“That makes no difference. Immies are citizens. There’s no discrimination; no legal discrimination.”

“What does that mean? No legal discrimination?”

“Well, you said it yourself. There are some things they can’t do. There are differences. Their medical problems are different and they’ve usually had a worse medical history. If they come in middle age, they look—old.”

The Earthman looked away, embarrassed. “Can they intermarry? I mean, immigrants and Lunarites.”

“Certainly. That is, they can interbreed.”

“Yes, that’s what I meant.”

“Of course. No reason why an immigrant can’t have some worthwhile genes. Heavens, my father was an immie, though I’m second-generation Lunarite on my mother’s side.”

“I suppose your father must have come when he was quite—Oh, good Lord—” He froze at the railing, then drew a shuddering sigh. “I thought he was going to miss that bar.”

“Not a chance,” said Selene. “That’s Marco Fore. He likes to do that, reach out at the last moment. Actually, it’s bad form to do that and a real champion doesn’t. Still— My father was twenty-two when he arrived.”

“I suppose that’s the way. Still young enough to be adaptable; no emotional complications back on Earth. From the standpoint of the Earthie male, I imagine it must be rather nice to have a sexual attachment with a—”

“Sexual attachment!” Selene’s amusement seemed to cover a very real sense of shock. “You don’t suppose my father had sex with my mother. If my mother heard you say that, she’d set you right in a hurry.”

“But—”

“Artificial insemination was what it was for goodness sake. Sex with an Earthman?”

The Earthman looked solemn. “I thought you said there was no discrimination.”

“That’s not discrimination. That’s a matter of physical fact. An Earthman can’t handle the gravity field properly. However practiced he might be, under the stress of passion, he might revert. I wouldn’t risk it. The clumsy fool might snap his arm or leg—or worse, mine. Gene mixtures are one thing; sex is quite another.”

“I’m sorry.... Isn’t artificial insemination against the law?”

She was watching the gymnastics with absorption. “That’s Marco Fore again. When he isn’t trying to be uselessly spectacular, he really is good; and his sister is almost as good. When they work together it’s really a poem of motion. Look at them now. They’ll come together and circle the same bar as though they have a single body stretched across. He’s a little too flamboyant at times, but you can’t fault his muscular control.... Yes, artificial insemination is against Earth’s law, but it’s allowed where medical reasons are involved, and, of course, that’s often the case, or said to be.”

All the acrobats had now climbed to the top and were in a great circle just below the railing; all the reds on one side, the blues on the other. All arms on the side of the interior were raised and the applause was loud. Quite a crowd had now gathered at the rail.

“You ought to have some seating arrangement,” said the Earthman.

“Not at all. This isn’t a show. This is exercise. We don’t encourage any more spectators than can stand comfortably about the railing. We’re supposed to be down there, not up here.”

“You mean you can do that sort of thing, Selene?”

“After a fashion, of course. Any Lunarite can. I’m not as good as they are. I haven’t joined any teams— There’s going to be the melee now, the free-for-all. This is the really dangerous part. All ten are going to be in the air and each side is going to try to send members of the other side into a fall.”

“A real fall.”

“As real as possible.”

“Are there injuries occasionally?”

“Occasionally. In theory, this sort of thing is frowned upon. That is considered frivolous, and we don’t have so large a population that we can afford to incapacitate anyone without real cause. Still, the melee is popular and we can’t raise the votes to outlaw it.”

“Which side do you vote on, Selene?”

Selene blushed. “Oh, never mind. You watch this!”

The percussion rhythm had suddenly grown thunderous and each of the individuals in the huge well darted outward like an arrow. There was wild confusion in mid-air but when they parted again, each ended firmly on a bar-grip. There was the tension of waiting. One launched; another followed; and the air was filled with flashing bodies again. Over and over it happened.

Selene said, “The scoring is intricate. There is a point for every launch; a point for every touch; two points for every miss inflicted; ten points for a grounding; various penalties for various kinds of fouling.”

“Who keeps the score?”

“There are umpires watching who make the preliminary decisions and there are television tapes in case of appeals. Very often even the tapes can’t decide.”

There was a sudden excited cry when a girl in blue moved past a boy in red and slapped his flank resoundingly. The boy who received the blow had writhed away, but not successfully, and grabbing at a wall bar with improper balance struck that wall ungracefully with his knee.

“Where were his eyes?” demanded Selene indignantly. “He didn’t see her coming.”

The action grew hotter and the Earthman tired of trying to make sense of the knotted flights. Occasionally, a leaper touched a bar and did not retain his hold. Those were the times when every spectator leaned over the railing as though ready to launch himself into space in sympathy. At one time, Marco Fore was struck in the wrist and someone cried “Foul!”

Fore missed his handhold and fell. To the Earthman’s eyes, the fall, under Moon-gravity, was slow, and Fore’s lithe body twisted and turned, reaching for bar after bar, without quite making it. The others waited, as though all maneuvering was suspended during a fall.

Fore was moving quite rapidly now, though twice he had slowed himself without quite being able to maintain a handhold.

He was nearly to the ground when a sudden spidery lunge caught a transverse bar with the right leg and he hung suspended and swinging, head downward, about ten feet above the ground. Arms outspread, he paused while the applause rang out and then he had twisted upright and jumped into a rapid climb.

The Earthman said, “Was he fouled?”

“If Jean Wong actually grabbed Marco’s wrist instead of pushing it, it was a foul. The umpire has ruled a fair block, however, and I don’t think Marco will appeal. He fell a lot farther than he had to. He likes these last-minute saves and someday he’ll miscalculate and hurt himself.... Oh, oh.”

The Earthman looked up in sudden inquiry, but Selene’s eyes weren’t upon him. She said, “That’s someone from the Commissioner’s office and he must be looking for you.”

“Why—”

“I don’t see why he should come here to find anyone else. You’re the unusual one.”

“But there’s no reason—” began the Earthman.

Yet the messenger, who had the build of an Earthman himself or an Earth-immigrant, and who seemed uneasy to be the center of the stares of a couple of dozen slight, nude figures who seemed to tinge their scorn with indifference, came directly toward him.

“Sir,” he began. “Commissioner Gottstein requests that you accompany me—”