TUNNEL IN THE SKY by ROBERT A. HEINLEIN

“Beat it. They might relax the gate and leave you behind.”

“You come, too.”

“No. I’ve got things to do. But you hurry. Don’t say goodby. Just go.”

“You’re mad at me, Roddie?”

“Of course not. But go, please, or you’ll have me bawling, too.”

She gave a choked cry, grabbed his head and smacked his cheek, then galloped away, her sturdy legs pounding. Rod went into his shack and lay face down. After a while he got up and began to tidy Cowpertown. It was littered, dirtier than it had been since the morning of Grant’s death.

It was late afternoon before anyone else came into the village. Rod heard and saw them long before they saw himtwo men and a woman. The men were dressed in city garb; she was wearing shorts, shirt, and smart sandals. Rod stepped out and said, “What do you want?” He was carrying his spear.

The woman squealed, then looked and added, “Wonderful!”

One man was carrying a pack and tripod which Rod recognized as multi-recorder of the all purpose sight-smell-sound-touch sort used by news services and expeditions. He said nothing, set his tripod down, plugged in cables and started fiddling with dials. The other man, smaller, ginger haired, and with a terrier mustache, said, “You’re Walker? The one the others call ‘the Mayor’?”

“Yes.”

“Kosmic hasn’t been in here?”

“Cosmic what?”

“Kosmic Keynotes, of course. Or anybody? LIFETIMESPACE? Galaxy Features?”

“I don’t know what you mean. There hasn’t been anybody here since morning.”

The stranger twitched his mustache and sighed. “That’s all I want to know. Go into your trance, Ellie. Start your box, Mac.”

“Wait a minute,” Rod demanded. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Eh? I’m Evans of Empire . . . Empire Enterprises.”

“Pulitzer Prize,” the other man said and went on working;

“With Mac’s help,” Evans added quickly. “The lady is Ellie Ellens herself.”

Rod looked puzzled. Evans said, “You don’t know? Son, where have younever mind. She’s the highest paid emotional writer in the system. Shell interpret you so that every woman reader from the Outlands Overseer to the London Times will cry over you and want to comfort you. She’s a great artist.”

Miss Ellens did not seem to hear the tribute. She wandered around with a blank face, stopping occasionally to look or touch.

She turned and said to Rod, “Is this where you held your primitive dances?”

“What? We held square dances here, once a week.”

“‘Square dances’ . . . Well, we can change that.” She went back into her private world.

“The point is, brother,” Evans went on, “we don’t want just an interview. Plenty of that as they came through. That’s how we found out you were here and dropped everything to see you. I’m not going to dicker; name your own price but it’s got to be exclusive, news, features, commercial rights, everything. Uh . . .” Evans looked around. “Advisory service, too, when the actors arrive.

“Actors?!”

“Of course. If the Control Service had the sense to sneeze, they would have held you all here until a record was shot. But we can do it better with actors. I want you at my elbow every minute we’ll have somebody play your part. Besides that”

“Wait a minute!” Rod butted in. “Either I’m crazy or you are. In the first place I don’t want your money.

“Huh? You signed with somebody? That guard let another outfit in ahead of us?”

“What guard? I haven’t seen anybody.”

Evans looked relieved. “We’ll work it out. The guard they’ve got to keep anybody from crossing your wall I thought he might have both hands out. But don’t say you don’t need money; that’s immoral.”

“Well, I don’t. We don’t use money here.”

“Sure, sure . . . but you’ve got a family, haven’t you? Families always need money. Look, let’s not fuss. We’ll treat you right and you can let it pile up in the bank. I just want you to get signed up.”

“I don’t see why I should.”

“Binder,” said Mac.

“Mmm . . . yes, Mac. See here, brother, think it over. Just let us have a binder that you won’t sign with anybody else. You can still stick us for anything your conscience will let you. Just a binder, with a thousand plutons on the side.”

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