“What? Oh, sure!” She was a vapid little thing, vacantly pretty, curvy, perhaps fourteen. Slot-machine type, and how she might wind up. Sort who prefers being queen over pack of stilyagi to solid marriage. I don’t blame stilyagi; they chase around corridors because not enough females. Work all day and nothing to go home to at night.
“Okay, court has been accepted and all are bound to abide by my verdict. Let’s settle fees. How high can you boys go? Please understand I’m not going to judge an elimination for dimes. So ante up or I turn him loose.”
Leader blinked, they went into huddle. Shortly he turned and said, “We don’t have much. Will you do it for five Kong dollars apiece?”
Six of them—“No. Ought not to ask a court to judge elimination at that price.”
They huddled again. “Fifty dollars, Judge?”
“Sixty. Ten each. And another ten from you, Tish,” I said to girl.
She looked surprised, indignant. “Come, come!” I said. “Tanstaafl.”
She blinked and reached into pouch. She had money; types like that always have.
I collected seventy dollars, laid it on desk, and said to tourist, “Can match it?”
“Beg pardon?”
“Kids are paying seventy dollars Hong Kong for judgment. You should match it. If you can’t, open pouch and prove it and can owe it to me. But that’s your share.” I added, “Cheap, for a capital case. But kids can’t pay much so you get a bargain.”
“I see. I believe I see.” He matched with seventy Hong Kong.
“Thank you,” I said. “Now does either side want a jury?” Girl’s eyes lit up. “Sure! Let’s do it right.” Earthworm said, “Under the circumstances perhaps I need one.”
“Can have it,” I assured. “Want a counsel?”
“Why, I suppose I need a lawyer, too.”
“I said ‘counsel,’ not ‘lawyer.’ Aren’t any lawyers here.” Again he seemed delighted. “I suppose counsel, if I elected to have one, would be of the same, uh, informal quality as the rest of these proceedings?”
“Maybe, maybe not. I’m informal sort of judge, that’s all. Suit yourself.”
“Mm. I think I’ll rely on your informality, your honor.”
Oldest lad said, “Uh, this jury. You pick up chit? Or do we?”
“I pay it; I agreed to judge for a hundred forty, gross. Haven’t you been in court before? But not going to kill my net for extra I could do without. Six jurymen, five dollars each. See who’s in Alley.”
One boy stepped out and shouted, “Jury work! Five-dollar job!”
They rounded up six men and were what you would expect in Bottom Alley. Didn’t worry me as had no intention of paying mind to them. If you go judge, better in good neighborhood with chance of getting solid citizens.
I went behind desk, sat down, put on Brody’s plug hat—wondered where he had found it. Probably a castoff from some lodge. “Court’s in session,” I said. “Let’s have names and tell me beef.”
Oldest lad was named. Slim Lemke, girl was Patricia Carmen Zhukov; don’t remember others. Tourist stepped up, reached into pouch and said, “My card, sir.”
I still have it. It read:
STUART RENE LaJOIE
Poet—Traveler—Soldier of Fortune
Beef was tragically ridiculous, fine example of why tourists should not wander around without guides. Sure, guides bleed them white—but isn’t that what a tourist is for? This one almost lost life from lack of guidance.
Had wandered into a taproom which lets stilyagi hang out, a sort of clubroom. This simple female had flirted with him. Boys had let matter be, as of course they had to as long as she invited it. But at some point she had laughed and let him have a fist in ribs. He had taken it as casually as a Loonie would … but had answered in distinctly earthworm manner; slipped arm around waist and pulled her to him, apparently tried to kiss her.
Now believe me, in North America this wouldn’t matter; I’ve seen things much like it. But of course Tish was astonished, perhaps frightened. She screamed.
And pack of boys set upon him and roughed him up. Then decided he had to pay for his “crime”—but do it correctly. Find a judge.
Most likely they chickened. Chances are not one had ever dealt with an elimination. But their lady had been insulted, had to be done.
I questioned them, especially Tish, and decided I had it straight. Then said, “Let me sum up. Here we have a stranger. Doesn’t know our ways. He offended, he’s guilty. But meant no offense far as I can see. What does jury say? Hey, you there!—wake up! What you say?”
Juryman looked up blearily, said, “‘Liminate him!”
“Very well? And you?”
“Well—” Next one hesitated. “Guess it would be enough just to beat tar out of him, so he’ll know better next time. Can’t have men pawing women, or place will get to be as bad as they say Terra is.”
“Sensible,” I agreed. “And you?”
Only one juror voted for elimination. Others ranged from a beating to very high fines.
“What do you think, Slim?”
“Well—” He was worried—face in front of gang, face in front of what might be his girl. But had cooled down and didn’t want chum eliminated. “We already worked him over. Maybe if he got down on hands and knees and kissed floor in front of Tish and said he was sorry?”
“Will you do that, Gospodin LaJoie?”
“If you so rule, your honor.”
“I don’t. Here’s my verdict. First that juryman—you!—you are fined fee paid you because you fell asleep while supposed to be judging. Grab him, boys, take it away from him and throw him out.”
They did, enthusiastically; made up a little for greater excitement they had thought of but really could not stomach. “Now, Gospodin LaJoie, you are fined fifty Hong Kong for not having common sense to learn local customs before stirring around. Ante up.”
I collected it. “Now you boys line up. You are fined five dollars apiece for not exercising good judgment in dealing with a person you knew was a stranger and not used to our ways. Stopping him from touching Tish, that’s fine. Rough him, that’s okay, too; he’ll learn faster. And could have tossed him out. But talking about eliminating for what was honest mistake—well, it’s out of proportion. Five bucks each. Ante up.
Slim gulped. “Judge … I don’t think we have that much left! At least I don’t.”
“I thought that might be. You have a week to pay or I post your names in Old Dome. Know where Bon Ton Beauté Shoppe is, near easement lock thirteen? My wife runs it; pay her. Court’s out. Slim, don’t go away. Nor you, Tish. Gospodin LaJoie, let’s take these young people up and buy them a cold drink and get better acquainted.”
Again his eyes filled with odd delight that reminded of Prof.
“A charming idea, Judge!”
“I’m no longer judge. It’s up a couple of ramps … so I suggest you offer Tish your arm.”
He bowed and said, “My lady? May I?” and crooked his elbow to her. Tish at once became very grown up. “Spasebo, Gospodin! I am pleased.”
Took them to expensive place, one where their wild clothes and excessive makeup looked out of place; they were edgy. But I tried to make them feel easy and Stuart LaJoie tried even harder and successfully. Got their addresses as well as names; Wyoh had one sequence which was concentrating on stilyagi. Presently they finished their coolers, stood up, thanked and left. LaJoie and I stayed on.
“Gospodin,” he said presently, “you used an odd word earlier—odd to me, I mean.”
“Call me ‘Mannie’ now that kids are gone. What word?”
“It was when you insisted that the, uh, young lady, Tish—that Tish must pay, too. ‘Tone-stapple,’ or something like it.”
“Oh, ‘Tanstaafl.’ Means ‘There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.’ And isn’t,” I added, pointing to a FREE LUNCH sign across room, “or these drinks would cost half as much. Was reminding her that anything free costs twice as much in long
run or turns out worthless.”
“An interesting philosophy.”
“Not philosophy, fact. One way or other, what you get, you pay for.” I fanned air. “Was Earthside once and heard expression ‘Free as air.’ This air isn’t free, you pay for every breath.”
“Really? No one has asked me to pay to breathe.” He smiled. “Perhaps I should stop.”
“Can happen, you almost breathed vacuum tonight. But nobody asks you because you’ve paid. For you, is part of round-trip ticket; for me it’s a quarterly charge.” I started to tell how my family buys and sells air to community co-op, decided was too complicated. “But we both pay.”
LaJoie looked thoughtfully pleased. “Yes, I see the economic necessity. It’s simply new to me. Tell me, uh, Mannie—and I’m called ‘Stu’—was I really in danger of ‘breathing vacuum’?”
“Should have charged you more.”
“Please?”
“You aren’t convinced. But charged kids all they could scrape up and fined them too, to make them think. Couldn’t charge you more than them. Should have, you think it was all a joke.”
“Believe me, sir, I do not think it was a joke. I just have trouble grasping that your local laws permit a man to be put to death … so casually … and for so trivial an offense.”
I sighed. Where do you start explaining when a man’s words show there isn’t anything he understands about subject, instead is loaded with preconceptions that don’t fit facts and doesn’t even know he has?
“Stu,” I said, “let’s take that piece at a time. Are no ‘local laws’ so you couldn’t be ‘put to death’ under them. Your offense was not ‘trivial,’ I simply made allowance for ignorance. And wasn’t done casually, or boys would have dragged you to nearest lock to zero pressure, shoved you in, and cycled. Instead were most formal—good boys!—and paid own cash to give you a trial. And didn’t grumble when verdict wasn’t even close to what they asked. Now, anything still not clear?”
He grinned and turned out to have dimples like Prof; found myself liking him still more. “All of it, I’m afraid. I seem to have wandered into Looking Glass Land.”
Expected that; having been Earthaide I know how their minds work, some. An earthworm expects to find a law, a printed law, for every circumstance. Even have laws for private matters such as contracts. Really, if a man’s word isn’t any good, who would contract with him? Doesn’t he have reputation?
“We don’t have laws,” I said. “Never been allowed to. Have customs, but aren’t written and aren’t enforced—or could say they are self-enforcing because are simply way things have to be, conditions being what they are. Could say our customs are natural laws because are way people have to behave to stay alive. When you made a pass at Tish you were violating a natural law … and almost caused you to breathe vacuum.”
He blinked thoughtfully. “Would you explain the natural law I violated? I had better understand it … or best I return to my ship and stay inboard until lift. To stay alive.”
“Certainly. Is so simple that, once you understand, you’ll never be in danger from it again. Here we are, two million males, less than one million females. A physical fact, basic as rock or vacuum. Then add idea of tanstaafl. When thing is scarce, price goes up. Women are scarce; aren’t enough to go around—that makes them most valuable thing in Luna, more precious than ice or air, as men without women don’t care whether they stay alive or not. Except a Cyborg, if you regard him as a man, which I don’t.”
I went on: “So what happens?—and mind you, things were even worse when this custom, or natural law, first showed itself back in twentieth century. Ratio was ten-to-one or worse then. One thing is what always happens in prisons: men turn to other men. That helps not much; problem still is because most men want women and won’t settle for substitute while chance of getting true gelt.
“They get so anxious they will kill for it … and from stories old-timers tell was killing enough to chill your teeth in those days. But after a while those still alive find way to get along, things shake down. As automatic as gravitation. Those who adjust to facts stay alive; those who don’t are dead and no problem.
“What that means, here and now, is that women are scarce and call tune … and you are surrounded by two million men who see to it you dance to that tune. You have no choice, she has all choice. She can hit you so hard it draws blood; you dasn’t lay a finger on her. Look, you put an arm around Tish, maybe tried to kiss. Suppose instead she had gone to hotel room with you; what would happen?”
“Heavens! I suppose they would have torn me to pieces.”
“They would have done nothing. Shrugged and pretended not to see. Because choice is hers. Not yours. Not theirs. Exclusively hers. Oh, be risky to ask her to go to hotel; she might take offense and that would give boys license to rough you up. But—well, take this Tish. A silly little tart. If you had flashed as much money as I saw in your pouch, she might have taken into head that a bundle with tourist was just what she needed and suggested it herself. In which case would have been utterly safe.”
Lajoie shivered. “At her age? It scares me to think of it. She’s below the age of consent. Statutory rape.”
“Oh, bloody! No such thing. Women her age are married or ought to be. Stu, is no rape in Luna. None. Men won’t permit. If rape had been involved, they wouldn’t have bothered to find a judge and all men in earshot would have scrambled to help. But chance that a girl that big is virgin is negligible. When they’re little, their mothers watch over them, with help from everybody in city; children are safe here. But when they reach husband-high, is no holding them and mothers quit trying. If they choose to run corndors and have fun, can’t stop ‘em; once a girl is nubile, she’s her own boss. You married?”
“No.” He added with a smile; “Not at present.”
“Suppose you were and wife told you she was marrying again. What would you do?”
“Odd that you should pick that, something like it did happen. I saw my attorney and made sure she got no alimony.”
“‘Alimony’ isn’t a word here; I learned it Earthside. Here you might—or a Loonie husband might—say, ‘I think we’ll need a bigger place, dear.’ Or might simply congratulate her and his new co-husband. Or if it made him so unhappy he couldn’t stand it, might opt out and pack clothes. But whatever, would not make slightest fuss. If he did, opinion would be unanimous against him. His friends, men and women alike, would snub him. Poor sod would probably move to Novylen, change name and hope to live it down.
“All our customs work that way. If you’re out in field and a cobber needs air, you lend him a bottle and don’t ask cash. But when you’re both back in pressure again, if he won’t pay up, nobody would criticize if you eliminated him without a judge. But he would pay; air is almost as sacred as women. If you take a new chum in a poker game, you give him air money. Not eating money; can work or starve. If you eliminate a man other than self-defense, you pay his debts and support his kids, or people won’t speak to you, buy from you, sell to you.”
“Mannie, you’re telling me that I can murder a man here and settle the matter merely with money?”
“Oh, not at all! But eliminating isn’t against some law; are no laws—except Warden’s regulations—and Warden doesn’t care what one Loonie does to another. But we figure this way: If a man is killed, either he had it coming and everybody knows it—usual case—or his friends will take care of it by eliminating man who did it. Either way, no problem. Nor many eliminations. Even set duels aren’t common.”
“‘His friends will take care of it.’ Mannie, suppose those young people had gone ahead? I have no friends here.”
“Was reason I agreed to judge. While I doubt if those kids could have egged each other into it, didn’t want to take chance. Eliminating a tourist could give our city a bad name.”
“Does it happen often?”
“Can’t recall has ever happened. Of course may have been made to look like accident. A new chum is accide
nt-prone; Luna is that sort of place. They say if a new chum lives a year, he’ll live forever. But nobody sells him insurance first year.” Glanced at time. “Stu, have you had dinner?”
“No, and I was about to suggest that you come to my hotel. The cooking is good. Auberge Orleans.”
I repressed shudder—ate there once. “Instead, would you come home with me and meet my family? We have soup or something about this hour.”
“Isn’t that an imposition?”
“No. Half a minute while I phone.”
Mum said, “Manuel! How sweet, dear! Capsule has been in for hours; I had decided it would be tomorrow or later.”
“Just drunken debauchery, Mimi, and evil companions. Coming home now if can remember way—and bringing evil companion.”
“Yes, dear. Dinner in twenty minutes; try not to be late.”
“Don’t you want to know whether my evil companion is male or female?”
“Knowing you, I assume that it is female. But I fancy I shall be able to tell when I see her.”
“You know me so well, Mum. Warn girls to look pretty; wouldn’t want a visitor to outshine them.”
“Don’t be too long; dinner will spoil. ‘Bye, dear. Love.”
“Love, Mum.” I waited, then punched MYCROFTXXX. “Mike, want a name searched. Earthside name, passenger in Popov. Stuart Rene LaJoie. Stuart with a U and last name might file under either L or J.”
Didn’t wait many seconds; Mike found Stu in all major Earthside references: Who’s Who, Dun & Bradstreet, Almanach de Gotha, London Times running files, name it. French expatriate, royalist, wealthy, six more names sandwiched into ones he used, three university degrees including one in law from Sorbonne, noble ancestry both France and Scotland, divorced (no children) from Honorable Pamela Hyphen-Hyphen-Blueblood. Sort of earthworm who wouldn’t speak to a Loonie of convict ancestry—except Stu would speak to anyone.
I listened a pair of minutes, then asked Mike to prepare a full dossier, following all associational leads. “Mike, might be our pigeon.”
The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress Page 16