Heinlein, Robert A – Friday

(Is homeliness a necessity to a head of state? Looking back through history I cannot find a single handsome man who got very far in politics until we get clear back to Alexander the Great. . . and he had a head start; his father was a king.)

As may be, “Warwhoop” Tumbril looked like a frog trying to be a toad and just missing.

The Chief cleared his throat. “What’s she doing here?”

Georges said quickly, “Sir, I have a most serious complaint to make! That man- That man”-he pointed at the toothpick chewer-“tried to separate me from my dear sister! He should be reprimanded!”

Tumbnil looked at Mornie, looked at me, looked back at his parasite. “Did you do that?”

Morrie asserted that he had not but even if he did, he had done so because he had thought that Tumbnil had ordered it but in any case he thought- “You’re not supposed to think,” Tumbnil ruled. “I’ll talk to you later. And why are you leaving her standing? Get a chair! Do I have to do all the thinking around here?”

Once I was seated, the Chief turned his attention back to Georges. “That was a Brave Thing you did earlier today. Yes, sir, a Very Brave Thing. The Great Nation of California is Proud to have raised Sons of Your Caliber. What’s your name?”

Georges gave his name.

‘Payroll’ is a Proud California Name, Mr. Payroll; one that shines down our Noble History, from the rancheros who threw off the Yoke of Spain to the Brave Patriots who threw off the Yoke of Wall Street. Do you mind if I call you George?”

“Not at all.”

“And you can call me Warwhoop. That’s the Crowning Glory of Our Great Nation, George; All of us are Equal.”

I suddenly said, “Does that apply to artificial people; Chief Turnbnil?”

“Eh?”

“I was asking about artificial people, like those they make at Berkeley and Davis. Are they equal, too?”

“Uh . . . little lady, you really shouldn’t interrupt while your elders are speaking. But to answer your question: How can Human Democracy apply to creatures who are Not Human? Would you expect a cat to vote? Or a Ford APV? Speak up.”

“No, but-”

“There you are. Everybody is Equal and Everybody has a vote. But you have to draw the line somewhere. Now, shut up, damn it, and don’t interrupt while your betters are talking. George, what you did today-well, if that klutz had actually been making an attack on my life-he wasn’t and don’t you even forget it-you could not have behaved in a manner more becoming to all the Heroic Traditions of Our Great California Confederacy. You Make Me Proud!”

Tumbril stood up and came out from behind his desk, hooked his hands behind him, and paced-and I saw why he had seemed taller here than he had outside.

He used some sort of a highchair or possibly a platform at his desk. When he stood with no fakery, he was about up to my shoulder. He seemed to be thinking aloud as he paced. “George, there is always a place in my official family for a man of your demonstrated courage. Who knows?-the day might come when you would save me from a criminal who seriously intended to harm me. Foreign agitators, I mean; I have nothing to fear from the Stalwart Patriots of California. They all love me for what I have done for them while occupying the Octagon Office. But other countries are jealous of us; they envy our Rich and Free and Democratic lifestyle and sometimes their smoldering hatred erupts in violence.”

He stood with his head bowed for a moment, in reverent adoration of something. “One of the Prices of the Privilege of Serving,” he said solemnly, “but one which, with All Humility, one must pay Gladly. George, tell me, if you were called upon to make the Last

Supreme Sacrifice that Your Country’s Chief Executive might live, would you hesitate?”

“It all seems most unlikely,” Georges answered.

“Eh? What?”

“Well, when I vote-not often-I usually vote Réunioniste. But the present Prime Minister is Revanchiste. I doubt that he would have me.”