Pave the Universe

She knew a few girls who worked security, and when they were off duty she would sometimes go bar hopping with them down in the deep halls where it was easy to get into trouble. There was a bar about 20 levels down called The Asylum. It had padded walls, and it was a good place to get into a fight. If someone looked at you the wrong way, you could bounce her off the walls. One morning Yancy came in to the Farms with a nice bruise on her cheek. When I asked her about it she just said, "The Asylum."

Once, when we were looking out at the Domed Stadium through the big windows of the Grand Plaza, she said, "Just imagine how it would look if that useless thing weren’t there."

"What’s wrong with sports?" I asked, but she only muttered, "Goddamn pavers." As far as I could figure, Yancy considered most all of the human race to be ‘pavers’.

The Farms was situated in a series of caves just below the surface about halfway between the Port and Bighead City. It had been warehouses before the turn of the century, but it was abandoned once the Port started to grow. A wide, rough tunnel connected it to the city right below the Grand Plaza at the B Level Common. It was a rail tunnel, and accommodated cargo and passenger traffic. On the door to the tunnel, someone had painted an old fashioned farmer holding a lamb and standing in a pile of manure. It was enough to keep the curious out.

The rail tunnel was pressurized, and we used to walk it when we went to the Grand Plaza for lunch. You were supposed to ride a car through it, but a few of us walked it and no one seemed to mind. It would take something like five, maybe ten minutes to go from one end to the other. It was eerie to walk the tunnel alone, but if you were with someone it gave you a chance to talk, and walk, in private.

During these walks, Yancy and I would debate political issues. I never really liked politics that much, but Yancy made politics interesting. And she was always much more serious in her views than I. While she complained about the faults of our Lunar political system, I found myself playing devil’s advocate a lot just to get her reaction. I guess she knew what I was doing because she never got mad at me, only at the issue. And the topic always ended up on conservation. To be a saver, she would say, is to understand your purpose in life. And that purpose was not to pave the universe.

I finally agreed to go bar hopping with Yancy and her pals one evening. "Put your lipstick on, Amy, I’m taking you out," she had said. Yancy never wore makeup, and often made remarks about mine. I always thought that a girl should look good, and when I’d say that to her, she’d say, "You look good anyway!"

A new bar called The Core was opening way down deep, some 22 levels below the surface. Yancy had invites to the grand opening party, which offered free food and drink. We met up with Yancy’s pals at her place, and after a few cocktails we took the drop as deep as it would go, and then walked down the rest of the way. For an opening, the party was relatively tame. But, I was able to get acquainted with Yancy’s friends, Jan and Wendi, who were both security. They may have been tough girls, but they were quite friendly.

Two days later Jan’s name was in the morning’s news. I read the article twice before going to work.