NOW I’M WATCHING ROGER
NOW I’M watching Roger. Roger is hanging face-down in his ropes overhead and looking at me. He isn’t saying anything and I’m not speaking.
I wish I had the time to spare in relaxation that he does, but I’m kept constantly busy. There are a million things here to do. If I had Roger’s free time, I’d know how to put it to good use. I wouldn’t idle.
I wonder about Roger’s experiments. The only time he ever seems to work on them is during our regular telecast to Earth. I asked him about his experiments once, but he didn’t take notice. He jumped up into his ropes. He’s very well practiced at it now. If I had more time perhaps I could make flying leaps to the top of the dome, too.
Roger is too silent. He never speaks up when Jack does something to annoy me, and this encourages Jack to take more advantage. Roger will never settle anything, and I’ve saved him from Jack I don’t know how many times. But how do you ask a man to back you? He either sees the need or he doesn’t. It isn’t proper to ask, so I don’t.
On the other hand, if he’s going to play the silent game, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t play it, too. The only time I’ll speak is when I stir from my silent work to drag Jack off his back. But I don’t expect he will notice.
* * * *
To taunt me, Jack takes off his black hat during our telecasts. He’s charming and plausible. If you believe him, we would be happy to stay another eight months on the moon. I’m not sure I could juggle things that long, though I’ll grant that Jack might.
When it is my turn, I nod and wave to Earth. I tell them we’re keeping busy. Roger works away at his experiments in the background. He waves to the camera but he doesn’t say anything.
When the telecast is over, Jack puts his black hat back on again. He spent an entire evening making it out of paper and coloring it black with ink. I didn’t watch because I was busy working. Jack knows the black hat annoys me, but I’m not saying anything or taking any notice.
He may be plausible in public, but Roger and I know him better. He only eats the good parts of things and leaves the rest— I imagine he was indulged. And he’s a glutton. I pointed it out when he left only the rind from the Christmas fruitcake and his antics lasted for a month. He started by leaving crusts and bits of cracker on my plate and grew even more blatant when I refused to take any notice. At the end, he was gobbling with both hands and flinging food about.
I do have an audio of several episodes but it isn’t easy to tell what is happening.
I have a number of recordings of Jack. None of Roger except for background.
In one recording, I say, “Jack, you haven’t been sterilizing.” It is a point I am particular about.
“It’s true, Clarence ‘Clancy’ Ballou, I haven’t been. I’ve decided to give it up. I’ll take my chances with the moon. Let the moon take its chances with me. I wouldn’t mind giving it a dose of something.”
“That’s against policy,” I say.
“Screw policy, Clarence. Maybe you’re too nice for this work. There’s the universe, as regular as a clock. Then there’s us, life, an out-of-place accident. We’re anarchy, disorder. No matter how tough the universe makes the rules, life will survive and spread. The moon is only the first step. Someday we’ll spread to the stars and take over everything. We’ll rip the guts out of the universe. We’ll strip-mine the stars. Life will prevail. It’s our destiny to crap up the works.”
“You make us sound evil. That’s what the regulations are for, to ensure that we don’t contaminate other worlds.”
“You don’t understand, Clarence. We are evil. And it’s up to us to make the most of it.”
“But I’m good. I’ve always been good.”
“Learn better.”
It was after that that he made his black paper hat. It’s supposed to be a reminder to me, but it isn’t really necessary. I know which of us is which.
* * * *
Jack is outside. I’ve been counting our sacks of garbage. I believe that two are missing. I fear the worst.
Was it sterilized? Not if he didn’t sterilize it.
I fear the worst.
* * * *
Just before the telecast, I say to Jack, “What about the garbage?”
“What garbage?”
“I know about the garbage. Unless you stop burying it outside, I’m going to have to tell them back home.”
He takes off his black hat. He combs his hair and practices his smile.
“I’ve been counting,” I say.
On the telecast, I’m cautious. I say that some garbage is missing. They ask Jack about it. Jack is in charge of accounting for the garbage. He says that it is all there.
I call on Roger. Roger smiles and waves from the background for the camera.
Jack smiles and tells the audience about garbage accounting procedures. He is very plausible. He thanks me for raising the question.
After the telecast, he says, “I have a higher loyalty.” And he puts his black hat back on.
What can I do?
* * * *
Another sack of garbage is missing.
* * * *
I don’t know what to do.
Roger just fell off the bench. Since I enforced safety regulations and made him stop sleeping in his ropes, he has taken to biting his fingernails and falling off the bench.
I’ve been thinking about Jack. I’ve been thinking about the moon infected with life. I’ve been thinking about people like Jack overcrawling the universe.
Jack is larger than I am.
I’ve just made myself a white hat.
* * * *
Another sack of garbage is missing. Sometimes I think Jack is not completely sane.
* * * *
I have taken charge of garbage accounting. I think I’ll rest easier now that it is in my hands.
In future, I think that the answer must lie in unbreachable refuse containers. And a tight check system to see that everything gets deposited. But even these cannot be enough if the irresponsible aren’t weeded out beforehand. The power of life must rest in hands that respect it. I’m not sure how that can be ensured, but I will think about it until the rotation changes.
This new job means one more intrusion on my time, but it’s necessary. Those who can do are condemned to do to the limit of their strength.
I explained on the telecast to Earth tonight as best I could. I told them the problem and how I had solved it. I’m sure I didn’t tell it well—Jack was always the raconteur—but they seemed to understand. Roger looked up from his work long enough to nod and wave to the people back home.
I think things are under control.
* * * *
Things are much smoother now. The change in Roger has been amazing. He is more active now. He works with greater concentration. He listens to my advice and nods. He has even been outside the dome for the first time in months.
That is the good side. On the negative side, he has taken to his ropes again. I haven’t the time or the heart to speak to him about it.
I’m very busy.
* * * *
I just counted and counted again to be sure. One of Jack’s fourteen sacks is missing; I believe a foot. I don’t know how it could have happened. The right foot, I think. We must get unreachable refuse containers.
Now I’m watching Roger. Roger is hanging in his ropes and watching me.