He couldn’t make himself say, of course we seek to coordinate in multilateral globalized community. Besides being a tongue-twister, it made him wince. The plan was to be as ambiguous as possible, offering enough cooperation with law enforcement agencies to keep them from raiding Castor, while avoiding submission to so many laws that they’d go out of business. It was a bureaucratic, weaseling, dishonest position, and his mouth wouldn’t form the words. Neither his father, nor his uncle, nobody he cared for would have approved, and he’d be breaking the law even if he pretended meek submission. To apologize and beg meant living in constant guilt.
“Listen up!” he said. The plain speech made his voice feel deep and clear. “I personally don’t like drinking and drugs — hell, or even hookers and gambling. But I’m trying to run a business and make money, so as long as you’re not actually hurting anybody, you’ll get no trouble from me. I’ve got better things to do than be your nanny.”
Garrett saw his local audience sitting there stunned. It felt good to speak so openly. “We’ve got some space out here. Want to join us?”
“We’re so screwed,” said Tess and Zephyr.
The Net broadcast was over, and Martin and Phillip had stormed up to him.
Phillip said, “This is an interesting decision, Captain. It would have been nice to have known of it.”
“I’d like to know,” said Martin, “how you decided to throw away my speech.”
Garrett felt rising panic — how could words alone cause so much trouble? — but forced it away from him. “I said what you were thinking. We need money, and we can’t operate as an official national outpost.”
Now Phillip exploded. “That doesn’t mean ‘bring on the hookers’!”
Martin said, “Unfortunately, it does.” Phillip glared at him and he said, “Our rules allow nearly anything, and we’re in international waters, EEZ or no. There’s a matter of principle here: are we able to do what we want, where no country has a claim of territory?”
“I’ve found,” said Phillip, “that whenever people say they’re acting on principle, their real motive is money.”
Garrett said, “I don’t care about the money. It’s, I guess, a way of keeping score.” He realized that was wrong. “It’s the fuel that lets us be here.”
Phillip said, “This is about power, which we lack, and morality, which we apparently also lack. If we aren’t willing to police ourselves, others will.”
“I didn’t say we wouldn’t. We’ll still work out something against actual crime.”
Tess looked confused. “Actual crime?”
“Stuff that violates people’s rights.”
“But that means all kinds of things. What about the right to education, housing, and all that?”
It was talk like this that reminded Garrett he was too old for Tess, but really the difference was more in education than between generations. He’d been raised not to demand much from people, which made him different even from some of his classmates.
Phillip said, “We need to retreat and accept responsibility.”
“I accept responsibility,” said Garrett. “Not conformity.”
Phillip fumed. “Martin, where do you stand?”
“This isn’t what I wanted, not at this stage. But it’s too late to retreat.”
“Well and good! I suppose you’ll have no trouble replacing my Confederacy, then. Best of luck to you.”
Garrett smiled toothily, recalling what he’d been reading of Castor’s documents. “All right. We’ll keep your equipment, in which you’ve invested so heavily, per the terms of our contract.”
“And how do you propose to enforce that?”
“I honored our deal when we had our first little dispute. Will you do the same?”
“Honor won’t save you, Captain, if that smirk is the only thing protecting you from enforcers with guns.” Phillip stared darkly into the sea. “Why did you really do it?”
Garrett thought. “I was being told to act based on what other people think instead of what’s right. I didn’t want to live that way. People should be allowed to live their lives, and I can help myself by offering one place in the world where they can do that.” Martin was appraising him again, damn it, but Garrett meant what he said.
Phillip said, “Is that what you stand for, then — the petty freedom to get laid and get high?”
“No, look.” Garrett grasped for an example. “Doctor Alexander Fleming was a slob. He had the habit of leaving used petri dishes lying around in his bio-lab to see what would grow. One day a colleague was working with mold under a faulty vacuum hood, and Fleming glanced at a dish he was going to trash, which led him to discover penicillin.”
Tess piped up, “We studied that. Dumb luck.”
“No! It happened only because he’d set himself up to use good luck, and because he lived in a culture where a good idea could take root. So that’s what I think we should work towards. Making a place where breakthroughs can happen, by creating the conditions where people can get lucky.”
Tess said, “Hence the brothels?”
“Whatever. And Phillip, you’ll have the chance to play missionary! Think of finding downtrodden visitors and winning their souls for the South.”
“The Gospel of Lee isn’t a regional message.”
“I repeat: whatever. There’s potential benefit for all of us.”
Phillip said, “And as for the getting-arrested part?”
Martin looked out to sea. “It’s a game of chicken. Do politicians have the, ah, fortitude to strike us down? I suspect not. But since playing meek and quiet has failed us, what we need is enough media attention to win us sympathy and make a secretive police raid difficult.”
Phillip ran hands through his hair in agitation. “Gentlemen, it seems we must all hang together, or we will all hang separately.”
Castor had a respectable Net presence between the official site, their store and the public forum. Several hundred people and even a few AIs had already commented on the speech. Garrett and the others browsed the discussion. Some of the less obscene posts said:
“You secessionists make me sick. Die in a fire.”
“Sign me up for a time-share!”
“It seems to me that you’re wrecking the original purpose of Castor as a farming station. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“This was bound to happen. You guys need more than farming to profit.”
“You’re being irresponsible, trying to fob your duties off on others.”
“Right on, Fox!”
Garrett smiled at the last comment but saw some truth in the one before it. He would need a security plan if they were going to expand.
Tess rested from her own end of the publicity work — consulting with her friends on the Net and all the people they knew — to approach Garrett with a sparkle in her eyes. “We’ve got an idea! We can rent birds to buy energy and win goodwill!”
“What?”
“You know the SeaSheet situation?”
He shrugged. “I only know Sally sells them by the seashore.”
“Maybe Martin forgot to tell you. There’s a new version of our ‘suncloth’ solar panels, but the company isn’t willing to make them without a big order.”
“We’re okay on energy already.”
“But people will be coming, right? So what we can do is make little mechs like our bird and dolphin, and let people remote-control ’em. Only it’s like one mech is yours, long-term, because you’ve invested in helping us buy enough SeaSheet stuff to power it, and then some.”