Tales of the Flying Mountains (16 page)

“If you will forgive my outspokenness,” the man from Washington said, “I am not convinced they do serve your needs, at least not any longer. And they certainly are counterproductive for the country as a whole.” From the way in which he raised his coffee cup to his mouth. Avis could see how tense he was becoming.

“M-m-m, yes, now the Social Justice party is back in power. …”

The dilute acid in Bell's voice did not escape Harker. “Sir,” he replied, “—and madame, of course—you're both intelligent, well-informed people. You may have voted for the opposition, but you must know that the Essjays won by better expressing the popular will.”

“Reaction to defeat,” Avis said. “Let's be honest. In spite of every face-saving formula, the asterites beat the Americans.”

“If you wish to put it that way,” Harker said testily. “I'm inclined to credit their diplomats more than their naval men. Asians, Russians, even Europeans didn't mind at all if North America lost its best spatial possessions. They weren't hard to talk into putting on pressure, giving clandestine aid.… They'll be sorry when the example gets imitated.… But besides that, the game stopped being worth the candle. Too much that was too expensive was too badly overdue at home. And that's what Social Justice is all about. Rebuilding the country, first internally, afterward in its foreign relations; regaining our position as a first-class power.”

A silence followed.

“More coffee?” Avis lifted the pot.

“Yes, thank you,” Harker said. “It's good.”

“Kona,” Avis told him. “From one of our experimental plantations.”

“You've been generous to me,” Harker said. “I would almost feel guilty if—” He paused. “I would, if each of us didn't already bear a greater guilt: that we are glutted while others are poor.”

“If they'd bred a little less eagerly, they wouldn't be so hard up today,” Bell said. His tone stayed mild.

“Perhaps,” Harker answered. “But we're confronted with a fact, not a might-have-been.”

“I didn't think anybody in North America was starvin'.”

“No, they aren't. However, when a person's grown accustomed to an ever-mounting standard of living, and suddenly it not only stops rising, it takes a sharp downturn—that's a hardship and a cause for grievance. You may have seen 3V replays of the marches and riots, but believe me, they're quite different from the real thing. Then we must also take account of more conventional political forces. The discontented command a majority of votes.”

Bell puffed for a moment before asking almost lightly, “What do you aim to do?”

“The war was costly,” Harker replied. “The loss of most of our asteroids, with their resources and tax revenues, is proving costlier still. We've got to work together, mobilize what we have left, organize our efforts, in space as well as on Earth.”

“No doubt. I was just wonderin' what you, specifically, have in mind. Maybe we locals could offer you an idea or two.”

“That's one of the reasons for my commission.” Fervor bloomed in Harker. “You realize, my group has a strictly fact-finding assignment. Our report will be one element among many in reaching a decision and writing new legislation. But we do want to learn the wishes of you residents.”

M-m-m … a million or so American asterites, three hundred and fifty million Americans at home. … I doubt if our wishes will butter many parsnips. And I do think—considerin' the distances involved—your recommendations will count mighty heavily.” Bell drew breath. “Now I'm aware you haven't yet seen everything or interviewed everybody you'd like to on Odysseus, let alone the rest of the cluster. Please don't think I'm askin' you to commit yourself right off. On the other hand, y'all must've studied a lot of material about us before leavin'. And livin' in the middle of things, y'all must have a lot better feelin' for what policy's likely to be, than we can have at this far end of yonder.” Bell refilled his liqueur glass. “I'd appreciate gettin' some notion of what to expect.”

“Yes. Quite.” Harker stared at his own knees. “Well, it's a hard thing to say, after you've been so hospitable.”

“I understand you don't make policy by yourself. I'm only askin' for your prognosis.”

“Well, then.” Harker straightened and met his host's glance squarely.
He has manhood
, Avis admitted to herself. Her hands tightened against each other till the fingertips hurt. “I'm afraid you won't like what you're about to hear. Let me begin by underlining that no one wants to ruin you. The President and Congress agree that reward should be proportionate to public service, within decent limits, of course.”

And who decides what those limits are?
Avis thought.

“You've proved, Mr. Bell, that you're potentially capable of rendering valuable service. It's simply a question of finding a socially useful place for your talents.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Bell smiled.

Put more at ease, Harker continued: “In better times, you could carry on what you are doing. I don't deny your, ah, entertainment industry has brightened lives, though I must say, ah”—he pinched his lips into a line—“gambling and certain other things—but let that go for now. The point is, at this time of crisis …”

…
when the home country is starting to run short of 3V sets, Avis thought, and air conditioners, and machinery to do the jobs that everybody on the public assistance rolls finds are too degrading
…

“… we can't afford frivolity, not to speak of vice. I make no accusations, Mr. Bell. But that's how your enterprise looks from across four or five astronomical units. And, frankly, in my personal opinion … well, for a fraction of the labor and resources used in your park, we could put taped entertainment—the same shows, the same number of choices that they enjoy on Earth—into every home in this cluster. Do you follow me?”

Avis smothered a curse and half rose to her feet. Bell waved her back, caught her eye and shook his head slightly. Turning to Harker he said, unruffled, “In other words, you feel Dingdong Enterprises ought to be closed down. You'll recommend that in your report, and the recommendation is sure to be taken.”

“You'd not be required to liquidate overnight,” Harker said, “except perhaps for, ah, those certain operations I mentioned. You'd be given time to dispose of your holdings. I suggest you use the proceeds to invest further in the waterworks. Of course, it appears likely that Congress will put a legal ceiling on personal incomes and fortunes. But for you, enough comes under ‘business expenses' that you'd remain comfortable.”

“No doubt.” Bell stroked his mustache. “You'd better talk to some plain, everyday workin' people, though. The Trojans are kind of harsh—which means you can barely survive—except for here. I'd say recreation, pressure-ventin', ‘vice and frivolity' if you like, I'd say those're just about necessities of life hereabouts.”

“I spoke of wholesome taped entertainment.”

“I wonder. If a man, or a woman, has the blood to come to these parts and buck for a better future, will ‘wholesome taped entertainment,' from an Earth that's hardly relevant any more, will that fill leisure time? I can foresee a lot of trouble.”

“I don't set policy,” Harker repeated.

Avis could hold herself back no longer. “At least you can listen!” she exclaimed. “You can go home and tell them the truth. What about our ecological research, for instance, if we must show some humorless public service? Is it worth nothing?”

“Pardon me?” Harker asked.

Avis was breathing too hard to speak further, in this moment when she saw her universe crumbling.
What will become of Don? He can't sit in an office playing with stupid numbers, no matter what sums of money they stand for. He's a warhorse, not a plowhorse. What saved our marriage
—
what saved him, which is more
—
was that we did start making real and firm-foundationed the glamour, the merriment, the make-believe he's always needed around him. O God Who plays dice with the world, help us!

Her husband remained as cool as if he sat in a table stakes game with a busted flush: “A sideline, but interestin'. I meant to show it to you tomorrow. Some while back, a couple of scientists talked me into it, and I'm glad they did. Idea is, we theorize about self-maintainin' ecologies like Earth's; but Earth is a mighty big piece of real estate. We can recycle air and so forth, in spaceships, in dome bases; we can grow food usin' biological wastes for nutrients; but all material doesn't get back into circulation. Trace products like acetone pile up, slow but steady. And things like, oh, fingernail clippin's, skin sheddin's, woody parts of plants—do you track me? Earth's an entire planet. It can absorb those wastes and take its time, maybe centuries, about breakin' them down. A ship can't. Nor can a terraformed asteroid thus far. The cleanup job has to be completed artificially.”

“So?”

“So, long's I'm buildin' these gardens and plantations and such, the scientists might as well experiment. What is the minimum size for a wholly balanced biosystem? Could be useful to Earth itself, like in ocean bottom colonies, if we find an answer.”

Harker shook his head. “I'm sorry, but I can tell you at once, Mr. Bell, that argument won't work. If the problem in question becomes urgent, the government can do the R and D on it. We need our spatial resources
now
. And the ice of Odysseus will be a huge help in developing them. We must maximize production.”

“Do you mean,” Avis whispered, “everything else has to go? Every blade of grass, every flower, every forest we'd planned, where you might stroll off to be alone in greenness—we're not to have anything except ugly industrial buildings?”

“You overstate.”

“I don't. I come from Earth myself, and I've been back on visits. You've gone far toward that kind of hell. Must you drag us along with you?”

“Our guest—” Bell tried to interrupt.

She couldn't help herself, it burst from her: “Why didn't the asterites take us into their Republic?”

“Both sides settled for what they could get,” Bell reminded her.

“Just Odysseus. They could have traded something else, some lump with nothing but minerals, for Odysseus. All parties would have been happier.”

“Excuse my wife,” Bell said to Harker. “She's a tad overwrought.”

Surprisingly, he smiled. “I understand. No apologies needed. As a matter of fact, I happen to know that that very proposal was made at the peace conference.”

“What?” The Bells spoke together.

“Briefly and informally,” Harker said. “I was there in a secretarial capacity. It never got to the floor because—actually, a Republican delegate pointed it out—serious difficulties would have been caused.”

Avis settled back with her despair. Bell, anxious to clear the atmosphere by a discussion of something impersonal, said, “Do go on. I'm intrigued. As I remember the law of sovereignty that the Convention of Vesta established, long before the war … uh … possession of a body depends on the nationality of whoever first lands and files a claim with Space Control Central, unless other arrangements are made like purchase.”

“True,” Harker said. “But how is an asteroid, one among countless thousands, to be identified except by its orbit? Which the law does. And the members of a Trojan group have essentially the same orbit. Or so it was agreed, for legal purposes, in order to avoid pettifogging debate. Either side wanted a positive end to hostilities more than it wanted an enclave in the other fellow's space. So everything in a particular Trojan position is considered part of a single body.” Again he made his stiff smile. “I hope we North Americans can be that sensible in our family squabbles.”

Like hell we can!
Avis wanted to shout.
Not when one branch of the family insists on taking everything!

A few days afterward, when the commission had proceeded elsewhere, another meeting took place in the house on Mount Ida. Being larger, it was held in a gold-paneled conference room; being composed of friends, it drank beer in huge quantities; being likewise made up of the magnates, those whose work and risk had made Odysseus come alive, it growled its business forth in angry words. Occasionally an oath broke loose—but a mild one, for a few women were present and asteroid colonists preserved the archaic concept “lady.”

Also
, Avis thought, seated by her husband,
they keep the outmoded notion of democracy. Oh, they use that word back in the States, use it till the last meaning has been rubbed off; but in the end, collectivism, under whatever name, is elitist. Somebody makes a career of knowing what is good for you better than you're supposed to know it yourself. In his heart, and ever oftener in his behavior, how can he respect you?

Whereas Jack Herbert sat at the long table as proudly as Reuben Roth or David Pirelli. They might have more money than he did, Pirelli might be mayor as well as principal stockholder in the H
₂
Odysseus Corporation, but they couldn't do without the kind of skills he owned, and each man concerned knew that. Herbert was no more a spokesman for “labor” than engineer Richard Buytenstuyl for “the technologists” or farmer Pete Xenopoulos for “agriculture.” Bell had asked them to sound out their colleagues, but his basic reason for inviting them here was that he thought highly of their judgment.

“This conference has no official standing, of course,” Pirelli declared. “In fact, I believe we'd be wise to keep our proceedings confidential and merely say we've had a party.”

“A wake, rather,” Herbert retorted.

“Perhaps not.” Pirelli turned to Bell. “Don, will you take over?” He sat down.

Bell rose. “The idea,” he said, “is to compare notes on our various encounters with the Feds, and what we reckon the outcome of this thing is likely to be, and how people feel about it, and what we might do. I got kind of sociable with the chief, James Harker—don't look shocked, Pete. He's not an evil man, only a man doin' his duty as he sees it, and maybe he's right from the standpoint of the mother country. Problem is, obviously, our mother country is this asteroid, not a continent which some of us have never seen.