work.

Editing an audiovisual telecast is pretty much a one-man job. Bish
wanted to know if he could be of assistance, but there was nothing
either of us could do, except sit by and watch and listen. Dad handled
the Belsher thing by making a film of himself playing off the
recording, and interjecting sarcastic comments from time to time. When
it went on the air, I thought, Ravick wasn't going to like it. I would
have to start wearing my pistol again. Then he made a tape on the
landing of the _Peenemuende_ and the arrival of Murell, who he said had
met with a slight accident after leaving the ship. I took that over to
Julio when Dad was finished, along with a tape on the announced
tallow-wax price cut. Julio only grunted and pushed them aside. He was
setting up the story of the fight in Martian Joe's--a "local bar," of
course; nobody ever gets shot or stabbed or slashed or slugged in
anything else. All the news _is_ fit to print, sure, but you can't
give your advertisers and teleprinter customers any worse name than
they have already. A paper has to use some judgment.

Then Dad and Bish and I went down to dinner. Julio would have his a
little later, not because we're too good to eat with the help but
because, around 1830, the help is too busy setting up the next paper
to eat with us. The dining room, which is also the library, living
room, and general congregating and loafing place, is as big as the
editorial room above. Originally, it was an office, at a time when a
lot of Fenris Company office work was being done here. Some of the
furniture is original, and some was made for us by local cabinetmakers
out of native hardwood. The dining table, big enough for two ships'
crews to eat at, is an example of the latter. Then, of course, there
are screens and microbook cabinets and things like that, and a
refrigerator to save going a couple of hundred feet to the pantry in
case anybody wants a snack.

I went to that and opened it, and got out a bulb of concentrated fruit
juice and a bottle of carbonated water. Dad, who seldom drinks, keeps
a few bottles around for guests. Seems most of our "guests" part with
information easier if they have something like the locally made
hydroponic potato schnapps inside them for courage.

"You drink Baldur honey-rum, don't you, Bish?" he said, pawing among
the bottles in the liquor cabinet next to the refrigerator. "I'm sure
I have a bottle of it. Now wait a minute; it's here somewhere."