“Are you really as cold as that?”
Almost distractedly, Lister smiled. “I’d rather reserve my warmth for those who matter most to me. If you choose to interpret that as being cold, be my guest.”
“You honestly don’t care what others think of you?”
Lister looked puzzled. “Other than the ones I care for, no. Why should I?”
York shook his head in wonder. “I’m going to slay you with this segment.” He said over his shoulder, “Sue.”
As she moved forward, already reaching for a brush with which to touch up York’s hair, Lister gestured towards her. “That’s the purest essence of the matter right there, Trevor. You have people whose only job is to keep up your appearance. I’m more interested in the core of an issue than with appearance. Tell me honestly, do you really care a whit about what happened to Emily Starnes?”
“No. I never met her. It’s just good story material.”
“So your attitude is just a pose, a front. It’s inherently false. The vast majority of your audience don’t really care either, they’ve just been told since they were children that they should care. They merely put up a show of concern because they feel it’s expected of them.”
York made a face as though he wondered why Lister was wasting breath on something so intrinsically obvious. “Of course.”
“So drop the pose.”
“But people expect it.”
“It’s a lie.”
“Of course it’s a lie.”
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to tell lies?”
York shrugged indifferently. “So people are caught in a dilemma. Either they disobey by not caring, or they disobey by lying. Big deal.”
Lister’s eyes twinkled. “I submit that your attitude is a great deal colder and more cynical than mine.”
York gave him a grimace that might have been a smile. “Perhaps so, but mine is more profitable.”
Lister raised one eyebrow. “I’d rather keep my self-respect.”
For the second time in a week, Roberta Lith found herself wishing desperately that she had something to dry her palms on. She paced nervously back and forth on the Crisium side of the Door, waiting for her parents to arrive.
Across the way, Mike Ordner was keeping one eye on her as he worked. Although they had spoken only a few words when she arrived, Roberta was very much aware of his presence. Mike had a curious mixture of strength and vulnerability that she found hard to resist. From hints he had dropped, she thought that he cared for her too, but she wasn’t sure yet. For the moment she found her attention equally divided between Mike and the impending arrival of her parents.
She wasn’t certain whether she dreaded or welcomed her parents’ arrival. She wanted desperately to seem the adult, but a persistent part of her wanted nothing more than to crawl into the bosom of her family, seeking approval. She hated herself for her weakness.
It was her mother’s voice that caught her attention. “Roberta!” she had called, from over on the New York side.
Her mother had caught her daydreaming—watching Mike. Her head snapped around. “Mom!” She began to run towards her.
Halfway there, she collapsed suddenly, sprawling on the floor.
Mike dropped the box he had just picked up. He was at her side in an instant, sliding an arm underneath her shoulders to prop her up. “You idiot! You could have hurt yourself running over the threshold like that!” The obvious concern in his voice robbed the words of any offense.
She grinned sheepishly at him. “I guess that old saying about how gravity never sleeps is true, huh?”
“Are you OK?”
“My dignity is pretty badly bruised, but the rest of me will live.”
He shook his head. “Sweetheart, you’ve got to be more careful than that. There’s a lot more gravity on this side of the Door. You can’t just waltz across, you know.”
Ruefully, she rubbed her left elbow. “I remembered that as I was going down.” Glancing past him, she said, “Help me up. My parents are coming.”
“Oh, baby!” her mother exclaimed as she scurried up. “We saw you fall. Are you all right?”
“Right as rain,” she said, dusting at her jumpsuit. “I just got careless, that’s all.”
Her mother looked dubiously at the diagonal red and yellow stripes that mapped out the threshold of the Holmes Door. “Are you sure that thing’s safe?”
“Of course it’s safe. Mike does it all the time.”
“Mike?” Her gaze traveled to Ordner. “Oh.” She offered him her hand. “Hello, I’m Mrs. Lith, Roberta’s mother. This is her father, Joseph.”
Ordner gravely shook hands with the grim man standing by her side. “Mike Ordner.”
“Aren’t you…?” Something closed in Lith’s face. His expression became faintly disapproving. “Glad to meet you,” he said formally.
Roberta looked at Mike, then at her parents, noting the look on her father’s face. “Urn, have you two already got your tickets?”
“Oh, yes,” her mother answered, holding up two pieces of scrip.
“Then let’s go on over to the Crisium side.”
“But what about our bags?”
“Mi… uh, they’ll be taken care of.”
“Oh, honey, I’ve been meaning to ask, did you get your drafting and art supplies? You told me what you wanted, but I never learned the names of all that stuff. I just gathered up everything I could find.”
Roberta nodded. “They came in the other day. Thanks.”
Her mother’s worried look persisted. “Was everything you wanted in there?”
“It’s OK, Mom. Promise. I just wanted a few things that are hard to find here on Luna.” They paused at the threshold. Roberta said, “OK, now be careful when you step across. It’s easy to fall.”
“So I gathered,” her father said sarcastically.
Roberta rolled her eyes and stepped across. She reached back over and took her mother’s left hand to help her keep her balance in the sudden gravity change.
“Oooh!” her mother breathed as she crossed over. She looked back over her shoulder at the threshold. “I haven’t felt like that since I rode a roller coaster back when I was a teenager.”
“Well, now you’re on Luna!” Roberta said unnecessarily. “How do you like it?”
Her father grunted. “I haven’t been here quite long enough to decide. Give me a few seconds longer, if you don’t mind.”
Roberta’s mother took her hand and patted it. “Don’t pay any attention to him, dear. Just give him time to get used to it.”
Roberta wished she could stop herself. She knew she was trying too hard; that she was overanxious. It was hard to feel as confident as she had when she’d been talking to them on the phone. This was the moment of truth, and she felt her courage deserting her.
The slidewalks out in the corridor gave her parents some trouble. Just by looking, it was easy to understand that stepping onto one of the moving belts would allow a person to move from one point to another in the city. Putting the idea into practice, however, required reflexes they did not have. Her mother stepped unsteadily onto the slowest belt, swayed, wind-milled her arms, then caught herself. Her father stayed stiff and immediately went down in a tangled heap.
Roberta expertly danced across the slow lane to a faster one, caught up with her parents, then stepped back over to the slower one. She took her father’s arm to help him up.
Angrily, he shook her off. “Damned Loonies,” he cursed under his breath.
When it became necessary to change slidewalks to get to her tunnel, Roberta had them walk the rest of the way. At the portal to her tunnel, she had to stifle the impulse to make a grand gesture. Matter-of-factly, she let them in. Although she already knew it intellectually, having her parents visit reminded her forcibly how small her tunnel really was.