Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

"What are your passengers wearing?"

"When I left the lounge, one was wearing perfume; the other had a sheet wrapped as a toga. Does your planet have dress taboos? If you will define them, we will try to make you feel at home." She added, "Here are your quarters. If they don't please you, tell Dora. She'll rearrange partitions, or convert double beds into one giant bed, or four single beds, or any combination; we want you to be comfortable. When you feel like coming out, Dora will lead you."

As the door contracted Jacob said, "You've proved your theories, Hilda. We've fallen into another story."

"Is there a mathematician in the house?"

Deety:

That suite had one bath-pardon me; "refresher"-bigger than three ordinary bathrooms. Hillbilly and I might be there yet, bathing and trying new gadgets, if Pop and Zebadiah hadn't used brute force.

"Captain Auntie, what are you going to wear?"

"Chanel Number Five."

"Clothes, I mean."

'Clothes'? When our hostess is wearing skin? Jane brought you up better than that."

•'Wanted to be sure, That you'll back me up with Zebadiah, I mean."

"If Zebbie gets irrational, I'll pin his ears back. If Jacob is ashamed of his skinny runt, he will be wise not to say so. Gentlemen, are you going to chicken? I mean: 'Which way are you going to chicken?"

"Jake, they're picking on us again."

"Ignore them, comrade. Here are blue briefs your size. Hey!-with a stuffed codpiece! I'll wear them myself."

"Jacob~"

"Listen to the woman. Naked as a peeled egg, planning to meet strangers- and snapping at me for wanting to boast a little. Time was, my small and sultry bride, that a gentleman never left his chambers without a codpiece equal to his status."

Auntie countered with: "Jacob, I spoke hastily. Shouldn't the second-in-

command wear a larger codpiece than the pilot? '-equal to his status,' you said."

"But Allah took care of Zeb. Surely you've noticed, beloved?"

My husband butted in. "Jake! No barroom betting! Wear the blue; I'll take these red ones."

Zebadiah couldn't get into the red briefs; the blue pair was too big for Pop. They traded. Same story. They traded back-each pair was too small. By great effort they got them on-they fell off.

Pop chucked his aside. "Dora!"

"Yes, sir."

"Please connect me with your captain."

"I was just funning! You wouldn't tell on me-would you?"

Aunt Hilda took over. "He won't tell, Dora. Are you and Gay getting acquainted?"

"We sure are! Gay's been more places than I have-and I've been everywhere. She's a smart girl!"

"We think so, thank you. What should our men wear?"

"I hold ambient at twenty-seven and deck pads a degree warmer; why wear anything? But for fetishists I supply minilaplaps of opaque tissue. In the 'fresher, cubby nine-bee. Better get them to a therapist before those symptoms get infected. Good therapists where we're going."

I went looking for stowage 9-b; Aunt Hilda went on talking. "Where is that, Dora?"

"Please address such questions to the Captain. As housekeeper I can tell you anything. As astrogator I must refer questions-I mean they made me put a choke filter on that circuit! Is that fair? I ask you! I'm older than the twins."

"It depends on the ship," Aunt Hilda said, carefully not answering. "We each do what we do best; age is not a factor. Ask Gay."

"Oh, she's hooked in."

"Sure am, Cap'n Hilda honey, through Dora's ears-and eyes! Say, you look just like your voice-that's a compliment."

"Why, thank you, Gay!"

I interrupted: "Dora, are these laplaps?"

"Of course. But while we're all here- You don't need two 'freshers in a ship that small. Gay needs the space for a Turing mod I'll help with. So if the fetishists will clear their gear out of Buster Brown and-" Dora broke off suddenly: "The Captain will be pleased to receive the Captain and ship's cornpany of Gay Deceiver in the lounge at her convenience. That means 'Right now.' Follow me-little blue light."

I had been trying on a green laplap. They didn't weigh anything. Like wrapping fog around your hips. I snatched it off and wrapped it around Zebadiah: "That's the nearest to nothing you'll ever wear, Zebadiah, but it does the trick." (I don't blame men for being shy. Our plumbing is out of sight, mostly, but theirs is airconditioned and ofttimes embarrassingly semaphoric. Embarrasses them, I mean; women find it interesting, often amusing. My

nipples show my emotions, too-but in the culture in which I grew up nipples don't count that much.)

The little blue light led us around, then inboard. This "yacht" was large enough to get lost in. "Dora, can you see and hear in every part of the ship?"

"Of course," the blue light answered. "But in the Commodore's suite, I can scan only by invitation. R.H.I.P. Lounge straight ahead. Call me if you want me. Midnight snacks a house specialty. I'm the best." The little light flicked out.

The lounge was circular and large; four people were gathered in one corner. (How does a circle have a corner? By arranging contours and cushions and nibble foods and a bar to tUrn it into a chummy space.) Two were the twins; they had peeled off the stickums which left no way to tell them apart.

The others were a young woman and a man who looked fortyish. He wasn't the one wearing a sheet; the young woman was. He was wearing much the same as our men but more like a kilt and in a plaid design.

One twin took charge: "Commodore Sheffield, this is Captain Hilda, First Officer Carter, Chief Pilot Burroughs, Copilot Deety Carter. You've all met my sister but not our cousin, Elizabeth Long."

"Now introduce us over again," ordered "Commodore Sheffield." ("Commodore Sheffield" indeed! Whom did he think he was fooling?)

"Yes, sir. Doctor Jacob Burroughs and his wife Hilda, Doctor Zebadiah Carter and his wife Doctor Deety Burroughs Carter. Doctor Elizabeth Long, Doctor Aaron Sheffield."

"Wait a half," my husband interrupted. "If you're going to do that, I must add that Captain Hilda has more doctorates than all the three of us, together."

Captain Long looked at her sister: "Lor, I feel naked."

"Laz, you are naked."

"Not where it matters. Commodore, do you still own that diploma mill in New Rome? What are you charging for doctor's degrees? Nothing fancy, say a Ph.D. in theory of solid state. One for each of us."

"How about a family discount, 01' Buddy Boy?"

The "Commodore" glanced at the overhead. "Dora, keep out of this."

"Why? I want a doctor's degree, too. I taught them solid state."

He looked at the young woman in (half out of) the sheet. "Does Dora have a point?"

"She does."

"Dora, you get the same treatment as your sisters. Now shut up. All three are declared special doctoral candidates, B.I.T., required residence and courses completed_but writtens and orals as tough as you think you are smart. That diploma mill- Certainly I own it. It's for suckers. You three must produce. Two regents being present, it's official. Dora, tell Teena."

"You betcha, Buddy Boy! 'Doctor Dora'-won't that be neat?"

"Pipe down. Friends, these twin sisters could have several doctorates by flow, had they chosen to bury themselves on a campus. They are geniuses-"

"Hear, hear!"

"-and the Long family is proud of them. But erratic, insecure, unpredictable, and you turn your backs at your own risk. Nevertheless they are my favorite sisters and I love them very much."

They looked at each other. "He acknowledged us."

"It took him much too long."

"Let's be big about it."

"Both sides?"

"Now!"-they bowled him off his feet. He was standing-they hit with the same vector, with a quick assist from their "sister" Dora (she cut the gravity field for two tenths of a second), and sent him in a complete back flip. He bounced on his arse.