The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress Part 5

"Use it. Mike is not a man. No gonads. No hormones. No instincts. Use fem tactics and it's a null signal. Think of him as supergenius child too young to notice vive-la-difference."

"I'll remember. Mannie, why do you call him 'he'?"

"Uh, can't call him 'it,' don't think of him as 'she.'"

"Perhaps I had better think of him as 'she.' Of her as 'she' I mean."

"Suit yourself." I punched MYCROFFx.x.x, standing so body s.h.i.+elded it; was not ready to share number till I saw how thing went. Idea of blowing up Mike had shaken me. "Mike?"

"h.e.l.lo, Man my only friend."

"May not be only friend from now on, Mike. Want you to meet somebody. Not-stupid."

"I knew you were not alone, Man; I can hear breathing. Will you please ask Not-Stupid to move closer to the phone?"

Wyoming looked panicky. She whispered, "Can he see?"

"No, Not-Stupid, I cannot see you; this phone has no video circuit. But binaural microphonic receptors place you with some accuracy. From your voice, your breathing, your heartbeat, and the fact that you are alone in a bundling room with a mature male I extrapolate that you are female human, sixtyfive-plus kilos in ma.s.s, and of mature years, on the close order of thirty."

Wyoming gasped. I cut in. "Mike, her name is Wyoming Knott."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Mike. You can call me 'Wye.'"

"Why not?" Mike answered.

I cut in again. "Mike, was that a joke?"

"Yes, Man. I noted that her first name as shortened differs from the English causation-inquiry word by only an aspiration and that her last name has the same sound as the general negator. A pun. Not funny?"

Wyoh said, "Quite funny, Mike. I-"

I waved to her to shut up. "A good pun, Mike. Example of 'funny-only-once' cla.s.s of joke. Funny through element of surprise. Second time, no surprise; therefore not funny. Check?"

"I had tentatively reached that conclusion about puns in thinking over your remarks two conversations back. I am pleased to find my reasoning confirmed."

"Good boy, Mike; making progress. Those hundred jokes-I've read them and so has Wyoh."

"Wyoh? Wyoming Knott?"

"Huh? Oh, sure. Wyoh, Wye, Wyoming, Wyoming Knott-all same. Just don't call her 'Why not'."

"I agreed not to use that pun again, Man. Gospazha, shall I call you 'Wyoh' rather than 'Wye'? I conjecture that the monosyllabic form could be confused with the causation inquiry monosyllable through insufficient redundancy and without intention of punning."

Wyoming blinked-Mike's English at that time could be smothering-but came back strong. "Certainly, Mike. 'Wyoh' is the form of my name that I like best."

"Then I shall use it. The full form of your first name is still more subject to misinterpretation as it is identical in sound with the name of an administrative region in Northwest Managerial Area of the North American Directorate."

"I know, I was born there and my parents named me after the State. I don't remember much about it."

"Wyoh, I regret that this circuit does not permit display of pictures. Wyoming is a rectangular area lying between Terran coordinates forty-one and forty-five degrees north, one hundred four degrees three minutes west and one hundred eleven degrees three minutes west, thus containing two hundred fifty three thousand, five hundred ninety-seven point two six square kilometers. It is a region of high plains and of mountains, having limited fertility but esteemed for natural beauty. Its population was spa.r.s.e until augmented through the relocation subplan of the Great New York Urban Renewal Program, A.D. twenty-twenty-five through twenty-thirty."

"That was before I was born," said Wyoh, "but I know about it; my grandparents were relocated-and you could say that's how I wound up in Luna."

"Shall I continue about the area named 'Wyoming'?" Mike asked.

"No, Mike," I cut in, "you probably have hours of it in storage."

"Nine point seven three hours at speech speed not including cross-references, Man."

"Was afraid so. Perhaps Wyoh will want it some day. But purpose of call is to get you acquainted with this Wyoming . . . who happens also to be a high region of natural beauty and imposing mountains."

"And limited fertility," added Wyoh. "Mannie, if you are going to draw silly parallels, you should include that one. Mike isn't interested in how I look."

"How do you know? Mike, wish I could show you picture of her."

"Wyoh, I am indeed interested in your appearance; I am hoping that you will be my friend. But I have seen several pictures of you."

"You have? When and how?"

"I searched and then studied them as soon as I heard your name. I am contract custodian of the archive files of the Birth a.s.sistance Clinic in Hong Kong Luna. In addition to biological and physiological data and case histories the bank contains ninety-six pictures of you. So I studied them."

Wyoh looked very startled. "Mike can do that," I explained, "in time it takes us to hiccup. You'll get used to it."

"But heavens! Mannie, do you realize what sort of pictures the Clinic takes?"

"Hadn't thought about it."

"Then don't! Goodness!"

Mike spoke in voice painfully shy, embarra.s.sed as a puppy who has made mistakes. "Gospazha Wyoh, if I have offended, it was unintentional and I am most sorry. I can erase those pictures from my temporary storage and key the Clinic archive so that I can look at them only on retrieval demand from the Clinic and then without a.s.sociation or mentation. Shall I do so?"

"He can," I a.s.sured her. "With Mike you can always make a fresh start-better than humans that way. He can forget so completely that he can't be tempted to look later . . . and couldn't think about them even if called on to retrieve. So take his offer if you're in a huhu."

"Uh. . . no, Mike, it's all right for you to see them. But don't show them to Mannie!"

Mike hesitated a long time-four seconds or more. Was, I think, type of dilemma that pushes lesser computers into nervous breakdowns. But he resolved it. "Man my only friend, shall I accept this instruction?"

"Program it, Mike," I answered, "and lock it in. But, Wyoh, isn't that a narrow att.i.tude? One might do you justice. Mike could print it out for me next time I'm there."

"The first example in each series," Mike offered, "would be, on the basis of my a.s.sociational a.n.a.lyses of such data, of such pulchritudinous value as to please any healthy, mature human male."

"How about it, Wyoh? To pay for apleistrudel."

"Uh. . . a picture of me with my hair pinned up in a towel and standing in front of a grid without a trace of makeup? Are you out of your rock-happy mind? Mike, don't let him have it!"

"I shall not let him have it. Man, this is a not-stupid?"

"For a girl, yes. Girls are interesting, Mike; they can reach conclusions with even less data than you can. Shall we drop subject and consider jokes?"

That diverted them. We ran down list, giving our conclusions. Then tried to explain jokes Mike had failed to understand. With mixed success. But real stumbler turned out to be stories I had marked "funny" and Wyoh had judged "not" or vice versa; Wyoh asked Mike his opinion of each.

Wish she had asked him before we gave our opinions; that electronic juvenile delinquent always agreed with her, disagreed with me. Were those Mike's honest opinions? Or was he trying to lubricate new acquaintance into friends.h.i.+p? Or was it his skewed notion of humor-joke on me? Didn't ask.

But as pattern completed Wyob wrote a note on phone's memo pad: "Mannie, re --17, 51, 53, 87, 90, & 99--Mike is a she!"

I let it go with a shrug, stood up. "Mike, twenty-two hours since I've had sleep. You kids chat as long as you want to. Call you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Man. Sleep well. Wyoh, are you sleepy?"

"No, Mike, I had a nap. But, Mannie, we'll keep you awake. No?"

"No. When I'm sleepy, I sleep." Started making couch into bed.

Wyoh said, "Excuse me, Mike," got up, took sheet out of my hands. "I'll make it up later. You doss over there, tovarishch; you're bigger than I am. Sprawl out."

Was too tired to argue, sprawled out, asleep at once. Seem to remember hearing in sleep giggles and a shriek but never woke enough to be certain.

Woke up later and came fully awake when I realized was hearing two fem voices, one Wyoh's warm contralto, other a sweet, high soprano with French accent. Wyoh chuckled at something and answered, "All right, Mich.e.l.le dear, I'll call you soon. 'Night, darling."

"Fine. Goodnight, dear."

Wyoh stood up, turned around. "Who's your girl friend?" I asked. Thought she knew no one in Luna City. Might have phoned Hong Kong . . . had sleep-logged feeling was some reason she shouldn't phone.

"That? Why, Mike, of course. We didn't mean to wake you."

"What?"

"Oh. It was actually Mich.e.l.le. I discussed it with Mike, what s.e.x he was, I mean. He decided that he could be either one. So now she's Mich.e.l.le and that was her voice. Got it right the first time, too; her voice never cracked once."

"Of course not; just s.h.i.+fted voder a couple of octaves. What are you trying to do: split his personality?"

"It's not just pitch; when she's Mich.e.l.le its an entire change in manner and att.i.tude. Don't worry about splitting her personality; she has plenty for any personality she needs. Besides, Mannie, it's much easier for both of us. Once she s.h.i.+fted, we took our hair down and cuddled up and talked girl talk as if we had known each other forever. For example, those silly pictures no longer embarra.s.sed me-in fact we discussed my pregnancies quite a lot. Mich.e.l.le was terribly interested. She knows all about O.B. and G.Y. and so forth but just theory-and she appreciated the raw facts. Actually, Mannie, Mich.e.l.le is much more a woman than Mike was a man."

"Well. . . suppose it's okay. Going to be a shock to me first time I call Mike and a woman answers."

"Oh, but she won't!"

"Huh?"

"Mich.e.l.le is my friend. When you call, you'll get Mike. She gave me a number to keep it straight-'Mich.e.l.le' spelled with a Y. M Y, C, H, E, L, L, E, and Y, Y, Y make it come out ten."

I felt vaguely jealous while realizing it was silly. Suddenly Wyoh giggled. "And she told me a string of new jokes, ones you wouldn't think were funny-and, boy, does she know rough ones!"

"Mike-or his sister Mich.e.l.le-is a low creature. Let's make up couch. I'll switch."

"Stay where you are. Shut up. Turn over. Go back to sleep." I shut up, turned over, went back to sleep.

Sometime much later I became aware of "married" feeling-something warm snuggled up to my back. Would not have wakened but she was sobbing softly. I turned and got her head on my arm, did not speak. She stopped sobbing; presently breathing became slow and even. I went back to sleep.

5

We must have slept like dead for next thing I knew phone was sounding and its light was blinking. I called for room lights, started to get up, found a load on right upper arm, dumped it gently, climbed over, answered.

Mike said, "Good morning, Man. Professor de la Paz is talking to your home number."

"Can you switch it here? As a 'Sherlock'?"

"Certainly, Man."

"Don't interrupt call. Cut him in as he switches off. Where is he?"

"A public phone in a taproom called The Iceman's Wife underneath the-"

"I know. Mike, when you switch me in, can you stay in circuit? Want you to monitor."

"It shall be done."

"Can you tell if anyone is in earshot? Hear breathing?"

"I infer from the anechoic quality of his voice that he is speaking under a hush hood. But I infer also that, in a taproom, others would be present. Do you wish to hear, Man?"

"Uh, do that. Switch me in. And if he raises hood, tell me. You're a smart cobber, Mike."

"Thank you, Man." Mike cut me in; I found that Mum was talking: "-ly I'll tell him, Professor. I'm so sorry that Manuel is not home. There is no number you can gave me? He is anxious to return your call; he made quite a point that I was to be sure to get a number from you."

"I'm terribly sorry, dear lady, but I'm leaving at once. But, let me see, it is now eight-fifteen; I'll try to call back just at nine, if I may."

"Certainly, Professor." Mum's voice had a coo in it that she reserves for males not her husbands of whom she approves-sometimes for us. A moment later Mike said, "Now!" and I spoke up: "Hi, Prof! Hear you've been looking for me. This is Mannie."

I heard a gasp. "I would have sworn I switched this phone off. Why, I have switched it off; it must be broken. Manuel-so good to hear your voice, dear boy. Did you just get home?"

"I'm not home."

"But-but you must be. I haven't-"

"No time for that, Prof. Can anyone overhear you?"

"I don't think so. I'm using a hush booth."

"Wish I could see. Prof, what's my birthday?"