"Fair enough," Kinsman said.
De Paolo got to his feet. "I must get back to my other duties. You may hear thumping along the walls and ceiling from time to time. Do not be alarmed; it is merely our security team sniffing for electronic bugs."
He walked to the door, alone. Stopping there, he looked back at Kinsman. "You believed you were acting to save your world—your Selene—from being destroyed by decisions made here on Earth. Then you found that perhaps you could save the people of Earth from destroying themselves. Now we offer you something much grander, and much more difficult to achieve: a chance to rid the Earth of the curse of nationalism. A chance to move human society to its next evolutionary phase. A world government is the only chance we have to avoid global catastrophe."
Through the long day they came, and well into the evening. One by one, very rarely two together, and only once did three visit Kinsman at the same time. Diplomats, repre- sentatives of many nations. Some of them had enough technical background to converse freely about missile trajec- tories and the logistics of orbital operations. A few of them had been on the Moon for brief periods, although Kinsman remembered only one of them: a striking olive-skinned, black-haired Italian geologist. She was now part of the UNESCO team studying global natural resources, and appar- ently reported directly to the Italian minister of finance.
"A father in high office," she murmured, with the trace of an accent laid over her British-style English. She smiled as if she thought her father's position was being aided by her work, rather than vice versa.
Marrett stayed with Kinsman and Harriman until the last visitor had departed. He spoke to the visitors of weather control, of optimizing their climate, of allowing them to plan 539 their harvests years in advance and then see the predictions come true. Kinsman spoke about international stability, about peace based on the protection of the orbital ABM network, about substantial disarmament and the chance for the smaller nations to depend on world law rather than spending half their gross national product on armies that often turned on their own governments and ousted them in bloody coups.
The visitors to the plush, quiet room with the special air supply came from Africa, from Asia, from the scattered islands of the Pacific, from the overpopulated nations of Latin America. Kinsman was surprised to receive a three-man delegation from Japan, all smiles and polite bows and sincere wishes for good fortune, who knew a disturbing amount about the ABM satellite lasers and were quite familiar with Marrett's work in weather modification.
Beleg Jamsuren brought his uncle, the Mongol ambassa- dor to the United Nations. The Italian woman was not the only European: the Scandinavian nations, Hungary, Czecho- slovakia, Yugoslavia, Holland, and Denmark all sent repre- sentatives.
All very unofficial. Completely social. No agreements were made or even hinted at. No commitments. But they got the information they had come for and they left with new light in their eyes.
By 10 P.M. Kinsman was exhausted. He had the back of his contour chair cranked all the way down as Landau ran through the medical checks. Marrett and Harriman were wolfing hot sandwiches and beer.
"That water bed looks awfully good," Kinsman said tiredly as Landau disconnected the last sensor probe from the medical computer.
"It should," the Russian said. "Your blood pressure is very low." The miniaturized analyzer on the desk gave a gentle ting with its little bell, and automatically displayed its analysis of Kinsman's blood sample on the computer's screen.
"Ahh-hmm," Landau muttered, studying the readout graph's snaking lines. "Blood sugar is also low, as I suspected. You need food and rest."
Kinsman closed his eyes. "I'm too tired to eat. God, we 540 must have told the same story three dozen times."
"Sixteen times," Harriman corrected from the wheeled dining table. "Another dozen coming tomorrow."
Landau scratched at his beard. "Very well. Let's get you bedded down, and then we can feed you with the IV."
"No you don't." Kinsman's aversion to having holes poked through his skin overcame his fatigue. "I'll eat some real food." He cranked the seat back up and rolled to the dining table. "If there's anything left after these two chow- hounds," he added, looking over the nearly empty table.
"Sixteen times," Harriman repeated thoughtfully, clutching a steak sandwich with both hands. "After listening to your spiel all day and night I could give your song-and- dance routine in my sleep."
"I'll do it sixteen thousand times," Kinsman said, "if it'll do any good."
"It did good," Marrett said firmly. He had a bottle of beer in one big hand; he disdained a glass. "Every one of the people who came in here today is connected right back to the power centers in their governments. No flunkies or dodos in the bunch of 'em. They might not all have had much rank, but hell, most big-shot diplomats are nothing but assholes any- way."
