Evolution

“Planning on pleading insanity, Lewis? Sorry, Lunar law doesn’t allow for that. An insane murderer is just as much a threat to society as a sane one, perhaps more so. Either people are treated equally under the law or they aren’t. We aren’t going to have twenty-eight sets of law here on Luna. One for the sane adults, one for the insane, another for sane children, still another for insane children, plus variations for sex, race, age, and whatever their favorite color might be. That’s one thing that Earth did wrong. We aren’t going to do it that way. One set of laws for everybody… period. Keeps the lawyers from taking over society, you see.” Watts stared hard at Cantner. “You can’t plead self-defense, since you went after Alan. You can’t plead insanity, since Lunar law doesn’t allow that loophole. You can’t escape it. You’re guilty of murder, Lewis. And sentencing is trivial because there’s only one penalty for murder on Luna.”

“And what’s that?”

“Death.”

“But my life is worth something! I deserve a second chance!”

“If you’re going to advance that argument, take a minute to reflect on the fact that the same criterion could just as easily have been applied to Alan’s life. Yet you killed him. Interesting bit of hypocrisy, there. The murderer’s life is worth more than the victim’s? Explain that to me, if you can.”

Cantner just stared at him sullenly.

“That’s what I thought.” Watts said, and walked out.

The painting included the by-now standard representation of Alan Lister as the Man in the Moon. It had become an accepted shorthand; an understood cartoon caricature, in much the same way that political cartoons on Earth might focus on the smile, the eyebrows, or the ears of a public figure. There were three fresh craters, still glowing angry red. The eyes were closed.

And the paint was still wet.

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to get around to dealing with Alan’s death,” the man murmured from just behind the artist’s ear.

The young woman started so badly that she dropped her airbrush. It hit on the trigger, spitting once as it rolled onto its side—a reddish cloud that stained the floor.

“Oh, God!” she cried.

Samuel Watts held up his hands, palms out. “It’s OK I’m not going to hurt you.”

“But…” she began, not knowing how to finish.

“I’m Sam. I’m the police chief.”

She glanced wildly at the still unfinished painting on the wall, then back at him. She saw that his facial expression was one of amusement. “I… I know who you are. Am I… are you?”

He shook his head. “You’re not in trouble, and I’m not going to arrest you.”

She tried to relax, but the jolt of adrenaline still had her on the cusp of a fight or flight reflex. “You scared me.”

He nodded. “I know. You probably thought that your infrared beams would let you know that someone was coming.” He held up a small monocle. “I expected something like that, so I’ve been carrying this with me. I saw the beams and stepped around them. Nothing to it.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She glanced at the wall. “Want me to clean it up?”

He shook his head. “Heavens, no! I happen to think your work is something that we’ve needed for a long time. We just didn’t know it yet. As a matter of fact, I was one of your earliest supporters.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He smiled reassuringly. “Can you tell me your name now? Are you over your fright?”

She took a deep breath. “Roberta Lith.”

Watts’s eyes narrowed. “Lith. I remember you. Weren’t you the one who camped—”

“I’m the one,” she said, nodding. “I’ve always admired Luna. Somehow, I’ve always known that this is where I belonged. Once I got here, I discovered that Lunarians don’t laugh often enough. It’s not that they don’t have a sense of humor, they just don’t have time to indulge it. Since I was relatively late getting here, I thought that I might be able to step outside the rush more easily and show them themselves. God knows, I’m not objective—I love this place too much—I just wanted to make people smile once in a while. The commentary angle just sort of happened.”

“Where’d you learn to paint like that?”

She laughed, still nervous. “Oh, that. That’s nothing. I was doing a lot of drafting in school, schematics and things like that, but my lines were always sloppy. I thought that it might help if I took some art classes to develop my hand. I discovered that I enjoyed it. I’ve doodled a bit here and there, but this is the first time I’ve ever actually put it to use.”

Watts shook his head. “Well, I, for one, appreciate what you’re doing. I know it’s a helluva note for a policeman to be endorsing anarchy, but what you’re doing has a place in our society. We need a court jester to keep us honest.”

Roberta looked back at the wall. “This isn’t funny, though. Alan’s gone and no one’s laughing.”

Watts shrugged. “You can’t help that.”