“We face major obstacles,” Bithras said, “not all of them caused by Martians.”
“Could you elaborate, please?”
Bithras explained the complex interactions of Binding Multiple finances and politics. Martian resources were about two percent developed. Earth-based corporations with BM subsidiaries and Lunar-based BMs controlled fifteen percent of Martian capital and ten percent of developed resources. Mars-based BMs frequently sought capital from Triple sources off Mars, establishing temporary liaisons, even giving the outside sources some say in their internal affairs. It seemed everybody had a finger in the Martian pie. Organizing so many disparate interests was more than difficult, it was nightmarish, and it was made worse by the reluctance of healthy and profitable BMs to submit to central authority.
“Do Martian BMs feel they have inalienable rights, corporate rights as it were, no matter what the needs of their individual members?” asked Senator Mendoza of Utah .
“Nothing so arrogant,” Bithras said. “Binding Multiples operate more like groups of small businesses and families than worker-owned Earth-style corporations. Family members are all shareholders, but they cannot sell their shares to any outside concerns. Entry to the family is through marriage, special election, or birth. Transfer through marriage or election removes you from one BM and places you in another. Within the family, there is exchange of work credits only, no money as such… All investments outside the family are directed by the syndic’s financial managers.” The senators appeared bored. Bithras concluded quickly. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the principles… They’re the same on the Moon and in the Belts, as well.”
“Being aware of a pattern should imply being able to change it,” said Mendoza .
“Our witness has just admitted to us that there is reluctance,” said Senator Wang of California , glancing at his colleagues with raised eyebrows.
“Mr. Majumdar’s own Binding Multiple has been reluctant to cooperate with attempts to unify,” said Juarez Sommers. “Perhaps he can give us insight into both the reluctance, and the proposed nurturing of a new social pattern.”
Bithras tilted his head to one side and smiled, acknowledging the sudden characterization as a reluctant witness. “We have worked long and hard to determine our own destiny. We behave as strong-willed individuals within an atmosphere determined by mutual advantage. We are naturally not inclined to place our destinies and lives in the hands of agencies who do not answer directly to us.”
“Your Binding Multiples have lived under this illusion for decades,” said Senator Joe Kim of Green Idaho. “Are you telling us this is truly how Mars works — each individual interacting directly with family authorities?”
“No,” Bithras said.
“Surely you have a system of justice that all BMs subscribe to. How do you treat your untherapied, your ill-adapted?“
“Haven’t we strayed from the subject a bit, Senator?” Bithras asked, smiling.
“Humor me,” Kim said, looking down at the slate before him.
Bithras humored him. “They have rights. If their maladaptation is severe, their families persuade them to seek aid. Therapy, if that seems necessary. If their… ah… crime transcends family boundaries, they can be brought before Council judges. But — ”
“Martians are not enamored of therapy,” Mendoza said, staring at us one by one. “Some of us in Utah share their doubts.”
“We don’t embrace the concept as a fashion,” Bithras clarified. “Neither do we oppose it on principle.”
“We think perhaps an improvement in the mentality of Martians as individuals might lead to a greater acceptance of more efficient social organization,” Juarez Sommers said, glancing at Mendoza with some irritation.
“The Senator is privileged to think that,” Bithras said quietly.
That line of questioning was dropped. The senators paused for a few seconds, tuning in to Harold S. perhaps, then resumed the questioning.
“You’re no doubt aware that the major alliances of Earth have expressed unhappiness with Martian backwardness,” Juarez Sommers said. “There’s even been disgruntled talk of economic sanctions. Mars relies heavily on Earth, does it not, for essential goods?”
“Not entirely, Senator,” Bithras said. She must have known we did not; she was working toward some point I could not see.
“Do your Binding Multiples conduct business with human brainpower alone, or do they use thinkers?”
“We rely on thinkers, but make our own decisions, of course,“ Bithras said. ”As you do here… in Congress. I believe Harold S. is merely a revered advisor.“
“And these thinkers are grown on Earth,” she continued.
“We have a few more years before we can grow our own Martian thinkers.” Bithras looked down at the table, rubbing the edge of his slate with a finger. His face reddened ever so slightly at what might have been an implied threat.
“Martian nanotechnology is acknowledged to be a decade behind Earth’s, and your industrial facilities are likewise less efficient.”
“Yes.”
“Earth corporations and national patent trusts are reluctant to release designs for better nano to a society with few central controls.”
“Martians have never smuggled designs and never sought to infringe patents. We have stringent oversight within all BMs on patent permissions and compensation. We also allow Earth inspections of facilities using patented or copyrighted designs.”
“Still, the perception exists, and it hurts Martian industry and development, correct?”
“In all humility,” Bithras said, “I must say we take care of our needs.”
What Bithras did not mention was the widespread Martian perception that Earth preferred our economic development to be stunted, kept tightly in Earth’s control.
“Doesn’t Mars wish to grow?” Mendoza asked, wide-eyed with astonishment. “Don’t Mars’s leaders — the syndics of the various BMs and the governors of resource districts — wish to join the greater efforts of the Triple?”
“To the best of our poor abilities, yes,” Bithras said. “But Earth should never expect Mars to sell out her rights and her resources, to give herself up as somebody’s whim property.”
Mendoza laughed. “My colleagues and I wouldn’t dream of that. We might hope for a place where we can flee, if our own re-elections fail…”
“Speak for yourself, John,” Juarez Sommers said. The discussion settled into specifics, and trivial ones at that. For ten minutes, the senators asked Bithras more questions whose answers it seemed obvious they could already find within their slates.
The exercise quickly irritated and bored me.
That first hearing, which reached no conclusions, lasted forty-seven minutes.
The next, on the next day, with the same senators, lasted fifteen minutes. We were given a week’s reprieve before the final hearing, and no indication we would ever meet with the full committee.
So far, Bithras had not been asked to present his proposals. It did not seem to matter. We had made the crossing to listen to polite but unpleasant banter, mild implied threats, and remarkably soft questions.
Allen shared a bichem refresh and some beer with me on the evening of the second hearing; Bithras slept in his room.
“What do you think they’re up to?” I asked.
Allen closed his eyes wearily and lay back in the chair, legs stretched full length. “Wasting our time,” he said.
“They don’t act as if they have a plan,” I said.
“They don’t act like much of anything,” Allen said.
“It’s infuriating.”
“No, it’s cover,” Allen said. “Diversion.”
“What do you mean by diversion?” Bithras entered in his pajamas, hair tousled, rubbing his eyes like a little boy. “Give me some of that,” he said, flicking a finger at the bichemistry supplement. “My joints ache.”
“Did we wake you?”
“Behind these walls? It’s quiet as a tomb in there. I had a damned nightmare,” Bithras said. “I hate sims.”