“I’m not especially honest.”
“But you have no talent for dishonesty, so your refuge must be ignorance and stubbornness. You have the latter; try to preserve the former. For the nonce. Lad, Uncle Bernardo is terribly tired.”
I said, “Sorry,” and wheeled out of his room. Prof was hitting too hard a pace. I would have been willing to quit if would insure his getting into a ship and out of that gravity. But traffic stayed one way–grain barges, naught else.
But Prof had fun. As I left and waved lights out, noticed again a toy he had bought, one that delighted him like a kid on Christmas–a brass cannon.
A real one from sailing ship days. Was small, barrel about half a meter long and massing, with wooden carriage, only kilos fifteen. A “signal gun” its papers said. Reeked of ancient history, pirates, men “walking plank.” A pretty thing but I asked Prof why? If we ever managed to leave, price to lift that mass to Luna would hurt–I was resigned to abandoning a p-suit with years more wear in it–abandon everything but two left arms and a pair of shorts, If pressed, might give up social arm. If very pressed, would skip shorts.
He reached out and stroked shiny barrel. “Manuel, once there was a man who held a political make-work job like so many here in this Directorate, shining brass cannon around a courthouse.”
“Why would courthouse have cannon?”
“Never mind. He did this for years. It fed him and let him save a bit, but he was not getting ahead in the world. So one day he quit his job, drew out his savings, bought a brass cannon–and went into business for himself.”
“Sounds like idiot.”
“No doubt. And so were we, when we tossed out the Warden. Manuel, you’ll outlive me. When Luna adopts a flag, I would like it to be a cannon or, on field sable, crossed by bar sinister gules of our proudly ignoble lineage. Do you think it could be managed?”
“Suppose so, if you’ll sketch. But why a flag? Not a flagpole in all Luna.”
“It can fly in our hearts . . . a symbol for all fools so ridiculously impractical as to think they can fight city hail. Will you remember, Manuel?”
“Sure. That is, will remind you when time comes.” Didn’t like such talk. He had started using oxygen tent in private–and would not use in public.
Guess I’m “ignorant” and “stubborn”–was both in place called Lexington, Kentucky, in Central Managerial Area. One thing no doctrine about, no memorized answers, was life in Luna. Prof said to tell truth and emphasize homely, warm, friendly things, especially anything different. “Remember, Manuel, the thousands of Terrans who have made short visits to Luna are only a tiny fraction of one percent. To most people we will be as weirdly interesting as strange animals in a zoo. Do you remember that turtle on exhibition in Old Dome? That’s us.”
Certainly did; they wore that insect out, staring at. So when this male-female team started quizzing about family life in Luna was happy to answer. I prettied it only by what I left out–things that aren’t family life but poor substitutes in a community overloaded with males, Luna City is homes and families mainly, dull by Terra standards–but I like it. And other warrens much same, people who work and raise kids and gossip and find most of their fun around dinner table. Not much to tell, so I diseussed anything they found interesting. Every Luna custom comes from Terra since that’s where we all came from, but Terra is such a big place that a custom from Micronesia, say, may be strange in North America.
This woman–can’t call her lady–wanted to know about various sorts of marriage. First, was it true that one could get married without a license “on” Luna?
I asked what a marriage license was?
Her companion said, “Skip it, Mildred. Pioneer societies never have marriage licenses.”
“But don’t you keep records?” she persisted.
“Certainly,” I agreed. “My family keeps a family book that goes back almost to first landing at Johnson City–every marriage, birth, death, every event of importance not only in direct line but all branches so far as we can keep track. And besides, is a man, a schoolteacher, going around copying old family records all over our warren, writing a history of Luna City. Hobby.”