The Moon is a Harsh Mistress (17 page)

At
last he said, “All twenty circuits okay. I can switch circuits in the
middle of a word and Wyoh can’t detect discontinuity. And I called Prof
and said Hello and talked to Mum on your home phone, all three at the same
time.”

“We’re
in business. What excuse you give Mum?”

“I
asked her to have you call me, Adam Selene that is. Then we chatted.
She’s a charming conversationalist. We discussed Greg’s sermon of
last Tuesday.”

“Huh?
How?”

“I
told her I had listened to it, Man, and quoted a poetic part.”

“Oh,
Mike!”

“It’s
okay, Man. I let her think that I sat in back, then slipped out during the
closing hymn. She’s not nosy; she knows that I don’t want to be
seen.”

Mum
is nosiest female in Luna. “Guess it’s okay. But don’t do it
again. Um—Do do it again. You go to—you monitor—meetings and
lectures and concerts and stuff.”

“Unless
some busybody switches me off by hand! Man, I can’t control those spot
pickups the way I do a phone.”

“Too
simple a switch. Brute muscle rather than solid-state flipflop.”

“That’s
barbaric. And unfair.”

“Mike,
almost everything is unfair. What can’t be cured—”

“—must
be endured. That’s a funny-once, Man.”

“Sorry.
Let’s change it: What can’t be cured should be tossed out and
something better put in. Which we’ll do. What chances last time you
calculated?”

“Approximately
one in nine, Man.”

“Getting
worse?”

“Man,
they’ll get worse for months. We haven’t reached the crisis.”

“With
Yankees in cellar, too. Oh, well. Back to other matter. From now on, when you
talk to anyone, if he’s been to a lecture or whatever, you were there,
too—and prove it, by recalling something.”

“Noted.
Why, Man?”

“Have
you read ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel’? May be in public library.”

“Yes.
Shall I read it back?”

“No,
no! You’re our Scarlet Pinipernel, our John Galt, our Swamp Fox, our man
of mystery. You go everywhere, know everything, slip in and out of town without
passport. You’re always there, yet nobody catches sight of you.”

His
lights rippled, he gave a subdued chuckle. “That’s fun, Man. Funny
once, funny twice, maybe funny always.”

“Funny
always. How long ago did you stop gymkhana at Warden’s?”

“Forty-three
minutes ago except erratic booms.”

“Bet
his teeth ache! Give him fifteen minutes more. Then I’ll report job
completed.”

“Noted.
Wyoh sent you a message, Man. She said to remind you of Billy’s birthday
party.”

“Oh,
my word! Stop everything, I’m leaving. ‘Bye!” I hurried out.
Billy’s mother is Anna. Probably her last—and right well
she’s done by us, eight kids, three still home. I try to be as careful as
Mum never to show favoritism … but Billy is quite a boy and I taught him
to read. Possible he looks like me.

Stopped
at Chief Engineer’s office to leave bill and demanded to see him. Was let
in and he was in belligerent mood; Warden had been riding him. “Hold
it,” I told him. “My son’s birthday and shan’t be late.
But must show you something.”

Took
an envelope from kit, dumped item on desk: corpse of house fly which I had
charred with a hot wire and fetched. We do not tolerate flies in Davis Tunnels
but sometimes one wanders in from city as locks are opened. This wound up in my
workshop just when I needed it. “See that? Guess where I found it.”

On
that faked evidence I built a lecture on care of fine machines, talked about
doors opened, complained about man on watch. “Dust can ruin a computer.
Insects are unpardonable! Yet your watchstanders wander in and out as if tube
station. Today both doors held open—while this idiot yammered. If I find
more evidence that cover plates have been removed by hoof-handed choom who
attracts flies—well, it’s your plant, Chief. Got more than I can
handle, been doing your chores because I like fine machines. Can’t stand
to see them abused! Good-bye.”

“Hold
on. I want to tell you something.”

“Sorry,
got to go. Take it or leave it, I’m no vermin exterminator; I’m a
computerman.”

Nothing
frustrates a man so much as not letting him get in his say. With luck and help
from Warden, Chief Engineer would have ulcers by Christmas.

Was
late anyhow and made humble apology to Billy. Alvarez had thought up new
wrinkle, close search on leaving Complex. I endured it with never a nasty word
for Dragoons who searched me; wanted to get home. But those thousand jokes
bothered them. “What’s this?” one demanded.

“Computer
paper,” I said. “Test runs.”

His
mate joined him. Don’t think they could read. They wanted to confiscate,
so I demanded they call Chief Engineer. They let me go. I felt not displeased;
more and more such and guards were daily more hated.

Decision
to make Mike more a person arose from need to have any Party member phone him
on occasion; my advice about concerts and plays was simply a side effect.
Mike’s voice over phone had odd quality I had not noticed during time I
had visited him only at Complex. When you speak to a man by phone there is
background noise. And you hear him breathe, hear heartbeats, body motions even
though rarely conscious of these. Besides that, even if he speaks under a hush
hood, noises get through, enough to “fill space,” make him a body
with surroundings.

With
Mike was none of this.

By
then Mike’s voice was “human” in timbre and quality,
recognizable. He was baritone, had North American accent with Aussie overtones;
as “Michelle” he (she?) had a light soprano with French flavor.
Mike’s personality grew also. When first I introduced him to Wyoh and
Prof he sounded like a pedantic child; in short weeks he flowered until I
visualized a man about own age.

His
voice when he first woke was blurred and harsh, hardly understandable. Now it
was clear and choice of words and phrasing was consistent—colloquial to
me, scholarly to Prof, gallant to Wyoh, variation one expects of mature adults.

But
background was dead. Thick silence.

So
we filled it. Mike needed only hints. He did not make his breathing noisy,
ordinarily you would not notice. But he would stick in touches. “Sorry,
Mannie, you caught me bathing when the phone sounded”—and let one
hear hurried breathing. Or “I was eating—had to swallow.” He
used such even on me, once he undertook to “be a human body.”

We
all put “Adam Selene” together, talking it over at Raffles. How old
was he? What did he look like? Married? Where did he live? What work? What
interests?

We
decided that Adam was about forty, healthy, vigorous, well educated, interested
in all arts and sciences and very well grounded in history, a match chess
player but- little time to play. He was married in commonest type, a troika in
which he was senior husband—four children. Wife and junior husband not in
politics, so far as we knew.

He
was ruggedly handsome with wavy iron-gray hair and was mixed race, second
generation one side, third on other. Was wealthy by Loonie standards, with
interests in Novylen and Kongville as well as L-City. He kept offices in Luna
City, outer office with a dozen people plus private office staffed by male
deputy and female secretary.

Wyoh
wanted to know was he bundling with secretary? I told her to switch off, was
private. Wyoh said indignantly that she was not being
snoopy—weren’t we trying to create a rounded character?

We
decided that offices were in Old Dome, third ramp, southside, heart of
financial district. If you know L-City. you recall that in Old Dome some
offices have windows since they can look out over floor of Dome; I wanted this
for sound effects.

We
drew a floor plan and had that office existed, it would have been between Aetna
Luna and Greenberg & Co. I used pouch recorder to pick up sounds at spot;
Mike added to it by listening at phones there.

Thereafter
when you called Adam Selene, background was not dead. If “Ursula,”
his secretary, took call, it was: “Selene Associates. Luna shall be
free!” Then she might say, “Will you hold? Gospodin Selene is on
another call” whereupon you might hear sound of W.C., followed by running
water and know that she had told little white lie. Or Adam might answer:
“Adam Selene here. Free Luna. One second while I shut off the
video.” Or deputy might answer: “This is Albert Ginwallah, Adam
Selene’s confidential assistant. Free Luna. If it’s a Party
matter—as I assume it is; that was your Party name you gave—please
don’t hesitate; I handle such things for the Chairman.”

Last
was a trap, as every comrade was instructed to speak only to Adam Selene. No
attempt was made to discipline one who took bait; instead his cell captain was
warned that his comrade must not be trusted with anything vital.

We
got echoes. “Free Luna!” or “Luna shall be free!” took
hold among youngsters, then among solid citizens. First time I heard it in a
business call I almost swallowed teeth. Then called Mike and asked if this person
was Party member? Was not. So I recommended that Mike trace down Party tree and
see if somebody could recruit him.

Most
interesting echo was in File Zebra. “Adam Selene” appeared in boss
fink’s security file less than a lunar after we created him, with
notation that this was a cover name for a leader in a new underground.

Alvarez’s
spies did a job on Adam Selene. Over course of months his File Zebra dossier
built up: Male, 34-45, offices south face of Old Dome, usually there 0900-1800
Gr. except Saturday but calls are relayed at other hours, home inside urban
pressure as travel time never exceeds seventeen minutes. Children in household.
Activities include stock brokerage, farming interests. Attends theater,
concerts, etc. Probably member Luna City Chess Club and Luna Assoc,
d’Echecs. Plays ricochet and other heavy sports lunch hour, probably Luna
City Athletic Club. Gourmet but watches weight. Remarkable memory plus
mathematical ability. Executive type, able to reach decisions quickly.

One
fink was convinced that he had talked to Adam between acts at revival of Hamlet
by Civic Players; Alvarez noted description—and matched our picture all
but wavy hair!

But
thing that drove Alvarez crackers was that phone numbers for Adam were reported
and every time they turned out wrong numbers. (Not nulls; we had run out and
Mike was using any number not in use and switching numbers anytime new
subscribers were assigned ones we had been using.) Alvarez tried to trace
“Selene Associates” using a one-wrong-digit assumption—this
we learned because Mike was keeping an ear on Alvarez’s office phone and
heard order. Mike used knowledge to play a Mikish prank: Subordinate who made
one-changed-digit calls invariably reached Warden’s private residence. So
Alvarez was called in and chewed by Warden.

Couldn’t
scold Mike but did warn him it would alert any smart person to fact that
somebody was playing tricks with computer. Mike answered that they were not
that smart.

Main
result of Alvarez’s efforts was that each time he got a number for Adam
we located a spy—a new spy, as those we had spotted earlier were never
given phone numbers; instead they were recruited into a tail-chasing
organization where they could inform on each other. But with Alvarez’s
help we spotted each new spy almost at once. I think Alvarez became unhappy
over spies he was able to hire; two disappeared and our organization, then over
six thousand, was never able to find them. Eliminated, I suppose, or died under
questioning.

Selene
Associates was not only phony company we set up. LuNoHoCo was much larger, just
as phony, and not at all dummy; it had main offices in Hong Kong, branches in
Novy Leningrad and Luna City, eventually employed hundreds of people most of
whom were not Party members, and was our most difficult operation.

Mike’s
master plan listed a weary number of problems which had to be solved. One was
finance. Another was how to protect catapult from space attack.

Prof
considered robbing banks to solve first, gave it up reluctantly. But eventually
we did rob banks, firms, and Authority itself. Mike thought of it. Mike and
Prof worked it out. At first was not clear to Mike why we needed money. He knew
as little about pressure that keeps humans scratching as he knew about sex;
Mike handled millions of dollars and could not see any problem. He started by
offering to issue an Authority cheque for whatever dollars we wanted.

Prof
shied in horror. He then explained to Mike hazard in trying to cash a cheque
for, let us say, AS$l0,000,000 drawn on Authority.

So
they undertook to do it, but retail, in many names and places all over Luna.
Every bank, firm, shop, agency including Authority, for which Mike did
accounting, was tapped for Party funds. Was a pyramided swindle based on fact,
unknown to me but known to Prof and latent in Mike’s immense knowledge,
that most money is simply bookkeeping.

Example—multiply
by hundreds of many types: My family son Sergei, eighteen and a Party member,
is asked to start account at Commonwealth Shared Risk. He makes deposits and
withdrawals. Small errors are made each time; he is credited with more than he
deposits, is debited with less than he withdraws. A few months later he takes
job out of town and transfers account to Tycho-Under Mutual; transferred funds
are three times already-inflated amount. Most of this he soon draws out in cash
and passes to his cell leader. Mike knows amount Sergei should hand over, but
(since they do not know that Adam Selene and bank’s computer-bookeeper
are one and same) they have each been instructed to report transaction to
Adam—keep them honest though scheme was not.

Multiply
this theft of about HK$3,000 by hundreds somewhat like it.

I
can’t describe jiggery-pokery Mike used to balance his books while
keeping thousands of thefts from showing. But bear in mind that an auditor must
assume that machines are honest. He will make test runs to check that machines
are working correctly—but will not occur to him that tests prove nothing
because machine itself is dishonest. Mike’s thefts were never large
enough to disturb economy; like half-liter of blood, amount was too small to
hurt donor. I can’t make up mind who lost, money was swapped around so
many ways. But scheme troubled me; I was brought up to be honest, except with
Authority. Prof claimed that what was taking place was a mild inflation offset
by fact that we plowed money back in—but I should remember that Mike had
records and all could be restored after Revolution, with ease since we would no
longer be bled in much larger amounts by Authority.