Robert Heinlein - The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress

This also was true, although never mentioned that Luna (yes, and sometimes Luna's Loonies) killed about half of new chums. But people we talked to rarely thought of emigrating themselves; they thought of forcing or persuading others to emigrate to relieve crowding--and to reduce their own taxes. Kept mouth shut about fact that half-fed swarms we saw everywhere did breed faster than even catapulting could offset.

We could not house, feed, and train even a million new chums each year--and a million wasn't a drop on Terra; more babies than that were conceived every night. We could accept far more than would emigrate voluntarily but if they used forced emigration and flooded us... Luna has only one way to deal with a new chum: Either he makes not one fatal mistake, in personal behavior or in coping with environment that will bite without warning... or he winds up as fertilizer in tunnel farm.

All that immigration in huge numbers could mean would be that a larger percentage of immigrants would die--too few of us to help them past natural hazards.

However, Prof did most talking about "Luna's great future." I talked about catapults.

During weeks we waited for committee to recall us, we covered much ground. Stu's men had things set up and only question was how much we could take. Would guess that every week on Terra chopped a year off our lives, maybe more for Prof. But he never complained and was always ready to be charming at one more reception.

We spent extra time in North America. Date of our Declaration of Independence, exactly three hundred years after that of North American British colonies, turned out to be wizard propaganda and Stu's manipulators made most of it. North Americans are sentimental about their "United States" even though it ceased to mean anything once their continent had been rationalized by F.N. They elect a president every eight years, why, could not say--why do British still have Queen?--and boast of being "sovereign." "Sovereign," like "love," means anything you want it to mean; it's a word in dictionary between "sober" and "sozzled."

"Sovereignty" meant much in North America and "Fourth of July" was a magic date; Fourth-of-July League handled our appearances and Stu told us that it had not cost much to get it moving and nothing to keep going; League even raised money used elsewhere--North Americans enjoy giving no matter who gets it.

Farther south Stu used another date; his people planted idea that coup d'etat had been 5 May instead of two weeks later. We were greeted with "Cinco de Mayo! Libertad! Cinco de Mayo!" I thought they were saying, "Thank you"-- Prof did all talking.

But in 4th-of-July country I did better. Stu had me quit wearing a left arm in public, sleeves of my costumes were sewed up so that stump could not be missed, and word was passed that I had lost it "fighting for freedom." Whenever I was asked about it, all I did was smile and say, "See what comes of biting nails?"--then change subject.

I never liked North America, even first trip. It is not most crowded part of Terra, has a mere billion people. In Bombay they sprawl on pavements; in Great New York they pack them vertically--not sure anyone sleeps. Was glad to be in invalid's chair.

Is mixed-up place another way; they care about skin color--by making point of how they don't care. First trip I was always too light or too dark, and somehow blamed either way, or was always being expected to take stand on things I have no opinions on. Bog knows I don't know what genes I have. One grandmother came from a part of Asia where invaders passed as regularly as locusts, raping as they went--why not ask her?

Learned to handle it by my second makee-learnee but it left a sour taste. Think I prefer a place as openly racist as India, where if you aren't Hindu, you're nobody--except that Parsees look down on Hindus and vice versa. However I never really had to cope with North America's reverse-racism when being "Colonel O'Kelly Davis, Hero of Lunar Freedom."

We had swarms of bleeding hearts around us, anxious to help. I let them do two things for me, things I had never had time, money, or energy for as a student: I saw Yankees play and i visited Salem.

Should have kept my illusions. Baseball is better over video, you can really see it and aren't pushed in by two hundred thousand other people. Besides, somebody should have shot that outfield. I spent most of that game dreading moment when they would have to get my chair out through crowd--that and assuring host that I was having a wonderful time.

Salem was just a place, no worse (and no better) than rest of Boston. After seeing it I suspected they had hanged wrong witches. But day wasn't wasted; I was filmed laying a wreath on a place where a bridge had been in another part of Boston, Concord, and made a memorized speech--bridge is still there, actually; you can see it, down through glass. Not much of a bridge.

Prof enjoyed it all, rough as it was on him: Prof had great capacity for enjoying. He always had something new to tell about great future of Luna. In New York he gave managing director of a hotel chain, one with rabbit trade mark, a sketch of what could be done with resorts in Luna--once excursion rates were within reach of more people--visits too short to hurt anyone, escort service included, exotic side trips, gambling--no taxes.

Last point grabbed attention, so Prof expanded it into "longer old age" theme--a chain of retirement hostels where an earthworm could live on Terran old-age pension and go on living, twenty, thirty, forty years longer than on Terra. As an exile--but which was better? A live old age in Luna? Or a funeral crypt on Terra? His descendants could pay visits and fill those resort hotels. Prof embellished with pictures of "nightclubs" with acts impossible in Terra's horrible gravity, sports to fit our decent level of gravitation--even talked about swimming pools and ice skating and possibility of flying! (Thought he had tripped his safeties.) He finished by hinting that Swiss cartel had tied it up.

Next day he was telling foreign-divisions manager of Chase International Panagra that a Luna City branch should be staffed with paraplegics, paralytics, heart cases, amputees, others who found high gravity a handicap. Manager was a fat man who wheezed, he may have been thinking of it personally--but his ears pricked up at "no taxes."

We didn't have it all our own way. News was often against us and were always hecklers. Whenever I had to take them on without Prof's help I was likely to get tripped. One man tackled me on Prof's statement to committee that we "owned" grain grown in Luna: he seemed to take it for granted that we did not. Told him I did not understand question.

He answered, "Isn't it true, Colonel, that your provisional government has asked for membership in Federated Nations?"

Should have answered, "No comment." But fell for it and agreed. "Very well," he said, "the impediment seems to be the counterclaim that the Moon belongs to the Federated Nations--as it always has---under supervision of the Lunar Authority. Either way, by your own admission, that grain belongs to the Federated Nations, in trust."

I asked how he reached that conclusion? He answered, 'Colonel, you style yourself 'Undersecretary of Foreign Affairs.' Surely you are familiar with the charter of the Federated Nations."

I had skimmed it. "Reasonably familiar," I said-- cautiously, I thought.

"Then you know the First Freedom guaranteed by the Charter and its current application through F & A Control Board Administrative Order Number eleven-seventy-six dated three March of this year. You concede therefore that all grain grown on the Moon in excess of the local ration is ab initio and beyond contest the property of all, title held in trust by the Federated Nations through its agencies for distribution as needed." He was writing as he talked. "Have you anything to add to that concession?"