Happiness: A Planet

Copyright
Ó
Sam Smith 2009

Sam Smith has asserted his/her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers or author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Author’s Email – [email protected]

http://www.freewebs.com/thesamsmith/

Cover Design: Richie O’Brien, TheEbookSale Publishing

ISBN: 978-1-84961-031-5

Published by: TheEbookSale Publishing

Limerick, Ireland

for
Dr Emilia M Galli,
Jessica’s saviour.

Acknowledgements

My thanks first to Petre Fanne for arousing my interest in this subject. Without the benefit of her forthright confidences and her remarkable powers of recollection this book would not have been begun.

My thanks also to Awen Mendawer for allowing me unlimited access to all of his unedited footage concerning Happiness.

Thanks also to Jorge Arbatov for allowing me unrestricted access to his new institution’s records.

Thanks also to the present Director of XE2, Chian Hund, for allowing me access to all those Service records concerning Happiness.

Thanks also to Chief Superintendent Eldon Boone for letting me see the relevant police records; and thanks too to Constable Drin Ligure for his personal memories of events.

And finally, and not least, my especial thanks to the long-suffering inhabitants of Happiness, both marine and terrestrial, for so patiently tolerating my inquisitive presence on their planet.

“Somebody stole our moon,” the Member for North Two held the orb. “That’s the length and breadth of it.”

His brief peroration pointedly delivered, the Member for North Two released the orb. It glided across the circular table to the member for South Six, sitting almost directly opposite.

The rules governing this Extraordinary Convention of the Senate were those given it by Space. No Member of the Senate might speak unless at least one hand rested on the orb. Nor, if the panel in front of any other Member of the Senate came alight, could he or she continue to speak beyond the minute visually counted down before him or her.

The mechanics of the Senate are the same as that for every other populated planet and for every populous station and city under Space’s jurisdiction. Members register their desire to speak on the panel before them, or cancel their desire to do so if someone else speaks their mind for them. The duration of the speech is governed by how many others have registered their desire to speak and by how much time has been allowed for the debate. So, even in the most heated of discussions, no matter how agitated the Senate Members may be, none speak out of turn, none interrupt, because all know that eventually, and with precise equity, the orb will come to them.

At this Senate Meeting the Member for South Six, as usual, appointed himself the voice of reason and calm.

“Let us examine the facts. The fact is that not one of us here can be sure when our moon disappeared. Not one of us, from what I’ve heard here, can remember exactly when we last saw it.” The panel before North Three, diametrically opposite, came alight. The sixty second countdown before the Member for South Six started.

“The only fact we can be certain of is that it has been missing for the last five days. Because it was five days ago when the Member for South Eight started asking others if anyone had seen the moon. Then, and only then, did we notice its absence. Then, and only then, did we notice that we had lost contact with XE2. The fact is, until contact is re-established, we can’t know what has happened.”

On its release the orb floated over to North Three.

“I don’t wish to appear offensive,” the Member for North Three said, “but the fact is that the Member for South Six doesn’t appear to care. It matters, however, to me. If I don’t get my crops off, bang goes my livelihood. If we never re-establish contact he can carry on as he is. Me? Space is my only market.”

North followed by South the Senate Members were sitting in numerical order around the table. North One sitting beside South One, North Two beside South Two, and so on, until South Eight came to sit beside North One. And exactly half of those Senate Members were farmers. Which is only to be expected on any planet.

On any colonised planet Space divides the globe into sixteen equal segments, regardless of local topography, even where the dividing line cuts through a local city, even where it cuts through individual dwellings. The occupant of such a divided dwelling may then opt to vote in one segment or another. In the more populous segments the most articulate, the most energetic, are invariably elected. In the less populous areas it is generally the farmer with the greatest amount of land. Although the few other local citizenry of that segment probably have livelihoods dependent on that farmer, those citizenry are protected by the laws of Space, therefore their votes cannot be blatantly coerced. The farmer being elected is rather a natural outcome of the situation. Because the farmer, having most dealings with Space, is better able to represent the planet there. The farmer is also the most interested in having his views represented to Space and is, consequently, the keenest to see himself elected.

The Member for South Eight, who now held the orb, was just such a farmer.

“Actually the Member for South Six is incorrect when he says that we can only be sure that no-one has seen the moon in the last five days. It was three weeks ago when I noticed that it didn’t rise. I didn’t pay much attention for a couple of days, then it was cloudy for a couple more days. Then I realised that it wasn’t there. And I didn’t believe it. That’s why I kept it to myself. No-one wants to appear a fool. But I knew, by that time, that we should have had a half moon. I checked my calendar and my dates. They agreed with me. And it was then, and only then, that I started asking around. It was five days ago that the convention of this Extraordinary Meeting was first mooted. Three days ago it was decided.”

Seventy two hours is the minimum time in which a Senate can be convened on a planet. Time for the Senate Members to rearrange their affairs, prepare their case, do some research into the subject under debate and physically travel to the Senate, in this case in the planet’s equatorial capital. At first on colonised planets, because of the inconvenient overland distances, the Senates were held by televisual links. But these were found to be ineffective. At such removes the subtleties of conversation were lost, nuances and inflexions filtered out; the passive reactions of one’s fellow Members passing unnoticed, the underlying mood going unremarked. And such dispersed Senates were prone to manipulation by determined lobbyists. Whereas having to physically congregate in the one place views and experiences could be exchanged away from the debating table, off the record. Consensus is thus often achieved prior to any debate; and the debate simply takes the form of putting on record the majority and opposing views. So, despite the inconvenience of attending the Senate, like the rest of the constitution given them by Space, planetary inhabitants accept it because, for the best of all reasons, like the slow movement of the orb leads to reasoned debate, it works.

The Member for North Four, a technician, now held the orb.

“I was one of the first to be contacted by the Member for South Eight.” A nod across the table acknowledged their friendship. “I was compiling some reports for XE2. My constituents’ crops have all gone. I’m expecting no ships until next year. So I included in my report an urgent request for any information concerning the absence of our moon. I should have received that information, by return transmission, two days ago at the latest. None came.”

The orb moved across to North One, a trader. “Four days ago I had a ship at my place. It left an hour or so before this meeting was called. No reply on that?”

For direct question and answer the orb can be directed three times back and forth between interrogator and interlocutor.

“No,” the Member for North Four replied, “And I’ve checked back over the last three weeks. All information we have received has come via ship. The ship in North One and a ship two weeks ago in North Five. All routine information. The next ship is due in two weeks in North Three.”

The orb was now directed to North Three.

“Exactly. And if that ship doesn’t come all my fruit will spoil. It’s alright for you Southern Members, and for you timber farmers and technicians, but if I don’t get that fruit off I’m finished here.”

The laws governing the action of the individuals on any planet being the same as those which pertain throughout the rest of civilisation, the Senate of a planet has few actual powers. It can raise revenue for planetary projects through taxation of its own inhabitants, but, even then, both taxes and projects are subject to Space veto, in this instance in the person of the Director of the Station known as XE2. If the station should disagree with that veto, there of course exist ever higher courts of appeal. But that is beside the point. The main function of any Senate is to represent the views of its constituents to Space. In the case of this Senate, the North Seven segment of the planet being entirely composed of ocean and icecap, and being therefore wholly uninhabited, that Member was elected by everyone on the planet to be their Senate Spokesman.

The Member for North Seven was rotund and red-faced. Physically the other Senate Members were as diverse as anywhere else in Space.

It was as Spokesman that the Member for North Seven now called the orb to him.