And when he put it that way, something clicked. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yes, Charles—what is it?" He seemed genuinely interested.
"Well, when I was in school—I don't know if it's the same way up here—we had classes about social responsibility. My teacher taught us that everybody is part of society. We all depend on each other in lots of different ways. We all make work for each other, so we need each other for jobs. And we all make messes—like garbage and pollution and sewage and crap—so we all have to clean up after ourselves. And sometimes, like during flu season, we're all infectious. And stuff like that. And even if we like to think that we're individuals, we really all depend on each other all the time. My teacher said it was Thoreau's ax."
"I beg your pardon?" said Howard-The-Puzzled. "Thoreau's ax?"
"Yeah. Thoreau was this guy who thought it would be a good idea to go out in the woods to Walden Pond and commune with nature. He thought worldly goods distracted people and kept them from really finding themselves and getting in tune with everything good."
"Yes, I know who Thoreau was. What about his ax?"
"Well, that's the point. Where did his ax come from? If he wanted to build himself a shelter, or chop a tree for firewood, or stuff like that, he needed an ax. Where does the ax come from?"
"From a ... blacksmith," offered Howard.
"Uh-huh. You got it. Thoreau was a dope. You can't just go off and live by yourself. You need the products of other people. Everything you need to survive, all that comes from other people. They contribute to you. And you have an obligation to contribute to them too. In whatever way you can. That's the social contract. And even if you think you're not obligated, you really are, because just like Thoreau, if you're going out to the woods to live, where are you going to get your ax?"
"Judge Griffith is looking at her watch again. What does this have to do with your situation?"
"Well ... I can see what's going on. Some kind of evacuation. People who can afford it are leaving the Earth. Like guests leaving a party after they've trashed the house. They're taking their money and they're going up the Line to the moon and everywhere else. Isn't that right?"
"Yes, Charles. I won't lie to you. There are people who are afraid of the possibility of war and disease and economic turmoil—"
"That's my point—if you grownups can't keep your promises, if you can't keep your part of the social contract to the whole planet—if grownups are running away from the problems they made, then how can you ask a kid like me to stay behind with the mess? I don't know that running away solves any problems, but I don't see that I accomplish anything useful by staying either."
For a moment there was silence in the court. A lot of people looked real uncomfortable. Dad. Mom. Judge Griffith. Olivia, Mickey. Howard. Dr. Hidalgo. Finally, Judge Griffith said, "I think he's pretty well nailed the lot of us to the wall."
But Howard-The-Merciless wasn't finished. He said, "I can think of a reason to go back."
"What?"
"Because you love your Mom."
I looked over at Mom, she looked hopeful. Her eyes were shining. I looked to Dad, he looked kinda proud. I looked at Douglas, who wished me a quick nod and a smile.
"Yeah," I said to Howard-The-Duck. "That's a good reason." Mom smiled at me—until I added, "But it's not good enough. Not anymore," and her expression collapsed into grief. I should have stopped there, but I didn't. "I love my mom. I really do. I love my dad too. But I don't like being in the middle anymore. Love's a good reason for lots of stuff—but not for doing something stupid. And going back to either of them is the stupidest thing I can think of."
Howard sat down, defeated.
BUYERS AND AGENTS
Judge griffith glanced at her watch and made a face. She turned sideways in her chair to face me. "Thank you, Charles. That was very nicely argued. Have you ever considered becoming a lawyer?"
"Only once. Dad threatened to strangle me in my sleep."
"And he's probably right. Never mind. Do you still want a divorce?"
I nodded. "Yes, Your Honor. I do."
"Hmm." She frowned. "You know, I can grant it, right here and now. It's irregular, but so is this whole situation. So it wouldn't be out of line to resolve it with an unorthodox decision, particularly in light of some of the other pressures on us." She sighed, glanced at her watch again, and began to explain. "But I'll tell you honestly, I'm very reluctant to just bang the gavel and be done with it."
"Why?"
"You see, Charles, we have a problem here. You and I in particular. I can declare Douglas an adult, because he's only two months shy of his majority. And I can ask you what you want to do, because even though you're not yet old enough to be independent, you're still old enough to have a say in what happens to you. And if you want a divorce, I can put you in Douglas's custody. But I can't give the same choice to Bobby, can I? Do you think he's capable of making an informed decision? Do you think so, Douglas?"
Douglas and I both shook our heads.
"So you see the problem here. We have to make a decision about what's best for your brother, you and I and Douglas. I already know what your mother and father are going to say. They're going to fight over custody of Bobby, even more ferociously, because he's all that's left; so I need to hear what someone else thinks—someone else who knows your Mom and Dad, and nobody knows them better than you and your brother. So what do you two think I should do? Charles? Douglas?"
Douglas and I looked at each other. I searched his face for a clue, even a hint, of what he was thinking. He shook his head slightly—a signal to be careful? Or that he didn't know, either?
"Well ... first of all," I said slowly, "I want to go with Douglas." I looked to him for reassurance. He gave me a quick nod of okay, and I smiled tightly and blinked fast before any tears could come. I was surprised I'd said it, and even more surprised he'd agreed.
"What happens if Douglas chooses to go someplace you don't want to go?"
"I can't think of anyplace like that, Your Honor. I want to stay with my brother. We're family. We've always been together. I know how to live without my mom and without my dad. I've been doing that almost all my life. I don't know how to live without my brothers, and even though Douglas can be real weird sometimes, I still want to go with him."
"You're sure about that?"
"As sure as I can be."
"Hm. Well. I see." Judge Griffith mulled that over. "I could probably do that. As I said, I can grant Douglas acting custody over you, subject to the approval of the jurisdiction you end up in; in the absence of any other contesting relatives, they'd probably confirm it. Your problem is going to be—or rather, it'll be Doug's problem—supporting yourselves. I understand that you're looking for an indenture, Douglas?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Mm. Be careful. Make sure you have an agent review the contract. But you should be able to get an indenture that covers Charles as well. He can take on a delayed indenture that doesn't kick in until he turns eighteen, and the two of you should be able to find a colony that can use a couple of fairly intelligent warm bodies. So it's doable, and I can sign off on it. But that still leaves the problem of your younger brother ... "
"Yeah, Stinky's a problem," I said. "But he's our problem. Douglas and I have spent more time taking care of him than Mom or Dad."
"Are you suggesting that you and Douglas also take custody of Bobby as well?"
When she put it that way ... I had to hesitate. But Douglas didn't. He stepped forward. "Ma'am, I'm not saying it'll be easy. In fact, it'll probably be the hardest thing I've ever done. But I've been thinking hard about this—not just tonight, but for several days now. I think it'd be the best for Bobby. I think it'd be best for me and Charles too."