Monk had three questions he lived by: Where can I find it? How much will it cost? When can you deliver? But now they said that what he needed wasn't for sale.
asked. Monk smiled back, but not in answer to the question. He enjoyed the pseudonym, because it was the name of an old competitor, long-since buried beneath Monk's superior talents in the business of making money.
"Try and relax as much as you can," said Christy. "We'll give you a mild sedative before blast-off. Remember, there are going to be distinct variations in the G forces as we accelerate, so try to remember the breathing instructions."
"I will," said Monk. "Once more, though--"
"There'll be a steady buildup of acceleration for about ninety seconds. We'll go rapidly from zero gravity to nine. Breathe deeply and regularly on the way up. Then, when you feel a normal amount of pressure, hold your breath. Don't let it out until you feel the G forces increase again."
"I understand," Monk nodded.
"We'll get up to a peak of 8 G's, and hold that for about two minutes. Do the same thing--hold your breath when we start accelerating once more. It'll be easy after that."
Perhaps the shallowest and most pointless story I've ever read. Skip it.
Fletcher Monk was proud to be rich enough to buy anything on Earth. But his heart was damaged, and nothing in the world could save his life. Mars could, but could he survive the trip?
A nice portrait of a man who doesn't understand life.
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