Robert Heinlein - The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress

"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.