Robert Heinlein - The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress

But Mike controlled communications and that meant control of most everything. Prof had started with control of news to and from Earthside, leaving to Mike censorship and faking of news until we could get around to what to tell Terra, and had added sub-phase "M" which cut off Complex from rest of Luna, and with it Richardson Observatory and associated laboratories--Pierce Radioscope, Selenophysical Station, and so forth. These were a problem as Terran scientists were always coming and going and staying as long as six months, stretching time by centrifuge. Most Terrans in Luna, save for a handful of tourists--thirty-four--were scientists. Something had to be done about these Terrans, but meanwhile keeping them from talking to Terra was enough.

For time being, Complex was cut off by phone and Mike did not permit capsules to stop at any station in Complex even after travel was resumed, which it was as soon as Finn Nielsen and squad were through with dirty work.

Turned out Warden was not dead, nor had we planned to kill him; Prof figured that a live warden could always be made dead, whereas a dead one could not be made live if we needed him. So plan was to half kill him, make sure he and his guards could put up no fight, then break in fast while Mike restored oxygen.

With fans turning at top speed, Mike computed it would take four minutes and a bit to reduce oxygen to effective zero--so, five minutes of increasing hypoxia, five minutes of anoxia, then force lower lock while Mike shot in pure oxygen to restore balance. This should not kill anyone--but would knock out a person as thoroughly as anesthesia. Hazard to attackers would come from some or all of those inside having p-suits. But even that might not matter; hypoxia is sneaky, you can pass out without realizing you are short on oxygen. Is new chum's favorite fatal mistake.

So Warden lived through it and three of his women. But Warden, though he lived, was no use; brain had been oxygen-starved too long, a vegetable. No guard recovered, even though younger than he; would appear anoxia broke necks.

In rest of Complex nobody was hurt. Once lights were on and oxygen restored they were okay, including six rapist-murderers under lock in barracks. Finn decided that shooting was too good for them, so he went judge and used his squad as jury.

They were stripped, hamstrung at ankles and wrists, turned over to women in Complex. Makes me sick to think about what happened next but don't suppose they lived through as long an ordeal as Marie Lyons endured. Women are amazing creatures--sweet, soft, gentle, and far more savage than we are.

Let me mention those fink spies out of order. Wyoh had been fiercely ready to eliminate them but when we got around to them she had lost stomach. I expected Prof to agree. But he shook head. "No, dear Wyoh, much as I deplore violence, there are only two things to do with an enemy: Kill him. Or make a friend of him. Anything in between piles up trouble for the future. A man who finks on his friends once will do it again and we have a long period ahead in which a fink can be dangerous; they must go. And publicly, to cause others to be thoughtful."

Wyoh said, "Professor, you once said that if you condemned a man, you would eliminate him personally. Is that what you are going to do?"

"Yes, dear lady, and no. Their blood shall be on my hands; I accept responsibility. But I have in mind a way more likely to discourage other finks."

So Adam Selene announced that these persons had been employed by Juan Alvarez, late Security Chief for former Authority, as undercover spies--and gave names and addresses. Adam did not suggest that anything be done.

One man remained on dodge for seven months by changing warrens and name. Then early in '77 his body was found outside Novylen's lock. But most of them lasted no more than hours.

During first hours after coup d'etat we were faced with a problem we had never managed to plan--Adam Selene himself. Who is Adam Selene? Where is he? This is his revolution; he handled every detail, every comrade knows his voice. We're out in open now... so where is Adam?

We batted it around much of that night, in room L of Raffles--argued it between decisions on a hundred things that came up and people wanted to know what to do, while "Adam" through other voices handled other decisions that did not require talk, composed phony news to send Earthside, kept Complex isolated, many things. (Is no possible doubt: without Mike we could not have taken Luna nor held it.)

My notion was that Prof should become "Adam." Prof was always our planner and theoretician; everybody knew him; some key comrades knew that he was "Comrade Bill" and all others knew and respected Professor Bernardo de la Paz-- My word, he had taught half of leading citizens in Luna City, many from other warrens, was known to every vip in Luna.

"No," said Prof.

"Why not?" asked Wyoh. "Prof. you're opted. Tell him, Mike."

"Comment reserved," said Mike. "I want to hear what Prof has to say."

"I say you've analyzed it, Mike," Prof answered. "Wyoh dearest comrade, I would not refuse were it possible. But there is no way to make my voice match that of Adam--and every comrade knows Adam by his voice; Mike made it memorable for that very purpose."

We then considered whether Prof could be slipped in anyhow, showing him only on video and letting Mike reshape whatever Prof said into voice expected from Adam.

Was turned down. Too many people knew Prof, had heard him speak; his voice and way of speaking could not be reconciled with Adam. Then they considered same possibility for me--my voice and Mike's were baritone and not too many people knew what I sounded like over phone and none over video.

I tromped on it. People were going to be surprised enough to find me one of our Chairman's lieutenants; they would never believe I was number one.

I said, "Let's combine deals. Adam has been a mystery all along; keep him that way. He'll be seen only over video--in a mask. Prof. you supply body; Mike, you supply voice."

Prof shook head. "I can think of no surer way to destroy confidence at our most critical period than by having a leader who wears a mask. No, Mannie."

We talked about finding an actor to play it. Were no professional actors in Luna then but were good amateurs in Luna Civic Players and in Novy Bolshoi Teatr Associates.

"No," said Prof, "aside from finding an actor of requisite character--one who would not decide to be Napoleon--we can't wait. Adam must start handling things not later than tomorrow morning."

"In that case," I said, "you've answered it. Have to use Mike and never put him on video. Radio only. Have to figure excuse but Adam must never be seen."

"I'm forced to agree," said Prof.

"Man my oldest friend," said Mike, "why do you say that I can't be seen?"

"Haven't you listened?" I said. "Mike, we have to show a face and body on video. You have a body--but it's several tons of metal. A face you don't have--lucky you, don't have to shave."

"But what's to keep me from showing a face, Man? I'm showing a voice this instant. But there's no sound behind it. I can show a face the same way."

Was so taken aback I didn't answer. I stared at video screen, installed when we leased that room. A pulse is a pulse is a pulse. Electrons chasing each other. To Mike, whole world was variable series of electrical pulses, sent or received or chasing around his innards.

I said, "No, Mike."

"Why not, Man?"

"Because you can't! Voice you handle beautifully. Involves only a few thousand decisions a second, a slow crawl to you. But to build up video picture would require, uh, say ten million decisions every second. Mike, you're so fast I can't even think about it. But you aren't that fast."

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.)