The MARRYING MAN
BY JOSEPH FARRELL
Pete never heard of that old adage
about "What's sauce for the goose
is sauce for the gander"....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, August 1958.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
It wasn't that Pete Cooper didn't love his wives, or that he wanted tosee them hurry on into the next world. He always felt real grief whenhe found himself a widower.
But a man must be practical. They were all healthy young women, or atleast middle aged when he married them, good insurance risks, and noinsurance agent was turning down the business when Pete asked for apolicy that big, especially when Pete was putting the cash on the lineto pay up the policy when he bought it.
That was the most sensible way for a man in the interstellar serviceto invest his money, Pete said. When he was out in space traveling atnear light speed, and time slowed almost to a stop for him, the fewmonths he spent on an expedition meant that nine years passed for awife on Earth for a Centauri trip, and Sirius meant fifteen, and Altairtwenty-five. So a man only saw his wife two or three times betweentrips, and maybe the last time he saw her he had to take her to theold ladies' home, and the next time he pulled into Earth the insurancecompany was waiting for him with a check. Safer than stocks, and therewas always the possibility that the loving wife might come to anaccidental end, which would sadden him, but it meant a double indemnitypayment. That sort of satisfied a man's natural desire to have a littlespeculation attached to his investment.
Sally was the seventh. Pete sat fingering the check, feeling genuinesadness at his bereavement.
"Lovely girl," he told the insurance agent. "It makes a man feel emptyto come home from the stars and find that his wife has gone to herreward."
The insurance man disguised a cynical smirk behind his sympatheticmask. "Yes ... a wonderful woman. But it must happen to all of us."
He patted Pete's shoulder gently. Pete rose, folded the checkcarelessly and put it into a pocket. He shook the insurance agent'shand.
"You've been very kind. I'll take your card ... in case I ever needanother policy...."
Pete expected to need another policy before he left for his next trip.He felt unhappy about Sally's being gone, but a man mustn't give in tomorbid self pity. And hadn't he heard somebody say that a man without awife was like a spaceship without a motor?
He strolled about the city, unimpressed by the changes since his lastvisit. An interstellar man with as much service as Pete was beyondshowing surprise at superficial differences. He was a little annoyedto find that the moving sidewalks were old-fashioned and had been tornout. People now wore little repulsor units on their belts.
Walking was tiresome. He stopped at a corner and watched thepedestrians as they whizzed by a few inches off the ground. At leastthey were clothed; the nudity of the previous century had been somewhatunnerving even to the blasé eyes of a time man. And he was glad to seethat the women were back to wearing long, well groomed hair. Thatperiod when fashion had called for smoothly shaven heads hadn't suitedhis taste at all.
In fact, none of it seemed to appeal to him very much any more. Thatwas sophistication, the price that must be paid by a man in theinterstellar service, watching the centuries go by wit