If your father had known that, he might have had his lieutenants wait: they were his only family, and, despite their self-respect, they were definitely not Capitalists - but neither was your father, for that matter - or at least, he didn't feel like one. In real terms, he was very much a Capitalist, a recent Capitalist; but no matter how recent one's fortune, if there was a fortune, there was a Capitalist. New Capitalists were not made all the time - in fact, for the established Capitalist, the only thing more exciting than new capital was a new Capitalist. You never knew what to expect. He or she might destroy you; he or she might make you very rich: he or she might make you a Supercapitalist. Then you would thank him or her. But if he or she destroyed you, then you might just commit murder. And the penalty for killing a Capitalist was death. The penalty for killing a Supercapitalist was bankruptcy and death. It was known to happen quite often, even among Capitalists.

– Verse 21 from the chapter called Childhood

Protected by the MTA (the Martian Terrestrial Authority, which was created for the purpose), the nuclear bomb was successfully transported. In the meantime, in cooperation with Panzer-Tank Mining, Yariba Corporation dug a deep tunnel into the base of Olympus Mons, the largest volcano in the solar system. It's twenty-seven kilometers high! Five hundred and forty kilometers wide! I'm sure you've noticed it. They put the nuclear bomb inside the tunnel and off it went, clearing the most enormous cavern ever made. They drilled holes through the top. They drilled holes through the sides. They laid pipes. They brought water and boiled it. The steam went through the steam turbines, rose to the very top and fell back down again, going through the water turbines on the way back down to the boiler - a gigantic operation. A simple operation! A Martian child could appreciate its magnificent beauty, and, not having to wonder whence that blessed power comes, can look outside his northern window and see that brilliant topographical majesty that gives him light. Blessed Olympus! How young those Martians are when they first learn to fear her power! Give them light, Olympus! Not tyranny! Not shadow and pain! Give them light!

– Verse 8 from the chapter called Childhood

There was no escape. America was everywhere: ubiquitous. People had to breath it, or else hold their breaths - choke, but there was no other way - unless, of course, you bought Cheap Alaskan Air. Now that was very good air - very good air, indeed - or, at least, air in very good bottles.

– Verse 77 from the chapter called Childhood