by Unknown
“Exactly, but I like to refer to it as a summer house. Strictly for my own use.”
“I thought the suggestion was merely hyperbole. Your intention all along was to build a vacation home for yourself? On the moon?”
“Precisely.”
“But that’s absurd!”
“Why?”
Russell closed his mouth and considered the question. After a moment of clarity he was able to speak again.
“Because everything that happens here is precisely calibrated through co-operative agencies. Do you think this is ocean-front property in Florida? People just can’t travel to Luna, build a vacation home, and expect to thrive. This world is harsher than the harshest environment on Earth. You’d never be able to keep it going, I assure you.”
“And yet,” Keilley said gently, “I’ve managed to build one right under your nose.”
“You’ve exploited loopholes in the process and violated exploratory laws.”
“I’ve violated no laws. My little house is beyond the territorial limits of Luna Central. I’ve paid for the construction myself. I simply used the resources available to me. Why do you feel I’ve done something wrong?”
“Mr Keilley, you’re an opportunist. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I assure you that your conduct will be reviewed by the Administration and your little ‘experiment’ aborted. This is not a place for bored, wealthy men to exercise fiscal irresponsibility.”
“Irresponsibility?” Keilley held his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “Perhaps. But now I’ve built my residence I intend to make certain that my property rights are well established.”
“Property rights?”
“Of course. I’ve filed a petition with the Administration to have my little acre recognized as private property.”
“Mr Keilley, are you insane? Do you really think anyone would grant you lunar property rights just because you built a structure on the moon?”
Keilley remained calm. “Mr. Russell, I’m not concerned about the opinions of others. I’ll press the matter in the international courts. I have a convincing argument, after all.”
After refusing to disclose that argument, Keilley retired to his terrarium − ‘the most expensive summer house in history’. The stunt and argument erupted Earthside. Since he’d violated no laws and worked within the constraints of convoluted multinational lunar interests, the press could only speculate as to his motives, which, most critics suggested, were exploitative.
The Governing Board for Luna Central could only refer Keilley’s conduct to governing bodies Earthside, but none could come to a consensus. Over the previous few years Keilley had been very busy attaining multiple citizenships in many countries, so that any one governmental declaration would not affect his status as a legitimate space traveler. Frustrated, the Board took a vote on Keilley’s lunar legitimacy, but no agreement could be reached between representatives.
When Keilley finally returned to Luna Central, he gave a short statement to the effect that he was declaring his estate on the lunar surface and would file for independent recognition from the participating nations. Russell threatened to revoke Keilley’s passport, but since this could only be executed through consensus and initiated by a violation of international policies, the threat held little merit.
Keilley was vetted by the media: he was a failure-prone dreamer with nothing better to do than squander his father’s fortune on an insanely expensive vacation house with a spectacular view; he was a psychotic loner placating a demented desire; a misguided maverick who wanted to bury his father’s memory beneath his own wild accomplishments.
Marcus had endured his childhood in isolation in a mansion while his father traveled the world. Obsessed with space exploration and astronomy, Marcus spoke of little else except the scientific accomplishments he would achieve that would rival those of his illustrious father. After he earned degrees in civic and electrical engineering and astrophysics, he seemed to fade into his father’s shadow. He’d spent years working in relative anonymity for the Chinese Space Program, then the Japanese and European Space Programs.
In an interview before his death in 2088, the elder Keilley was asked about his son.
“Marcus is an only child, and may have felt too much of a sense of duty to succeed at the same level as his father. I’m afraid my son was always too much of a dreamer to work effectively within the industry. If I had been around to teach him about the need for diplomacy and tact, he might have made more of himself. It saddens me, and yet, I still have the hope that one day he’ll contribute to humanity’s cause, if only in a small way. He’s very bright, you know.”
So the media pronounced Marcus Keilley’s ‘stunt’ as the act of a bitter, disillusioned failure who only wanted to exploit valuable resources and take revenge on the system that ignored him. A typical case of the son of a famous man failing to live up to his father’s reputation.
Negative publicity did nothing to stem his determination to declare his domicile ‘private property’.
Keilley petitioned the Governing Board of Luna Central for just that recognition. The members, unable to find a consensus among them, and fearing they didn’t have the legal power to make a binding decision anyway, postponed their response until they could find a better solution.
The only solution they could imagine was a quasi-legal proceeding using representatives from Luna’s international community. Operating in an official capacity, they would gather together forty participants who would listen to arguments from both sides of the discussion and then vote on a final decision. Their decision would be considered binding on Luna.
“Mr Marcus Keilley,” Jarvis Russell said from his seat before the abiding judge, a Kenyan woman named Adla who’d been a provincial governor Earthside, “is here today to try to convince you that he has the right to own private property on Luna.”
Russell turned to the representatives seated behind them in the small auditorium, men and women representing nations from all over the Earth, and then to Keilley, who was sitting placidly in the chair across from him.
“And I’m here today,” he continued, “to convince you that his claim is nothing more than a selfish game being played at the expense of serious-minded people.”
He turned again to the judge. “Without declaring his intent, Mr Keilley proceeded to exploit the resources of this installation in order to build a so-called private residence beyond the influence of those he chose to deceive. Now he claims that his actions should result in a declaration of his right of private property. The absurdity of his argument is that, just because he managed to abuse our unsuspecting graces, we should now honor his deception with sovereignty. I would suggest that we declare his actions improper and refuse him any further use of these facilities.”
The judge stared at Russell for a moment, then to Keilley. Resplendent in a dark red and black robe, she raised a hand toward Keilley.
“Please proceed with your opening statement, Mr Keilley.”
Keilley sat forward in his chair. “In constructing my home on Luna I violated no laws, policies, or procedures. I paid a great deal of money to several international agencies in order to bring the supplies to Luna that would comprise the structure. I, in fact, simply used the services that were readily available to me to contract. Now that I’ve built the structure I only ask for official recognition of its status as private property. Since I alone would inhabit it, and since I’ve readily agreed to open inspections to allay any suspicions of malfeasance, I see no reason why anyone should object.”
“No reason?” Russell said. “Do you think just anyone should be able to come to the moon and stake a claim?”
Keilley said nothing.
The judge glanced at Keilley. “I don’t believe that was a rhetorical question, Mr Keilley. Do you agree with Mr Russell’s suggestion?”
“Actually, I do.”
A murmur rose among the seated representatives.
Russell laughed and
turned toward them. “I would suggest that this type of grandiose delusion illustrates the fallacy of Mr Keilley’s argument.”
“Please refrain from insults,” she said. “This is a court of law.”
“I apologize, your Honor, but this is not the American old west where homesteaders simply arrived at a location, declared it their own, and built a house over it. This environment demands that we adhere to strict protocol. He has violated that protocol and must be censured.”
“How have I violated protocol?” Keilley said. “I followed every protocol necessary. And since no one nation owns the moon, why should it be unusual for an individual to also own some small portion of the moon? Property rights have existed on Earth for thousands of years.”
“If we followed your argument,” Russell said, “then we would have to legitimize every individual claim for property on Luna. The concept of Luna Central was specifically drafted to avoid such arguments. And now you want us to sanction what we’ve fought so long to avoid?”
“Mr Russell has a point,” the judge said. She raised her hands in gesture. “All of this was accomplished through the strict co-operation of many nations. Should we abandon our path for the sake of individual rights?”
“The only thing you’ve accomplished here,” Keilley suggested, “is stagnation. No one vision of growth can escape the gravity of your regimentation. You may have prevented legal conflicts, but in doing so you’ve also prevented meaningful expansion.”
“That’s totally irrelevant to your claim,” Russell said.
“Is it? I think it’s central to my claim. If, as a citizen of Earth, I wanted to construct a domicile on the moon for my own enjoyment, should I be rebuffed because a bureaucratic machine is slowly crushing me in its gears? I think not. I’m simply using that bureaucracy to achieve a desired end. And since it is an individual enterprise, not tied to the self-limiting policies of nations, I see no reason for anyone to object.”
Russell laughed softly. “All this really comes down to is that a very rich man believes he can buy whatever he wants at the expense of true pioneers. Space travel, notoriety, or even a summer house on the moon. Is that what this is to you, Mr Keilley? A galleria? If he were alive today, what would your father say of your conduct?”
Keilley’s eyes met Russell’s without the least animosity.
“I think he would say that sometimes the end justifies the means.”
Russell shook his head at the judge before addressing the representatives. “Please don’t honor this man with your acquiescence. His exploitation of the resources of Luna Central should not be rewarded. He’s shown himself to be the worst sort of narcissist and an impediment to lunar colonization. His activity is no more than a publicity stunt carried on by a professional failure who’d like nothing more than to embarrass the programs in which he couldn’t succeed. We have much more important issues to address than this debacle.”
“Some restraint, Mr Russell,” the judge advised.
“It’s all right, your Honor,” Keilley said, “I’m not offended. I understand Mr Russell’s defensive attitude. After all, he only believes he’s doing the right thing for Luna. On the other hand, how many individuals possibly have the resources to make such a claim as mine? I’ve already spent a billion credits on one small complex. How many more could possibly follow? The moon is a very large place. One small piece of it occupied in my name isn’t much to ask.”
“All for the sake of one man’s ego,” Russell added.
“Even if that’s true, what could it possibly hurt? After all, I might conceivably spend a few billion more through your services. And that much revenue would only help your cause, wouldn’t it?”
“Are you suggesting,” Judge Alba said coolly, “that you think it’s possible to buy our acquiescence?”
“No, your Honor,” Keilley said, “of course not. I’m asking you to consider my efforts as an investment in Luna. It’s true that some individuals are capable of buying an island in the Atlantic and declaring it their own. A small nation of their own, as it were, but, isolated as they are, in no one’s imagination could they possibly infringe on the welfare of greater nations. I’ve only worked through the allowances of the nations supporting Luna. In fact, my activities have always been implied in the nature of the tourist trade this installation has itself exploited and encouraged for commercial purposes. And in this matter the benefits of free enterprise would help everyone involved. After all, how likely is it that I’ll ever interfere with the business of Luna Central?”
He turned then, stared into the faces of the representatives and smiled again. “I think that’s a very good argument for allowing my claim. And the best assurance that I’ll abide by what I’ve said today rests on the fact that I would necessarily have to rely on Luna Central to support the maintenance of my little station. Over time, that could translate into a very lucrative partnership. Don’t you think?”
“You’ve corrupted the infrastructure of this complex for personal reasons,” Russell said, unimpressed. “That’s all it amounts to.”
“I’ve worked within the boundaries of this complex’s infrastructure,” Keilley said to Russell, “to accomplish an end. Now that end may not be one you find acceptable under your guidelines for glacial progress, but that doesn’t negate the usefulness of my investment in it.”
“You’re a selfish, self-indulgent man. An abject failure who only wants to corrupt humanity’s scientific advancement for his own childish purposes.”
“I think I’ve made my point, Mr Russell.”
The judge cracked her gavel soundly. “Enough.”
Keilley only smiled. He may have been a selfish man, but he was also a patient one. And he was very bright, as well.
In the end, and to Jarvis Russell’s disgust, the promise of future expenditures convinced a majority of the representatives to allow Keilley’s claim. When later interviewed by the media, most of the representatives suggested that it was a harmless gesture for a fringe personality with an equally harmless agenda. True to his word, Keilley invested a few more billion credits in his ‘summer house’, even convincing the Board to let him install his own small, but efficient fusion reactor. Soon Keilley’s name was forgotten in the rush of truly important issues that always seemed to stall at the doors of Luna Central.
By 2110, Keilley’s summer home had expanded to cover three acres. By 2120, its population outnumbered that of Luna Central. By 2140, it subsumed Luna Central, and by 2170, long after he was dead and buried in the dust of the Sea of Tranquility, the city was renamed in Marcus Keilley’s honor. By 2195, Keilley City’s population reached 500,000. And by 2230, no one could even begin to imagine that the magnificent cities of the moon had been founded by an abject failure.
The Rising Cost of Insurance
Branden Johnson
Timothy’s secretary was a blonde, and this fact alone was responsible for the affair. It wasn’t his fault. During his formative years, he had been cursed with an attraction for fair hair. Then he married a brunette who refused to dye her hair, which, he decided, was also not his fault.
His secretary winked and said, “Oh, Mrs. Anderson is coming in today at ten o’clock. I forgot to tell you last night.” She was watching him through the open doorway into his office. She had opened his door to deliver a memo from Corporate and had forgotten to shut it on her way out.
“You can’t just forget to tell me things,” he said. “It’s your job. Don’t let it happen again.”
She smiled, as if his order had been some little joke. Then she kicked her legs out and spun around slowly, her desk chair like a carnival ride for senior citizens. He would fire her, except she would certainly run to Corporate and his wife and spew every disgusting little detail of their affair. It would mean the end of his marriage. Worse, the end of his job. And he was damned good at his job.
9:45. His desk was clean. He pulled up Mrs. Anderson’s file on his computer. The insurance agent who had sold the policy had alread
y dealt with the necessary prep work. As an adjustor, it was his job to make sure the transaction was completed. The fact that clients sometimes wanted to meet with him before he went back to the ‘scene’ was an irritation not exclusive to Timothy Richards. It was a staple of conversation around the dinner table at corporate conferences.
At ten o’clock sharp, a woman appeared in the front office. She wore a black dress that reached her ankles and erupted white lace at the neck. She had put on black eye makeup that now traced a River Styx down each cheek. Apparently, she had come directly from her husband’s funeral.
She exchanged words with the secretary and made her way around the desk and to his door. It framed her for a moment. It was a sad portrait.
“Please come in.” He decided to begin traditionally. “Allow me to offer our condolences.”
“Thank you,” she replied, and the corners of her mouth twitched upward, a nervous reaction or an attempt at a smile.
“Let’s see what we can do for you today.” He clicked his mouse. “Your deductible is twenty thousand dollars. You know, we normally take care of all this through the mail.”
“Do you take Visa?”
He smiled. “Of course. Do you remember if you had your Visa card with you at the time of the accident?”
“I… yes. I know I did. It was in my purse. He was holding my purse.”
She choked and covered her face with her hands. “Please,” she said, “please. He’s my husband. You can… I know you can… Please!”
Timothy put on a grave expression. “It would be good to review your coverage again, before I return to the scene. Feel free to stop me if you have a question.”
She nodded, drying her eyes on the sleeves of her dress. Behind her, his secretary was pulling the neckline of her shirt down, revealing pale cleavage. He forced his eyes to the computer screen.
“You had our Basic Liability coverage, which is far less than we recommend. That’s also why your deductible is so high.”