Robert Heinlein - The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress

But I wondered while Prof was talking what these pompous chooms would think if they knew that our "president" was a collection of hardware owned by Authority?

But they just sat staring with chill disapproval, unmoved by Prof's rhetoric--probably best performance of his life considering he delivered it flat on back, speaking into a microphone without notes, and hardly able to see his audience.

Then they started in on us. Gentleman member from Argentina--never given their names; we weren't socially acceptable--this Argentino objected to phrase "former Warden" in Prof's speech; that designation had been obsolete half a century; he insisted that it be struck out and proper title inserted: "Protector of the Lunar Colonies by Appointment of the Lunar Authority." Any other wording offended dignity of Lunar Authority.

Prof asked to comment; "Honorable Chairman" permitted it. Prof said mildly that he accepted change since Authority was free to designate its servants in any fashion it pleased and was no intention to offend dignity of any agency of Federated Nations... but in view of functions of this office--former functions of this former office--citizens of Luna Free State would probably go on thinking of it by traditional name.

That made about six of them try to talk at once. Somebody objected to use of word "Luna" and still more to "Luna Free State"--it was "the Moon," Earth's Moon, a satellite of Earth and property of Federated Nations, just as Antarctica was--and these proceedings were a farce.

Was inclined to agree with last point. Chairman asked gentleman member from North America to please be in order and to address his remarks through Chair. Did Chair understand from witness's last remark that this alleged de-facto regime intended to interfere with consignee system?

Prof fielded that and tossed it back. "Honorable Chairman, I myself was a consignee, now Luna is my beloved home. My colleague, the Honorable the Undersecretary for Foreign Affairs Colonel O'Kelly Davis"--myself!--"is Luna born, and proud of his descent from four transported grandparents. Luna has grown strong on your outcasts. Give us your poor, your wretched; we welcome them. Luna has room for them, nearly forty million square kilometers, an area greater than all Africa--and almost totally empty. More than that, since by our method of living we occupy not 'area' but 'cubic' the mind cannot imagine the day when Luna would refuse another shipioad of weary homeless."

Chairman said, "The witness is admonished to refrain from making speeches. The Chair takes it that your oratory means that the group you represent agrees to accept prisoners as before."

"No, sir."

"What? Explain yourself."

"Once an immigrant sets foot on Luna today he is a free man, no matter what his previous condition, free to go where he listeth."

"So? Then what's to keep a consignee from walking across the field, climbing into another ship, and returning here? I admit that I am puzzled at your apparent willingness to accept them... but we do not want them. It is our humane way of getting rid of incorrigibles who would otherwise have to be executed."

(Could have told him several things that would stop what he pictured; he had obviously never been to Luna. As for "incorrigibles," if really are, Luna eliminates such faster than Terra ever did. Back when I was very young, they sent us a gangster lord, from Los Angeles I believe; he arrived with squad of stooges, his bodyguards, and was cockily ready to take over Luna, as was rumored to have taken over a prison somewhere Earthside.

(None lasted two weeks. Gangster boss didn't make it to barracks; hadn't listened when told how to wear a p-suit.)

"There is nothing to keep him from going home so far as we are concerned, sir," Prof answered, "although your police here on Terra might cause him to think. But I've never heard of a consignee arriving with funds enough to buy a ticket home. Is this truly an issue? The ships are yours; Luna has no ships--and let me add that we are sorry that the ship scheduled for Luna this month was canceled. I am not complaining that it forced on my colleague and myself--Prof stopped to smile--a most informal method of travel. I simply hope that this does not represent policy. Luna has no quarrel with you; your ships are welcome, your trade is welcome, we are at peace and wish to stay so. Please note that all scheduled grain shipments have come through on time."

(Prof did always have gift for changing subject.)

They fiddled with minor matters then. Nosy from North America wanted to know what had really happened to "the Ward--" He stopped himself. "The Protector. Senator Hobart" Prof answered that he had suffered a stroke (a "coup" is a "stroke") and was no longer able to carry out his duties--but was in good health otherwise and receiving constant medical care. Prof added thoughtfully that he suspected that the old gentleman had been failing for some time, in view of his indiscretions this past year... especially his many invasions of rights of free citizens, including ones who were not and never had been consignees.

Story was not hard to swallow. When those busy scientists managed to break news of our coup, they had reported Warden as dead... whereas Mike had kept him alive and on job by impersonating him. When Authority Earthside demanded a report from Warden on this wild rumor, Mike had consulted Prof, then had accepted call and given a convincing imitation of senility, managing to deny, confirm, and confuse every detail. Our announcements followed, and thereafter Warden was no longer available even in his computer alter ego. Three days later we declared independence.

This North American wanted to know what reason they had to believe that one word of this was true? Prof smiled most saintly smile and made effort to spread thin hands before letting them fall to coverlet. "The gentleman member from North America is urged to go to Luna, visit Senator Hobart's sickbed, and see for himself. Indeed all Terran citizens are invited to visit Luna at any time, see anything. We wish to be friends, we are at peace, we have nothing to hide. My only regret is that my country is unable to furnish transportation; for that we must turn to you."

Chinee member looked at Prof thoughtfully. He had not said a word but missed nothing.

Chairman recessed hearing until fifteen hundred. They gave us a retiring room and sent in lunch. I wanted to talk but Prof shook head, glanced around room, tapped ear. So I shut up. Prof napped then and I leveled out my wheel chair and joined him; on Terra we both slept all we could. Helped. Not enough.

They didn't wheel us back in until sixteen hundred; committee was already sitting. Chairman then broke own rule against speeches and made a long one more-in-sorrow-than-anger.

Started by reminding us that Luna Authority was a nonpolitical trusteeship charged with solemn duty of insuring that Earth's satellite the Moon--Luna, as some called it--was never used for military purposes. He told us that Authority had guarded this sacred trust more than a century, while governments fell and new governments rose, alliances shifted and shifted again--indeed, Authority was older than Federated Nations, deriving original charter from an older international body, and so well had it kept that trust that it had lasted through wars and turmoils and realignments.

(This is news? But you see what he was building towards.)

"The Lunar Authority cannot surrender its trust," he told us solemnly. "However, there appears to be no insuperable obstacle to the Lunar colonists, if they show political maturity, enjoying a degree of autonomy. This can be taken under advisement. Much depends on your behavior. The behavior, I should say, of all you colonists. There have been riots and destruction of property; this must not be."

I waited for him to mention ninety dead Goons; he never did. I will never make a statesman; I don't have high-level approach.