Evolution

“—In which case I clearly remember the hatchet job your show did on Alan Lister a couple of months ago. This may come as a rude spark, but not everyone thinks you’re the Second Coming.” He turned and walked away, not waiting for York’s reply.

York forced a tight smile. “Bob.”

“Don’t worry. I switched off after the first few seconds. We don’t need clips like that.”

“Thank you.” He turned to the other man with the air of a man whose patience is being tested. “Jake, will you kindly pay these annoying people so we can proceed?”

“Yes, sir.” Jake headed for the ticket counter at a fast walk.

“OK, folks. We’ve got a show to do. Sue, how do I look?”

The blonde eyed him critically. “Not too bad. Hang on a second.” She reached into the voluminous bag hanging from her shoulder and pulled out the smallest and finest of the three brushes she carried. Working swiftly, delicately, she barely skimmed the surface of his hair. “OK, you’re tops.”

He winked at her. “Thanks.” He half-turned. “Bob.”

“Ready.”

He took six steps and turned to face the camera. “This is Trevor York, coming to you from the New York side of the Holmes Door linking Earth to Luna. We’re here to see just what the Lunarians have done with the cities that you paid for with your tax dollars. Is it true that the least paid person in Crisium makes nearly twice what an average banker does here in New York? Why has Crisium rejected the applications of over 97 percent of the people who have tried to emigrate there? Is Luna at the root of our current economic crisis here on Earth? We’ll find the answers to these questions and more. After all… you have a right to know.”

Bob, knowing his cue, switched off his camera after York’s oft-repeated tag line. “Got it.”

“Good work. What’s taking Jake so long?”

“He’s coming,” Sue said. “They wouldn’t let him go to the head of the line.”

York shook his head sadly. “It looks as though the people here in New York have a touch of this arrogance we’ve been hearing about in Luna.” “Isn’t the guy you were just talking to the fellow who got caught on the Lunar side when they closed the Door?” Sue asked. “Mike… I forgot his last name.”

York shrugged. “So?”

“If so, he lives on Luna now. He’s not from Earth any more.”

Nodding slowly, York thought this over. “That might be an interesting slant. They’re keeping jobs for their own people. Jobs that we desperately need here on Earth. His taxes get paid to Crisium, instead of Washington… our government runs ever deeper in the hole…” He smiled warmly at her. “Thanks, Sue.”

Jake arrived, clutching five tickets. “They’re already punched. We can go”

At the threshold of the Door, York paused. “Bob, go ahead. Get a shot of me coming across. Brigitte, Sue, Jake, stay clear.”

“What if we just go on over?” Sue asked.

York nodded. “You be the guinea pigs. I’ll bring up the rear.”

Sue, Bob, and Jake crossed under their own power. Brigitte, as befitted her status as York’s current paramour, was handed over with exaggerated care. They were all careful stepping into Luna’s lower gravity; none fell.

Bob took several quick paces back, then turned to catch Trevor York as he majestically swept over the diagonal red and yellow lines demarcating the Door singularity, with its attendant six to one gravity ratio.

York fell.

Instantly, all four of his followers were at his side, helping him to his feet. Without a change in expression, he said, “Bob, I’d like to try that again.”

“Ready.” His cameraman’s expression was neutral.

Careful not to appear afraid, York cautiously recrossed the threshold of the Door, turned, and crossed back. The second crossing was successful. He looked like a pro.

“See? Nothing to it.”

No one mentioned that they had crossed the first time without problems.

The handler stood watching this from the freight desk on the New York side of the Door. The man behind the counter asked, “You didn’t offer him a mat?” He gestured at the stack of thick blue foam mats they spread across the threshold so pedestrians would not hurt themselves if they fell.

“He wouldn’t have used one,” Mike Ordner said, shaking his head. “It wouldn’t fit his image. Besides, his ego’s so puffed up I’m surprised he ever touched the floor. I’d have thought it would work like a crash bag.”

The man behind the counter chuckled. “I’ve always heard that those things inflate pretty easily.”

Ordner smiled appreciatively, still watching York and his entourage. “I know my ego would be pretty inflated if I had either one of those women with me. That dark-haired one is something else.”

“Wanna see her up close?”

Ordner raised an eyebrow.

“They’ve got some luggage that needs to be carried across.”

“Consider it done. Maybe they’ll want it taken to their rooms. Maybe the brunette will—”

“Dream on, bud. If you don’t get your ass in motion, they’re going to take off without you.”

Without taking his eyes off of the woman, Ordner groped for the leather gloves lying next to his elbow on the counter. “If I’m not back in ten minutes, don’t send anyone after me.”