this essay begins in part 1
Older Woman Wisdom?
They fuss about looking over second-hand wing sets and find one that fits.
While I was helping her into the tail surfaces I said, "Ariel? This is still a bad idea."
"I know. But we can't let men think they own us."
"I suppose not."
"They do own us, of course. But we shouldn't let them know it."
I really don't want to bash RAH for sexism even more. But putting "They do own us, of course" in the mouth of his "wise older woman" character... really? It's a kind of pop-folk pseudo-wisdom that you might find in an Ozzie and Harriet script. It was somewhat true in Victorian England, but by the 1950's women had the vote, could own property, had created "Rosie the Riveter" as a national meme. And it certainly did not have to be the assumptive truth of a future Lunar society. But Heinlein, apparently, assumed it was basic to human nature.
Disaster
Anyway, Holly completes fitting Ariel out with her second-hand wings.
"All right. Wups! I goofed. They aren't orange."
"Does it matter?"
"It sure does."
With the wings painted beginner-orange, Ariel tries them out on the beginner slope. After some time she begins to eye the central updraft, the Baby's ladder. Holly's not sure, and cautions her at length. They start circling up.
"Not tired?"
"Heavens, no! Girl, I'm living!" She giggled. "And mama said I'd never be an angel!"
I didn't answer because red-and-silver wings came charging at me, braked suddenly and settled into the circle between me and Ariel. Jeff's face was almost as red as his wings. "What the devil do you think you are doing?"
"Orange wings!" I yelled. "Keep clear!"
"Get down out of here! Both of you!"
… "Jeff Hardesty," I said savagely, "I give you three seconds to get out from between us -- then I'm going to report you for violation of Rule One. For the third time -- Orange Wings!"
Jeff moves off although stays near; the women continue the slow circling climb, Holly fretting that Ariel might be getting tired.
… "Ariel? Tired now?"
"No."
"Well, I am. Could we go down, please?"
She didn't argue, she just said "All right. What am I to do?"
"Lean right and get out of the circle." I intended to have her move out five or six hundred feet, get into the return down draft, and circle the cave down instead of up. I glanced up, looking for Jeff. … I glanced back at Ariel.
I couldn't find her.
Then I saw her, a hundred feet below -- flailing her wings and falling out of control.
… I was simply filled with horror. I seemed to hang there frozen for an hour while I watched her.
But the fact appears to be that I screamed "Jeff!" and broke into a stoop.
But I didn't seem to fall, coudn't overtake her. I spilled my wings completely -- but couldn't manage to fall; she was as far away as ever. … I could feel rushing air -- but I still didn't seem to close on her. … This nightmare dragged on for hours.
Actually we didn't have room to fall for more than twenty seconds; that's all it takes to stoop a thousand feet. But twenty seconds can be horribly long . . . long enough to regret every foolish thing I had ever done or said, long enough to say a prayer for both of us . . . and to say good-by to Jeff in my heart.
… and I was overtaking her . . . I was passing her -- I was under her!
Then I was braking with everything I had, almost pulling my wings off. I grabbed air, held it, and started to beat without ever going to level flight. I beat once, twice, three times . . . and hit her from below, jarring us both.
Then the floor hit us.
Wow.
continue in part 9
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