Robert Heinlein - The Cat Who Walked Through Walls

Outside we found Bill still sitting on my duffel bag, the little tree in his arms. He stood up, an uncertain look on his face. But when Gwen smiled at him, he grinned back. I said, "Any problems. Bill?"

"No, boss. Uh, skin tried to buy little tree."

"Why didn't you sell it?"

He looked shocked. "Huh? It belongs to her."

"That's right. If you had sold it, do you know what she would have done? She would have drowned you in caterpillars, that's what she would have done. So you were smart not to risk crossing her. But no rats. As long as you stick with her, you need never be afraid of rats. Right, Mistress Hardesty?"

"Correct, Senator. No rats, ever. Bill, I'm proud of you, not letting someone tempt you. But I want you to stop that slang-why, someone hearing you might think you were a nightwalker-and we wouldn't want that, would we? So don't say 'a skin tried to buy the tree,' just say 'a man.'"

"Uh, matter o' fac', this skin was a slitch. Uh, a broad. Read?"

"Yes. But let's try that again. Say 'a woman.'" "All right. That skin was a woman." He grinned sheepishly. "You sound just like the Sisters that taught us at Holy Name, back dirtside."

"I take that as a compliment. Bill... and I am going to nag you about your grammar and your pronunciation and your choice of words even more than they ever did. Until you talk as beautifully as the Senator does. Because, many years ago, a wise and cynical man proved that the way a person talks is the most important thing about him when it comes to dealing successfully with the world. Do you understand me?" "Uh- Some."

"You can't leam everything at once and I don't expect you to. Bill, if you bathe every day and speak grammatically, the world will decide that you are a winner and will treat you accordingly. So we'll keep trying."

I said, "And in the meantime it is urgent to get out of this bucket."

"Senator, this is urgent, too."

"Yes, yes, the old 'how to housebreak a puppy' rule. I understand. But let's get moving." "Yes, sir. Straight to the spaceport?" "Not yet. Straight down El Camino Real while checking every public terminal for one that will accept coins. Do you have any coins?"

"A few. Enough for a short call, perhaps." "Good. But keep your eyes open for a changemaker, too. Now that you and I have canceled our credit codes, we'll have to use coins."

We picked up our burdens again and started out. Gwen said quietly, "I don't want Bill to hear this... but it's not difficult to convince a public terminal that you are using a correct credit code when you are not."

I answered just as quietly, "We will resort to that only if honesty won't work. My darling, how many more little scams do you have tucked away?"

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about. A hundred meters ahead of us- Does that booth on the right have the

yellow sign? Why are so few public booths equipped to receive coins?"

"Because Big Brother likes to know who is calling whom ... and with the credit code method we are practically begging him to share our secrets. Yes, that one does have the sign. Let's pool our coins."

The Reverend Doctor Hendrik Hudson Schultz answered his terminal promptly. His Santa Claus visage peered at me, sizing me up, counting the money in my wallet.

"Father Schultz?"

"In the flesh. How can I serve you, sir?"

Instead of answering, I took out a thousand-crown note, held it in front of my face. Dr. Schultz looked at it, raised his bristling brows. "You interest me, sir."

I tapped my ear while glancing left and right, then I signed all three of the three little monkeys. He answered, "Why, yes, I was about to go out for a cup of coffee. Will you join me? One moment-"

Shortly he held up a sheet of paper on which he had printed in large block letters: OLD MACDONALD'S FARM

"Can you meet me at Sans Souci Bargrill? That's on Petticoat Lane right across from my studio. About ten minutes, perhaps?" All the while he was talking, he was jabbing a finger at the sign he was showing me.

I answered, "Righto!" and switched off.

I was not in the habit of going to farm country, since full gravity is not kind to my bad leg and farms have to be at full gravity. No, that's not correct; there may be more habitats in the System that use for farming whatever fractional gee they wish (or that mutated plants prefer) than there are that use natural sunlight and full gee. As may be. Golden Rule goes the natural sunlight and full gee route for much of its fresh food. Other spaces in Golden Rule use artificial light and other accelerations for growing food-how much, I don't know. But the enormous space from ring fifty to ring seventy is open air, side to side, save for struts and vibration dampers and walkways joining the principal corridors.

In this span of twenty rings-eight hundred meters-radii 0-60, 120-180, and 240-300 let in the sunlight; radii 60-120, 180-240, and 300-0 are farmland- of which 180-240, ring 50-70 is Old MacDonald's Farm.

That's a lot of farmland. A man could get lost there, especially in fields where corn grows even taller than it does in Iowa. But Doc Schultz had paid me the compliment of assuming that I would know where to meet him: at a popular outdoor restaurant and bar called The Country Kitchen, right spang in the middle of the farm, ring sixty, radius 210, at (of course) full gravity.

To reach the restaurant we had to go downstairs forward of ring fifty, then walk aft (at full gee, damn it!) to ring sixty, a distance of four hundred meters. A short distance, oh certainly-about four city blocks. Try it on a false foot with a stump that has already been used too much in walking and too much in carrying for one day.

Gwen spotted it, in my voice, or my face, or my walk, or something-or she read my mind, maybe; I'm not sure she can't. She stopped.

I stopped. "Trouble, dear?"

"Yes. Senator, put down that bundle. I'll balance Tree-San on my head. Give me the bundle."

"I'm all right."

"Yes, sir. You surely are and I'm going to keep you that way. It is your privilege to be macho whenever you wish... and it's my privilege to go female and be vaporish and weak and unreasonable. Right now I'm about to faint. And I'll stay that way until you give me the bundle. You can beat me later."

"Hmm. When is it my turn to win an argument?"

"On your birthday, sir. Which this is not. Let me have the bundle. Please."

It was not an argument I wanted to win; I handed over the bundle. Bill and Gwen went on ahead of me, with Bill walking 1 in front, breaking trail. She never lost control of the burden balanced on her head, even though the road was not corridor-smooth-a dirt road. Real dirt-a piece of totally unnecessary swank.

I limped slowly along behind, leaning heavily on my cane and putting almost no weight on my stump. By the time I reached the outdoor restaurant I felt fairly well recovered.

Dr. Schultz was leaning against the bar with an elbow hooked over it. He recognized me, did not admit it until I came up to him. "Dr. Schultz?"

"Ah, yes!" He did not ask my name. "Shall we look for a restful spot? I fmd that I enjoy the quiet of the apple orchard. Shall I ask our host to have a small table and a couple of chairs placed back in the trees?"

"Yes. But three chairs, not two."

Gwen had joined us. "Not four?"

"No. I want Bill to watch our chattels, as he did before. I see an empty table over there; he can pile stuff on it and around it."

Soon we three were settled at a table that had been moved for us back into the orchard. After consulting, I ordered beer for the Reverend and for me. Coke for Gwen, and had told the waitress to find the young man with the bundle and give him what he wanted-beer. Coke, sandwiches, whatever. (I suddenly realized that Bill might not have eaten today.)

When she left, I dug into a pocket, pulled out that thousand-crown note, gave it to Dr. Schultz.