother-in-law\u2014God bless<\/em> her, for a change\u2014got sick just two days before I reached Marsport; and the night before landing, I got a spacegram from Hilda saying she would stay on Earth with her mother and wouldn\u2019t meet me this one time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I grammed back my loving regrets and my feverish anxiety concerning her mother; and when I landed, there I was:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I<\/em> was in Marsport without Hilda!<\/em> That was still nothing, you understand. It was the frame of the picture, the bones of the woman. Now there was the matter of the lines and coloring inside the frame; the skin and flesh outside the bones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So I called up Flora\u2014Flora of certain rare episodes in the past\u2014and for the purpose I used a video booth. Damn the expense, full speed ahead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was giving myself ten to one odds she\u2019d be out, she\u2019d be busy with her videophone disconnected, she\u2019d be dead, even.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But she was in, with her videophone connected and she was anything but dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She looked better than ever. Age cannot wither nor custom stale, as somebody or other once said, her infinite variety. And the robe she wore\u2014or, rather, almost didn\u2019t wear\u2014helped a lot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Was she glad to see me? She squealed, \u2018Max! It\u2019s been years.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I know, Flora, but this is it, if you\u2019re available. Because guess what! I\u2019m in Marsport without Hilda.\u2019 She squealed again. \u2018Isn\u2019t that nice<\/em>! Then come on over.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I goggled a bit. This was too much. \u2018You mean you are<\/em> available?\u2019 You have to understand that Flora was never available without plenty of notice. Well, she was that kind of knockout.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She said, \u2018Oh, I\u2019ve got some quibbling little arrangement, Max, but I\u2019ll take care of that. You come on over.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I\u2019ll come,\u2019 I said happily.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Flora was the kind of girl\u2014Well, I tell you, she had her rooms under Martian gravity, 0.4 Earth-normal. The gadget to free her of Marsport\u2019s pseudo-grav field was expensive, of course, but I\u2019ll tell you just in passing that it was worth it, and she had no trouble paying it off. If you\u2019ve ever held a girl in your arms at 0.4 gees, you need no explanation. If you haven\u2019t, explanations will do no good. I\u2019m also sorry for you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Talk about floating on clouds\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And mind you, the girl has to know how to handle low gravity. Flora did. I won\u2019t talk about myself, you understand, but Flora didn\u2019t howl for me to come over and start breaking previous engagements just because she was at loose ends. Her ends were never loose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I closed connections, and only the prospect of seeing it all in the flesh\u2014such flesh!\u2014could have made me wipe out the image with such alacrity. I stepped out of the booth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And at that point, that precise point, that very split instant of time, the first whiff of catastrophe nudged itself up to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That first whiff was the bald head of that lousy Rog Crinton of the Mars offices, gleaming over a headful of pale blue eyes, pale yellow complexion, and pale brown mustache. He was the same Rog Crinton, with some Slavic strain in his ancestry, that half the people out on field work thought had a middle name that went sunnuvabich.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t bother getting on all fours and beating my forehead against the ground because my vacation had started the minute I had gotten off the ship.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said with only normal politeness, \u2018What the hell do you want and I\u2019m in a hurry. I\u2019ve got an appointment.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He said, \u2018You\u2019ve got an appointment with me. I\u2019ve got a little job for you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I laughed and told him in all necessary anatomical detail where he could put the little job, and offered to get him a mallet to help. I said, \u2018It\u2019s my month off, friend.\u2019 He said, \u2018Red emergency alert, friend.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Which meant, no vacation, just like that. I couldn\u2019t believe it. I said, \u2018Nuts, Rog. Have a heart. I got an emergency alert of my own.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Nothing like this.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Rog,\u2019 I pleaded, \u2018can\u2019t you get someone else? Anyone else?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018You\u2019re the only Class A agent on Mars.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Send to Earth, then. They stack agents like micropile units at Headquarters.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018This has got to be done before 11 p.m. What\u2019s the matter? You haven\u2019t got three hours?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I grabbed my head. The boy just didn\u2019t know. I said, \u2018Let me make a call, will you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stepped back in the booth, glared at him, and said, \u2018Private!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Flora shone on the screen again, like a mirage on an asteroid. She said, \u2018Something wrong, Max? Don\u2019t say something\u2019s wrong. I canceled my other engagement.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said, \u2018Flora, baby, I\u2019ll be there. I\u2019ll be<\/em> there. But something\u2019s come up.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She asked the natural question in a hurt tone of voice and I said, \u2018No. Not another girl. With you in the same town they don\u2019t make any other girls. Females, maybe. Not girls. Baby! Honey! It\u2019s business. Just hold on. It won\u2019t take long.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She said, \u2018All right,\u2019 but she said it kind of like it was just enough not<\/em> all right so that I got the shivers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stepped out of the booth and said, \u2018All right, Rog Sunnuvabich, what kind of mess have you cooked up for me?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n


We went into the spaceport bar and got us an insulated booth. He said, \u2018The Antares Giant is coming in from Sirius in exactly half an hour, at 8 p.m. local time.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Okay.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Three men will get out, among others, and will wait for the Space Eater<\/em> coming in from Earth at 11 p.m. and leaving for Capella some time thereafter. The three men will get on the Space Eater<\/em> and will then be out of our jurisdiction.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018So.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018So between eight and eleven, they will be in a special waiting room and you will be with them. I have a trimensional image of each for you so you\u2019ll know who they are and which is which. You have between eight and eleven to decide which one is carrying contraband.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018What kind of contraband?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018The worst kind. Altered Spaceoline.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Altered<\/em> Spaceoline?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He had thrown me. I knew what Spaceoline was. If you\u2019ve been on a space hop you know too. And in case you\u2019re Earthbound yourself the bare fact is that everyone needs it on the first space trip; almost everybody needs it for the first dozen trips; lots need it every trip. Without it, there is vertigo associated with free fall, screaming terrors, semipermanent psychoses. With it, there is nothing; you don\u2019t mind a thing. And it isn\u2019t habit-forming; it has no adverse side effects. Spaceoline is ideal, essential, unsubstitutable. When in doubt, take Spaceoline.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rog said, \u2018That\u2019s right, altered Spaceoline. It can be changed chemically, by a simple reaction that can be conducted in anyone\u2019s basement, into a drug that will give one giant-size charge and become your baby-blue habit the first time. It is on a par with the most dangerous alkaloids we know.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018And we just found out about it?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018No. The Service has known about it for years, and we\u2019ve kept others from knowing by squashing every discovery flat. Now, however, the discovery has gone too far.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018In what way?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018One of the men who will be stopping over at this spaceport is carrying some of the altered Spaceoline on his person. Chemists in the Capellan system, which is outside the Federation, will analyze it and set up ways of synthesizing more. After that, it\u2019s either fight the worst drug menace we\u2019ve ever seen or suppress the matter by suppressing the source.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018You mean Spaceoline.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Right. And if we suppress Spaceoline, we suppress space travel.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I decided to put my finger on the point. \u2018Which one of the three has it?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rog smiled nastily. \u2018If we knew, would we need you? You\u2019re to find out which of the three.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018You\u2019re calling on me for a<\/em> lousy frisk job?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Touch the wrong one at the risk of a haircut down to the larynx. Every one of the three is a big man on his own planet. One is Edward Harponaster; one is Joaquin Lipsky; and one is Andiamo Ferrucci. Well?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was right. I\u2019d heard of every one of them. Chances are you have too. Important, very important people, and not one was touchable without proof in advance. I said, \u2018Would one of them touch a dirty deal like\u2014\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018There are trillions involved,\u2019 said Rog, \u2018which means any one of the three would. And one of them has, because Jack Hawk got that far before he was killed\u2014\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Jack Hawk\u2019s dead?<\/em>\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Right, and one of those guys arranged the killing. Now you find out which. You put the finger on the right one before eleven and there\u2019s a promotion, a raise in pay, a payback for poor Jack Hawk, and a rescue of the Galaxy. You put the finger on the wrong one and there\u2019ll be a nasty interstellar situation and you\u2019ll be out on your ear and also on every blacklist from here to Antares and back.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said, \u2018Suppose I don\u2019t finger anybody?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018That would be like fingering the wrong one as far as the Service is concerned.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I\u2019ve got to finger someone, but only the right one, or my head\u2019s handed to me?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018In thin slices. You\u2019re beginning to understand me, Max.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In a long lifetime of looking ugly, Rog Crinton had never looked uglier. The only comfort I got out of staring at him was the realization that he was married too, and that he lived with his wife at Marsport all year round. And does he deserve that! Maybe I\u2019m hard on him, but he deserves<\/em> it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I put in a quick call to Flora, as soon as Rog was out of sight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She said, \u2018Well?\u2019 The magnetic seams on her robe were opened just right and her voice sounded as thrillingly soft as she looked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said, \u2018Baby, honey, it\u2019s something I can\u2019t talk about, but I\u2019ve got to do it, see? Now you hang on, I\u2019ll get it over with if I have to swim the Grand Canal to the icecap in my underwear, see? If I have to claw Phobos out of the sky. If I have to cut myself in pieces and mail myself parcel post.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Gee,\u2019 she said, \u2018if I thought I was going to have to wait\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I winced. She just wasn\u2019t the type to respond to poetry. Actually, she was a simple creature of action\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

but after all, if I were going to be drifting through low gravity in a sea of jasmine perfume with Flora, poetry response is not the type of qualification I would consider most indispensable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said urgently, \u2018Just hold on, Flora. I won\u2019t be any time at all. I\u2019ll make it up to you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was annoyed, sure, but I wasn\u2019t worried as yet. Rog hadn\u2019t more than left me when I figured out exactly how I was going to tell the guilty man from the others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was easy. I should have called Rog back and told him, but there\u2019s no law against wanting egg in your beer and oxygen in your air. It would take me five minutes and then off I would go to Flora; a little late, maybe, but with a promotion, a raise, and a slobbering kiss from the Service on each cheek.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You see, it\u2019s like this. Big industrialists don\u2019t go space hopping much; they use transvideo reception. When they do go to some ultra-high interstellar conference, as these three were probably going, they took Spaceoline. For one thing, they didn\u2019t have enough hops under their belt to risk doing without. For another, Spaceoline was the expensive way of doing it and industrialists did things the expensive way. I know their psychology.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now that would hold for two of them. The one who carried contraband, however, couldn\u2019t risk Spaceoline\u2014even at the price of risking space sickness. Under Spaceoline influence, he could throw the drug away, or give it away, or talk gibberish about it. He would have<\/em> to stay in control of himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was as simple as that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Antares Giant<\/em> was on time. They brought in Lipsky first. He had thick, ruddy lips, rounded jowls, very dark eyebrows, and hair just beginning to show gray. He just looked at me and sat down. Nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was under Spaceoline.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said, \u2018Good evening, sir.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He said, in a dreamy voice, \u2018Surrealismus of Panamy hearts in three-quarter time for a cup of coffeedom of speech.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was Spaceoline all the way. The buttons in the human mind were set free-swinging. Each syllable suggests the next in free association.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Andiamo Ferrucci came in next. Black mustache, long and waxed, olive complexion, pock-marked face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He sat down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said, \u2018Nice trip?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He said, \u2018Trip the light fantastic lock the clock is Growings on the bird.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lipsky said, \u2018Bird to the wise guyed book to all places everybody.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I grinned. That left Harponaster. I had my needle gun neatly palmed and out of sight and the magnetic coil ready to grip him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then Harponaster came in. He was thin, leathery, and, though near-bald, considerably younger than he seemed in his trimensional image. And he was Spaceolined to the gills.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said, \u2018Damn!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Harponaster said, \u2018Damyankee note speech to his last time I saw wood you say so.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ferrucci said, \u2018Sow the seed the territory under dispute do well to come-along long road tonightingale.\u2019 Lipsky said, \u2018Gay lords hopping pong balls.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared from one to the other as the nonsense ran down in shorter and shorter spurts and then silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I got the picture, all right. One of them was faking. He had thought ahead and realized that omitting the Spaceoline would be a giveaway. He might have bribed an official into injecting saline or dodged it some other way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of them was faking. It wasn\u2019t hard to fake the thing. Comedians on sub-etheric had a Spaceoline skit regularly. It was amazing the liberties they could take with the moral code in that way. You\u2019ve<\/em> heard them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at them and got the first prickle at the base of my skull that said: What if you don\u2019t finger the right one?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was eight-thirty and there was my job, my reputation, my head growing rickety upon my neck to be considered. I saved it all for later and thought of Flora. She wasn\u2019t going to wait for me forever. For that matter, chances were she wouldn\u2019t wait for half an hour.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wondered. Could the faker keep up free association if nudged gently onto dangerous territory?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said, \u2018The floor\u2019s covered with a nice solid rug\u2019 and ran the last two words together to make it \u2018soli drug.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lipsky: \u2018Drug from underneath the dough re mi fa sol to be saved.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ferrucci said, \u2018Saved and a haircut above the common herd something about younicorny as Kansas high as my knee.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Harponaster said, \u2018Kneether wind nor snow use try to by four ever and effervescence and sensibilityter totter.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lipsky said, \u2018Totters and rags.\u2019 Ferrucci said, \u2018Agsactly.\u2019 Harponaster said, \u2018Actiymation.\u2019 A few grunts and they ran down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tried again and I didn\u2019t forget to be careful. They would remember everything I said afterward and what I said had to be harmless. I said, \u2018This is a darned good space-line.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ferrucci said, \u2018Lines and tigers and elephanthills on the prairie dogs do bark of the boughwough\u2014\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I interrupted, looking at Harponaster, \u2018A darned good space-line.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Line the bed and rest a little black sheepishion of wrong way to ring the clothes of a perfect day.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I interrupted again, glaring at Lipsky. \u2018Good space-line.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Liron is hot-chacolit ain\u2019t gonna be the same on you vee and double the stakes and potato and heel.\u2019 Someone else said, \u2018Heel the sicknecessaryd and white will wincetance.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Tance with mealtime.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I\u2019m comingle.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Inglish.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Ishter seals.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Eels.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tried a few more times and got nowhere. The faker, whichever he was, had practiced or had natural talents at talking free association. He was disconnecting his brain and letting the words come out any old way. And he must be inspired by knowing exactly what I was after. If \u2018drug\u2019 hadn\u2019t given it away, \u2018space-line\u2019 three times repeated must have. I was safe with the other two, but he<\/em> would know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And he was having fun with me. All three were saying phrases that might have pointed to a deep inner guilt\u2014\u2018sol to be saved,\u2019 \u2018little black sheepishion of wrong,\u2019 \u2018drug from underneath,\u2019 and so on. Two were saying such things helplessly, randomly. The third was amusing himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So how did I find the third? I was in a feverish thrill of hatred against him and my fingers twitched. The bastard was subverting the Galaxy. More than that, he was keeping me from Flora.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could go up to each of them and start searching. The two who were really under Spaceoline would make no move to stop me. They could feel no emotion, no fear, no anxiety, no hate, no passion, no desire for self-defense. And if one made the slightest gesture of resistance I would have my man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the innocent ones would remember afterward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sighed. If I tried it, I would get the criminal all right, but later I would be the nearest thing to chopped liver any man had ever been. There would be a shakeup in the Service, a big stink the width of the Galaxy, and in the excitement and disorganization, the secret of altered Spaceoline would get out anyway and so what the hell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Of course, the one I wanted might be the first one I touched. One chance out of three. I\u2019d have one out and only God can make a three.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Damn it, something had started them going while I was muttering to myself and Spaceoline is contagioust a gigolo my, oh\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared desperately at my watch and my line of sight focused on nine-fifteen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Where the devil was the time going to?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Oh, my; oh, nuts; oh, Flora!<\/p>\n\n\n\n


I had no choice. I made my way to the booth for another quick call to Flora. Just a quick one, you understand, to keep things alive, assuming they weren\u2019t dead already.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I kept saying to myself: She won\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tried to prepare myself for that. There were other girls, there were other\u2014 Hell, there were no other girls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If Hilda had been in Marsport, I would never have had Flora on my mind in the first place and it wouldn\u2019t have mattered. But I was in Marsport without<\/em> Hilda and I had made a date with Flora; Flora and a body that had been made up out of heaping handfuls of all that was soft and fragrant and firm; Flora and a low-gravity room and a way about her that made it seem like free fall through a warm, breathable ocean of champagne-flavored meringue\u2014The signal was signaling and signaling and I didn\u2019t dare break off. Answer! Answer!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She answered. She said, \u2018It\u2019s you!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Of course, sweetheart, who else would it be?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Lots of people. Someone who would come.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018There\u2019s just this little detail of business, honey.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018What business? Plastons for who?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I almost corrected her grammar, but I was wondering what this plastons kick was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I remembered. I told her once I was a plaston salesman. That was the time I brought her a plaston nightgown that was honey. Just thinking of it made me ache where I needed no more ache.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said, \u2018Look, just give me another half-hour\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her eyes grew moist. \u2018I\u2019m sitting here all by myself.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I\u2019ll make it up to you.\u2019 To show you how desperate I was getting, I was definitely beginning to think along paths that could lead only to jewelry, even though a sizable dent in the bankbook would show up to Hilda\u2019s piercing eye like the Horsehead Nebula interrupting the Milky Way. She said, \u2018I had a perfectly good date and I broke it off.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I protested, \u2018You said it was a quibbling little arrangement.\u2019 That was a mistake. I knew it the minute I said it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She shrieked. \u2018Quibbling little arrangement!<\/em>\u2019 It was what she had said. But having the truth on your side just makes it worse in arguing with a woman. Don\u2019t I know? \u2018You call a man who\u2019s promised me an estate on Earth\u2014\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She went on and on about that estate on Earth. There wasn\u2019t a gal in Marsport who wasn\u2019t wangling for an estate on Earth and you could count the number who got one on the sixth finger of either hand. But hope springs eternal in the human breast, and Flora had plenty of room for it to spring in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tried to stop her. I threw in honeys and babies until you would have thought that every bee on the planet Earth was pregnant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No use.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She finally said, \u2018And here I am all alone, with nobody, and what do you think that<\/em> will do to my reputation?\u2019 and broke off contact.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Well, she was right. I felt like the lowest heel in the Galaxy. If the word did get around that she had been stood up, the word would also get around that she was standuppable, that she was losing the old touch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A thing like that can ruin a girl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


I went back into the reception room. A flunky outside the door saluted me in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at the three industrialists and speculated on the order in which I would slowly choke each to death if I could but receive choking orders. Harponaster first, maybe. He had a thin, stringy neck that the fingers could go around neatly and a sharp Adam\u2019s apple against which the thumbs could find purchase.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It cheered me up infinitesimally, to the point where I muttered, \u2018Boy!\u2019 just out of sheer longing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It started them off at once. Ferrucci said, \u2018Boyl the watern the spout you go in the snow to sneeze\u2014\u2019 Harponaster of the scrawny neck added, \u2018Nies and nephew don\u2019t like orporalley cat.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lipsky said, \u2018Cattle for shipmentering the home stretchings are good bait and drank drunk.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Drunkle aunterior passageway! a while.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018While beasts oh pray.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Rayls to Chicago.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Go way.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Waiter.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Terble.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Ble.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They stared at me. I stared at them. They were empty of emotion\u2014or two were\u2014and I was empty of ideas. And time passed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at them some more and thought about Flora. It occurred to me that I had nothing to lose that I had not already lost. I might as well talk about her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said, \u2018Gentlemen, there is a girl in this town whose name I will not mention for fear of compromising her. Let me describe her to you, gentlemen.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And I did. If I say so myself, the last two hours had honed me to such a fine force-field edge that the description of Flora took on a kind of poetry that seemed to be coming from some wellspring of masculine force deep in the sub-basement of my unconscious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And they sat frozen, almost as though they were listening, and hardly ever interrupting. People under Spaceoline have a kind of politeness about them. They won\u2019t speak when someone else is speaking. That\u2019s why they take turns.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Occasionally, of course, I paused a bit because the poignancy of the subject matter made me want to linger and then one of them might put in a few words before I could gather myself together and continue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Pinknic of champagnes and aches and bittern of the century box.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Round that and\/or thisandy beaches.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Assault and peppert girlieping leopard.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I drowned them out and kept talking. \u2018This young lady, gentlemen,\u2019 I said, \u2018has an apartment fitted out for low gravity. Now you might ask of what use is low gravity? I intend to tell you, gentlemen, for if you have never had occasion to spend a quiet evening with a Marsport prima donna in privacy, you cannot imagine\u2014\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I tried to make it unnecessary for them to imagine\u2014the way I told it they were there<\/em>. They would remember all this afterward but I doubted mightily that either of the two innocents would object to it in hindsight. Chances were they would look me up to ask a phone number.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I kept it up, with loving, careful detail and a kind of heartfelt sadness in my voice, until the loudspeaker announced the arrival of the Space Eater<\/em>. That was that. I said in a loud voice, \u2018Rise, gentlemen.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They got up in unison, faced the door, started walking, and as Ferrucci passed me, I tapped him on the shoulder and said, \u2018Not you, you murdering louse,\u2019 and my magnetic coil was on his wrist before he could breathe twice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ferrucci fought like a demon. He<\/em> was under no Spaceoline influence. They found the altered Spaceoline in thin flesh-colored plastic pads hugging the inner surface of his thighs, with hairs affixed to it in the normal pattern. You couldn\u2019t see it at all; you could only feel it, and even then it took a knife to make sure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Afterward, Rog Crinton, grinning and half-insane with relief, held me by the lapel with a death grip. \u2018How did you do it? What gave it away?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said, trying to pull loose, \u2018One of them was faking a Spaceoline jag. I was sure of it. So I told them\u2014\u2019 I grew cautious. None of the bum\u2019s business as to the details, you know. \u2018\u2014uh, ribald stories, see, and two of them never reacted, so they were Spaceolined. But Ferrucci\u2019s breathing speeded up and the beads of sweat came out on his forehead. I gave a pretty dramatic rendition, and he reacted, so he was under no Spaceoline. And when they all stood up to head out for the ship, I was sure of my man and stopped him. Now will you let me go?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He let go and I almost fell over backward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was set to take off. My feet were pawing at the ground without any instructions for me, but I turned back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Hey, Rog,\u2019 I said, \u2018can you sign me a chit for a thousand credits without its going on the record\u2014for services rendered to the Service?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s when I realized he was half-insane with relief and very temporary gratitude, because he said, \u2018Sure, Max, sure. Ten thousand credits if you want it.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I want<\/em>,\u2019 I said. \u2018I want. I want.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He filled out an official Service chit for ten thousand credits, good as cash anywhere in half the Galaxy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was actually grinning as he gave it to me and you can bet I was grinning as I took it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How he<\/em> intended accounting for it was his affair. The point was that I wouldn\u2019t have to account for it to Hilda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


I stood in the booth, one last time, signaling Flora. I didn\u2019t dare let matters go till I reached her place. The additional half-hour might just give her time to get someone else, if she hadn\u2019t already.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Make her answer. Make her answer. Make her\u2014 She answered, but she was in formal clothes. She was going out and I had obviously caught her by two minutes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I am going out,\u2019 she announced. \u2018Some men can be decent. And I do not wish to see you in the henceforward. I do not wish ever to find my eyes upon you. You will do me a great favor, Mister Whoeveryouare, if you will unhand my signal combination and never pollute it with\u2014\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wasn\u2019t saying anything. I was just standing there holding my breath and also holding the chit up where she could see it. Just standing there. Just holding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sure enough, at the word \u2018pollute\u2019 she came in for a closer look. She wasn\u2019t much on education, that girl, but she could read \u2018ten thousand credits\u2019 faster than any college graduate in the Solar System. She said, \u2018Max! For me?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018All for you, baby,\u2019 I said. \u2018I told you I had a little business to do. I wanted to surprise you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Oh Max that\u2019s sweet of you. I didn\u2019t really mind. I was joking. Now you come right here to me.\u2019 She took off her coat, which with Flora is a very interesting action to watch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018What about your date?\u2019 I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I said<\/em> I was joking,\u2019 she said. She dropped her coat gently to the floor, and toyed with a brooch that seemed to hold together what there was of her dress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I\u2019m coming,\u2019 I said faintly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018With every single one of those credits now,\u2019 she said roguishly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018With every single one,\u2019 I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I broke contact, stepped out of the booth, and now, finally, I was set, really set.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I heard my name called.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Max! Max!\u2019 Someone was running toward me. \u2018Rog Crinton said I would find you here. Mama\u2019s all right after all, so I got special passage on the Space Eater<\/em> and what\u2019s this about ten thousand credits?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t turn. I said, \u2018Hello, Hilda.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood rock steady.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then I turned and did the hardest thing I ever succeeded in doing in all my goddam, good-for-nothing, space-hopping life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cI\u2019m in Marsport Without Hilda\u201d is a short story by American writer Isaac Asimov, published in November 1957 in Venture Science Fiction Magazine. Max, an agent of the Galactic Service, arrives in Marsport for a three-day stopover before returning to Earth. The occasion seems perfect: his wife, Hilda, will not be able to join him, leaving him free to call Flora, a former lover. But just when everything seems to be leading toward the long-awaited encounter, Rog Crinton, an official of the Service on Mars, assigns him an urgent mission: to discover which one of three important passengers is carrying a dangerous contraband substance capable of threatening space travel.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":27676,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_kad_blocks_custom_css":"","_kad_blocks_head_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_body_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_footer_custom_js":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[559],"tags":[589,552,570],"class_list":["post-27677","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-stories","tag-isaac-asimov-en","tag-science-fiction","tag-united-states","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-33"],"acf":[],"taxonomy_info":{"category":[{"value":559,"label":"Short stories"}],"post_tag":[{"value":589,"label":"Isaac Asimov"},{"value":552,"label":"Science fiction"},{"value":570,"label":"United States"}]},"featured_image_src_large":["https:\/\/lecturia.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Isaac-Asimov-Estoy-en-Puertomarte-sin-Hilda.webp",768,768,false],"author_info":{"display_name":"Juan Pablo Guevara","author_link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/author\/spartakku\/"},"comment_info":"","category_info":[{"term_id":559,"name":"Short stories","slug":"short-stories","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":559,"taxonomy":"category","description":"","parent":0,"count":423,"filter":"raw","cat_ID":559,"category_count":423,"category_description":"","cat_name":"Short stories","category_nicename":"short-stories","category_parent":0}],"tag_info":[{"term_id":589,"name":"Isaac Asimov","slug":"isaac-asimov-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":589,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":38,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":552,"name":"Science fiction","slug":"science-fiction","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":552,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":123,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":570,"name":"United States","slug":"united-states","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":570,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":296,"filter":"raw"}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27677","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=27677"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27677\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":27681,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27677\/revisions\/27681"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/27676"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=27677"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=27677"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=27677"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}