Heinlein, Robert A – Friday

The Realm is described as rich and beautiful and I do want to see it as a touristÄbut I won’t be moving there. While it is reputed to be quite well governed, it is as absolute a dictatorship as is the Chicago ImpermumÄI ye had enough of that But for a stronger reason I would not consider asking for an immigrant’s visa: I know too much. Officially I don’t know any’thing as Mr. Sikmaa never admitted it and I didn’t askÄbut I won’t stretch my luck by asking to live there.

Midway is another place I want to see but don’t want to live. Two suns in its sky are enough to make it special . . . but it is the Popein-Exile that makes it very specialÄto visit, not to stay. It really is true that they celebrate Mass there in public! Captain van Kooten says so and Jerry tells me that he has seen it with his own eyes and that I can see it, tooÄno charge, but a contribution for charity on the part of a gentile is good manners.

I’m tempted to do it. It’s not really dangerous and I’ll probably never have a chance like this again in my whole life.

Of course I’ll check out Halcyon and Fiddler’s Green. Each must be extra-special or they would not command such high prices .

but I’ll be looking for the joker in the deck every mimiuteÄsuch as that at Eden. I would hate to ask Gloria to pay a high fee to get me in . . . then discover that I hated the place.

Forest is supposed to be nothing much for a touristÄno amenitiesÄbut I want to give it a very careful look. It is the newest colony, of course, still in the log-cabin stage and totally dependent on Earth and/or The Realm for tools and instruments.

But isn’t that just the time to join a colony in order to feel great gusty joy in every minute?

Jerry just looks sour. He tells me to go look at it. . . and learn for myself that life in the forest primeval is greatly overrated.

I don’t know. Maybe I could make a deal for stopover privilege:

pick up this ship or one of her sisters some months from now. Must ask the Captain.

Yesterday there was a holo at the Stardust Theater that I wanted to see, a musical comedy, The Connecticut Yankee and Queen Guinevere. It was supposed to be quite funny, with romantic-revival music, and loaded with beautiful horses and beautiful pageantry. I avoided my swains and went alone. Or almost alone; I could not avoid my guards.

This manÄ”number three” in my mind, although the passenger list said that he was “Howard J. Bullfinch, San Diego”Äfollowed me in and settled down right behind me . . . unusual, since they normally stayed as far away from me as the size of a room permitted. Perhaps he thought he might lose track of me after they lowered the lights; I don’t know. His presence behind me distracted me. When the Queen sank her fangs into the Yankee and dragged him into her boudoir, instead of thinking about the fun going on in the holotank, I was trying to sort out and analyze all the odors that reached meÄ not easy in a crowded theater.

When the play was over and the lights came up, I reached the side aisle just as my shadow did; he gave way. I smiled and thanked him, then made exit by the forward door; he followed. That exit leads to a short staircase, four steps. I stumbled, fell backward, and he caught me.

“Thank you!” I said. “For that I am taking you to the Centaur Bar to buy you a drink.”

“Oh, not at all!”

“Oh, most emphatically. You are going to explain to me why you have been following me and who hired you and several other things.”

He hesitated. “You have made some mistake.”

“Not me, Mac. Would you rather come quietly . . . or would you rather explain it to the Captain?”

He gave a little quizzical smile. (Or was it cynical?) “Your words are most persuasive even though you are mistaken. But I insist on paying for the drinks.”