Robert Heinlein - The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress

"Gospodin President! Question of information! You said 'no involuntary taxation'-- Then how do you expect us to pay for things? Tanstaafl!"

"Goodness me, sir, that's your problem. I can think several ways. Voluntary contributions just as churches support themselves... government-sponsored lotteries to which no one need subscribe... or perhaps you Congressmen should dig down into your own pouches and pay for whatever is needed; that would be one way to keep government down in size to its indispensable functions whatever they may be. If indeed there are any. I would be satisfied to have the Golden Rule be the only law; I see no need for any other, nor for any method of enforcing it. But if you really believe that your neighbors must have laws for their own good, why shouldn't you pay for it? Comrades, I beg you--do not resort to compulsory taxation. There is so worse tyranny than to force a man to pay for what he does not want merely because you think it would be good for him."

Prof bowed and left, Stu and I followed him. Once in an otherwise empty capsule I tackled him. "Prof, I liked much that you said... but about taxation aren't you talking one thing and doing another? Who do you think is going to pay for all this spending we're doing?"

He was silent long moments, then said, "Manuel, my only ambition is to reach the day when I can stop pretending to be a chief executive."

"Is no answer!"

"You have put your finger on the dilemma of all government--and the reason I am an anarchist. The power to tax, once conceded, has no limits; it contains until it destroys. I was not joking when I told them to dig into their own pouches. It may not be possible to do away with government--sometimes I think that government is an inescapable disease of human beings. But it may be possible to keep it small and starved and inoffensive--and can you think of a better way than by requiring the governors themselves to pay the costs of their antisocial hobby?"

"Still doesn't say how to pay for what we are doing now."

"'How,' Manuel? You know how we are doing it. We're stealing it. I'm neither proud of it nor ashamed; it's the means we have. If they ever catch on, they may eliminate us--and that I am prepared to face. At least, in stealing, we have not created the villainous precedent of taxation."

"Prof. I hate to say this--"

"Then why say it?"

"Because, damn it, I'm in it as deeply as you are... and want to see that money paid back! Hate to say it but what you just said sounds like hypocrisy."

He chuckled. "Dear Manuel! Has it taken you all these years to decide that I am a hypocrite?"

"Then you admit it?'

"No. But if it makes you feel better to think that I am one, you are welcome to use me as your scapegoat. But I am not a hypocrite to myself because I was aware the day we declared the Revolution that we would need much money and would have to steal it. It did not trouble me because I considered it better than food riots six years hence, cannibalism in eight. I made my choice and have no regrets."

I shut up, silenced but not satisfied. Stu said, "Professor, I'm glad to hear that you are anxious to stop being President."

"So? You share our comrade's misgivings?"

"Only in part. Having been born to wealth, stealing doesn't fret me as much as it does him. No, but now that Congress has taken up the matter of a constitution I intend to find time to attend sessions. I plan to nominate you for King."

Prof looked shocked. "Sir, if nominated, I shall repudiate it. If elected, I shall abdicate."

"Don't be in a hurry. It might be the only way to get the sort of constitution you want. And that I want, too, with about your own mild lack of enthusiasm. You could be proclaimed King and the people would take you; we Loonies aren't wedded to a republic. They'd love the idea--ritual and robes and a court and all that."

"No!"

"Ja da! When the time comes, you won't be able to refuse. Because we need a king and there isn't another candidate who would be accepted. Bernardo the First, King of Luna and Emperor of the Surrounding Spaces."

"Stuart, I must ask you to stop. I'm becoming quite ill."

"You'll get used to it. I'm a royalist because I'm a democrat. I shan't let your reluctance thwart the idea any more than you let stealing stop you."

I said, "Hold it, Stu. You say you're a royalist because you're a democrat?"

"Of course. A king is the people's only protection against tyranny....specially against the worst of all tyrants, themselves. Prof will be ideal for the job... because he does not want the job. His only shortcoming is that he is a bachelor with no heir. We'll fix that. I'm going to name you as his heir. Crown Prince. His Royal Highness Prince Manuel de la Paz, Duke of Luna City, Admiral General of the Armed Forces and Protector of the Weak."

I stared. Then buried face in hands. "Oh, Bog!"

Monday 12 October 2076 about nineteen hundred I was headed home after a hard day of nonsense in our offices in Raffles. Delegation of grain farmers wanted to see Prof and I had been called back because he was in Hong Kong Luna. Was rude to them. Had been two months of embargo and F.N. had never done us favor of being sufficiently nasty. Mostly they had ignored us, made no reply to our claims--I suppose to do so would have been to recognize us. Stu and Sheenie and Prof had been hard put to slant news from Earthside to keep up a warlike spirit.

At first everybody kept his p-suit handy. They wore them, helmets under arms, going to and from work in corridors. But that slacked off as days went by and did not seem to be any danger--p-suit is nuisance when you don't need it, so bulky. Presently taprooms began to display signs: NO P-SUITS INSIDE. If a Loonie can't stop for half a liter on way home because of p-suit, he'll leave it home or at station or wherever he needs it most.

My word, had neglected matter myself that day--got this call to go back to office and was halfway there before I remembered.

Had Just reached easement lock thirteen when I heard and felt a sound that scares a Loonie more than anything else--a chuff! in distance followed by a draft. Was into lock almost without undogging, then balanced pressures and through, dogged it behind me and ran for our home lock--through it and shouting:

"P-suits, everybody! Get boys in from tunnels and close all airtight doors!"

Mum and Milla were only adults in sight. Both looked startled, got busy without a word. I burst into workshop, grabbed p-suit. "Mike! Answer!"

"I'm here, Man," he said calmly.

"Heard explosive pressure drop. What's situation?"

"That's level three, L-City. Rupture at Tube Station West, now partly controlled. Six ships landed, L-City under attack--"

"What?"

"Let me finish, Man. Six transports landed, L-City under attack by troops, Hong Kong inferred to be, phone lines broken at relay Bee Ell. Johnson City under attack; I have closed the armor doors between J-City and Complex Under. I cannot see Novylen but blip projection indicates it is under attack. Same for Churchill, Tycho Under. One ship in high ellipsoid over me, rising, inferred to be command ship. No other blips."

"Six ships--where in hell were YOU?"

He answered so calmly that I steadied down. "Farside approach, Man; I'm blind back there. They came in on tight Garrison didoes, skimming the peaks; I barely saw the chop-off for Luna City. The ship at J-City is the only one I can see; the other landings I conclusively infer from the ballistics shown by blip tracks. I heard the break-in at Tube West, L-City, and can now hear fighting in Novylen. The rest is conclusive inference, probability above point nine nine. I called you and Professor at once."

Caught breath. "Operation Hard Rock, Prepare to Execute."