All in Good Time

by Mackey Chandler

  “It just never occurred to me to steal one,” Vic admitted. “If they are still working at night and I saw them flashing maybe I’d have thought about it. Walking past them in the day they might as well be invisible. I’m just so used to them being there that I don’t think about them any more than the speed limit signs or guard rails. It still feels like vandalism to me even though it makes sense. Like you say, it’s going to be a long time before they serve their original purpose, and our need is great enough to justify taking them. At least that’s what my head is telling me. I paid for them in taxes,” he reasoned.

  “You’re too nice,” Alice said. “If there is ever gas for sale again and cars using the roads that will be the least of things they’ll need to fix.”

  That was true, Vic decided. If he was too nice there were worse things of which to be accused. He didn’t care to deny Alice her opinions. As for the roads, there were places the roads were washed away or covered with mud and rocks from the uphill side. There were even places weeds were starting to grow in the cracks or over the edge of the road. If things didn’t return to normal for some years it would be a real problem when the bridges deteriorated. Vic wasn’t like Alice, he was pretty confident order would be reestablished from outside. The only thing he wondered now since they had access to the news again with the satellite phone, was if it would be imposed from North America or the Texas Republic.

  “Come the spring we’ll do that,” Vic promised. “When we have our bicycles it will be easier to haul them home too.” He was already making a mental list of what he’d need. A hacksaw like Alice said, but wire cutters, a crowbar, screwdrivers, and Channellocks. Oh, and bungee cords, lots and lots of bungee cords.

  Chapter 22

  “Oh nice, I haven’t seen that outfit in a while,” April said.

  “We do make a matched set today don’t we?” Jeff said smiling. April was all in tones of brown and yellow and he had on a dark brown jacket. It wasn’t like a tailored suit jacket, but still much more formal than what Homies usually wore. The fabric sparkled with an occasional specular reflection, not in your face dazzling like sequins, but just an occasional spark of light that actually drew your eye better than a constant show. It was soft and unstructured lacking even a button closure but it hung nicely.

  His trousers were off theme a little, being black with a similar line of glitter down the sides, but the shirt picked it up with a print of geometric shapes in many hues of tan and bronze with a metallic sheen. He rarely wore jewelry, but some years ago bought a gold necklace to go with this outfit on April’s advice. His footwear looked nothing at all like any Earthie would wear. They had more in common with ballerina slippers.

  The overall effect was not Earth formal, but neither was it an in your face insult to Earth proprieties. The colors were muted and the jewelry understated. April had never prevailed upon him to get his ears pierced, which wasn’t unusual on Home. The colors all went really well with his coppery Indian complexion and deep black hair.

  “I’m wondering who will be at dinner and what it will mean?” Jeff said.

  “Joel, Pierre, Irwin and us. Spouses I suppose. I don’t know if Joel is married. I never asked Pierre if he was married and he never spoke of a wife. For some reason he never seemed the sort to marry to me,” April said.

  “Really?” Jeff asked and looked up at the corners of the room to remind April that the walls likely had ears in this situation.

  April gave an exaggerated shrug to say she just didn’t care for any listeners. She was remembering Pierre slept with Heather’s mom, Sylvia, that night long ago she’d stayed over at their home. She’d bunked with Heather and Barak had his own tiny room, so there wasn’t anywhere else he could have been. It scandalized her the next morning when he’d appeared at breakfast. That’s where she’d met him, back pre-revolution. To say so out loud might cause trouble here and now, not just for him but for them. They didn’t need to create an uproar when things were going smoothly. It wasn’t her job to analyze their Foreign Minister’s morals for them.

  “I’ve noticed Earth politicians use every occasion in some way,” Jeff said. “They never just do something for its own sake if there is a message that can be sent or an image put out to the public. They may have an ally or an enemy here to send a message.”

  “That’s human nature,” April objected. “That’s why I dragged you to Cindy and Frank’s tailor shop to have that outfit made. Not so much for me but for you. People posted pix of us at the club and other places to What’s Happening and other boards. I didn’t want you to get a reputation as a dour person who only lived to work and had no idea how to relax and have fun.”

  “And to better be your accessory at least a little bit,” Jeff accused.

  April gave a much smaller shrug to concede the point.

  “I admit, I saw that people treated me differently when I bothered to dress up. It carried over to when I wasn’t dressed up too, which amazed me. That’s why I went back and got a couple more dressy outfits without you making me. Surely you noticed?”

  April nodded. “The blue, the amber, the dark green and the black,” she easily named from memory. “Pretty soon you’ll need a closet! You’ve learned to send messages with your appearance too. I’m surprised you didn’t bring the black outfit. It seems the closest to Earth style. For some reason, it’s my favorite.”

  “It’s way too similar to a tuxedo. When they look at me I want them to have a visual reminder we are from a different culture. It should be like sitting across from a Persian in turban and robes or an African in a dashiki, but not too alien,” he said and frowned.

  “A balance?” April asked.

  “Yes, my father has started applying a bindi again,” Jeff said, touching between his eyebrows. “He said it helps him when he does video conferencing since he does so much business back home now. He said our relatives made fun of it but the trend is for men to use it again. When he was in school growing up he’d have been mocked by his teachers, but now it makes him seem less alien.”

  When April looked where he’d touched thoughtfully he hastened to add: “If I used it I’d be lying. I never really was part of that culture like my father.”

  “We’re making our own culture, Lord Singh.”

  “Good, because I’m not totally fond of any I’ve seen, my Lady April.”

  “Lady Lewis if you don’t remember to append the ‘my’,” she reminded him.

  “I never thought I’d see you embrace it,” he admitted.

  “Like a colorful shirt, at times it’s handy to differentiate yourself,” she said.

  “They said to come down at 1900,” Jeff said. “Do you want to be early or late?”

  April’s eyes flicked up and to the right to check the time.

  “Let’s not play games. If we walk slowly we’ll arrive right on time and send no message which is probably confusing,” she teased.

  “OK,” he said offering an arm. “One good thing, with all the rush and switching across time zones I’m hungry and won’t have to fake a polite interest in the food.”

  * * *

  “Do you have some paper and a pencil I can use?” Alice asked. Her manner was unusual, rather sheepish, and Vic couldn’t figure out why. She’d been quiet and looking pensive and distracted about something all morning. Behind her, Eileen sitting reading with her back to the window for the light looked up briefly from her book but she didn’t want to get involved with this.

  “There’s the notepad on the kitchen counter,” Vic said, but she knew that.

  “I’d rather have full size sheets, and more of them,” Alice said.

  “Well, if you want letter size,” Vic said, showing the size with his hands, “there’s a whole bunch of it in my printer in my office. Take a flashlight since it is shuttered and take what you want. There’s even a couple packs of printer paper I haven’t opened on the shelves. It’s not lined of course. Do you want it to write or to draw?”

  “Write, I don’t
need lines, I can print pretty straight. But I want a pencil not a pen so I can erase and change things,” she said. “Do you have a few extra pencils so I don’t have to take the one in the kitchen?”

  “If you look in my desk the second drawer down on the left is pretty much full of pencils and pens. Some of the pens are probably dried out but I never go through them. If you dig way down there should be some erasers that are much better than the ones on the ends of the pencils. If you plan on doing corrections it helps to write with space between your lines, so you can go back and put in whole phrases instead of just substituting words,” Vic suggested.

  He didn’t ask what she wanted to write but the question was plain on his face.

  “I’m going to write about how things were for me before The Day with my mom and dad and how different after, also about the Olsens. I figure lots more is going to change and happen to write about in the future. The longer I wait the harder it will be to remember it all,” Alice said. “Some things already seem like they happened so long ago it isn’t quite real.”

  She’s going to write about the Foys too, Vic realized, and wasn’t all that comfortable with the idea. All he said, however, was, “If you need any help with words or grammar we have books for that too, or you can ask Eileen or me.”

  “Thank you,” Alice said. She pulled the board wedged against it and slipped around the tarp to the cold side of the house where his office was, tugging it back closed as well as possible until she could return and could seal it better.

  * * *

  When Jeff and April arrived downstairs a servant was waiting to direct them to the library. April hoped that didn’t mean dinner was delayed. She was hungry and alcohol was unlikely to improve that. Irwin was there already and looked so relaxed she wondered if that wasn’t his first drink in his hand. There were two men she didn’t know and a lady sitting closely by Joel with a proprietary hand on his arm. The fact their host and the others were lounging about in a circle of chairs instead of standing suggested there might be some delay.

  April looked around and her mouth fell open in shock.

  “You look so surprised, my dear, but I’m at a loss to know why,” Joel said.

  “I’ve never seen so many books. I mean actual paper books.”

  “Well that’s sort of the point of a library,” he said and smiled.

  “I knew in the abstract people still keep books. Indeed I have a friend who is writing an illustrated history of Home,” April said. “I just expected a library on this scale to be a government facility or perhaps at a university. I’m frankly impressed and I didn’t anticipate how nice it could be made to look.”

  “Don’t be impressed too easily when you see others,” Pierre said. “Joel won’t brag, but not only has he read a number of these volumes, but there’s a little shelf over by his desk that has a number of books he penned. However, some of the wealthy make a show of literacy but actually just tell their decorator to fill the shelves and get a nice balance of colors and sizes. There are design houses that sell books by the shelf meter.”

  “I have a few thousand books on my pad,” April said. “Most of which I’ve read, but the cost to lift physical copies to orbit and beyond is prohibitive. I’d quickly run out of room for them too.”

  “I’m being a poor host,” Joel decided. “Please, tell Frederick if you’d like a drink and I have some introductions to make before dinner.”

  Frederick had approached and stood waiting while they were talking. April saw he was dressed like the servant in the hall but wasn’t sure of his function.”

  “Oh, I’d just like some Champagne, please.”

  The fellow nodded and looked at Jeff.

  “Scotch whiskey with just a little water please.”

  “If books are too heavy surely bottled spirits are extravagant too,” Joel said.

  “Yes, but it is at least used up and doesn’t fill up your cubic,” April said.

  “It’s sometimes hard to imagine the differences in how we live,” Joel said. “I do envy Pierre that he’s been up there several times now. He has the most interesting tales. Often it is the little things that surprise us most.”

  “New Las Vegas makes an industry of tourism,” Jeff pointed out. “We don’t get as many, but we do get some tourists. There’s no reason you couldn’t visit yourself. It’s very safe and there isn’t any open hostility to Earthies.”

  “And that isn’t a slur?” Joel asked with apparent sincerity.

  “No more than Homies,” Jeff assured him.

  “When Pierre visited I sent a young man to guide him about and took him to dinner,” April said. “We’d be delighted to do the same for you.”

  “I’ll remember that offer if the voters decide I need a lot more personal time freed up. Once you’ve held the top job taking other posts in retirement seems silly. So I’d have a lot more time to travel.”

  Neither of the guests was bold enough to interrupt their host, but Jeff was visually appraising the others so Joel took a hint to introduce them. Out of courtesy presented his wife first.

  “My Dear, I present April Lewis and Jeffery Singh. This is my wife of some years and partner in life Mylène.” Mylène just nodded and didn’t engage them in conversation.

  “Mr. Singh, this is Henri Colombe. Henri is the Governor of our national bank. Henri, Jeffery Moses Singh of the System Bank of Home. With Irwin, whom you have met, these two are pretty much the sum of banking off Earth,” Joel said. Henri didn’t get up to shake hands. He seemed a little frosty actually.

  “I have to issue a disclaimer,” Jeff said. “I am no executive. April here and Heather, the Sovereign of Central are all equal partners in the bank. It was actually April who conceived the idea of starting the bank, though she was on Earth at the time and put off the initial formation on me. So you have two officers of the System Bank here.”

  Henri nodded an acknowledgment of that for April, looking her over with new interest that was a frank appraisal.

  “Ah, no need for me to introduce her further then,” Joel said.

  “I understand,” Henri said, “that you are also peers to the Moon Queen, however it is your custom to refer to her, and thus Lord Singh and Lady Lewis, is that correct?”

  “We just say, Heather. She isn’t much on formalities. You don’t need to feel you are addressing the sovereign if you ask her to pass the salt at dinner. She adopts the plural mode of speech and gets an entirely different attitude that is unmistakable when she is speaking with that voice. It rarely happens outside her court.”

  “She takes this seriously? It’s not just for outside consumption?” Henri asked.

  “She holds court with a literal little carpet upon which you are called to stand, and sets her pistol on the table to hand to dispense capital justice if there is need. The people who are sworn to her take it very seriously. She did not seek them as subjects, they sought to swear to her for protection. As for April or me, we are not Lord or Lady away from Central and a fancy title and twenty dollars Australian will get you a decent cup of coffee on Home.”

  Henri nodded but it was obvious he had reservations.

  “I’d speak with you at length another time. Our present company would not appreciate prolonged technical discussions of things in which they have no interest. I wanted to meet you and get the measure of you, which I fancy I have already.”

  “I’m in the public com list on Home anytime you want to speak,” Jeff offered. “The lag will drive you crazy but you can always come up and speak face to face in a much more secure environment with me. Do not be shy to run what we say past veracity software. Nobody on Home will take offense at it or pretend it doesn’t exist or that it doesn’t work.”

  The other, younger man had been shifting to the edge of his seat as it became obvious the introductions with Henri were wrapping up. When Joel shifted his stance to include him he rose and approached even before Joel spoke.

  “Lewis, Singh, this is Herman Bellinger. I confess pre
senting you with him is a bit of a self-serving act. I do not mean to lay an ambush for you but I’m afraid I find myself at odds with Mssr. Bellinger. He is put out with me and I doubt he would have come at my invitation alone but wanted to meet you badly enough to put up with my company. Bellinger, your nemesis,” Joel said.

  Jeff was about to say, ‘Yes, your astronaut.’ However, being named as the man’s nemesis made him swallow that. He felt neither godlike nor avenging. Despite the off-putting introduction, Bellinger was eager to take his hand. He took it double-handed and didn’t let it go quickly. His gaze was so intense Jeff was disquieted.

  “The radio beacon on the object at Alpha Centauri claimed for your queen was placed by a Deloris Wrigley. Were you along with that expedition?” Bellinger demanded.

  “No, that was a four-person survey crew in the exploration craft the Hringhorni,” Jeff said. “I’ve been there twice before in Dionysus' Chariot, the vessel we flew here. Once with April here,” he nodded at her, “and once with Barak Anderson, one of the crew that placed the claims marker.”

  Bellinger looked so shocked at the straight answer he was speechless. Apparently, he expected a firm denial and wasn’t prepared for honesty. Joel and Pierre looked shocked too.

  “Your pardon,” Jeff said. “I realize we haven’t been forthcoming about our capacity until recently. We three decided just some days ago that there was little point pretending it was a secret. We left Home or Central too many times with no stated destination but translunar space to Traffic Control and came back with impossible vectors. We also made a couple of visits to Mars with impossible transit times. If the Earth governments want to keep their own people in the dark about it they undoubtedly can for some time. They have control of the internet internally. Our own people were telling us it was the worst kept secret on the Moon and sort of silly.”