John Mahone leaned idly over the bar in the Asimov Lounge, skimming news reports on his pad. The place was abandoned, at the moment. Generally nobody around until the evening. And today was no exception. Lifting his eyes from the events of the Galaxy he looked about the establishment- his establishment, he thought with a bit of pride- and sipped from a glass of soda water. It wasn't much, to be sure. The unkind might call it a hole in the wall, and that was true enough. Just a bar, a jukebox, several tables, and a private room in the back. Maximum capacity was twenty, plus another ten in the private room, if he ignored station safety regulations. What it did have was a lovely view of space, via a series of portholes opposite the front door.

And where some men might have seen a dive, all John saw was potential for growth. The Asimov Lounge was the only bar on the station, so he currently enjoyed a monopoly. When expansion came to the station, and it surely would, Asimov's would have to expand as well. And he had big plans. Oh, yes he did. Pool tables, dart boards, one or two more private rooms, maybe even a stage. All in due time, of course.

But, for the moment, the barman was bored out of his skull. Currently a one-man operation, he had absolutely no one to talk to when business was slow. Even solitary men yearn for company from time to time. To amuse himself, he made his way over to the jukebox and played some old Earth music- Western, they called it, though he wasn't quite sure which west it came from. It was pleasant, just the same, and he strolled back to his post, humming along to the music.

“See them tumbling down,
pledging their love to the ground.
Lonely but free I'll be found-
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds. “