The Moon is a Harsh Mistress (25 page)

Mike
said softly, “Want to bet, Man?”

Wyoh
said indignantly, “Of course Mike can if he says he can! Mannie, you
shouldn’t talk that way.” (Wyoh thinks an electron is something
about size and shape of a small pea.)

“Mike,”
I said slowly, “I won’t put money on it. Okay, want to try? Shall I
switch on video?”

“I
can switch it on,” he answered.

“Sure
you’ll get right one? Wouldn’t do to have this show somewhere
else.”

He
answered testily, “I’m not stupid. Now let me be, Man—for I
admit this is going to take just about all I’ve got.”

We
waited in silence. Then screen showed neutral gray with a hint of scan lines.
Went black again, then a faint light filled middle and congealed into cloudy
areas light and dark, ellipsoid. Not a face, but suggestion of face that one
sees in cloud patterns covering Terra.

It
cleared a little and reminded me of pictures alleged to be ectoplasm. A ghost
of a face.

Suddenly
firmed and we saw “Adam Selcne.”

Was
a still picture of a mature man. No background, just a face as if trimmed out
of a print. Yet was, to me, “Adam Selene.” Could not he anybody
else.

Then
he smiled, moving lips and jaw and touching tongue to lips, a quick
gesture—and I was frightened.

“How
do I look?” he asked.

“Adam,”
said Wyoh, “your hair isn’t that curly. And it should go back on
each side above your forehead. You look as if you were wearing a wig,
dear.”

Mike
corrected it. “Is that better?’

“Not
quite so much. And don’t you have dimples? I was sure I could hear
dimples when you chuckle. Like Prof’s.”

Mike-Adam
smiled again; this time he had dimples. “How should I be dressed,
Wyoh?”

“Are
you at your office?”

“I’m
still at office. Have to be, tonight.” Background turned gray, then came
into focus and color. A wall calendar behind him gave date, Tuesday 19 May
2076; a clock showed correct time. Near his elbow was a carton of coffee. On
desk was a solid picture, a family group, two men, a woman, four children. Was
background noise, muted roar of Old Dome Plaza louder than usual; I heard
shouts and in distance some singing: Simon’s version of
“Marseillaise.”

Off
screen Ginwallah’s voice said, “Gospodin?”

Adam
turned toward it. “I’m busy, Albert,” he said patiently.
“No calls from anyone but cell B. You handle everything else.” He
looked back at us. “Well, Wyoh? Suggestions? Prof? Man my doubting
friend? Will I pass?”

I
rubbed eyes. “Mike, can you cook?”

“Certainly.
But I don’t; I’m married.”

“Adam,”
said Wyoh, “how can you look so neat after the day we’ve had?”

“I
don’t let little things worry me.” He looked at Prof.
“Professor, if the picture is okay, let’s discuss what I’ll
say tomorrow. I was thinking of pre-empting the eight hundred newscast, have it
announced all night, and pass the word down the cells.”

We
talked rest of night. I sent up for coffee twice and Mike-Adam had his carton
renewed. When I ordered sandwiches, he asked Ginwallah to send out for some. I
caught a glimpse of Albert Ginwallah in profile, a typical babu, polite and
faintly scornful. Hadn’t known what he looked like. Mike ate while we
ate, sometimes mumbling around a mouthful of food.

When
I asked (professional interest) Mike told me that, after he had picture built
up, he had programmed most of it for automatic and gave his attention just to
facial expressions. But soon I forgot it was fake. Mike-Adam was talking with
us by video, was all, much more convenient than by phone.

By
oh-three-hundred we had policy settled, then Mike rehearsed speech. Prof found
points be wanted to add; Mike made revisions, then we decided to get some rest,
even Mike-Adam was yawning—although in fact Mike held fort all through
night, guarding transmissions to Terra, keeping Complex wailed off, listening
at many phones. Prof and I shared big bed, Wyoh stretched out on couch, I
whistled lights out. For once we slept without weights.

While
we had breakfast, Adam Selene addressed Free Luna.

He
was gentle, strong, warm, and persuasive. “Citizens of Free Luna,
friends, comrades—to those of you who do not know me let me introduce
myself. I am Adam Selene. Chairman of the Emergency Committee of Comrades for
Free Luna … now of Free Luna, we are free at last. The so-called
‘Authority’ which has long unsurped power in this our home has been
overthrown. I find myself temporary head of such government as we
have—the Emergency Committee.

“Shortly,
as quickly as can be arranged, you will opt your own government.” Adam
smiled and made a gesture inviting help. “In the meantime, with your
help, I shall do my best. We will make mistakes—be tolerant. Comrades, if
you have not revealed yourselves to friends and neighbors, it is time you did
so. Citizens, requests may reach you through your comrade neighbors. I hope you
will comply willingly; it will speed the day when I can bow out and life can
get back to normal—a new normal, free of the Authority, free of guards,
free of troops stationed on us, free of passports and searches and arbitrary
arrests.

“There
has to be a transition. To all of you—please go back to work, resume
normal lives. To those who worked for the Authority, the need is the same. Go
back to work. Wages will go on, your jobs stay the same, until we can decide
what is needed, what happily no longer is needed now that we are free, and what
must be kept but modified. You new citizens, transportees sweating out
sentences pronounced on you Earthside—you are free, your sentences are
finished! But in the meantime I hope that you will go on working. You are not
required to—the days of coercion are gone—but you are urged to. You
are of course free to leave the Complex, free to go anywhere … and
capsule service to and from the Complex will resume at once. But before you use
your new freedom to rush into town, let me remind you: ‘There is no such
thing as a free lunch.’ You are better off for the time being where you
are; the food may not be fancy but will continue hot and on time.

“To
take on temporarily those necessary functions of the defunct Authority I have
asked the General Manager of LuNoHo Company to serve. This company will provide
termporary supervision and will start analyzing how to do away with the
tyrannical parts of the Authority and how to transfer the useful parts to
private hands. So please help them.

“To
you citizens of Terran nations among us, scientists and travelers and others,
greetings! You are witnessing a rare event, the birth of a nation. Birth means
blood and pain; there has been some. We hope it is over. You will not be
inconvenienced unnecessarily and your passage home will be arranged as soon as
possible. Conversely, you are welcome to stay, still more welcome to become
citizens. But for the present I urge you to stay out of the corridors, avoid
incidents that might lead to unnecessary blood, unnecessary pain. Be patient
with us and I urge my fellow citizens to be patient with you. Scientists from
Terra, at the Observatory and elsewhere, go on with your work and ignore us.
Then you won’t even notice that we are going through the pangs of
creating a new nation. One thing—I am sorry to say that we are
temporarily interfering with your right to communicate with Earthside. This we
do from necessity; censorship will be lifted as quickly as possible—we
hate it as much as you do.”

Adam
added one more request: “Don’t try to see me, comrades, and phone
me only if you must; all others, write if you need to, your letters will
receive prompt attention. But I am not twins, I got no sleep last night and
can’t expect much tonight. I can’t address meetings, can’t shake
hands, can’t meet delegations; I must stick to this desk and
work—so that I can get rid of this job and turn it over to your
choice.” He grinned at them. “Expect me to be as hard to see as
Simon Jester!”

It
was a fifteen-minute cast but that was essence: Go back to work, be patient,
give us time.

Those
scientists gave us almost no time—I should have guessed; was my sort of
pidgin.

All
communication Earthside channeled through Mike. But those brain boys had enough
electronic equipment to stock a warehouse; once they decided to, it took them
only hours to breadboard a rig that could reach Terra.

Only
thing that saved us was a fellow traveler who thought Luna should be free. He
tried to phone Adam Selene, wound up talking to one of a squad of women we had
co-opted from C and D level—a system thrown together in self-defense as,
despite Mike’s request, half of Luna tried to phone Adam Selene after
that videocast, everything from requests and demands to busybodies who wanted
to tell Adam how to do his job.

After
about a hundred calls got routed to me through too much zeal by a comrade in
phone company, we set up this buffer squad. Happily, comrade lady who took this
call recognized that soothe-’em-down doctrine did not apply; she phoned
me.

Minutes
later myself and Finn Nielsen plus some eager guns headed by capsule for
laboratory area. Our informant was scared to give name but had told me where to
find transmitter. We caught them transmitting, and only fast action on
Finn’s part kept them breathing; his boys were itchy. But we did not want
to “make an example”; Finn and I had settled that on way out. Is
hard to frighten scientists, their minds don’t work that way. Have to get
at them from other angles.

I
kicked that transmitter to pieces and ordered Director to have everyone assemble
in mess hall and required roll call—where a phone could hear. Then I
talked to Mike, got names from him, and said to Director: “Doctor, you
told me they were all here. We’re missing so-and-so”—seven
names. “Get them here!”

Missing
Terrans had been notified, had refused to stop what they were
doing—typical scientists.

Then
I talked, Loonies on one side of room, Terrans on other. To Terrans I said;
“We tried to treat you as guests. But three of you tried and perhaps
succeeded in sending message Earthside.”

I
turned to Director. “Doctor, I could search—warren, surface
structures, all labs, every space—and destroy everything that might be
used for transmitter. I’m electron pusher by trade; I know what wide
variety of components can be converted into transmitters. Suppose I destroy
everything that might be useful for that and, being stupid, take no chance and
smash anything I don’t understand. What result?”

Would
have thought I was about to kill his baby! He turned gray. “That would
stop every research … destroy priceless data … waste, oh, I
don’t know how much! Call it a half billion dollars!”

“So
I thought. Could take all that gear instead of smashing and let you go on best
you can.”

“That
would be almost as bad. You must understand, Gospodin, that when an experiment
is interrupted—”

“I
know. Easier than moving anything—and maybe missing some—is to take
you all to Complex and quarter you there. We have what used to be Dragoon
barracks. But that too would ruin experiments. Besides—Where you from,
Doctor?”

“Princeton,
New Jersey.”

“So?
You’ve been here five months and no doubt exercising and wearing weights.
Doctor, if we did that, you might never see Princeton again. If we move you,
we’ll keep you locked up. You’ll get soft. If emergency goes on
very long, you’ll be a Loonie like it or not. And all your brainy help
with you.”

A
cocky chum stepped forward—one who had to be sent for twice. “You
can’t do this! It’s against the law!”

“What
law, Gospodin? Some law back in your hometown?” I turned. “Finn,
show him law.”

Finn
stepped forward and placed emission bell of gun at man’s belly button.
Thumb started to press down—safety-switched, I could see. I said,
“Don’t kill him, Finn!”—then went on: “I will
eliminate this man if that’s what it takes to convince you. So watch each
other! One more offense will kill all your chances of seeing home
again—as well as ruining researches. Doctor, I warn you to find ways to
keep check on your staff.”

I
turned to Loonies. “
Tovarishchee
, keep them honest. Work up own
guard system. Don’t take nonsense; every earthworm is on probation. If
you have to eliminate some, don’t hesitate.” I turned to Director.
“Doctor, any Loonie can go anywhere any time—even your bedroom.
Your assistants are now your bosses so far as security is concerned; if a
Loonie decides to follow you or anybody into a W.C., don’t argue; he
might be jumpy.”

I
turned to Loonies. “Security first! You each work for some
earthworm—watch him! Split it among you and don’t miss anything.
Watch ‘em so close they can’t build mouse trap, much less
transmitter. If interferes with work for them, don’t worry; wages will go
on.”

Could
see grins. Lab assistant was best job a Loonie could find those days—but
they worked under earthworms who looked down on us, even ones who pretended and
were oh so gracious.

I
let it go at that. When I had been phoned, I had intended to eliminate
offenders. But Prof and Mike set me straight: Plan did not permit violence
against Terrans that could be avoided.

We
set up “ears,” wideband sensitive receivers, around lab area, since
even most directional rig spills a little in neighborhood. And Mike listened on
all phones in area, After that we chewed nails and hoped.

Presently
we relaxed as news up from Earthside showed nothing, they seemed to accept
censored transmissions without suspicion, and private and commercial traffic
and Authority’s transmissions all seemed routine. Meanwhile we worked,
trying in days what should take months.

We
received one break in timing; no passenger ship was on Luna and none was due
until 7 July. We could have coped—suckered a ship’s officers to
“dine with Warden” or something, then mounted guard on its senders
or dismantled them. Could not have lifted without our help; in those days one
drain on ice was providing water for reaction mass. Was not much drain compared
with grain shipments; one manned ship a month was heavy traffic then, while
grain lifted every day. What it did mean was that an incoming ship was not an
insuperable hazard. Nevertheless was lucky break; we were trying so hard to
make everything look normal until we could defend ourselves.