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. No indeed! A
private soldier in a decent, well-run, disciplined military outfit has more
freedom and more privacy than that. Hong Kong Luna, celebrated in song and story
as the cradle of Luna's freedom, was no longer a fit place to live.
I turned away and was almost to the door when she called out: "Mr.
Johnson!"
I stopped, did not turn. "Yes?"
"Come back here!"
"Why?"
Her answer seemed to hurt her face. "The Moderator will see you now."
"Very well." As I approached the door to the inner office, it rolled out of
the way... but I did not find myself in the Moderator's private office; three
more doors, each guarded by its own faithful hound, lay ahead-and this told me
more than I wanted to know about the current government of Hong Kong Luna.
The guardian of the last door announced me and ushered me through. Mr. Mao
barely glanced at me. "Sit down." I sat down, rested my cane against my knee.
I waited five minutes while the city boss shuffled papers and continued to
ignore me. Then I stood up, headed for the door, moving slowly, leaning on my
cane. Mao looked up. "Mr. Johnson! Where are you going?"
"Out."
"Indeed. You don't want to get along, do you?"
"I want to go about my business. Is there some reason I should not?"
He looked at me with no expression. "If you insist, I can cite a municipal
ordinance under which you are required to cooperate with me when I request it
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