Evolution

Just as he was considering leaving, the portal opened. The man revealed was disheveled. “Yeah?” he asked.

“My name is Alan Lister. Are you Reginald Arnold?”

“Yeah.”

“May I come in?”

The man glanced behind himself into the tunnel. “Uh, yeah. I guess so.” He turned and shuffled back into the tunnel, leaving the portal open.

Lister took a deep breath before entering. “I’ve come to talk with you about your request for unemployment benefits.”

Arnold stopped and turned to stare at Lister. “Is this an interview or something?”

“Well, no. Not exactly.”

Arnold nodded and shuffled over to a couch. He gestured. “Have a seat.”

Lister chose to sit at the kitchen table, rather than on the couch. He looked around. The tunnel was untidy but clean, in that there was a pile of unsorted clothing on the floor in the kitchen, but it appeared to have been freshly washed. Dishes, also clean, sat in a neat pile next to the sink.

“Today’s Tuesday. Tidy-up day. You woke me up. I was going to put things away after breakfast,” Arnold explained, noting the direction of Lister’s gaze.

Lister shrugged. “No business of mine. As long as you don’t endanger other people you can run your life pretty much any way you like.”

“So what about the unemployment?”

“There is no such thing. Not here on Luna, anyway.”

Arnold frowned. “Um… so what do people do when they can’t find work?”

“We encourage people to save for rainy days. As a matter of fact, we require it. Ten percent of everyone’s paycheck is taken off the top and put into an individual, interest-bearing account. The government doesn’t touch the money. It belongs to the individual, but it can’t be withdrawn except at retirement or in an emergency.”

“So what about people coming up from Earth, like me?”

“You filled out an application that asked what you intended to do when you got here. If you lied about having a position lined up, then the consequences are on your own head.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Lister agreed.

“I get the feeling there’s a message here.”

“If you want money, get a job. We don’t have any to give out.”

“No other choice?”

“Sure, you’ve got choices.” Lister ticked off on his fingers. “If you’ve got savings, you can coast for as long as your money holds out—the rest of your life, if you’ve got enough. You can get a job. You can go back to Earth.”

“Or I can starve like Emily Starnes.”

Lister shook his head sadly. “For obvious reasons, we’d rather people didn’t do that.”

“Do you have to be so cold-hearted about it?”

“We happen to believe that people should pull their own weight. Communism and socialism are dirty words around here.”

“Commu-what?”

“My God, what do they teach in the history courses down on Earth?” Lister asked, rolling his eyes. “Never mind, the point is that we don’t have an unemployment system and have no intention of starting one.”

“But I can’t find a job!” Arnold protested.

Lister frowned. Without speaking, he stood and walked over to the tunnel’s computer terminal. In seconds, he had pulled up the job listings for Crisium. He turned to Arnold, his eyes questioning.

“There’s nothing there. I’ve already checked.”

Lister considered this for a moment, lips pursed, then turned and brought up the master listings, including New London, Besselton, and the smaller outlying communities. “Nothing on all of Luna?” He tapped a key. “According to the database, there are over twelve hundred jobs listed in here. That’s an awful lot of nothing.”

“But not what I was doing on Earth.”

Lister snorted. “I should say not. According to your immigration application, you worked for GM. Since we don’t have any use for cars up here, I suggest you find something else to do.”

“But what?”

“That’s up to you.”

“You don’t care?”

Lister shrugged. “Not particularly. Why should I? I’m not here to save you from yourself. If you make a bad decision, why should everyone else have to pay for it?”

“I’m not asking for anyone else to pay for anything, dammit!” Arnold flared. “I just think your stinking government should give people a hand when they need it.”

A puzzled frown crossed Lister’s face. “Where do you think governments get their money? It comes from taxes. Where do you think taxes come from? From people. So why should the city government take money from others and give it to you? What have you done to earn it?”

“Why do I have to earn it? I need it!”

Lister finally lost his patience. He stalked to the portal. He turned before leaving, eyes narrowed. “So do the people who earned it,” he snapped. “Try it. Earn a little, then see if you don’t agree.”

When Trevor York came through the portal, he saw packed luggage. “Brigitte?” he called, not seeing her at first. “You screwed up, sweetheart. We’re not leaving until tomorrow.”