Chapter 20: Children

Carrolton Complex Tower A

New Pittsburgh, Mars

Tuesday, October 24, 2152

“So, what’s it like getting married on Earth?” asked Tasty Brown. She was stretched out on the couch in their living room, her feet on her fiancé’s lap.

Walker Stevens was idly rubbing Tasty’s ankles and debating running his hands up her legs. After getting home, he had changed into old denim shorts and a white t-shirt, typical Martian clothing, but Tasty was wearing a short and lacy robe. “Why ask me? It’s not like I’ve ever been married, here or there.”

“So? All I know about Earthling weddings are what we see on InfoGroup. Is any of that real?”

Walker laughed. “Probably about as real as anything else they broadcast. Besides, I’m from EastHem, I would have watched NewsComp or one of their networks.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. Give!”

Walker laughed and said, “I’ll give you something.” He began tickling the soles of her feet and Tasty squawked and twisted out of his reach.

“I know how to get you to talk!” she told him.

“Oh?” he laughed.

“By changing into something else! Ha!”

Walker laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, so you want to know about weddings on Earth. Fine. Go make us drinks and I’ll tell you about weddings on Earth. Then you can tell me about weddings on Mars.”

“That will be a short talk.” Tasty made vodka and tonics and brought them back to the living room. “So? Weddings?”

He smiled and shrugged. “Thank you. I don’t know about here, but on Earth, weddings are a big deal. The stuff on the WestHem and EastHem networks, it’s all about big flashy weddings that look good on the vids.”

“Is any of it real?”

He shrugged. “It’s like anything. Some are big and some are small, and it all takes money. Mounds of money!”

“Keep going. Getting married seems simple.”

Walker rolled his eyes at that. “First, you need to get a wedding license...”

“You need a permit to get married?”

“Pretty much. You have to prove you’re not already married, that you’re old enough to get married, that you’ve paid for the license, that you don’t have any diseases and you have a fertility block. Didn’t you have to do something similar? What about the rump rangers and clitlickers? That was illegal, right?”

Tasty nodded. “Get you fired and get you thrown in jail. We had a special trick for that. A pair of faggots would find a pair of lezzies and marry across the couples. You know, one of the faggots would marry one of the lezzies. Do that twice and everybody keeps their mouths shut. That gets you two apartments, and nobody cares who sleeps where.”

Walker shrugged. “That works.”

“You said it costs a ton of money. What’s all the money for?” Tasty asked.

Walker rolled his eyes. “First, everybody has to get all dressed up. It’s not like here on Mars, where fancy clothes are clean shorts and a t-shirt. You’ve seen the vids. Guys have to wear tuxedos, really fancy suits that are so expensive normal people can’t afford to buy them. They have to rent the clothing, and it all has to match. Then the bride has to wear a special white dress - white, because everybody is pretending she’s a virgin - and she is expected to buy the dress, not just rent it, and she can never wear it a second time, though if she has a daughter, she might wear it for her wedding.”

“That sounds nuts.”

He nodded. “Wedding dresses could cost thousands of pounds, and they only wear them once. You’re right. That’s nuts.”

Tasty asked, “What did you mean the clothing has to match?”

“Oh, the bride and the groom are just part of this! Each side has extra people. He has a best man, a number two, sort of, and some other guys called ushers, and they all have to be dressed like the groom. The bride has a maid of honor, her number two, and an equal number of bridesmaids, and they either have to wear matching dresses or other dresses that don’t match but have some sort of similar style, only they can’t be white.”

“How many?”

Walker shrugged. “As many as you can find or afford. It’s usually your friends or family. The wedding itself is sometimes held in a church, or some other very fancy restaurant or banquet hall, someplace you can bring in hundreds of guests. It always ends up in a restaurant or banquet hall, because after the wedding, the father of the bride has to host a party and feed all the guests.”

“Hundreds of guests? That must cost a fortune!” Tasty commented.

Walker rolled his eyes and nodded. “I’ve heard of them costing twenty, thirty, even forty thousand pounds. The craziest ones are those held by the super-wealthy. Ask Mary and Paul about it sometime. That’s what they would have had, though Paul’s family would have had to pay. My understanding is that Mary’s family could never have afforded that kind of wedding.”

“And after all that, the divorce rate is what, half of all marriages?”

“That’s a standard part of an entire class of romance vids. The happy couple get divorced, and the daughter has to move back into her parents’ home, sometimes with a child. Then she meets somebody else, her real true love, or an old boyfriend, or even her ex-husband, and true love conquers all.”

Tasty shook her head. “Wow! All that and only a fifty-fifty shot.”

“So, is it any better here?” he asked.

“Depends. Before the Revolution, marriage was all about moving out of your parents’ apartment and getting your own, then getting pregnant so you can get a bigger apartment. It was just economics.”

“So, what’s a Martian wedding like? I’ve never covered one,” said Walker.

“They’re a lot smaller, for one thing. We have smaller families, unlike the vids from Earth. When I got married, I didn’t even get a fancy wedding. Billy and I simply went online and filled out a form and went down to the nearest wedding chapel. Five minutes later we were applying for our own apartment. No fuss, no muss. Our parents took us to dinner that night. When we got our apartment, his parents bought us a bed and my parents bought us a set of sheets and pillows.”

“Huh. I was figuring we could do something a little nicer than filling out a form and shaking hands at a wedding chapel,” Walker admitted.

Tasty blushed. “We did more than shake hands. We went to a nearby park and screwed a few times. We were newlyweds, after all. A day later we had a big party, and everybody got laid.”

Walker grinned. “We’ll have to ask Paul and Mary about that, too. That’s one of those things they never show in the romance vids from Earth. It’s one of the nice things about dresses, too. You can just pull the dress up and who knows what you’ll find, or not find.”

Tasty set her empty glass down on the end table and moved towards Walker. “Whatever could you be talking about, Mister Stevens.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and put her lips to his. “Tell me all about EastHem bridal lingerie.”

Walker ran his hands across her back. “I’ve never been married, remember? I don’t know anything about bridal lingerie. Tell me about what Martians wear under their bridal shorts and t-shirt.”

They ignored the flashing messages on their computers. Whoever it was could wait until later.

Westinghouse Towers

New Pittsburgh, Mars

Tuesday, October 24, 2152

There were many wonderful aspects of public transportation on Mars. It was energy efficient, caused less pollution, and was much safer since random idiots weren’t driving around drunk and stoned. It was also much healthier, since people walked much more than on Earth, even if it was just a few blocks. There was one specific area that it failed, however. When you needed to go to the hospital quickly, the only way to do it was by calling for a dip-hoe.

Paul Winston understood all this, intellectually at least, but it was still a problem. At 1752 Mary got a worried look on her face and clutched her abdomen. He looked at her and said, “You all right?”

“I think so.”

“Well sit down and put your feet up. You’re pregnant, remember?”

She extended both middle fingers. “This is all your fault!”

In the kitchen, their house bitch laughed at them. Chili Hardcore said, “I seem to remember hearing you demanding extra loads on a nightly basis.”

“Unemployment is an option!” replied Mary. She was a week overdue on giving birth and was extra grumpy.

Paul rolled his eyes. “What’s for dinner?” he asked Chili.

Chili was about to answer when Mary grabbed her abdomen and staggered slightly. “Oof!” she muttered.

Paul stood up and went to her. “Are you alright?”

Mary looked up at him nervously. “I don’t know. I think so.”

Chili closed the refrigerator and came around the island. A junior in the Mars University pre-med program, she had a better than average idea what was happening. She maneuvered Mary to the couch and pushed her down. “Are you having contractions?”

Mary nodded. “I think so.”

“How far apart are they? Have you had any earlier today?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t sure they were real or not.” Then she let out another, “Ooohh!” and clutched herself.

Paul began getting nervous, but Chili was watching Mary and eyeing her watch. When Mary calmed down, she said, “That was forty seconds. Now we simply need to start timing.”

“Uh, what’s next?” asked Paul.

“Paul, you’ve been through this twice before,” she chided.

“Yeah, but that was different.”

“Not really. Babies happen here just like on Earth. Mary is healthy and has already had two good pregnancies.” Paul Junior and his brother came over, and Chili said, “The pregnancies were fine. The results were rather uneven.”

Randy laughed at that, though his older brother protested. “Hey, Mom got it right the first time. I never understood why she wanted to try a second time. And now this? A girl? This is awful!”

His mother reached out and smacked him gently. “And for that, you are going to be the chief babysitter and diaper expert.”

PJ looked at Chili and asked, “What’s the legal age on Mars to run away from home?”

“You can’t get an apartment until you are eighteen. Sorry. Besides, why are you complaining? I thought you liked girls.”

PJ blushed at that. His brother simply laughed.

A couple of minutes later, Mary took a deep breath and said, “Oooohhh! Big one!”

Chili glanced at her watch. “Okay, it’s official. It’s time to get you to the hospital. Somebody is on the way. Paul, call 9-1-1.”

9-1-1 was the universal comm number for emergency medical and police assistance and had been for almost two centuries. It was used in WestHem, EastHem, Mars, and all the colonies. Paul nervously said, “Uh, yeah ... What’s the number?”

Everybody in the room stared at him. Randy answered first, saying, “Dad, get real! It’s 9-1-1!”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He grabbed a commlink and made the call.

The family listened as Paul talked to the emergency center. When it was over, he said, “We need to get downstairs. The dip-hoes are bringing a cart.”

The two women rolled their eyes. Chili turned to the boys. “Grab your mom’s bag. We’ll take her downstairs and then come back home. You dad will go to the hospital with her, and we’ll wait for him to call with the good news.”

“Diapers are good news?” joked Paul Junior.

“Better news than a funeral, which you are working on,” Chili replied. That just earned a laugh. “Get the door.”

The family left the apartment, with Paul holding his wife’s hand as she waddled down the hallway to the elevator. The boys were tempted to laugh, but a nasty glance from Chili kept them quiet. They rode down to the lobby, where a dip-hoe was waiting for them.