‘Mrs. Jacob Moshe Salomon,' maiden name ‘Joan Eunice Smith.'"
"Your face did look somewhat familiar but your features, uh—"
"—are chubby now. Yes. I've gained twenty-six pounds—which Dr. Garcia finds satisfactory for my height, build, and date of impregnation."
"That brings up other problems. A woman is often mistaken as to the date—and first babies are notoriously in a hurry to arrive. Our Lunar transports aren't planned for new infants, nor for childbirth. I want you to realize the hazards."
"I know them. Need we go into this?"
"I must be the judge of that."
"Mr. Barnes, my doctor is satisfied that I know the exact date of impregnation and— Is all of this confo?"
"Mmm. I'll put it this way. None of it is privileged. I am a lawyer but not your lawyer. I hear more intimate details from applicants than you can imagine but I haven't time to waste on gossip."
"I am glad to hear that, Mr. Barnes...as l would be much displeased if what I am about to tell you were to become a matter of gossip."
"Hmmph. I think I felt a chill breeze. Are you trying to impress me with your importance? Don't bother; applicants are all the same size once they come in here. Your money doesn't mean a thing."
"Was my manner unfriendly? I'm sorry."
"Well— Let's stick to the business at hand. A lawyer in the Lunar Commission's Civil Service—a job with no squeeze, believe me—doesn't often find himself dealing with rich people. But it makes no difference; if you don't want to be frank with the Commission, that's your problem. But I won't approve an applicant's proposal until I am satisfied about it. All about it. Now you implied that you had something pertinent to tell me which you class as ‘confo.' I don't accept your restriction, Now...do you talk? Or shall we terminate this interview?"
"You leave me no option, sir. This is not a first baby I am carrying, so no ‘first baby' hazard exits. If the ‘Goddard' lifts on schedule, I have every reason to expect to have my baby on the Moon. Dr. Garcia is not worried about the timing and neither am I."
"So? This brings up other problems. This earlier child—does he, or she, affect your estate?"
"No. That is why this must be treated as confo. I did not have that earlier baby."
"Eh? You lost me. Better clarify that."
"Please, Mr. Barnes. I am a sex-change and a brain transplant. Surely you know it—good heavens, the whole world knows it. The first baby this body gave birth to was before that time. It is the reputation of my donor I wish to protect, not mine. The child was illegitimate, and common as that is these days—no longer a legal concept m most states and the very word almost obsolete—so great is my gratitude to the sweet and gracious lady who formerly lived in this body, I would be most unhappy were I to be the cause of any tarnish on her memory."
(Boss, you know I don't give a kark.) (Let her handle it, Eunice; this petty bureaucrat can gum up the works if Joan does not divert him just so. Are we kibitzing Joan?—or are we going to the Moon?) (Hell, yes, we're going to the Moon! My ‘Yes' vote, plus your ‘Yes' vote, plus half of Joan's vote—a natural fence-straddler she is, legs always open—which works out to a five-to-one majority for out-migrating. A landslide!) (So let her alone while she handles him.) (If she didn't have that big belly, she could handle him a lot better. And faster.)
(Hrrmph. Eunice, you claim you were there... so why don't you tell poor old melancholy Jacques the straight on that? It was me, wasn't it? It was I?) (Jock old ghost, I love you dearly-—but if you think I'll split on my twin, you don't know me.) (Oh, well. A baby is a baby is a baby. I just hope it doesn't have two heads.) (Two heads would be stretching a good thing too far. Jock, I'll settle for two balls.) (Thinking about incest, Lively Legs?) (And why shouldn't I think about it? We've tried everything else.)
(Jake, Eunice—will you two please go back to sleep? Squire Pecksniff here is searching for flyspecks on Alec's masterpiece. Trying to think up more objections—which I'll have to answer.)
"Mrs. Salomon, I find myself quite disturbed by one aspect concerning this alleged earlier child—the great likelihood that some future action may be brought challenging your disposition of your estate when this child, or some person claiming to be this child, turns up. The fifty percent of estate required—as a minimum—from any out-migrant not of a subsidized-vocation category is a source of capital to the colonies; the Commission is not willing to part with a dime of it once the Commission carries out its half of the bargain. Yet such a ‘missing heir' could lay claim to all of your estate."
"Most unlikely, Mr. Barnes, but if you will look at ‘Appendix G,' you will see how my lawyer handled it. A small trust to buy tip any such claim, with a fifty-year conversion of any remainder to a named charity."
"Uh, let me find it. Mmm, Mrs. Salomon, do you call ten million dollars ‘small'?"
"Yes."
"Mmm. Perhaps I had better look closely at the other financial provisions. Have you been advised that, even though the Commission claims only half of your fortune, the other half cannot be used to buy you anything on the Moon? In other words, poor or rich, on the Moon out-migrants start off equal."
"I know that, Mr. Barnes. Believe me, my attorney, Mr. Train, is most careful. He searched the law and made certain that I knew the consequences of my acts—because he did not approve of them. To put it briefly Alec Train said that anyone who goes to the Moon to live must be out of his head. So he tried to talk me out of what he regards as my folly. You'll find four other possible heirs in ‘Appendix F'—my granddaughters. It is to their advantage to accept what is offered there... as they are told bluntly how much worse off they will be if they wait for me to die. A poor bet for them in any case; I am now physiologically younger than they are; I'll probably outlive all of them."
"That could be true. Especially on the Moon, one could add. I wish I could out-migrate myself. But I can't afford to pay for it the way you can and lawyers are not in demand there. Well, your Mr. Train seems to have thought of most aspects. Let's look at your balance sheet."
"One moment, sir. I have asked for one small measure of special treatment."
"Eh? All out-migrants are treated alike. Must be."
"A very small thing, Mr. Barnes. My baby will be born not long after I arrive on Luna. I've asked to have Dr.
Garcia continue to attend me through that time."
"I can't promise that, Madam. Sorry. Policy."
She started slowly to get up. "Then I'm not going through with it."
"Uh—good God! Is this really your net worth?"
She shrugged. "What is the worth of one pregnant woman, sir? I suppose it depends on your values."
"I didn't mean that. This balance sheet— If it's correct, you're not just wealthy—I knew that—you're a billionaire!"
"Possibly. I haven't added it. That summary was prepared through Chase Manhattan with the assistance of accountancy firms listed there. I suppose it's correct, unless some computer got the hiccups. But give it back to me...since the Commission can't promise me Dr. Garcia to deliver my baby."
"Please, Madam. I have certain latitude in these matters. I simply don't exercise it—ordinarily. Policy."
"Whose policy, Mr. Barnes? The Commission's? Or yours?"
"Eh? Why, mine. I said so."