“How about right where we’re standing? This walkway? Or the water right over there?”
“Not the water, but—”
“Aha!” said the man. “Then we claim the patch of water we’re using.”
Garrett didn’t know what to say to that. “I need to confer with my people about this.” He walked away, troubled, and met the Security guy on the way. They stood with the main platform towering over them. Garrett wondered, What exactly is Castor? Where’s the real boundary? “Never mind,” he said to the Pilgrim. “But keep an eye on the group building over there by the hotel.”
“Yes, sir.”
Garrett, Martin, Zephyr, Leda, and Noah waited for Eaton to arrive. They’d talked over the situation and decided to bring him in.
Eaton came bundled in a coat, and shut the office door behind him. “Things are getting out of hand.”
“It’s not a problem,” said Martin. “This was bound to happen eventually.”
Leda frowned. “We’re still trying to help the Cuban workers settle in, and that was a structured group that arrived with fair warning. These people are strangers.”
Eaton took a seat. “Where do you stand on this, Captain?”
Garrett sighed, wishing the problem had never come up. “I’m operating under a fig-leaf license as a business, with the non-farm people being my tenants. The Pierponts’ hotel is paying rent for using rooms in this platform, and for food and so on. But the Pierponts will say, why should they pay rent on their new building? They’re providing the materials and capital. Having that one little rafter group out there screws up my whole financial model.”
Martin laughed. “What do you think people outside Castor are saying about us? Anyway, this only affects the rent, not the rest of our income. There are other ways to stay afloat.”
The rafters were a thorn in Garrett’s side, but they might become a serious problem later if he didn’t keep control of the situation. “It’s not even safe, what they’re doing. Not out here away from any harbor. When somebody dies from the foam-blocks getting swamped or something, I’ll get blamed.”
Zephyr noted, “The presence of the SeaSheet material helps dampen the waves. If we had even more of it, we could create an effective artificial harbor.”
“Good enough to make a scrap-heap raft like that seaworthy?”
“Not really, although it may be safe enough if the residents evacuate during storms.”
Garrett chuckled. “I’m an engineer. ‘Safe enough’ is a subjective term.”
The robot asked, “Then who gets to define it?”
Leda said, “We should refocus the role of Castor. We can shoo away the chaos and go back to being a group of farmers instead of this, this mess we’ve got. We can’t let people come here if it won’t be safe and under control.”
Eaton rolled his eyes. “Safe! None of you are safe! It’s a matter of what the security risks are, which I assume is why you called me.” He began a brief lecture about improving the station’s security in general. Then he talked about the US approach for international airports these days.
Garrett was intimidated by the complexity and cost of the surveillance systems Eaton described. “I’m not looking forward to my next trip home.”
Eaton leaned back in his chair. “I looked into your departure. You technically broke the law, the way you left without filing the right paperwork or fees. There’ll be questions when you go back — especially considering your recent activities. And when you leave again, you’ll need permission.”
Garrett scowled.
Leda said, “We may not be able to afford the full array of sensors and security we’d like, but we should do what we can.”
Noah, sitting with Leda, said, “We do need to protect everybody.”
Martin said, “We should be encouraging people to come here, even if we’re not in charge of exactly who’s here or what they’re doing. This is a free-trade zone, not a fortress.”
Everyone was lost in thought. Garrett sighed. “Fortress or not, there’ll always be a need to stand ready to kill people, won’t there?”
Eaton just nodded.
Garrett noticed that Zephyr had raised a hand. “Yes?”
Zephyr said, “I see two patterns in what you’re saying. Two approaches. Garrett, you asked me, ‘What exactly is Castor?’”
I did?
“Right now,” said Zephyr, “Castor is an ad-hoc colony with several major activities going on, with the sea-farm as our central reason for being here. What Martin seems to want is: a decentralized system with many unreliable streams of income, and many individuals living here under little or no direct control. What Leda seems to want is: a central management charged with protecting the group, and having authority over all people here. Is that roughly accurate?”
Leda said, “You’re getting this from that philosophy stuff you and Tess read with me, aren’t you? The Aristotle and Plato? That stuff’s outdated. We can’t afford to have a completely freewheeling little village, especially now that there are kids here.”
Martin frowned. “The most reliable way to have a functioning colony is to have those ‘unreliable income streams.’ They represent a constantly-evolving response to problems.”
Garrett wished he didn’t have to be here arguing when there was work to do. Still, they’d keep at it until he made a decision. “Look. I’m not happy about people arriving unannounced. I want all construction projects reported, and at least the names of everyone who shows up. But the rafters are right that we don’t own the water, and we’ve got no authority to forbid construction. If we can’t justify charging rent on stuff we don’t own, then we should go into the construction business ourselves and offer more living space and utilities.”
Leda said, “But we’ve still got space aboard this platform! How can we let people live in deathtrap junk piles when they could be in the existing rooms, where they’ll pay and we can keep an eye on them?”
Martin answered. “It’s not a matter of letting people choose where to live. We haven’t got the right to tell them where.”
“Of course we do. It’s our duty to protect them. And if that means we have to give them instructions for their own good, so be it.”
Martin glared back at Leda. “Then where’s the border of Castor? Where does our authority end?”
Leda sounded bewildered. “Nowhere!”
Eaton said, “In practical terms, your border is the range of your guns. Where do you think the three-mile territorial sea limit came from? I notice by the way that you’ve got nothing bigger than some used Kalashnikovs you inherited from the last uninvited guests.”
Garrett rapped a fist on the table. “Enough! I’m an engineer and a businessman, not a politician. I’m going to err on the side of trusting people to run their own lives. The rafters can build what they want, with the understanding that it’s not my concern if they endanger themselves. We’ll provide advice but no guarantees, and encourage people to rent space from us while we try to build more. Let’s find a way to bring people in, and make money off them.”
6. Tess
The world felt wrong. It lacked the faint creaking of Castor or the sway of floating walkways, it smelled of exhaust instead of seawater, the dry air scorched her skin, buildings jutted up everywhere, cars roared constantly by like a fake tide, and there was no voice in her head helping her.
On Christmas morning her parents gave her new clothes — pretty frilly things — a new computer game about space pirates, and dance shoes. She stared at the stuff atop its pile of wrapping paper and said, “What is all this?” She couldn’t use any of this stuff. She didn’t even have time for the game, what with her work. There was stuff to maintain, plants to inspect --