Alexei led us forward to seats at the rear of the first car. They were set in a U‑shape–like a tiny lounge or the living area of a tube‑house. There were several other people there already, but they smiled and quickly made room for us. I guess pregnancy will get you a seat anywhere in the galaxy. Three of the men were natives; they had that same tall gangly look as Alexei. The sun‑darkened man and woman looked like prospectors; they had Earth bodies, so they must have been immigrants, but not recent ones. The older couple were probably tourists.
The chairs were comfortable enough, but like everything else on Luna, they looked flimsy. They were little more than wire frames with inflatable foam cushions. They were strong enough to hold us, but I was beginning to figure it out; they didn't need to be anything more than what they were. That's all Luna was–that's all it ever could be. Just another place where people were stuffed in cans. Just like any other tube‑town.
Yes, it was beautiful. Stark and barren and dangerous. And astonishing as hell. But living here wouldn't be all that different than living in a pipe in West El Paso. You'd still have to worry about conserving your clean water and maintaining your oxygen balance and how much carbohydrates you consumed each day and how much poop you produced for the public farms. If anything, life in a Lunar tube would be even harder and more disciplined. It made me wonder what things would be like out in the colonies. We hadn't talked about that for a while …
Two of the native Loonies were sleeping in their chairs; that was another thing about Luna. It's a lot easier to sleep while sitting upright in a chair than it is on Earth. Alexei said you could even sleep standing up, but that wasn't a skill I wanted to learn.
The elderly tourist couple was discussing–arguing?–with the prospectors about the situation on Earth. Yes, they were definitelytourists–she had blue hair and he had a camera. And they both had attitudes. Arrogant and patronizing. We'd seen their kind in El Paso. Oh, so sincere and oh, so rich–and everything was oh, so interesting. A Luna woman wouldn't wear such heavy perfume. Not in an environment with a recirculating air supply. Maybe on Earth, she had to do it in self‑defense. Here, it was just another nose crime. They also had that shiny‑paper look to their skin, a sure sign of telomere‑rejuvenation. Andthey were insisting that Luna neededEarth, that Luna couldn't survive withoutEarth, which showed that they really didn't understand that much about Luna yet.
The reaction of the Loonies was somewhere between amused and annoyed. They were explaining that Luna had been self‑sufficient for thirty years, even before the Line was finished. The dirtsiders didn't look convinced. They kept talking about plastic‑dollars, electric‑dollars, digital‑dollars, and the impossibility of transporting value from one world to the next–it had to be done with goods, not credit. I could see both Samm and Janos itching to get into that argument, but they held themselves back. Alexei just rolled his eyes upward and headed forward, probably to be with Gabri.
Their argument reminded me of a similar argument on the super‑train–had that been only a week ago? It felt like a lifetime. Fat SenorDoctor Hidalgo had been arguing with his ex‑wife, across the double chasm of divorce and politics, about thirty million dollars that didn't belong to either one of them. No, thirty trilliondollars. Why do people argue about this crap anyway? It doesn't make any difference, does it? So why argue? Just to be right? I wrapped my arms around my fat belly and kept my head low. I stared at my knees. I just didn't want anyone looking at me too closely.
Abruptly, the sweet little old tourist lady reached over and patted my knee tenderly. "When are you due, dear?" She left her fingers touching my leg. I couldn't believe she was being so rude. Her hand looked like a leathery pink tarantula.
"Three months," I whispered.
"And you're going home to Earth to have the baby? That's a very smart idea, you know–" I knew what she was going to say next, even before she said it. "You want your baby to grow up normal."She didn't have to say the rest, but it was obvious what she meant. Not all skinny and stretched out like a Loonie. Not weak.
I didn't know what to answer. I was angry and embarrassed and I wanted to tell her she was a fat stupid insensitive old pig. I'd have my baby on Luna if I wanted to–
Abruptly, I realized how funny this whole thing was. I held up one hand to ward off any further remarks, put the other hand over my mouth to keep from bursting out laughing, and ran for the lavatory.
MONKEY BUSINESS
There was a window in the lavatory. Somebody had put curtains on it. Still laughing, I started to close the curtain, then stopped. Why was I closing the curtain in the rest room of the Lunar train? Who was going to look in?The Rock Father? Outsiders from the Eleventh Galaxy? Were the Loonies really that crazy?
No, of course not. And the curtain wasn't there by accident. Whoever put it up knew what he was doing. I stared at it for a long time before I realized. It was a Loonie joke. A joke.
And I had just gotten it.
I wondered what that meant. Was I starting to think like a Loonie too?
Wouldn't that be a laugh?
I stared out at the distant hillocks, the tumbled rocks, the rough craters passing slowly through the dark. How did people live in all this loneliness? There was nothing for kilometers in any direction, except kilometers. At a speed of 60 kps, we'd be at least six hours getting into Gagarin. If there were no more stops. Once we got to Gagarin Dome, we'd disembark, and then what … ? Would the marshals recognize us?
Maybe. Maybe not.
Mickey had been right about one thing. The disguise worked. People believed what they saw. They saw what they expected to see, what they wantedto see. All you had to do was give them the right cues. Nobody ever looked at anything closely. That's why they missed everything.
I really did have to go to the bathroom, so I unwrapped the monkey from my midsection, lifted my dress, pulled down my panties, and sat down on the toilet. I was grateful for a real toilet to sit on–even though it looked as flimsy as everything else. But that was another thing about life in lower gee. Mickey had explained it to us on the orbital elevator. Every time you use the toilet, sit down–even to pee. Even men. Especiallymen. Because standing at a urinal in low gee meant splashing everything in all directions. On the moon, you would splash six times farther than on Earth. If you didn't want a faceful, it was safer to sit. Or you could use a bag–especially if you wanted the water‑credit to your account.
I held the monkey on my lap and looked at it suspiciously. This was the first time I'd had a chance to be alone with it since–I couldn't remember. But it was the first chance I'd had to just sit and examine the thing without Stinky whining that I was playing with his toy or anyone else getting curious what I was poking around looking for.