Heinlein, Robert A – Friday

(New Zealand food is beautiful but New Zealand cooking practically isn’t cooking at all.)

Georges showed up with the exact timing of a cat-Mama Cat in this case, who arrived following Georges ahead of him. Kittens were then excluded by Janet’s edict because she was too busy to keep from stepping on kittens. Janet also decreed that the news would be turned off while we ate and that the emergency would not be a subject of conversation at the table. This suited me as these strange and grim events had pounded on my mind since they started, even during sleep. As Janet pointed out in handing down this ruling, only an H-bomb was likely to penetrate our defenses, and an H-bomb blast we probably wouldn’t notice-so relax and enjoy breakfast.

I enjoyed it . . . and so did Mama Cat, who patrolled our feet counterclockwise and informed each of us when it was that person’s turn to supply a bit of bacon-I think she got most of it.

After I cleared the breakfast dishes (salvaged rather than recycled; Janet was old-fashioned in spots) and Janet made another pot of coffee, she turned the news on again and we settled back to watch it and discuss it-in the kitchen rather than the grand room we had used for dinner, the kitchen being their de facto living room. Janet had what is called a “peasant kitchen” although no peasant ever had it so good: a big fireplace, a round table for family eating furnished with so-called captain’s chairs, big comfortable lounging chairs, plenty of floor space and no traffic problems because the cooking took place at the end opposite the comforts. The kittens were allowed back in, ending their protests, and in they came all tails at attention. I picked up one, a fluffy white with big black spots; its buzz was bigger than it was. It was clear that Mama Cat’s love life had not been limited by a stud book; no two kittens were alike.

Most of the news was a rehash but there was a new development in the Imperium:

Democrats were being rounded up, sentenced by drumhead courts-martial (provost’s tribunals, they were called) and executed on the spot-laser, gunfire, sonic, hangings. I exerted tight mind control to let me watch. They were sentencing them down to the age of fourteen-we saw one family in which both parents, themselves condemned, were insisting that their son was only twelve.

The President of the court, an Imperial Police corporal, ended the argument by drawing his side arm, shooting the boy, and then ordering his squad to finish off the parents and the boy’s older sister.

Ian flicked off the picture, shifted to voiceover streamers, and turned the sound down. “I’ve seen all of that I want to see,” he growled. “I think that whoever has power there now that the old Chairman is dead is liquidating everybody on their suspects list.”

He chewed his lip and looked grim. “Marj, are you still sticking to that silly notion of going home at once?”

“I’m not a democrat, Ian. I’m nonpolitical.”

“Do you think that kid was political? Those Cossacks would kill you just for drill. Anyhow, you can’t. The border is closed.”

I didn’t tell him that I felt certain that I could wetback any border on earth. “I thought it was sealed only against people trying to come north. Aren’t they letting subjects of the Imperium go home?”

He sighed. “Marj, aren’t you any brighter than that kitten in your lap? Can’t you realize that pretty little girls can get hurt if they insist on playing with had boys? If you were home, I’m sure your father would tell you to stay home. But you are here in our home and that gives Georges and me an implied obligation to keep you safe. Eh, Georges?”

“Mais oui, mon vieux! Certainement!”

“And I will protect you from Georges. Jan, can you convince this child that she is welcome here as long as she cares to stay? I think she’s the sort of assertive female who tries to pick up the check.”

“I am not!”

Janet said, “Marjie, Betty told me to take good care of you. If you think you are imposing, you can contribute to BritCan Red Cross. Or to a home for indignant cats. But it so happens that all three of us make ridiculous amounts of money and we have no children. We can afford you as easily as another kitten. Now . . . are you going to stay? Or am I going to have to hide your clothes and beat you?”