Mars Needs Bimbos - Part 1
by Melanie Brown
Copyright  © 2022 Melanie Brown

George and Mike decide they don't like getting old

Erin suggested an idea to me and this is what bubbled up --Ed

 

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“You comin’, Mike?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses, George.” Since turning one hundred and twenty-five, I’ve found my fingers just don’t function as they used to. After fumbling the buttons on my shirt three times, I decided to switch to a t-shirt. Those are more comfortable anyway. It annoys me that George doesn’t seem to have the same problem.

George chuckled. “No problem, Mike. There’ll be another tube in about ten minutes.” Our retirement community’s ZipTube station was oddly never very busy. It was a five minute ride to the station at the central hub that branches out to various points in the village. Some people, but certainly not me, actually prefer to walk to the village. They like the exercise, they say.

The ZipTube to the village is free. But if you want to visit other villages or cities, or even the beach or the mountains, you have to buy a ticket. Most people don’t have the five thousand credits to go anywhere.

“There you are,” chuckled George when I stepped out of my apartment.

I frowned at George. “Unlike you, I’ve kinda slowed down in the last few years. I’ll tell ya, it sucks getting old. It’s the twenty second century. You’d think they’d cured getting old by now.”

As we took our seats in the empty ZipTube car, George grinned at me. “They have. You’re just too cheap to do it.”

I grunted. “Do you have an extra three hundred thousand credits laying around? Yeah, sure. You’re eighteen again and healthy. But you’re a girl. Who wants that?”

George frowned. “They still haven’t worked that one kink out of the system?”

I shook my head. “Not only are you a girl, but most people don’t have those kind of credits so they wind up as indentured servants for what? Ten? Fifteen years? And then what?”

George shrugged. “At least you get to keep your certificates.”

“Bah!” I shook my head. "On my hundred and tenth birthday, I actually checked with my company where I was a pilot for forty years, about that. Even though you have all your certs and training, after regen, you’re a different person and they expect you to re-certify. That’s another twenty thousand credits.”

George looked surprised. “I didn’t know that. I drove haulers.”

I frowned. “I bet they have the same rules.”

Our ZipTube ride floated to a stop and we both got out.

George sighed. “What can you do? At our age, booster spice is no longer effective. It’s either regen or protein reclamation.”

It wasn’t far, so we walked to the edge of the village. It was a bright, sunny day with the temps in the low twenties. It was nice to get out of those soulless apartments. A buggy pulled beside us wanting to give us a ride to the restaurant district. We waved it off. We wanted to check out some stores first.

After about twenty minutes of walking, George pointed out a store front we’d never seen before. It was a Mars recruitment center.

George said, “Let’s check this out. I’ve always wanted to visit Mars.”

I frowned and said, “This is a worker’s recruitment center, not a travel bureau.” But George went inside anyway. I followed him in.

A well dressed employee looked up and smiled as we entered the building, “Welcome to the Mars recruitment center. How may I help you gentlemen?”

George tapped a poster on the wall and asked, “What kind of Mars vacation packages do you have?”

Continuing to smile, the employee said, “Sir, we don’t have vacation plans here. We recruit new miners, construction workers and such.”

I was drawn to one of the recruitment posters that pictures a big titted young woman with long blonde hair. I pointed at the poster and chuckled. “Are these the kinds of miners you’re recruiting?”

Smiling pleasantly, the employee said, “No. Not for mining or construction. We recruit young women to go to Mars to comfort the men working there.”

I narrowed my eyes at the young salesman. “Comfort?”

The man shrugged. “Well yeah. It’s lonely out in space.”

George turned away from the poster he was looking at and asked, “So you’re recruiting women for wives? So they can have families?”

The young man smiled, his patience starting to wan. He said as he shook his head. “No. Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise a kid.”

I nodded. “Yeah. It’s cold as hell.”

George stroked his chin. “I’m curious. How do you entice women to go to such a harsh environment to basically be whores?”

The salesman winced at the word “whore.” He said, “We prefer to use the term, Comfort Women. The women sign a five year, Earth year, contract to remain on Mars and provide for the needs of the man they’re assigned to. The mining company, Mars A-TAKS, pays for the trip there and back and they receive a very generous package. They won’t need any money while on Mars so all their pay goes into an escrow account for their return to Earth. You’d be surprised how many women find this as an attractive solution to their financial or personal problems.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I bet. Where on Mars are they doing this?”

The salesman replied, “Mariner Valley. They’re building a processing plant for Port Lowell. It’s all part of the Barsoom Project.”

George laughed. “Well hell, man. Sounds like you guys could use an experienced pilot and a hauler jockey.”

The salesman grinned. “I don’t doubt it. But I have to tell you guys. Your age is a barrier. Not only are you past retirement age, but in all honesty, all those months in a cryo-box would probably kill you.”

George nodded. “That’s probably true.”

I kept looking at the big titted blonde on the poster in front of me. “Too bad we can’t afford a regen. I’d hate to be a girl, but I’ve heard those companies on Mars aren’t quite so picky about certs.”

The salesman grinned at me. “The company will pay for your regen as long as you sign the five year agreement. After that, you can do whatever you want. You’ll have a shit ton of credits in escrow by then.” He looked back and forth from George and me and grinned.

I looked over at George and chuckled. “What do you think, George? Want to start again?”

George shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I dunno, Mike. I’ve never run into anyone who’s come back from Mars. Not to mention being stuck as a chick.”

I frowned. “True. That sucks. But with all those credits, does it really matter. I’m already getting calls from the Protein Reclamation Center. Final processing doesn’t really appeal to me.” I looked over at George. “I’m going to do it. You with me?”

George bit his lip. “I dunno…” Suddenly he heaved a heavy sigh. “Damn, Mike. Everyone I know is now excess protein. Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

The salesman grinned from ear-to-ear. He pulled out some papers. “Gentlemen. I’ll just need your ID numbers and signatures. I’ve already dispatched a van to take you to our regen facility. Congratulations. I hear Port Lowell is beautiful this time of year. Oh, wait. It’ll be nine months before you arrive. Enjoy.”

Ten minutes later an areo-van touched down outside the store. A man exited and then escorted us into the van and made sure we were buckled in. Two hours later, we landed at a complex of buildings at the north hemisphere space port. A sign outside the buildings was labeled MARS A-TAKS. As soon as we landed, we were whisked inside.

A woman directed that we both lie down couches in a stark, blindingly bright white, windowless room.

The woman said, “Welcome, gentlemen. I need you to strip completely. I’m going to give each of you an injection to prep you for the regen process. You will be unconscious for the entirety of the regen process. You will then be taken directly to your cryo-boxes. When you awake, you’ll be on Mars and a new person.”

She then walked up to George and using a powered injector, shot a chemical into his arm. It must have hurt as he winced. As the woman approached me, I asked, “That’s a large load. Is that really necessary?”

She smiled patiently at me and said, “Yes.” She then injected me. And holy hell, did it hurt. But just momentarily. I looked over at George and he was already out like a light.

I could feel my mind start to drift away. Not sure why, but I tried to fight the effects of the drug. It was too strong.

Just before I went completely out, two men with gurneys came into the room. The woman had left.

As they moved George over to a gurney, one of the men said, “Can you believe these two jokers? They actually signed up to be stupid whores on Mars. What schmucks.”

The other guy said, “I know I’m new here, but don’t they get a ton of credits after their five year contract?”

The other man laughed. “You are new, aren’t you? Life expectancy for a Martian whore is four years.” They both laughed and then nothing.

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To be continued…