The Moon is a Harsh Mistress (21 page)

She
blinked and reached into pouch. She had money; types like that always have.

I
collected seventy dollars, laid it on desk, and said to tourist, “Can
match it?”

“Beg
pardon?”

“Kids
are paying seventy dollars Hong Kong for judgment. You should match it. If you
can’t, open pouch and prove it and can owe it to me. But that’s
your share.” I added, “Cheap, for a capital case. But kids
can’t pay much so you get a bargain.”

“I
see. I believe I see.” He matched with seventy Hong Kong.

“Thank
you,” I said. “Now does either side want a jury?”
Girl’s eyes lit up. “Sure! Let’s do it right.”
Earthworm said, “Under the circumstances perhaps I need one.”

“Can
have it,” I assured. “Want a counsel?”

“Why,
I suppose I need a lawyer, too.”

“I
said ‘counsel,’ not ‘lawyer.’ Aren’t any lawyers
here.” Again he seemed delighted. “I suppose counsel, if I elected
to have one, would be of the same, uh, informal quality as the rest of these
proceedings?”

“Maybe,
maybe not. I’m informal sort of judge, that’s all. Suit
yourself.”

“Mm.
I think I’ll rely on your informality, your honor.”

Oldest
lad said, “Uh, this jury. You pick up chit? Or do we?”

“I
pay it; I agreed to judge for a hundred forty, gross. Haven’t you been in
court before? But not going to kill my net for extra I could do without. Six
jurymen, five dollars each. See who’s in Alley.”

One
boy stepped out and shouted, “Jury work! Five-dollar job!”

They
rounded up six men and were what you would expect in Bottom Alley. Didn’t
worry me as had no intention of paying mind to them. If you go judge, better in
good neighborhood with chance of getting solid citizens.

I
went behind desk, sat down, put on Brody’s plug hat—wondered where
he had found it. Probably a castoff from some lodge. “Court’s in
session,” I said. “Let’s have names and tell me beef.”

Oldest
lad was named. Slim Lemke, girl was Patricia Carmen Zhukov; don’t
remember others. Tourist stepped up, reached into pouch and said, “My
card, sir.”

I
still have it. It read:

Beef
was tragically ridiculous, fine example of why tourists should not wander
around without guides. Sure, guides bleed them white—but isn’t that
what a tourist is for? This one almost lost life from lack of guidance.

Had
wandered into a taproom which lets stilyagi hang out, a sort of clubroom. This
simple female had flirted with him. Boys had let matter be, as of course they
had to as long as she invited it. But at some point she had laughed and let him
have a fist in ribs. He had taken it as casually as a Loonie would … but
had answered in distinctly earthworm manner; slipped arm around waist and
pulled her to him, apparently tried to kiss her.

Now
believe me, in North America this wouldn’t matter; I’ve seen things
much like it. But of course Tish was astonished, perhaps frightened. She
screamed.

And
pack of boys set upon him and roughed him up. Then decided he had to pay for
his “crime”—but do it correctly. Find a judge.

Most
likely they chickened. Chances are not one had ever dealt with an elimination.
But their lady had been insulted, had to be done.

I
questioned them, especially Tish, and decided I had it straight. Then said,
“Let me sum up. Here we have a stranger. Doesn’t know our ways. He
offended, he’s guilty. But meant no offense far as I can see. What does
jury say? Hey, you there!—wake up! What you say?”

Juryman
looked up blearily, said, “‘Liminate him!”

“Very
well? And you?”

“Well—”
Next one hesitated. “Guess it would be enough just to beat tar out of
him, so he’ll know better next time. Can’t have men pawing women,
or place will get to be as bad as they say Terra is.”

“Sensible,”
I agreed. “And you?”

Only
one juror voted for elimination. Others ranged from a beating to very high
fines.

“What
do you think, Slim?”

“Well—”
He was worried—face in front of gang, face in front of what might be his
girl. But had cooled down and didn’t want chum eliminated. “We
already worked him over. Maybe if he got down on hands and knees and kissed
floor in front of Tish and said he was sorry?”

“Will
you do that, Gospodin LaJoie?”

“If
you so rule, your honor.”

“I
don’t. Here’s my verdict. First that juryman—you!—you
are fined fee paid you because you fell asleep while supposed to be judging.
Grab him, boys, take it away from him and throw him out.”

They
did, enthusiastically; made up a little for greater excitement they had thought
of but really could not stomach. “Now, Gospodin LaJoie, you are fined
fifty Hong Kong for not having common sense to learn local customs before
stirring around. Ante up.”

I
collected it. “Now you boys line up. You are fined five dollars apiece
for not exercising good judgment in dealing with a person you knew was a stranger
and not used to our ways. Stopping him from touching Tish, that’s fine.
Rough him, that’s okay, too; he’ll learn faster. And could have
tossed him out. But talking about eliminating for what was honest
mistake—well, it’s out of proportion. Five bucks each. Ante up.

Slim
gulped. “Judge … I don’t think we have that much left! At
least I don’t.”

“I
thought that might be. You have a week to pay or I post your names in Old Dome.
Know where Bon Ton Beauté Shoppe is, near easement lock thirteen? My
wife runs it; pay her. Court’s out. Slim, don’t go away. Nor you,
Tish. Gospodin LaJoie, let’s take these young people up and buy them a
cold drink and get better acquainted.”

Again
his eyes filled with odd delight that reminded of Prof.

“A
charming idea, Judge!”

“I’m
no longer judge. It’s up a couple of ramps … so I suggest you offer
Tish your arm.”

He
bowed and said, “My lady? May I?” and crooked his elbow to her.
Tish at once became very grown up. “Spasebo, Gospodin! I am
pleased.”

Took
them to expensive place, one where their wild clothes and excessive makeup
looked out of place; they were edgy. But I tried to make them feel easy and
Stuart LaJoie tried even harder and successfully. Got their addresses as well
as names; Wyoh had one sequence which was concentrating on stilyagi. Presently
they finished their coolers, stood up, thanked and left. LaJoie and I stayed
on.

“Gospodin,”
he said presently, “you used an odd word earlier—odd to me, I
mean.”

“Call
me ‘Mannie’ now that kids are gone. What word?”

“It
was when you insisted that the, uh, young lady, Tish—that Tish must pay,
too. ‘Tone-stapple,’ or something like it.”

“Oh,
‘
Tanstaafl
.’ Means ‘There ain’t no such thing
as a free lunch.’ And isn’t,” I added, pointing to a FREE
LUNCH sign across room, “or these drinks would cost half as much. Was
reminding her that anything free costs twice as much in long run or turns out
worthless.”

“An
interesting philosophy.”

“Not
philosophy, fact. One way or other, what you get, you pay for.” I fanned
air. “Was Earthside once and heard expression ‘Free as air.’
This air isn’t free, you pay for every breath.”

“Really?
No one has asked me to pay to breathe.” He smiled. “Perhaps I
should stop.”

“Can
happen, you almost breathed vacuum tonight. But nobody asks you because
you’ve paid. For you, is part of round-trip ticket; for me it’s a
quarterly charge.” I started to tell how my family buys and sells air to
community co-op, decided was too complicated. “But we both pay.”

LaJoie
looked thoughtfully pleased. “Yes, I see the economic necessity.
It’s simply new to me. Tell me, uh, Mannie—and I’m called
‘Stu’—was I really in danger of ‘breathing
vacuum’?”

“Should
have charged you more.”

“Please?”

“You
aren’t convinced. But charged kids all they could scrape up and fined
them too, to make them think. Couldn’t charge you more than them. Should
have, you think it was all a joke.”

“Believe
me, sir, I do not think it was a joke. I just have trouble grasping that your
local laws permit a man to be put to death … so casually … and for
so trivial an offense.”

I
sighed. Where do you start explaining when a man’s words show there
isn’t anything he understands about subject, instead is loaded with
preconceptions that don’t fit facts and doesn’t even know he has?

“Stu,”
I said, “let’s take that piece at a time. Are no ‘local
laws’ so you couldn’t be ‘put to death’ under them.
Your offense was not ‘trivial,’ I simply made allowance for
ignorance. And wasn’t done casually, or boys would have dragged you to
nearest lock to zero pressure, shoved you in, and cycled. Instead were most
formal—good boys!—and paid own cash to give you a trial. And
didn’t grumble when verdict wasn’t even close to what they asked.
Now, anything still not clear?”

He
grinned and turned out to have dimples like Prof; found myself liking him still
more. “All of it, I’m afraid. I seem to have wandered into Looking
Glass Land.”

Expected
that; having been Earthaide I know how their minds work, some. An earthworm
expects to find a law, a printed law, for every circumstance. Even have laws for
private matters such as contracts. Really, if a man’s word isn’t
any good, who would contract with him? Doesn’t he have reputation?

“We
don’t have laws,” I said. “Never been allowed to. Have
customs, but aren’t written and aren’t enforced—or could say
they are self-enforcing because are simply way things have to be, conditions
being what they are. Could say our customs are natural laws because are way
people have to behave to stay alive. When you made a pass at Tish you were
violating a natural law … and almost caused you to breathe vacuum.”

He
blinked thoughtfully. “Would you explain the natural law I violated? I
had better understand it … or best I return to my ship and stay inboard
until lift. To stay alive.”

“Certainly.
Is so simple that, once you understand, you’ll never be in danger from it
again. Here we are, two million males, less than one million females. A
physical fact, basic as rock or vacuum. Then add idea of
tanstaafl
.
When thing is scarce, price goes up. Women are scarce; aren’t enough to go
around—that makes them most valuable thing in Luna, more precious than
ice or air, as men without women don’t care whether they stay alive or
not. Except a Cyborg, if you regard him as a man, which I don’t.”

I
went on: “So what happens?—and mind you, things were even worse
when this custom, or natural law, first showed itself back in twentieth
century. Ratio was ten-to-one or worse then. One thing is what always happens
in prisons: men turn to other men. That helps not much; problem still is
because most men want women and won’t settle for substitute while chance
of getting true gelt.

“They
get so anxious they will kill for it … and from stories old-timers tell
was killing enough to chill your teeth in those days. But after a while those
still alive find way to get along, things shake down. As automatic as
gravitation. Those who adjust to facts stay alive; those who don’t are
dead and no problem.

“What
that means, here and now, is that women are scarce and call tune … and
you are surrounded by two million men who see to it you dance to that tune. You
have no choice, she has all choice. She can hit you so hard it draws blood; you
dasn’t lay a finger on her. Look, you put an arm around Tish, maybe tried
to kiss. Suppose instead she had gone to hotel room with you; what would
happen?”

“Heavens!
I suppose they would have torn me to pieces.”

“They
would have done nothing. Shrugged and pretended not to see. Because choice is
hers. Not yours. Not theirs. Exclusively hers. Oh, be risky to ask her to go to
hotel; she might take offense and that would give boys license to rough you up.
But—well, take this Tish. A silly little tart. If you had flashed as much
money as I saw in your pouch, she might have taken into head that a bundle with
tourist was just what she needed and suggested it herself. In which case would
have been utterly safe.”

Lajoie
shivered. “At her age? It scares me to think of it. She’s below the
age of consent. Statutory rape.”

“Oh,
bloody! No such thing. Women her age are married or ought to be. Stu, is no
rape in Luna. None. Men won’t permit. If rape had been involved, they
wouldn’t have bothered to find a judge and all men in earshot would have
scrambled to help. But chance that a girl that big is virgin is negligible.
When they’re little, their mothers watch over them, with help from
everybody in city; children are safe here. But when they reach husband-high, is
no holding them and mothers quit trying. If they choose to run corndors and
have fun, can’t stop ‘em; once a girl is nubile, she’s her
own boss. You married?”

“No.”
He added with a smile; “Not at present.”

“Suppose
you were and wife told you she was marrying again. What would you do?”

“Odd
that you should pick that, something like it did happen. I saw my attorney and
made sure she got no alimony.”

“‘Alimony’
isn’t a word here; I learned it Earthside. Here you might—or a
Loonie husband might—say, ‘I think we’ll need a bigger place,
dear.’ Or might simply congratulate her and his new co-husband. Or if it
made him so unhappy he couldn’t stand it, might opt out and pack clothes.
But whatever, would not make slightest fuss. If he did, opinion would be
unanimous against him. His friends, men and women alike, would snub him. Poor
sod would probably move to Novylen, change name and hope to live it down.

“All
our customs work that way. If you’re out in field and a cobber needs air,
you lend him a bottle and don’t ask cash. But when you’re both back
in pressure again, if he won’t pay up, nobody would criticize if you
eliminated him without a judge. But he would pay; air is almost as sacred as
women. If you take a new chum in a poker game, you give him air money. Not eating
money; can work or starve. If you eliminate a man other than self-defense, you
pay his debts and support his kids, or people won’t speak to you, buy
from you, sell to you.”