Preface
IF YOU THINK that this book appears to be thicker and contain more wordsthan you found in the first published edition of Stranger in a Strange Land,your observation is correct. This edition is the original one-the way RobertHeinlein first conceived it, and put it down on paper.
　　The earlier edition contained a few words over 160,000, while this one runsaround 220,000 words. Robert’s manuscript copy usually contained about250 to 300 words per page, depending on the amount of dialogue on thepages. So, taking an average of about 275 words, with the manuscriptrunning 800 pages, we get a total of 220,000 words, perhaps a bit more.
　　This book was so different from what was being sold to the general public, orto the science fiction reading public in 1961 when it was published, that theeditors required some cutting and removal of a few scenes that might thenhave been offensive to public taste.
　　The November 1948 issue of Astounding Science Fiction contained a letter tothe editor suggesting titles for the issue of a year hence. Among the titleswas to be a story by Robert A. Heinlein-.Gulf.“In a long conversation between that editor, John W. Campbell, Jr., andRobert, it was decided that there would be sufficient lead time to allow all thestories that the fan had titled to be written, and the magazine to come out intime for the November 1949 date. Robert promised to deliver a short story togo with the title. Most of the other authors also went along with the gag. Thisissue came to be known as the .Time Travel“ issue.
　　Robert’s problem, then, was to find a story to fit the title assigned to him.
　　So we held a .brainstorming“ session. Among other unsuitable notions, Isuggested a story about a human infant, raised by an alien race. The ideawas just too big for a short story, Robert said, but he made a note about it.
　　That night he went into his study, and wrote some lengthy notes, and setthem aside.
　　For the title .Gulf“ he wrote quite a different story.
　　The notes sat in a file for several years, at which time Robert began to writewhat was to be Stranger in a Strange Land. Somehow, the story didn’t quitejell, and he set it aside. He returned to the manuscript a few times, but it wasnot finished until 1960: this was the version you now hold in your hands.
　　In the context of 1960, Stranger in a Strange Land was a book that hispublishers feared-it was too far off the beaten path. So, in order to minimizepossible losses, Robert was asked to cut the manuscript down to 150,000words-a loss of about 70,000 words. Other changes were also requested,before the editor was willing to take a chance on publication.
　　To take out about a quarter of a long, complicated book was close to animpossible task. But, over the course of some months, Robert accomplishedit. The final word count came out at 160,087 words. Robert was convincedthat it was impossible to cut out any more, and the book was accepted at thatlength.
　　For 28 years it remained in print in that form.
　　In 1976, Congress passed a new Copyright Law, which said, in part, that inthe event an author died, and the widow or widower renewed the copyright,all old contracts were cancelled. Robert died in 1988, and the following yearthe copyright for Stranger in a Strange Land came up for renewal.
　　Unlike many other authors, Robert had kept a copy of the original typescript,as submitted for publication, on file at the library of the University of Californiaat Santa Cruz, his archivists. I asked for a copy of that manuscript, and readthat and the published versions side by side. And I came to the conclusionthat it had been a mistake to cut the book.
　　So I sent a copy of the typescript to Eleanor Wood, Robert’s agent. Eleanoralso read the two versions together, and agreed with my verdict. So, after thenotification to the publisher, she presented them with a copy of the new/oldversion.
　　No one remembered the fact that such drastic cutting had been done on thisbook; over the course of years all the editors and senior officers at thepublishing house had changed. So this version was a complete surprise tothem.
　　They decided to publish the original version, agreeing that it was betterthan the cut one.
　　You now have in your hands the original version of Stranger in a StrangeLand, as written by Robert Anson Heinlein.
　　The given names of the chief characters have great importance to the plot.
　　They were carefully selected: Jubal means .the father of all,“ Michael standsfor .Who is like God?“ I leave it for the reader to find out what the othernames mean. -Virginia Heinlein Carmel, California
Chapter 1
ONCE UPON A TIME when the world was young there was a Martiannamed Smith.
　　Valentine Michael Smith was as real as taxes but he was a race of one.
　　The first human expedition from Terra to Mars was selected on the theorythat the greatest danger to man in space was man himself. At that time, onlyeight Terran years after the founding of the first human colony on Luna, anyinterplanetary trip made by humans necessarily had to be made in wearyfree-fail orbits, doubly tangent semi-ellipses—from Terra to Mars, twohundred fifty-eight days, the same for the return journey, plus four hundredfifty-five days waiting at Mars while the two planets crawled slowly back intorelative positions which would permit shaping the doubly-tangent orbit-a totalof almost three Earth years.
　　Besides its wearing length, the trip was very chancy. Only by refueling at aspace station, then tacking back almost into Earth’s atmosphere, could thisprimitive flying coffin, the Envoy, make the trip at all. Once at Mars she mightbe able to return-if she did not crash in landing, if water could be found onMan to fill her reaction-mass tanks, if some sort of food could be found onMars, if a thousand other things did not go wrong.
　　But the physical danger was judged to be less important than thepsychological stresses. Eight humans, crowded together like monkeys foralmost three Terran years, had better get along much better than humansusually did. An all-male crew had been vetoed as unhealthy and sociailyunstable from lessons learned earlier. A ship’s company of four marriedcouples had been decided on as optimum, if the necessary specialties couldbe found in such a combination.
　　The University of Edinburgh, prime contractor, sub-contracted crew selectionto the Institute for Social Studies. After discarding the chaff of volunteersuseless through age, health, mentality, training, or temperament, the Institutestill had over nine thousand candidates to work from, each sound in mind andbody and having at least one of the necessary special skills. It was expectedthat the Institute would report several acceptable four-couple crews.
　　No such crew was found. The major skills needed were astrogator, medicaldoctor, cook, machinist, ship’s commander, semantician, chemical engineer,electronics engineer, physicist, geologist, biochemist, biologist, atomicsengineer, photographer, hydroponicist, rocket engineer. Each crew memberwould have to possess more than one skill, or be able to acquire extra skillsin time. There were hundreds of possible combinations of eight peoplepossessing these skills; there turned up three combinations of four marriedcouples possessing them, plus health and intelligence.-but in all three casesthe group-dynamicists who evaluated the temperament factors forcompatibility threw up their hands in horror.
　　The prime contractor suggested lowering the compatibility figure-ofmerit; theInstitute stiffly offered to return its one dollar fee. In the meantime a computerprogrammer whose name was not recorded had the machines hunt for threecouplerump crews. She found several dozen compatible combinations, eachof which defined by its own characteristics the couple needed to complete it.
　　In the meantime the machines continued to review the data changing throughdeaths, withdrawals, new volunteers, etc.
　　Captain Michael Brunt, M.S., Cmdr. D. F. Reserve, pilot (unlimited license),and veteran at thirty of the Moon run, seems to have had an inside track atthe Institute, someone who was willing to look up for him the names of singlefemale volunteers who might (with him) complete a crew, and then pair hisname with these to run trial problems through the machines to determinewhether or not a possible combination would be acceptable. This wouldaccount for his action in jetting to Australia and proposing marriage to DoctorWinifred Coburn, a horse-faced spinster semantician nine years his senior.
　　The Carlsbad Archives pictured her with an expression of quiet good humorbut otherwise lacking in attractiveness.
　　Or Brant may have acted without inside information, solely through that traitof intuitive audacity necessary to command an exploration. In any case lightsblinked, punched cards popped out, and a crew for the Envoy had beenfound:
　　Captain Michael Brant, commanding-pilot, astrogator, relief cook, reliefphotographer, rocketry engineer;Dr. Winifred Coburn Brant, forty-one, semantician, practical nurse, storesofficer, historian;Mr. Francis X. Seeney, twenty-eight, executive officer, second pilot,astrogator, astrophysicist, photographer;Dr. Olga Kovalic Seeney, twenty-nine, cook, biochemist, hydroponicist;Dr. Ward Smith, forty-five, physician and surgeon, biologist;Dr. Mary Jane Lyle Smith, twenty-six, atomics engineer, electronics andpower technician;Mr. Sergei Rimsky, thirty-five, electronics engineer, chemical engineer,practical machinist & instrumentation man, cryologist;Mrs. Eleanora Alvarez Rimsky, thirty-two, geologist and selenologist,hydroponicist.
　　The crew had a well-rounded group of skills, although in some cases theirsecondary skills had been acquired by intensive coaching during the lastweeks before blast-off. More important, they were mutually compatible intheir temperaments.
　　Too compatible, perhaps.
　　The Envoy departed on schedule with no mishaps. During the early part ofthe voyage her daily reports were picked up with ease by private listeners. Asshe drew away and signals became fainter, they were picked up andrebroadcast by Earth’s radio satellites. The crew seemed to be both healthyand happy. An epidemic of ringworm was the worst that Dr. Smith had tocope with-the crew adapted to free fall quickly and no antinausea drugs wereused after the first week. If Captain Brant had any disciplinary problems, hedid not choose to report them to Earth.
　　The Envoy achieved a parking orbit just inside the orbit of Phobos and spenttwo weeks in photographic survey. Then Captain Brant radioed: .We willattempt a landing at 1200 tomorrow GST just south of Lacus Soli.“ No furthermessage was ever received.
Chapter 2
IT WAS A QUARTER of an Earth century before Mars was again visited byhumans. Six years after the Envoy was silent, the drone probe Zombie,sponsored jointly by the Geographic Society and La Société AstronautiqueInternationale, bridged the void and took up an orbit for the waiting period,then returned. The photographs taken by the robot vehicle showed a landunattractive by human standards; her recording instruments confirmed thethinness and unsuitability of the Arean atmosphere to human life.
　　But the Zombie’s pictures showed clearly that the .canals“ were engineeringworks of some sort and there were other details which could only beinterpreted as ruins of cities. A manned expedition on a major scale andwithout delay surely would have been mounted had not World War IIIintervened.
　　But the war and the delay resulted eventually in a much stronger, saferexpedition than that of the lost En my. The Federation Ship Champion,manned by an all-male crew of eighteen experienced spacemen and carryingmore than that number of male pioneers, made the crossing under Lyle Drivein only nineteen days. The Champion landed just south of Lacus Soli, asCaptain van Tromp intended to search for the Envoy. The second expeditionreported to Earth by radio daily, but three despatches were of more thanscientific interest. The first was:
　　.Rocket Ship Envoy located. No survivors.“The second worldshaker was: .Mars is inhabited.“The third was: .Correction to despatch 23-105: One survivor of Envoylocated.“
Chapter 3
CAPTAIN WILLEM VAN TROMP was a man of humanity and good sense.
　　He radioed ahead: .My passenger must not, repeat, must not be subjected tothe strain of a public reception. Provide low-gee shuttle, stretcher andambulance service, and anned guard.“He sent his ship’s surgeon Dr. Nelson along to make sure that ValentineMichael Smith was installed in a suite in Bethesda Medical Center,transferred gently into a hydraulic bed, and protected from outside contact bymarine guards. Van Tromp himself went to an extraordinary session of theFederation High Council.
　　At the moment when Valentine Michael Smith was being lifted into bed, theHigh Minister for Science was saying testily, .Granted, Captain, that yourauthority as military commander of what was nevertheless primarily ascientific expedition gives you the right to order unusual medical service toprotect a person temporarily in your charge, I do not see why you nowpresume to interfere with the proper functions of my department. Why, Smithis a veritable treasure trove of scientific information!“.Yes. I suppose he is, sir.“.Then why-. The science minister broke off and turned to the High Ministerfor Peace and Military Security. .David? This matter is obviously now in myjurisdiction. Will you issue the necessary instructions to your people? Afterall, one can’t keep persons of the caliber of Professor Kennedy and DoctorOkajima, to mention just two, cooling their heels indefinitely. They won’tstand for it.“The peace minister did not answer but glanced inquiringly at Captain vanTromp. The captain shook his head. .No, sir.“.Why not?“ demanded the science minister. .You have admitted that heisn’t sick.“.Give the captain a chance to explain, Pierre,“ the peace minister advised.
　　.Well, Captain?“.Smith isn’t sick, sir,“ Captain van Tromp said to the peace minister, .but heisn’t well, either. He has never before been in a one-gravity field. He nowweighs more than two and one half times what he is used to and his musclesaren’t up to it. He’s not used to Earth-normal air pressure. He’s not used toanything and the strain is likely to be too much for him. Hell’s bells,gentlemen, I’m dog tired myself just from being at one-gee again-and I wasborn on this planet.“The science minister looked contemptuous. .If acceleration fatigue is all thatis worrying you, let me assure you, my dear Captain, that we had anticipatedthat. His respiration and heart action will be watched carefully. We are notentirely without imagination and forethought. After all, I’ve been out myself. Iknow how it feels. This man Smith must-.
　　Captain van Tromp decided that it was time to throw a tantrum. He couldexcuse it by his own fatigue-very real fatigue, he felt as if he had just landedon Jupiter-and he was smugly aware that even a high councilor could notafford to take too stiff a line with the commander of the first successfulMartian expedition.
　　So he interrupted with a snort of disgust. .link! .This man Smith-. This .man!’
　　Can’t you see that that is just what he is not?“.Eh?“.Smith ... is . . . not . . . a . . . man.“.Huh? Explain yourself, Captain.“.Smith is not a man. He is an intelligent creature with the genes and ancestryof a man, but he is not a man. He’s more a Martian than a man. Until wecame along he had never laid eyes on a human being. He thinks like aMartian, he feels like a Martian. He’s been brought up by a race which hasnothing in common with us. Why, they don’t even have sex. Smith has neverlaid eyes on a woman-still hasn’t if my orders have been carried out. He’s aman by ancestry, a Martian by environment. Now, if you want to drive himcrazy and waste that .treasure trove of scientific information,’ call in your fatheadedprofessors and let them badger him. Don’t give him a chance to getwell and strong and used to this madhouse planet. Just go ahead andsqueeze him like an orange. It’s no skin off me; I’ve done my job!“The ensuing silence was broken smoothly by Secretary General Douglashimself. .And a good job, too, Captain. Your advice will be weighed, and beassured that we will not do anything hastily. If this man, or manMartian,Smith, needs a few days to get adjusted, I’m sure that science can wait-sotake it easy, Pete. Let’s table this part of the discussion, gentlemen, and geton to other matters. Captain van Tromp is tired.“.One thing won’t wait,“ said the Minister for Public Information.
　　.Eh, Jock?“.If we don’t show the Man from Mars in the stereo tanks pretty shortly, you’llhave riots on your hands, Mr. Secretary.“.Hmm- You exaggerate, Jock. Mars stuff in the news, of course. Medecorating the captain and his brave crew-tomorrow, that had better be.
　　Captain van Tromp telling of his experiences-after a night’s rest of course,Captain.“The minister shook his head.
　　.No good, Jock?“.The public expected the expedition to bring back at least one real liveMartian for them to gawk at. Since they didn’t, we need Smith and need himbadly.“.’Live Martians?’“ Secretary General Douglas turned to Captain van Tromp.
　　.You have movies of Martians, haven’t you?“.Thousands of feet.“.There’s your answer, Jock. When the live stuff gets thin, trot on the moviesof Martians. The people will love it. Now, Captain, about this possibility ofextraterritoriality: you say the Martians were not opposed to it?“.Well, no, sir-but they were not for it, either.“.I don’t follow you?“Captain van Tromp chewed his lip. .Sir, I don’t know just how to explain it.
　　Talking with a Martian is something like talking with an echo. You don’t getany argument but you don’t get results either.“.Semantic difficulty? Perhaps you should have brought what’s-hisname, yoursemantician, with you today. Or is he waiting outside?“.Mahmoud, sir. No, Doctor Mahmoud is not well. A-a slight nervousbreakdown, sir.“ Van Tromp reflected that being dead drunk was the moralequivalent thereof.
　　.Space happy?“.A little, perhaps.“ These damned groundhogs!
　　.Well, fetch him around when he’s feeling himself. young man Smith shouldbe of help as an interpreter.“.Perhaps,“ van Tromp said doubtfully.
　　This young man Smith was busy at that moment just staying alive. His body,unbearably compressed and weakened by the strange shape of space in thisunbelievable place, was at last somewhat relieved by the softness of the nestin which these others had placed him. He dropped the effort of sustaining it,and turned his third level to his respiration and heart beat.
　　He saw at once that he was about to consume himself. His lungs werebeating almost as hard as they did at home, his heart was racing to distributethe influx, ail in an attempt to cope with the squeezing of space-and this in asituation in which he was smothered by a poisonously rich and dangerouslyhot atmosphere. He took immediate steps.
　　When his heart rate was down to twenty per minute and his respirationalmost imperceptible, he set them at that and watched himself long enoughto assure himself that he would not inadvertently discorporate while hisattention was elsewhere. When he was satisfied that they were runningproperly, he set a tiny portion of his second level on guard and withdrew therest of himself. It was necessary to review the configurations of these manynew events in order to fit them to himself, then cherish and praise them-lestthey swallow him up.
　　Where should he start? When he had left home, enfolding these others whowere now his own nestlings? Or simply at his arrival in this crushed space?
　　He was suddenly assaulted by the lights and sounds of that arrival, feeling itagain with mind-shaking pain. No, he was not yet ready to cherish andembrace that configuration-back! back! back beyond his first sight of theseothers who were now his own. Back even before the healing which hadfollowed his first grokking of the fact that he was not as his nestling brothers .
　　. . back to the nest itself.
　　None of his thinkings had been in Earth symbols. Simple English he hadfreshly learned to speak, but much less easily than a Hindu uses it to tradewith a Turk. Smith used English as one might use a code book, with tediousand imperfect translation for each symbol. Now his thoughts, pure Martianabstractions from half a million years of wildly alien culture, traveled so farfrom any human experience as to be utterly untranslatable.
　　In the adjoining room an intern, Dr. .Tad“ Thaddeus, was playing cribbagewith Tom Meechum, Smith’s special nurse. Thaddeus had one eye on hisdials and meters and both eyes on his cards; nevertheless he noted everyheart beat of his patient. When a flickering light changed from ninety-twopulsations per minute to less than twenty, he pushed the cards aside, jumpedto his feet, and hurried into Smith’s room with Meechum at his heels.
　　The patient floated in the flexible skin of the hydraulic bed. He appeared tobe dead. Thaddeus swore briefly and snapped, .Get Doctor Nelson!“Meechum said, .Yessir!“ and added, .How about the shock gear, Doc?
　　He’s far gone.“.Get Doctor Nelson!“The nurse rushed out. The interne examined the patient as closely aspossible but refrained from touching him. He was still doing so when an olderdoctor came in, walking with the labored awkwardness of a man long inspace and not yet adjusted to high gravity. .Well, Doctor?“.Patient’s respiration, temperature, and pulse dropped suddenly, uh, abouttwo minutes ago, sir.“.What have you done for him, or to him?“.Nothing, sir. Your instructions-.
　　.Good.“ Nelson looked Smith over briefly, then studied the instruments backof the bed, twins of those in the watch room. .Let me know if there is anychange.“ He started to leave.
　　Thaddeus looked startled. .But, Doctor-. He broke off.
　　Nelson said grimly, .Go ahead, Doctor. What is your diagnosis?“.Uh, I don’t wish to sound off about your patient, sir.“.Never mind. I asked for your diagnosis.“.Very well, sir. Shock-atypical, perhaps,“ he hedged, .but shock,leading to termination.“Nelson nodded. .Reasonable enough. But this isn’t a reasonable case.
　　Relax, son. I’ve seen this patient in this condition half a dozen times duringthe trip back. It doesn’t mean a thing. Watch.“ Nelson lifted the patient’s rightarm, let it go. It stayed where he had left it.
　　.Catalepsy?“ asked Thaddeus.
　　.Call it that if you like. Calling a tail a leg doesn’t make it one. Don’t worryabout it, Doctor. There is nothing typical about this case. Just keep him frombeing bothered and call me if there is any change.“ He replaced Smith’s arm.
　　When Nelson had left, Thaddeus took one more look at the patient, shook hishead and joined Meechum in the watch room. Meechum picked up his cardsand said, .Crib?“.No.“Meechuin waited, then added, .Doc, if you ask me, that one in there is a casefor the basket before morning.“.No one asked you.“.My mistake.“.Go out and have a cigarette with the guards. I want to think.“Meechum shrugged and left. Thaddeus opened a bottom drawer, took out abottle and poured himself a dose intended to help his thinking. Meechumjoined the guards in the corridor; they straightened up, then saw who it wasand relaxed. The taller marine said, .Howdy, pal. What was the excitementjust now?“.Nothing much. The patient just had quintuplets and we were arguing aboutwhat to name them. Which one of you monkeys has got a butt? And a light?“The other marine dug a pack of cigarettes out of a pocket. .How’re you fixedfor Suction?“ he asked bleakly.
　　.Just middlin’. Thanks.“ Meechum stuck the cigarette in his face and talkedaround it. .Honest to God, gentlemen, I don’t know anything about thispatient. I wish I did.“.What’s the idea of these orders about .Absolutely No Women’? Is he somekind of a sex maniac?“.Not that I know of. All that I know is that they brought him in from theChampion and said that he was to have absolute quiet.“.’The Champion!’ .the first marine said. .Of course! That accounts for it.“.Accounts for what?“.It stands to reason. He ain’t had any, he ain’t seen any, he ain’t touchedany-for months. And he’s sick, see? If he was to lay hands on any, they’reafraid he’d kill hisself.“ He blinked and blew out a deep breath. .I’ll bet Iwould, under similar circumstances. No wonder they don’t want no bimsaround him.“Smith had been aware of the visit by the doctors but he had grokked at oncethat their intentions were benign; it was not necessary for the major part ofhim to be jerked back from where he was.
　　At the hour in the morning when human nurses slap patient’s faces with cold,wet cloths under the pretense of washing them, Smith returned from hisjourney. He speeded up his heart, increased his respiration, and again tooknote of his surroundings, viewing them with serenity. He looked the roomover, noting without discrimination and with praise all its details, bothimportant and unimportant. He was, in fact, seeing it for the first time, as hehad been incapable of enfolding it when he had been brought there the daybefore. This commonplace room was not commonplace to him; there wasnothing remotely like it on all Mars, nor did it resemble the wedge-shaPed~metal-walled compartments of the Champion. But, having relived the eventslinking his nest to this place, he was now prepared to accept it, commend it,and in some degree to cherish it.
　　He became aware that there was another living creature in the room withhim. A granddaddy longlegs was making a futile journey down from theceiling, spinning as it went. Smith watched it with delight and wondered if itwere a nestling form of man.
　　Doctor Archer Frame, the interne who had relieved Thaddeus, walked in atthat moment. .Good morning,“ he said. .How do you feel?“Smith turned the question over in his mind. The first phrase he recognized asa formal sound, requiring no answer but which could be repeated-or mightnot be. The second phrase was listed in his mind with several possibletranslations. If Doctor Nelson used it, it meant one thing; if Captain vanTromp used it, it was a formal sound, needing no reply.
　　He felt that dismay which so often overtook him in trying to communicate withthese creatures-a frightening sensation unknown to him before he met men.
　　But he forced his body to remain calm and risked an answer. .Feel good.“.Good!“ the creature echoed. .Doctor Nelson will be along in a minute. Feellike some breakfast?“All four symbols in the query were in Smith’s vocabulary but he had troublebelieving that he had heard them rightly. He knew that he was food, but hedid not .feel like“ food. Nor had he had any warning that he might be selectedfor such an honor. He had not known that the food supply was such that itwas necessary to reduce the corporate group. He was filled with mild regret,since there was still so much to grok of these new events, but no reluctance.
　　But he was excused from the effort of translating an answer by the entranceof Dr. Nelson. The ship’s doctor had had little rest and less sleep; he wastedno time on speech but inspected Smith and the array of dials in silence.
　　Then he turned to Smith. .Bowels move?“ he asked.
　　Smith understood this; Nelson always asked about it. .No, not yet.“.We’ll take care of that. But first you eat. Orderly, fetch in that tray.“Nelson fed him two or three bites, then required him to hold the spoon andfeed himself. It was tiring but gave him a feeling of gay triumph, for it was thefirst unassisted action he had taken since reaching this oddly distorted space.
　　He cleaned out the bowl and remembered to ask, .Who is this?“ so that hecould praise his benefactor.
　　.What is this, you mean,“ Nelson answered. .It’s a synthetic food jelly, basedon amino acids-and now you know as much as you did before. Finished? Allright, climb out of that bed.“.Beg pardon?“ It was an attention symbol which he had learned was usefulwhen communication failed.
　　.I said get out of there. Sit up. Stand up. Walk around. You can do it. Sure,you’re weak as a kitten but you’ll never put on muscle floating in that bed.“Nelson opened a valve at the head of the bed; water drained out. Smithrestrained a feeling of insecurity, knowing that Nelson cherished him. Shortlyhe lay on the floor of the bed with the watertight cover wrinkled around him.
　　Nelson added, .Doctor Frame, take his other elbow. We’ll have to help himand steady him.“With Dr. Nelson to encourage him and both of them to help him, Smith stoodup and stumbled over the rim of the bed. .Steady. Now stand up on yourown,“ Nelson directed. .Don’t be afraid. We’ll catch you if necessary.“He made the effort and stood alone-a slender young man withunderdeveloped muscles and overdeveloped chest. His hair had been cut inthe Champion and his whiskers removed and inhibited. His most markedfeature was his bland, expressionless, almost babyish face-set with eyeswhich would have seemed more at home in a man of ninety.
　　He stood alone for a moment, trembling slightly, then tried to walk. Hemanaged three shuffling steps and broke into a sunny, childlike smile. .Goodboy!“ Nelson applauded.
　　He tried another step, began to tremble violently and suddenly collapsed.
　　They barely managed to break his fall. .Damn!“ Nelson fumed. .He’s goneinto another one. Here, help me lift him into the bed. No-fill it first.“Frame did so, cutting off the flow when the cover skin floated six inches fromthe top. They lugged him into it, awkwardly because he had frozen into thefoetal position. .Get a collar pillow under his neck,“ instructed Nelson, .andcall me when he comes out of it. No-let me sleep, I need it. Unless somethingworries you. We’ll walk him again this afternoon and tomorrow we’ll startsystematic exercise. In three months I’ll have him swinging through the treeslike a monkey. There’s nothing really wrong with him.“.Yes, Doctor,“ Frame answered doubtfully.
　　.Oh, yes, when he comes out of it, teach him how to use the bathroom. Havethe nurse help you; I don’t Want him to fall.“.Yes, sir. Uh, any particular method-I mean, how-.
　　.Eh? Show him, of course! Demonstrate. He probably won’t understandmuch that you say to him, but he’s bright as a whip. He’ll be bathing himselfby the end of the week.“Smith ate lunch without help. Presently a male orderly came in to remove histray. The man glanced around, then came to the bed and leaned over him.
　　.Listen,“ he said in a low voice, .I’ve got a fat proposition for you.“.Beg pardon?“.A deal, a bargain, a way for you to make a lot of money fast and easy.“.’Money?’ What is .money’?“.Never mind the philosophy; everybody needs money. Now listen I’ll have totalk fast because I can’t stay in here long-and it’s taken a lot of fixing to getme in here at all. I represent Peerless Features. We’ll pay you sixty thousandfor your exclusive story and it won’t be a bit of trouble to you-we’ve got thebest ghost writers in the business. You just talk and answer questions; theyput it together.“ He whipped out a piece of paper. .Just read this and sign it.
　　I’ve got the down payment with me.“Smith accepted the paper, stared thoughtfully at it, holding it upside down.
　　The man looked at him and muffled an exclamation. .Lordyl Don’t you readEnglish?“Smith understood this well enough to answer. .No.“.Well- Here, I’ll read it to you, then you just put your thumb print in the squareand I’ll witness it. .I, the undersigned, Valentine Michael Smith, sometimesknown as the Man from Mars, do grant and assign to Peerless Features,Limited, all and exclusive rights in my true-fact story to be titled I Was aPrisoner on Mars in exchange for-.
　　.Orderly!“Dr. Frame was standing in the door of the watch room; the paperdisappeared into the man’s clothes. .Coming, sir. I was just getting this tray.“.What were you reading?“.Nothing.“.I saw you. Never mind, come out of there quickly. This patient is not to bedisturbed.“ The man obeyed; Dr. Frame closed the door behind them. Smithlay motionless for the next half hour, but try as he might he could not grok itat all.
Chapter 4
GILLIAN BOARDMAN WAS CONSIDERED professionally competent as anurse; she was judged competent in wider fields by the bachelor internes andshe was judged harshly by some other women. There was no harm in herand her hobby was men. When the grapevine carried the word that there wasa patient in special suite K-12 who had never laid eyes on a woman in hislife, she did not believe it. When detailed explanation convinced her, sheresolved to remedy it. She went on duty that day as floor supervisor in thewing where Smith was housed. As soon as possible she went to pay a call onthe strange patient.
　　She knew of the .No Female Visitors“ rule and, while she did not Considerherself to be a visitor of any sort, she sailed on past the marine guardswithout attempting to use the door they guarded-marines, she had found, hada stuffy habit of construing their orders literally. Instead she went into theadjacent watch room. Dr. .Tad“ Thaddeus was on duty there alone.
　　He looked up. .Well, if it ain’t .Dimples!’ Hi, honey, what brings you here?“She sat on the corner of his desk and reached for his cigarettes. .’MissDimples,’ to you, chum; I’m on duty. This call is part of my rounds. Whatabout your patient?“.Don’t worry your fuzzy head about him, honey chile; he’s not yourresponsibility. See your order book.“.I read it. I want to have a look at him.“.In one word-no.“.Oh, Tad, don’t go regulation on me. I know you.“He gazed thoughtfully at his nails. .Ever worked for Doctor Nelson?“.No. Why?“.If I let you put your little foot inside that door, I’d find myself in Antarcticaearly tomorrow, prescribing for penguins’ chilblains. So switch your fanny outof here and go bother your own patients. I wouldn’t want him even to catchyou in this watch room.“She stood up. .Is Doctor Nelson likely to come popping in?“.Not likely, unless I send for him. He’s still sleeping off low-gee fatigue.“.So? Then what’s the idea of being so duty struck?“.That’s all, Nurse.“.Very well, Doctor!“ She added, .Stinker.“.Jill!“.And a stuffed shirt, too.“He sighed. .Still okay for Saturday night?“She shrugged. .I suppose so. A girl can’t be fussy these days.“ She wentback to her duty station, found that her services were not in immediatedemand, picked up the pass key. She was balked but not beaten, as sherecalled that suite K- 12 had a door joining it to the room beyond it, a roomsometimes used as a sitting room when the suite was occupied by a VeryImportant Person. The room was not then in use, either as part of the suite orseparately. She let herself into it. The guards at the door beyond paid noattention, unaware that they had been flanked.
　　She hesitated at the inner door between the two rooms, feeling some of thesharp excitement she used to feel when sneaking out of student nurses’
　　quarters. But, she told herself, Dr. Nelson was asleep and Tad wouldn’t tellon her even if he caught her. She didn’t blame him for keeping his finger onhis number-but he wouldn’t report her. She unlocked the door and looked in.
　　The patient was in bed, he looked at her as the door opened. Her firstimpression was that here was a patient too far gone to care. His lack ofexpression seemed to show the complete apathy of the desperately ill. Thenshe saw that his eyes were alive with interest; she wondered if his face wereparalysed? No, she decided; the typical sags were lacking.
　　She assumed her professional manner. .Well, how are we today? Feelingbetter?“Smith translated and examined the questions. The inclusion of herself in thefirst query was confusing, but he decided that it might symbolize a wish tocherish and grow close. The second part matched Nelson’s speech forms.
　　.Yes,“ he answered.
　　.Good!“ Aside from his odd lack of expression she saw nothing strange abouthim-and if women were unknown to him, he was certainly managing toconceal it. .Is there anything I can do for you?“ She glanced around, notedthat there was no glass on the bedside shelf. .May I get you water?“Smith had spotted at once that this creature was different from the otherswho had come to see him. Almost as quickly he compared what he wasseeing with pictures Nelson had shown him on the trip from home to thisplace-pictures intended to explain a particularly difficult and puzzlingconfiguration of this people group. This, then, was a .woman.“He felt both oddly excited and disappointed. He suppressed both in order thathe might grok deeply, with such success that Dr. Thaddeus noticed nochange in the dial readings in the next room.
　　But when he translated the last query he felt such a surge of emotion that healmost let his heartbeat increase. He caught it in time and chided himself foran undisciplined nestling. Then he checked his translation.
　　No, he was not mistaken. This woman creature had offered him the waterritual. It wished to grow closer.
　　With great effort, scrambling for adequate meanings in his pitifully poor list ofhuman words, he attempted to answer with due ceremoniousness. .I thankyou for water. May you always drink deep.“Nurse Boardman looked startled. .Why, how sweetl“ She found a glass, filledit, and handed it to him.
　　He said, .You drink.“Wonder if he thinks I’m trying to poison him? she asked herself-but there wasa compelling quality to his request. She took a sip, whereupon he took theglass from her and took one also, after which he seemed content to sink backinto the bed, as if he had accomplished something important.
　　Jill told herself that, as an adventure, this was a fizzle. She said, .Well, if youdon’t need anything else, I must get on with my work.“She started for the door. He called out, .Not“She stopped. .Eh? What do you want’~“.Don’t go away.“.Well I have to go, pretty quickly.“ But she came back to the bedside, .Isthere anything you want?“He looked her up and down. .You are ... .woman’?“The question startled Jill Boardxnafl. Her sex had not been in doubt to themost casual observer for many years. Her first impulse was to answerflippantly.
　　But Smith’s grave face and oddly disturbing eyes checked her. She becameaware emotionallY that the impossible fact about this patient was true: he didnot know what a woman was. She answered carefully, .Yes, I am a woman.“Smith continued to stare at her without expression. Jill began to beembarrassed by it. To be looked at appreciativelY by a male she expectedand sometimes enjoyed, but this was more like being examined under amicroscope. She stirred restively. .Well? I look like a woman, don’t I?“.I do not know,“ Smith answered slowly. .How does woman look? Whatmakes you woman?“.Well, for pity’s sake!“ Jill realized confusedly that this conversation wasfurther out of hand than any she had had with a male since about her twelfthbirthday. .You don’t expect me to take off my clothes and show you!“Smith took time to examine these verbal symbols and try to translate them.
　　The first group he could not grok at all. It might be one of those formal soundgroups these people so often used . . . yet it had been spoken with surprisingforce, as if it might be a last communication before withdrawaL Perhaps hehad so deeply mistaken right conduct in dealing with a woman creature thatthe creature might be ready to discorporate at once.
　　He knew vaguely that he did not want the nurse to die at that moment, eventhough it was certainly its right and possibly its obligation to do so. Theabrupt change from the rapport of the Water ritual to a situation in which anewly won water brother might possibly be considering withdrawal ordiscorporatiOn would have thrown him into panic had he not beenconsciously suppressing such disturbance. But he decided that if Jill diednow he must die at once also-he could not grok it in any other wise, not afterthe giving of water.
　　The second half of the communication contained only symbols that he hadencountered before. He grokked imperfectly the intention but there seemedto be an implied way Out for him to avoid this crisis-by acceding to thesuggested wish. Perhaps if the woman took its clothes off neither of themneed discorporate. He smiled happily. .Please.“Jill opened her mouth, closed it hastily. She opened it again. .Huh? Well,I’ll be darned!“Smith could grok emotional violence and knew that somehow he had offeredthe wrong reply. He began to compose his mind for discorporation, savoringand cherishing all that he had been and seen, with especial attention to thiswoman creature. Then he became aware that the woman was bending overhim and he knew somehow that it was not about to die. It looked into hisface. .Correct me if I am wrong,“ it said, .but were you asking me to take myclothes off?“The inversions and abstractions required careful translation but Smithmanaged it. .Yes,“ he answered, while hoping that it would not stir up a newcrsis.
　　.That’s what I thought you said. Brother, you aren’t ill.“The word .brother“ he considered first-the woman was reminding him thatthey had been joined in the water ritual. He asked the help of his nestlingsthat he might measure up to whatever this new brotheT wanted. .I am not ill,“he agreed.
　　.Though I’m darned if I know how to cope with whatever is wrong with you.
　　But I won’t peel down. And I’ve got to get out of here.“ It straightened up andturned again toward the side door-then stopped and looked back with aquizzical smile. .You might ask me again, real prettily, under othercircumstances. I’m curious to see what I might do.“The woman was gone. Smith relaxed into the water bed and let the roomfade away from him. He felt sober triumph that he had somehow comfortedhimself so that it was not necessary for them to die . . . but there was muchnew to grok. The woman’s last speech had contained many symbols new tohim and those which were not new had been arranged in fashions not easilyunderstood. Out he was happy that the emotional flavor of them had beensuitable for communication between water brothers-although touched withsomething else both disturbing and terrifyingly pleasant. He thought about hisnew brother, the woman creature, and felt odd tingles run through him. Thefeeling reminded him of the first time he had been allowed to be present at adiscorporatiOn and he felt happy without knowing why.
　　He wished that his brother Doctor Mahmoud were here. There was so muchto grok, so little to grok from.
　　Jill Boardman spent the rest of her watch in a mild daze. She managed toavoid any mistakes in medication and she answered from reflex the usualverbal overtures made to her. But the face of the Man from Mars stayed inher mind and she mulled over the crazy things he had said. No, not .crazy,“she corrected-she had done her Stint ~fl psychiatric wards and she feltcertain that his remarks had not been psychotic.
　　She decided that .innocent“ was the proper term-then she decided that theword was not adequate. His expression was innocent, but his eyes were not.
　　What sort of creature had a face like that?
　　She had once worked in a Catholic hospital; she suddenly saw the face ofthe Man from Mars surrounded by the head dress of a nursing Sister, a nun.
　　The idea disturbed her, for there was nothing female about Smith’s face.
　　She was changing into Street clothes when another nurse stuck her headinto the locker room. .Phone, Jill. For you.“ Jill accepted the call, soundwithout vision, while she continued to dress.
　　.Is this Florence Nightingale?“ a baritone voice asked.
　　.Speaking. That you, Ben?“.The stalwart upholder of the freedom of the press in person. Little one,are you busy?“.What do you have in mind?“.I have in mind taking you out, buying you a bloody steak, plying you withliquor, and asking you a question.“.The answer is still .No.’
　　.Not that question. Another one.“.Oh, do you know another one? If so, tell me.“.Later. I want you softened up by food and liquor first.“.Real steak? Not syntho?“.Guaranteed. When you stick a fork into it, it will turn imploring eyes onyou.“.You must be on an expense account, Ben.“.That’s irrelevant and ignoble. How about it?“.You’ve talked me into it.“.The roof of the medical center. Ten minutes.“She put the street suit she had changed into back into her locker and put ona dinner dress kept there for emergencies. It was a demure little number,barely translucent and with bustle and bust pads so subdued that they merelyre-created the effect she would have produced had she been wearingnothing. The dress had cost her a month’s pay and did not look it, its subtlepower being concealed like knock-out drops in a drink. Jill looked at herselfwith satisfaction and took the bounce tube up to the roof.
　　There she pulled her cape around her against the wind and was looking forBen Caxton when the roof orderly touched her arm. .There is a car over therepaging you, Miss Boardman-that Talbot saloon.“.Thanks, Jack.“ She saw the taxi spotted for take-off, with its door open. Shewent to it, climbed in, and was about to hand Ben a backhanded complimenton gallantry when she saw that he was not inside. The taxi was on automatic;its door closed and it took to the air, swung Out of the circle, and slicedacross the Potomac. Jill sat back and waited.
　　The taxi stopped on a public landing flat over Alexandria and Ben Caxton gotin; it took off again. Jill looked him over grimly. .My, aren’t we gettingimportant! Since when has your time become so valuable that you send arobot to pick up your women?“He reached over, patted her knee, and said gently, .Reasons, little one,reasons-I can’t afford to be seen picking you up-.
　　.Welll“.-and you can’t afford to be seen being picked up by me. So simmer down. Iapologize. I bow in the dust. I kiss your little foot. But it was necessary.“.Hmm ... which one of us has leprosy?“.Both of us, in different ways. Jill, I’m a newspaperman.“.I was begimiing to think you were something else.“.And you are a nurse at the hospital where they are holding the Man fromMars.“ He spread his hands and shrugged.
　　.Keep talking. Does that make me unfit to meet your mother?“.Do you need a map, Jill? There are more than a thousand reporters in thisarea, not counting press agents, ax grinders, winchells, lippmanns, and thestampede that headed this way when the Champion landed. Every one ofthem has been trying to interview the Man from Mars, including me. So far asI know, none has succeeded. Do you think it would be Smart for us to beseen leaving the hospital together?“.Umm, maybe not. But I don’t really see that it matters. I’m not the Manfrom Mars.“He looked her over. .You certainly aren’t. But maybe you are going to helpme see him-which is why I didn’t want to be seen picking you.Huh? Ben, you’ve been out in the sun without your hat. They’ve got a marineguard around him.“ She thought about the fact that she herself had not foundthe guard too hard to circumvent, decided not to mention it.
　　.So they have. So we talk it over.“.I don’t see what there is to talk about.“.Later. I didn’t intend to let the subject come up until I had softened you withanimal proteins and ethanol. Let’s eat first.“.Now you sound rational. Where? Would your expense account run to theNew Mayflower? You are on an expense account, aren’t you?“Caxton frowned. .Jill, if we eat in a restaurant, I wouldn’t want to risk onecloser than Louisville. It would take this hack more than two hours to get usthat far. How about dinner in my apartment?“.’-Said the Spider to the Fly.’ Ben, I remember the last time. I’m too tired towrestle.“.Nobody asked you to. Strictly business. King’s X, cross my heart andhope to die.“.I don’t know as I like that much better. If I’m safe alone with you, I must beslipping. Well, all right, King’s X.“Caxton leaned forward and punched buttons; the taxi, which had beencircling under a .hold“ instruction, woke up, looked around, and headed forthe apartment hotel where Ben lived. He then dialed a phone number andsaid to Jill, .How much time do you want to get liquored up, sugar foot? I’ll tellthe kitchen when to have the steaks ready.“Jill considered it. .Ben, your mousetrap has a private kitchen.“.Of sorts. I can grill a steak, if that is what you mean.“.I’ll grill the steak. Hand me the phone.“ She gave orders, stopping to makesure that Ben liked endive.
　　The taxi dropped them on the roof and they went down to his flat. It wasunstylish and old-fashioned; its one luxury was a live grass lawn in the livingroom. Jill stopped in the entrance hail, slipped off her shoes, then steppedbare-footed into the living room and wiggled her toes among the cool greenblades. She sighed. .My, that feels good. My feet have hurt ever since Ientered training.“.Sit down.“.No, I want my feet to remember this tomorrow, when I’m on duty.“.Suit yourself.“ He went into his pantry and mixed drinks.
　　Presently she pattered after him and became domestic. The steak waswaiting in the package lift; with it were pre-baked potatoes ready to bepopped into short-wave. She tossed the salad, handed it to the refrigerator,then set up a combination on the stove to grill the steak and have thepotatoes hot simultaneously, but did not start the cycle. .Ben, doesn’t thisstove have a remote control?“.Of course.“.Well, I can’t find it.“He studied the setup on the control panel, then flipped an unmarked switch.
　　.Jill, what would you do if you had to cook over an open fire?“.I’d do darn well. I was a Girl Scout and a good one. How about you,smarty?“He ignored it, picked up a tray and went back to the living room; she followedand sat down at his feet, spreading her skirt to avoid grass stains. Theyapplied themselves seriously to martinis. Opposite his chair was astereovision tank disguised as an aquarium; he switched it on from his chair,guppies and tetras faded out and gave way to the face of a commentator, thewell-known winchell Augustus Greaves.
　　.-it can be stated authoritatively,“ the stereo image was saying, .that the Manfrom Mars is being kept constantly under hypnotic drugs to keep him fromdisclosing these facts. The administration would find it extremelyembarrassing if-.
　　Canon flipped it off. .Gus old boy,“ he said pleasantly, .you don’t know a durnthing more about it than I do.“ He frowned. .Though you might be right aboutthe government keeping him under drugs.“.No, they aren’t,“ Jill said suddenly.
　　.Eh? How’s that, little one?“.The Man from Mars isn’t being kept under hypnotics.“ Having blurted morethan she had meant to, she added carefully, .He’s got a nurse and a doctorall to himself on continuous watch, but there aren’t any orders for sedation.“.Are you sure? You aren’t one of his nurses-or are you?“.No. They’re male nurses. Uh ... matter of fact, there’s an order to keepwomen away from him entirely and a couple of tough marines to make sureof it.“Caxton nodded. .I heard about that. Fact is, you don’t know whether they aredrugging him or not. Do you?“Jill stared into her empty glass. She felt annoyed to have her word doubtedbut realized she would have to tell on herself to back up what she had said.
　　.Ben? You wouldn’t give me away? Would you?“.Give you away? How?“.Any way at all.“.Hmm ... that covers a lot of ground, but I’ll go along.“.All right. Pour me another one first.“ He did so, Jill went on. .I know theydon’t have the Man from Mars hopped up-because I talked with him.“Caxton gave a slow whistle. .I knew it. When I got up this morning I said tomyself, .Go see Jill. She’s the ace up my sleeve.’ Honey lamb, have anotherdrink. Have six. Here, take the pitcher.“.Not so fast, thanks.“.Whatever you like. May I rub your poor tired feet? Lady, you are about to beinterviewed. Your public waits with quivering impatience. Now let’s begin atthe beginning. How-.
　　.No, Ben! You promised-remember? You quote me just one little quoteand I’ll lose my job.“.Mmm ... probably. How about .from a usually reliable source’?“.I’d be scared.“.Well? Are you going to tell Uncle Ben? Or are you going to let him die offrustration and then eat that steak by yourself?“.Oh, I’ll talk-now that I’ve talked this much. But you can’t use it.“ Ben keptquiet and did not press his luck; Jill described how she had outflanked theguards.
　　He interrupted. .Say! Could you do that again?“.Huh? I suppose so, but I won’t. It’s risky.“.Well, could you slip me in that way? Of course you could! Look, I’ll dress uplike an electrician-greasy coveralls, union badge, tool kit. You just slip me thepass key and-.
　　.No!“.Huh? Look, baby girl, be reasonable. I’ll bet you four to one that half thehospital staffers around him are ringers, stuck in there by one news serviceor another. This is the greatest human-interest story since Colombo connedIsabella into hocking her jewels. The only thing that worries me is that I mayfind another phony electrician-.
　　.The only thing that worries me is me,“ Jill interrupted. .To you it’s just astory; to me it’s my career. They’d take away my cap, my pin, and ride me outof town on a rail. I’d be finished as a nurse.“.Mmm ... there’s that.“.There sure is that.“.Lady, you are about to be offered a bribe.“.How big a bribe? It’ll take quite a chunk to keep me in style the rest of mylife in Rio.“.Well ... the story is worth money, of course, but you can’t expect me tooutbid Associated Press, or Reuters. How about a hundred?“.What do you think I am?“.We settled that, we’re dickering over the price. A hundred and fifty?“.Pour me another drink and look up the phone number of Associated Pressfor me, that’s a lamb.“.It’s Capitol 10-9000. Jill, will you marry me? That’s as high as I canShe looked up at him, startled. .What did you say?“.Will you marry me? Then, when they ride you out of town on a rail, I’ll bewaiting at the city line and take you away from your sordid existence. You’llcome back here and cool your toes in my grass-our grass- and forget yourignominy. But you’ve durn well got to sneak me into that hospital room first.“.Ben, you almost sound serious. If I phone for a Fair Witness, will yourepeat the offer?“Caxton sighed. .Jill, you’re a hard woman. Send for a Witness.“She stood up. .Ben,“ she said softly, .I won’t hold you to it.“ She rumpled hishair and kissed him. .But don’t ever joke about marriage to a spinster.“.I wasn’t joking.“.I wonder. Wipe off the lipstick and I’ll tell you everything I know, then we’llconsider how you can use it without getting me ridden on that rail. Fairenough?“.Fair enough.“She gave him a detailed account. .I’m sure he wasn’t drugged. I’m equallysure that he was rational-although why I’m sure I don’t know, for he talked inthe oddest fashion and asked the darnedest questions. But I’m sure. He isn’tpsychotic.“.It would be odder still if he hadn’t talked in an odd fashion.“.Huh?“.Use your head, Jill. We don’t know much about Mars but we do know thatMars is very unlike Earth and that Martians, whatever they are, certainly arenot human. Suppose you were suddenly popped into a tribe so far back inthe jungle that they had never laid eyes on a white woman. Would you knowall the sophisticated small talk that comes from a lifetime in a culture? Orwould your conversation sound odd? That’s a very mild analogy; the truth inthis case is at least forty million miles stranger.“Jill nodded. .I figured that out ... and that is why I discounted his oddremarks. I’m not dumb.“.No, you’re real bright, for a female.“.Would you like this martini poured in your thinning hair?“.I apologize. Women are lots smarter than men; that is proved by our wholecultural setup. Gimme, I’ll fill it.“She accepted the peace offerings and went on, .Ben, that order about notletting him see women, it’s silly. He’s no sex fiend.“.No doubt they don’t want to hand him too many shocks at once.“.He wasn’t shocked. He was just ... interested. It wasn’t like having a manlook at me at all.“.If you had humored him on that request for a private viewing, you mighthave had your hands full. He probably has all the instincts and no inhibitions.“.Huh? I don’t think so. I suppose they’ve told him about male and female; hejust wanted to see how women are different.“.’Vive Ia difference!’“ Caxton answered enthusiastically.
　　.Don’t be more vulgar than you have to be.“.Me? I wasn’t being vulgar, I was being reverent. I was giving thanks to allthe gods that I was born human and not Martian.“.Be serious.“.I was never more serious.“.Then be quiet. He wouldn’t have given me any trouble. He would probablyhave thanked me gravely. You didn’t see his face-I did.“.What about his face?“Jill looked puzzled. .I don’t know how to express it. Yes, I do!-Ben, have youever seen an angel?“.You, cherub. Otherwise not.“.Well, neither have I-but that is what he looked like. He had old, wise eyes ina completely placid face, a face of unearthly innocence.“ She shivered.
　　.’Unearthly’ is surely the right word,“ Ben answered slowly. .I’d like to seehim.“.I wish you had. Ben, why are they making such a thing out of keeping himshut up? He wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m sure of it.“Caxton fitted his fingertips together. .Well, in the first place they want toprotect him. He grew up in Mars gravity; he’s probably weak as a cat.“.Yes, of course. You could see it, just looking at him. But muscular weaknessisn’t dangerous; myasthenia gravis is much worse and we manage all rightwith such cases.“.They would want to keep him from catching things, too. He’s like thoseexperimental animals at Notre Dame; he’s never been exposed.“.Sure, sure-no antibodies. But from what I hear around the mess hail, DoctorNelson-the surgeon in the Champion, I mean-Doctor Nelson took care of thaton the trip back. Repeated mutual transfusion until he had replaced abouthalf of his blood tissue.“.Really? Can I use that, Jill? That’s news.“.All right, just don’t quote me. They gave him shots for everything buthousemaid’s knee, too. But, Ben, even if they want to protect him frominfection, that doesn’t take armed guards outside his door.“.Mmmm ... Jill, I’ve picked up a few tidbits you may not know. I haven’t beenable to use them because I’ve got to protect my sources, just as with you. ButI’ll tell you; you’ve earned it-just don’t talk.“.Oh, I won’t.“.It’s a long story. Want a refill?“.No, let’s start the steak. Where’s the button?“.Right here.“.Well, push it.“.Me? You offered to cook dinner. Where’s that Girl Scout spirit you wereboasting about?“.Ben Caxton, I will lie right here in the grass and starve before I will get up topush a button that is six inches from your right forefinger.“.As you wish.“ He pressed the button to tell the stove to carry out its pre.setorders. .But don’t forget who cooked dinner. Now about Valentine MichaelSmith. In the first place there is grave doubt as to his right to the name.Smith.’“.Repeat, please?“.Honey, your pal appears to be the first interplanetary bastard of record. Imean .love child.’“.The hell you say!“.Please be more ladylike in your speech. Do you remember anything aboutthe crew of the Envoy? Never mind, I’ll hit the high points. Eight people, fourmarried couples. Two couples were Captain and Mrs. Brant, Doctor and Mrs.
　　Smith. Your friend with the face of an angel appears to be the son of Mrs.
　　Smith by Captain Brant.“.How do they know? And, anyhow, who cares?“ Jill sat up and saidindignantly, .It’s a pretty snivelin’ thing to dig up a scandal after all this time.
　　They’re all dead-let .em alone, I say!“.As to how they know, you can figure that out. Blood typing, Rh factor, hairand eye color, all those genetic things-you probably know more about themthan I do. Anyhow it is a mathematical certainty that Mary Jane Lyle Smithwas his mother and Captain Michael Brant was his father. All the factors arematters of record for the entire crew of the Envoy; there probably never wereeight people more thoroughly measured and typed. Also it gives ValentineMichael Smith a wonderfully fine heredity; his father had an I.Q. of 163, hismother 170, and both were tops in their fields.
　　.As to who cares,“ Ben went on, .a lot of people care very much- and a lotmore will care, once this picture shapes up. Ever heard of the Lyle Drive?“.Of course. That’s what the Champion used.“.And every other space ship, these days. Who invented it?“.I don’t-Wait a minute! You mean she-.
　　.Hand the little lady a cigar! Dr. Mary Jane Lyle Smith. She knew she hadsomething important, even though development work remained to be doneon it. So before she left on the expedition, she applied for a dozenodd basicpatents and placed it all in a corporate trust-not a non-profit corporation, mindyou-then assigned control and interim income to the Science Foundation. Soeventually the government got control of it-but your friend with the face of anangel owns it. No possible doubt. It’s worth millions, maybe hundreds ofmillions; I couldn’t guess.“They brought in dinner. Caston used ceiling tables to protect his lawn; helowered one down in front of his chair and another to Japanese height so thatJill could sit on the grass. .Tender?“ he asked.
　　.Ongerful!“ she answered with her mouth full.
　　.Thanks. Remember, I cooked it.“.Ben,“ she said after swallowing, .how about Smith being a-I mean, beingillegitimate? Can he inherit?“.He’s not illegitimate. Doctor Mary Jane was at Berkeley, and California lawsdeny the concept of bastardy. Same for Captain Brant, as New Zealand alsohas civilized laws on the subject. While under the laws of the home State ofDoctor Ward Smith, Mary Jane’s husband, a child born in wedlock islegitimate, come hell or high water. We have here. Jill, a man who is theSimon-pure legitimate child of three different parents.
　　.Huh? Now wait a minute, Ben; he can’t be it both ways. One or the other butnot both. I’m not a lawyer but-.
　　.You sure ain’t. Such legal fictions bother a lawyer not at all. Smith islegitimate different ways in different jurisdictions, all kosher and all breakinghis way-even though he is probably a bastard in his physical ancestry. So heinherits. Besides that, while his mother was wealthy, both his fathers were atleast well to do. Brant was a bachelor until just before the expedition; he hadploughed most of his scandalous salary as a pilot on the Moon run back intoLunar Enterprises, Limited. You know how that stuff has boomed-they justdeclared another three-way stock dividend. Brant had one vice, gambling-butthe bloke won regularly and invested that, too. Ward Smith had familymoney; he was a medical man and scientist by choice. Smith is heir to bothof them.“.Whew!“.That ain’t half, honey. Smith is heir to the entire crew.“.Huh?“.All eight signed a .Gentlemen Adventurers’ contract, making them allmutually heirs to each other-all of them and their issue. They did it with greatcare, using as models similar contracts in the sixteenth and seventeenthcenturies that had stood up against every effort to break them. Now thesewere all high-powered people; among them they had quite a lot. Happened toinclude considerable Lunar Enterprises stock, too, besides what Brant held.
　　Smith might turn out to own a controlling interest, or at least a key bloc in aproxy fight.“Jill thought about the childlike creature who had made such a touchingceremony out of just a drink of water and felt sorry for him. But Caxton wenton: .I wish I could sneak a look at the Envoy’s log. I know they recovered itbutI doubt if they’ll ever release it.“.Why not, Ben?“.Because it’s a nasty story. I got Just enough to be sure before my informantsobered up and clammed up. Dr. Ward Smith delivered his wife of child byCaesarian section-and she died on the table. He seems to have worn hishorns complacently until then. But what he did next shows that he knew thescore; with the same scalpel he cut Captain Brant’s throat- then cut his own.
　　Sorry, hon.“Jill shivered. .I’m a nurse. I’m immune to such things.“.You’re a liar and I love you for it. I was on police beat for three years, Jill; Inever got hardened to it.“.What happened to the others?“.I wish I knew. If we don’t break the bureaucrats and high brass loose fromthat log, we’ll never know-and I am enough of a starry-eyed newsboy to thinkwe should know. Secrecy begets tyranny.“.Ben, he might be better off if they gypped him out of his inheritance. He’svery . . . uh, unworldly.“.The exact word, I’m sure. Nor does he need all that money; the Man fromMars will never miss a meal. Any of the governments and any of a thousand-odd universities and scientific institutions would be delighted to have him as apermanent, privileged guest.“.He’d better sign it over and forget it.“.It’s not that easy. Jill, you know about the famous case of General Atomicsversus Larkin, et al?“.Uh, not really. You mean the Larkin Decision. I had to study it in school,same as everybody. But what’s it got to do with Smith?“.Think back. The Russians sent the first rocket to the Moon, it crashed. TheUnited States and Canada combine to send another one; it gets back butleaves nobody on the Moon. So when the United States and theCommonwealth are getting set to send a colonizing one jointly under thenominal sponsorship of the Federation and Russia is mounting the same dealon their own, General Atomics steals a march by sending one of their ownfrom an island leased from Ecuador-and their men are still there, sitting prettyand looking smug when the Federation vessel shows up . . . followed by theRussian one.
　　.You know what happened. General Atomics, a Swiss corporation Americancontrolled, claimed the Moon. The Federation couldn’t just brush them off;that would have been too raw and anyhow the Russians wouldn’t have heldstill. So the High Court ruled that a corporate person, a mere legal fiction,could not own a planet; therefore the real owners were the flesh-and-bloodmen who had maintained the occupation-Larkin and associates. So theyrecognized them as a sovereign nation and took them into the Federationwithsome melon slicing for those on the inside and fat concessions toGeneral Atomics and its daughter corporation, Lunar Enterprises. This didnot entirely suit anybody and the Federation High Court was not all powerfulin those days-but it was a compromise everybody could swallow. It resultedin some tight rules for colonizing planets, all based on the Larkin Decisionand intended to avoid bloodshed. Worked, too-it’s a matter of history thatWorld War Three did not result from conflict over space travel and such. Sonow the Larkin Decision is solidly a part of our planetary law and applies toSmith.“Jill shook her head. .I don’t see the connection. Martinis-.
　　.Think, Jill. By our laws, Smith is a sovereign nation in himself-and soleowner of the planet Mars.“
Chapter 5
JILL LOOKED ROUND-EYED. .I’ve certainly had too many martinis Ben. Iwould swear that you said that that patient owns the planet Mars.“.He does. He maintained occupation of it, unassisted, for the required lengthof time. Smith is the planet Mars-King, President, sole civic body, what youwill. If the skipper of the Champion had not left colonists behind, Smith’stenure might have failed. But he did, and that continues occupation eventhough Smith came to Earth. But Smith doesn’t have to split with them; theyare mere immigrants until he grants them Martian citizenship.“.Fantastic!“.It surely is. Also it’s legal. Honey, do you now see why so many people areinterested in who Smith is and where he came from? And why theadministration is so damned anxious to keep him under a rug? What they aredoing isn’t even vaguely legal. Smith is also a citizen of the United States andof the Federation, by derivation-dual citizenship with no conflict. It’s illegal tohold a citizen, even a convicted criminal, incommunicado anywhere in theFederation; that’s one of the things we settled in World War Three. But Idoubt if Smith knows his rights. Also, it has been considered an unfriendly actall through history to lock up a visiting friendly monarch-which is what he isandnot to let him see people, especially the press, meaning me. You stillwon’t sneak me in as a thumbfingered electrician?“.Huh? You’ve got me worse scared than ever. Ben, if they had caught methis morning, what do you think they would have done to me?“.Mmm ... nothing rough. Just locked you in a padded cell, with a certificatesigned by three doctors, and allowed you mail on alternate leap years. Theyaren’t mad at you. I’m wondering what they are going to do to him.“.What can they do?“.Well, he might just happen to die-from gee-fatigue, say. That would be a fineout for the administration.“.You mean murder him?“.Tut, tut! Don’t use nasty words. I don’t think they will. In the first place he is amine of information; even the public has some dim notion of that. He mightbe worth more than Newton and Edison and Einstein and six more like themall rolled into one. Or he may not be. I don’t think they would dare touch himuntil they were sure. In the second place, at the very least, he is a bridge, anambassador, a unique interpreter, between the human race and the onlyother civilized race we have as yet encountered. That is certainly importantbut there is no way to guess just how important. How are you on theclassics? Ever read H. G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds?“.A long time ago, in school.“.Consider the idea that the Martians might decide to make war on us-andwin. They might, you know, and we have no way of guessing how big a clubthey can swing. Our boy Smith might be the go-between, the peacemaker,who could make the First Interplanetary War unnecessary. Even if thispossibility is remote, the administration can’t afford to ignore it until theyknow. The discovery of intelligent life on Mars is something that, politically,they haven’t figured out yet.“.Then you think he is safe?“.Probably, for the time being. The Secretary General has to guess and guessright. As you know, his administration is shaky.“.I don’t pay any attention to politics.“.You should. It’s only barely less important than your own heartbeat.“.I don’t pay any attention to that, either.“.Don’t talk when I’m orating. The majority headed by the United States couldslip apart overnight-Pakistan would bolt at a nervous cough. In which casethere would be a vote of no conlidence, a general election, and Mr. SecretaryGeneral Douglas would be out and back to being a cheap lawyer again. TheMan from Mars can make or break him. Are you going to sneak me in?“.I am not. I’m going to enter a nunnery. Is there more coffee?“.I’ll see.“They both stood up. Jill stretched and said, .Oh, my ancient bones! And,Lordy, look at the time! Never mind the coffee, Ben; I’ve got a hard daytomorrow, being polite to nasty patients and standing clear of internes. Runme home, will you? Or send me home, I guess that’s safer. Call a cab, that’sa lamb.“.Okay, though the evening is young.“ He went into his bedroom, caine outcarrying an object about the size and shape of a small cigarette lighter. .Sureyou won’t sneak me in?“.Gee, Ben, I want to, but-.
　　.Never mind. I wouldn’t let you. It really is dangerous-and not just to yourcareer. I was just softening you up for this.“ He showed her the little object.
　　.Will you put a bug on him?“.Huh? What is it?“.The greatest boon to divorce lawyers and spies since the Mickey Finn. Amicrominiaturized wire recorder. The wire is spring driven so that it can’t bespotted by a snooper circuit. The insides are transistors and resistors andcapacitors and stuff, all packed in plastic-you could drop it Out of a cab andnot hurt it. The power is about as much radioactivity as you would find in awatch dial, but shielded, The wire is good for twentyfour hours. Then youslide out a spool and stick in another one-the spring is part of the spool,already wound.“.Will it explode?“ she asked nervously.
　　.You could bake it in a cake.“.But, Ben, you’ve got me scared to go back into his room now.“.Unnecessary. You can go into the room next door, can’t you?“.I suppose so.“.This thing has donkey’s ears. Fasten the concave side flat against a wallsurgicaltape will do nicely-and it picks up every word spoken in the roombeyond. Is there a closet or something?“She thought about it. .I’m bound to be noticed if I duck in and out of thatadjoining room too much; it’s really part of the suite he’s in. Or they may startusing it. Look, Ben, his room has a third wall in common with a room onanother corridor. Will that do?“.Perfect. Then you’ll do it?“.Umm ... give it to me. I’ll think it over and see how the land lies.“Caxton stopped to polish it with his handkerchief. .Put on your gloves.“.Why?“.Possession of it is slightly illegal, good for a short vacation behind bars.
　　Always use gloves on it and the spare spools-and don’t get caught with it.“.You think of the nicest thingsl“.Want to back out?“Jill let out a long breath. .No. I’ve always wanted a life of crime. Will youteach me gangster lingo? I want to be a credit to you.“.Good girl!“ A light blinked over the door, he glanced up. .That must be yourcab. I rang for it when I went to get this.“.Oh. Find my shoes, will you? No, don’t come up to the roof. The less I’mseen with you from here on the better.“.As you wish.“As he straightened up from putting her shoes on, she took his head in bothhands and kissed him. .Dear Ben! No good can come of this and I hadn’trealized you were a criminal type-but you’re a good cook, as long as I set upthe combination . . . and I just might marry you if I can trap you into proposingagain.“.The offer remains open.“.Do gangsters marry their molls? Or is it .frails’? We’ll see“ She lefthurriedly.
　　Jill Boardman placed the bug without difficulty. The patient in the adjacentroom in the next corridor was bedfast; Jill often Stopped to gossip. She stuckit against the wall over a closet shelf while chattering about how the maidsjust never dusted high in the closets.
　　Removing the spool the next day and inserting a fresh one was just as easy;the patient was asleep. She woke while Jill was still perched on a chair andseemed surprised; Jill diverted her with a spicy and imaginary ward rumor.
　　Jill sent the exposed wire by mail, using the hospital’s post office as theimpersonal blindness of the postal System seemed safer than a cloak &dagger ruse. But her attempt to insert a third fresh spool she muffed. Shehad waited for a time when the patient was asleep but had just mounted thechair when the patient woke up. .Oh! Hello, Miss Boardman.“Jill froze with one hand on the wire recorder. .Hello, Mrs. Fritschlie,“ shemanaged to answer. .Have a nice nap?“.Fair,“ the woman answered peevishly. .My back aches.“.I’ll rub it.“.Doesn’t help much. Why are you always fiddling around in my closet?
　　Is something wrong?“Jill tried to reswallow her stomach. The woman wasn’t really suspicious, shetold herself. .Mice,“ she said vaguely.
　　.’Mice?’ Oh, I can’t abide mice! I’ll have to have another room, right away!“Jill tore the little instrument off the closet wall and stuffed it into her pocket,jumped down from the chair and spoke to the patient. .Now, now, Mrs.
　　Fritschlie-I was just looking to see if there were any mouse holes in thatcloset. There aren’t.“.You’re sure?“.Quite sure. Now let’s rub the back, shall we? Easy over.“Jill decided she could not plant the bug in that room again and concluded thatshe would risk attempting to place it in the empty room which was part of K-12, the Suite of the Man from Mars. But it was almost time for her reliefbefore she was free again. She got the pass key.
　　Only to find that she did not need it; the door was unlocked and held twomore marines; the guard had been doubled. One of them glanced up as sheopened the door. .Looking for someone?“.No. Don’t sit on the bed, boys,“ she said crisply. .If you need more chairs,we’ll send for them.“ She kept her eye on the guard while he got reluctantlyup; then she left, trying to conceal her trembling.
　　The bug was still burning a hole in her pocket when she went off duty; shedecided to return it to Caxton at once. She changed clothes, shifted it to herbag, and went to the roof. Once in the air and headed toward Ben’sapartment she began to breathe easier. She phoned him in flight.
　　.Caxton speaking.“.Jill, Ben. I want to see you. Are you alone?“He answered slowly, .I don’t think it’s smart, kid. Not now.“.Ben, I’ve got to see you. I’m on my way over.“.Well, okay, if that’s how it’s got to be.“.Such enthusiasm!“.Now look, hon, it isn’t that I-.
　　.’Bye!“ She switched off calmed down and decided not to take it out on poorBen-fact was they both were playing out of their league. At least she was-sheshould have stuck to nursing and left politics alone.
　　She felt better when she saw Ben and better yet when she kissed him andsnuggled into his arms. Ben was such a dear-maybe she really should marryhim. But when she tried to speak he put a hand over her mouth, thenwhispered close against her ear, .Don’t talk. No names and nothing buttrivialities. I may be wired by now.“She nodded and he led her into the living room. Without speaking she got outthe wire recorder and handed it to him. His eyebrows went up when he sawthat she was returning not just a spool but the whole works but he made nocomment. Instead he handed her a copy of the afternoon Post.
　　.Seen the paper?“ he said in a natural voice. .You might like to glance at itwhile I wash up.“.Thanks.“ As she took it he pointed to a column; he then left, taking with himthe recorder. Jill saw that the column was Ben’s own syndicated outlet.
　　THE CROW’S NEST by Ben CaxtonEveryone knows that jails and hospitals have one thing in common: they bothcan be very hard to get out of. In some ways a prisoner is less cut off than apatient; a prisoner can send for his lawyer, can demand a Fair Witness, hecan invoke habeas corpus and require the jailor to show cause in Open court.
　　But it takes only a simple NO VISITORS sign, ordered by one of the medicinemen of our peculiar tribe, to consign a hospital patient to oblivion morethoroughly than ever was the Man in the Iron Mask.
　　To be sure, the patient’s next of kin cannot be kept out by this device -but theMan from Mars seems to have no next of kin. The crew of the ill-fated Envoyhad few ties on Earth; if the Man in the Iron Mask- pardon me I mean the.Man from Mars“-has any relative who is guarding his interests, a fewthousand inquisitive reporters (such as your present scrivener) have beenunable to verify it.
　　Who speaks for the Man from Mars? Who ordered an armed guard placedaround him? What is his dread disease that no one may catch a glimpse ofhim, nor ask him a question? I address you, Mr. Secretary General; theexplanation about .physical weakness“ and .gee-fatigue“ won’t wash; if thatwere the answer, a ninety-pound nurse would do as well as an armed guard.
　　Could this disease be financial in nature? Or (let’s say it softly) is itpolitical?
　　There was more, all in the same vein; Jill could see that Ben was deliberatelybaiting the administration, trying to force them to bring Smith out into theopen. What that would accomplish she did not know, her own horizon notencompassing high politics and high finance. She felt, rather than knew, thatCaxton was taking serious risk in challenging the established authorities, butshe had no notion of the size of the danger, nor of what form it might take.
　　She thumbed through the rest of the paper. It was well loaded with follow-upstories on the return of the Champion. with pictures of Secretary GeneralDouglas pinning medals on the crew, interviews with Captain van Tromp andother members of his brave company, pictures of Martians and Martian cities.
　　There was very little about Smith, merely a medical bulletin that he wasimproving slowly but satisfactorily from the effects of his trip.
　　Ben came out and dropped some sheets of onion skin in her lap. .Here’sanother newspaper you might like to see,“ he remarked and left agan.
　　Jill soon saw that the other .newspaper“ was a transcription of what her firstwire had picked up. As typed out, it was marked .First Voice,“ .SecondVoice,“ and so on, but Ben had gone back and written in names wherever hehad been able to make attributions later. He had written across the top: .Allvoices, identified or not, are masculine.“Most of the items were of no interest. They simply showed that Smith hadbeen fed, or washed, or massaged, and that each morning and afternoon hehad been required to get up and exercise under the supervision of a voiceidentified as .Doctor Nelson“ and a second voice marked .second doctor.“ Jilldecided that this must be Dr. Thaddeus.
　　But one longish passage had nothing to do with the physical care of thepatient. Jill read it and reread it:
　　Doctor Nelson: How are you feeling, boy? Are you strong enough to talk fora while?
　　Smith: Yes.
　　Doctor Nelson: A man wants to talk to you.
　　Smith: (pause) Who? (Caxton had written in: All of Smith’s speeches arepreceded by long pauses, some longer than others.)Nelson: This man is our great (untranscribable guttural word-Martian?). He isour oldest Old One. Will you talk with him?
　　Smith: (very long pause) I am great happy. The Old One will talk and I willlisten and grow.
　　Nelson: No, no! He wants to ask you questions.
　　Smith: I cannot teach an Old One.
　　Nelson: The Old One wishes it. Will you let him ask you questions?
　　Smith: Yes.
　　(Background noises, short delay.)Nelson: This way, sir. Uh, I have Doctor Mahmoud standing by, ready totranslate for you.
　　Jill read .New Voice.“ Caxton had scratched this out and had written in:
　　.Secretary General Douglasilt“Secretary General: I won’t need him. You say Smith understands English.
　　Nelson: Well, yes and no, Your Excellency. He knows quite a number ofwords, but, as Mahmoud says, he doesn’t have any cultural context to hangthe words on. It can be rather confusing.
　　Secretary General: Oh, we’ll get along all right, I’m sure. When I was ayoungster I hitchhiked all through Brazil, without knowing a word ofPortuguese when I started. Now, if you will just introduce us-then leave usalone.
　　Nelson: Sir? I think I had better stay with my patient.
　　Secretary General: Really, Doctor? I’m afraid I must insist. Sorry.
　　Nelson: And I am afraid that I must insist. Sorry, sir. Medicalethics-Secretary General: (interrupting) As a lawyer, I know a little something ofmedical jurisprudence-so don’t give me that .medical ethics“ mumbo-jumbo,really. Did this patient select you?
　　Nelson: Not exactly, but-Secretary General: Just as I thought. Has he had any opportunity to make achoice of physicians? I doubt it. His present status is that of ward of the state.
　　I am acting as his next of kin, defacto-and, you will find, de jure as well. I wishto interview him alone.
　　Nelson: (long pause, then very stiffly) If you put it that way, Your Excellency, Iwithdraw from the case.
　　Secretary General: Don’t take it that way, Doctor; I didn’t mean to get yourback hair up. I’m not questioning your treatment. But you wouldn’t try to keepa mother from seeing her son alone, now would you? Are you afraid that Imight hurt him?
　　Nelson: No, but- Secretary General: Then what is your objection? Come now,introduce us and let’s get on with it. This fussing may be upsetting yourpatient.
　　Nelson: Your Excellency, I will introduce you. Then you must select anotherdoctor for your . . . ward.
　　Secretary General: I’m sorry, Doctor, I really am. I can’t take that as final-we’lldiscuss it later. Now, if you please?
　　Nelson: Step over here, sir. Son, this is the man who wants to see you.
　　Our great Old One.
　　Smith: (untranscribable)Secretary General: What did he say?
　　Nelson: Sort of a respectful greeting. Mahmoud says it translates: .I am onlyan egg.“ More or less that, anyway. He used to use it on me. It’s friendly.
　　Son, talk man-talk.
　　Smith: Yes.
　　Nelson: And you had better use simple one-syllable words, if I may offer alast advice.
　　Secretary General: Oh, I will.
　　Nelson: Good-by, Your Excellency. Good-by, son.
　　Secretary General: Thanks, Doctor. See you later.
　　Secretary General: (continued) How do you feel?
　　Smith: Feel fine.
　　Secretary General: Good. Anything you want, just ask for it. We want you tobe happy. Now I have something I want you to do for me. Can you write?
　　Smith: .Write?’ What is .write?’
　　Secretary General: Well, your thumb print will do. I want to read a paper toyou. This paper has a lot of lawyer talk, but stated simply it says that youagree that in leaving Mars you have abandoned-I mean, given up-any claimsthat you may have there. Understand me? You assign them in trust to thegovernment.
　　Smith: (no answer)Secretary General: Well, let’s put it this way. You don’t own Mars, doyou?
　　Smith: (longish pause) I do not understand.
　　Secretary General: Mmm . . . let’s try it this way. You want to stay here,don’t you?
　　Smith: I do not know. I was sent by the Old Ones. (Long untranscribablespeech, sounds like a bullfrog fighting a cat.)Secretary General: Damn it, they should have taught him more English bynow. See here, son, you don’t have to worry about these things. Just let mehave your thumb print here at the bottom of this page. Let me have your righthand. No, don’t twist around that way. Hold still! I’m not going to hurt you . . .
　　Doctor! Doctor Nelson!
　　Second Doctor: Yes, sir?
　　Secretary General: Get Doctor Nelson.
　　Second Doctor: Doctor Nelson? But he has left, sir. He said you took himoff the case.
　　Secretary General: Nelson said that? Damn him! Well, do something. Givehim artificial respiration. Give him a shot. Don’t just stand there- can’t you seethe man is dying?
　　Second Doctor: I don’t believe there is anything to be done, sir. Just let himalone until he comes out of it. That’s what Doctor Nelson always did.
　　Secretary General: Blast Doctor Nelson!
　　The Secretary General’s voice did not appear again, nor that of DoctorNelson. Jill could guess, from gossip she had picked up around the hospital,that Smith had gone into one of his cataleptic withdrawals. There were onlytwo more entries, neither of them attributed. One read: No need to whisper.
　　He Can’t hear you. The other read: Take that tray away. We’ll feed him whenhe comes out of it.
　　Jill was giving the transcription a third reading when Ben reappeared. He wascarrying more onionskin sheets but he did not offer them to her; instead hesaid, .Hungry?“She glanced inquiringly at the papers in his hand but answered, .Starved.“.Let’s get out of here and shoot a cow.“He said nothing more while they went to the roof and took a taxi, and he stillkept quiet during a flight to the Alexandria platform, where they switched toanother cab. Ben selected one with a Baltimore serial number. Once in theair he set it for Hagerstown, Maryland, then settled back and relaxed. .Nowwe can talk.“.Ben, why all the mystery?“.Sorry, pretty foots. Probably just nerves and my bad conscience. I don’tknow that there is a bug in my apartment-but if I can do it to them, they cando it to me . . . and I’ve been showing an unhealthy interest in things theadministration wants kept doggo. Likewise, while it isn’t likely that a cabsignaled from my flat would have a recorder hidden in the cushions, still itmight have; the Special Service squads are thorough. But this cab-. Hepatted its seat cushions. .They can’t gimmick thousands of cabs. One pickedat random should be safe.“Jill shivered. .Ben, you don’t really think they would...“ She let it trail off.
　　.Don’t I, now! You saw my column. I filed that copy nine hours ago. Do youthink the administration will let me kick it in the stomach without doingsomething about it?“.But you have always opposed this administration.“.That’s okay. The duty of His Majesty’s Loyal Opposition is to oppose. Theyexpect that. But this is different; I have practically accused them of holding apolitical prisoner . . . one the public is very much interested in. Jill, agovernment is a living organism. Like every living thing its primecharacteristic is a blind, unreasoned instinct to survive. You hit it, it will fightback. This time I’ve really hit it.“ He gave her a sidelong look. .I shouldn’thave involved you in this.“.Me? I’m not afraid. At least not since I turned that gadget back over toyou.“.You’re associated with me. If things get rough, that could be enough.“Jill shut up. She had never in her life experienced the giant ruthlessness ofgiant power. Outside of her knowledge of nursing and of the joyous guerillawarfare between the sexes, Jill was almost as innocent as the Man fromMars. The notion that she, Jill Ooardman, who had never experiencedanything worse than a spanking as a child and an occasional harsh word asan adult, could be in physical danger was almost impossible for her tobelieve. As a nurse, she had seen the consequences of ruthlessness,violence, brutality-but it could not happen to her.
　　Their cab was circling for a landing in Hagerstown before she broke themoody silence. .Ben? Suppose this patient does die. What happens?“.Huh?“ He frowned. .That’s a good question, a very good question. I’m gladyou asked it; it shows you are taking an interest in the work. Now if there areno other questions, the class is dismissed.“.Don’t try to be funny.“.Hmm ... Jill, I’ve been awake nights when I should have been dreamingabout you, trying to answer that one. It’s a two-part question, political andfinancial-and here are the best answers I have now: If Smith dies, his oddlegal claim to the planet Mars vanishes. Probably the pioneer group theChampion left behind on Mars starts a new claim-and almost certainly theadministration worked out a deal with them before they left Earth. TheChampion is a Federation ship but it is more than possible that the deal, ifthere was one, leaves all the strings in the hands of that redoubtabledefender of human rights, Mr. Secretary General Douglas. Such a deal couldkeep him in power for a long time. On the other hand, it might mean nothingat all.“.Huh? Why?“.The Larkin Decision might not apply. Luna was uninhabited, but Mars isinhabited-by Martians. At the moment, Martians are a legal zero. But the HighCourt might take a look at the political situation, stare at its collective navel,and decide that human occupancy meant nothing on a planet alreadyinhabited by non-human natives. Then rights on Mars, if any, would have tobe secured from the Martians themselves.“.But, Ben, that would logically be the case anyhow. This notion of a singleman owning a planet ...it’ s fantastic!“.Don’t use that word to a lawyer; he won’t understand you. Straining at gnatsand swallowing camels is a required course in all law schools. Besides, thereis a case in point. In the fifteenth century the Pope deeded the entire westernhemisphere to Spain and Portugal and nobody paid the slightest attention tothe fact that the real estate was already occupied by several million Indianswith their own laws, customs, and notions of property rights. His grant deedwas pretty effective, too. Take a look at a western hemisphere mapsometime and notice where Spanish is spoken and where Portuguese isspoken-and see how much land the Indians have left.“.Yes, but- Ben, this isn’t the fifteenth century.“.It is to a lawyer. They still cite Blackwell, Code Napoleon, or even the laws ofJustinian. Mark it down, Jill; if the High Court rules that the Larkin Decisionapplies, Smith is in a position to grant or withhold concessions on Mars whichmay be worth millions, or more likely billions. If he assigns his claim to thepresent administration, then Secretary Douglas is the man who will hand outthe plums. Which is just what Douglas is trying to rig. You saw that bugtranscript.“.Ben, why should anybody want that sort of power?“.Why does a moth fly toward a light? The drive for power is even less logicalthan the sex urge . . . and stronger. But I said this was a two-part question.
　　Smith’s financial holdings are almost as important as his special position asnominal king-emperor of Mars. Possibly more important, for a High Courtdecision could knock out his squatter’s rights on Mars but I doubt if anythingcould shake his ownership of the Lyle Drive and a major chunk of LunarEnterprises; the eight wills are a matter of public record- and in the threemost important cases he inherits with or without a will. What happens if hedies? I don’t know. A thousand alleged cousins would pop up, of course, butthe Science Foundation has fought off a lot of such money-hungry vermin inthe past twenty years. It seems possible that, if Smith dies without making awill, his enormous fortune will revert to the state.“.’The state?’ Do you mean the Federation or the United States?“.Another very good question to which I do not know the answer. His naturalparents come from two different member countries of the Federation and hewas born outside all of them . . . and it is going to make a crucial difference tosome people who votes those blocks of stock and who licenses thosepatents. It won’t be Smith; he won’t know a stock proxy from a traffic ticket. Itis likely to be whoever can grab him and hang onto him. In the meantime Idoubt if Lloyd’s would write a policy on his life; he strikes me as a very poorrisk.“.The poor baby! The poor, poor infant!“
Chapter 6
THE RESTAURANT IN HAGERSTOWN had .atmosphere“ as well as goodfood, which meant that it had tables scattered not only over a lawn leadingdown to the edge of a little lake but also had tables in the boughs of threeenormous old trees. Over all was a force field roof which kept the outdoorsdining area perpetually summer even in rain and snow.
　　Jill wanted to eat up in the trees, but Ben ignored her and bribed the ma.tred’h.tel to set up a table near the water in a spot of his choice, then ordered aportable stereo tank placed by their table.
　　Jill was miffed. .Ben, why bother to come here and pay these prices if wecan’t eat in the trees and have to endure that horrible jitterbox?“.Patience, little one. The tables up in the trees all have microphone circuits;they have to have them for service. This table is not gimmicked- I hope-as Isaw the waiter take it from a stack of unused ones. As for the tank, not only isit unAmerican and probably subversive to eat without watching stereo butalso the racket from it would interfere even with a directional mike aimed atus from a distance . . . assuming that Mr. Douglas’s investigators arebeginning to take an interest in us, which I misdoubt they are.“.Do you really think they might be shadowing us, Ben?“ Jill shivered. .I don’tthink I’m cut out for a life of crime.“.Pish and likewise tush! When I was working on the General Syntheticsbribery scandals I never slept twice in the same place and ate nothing butpackaged food I had bought myself. After a while you get to like it- stimulatesthe metabolism.“.My metabolism doesn’t need it, thank you. All I require is one elderly,wealthy private patient.“.Not going to marry me, Jill?“.After my future husband kicks off, yes. Or maybe I’ll be so rich I can afford tokeep you as a pet.“.Best offer I’ve had in months. How about starting tonight?“.After he kicks off.“During their cocktails the musical show plus lavish commercials which hadbeen banging their eardrums from the stereo tank suddenly stopped. Anannouncer’s head and shoulders filled the tank; he smiled sincerely and said,.NWNW, New World Networks and its sponsor of the hour, Wise GirlMaithusian Lozenges, is honored and privileged to surrender the next fewminutes to a special, history-making broadcast by the FederationGovernment. Remember, friends, every wise girl uses Wise Girls. Easy tocarry, pleasant to take, guaranteed no-fail, and approved for sale withoutprescription under Public Law 1312, Why take a chance on old-fashioned,unesthetic, harmful, unsure methods? Why risk losing his love and respect?
　　Remember The lovely, lupine announcer glanced aside and hurried throughthe rest of his commercial: .I give you the Wise Girl, who in turn brings youthe Secretary General-and the Man from Mars!“The 3-D picture dissolved into that of a young woman, so sensuous, sounbelievably mammalian, so seductive, as to make every male who saw herunsatisfied with local talent. She stretched and wiggled and said in abedroom voice, .I always use Wise Girl.“The picture dissolved and a full orchestra played the opening bars of Hail toSovereign Peace. Ben said, .Do you use Wise Girl?“.None o’ your business!“ She looked ruffled and added, .It’s a quacknostrum. Anyhow, what makes you think I need it?“Caxton did not answer; the tank had filled with the fatherly features of Mr.
　　Secretary General Douglas. .Friends,“ he began, .fellow citizens of theFederation, I have tonight a unique honor and privilege. Since the triumphantreturn of our trail-blazing ship Champion-. He continued in a few thousandwell-chosen words to congratulate the citizens of Earth on their successfulcontact with another planet, another civilized race. He managed to imply thatthe exploit of the Champion was the personal accomplishment of everycitizen of the Federation, that any one of them could have led the expeditionhad he not been busy with other serious work-and that he, SecretaryDouglas, had been chosen by them as their humble instrument to work theirwill. The flattering notions were never stated baldly, but implied; theunderlying assumption being that the common man was the equal of anyoneand better than most-and that good old Joe Douglas embodied the commonman. Even his mussed cravat and cowlicked hair had a .just folks“ quality.
　　Bert Caxton wondered who had written the speech. Jim Sanforth, probably-Jim had the most subtle touch of any member of Douglas’ staff in selectingthe proper loaded adjective to tickle and soothe an audience; he had writtenadvertising commercials before he went into politics and had absolutely nocompunctions. Yes, that bit about .the hand that rocks the cradle“ was clearlyJim’s work-Jim was the sort of jerk who would entice a young girl with candyand consider it a smart operation.
　　.Turn it off!“ Jill said urgently.
　　.Huh? Shut up, pretty foots. I’ve got to hear this.“.-and so, friends, I have the honor to bring you now our fellow citizenValentine Michael Smith, the Man from Mars! Mike, we all know you are tiredand have not been well-but will you say a few words to your friends? They allwant to see you.“The stereo scene in the tank dissolved to a semi-close-up of a man in awheel chair. Hovering over him like a favorite uncle was Douglas and on theother side of the chair was a nurse, stiff, starched, and photogenic.
　　Jill gasped. Ben whispered fiercely, .Keep quiet! I don’t want to miss aword of this.“The interview was not long. The smooth babyface of the man in the chairbroke into a shy smile; he looked at the cameras and said, .Hello, folks.
　　Excuse me for sitting down. I’m still weak.“ He seemed to speak with difficultyand once the nurse interrupted to take his pulse.
　　In answer to questions from Douglas he paid compliments to Captain vanTromp and the crew of the Champion, thanked everyone for his rescue, andsaid that everyone on Mars was terribly excited over contact with Earth andthat he hoped to help in welding strong and friendly relations between the twoplanets. The nurse interrupted again, but Douglas said gently. .Mike, do youfeel strong enough for just one more question?“.Sure, Mr. Douglas-if I can answer it.“.Mike? What do you think of the girls here on Earth?“.Gee!“The baby face looked awestruck and ecstatic and turned pink. The scenedissolved again to the head and shoulders of the Secretary General. .Mikeasked me to tell you,“ he went on in fatherly tones, .that he will be back tosee you as soon as he can. He has to build up his muscles, you know. Thegravity of Earth is as rough on him as the gravity of Jupiter would be to us.
　　Possibly next week, if the doctors say he is strong enough.“ The sceneshifted back to the exponents of Wise Girl lozenges and a quick one-actplaylet made clear that a girl who did not use them was not only out of hermind but undoubtedly a syntho in the hay as well; men would cross the streetto avoid her. Ben switched to another channel, then turned to Jill and saidmoodily, .Well, I can tear up tomorrow’s column and look around for a newsubject to plug. They not only made my today’s squawk look silly but itappears that Douglas has him safely under his thumb.“.Ben!“.Huh?“.That’s not the Man from Mars!“.What? Baby, are you sure?“.Sure I’m sure! Oh, it looked like him, it looked a great deal like him. Even thevoice was similar. But it was not the patient I saw in that guarded room.“Ben tried to shake her conviction. He pointed out that several dozen otherpersons were known to have seen Smith-guards, internes, male nurses, thecaptain and crew members of the Champion, probably others. Quite a few ofthat list must have seen this newscast-or at least the administration wouldhave to assume that some of them would see it and spot the substitution . . .
　　if there had been a substitution. It did not make sense-too great a risk.
　　Jill did not offer logical rebuttal; she simply stuck Out her lower lip andinsisted that the person on Stereo was not the patient she had met. Finallyshe said angrily, .All right, all right, have it your own way! I can’t prove I’mright-so I must be wrong. Men!“.Now, Jill ...“.Please take me home.“Ben silently went for a cab. He did not accept one from outside the restauranteven though he no longer thought that anyone would be taking interest in hismovements; he selected one from the landing flat of a hotel across the way.
　　Jill remained chilly on the flight back. Presently Ben got out the transcripts ofthe sounds picked up from Smith’s hospital room and reread them. He readthem still again, thought for a while, and said, .Jill?“.Yes, Mr. Caxton?“.I’ll .mister’ you! Look, Jill, I’m sorry, I apologize. I was wrong.“.And what leads you to this momentous conclusion?“He slapped the folded papers against his palm. .This. Smith could notpossibly have been showing this behavior yesterday and the day before andthen have given that interview tonight. He would have flipped his controls andgone into one of those trance things.“.I am gratified that you have finally seen the obvious.“.Jill, will you kindly kick me in the face a couple of times, then let up? This isserious. Do you know what this means?“.It means they used an actor to fake an interview. I told you that an hourago.“.Sure. An actor and a good one, carefully typed and coached. But it impliesmuch more than that. As I see it, there are two possibilities. The first is thatSmith is dead and-.
　　.Dead!“ Jill suddenly was back in that curious water-drinking ceremony andfelt the strange, warm, unworldly flavor of Smith’s personality, felt it withunbearable sorrow.
　　.Maybe. In which case this ringer will be allowed to stay .alwe’ for a week orten days, until they have time to draw up whatever papers they want him tosign. Then the ringer will .die’ and they will ship him Out of town, probablywith a hypnotic injunction not to talk so strong that he would choke up withasthma if he tried to spill it-or maybe even a transorbital lobotomy if the boysare playing for keeps. But if Smith is dead, we can just forget it; we’ll neverbe able to prove the truth. So let’s assume that he is still alive.“.Oh, I do hope so!“.What is Hecuba to you, or you to Hecuba?“ Caxton misquoted. .If he is stillalive, it could be that there is nothing especially sinister about it. After all, alot of public figures use doubles for some of their appearances;.. it does noteven annoy the public because every time a yokel thinks that he has spotteda double it makes him feel smart and in the know, So it may be that theadministration has just yielded to public demand and given them that look atthe Man from Mars we have all been yapping for. It could be that in two orthree weeks our friend Smith will be in shape to stand the strain of publicappearances, at which time they will trot him Out. But I doubt it like hell!“.Why?“.Use your pretty curly head. The Honorable Joe Douglas has already madeone attempt to squeeze out of Smith what he wants . . . and failed miserably.
　　But Douglas can’t afford to fail. So I think he will bury Smith deeper than ever. . . and that is the last we will ever see of the true Man from Mars.“.Kill him?“ Jill said slowly.
　　.Why be rough about it? Lock him in a private nursing home and never lethim learn anything. He may already have been removed from BethesdaCenter.“.Oh, dear! Ben, what are we going to do?“Caxton scowled and thought. .I don’t have a good plan. They own both thebat and the ball and are making the rules. But what I am going to do is this~I’m going to walk into that hospital with a Fair Witness on one side and atough lawyer on the other and demand to see Smith. Maybe I can force themto drag it out into the open.“.I’ll be right behind you!“.Like mischief you will. You stay Out of this. As you pointed Out, it would ruinyou professionally.“.But you need me to identify him.“.Not so. I flatter myself that I can tell a man who was raised by nonhumansfrom an actor pretending to be such a man in the course of a very shortinterview. But if anything goes wrong, you are my ace in the hole-a personwho knows that they are pulling hanky-panky concerning the Man from Marsand who has access to the inside of Bethesda Center. Honey, if you don’thear from me, you are on your own.“.Ben, they wouldn’t hurt you?“.I’m fighting Out of my weight, youngster. There is no telling.“.Uh ... oh, Ben, I don’t like this. Look, if you do get in to see him, what areyou going to do?“.I’m going to ask him if he wants to leave the hospital. If he says he does, I’mgoing to invite him to come along with me. In the presence of a Fair Witnessthey won’t dare stop him. A hospital isn’t a prison; they don’t have any legalright to hold him.“.Uh ... then what? He really does need medical attention, Ben; he’s not ableto take care of himself. I know.“Caxton scowled again. .I’ve been thinking of that. I can’t nurse him. Youcould, of course, if you had the facilities. We could put him in my flat-.
　　.-and I could nurse him. We’ll do it, Ben!“.Slow down. I thought of that. Douglas would pull some legal rabbit out of hishat, a deputation in force would call, and Smith would go right back to pokey.
　　And so would both of us, maybe.“ He wrinkled his brow. .But I know one manwho could give him shelter and possibly get away with it.“.Ever heard of Jubal Harshaw?“.Huh? Who hasn’t?“.That’s one of his advantages; everybody knows who he is. It makes himhard to shove around. Being both a doctor of medicine and a lawyer he isthree times as hard to shove around. But most important he is so rugged anindividualist that he would fight the whole Federation Departtflent of Securitywith just a potato knife if it suited his fancy-and that makes him eight times ashard to shove around. But the point is that I got well acquainted with himduring the disaffection trials; he is a friend I can count on in a pinch. If I canget Smith out of Bethesda, I’ll take him to Harshaw’s place over in thePoconos-and then just let those jerks try to hide him under a rug again!
　　Between my column and Harshaw’s love for a fight we’ll give .em a bad time.“
Chapter 7
DESPITE A LATE EVENING Jill was ready to relieve the night floor nurse tenminutes early the next morning. She intended to obey Ben’s order to stay outof his proposed attempt to see the Man from Mars but she was determined tobe close by when it happened . . . just in case. Ben might needreinforcements.
　　There were no longer marine guards in the corridor. Trays, medications, andtwo patients to be prepared for surgery kept her busy the first two hours; shehad only time to check the knob of the door to suite K- 12. It was locked, aswas the door to the adjoining sitting room. The door to the watch room on itsother side was closed. She considered sneaking in again to see Smiththrough the connecting sitting room, now that the guards were gone, butdecided to postpone it; she was too busy. Nevertheless she managed tokeep a close check on everyone who came Onto her floor.
　　Ben did not show up and discreet questions asked of her assistant on theswitchboard reassured her that neither Ben nor anyone else had gone in tosee the Man from Mars while Jill was busy elsewhere. It puzzled her; whileBen had not set a time, she had had the impression that he had intended tostorm the citadel as early in the day as possible.
　　Presently she felt that she just had to snoop a bit. During a lull she knockedat the door of the Suite’s watch room, then stuck her head in and pretendedsurprise. .Oh! Good morning, Doctor. I thought Doctor Frame was in here.“The physician at the watch desk was strange to Jill. He turned away from thedisplayed physio data, looked at her, then smiled as he looked her up anddown. .I haven’t seen Dr. Frame, Nurse. I’m Dr. Brush. Can I help?“At the typical male reaction Jill relaxed. .Nothing special. To tell the truth Iwas curious. How is the Man from Mars?“She smiled and winked. .It’s no secret to the staff, Doctor. Your patient-. Shegestured at the inner door.
　　.Huh?“ He looked startled. .Did they have him in this suite?“.What? Isn’t he here now?“.Not by six decimal places. Mrs. Rose Bankerson-Dr. Garner’s patient. Webrought her in early this morning.“.Really? But what happened to the Man from Mars? Where did they puthim?“.I haven’t the faintest. Say, did I realiy just miss seeing ValentineSmith?“.He was here yesterday. That’s all I know.“.And Dr. Frame was on his case? Some people have all the luck. Look whatI’m stuck with.“ He switched on the Peeping Tom above his desk; Jill sawframed in it, as if she were looking down, a water bed; floating in it was a tinyold woman. She seemed to be asleep.
　　.What’s her trouble?“.Mmm ... Nurse, if she didn’t have more money than any person ought tohave, you might be tempted to call it senile dementia. As it is, she is in for arest and a check-up.“Jill made small talk for a few moments more, then pretended to see a calllight. She went back to her desk, dug out the night log-yes, there it was: V M.
　　Smith, K-12-zransfer. Below that entry was another: Rose ~ Bankerson(Mrs.)-red K-12 (diet kitchen instrd by Dr. Garner-no orders-fir nt respnbl).
　　Having noted that the rich old gal was no responsibility of hers, Jill turned hermind back to Valentine Smith. Something about Mrs. Bankerson’s casestruck her as odd but she could not put her finger on it, so she put it Out ofher mind and thought about the matter that did interest her. Why had theymoved Smith in the middle of the night? To avoid any possible contact withoutsiders, probably. But where had they taken him? Ordinarily she wouldsimply have called .Reception“ and asked, but Ben’s opinions plus the phonybroadcast of the night before had made her jumpy about showing curiosity;she decided to wait until lunch and see what she could pick up on the gossipgrapevine.
　　But first Jill went to the floor’s public booth and called Ben. His officeinformed her that Mr. Caxton had just left town, to be gone a few days. Shewas startled almost speechless by this-then pulled herself together and leftword for Ben to call her.
　　She then called his home. He was not there; she recorded the samemessage.
　　Ben Caxton had wasted no time in preparing his attempt to force his way intothe presence of Valentine Michael Smith. He was lucky in being able to retainJames Oliver Cavendish as his Fair Witness. While any Fair Witness woulddo, the prestige of Cavendish was such that a lawyer was hardly necessarytheold gentleman had testified many times before the High Court of theFederation and it was said that the wills locked up in his head representednot billions but trillions. Cavendish had received his training in total recallfrom the great Dr. Samuel Renshaw himself and his professional hypnoticinstruction had been undergone as a fellow of the Rhine Foundation. His feefor a day or fraction thereof was more than Ben made in a week, but Benexpected to charge it off to the Post syndicate-in any case, the best wasnone too good for this job.
　　Caxton picked up the junior Frisby of Biddle, Frisby, Frisby, Biddle, & Reedas that law firm represented the Post syndicate, then the two younger mencalled for Witness Cavendish. The long, spare form of Mr. Cavendish,wrapped chin to ankle in the white cloak of his profession, reminded Ben ofthe Statue of Liberty . . . and was almost as conspicuous. Ben had alreadyexplained to Mark Fnsby what he intended to try (and Frisby had alreadypointed Out to him that he had no status and no rights) before they called forCavendish; once in the Fair Witness’s presence they conformed to protocoland did not discuss what he might be expected to see and hear.
　　The cab dropped them on top of Bethesda Center; they went down to theDirector’s office. Ben handed in his card and said that he wanted to see theDirector.
　　An imperious female with a richly cultivated accent asked if he had anappointment. Ben admitted that he had none.
　　.Then I am afraid that your chance of seeing Dr. Broemer is very slight. Willyou state your business?“.Just tell him,“ Caxton said loudly, so that others waiting would hear, .thatCaxton of the Crow’s Nest is here with a lawyer and a Fair Witness tointerview Valentine Michael Smith, the Man from Mars.“She was startled almost out of her professional hauteur. But she recoveredand said frostily, .I shall inform him. Will you be seated, please?“.Thanks, I’ll wait right here.“They waited. Frisby broke out a cigar, Cavendish waited with the calmpatience of one who has seen all manner of good and evil and now countsthem both the same, Caxton uttered and tried to keep from biting his nails. Atlast the snow queen behind the desk announced, .Mr. Berquist will see you.“.Berquist? Gil Berquist?“.I believe his name is Mr. Gilbert Berquist.“Caxton thought about it-Gil Berquist was one of Secretary Douglas’s largesquad of stooges, or .executive assistants.“ He specialized in chaperoningofficial visitors. .I don’t want to see Berquist; I want the Director.“But Berquist was already coming out, hand shoved out before him, greeter’sgrin plastered on his face. .Benny Caxton! How are you, chum? Long timeand so forth. Still peddling the same old line of hoke?“ He glanced at the FairWitness, but his expression admitted nothing.
　　Ben shook hands briefly. .Same old hoke, sure. What are you doing here,Gil?“.If I ever manage to get Out of public service I’m going to get me a column,too-nothing to do but phone in a thousand words of rumors each day andspend the rest of the day in debauchery. I envy you, Ben.“.I said, .What are you doing here, Gil?’ I want to see the Director, then getfive minutes with the Man from Mars. I didn’t come here for your high-levelbrush off.“.Now, Ben, don’t take that attitude. I’m here because Dr. Broemer has beendriven almost crazy by the press-so the Secretary General sent me over totake some of the load off his shoulders.“.Okay. I want to see Smith.“.Ben, old boy, don’t you realize that every reporter, special correspondent,feature writer, commentator, free-lance, and sob sister wants the samething? You winchells are just one squad in an army; if we let you all haveyour way, you would kill off the poor jerk in twenty-four hours. Polly Peeperswas here not twenty minutes ago. She wanted to interview him on love lifeamong the Martians.“ Berquist threw up both hands and looked helpless.
　　.I want to see Smith, Do I see him, or don’t I?“.Ben, let’s find a quiet place where we can talk over a long, tall glass. Youcan ask me anything you want to.“.I don’t want to ask you anything; I want to see Smith. By the way, this is myattorney, Mark Frisby-Biddle & Frisby.“ As was customary, Ben did notintroduce the Fair Witness; they all pretended that he was not present.
　　.I’ve met Frisby,“ Berquist acknowledged. .How’s your father, Mark? Sinusesstill giving him fits?“.About the same.“.This foul Washington climate. Well, come along, Ben. You, too,Mark.“.Hold it,“ said Caxton. .I don’t want to interview you, Gil. I want to seeValentine Michael Smith. I’m here as a member of the press, directlyrepresenting the Post syndicate and indirectly representing over two hundredmillion readers. Do I see him? If I don’t, say so out loud and state your legalauthority for refusing me.“Berquist sighed. .Mark, will you tell this keyhole historian that he can’t gobusting into a sick man’s bedroom just because he has a syndicated column?
　　Valentine Smith made one public appearance just last night -against hisphysician’s advice I might add. The man is entitled to peace and quiet and achance to build up his strength and get oriented. That appearance last nightwas enough, more than enough.“.There are rumors,“ Caxton said carefully, .that the appearance last nightwas a fake.“Berquist stopped smiling. .Frisby,“ he said coldly, .do you want to advise yourclient on the law concerning slander?“.Take it easy, Ben.“.I know the law on slander, Gil. In my business I have to. But whom am Islandering? The Man from Mars? Or somebody else? Name a name. Irepeat,“ he went on, raising his voice, .that I have heard that the maninterviewed on TV last night was not the Man from Mars. I want to see himmyself and ask him.“The crowded reception hail was very quiet as everyone present bent an earto the argument. Berquist glanced quickly at the Fair Witness, then got hisexpression under control and said smilingly to Caxton, .Ben, it’s just possiblethat you talked yourself into the interview you wanted-as well as a lawsuit.
　　Wait a moment.“He disappeared into the inner office, came back fairly soon. .I arranged it,“ hesaid wearily, .though God knows why. You don’t deserve it, Ben. Comealong. Just you-Mark, I’m sorry but we can’t have a crowd of people; after all,Smith is a sick man.“.No,“ said Caxton.
　　.Huh?“.All three of us, or none of us. Take your choice.“.Ben, don’t be silly; you’re receiving a very special privilege. Tell you what-Mark can come along and wait outside the door But you certainly don’t needhim.“ Berquist glanced toward Cavendish; the Witness seemed not to hear.
　　.Maybe not. But I’ve paid his fee to have him along. My column will statetonight that the administration refused to permit a Fair Witness to see theMan from Mars.“Berquist shrugged. .Come along, then. Ben, I hope that slander suit reallyclobbers you.“They took the patients’ elevator rather than the bounce tube out of deferenceto Cavendish’s age, then rode a slide-away for a long distance pastlaboratories, therapy rooms, solaria, and ward after ward. They were stoppedonce by a guard who phoned ahead, then let them through; they were at lastushered into a physio-data display room used for watching critically illpatients. .This is Dr. Tanner,“ Berquist announced. .Doctor, this is Mr. Caxtonand Mr. Frisby.“ He did not, of course, introduce Cavendish.
　　Tanner looked worried. .Gentlemen, I am doing this against my betterjudgment because the Director insists. I must warn you of one thing. Don’t door say anything that might excite my patient. He is in an extremely neuroticcondition and falls very easily into a state of pathological withdrawal-a trance,if you choose to call it that.“.Epilepsy?“ asked Ben.
　　.A layman might easily mistake it for that. It is more like catalepsy. But don’tquote me; there is no clinical precedent for this case.“.Are you a specialist, Doctor? Psychiatry, maybe?“Tanner glanced at Berquist. .Yes,“ he admitted.
　　.Where did you do your advanced work?“Berquist said, .Look, Ben, let’s see the patient and get it over with. You canquiz Dr. Tanner afterwards.“.Okay.“Tanner glanced over his dials and graphs, then flipped a switch and staredinto a Peeping Tom, He left the desk, unlocked a door and led them into anadjoining bedroom, putting a finger to his lips as he did so. The other fourfollowed him in. Caxton felt as if he were being taken to .view the remains“and suppressed a nervous need to laugh.
　　The room was quite gloomy. .We keep it semi-darkened because his eyesare not accustomed to our light levels,“ Tanner explained in a hushed voice.
　　He turned to a hydraulic bed which filled the center of the room. .Mike, I’vebrought some friends to see you.“Caxton pressed closer, Floating therein, half concealed by the way his bodysank into the plastic skin covering the liquid in the tank and farther concealedby a sheet up to his armpits, was a young man. He looked back at them butsaid nothing; his smooth, round face was expressionless.
　　So far as Ben could tell this was the man who had been on stereo the nightbefore. He had a sudden sick feeling that little Jill, with the best of intentions,had tossed him a live grenade-a slander suit that might very well bankrupthim. .You are Valentine Michael Smith?“.Yet“.The Man from Mars?“.Yet“.You were on stereo last night?“The man in the tank bed did not answer. Tanner said, .I don’t think he knowsthe word. Let me try. Mike, you remember what you did with Mr. Douglas lastnight?“The face looked petulant. .Bright lights. Hurt.“.Yes, the lights hurt your eyes. Mr. Douglas had you say hello topeople.“The patient smiled slightly. .Long ride in chair.“.Okay,“ agreed Caxton. .I catch on. Mike, are they treating you all righthere?“.Yes.“.You don’t have to stay here, you know. Can you walk?“Tanner said hastily, .Now see here, Mr. Caxton-. Berquist put a hand on hisarm and he shut up.
　　.I can walk ... a little. Tired.“.I’ll see that you have a wheel chair. Mike, if you don’t want to stay here, I’llhelp you get out of bed and take you anywhere you want to go.“Tanner shook off Berquist’s hand and said, .I can’t have you interferingwith my patient!“.He’s a free man, isn’t he?“ Caxton persisted. .Or is he a prisoner here?“Berquist answered, .Of course he is a free man! Keep quiet, Doctor. Let thefool dig his own grave.“.Thanks, Gil. Thanks all to pieces. So he is free to leave if he wants to. Youheard what he said, Mike. You don’t have to stay here. You can go anywhereyou like. I’ll help you.“The patient glanced fearfully at Tanner. .No! No, no, no!“.Okay, okay.“Tanner snapped, .Mr. Berquist, this has gone quite far enough! My patientwill be upset the rest of the day.“.All right, Doctor. Ben, let’s get the show on the road. You’ve had enough,surely.“.Ub ... just one more question.“ Caxton thought hard, trying to think what hecould squeeze out of it. Apparently Jill had been wrong- yet she had not beenwrong!-or so it had seemed last night. But something did not quite fit althoughhe could not tell what it was.
　　.One more question,“ Berquist begrudged.
　　.Thanks. Uh ... Mike, last night Mr. Douglas asked you some questions.“ Thepatient watched him but made no comment. .Let’s see, he asked you whatyou thought of the girls here on Earth, didn’t he?“The patient’s face broke into a big smile. .Gee!“.Yes. Mike ... when and where did you see these girls?“The smile vanished. The patient glanced at Tanner, then he stiffened, hiseyes rolled up, and he drew himself into the foetal position, knees drawn up,head bent, and arms folded across his chest.
　　Tanner snapped, .Get them out of here!“ He moved quickly to the tank bedand felt the patient’s wrist.
　　Berquist said savagely, .That tears it! Caxton, will you get out? Or shall I callthe guards and have you thrown out?“.Oh, we’re getting out all right,“ Caxton agreed. All but Tanner left the roomand Berquist closed the door.
　　.Just one point, Gil,“ Caxton insisted. .You’ve got him boxed up in there . . .
　　so just where did he see those girls?“.Eh? Don’t be silly. He’s seen lots of girls. Nurses ... laboratory technicians.
　　You know.“.But I don’t know. I understood he had nothing but male nurses and thatfemale visitors had been rigidly excluded.“.Eh? Don’t be any more preposterous than you have to be.“ Berquist lookedannoyed, then suddenly grinned. .You saw a nurse with him on stereo justlast night.“.Oh. So I did.“ Caxton shut up and let himself be led out.
　　They did not discuss it further until the three were in the air, headed forCavendish’s home. Then Frisby remarked, .Ben, I don’t suppose theSecretary General will demean himself to sue you, since you did not print it.
　　Still, if you really do have a source for that rumor you mentioned, we hadbetter perpetuate the evidence. You don’t have much of a leg to stand on,you know.“.Forget it Mark. He won’t sue.“ Ben glowered at the floor of the cab. .How dowe know that was the Man from Mars?“.Eh? Come off it, Ben.“.How do we know? We saw a man about the right age in a hospital bed. Wehave Berquist’s word for it-and Berquist got his start in politics issuingdenials; his word means nothing. We saw a total stranger, supposed to be apsychiatrist . . . and when I tried to find out where he had studied psychiatry Igot euchred out. How do we know? Mr. Cavendish, did you see or hearanything that convinced you that this bloke was the Man from Mars?“Cavendish answered carefully, .It is not my function to form opinions. I see, Ihear-that is all.“.Sorry.“.By the way, are you through with me in my professional capacity?“.Huh? Oh, sure. Thanks, Mr. Cavendish.“.Thank you, sir. It was an interesting assignment.“ The old gentleman took offthe cloak that set him apart from ordinary mortals, folded it carefully and laidit on the seat. He sighed, relaxed, and his features lost professionaldetachment, warmed and mellowed. He took out cigars, offered them to theothers; Frisby took one and they shared a light. .I do not smoke,“ Cavendishremarked through a thick cloud, .while on duty. It interferes with optimumfunctioning of the senses.“.If I had been able to bring along a crew member of the Champion,“ Caxtonpersisted, .I could have tied it down. But I thought surely I could tell.“.I must admit,“ remarked Cavendish, .that I was a little surprised at one thingyou did not do.“.Huh? What did I miss?“.Calluses“.Calluses?“.Surely. A man’s life history can be told from his calluses. I once did amonograph on them, published in The Witness Quarterly- like SherlockHolmes’ famous monograph on tobacco ash. This young man from Marssince he has never worn our sort of shoes and has lived in gravity about onethird of ours, should display foot calluses consonant with his formerenvironment. Even the time he recently spent in space should have left theirtraces. Very interesting.“.Damn! Good Lord, Mr. Cavendish, why didn’t you suggest it to me?“.Sir?“ The old man drew himself up and his nostrils dilated. .It would not havebeen ethical. I am a Fair Witness, not a participant. My professionalassociation would suspend me for much less. Surely you know that.“.Sorry. I forgot myself.“ Caxton frowned. .Let’s wheel this buggy around andgo back. We’ll take a look at his feet-or I’ll bust the place down withBerquist’s fat head!“.I’m afraid you will have to find another Witness ... in view of my indiscretionin discussing it, even after the fact.“.Uh, yes, there’s that.“ Caxton frowned.
　　.Better just calm down, Ben,“ advised Frisby. .You’re in deep enough now.
　　Personally, I’m convinced it was the Man from Mars. Occam’s razor, leasthypothesis, just plain horse sense.“Caxton dropped them, then set the cab to cruise while he thought. Presentlyhe punched the combination to take him back to Bethesda Medical Center.
　　He was less than half way back to the Center when he realized that his tripwas useless. What would happen? He would get as far as Berquist, nofarther. He had been allowed in once-with a lawyer, with a Fair Witness. Todemand to be allowed to see the Man from Mars a second time, all in onemorning, was unreasonable and would be refused. Nor, since it wasunreasonable, could he make anything effective out of it in his column.
　　But he bad not acquired a widely syndicated column through being balked.
　　He intended to get in.
　　How? Well, at least he now knew where the putative .Man from Mars“ wasbeing kept. Get in as an electrician? Or as a janitor? Too obvious; he wouldnever get past the guard, not even as far as .Dr. Tanner.“Was .Tanner“ actually a doctor? It seemed unlikely. Medical men, even theworst of them, tended to shy away from hanky-panky contrary to theirprofessional code. Take that ship’s surgeon, Nelson-he had quit, washed hishands of the case simply because- Wait a minute! Dr. Nelson was one manwho could tell offhand whether that young fellow was the Man from Mars,without checking calluses, using trick questions, or anything. Caxton reachedfor buttons, ordered his cab to ascend to parking level and hover, andimmediately tried to phone Dr. Nelson, relaying through his office for thepurpose since he neither knew where Dr. Nelson was, nor had with him themeans to find out. Nor did his assistant Osbert Kilgallen know where he was,either, but he did have at hand resources to find out; it was not evennecessary to draw on Caxton’s large account of uncollected favors in theEnclave, as the Post syndicate’s file on Important Persons placed him atonce in the New Mayflower. A few minutes later Caxton was talking with him.
　　To no purpose-Dr. Nelson had not seen the broadcast. Yes, he had heardabout it; no, he had no reason to think the broadcast had been faked. Did Dr.
　　Nelson know that an attempt had been made to coerce Valentine Smith intosurrendering his rights to Mars under the Larkin Decision? No, he did notknow it, had no reason to believe so . . . and would not be interested if it weretrue; it was preposterous to talk about anyone .owning“ Mars; Mars belongedto the Martians. So? Let’s propose a hypothetical question, Doctor; ifsomeone were trying to- But Dr. Nelson had switched off. When Caxton triedto reconnect, a recorded voice stated sweetly: .The subscriber has voluntarilysuspended service temporarily. If you care to record-. Caxton switched off.
　　Caxton made a foolish statement concerning Dr. Nelson’s parentage. Butwhat he did next was much more foolish; he phoned the Executive Palace,demanded to speak to the Secretary General.
　　His action was more a reflex than a plan. In his years as a snooper, first as areporter, then as a lippmann, he had learned that close-held secrets couldoften be cracked by going all the way to the top and there making himselfunbearably unpleasant. He knew that such twisting of the tiger’s tail wasdangerous, for he understood the psychopathology of great power asthoroughly as Jill Boardman lacked knowledge of it-but he had habituallyrelied on his relative safety as a dealer in still another sort of power almostuniversally feared and appeased by the powerful.
　　What he forgot was, that in phoning the Palace from a taxicab, he was notdoing so publicly.
　　Caxton was not put through to the Secretary General, nor had he expected tobe. Instead he spoke with half a dozen underlings and became moreaggressive with each one. He was so busy that he did not notice it when hiscab ceased to hover and left the parking level.
　　When he did notice it, it was too late; the cab refused to obey the orders heat once punched into it. Caxton realized bitterly that he had let himself betrapped by a means no professional hoodlum would fall for: his call had beentraced, his cab identified, its idiot robot pilot placed under orders of an overridingpolice frequency-and the cab itself was being used to arrest him andfetch him in, all most privately and with no fuss,He wished keenly that he had kept Fair Witness Cavendish with him. But hewasted no time on this futility but cleared the useless call from the radio andtried at once to call his lawyer, Mark Frisby.
　　He was still trying when the taxicab landed inside a courtyard landing fiat andhis signal was cut off by its walls. He then tried to leave the cab, found thatthe door would not open-and was hardly surprised to discover that he wasbecoming very light-headed and was fast losing consciousness-
Chapter 8
JILL TRIED TO TELL HERSELF that Ben had gone charging off on anotherScent and simply had forgotten (or had not taken time) to let her know. Butshe did not believe it. Ben, incredibly busy as he was, owed much of hissuccess, both professional and social, to meticulous attention to humandetails. He remembered birthdays and would rather have weiched on a pokerdebt than have forgotten to write a bread-and-butter note. No matter wherehe had gone, nor how urgent the errand, he could have-and would have!-atleast taken two minutes while in the air to record a reassuring message toher at her home or at the Center. It was an unvarying characteristic of Ben,she reminded herself, the thing that made him a lovable beast in spite of hismany faults.
　　He must have left word for her! She called his office again at her lunch breakand spoke with Ben’s researcher and office chief, Osbert Kilgallen. Heassured her solemnly that Ben had left no message for her, nor had anycome in since she had called earlier.
　　She could see past his head in the screen that there were other people in theoffice; she decided it was a poor time to mention the Man from Mars. .Did hesay where he was going? Or when he would be back?“.No. But that is not unusual. We always have a few spare columns on thehook to fill in when one of these things comes up.“.Well ... where did he call you from? Or am I being too snoopy?“.Not at all, Miss floardman. He did not call; it was a statprint message, filedfrom Paoli Flat in Philadelphia as I recall.“Jill had to be satisfied with that. She lunched in the nurses’ dining room andtried to interest herself in food. It wasn’t, she told herself, as if anything werereally wrong . . . or as if she were in love with the lunk or anything silly likethat.
　　.Hey! Boardman! Snap out of the fog-I asked you a question.“Jill looked up to find Molly Wheelwright, the wing’s dietician, looking at her.
　　.Sorry. I was thinking about something else.“.I said, .Since when does your floor put charity patients in luxury suites?’
　　.Isn’t K-12 on your floor? Or have they moved you?“.K-12? Certainly. But that’s not a charity case; it’s a rich old woman, wealthythat she can pay to have a doctor watch every breath she draws.“.Humph! If she’s wealthy, she must have come into money awfully suddenly.
　　She’s been in the N.P. ward of the geriatrics sanctuary for the pastseventeen months.“.Must be some mistake.“.Not mine-I don’t let mistakes happen in my diet kitchen. That tray is a trickyone and I check it myself-fat-free diet (she’s had her gall bladder out) and along list of sensitivities, plus concealed medication. Believe me, dear, a dietorder can be as individual as a fingerprint.“ Miss Wheelwright stood up.
　　.Gotta run, chicks. I wish they would let me run this kitchen for a while.
　　Hogwallow Cafeteria!“.What was Molly sounding off about?“ one of the nurses asked.
　　.Nothing. She’s just mixed up.“ But Jill continued to think about it. It occurredto her that she might locate the Man from Mars by making inquiries aroundthe diet kitchens. She put the idea out of her mind; it would take a full day tovisit all the diet kitchens in the acres of ground covered by the sprawlingbuildings. Bethesda Center had been founded as a naval hospital back in thedays when wars were fought on oceans; it had been enormous even then. Ithad been transferred later to Health, Education, & Welfare and hadexpanded; now it belonged to the Federation and was still larger, a small city.
　　But there was something odd about Mrs. Bankerson’s case. The hospitalaccepted all classes of patients, private, charity, and government; the floorJill was working on usually had only government patients and its luxury suiteswere occupied by Federation Senators or other official guests able tocommand flossy service. It was unusual for a paying private patient to have asuite on her floor, or to be on her floor in any status.
　　Of course Mrs. Bankerson could be overflow, if the part of the Center open tothe fee-paying public had no such suite available. Yes, probably that was it.
　　She was too rushed for a while after lunch to think about it, being busy withincoming patients. Shortly a situation came up in which she needed apowered bed. The routine action would be to phone for one to be sent up-butthe storage room was in the basement a quarter of a mile away and Jillwanted the bed at once. She recalled that she had seen the powered bedwhich was normally in the bedroom of suite K-l2 parked in the sitting room ofthat suite; she remembered telling one of those marine guards not to sit on it.
　　Apparently it had Simply been shoved in there to get it out of the way whenthe flotation bed had been installed for Smith.
　　Possibly it was still sitting there, gathering dust and still charged out to thefloor. Powered beds were always in short supply and cost six times as muchas an ordinary bed. While, strictly speaking, it was the wing superintendent’sworry, Jill saw no reason to let overhead charges for her floor run upunnecessarily-and besides, if it was still there, she could get it at once. Shedecided to find out.
　　The sitting room door was still locked. She was startled to find that her passkey would not open it. Making a mental note to tell maintenance to repair thelock, she went on down the corridor to the watch room of the suite, intendingto find out about the bed from the doctor watching over Mrs. Bankerson.
　　The physician on watch was the same one she had met before, Dr. Brush.
　　He was not an intern, nor a resident, but had been brought in for this patient,Jill had learned from him, by Dr. Garner. Brush looked up as she put herhead in. .Miss Boardman! Just the person I want to see!“.Why didn’t you ring? How’s your patient?“.She’s all right,“ he answered, glancing up at the Peeping Tom, .But Idefinitely am not.“.Trouble?“.Some trouble. About five minutes’ worth. And my relief is not in the building.
　　Nurse, could you spare me about that many minutes of your valuable time?
　　And then keep your mouth shut afterwards?“.I suppose so. I told my assistant floor supervisor I would be away for a fewminutes. Let me use your phone and I’ll tell her where to find me.“.No!“ he said urgently. .Just lock that door after I leave and don’t let anybodyin until you hear me rap .Shave and a Haircut’ on it, that’s a good girl.“.All right, sir,“ Jill said dubiously. .Am I to do anything for your patient?“.No, no, just sit there at the desk and watch her in the screen. You won’thave to do anything. Don’t disturb her.“.Well, if anything does happen, where will you be? In the doctors’ lounge?“.I’m not going that far-just to the men’s washroom down the corridor. Nowshut up, please, and let me go-this is urgent.“He left and Jill obeyed his order to lock the door after him. Then she lookedat the patient through the viewer and ran her eye over the dials. The elderlywoman was again asleep and the displays showed her pulse strong and herbreathing even and normal; Jill wondered why Dr. Garner considered a.death watch“ necessary?
　　Then she remembered why she had come in there in the first place anddecided that she might as well find out if the bed was in the far room withoutbothering Dr. Brush about it. While it was not quite according to Dr. Brush’sinstructions, she would not be disturbing his patient-certainly she knew howto walk through a room without waking a sleeping patient!-and she haddecided years ago that what doctors did not know rarely hurt them. Sheopened the door quietly and went in.
　　A quick glance assured her that Mrs. Bankerson was in the typical sleep ofthe senile. Walking noiselessly she went past her to the door to the sittingroom. It was locked but her pass key let her in.
　　She was pleased to see that the powered bed was there. Then she saw thatthe room was occupied-sitting in an arm chair with a picture book in his lapwas the Man from Mars.
　　Smith looked up and gave her the beaming smile of a delighted baby.
　　Jill felt dizzy, as if she had been jerked out of sleep. Jumbled ideas racedthrough her mind. Valentine Smith here? But he couldn’t be; he had beentransferred somewhere else; the log showed it. But he was here.
　　Then all the ugly implications and possibilities seemed to line themselves up .
　　- - the fake .Man from Mars“ on stereo ... the old woman out there, ready todie, but in the meantime covering the fact that there was another patient inhere . . . the door that would not open to her pass-key-and, lastly, a horridvision of the .meat wagon“ wheeling out of here some night, with a sheetconcealing the fact that it carried not one cadaver, but two.
　　When this last nightmare rushed through her mind, it carried in its train a coldwind of fear, the realization that she herself was in peril through havingstumbled Onto this top-secret fact.
　　Smith got clumsily up from his chair, held out both hands while still smilingand said, .Water brother!“.Hello. Uh ... how are you?“.I am well. I am happy.“ He added something in a strange, choking speech,then corrected himself and said carefully, .You are here, my brother. Youwere away. Now you are here. I drink deep of you.“Jill felt herself helplessly split between two emotions, one that crushed andmelted her heart-and an icy fear of being caught here. Smith did not seem tonotice. Instead he said, .See? I walk! I grow strong.“ He demonstrated bytaking a few steps back and forth, then stopped, triumphant, breathless, andsmiling in front of her.
　　She forced herself to smile. .We are making progress, aren’t we? You keepgrowing stronger, that’s the spirit! But I must go now-I just stopped in to sayhello.“His expression changed instantly to distress. .Do not go!“.Oh, but I must!“He continued to look woebegone, then added with tragic certainty, .I havehurted you. I did not know.“.Hurt me? Oh, no, not at all! But I must go-and quickly!“His face was without expression. He stated rather than asked, .Take mewith you, my brother.“.What? Oh, I can’t. And I must go, at once. Look, don’t tell anyone that I wasin here, please!“.Not tell that my water brother was here?“.Yes. Don’t tell anyone. Uh, I’ll try to come back, I really will. You be a goodboy and wait and don’t tell anyone.“Smith digested this, looked serene. .I will wait. I will not tell.“.Good!“ Jill wondered how the devil she possibly could get back in to seehim-she certainly couldn’t depend on Dr. Brush having another convenientcase of trots. She realized now that the .broken“ lock had not been brokenand her eye swept around to the corridor door-and she saw why she had notbeen able to get in. A hand bolt had been screwed to the surface of the door,making a pass key useless. As was always the case with hospitals, bathroomdoors and other doors that could be bolted were so arranged as to open alsoby pass key, so that patients irresponsible or unruly could not lockthemselves away from the nurses. But here the locked door kept Smith in,and the addition of a simple hand bolt of the sort not permitted in hospitalsserved to keep out even those with pass keys.
　　Jill walked over and opened the bolt. .You wait. I’ll come back.“.I shall waiting.“When she got back to the watch room she heard already knocking the Tock!
　　Tocki Ti-toe/c tocki - . . Tock, tock! signal that Brush had said he would use;she hurried to let him in.
　　He burst in, saying savagely, .Where the hell were you, nurse? I knockedthree times.“ He glanced suspiciously at the inner door.
　　.I saw your patient turn over in her sleep,“ she lied quickly. .I was inarranging her collar pillow.“.Damn it, I told you simply to sit at my desk!“Jill knew suddenly that the man was even more frightened than she was-andwith more reason. She counter-attacked. .Doctor, I did you a favor,“ she saidcoldly. .Your patient is not properly the responsibility of the floor supervisor inthe first place. But since you entrusted her to me, I had to do what seemednecessary in your absence. Since you have questioned what I have done,let’s get the wing superintendent and settle the matter.“.Huh? No, no-forget it.“.No, sir. I don’t like to have my professional actions questioned withoutcause. As you know very well, a patient that old can smother in a water bed; Idid what was necessary. Some nurses will take any blame from a doctor, butI am not one of them. So let’s call the superintendent.“.What? Look, Miss Boardman, I’m sorry I said anything. I was upset and Ipopped off without thinking. I apologize.“.Very well, Doctor,“ Jill answered stiffly. .Is there anything more I can do foryou?“.Uh? No, thank you. Thanks for standing by for me. Just ... well, be sure notto mention it, will you?“.I won’t mention it.“ You can bet your sweet life I won’t mention it, Jill addedsilently. But what do I do now? Oh, I wish Ben were in town! She got back toher duty desk, nodded to her assistant, and pretended to look over somepapers. Finally she remembered to phone for the powered bed she had beenafter in the first place. Then she sent her assistant to look at the patient whoneeded the bed (now temporarily resting in the ordinary type) and tried tothink.
　　Where was Ben? If he were only in touch, she would take ten minutes relief,call him, and shift the worry onto his broad shoulders. But Ben, damn him,was oft’ skyoodling somewhere and letting her carry the ball.
　　Or was he? A fretful suspicion that had been burrowing around in hersubconscious all day finally surfaced and looked her in the eye, and this timeshe returned the stare: Ben Caxton would not have left town without lettingher know the outcome of his attempt to see the Man from Mars. As a fellowconspirator it was her right to receive a report and Ben always played fair . . .
　　always.
　　She could hear sounding in her head something he had said on the ride backfrom Hagerstown: .-if anything goes wrong, you are my ace in the hole . . .
　　honey. ~f you don’t hear from me, you are on your own,“She had not thought seriously about it at the time, as she had not reallybelieved that anything could happen to Ben. Now she thought about it for along time, while trying to continue her duties. There comes a time in the life ofevery human when he or she must decide to risk .his life, his fortune, and hissacred honor“ on an outcome dubious. Those who fail the challenge aremerely overgrown children, can never be anything else. Jill Boardmanencountered her personal challenge-and accepted it-at 3:47 that afternoonwhile convincing a ward visitor that he simply could not bring a dog onto thefloor even though he had managed to slip it past the receptionist and even ifthe sight of this dog was just what the patient needed.
　　The Man from Mars sat down again when Jill left. He did not pick up thepicture book they had given him but simply waited in a fashion which may bedescribed as .patient“ only because human language does not embraceMartian emotions nor attitudes. He merely held still with quiet happinessbecause his brother had said that he would return. He was prepared to wait,without doing anything, without moving, for several years if necessary.
　　He had no clear idea how long it had been since he had first shared waterwith this brother; not only was this place curiously distorted in time andshape, with sequences of sights and sounds and experiences new to himand not yet grokked, but also the culture of his nest took a different grasp oftime from that which is human. The difference lay not in their much longerlifetimes as counted in Earth years, but in a basically different attitude. Thesentence, .It is later than you think,“ could not have been expressed inMartian-nor could .Haste makes waste,“ though for a different reason: thefirst notion was inconceivable while the latter was an unexpressed Martianbasic, as unnecessary as telling a fish to bathe. But the quotation, .As it wasin the Beginning, is now and ever shall be,“ was so Martian in mood that itcould be translated more easily than .two plus two makes four“-which wasnot a truism on Mars.
　　Smith waited.
　　Brush came in and looked at him; Smith did not move and Brush wentaway.
　　When Smith heard a key in the Outer door, he recalled that this sound hadbeen one that he had heard somewhat before the last visit of his waterbrother, so he shifted his metabolism in preparation, in case the sequenceoccurred again. He was astonished when the door opened and Jill slipped in,as he had not been aware that the outer door was a door. But he grokked itat once and gave himself over to the joyful fullness which comes only in thepresence of one’s own nestlings, one’s chosen water brothers, and (undercertain circumstances) in the presence of the Old Ones.
　　His joy was somewhat sullied by immediate awareness that his brother didnot fully share it . . - in truth, he seemed more distressed than was possiblesave in one about to discorporate because of some shameful lack or failure.
　　But Smith had already learned that these creatures, so much like himself insome ways, could endure emotions dreadful to contemplate and still not die.
　　His Brother Mahmoud underwent a spiritual agony five times daily and notonly did not die but had urged the agony on him as a needful thing. HisBrother Captain van Tromp suffered terrifying spasms unpredictably, any oneof which should have, by Smith’s standards, produced immediatediscorporation to end the conflict-yet that brother was still corporate so far ashe knew.
　　So he ignored Jill’s agitation.
　　Jill handed him a bundle. .Here, put these on. Hurry!“Smith accepted the bundle and stood waiting. Jill looked at him and said,.Oh, dear! All right, get your clothes off. I’ll help you.“She was forced to do more than help; she had to undress and dress him. Hehad been wearing a hospital gown, a bathrobe, and slippers, not because hewanted them but because he had been told to wear them. He could handlethem himself by now, but not fast enough to Suit Jill; she skinned him quickly.
　　She being a nurse and he never having heard of the modesty taboo-norwould he have grasped an explanation-they were not slowed up byirrelevancies; the difficulties were purely mechanical. He was delighted andsurprised by the long false skins Jill drew over his legs, but she gave him notime to cherish them, but taped the women’s stockings to his thighs in lieu ofa garter belt. The nurse’s uniform she dressed him in was not her own, butone that she had borrowed from a larger woman on the excuse that a cousinof hers needed one for a masquerade party. Jill hooked a nurse’s capearound his neck and reflected that its all-enclosing straight drape coveredmost of the primary and secondary sex characteristics-at least she hopedthat it would. The shoes were more difficult, as they did not fit well and Smithstill found standing and walking in this gravity field an effort even barefooted.
　　But at last she got him covered and pinned a nurse’s cap on his head. .Yourhair isn’t very long,“ she said anxiously, .but it is practically as long as a lot ofthe girls wear it and it will have to do.“ Smith did not answer as he had notunderstood much of the remark. He tried to think his hair longer but realizedthat it would take time.
　　.Now,“ said Jill. .Listen carefully. No matter what happens, don’t say a word.
　　I’ll do all the talking. Do you understand me?“.Don’t talk. I will not talk.“.Just come with me-I’ll hold your hand. And don’t say a word. But if you knowany prayers, pray!“.Pray?“.Never mind. You just come along and don’t talk.“ She opened the quickglance outside, then took his hand and led him out into the corridor.
　　No one seemed especially interested. Smith found the many strangeconfigurations upsetting in the extreme; he was assaulted by images hecould not bring into focus. He stumbled blindly along beside Jill, with his eyesand senses almost disconnected to protect himself against chaos.
　　She led him to the end of the corridor and stepped on a slide-away leadingcrosswise. He almost fell down and would have done so if Jill had not caughthim. A chambermaid looked curiously at them and Jill cursed under herbreath-then was very careful in helping him off. They took an elevator to theroof, Jill being quite sure that she could never pilot him up a bounce tube.
　　On the roof they encountered a major crisis, though Smith was not aware ofit. He was undergoing the keen delight of seeing sky; he had not seen skysince the sky of Mars. This sky was bright and colorful and joyful -it being atypical overcast Washington grey day. In the meantime Jill was lookingaround helplessly for a taxi. The roof was almost deserted, something shehad counted on, since most of the nurses who came off duty when she didwere already headed home fifteen minutes ago and the afternoon visitorswere gone. But the taxis were, of course, gone too. She did not dare risk anair bus, even though one which went her way would be along in a fewminutes.
　　She was about to call a taxi when one headed in for a landing. She called tothe roof attendant. .Jack! Is that cab taken? I need one.“.It’s probably the one I called for Dr. Phipps.“.Oh, dear! Jack, see how quick you can get me another one, will you? This ismy cousin Madge-she works over in South Wing-and she has a terriblelaryngitis and I want to get her out of this wind.“The attendant looked dubiously toward the phone in his booth and scratchedhis head. .Well ... seeing it’s you, Miss Boardman, I’ll let you take this oneand call another one for Dr. Phipps. How’s that?“.Oh, Jack, you’re a lamb! No, Madge, don’t try to talk; I’ll thank him. Her voiceis gone completely; I’m going to take her home and bake it out with hot rum.“.That ought to do it. Old-fashioned remedies are always best, my motherused to say.“ He reached into the cab and punched the combination for Jill’shome from memory, then helped them in. Jill managed to get in the way andthereby cover up Smith’s unfamiliarity with this common ceremonial. .Thanks,Jack. Thanks loads.“The cab took off and Jill took her first deep breath. .You can talk.What should I say?“.Huh? Nothing. Anything. Whatever you like.“Smith thought this over. The scope of the invitation obviously called for aworthy answer, suitable to brothers. He thought of several, discarded thembecause he did not know how to translate them, then settled on one which hethought he could translate fairly well but which nevertheless conveyed evenin this strange, flat speech some of the warm growing-closer brothers shouldenjoy. .Let our eggs share the same nest.“Jill looked startled. .Huh? What did you say?“Smith felt distressed at the failure to respond in kind and interpreted it asfailure on his own part. He realized miserably that, time after time, he hadmanaged to bring agitation to these other creatures when his purpose hadbeen to create oneness. He tried again, rearranging his sparse vocabulary toenfold the thought somewhat differently. .My nest is yours and your nest ismine.“This time Jill managed to smile. .Why, how sweet! My dear, I am not surethat I understand you, but if I do, that is the nicest offer I have had in a longtime.“ She added, .But right now we are up to our ears in trouble- so let’s waita while, shall we?“Smith had understood Jill hardly more than Jill had understood him, but hecaught his water brother’s pleased mood and understood the suggestion towait. Waiting was something he did without effort, so he sat back, satisfiedthat all was well between himself and his brother, and enjoyed the scenery. Itwas the first time he had seen this place from the air and on every side therewas a richness of new things to try to grok. It occurred to him that theapportation used at home did not permit this delightful viewing of what laybetween. This thought almost led him to a comparison of Martian and humanmethods not favorable to the Old Ones, but his mind automatically shiedaway from heresy.
　　Jill kept quiet, too, and tried to get her thoughts straight. Suddenly sherealized that the cab was heading down the final traffic leg toward theapartment house where she lived-and she realized just as quickly that homewas the last place for her to go, it being the first place they would look oncethey figured out how Smith had escaped and who had helped him. She didnot kid herself that she had covered her tracks. While she knew nothing ofpolice methods, she supposed that she must have left fingerprints in Smith’sroom, not to mention the people who had seen them walk out. It was evenpossible (so she had heard) for a technician to read the tape in this cab’spilot and tell exactly what trips it had made that day and where and when.
　　She reached forward, slapped the order keys, and cleared the instruction togo to her apartment house. She did not know whether that would wipe thetape or not-but she was not going to head for a place where the police mightalready be waiting.
　　The cab checked its forward motion, rose out of the traffic lane and hovered.
　　Where could she go? Where in all this swarming city could she hide a grownman who was half idiot and could not even dress himself?-a man who wasthe most sought-after person on the globe? Oh, if Ben were only here! Ben - -- where are you?
　　She reached forward again, picked up the phone and rather hopelesslypunched Ben’s number, expecting to hear the detached voice of anautomation inviting her to record a message. Her spirits jumped when aman’s voice answered . - . then slumped again when she realized that it wasnot Ben but his majordomo, Osbert Kilgallen. .Oh. Sorry, Mr. Kilgallen. This isJill Boardman. I thought I had called Mr. Caxton’s home.“.You did. But I always have his home calls relayed to the office when he isaway more than twenty-four hours.“.Then he is still away?“.I’m afraid so. Is there anything I can do for you?“.Uh, no. Look, Mr. Kilgallen, isn’t it strange that Ben should just drop out ofsight? Aren’t you worried about him?“.Eh? Why should I be? His message said that he did not know how long hewould be away.“.Isn’t that rather odd in itself?“.Not in Mr. Caxton’s work, Miss Boardman.“.Well ... I think there is something very odd about his being away this time! Ithink you ought to report it. You ought to spread it over every news service inthe country-in the world!“Even though the cab’s phone had no vision circuit Jill felt Osbert Kilgallendraw himself up. .I’m afraid, Miss Boardman, that I will have to interpret myemployer’s instructions myself. Uh - - . if you don’t mind my saying so, thereis always some . . .good friend’ phoning Mr. Caxton frantically every time heleaves town.“Some babe trying to get a hammer lock on him, Jill interpreted angrily-andthis Osbert character thinks I’m the current one. It put out of her mind thehalf-formed thought of asking Kilgallen for help; she switched off as quicklyas possible.
　　But where could she go? The obvious solution popped into her mind. If Benwas missing-and the authorities had a hand in it-the last place they would belikely to look for Valentine Smith would be Ben’s apartment. Unless, shecorrected, they connected her with Ben, which she did not think that they did.
　　They could dig a bite to eat out of Ben’s buttery-she wouldn’t risk orderinganything from the basement; they might know he was away. And she couldborrow some of Ben’s clothes for her idiot child. The last point settled it; sheset the combination for Ben’s apartment house. The cab picked out the newlane and dropped into it.
　　Once outside the door to Ben’s fiat Jill put her face to the hush box by thedoor and said emphatically, .Karthago delenda est!“Nothing happened. Oh damn him! she said frantically to herself; he’schanged the combo. She stood there for a moment, knees weak, and kepther face away from Smith. Then she again spoke into the hush box. It was aRaytheon lock, the same voice circuit actuated the door or announcedcallers. She announced herself on the forlorn chance that Ben might havereturned. .Ben, this is Jill.“The door slid open.
　　They went inside and the door closed. Jill thought for an instant that Ben hadlet them in, then she realized that she had accidentally hit on his new doorcombination . . . intended, she guessed, as a gracious compliment combinedwith a wolf tactic. She felt that she could have dispensed with the complimentto have avoided the awful panic she had felt when the door had refused toopen.
　　Smith stood quietly at the edge of the thick green lawn and looked at theroom. It again was a place so new to him as not to be grokked at once, buthe felt immediately pleased with it. It was less exciting than the moving placethey had just been in, but in many ways more suited for enfolding togetherthe self. He looked with interest at the view window at one end but did notrecognize it as a window, mistaking it for a living picture like those he hadbeen used to at home-the suite he had been in at Bethesda contained nowindows, it being in one of the newer wings, and thus far he had neveracquired the idea of .window.“He noticed with approval that the simulation of depth and movement in the.picture“ was perfect-some very great artist among these people must havecreated it. Up until this time he had seen nothing to cause him to think thatthese people possessed art; his grokldng of them was increased by this newexperience and he felt warmed.
　　A movement caught his eye; he turned to find his brother removing the falseskins as well as the slippers from its legs.
　　Jill sighed and wiggled her toes in the grass. .Gosh, how my feet do hurt!“She glanced up and saw Smith watching her with that curiously disturbingbaby-faced stare. .Do it yourself if you want to. You’ll love it.“He blinked. .How do?“.I keep forgetting. Come here, I’ll help you.“ She got his shoes off, untapedthe stockings and peeled them off. .There, doesn’t that feel good?“Smith wiggled his toes in the cool grass, then said timidly, .But these live?“.Sure, they’re alive. It’s real live grass. Ben paid a lot to have it that way.
　　Why, the special lighting circuits alone cost more than I make in a month. Sowalk around and let your feet enjoy it.“Smith missed much of the speech but he did understand that the grass wasmade up of living beings and that he was being invited to walk on them.
　　.Walk on living things?“ he asked with incredulous horror.
　　.Huh? Why not? It doesn’t hurt this grass; it was specially developed forhouse rugs.“Smith was forced to remind himself that a water brother could not lead himinto wrongful action. Apprehensively he let himself be encouraged to walkaround-and found that he did enjoy it and that the living creatures did notprotest. He set his sensitivity for such things as high as possible; his brotherwas right, this was their proper being-to be walked on. He resolved to enfoldit and praise it; the effort was much like that of a human trying to appreciatethe merits of cannibalism-a custom which Smith found perfectly proper.
　　Jill let out a sigh. .Well, I had better stop playing. I don’t know how long wewill be safe here.“.Safe?“.We can’t stay here, not very long. They may be checking on everyconveyance that left the Center this very minute.“ She frowned and thought.
　　Her place would not do, this place would not do-and Ben had intended totake him to Jubal Harshaw. But she did not know Harshaw; she was not evensure where he lived-somewhere in the Poconos, Ben had said. Well, shewould just have to try to find out where he lived and call him. It was Hobson’schoice; she had nowhere else to turn.
　　.Why are you not happy, my brother?“Jill snapped out of her mood and looked at Smith. Why, the poor infant didn’teven know anything was wrong! She made a real effort to look at it from hispoint of view. She failed, but she did grasp that he had no notion that theywere running away from . . - from what? The cops? The hospital authorities?
　　She was not sure quite what she had done, or what laws she had broken;she simply knew that she had pitted her own puny self against the combinedwill of the Big People, the Bosses, the ones who made decisions.
　　But how could she tell the Man from Mars what they were up against whenshe did not understand it herself? Did they have policemen on Mars? Half thetime she found talking to him like shouting down a rain barrel.
　　Heavens, did they even have rain barrels on Mars? Or rain?
　　.Never you mind,“ she said soberly. .You just do what I tell you to do.“.Yes.“It was an unmodified, unlimited acceptance, an eternal yea. Jill suddenly hadthe feeling that Smith would unhesitatingly jump out the window if she toldhim to-in which belief she was correct; he would have jumped, enjoyed everyscant second of the twenty-storey drop, and accepted without surprise orresentment the discorporation on impact. Nor would he have been unawarethat such a fall would kill him; fear of death was an idea utterly beyond him. Ifa water brother selected for him such a strange discorporation, he wouldcherish it and try to grok.
　　.Well, we can’t stand here pampering our feet. I’ve got to feed us, I’ve got toget you into different clothes, and we’ve got to leave. Take those off.“ She leftto check Ben’s wardrobe.
　　She selected for him an inconspicuous travel suit, a beret, shirt,underclothes, and shoes, then returned. Smith was as snarled as a kitten inknitting; he had tried to obey but now had one arm prisoned by the nurse’suniform and his face wrapped in the skirt. He had not even removed the capebefore trying to take off the dress.
　　Jill said, .Oh, dear!“ and ran to help him.
　　She got him loose from the clothes, looked at them, then decided to stuffthem down the oubliette . . . she could pay Etta Schere for the loss of themlater and she did not want cops finding them here-just in case. .But you aregoing to have to have a bath, my good man, before I dress you in Ben’sclean clothes. They’ve been neglecting you. Come along.“ Being a nurse,she was inured to bad odors, but (being a nurse) she was fanatic about soapand water . . and it seemed to her that no one had bothered to bathe thispatient recently. While Smith did not exactly stink, he did remind her of ahorse on a hot day. Soap suds were indicated.
　　He watched her fill the tub with delight. There had been a tub in the bathroomof the suite he had been in but Smith had not known it was used to holdwater; bed baths were all that he had had and not many of those; histrancelike withdrawals had interfered.
　　Jill tested the water’s temperature. .All right, climb in.“Smith did not move. Instead he looked puzzled.
　　.Hurry!“ Jill said sharply. .Get in the water.“The words she used were firmly parts of his human vocabulary and Smith didas she ordered, emotion shaking him. This brother wanted him to place hiswhole body in the water of life. No such honor had ever come to him; to thebest of his knowledge and belief no one had ever before been offered such aholy privilege. Yet he had begun to understand that these others did havegreater acquaintance with the stuff of life . . . a fact not yet grokked but whichhe had to accept.
　　He placed one trembling foot in the water, then the other . . . and slippedslowly down into the tub until the water covered him completely.
　　.Hey!“ yelled Jill, and reached in and dragged his head and shoulders abovewater-then was shocked to find that she seemed to be handling a corpse.
　　Good Lord! he couldn’t drown, not in that time. But it frightened her and sheshook him. .Smith! Wake up! Snap out of it.“Smith heard his brother call from far away and returned. His eyes ceased tobe glazed, his heart speeded up and he resumed breathing. .Are you allright?“ Jill demanded.
　　.I am all right. I am very happy ... my brother.“.You sure scared me. Look, don’t get under the water again. Just sit up, theway you are now.“.Yes, my brother.“ Smith added several words in a curious croakingmeaningless to Jill, cupped a handful of water as if it were precious jewelsand raised it to his lips. His mouth touched it, then he offered the handful toJill.
　　.Hey, don’t drink your bath water! No, I don’t want it, either.“.Not drink?“His look of defenseless hurt was such that Jill again did not know what to do.
　　She hesitated, then bent her head and barely touched her lips to the offering.
　　.Thank you.“.May you never thirst!“.I hope you are never thirsty, too. But that’s enough. If you want a drink ofwater, I’ll get you one. But don’t drink any more of this water.“Smith seemed satisfied and sat quietly. By now Jill was convinced that hehad never taken a tub bath before and did not know what was expected ofhim. She considered the problem. No doubt she could coach him but theywere already losing precious time. Maybe she should have let him go dirty.
　　Oh, well! It was not as bad as tending a disturbed patient in an N.P. ward.
　　She had already got her blouse wet almost to the shoulders in draggingSmith off the bottom; she took it off and hung it up. She had been dressed forthe street when she had crushed Smith out of the Center and was wearing alittle, pleated pediskirt that floated around her knees. Her jacket she haddropped in the living room. She glanced down at the skirt. Although thepleats were guaranteed permanized, it was silly to get it wet. She shruggedand zipped it off; it left her in brassiere and panties.
　　Jill looked at Smith. He was staring at her with the innocent, interested eyesof a baby. She found herself blushing, which surprised her, as she had notknown that she could. She believed herself to be free of morbid modesty andhad no objection to nudity at proper times and places-she recalled suddenlythat she had gone on her first bareskin swimming party at fifteen. But thischildlike stare from a grown man bothered her; she decided to put up withclammily wet underwear rather than do the obvious, logical thing.
　　She covered her discomposure with heartiness. .Let’s get busy now andscrub the hide.“ She dropped to her knees beside the tub, sprayed soap onhim, and started working it into a lather.
　　Presently Smith reached out and touched her right mammary gland. Jill drewback hastily, almost dropping the sprayer. .Hey! None of that stuff!“He looked as if she had slapped him. .Not?“ he said tragically.
　　.’Not,’“ she agreed firmly. She looked at his face and added softly. .It’s allright. Just don’t distract me with things like that when I’m busy.“He took no more inadvertent liberties and Jill cut the bath short, letting thewater drain and having him stand up while she showered the soap off him.
　　Then she dressed with a feeling of relief while the blast dried him. The warmair startled him at first and he began to tremble, but she told him not to beafraid and had him hold onto the grab rail back of the tub while he dried andshe dressed.
　　She helped him out of the tub. .There, you smell a lot better and I’ll bet youfeel better.“.Feel fine.“.Good. Let’s get some clothes on you.“ She led him into Ben’s bedroomwhere she had left the clothes she had selected. But before she could evenexplain, demonstrate, or assist in getting shorts on him, she was shockedalmost out of the shoes she had not yet put back on.
　　.OPEN UP IN THERE!“Jill dropped the shorts. She was frightened nearly Out of her senses, feelingthe same panic she felt when a patient’s respiration stopped and bloodpressure dropped in the middle of surgery. But the discipline she had learnedin operating theater came to her aid. Did they actually know anyone wasinside? Yes, they must know-else they would never have come here. Thatdamned robo-cab must have given her away.
　　Well, should she answer? Or play .possum?
　　The shout over the announcing circuit was repeated. She whispered toSmith, .Stay here!“ then went into the living room. .Who is it?“ she called out,striving to keep her voice normal.
　　.Open in the name of the law!“.Open in the name of what law? Don’t be silly. Tell me who you are and whatyou want before I call the police.“.We are the police. Are you Gillian Boardman?“.Me? Of course not. I’m Phyllis O’Toole and I’m waiting for Mr. Caxton tocome home. Now you had better go away, because I’m going to call thepolice and report an invasion of privacy.“.Miss Boardman, we have a warrant for your arrest. Open up at once or it willgo hard with you.“.I’m not your .Miss Boardman’ and I’m calling the policel“The voice did not answer. Jill waited, swallowing. Shortly she felt radiant heatagainst her face. A small area around the door’s lock began to glow red, thenwhite; something crunched and the door slid open. Two men were there; oneof them stepped in, grinned at Jill and said, .That’s the babe, all right.
　　Johnson, look around and find him.“.Okay, Mr. Berquist.“Jill tried to make a road block of herself. The man called Johnson, twice hermass, put a hand on her shoulder, brushed her aside and went on backtoward the bedroom. Jill said shrilly, .Where’s your warrant? Let’s see yourcredentials-this is an outrage!“Berquist said soothingly, .Don’t be difficult, sweetheart. We don’t really wantyou; we just want him. Behave yourself and they might go easy on you.“She kicked at his shin. He stepped back nimbly, which was just as well, asJill was still barefooted. .Naughty, naughty,“ he chided. .Johnson! You findhim?“.He’s here, Mr. Berquist. And naked as an oyster. Three guesses whatthey were up to.“.Never mind that. Bring him here.“Johnson reappeared, shoving Smith ahead of him, controlling him by twistingone arm behind his back. .He didn’t want to come.“.He’ll come, he’ll come!“Jill ducked past Berquist, threw herself at Johnson. With his free hand heslapped her aside. .None of that, you little slut!“Johnson should not have slapped her. He had not hit her hard, not even ashard as he used to hit his wife before she went home to her parents, and notnearly as hard as he had often hit prisoners who were reluctant to talk. Up tothis time Smith had shown no expression at all and had said nothing; he hadsimply let himself be forced into the room with the passive, futile resistance ofa puppy who does not want to be walked on a leash. But he had understoodnothing of what was happening and had tried to do nothing at all.
　　When he saw his water brother struck by this other, he twisted and ducked,got free-and reached in an odd fashion for Johnson.
　　Johnson was not there any longer.
　　He was not anywhere. The room did not contain him. Only blades of grass,straightening up where his big feet had been, showed that he had ever beenthere. Jill stared through the space he had occupied and felt that she mightfaint.
　　Berquist closed his mouth, opened it again, said hoarsely, .What did you dowith him?“ He looked at Jill rather than Smith.
　　.Me? I didn’t do anything.“.Don’t give me that. What’s the trick? You got a trap door orsomething?“.Where did he go?“Berquist licked his lips. .I don’t know.“ He took a gun from under his coat.
　　.But don’t try any of your tricks with me. You stay here-I’m taking him along.“Smith had relapsed into his attitude of passive waiting. Not understandingwhat it was all about, he had done only the minimum he had to do. But gunshe had seen before, in the hands of men on Mars, and the expression onJill’s face at having one aimed at her he did not like. He grokked that this wasone of the critical cusps in the growth of a being wherein contemplation mustbring forth right action in order to permit further growth. He acted.
　　The Old Ones taught him well. He stepped toward Berquist; the gun swung tocover him. Nevertheless he reached out-and Berquist was no longer there.
　　Smith turned to look at his brother.
　　Jill put a hand to her mouth and screamed.
　　Smith’s face had been completely blank. Now it became tragically forlorn ashe realized that he must have chosen wrong action at the cusp. He lookedimploringly at Jill and began to tremble. His eyes rolled up; he slipped slowlydown to the grass, pulled himself tightly into a foetal ball and was motionless.
　　Jill’s own hysteria cut off as if she had thrown a switch. The change was anindoctrinated reflex: here was a patient who needed her; she had no time forher own emotions, no time even to worry or wonder about the two men whohad disappeared. She dropped to her knees and examined Smith.
　　She could not detect respiration, nor could she find a pulse; she pressed anear against his ribs. She thought at first that heart action had stoppedcompletely, but, after a long time, she heard a lazy tub-dub, followed in fouror five seconds by another.
　　The condition reminded her of schizoid withdrawal, but she had never seen atrance so deep, not even in class demonstrations of hypnoanesthesia. Shehad heard of such deathlike states among East Indian fakirs but she hadnever really believed the reports.
　　Ordinarily she would not have tried to rouse a patient in such a state butwould have sent for a doctor at once. But these were not ordinarycircumstances. Far from shaking her resolve, the events of the past fewminutes had made her more determined than ever not to let Smith fall backinto the hands of the authorities. But ten minutes of trying everything sheknew convinced her that she could not rouse this patient with means at handwithout injuring him-and perhaps not even then. Even the sensitive, exposednerve in the elbow gave no response.
　　In Ben’s bedroom she found a battered flight case, almost too big to beconsidered hand luggage, too small to be a trunk. She opened it, found itpacked with voicewriter, toilet kit, a complete outfit of male clothing, andeverything else that a busy reporter might need if called out of townsuddenly-even to a licensed audio link to permit him to patch into phoneservice wherever he might be. Jill reflected that the presence of this packedbag alone tended strongly to prove that Ben’s absence was not whatKilgallen thought it was, but she wasted no time thinking about it; she simplyemptied the bag and dragged it into the living room.
　　Smith outweighed her, but muscles acquired handling patients twice her sizeenabled her to dump him into the big bag. Then she had to refold himsomewhat to allow her to close it. His muscles resisted force, but undergentle pressure steadily applied he could be repositioned like putty. Shepadded the corners with some of Ben’s clothes before she closed him up.
　　She tried to punch some air holes but the bag was a glass laminate, tough asan absentee landlord’s heart. She decided that he could not suffocate quicklywith his respiration so minimal and his metabolic rate down as low as it mustbe.
　　She could barely lift the packed bag, straining as hard as she could with bothhands, and she could not possibly carry it any distance. But the bag wasequipped with .Red Cap“ casters. They cut two ugly scars in Ben’s grass rugbefore she got it to the smooth parquet of the little entrance way.
　　She did not go to the lobby on the roof, since another air cab was the lastthing she wanted to risk, but went out instead by the service door in thebasement. There was no one there but a young man who was checking anincoming kitchen delivery. He moved slowly aside and let her roll the bag outonto the pavement. .Hi, sister. What you got in the kiester?“.A body,“ she snapped.
　　He shrugged. .Ask a jerky question, get a jerky answer. I should learn.“
Chapter 9
IXTHE THIRD PLANET OUT from Sol was in its normal condition. It had on it230,000 more human souls today than yesterday, but, among the five billionterrestrials such a minute increase was not noticeable. The Kingdom ofSouth Africa, Federation associate member, had again been cited before theHigh Court for persecution of its white minority. The lords of women’sfashions, gathered in solemn conclave in Rio, had decreed that hem lineswould go down and that navels would again be covered. The threeFederation defense stations swung silently in the sky, promising instant deathto any who disturbed the planet’s peace. Commercial space stations swungnot so silently, disturbing the planet’s peace with endless clamor of thevirtues of endless trademarked trade goods. Half a million more mobilehomes had set down on the shores of Hudson Bay than had migrated by thesame date last year, the Chinese rice belt had been declared an emergencymalnutrition area by the Federation Assembly, and Cynthia Duchess, knownas the Richest Girl in the World, had dismissed and paid off her sixthhusband. All was normal.
　　The Reverend Doctor Daniel Digby, Supreme Bishop of the Church of theNew Revelation (Fosterite) had announced that he had nominated the AngelAzreel to guide Federation Senator Thomas Boone and that he expectedHeavenly confirmation of his choice some time today; all the news servicescarried the announcement as straight news, the Fosterites having wreckedtoo many newspaper offices in the past. Mr. and Mrs. Harrison Campbell VIhad a son and heir by host-mother at Cincinnati Children’s Hospital while thehappy parents were vacationing in Peru. Dr. Horace Quackenbush, Professorof Leisure Arts at Yale Divinity School, issued a stirring call for a return tofaith and a cultivation of spiritual values; there was a betting scandalinvolving half the permanent professionals of the West Point football squadand its line coach; three bacterial warfare chemists were suspended atToronto for presumption of emotional instability-all three announced that theywould carry their cases, if necessary, to the Federation High Court. The HighCourt upset a ruling of the Supreme Court of the United States in re eligibilityto vote in primaries involving Federation Assemblymen in the case ofReinsberg vs. the State of Missouri.
　　His Excellency, the Most Honorable Joseph E. Douglas, Secretary General ofthe World Federation of Free States, picked at his breakfast omelet andwondered peevishly why a man could not get a decent cup of coffee thesedays. In front of him his morning newspaper, prepared by the night shift of hisinformation staff, moved past his eyes at his optimum reading speed in afeedback executive scanner, custom-built by Sperry. The words would flowon as long as he looked in that direction; if he turned his head, the machinewould note it and stop instantly.
　　He was looking that way now and the projected print moved along thescreen, but he was not really reading but simply avoiding the eyes of his bossacross the table. Mrs. Douglas did not read newspapers; she had other waysof finding Out what she needed to know.
　　.Joseph-.
　　He looked up and the machine stopped. .Yes, my dear?“.You have something on your mind“.Eh? What makes you say that, my dear?“.Joseph, I haven’t watched you and coddled you and darned your socks andkept you Out of trouble for thirty-five years for nothing. I know when there issomething on your mind.“The hell of it is, he admitted to himself, she does know. He looked at her andwondered why he had ever let her bully him into no-termination contract.
　　Originally she had been only his secretary, back in the days (he thought ofthem as .The Good Old Days“) when he had been a state legislator, beatingthe bushes for individual votes. Their first contract had been a simple ninetydaycohabitation agreement, supposedly to economize scarce campaignfunds by saving on hotel bills; both of them had agreed that it was merely aconvenience, with .cohabitation“ to be construed simply as living under oneroof . . . and she hadn’t darned his socks even then!
　　He tried to remember how and when the situation had changed. Mrs.
　　Douglas’s official biography, Shadow of Greatness: One Woman’s Story,stated that he had proposed to her during the counting of ballots in his firstelection to office-and that such was his romantic need that nothing would dobut old-fashioned, death-do-us-part marriage.
　　Well, he didn’t remember it that way-but there was no use arguing withthe official version.
　　.Joseph! Answer me!“.Eh? Nothing at all, my dear. I spent a restless night.“.I know you did. When they wake you up in the middle of the night, don’t youthink I know it?“He reflected that her suite was a good fifty yards across the palace from his.
　　.How do you know it, my dear?“.Hunh? Woman’s intuition, of course. What was the message Bradleybrought you?“.Please, my dear-I’ve got to finish the morning news before the Councilmeeting.“.Joseph Edgerton Douglas, don’t try to evade me.“He sighed. .The fact is, we’ve lost sight of that beggar Smith.“.Smith? Do you mean the Man from Mars? What do you mean: .-lost sight of-?’ That’s ridiculous.“.Be that as it may, my dear, he’s gone. He disappeared from his hospitalroom sometime late yesterday.“.Preposterous! How could he do that?“.Disguised as a nurse, apparently. We aren’t sure.“.But- Never mind. He’s gone, that’s the main thing. What muddleheadedscheme are you using to get him back?“.Well, we have some of our own people searching for him. Trusted ones, ofcourse. Berquist-.
　　.Berquist! That garbage head! When you should have every police officerfrom the FDS down to precinct truant officers searching for him you sendBerquist!“.But, my dear, you don’t see the situation. We can .t. Officially he isn’t lost atall. You see there’s—well, the other chap. The, uh, .official’ Man from Mars,“.Oh ...“ She drummed the table. .I told you that substitution scheme wouldget us in trouble.“.But, my dear, you suggested it yourself.“.I did not. And don’t contradict me, Mmm ... send for Berquist. I musttalk to him at once.“.Uh, Berquist is out on his trail. He hasn’t reported back yet.“.Uh? Berquist is probably half way to Zanzibar by now. He’s sold us out, Inever did trust that man. I told you when you hired him that-.
　　.When I hired him?“.Don’t interrupt. -that any man who would take money two ways would take itthree ways just as quickly.“ She frowned. .Joseph, the Eastern Coalition Isbehind this. It’s a logical certainty. You can expect a vote-of-confidence movein the Assembly before the day is out.“.Eli? I don’t see why. Nobody knows about it.“.Oh, for Heaven’s sake! Everyone will know about it; the Eastern Coalitionwill see to that. Now keep quiet and let me think.“ Douglas shut up and wentback to his newspaper. He read that the Los Angeles City-County Councilhad voted to petition the Federation for aid in their smog problems on thegrounds the Ministry of Health had failed to provide something or other, it didnot matter what_-but a sop must be thrown to them as Charlie was going tohave a difficult time being re-elected with the Fosterites running their owncandidate-he needed Charlie. Lunar Enterprises was off two points atclosing, probably, he decided, because of- .Joseph.“.Yes, my dear?“.Our own .Man from Mars’ is the one and only; the one the Eastern Coalitionwill pop up with is a fake. That is how it must be.“.But, my dear, we can’t make it stick.“.What do you mean, we can’t? We’re stuck with it, so we’ve got to make itstick.“.But we can .t. Scientists would spot the substitution at once. I’ve had thedevil’s own time keeping them away from him this long.“.Scientists!“.But they can, you know.“.I don’t know anything of the sort. Scientists indeed! Half guess work and halfsheet superStit~0fl. They ought to be locked up; they ought to be prohibitedby law. Joseph, I’ve told you repeatedly the only true science is astrology.“.Well, I don’t know, my dear. Mind you, I’m not running down astrology-.
　　.You’d better not! After all it’s done for you.“.-but I am saying that some of these science professors are pretty sharp.
　　One of them was telling me the other day that there is a star that weighs sixthousand times as much as lead. Or was it sixty thousand? Let me see-.
　　.Bosh! How could they possibly know a thing like that? Keep quiet, Joseph,while I finish this. We admit nothing. Their man is a fake. But in the meantimewe make full use of our Special Service squads and grab him back, ifpossible~ before the Eastern Coalition makes its disclosure. If it is necessaryto use strong measures and this Smith person gets shot resisting arrest, orsomething like that, well, it’s too bad, but I for one won’t mourn very long.
　　He’s been a nuisance all along.“.Agnes! Do you know what you are suggesting?“.I’m not suggesting anything. People get hurt every day. This matter must becleared up, Joseph, for everybody. The greatest good of the greatestnumber, as you are so fond of quoting.“.But I don’t want to see the lad hurt.“.Who said anything about hurting him? But you must take firm steps, Joseph;it’s your duty. History will justify you. Which is more important? -to keepthings running on an even keel for five billion people, or to go soft andsentimental about one man who isn’t even properly a citizen?“Douglas didn’t answer. Mrs. Douglas stood up. .Well, I can’t waste the rest ofthe morning arguing intangibles with you, Joseph; I’ve got to get hold ofMadame Vesant at once and have a new horoscope cast for this emergency.
　　But I can tell you this: I didn’t give the best years of my life putting you whereyou are today just to have you throw it away through lack of backbone. Wipethe egg off your chin.“ She turned and left.
　　The chief executive of the planet remained at the table through two morecups of coffee before he felt up to going to the Council Chamber. Poor oldAgnes! So ambitious. He guessed he had been quite a disappointment to her. . . and no doubt the change of life wasn’t making things any easier for her.
　　Well, at least she was loyal, right to her toes . . . and we all have our5hortcomingS; she was probably as sick of him as he-no point in that!
　　He straightened up. One damn sure thing! He wasn’t going to let them herough with that Smith lad. He was a nuisance, granted~ but he was a nice ladand rather appealing in a helpless, half-witted way. Agnes should have seenhow easily he was frightened, then she wouldn’t talk that way. Smith wouldappeal to the maternal in her.
　　But as a matter of strict fact, did Agnes have any .maternal“ in her? Whenshe set her mouth that way, it was hard to see it. Oh shucks, all women hadmaternal instincts; science had proved that. Well, hadn’t they?
　　Anyhow, damn her guts, he wasn’t going to let her push him around. Shekept reminding him that she had put him into the top spot, but he knew better,and the responsibility was his and his alone. He got up, squared hisshoulders, pulled in part of his middle, and went to the Council Chamber.
　　All during the long session he kept expecting someone to drop the othershoe. But no one did and no aide came in with any message for him. He wasforced to conclude that the fact that Smith was missing actually was closeheld in his own personal staff unlikely as that seemed.
　　The Secretary General wanted very badly to close his eyes and hope that thewhole horrid mess would go away, but events would not let him. Nor wouldhis wife let him.
　　Agnes Douglas’ personal saint, by choice, was Evita Peron, whom shefancied she resembled. Her own persona, the mask that she held out to theworld, was that of helper and satellite to the great man she was privileged tocall husband. She even held this mask up to herself, for she had the RedQueen’s convenient ability to believe anything she wished to believe.
　　Nevertheless, her own political philosophy could have been stated baldly(which it never was) as a belief that men should rule the world and womenshould rule men.
　　That all of her beliefs and actions derived from a blind anger at a fate thathad made her female never crossed her mind . . . still less could she havebelieved that there was any connection between her behavior and herfather’s wish for a son . . or her own jealousy of her mother. Such evilthoughts never entered her head. She loved her parents and had freshflowers put on their graves on all appropriate occasions; she loved herhusband and often said so publicly; she was proud of her womanhood andsaid so publicly almost as often-P—she frequently joined the two assertions.
　　Agnes Douglas did not wait for her husband to act in the case of the missingMan from Mars. All of her husband’s personal staff took orders as readilyfrom her as from him . . . in some cases, even more readily. She sent for thechief executive assistant for civil information, as Mr. Douglas’s press agentwas called, then turned her attention to the most urgent emergency measure,that of getting a fresh horoscope cast. There was a private, scrambled linkfrom her suite in the Palace to Madame Vesant’s studio; the astrologer’splump, bland features and shrewd eyes came on the screen almost at once.
　　.Agnes? What is it, dear? I have a client with me.“.Your circuit is hushed?“.Of course.“.Get rid of the client at once. This is an emergency.“Madame Alexandra Vesant bit her lip, but her expression did not changeotherwise and her voice showed no annoyance. .Certainly. Just a moment.“Her features, faded out of the screen, were replaced by the .Hold“ signal. Aman entered the room, stood waiting by the side of Mrs. Douglas’ desk; sheturned and saw that it was James Sanforth, the press agent she had sent for.
　　.Have you heard from Berquist?“ she demanded without preamble.
　　.Eh? I wasn’t handling that; that’s McCrary’s pidgin.“She brushed the irrelevancy aside. .You’ve got to discredit him beforehe talks.“.Huh? You think Berquist has sold us out?“.Don’t be naive. You should have checked with me before you usedhim.“.But I didn’t. It was McCrary’s job.“.You are supposed to know what is going on. I-. Madame Vesant’s facecame back on the screen. .Sit down over there,“ Mrs. Douglas said toSanforth. .Wait.“ She turned back to the screen. .Allie dear, I want freshhoroscopes for Joseph and myself, just as quickly as you possibly can castthem.“.Very well.“ The astrologer hesitated. .I can be of much greater assistance toyou, dear, if you will tell me something of the nature of the emergency.“Mrs. Douglas drummed on the desk. .You don’t actually have to know, doyou?“.Of course not. Anyone possessing the necessary rigorous training,mathematical skill, and knowledge of the stars could calculate a horoscope,knowing nothing more than the exact hour and place of birth of the subject.
　　You know that, dear. You could learn to do it yourself. . . if you weren’t soterribly busy. But remember: the stars incline but they do not compel. Youenjoy free will. If I am to make the extremely detailed and difficult analysisnecessary to advise you in a crisis, I must know in what sector to look. Arewe most concerned with the influence of Venus? Or possibly with Mars? Orwill the-.
　　Mrs. Douglas decided. .With Mars,“ she interrupted. .Allie, I want you to casta third horoscope.“.Very well. Whose?“.Uh ... Allie, can I trust you?“Madame Vesant looked hurt. .Agnes, if you do not trust me, it would be farbetter for you not to consult me. There are others who can give you scientificreadings. I am not the only student of the ancient knowledge. I understandthat Professor von Krausemeyer is well thought of, even though he issometimes inclined to...“ She let her voice trail oft.Please, please! Of course I trust you! I wouldn’t think of letting anyone elseperform a calculation for me. Now listen carefully. No one can hear from yourside?“.Of course not, dear.“.I want you to cast a horoscope for Valentine Michael Smith.“.’Valentine Mich-. The Man from Mars?“.Yes, yes. Allie, he’s been kidnapped. We’ve got to find him.“Some two hours later Madame Alexandra Vesant pushed herself back fromher work table and sighed. She had had her secretary cancel allappointments and she really had tried; several sheets of paper, covered withdiagrams and figures, and a dog-eared nautical almanac were in front of herand testified to her efforts. Alexandra Vesant differed from some otherpracticing astrologers in that she really did attempt to calculate the.influences“ of the heavenly bodies, using a paper-backed book titled TheArcane Science of Judicial Astrology and Key to Solomon’s Stone which hadbeen given to her by her late husband, Professor Simon Magus, the wellknown mentalist, stage hypnotist and illusionist, and student of the secretarts.
　　She trusted the book as she had trusted him; there was no one who couldcast a horoscope like Simon, when he was sober-half the time he had noteven needed to refer to the book, he knew it so well. She knew that shewould never have that degree of skill, so she always referred to the almanacand to the manual. Her calculations were sometimes a little fuzzy, for thesame reason that her checkbook sometimes did not balance; Becky Vesey(as she had been known as a child) had never really mastered themultiplication tables and she was inclined to confuse sevens with nines.
　　Nevertheless her horoscopes were eminently satisfactory; Mrs. Douglas wasnot her only distinguished client.
　　But this time she had been a touch panicky when the wife of the SecretaryGeneral demanded that she cast a horoscope for the Man from Mars. Shehad felt the way she used to feel when some officious idiot from the audiencecommittee had insisted on retying her blindfold just before the Professor wasto ask her questions. But she had discovered .way back then, as a merechild, that she had natural stage presence and inner talent for the rightanswer; she had suppressed her panic and gone on with the show.
　　Now she had demanded of Agnes the exact hour, date, and place of birth ofthe Man from Mars, being fairly sure that the data could not be supplied.
　　But the information had been supplied, and most precisely, after a shortdelay, from the log of the Envoy. By then she was no longer panicky, hadsimply accepted the information and promised to call back as soon as thehoroscopes were ready.
　　But now, after two hours of painful arithmetic, although she had completednew findings for Mr. and Mrs. Douglas, she was no farther ahead with Smiththan when she had started. The trouble was very simple-and insuperable.
　　Smith had not been born on Earth.
　　Her astrological bible did not include the idea of human beings bornanywhere else; its anonymous author had lived and died before even the firstrocket to the Moon. She had tried very hard to find a logical way out of thedilemma, on the assumption that all the principles were included in hermanual and that what she must do was to find a way to correct for the lateraldisplacement. But she found herself lost in a mass of unfamiliar relationships;when it came right down to it she was not even sure whether or not the signsof the Zodiac were the same when seen from Mars and what could onepossibly do without the signs of the Zodiac?
　　She could just as easily have tried to extract a cube root, that being thehurdle that had caused her to quit school.
　　She got out from a bottom desk drawer a tonic she kept at hand for suchdifficult occasions. She took one dose quickly, measured out a second, andthought about what Simon would have done. After a while she could hear hiseven, steady tones: .Confidence, kiddo, confidence! Have confidence inyourself and the yokels will have confidence in you. You owe it to them.“She felt much better now and started writing out the results of the twohoroscopes for the Douglases. That done, it turned out to be easy to writeone for Smith, and she found, as she always did, that the words on paperproved themselves-they were all so beautifully true! She was just finishing asAgnes Douglas called again. .Allie? Haven’t you finished yet?“.Just completed,“ Madame Vesant answered with brisk self-confidence. .Yourealize, of course, that young Smith’s horoscope presented an unusual andvery difficult problem in the Science. Born, as he was, on another planet,every aspect and attitude had to be recalculated. The influence of the Sun islessened; the influence of Diana is missing almost completely. Jupiter isthrown into a novel, perhaps I should say .unique,’ aspect, as I am sure youwill see. This required computation of-.
　　.Allie! Never mind that. Do you know the answers?“.Naturally.“.Oh, thank goodness! I thought perhaps you were trying to tell me that it wastoo much for you.“Madame Vesant showed and sincerely felt injured dignity. .My dear, theScience never alters; only the configurations alter. The means that predictedthe exact instant and place of the birth of Christ, that told Julius Caesar themoment and method of his death . . . how could it fail now? Truth is Truth,unchanging.“.Yes, of course.“.Are you ready for the readings?“.Let me switch on .recording’-go ahead.“.Very well. Agnes, this is a most critical period in your life; only twice beforehave the heavens gathered in such strong configuration. Above all, you mustbe calm, not hasty, and think things through. On the whole the portents are inyour favor . . . provided you do not fight them and avoid ill-considered action.
　　Do not let your mind be distressed by surface appearances-. She went on atlength, giving good advice. Becky Vesey always gave good advice and shegave it with great conviction because she always believed it. She had learnedfrom Simon that, even when the stars seemed darkest, there was alwayssome way to soften the blow, some aspect which the client could use towardgreater happiness . . . if she would only find it and point it Out.
　　The tense face opposite her in the screen calmed and began noddingagreement as she made her points. .So you see,“ she concluded, .the meretemporary absence of young Smith at this time is not a bad thing, but anecessity, resulting from the joint influences of your three horoscopes. Do notworry and do not be afraid; he will be back-or you will hear from him-veryshortly. The important thing is to take no drastic or irrevocable action untilthat time. Be calm.“.Yes, I see that.“.Just one more point. The aspect of Venus is most favorable and potentiallydominant over that of Mars. In this case, Venus symbolizes yourself, ofcourse, but Mars is both your husband and young Smith-as a result of theunique circumstance of his birth. This throws a double burden on you andyou must rise to the challenge; you must demonstrate those qualities of calmwisdom and restraint which are peculiarly those of woman. You must sustainyour husband, guide him through this crisis, and soothe him. You mustsupply the earth-mother’s calm wells of wisdom. That is your special genius .
　　. . and now is the time you must use it.“Mrs. Douglas sighed. .Allie, you are simply wonderful! I don’t know how tothank you.“.Don’t thank me. Thank the Ancient Masters whose humble student I am.“.I can’t thank them so I’ll thank you. This isn’t covered by your retainer, Allie.
　　There will be a present.“.Not necessary at all, Agnes. It is my privilege to serve.“.And it is my privilege to appreciate service. No, Allie, not another word!“Madame Vesant let herself be coaxed, then switched off, feeling warmlycontent from having given a reading that she just knew was right. PoorAgnes! Such a good woman inside . . . and so twisted up with conflictingdesires. It was a privilege to smooth her path a little, make her heavyburdens a little easier to carry. It made her feel good to help Agnes.
　　It made Madame Vesant feel good to be treated as an almost-equal by thewife of the Secretary General, too, although she did not think of it that way,not being snobbish at heart. But young Becky Vesey had been soinsignificant that the precinct committeeman could never remember her nameeven though he noticed her bust measurement. Becky Vesey had notresented it; Becky liked people. She liked Agnes Douglas now.
　　Becky Vesey liked everybody.
　　She sat a while longer, enjoying the warm glow and the respite from pressureand just a nip more of the tonic, while her shrewd and able brain shuffled thebits and pieces she had picked up. Presently, without consciously making adecision, she called her stockbroker and instructed him to sell LunarEnterprises short.
　　He snorted. .Allie, you’re crazy. That reducing diet is weakening yourmind.“.You listen to me, Ed. When it is down ten points, cover me, even if it is stillslipping. Wait for it to turn. When it rallies three points, buy into it again . . .
　　then sell when it gets back to today’s closing.“There was a long silence while he looked at her. .Allie, you knowsomething. Tell Uncle Ed.“.The stars tell me, Ed.“Ed made a suggestion astronomically impossible and added, .All right, if youwon’t, you won’t. Mmm . . . I never did have sense enough to stay out of acrooked game, Mind if I ride along with you on it, Allie?“.Not at all, Ed, as long as you don’t go heavy enough to let it show. This is adelicate special situation, with Saturn just balanced between Virgo and Leo.“.As you say, Allie.“Mrs. Douglas got busy at once, happy that Allie had confirmed all herjudgments. She gave orders about the campaign to destroy the reputation ofthe missing Berquist, after sending for his dossier and looking it over; shecloseted herself with Commandant Twitchell of the Special Service squadsfor twenty minutes-he left her looking thoughtfully unhappy and immediatelymade life unbearable for his executive officer. She instructed Sanforth torelease another of the .Man from Mars“ stereocasts and to include with it arumor .from a source close to the administration“ that Smith was about to betransferred, or possibly had already been transferred, to a sanitarium high inthe Andes, in order to provide him with a climate for convalescence as muchlike that of Mars as possible. Then she sat back and thought about how tonail down the Pakistan votes for Joseph.
　　Presently she got hold of him and urged him to support Pakistan’s claim tothe lion’s share of the Kashmir thorium. Since he had been wanting to do soall along but had not, up to now, convinced her of the necessity, he was nothard to persuade, although a little nettled by her assumption that he hadbeen opposing it. With that settled, she left to address the Daughters of theSecond Revolution on Motherhood in the New World.
Chapter 10
WHILE MRS. DOUGLAS WAS SPEAKING too freely on a subject she knewtoo little about, Jubal E. Harshaw, LL.B., M.D., Sc.D., bon vivant, gourmet,sybarite, popular author extraordinary, and neopessimist philosopher, wassitting by his swimming pool at his home in the Poconos, scratching the thickgrey thatch on his chest, and watching his three secretaries splash in thepool. They were all three amazingly beautiful; they were also amazingly goodsecretaries. In Harshaw’s opinion the principle of least action required thatutility and beauty be combined.
　　Anne was blonde, Miriam was red-headed, and Dorcas was dark; in eachcase the coloration was authentic. They ranged, respectively, from pleasantlyplump to deliciously slender. Their ages spread over fifteen years but it washard to tell off hand which was the eldest. They undoubtedly had last namesbut Harshaw’s household did not bother much with last names, One of themwas rumored to be Harshaw’s own granddaughter but opinions varied as towhich one it was.
　　Harshaw was working as hard as he ever worked. Most of his mind wasoccupied with watching pretty girls do pretty things with sun and water~ onesmall, shuttered, sound-proofed compartment was composing. He claimedthat his method of literary composition was to hook his gonads in parallel withhis thalamus and disconnect his cerebrum entirely; his habits lent somecredibility to the theory.
　　A microphone on a table at his right hand was hooked to a voicewriter in hisstudy but he used the voicewriter only for notes. When he was ready to wntehe used a human stenographer and watched her reactions. He was readynow. .Front!“ he shouted.
　　.Anne is .front,’ .answered Dorcas. .But I’ll take it. That splash was Anne.“.Dive in and get her. I can wait.“ The little brunette cut the water; a fewmoments later Anne climbed out, put on a towel robe, dried her hands on it,and sat down on the other side of the table. She said nothing, nor did shemake any preparations; Anne had total recall, never bothered with recordingdevices.
　　Harshaw picked up a bucket of ice cubes over which brandy had beenpoured, took a deep swig. .Anne, I’ve got a really sick-making one. It’s abouta little kitten that wanders into a church on Christmas Eve to get warm.
　　Besides being starved and frozen and lost, the kitten has-God knows why-aninjured paw. All right; start: .Snow had been falling since-.
　　.What pen name?“.Mmm ... better use .Molly Wadsworth’ again. This one is pretty icky. And titleit The Other Manger. Start again.“ He went on talking while watching herclosely. When tears started to leak out of her closed eyes he smiled slightlyand closed his own eyes. By the time he finished, tears were running downhis cheeks as well as hers, both bathed in a catharsis of schmaltz.
　　.Thirty,“ he announced. .You can blow your nose. Send it off and for God’ssake don’t let me see it or I’ll tear it up.“.Jubal, aren’t you ever ashamed?“.No.“.Someday I’m going to kick you right in your fat stomach for one of these.“.I know. But I can’t pimp for my sisters; they’d be too old and I never had any.
　　Get your fanny indoors and take care of it before I change my mind.“.Yes, boss.“She kissed his bald spot as she passed behind his chair. Harshaw yelled,.Front!“ again and Miriam started toward him. But a loudspeaker mounted onthe house behind him came to life:
　　.Boss!“Harshaw uttered one word and Miriam clucked at him reprovingly. Headded, .Yes, Larry?“The speaker answered, .There’s a dame down here at the gate who wants tosee you-and she’s got a corpse with her.“Harshaw considered this for a moment. .Is she pretty?“ he said to themicrophone.
　　.Uh ... yes.“.Then why are you sucking your thumb? Let her in.“ Harshaw sat back.
　　.Start,“ he said. .City montage dissolving into a medium two-shot, interior. Acop is seated in a straight chair, no cap, collar open, face covered withsweat. We see only the back of the other figure, which is depthed between usand the cop. The figure raises a hand, bringing it back and almost out of thetank. He slaps the cop with a heavy, meaty sound, dubbed.“ Harshawglanced up and said, .We’ll pick up from there.“ A ground car was rolling upthe hill toward the house.
　　Jill was driving the car; a young man was seated beside her. As the carstopped near Harshaw the man jumped out at once, as if happy to divorcehimself from car and contents. .There she is, Jubal.“.So I see. Good morning, little girl. Larry, where is this corpse?“.In the back seat, Boss. Under a blanket.“.But it’s not a corpse,“ Jill protested. .It’s ... Ben said that you... I mean-. Sheput her head down on the controls and started to cry.
　　.There, my dear,“ Harshaw said gently. .Very few corpses are worth it.
　　Dorcas-Miriam-take care of her. Give her a drink . . . and wash her face.“He turned his attention to the back seat, started to lift the blanket. Jillshrugged off Miriam’s proffered arm and said shrilly, .You’ve got to listen!
　　He’s not dead. At least I hope not. He’s . . . oh dear!“ She started to cryagain. .I’m so dirty ... and so scared!“.Seems to be a corpse,“ Harshaw said meditatively. .Body temperature isdown to air temperature, I should judge. The rigor is not typical. How longhas he been dead?“.But he’s not dead! Can’t we get him out of there? I had an awful timegetting him in.“.Surely. Larry, give me a hand. And quit looking so green, Larry. If you puke,you’ll clean it up.“ Between them they got Valentine Michael Smith out of theback seat and laid him on the grass by the pool; his body remained stiff, stillhuddled together. Without being told Dorcas had gone in and fetched Dr.
　　Harshaw’s stethoscope; she set it on the ground by Smith, switched it on andstepped up the gain.
　　Harshaw stuck the headpiece in his ears, started sounding for heart beat.
　　.I’m afraid you’re mistaken,“ he said gently to Jill. .This one is beyond myhelp. Who was he?“Jill sighed. Her face was drained of expression and she answered in a fiatvoice, .He was the Man from Mars. I tried so hard.“.I’m sure you did-the Man from Mars?“.Yes. Ben ... Ben Caxton said you were the one to come to.“.Ben Caxton, eh? I appreciate the confid-hush/“ Harshaw emphasized thedemand for silence with a hand upheld while he continued to frown andlisten. He looked puzzled, then surprise burst over his face. .Heart action! I’llbe a babbling baboon. Dorcas-upstairs, the clinic- third drawer down in thelocked part of the cooler; the code is .sweet dreams.’ Bring the whole drawerand pick up a 1 cc. hypo from the sterilizer.“.Right away!“.Doctor, no stimulants!“Harshaw turned to Jill. .Eh?“.I’m sorry, sir. I’m just a nurse ... but this case is different. I know.“.Mmm ... he’s my patient now, nurse. But about forty years ago I found Out Iwasn’t God, and about ten years thereafter I discovered I wasn’t evenAesculapius. What do you want to try?“.I just want to try to wake him up. If you do anything to him, he just goesdeeper into it.“.Hmm ... go ahead. Just as long as you don’t use an ax. Then we’ll try mymethods.“.Yes, sir.“ Jill knelt beside him, Started gently trying to straighten out hislimbs. Harshaw’s eyebrows went up when he saw that she had succeeded.
　　Jill took Smith’s head in her lap and cradled it gently in her hands. .Pleasewake up,“ she said softly. .This is Jill ... your water brother.“The body stirred. Very slowly the chest lifted. Then Smith let out a longbubbling sigh and his eyes opened. He looked up at Jill and smiled his babysmile. Jill smiled back. Then he looked around and the smile left him.
　　.It’s all right,“ Jill said quickly. .These are all friends.“.All friends?“.That’s right. All of them are your friends. Don’t worry-and don’t go awayagain. Everything is all right.“He did not answer but lay still with his eyes open, staring at everything andeveryone around him. He seemed as content as a cat in a lap.
　　Twenty-five minutes later Harshaw had both of his patients in bed. Jill hadmanaged to tell him, before the pill he gave her took hold, enough of thesituation to let him know that he had a bear by the tail. Ben Caxton wasmissing-he’d have to try to figure out something to do about that- and youngSmith was as hot as a dry bearing . . . although he had been able to guessthat when he heard who he was. Oh, well, life might be amusing for a while; itwould keep back that grey boredom that lay always just around the corner.
　　He looked at the little utility car that Jill had arrived in. Lettered across itssides was: READING RENTALS-Permapowered Ground Equipment of AllSorts-.Deal with the Dutchman!“.Larry, is the fence hot?“.Switch it on. Then before it gets dark I want you to polish every possiblefingerprint off that heap. As soon as it is dark, drive it over the other side ofReading-better go almost to Lancaster-and leave it in a ditch. Then go toPhiladelphia, catch the shuttle for Scranton, come home from Scranton.“.Sure thing, Jubal. Say-is he really the Man from Mars?“.You had better hope that he isn’t, because if he is and they catch you beforeyou dump that wagon and they associate you with him, they’ll probablyinterrogate you with a blow torch. But I think he is.“.I scan it. Should I rob a few banks on the way back?“.Probably the safest thing you can do.“.Okay, Boss.“ Larry hesitated. .Do you mind if I stay over night in Philly?“.What in God’s name can a man find to do at night in Philadelphia?“.Plenty, if you know where to look.“.Suit yourself.“ Harshaw turned away. .Front!“Jill slept until shortly before dinner, which in that household was acomfortable eight o’clock. She awoke refreshed and feeling alert, so much sothat she sniffed the air incoming from the grille over her head and surmisedcorrectly that the doctor had offset the hypnotic she had been given with astimulant. While she was asleep someone had removed the dirty and tornstreet clothes she had been wearing and had left a simple, off-white dinnerdress and sandals. The clothes fit her fairly well; Jill concluded that they mustbelong to the one the doctor had called Miriam. She bathed and painted herface and combed her hair and went down to the big living room feeling like anew woman.
　　Dorcas was curled in a big chair, doing needle point; she looked up, noddedin a friendly manner as if Jill were always part of the household, turned herattention back to her fancy work. Harshaw was standing and stirring gently amixture in a tall and frosty pitcher. .Drink?“ he said.
　　.Uh, yes, thank you.“He poured two large cocktail glasses to their brims, handed her one. .Whatis it?“ she asked.
　　.My own recipe, a comet cocktail. One third vodka, one third muriatic acid,one third battery water-two pinches of salt and add a pickled beetle.“.Better have a highball,“ Dorcas advised. Jill noticed that the other girl had atall glass at her elbow.
　　.Mind your own business,“ Harshaw advised without rancor. .Thehydrochloric acid is good for the digestion; the beetle adds vitamins andprotein.“ He raised his glass to Jill and said solemnly, .Here’s to our nobleselves! There are damned few of us left.“ He almost emptied his glass,replenished it before he set it down.
　　Jill took a cautious sip, then a much bigger one. Whatever the trueingredients, the drink seemed to be exactly what she needed; a warm feelingof well-being spread gently from her center of gravity toward her extremities.
　　She drank about half of it, let Harshaw add a dividend. .Look in on ourpatient?“ he asked.
　　.No, sir. I didn’t know where he was.“.I checked him a few minutes ago. Sleeping like a baby-I think I’ll rename himLazarus. Do you think he would like to come down to dinner?“Jill looked thoughtful. .Doctor, I really don’t know.“.Well, if he wakes I’ll know it. Then he can join us, or have a tray, as hewishes. This is Freedom Hall, my dear. Everyone does absolutely as hepleases . . . then if he does something I don’t like, I just kick him the hell out.
　　Which reminds me: I don’t like to be called .Doctor.’“.Sir?“.Oh, I’m not offended. But when they began handing out doctorates forcomparative folk dancing and advanced fly-fishing, I became too stink in’
　　proud to use the title. I won’t touch watered whiskey and I take no pride inwatered-down degrees. Call me Jubal.“.Oh. But the degree in medicine hasn’t been watered down, as you call it.“.No. But it is time they called it something else, so as not to have it mixed upwith playground supervisors. Never mind. Little girl, just what is your interestin this patient?“.Eh? I told you. Doct-Jubal.“.You told me what happened; you didn’t tell me why. Jill, I saw the way youlooked at him and spoke to him. Do you think you are in love with him?“Jill was startled. She glanced at Dorcas; the other girl appeared not to behearing the conversation. .Why, that’s preposterous!“.I don’t see anything preposterous about it. You’re a girl; he’s a boy- that’susually a nice setup.“.But- No, Jubal, it’s not that at all. I .. well, I thought he was being held aprisoner and I thought-or Ben thought-that he might be in danger. I wanted tosee him get his rights.“.Mmmm ... my dear, I’m always suspicious of a disinterested interest. Youlook as if you had a normal glandular balance, so it is my guess that it iseither Ben, or this poor boy from Mars, or both. You had better take yourmotives out in private and have a look at them. Then you will be better ableto judge which way you are going. In the meantime, what do you want me todo?“The unqualified scope of the question made it difficult for Jill to answer. Whatdid she want? What did she expect? From the time she had crossed herRubicon she had thought of nothing but escape-and getting to Harshaw’shome. She had no plans. .I don’t know.“.I thought not. You had told me enough to let me know that you wereA.W.O.L. from your hospital, so, on the assumption that you might wish toprotect your license, I took the liberty, while you were asleep, of having amessage Sent from Montreal to your Chief of Nursing. You asked for twoweeks emergency leave because of sudden illness in your family. Okay? Youcan back it up with details later.“Jill felt sudden and shaking relief. By temperament she had buried all worryabout her own welfare once she had made her decision; nevertheless downinside her was a heavy lump caused by what she had done to an on thewhole excellent professional standing. .Oh, Jubal, thank you!“ She added,.I’m not really delinquent in watch standing yet; today was my day off.“.Good. Then you are covered like a tent. What do you want to do?“.I haven’t had time to think. Uh, I suppose I should get in touch with my bankand get some money-. She paused, trying to recall what her bank balancewas. It was never large and sometimes she forgot to- Jubal cut in on herthoughts. .If you get in touch with your bank, you will have cops pouring outof your ears. Hadn’t you better stay here until things level off?“.Uh, Jubal, I wouldn’t want to impose on you.“.You already have imposed on me. Don’t worry about it, child. There arealways free-loaders around here, coming and going . . . one family stayedseventeen months. But nobody imposes on me against my will, so relaxabout it. If you turn out to be useful as well as ornamental, you can stayforever. Now about our patient: you said you wanted him to get his .rights.’ Isuppose you expected my help in that?“.Well, I ... Ben said-Ben seemed to think that you would help.“.I like Ben but he does not speak for me. I am not in the slightest interested inwhether or not this lad gets his so-called rights. I don’t go for the .True Prince’
　　nonsense. His claim to Mars is lawyers’ hogwash; as a lawyer myself I neednot respect it. As for the wealth that is supposed to be coming to him, thesituation results from other people’s inflamed passions and our odd tribalcustoms; he has earned none of it. In my opinion he would be lucky if theybilked him out of it-but I would not bother to scan a newspaper to find outwhich outcome eventuated. If Ben expected me to fight for Smith’s .rights,’
　　you have come to the wrong house.“.Oh.“ Jill felt suddenly forlorn. .I guess I had better make arrangements tomove him.“.Oh, no! Not unless you wish, that is.“.But I thought you said-.
　　.I said I was not interested in a web of legal fictions. But a patient and guestunder my roof is another matter. He can stay, if he likes. I just wanted tomake it clear that I had no intention of meddling with politics to suit anyromantic notions you or Ben Caxton may have. My dear, I used to think I wasserving humanity . . . and I pleasured in the thought. Then I discovered thathumanity does not want to be served; on the contrary it resents any attemptto serve it. So now I do what pleases Jubal Harshaw.“ He turned to Dorcasas if the subject were closed. .Time for dinner, isn’t it, Dorcas? Is anyonedoing anything about it?“.Miriam.“ She put down her needlepoint and stood up.
　　.I’ve never been able to figure out just how these girls divide up the work.“.Boss, how would you know?-since you never do any.“ Dorcas patted him onthe stomach. .But you never miss any meals.“A gong sounded and they went in to eat. If the redheaded Miriam had cookeddinner, she had apparently done so with all modern shortcuts; she wasalready seated at the foot of the table and looked cool and beautiful. Inaddition to the three secretaries, there was a young man slightly older thanLarry who was addressed as .Duke“ and who included Jill in the conversationas if she had always lived there. There was also a middle-aged couple whowere not introduced at all, who ate as if they were in a restaurant and left thetable as soon as they were finished without ever having spoken to the others.
　　But the table talk among the others was lively and irreverent. Service was bynon~android serving machines, directed by controls at Miriam’s end of thetable. The food was excellent and, so far as Jill could tell, none of it wassyntho.
　　But it did not seem to suit Harshaw. He complained that his knife was dull, orthe meat was tough, or both; he accused Miriam of serving leftovers. No oneseemed to hear him but Jill was becoming embarrassed on Miriam’s accountwhen Anne put down her knife and fork. .He mentioned his mother’scooking,“ she stated bleakly.
　　.He is beginning to think he is boss again,“ agreed Dorcas.
　　.How long has it been?“.About ten days.“.Too long.“ Anne gathered up Dorcas and Miriam with her eyes; they allstood up. Duke went on eating.
　　Harshaw said hastily, .Now see here, girls, not at meals. Wait until-. Theypaid no attention to his protest but moved toward him; a serving machinescurried out of the way. Anne took his feet, each of the other two an arm;French doors slid out of the way and they carried him out, squawking.
　　A few seconds later the squawks were cut short by a splash.
　　The three women returned at once, not noticeably mussed. Miriam sat downand turned to Jill. .More salad, Jill?“Harshaw returned a few minutes later, dressed in pajamas and robe insteadof the evening jacket he had been wearing. One of the machines hadcovered his plate as soon as he was dragged away from the table; it nowuncovered it for him and he went on eating. .As I was saying,“ he remarked,.a woman who can’t cook is a waste of skin. If I don’t start having someservice around here I’m going to swap all of you for a dog and shoot the dog.
　　What’s the dessert, Miriam?“.Strawberry shortcake.“.That’s more like it. You are all reprieved till Wednesday.“Gillian found that it was not necessary to understand how Jubal Harshaw’shousehold worked; she could do as she pleased and nobody cared. Afterdinner she went into the living room with the intention of viewing a stereocastof the evening news, being anxious to find out if she herself played a part init. But she could find no stereo receiver, nor was there anything which couldhave concealed a tank. Thinking about it, she could not recall having seenone anywhere in the house. Nor were there any newspapers, although therewere plenty of books and magazines.
　　No one joined her. After a while she began to wonder what time it was. Shehad left her watch upstairs with her purse, so she looked around for a clock.
　　She failed to find one, then searched her excellent memory and could notremember having seen either clock or calendar in any of the rooms she hadbeen in.
　　But she decided that she might as well go to bed no matter what time it was.
　　One whole wall was filled with books, both shelves and spindle racks. Shefound a spool of Kipling’s Just So Stories and took it happily upstairs withher.
　　Here she found another small surprise. The bed in the room she had beengiven was as modern as next week, complete with automassage, coffeedispenser, weather control, reading machine, etc.-but the alarm circuit wasmissing, there being only a plain cover plate to show where it had been. Jillshrugged and decided that she would probably not oversleep anyway,crawled into bed, slid the spool into the reading machine, lay back andscanned the words streaming across the ceiling. Presently the speed controlslipped out of her relaxed fingers, the lights went out, and she slept.
　　Jubal Harshaw did not get to sleep as easily; he was vexed with himself. Hisinitial interest in the situation had cooled off and reaction had set in. Well overa half century earlier he had sworn a mighty oath, full of fireworks, neveragain to pick up a stray cat-and now, so help him, by the multiple paps ofVenus Genetrix, he had managed to pick up two at once no, three, if hecounted Ben Caxton.
　　The fact that he had broken his oath more times than there were yearsintervening did not trouble him; his was not a small mind bothered by logicand consistency. Nor did the mere presence of two more pensioners sleepingunder his roof and eating at his table bother him. Pinching pennies was not inhim. In the course of nearly a century of gusty living he had been broke manytimes, had several times been wealthier than he now was; he regarded bothconditions as he did shifts in the weather, and never Counted his change.
　　But the silly foofooraw that he knew was bound to ensue when the busiescaught up with these children disgruntled him in prospect. He considered itcertain that catch up they would; a naive child like that Gillian infant wouldleave a trail behind her like a club-footed cow! Nothing else could beexpected.
　　Whereupon people would come barging into his sanctuary, asking stupidquestions and making stupid demands . . - and he, Jubal Harshaw, wouldhave to make decisions and take action. Since he was philosophicallyconvinced that all action was futile, the prospect irritated him.
　　He did not expect reasonable conduct from human beings; he consideredmost people fit candidates for protective restraint and wet packs. He simplywished heartily that they would leave him alone!-aU but the few he chose forplaymates. He was firmly convinced that, left to himself, he would have longsince achieved nirvana . . . dived into his own belly button and disappearedfrom view, like those Hindu jokers. Why couldn’t they leave a man alone?
　　Around midnight he wearily put out his twenty-seventh cigarette and sat up;the lights came on. .Front!“ he shouted at the microphone beside his bed.
　　Shortly Dorcas came in, dressed in robe and slippers. She yawned widelyand said, .Yes, Boss?“.Dorcas, for the last twenty or thirty years I’ve been a worthless, useless, nogoodparasite.“She nodded and yawned again. .Everybody knows that.“.Never mind the flattery. There comes a time in every man’s life when he hasto stop being sensible-a time to stand up and be counted- strike a blow forliberty-smite the wicked.“.Ummm...“.SO quit yawning, the time has come.“She glanced down at herself. .Maybe I had better get dressed.“.Yes. Get the other girls up, too; we’re going to be busy. Throw a bucket ofcold water over the Duke and tell him I said to dust off the babble machineand hook it up in my study. I want the news, all of it.“Dorcas looked startled and all over being sleepy. .You want Duke to hookup stereovision?“.You heard me. Tell him I said that if it’s out of order, he should pick adirection and start walking. Now get along with you; we’ve got a busy nightahead.“.All right,“ Dorcas agreed doubtfully, .but I think I ought to take yourtemperature first.“.Peace, woman!“Duke had Jubal Harshaw’s stereo receiver hooked up in time to let Jubal seea late rebroadcast of the second phony interview with the .Man from Mars.“The commentary included the rumor about moving Smith to the Andes. Jubalput two and two together and got twenty-two, after which he was busy callingpeople until morning. At dawn Dorcas brought him his breakfast, six raw eggsbeaten into brandy. He slurped them down while reflecting that one of theadvantages of a long and busy life was that eventually a man got to knowpretty near everybody of real importance- and could call on them in a pinch.
　　Harshaw had prepared a time bomb but did not propose to trigger it until thepowers-that-be forced him to do so. He had realized at once that thegovernment could haul Smith back into captivity on the grounds that he wasincompetent to look out for himself . . . an opinion with which Harshawagreed. His snap opinion was that Smith was both legally insane andmedically psychopathic by all normal standards, the victim of a doublebarreledsituational psychosis of unique and monumental extent, first frombeing raised by non-humans and second from having been translatedsuddenly into a society which was completely alien to him.
　　Nevertheless he regarded both the legal notion of sanity and the medicalnotion of psychosis as being irrelevant to this case. Here was a humananimal who had made a profound and apparently successful adjustment toan alien society . . . but as a malleable infant. Could the same subject, as anadult with formed habits and canalized thinking, make another adjustmentjust as radical, and much more difficult for an adult to make than for aninfant? Dr. Harshaw intended to find out; it was the first time in decades hehad taken real interest in the practice of medicine.
　　Besides that, he was tickled at the notion of balking the powers-that-be. Hehad more than his share of that streak of anarchy which was the politicalbirthright of every American; pitting himself against the planetary governmentfined him with sharper zest for living than he had felt in a generation.
Chapter 11
AROUND A MINOR G-TYPE STAR fairly far out toward one edge of amedium-sized galaxy the planets of that star swung as usual, just as theyhad for billions of years, under the influence of a slightly modified inversesquare law that shaped the space around them. Three of them were bigenough, as planets go, to be noticeable; the rest were mere pebbles,concealed in the fiery skirts of the primary or lost in the black outer reachesof space. All of them, as is always the case, were infected with that oddity ofdistorted entropy called life~, in the cases of the third and fourth planets theirsurface temperatures cycled around the freezing point of hydrogenmonoxide-in consequence they had developed life forms similar enough topermit a degree of social contact.
　　On the fourth pebble out the ancient Martians were not in any importantsense disturbed by the contact with Earth. The nymphs of the race stillbounced joyously around the surface of Mars, learning to live, and eight outof nine of them dying in the process. The adult Martians, enormously differentin body and mind from the nymphs, still huddled in or under the faerie,graceful cities, and were as quiet in their behavior as the nymphs wereboisterous-yet were even busier than the nymphs, busy with a complex andrich life of the mind.
　　The lives of the adults were not entirely free of work in the human sense;they had still a planet to take care of and supervise, plants must be told whenand where to grow, nymphs who had passed their .prenticeships by survivingmust be gathered in, cherished, fertilized, the resultant eggs must becherished and contemplated to encourage them to ripen properly, thefull3.lled nymphs must be persuaded to give up childish things and thenmetamorphosed into adults. All these things must be done-but they were nomore the .life“ of Mars than is walking the dog twice a day the .life“ of a manwho controls a planet-wide corporation in the hours between those pleasantwalks . . . even though to a being from Arcturus III those daily walks mightseem to be the tycoon’s most significant activity-no doubt as a slave to thedog.
　　Martians and humans were both self-aware life forms but they had gone invastly different directions. All human behavior, all human motivations, allman’s hopes and fears, were heavily colored and largely controlled bymankind’s tragic and oddly beautiful pattern of reproduction. The same wastrue of Mars, but in mirror corollary. Mars had the efficient bipolar pattern socommon in that galaxy, but the Martians had it in a form so different from theTerran form that it would have been termed .sex“ only by a biologist, and itemphatically would not have been .sex“ to a human psychiatrist. Martiannymphs were female, all the adults were male.
　　But in each case in function only, not in psychology. The man-woman polaritywhich controlled all human lives could not exist on Mars. There was nopossibility of .marriage.“ The adults were huge, reminding the first humans tosee them of ice boats under sail; they were physically passive, mentallyactive. The nymphs were fat, furry spheres, full of bounce and mindlessenergy. There was no possible parallel between human and Martianpsychological foundations. Human bipolarity was both the binding force andthe driving energy for all human behavior, from sonnets to nuclear equations.
　　If any being thinks that human psychologists exaggerate on this point, let itsearch Terran patent offices, libraries, and art galleries for creations ofeunuchs.
　　Mars, being geared unlike Earth, paid little attention to the Envoy and theChampion. The two events had happened too recently to be of significance-ifMartians had used newspapers, one edition a Terran century would havebeen ample. Contact with other races was nothing new to Martians; it hadhappened before, would happen again. When the new other race had beenthoroughly grokked, then (in a Terran millennium or so) would be time foraction, if needed.
　　On Mars the currently important event was of a different sort. ThediscorpOrate Old Ones had decided almost absent-mindedly to send thenestling human to grok what he could of the third planet, then turnedattention back to serious matters. Shortly before, around the time of theTerran Caesar Augustus, a Martian artist had been engaged in composing awork of art. It could have been called with equal truth a poem, a musicalopus, or a philosophical treatise; it was a series of emotions arranged intragic, logical necessity. Since it could have been experienced by a humanonly in the sense in which a man blind from birth could have a sunsetexplained to him, it does not matter much to which category of humancreativity it might be assigned. The important point was that the artist hadaccidentally discorporated before he finished his masterpiece.
　　Unexpected discorporation was always rare on Mars; Martian taste in suchmatters called for life to be a rounded whole, with physical death taking placeat the appropriate and selected instant. This artist, however, had become sopreoccupied with his work that he had forgotten to come in out of the cold; bythe time his absence was noticed his body was hardly fit to eat. He himselfhad not noticed his own discorporation and had gone nght on composing hissequence.
　　Martian art was divided sharply into two categories, that sort created by livingadults, which was vigorous, often quite radical, and primitive, and that of theOld Ones, which was usually conservative, extremely complex, and wasexpected to show much higher standards of technique; the two sorts werejudged separately.
　　By what standards should this opus be judged? It bridged from the corporateto the discorporate; its final form had been set throughout by an Old One-yeton the other hand the artist, with the detachment of all artists everywhere,had not even noticed the change in his status and had Continued to work asif he were corporate. Was it possibly a new sort of art? Could more suchpieces be produced by surprise discorporation of artists while they wereworking? The Old Ones had been discussing the exciting possibilities inruminative rapport for centuries and all corporate Martians were eagerlyawaiting their verdict.
　　The question was of greater interest because it had not been abstract art, butreligious (in the Terran sense) and strongly emotional~ it described thecontact between the Martian Race and the people of the fifth planet, an eventthat had happened long ago but which was alive and important to Martians inthe sense in which one death by crucifixion remained alive and important tohumans after two Terran millennia. The Martian Race had encountered thepeople of the fifth planet, grokked them completelY, and in due course hadtaken action; the asteroid ruins were all that remained, save that the Martianscontinued to cherish and praise the people they had destroyed. This newwork of art was one of many attempts to grok all parts of the whole beautifulexperience in all its complexity in one opus. But before it could be judged itwas necessary to grok how to judge it.
　　It was a very pretty problem.
　　On the third planet Valentine Michael Smith was not concerned with theburning issue on Mars; he had never heard of it. Ills Martian keeper and hiskeeper’s water brothers had not mocked him with things he could not grasp.
　　Smith knew of the destruction of the fifth planet and its etnotionalimportance~ just as any human school boy learns of Troy and PlymouthRock, but he had not been exposed to art that he could not grok. Hiseducation had been unique, enormOuSlY greater than that of his nestlings,enormOuslY less than that of an adult; his keeper and his keeper’s advisersamong the Old Ones had taken a large passing interest in seeing just howmuch and of what sort this nestling alien could learn. The results had taughtthem more about the potentialities of the human race than that race had yetlearned about itself, for Smith had grokked very readily things that no otherhuman being had ever learned.
　　But just at present Smith W95 simply enjoying himself with alightheartedness he had not experienced in many years. He had won a newwater brother in JubaL he had acquired many new friends, he was enjoyingdelightful new experiences in such kaleidoscopic quantity that he had no timeto grok them; he could only file them away to be relived at leisure.
　　His brother Jubal had assured him that be would grok this strange andbeautiful place more quickly if he would learn to read, so he had taken a fullday off to learn to read really well and quickly, with Jill pointing to words andpronouncing them for him. It had meant staying out of the swimming pool allthat day, which had been a great sacrifice, as swimming (once he got itthrough his head that it was actually permitted) was not merely an exuberant,sensuous delight but almost unbearable religious ecstasy. If Jill and Jubalhad not told him to do otherwise, he would never have come out of the poolat all.
　　Since he was not permitted to swim at night he read all night long. He waszipping through the Encyclopedia Britannica and was sampling Jubal’smedicine and law libraries as dessert. His brother Jubal had seen him leafingrapidly through one of the books, had stopped him and questioned him aboutwhat he had read. Smith had answered carefully, as it reminded him of thetests the Old Ones had occasionally given him. His brother had seemed a bitupset at his answers and Smith had found it necessary to go into an hour’scontemplation on that account, for he bad been quite sure that he hadanswered with the words written in the book even though he did not grokthem all.
　　But he preferred the pool to the books, especially when Jill and Miriam andLarry and Anne and the rest were all splashing each other. He had notlearned at once to swim as they did, but had discovered the first time that hecould do 5~mething they could not. He had simply gone down to the bottomand lain there, immersed in quiet bliss~_~wbereUP0~~ they had hauled himout with such excitement that he had almost been forced to withdraw himself,had it not been evident that they were concerned for his welfare.
　　Later that day he had demonstrated the matter to Jubal, remaining on thebottom for a delicious time, and he had tried to teach it to his brother Jill . . .
　　but she had become disturbed and he had desisted. It was his first clearrealization that there were things that he could do that these new friendscould not. He thought about it a long time, trying to grok its fullness.
　　Smith was happy; Harshaw was not. He continued his usual routine ofaimless loafing, varied only by casual and unplanned observation of hislaboratory animal, the Man from Mars. He arranged no schedule for Smith,no programme of study, no regular physical examinations, but simply allowedSmith to do as he pleased, run wild, like a puppy growing up on a ranch.
　　What supervision Smith received came from Jill: more than enough, inJubal’s grumpy opinions as he took a dim view of males being reared byfemales.
　　However, Gillian Boardman did little more than coach Valentine Smith in therudiments of human social behavior-and he needed very little coaching. Heate at the table with the others now, dressed himself (at least Jubal thoughthe did; he made a mental note to ask Jill if she still had to assist him); heconformed acceptably to the household’s very informal customs andappeared able to cope with most new experiences on a.monkey~see~monkeYd0“ basis. Smith started his first meal at the tableusing only a spoon and Jill had cut up his meat for hint By the end of themeal he was attempting to eat as the others ate. At the next meal his tablemanners were a precise imitation of Jill’s, including superfluous mannerisms.
　　Even the twin discovery that Smith had taught himself to read with the speedof electronic scanning and appeared to have total recall of all that he read didnot tempt Jubat HarshaW to make a .project“ of Smith, one with controls,measurements, and curves of progress. Harshaw had the arrogant humility ofthe man who has learned so much that he is aware of his own ignorance andhe saw no point in .measurements“ when he did not know what he wasmeasuring. Instead he limited himself to notes made privately, without evenany intention of publishing his observations.
　　But, while Harshaw enjoyed watching this unique animal develop into amimicry copy of a human being, his pleasure afforded him no happiness.
　　Like Secretary General Douglas, Harshaw was waiting for the other shoeto drop.
　　Waiting with increasing tenseness- Having found himself coerced into actionby the expectation of action against him on the part of the government, itannoyed and exasperated him that nothing as yet had happened. Damn it,were the Federation cops so stupid that they couldn’t track anunsophisticated girl dragging an unconscious man all across thecountryside? Or (as seemed more likely) had they been on her heels thewhole way?-and even now were keeping a stake-out on his place? The latterthought was infuriating; to Harshaw the notion that the government might bespying on his home, his castle, with anything from binoculars to radar, was asrepulsive as the idea of having his mail opened.
　　And they might be doing that, toOt he reminded himself morosely.
　　Government! Three fourths parasitic and the other fourth Stupid fumbling -oh,he conceded that man, a social animal, could not avoid having government,any more than an individual man could escape his lifelong bondage to hisbowels. But Harshaw did not have to like it. Simply because an evil wasinescapable was no reason to term it a .good.“ He wished that governmentwould wander off and get lost?
　　But it was certainly possible, or even probable, that the administration knewexactly where the Man from Mars was hiding . . . and for reasons of their ownpreferred to leave it that way, while they prepared- what?
　　If so, how long would it go on? And how long could he keep his defensive.time bomb“ armed and ready?
　　And where the devil was that reckless young idiot Ben Caxton?
　　Jill Boardman forced him out of his spiritual thumb-twiddling. .Jubal?“.Eh? Oh, it’s you, bright eyes. Sorry, I was preoccupied. Sit down. Havea drink?“.Uh, no, thank you. Jubal, I’m worried.“.Normal. Who isn’t? That was a mighty pretty swan dive you did. Let’s seeanother one just like it.“Jill bit her lip and looked about twelve years old. .Jubal? Please listen! I’mterribly worried.“He sighed. .In that case, dry yourself off. The breeze is getting chilly.“.I’m warm enough. Uh, Jubal? Would it be all right if I left Mike here? Wouldyou take care of him?“Harshaw blinked. .Of course he can stay here. You know that. The girls willlook out for him-and I’ll keep an eye on him from time to time. He’s notrouble. I take it you’re leaving?“She didn’t meet his eye. .Yes.“.Mmmm ... you’re welcome here. But you’re welcome to leave, too, if that’swhat you want.“.Huh? But, Jubal-I don’t want to leave!“.Then don’t.“.But I must!“.Better play that back. I didn’t scan it.“.Don’t you see, Jubal? I like it here-you’ve been wonderful to us! But I can’tstay any longer. Not with Ben missing. I’ve got to go look for him.“Harshaw said one word, emotive, earthy, and vulgar, then added, .How doyou propose to look for him?“She frowned. .I don’t know. But I can’t just lie around here any longer, loafingand swimming-with Ben missing.“.Gillian, as I pointed out to you before, Ben is a big boy now. You’re not hismother-and you’re not his wife. And I’m not his keeper. Neither of us isresponsible for him . . . and you haven’t any call to go looking for him. Haveyou?“Jill looked down and twisted one toe in the grass. .No,“ she admitted. .Ihaven’t any claim on Ben. I just know ... that if I turned up missing Ben wouldlook for me-until he found me. So I’ve got to look for him!“Jubal breathed a silent malediction against all elder gods in any way involvedin contriving the follies of the human race, then said aloud, .All right, all right,if you must, then let’s try to get some logic into it. Do you plan to hireprofessionals? Say a private detective firm that specializes in missingpersons?“She looked unhappy. .I suppose that’s the way to go about it. Uh, I’ve neverhired a detective. Are they expensive?“.Quite.“Jill gulped. .Do you suppose they would let me arrange to pay, uh, in monthlyinstallments? Or something?“.Cash at the stairs is their usual way. Quit looking so grim, child; I broughtthat up to dispose of it. I’ve already hired the best in the business to try to findBen-so there is no need for you to hock your future to hire the second best.“.You didn’t tell me!“.No need to tell you.“.But- Jubal, what did they find out?“.Nothing,“ he said shortly. .Nothing worth reporting, so there was no need toput you any further down in the dumps by telling you.“ Jubal scowled. .Whenyou showed up here, I thought you were unnecessarily nervy about Ben-Ifigured the same as his assistant, that fellow Kilgallen, that Ben had goneyipping off on some new trail . . . and would check in when he had the storywrapped up. Ben does that sort of stunt-it’s his profession.“ He sighed. .Butnow I don’t think so. That knothead Kilgallen-he really does have a statprintmessage on file, apparently from Ben, telling Kilgallen that Ben would beaway a few days; my man not only saw it but sneaked a photograph andchecked. No fake-the message was sent.“Jill looked puzzled. .I wonder why Ben didn’t send me a statprint at the sametime? It isn’t like him-Ben’s very thoughtful.“Jubal repressed a groan. .Use your head, Gillian. Just because a packagesays .Cigarettes’ on the outside does not prove that the package containscigarettes. You got here last Friday; the code groups on that statprintmessage show that it was filed from Philadelphia-Paoli Station Landing Flat,to be exact-just after ten thirty the morning before-lO.34 AM. Thursday. It wastransmitted a couple of minutes after it was filed and was received at once,because Ben’s office has its own statprinter. All right, now you tell me whyBen sent a printed message to his own office-during working hours-instead oftelephoning?“.Why, I don’t think he would, ordinarily. At least I wouldn’t. The telephone isthe normal-.
　　.But you aren’t Ben. I can think of half a dozen reasons, for a man in Ben’sbusiness. To avoid garbles. To insure a printed record in the files of I.T.&T.
　　for legal purposes. To send a delayed message. All sorts of reasons.
　　Kilgallen saw nothing odd about it-and the simple fact that Ben, or thesyndicate he sells to, goes to the expense of maintaining a private statprinterin his office shows that Ben uses it regularly.
　　.However,“ Jubal went on, .the snoops I hired are a suspicious lot; thatmessage placed Ben at Paoli flat at ten thirty-four on Thursday-so one ofthem went there. Jill, that message was not sent from there.“.But-.
　　.One moment. The message was filed from there but did not originate there.
　　Messages are either handed over the counter or telephoned. If one is handedover the counter, the customer can have it typed or he can ask for facsimiletransmission of his handwriting and signature . . . but if it is filed bytelephone, it has to be typed by the filing office before it can bephotographed.“.Yes, of course.“.Doesn’t that suggest anything, Jill?“.Uh ... Jubal, I’m so worried that I’m not thinking straight. What should itsuggest?“.Quit the breast-beating; it wouldn’t have suggested anything to me, either.
　　But the pro who was working for me is a very sneaky character; he arrived atPaoli with a convincing statprint made from the photograph that was takenunder Kilgallen’s nose-and with business cards and credentials that made itappear that he himself was .Osbert Kilgallen,’ the addressee. Then, with hisfatherly manner and sincere face, he hornswoggled a young lady employeeof I.T.&T. into telling him things which, under the privacy amendment to theConstitution, she should have divulged only under court order-very sad.
　　Anyhow, she did remember receiving that message for file and processing.
　　Ordinarily she wouldn’t remember one message out of hundreds-they go inher ears and out her fingertips and are gone, save for the filed microprint.
　　But, luckily, this young lady is one of Ben’s faithful fans; she reads his.Crow’s Nest’ column every night-a hideous vice.“ Jubal blinked his eyesthoughtfully at the horizon. .Front!“Anne appeared, dripping. .Remind me,“ Jubal said to her, .to write a populararticle on the compulsive reading of news. The theme will be that mostneuroses and some psychoses can be traced to the unnecessary andunhealthy habit of daily wallowing in the troubles and sins of five billionstrangers. The title is .Gossip Unlimited’-no, make that .Gossip Gone Wild.’“.Boss, you’re getting morbid.“.Not me. But everybody else is. See that I write it some time next week. Nowvanish; I’m busy.“ He turned back to Gillian. .She noticed Ben’s name, so sheremembered the message-quite thrilled about it, because it let her speak toone of her heroes . . . and was irked, I gather, because Ben hadn’t paid forvision as well as voice. Oh, she remembers it and she remembers, too, thatthe service was paid for by cash from a public booth-in Washington.“.’In Washington’?“ repeated Jill. .But why would Ben callfrom-.
　　.Of course, of course!“ Jubal agreed pettishly. .If he’s at a public phone boothanywhere in Washington, he can have both voice and vision direct to hisoffice, face to face with his assistant, cheaper, easier, and. quicker than hecould phone a stat message to be sent back to Washington from a pointnearly two hundred miles away. It doesn’t make sense. Or, rather, it makesjust one kind of sense. Hanky-panky. Ben is as used to hanky-panky as abride is to kisses. He didn’t get to be one of the best winchells in the businessthrough playing his cards face up.“.Ben is not a winchell! He’s a Lippmann!“.Sorry, I’m color-blind in that range. Keep quiet. He might have believed thathis phone was tapped but his statprinter was not. Or he might havesuspected that both were tapped-and I’ve no doubt they are, by now, if notthen-and that he could use this round-about relay to convince whoever wastapping him that he really was away from Washington and would not be backfor several days.“ Jubal frowned. .In the latter case we would be doing himno favor by finding him. We might be endangering his life.“.Jubal! No!“.Jubal, yes,“ he answered wearily. .That boy skates close to the edge, healways has. He’s utterly fearless and that’s how he’s made his reputation. Butthe rabbit is never more than two jumps ahead of the coyote and this timemaybe one jump. Or none, Jill, Ben has never tackled a more dangerousassignment than this. If he has disappeared voluntarily-and he may have-doyou want to risk stirring things up by bumbling around in your amateur way,calling attention to the fact that he has dropped out of sight? Kilgallen still hashim covered, as Ben’s column has appeared every day. I don’t ordinarily readit-but I’ve made it my business to know, this time.“.Canned columns! Mr. Kilgallen told me so.“.Of course. Some of Ben’s perennial series on corrupt campaign funds.
　　That’s a subject as safe as being in favor of Christmas. Maybe they’re kepton file for such emergencies-or perhaps Kilgallen is writing them. In anycase, Ben Caxton, the ever-ready Advocate of the Peepul, is still officially onhis usual soap box. Perhaps he planned it that way, my dear-because hefound himself in such danger that he did not dare get in touch even with you.
　　Well?“Gillian glanced fearfully around her-at a scene almost unbearably peaceful,bucolic, and beautiful-then covered her face with her hands. .Jubal ... I don’tknow what to do!“.Snap out of it,“ he said gruffly. .Don’t bawl over Ben-not in my presence. Theworst that can possibly have happened to him is death and that we are all infor-if not this morning, then in days, or weeks, or years at most. Talk to yourprotégé Mike about it. He regards .discorporation’ as less to be feared than ascolding-and he may be right. Why, if I told Mike we were going to roast himand serve him for dinner tonight, he would thank me for the honor with hisvoice choked with gratitude.“.I know he would,“ Jill agreed in a small voice, .but I don’t have hisphilosophical attitude about such things.“.Nor do I,“ Harshaw agreed cheerfully, .but I’m beginning to grasp it-and Imust say that it is a consoling one to a man of my age. A capacity forenjoying the inevitable-why, I’ve been cultivating that all my life . . . but thisinfant from Mars, barely old enough to vote and too unsophisticated to standclear of the horse cars, has me convinced that I’ve just reached thekindergarten class in this all-important subject. Jill, you asked if Mike waswelcome to stay on. Child, he’s the most welcome guest I’ve ever had. I wantto keep that boy around until I’ve found out what it is that he knows and Idon’t! This .discorporation’ thing in particular it’s not the Freudian .death-wish’
　　cliché, I’m sure of that. It has nothing to do with life being unbearable. Noneof that .Even the weariest river’ stuff -it’s more like Stevenson’s .Glad did I liveand gladly die and I lay me down with a will!’ Only I’ve always suspected thatStevenson was either whistling in the dark, or, more likely, enjoying thecompensating euphoria of consumption. But Mike has me halfway convincedthat he really knows what he is talking about.“.I don’t know,“ Jill answered dully. .I’m just worried about Ben.“.So am I,“ agreed Jubal. .So let’s discuss Mike another time. Jill, I don’t thinkthat Ben is simply hiding any more than you do.“.But you said-.
　　.Sorry. I didn’t finish. My hired men didn’t limit themselves to Ben’s office andPaoli Flat. On Thursday morning Ben called at Bethesda Medical Center incompany with the lawyer he uses and a Fair Witness-the famous JamesOliver Cavendish, in case you follow such things.“.I don’t, I’m afraid.“.No matter. The fact that Ben retained Cavendish shows how seriously hetook the matter; you don’t hunt rabbits with an elephant gun. The three weretaken to see the .Man from Mars’-.
　　Gillian gaped, then said explosively, .That’s impossible! They couldn’t havecome on that floor without my knowing it!“.Take it easy, Jill. You’re disputing a report by a Fair Witness and not just anyFair Witness. Cavendish himself. If he says it, it’s gospel.“.I don’t care if he’s the Twelve Apostles! He wasn’t on my floor lastThursday morning!“.You didn’t listen closely. I didn’t say that they were taken to see our friendMike-I said they were taken to see .The Man from Mars.’ The phony one,obviously-that actor fellow they stereovised.“.Oh. Of course, And Ben caught them out!“Jubal looked pained. .Little girl, count to ten thousand by twos while I finishthis. Ben did not catch them out. In fact, even the Honorable Mr. Cavendishdid not catch them out-at least he won’t say so. You know how FairWitnesses behave.“.Well ... no, I don’t. I’ve never had any dealings with Fair Witnesses.“.So? Perhaps you weren’t aware of it. Anne!“Anne was seated on the springboard; she turned her head. Jubal called out,.That new house on the far hilltop-can you see what color they’ve painted it?“Anne looked in the direction in which Jubal was pointing and answered, .It’swhite on this side.“ She did not inquire why Jubal had asked, nor make anycomment.
　　Jubal went on to Jill in normal tones, .You see? Anne is so thoroughlyindoctrinated that it doesn’t even occur to her to infer that the other side isprobably white, too. All the King’s horses and all the King’s men couldn’tforce her to commit herself as to the far side - . . unless she herself wentaround to the other side and looked-and even then she wouldn’t assume thatit stayed whatever color it might be after she left because they might repaint itas soon as she turned her back,“.Anne is a Fair Witness?“.Graduate, unlimited license, and admitted to testify before the High Court.
　　Sometime ask her why she decided to give up public practice. But don’t planon anything else that day-the wench will recite the truth, the whole truth, andnothing but the truth, and that takes time. Back to Mr. Cavendish- Benretained him for open witnessing, full disclosure, without enjoining him toprivacy. So when Cavendish was questioned, he answered, in full and boringdetail. I’ve got a tape of it upstairs. But the interesting part of his report iswhat he does not say. He never states that the man they were taken to seewas not the Man from Mars . . . but not one word can be construed asindicating that Cavendish accepted the exhibit he was called to view as beingin fact the Man from Mars. If you knew Cavendish-and I do-this would beconclusive. If Cavendish had seen Mike, even for a few minutes, he wouldhave reported what he had seen with such exactness that you and I, whoknow Mike, would know that he had seen him. For example, Cavendishreports in precise professional jargon the shape of this exhibit’s ears ... and itdoes not match Mike’s ear shape at all. Q.E.D.; he didn’t see Mike. Nor didBen. They were shown a phony. Furthermore Cavendish knows it, eventhough he is professionally restrained from giving opinions or conclusions.“.But I told you so. They never came near my floor.“.Yes. But it tells us something more. This occurred hours before you pulledyour jail break for Mike-about eight hours earlier, as Cavendish sets theirarrival in the presence of the phony .Man from Mars’ at 9.14 Thursdaymorning. That is to say, the government still had Mike under their thumb atthat moment. In the same building. They could have exhibited him. Yet theytook the really grave risk of offering a phony for inspection by the most notedFair Witness in Washington-in the country. Why?“He waited. Jill answered slowly, .You’re asking me? I don’t know. Ben toldme that he intended to ask Mike if he wanted to leave the hospital-and helphim to do so if he said, .Yes.’“.Which Ben did try, with the phony.“.So? Out, Jubal, they couldn’t have known that Ben intended to do that . . .
　　and, anyhow, Mike wouldn’t have left with Ben.“.Why not? Later that day he left with you.“.Yes-but I was already his .water brother,’ just as you are now. He has thiscrazy Martian idea that he can trust utterly anyone with whom he has shareda drink of water. With a .water brother’ he is completely docile and withanybody else he is stubborn as a mule. Ben couldn’t have budged him.“ Sheadded, .At least that is the way he was last week-he’s changing awfully fast.“.So he is. Too fast, maybe. I’ve never seen muscle tissue develop so rapidly-I’m sorry I didn’t weigh him the day you arrived. Never mind, back to Ben-Cavendish reports that lien dropped him and the lawyer, a chap namedFrisby, at nine thirty-one, and Ben kept the cab. We don’t know where Benwent then. But an hour later he-or let’s say somebody who said he was Benphonedthat message to Paoli Flat.“.You don’t think it was Ben?“.I do not. Cavendish reported the license number of the cab and my scoutstried to get a look at the daily trip tape for that cab. If Ben used his creditcard, rather than feeding coins into the cab’s meter, his charge numbershould be printed on the tape-but even if he paid cash the tape should showwhere the cab had been and when.“.Well?“Harshaw shrugged. .The records show that that cab was in for repairs andwas never in use Thursday morning. That gives us two choices: either a FairWitness misread or misremembered a cab’s serial number or somebodytampered with the record.“ He added grimly, .Maybe a jury would decide thateven a Fair Witness could glance at a cab’s serial number and misread it,especially if he had not been asked to remember it-but I don’t believe it . . .
　　not when the Witness is James Oliver Cavendish. Cavendish would either becertain of that serial number-or his report would never mention it.“Harshaw scowled and went on, .Jill, you’re forcing me to rub my own nose init-and I don’t like it, I don’t like it at all! Granted that Ben could have sent thatmessage, it is most unlikely that he could have tampered with the dailyrecord of that cab . . and still less believable that he had any reason to. No,let’s face it. Ben went somewhere in that cab- and somebody who could getat the records of a public carrier went to a lot of trouble to conceal where hewent . . and sent a phony message to keep anyone from realizing that he haddisappeared.“.’Disappeared!’ Kidnapped, you mean!“.Softly, Jill. .Kidnapped’ is a dirty word.“.It’s the only word for it! Jubal, how can you sit there and do nothing whenyou ought to be shouting it from the-.
　　.Stop it, Jill! There’s another word. Instead of kidnapped, he might bedead.“Gillian slumped. .Yes,“ she agreed dully. .That’s what I’m really afraid of.“.So am I. But we’ll assume he is not, until we have seen his bones. But it’sone or the other-so we assume that he is kidnapped. Jill, what’s the greatestdanger about kidnapping? No, don’t bother your pretty head; I’ll tell you. Thegreatest danger to the victim is a hue-and-cry-because if a kidnapper isfrightened, he will almost always kill his victim. Had you thought of that?“Gillian looked woeful and did not answer. Harshaw went on gently, .I amforced to say that I think it is extremely likely that Ben is dead. He has beengone too long. But we’ve agreed to assume that he is alive-until we knowotherwise. Now you intend to look for him. Gillian, can you tell me how youwill go about this? Without increasing the risk that lien will be done away withby the unknown party or parties who kidnapped him?“.Uh- But we know who they are!“.Do we?“.Of course we do! The same people who were keeping Mike a prisoner-thegovernment!“Harshaw shook his head. .We don’t know it. That’s an assumption based onwhat Ben was doing when last seen. But it’s not a certainty. Ben has madelots of enemies with his column and by no means all of them are in thegovernment. I can think of several who would willingly kill him if they couldget away with it. However-. Harshaw frowned. .Your assumption is all wehave to go on. But not .the government’-that’s too sweeping a term. .Thegovernment’ is several million people, nearly a million in Washington alone.
　　We have to ask ourselves: Whose toes were being stepped on? What personor persons? Not .the government’-but what individuals?“.Why, that’s plain enough, Jubal. I told you, just as Ben told it to me. It’s theSecretary General himself.“.No,“ Harshaw denied. .While that may be true, it’s not useful to us. Nomatter who did what, if it is anything rough or illegal, it won’t be the SecretaryGeneral who did it, even if he benefits by it. Nobody would ever be able toprove that he even knew about it. It is likely that he would not know about itnotthe rough stuff. No, Jill, we need to find out which lieutenant in theSecretary General’s large staff’ of stooges handled this operation. But thatisn’t as hopeless as it sounds-I think. When Ben was taken in to see thatphony .Man from Mars,’ one of Mr. Douglas’s executive assistants was withhim-tried to talk him out of it, then went with him. It now appears that thissame top-level stooge also dropped out of sight last Thursday - . . and I don’tthink it is a coincidence, not when he appears to have been in charge of thephony .Man from Mars.’ If we find him, we may find Ben, Gilbert Berquist ishis name and I have reason-.
　　.Berquist?“.That’s the name. And I have reason to suspect that-Jill, what’s the trouble?
　　Stop it! Don’t faint, or sweip me, I’ll dunk you in the pool!“.Jubal. This .Berquist.’ Is there more than one Berquist?“.Eh? I suppose so ... though from all I can find out he does seem to be a bitof a bastard; there might be only one. Out I mean the one on the Executivestaff. Why? Do you know him?“.I don’t know. But if it is the same one ... I don’t think there’s any uselooking for him.“.Mmm ... talk, girl.“.Jubal, I’m sorry-I’m terribly sorry-but I didn’t tell you quite everything.“.People rarely do. All right, out with it.“Stumbling, stuttering, and stammering, Gillian managed to tell about the twomen who suddenly were not there. Jubal Simply listened. .And that’s all,“ sheconcluded sadly. .I screamed and scared Mike ... and he went into thattrance you saw him in-and then I had a simply terrible time getting here. But Itold you about that.“.Mmm ... yes, so you did. I wish that you had told me about this, too.“She turned red. .I didn’t think anybody would believe me. And I was scared.
　　Jubal, can they do anything to us?“.Eh?“ Jubal seemed surprised. .Do what?“.Send us to jail, or something?“.Oh. My dear, it has not yet been declared a crime to be present at a miracle.
　　Nor to work one. But this matter has more aspects than a cat has hair. Keepquiet and let me think.“Jill kept quiet. Jubal held still about ten minutes. At last he opened his eyesand said, .I don’t see your problem child. He’s probably lying on the bottom ofthe pool again-.
　　.He is.“.-so dive in and get him. Dry him off and bring him up to my study. I want tofind Out if he can repeat this stunt at will . . . and I don’t think we need anaudience. No, we do need an audience. Tell Anne to put on her Witness robeand come along-tell her I want her in her official capacity. I want Duke, too.“.Yes, Boss.“.You’re not privileged to call me .Boss’; you’re not tax deductible.“.Yes, Jubal.“.That’s better. Mmm ... I wish we had somebody here who never would bemissed. Regrettably we are all friends. Do you suppose Mike can do thisStunt with inanimate objects?“.I don’t know.“.We’ll find out. Well, what are you standing there for? Haul that boy out of thewater and wake him up.“ Jubal blinked thoughtfully. .What a way to disposeof-no, I mustn’t be tempted. See you upstairs, girl.“
Chapter 12
A FEW MINUTES LATER Jill reported to Jubal’s study. Anne was there,seated and enveloped in the long white robe of her guild; she glanced at Jill,said nothing. Jill found a chair and kept quiet, as Jubal was at his desk anddictating to Dorcas; he did not appear to notice Jill’s arrival and went ondictating:
　　.-from under the sprawled body, soaking one corner of the rug and seepingout beyond it in a spreading dark red pool on the tiled hearth, where it wasattracting the attention of two unemployed flies. Miss Simpson clutched at hermouth. .Dear me!’ she said in a distressed small voice, .Daddy’s favorite rug!
　　. . . and Daddy, too, I do believe.’ End of chapter, Dorcas, and end of firstinstallment. Mail it off. Git.“Dorcas stood up and left, taking along her shorthand machine, and noddingand smiling to Jill as she did so. Jubal said, .Where’s Mike?“.In his room,“ answered Gillian, .dressing. He’ll be along soon.“.’Dressing’?“ Jubal repeated peevishly. .I didn’t say the party wasformal.“.But he has to get dressed.“.Why? It makes no never-mind to me whether you kids wear skin or fleecelinedovercoats-and it’s a warm day. Chase him in here.“.Please, Jubal. He’s got to learn how to behave. I’m trying so hard to trainhim.“.Hmmph! You’re trying to force on him your own narrow-minded, middleclass, Bible Belt morality. Don’t think I haven’t been watching.“.I have not! I haven’t concerned myself with his morals; I’ve simply beenteaching him necessary customs.“.Customs, morals-is there a difference? Woman, do you realize what you aredoing? Here, by the grace of God and an inside straight, we have apersonality untouched by the psychotic taboos of our tribe-.—and you want toturn him into a carbon copy of every fourth-rate conformist in this frightenedland! Why don’t you go whole hog? Get him a brief case and make him carryit wherever he goes-make him feel shame if he doesn’t have it.“.I’m not doing anything of the sort! I’m just trying to keep him out of trouble.
　　It’s for his own good.“Jubal snorted. .That’s the excuse they gave the tomcat just before hisoperation.“.Oh!“ Jill stopped and appeared to be counting ten. Then she said formallyand blealdy, .This is your house, Doctor Harshaw, and we are in your debt. Ifyou will excuse me, I will fetch Michael at once.“ She got up to leave.
　　.Hold it, Jill.“.Sir?“.Sit back down-and for God’s sake quit trying to be as nasty as I am; youdon’t have my years of practice. Now let me get something straight: you arenot in my debt. You can’t be. Impossible-because I never do anything I don’twant to do. Nor does anyone, but in my case I am always aware of it. Soplease don’t invent a debt that does not exist, or before you know it you willbe trying to feel gratitude-and that is the treacherous first step downward tocomplete moral degradation. You grok that? Or don’t you?“Jill bit her lip, then grinned. .I’m not sure I know what .grok’ means.“.Nor do I. But I intend to go on taking lessons from Mike until I do. But I wasspeaking dead seriously. Gratitude is a euphemism for resentment.
　　Resentment from most people I do not mind-but from pretty little girls it isdistasteful to me.“.Why, Jubal, I don’t resent you-that’s silly.“.I hope you don’t... but you certainly will if you don’t root out of your mind thisdelusion that you are indebted to me. The Japanese have five different waysto say .thank you’-and every one of them translates literally as resentment, invarious degrees. Would that English had the same built-in honesty on thispoint! Instead, English is capable of defining sentiments that the humannervous system is quite incapable of experiencing. .Gratitude,’ for example.“.Jubal, you’re a cynical old man. I do feel grateful to you and I shall go onfeeling grateful.“.And you are a sentimental young girl. That makes us a perfectcomplementary pair. Hmm - let’s run over to Atlantic City for a weekend ofillicit debauchery, just us two.“.Why, Jubal!“.You see how deep your gratitude goes when I attempt to draw on it?“.Oh. I’m ready. How soon do we leave?“.Hmmmphtt We should have left forty years ago. Shut up. The second point Iwant to make is that you are right; the boy does indeed have to learn humancustoms. He must be taught to take off his shoes in a mosque and to wearhis hat in a synagogue and to cover his nakedness when taboo requires it, orour tribal shamans will burn him for deviationism. But, child, by the myriaddeceptive aspects of Ahrilflafl, don’t brainwash him in the process. Make surehe is cynical about each part of it.“.Uh, I’m not sure how to go about that, Jubal. Well, Mike just doesn’t seem tohave any cynicism in him.“.So? Yes. Well, I’ll take a band in it. What’s keeping him? Shouldn’t he bedressed by now?“.I’ll go see.“.In a moment. Jill, I explained to you why I had not been anxious to accuseanyone of kidnapping Ben . . . and the reports I have had since Serve tosupport the probability that that was a tactically correct decision. If Ben isbeing unlawfully detained (to put it at its sweetest), at least we have notcrowded the opposition into getting rid of the evidence by getting rid o~ Ben.
　　If he is alive he stands a chance of staying alive. But I took 0ther steps theIlrst night you were here. Do you know your Bible?“.Uh, not very well.“.It merits study, it contains very practical advice for most emergencies. .-every one that doeth evil hateth the light-. John something or other, Jesusspeaking to Nicodeus. I have been expecting at any moment an attempt toget Mike away from us, for it didn’t seem likely that you had managed tocover your tracks perfectly. And if they do try? Well, this is a lonely place andwe haven’t any heavy artillery. But there is one weapon that might balk them.
　　Light. The glaring spotlight of publicity. So I made some phone calls andarranged for any ruckus here to have publicity. Not just a little publicity thatthe administration might be able to hush up, but great gobs of publicityworldwide and all at once. The details do not matter-where and how thecameras are mounted and what line of sight linkages have been rigged, Imean. But if a fight breaks out here, it will be picked up by three networksand, at the same time, a number of hold for release messages will bedelivered to a wide spread of V.I.P.s, all of whom would like very much tocatch our Honorable Secretary General with his pants down.“Harshaw frowned. .The weakness in this defense is that I can’t maintain itindefinitely. Truthfully, when I set it up, my worry was to set up fast enough-Iexpected whatever popped’ to pop inside of twenty four hours. Now my worryis reversed and I think we are going to have to force some action quicklywhile I can still keep a spotlight on us.“.What sort of action, Jubal?“.I don’t know. I’ve been fretting about it the past three days, to the pointwhere I can’t enjoy my food. But you gave me a glitn1Uefl0~ of a newapproach when you told me that remarkable story about what happenedwhen they tried to grab you two in Ben’s apartment.“.I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Jubal. But I didn’t think anybody wouldbelieve me and I must say that it makes me feel good that you do believeme.“.I didn’t say I believed you.“.What? But you-.
　　.I think you were telling the truth, Jill. But a dream IS a true experience of asort and so is a hypnotic delusion. But what happens in this room during thenext half hour will be seen by a Fair Witness and by cameras which are“ heleaned forward and pressed a button. .rolling right now. I don’t think Annecan be hypnotized when she’s on duty and I’ll lay long odds that camerascan’t be. We should be able to find out what kind of truth we’re dealing withafterwhich we should be able to decide how to go about forcing the powersthat-be to drop the other shoe . . . and maybe figure a way that will help Benat the same time. Go get Mike.“Mike’s delay was not mysterious, merely worrisome to him. He had managedto tie his left shoestring to his right-then had stood up, tripped himself, fallenflat, and, in so doing, jerked the knots almost hopelessly tight. He had spentthe rest of the time analysing his predicament, concluding correctly why hehad failed, and slowly, slowly, slowly getting the snarl untied and the stringscorrectly tied, one bow to each shoe, unlinked. He had not been aware thathis dressing had taken long; he had simply been troubled that he had failedto repeat correctly something which Jill had already taught him. Heconfessed his failure abjectly to her even though he had repaired it by thetime she came to fetch him.
　　She soothed and reassured him, combed his hair, and herded him in to seeJubal. Harshaw looked up. .Hi, son. Sit down.“.Hi, Jubal,“ Valentine Michael Smith answered gravely, sat down- waited. Jillhad to rid herself of the impression that Smith had bowed deeply, when infact he had not even nodded.
　　Harshaw put aside a hush-mike and said, .Well, boy what have youlearned today?“Smith smiled happily, then answered-as always with a slight pause. .I havetoday learned to do a one-and-a-half gainer. That is a jumping, a dive, forentering our water by-.
　　.I know, I saw you doing it. But you splashed. Keep your toes pointed, yourknees straight, and your feet together.“Smith looked unhappy. .I rightly did not it do?“.You did it very rightly, for a first time. Watch how Dorcas does it. Hardly aripple in the water.“Smith considered this slowly. .The water groks Dorcas. It cherishes him.“.’Her.’ Dorcas is a .her,’ not a .him.’“.’Her,’ . Smith corrected. .Then my speaking was false? I have read inWebster’s New International Dictionary of the English Language, ThirdEdition, published in Springfield, Massachusetts, that the masculine genderincludes the feminine gender in speaking. In Hagworth’s Law of Contracts,Fifth Edition, Chicago, Illinois, 1978, on page 1012, it says-.
　　.Hold it,“ Harshaw said hastily. .The trouble is with the English language, notwith you. Masculine speech forms do include the feminine, when you arespeaking in general-but not when you are talking about a particular person.
　　Dorcas is always .she’ or .her’-never .he’ or .him.’ Remember it.“.I will remember it.“.You had better remember it-~r you may provoke Dorcas into proving justhow female she is.“ Harshaw blinked thoughtfully. .Jill, is the lad sleepingwith you? Or with one of you?“She barely hesitated, then answered flatly, .SO far as I know, Mike doesn’tsleep.“.You evaded my question.“.Then perhaps you had better assume that I intended to evade it. However,he is not sleeping with me.“.Mmm .. damn it, my interest is scientific. However, we’ll pursue another lineof inquiry. Mike, what else have you learned today?“.I have learned two ways to tie my shoes. One way is only good for lyingdown. The other way is good for walking. And I have learned conjugations. .Iam, thou art, he is, we are, you are, they are, I was, thou wast-.
　　.Okay, that’s enough. What else?“Mike smiled delightedly. .To yesterday I am learning to drive the tractor,brightly, brightly, and with beauty.“.Eh?“ Jubal turned to Jill. .When did this happen?“.Yesterday afternoon while you were napping, Jubal. It’s all right- Duke wasvery careful not to let him get hurt.“.Umm ... well, obviously he did not get hurt. Mike, have you been reading?“.Yes, Jubal.“.What?“.I have read,“ Mike recited carefully, .three more volumes of theEncyclopedia, Maryb to Mushe, Mushr to Ozon, P to Planti. You have told menot to read too much of the Encyclopedia at one reading, so I then stopped. Ithen read the Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet by Master William Shakespeareof London. I then read the Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Sein gait astranslated into English by Arthur Machen. I then read The Art of Cross-Exammat ion by Francis Weilman. I then tried to grok what I had read until Jill toldme that I must come to breakfast.“.And did you grok it?“Smith looked troubled. .Jubal, I do not know.“.Is anything bothering you, Mike?“.I do not grok all fullness of what I read. In the history written by MasterWilliam Shakespeare I found myself full of happiness at the death of Romeo.
　　Then I read on and learned that he had discorporated too soon-or so Ithought I grokked. Why?“.He was a blithering young idiot.“.Beg pardon?“.I don’t know, Mike.“Smith considered this. Then he muttered something in Martian and added,.I am only an egg.“.Eh? You usually say that when you want to ask a favor, Mike. What is it thistime? Speak up.“Smith hesitated. Then he blurted out, .Jubal my brother, would please youask Romeo why he discorporated? I cannot ask him; I am only an egg. Butyou can-and then you could teach me the grokking of it.“For the next several minutes the conversation became very tangled. Jubalsaw at once that Mike believed that Romeo of Montague had been a living,breathing person, and Jubal managed with no special shock to his ownconcepts to realize that Mike expected him to be able, somehow, to conjureup Romeo’s ghost and demand of him explanations for his conduct when inthe flesh.
　　But to get over to Mike the idea that none of the Capulets and Montagueshad ever had any sort of corporate existence was another matter. Theconcept of fiction was nowhere in Mike’s experience; there was nothing onwhich it could rest, and Jubal’s attempts to explain the idea were soemotionally upsetting to Mike that Jill was afraid that he was about to roll upinto a ball and withdraw himself.
　　But Mike himself saw how perilously close he was coming to that necessityand he had already learned that he must not resort to this refuge in thepresence of his friends, because (with the exception of his brother DoctorNelson) it always caused them emotional disturbance. So he made a mightyeffort, slowed down his heart, calmed his emotions, and smiled. .I will waitingtill a grokking comes of itself.“.That’s better,“ agreed Jubal. .But hereafter, before you read anything, askme or ask Jill, or somebody, whether or not it is fiction. I don’t want you to getmixed up.“.I will ask, Jubal.“ Mike decided that, when he did grok this strange idea, thathe must report the fullness to the Old Ones . . . and suddenly found himselfwondering if the Old Ones knew about .fiction.“ The completely incredibleidea that there might be something which was as strange to the Old Ones asit was to himself was so much more revolutionary (indeed heretically so) thanthe sufficiently weird concept of fiction that he hastily put it aside to cool,saved it for future deep contemplation.
　　.-but I didn’t,“ his brother Jubal was saying, .call you in here to discussliterary forms. Mike, you remember the day that Jill took you away from thehospital?“.’Hospital’?“ Mike repeated.
　　.I’m not sure, Jubal,“ Jill interrupted, .that Mike ever knew that it was ahospital-at least I never told him it was one. Let me try it.“.Go ahead.“.Mike, you remember the place where you were, where you lived alone in aroom, before I dressed you and took you away.“.Yes, Jill.“.Then we went to another place and I undressed you and gave you abath.“Smith smiled in pleased recollection. .Yes. It was a great happiness.“.Then I dried you off-and then two men came.“Smith’s smile wiped away. He relived that critical cusp of decision and thehorror of his discovery that, somehow, he had chosen wrong action and hurthis water brother. He began to tremble and huddle into himself.
　　Jill said loudly, .Mike! Stop it! Stop it at once! Don’t you dare go away!“Mike took control of his being and did what his water brother required of him.
　　.Yes, Jill,“ he agreed.
　　.Listen to me, Mike. I want you to think about that time-but you mustn’t getupset or go away. Just remember it. There were two men there. One of thempulled you Out into the living room.“.The room with the joyful grasses on the floor,“ he agreed.
　　.That’s right. He pulled you Out into the room with the grass on the floor and Itried to stop him. He hit me. Then he was gone. Y~u remember?“.You are not angry?“.What? No, no, not at all. But I was frightened. One man disappeared, thenthe other one pointed a gun at me-and then he was gone, too. I was veryfrightened-but I was not angry.“.You are not angry with me now?“.Mike, dear-I have never been angry with you. But sometimes I have beenfrightened. I was frightened that time-but I am not afraid now. Jubal and Iwant to know what happened. Those two men were there, in that room withus. And then you did something . . . and they were gone. You did it twice.
　　What was it you did? Can you tell us?“.Yes, I will tell you. The man-the big man-hit you ... and I was frightened, too.
　　So I-. He croaked a phrase in Martian, then looked puzzled. .I do not knowwords.“Jubal said, .Mike, can you use a lot of words and explain it a little at atime?“.I will try, Jubal. Something is there, in front of me. It is a wrong thing and itmust not be there. It must go. So I reach out and-. He stopped again andlooked perplexed. .It is such a simple thing, such an easy thing. Anyone cando it. Tying shoe laces is much more hard. But the words not are. I am verysorry. I will learn more words.“ He considered it. .Perhaps the words are inPlants to Raym, or Rayn to Sarr, or Sars to Sorc. I will read them tonight andtell you at breakfast.“.Maybe,“ Jubal admitted. .Just a minute, Mike.“ He got up from his desk,went to a corner and returned with a large carton which had lately containedtwelve fifths of brandy. .Can you make this go away?“.This is a wrong thing and it must not be here?“.Well, assume that it is.“.But-Jubal, I must know that it is a wrong thing. This is a box. I do not grokthat it exists wrongly.“.Mmm- I see. I think I see. Suppose I picked up this box and threw it at Jill’shead? Threw it hard, so that it would hurt her?“Smith said with gentle sadness, .Jubal, you would not do that to Jill.“.Uh ... damn it. I guess I wouldn’t. Jill, will you throw the box at me? Goodand hard-a scalp wound at least, if Mike can’t protect me.“.Jubal, I don’t like the idea much better than you do.“.Oh, come on! In the interest of science ... and Ben Caxton.“.But-. Jill jumped up suddenly, grabbed the box, threw it right at Jubal’s head.
　　Jubal intended to stand and take it-but instinct and habit won out; he ducked.
　　.Missed me,“ he said. .But where is it?“ He looked around. .Confound it, Iwasn’t watching. I meant to keep my eyes right on it.“ He looked at Smith.
　　.Mike, is that the way-what’s the matter, boy?“The Man from Mars was trembling and looking unhappy. Jill hurried to himand put her arms around his shoulders. .There, there, it’s all right, dear! Youdid it beautifully-whatever it is. It never touched Jubal. It simply vanished.“.I guess it did,“ Jubal admitted, looking all around the room and chewing histhumb. .Anne, were you watching?“.Yes.“.What did you see?“.The box did not simply vanish. The process was not quite instantaneous butlasted some measurable fraction of a second. From where I am sitting itappeared to shrink very, very rapidly, as if it were disappearing into the fardistance. But it did not go outside the room, for I could see it right up to theinstant it disappeared.“.But where did it go?“.That is all I can report.“.Mmm ... we’ll run off the films later-but I’m convinced. Mike-.
　　.Yes, Jubal?“.Where is that box now?“.The box is-. Smith paused. .Again I have not words. I am sorry.“.I’m not sorry, but I’m certainly confused. Look, son, can you reach in againand haul it out? Bring the box back here?“.Beg pardon?“.You made it go away; now make it come back.“.How can I do that? The box is nor.“Jubal looked very thoughtful. .If this method ever becomes popular, we’llhave to revise the rules concerning corpus delecti. .I’ve got a little list theynever will be missed.’ Jill, let’s find something else that will make a not-quitelethalweapon; this time I’m going to keep my eyes open. Mike, how close doyou have to be to do this trick?“.Beg pardon?“.What’s your range? If you had been standing out there in the hallway and Ihad been clear back by the window-oh, say thirty feet-could you havestopped that box from hitting me?“Smith appeared mildly surprised. .Yes.“.Hmm ... come over here by the window. Now look down there at theswimming poo1. Suppose that Jill and I had been over on the far side of thepool and you had been standing right where you are. Could you havestopped the box from here?“.Yes, Jubal.“.Well ... suppose Jill and I were clear down the road there at the gate, aquarter of a mile away. Suppose we were standing just this side of thosebushes that shield the gate, where you could see us clearly. Is that too far?“Smith hesitated a long time, then spoke slowly. .Jubal, it is not the distance.
　　It is not the seeing. It is the knowing.“.Hmm ... let’s see if I grok it. Or grok part of it. It doesn’t matter how far orhow close a thing is. You don’t even have to see it happening. But if youknow that a bad thing is happening, you can reach out and stop it. Right?“Smith looked slightly troubled. .Almost it is right. But I am not long out of thenest. For knowing I must see. But an Old One does not need eyes to know.
　　He knows. He groks. He acts. I am sorry.“.I don’t know what you are sorry about, son,“ Jubal said gruffly. .The HighMinister for Peace would have declared you Top Secret ten minutes ago.“.Beg pardon?“.Never mind. What you do is quite good enough in this vicinity.“ Jubalreturned to his desk, looked around thoughtfully and picked up a ponderousmetal ash tray. .Jill, don’t aim at my face this time; this thing has sharpcorners. Okay, Mike, you stand clear out in the hallway.“.Jubal ... my brother . . . please not!“.What’s the trouble, son? You did it beautifully a few minutes ago. I want onemore demonstration-and this time I won’t take my eyes off it.“.Jubal-.
　　.Yes, Jill?“.I think I grok what is bothering Mike.“.Well, tell me then, for I don’t.“.We set up an experiment where I was about to hurt you by hitting you withthat box. But both of us are his water brothers-so it upset Mike that I eventried to hurt you. I think there is something very unMartian about such asituation. It puts Mike in a dilemma. Divided loyalty.“Harshaw frowned. .Maybe it should be investigated by the Committee onun-Martian Activities.“.I’m not joking, Jubal.“.Nor was I-for we may need such a committee all too soon. I won. der howMrs. O’Leary’s cow felt as she kicked the lantern? All right, Jill, you sit downand I’ll re-rig the experiment.“ Harshaw handed the ash tray to Mike. .Feelhow heavy it is, son, and see those sharp corners.“Smith examined it somewhat gingerly. Harshaw went on, .I’m going to throwit straight up in the air, clear to the ceiling-and let it hit me in the head as itcomes down.“Mike stared at him. .My brother ... you will now discorporate?“.Eh? No, no! It won’t kill me and I don’t want to die. But it will cut me and hurtme-unless you stop it. Here we go!“ Harshaw tossed it straight up withininches of the high ceiling, tracking it with his eyes like a soccer player waitingto pass the ball with his head. He concentrated on watching it, while one partof his mind was considering jerking his head aside at the last instant ratherthan take the nasty scalp wound the heavy, ugly thing was otherwise sure togive him-and another small piece of his mind reckoned cynically that hewould never miss this chattel; he had never liked it-but it had been a gift.
　　The ash tray topped its trajectory, and stayed there.
　　Harshaw looked at it, with a feeling that he was stuck in one frame of amotion picture. Presently he remembered to breathe and found that heneeded to, badly. Without taking his eyes off it he croaked, .Anne. What doyou see?“She answered in a flat voice, .That ash tray is five inches from the ceiling. Ido not see anything holding it up.“ Then she added in tones less certain,.Jubal, I think that’s what I’m seeing ... but if the cameras don’t show thesame thing, I’m going to turn in my robe and tear up my license.“.Um. Jill?“.It floats. It just floats.“Jubal sighed, Went to his chair and sat down heavily, all without taking hiseyes off the unruly ash tray. .Mike,“ he said, .what went wrong? Why didn’t itdisappear like the box?“.But, Jubal,“ Mike said apologetically, .you said to stop it; you did not say tomake it go away. When I made the box go away, you wanted it to be again.
　　Have I done wrongly?“.Oh. No, you have done exactly right. I keep forgetting that you always takethings literally.“ Harshaw recalled certain colloquial insults common in hisearly years-and reminded himself forcefully never, never to use any of suchto Michael Valentine Smith-for, if he told the boy to drop dead or to get lost,Harshaw now felt certain that the literal meaning of his words would at onceensue.
　　.I am glad,“ Smith answered soberly. .I am sorry I could not make the box beagain. I am sorry twice that I wasted so much food. But I did not know how tohelp it. Then a necessity was. Or so I grokked.“.Eh? What food?“Jill said hastily, .He’s talking about those two men, Jubal. Berquist and thecop with him-if he was a cop. Johnson.“.Oh, yes.“ Harshaw reflected that he himself still retained unMartian notionsof food, subconsciously at least. .Mike, I wouldn’t worry about wasting that.food.’ They probably would have been tough and poor flavor. I doubt if ameat inspector would have passed them. In fact,“ he added, recalling theFederation convention about .long pig,“ .I am certain that they would havebeen condemned as unfit for food. So don’t worry about it. Besides, as yousay, it was a necessity. You grokked the fullness and acted rightly.“.I am much comforted,“ Mike answered with great relief in his voice. .Only anOld One can always be sure of right action at a cusp ... and I have muchlearning to learn and much growing to grow before I may join the Old Ones.
　　Jubal? May I move it? I am tiring.“.You want to make it go away now? Go ahead.“.But now I cannot.“.Eh? Why not?“.Your head is no longer under it. I do not grok wrongness in its being,where it is.“.Oh. All right. Move it.“ Harshaw continued to watch it, expecting that it wouldfloat to the spot now over his head and thus regain a wrongness. Instead theash tray moved downward at a slow, steady speed, moved sideways until itwas close above his desk top, hovered for a moment, then slid to an emptyspot and came in to an almost noiseless landing.
　　.Thank you, Jubal,“ said Smith.
　　.Eh? Thank YOU, Son!“ Jubal picked up the ash tray, examined it curiously.
　　It was neither hot nor cold nor did it make his fingers tingle-it was as ugly,over-decorated, commonplace, and dirty as it had been five minutes earlier.
　　.Yes, thank you. For the most amazing experience I’ve had since the day thehired girl took me up into the attic.“ He looked up. .Anne, you trained atRhine.“.Yes.“.Have you seen levitation before?“She hesitated slightly. .I’ve seen what was called telekinesis with dice -butI’m no mathematician and I could not testify that what I saw was telekinesis.“.Hell’s bells, you wouldn’t testify that the sun had risen if the day wascloudy.“.How could I? Somebody might be supplying artificial light from above thecloud layer. One of my classmates could apparently levitate objects about themass of a paper clip-but he had to be just three drinks drunk and sometimeshe couldn’t do it at all. I was never able to examine the phenomenon closelyenough to be competent to testify about it partly because I usually had threedrinks in me by then, too.“.Then you’ve never seen anything like this?“.No.“.Mmm...I’m through with you professionally; I’m convinced. But if you want tostay and see what else happens, hang up your robe and drag up a chair.“.Thanks, I will-both. But, in view of the lecture you gave Jill about mosquesand synagogues, I’ll go to my room first. I wouldn’t want to cause a hiatus inthe indoctrination.“.Suit yourself. While you’re out, wake up Duke and tell him I want thecameras serviced again.“.Yes, Boss. Don’t let anything startling happen until I get back.“ Anneheaded for the door.
　　.No promises. Mike, sit down here at my desk. You, too, Jill-gather .round.
　　Now, Mike, can you pick up that ash tray? Show me.“.Yes, Jubal.“ Smith reached out and took it in his hand.
　　.No, no!“.I did wrongly?“.No, it was my mistake. Mike, put it back down. I want to know if you can liftthat ash tray without touching it?“.Yes, Jubal.“.Well? Are you too tired?“.No, Jubal. I am not too tired.“.Then what’s the matter? Does it have to have a .wrongness’ about it?“.No, Jubal.“.Jubal,“ Jill interrupted, .you haven’t told him to do it-you’ve just asked himif he could.“.Oh.“ Jubal looked as sheepish as he was capable of looking, which was notmuch. .I should learn. Mike, will you please, without touching it with yourhands, lift that ash tray a foot above the desk?“.Yes, Jubal.“ The ash tray raised, floated steadily above the desk. .Will youmeasure, Jubal?“ Mike said anxiously. .If I did wrongly, I will move it up ordown.“.That’s just fine! Can you hold it there? If you get tired, tell me.“.I can. I will tell.“.Can you lift something else at the same time? Say this pencil? If youcan, then do it.“.Yes, Jubal,“ The pencil ranged itself neatly by the ash tray.
　　By request, Mike added other small articles from the desk to the layer offloating objects. Anne returned, pulled up a chair and watched theperformance without speaking. Duke came in, carrying a step ladder, glancedat the group, then looked a second time, but said nothing and set the ladderin one corner. At last Mike said uncertainly, .I am not sure, Jubal. I-. Hestopped and seemed to search for a word. .I am idiot in these things.“.Don’t wear yourself out.“.I can think one more. I hope.“ A paper weight across the desk from Mikestirred, lifted-and all the dozen-odd floating objects fell down at once. Mikeseemed about to weep although no tears formed. .Jubal, I am sorry. I amutmostly sorry.“Harshaw patted his shoulder. .You should be proud, not sorry. Son, you don’tseem to realize it, but what you just did is-. Jubal searched for a comparison,rapidly discarded the many that sprang to his mind because he realized thatthey touched nothing in Mike’s experience. .What you did is much harderthan tying shoestrings, much more wonderful to us than doing a one.and-ahalfgainer perfectly. You did it, uh, .brightly, brightly, and with beauty.’ Yougrok?“Mike looked surprised. .I am not sure, Jubal. I should not feel shame?“.You must not feel shame. You should feel proud.“.Yes, Jubal,“ he answered contentedly. .I feel proud.“.Good. Mike, I cannot lift even one ash tray without touching it.“Smith looked startled. .You cannot?“.No. Can you teach me?“.Yes, Jubal. You-. Smith stopped speaking, looked embarrassed. .I againhave not words. I am sorry. But I will read and I will read and I will read, until Ifind the words. Then I will teach my brother.“.Don’t set your heart on it.“.Beg pardon?“.Mike, don’t be disappointed if you do not find the right words. You may notfind them in the English language.“Smith considered this quite a long time. .Then I will teach my brother thelanguage of my nest.“.Maybe. I would like to try-but you may have arrived about fifty yearstoo late.“.I have acted wrongly?“.Not at all. I’m proud of you. You might start by trying to teach Jill yourlanguage.“.It hurts my throat,“ put in Jill.
　　.Try gargling with aspirin.“ Jubal looked at her. .That’s a silly excuse, nursebutit occurs to me that this gives me an excuse to put you on the payroll . . .
　　for I doubt if they will ever take you back at Bethesda. All right, you’re mystaff research assistant for Martian linguistics which includes such extraduties as may be necessary. Take that up with the girls. Anne, put her on thepayroll-and be sure it gets entered in the tax records.“.She’s been doing her share in the kitchen since the day after she got here.
　　Shall I date it back?“Jubal shrugged. .Don’t bother me with details.“.But, Jubal,“ Jill protested shrilly, .I don’t think I can learn Martian!“.You can try, can’t you? That’s all Columbus did.“.But-.
　　.What was that idle chatter you were giving me about .gratitude’? Do youtake the job? Or don’t you?“Jill bit her lip. .I’ll take it. Yes ... Boss.“Smith timidly reached out and touched her hand. .Jill ... I will teach.“Jill patted his. .Thanks, Mike.“ She looked at Harshaw. .And I’m going tolearn it just to spite you!“He grinned warmly at her. .That’s a motive I grok perfectly-you’ll learn it allright. Now back to business- Mike, what else can you do that we can’t do?
　　Besides making things go away-when they have a .wrongness’-and liftingthings without touching them.“Smith looked puzzled. .I do not know.“.How could he know,“ protested Jill, .when he doesn’t really know what wecan and can’t do?“.Mmm .-. yes. Anne, change that job title to .staff research assistant forMartian linguistics, culture, and techniques.’ Jill, in learning their languageyou are bound to stumble Onto Martian things that are different, reallydifferent-and when you do, tell me. Everything and anything about a culturecan be inferred from the shape of its language-and you’re probably youngenough to learn to think like a Martian . . . which I misdoubt I am not. Andyou, Mike, if you notice anything which you can do but we don’t do, tell me.“.I will tell, Jubal. What things will be these?“.I don’t know. Things like you just did ... and being able to stay on the bottomof the pool much longer than we can. Hmm . . . Duke!“.Yes, Boss? I’ve got both hands full of flim. Don’t bother me.“.You can talk, can’t you? I noticed the pool is pretty murky.“.Yeah. I’m going to add precipitant tonight and vacuum it in themorning.“.How’s the count?“.The count is okay, the water is safe enough to serve at the table. It justlooks messy.“.Let it stay murky for the time being. Test it as usual. I’ll let you know when Iwant it cleaned up.“.Hell, Boss, nobody likes to swim in a pool that looks like dishwater. I wouldhave tidied it up long before this if there hadn’t been so much hooraw aroundhere this week.“.Anybody too fussy to swim in it can stay dry. Quit jawing about it, Duke; I’llexplain later. Films ready?“.Five minutes.“.Good. Mike, do you know what a gun is?“.A gun,“ Smith answered carefully, .is a piece of ordnance for throwingprojectiles by the force of some explosive, as gunpowder, consisting of atube or barrel closed at one end, where the-.
　　.Okay, okay. Do you grok it?“.I am not sure.“.Have you ever seen a gun?“.I do not know.“.Why, certainly you have,“ Jill interrupted. .Mike, think back to that time wewere talking about, in the room with the grass on the floor-but don’t get upsetnow! The big man hit me, you remember.“.Yes.“.The other man pointed something at me. In his hand.“.Yes. He pointed a bad thing at you.“.That was a gun.“.I had thinked that the word for that bad thing might be .gun.’ The Webster’sNew International Dictionary of the English Language, Third Edition,published in-.
　　.That’s fine, son,“ Harshaw said hastily. .That was certainly a gun. Now listento me carefully. If someone points a gun at Jill again, what will you do?“Smith paused rather longer than usual. .You will not be angry if I wastefood?“.No, I would not be angry. Under those circumstances no one would be angryat you. But I am trying to find out something else. Could you make just thegun go away, without making the man who is pointing it go away?“Smith considered it. .Save the food?“.Uh, that isn’t quite what I mean. Could you cause the gun to go away withouthurting the man?“.Jubal, he would not hurt at all. I would make the gun go away, but the man Iwould just stop. He would feel no pain. He would simply be discorporate. Thefood he leaves after him would not damage at all.“Harshaw sighed. .Yes, I’m sure that’s the way it would be. But could youcause to go away just the gun? Not do anything else? Not .stop’ the man, notkill him, just let him go on living?“Smith considered it. .That would be much easier than doing both at once.
　　But, Jubal, if I left him still corporate, he might still hurt Jill. Or so I grok it.“Harshaw stopped long enough to remind himself that this baby innocent wasneither babyish nor innocent-was in fact sophisticated in a culture which hewas beginning to realize, however dimly, was far in advance of humanculture in some very mysterious ways . . . and that these naive remarks camefrom a superman-or what would do in place of a .superman“ for the timebeing. Then he answered Smith, choosing his words most carefully as hehad in mind a dangerous experiment and did not want disaster to follow fromsemantic mishap.
　　.Mike ... if you reach a-.cusp’----where you must do something in order toprotect Jill, you do it.“.Yes, Jubal. I will.“.Don’t worry about wasting food. Don’t worry about anything else.
　　Protect Jill.“.Always I will protect Jill.“.Good. But suppose a man pointed a gun at someone-or simply had it in hishand. Suppose you did not want or need to kill him . . , but you needed tomake the gun go away. Could you do it?“Mike paused only briefly. .I think I grok it. A gun is a wrong thing. But it mightbe needful for the man to remain corporate.“ He thought. .I can do if.“.Good. Mike, I am going to show you a gun. A gun is a wrong thing.“.A gun is a very wrong thing. I will make it go away.“.Don’t make it go away as soon as you see it.“.Not?“.Not. I will lift the gun and start to point it at you. Like this. Before I can get itpointed at you, make it go away. But don’t stop me, don’t hurt me, don’t killme, don’t do anything to me. Just the gun. Don’t waste me as food, either.“.Oh, I never would,“ Mike said earnestly. .When you discorporate, my brotherJubal, I hope to be allowed to eat of you myself, praising and cherishing youwith every bite . . . until I grok you in fullness.“Harshaw controlled a seasick reflex he had not felt in decades and answeredgravely, .Thank you, Mike.“.It is I who must thank you, my brother-and if it should come to be that I amselected before you, I hope that you will find me worthy of grokking. Sharingme with Jill. You would share me with Jill? Please?“Harshaw glanced at Jill, saw that she had kept her face serene- reflected thatshe probably was a rock-steady scrub nurse. .I will share you with Jill,“ hesaid solemnly. .But, Mike, no one of us will be food today, nor any time soon.
　　Right now I am going to show you this gun- and you wait until I say . . . andthen you be very careful, because I have, many things to do before I amready to discorporate.“.I will be careful, my brother.“.All right.“ Harshaw leaned over, grunting slightly, and opened a~ lowerdrawer of his desk. .Look in here, Mike. See the gun? I’m going to pick it up.
　　But don’t do anything until I tell you to. Girls-get up and move away to theleft; I don’t want it pointed at you. Okay. Mike, not yet.“ Harshaw reached forthe gun, a very elderly police special, took it out of the drawer. .Get ready,Mike. Now!“-and Harshaw did his very best to get the weapon aimed at theMan from Mars.
　　His hand was suddenly empty. No shock, no jar, no twisting-the gun wasgone and that was all.
　　Jubal found that he was shaking, so he stopped it. .Perfect,“ he said to Mike.
　　.You got it before I had it aimed at you. That’s utterly perfect.“.I am happy.“.So am I. Duke, did that get in the camera?“.Yup. I put in fresh film cartridges. You didn’t say.“.Good.“ Harshaw sighed and found that he was very tired. .That’s all today,kids. Run along. Go swimming. You, too, Anne.“Anne said, .Boss? You’ll tell me what the films show?“.Want to stay and see them?“.Oh, no! I couldn’t, not the parts I Witnessed. But I would like to know-laterwhetheror not they show that I’ve slipped my clutches.“.All right.“
Chapter 13
WHEN THEY HAD GONE, Harshaw started to give instructions to Duke- theninstead said grumpily, .What are you looking sour about?“.Boss, when are we going to get rid of that ghoul?“.’Ghoul’? Why, you provincial lout!“.Okay, so I come from Kansas. You won’t find any cases of cannibalism inKansas-they were all farther west. I’ve got my own opinions about who is alout and who isn’t . . . but I’m eating in the kitchen until we get rid of him.“Harshaw said icily, .So? Don’t put yourself out. Anne can have your closingcheck ready in five minutes . . . and it ought not to take you more than tenminutes to pack up your comic books and your other shirt.“Duke had been setting up a projector. He stopped and straightened up. .Oh, Ididn’t mean that I was quitting.“.It means exactly that to me, son.“.But-I mean, what the hell? I’ve eaten in the kitchen lots of times.“.So you have. For your own convenience, or to keep from making extra workfor the girls. Or some such. You can have breakfast in bed, for all of me, ifyou can bribe the girls to serve it to you. But nobody who sleeps under myroof refuses to eat at my table because he doesn’t want to eat with otherswho eat there. I happen to be of an almost extinct breed, an old-fashionedgentleman-which means I can be a real revolving son of bitch when it suitsme. And it suits me right now . . . which is to say that no ignorant,superstitious, prejudiced bumpkin is permitted to tell me who is, or is not, fitto eat at my table. If I choose to dine with publicans and sinners, that is mybusiness. But I do not choose to break bread with Pharisees.“Duke turned red and said slowly, .I ought to pop you one-and I would, ifyou were my age.“.Don’t let that stop you, Duke. I may be tougher than you think and if I’m not,the commotion will probably bring the others in. Do you think you can handlethe Man from Mars?“.Him? I could break him in two with one hand!“ .Probably ... if you could lay ahand on him.“ .Huh?“.You saw me try to point a pistol at him. Duke-where’s that pistol? Before yougo flexing your biceps, stop and think-or whatever it is you do in place ofthinking. Find that pistol. Then tell me whether or not you still think you canbreak Mike in two. But find the pistol first.“Duke wrinkled his forehead, then went ahead setting up the projector. .Somesort of sleight-of-hand. The films will show it.“Harshaw said, .Duke. Stop fiddling with that projector. Sit down. I’ll take careof it after you’ve left and run off the films myself. But I want to talk to you afew moments first.“.Huh? Jubal, I don’t want you touching this projector. Every time you do, youget it out of whack. It’s a delicate piece of machinery.“.Sit down, I said.“.But-.
　　.It’s my projector, Duke. I’ll bust the damned thing if it suits me. Or: I’ll getLarry to run it for me. But I do not accept service from a man alter he hasresigned from my employ.“.Hell, I didn’t resign! You got nasty and sounded off and fired me- for noreason.“.Sit down, Duke,“ Harshaw said quietly. .Either sit down ... and let me try tosave your life-or get off this place as fast as you can and let me send yourclothes and wages after you. Don’t stop to pack; it’s too risky. You might notlive that long.“.What the hell do you mean?“.Exactly what I say. Duke, it’s irrelevant whether you resigned or were fired;you terminated your employment here when you announced that you wouldno longer eat at my table. Nevertheless I would find it distasteful for you to bekilled on my premises. So sit down and I will do my best to avoid it.“Duke looked startled, opened his mouth-closed it and sat down. Harshawwent on, .Are you Mike’s water brother?“.Huh? Of course not. Oh, I’ve heard such chatter-but it’s nonsense, if youask me.“.It is not nonsense and nobody asked you; you aren’t competent to have anopinion about it.“ Harshaw frowned. .That’s too bad. I can see that I am notonly going to have to let you go-and, Duke, I don’t want to fire you; you do agood job of keeping the gadgetry around here working properly and therebysave me from being annoyed by mechanical buffoonery I am totallyuninterested in. But I must not only get you safely off the place but I mustalso find out at once who else around here is not a water brother to Mike . . .
　　and either see to it that they become such-or get them off the place beforeanything happens to them.“ Jubal chewed his lip and stared at the ceiling.
　　.Maybe it would be sufficient to exact a solemn promise from Mike not to hurtanyone without my specific permission. Mmmm . . . no, I can’t risk it. Toomuch horse play around here-and there is always the chance that Mike mightmisinterpret something that was meant in fun. Say if you-or Larry, rather,since you won’t be here- picked up Jill and tossed her into the pool, Larrymight wind up where that pistol went, before I could explain to Mike that itwas all in fun and Jill was not in danger. I wouldn’t want Larry to die throughmy oversight. Larry is entitled to work out his own damn foolishness withouthaving it cut short through my carelessness. Duke, I believe in everyone’sworking out his own damnation his own way . . . but nevertheless that is noexcuse for an adult to give a dynamite cap to a baby as a toy.“Duke said slowly, .Boss, you sound like you’ve come unzipped. Mikewouldn’t hurt anybody-shucks, this cannibalism talk makes me want to throwup but don’t get me wrong; I know he’s just a savage, he doesn’t know anybetter. Hell, Boss, he’s gentle as a lamb. He would never hurt anybody.“.You think so?“.I’m sure of it.“.So. You’ve got two or three guns in your room. I say he’s dangerous. It’sopen season on Martians, so pick a gun you trust, go down to the swimmingpool, and kill him. Don’t worry about the law; I’ll be your attorney and Iguarantee that you’ll never be indicted. Go ahead, do it!“.Jubal ... you don’t mean that.“.No. No, I don’t really mean it. Because you can’t. If you tried it, your gunwould go where my pistol went-and if you hurried him you’d probably go withit. Duke, you don’t know what you are fiddling with- and I don’t either exceptthat I know it’s dangerous and you don’t. Mike is not .gentle as a lamb’ andhe is not a savage. I suspect we are the savages. Ever raise snakes?“.Uh ... no.“.I did, when I was a kid. Thought I was going to be a zoologist then. Onewinter, down in Florida, I caught what I thought was a scarlet snake. Knowwhat they look like?“.I don’t like snakes.“.Prejudice again, rank prejudice. Most snakes are harmless, useful, and funto raise. The scarlet snake is a beauty-red, and black and yellow-docile andmakes a fine pet. I think this little fellow was fond of me, in its dim reptilianfashion. Of course I knew how to handle snakes, how not to alarm them andnot give them a chance to bite, because the bite of even a non-poisonoussnake is a nuisance. But I was fond of this baby; he was the prize of mycollection. I used to take him out and show him to people, holding him backof his head and letting him wrap himself around my wrist.
　　.One day I got a chance to show my collection to the herpetologist of theTampa zoo-and I showed him my prize first. He almost had hysterics. My petwas not a scarlet snake-it was a young coral snake. The American cobra . . .
　　the most deadly snake in North America. Duke, do You see my point?“.I see that raising snakes is dangerous. I could have told you.“.Oh, for Pete’s sake! I already had rattlesnakes and water moccasins In mycollection. A poisonous snake is not dangerous, not any more than a loadedgun is dangerous-in each case, if you handle it properly. The thing that madethat coral snake dangerous was that I hadn’t known what it was, what it coulddo. If, in my ignorance, I had handled it carelessly, it would have killed me ascasually and as innocently as a kitten scratches. And that’s what I’m trying totell you about Mike. He seems as gentle as a lamb-and I’m convinced that hereally is gentle and unreservedly friendly with anyone he trusts. But if hedoesn’t trust you-well, he’s not what he seems to be. He seems like anordinary young male human, rather underdeveloped, decidedly clumsy, andabysmally ignorant...but bright and very docile and eager to learn. All ofwhich is true and not surprising, in view of his ancestry and his strangebackground. But, like my pet snake, Mike is more than he appears to be. IfMike does not trust you, blindly and all out, he can be instantly aggressiveand much more deadly than that coral snake. Especially if he thinks you areharming one of his water brothers, such as Jill-or me.“Harshaw shook his head sadly. .Duke, if you had given way to your naturalimpulse to take a poke at me, a few minutes ago when I told you somehomely truths about yourself, and if Mike had been standing in that doorwaybehind you . . . well, I’m convinced that you would have stood no chance atall. None. You would have been dead before you knew it, much too quicklyfor me to stop him. Mike would then have been sorrowfully apologetic overhaving .wasted food’-namely your big, beefy carcass. Oh, he would feel guiltyabout that; you heard him a while ago. But he wouldn’t feel guilty about killingyou; that would just be a necessity you had forced on him . . . and not amatter of any great importance anyhow, even to you. You see, Mike believesthat your soul is immortal.“.Huh? Well, hell, so do I. But-.
　　.Do you?“ Jubal said bleakly. .I wonder.“.Why, certainly I do! Oh, I admit I don’t go to church much, but I was broughtup right. I’m no infidel. I’ve got faith.“.Good. Though I’ve never been able to understand .faith’ myself, nor to seehow a just God could expect his creatures to pick the one true religion Out ofan infinitude of false ones-by faith alone. It strikes me as a sloppy way to runan organization, whether a universe or a smaller one. However, since you dohave faith and it includes belief in your own immortality, we need not troublefurther over the probability that your prejudices will result in your earlydemise. Do you want to be cremated or buried?“.Huh? Oh, for cripe’s sake, Jubal, quit trying to get my goat.“.Not at all. I can’t guarantee to get you off my place safely as long as youpersist in thinking that a coral snake is a harmless scarlet snake-any blunderyou make may be your last. But I promise you I won’t let Mike eat you.“Duke’s mouth dropped open. At last he managed to answer, explosively,profanely, and quite incoherently. Harshaw listened, then said testily, .Allright, all right, but pipe down. You can make any arrangements with Mike youlike. I thought I was doing you a favor.“ Harshaw turned and bent over theprojector. .I want to see these pictures. Stick around, if you want to, until I’mthrough. Prob’ly safer. Damn!“ he added. .The pesky thing savaged me.“.You tried to force it. Here-. Duke completed the adjustment Harshaw hadmuffed, then went ahead and inserted the first film cartridge. Neither of themre-opened the question of whether Duke was, or was not, still working forJubal. The cameras were Mitchell servos; the projector was a Yashinontabletop tank, with an adapter to permit it to receive Land Solid-Sight-Sound4 mm. film. Shortly they were listening to and watching the events leading upto the disappearance of the empty brandy case.
　　Jubal watched the box being thrown at his head, saw it wink out in midair.
　　.That’s enough,“ he said. .Anne will be pleased to know that the camerasback her up. Duke, let’s repeat that last bit in slow motion.“.Okay.“ Duke spooled back, then announced, .This is ten-to-one.“The scene was the same but the slowed-down sound was useless; Dukeswitched it off. The box floated slowly from Jill’s hands toward Jubal’s head,then quite suddenly ceased to be. But it did not simply wink out; under slowmotionprojection it could be seen shrinking, smaller and smaller until it wasno longer there.
　　Jubal nodded thoughtfully. .Duke, can you slow it down still more?“.Just a sec. Something is fouled up with the stereo.“.What?“.Darned if I can figure it out. It looked all right on the fast run. But when Islowed it down, the depth effect was reversed. You saw it. That box wentaway from us fast, mighty fast-but it always looked closer than the wall.
　　Swapped parallax, of course. But I never took that cartridge off the spindle.
　　Gremlins.“.Oh. Hold it, Duke. Run the film from the other camera.“.Unh ... oh, I see, That’ll give us a ninety-degree cross on it and we’ll seeproperly even if I did jimmy this film somehow.“ Duke changed cartridges.
　　.Zip through the first part, okay? Then undercranked ten-to-one on the partthat counts.“.Go ahead.“The scene was the same save for angle. When the image of Jill grabbed thebox, Duke slowed down the show and again they watched the box go away.
　　Duke cursed. .Something was fouled up with the second camera too.“.So?“.Of course. It was looking at it around from the side so the box~ should havegone out of the frame to one side or the other. Instead it went ~ straight awayfrom us again. Well, didn’t it? You saw it. Straight away from us.“.Yes,“ agreed Jubal. .’Straight away from us.’“.Out it can’t-not from both angles.“.What do you mean, it can’t? It already did.“ Harshaw added, .If we I hadused doppler-radar in place of each of those cameras, I wonder what ~ theywould have shown?“.How should I know? I’m going to take both these cameras apart.“.Don’t bother.“.But-.
　　.Don’t waste your time, Duke; the cameras are all right. What is exactlyninety degrees from everything else?“.I’m no good at riddles.“.It’s not a riddle and I meant it seriously. I could refer you to Mr. A. Squarefrom Flatland, but I’ll answer it myself. What is exactly at right angles toeverything else? Answer: two dead bodies, one old pistol, and an emptyliquor case.“.What the deuce do you mean, Boss?“.I never spoke more plainly in my life. Try believing what the cameras seeinstead of insisting that the cameras must be at fault because what they sawwas not what you expected. Let’s see the other films.“Harshaw made no comment as they were shown; they added nothing ~ towhat he already knew but did confirm and substantiate. The ash tray whenfloating near the ceiling had been out of camera angle, but its leisurelydescent and landing had been recorded. The pistol’s image in the:’ stereotank was quite small but, so far as could be seen, the pistol had done justwhat the box appeared to have done: shrunk away into the far distance~without moving. Since Harshaw had been gripping it tightly when it hadshrunk out of his hand, he was satisfied-if .satisfied“ was the right word, headded grumpily to himself. .Convinced“ at least.
　　.Duke, when you get time, I want duplicate prints of all of those.“Duke hesitated. .You mean I’m still working here?“.What? Oh, damn it! You can’t eat in the kitchen, and Duke, try to cut yourlocal prejudices out of the circuit and just while. Try really hard.“.I’ll listen.“.When Mike asked for the privilege of eating my stringy old carcass, he wasdoing me the greatest honor that he knew of-by the only rules he knows.
　　What he had .learned at his mother’s knee,’ so to speak. Do you savvy that?
　　You heard his tone of voice, you saw his manner. He was paying me hishighest compliment-and asking of me a boon. You see? Never mind whatthey think of such things in Kansas; Mike uses the values taught him onMars.“.I think I’ll take Kansas.“.Well,“ admitted Jubal, .so do I. But it is not a matter of free choice for me,nor for you-nor for Mike. All three of us are prisoners of our earlyindoctrinations, for it is hard, very nearly impossible, to shake off one’searliest training. Duke, can you get it through your skull that if you had beenborn on Mars and brought up by Martians, you yourself would have exactlythe same attitude toward eating and being eaten that Mike has?“Duke considered it, then shook his head. .I won’t buy it, Jubal. Sure, aboutmost things it’s just Mike’s hard luck that he wasn’t brought up in civilizationandmy good luck that I was. I’m willing to make allowances for him. But thisis different, this is an instinct.“.’Instinct,’ dreck!“.But it is. I didn’t get any .training at my mother’s knee’ not to be a cannibal.
　　Hell, I didn’t need it; I’ve always known it was a sin-a nasty one. Why, themere thought of it makes my stomach do a flip-flop. It’s a basic instinct.“Jubal groaned. .Duke, how could you learn so much about machinery andnever learn anything about how you yourself tick? That nausea you feelthat’snot an instinct; that’s a conditioned reflex. Your mother didn’t have tosay to you, .Mustn’t eat your playmates, dear; that’s not nice,’ because yousoaked it up from our whole culture-and so did I. Jokes about cannibals andmissionaries, cartoons, fairy tales, horror stories, endless little things. But ithas nothing to do with instinct. Shucks, son, it couldn’t possibly be instinct . . .
　　because cannibalism is historically one of the most widespread of humancustoms, extending through every branch of the human race. Your ancestors,my ancestors, everybody.“.Your ancestors, maybe. Don’t bring mine into it.“.Um. Duke, didn’t you tell me you had some Indian blood?“.Huh? Yeah, an eighth. In the Army they used to call me .Chief.’ What of it?
　　I’m not ashamed of it. I’m proud of it,“.No reason to be ashamed-nor proud, either, for that matter, But, while bothof us certainly have cannibals in our family trees, chances are that you are agood many generations closer to cannibals than I am, because-.
　　.Why, you bald-headed old-.
　　.Simmer down! You were going to listen; remember? Ritual cannibalism wasa widespread custom among aboriginal American cultures. But don’t take myword for it; look it up. Besides that, both of us, simply as North Americans,stand a better than even chance of having a touch of the Congo in us withoutknowing it . . . and there you are again. But even if both of us were SimonpureNorth European stock, certified by the American Kennel Club, (a sillynotion, since the amount of casual bastardy among humans is far in excessof that ever admitted)-but even if we were, such ancestry would merely tell uswhich cannibals we are descended from. . because every branch of thehuman race, without any exception, has practiced cannibalism in the courseof its history. Duke, it’s silly to talk about a practice being .against instinct’
　　when hundreds of millions of human beings have followed that practice.“.But- All right, all right, I should know better than to argue with you, Jubal;you can always twist things around your way. But suppose we all did comefrom savages who didn’t know any better-I’m not admitting it but justsupposing. Suppose we did. What of it? We’re civilized now. Or at least Iam.“Jubal grinned cheerfully. .Implying that I am not. Son, quite aside from myown conditioned reflex against munching a roast haunch of- well, you, forexample-quite aside from that trained-in emotional prejudice, for coldlypractical reasons I regard our taboo against cannibalism as an excellent idea. . . because we are not civilized.“.Huh?“.Obvious. If we didn’t have a tribal taboo about the matter so strong that youhonestly believed it was an instinct, I can think of a long list of people Iwouldn’t trust with my back turned, not with the price of beef what it is today.
　　Eh?“Duke grudged a grin. .Maybe you’ve got something there. I wouldn’t want totake a chance on my ex-mother-in-law. She hates my guts.“.You see? Or how about our charming neighbour on the south, who is socasual about other people’s fences and live stock during the hunting season?
　　I wouldn’t want to bet that you and I wouldn’t wind up in his freezer if wedidn’t have that taboo. But Mike I would trust utterly- because Mike iscivilized.“.Huh?“.Mike is utterly civilized, Martian style. Duke, I don’t understand the Martianviewpoint and probably never shall. But I’ve talked enough with Mike on thissubject to know that the Martian practice isn’t at all dog-eat-dog . . . orMartian-eat-Martian. Surely they eat their dead, instead of burying them, orburning them, or exposing them to vultures. But the custom is highlyformalized and deeply religious. A Martian is never grabbed and butcheredagainst his will. In fact, so far as I have been able to find out, the idea ofmurder isn’t even a Martian concept. Instead, a Martian dies when hedecides to die, having discussed it with and been advised by his friends andhaving received the consent of his ancestors’ ghosts to join them. Havingdecided to die, he does so, as easily as you close your eyes-no violence, nolingering illness, not even an overdose of sleeping pills. One second he isalive and well, the next second he’s a ghost, with a dead body left over.
　　Then, or maybe later (Mike is always vague about time factors) his closestfriends eat what he no longer has any use for, .grokking’ him, as Mike wouldsay, and praising his virtues as they spread the mustard. The new ghostattends the feast himself, as it is sort of a bar mitzvah or confirmation serviceby which the ghost attains the status of .Old One’-becomes an elderstatesman, if I understand it.“Duke made a face of disgust. .God, what superstitious junk! Turns mystomach.“.Does it? To Mike it’s a most solemn-but joyful-religious ceremony.“Duke snorted, .Jubal, you don’t believe that stuff about ghosts, do you? Oh, Iknow you don’t. It’s just cannibalism combined with the rankest sort ofsuperstition.“.Well, now, I wouldn’t go that far. I admit that I find these Martian .Old Ones’
　　a little hard to swallow-but Mike speaks of them as matter-offactly as we talkabout last Wednesday. As for the rest-Duke, what church were you broughtup in?“ Duke told him; Jubal nodded and went on: .I thought it might be; inKansas most belong to yours or to one enough like it that you would have tolook at the sign out in front to tell the difference. Tell me . . . how did you feelwhen you took part in the symbolic cannibalism that plays so paramount apart in your church’s rituals?“Duke stared at him. .What the devil do you mean?“Jubal blinked solemnly back. .Were you actually a church member? Or wereyou simply sent to Sunday School as a kid?“.Huh? Why, certainly I was a church member. My whole family was. I still am. . . even though I don’t go much.“.I thought perhaps you weren’t entitled to receive it, But apparently you are,so you know what I’m talking about, if you stop to think.“ Jubal Stood upsuddenly. .But I don’t belong to your church nor to Mike’s, so I shan’t attemptto argue the subtle differences between one form of ritual cannibalism andanother. Duke, I’ve got urgent work to do; I can’t spend any more time tryingto shake you loose from your prejudices. Are you leaving? If you are, I think Ihad better chaperone you off the place, make sure you’re safe. Or do youwant to stay? Stay and behave yourself, I mean-eat at the table with the restof us cannibals.“ Duke frowned. .Reckon I’ll stay.“.Suit yourself. Because from this moment forward I wash my hands of anyresponsibility for your safety. You saw those movies; if you’re bright enoughto hit the floor with your hat, you’ve figured out that this man-Martian we’vegot staying with us can be unpredictably dangerous.“Duke nodded. .I got the point. I’m not as stupid as you think I am, Jubal. ButI’m not letting Mike run me off the place, either.“ He added, .You say he’sdangerous ... and I see how he could be, if he got stirred up. But I’m notgoing to stir him up. Shucks, Jubal, I like the little dope, most ways.“.Mmm ... damn it, I still think you underestimate him, Duke. See here, if youreally do feel friendly toward him, the best thing you can do is to offer him aglass of water. Share it with him. Understand me? Become his .Waterbrother.’“.Um. I’ll think about it.“.But if you do, Duke, don’t fake it. If Mike accepts your offer of waterbrotherhood,he’ll be dead serious about it. He’ll trust you utterly, no matterwhat-so don’t do it unless you are equally willing to trust him and stand byhim, no matter how rough things get. Either all out-or don’t do it.“.I understood that. That’s why I said, .I’ll think about it.’“.Okay. But don’t take too long making up your mind ... because I expectthings to get very rough before long.“
Chapter 14
IN THE VOLANT LAND OF LAPUTA, according to the journal of LemuelGulliver recounting his Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World, noperson of importance ever listened or spoke without the help of a servant,known as a .climenole“ in Laputian-or .flapper“ in rough English translation,as such a Servant’s only duty was to flap the mouth and ears of his masterwith a dried bladder whenever, in the opinion of the servant, it was desirablefor his master to speak or listen.
　　Without the consent of his flapper it was impossible to gain the attention ofany Laputian of the master class.
　　Gulliver’s journal is usually regarded by Terrans as a pack of lies composedby a sour churchman. As may be, there can be no doubt that, at this time, the.flapper“ system was widely used on the planet Earth and had beenextended, refined, and multiplied until a Laputian would not have recognizedit other than in spirit.
　　In an earlier, simpler day one prime duty of any Ten~an sovereign was tomake himself publicly available on frequent occasions so that even thelowliest might come before him without any intermediary of any sort anddemand judgment. Traces of this aspect of primitive sovereignty persisted onEarth long after kings became scarce and impotent. It continued to be theright of an Englishman to .Cry Harold!“ although few knew it and none did it.
　　Successful city political bosses held open court all through the twentiethcentury, leaving wide their office doors and listening to any gandy dancer orbindlestiff who came in.
　　The principle itself was never abolished, being embalmed in Articles I & IX ofthe Amendments to the Constitution of the United States of America-andtherefore nominal law for many humans-even though the basic documenthad been almost superseded in actual practice by the Articles of WorldFederation.
　　But at the time the Federation Ship Champion returned to Terra from Mars,the .flapper system“ had been expanding for more than a century and hadreached a stage of great intricacy, with many persons employed solely incarrying out its rituals. The importance of a public personage could beestimated by the number of layers of flappers cutting him off from readycongress with the plebian mob. They were not called .flappers,“ but wereknown as executive assistants, private secretaries, secretaries to privatesecretaries, press secretaries, receptionists, appointment clerks, et cetera. Infact the titles could be anything-or (with some of the most puissant) no title atall, but they could all be identified as .flappers“ by function: each one heldarbitrary and concatenative veto over any attempted communication from theoutside world to the Great Man who was the nominal superior of the flapper.
　　This web of intermediary officials surrounding every V.I.P. naturally caused togrow up a class of unofficials whose function it was to flap the ear of theGreat Man without permission from the official flappers, doing so (usually) onsocial or pseudo-social occasions or (with the most successful) via back-doorprivileged access or unlisted telephone number. These unofficials usuallyhad no formal titles but were called a variety of names: .golfing companion,“.kitchen cabinet,“ .lobbyist,“ .elder statesman,“ .five-percenter,“ and so forth.
　　They existed in benign Symbiosis with the official barricade of flappers, sinceit was recognized almost universally that the tighter the system the moreneed for a safety valve.
　　The most successful of the unofficials often grew webs of flappers of theirown, until they were almost as hard to reach as the Great Man whoseunofficial contacts they were . . . in which case secondary unofficials sprangup to circumvent the flappers of the primary unofficial. With a personage offoremost importance, such as the Secretary General of the World Federationof Free States, the maze of by-passes through unofficials would be asformidable as were the official phalanges of flappers surrounding a personmerely very important.
　　Some Terran students have suggested that the Laputians must have been, infact, visiting Martians, citing not only their very unworldly obsession with thecontemplative life but also two concrete matters: the Laputians were allegedto have known about Mars’ two moons at least a century and half before theywere observed by Terran astronomers, and, secondly, Laputa itself wasdescribed in size and shape and propulsion such that the only English termthat fits is .flying saucer.“ But that theory will not wash, as the flapper system,basic to Laputian society, was unknown on Mars. The Martian Old Ones, nothampered by bodies subject to space-time, would have had as little use forflappers as a snake has for shoes. Martians still corporate conceivably coulduse flappers but did not; the very concept ran contrary to their way of living.
　　A Martian having need of a few minutes or years of contemplation simplytook it. If another Martian wished to speak with him, this friend would simplywait, as long as necessary. With all eternity to draw on there could be noreason for hurrying-in fact .hurry“ was not a concept that could be symbolizedin the Martian language and therefore must be presumed to be unthinkable.
　　Speed, velocity, simultaneity, acceleration, and other mathematicalabstractions having to do with the pattern of eternity were part of Martianmathematics, but not of Martian emotion, Contrariwise, the unceasing rushand turmoil of human existence came not from mathematical necessities oftime but from the frantic urgency implicit in human sexual bipolarity.
　　Dr. Jubal Harshaw, professional clown, amateur subversive, and parasite bychoice, had long attempted to eliminate .hurry“ and all related emotions fromhis pattern. Being aware that he had but a short time left to live and havingneither Martian nor Kansan faith in his own immortality, it was his purpose tolive each golden moment as if it were eternity- without fear, without hope, butwith sybaritic gusto. To this end he found that he required something largerthan Diogenes’ tub but smaller than Kubla’s pleasure dome and its twice fivemiles of fertile ground with walls and towers girdled round; his was a simplelittle place, a few acres kept private with an electrified fence, a house offourteen rooms or so, with running secretaries laid on and all other modernconveniences. To support his austerely upholstered nest and its rabble staffhe put forth minimum effort for maximum return simply because it was easierto be rich than to be poor-Harshaw merely wished to live exactly as he liked,doing whatever he thought was best for him.
　　In consequence he felt honestly aggrieved that circumstances had forced onhim a necessity for hurry and would not admit that he was enjoying himselfmore than he had in years.
　　This morning he found it needful to speak to the third planet’s chief executive.
　　He was fully aware of the flapper system that made such contact with thehead of government all but impossible for the ordinary citizen, even thoughHarshaw himself disdained to surround himself with buffers suitable to hisown rank-Harshaw answered his telephone himself if he happened to be athand when it signalled because each call offered good odds that he would bejustified in being gratifyingly rude to some stranger for daring to invade hisprivacy without cause-.cause“ by Harshaw’s definition, not by the stranger’s.
　　Jubal knew that he could not hope to find the same conditions obtaining atthe Executive Palace; Mr. Secretary General would not answer his ownphone. But Harshaw had many years of practice in the art of outwittinghuman customs; he tackled the matter cheerfully, right after breakfast.
　　Much later he was tired and very frustrated. His name alone had carried himpast three layers of the official flapper defense, and he was sufficiently anarrow-gauge V.I.P. that he was never quite switched off. Instead he wasreferred from secretary to secretary and wound up speaking voice-&-vision toa personable, urbane young man who seemed willing to discuss the matterendlessly and without visible irritation no matter what Harshaw said-butwould not agree to connect him with the Honorable Mr. Douglas.
　　Harshaw knew that he would get action if he mentioned the Man from Marsand that he certainly would get very quick action if he claimed to have theMan from Mars with him, but he was far from certain that the resultant actionwould be a face-to-face hookup with Douglas. On the Contrary, he calculatedthat any mention of Smith would kill any chance of reaching Douglas butwould at once produce violent reaction from subordinates-which was notwhat he wanted. He knew from a lifetime of experience that it was alwayseasier to dicker with the top man. With Ben Caxton’s life very possibly atstake Harshaw could not risk failure through a subordinate’s lack of authorityor excess of ambition.
　　But this soft brush-off was trying his patience. Finally he snarled, .Youngman, if you have no authority yourself, let me speak to someone who has!
　　Put me through to Mr. Berquist.“The face of the staff stooge suddenly lost its smile and Jubal thoughtgleefully that he had at last pinked him in the quick. So he pushed hisadvantage. .Well? Don’t just sit there! Get Gil on your inside line and tell himyou’ve been keeping Jubal Harshaw waiting. Tell him how long you’ve keptme waiting.“ Jubal reviewed in his own excellent memory all that WitnessCavendish had reported concerning the missing Berquist, plus the report onhim from the detective service. Yup, he thought happily, this lad is at leastthree rungs down the ladder from where Berquist was-so let’s shake him up alittle . . . and climb a couple of rungs in the process.
　　The face said woodenly, .We have no Mr. Berquist here.“.I don’t care where he is. Get him! If you don’t know Gil Berquist personally,ask your boss. Mr. Gilbert Berquist, personal assistant to Mr. Douglas. Ifyou’ve been around the Palace more than two weeks you’ve at least seenMr. Berquist at a distance-thirty-five years old, about six feet and a hundredand eighty pounds, sandy hair a little thin on top, smiles a lot and has perfectteeth. You’ve seen him. If you don’t dare disturb him yourself, dump it in yourboss’s lap. But quit biting your nails and do something. I’m getting annoyed.“Without expression the young man said, .Please hold on. I will enquire.“.I certainly will hold on. Get me Gil.“ The image in the phone was replaced bya moving abstract pattern; a pleasant female voice recorded, said, .Pleasewait while your call is completed. This delay is not being charged to youraccount. Please relax while-. Soothing music came up and covered thevoice; Jubal sat back and looked around. Anne was waiting, reading, andsafely out of the telephone’s vision angle. On his other side the Man fromMars was also out of the telephone’s sight pickup and was watching imagesin stereovision and listening via ear plugs.
　　Jubal reflected that he must remember to have that obscene babble boxplaced in the basement where it belonged, once this emergency was over.
　　.What you got, son?“ he asked, leaned over and turned on the speaker to lowgain.
　　Mike answered, .I don’t know, Jubal.“The sound confirmed what Jubal had suspected from his glance at theimage: Smith was listening to a broadcast of a Fosterite service. The imagedShepherd was not preaching but seemed to be reading church notices:“-junior Spirit-in-Action team will give a practice demonstration before thesupper, so come early and see the fur fly! Our team coach, Brother Hornsby,has asked me to tell you boys on the team to fetch only your helmets, gloves,and sticks-we aren’t going after sinners this time. However, the LittleCherubim will be on hand with their first-aid kits in case of excessive zeal.“The Shepherd paused and smiled broadly, .And now wonderful news, MyChildren! A message from the Angel Ramzai for Brother Arthur Renwick andhis good wife Dorothy. Your prayer has been approved and you will go toheaven at dawn Thursday morning! Stand up, Art! Stand up, Dottie! Take abow!“The camera angle made a reverse cut, showing the congregation andcentering on Brother and Sister Renwick. To wild applause and shouts of.Hallelujah!“ Brother Renwick was responding with a boxer’s handshake overhis head, while his wife blushed and smiled and dabbed at her eyes besidehim.
　　The camera cut back as the Shepherd held up his hand for silence. He wenton briskly, .The Bon Voyage party for the Renwicks will start promptly atmidnight and the doors will be locked at that time-so get here early and let’smake this the happiest revelry our flock has ever seen, for we’re all proud ofArt and Dottie. Funeral services will be held thirty minutes after dawn, withbreakfast immediately following for the benefit of those who have to get towork early.“ The Shepherd suddenly looked very stern and the camerapanned in until his head filled the tank. .After our last Ban Voyage, theSexton found an empty pint bottle in one of the Happiness rooms . . . of abrand distilled by sinners. That’s past and done, as the brother who slippedhas confessed and paid penance sevenfold, even refusing the usual cashdiscount-I’m sure he won’t backslide. But stop and think, My Children- Is itworth risking eternal happiness to save a few pennies on an article of worldlymerchandise? Always look for that happy, holy seal-of-approval with BishopDigby’s smiling face on it. Don’t let a sinner palm off on you something .justas good.’ Our sponsors support us; they deserve your support. Brother Art,I’m sorry to have to bring up such a subject-.
　　.That’s okay, Shepherd! Pour it on!“.-at a time of such great happiness. But we must never forget that-. Jubalreached over and switched off the speaker circuit.
　　.Mike, that’s not anything you need to see.“.Not?“.Uh-. Jubal thought about it. Shucks, the boy was going to have to learnabout such things sooner or later. .All right, go ahead. But come talk to meabout it later.“.Yes, Jubal.“Harshaw was about to add some advice intended to offset Mike’s tendency totake literally anything he saw or heard. But the telephone’s soothing .hold“music suddenly went down and out, and the screen filled with an image-aman in his forties whom Jubal at once labeled in his mind as .cop.“Jubal said aggressively, .You aren’t Gil Berquist.“The man said, .What is your interest in Gilbert Berquist?“Jubal answered with pained patience, .I wish to speak to him. See here, mygood man, are you a public employee?“The man barely hesitated. .Yes. You must-.
　　.I .must’ nothing! I am a citizen in good standing and my taxes go to pay yourwages. All morning I have been trying to make a simple phone call-and Ihave been passed from one butterfly-brained bovine to another, and everyone of them feeding out of the public trough. I am sick of it and I do not intendto put up with it any longer. And now you. Give me your name, your job title,and your pay number. Then I’ll speak to Mr. Berquist.“.You didn’t answer my question.“.Come, come! I don’t have to answer your questions; I am a private citizen.
　　But you are not . . . and the question I asked you any citizen may demand ofany public servant. O’Kelly versus State of California 1972. I demand thatyou identify yourself-name, job, number.“The man answered tonelessly, .You are Doctor Jubal Harshaw. You arecalling from-.
　　.So that’s what took so long? Stopping to have this call traced. That wasstupid. I am at home and my address can be obtained from any public library,post office, or telephone information service. As to who I am, everyoneknows who I am. Everyone who can read, that is. Can you read?“The man went on, .Dr. Harshaw, I am a police officer and I require yourcooperation. What is your reason-.
　　.Pooh to you, sir! I am a lawyer. A private citizen is required to cooperate withthe police under certain specified conditions only. For example, during hotpursuit-in which case the police officer may still be required to show hiscredentials. Is this .hot pursuit,’ sir? Are you about to dive through thisblasted instrument? Second, a private citizen may be required to cooperatewithin reasonable and lawful limits in the course of police investigation-.
　　.This is an investigation.“.Of what, sir? Before you may require my cooperation in an investigation, youmust identify yourself, satisfy me as to your bona-fides, state your purpose,and-if I so require-cite the code and show that a .reasonable necessity’
　　exists. You have done none of these. I wish to speak to Mr. Berquist.“The man’s jaw muscles were jumping but he answered quietly, .Dr. Harshaw,I am Captain Heinrich of the Federation S.S. Bureau. The fact that youreached me by calling the Executive Palace should be ample proof that I amwho I say I am. However-. He took out a wallet, flipped it open, and held itclose to his own vision pickup. The picture blurred, then quickly refocused.
　　Harshaw glanced at the I. D. thus displayed; it looked authentic enough, hedecided-especially as he did not care whether it was authentic or not.
　　.Very well, Captain,“ he growled. .Will you now explain to me why you arekeeping me from speaking with Mr. Berquist?“.Mr. Berquist is not available.“.Then why didn’t you say so? In that case, transfer my call to someone ofBerquist’s rank. I mean one of the half-dozen people who work directly withthe Secretary General, as Gil does. I don’t propose again to be fobbed off Onsome junior assistant flunky with no authority to blow his own nose! If Gil isn’tthere and can’t handle it, then for God’s sake get me someone of equal rankwho can!“.You have been trying to telephone the Secretary General.“.Precisely.“.Very well, you may explain to me what business you have with theSecretary General.“.And I may not. Are you a confidential assistant to the Secretary General?
　　Are you privy to his secrets?“.That’s beside the point.“.That’s exactly the point. As a police officer, you should know better. I shallexplain, to some person known to me to be cleared for sensitive material andin Mr. Douglas’ confidence, just enough to make sure that the SecretaryGeneral speaks to me. Are you sure Mr. Berquist can’t be reached?“.Quite sure.“.That’s too bad, he could have handled it quickly. Then it will have to beSomeone else-of his rank.“.If it’s that secret, you shouldn’t be calling over a public phone.“.My good Captain! I was not born yesterday-and neither were you. Since youhad this call traced, I am sure you are aware that my personal I phone isequipped to receive a maximum-security return call.“The Special Service officer made no direct reply. Instead he answered,.Doctor, I’ll be blunt and save time. Until you explain your business, youaren’t going to get an~ where. If you switch off and call the Palace again,your call will be routed to this office. Call a hundred times . . . or a month fromnow. Same thing. Until you decide to cooperate.“Jubal smiled happily. .It won’t be necessary now, as you have let slip -unwittingly, or was it intentional?-the one datum needed before we act. If wedo. I can hold them off the rest of the day . . . but the code word is no longer.Berquist.’“.What the devil do you mean?“.My dear Captain, please! Not over an unscrambled circuit surely? But youknow, or should know, that I am a senior philosophunculist on active duty.“.Repeat?“.Haven’t you studied amphigory? Gad, what they teach in schools thesedays! Go back to your pinochle game; I don’t need you.“ Jubal switched off atonce, set the phone for ten minutes refusal, said, .Come along, kids,“ andreturned to his favorite loafing spot near the pool. There he cautioned Anneto keep her Witness robe at hand day and night until further notice, told Miketo stay in earshot, and gave Miriam instructions concerning the telephone.
　　Then he relaxed.
　　He was not displeased with his efforts. He had not expected to be able toreach the Secretary General at once, through official channels. He felt thathis morning’s reconnaissance had developed at least one weak spot in thewall surrounding the Secretary and he expected-or hoped-that his stormysession with Captain Heinrich would bring a return call . . . from a higherlevel.
　　Or something.
　　If not, the exchange of compliments with the S.S. cop had been rewarding initself and had left him in a warm glow of artistic post-fructification. Harshawheld that certain feet were made for stepping on, in order to improve thebreed, promote the general welfare, and minimize the ancient insolence ofoffice; he had seen at once that Heinrich had such feet.
　　But, if no action developed, Harshaw wondered how long he could afford towait? In addition to the pending collapse of his .time bomb“ and the fact thathe had, in effect, promised Jill that he would take steps on behalf of BenCaxton (why couldn’t the child see that Ben probably could not be helpedindeed,was almost certainly beyond help-and that any direct or hasty actionminimized Mike’s chance of keeping his freedom?)- in addition to these twofactors, something new was crowding him: Duke was gone.
　　Gone for the day, gone for good (or gone for bad), Jubal did not know. Dukehad been present at dinner the night before, had not shown up for breakfast.
　　Neither event was noteworthy in Harshaw’s loosely coupled household andno one else appeared to have missed Duke. Jubal himself would notordinarily have noticed unless he had had occasion to yell for Duke. But thismorning Jubal had, of course, noticed . . . and he had refrained from shoutingfor Duke at least twice on occasions when he normally would have done so.
　　Jubal looked glumly across the pool, watched Mike attempt to perform a diveexactly as Dorcas had just performed it, and admitted to himself that he hadnot shouted for Duke when he needed him, on purpose. The truth was thathe simply did not want to ask the Bear what had happened to Algy. The Bearmight answer.
　　Well, there was only one way to cope with that sort of weakness. .Mike!
　　Come here.“.Yes, Jubal.“ The Man from Mars got out of the pool and trotted over like aneager puppy, waited. Harshaw looked him over, decided that he must weighat least twenty pounds more than he had on arrival . . . and all of it appearedto be muscle. .Mike, do you know where Duke is?“.No, Jubal.“Well, that settled it; the boy didn’t know how to lie-wait, hold it! Jubalreminded himself of Mike’s computer-like habit of answering exactly thequestion asked . . . and Mike had not known, or had not appeared to know,where that pesky box was, once it was gone. .Mike, when did you see himlast?“.I saw Duke go upstairs when Jill and I came downstairs, this morning whentime to cook breakfast.“ Mike added proudly, .I helped cooking.“.That was the last time you saw Duke?“.I am not see Duke since, Jubal. I proudly burned toast.“.I’ll bet you did. You’ll make some woman a fine husband yet, if you aren’tcareful.“.Oh, I burned it most carefully.“.Jubal-.
　　.Huh? Yes, Anne?“.Duke grabbed an early breakfast and lit out for town. I thought you knew.“.Well,“ Jubal temporized, .he did say something about it. I thought heintended to leave after lunch today. No matter, it’ll keep.“ Jubal realizedsuddenly that a great load had been lifted from his mind. Not that Dukemeant anything to him, other than as an efficient handyman-no, of coursenot! For many years he had avoided letting any human being be important tohim-but, just the same, he had to admit that it would have troubled him. Alittle, anyhow.
　　What statute was violated, if any, in turning a man exactly ninety degreesfrom everything else?
　　Not murder, not as long as the lad used it only in self-defense or in the properdefense of another, such as Jill. Possibly the supposedly obsoletePennsylvania laws against witchcraft would apply . . . but it would beinteresting to see how a prosecutor would manage to word an indictment.
　　A civil action might lie- Could harboring the Man from Mars be construed as.maintaining an attractive nuisance?“ Possibly. But it was more likely thatradically new rules of law must evolve. Mike had already kicked the bottomout of both medicine and physics, even though the practitioners of such werestill innocently unaware of the chaos facing them. Harshaw dug far back intohis memory and recalled the personal tragedy that relativistic mechanics hadproved to be for many distinguished scientists. Unable to digest it throughlong habit of mind, they had taken refuge in blind anger at Einstein himselfand any who dared to take him seriously. But their refuge had been a deadend; all that inflexible old guard could do was to die and let younger minds,still limber, take over.
　　Harshaw recalled that his grandfather had told him of much the same thinghappening in the field of medicine when the germ theory came along; manyolder physicians had gone to their graves calling Pasteur a liar, a fool, orworse-and without examining evidence which their .common sense“ toldthem was impossible.
　　Well, he could see that Mike was geing to cause more hooraw than Pasteurand Einstein combined-squared and cubed. Which reminded him- .Larry!
　　Where’s Larry?“.Here, Boss,“ the loudspeaker mounted under the eaves behind himannounced. .Down in the shop.“.Got the panic button?“.Sure thing. You said to sleep with it on me. I do. I did.“.Bounce up here to the house and let me have it. No, give it to Anne. Anne,you keep it with your robe.“She nodded. Larry’s voice answered, .Right away, Boss. Count downcoming up?“.Just do it.“ Jubal looked up and was startled to find that the Man from Marswas still standing in front of him, quiet as a sculptured figure. Sculpture? Yes,he did remind one of sculpture . . . uh- Jubal searched his memory.
　　Michelangelo’s .David,“ that was it! Yes, even to the puppyish hands andfeet, the serenely sensual face, the tousled, too-long hair. .That was all Iwanted, Mike.“.Yes, Jubal.“But Mike continued to stand there. Jubal said, .Something on your mind?“.About what I was seeing in that goddam-noisy-box. You said, .All right, goahead. But come talk to me about it later.’“.Oh.“ Harshaw recalled the broadcast services of the Church of the NewRevelation and winced. .Yes, we will talk. But first- Don’t call that thing agoddam noisy box. It is a stereovision receiver. Call it that.“Mike looked puzzled. .It is not a goddam-noisy-box? I heard you notrightly?“.You heard me rightly and it is indeed a goddam noisy box. You’ll hear mecall it that again. And other things. But you must call it a stereovisionreceiver.“.I will call it a .stereovision receiver.’ Why, Jubal? I do not grok.“Harshaw sighed, with a tired feeling that he had climbed these same stairstoo many times. Any conversation with Smith turned up at least one bit ofhuman behavior which could not be justified logically, at least in terms thatSmith could understand, and attempts to do so were endlessly timeconsuming.
　　.I do not grok it myself, Mike,“ he admitted, .but Jill wants you tosay it that way.“.I will do it, Jubal. Jill wants it.“.Now tell me what you saw and heard in that stereovision receiver- andwhat you grok of it.“The conversation that followed was even more lengthy, confused, andrambling than a usual talk with Smith. Mike recalled accurately every wordand action he had heard and seen in the babble tank, including allcommercials. Since he had almost completed reading the encyclopedia, hehad read its article on .Religion,“ as well as ones on .Christianity,“ .Islam,“.Judaism,“ .Confucianism,“ .Buddhism,“ and many others concerning religionand related subjects. But he had grokked none of this.
　　Jubal at last got certain ideas clear in his own mind: (a) Mike did not knowthat the Fosterite service was a religious one; (b) Mike remembered what hehad read about religions but had filed such data for future contemplation,having recognized that he did not understand them; (c) in fact, Mike had onlythe most confused notion of what the word .religion“ meant, even though hecould quote all nine definitions for same as given in the unabridgeddictionary; (d) the Martian language contained no word (and no concept)which Mike was able to equate with any of these nine definitions; (e) thecustoms which Jubal had described to Duke as Martian .religiousceremonies“ were nothing of the sort to Mike; to Mike such matters were asmatter-of-fact as grocery markets were to Jubal; (f) it was not possible toexpress as separate ideas in the Martian tongue the human concepts:
　　.religion,“ .philosophy,“ and .science“-and, since Mike still thought in Martianeven though he now spoke English fluently, it was not yet possible for him todistinguish any one such concept from the other two. All such matters weresimply .learnings“ which came from the .Old Ones.“ Doubt he had neverheard of and research was unnecessary (no Martian word for either); theanswer to any question should be obtained from the Old Ones, who wereomniscient (at least within Mike’s scope) and infallible, whether the subjectbe tomorrow’s weather or cosmic teleology. (Mike had seen a weatherforecast in the babble box and had assumed without question that this was amessage from human .Old Ones“ being passed around for the benefit ofthose still corporate. Further inquiry disclosed that he held a similarassumption concerning the authors of the Encyclopedia Britannica.)But last, and worst to Jubal, causing him baffled consternation, Mike hadgrokked the Fosterite service as including (among things he had not grokked)an announcement of an impending discorporation of two humans who wereabout to join the human .Old Ones“-~and Mike was tremendously excited atthis news. Had he grokked it rightly? Mike knew that his comprehension ofEnglish was less than perfect; he continued to make mistakes through hisignorance, being .only an egg.“ But had he grokked this correctly? He hadbeen waiting to meet the human .Old Ones,“ for he had many questions toask. Was this an opportunity? Or did he require more learnings from hiswater brothers before he was ready?
　　Jubal was saved by the bell. Dorcas arrived with sandwiches and coffee, thehousehold’s usual fair-weather picnic lunch. Jubal ate silently, which suitedSmith as his rearing had taught him that eating was a time for contemplationhehad found rather upsetting the chatter that usually took place at the table.
　　Jubal stretched out his meal while he pondered what to tell Mike- and cursedhimself for the folly of having permitted Mike to watch stereo in the first place.
　　Oh, he supposed the boy had to come up against human religions at somepoint-couldn’t be helped if he was going to spend the rest of his life on thisdizzy planet. But, damn it, it would have been better to wait until Mike wasmore used to the overall cockeyed pattern of human behavior . . . and, in anycase, certainly not Fosterites as his first experience!
　　As a devout agnostic, Jubal consciously evalued all religions, from theanimism of the Kalahari Bushmen to the most sober and intellectualized ofthe major western faiths, as being equal. But emotionally he disliked somemore than others . . . and the Church of the New Revelation set his teeth onedge. The Fosterites’ fiat-footed claim to utter gnosis through a direct pipelineto Heaven, their arrogant intolerance implemented in open persecution of allother religions wherever they were strong enough to get away with it, thesweaty football-rally & sales-convention flavor of their services-all theseancillary aspects depressed him. If people must go to church, why the devilcouldn’t they be dignified about it, like Catholics, Christian Scientists, orQuakers?
　　If God existed (a question concerning which Jubal maintained a meticulousintellectual neutrality) and if He desired to be worshipped (a propositionwhich Jubal found inherently improbable but conceivably possible in the dimlight of his own ignorance), then (stipulating affirmatively both the above) itnevertheless seemed wildly unlikely to Jubal to the point of reductio adabsurdum that a God potent to shape galaxies would be titillated and swayedby the whoop-te-do nonsense the Fosterites offered Him as .worship.“But with bleak honesty Jubal admitted to himself that the Universe(correction: that piece of the Universe he himself had seen) might very wellbe in toto an example of reduction to absurdity. In which case the Fosteritesmight be possessed of the Truth, the exact Truth, and nothing but the Truth.
　　The Universe was a damned silly place at best . . . but the least likelyexplanation for its existence was the no-explanation of random chance, theconceit that some abstract somethings .just happened“ to be some atomsthat .just happened“ to get together in configurations which .just happened“to look like consistent laws and then some of these configurations .justhappened“ to possess self-awareness and that two such .just happened“ tobe the Man from Mars and the other a bald-headed old coot with Jubalhimself inside.
　　No, Jubal would not buy the .just happened“ theory, popular as it was withmen who called themselves scientists. Random chance was not a sufficientexplanation of the Universe-in fact, random chance was not sufficient toexplain random chance; the pot could not hold itself.
　　What then? .Least hypothesis“ held no place of preference; Occam’s razorcould not slice the prime problem, the Nature of the Mind of God (might aswell call it that to yourself, you old scoundrel; it’s a short, simple, Anglo-Saxon monosyllable, not banned by having four letters- and as good a tag forwhat you don’t understand as any).
　　Was there any basis for preferring any one sufficient hypothesis overanother? When you simply did not understand a thing: No! And Jubal readilyadmitted to himself that a long lifetime had left him completely. and totally notunderstanding the basic problems of the Universe.
　　So the Fosterites might be right. Jubal could not even show that they wereprobably wrong.
　　But, he reminded himself savagely, two things remained to him~ his owntaste and his own pride. If indeed the Fosterites held a monopoly on Truth(as they claimed), if Heaven were open only to Fosterites, then he, JubalHarshaw, gentleman and free citizen, preferred that eternity of pain. filleddamnation promised to all .sinners“ who refused the New Revela..1 tion. Hemight not be able to see the naked Face of God . . but his ~ eyesight wasgood enough to pick out his social equals-and those Foster~ ites, by damn,did not measure up!
　　But he could see how Mike had been misled; the Fosterite .going to Heaven“at a pre-selected time and place did sound like the voluntary and planned.discorporation“ which, Jubal did not doubt, was the accepted~ practice onMars. Jubal himself held a dark suspicion that a better term for.~ theFosterite practice was .murder“-but such had never been proved and~ hadrarely been publicly hinted, much less charged, even when the cult wasyoung and relatively small. Foster himself had been the first to .go toHeaven“ on schedule, dying publicly at a self-prophesied instant. Since thatfirst example, it had been a Fosterite mark of special grace . . . and it hadbeen years since any coroner or district attorney had had the temerity to pryinto such deaths.
　　Not that Jubal cared whether they were spontaneous or induced. In hisopinion a good Fosterite was a dead Fosterite. Let them be!
　　But it was going to be hard to explain to Mike.
　　No use stalling, another cup of coffee wouldn’t make it any easier-~ .Mike,who made the world?“.Beg pardon?“.Look around you. All this. Mars, too. The stars. Everything. Yo~ and me andeverybody. Did the Old Ones tell you who made it?“Mike looked puzzled. .No, Jubal.“.Well, you have wondered about it, haven’t you? Where did the Silt comefrom? Who put the stars in the sky? Who started it all? All of it, everything,the whole world, the Universe . - . so that you and I are I talking.“ Jubalpaused, surprised at himself. He had intended to make thc~ usual agnosticapproach . . . and found himself compulsively followin~ his legal training,being an honest advocate in spite of himself, attempti~ to support a religiousbelief he did not hold but which was believed most human beings. He foundthat, willy-nilly, he was attorney for the orthodoxies of his own race againsthewasn’t sure what. An unhuman viewpoint. .How do your Old Ones answersuch questions?“.Jubal, I do not grok ... that these are questions. I am sorry.“.Eh? I don’t grok your answer.“Mike hesitated a long time. .I will try. But words are ... are not rightly. Not.putting.’ Not .mading.’ A nowing. World is. World was. World shall be. Now.“.’As it was in the beginning, so it now and ever shall be, World without end-.“Mike smiled happily. .You grok it!“.I don’t grok it,“ Jubal answered gruffly, .I was quoting something, uh, an .OldOne’ said.“ He decided to back off and try a new approach; apparently Godthe Creator was not the easiest aspect of Deity to try to explain to Mike as anopening . . . since Mike did not seem to grasp the idea of Creation itself. Well,Jubal wasn’t sure that he did, either-he had long ago made a pact withhimself to postulate a Created Universe on even-numbered days, a tailswallowingeternal-and-uncreated Universe on odd-numbered days-sinceeach hypothesis, while equally paradoxical, neatly avoided the paradoxes ofthe other-with, of course, a day off each leap year for sheer solipsistdebauchery. Having thus tabled an unanswerable question he had given nothought to it for more than a generation.
　　Jubal decided to try to explain the whole idea of religion in its broadest senseand then tackle the notion of Deity and Its aspects later.
　　Mike readily agreed that learnings came in various sizes, from little learningsthat even a nestling could grok on up to great learnings which only an OldOne could grok in perfect fullness. But Jubal’s attempt to draw a line betweensmall learnings and great learnings so that .great learnings“ would have thehuman meaning of .religious questions“ was not successful, as somereligious questions did not seem to Mike to be questions with any meaning tothem (such as .Creation“) and others seemed to him to be .little“ questions,with obvious answers known even to nestlings-such as life after death.
　　Jubal was forced to let it go at that and passed on to the multiplicity of humanreligions. He explained (or tried to explain) that humans had hundreds ofdifferent ways by which these .great learnings“ were taught, each with itsown answers and each claiming to be the truth.
　　.What is .truth’?“ Mike asked.
　　(.What is Truth?“ asked a Roman judge, and washed his hands of atroublesome question. Jubal wished that he could do likewise.) .An answer istruth when you speak rightly, Mike. How many hands do I have?“.Two hands. I see two hands,“ Mike amended.
　　Anne glanced up from her knitting. .In six weeks I could make a Witness ofhim.“.You keep out of this, Anne. Things are tough enough without your help.
　　Mike, you spoke rightly; I have two hands. Your answer was truth. Supposeyou said that I had seven hands?“Mike looked troubled. .I do not grok that I could say that.“.No, I don’t think you could. You would not speak rightly if you did; youranswer would not be truth. But, Mike-now listen carefully-each religion claimsto be truth, claims to speak rightly. Yet their answers to the same questionare as different as two hands and seven hands. The Fosterites say one thing,the Buddhists say another, the Moslems say still another-many answers, alldifferent.“Mike seemed to be making a great effort to understand. .All speak rightly?
　　Jubal, I do not grok it.“.Nor do I.“The Man from Mars looked greatly troubled, then suddenly he smiled. .I willask the Fosterites to ask your Old Ones and then we will know, my brother.
　　How will I do this?“A few minutes later Jubal found, to his great disgust, that he had promisedMike an interview with some Fosterite bigmouth-or Mike seemed to think thathe had, which came to the same thing. Nor had he been able to do morethan dent Mike’s assumption that the Fosterites were in close touch withhuman .Old Ones.“ It appeared that Mike’s difficulty in understanding thenature of truth was that he didn’t know what a lie was—the dictionarydefinitions of .lie“ and .falsehood“ had been filed in his mind with no trace ofgrokking. One could .speak wrongly“ only by accident or misunderstanding.
　　So he necessarily had taken what he had heard of the Fosterite service at itsbald, face value.
　　Jubal tried to explain that all human religions claimed to be in touch with .OldOnes“ in one way or another; nevertheless their answers were all different.
　　Mike looked patiently troubled. .Jubal my brother, I try ... but I do not grokhow this can be might speaking. With my people, the Old Ones speak alwaysrightly. Your people-.
　　.Hold it, Mike.“.Beg pardon?“.When you said, .my people’ you were talking about Martians. Mike, you arenot a Martian; you are a man.“.What is .Man’?“Jubal groaned inwardly. Mike could, he was sure, quote the full list ofdictionary definitions. Yet the lad never asked a question simply to beannoying; he asked always for information-and he expected his water brotherJubal to be able to tell him. .I am a man, you are a man, Larry is a man.“.But Anne is not a man?“.Uh ... Anne is a man, a female man. A woman.“(.Thanks, Jubal.“-.Shut up, Anne.“).A baby is a man? I have not seen babies, but I have seen pictures- and inthe goddam-noi-in stereovision. A baby is not shaped like Anne and Anne isnot shaped like you . . . and you are not shaped like I. But a baby is anestling man?“.Uh ... yes, a baby is a man.“.Jubal ... I think I grok that my people-.Martians’-are man. Not shape, Shapeis not man. Man is grokking. I speak rightly?“Jubal made a fierce resolve to resign from the Philosophical Society and takeup tatting. What was .grokking“? He had been using the word himself for aweek now-and he still didn’t grok it. But what was .Man“? A featherlessbiped? God’s image? Or simply a fortuitous result of the .survival of thefittest“ in a completely circular and tautological definition? The heir of deathand taxes? The Martians seemed to have defeated death, and he hadalready learned that they seemed to have neither money, property, norgovernment in any human sense-so how could they have taxes?
　　And yet the boy was right; shape was an irrelevancy in defining .Man,“ asunimportant as the bottle containing the wine. You could even take a man outof his bottle, like the poor fellow whose life those Russians had persisted in.saving“ by placing his living brain in a vitreous envelope and wiring him likea telephone exchange. Gad, what a horrible joke! He wondered if the poordevil appreciated the grisly humor of what had beenBut how, in essence, from the unprejudiced viewpoint of a Martian, did Mandiffer from other earthly animals? Would a race that could levitate (and Godknows what else) be impressed by engineering? And, if so, would the AswanDam, or a thousand miles of coral reef, win first prize? Man’s selfawareness?
　　Sheer local conceit; the upstate counties had not reported, forthere was no way to prove that sperm whales or giant sequoias were notphilosophers and poets far exceeding any human merit.
　　There was one field in which man was unsurpassed; he showed unlimitedingenuity in devising bigger and more efficient ways to kill off, enslave,harass, and in all ways make an unbearable nuisance of himself to himself.
　　Man was his own grimmest joke on himself. The very bedrock of humor was-.Man is the animal who laughs,“ Jubal answered.
　　Mike considered this seriously. .Then I am not a man.“.Huh?“.I do not laugh. I have heard laughing and it frighted me. Then I grokked thatit did not hurt. I have tried to learn-. Mike threw his head back and gave out araucous cackle, more nerve-racking than the idiot call of a kookaburra.
　　Jubal covered his ears. .Stop! Stop!“.You heard,“ Mike agreed sadly. .I cannot rightly do it. So I am not man.“.Wait a minute, son. Don’t give up so quickly. You simply haven’t learned tolaugh yet . . . and you’ll never learn just by trying. But you will learn, I promiseyou. If you live among us long enough, one day you will see how funny weare-and you will laugh.“.I will?“.You will. Don’t worry about it and don’t try to grok it; just let it come. Why,son, even a Martian would laugh once he grokked us.“.I will wait,“ Smith agreed placidly.
　　.And while you are waiting, don’t ever doubt that you are a man. You are.
　　Man born of woman and born to trouble . . . and some day you will grok itsfullness and you will laugh-because man is the animal that laughs at himself.
　　About your Martian friends, I do not know. I have never met them, I do notgrok them. But I grok that they may be .man.’“.Yes, Jubal.“Harshaw thought that the interview was over and felt relieved. He decidedthat he had not been so embarrassed since a day long gone when his fatherhad undertaken to explain to him the birds and the bees and the flowersmuchtoo late.
　　But the Man from Mars was not quite done. .Jubal my brother, you were askme, .Who made the World?’ and I did not have words to say why I did notrightly grok it to be a question. I have been thinking words.“.So?“.You told me, .God made the World.’“.No, no!“ Harshaw said hastily. .I told you that, while all these many religionssaid many things, most of them said, .God made the World.’ I told you that Idid not grok the fullness, but that .God’ was the word that was used.“.Yes, Jubal,“ Mike agreed. .Word is .God’“ He added. .You grok.“.No, I must admit I don’t grok.“.You grok,“ Smith repeated firmly. .I am explain. I did not have the word. Yougrok. Anne groks. I grok. The grass under my feet groks in happy beauty. ButI needed the word. The word is God.“Jubal shook his head to clear it. .Go ahead.“Mike pointed triumphantly at Jubal. .Thou art God!“Jubal slapped a hand to his face. .Oh, Jesus H.- What have I done? Look,Mike, take it easy! Simmer down! You didn’t understand me. I’m sorry. I’mvery sorry! Just forget what I’ve been saying and we’ll start over again onanother day. But-.
　　.Thou art God,“ Mike repeated serenely. .That which groks. Anne is God. Iam God. The happy grass are God, Jill groks in beauty always. Jill is God. Allshaping and making and creating together-.“ He croaked something inMartian and smiled.
　　.All right, Mike. But let it wait. Anne, have you been getting all this?“.You bet I have, Boss!“.Make me a tape. I’ll have to work on it. I can’t let it stand. I must-. Jubalglanced up, said, .Oh, my God! General Quarters, everybody! Anne! Set thepanic button on .dead-man’ setting-and for God’s sake keep your thumb on it;they may not be coming here.“ He glanced up again, at two large air carsapproaching from the south. .But I’m afraid they are. Mike! Hide in the pool!
　　Remember what I told you-down in the deepest part, stay there, hold still-anddon’t come up until I send Jill to get you.“.Yes, Jubal.“.Right now! Move!“.Yes, Jubal.“ Mike ran the few steps, cut the water and disappeared. Heremembered to keep his knees straight, his toes pointed and his feettogether.
　　.Jill!“ Jubal called out. .Dive in and climb Out. You too, Larry. If anybody sawthat, I want .em confused as to how many are using the pool. Dorcast ClimbOut fast, child, and dive in again. Anne- No, you’ve got the panic button; youcan’t.“.I can take my cloak and go to the edge of the pool. Boss, do you want somedelay on this .dead-man’ setting?“.Uh, yes, thirty seconds. If they land here, put on your Witness cloak at onceand get your thumb back on the button. Then wait-and if I call you over tome, let the balloon go up. But I don’t dare shout .Wolf!’ on this unless-. Heshielded his eyes. .One of them is certainly going to land and it’s got thatPaddy-wagon look to it, all right. Oh, damn, I had thought they would parleyfirst.“The first car hovered, then dropped vertically for a landing in the garden areaaround the pool; the second started slowly circling the house at low altitude.
　　The cars were black, squad carriers in size, and showed only a small,inconspicuous insignia: the stylized globe of the Federation.
　　Anne put down the radio relay link that would let .the balloon go up,“ gotquickly into her professional garb, picked the link up again and put her thumbback on the button. The door of the first car started to open as it touched andJubal charged toward it with the cocky belligerence of a Pekingese. As a manstepped out, Jubal roared, .Get that God damned heap off my rose hushes!“The man said, .Jubal Harshaw?“.You heard me! Tell that oaf you’ve got driving for you to raise that bucketand move it back! Off the garden entirely and onto the grass! Anne!“.Coming, Boss.“.Jubal Harshaw, I have a warrant here for-.
　　.I don’t care if you’ve got a warrant for the King of England; first you’ll movethat junk heap off my flowers! Then, so help me, I’ll sue you for-. Jubalglanced at the man who had landed, appeared to see him for the first time.
　　.Oh, so it’s you,“ he said with bitter contempt. .Were you born stupid,Heinrich, or did you have to study for it? And when did that uniformed jackassworking for you learn to fly? Earlier today? Since I talked to you?“.Please examine this warrant,“ Captain Heinrich said with careful patience.
　　.Then-.
　　.Get your go-cart out of my flower beds at once or I’ll make a civil rights caseout of this that will cost you your pension!“Heinrich hesitated. .Wow!“ Jubal screamed. .And tell those other yokelsgetting out to pick up their big feet! That idiot with the buck teeth is standingon a prize Elizabeth M. Hewitt!“Heinrich turned his head. .You men-careful of those flowers. Paskin, you’restanding on one. Rogers! Raise the car and move it back about fifty feet,clear of the garden.“ He turned his attention back to Harshaw. .Does thatsatisfy you?“.Once he actually moves it-but you’ll still pay damages. Let’s see yourcredentials . . and show them to the Fair Witness and state loud and clearlyto her your name, rank, organization, and pay number.“.You know who I am. Now I have a warrant to-.
　　.I have a common-law warrant to part your hair with a shotgun unless you dothings legally and in order! I don’t know who you are. You look remarkablylike a stuffed shirt I saw over the telephone earlier today -but that’s notevidence and I don’t identify you. You must identify yourself, in the specifiedlegal fashion, World Code paragraph 1602, part II, before you can serve awarrant. And that goes for all those other apes, too, and that pithecanparasite piloting for you.“.They are police officers, acting under my orders.“.I don’t know that they are anything of the sort. They might have hired thoseill-fitting clown suits at a costumer’s. The letter of the law, sir! You’ve comebarging into my castle. You say you are a police officer-and you allege thatyou have a warrant for this intrusion. But I say you are trespassers until youprove otherwise . . . which invokes my sovereign right to use all necessaryforce to eject you-which I shall start to do in about three seconds.“.I wouldn’t advise it.“.Who are you to advise? If I am hurt in attempting to enforce this my right,your action becomes constructive assault-with deadly weapons, if thosethings those mules are toting are guns, as they appear to be. Civil andcriminal, both-why, my man, I’ll wind up with your hide for a door mat!“ Jubaldrew back a skinny arm and clenched a bony fist. .Off my property!“.Hold it, Doctor. We’ll do it your way.“ Heinrich had turned bright red, but hekept his voice under tight control. He offered his identification, which Jubalglanced at, then turned back to him for him to show to Anne. Heinrich thenstated his full name, said that he was a captain of police, Federation SpecialService Bureau, and recited his pay number. One by one, the other six menwho had left the car, and at last the driver, went through the same rigamaroleat Heinrich’s frozen-faced orders.
　　When they were done, Jubal said sweetly, .And now, Captain Heinrich,how may I help you?“.I have a search warrant here for Gilbert Berquist, which warrant names thisproperty, its buildings and grounds.“.Show it to me, then show it to the Witness.“.I will do so. But I have another search warrant, similar to the first, for GillianBoardman.“.Who?“.Gillian Boardman. The charge is kidnapping.“.My goodness!“.And another for Hector C. Johnson ... and one for Valentine Michael Smith .
　　. . and one for you, Jubal Harshaw.“.Me? Taxes again?“.No. Look at it. Accessory to this and that ... and material witness on someother things . . . and I’d take you in on my own for obstructing justice if thewarrant didn’t make it unnecessary.“.Oh, come now, Captain! I’ve been most cooperative since you identifiedyourself and started behaving in a legal manner. And I shall continue to be.
　　Of course, I shall still sue all of you-and your immediate superior and thegovernment-for your illegal acts before that time . . and I am not waiving anyrights or recourses with respect to anything any of you may do hereafter.
　　Mmm . . . quite a list of victims. I see why you brought an extra wagon. Butdearme! something odd here. This, uh, Mrs. Borkmann?-I see that she ischarged with kidnapping this Smith fellow . . . but in this other warrant heseems to be charged with fleeing custody. I’m confused.“.It’s both. He escaped-and she kidnapped him.“.Isn’t that rather difficult to manage? Both, I mean? And on what charge washe being held? The warrant does not seem to state?“.How the devil do I know? He escaped, that’s all. He’s a fugitive.“.Gracious me! I rather think I shall have to offer my services as counsel toeach of them. Interesting case. If a mistake has been made-or mistakes-itcould lead to other matters.“Heinrich grinned coldly. .You won’t find it easy. You’ll be in the pokey, too.“.Oh, not for long, I trust.“ Jubal raised his voice more than necessary andturned his head toward the house. .I do know another lawyer. I rather think, ifJudge Holland were listening to this, habeas corpus proceedings- for all ofus-might be rather prompt. And if the Associated Press just happened tohave a courier car nearby, there would be no time lost in knowing where toserve such writs.“.Always the shyster, eh, Harshaw?“.Slander, my dear sir. I take notice.“.A fat lot of good it will do you. We’re alone.“.Are We?“
Chapter 15
VALENTINE MICHAEL SMITH SWAM through the murky water to thedeepest part of the pool, under the diving board, and settled himself on thebottom. He did not know why his water brother Jubal had told him to hidethere; indeed he did not know that he was hiding. His water brother Jubal hadtold him to do this and to remain there until his water brother Jill came forhim; that was sufficient.
　　As soon as he was sure that he was at the deepest part, he curled himselfinto the foetal position, let most of the air out of his lungs, swallowed histongue, rolled his eyes up, slowed his heart down to almost nothing, andbecame effectively .dead“ save that he was not actually discorporate andcould start his engines again at will. He also elected to stretch his time senseuntil seconds flowed past like hours, as he had much to contemplate and didnot know how quickly Jill would come to get him.
　　He knew that he had failed again in an attempt to achieve the perfectunderstanding, the mutually merging rapport-the grokking-that should existbetween water brothers. He knew that the failure was his, caused by hisusing wrongly the oddly variable human language, because Jubal hadbecome upset as soon as he had spoken to him.
　　He now knew that his human brothers could suffer intense emotion withoutany permanent damage, nevertheless Smith was wistfully sorry that he hadbeen the cause of such upset in Jubal. At the time, it had seemed to him thathe had at last grokked perfectly a most difficult human word. He should haveknown better because, early in his learnings under his brother Mahmoud, hehad discovered that long human words (the longer the better) were easy,unmistakable, and rarely changed their meanings . . but short words wereslippery, unpredictable, changing their meanings without any pattern. Or sohe seemed to grok. Short human words were never like a short Martian wordsuchas .grok“ which forever meant exactly the same thing. Short humanwords were like trying to lift water with a knife.
　　And this had been a very short word.
　　Smith still felt that he had grokked rightly the human word .God“- theconfusion had come from his own failure in selecting other human words.
　　The concept was truly so simple, so basic, so necessary that any nestlingcould have explained it perfectly-in Martian. The problem, then, was to findhuman words that would let him speak rightly, make sure that he patternedthem rightly to match in fullness how it would be said in his own people’slanguage.
　　He puzzled briefly over the curious fact that there should be any difficulty insaying it, even in English, since it was a thing everyone knew else they couldnot grok alive. Possibly he should ask the human Old Ones how to say it,rather than struggle with the shifting meanings of human words. If so, hemust wait until Jubal arranged it, for here he was only an egg and could notarrange it himself.
　　He felt brief regret that he would not be privileged to be present at the comingdiscorporation of brother Art and brother Dottie.
　　Then he settled down to reread in his mind Webster’s New InternationalDictionary of the English Language, Third Edition, published in Springfield,Massachusetts.
　　From a long way off Smith was interrupted by an uneasy awareness that hiswater brothers were in trouble. He paused between .sherbacha“ and.sherbet“ to ponder this knowledge. Should he start himself up, leave theenfolding water of life, and join them to grok and share their trouble? At homethere could have been no question about it; trouble is shared, in joyfulcloseness.
　　But this place was strange in every way . . and Jubal had told him to waituntil Jill came.
　　He reviewed Jubal’s words, trying them Out in long contemplation againstother human words, making sure that he grokked. No, Jubal had spokenrightly and he had grokked rightly; he must wait until Jill came.
　　Nevertheless he was made so uneasy by the certain knowledge of hisbrothers’ trouble that he could not go back to his word hunt. At last an ideacame to him that was filled with such gay daring that he would have trembledhad his body not been unready for trembling.
　　Jubal had told him to place his body under water and leave it there until Jillcame . . . but had Jubal said that he himself must wait with the body?
　　Smith took a careful long time to consider this, knowing that the slipperyEnglish words that Jubal had used could easily lead him (and often had ledhim) into mistakes. He concluded that Jubal had not specifically ordered himto stay with his body . . . and that left a way Out of the wrongness of notsharing his brothers’ trouble.
　　So Smith decided to take a walk.
　　He was a bit dazed at his own audacity, for, while he had done it before,twice, he had never .soloed.“ Each time an Old One had been with him,watching over him, making sure that his body was safe, keeping him frombecoming disoriented at the new experience, staying with him until hereturned to his body and started it up again.
　　There was no Old One to help him now. But Smith had always been quick tolearn; he knew how to do it and was confident that he could do it alone in afashion that would fill his teacher with pride. So first he checked over everypart of his body, made certain that it would not be damaged while he wasgone, then got cautiously Out of it, leaving behind only that trifle of himselfneeded as watchman and caretaker.
　　Then he rose up and stood on the edge of the pool, remembering to behaveas if his body were still with him, as a guard against disorienting- againstlosing track of the pool, the body, everything, and wandering off into unknownplaces where he could not find his way back.
　　Smith looked around.
　　An air car was just landing in the garden by the pool and beings under it werecomplaining of injuries and indignities done them. Perhaps this was thetrouble he could feel? Grasses were for walking on, flowers and bushes werenot-this was a wrongness.
　　No, there was more wrongness. A man was just stepping out of the air car,one foot about to touch the ground, and Jubal was running toward him. Smithcould see the blast of icy anger that Jubal was hurling toward the man, ablast so furious that, had one Martian hurled it toward another, both wouldhave discorporated at once.
　　Smith noted it down as something he must ponder and, if it was a cusp ofnecessity as it seemed to be, decide what he must do to help his brother.
　　Then he looked over the others.
　　Dorcas was climbing out of the pool; she was puzzled and rather troubled butnot too much so; Smith could feel her confidence in Jubal. Larry was at theedge of the pool and had just gotten out; drops of water falling from him werein the air. Larry was not troubled but excited and pleased; his confidence inJubal was absolute. Miriam was near him and her mood was midwaybetween those of Dorcas and Larry. Anne was standing where she had beenseated and was dressed in the long white garment she had had with her allday. Smith could not fully grok her mood; he felt in her some of the coldunyielding discipline of mind of an Old One. It startled him, as Anne wasalways soft and gentle and warmly friendly.
　　He saw that she was watching Jubal closely and was ready to help him. Andso was Larry! . . . and Dorcas! . . . and Miriam! With a sudden burst ofempathic catharsis Smith learned that all these friends were water brothers ofJubal-and therefore of him. This unexpected release from blindness shookhim so that he almost lost anchorage on this place. Calming himself as hehad been taught, he stopped to praise and cherish them all, one by one andtogether.
　　Jill had one arm over the edge of the pooi and Smith knew that she had beendown under, checking on his safety. He had been aware of her when she haddone it . . . but now he knew that she had not alone been worried about hissafety; Jill felt other and greater trouble, trouble that was not relieved byknowing that her charge was safe under the water of life. This troubled himvery much and he considered going to her, making her know that he was withher and sharing her trouble.
　　He would have done so had it not been for a faint, uneasy feeling of guilt: hewas not absolutely certain that Jubal had intended to permit him to walkaround while his body was hidden in the pool. He compromised by tellinghimself that he would share their trouble-and let them know that he waspresent if it became needful.
　　Smith then looked over the man who was stepping out of the air car, felt hisemotions and recoiled from them, forced himself nevertheless to examinehim carefully, inside and out.
　　In a shaped pocket strapped around his waist by a belt the man wascarrying a gun.
　　Smith was almost certain it was a gun. He examined it in great detail,comparing it with two guns that he had seen briefly, checking what itappeared to be against the definition in Webster’s New InternationalDictionary of the English Language, Third Edition, published in Springfield,Massachusetts.
　　Yes, it was a gun-not alone in shape but also in wrongness that surroundedand penetrated it. Smith looked down the barrel, saw how it must function,and wrongness stared back at him.
　　Should he turn it and let it go elsewhere, taking its wrongness with it? Do it atonce before the man was fully out of the car? Smith felt that he should . . .
　　and yet Jubal had told him, at another time, not to do this to a gun until Jubaltold him that it was time to do it.
　　He knew now that this was indeed a cusp of necessity . . . but he resolved tobalance on the point of the cusp until he grokked all of it- since it waspossible that Jubal, knowing that a cusp was approaching, had sent himunder water to keep him from acting wrongly at the cusp.
　　He would wait . . . but in the meantime he would hold this gun and itswrongness carefully under his eye. Not at the moment being limited to twoeyes facing always one way, being able to see all around him if needful, hecontinued to watch the gun and the man stepping out of the car while hewent inside the car.
　　More wrongness than he would have believed possible! Other men were inthere, all but one of them crowding toward the door. Their minds smelled likea pack of Khaugha who had scented an unwary nymph and each one held inhis hands a something having wrongness.
　　As he had told Jubal, Smith knew that shape alone was never a primedeterminant; it was necessary to go beyond shape to essence in order togrok. His own people passed through five major shapes: egg, nymph,nestling, adult-and Old One which had no shape. Yet the essence of an OldOne was already patterned in the egg.
　　These somethings that these men carried seemed like guns. But Smith didnot assume that they were guns; he examined one most carefully first. It wasmuch larger than any gun he had ever seen, its shape was very different, andits details were quite different.
　　It was a gun.
　　He examined each of the others, separately and just as carefully. Theywere guns.
　　The one man who was still seated had strapped to him a small gun.
　　The car itself had built into it two enormous guns-plus other things whichSmith could not grok but which he felt had wrongness also.
　　He stopped and seriously considered twisting the car, its contents, and alllettingit topple away. But, in addition to his lifelong inhibition against wastingfood, he knew that he did not fully grok what was happening. Better to moveslowly, watch carefully, and help and share at the cusp by following Jubal’slead * . . and if right action for him was to remain passive, then go back to hisbody when the cusp had passed and discuss it all with Jubal later.
　　He went back outside the car and watched and listened and waited.
　　The first man to get out talked with Jubal concerning many things whichSmith could only file without grokking; they were beyond his experience. Theother men got out and spread out; Smith spread his attention to watch all ofthem. The car raised, moved backwards, stopped again, which relieved thebeings it had sat on; Smith grokked with them to the extent that he couldspare attention, trying to soothe their hurtings.
　　The first man handed papers to Jubal; in turn they were passed to Anne.
　　Smith read them along with her. He recognized their word shapings as beingconcerned with certain human rituals of healing and balance, but, since hehad encountered these rituals only in Jubal’s law library, he did not try to grokthe papers then, especially as Jubal seemed quite untroubled by them-thewrongness was elsewhere. He was delighted to recognize his own humanname on two of the papers; he always got an odd thrill out of reading it, as ifhe were two places at once-impossible as that was for any but an Old One.
　　Jubal and the first man turned and walked toward the pool, with Anne closebehind them. Smith relaxed his time sense a little to let them move faster,keeping it stretched just enough so that he could comfortably watch all themen at once. Two of the men closed in and flanked the little group.
　　The first man stopped near the group of his friends by the pool, looked atthem, then took a picture from his pocket, looked at it, and looked at Jill.
　　Smith felt her fear and trouble mount and he became very alert. Jubal hadtold him, .Protect Jill. Don’t worry about wasting food. Don’t worry aboutanything else. Protect Jill.“Of course, he would protect Jill in any case, even at the risk of acting wronglyin some other fashion. But it was good to have Jubal’s blanket reassurance; itleft his mind undivided and untroubled.
　　When the first man pointed at Jill and the two men flanking him hurriedtoward her with their guns of great wrongness. Smith reached out through hisDoppelganger and gave them each that tiny twist which causes to toppleaway.
　　The first man stared at where they had been and reached for his gun -andhe was gone, too.
　　The other four started to close in. Smith did not want to twist them. He feltthat Jubal would be more pleased with him if he simply stopped them. Butstopping a thing, even an ash tray, is work-and Smith did not have his bodyat hand. An Old One could have managed it, all four together, but Smith didwhat he could do, what he had to do.
　　Four feather touches-they were gone.
　　He felt more intense wrongness from the direction of the car on the groundand went at once to it-grokked to a quick decision, and car and pilot weregone.
　　He almost overlooked the car riding cover patrol in the air. Smith started torelax when he had disposed of the car on the ground-when suddenly he feltwrongness and trouble increase, and he looked up.
　　The second car was coming in for a landing right where he was.
　　Smith stretched his time sense to his personal limit and went to the car in theair, inspected it carefully, grokked that it was as choked with utter wrongnessas the first had been . . . tilted it into nevemess. Then he returned to thegroup by the pool.
　　All his friends seemed quite excited; Dorcas was sobbing and Jill was holdingher and soothing her. Anne alone seemed untouched by the emotions Smithfelt seething around him. But wrongness was gone, all of it, and with it thetrouble that had disturbed his meditations earlier. Dorcas, he knew, would behealed faster and better by Jill than by anyone-Jill always grokked a hurtingfully and at once. Disturbed by emotions around him, slightly apprehensivethat he might not have acted in all ways rightly at the point of cusp-or thatJubal might to grok him-Smith decided that he was now free to leave. Heslipped back into the pool, found his body, grokked that it was still as he hadleft it, unharmed-slipped it back on.
　　He considered contemplating the events at the cusp, But they were too new,too recent; he was not ready to enfold them, not ready to praise and cherishthe men he had been forced to move. Instead he returned happily to the taskhe had been on. .Sherbet“ Sherbetlee“ .Sherbetzide“- He had reached.Tinwork“ and was about to consider .Tiny“ when he felt Jill’s touchapproaching him. He unswallowed his tongue and made himself ready,knowing that his brother Jill could not remain very long under water withoutdistress.
　　As she touched him, he reached out, took her face in his hands and kissedher. It was a thing he had learned to do quite lately and he did not feel that hegrokked it perfectly. It had the growing-closer of the water ceremony. But ithad something else, too . . . something he wanted very much to grok inperfect fullness.
Chapter 16
JUBAL HARSHAW DID NOT WAIT for Gillian to dig her problem child out ofthe pool; he left instructions for Dorcas to be given a sedative and hurried tohis study, leaving Anne to explain (or not explain) the events of the last tenminutes. .Front!“ he called out over his shoulder.
　　Miriam turned and caught up with him. .I guess I must be .front,’“ she saidbreathlessly. .But, Boss, what in the-.
　　.Girl, not one word.“.But, Boss-.
　　.Zip it, I said. Miriam, about a week from now we’ll all sit down and get Anneto tell us what we really did see. But right now everybody and his cousins willbe phoning here and reporters will be crawling out of the trees-and I’ve got tomake a couple of calls first. I need help. Are you the sort of useless femalewho comes unstuck when she’s needed? That reminds me- Make a note todock Dorcas’s pay for the time she spent having hysterics.“Miriam gasped. .Boss! You just dare do that and every single one of us willquit cold!“.Nonsense.“.I mean it. Quit picking on Dorcas. Why, I would have had hysterics myself ifshe hadn’t beaten me to it.“ She added, .I think I’ll have hysterics now.“Harshaw grinned. .You do and I’ll spank you. All right, put Dorcas down for abonus for .extra hazardous duty.’ Put all of you down for a bonus. Me,especially. I earned it.“.All right. But who pays your bonus?“.The taxpayers, of course. We’ll find a way to clip- Damn!“ They had reachedhis study door; the telephone was already demanding attention. He slid intothe seat in front of it and keyed in. .Harshaw speaking. Who the devil areyou?“.Skip the routine, Doc,“ a face answered cheerfully. .You haven’t frightenedme in years. How’s everything going?“Harshaw recognized the face as belonging to Thomas Mackenzie, productionmanager-in-chief for New World Networks; he mellowed slightly. .Wellenough, Tom. But I’m rushed as can be, so-.
　　.You’re rushed? Come try my forty-eight-hour day. I’ll make it brief. Do youstill think you are going to have something for us? I don’t mind the expensiveequipment you’ve got tied up; I can overhead that. But business is businessandI have to pay three full crews just to stand by for your signal. Union rulesyouknow how it is. I want to do you any favor I can. We’ve used lots of yourscript in the past and we expect to use still more in the future-but I’mbeginning to wonder what I’m going to tell our comptroller.“Harshaw stared at him. .Don’t you think the spot coverage you just got wasenough to pay the freight?“.What spot coverage?“A few minutes later Harshaw said good-by and switched off, having beenconvinced that New World Networks had seen nothing of recent events at hishome. He stalled off Mackenzie’s questions about it, because he wasdismally certain that a factual recital would simply convince Mackenzie thatpoor old Harshaw had at last gone to pieces. Nor could Harshaw haveblamed him.
　　Instead they agreed that, if nothing worth picking up happened in the nexttwenty-four hours, New World could break the linkage and remove theircameras and other equipment.
　　As the screen cleared Harshaw ordered, .Get Larry. Have him fetch thatpanic button-Anne probably has it.“ He then started making another call,followed it with a third. By the time Larry arrived, Harshaw was convinced thatno network had been watching when the Special Service squads attemptedto raid his home. It was not necessary to check on whether or not the twodozen .hold“ messages that he had recorded had been sent; their deliverydepended on the same signal that had failed to reach the news channels.
　　As he turned away from the phone Larry offered him the .panic button“portable radio link. .You wanted this, Boss?“.I just wanted to sneer at it and see if it sneered back. Larry, let this be alesson to us: never trust any machinery more complicated than a knife andfork.“.Okay. Anything else?“.Larry, is there a way to check that dingus and see if it’s working properly?
　　Without actually hauling three networks out of their beds, I mean?“.Sure. The techs set up the transceiver down in the shop and it’s got a switchon it for that very purpose. Throw the switch, push the button; a light comeson. To test on through, you simply call .em, right from the transceiver and tell.em you want a hot test clear through to the cameras and back to the monitorstations.“.And suppose the test shows that we aren’t getting through? If the trouble ishere, can you spot what’s wrong?“.Well, I might,“ Larry said doubtfully, .if it wasn’t anything more than a looseconnection. But Duke is the electron pusher around here- I’m more theintellectual type.“.I know, son-I’m not too bright about practical matters, either. Well, do thebest you can. Let me know.“.Anything else, Jubal?“.Yes, if you see the man who invented the wheel, send him up; I want to givehim a piece of my mind. Meddler!“Jubal spent the next few minutes in umbilical contemplation. He consideredthe possibility that Duke had sabotaged the .panic button“ but rejected thethought as time wasting, if not unworthy. He allowed himself to wonder for amoment just what had really happened down in his garden and how the ladhad done it-from ten feet under water. For he had no doubt that the Man fromMars had been behind those impossible shenanigans.
　　Admittedly, what he had seen only the day before in this very room was justas intellectually stupefying as these later events-but the emotional impactwas something else. A mouse was as much a miracle of biology as was anelephant; nevertheless there was an important difference -an elephant wasbigger.
　　To see an empty carton, just rubbish, disappear in midair logically implied thepossibility that a squad car full of men could vanish in the same fashion. Butone event kicked your teeth in-the other didn’t.
　　Well, he wasn’t going to waste tears on those Cossacks. Jubal conceded thatcops qua cops were all right; he had met a number of honest cops in his life .
　　. . and even a fee-splitting village constable did not deserve to be snuffed outlike a candle. The Coast Guard was a fine example of what cops ought to beand frequently were.
　　But to be a member of the S.& squads a man had to have larceny in his heartand sadism in his soul. Gestapo. Storm troopers in the service of whateverpolitico was in power. Jubal longed for the good old days when a lawyercould cite the Bill of Rights and not have some over-riding Federation trickerydefeat him.
　　Never mind- What would logically happen now? Heinrich’s task forcecertainly had had radio contact with its base; ergo, its loss would be noted, ifonly by silence. Shortly more S.S. troops would come looking for them-werealready headed this way if that second car had been chopped off in themiddle of an action report. .Miriam-.
　　.Yes, Boss.“.I want Mike, Jill, and Anne here at once. Then find Larry-in the shop,probably-and both of you come to the house, lock all doors, and all groundfloor windows.“.More trouble?“.Get movin’, gal.“If the S.S. apes showed up again-no, when they showed up-they probablywould not have duplicate warrants. If their leader was silly enough to breakinto a locked house without a warrant, well, he might have to turn Mike looseon them. But this blind warfare of attrition had to be stopped-which meantthat Jubal simply had to get through to the Secretary General.
　　How?
　　Call the Executive Palace again? Heinrich had probably been telling thesimple truth when he said that a renewed attempt would simply be referred toHeinrich-or to whatever 5.5. boss was now warming that chair that Heinrichwould never need again. Well? It would surely surprise them to have a manthey had sent a squad to arrest blandly phoning in, face to face-he might beable to bull his way all the way up to the top. Commandant What’s-his-name,chap with a face like a well-fed ferret, Twitchell. And certainly thecommanding officer of the S.S. buckos would have direct access to the boss.
　　No good. You had to have a feeling for what makes the frog jump. It would bea waste of breath to tell a man who believes in guns that you’ve gotsomething better than guns and that he can’t arrest you and might as wellgive up trying. Twitchell would keep on throwing men and guns at them till heran out of both-but he would never admit he couldn’t bring in a man whoselocation was known.
　　Well, when you couldn’t use the front door you got yourself slipped in throughthe back door-elementary politics. Jubal regretted mildly that he had ignoredpolitics the last quarter century or so. Damn it, he needed Ben Caxton-Benwould know who had keys to the back door . - - and Jubal would knowsomebody who knew one of them.
　　But Ben’s absence was the whole reason for this silly donkey derby. Since hecouldn’t ask Ben, whom did he know who would know?
　　Hell’s halfwit, he had just been talking to one! Jubal turned back to the phoneand tried to raise Tom Mackenzie again, running into only three layers ofinterference on the way, all of whom knew him and passed him along quickly.
　　While he was doing this, his staff and the Man from Mars came in; Jubalignored them and they sat down, Miriam first stopping to write on a scratchpad: .Doors and windows locked.“Jubal nodded to her and wrote below it: .Larry-panic button?“ then said to thescreen, .Tom, sorry to bother you again.“.A pleasure, Jubal.“.Tom, if you wanted to talk to Secretary General Douglas, how would yougo about it?“.Eh? I’d phone his press secretary, Jim Sanforth. Or possibly Jock Dumont,depending on what I wanted. But I wouldn’t talk to the Secretary General atall. Jim would handle it.“.But suppose you wanted to talk to Douglas himself.“.Why, I’d tell Jim and let him arrange it. Be quicker just to tell Jim myproblem, though; it might be a day or two before he could squeeze me in . . .
　　and even then I might be bumped for something more urgent. Look, Jubal,the network is useful to the administration-and we know it and they know it.
　　But we don’t presume on it unnecessarily.“.Tom ... assume that it is necessary. Suppose you just had to speak toDouglas. Right now. Not next week. In the next ten minutes.“Mackenzie’s eyebrows went up. .Well - . - if I just had to, I would explain toJim why it was so urgent-.
　　.No.“.Be reasonable.“.No. That’s just what I can’t be. Assume that you had caught Jim Sanforthstealing the spoons, so you couldn’t tell him what the emergency was. Butyou had to speak to Douglas immediately.“Mackenzie sighed. .I suppose I would tell Jim that I simply had to talk to theboss . - . and that if I wasn’t put through to him right away, the administrationwould never get another trace of support from the network, Politely, ofcourse. But make him understand that I meant it. Sanforth is nobody’s fool;he would never serve his own head up on a platter.“.Okay, Tom, do it.“.Huh?“.Leave this call on. Call the Palace on another instrument-and have yourboys ready to cut me in instantly. I’ve got to talk to the Secretary Generalright now!“Mackenzie looked pained. .Jubal, old friend-.
　　.Meaning you won’t.“.Meaning I can’t. You’ve dreamed up a hypothetical situation in which apardonme-major executive of an intercontinental network could speak to theSecretary General under conditions of dire necessity. But I can’t hand thisentrée over to somebody else. Look, Jubal, I respect you. Besides that, youare probably four of the six most popular writers alive today. The networkwould hate to lose you and we are painfully aware that you Won’t let us tieyou down to a contract. But I can’t do it, even to please you. You must realizethat one does not telephone the World chief of government unless he wantsto speak to you.“.Suppose I do sign an exclusive seven-year contract?“Mackenzie looked as if his teeth hurt, .I still couldn’t do it. I’d lose my job-andyou would still have to carry out your contract.“Jubal considered calling Mike over into the instrument’s visual pickup andnaming him. He discarded the idea at once. Mackenzie’s own program meshad run the fake .Man from Mars’ interviews-and Mackenzie was eithercrooked and in on the hoax . . . or he was honest, as Jubal thought he was,and simply would not believe that he himself had been hoaxed. .All right,Tom, I won’t twist your arm. But you know your way around in thegovernment better than I do. Who calls Douglas whenever he likes-and getshim? I don’t mean Sanforth“.No one.“.Damn it, no man lives in a vacuum! There must be at least a dozen peoplewho can phone him and not get brushed off by a secretary.“.Some of his cabinet, I suppose. And not all of them.“.I don’t know any of them, either; I’ve been out of touch. But I don’t meanprofessional politicos. Who knows him so well that they can call him on aprivate line and invite him to play poker?“.Umm ... you don’t want much, do you? Well, there’s Jake Allenby. Not theactor, the other Jake Allenby. Oil.“.I’ve met him. He doesn’t like me. I don’t like him. He knows it.“.Douglas doesn’t have very many intimate friends. His wife ratherdiscourages-.- Say, Jubal - . . how do you feel about astrology?“.Never touch the stuff. Prefer brandy.“.Well, that’s a matter of taste. But-see here, Jubal, if you ever let on toanyone that I told you this, I’ll cut your lying throat with one of your ownmanuscripts.“.Noted. Agreed. Proceed.“.Well, Agnes Douglas does touch the stuff.., and I know where she gets it.
　　Her astrologer can call Mrs. Douglas at any time-and, believe you me, Mrs.Douglas has the ear of the Secretary General whenever she chooses. Youcan call her astrologer - . . and the rest is up to you.“.I don’t seem to recall any astrologers on my Christmas card list,“ Jubalanswered dubiously. .What’s his name?“.Her. And you might try crossing her palm with silver in convincingdenominations. Her name is Madame Alexandra Vesant. WashingtonExchange. That’s V, E, S, A, N, T.“.I’ve got it,“ Jubal said happily. .And, Tom, you’ve done me a world ofgood!“.Hope so. Anything for the network soon?“.Hold it.“ Jubal glanced at a note Miriam had placed at his elbow somemoments ago. It read: .Larry says the transceiver won’t trans-and he doesn’tknow why.“ Jubal went on, .That spot coverage failed earlier through atransceiver failure here-and I don’t have anyone who can repair it.“.I’ll send somebody.“.Thanks. Thanks twice.“Jubal switched off, placed the call by name and instructed the operator to usehush & scramble if the number was equipped to take it. It was, not to hissurprise. Very quickly Madame Vesant’s dignified features appeared in hisscreen. He grinned at her and called, .Hey, Rube!“She looked startled, then looked more closely. .Why, Doe Harshaw, you oldscoundrel! Lord love you, it’s good to see you. Where have you been hiding?“.Just that, Becky-hiding. The clowns are after me.“Becky Vesey didn’t ask why; she answered instantly, .What can I do to help?
　　Do you need money?“.I’ve got plenty of money, Becky, but thanks a lot. Money won’t help; I’m inmuch more serious trouble than that-and I don’t think anyone can help mebut the Secretary General himself, Mr. Douglas. I need to talk to him-andright away. Now - . . or even sooner.“She looked blank. .That’s tall order, Doc.“.Becky, I know it is-because I’ve been trying for a week to get through to him. . and I can’t. But don’t you get mixed up in it yourself, Becky . . . because,girl, I’m hotter than a smoky bearing. I just took a chance that you might beable to advise me-a phone number, maybe, where I could reach him. But Idon’t want you to mix into it personally. You’d get hurt-and I’d never be ableto look the Professor in the eye if I ever meet him again . . . God rest hissoul.“.I know what the Professor would want me to do!“ she said sharply. .So let’sknock off the nonsense, Doc. The Professor always swore that you were theonly sawbones fit to carve people; the rest were butchers. He never forgotthat time in Elkton.“.Now, Becky, we won’t bring that up. I was paid.“.You saved his life.“.I did no such thing. It was his rugged constitution and his will to fight backandyour nursing.“.Uh ... Doc, we’re wasting time. Just how hot are you?“.They’re throwing the book at me ... and anybody near me is going to getsplashed. There’s a warrant out for me-a Federation warrant- and they knowwhere I am and I can’t run. It will be served any minute now . . . and Mr.
　　Douglas is the only person who can stop it.“.You’ll be sprung. I guarantee that.“.Becky, I’m sure you would. But it might take a few hours. It’s that .back room’
　　I’m afraid of, Becky. I’m too old for a session in the back room.“.But- Oh, goodness! Doe, can’t you give me some details? I really ought tocast a horoscope on you, then I’d know what to do. You’re Mercury, ofcourse, since you’re a doctor. But if I knew what house to look in to find yourtrouble, I could do better.“.Girl, there isn’t time for that. But thanks.“ Jubal thought rapidly. Whom totrust? And when? .Becky, just knowing could put you in as much trouble as Iam in . . . unless I convince Mr. Douglas.“.Tell me, Doc. I’ve never taken a powder at a clem yet-and you knowit.“.All right. So I’m .Mercury.’ But the trouble lies in Mars.“She looked at him sharply. .How?“.You’ve seen the news. You know that the Man from Mars is supposed to bemaking a retreat some place high up in the Andes. Well, he’s not. That’s justto hoax the yokels.“Becky seemed startled but not quite as Jubal had expected her to be. .Justwhere do you figure in this, Doc?“.Becky, there are people all over this sorry planet who want to lay hands onthat boy. They want to use him, they want to make him geek for them, theirway. But he’s my client and I don’t propose to hold still for it. If I can help it.
　　But my only chance is to talk with Mr. Douglas himself, face to face.“.The Man from Mars is your client? You can turn him up?“.Yes. But only to Mr. Douglas. You know how it is Becky-the mayor can be agood Joe, kind to children and dogs. But he doesn’t necessarily knoweverything his town clowns are up to-especially if they haul a man in and takehim into that back room.“She nodded. .I’ve had my troubles with cops. Cops!“.So I need to dicker with Mr. Douglas before they haul me in.“.All you want is to talk to him on the telephone?“.Yes. If you can swing it. Here, let me give you my number-and I’ll be sittingright here, hoping for a call . . . until they pick me up. If you can’t swing it . . .
　　thanks anyway, Becky, thanks a lot. I’ll know you tried.“.Don’t switch off!“ she said sharply.
　　.Eh?“.Keep the circuit, Doc, while I see what I can do. If I have any luck, they canpatch right through this phone and save time. So hold on.“ Madame Vesantleft the screen without saying good-by, then called Agnes Douglas. Shespoke with calm confidence, pointing out to Agnes that this was precisely thedevelopment foretold by the stars-and exactly on schedule. Now had comethe critical instant when Agnes must guide and sustain her husband, using allher womanly wit and wisdom to see that he acted wisely and without delay.
　　.Agnes dear, this configuration will not be repeated in a thousand years-Mars, Venus and Mercury in perfect trine, just as Venus reaches themeridian, making Venus dominant. Thus you see-.
　　.Allie, what do the Stars tell me to do? You know I don’t understand thescientific part.“This was hardly surprising, since the described relationship did not obtain atthe moment. Madame Vesant had not had time to compute a new horoscopeand was improvising. But she was untroubled by it; she was speaking a.higher truth,“ giving good advice and helping her friends. To be able to helptwo friends at once made Becky Vesey especially happy. .Dear, you really dounderstand it, you have born talent for it. You are Venus, as always, andMars is reinforced, being both your husband and that young man Smith forthe duration of this crisis. Mercury is Dr. Harshaw. To offset the imbalancecaused by the reinforcement of Mars, Venus must sustain Mercury until thecrisis is past. But you have very little time for it; Venus waxes in influenceuntil reaching meridian, only seven minutes from now-after that yourinfluence will decline. You must act quickly.“.You should have warned me sooner.“.My dear, I have been waiting here by my phone all thy, ready to actinstantly. The Stars tell us the nature of each crisis; they never tell us thedetails. But there is still time. I have Dr. Harshaw waiting on the telephonehere; all that is necessary is to bring them face to face-if possible beforeVenus reaches meridian.“.Well- All right, Allie. I’ve got to dig Joseph out of some silly conference but I’llget him. Keep this line open. Give me the number of the phone you have thisDoctor Rackshaw on-or can you transfer the call there?“.I can switch it over here. Just get Mr. Douglas. Hurry, dear.“.I will.“When Agnes Douglas’ face left the screen, Becky went to still another phone.
　　Her profession required ample phone service; it was her largest singlebusiness expense. Humming happily she called her broker.
Chapter 17
As MADAME VESANT LEFT THE SCREEN Jubal Harshaw leaned backfrom his phone. .Front,“ he said.
　　.Okay, Boss,“ Miriam acknowledged.
　　.This is one for the .Real-Experiences’ group. Specify on the cover sheet thatI want the narrator to have a sexy contralto voice-.
　　.Maybe I should try out for it.“.Not that sexy. Shut up. Dig out that list of null surnames we got from theCensus Bureau, pick one and put an innocent, mammalian first name with it,for the pen name. A girl’s name ending in .a’-that always suggests a .C’ cup.“.Huh! And not one of us with a name ending in .a.’ Why, you louse!“.Flat-chests bunch, aren’t you? .Angela.’ Her name is .Angela.’ Title: .IMarried a Martian.’ Start: All my life I had longed to become an astronaut.
　　Paragraph. When I was just a tiny thing, with freckles on my nose and starsin my eyes, I saved box tops just as my brothers did-and cried when Mummywouldn’t let me wear my Space Cadet helmet to bed. Paragraph. In thosecarefree childhood days I did not dream to what strange, bittersweet fate mytomboy ambition would-.
　　.Boss!“.Yes, Dorcas?“.Here come two more loads.“Jubal got up from the telephone chair. .Hold for continuation. Miriam, sitdown at the phone.“ He went to the window, saw the two air cars Dorcas hadspotted, decided that they could be squad cars, and might be about to landon his property. .Larry, bolt the door to this room. Anne, put on your robe.
　　Watch them but stand back from the window; I want them to think the houseis empty. Jill, you stick close to Mike and don’t let him make any hastymoves. Mike, you do what Jill tells you to.“.Yes, Jubal. I will do.“.Jill, don’t turn him loose unless you have to. To keep one of us from beingshot, I mean. If they bust down doors, let them-I rather hope they do. Jill, if itcomes to scratch, I’d much rather he snatched just the guns and not themen.“.Yes, Jubal.“.Make sure he understands. This indiscriminate elimination of cops hasgot to stop.“.Telephone, Boss!“.Coming.“ Jubal went unhurriedly back to the phone. .All of you stay out ofpickup. Dorcas, you can take a nap. Miriam, note down another title for later:
　　.I Married a Human.’ . He slid into the seat as Miriam vacated it and said,.Yes?“A blandly handsome man looked back at him. .Doctor Harshaw?“.Yes.“.Please hold on. The Secretary General will speak with you.“ The toneimplied that a genuflection was in order.
　　.Okay.“The screen flickered, then rebuilt in the tousled image of His Excellency theHonorable Joseph Edgerton Douglas, Secretary General of the WorldFederation of Free Nations. .Dr. Harshaw? Understand you need to speakwith me. Shoot.“.No, sir.“.Eh? But I understood-.
　　.Let me rephrase it precisely, Mr. Secretary. You need to speak with me.“Douglas looked surprised, then grinned. .Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?
　　Well, Doctor, you have just ten seconds to prove that. I have other things todo.“.Very well, sir. I am attorney for the Man from Mars.“Douglas suddenly stopped looking tousled. .Repeat that.“.I am attorney for Valentine Michael Smith, known as the Man from Mars.
　　Attorney with full power. In fact, it may help to think of me as defactoAmbassador from Mars . . . in the spirit of the Larkin Decision, that is to say.“Douglas stared at him. .Man, you must be out of your mind!“.I’ve often thought so, lately. Nevertheless I am acting for the Man from Mars.
　　And he is prepared to negotiate.“.The Man from Mars is in Ecuador.“.Please, Mr. Secretary. This is a private conversation. He is not in Ecuador,as both of us know. Smith-the real Valentine Michael Smith, not the one whohas appeared in the newscasts-escaped from confinement-and, I should add,illegal confinement-at Bethesda Medical Center on Thursday last, incompany with Nurse Gillian Boardman. He kept his freedom and is now freeandhe will continue to keep it. If any of your large staff of assistants has toldyou anything else, then someone has been lying to you . . . which is why I amspeaking to you yourself. So that you can straighten it out.“Douglas looked very thoughtful. Someone apparently spoke to him from offscreen, but no words came over the telephone. At last he said, .Even if whatyou said were true, Doctor, you can’t be in a position to speak for youngSmith. He’s a ward of the State.“Jubal shook his head. .Impossible. The Larkin Decision.“.Now see here, as a lawyer myself, I assure you-.
　　.As a lawyer myself, I must follow my own opinion-and protect my client.“.You are a lawyer? I thought that you meant that you claimed to be attorneyin-fact, rather than counsellor.“.Both. You’ll find that I am an attorney at law, in good standing, and admittedto practice before the High Court. I don’t hang my shingle these days, but Iam.“ Jubal heard a dull boom from below and glanced aside. Larrywhispered, .The front door, I think. Boss- Shall Igo look?“Jubal shook his head in negation and spoke to the screen. .Mr. Secretary,while we quibble, time is running out. Even now your men-your S.S.
　　hooligans-are breaking into my house. It is most distasteful to be under siegein my own home. Now, for the first and last time, will you abate thisnuisance? So that we can negotiate peaceably and equitably? Or shall wefight it out in the High Court with all the stink and scandal that would ensue?“Again the Secretary appeared to speak with someone off screen. He turnedback, looking troubled. .Doctor, if the Special Service police are trying toarrest you, it is news to me. I do not see-.
　　.If you’ll listen closely, you’ll hear them tromping up my staircase, sir! Mike!
　　Anne! Come here.“ Jubal shoved his chair back to allow the camera angle toinclude three people. .Mr. Secretary General Douglas- the Man from Mars!“He did not, of course, introduce Anne, but she and her white cloak of probitywere fully in view.
　　Douglas stared at Smith; Smith looked back at him and seemed uneasy.
　　.Jubal-.
　　.Just a moment, Mike. Well, Mr. Secretary? Your men have broken into myhouse-I hear them pounding on my study door this moment.“ Jubal turned hishead. .Larry, unbolt the door. Let them in.“ He put a hand on Mike. .Don’t getexcited, lad, and don’t do anything unless I tell you to.“.Yes, Jubal. That man. I have know him.“.And he knows you.“ Over his shoulder Jubal called out to the now opendoor, .Come in, Sergeant. Right over here.“The S.S. sergeant standing in the doorway, mob gun at the ready, did notcome in. Instead he called out, .Major! Here they are!“Douglas said, .Let me speak to the officer in charge of them, Doctor.“ Againhe spoke off screen.
　　Jubal was relieved to see that the major for whom the sergeant had shoutedshowed up with his sidearm still in its holster; Mike’s shoulder had beentrembling under Jubal’s hand ever since the sergeant’s gun had come intoview-and, while Jubal lavished no fraternal love on these troopers, he did notwant Smith to display his powers . . . and cause awkward questions.
　　The major glanced around the room. .You’re Jubal Harshaw?“.Yes. Come over here. Your boss wants you.“.None of that. You come along. I’m also looking for-.
　　.Come here! The Secretary General himself wants a word with you- on thisphone.“The S.S. major looked startled, then came on into the study, around Jubal’sdesk, and in sight of the screen-looked at it, suddenly came smartly toattention and saluted. Douglas nodded. .Name, rank, and duty.“.Sir, Major C. D. Bloch, Special Service Squadron Cheerio, MarylandEnclave Barracks.“.Now tell me what you are doing where you are, and why.“.Sir, that’s rather complicated. I-.
　　.Then unravel it for me. Speak up, Major.“.Yes, sir. I came here pursuant to orders. You see-.
　　.I don’t see.“.Well, sir, about an hour and a half ago a flying squad was sent here to makeseveral arrests. They didn’t report in when they should have and when wecouldn’t raise them by radio, I was sent with the reserve squad to find themand render assistance as needed.“.Whose orders?“.Uh, the Commandant’s, sir.“.And did you find them?“.No, sir. Not a trace of them.“Douglas looked at Harshaw. .Counsellor, did you see anything of anothersquad, earlier?“.It’s no part of my duties to keep track of your servants, Mr. Secretary.
　　Perhaps they got the wrong address. Or simply got lost.“.That is hardly an answer to my question.“.You are correct, sir. I am not being interrogated. Nor will I be, other than bydue process. I am acting for my client; I am not nursemaid to theseuniformed, uh, persons. But I suggest, from what I have seen of them, thatthey might not be able to find a pig in a bath tub.“.Mmm ... possibly. Major, round up your men and return. I’ll confirm that viachannels.“.Yes, sir!“ The major saluted.
　　.Just a moment!“ Harshaw said sharply. .These men broke into my house. Idemand to see their warrant.“.Oh. Major, show him your search warrant.“Major Bloch turned brick red. .Sir, the officer ahead of me had the warrants.
　　Captain Heinrich. The one who’s missing.“Douglas stared at him. .Young man ... do you mean to stand there and tellme that you broke into a citizen’s home without a Warrant?“.But- Sir, you don’t understand! There was a warrant-there are warrants. Isaw them. But, of course, Captain Heinrich took them with him. Sir.“Douglas just looked at him. .Get on back. Place yourself under arrest whenyou get there. I’ll see you later.“.Yes, sir.“.Hold it,“ Harshaw demanded. .Under the circumstances I shan’t let himleave. I exercise my right to make a citizen’s arrest. I shall take him down andcharge him in this township and have him placed in our local lockup. .Armedbreaking and entering.’“Douglas blinked thoughtfully. .Is this necessary, sir?“.I think it is. These fellows seem to be awfully hard to find when you wantthem-so I don’t want to let this one leave our local jurisdiction. Why, asidefrom the serious criminal charges, I haven’t even had opportunity to assessthe damage to my property.“.You have my assurance, sir, that you will be fully compensated.“.Thank you, sir. But what is to prevent another uniformed joker from comingalong twenty minutes from now, perhaps this time with a warrant? Why, hewouldn’t even need to break down the door! My castle stands violated, opento any intruder. Mr. Secretary, only the few precious moments of delayafforded by my Once-stout door kept this scoundrel from dragging me awaybefore I could reach you by telephone . . . and you heard him say that therewas still another like him at large-with, so he says, warrants.“.Doctor, I assure you that I know nothing of any such warrant.“.Warrants, sir. He said .warrants for several arrests.’ Though perhaps a betterterm would be .lettres de cachet.’“.That’s a serious imputation.“.This is a serious matter. You see what has already been done to me.“.Doctor, I know nothing of these warrants, if they exist. But I give you mypersonal assurance that I will look into it at once, find Out why they wereissued, and act as the merits of the matter may appear. Can I say more?“.You can say a great deal more, sir. I can reconstruct exactly why thosewarrants were issued. Some one in your service, in an excess of zeal,caused a pliant judge to issue them . . . for the purpose of seizing thepersons of myself and my guests in order to question us, safely out of yoursight. Out of anyone’s sight, sir! We will discuss all issues with you but we willnot be questioned by such as this creature-. Jubal hooked a thumb at theS.S. major .-in some windowless back room! Sir, I hope for, and expect,justice at your hands . . . but if those warrants are not canceled at once, if Iam not assured by you personally beyond any possibility of quibble that theMan from Mars, Nurse Boardman, and myself will be left undisturbed in ourpersons, free to come and go, then-. Jubal stopped and shrugged helplessly.
　　.-I must seek a champion elsewhere. There are, as you know, persons andpowers outside the administration who hold deep interest in the affairs of theMan from Mars.“.You threaten me.“.No, sir. I plead with you. I have come to you first. We wish to negotiate. Butwe cannot speak easily while we are being hounded. I beg of you, sir-call offyour dogs!“Douglas glanced down, looked up again. .Those warrants, if any, will not beserved. As soon as I. can track them down they will be canceled.“.Thank you, sir.“Douglas glanced at Major Bloch. .You still insist on booking him locally?“Jubal looked at him contemptuously. .Him? Oh, let him go, he’s merely a foolin uniform. And let’s forget the damages, too. You and I have more seriousmatters to discuss.“.You may go, Major.“ The S.S. officer saluted and left very abruptly. Douglascontinued, .Counsellor, it is my thought that we now need conversations faceto face. The matters you raise can hardly be settled over the telephone.“.I agree.“.You and your, uh, client will be my guests at the Palace. I’ll send my yacht topick you up. Can you be ready in an hour?“Harshaw shook his head. .Thank you, Mr. Secretary. But that won’t benecessary. We’ll sleep here . . . and when it comes time to meet I’ll dig up adog sled, or something. No need to send your yacht.“Mr. Douglas frowned. .Come, Doctor! As you yourself pointed out, theseconversations will be quasi-diplomatic in nature. In proffering proper protocolI have, in effect, conceded this. Therefore I must be allowed to provide officialhospitality.“.Well, sir, I might point out that my client has had entirely too much officialhospitality already-he had the Devil’s own time getting shut of it.“Douglas’ face became rigid. .Sir, are you implying-.
　　.I’m not implying anything. I’m simply saying that Smith has been throughquite a lot and is not used to high-level ceremony. He’ll sleep sounder here,where he feels at home. And so shall I. I am a crochety old man, sir, and Iprefer my own bed. Or I might point out that our talks may break down andmy client and I would be forced to look elsewhere-in which case I would findit embarrassing to be a guest under your roof.“The Secretary General looked very grim. .Threats again. I thought youtrusted me, sir? And I distinctly heard you say that you were .ready tonegotiate.’“.I do trust you, sir.“ (-about as far as I could throw a fit!) .And we are indeedready to negotiate. But I use .negotiate’ in its original sense, not in this new-fangled meaning of .appeasement.’ However, we intend to be reasonable.
　　But we can’t start talks at once in any case; we’re shy one factor and wemust wait. How long, I don’t know.“.What do you mean?“.We expect the administration to be represented at these talks by whateverdelegation you choose-and we have the same privilege.“.Surely. But let’s keep it small. I shall handle this myself, with only anassistant or two. The Solicitor General, I think . . . and our experts in spacelaw. But to transact business you require a small group-the smaller thebetter.“.Most certainly. Our group will be small Smith himself-myself-I’ll bring aFair Witness-.
　　.Oh, come now!“.A Witness does not slow things up. I suggest you retain one also. We’ll haveone or two others perhaps-but we lack one key man. I have firm instructionsfrom my client that a fellow named Ben Caxton must be present . . . and Ican’t find the beggar.“Jubal, having spent hours of most complex maneuvering in order to toss inthis one remark, now waited with his best poker face to see what wouldhappen. Douglas stared at him. 0 .Ben Caxton?’ Surely you don’t mean thatcheap winchell?“.The Ben Caxton I refer to is a newspaperman. He has a column with oneof the syndicates.“.Absolutely out of the question!“Harshaw shook his head. .Then that’s all, Mr. Secretary. My instructions arefirm and give me no leeway. I’m sorry to have wasted your time. I beg to beexcused now.“ He reached out as if to switch off the phone.
　　.Hold it.“.Sir?“.Don’t cut that circuit; I’m not through speaking to you!“.I most humbly beg the Secretary General’s pardon. We will, of course, waituntil he excuses us.“.Yes, yes, but never mind the formality. Doctor, do you read the tripe thatcomes out of this Capitol labeled as news?“.Good Heavens, not“.I wish I didn’t have to. It’s preposterous to talk about having a journalistpresent at these talks in any case. We’ll let them in later, after everything issettled. But even if we were to have any of them present, Caxton would notbe one of them. The man is utterly poisonous . . . a keyhole sniffer of theworst sort.“.Mr. Secretary, we have no objection to the full glare of publicity throughout.
　　In fact, we shall insist on it.“.Ridiculous!“.Possibly. But I serve my client as I think best. If we reach agreementaffecting the Man from Mars and the planet which is his home, I want everyperson on this planet to have opportunity to know exactly how it was doneand what was agreed. Contrariwise, if we fail to agree, people must hear howand where the talks broke down. There will be no star chamber proceedings,Mr. Secretary.“.Damn it, man, I wasn’t speaking of a star chamber and you know it! I simplymeant quiet, orderly talks without our elbows being jostled!“.Then let the press in, sir, through their cameras and microphones but withtheir feet and elbows outside. Which reminds me-we will be interviewed, myclient and I, over one of the networks later today-and I shall announce thatwe want full publicity on these coming talks.“.What? You mustn’t give out interviews now-why, that’s contrary to the wholespirit of this discussion.“.I can’t see that it is. We won’t discuss this private conversation, of coursebutare you suggesting that a private citizen must have your permission tospeak to the press?“.No, of course not, but-.
　　.I’m afraid it’s too late, in any case. The arrangements have all been madeand the only way you could stop it now would be by sending more carloads ofyour thugs-with or without warrants. But I’m afraid they would be too late,even so. My only reason for mentioning it is that it occurs to me that youmight wish to give out a news release-in advance of this coming interviewtellingthe public that the Man from Mars has returned from his retreat in theAndes . . . and is now vacationing in the Poconos. So as to avoid anypossible appearance that the government was taken by surprise. You followme?“.I follow you-quite well.“ The Secretary General stared silently at Harshaw forseveral moments, then said, .Please wait.“ He left the screen entirely.
　　Harshaw motioned Larry to him while he reached up with his other hand andcovered the telephone’s sound pickup. .Look, son,“ he whispered, .with thattransceiver out I’m bluffing on a busted flush. I don’t know whether he’s left toissue that news release I suggested . . . or has gone to set the dogs on usagain while he keeps me tied up on the phone. And I won’t know, either way.
　　You high tail it out of here, get Tom Mackenzie on the phone, and tell himthat if be doesn’t get the setup here working at once, he’s going to miss thebiggest story since the Fall of Troy. Then be careful coming home-there maybe cops crawling out of the cracks.“.Got it. But how do I call Mackenzie?“.Uh-. Douglas was just sitting back down on screen. .Speak to Miriam.
　　Git.“.Dr. Harshaw, I took your suggestion. A news release much as you worded it. . . plus a few substantiating details.“ Douglas smiled warmly in a goodsimulation of his homespun public persona. .And there is no use in halfmeasures. I can see that, if you insist on publicity, there is no way to stopyou, foolish as it is to hold exploratory talks in public. So I added to therelease that the administration had arranged to discuss future interplanetaryrelations with the Man from Mars-as soon as he had rested from his trip-andwould do so publicly . . . quite publicly.“ His smile became chilly and hestopped looking like good old Joe Douglas.
　　Harshaw grinned jovially, in honest admiration-why, the old thief hadmanaged to roll with the punch and turn a defeat into a coup for theadministration. .That’s just perfect, Mr. Secretary! Much better if such matterscome officially from the government. We’ll back you right down the line!“.Thank you. Now about this Caxton person- Letting the press in does notapply to him. He can Sit at home, watch it over stereovision, and make up hislies from that-and no doubt he will. But he will not be present at the talks. I’msorry. No.“.Then there will be no talks. Mr. Secretary, no matter what you have toldthe press.“.I don’t believe you understand me, Counsellor. This man is offensive to me.
　　Personal privilege.“.You are correct, sir. It is a matter of personal privilege.“.Then we’ll say no more about it.“.You misunderstand me. It is indeed personal privilege. But not yours.
　　Smith’s.“.You are privileged to select your advisers to be present at these talks -andyou can fetch the Devil himself and we shall not complain. Smith is privilegedto select his advisers and have them present. If Caxton is not present, we willnot be there. In fact, you will find us across the street, at some quite differentconference. One where you won’t be welcome, Even if you speak fluentHindi. Now do you understand me?“There was a long silence, during which Harshaw thought clinically that a manof Douglas’ age really should not indulge in such evident rage. Douglas didnot leave the screen but he consulted offscreen and silently. At last hespoke-to the Man from Mars.
　　Mike had stayed on screen the whole time, as silently and at least aspatiently as the Witness. Douglas said to him, .Smith, why do you insist onthis ridiculous condition?“Harshaw put a hand on Mike and said instantly, .Don’t answer, Mike!“ -thento Douglas: .Tut, tut, Mr. Secretary! The Canons, please! You may notinquire why my client has instructed me. And let me add that the Canons areviolated with exceptional grievance in that my client has but lately learnedEnglish and cannot be expected to hold his own against you. If you will firsttake the trouble to learn Martian, I may permit you to put the question again .
　　. . in his language. Or I may not. But certainly not today.“Douglas sighed. .Very well. It might be pertinent to inquire into what Canonsyou have played fast and loose with, too-but I haven’t time; I have agovernment to run. I yield. But don’t expect me to shake hands with thisCaxton!“.As you wish, sir. Now back to the first point. We are held up. I haven’t beenable to find Caxton. His office says that he is out of town.“Douglas laughed. .That’s hardly my problem. You insisted on a privilege-oneI find personally offensive. Bring whom you like. But round them up yourself.“.Reasonable, sir, very reasonable. But would you be willing to do the Manfrom Mars a favor?“.Eh? What favor?“.The talks will not begin until Caxton is located-that is flat and is not subjectto argument. But I have not been able to find him . . . and my client is gettingrestive. I am merely a private citizen . . . but you have resources.“.What do you mean?“.Some minutes ago I spoke rather disparagingly of the Special Servicesquadrons-check it off to the not unnatural irk of a man who has just had hisfront door broken down. But in truth I know that they can be amazinglyefficient . . . and they have the ready cooperation of police forceseverywhere, local, state, national, and all Federation departments andbureaus. Mr. Secretary, if you were to call in your S.S. Commandant and tellhim that you were anxious to locate a certain man as quickly as was humanlypossible-well, sir, it would produce more meaningful activity in the next hourthan I myself could hope to produce in a century.“.Why on Earth should I alert all police forces everywhere to find one scandalmongeringreporter?“.Not .on Earth,’ my dear sir-on Mars. I asked you to regard this as a favor tothe Man from Mars.“.Well ...it’s a preposterous request but I’ll go along.“ Douglas looked directlyat Mike. .As a favor to Smith, only. But I shall expect similar cooperationwhen we get down to cases.“.You have my assurance that it will ease the situation enormously.“.Well, I can’t promise anything. You say the man is missing. If he is, he mayhave fallen in front of a truck; he may be dead-and I, for one, would notmourn.“Harshaw looked very grave. .Let us hope not, for all of our sakes.“.Oh, I shall!“ Jill let go of Harshaw, put her arms around the Man from Mars.
　　.Such wonderful lies, Jubal!“ She kissed Mike.
　　.Son,“ he said, .you continue to amaze me. I would have expected that tocause you to curl up in one of your faints.“.I so did,“ Mike answered seriously, without letting go of Jill, .on the firstkissing time.“.Well! Congratulations, Jill. A.C., or D.C.?“She looked at Harshaw. .Jubal, you’re a tease but I love you anyhow andrefuse to let you get my goat. Mike got a little upset once-but no longer, asyou can see.“.Yes,“ Mike agreed, .it is a goodness. For water brothers it is a growingcloser.
　　I will show you. Yes?“ He let go of Jill.
　　Jubal hastily put up a palm. .No.“.No?“.Don’t be hurt. But you would be disappointed, son. It’s a growingcloser forwater brothers only if they are young girls and pretty-such as Jill.“.What do you mean?“.I’ve tried to point out that sad possibility to my client-but it is like shoutinginto the wind. He simply won’t listen to the idea.“ Harshaw sighed. .Ashambles, sir. If we can’t find this Caxton, that is what we will both have onour bands: a shambles.“.Well, I’ll try. But don’t expect miracles, Doctor.“.Not I, sir. My client. He has the Martian viewpoint ... and he does expectmiracles. So let’s pray for one.“.You’ll hear from me. That’s all I can say.“Harshaw bowed without getting up. .Your servant, sir.“As the Secretary General’s image cleared from the screen Jubal sighed andstood up, and at once found Gillian’s arms around his neck. .Oh, Jubal, youwere wonderful!“.We aren’t out of the woods yet, child.“.I know. But if anything can save Ben, you’ve just done it.“ She kissed him.
　　.Hey, none of that stuff’! I swore off smooching before you were born. Sokindly show respect for my years.“ He kissed her carefully and thoroughly.
　　.That’s just to take the taste of Douglas out of my mouth- between kickinghim and kissing him I was getting nauseated. Now go smooch Mike instead.
　　He deserves it-for holding still to my damned lies.“.My brother Jubal, you speak rightly?“.I speak very rightly. Kiss girls all you want to-it beats the hell Out ofcard games.“.Beg pardon?“.It’s a fine way to grow closer ... but just with girls. Hmmm . . Jubal lookedaround the room. .I wonder if that first-time phenomenon would repeat?
　　Dorcas, I want your help in a scientific experiment.“.Boss, I am not a guinea pig! You go to hell.“.In due course, I shall. Don’t be difficult, girl; Mike has no communicablediseases, or I wouldn’t let him use the pool-which reminds me: Miriam, whenLarry gets back, tell him I want the pool drained and refilled tonight-we’rethrough with murkiness, Well, Dorcas?“.How do you know it would be our first time?“ .Mmm, there’s that. Mike, haveyou ever kissed Dorcas?“.No, Jubal. Only today did I learn that Dorcas is my water brother.“.She is?“.Yes. Dorcas and Anne and Miriam and Larry. They are your waterbrothers, my brother Jubal.“.Mmm, yes. Correct in essence.“.Yes. It is essence, the grokking-not sharing of water. I speak rightly?“.Very rightly, Mike.“.They are your water brothers.“ Mike paused to think words. .In catenativeassemblage, they are my brothers.“ Mike looked at Dorcas. .For brothers,growing-closer is good. But I did not know.“Jubal said, .Well, Dorcas?“.Huh? Oh, Heavens! Boss, you’re the world’s worst tease. But Mike isn’tteasing. He’s sweet.“ She walked up to him, stood on tiptoes, and held up herarms. .Kiss me, Mike.“Mike did. For some seconds they .grew closer.“Dorcas fainted.
　　Jubal spotted it and kept her from falling, Mike being far too inexperienced tocope with it. Then Jill had to speak sharply to Mike to keep him fromtrembling into withdrawal when he saw what had happened to Dorcas.
　　Luckily Dorcas came out of it shortly and was able to reassure Mike that shewas all right, that she had indeed .grown closer“ and would happily growcloser again-but she needed to catch her breath. .Whew!“Miriam had watched round-eyed. .I wonder if I dare risk it?“Anne said, .By seniority, please. Boss, are you through with me as aWitness?“.For the time being, at least.“.Then hold my cloak.“ She slipped out of it. .Want to bet on it?“.Which way?“.I’ll give you seven-to-two I don’! faint-but I wouldn’t mind losing.“.Done.“.Dollars, not hundreds. Mike dear ... let’s grow lots closer.“In time Anne was forced to give up through simple hypoxia, although Mike,with his Martian training, could have gone without oxygen much longer. Shegasped for air and said, .I don’t think I was Set just right. Boss, I’m going togive you another chance for your money.“She started to offer her face again but Miriam tapped her on theshoulder. .Out.“.Don’t be so eager.“.’Out,’ I said. The foot of the line for you, wench,“ Miriam insisted.
　　.Oh, well!“ Anne pecked Mike hastily and gave way. Miriam moved in, smiledat him, and said nothing. It was not necessary; they grew close andcontinued to grow closer.
　　.Front!“Miriam looked around. .Boss, can’t you see I’m busy?“.All right, all right! But get out of the pickup angle-I’ll answer the phonemyself.“.Honest, I didn’t even hear it.“.Obviously. But for a while we’ve got to pretend to a modicum of dignityaround here-it might be the Secretary General. So get out of range.“But it was Mr. Mackenzie. .Jubal, what in the devil is going on?“.Trouble?“.A short while ago I got a wild phone call from a young man claiming to speakfor you who urged me to drop everything and get cracking, because you’vefinally got something for me. Since I had already ordered a mobile unit toyour place-.
　　.Never got here.“.I know. They called in, after wandering around somewhere north of you. Ourdespatcher straightened them out and they should be there any momentnow. I tried twice to call you and your circuit was busy. What have I missed?“.Nothing yet.“ Jubal considered it. Damnation, he should have had someonemonitor the babble box. Had Douglas actually made that news release? WasDouglas committed? Or would a new passel of cops show up? While the kidsplayed post office! Jubal, you’re getting senile. .I’m not sure that there’s goingto be, just yet. Has there been anything special in the way of a news flashthis past hour?“.Why, no-oh, one item: the Palace announced that the Man from Mars hadreturned north and was vacationing in the-Jubal! Are you mixed up in that?“.Just a moment. Mike, come to the phone. Anne, grab your robe.“.Got it, Boss.“.Mr. Mackenzie-meet the Man from Mars.“Mackenzie’s jaw dropped, then his professional reflexes came to his aid.
　　.Hold it. Just hold it right there and let me get a camera on this! We’ll pick itup in flat, right off the phone-and we’ll repeat in stereo just as quick as thosejokers of mine get there. Jubal, I’m safe on this? You wouldn’t- You wouldn’t-.
　　.Would I swindle you with a Fair Witness at my elbow? Yes, I would, ifnecessary. But I’m not forcing this interview on you. Matter of fact, we shouldwait and tie in Argus and Trans-Planet.“.Jubal! You can’t do this to me.“.And I won’t. The agreement with all of you was to monitor what the camerassaw . . . when I signalled. And use it if it was newsworthy. But! didn’t promisenot to give out interviews in addition to that-and New World can have thisinterview, oh, say thirty minutes ahead of Argus and Trans-P . . . if you wantit.“ Jubal added, .Not only did you loan us all the equipment for the tie-in, butyou’ve been very helpful personally, Tom. I can’t express how helpful you’vebeen.“.You mean, uh, that telephone number?“.Correct!“.And it got results?“.It did. But no questions about that, Tom. Not on the air. Ask me privatelynextyear.“.Oh, I wouldn’t think of it. You keep your lip buttoned and I’ll keep mine. Nowdon’t go away-.
　　.One more thing. That spool of messages you’re holding for me against thesame signal. Make damn sure they don’t go out. Send them back to me.“.Eh? All right, all right-I’ve been keeping them in my desk, you were so fussyabout it. Jubal, I’ve got a camera on this phone screen right now. Can westart?“.Shoot.“.And I’m going to do this one myself!“ Mackenzie turned his face away andapparently looked at the camera. .flash news! This is your NWNW reporteron the spot while its hot! The Man from Mars has just phoned you right herein your local station and wants to talk to you! Cut. Monitor, insert flash-newsplug and acknowledgment to sponsor. Jubal, anything special I should askhim?“.Don’t ask him questions about South America-he’s not a tourist. Swimmingis your safest subject. You can ask me about his future plans.“.Okay. End of cut. Friends, you are now face to face and voice to voice withValentine Michael Smith, the Man from Mars! As NWNW, always first with theburst, told you earlier, Mr. Smith has just returned from his solitary retreathigh in the Andes-and we welcome him back! Wave to your friends, Mr.
　　Smith-.
　　(.Wave at the telephone, son. Smile and wave at it.“).Thank you, Valentine Michael Smith. We’re all happy to see you looking sohealthy and tan. I understand that you have been gathering strength bylearning to swim?“.Boss! Visitors. Or something.“.Cut before interruption-after the word .swim.’ What the hell, Juhal?“.I’ll have to see. Jill, ride herd on Mike again-it might be GeneralQuarters.“But it was not. It was the NWNW mobile stereovision unit landing- and againrose bushes were damaged-Larry returning from phoning Mackenzie fromthe village, and Duke, returning. Mackenzie decided to finish the flat black &white interview quickly, since he was now assured of depth and color throughhis mobile unit, and in the meantime its technical crew could check thetrouble with the equipment on loan to Jubal. Larry and Duke went with them.
　　The interview was finished with inanities, Jubal fielding any questions Mikefailed to understand; Mackenzie signed off with a promise to the public that acolor & depth special interview with the Man from Mars would follow in thirtyminutes. .Stay synched with this station!“ He stayed on the phone and waitedfor his technicians to report.
　　Which the crew boss did, almost at once: .Nothing wrong with thattransceiver, Mr. Mackenzie, nor with any part of this field setup.“.Then what was wrong with it before?“The technician glanced at Larry and Duke, then grinned. .Nothing. But ithelps quite a bit to put power through it. The breaker was open at the board.“Harshaw intervened to stop a wrangle between Larry and Duke, one whichseemed concerned with the relative merits of various sorts of idiocy morethan with the question of whether Duke had, or had not, told Larry that acertain tripped circuit breaker must be reset if it was anticipated that theboirowed equipment was going to be used. The showman’s aspect of Jubal’spersonality regretted that the .finest unrehearsed spectacular since Elijahbested the Priests of Baal“ had been missed by the cameras. But the politicalfinagler in him was relieved that mischance had kept Mike’s curious talentsstill a close secret-Jubal anticipated that he still might need them, as a secretweapon . . . not to mention the undesirability of trying to explain to skepticalstrangers the present whereabouts of certain policemen plus two squad cars.
　　As for the rest, it merely confirmed his own conviction that science andinvention had reached its peak with the Model-T Ford and had been growingsteadily more decadent ever since. And besides, Mackenzie wanted to get onwith the depth & color interview- They got through that with a minimum ofrehearsing, Jubal simply making sure that no question would be asked whichcould upset the public fiction that the Man from Mars had just returned fromSouth America. Mike sent greetings to his friends and brothers of theChampion, including one to Dr. Mahmoud delivered in croaking, throatrasping Martian Jubal decided that Mackenzie had his money’s worth.
　　At last the household could quiet down. Jubal set the telephone for two hoursrefusal, stood up, stretched, sighed, and felt a great weariness, wondered ifhe were getting old. .Where’s dinner? Which one of you wenches wassupposed to get dinner tonight? And why didn’t you? Gad, this household isfalling to wrack and ruin!“.It was my turn to get dinner tonight,“ Jill answered, .but-.
　　.Excuses, always excuses.“.Boss,“ Anne interrupted sharply, .how do you expect anyone to cook whenyou’ve kept every single one of us penned up here in your study allafternoon?“.That’s the moose’s problem,“ Jubal said dourly. .I want it clearly understoodthat, even if Armageddon is held on these premises I expect meals to be hotand on time right up to the ultimate trump. Furthermore-.
　　.Furthermore,“ Anne completed, .it is now only seven-forty and plenty of timeto have dinner by eight. So quit yelping, Boss, until you have something toyelp about. Cry-baby.“.Is it really only twenty minutes of eight? Seems like a week since lunch.
　　Anyhow ~OU haven’t left me a civilized amount of time to have a pre-dinnerdrink.“.Poor you?’
　　.Somebody get me a drink. Get everybody a drink. On second thought let’sskip a formal dinner tonight and drink our dinners; I feel like getting as tightas a tent rope on a rainy day. Anne, how are we fixed for smorgasbord?“.Plenty.“.Then why not thaw out eighteen or nineteen kinds and spread .em aroundand let anybody eat what he feels like when he feels like it? What’s all theargument about?“.Right away,“ agreed Jill.
　　Anne stopped to kiss him on his bald spot. .Boss, you’ve done nobly. We’llfeed you and get you drunk and put you to bed. Wait, Jill, I’m going to help.“.I may to help, too?“ Smith said eagerly.
　　.Sure, Mike. You can carry trays. Boss, dinner will be by the pool. It’s ahot night.“.How else?“ When they had left, Jubal said to Duke, .Where the hellhave you been all day?“.Thinking.“.Doesn’t pay to. Just makes you discontented with what you seearound you. Any results?“.Yes,“ said Duke, .I’ve decided that what Mike eats, or doesn’t eat, isno business of mine.“.Congratulations. A desire not to butt into other people’s business is at leasteighty percent of all human .wisdom . . . and the other twenty percent isn’tvery important.“.You butt into other people’s business. All the time.“.Who said I was Wise? I’m a professional bad example. You can learn a lotby watching me. Or listening to me. Either one.“.Jubal, if I walked up to Mike and offered him a glass of water, do yousuppose he would go through that lodge routine?“.I feel certain that he would. Duke, almost the only human characteristic Mikeseems to possess is an 0verwhelming desire to be liked. But I want to makesure that you know how Serious it is to him. Much more serious than gettingmarried. I myself accepted water brotherhood with Mike before I understoodit-and I’ve become more and more deeply entangled with its responsibilitiesthe more I’ve grokked it. You’ll be committing yourself never to lie to him,never to mislead or deceive him in any way, to stick by him come what maybecausethat is just what he will do with you. Better think about it.“.I have been thinking about it, all day. Jubal, there’s something about Mikethat makes you want to take care of him.“.I know. You’ve probably never encountered complete honesty before -Iknow I hadn’t. Innocence. Mike has never tasted the fruit of the Tree ofKnowledge of Good and Evil . . . so we, who have, don’t understand whatmakes him tick. Well, on your own head be it. I hope you never regret it.“Jubal looked up. .Oh, there you are! I thought you had stopped to distill thestuff.“Larry answered, .Couldn’t find a cork screw, at first.“.Machinery again. Why didn’t you bite the neck off? Duke, you’ll find someglasses stashed behind The Anatomy of Melancholy up there-.
　　.I know where you hide them.“.-and we’ll all have a quick one, neat, before we get down to seriousdrinking.“ Duke got the glasses; Jubal poured and held up his own. .Thegolden sunshine of Italy congealed into tears. Here’s to alcoholic brotherhood. . . much more suited to the frail human soul, if any, than any other sort.“.Health.“.Cheers.“Jubal poured his slowly down his throat. .Ah~“ he said happily, and belched.
　　.Offer some of that to Mike, afterwards, Duke, and let him learn how good itis to be human. Makes me feel creative. Front! Why are those girls neveraround when I need them? Ftvnt!!“.I’m still .Front,’ . Miriam answered, at the door, .but-.
　　.I know. And I was saying: .-to what strange, bittersweet fate my tomboyambition-.“.But I finished that story while you were chatting on the telephone with theSecretary General.“.Then you are no longer .Front.’ Send it off.“.Don’t you want to read it first? Anyhow, I’ve got to revise it- kissing Mikegave me a new insight on it.“Jubal shuddered. .Read it?’ Good God, no! It’s bad enough to write such athing. And don’t even consider revising it, certainly not to fit the facts. Mychild, a true-confession story should never be tarnished by any taint of truth.“.Okay, Boss. And Anne says if you want to come down to the pool and havea bite before you eat, come on.“.I can’t think of a better time. Shall we adjourn to the terrace, gentlemen’?“At the pool the party progressed liquidly with bits of fish and otherScandinavian high-caloric comestibles added to taste. At Jubal’s invitationMike tried brandy, somewhat cut with water. Mike found the resultingsensation extremely disquieting, so he analysed his trouble, added oxygen tothe ethanol in an inner process of reversed fermentation and converted it toglucose and water, which gave him no trouble.
　　Jubal had been observing with interest the effect of his first drink of liquor onthe Man from Mars-saw him become drunk almost at once, saw him sober upeven more quickly. In an attempt to understand what had happened, Jubalurged more brandy on Mike-which he readily accepted since his waterbrother offered it. Mike sopped up an extravagant quantity of fine importedliquor before Jubal was willing to concede that it was impossible to get himdrunk.
　　Such was not the case with Jubal, despite his years of pickling; stayingsociable with Mike during the experiment dulled the edge of his wits. So,when he attempted to ask Mike what he had done, Mike thought that he wasinquiring about the events during the raid by the S.S.-concerfling which Mikestill felt latent guilt. He tried to explain and, if needed, receive Jubal’s pardon.
　　Jubal interrupted when at last he figured out what the boy was talking about.
　　.Son, I don’t want to know what you did, nor how you did it. What you did wasjust what was needed-perfect, just perfect. But-. He blinked owlishly. .-don’ttell me about it. Don’t ever tell anybody about it.“.Not?“.’Not.’ It was the damnedest thing I’ve seen since my uncle with the twoheads debated free silver and triumphantly refuted himself. An explanationwould spoil it.“.I do not grok rightly?“.Nor do I. So let’s not worry and have another drink.“Reporters and other newsmen started arriving while the party was stillclimbing. Jubal received each of them with courteous dignity, invited them toeat, drink, and relax-but to refrain from badgering himself or the Man fromMars.
　　Those who failed to heed his injunction were tossed into the pool.
　　At first Jubal kept Larry and Duke at flank to administer the baptism asnecessary. But, while some of the unfortunate importunates became angryand threatened various things which did not interest Jubal (other than tocaution Mike not to take any steps), others relaxed to the inevitable andadded themselves to the dousing squad on a volunteer basis, with the fanaticenthusiasm of proselytes-Jubal had to stop them from ducking the doyenlippmann of the New York Times for a third time.
　　During the evening Dorcas came out of the house, sought out Jubal andwhispered in his ear: .Telephone, Boss. For you.“.Take a message.“.You must answer it, Boss.“.I’ll answer it with an ax! Duke, get me an ax. I’ve been intending to get rid ofthat Iron Maiden for some time-and tonight I’m in the mood for it.“.Boss ... you want to answer this one. It’s the man you spoke to for quite along time this afternoon.“.Oh. Why didn’t you say so?“ Jubal lumbered upstairs, made sure his studydoor was bolted behind him, went to the phone. Another of Douglas’ sleekacolytes was on the screen but was replaced quickly by Douglas. .It took youlong enough to answer your phone.“.It’s my phone, Mr. Secretary. Sometimes I don’t answer it at all.“.So it would seem. Why didn’t you tell me that this Caxton fellow is analcoholic?“.Is he?“.He certainly is! He isn’t missing-not in the usual sense. He’s been off on oneof his periodic benders. He was located, sleeping it off, in a fleabag inSonora.“.I’m glad to hear that he has been found. Thank you, sir.“.He’s been picked up on a technical charge of .vagrancy.’ The charge won’tbe pressed-instead we are releasing him to you.“.I am very much in your debt, sir.“.Oh, it’s not entirely a favor! I’m having him delivered to you in the state inwhich he was found-filthy, unshaven, and, I understand, smelling like abrewery. I want you to see for yourself what sort of a tramp he is.“.Very well, sir. When may I expect him?“.Almost at once, I fancy. A courier arrow left Nogales some time ago. AtMach three or better it should be overhead soon. The pilot has instructions todeliver him to you and get a receipt.“.He shall have it.“.Now, Counsellor ... having delivered him, I wash my hands of it. I shallexpect you, and your client, to appear for talks whether you fetch along thatdrunken libeller or not.“.Agreed. When?“.Shall we say tomorrow at ten? Here.“.’Twere best done quickly.’ Agreed.“Jubal went back downstairs and paused at his broken door. .Jill! Comehere, child.“.Yes, Jubal.“ She trotted toward him, a reporter in close formation with her.
　　Jubal waved the man back. .Private,“ he said firmly. .Family matter. Gohave a drink.“.Whose family?“.A death in yours, if you insist. Scat!“ The newsman grinned and accepted it.
　　Jubal leaned over Gillian and said softly, .It worked. He’s safe.“.Ben?“.Yes. He’ll be here soon.“.Oh, Jubal!“ She started to bawl.
　　He took her shoulders. .Stop it,“ he said firmly. .Go inside and lock your dooruntil you get control of yourself. This is not for the press.“.Yes, Jubal. Yes, Boss.“.That’s better. Go cry in your pillow, then wash your face.“ He went on out tothe pool. .Quiet everybody! Quite! I have an announcement to make. We’veenjoyed having you-but the party is over.“.Boo!“.Toss him in the pool, somebody. I’ve got work to do early tomorrow morning,I’m an old man and I need my rest, And so does my family. Please leavequietly and as quickly as possible. Black coffee for any who need it-but that’sall. Duke, cork those bottles. Girls, clear the food away.“There was minor grumbling, but the more responsible quieted theircolleagues. In ten minutes they were alone.
　　In twenty minutes Ben Caxton arrived. The S.S. officer commanding thecourier car silently accepted Harshaw’s signature and thumb print on aprepared receipt, then left at once while Jill continued to sob on Ben’sshoulder.
　　Jubal looked him over in the light from the pool. .Ben, you’re a mess. I hearyou’ve been drunk for a week-and you look it.“Ben cursed, fluently and well, while continuing to pat Jill’s back.
　　.’M drunk, awri’-but haven’ had a drink.“.What happened?“.I don’t know. I don’t know!“An hour later Ben’s stomach had been pumped out (alcohol and gastricjuices, no food); Jubal had given him shots to offset alcohol and barbiturates;he was bathed, shaved, dressed in clean clothes that did not fit him, had metthe Man from Mars, and was sketchily brought up to date, while ingestingmilk and bland food.
　　But he was unable to bring them up to date. For Ben, the past week had nothappened-he had become unconscious in a taxicab in Washington; he hadbeen shaken into drunken wakefulness two hours earlier. .Of course I knowwhat happened. They kept me doped and in a completely dark room . . . andwrung rue out. I vaguely remember some of it. But I can’t prove anything.
　　And there’s the village Jefe and the madam of this dive they took me to-plus,I’m sure, plenty of other witnesses-.tO swear just how this gringo spent histime. And there’s nothing I can do about it.“.Then don’t fight it,“ Jubal advised. .Relax and be happy.“.The hell I will! I’ll get that-.
　　.Tut, tut! You’ve won, Ben. And you’re alive ... which I would have given longodds against, earlier today. Douglas is going to do exactly what we want himto-and smile and like it.“.I want to talk about that. I think-.
　　.I think you’re going to bed. Now. With a glass of warm milk to conceal OldDoe Harshaw’s Secret Ingredient for secret drinkers.“Shortly thereafter Caxton was in bed and beginning to snore. Jubal wasputtering around, heading for bed himself, and encountered Anne in theupper hall. He shook his head tiredly. .Quite a day, lass.“.Yes, quite. I wouldn’t have missed it ... and I don’t want to repeat it. You goto bed, Boss.“.In a moment. Anne, tell me something. What’s so special about the waythat lad kisses?“Anne looked dreamy and then dimpled. .You should have tried it when heinvited you to.“.I’m too old to change my ways. But I’m interested in everything about theboy. Is this actually something different, too?“Anne pondered it. .Yes.“.How?“.Mike gives a kiss his whole attention.“.Oh, rats! I do myself. Or did.“Anne shook her head. .No. Some men try to. I’ve been kissed by men whodid a very good job of it indeed. But they don’t really give kissing a womantheir whole attention. They can’t No matter how hard they try, some parts oftheir minds are on something else. Missing the last bus, maybe-Or how theirchances are for making the gal-Or their own techniques in kissing-Or maybeworry about their jobs, or money, or will husband or papa or the neighborscatch on. Or something. Now Mike doesn’t have any technique . . . but whenMike kisses you he isn’t doing anything else. Not anything. You’re his wholeuniverse for that moment and the moment is eternal because he doesn’thave any plans and he isn’t going anywhere. Just kissing you.“ She shivered.
　　.A woman notices. It’s overwhelming.“.Hmm-.
　　.Don’t .Hmm’ at me, you old lecher! You don’t understand.“.No. And I’m sorry to say I probably never will. Well, goodnight- and, oh, bythe way . . . I told Mike to bolt his door tonight.“She made a face at him. .Spoilsport!“.He’s learning quite fast enough. Mustn’t rush him.“
Chapter 18
THE CONFERENCE WAS POSTPONED to the afternoon, then quickly repostponedto the following morning, which gave Caxton an extra twenty-fourhours of badly needed recuperation, a chance to hear in detail about hismissing week, a chance to .grow closer“ with the Man from Mars-for Mikegrokked at once that Jill and Ben were .water brothers,“ consulted Jill aboutit, and solemnly offered water to Ben.
　　Ben had been adequately briefed by Jill. He accepted it just as solemnly andwithout mental reservations . . . after soul searching in which he decided thathis own destiny was, in truth, interwoven with that of the Man from Marsthroughhis own initiative before he ever met Mike.
　　Ben had had to chase down, in the crannies of his soul, one uneasy feelingbefore he was able to do this. He at last decided that it was simple jealousy,and, being such, had to be cauterized. He had discovered that he felt irked atthe closeness between Mike and Jill. His own bachelor persona, he learned,had been changed by a week of undead oblivion; he found that he wanted tobe married, and to Jill. He proposed to her again, without a trace of jokingabout it, as soon as he got her alone.
　　Jill had looked away. .Please, Ben.“.Why not? I’m solvent, I’ve got a fairly good job, I’m in good health-or I willbe, as soon as I get their condemned .truth’ drugs washed out of my system .
　　. . and since I haven’t, quite, I feel an overpowering compulsion to tell thetruth right now. I love you. I want you to marry me and let me rub your poortired feet. So why not? I don’t have any vices that you don’t share with meand we get along together better than most married couples. Am I too old foryou? I’m not that old! Or are you planning to marry somebody else?“.No, neither one! Dear Ben ... Ben, I love you. But don’t ask me to marry younow. I have . . . responsibilities.“He could not shake her firmness. Admittedly, Mike was more nearly Jill’s agealmostexactly her age, in fact, which made Ben slightly more than ten yearsolder than they were. But he believed Jill when she denied that age was afactor; the age difference wasn’t too great and it helped, all thingsconsidered, for a husband to be older than his wife.
　　But he finally realized that the Man from Mars couldn’t be a rival- he wassimply Jill’s patient. And at that point Ben accepted that a man who marries anurse must live with the fact that nurses feel maternal toward their chargeslivewith it and like it, he added, for if Gillian had not had the character thatmade her a nurse, he would not love her. It was not the delightful figure-eightin which her pert fanny waggled when she walked, nor even the stillpleasanter and very mammalian view from the other direction-he was not,thank God, the permanently infantile type, interested solely in the size of themammary glands! No, it was Jill herself he loved.
　　Since what she was would make it necessary for him to take second placefrom time to time to patients who needed her (unless she retired, of course,and he could not be sure it would stop completely even then, Jill being Jill),then he was bloody-be-damned not going to start by being jealous of thepatient she had now! Mike was a nice kid-just as innocent and guileless asJill had described him to be.
　　And besides, he wasn’t offering Jill any bed of roses; the wife of a workingnewspaperman had things to put up with, too. He might be-he would be-gonefor weeks at times and his hours were always irregular. He wouldn’t like it ifJill bitched about it. But Jill wouldn’t. Not Jill.
　　Having reached this summing up, Ben accepted the water ceremony fromMike whole-heartedly.
　　Jubal needed the extra day to plan tactics. .Ben, when you dumped this hotpotato in my lap I told Gililan that I would not lift a finger to get this boy his socalled.rights.’ But I’ve changed my mind. We’re not going to let thegovernment have the swag.“.Certainly not this administration!“.Nor any other administration, as the next one will probably be worse. Ben,you undervalue Joe Douglas.“.He’s a cheap, courthouse politician, with morals to match!“.Yes. And besides that, he’s ignorant to six decimal places. But he is also afairly able and usually conscientious world chief executive-better than wecould expect and probably better than we deserve. I would enjoy a session ofpoker with him . . . for he wouldn’t cheat and he wouldn’t welch and he wouldpay up with a smile. Oh, he’s an S.O.B.-but you can read that as .Swell OldBoy,’ too. He’s middlin’ decent.“.Jubal, I’m damned if I understand you. You told me yesterday that you hadbeen fairly certain that Douglas had had me killed . . . and, believe me, itwasn’t far from it! . . . and that you had juggled eggs to get me out alive if byany chance I still was alive . . . and you did get me out and God knows I’mgrateful to you! But do you expect me to forget that Douglas was behind itall? It’s none of his doing that I’m alive-he would rather see me dead.“.I suppose he would. But, yup, just that-forget it.“.I’m damned if I will!“.You’ll be silly if you don’t. In the first place, you can’t prove anything. In thesecond place, there’s no call for you to be grateful to me and I won’t let youlay this burden on me. I didn’t do it for you.“.Huh?“.I did it for a little girl who was about to go charging out and maybe getherself killed much the same way-if I didn’t do something. I did it because shewas my guest and I temporarily stood in loco parentis to her. I did it becauseshe was all guts and gallantry but too ignorant to be allowed to monkey withsuch a buzz saw; she’d get hurt. But you, my cynical and sin-stained chum,know all about those buzz saws. If your own asinine carelessness causedyou to back into one, who am I to tamper with your karma? You picked it.“.Mmm ... I see your point. Okay, Jubal, you can go to hell-for monkeying withmy karma. If I have one.“.A moot point. The predestinationers and the free-willers were still tied in thefourth quarter, last I heard. Either way, I have no wish to disturb a mansleeping in a gutter; I assume until proved otherwise that he belongs there.
　　Most do-gooding reminds me of treating hemophilia-the only real cure forhemophilia is to let hemophiliacs bleed to death . before they breed morehemophiliacs.“.You could sterilize them.“.You would have me play God? But we’re veering off the subject. Douglasdidn’t try to have you assassinated.“.Says who?“.Says the infallible Jubal Harshaw, speaking ex cathedra from his bellybutton. See here, son, if a deputy sheriff beats a prisoner to death, it’ssweepstakes odds that the county commissioners didn’t order it, didn’t knowit, and wouldn’t have permitted it had they known. At worst they shut theireyes to it-afterwards-rather than upset their own applecarts. Butassassination has never been an accepted policy in this country.“.I’d like to show you the backgrounds of quite a number of deaths I’velooked into.“Jubal waved it aside. .I said it wasn’t a policy. We’ve always had politicalassassination-from prominent ones like Huey Long to men beaten to deathon their own front steps with hardly a page-eight story in passing. But it’snever been a policy here and the reason you are sitting in the sunshine rightnow is that it is not Joe Douglas’ policy. Consider. They snatched you clean,no fuss, no inquiries. They squeezed you dry-then they had no more use foryou . . . and they could have disposed of you as quietly as flushing a deadmouse down a toilet. But they didn’t. Why not? Because they knew their bossdidn’t really like for them to play that rough and if he became convinced thatthey had (whether in court or out), it would cost their jobs if not their necks.“Jubal paused for a swig. .But consider. Those S.S. thugs are just a tool; theyaren’t yet a Praetorian Guard that picks the new Caesar. Such being, whomdo you really want for Caesar? Courthouse Joe whose basic indoctrinationgoes back to the days when this country was a nation and not just a satrapyin a polyglot empire of many traditions . . . Douglas, who really can’t stomachassassination? Or do you want to toss him out of office (we can, you know,tomorrow-just by double-crossing him on the deal I’ve led him to expect-tosshim out and thereby put in a Secretary General from a land where life hasalways been cheap and political assassination a venerable tradition? If youdo this, Ben-tell me what happens to the next snoopy newsman who iscareless enough to walk down a dark alley?“Caxton didn’t answer.
　　.As I said, the S.S. is just a tool. Men are always for hire who like dirty work.
　　How dirty will that work become if you nudge Douglas out of his majority?“.Jubal, are you telling me that I ought not to criticize the administration?
　　When they’re wrong? When I know they’re wrong?“.Nope. Gadflies such as yourself are utterly necessary. Nor am I opposed to.turning the rascals out’-it’s usually the soundest rule of politics. But it’s wellto take a look at what new rascals you are going to get before you jump atany chance to turn your present rascals out. Democracy is a poor system ofgovernment at best; the only thing that can honestly be said in its favor is thatit is about eight times as good as any other method the human race has evertried. Democracy’s worst faults is that its leaders are likely to reflect the faultsand virtues of their constituents-a depressingly low level, but what else canyou expect? So take a look at Douglas and ponder that, in his ignorance,stupidity, and self-seeking, he much resembles his fellow Americans,including you and me . . . and that in fact he is a notch or two above theaverage. Then take a look at the man who will replace him if his governmenttopples.“.There’s precious little choice.“.There’s always a choice! This one is a choice between .bad’ and .worse’-which is a difference much more poignant than that between .good’ and.better.’“.Well, Jubal? What do you expect me to do?“.Nothing,“ Harshaw answered. .Because I intend to run this show myself. Oralmost nothing. I expect you to refrain from chewing out Joe Douglas overthis coming settlement in that daily poop you write-maybe even praise him alittle for .statesmanlike restraint-.“.You’re making me vomit!“.Not in the grass, please. Use your hat. -because I’m going to tell you aheadof time what I’m going to do, and why, and why Joe Douglas is going toagree to it. The first principle in riding a tiger is to hang on tight to its ears.“.Quit being pompous. What’s the deal?“.Quit being obtuse and listen. If this boy were a penniless nobody, therewould be no problem. But he has the misfortune to be indisputably the heir tomore wealth than Croesus ever dreamed of . . . plus a highly disputable claimto political power even greater through a politico-judicial precedentunparalleled in pure jug-headedness since the time Secretary Fall wasconvicted of receiving a bribe that Doheny was acquitted of having givenhim.“.Yes, but-.
　　.I have the floor. As I told Jill, I have no slightest interest in .True Prince’
　　nonsense. Nor do I regard all that wealth as .his’; he didn’t produce a shillingof it. Even if he had earned it himself-impossible at his age -.property’ is notthe natural and obvious and inevitable concept that most people think it is.“.Come again?“.Ownership, of anything, is an extremely sophisticated abstraction, a mysticalrelationship, truly. God knows our legal theorists make this mysterycomplicated enough-but I didn’t begin to see how subtle it was until I got theMartian slant on it. Martians don’t have property. They don’t own anything . . .
　　not even their own bodies.“.Wait a minute, Jubal. Even animals have property. And the Martians aren’tanimals; they’re a highly developed civilization, with great cities and all sortsof things.“.Yes. .Foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests.’ And nobodyunderstands a property line and the .meus-et-tuus’ involved better than awatch dog. But not Martians. Unless you regard an undistributed jointownership of everything by a few millions or billions of senior citizens -.ghosts’ to you, my friend-as being .property.’“.Say, Jubal, how about these .Old Ones’ Mike talks about?“.Do you want the official version? Or my private opinion?“.Huh? Your private opinion. What you really think.“.Then keep it to yourself. I think it is a lot of pious poppycock, suitable forenriching lawns. I think it is a superstition burned into the boy’s brain at soearly an age that he stands no chance of ever breaking loose from it.“.Jill talks as if she believed it.“.At all other times you will hear me talk as if I believed it, too. Ordinarypoliteness. One of my most valued friends believes in astrology; I wouldnever offend her by telling her what I think of it. The capacity of a humanmind to believe devoutly in what seems to me to be the highly improbablefromtable tapping to the superiority of their own children- has never beenplumbed. Faith strikes me as intellectual laziness, but I don’t argue with it-.—especially as I am rarely in a position to prove that it is mistaken. Negativeproof is usually impossible. Mike’s faith in his .Old Ones’ is surely no moreirrational than a conviction that the dynamics of the universe can be set asidethrough prayers for rain. Furthermore, he has the weight of evidence on hisside; he has been there. I haven’t.“.Mmm, Jubal, I’ll confess to a sneaking suspicion that immortality is a fact-butI’m glad that my grandfather’s ghost doesn’t continue to exercise any controlover me. He was a cranky old devil.“.And so was mine. And so am I. But is there any really good reason why acitizen’s franchise should be voided simply because he happens to be dead?
　　Come to think of it, the precinct I was raised in had a very large graveyardvote-almost Martian. Yet the town was a pleasant one to live in. As may be,our lad Mike can’t own anything because the .Old Ones’ already owneverything. So you see why I have had trouble explaining to him that he ownsover a million shares of Lunar Enterprises~ plus the Lyle Drive, plus assortedchattels and securities? It doesn’t help that the original owners are dead; thatmakes it worse, they are .Old Ones’-and Mike wouldn’t dream of sticking hisnose into the business of .Old Ones.’“.Uh ... damn it, he’s obviously legally incompetent.“.Of course he is. He can’t manage property because he doesn’t believe in itsmystique-any more than I believe in his ghosts. Ben, all that Mike owns at thepresent time is a toothbrush I gave him-and he doesn’t know he owns that. Ifyou took it away from him, he wouldn’t object, he wouldn’t even mention it tome-he would simply assume conclusively that the .Old Ones’ had authorizedthe change.“Jubal sighed. .So he is incompetent ... even though he can recite the law ofproperty verbatim. Such being the case I shan’t allow his competency to betried . . . nor even mentioned-for what guardian would be appointed?“.Huh? Douglas. Or, rather, one of his stooges.“.Are you certain, Ben? Consider the present makeup of the High Court. Mightnot the appointed guardian be named Savvonavong? Or Nadi? Or Kee?“.Uh ... you could be right.“.In which case the lad might not live very long. Or he might live to a ripe oldage in some pleasantly gardened prison-for-one a great deal more difficult toescape from than Bethesda Hospital.“.What do you plan to do?“.The power the boy nominally owns is far too dangerous and cumbersomefor him to handle. So we throw it away.“.How the hell do you go about giving away that much money?“.You don’t. You can’t. It’s impossible. The very act of giving it away would bean exercise of its latent power, it would change the balance of power-and anyattempt to do so would cause the boy to be examined on his competence tomanage in jig time. So, instead, we let the tiger run like hell while hangingonto its ears for dear life. Ben, let me outline the fait accornpli I intend tohand to Douglas . . . then you do your damnedest to pick holes in it. Not thelegality of it, as Douglas’ legal staff will write the double-talk and I’ll check itfor boobytraps-dOn’t worry about that; the idea is to give Douglas a plan bewon’t want to booby-trap because he’ll like it. I want you to sniff it for itspolitical feasibility, whether or not we can put it over. Now here’s what we aregoing to do-.
Chapter 19
THE MARTIAN DIPLOMATIC DELEGATION & Inside Straight Sodality,Unlimited, as organized by Jubal HarshaW, landed on the flat of theExecutive Palace shortly before ten o’clock the next morning. Theunpretentious pretender to the Martian throne, Mike Smith, had not worriedabout the purpose of the trip; he had simply enjoyed every minute of theshort flight south, with utter and innocent delight.
　　The trip was made in a chartered Flying Greyhound, and Mike sat up in theastrodome above the driver, with Jill on one side and Dorcas on his other,and stared and stared in awed wonderment as the girls pointed out sights tohim and chattered in his ears. The seat, being intended for two people, wasvery crowded, but Mike did not mind, as a warming degree of growing closernecessarilY resulted. He sat with an arm around each, and looked andlistened and tried to grok and could not have been happier if he had been tenfeet under water.
　　It was, in fact, his first view of Terran civilization He had seen nothing at all inbeing removed from the Champion to suite K-12 at Bethesda Center; he hadindeed spent a few minutes in a taxi ten days earlier going from the hospitalto Ben’s apartment but at the time he had grokked none of it. Since that timehis world had been bounded by a house and a swimming pool, plus5urroundiflg garden and grass and trees-he had not been as far as Jubal’sgate.
　　But now he was enormously more sophisticated than he had been ten daysago. He understood windows, realized that the bubble surrounding him was awindow and meant for looking out of and that the changing sights he sawwere indeed the cities of these people. He understood maps and could pickout, with the help of the girls, where they were and what they were seeing onthe map flowing across the lap board in front of them. But of course he hadalways known about maps; he simply had not known until recently thathumans knew about maps. It had given him a twinge of happy homesicknessthe first time he had grokked a human map. Sure, it was static and deadcompared with the maps used by his people-but it was a map. Mike was notdisposed by nature and certainly not by training to invidious comparisonseven human maps were very Martian in essence -he liked them.
　　Now he saw almost two hundred miles of countryside, much of it sprawlingworld metropolis, and savored every inch of it, tried to grok it. He was startledby the enormous size of human cities and by their bustling activity visibleeven from the air, so very different from the slow motion, monestary-gardenpace of cities of his own people. It seemed to him that a human city mustwear out almost at once, becoming so choked with living experience that onlythe strongest of the Old Ones could bear to visit its deserted streets and grokin contemplation the events and emotions piled layer on endless Layer in it.
　　He himself had visited abandoned cities at home only on a few wonderful anddreadful occasionS, and then his teachers had stopped having him do so,grokking that he was not strong enough for such experience.
　　Careful questions to Jill and Dorcas, the answers of which he then related towhat he had read, enabled him to grok in part enough to relieve his mindsotnewbat the city was very young; it had been founded only a little over twoEarth centuries ago. Since Earth time units had no real flavor for him, heconverted to Martian years and Martian numbers years (3^4 + 3^3 = 108Martian years).
　　Terrifying and beautiful! Why, these people must even now be preparing toabandon the city to its thoughts before it shattered under the strain andbecame not. And yet, by mere time, the city was only an egg.
　　Mike looked forward to returning to Washington in a century or two to walk itsempty streets and try to grow close to its endless pain and beauty, grokkingthirstily until he was Washington and the city was himself-if he were strongenough by then. Then he firmly filed the thought away as he knew that hemust grow and grow and grow before he would be able to praise and cherishthe city’s mighty anguish.
　　The Greyhound driver swung far east at one point in response to a temporaryrerouting of unscheduled traffic (caused, unknown to Mike, by Mike’s ownpresence)~ and Mike, for the first time, saw the sea.
　　Jill had to point it out to him and tell him that it was water, and Dorcas addedthat it was the Atlantic Ocean and traced the shore line on the map. Mike wasnot ignorant: he had known since he was a nestling that the planet nextnearer the Sun was almost covered with the water of life and lately he hadlearned that these people accepted this lavish richness casually. He hadeven taken, unassisted, the much more difficult hurdle of grokking at last theMartian orthodoxy that the water ceremony did not require water, that waterwas merely symbol for the essence beautiful but not indispensable.
　　But, like many a human still virgin toward some major human experience,Mike discovered that knowing a fact in the abstract was not at all the samething as experiencing its physical reality; the sight of the Atlantic Ocean filledhim with such awe that Jill squeezed him and said sharply, .Stop it, Mike!
　　Don’t you dare!“Mike chopped off his emotion and stored it away for later use. Then he staredat the ocean, stretching out to an unimaginably distant horizon, and tried tomeasure its size in his mind until his head was buzzing with threes andpowers of threes and superpowers of powers.
　　As they landed Jubal called out, .Now remember, girls, form a square aroundhim and don’t be at all backward about planting a heel in an instep or jabbingan elbow into some oaf’s solar plexus. Anne, I realize you’ll be wearing yourcloak but that’s no reason not to step on a foot if you’re crowded. Or is it?“.Quit fretting, Boss; nobody crowds a Witness-but I’m wearing spike heelsand I weigh more than you do.“.Okay. Duke, you know what to do-but get Larry back here with the bus assoon as possible. I don’t know when I’ll need it.“.I grok it, Boss. Quit jittering.“.I’ll jitter as I please. Let’s go.“ Harshaw, the four girls with Mike, and Caxtongot out; the bus took off at once. To Harshaw’s mixed relief andapprehension the landing flat was not crowded with newsmen.
　　But it was far from empty. A man picked him out at once, stepped brisklyforward and said heartily, .Dr. Harshaw? I’m Tom Bradley, senior executiveassistant to the Secretary General. You are to go directly to Mr. Douglas’
　　private office. He will see you for a few moments before the conferencestarts.“.No.“Bradley blinked. .I don’t think you understood me. These are instructionsfrom the Secretary General. Oh, he said that it was all right for Mr. Smith tocome with you-the Man from Mars, I mean-.
　　.No. This party stays together, even to go to the washroom. Right now we’regoing to that conference room. Have somebody lead the way. And have allthese people stand back; they’re crowding us. In the meantime, I have anerrand for you. Miriam, that letter.“.But, Dr. Harshaw-.
　　.I said, .No!’ Can’t you understand plain English? But you are to deliver thisletter to Mr. Douglas at once and to him ersonal1Ya1~ fetch back his receiptto me.“ Harshaw paused to write his signature across the flap of the envelopeMiriam had handed to him, pressed his thumb print over the signature, andhanded it to Bradley. .Tell him that it is most urgent that he read this at oncebeforethe meeting.“.But the Secretary General specifically desires-.
　　.The Secretary desires to see that letter. Young man, I am endowed withsecond sight . . . and I predict that you won’t be working here later today ifyou waste any time getting it to him.“Bradley locked eyes with Jubal, then said, .Jim, take over,“ and left, with theletter. Jubal sighed inwardly. He had sweated over that letter; Anne and hehad been up most of the night preparing draft after draft. Jubal had everyintention of arriving at an open settlement, in full view of the world’s newscameras and microphones-but he bad no intention of letting Douglas betaken by surprise by any proposal.
　　Another man stepped forward in answer to Bradley’s order; Jubal sized himup as a prime specimen of the clever, conscienceless young-men-on-theway-up who gravitate to those in power and do their dirty work; he dislikedhim on sight. The man smiled heartily and said smoothly, .The name’s JimSanforth, Doctor-I’m the Chief’s press secretary. I’ll be buffering for you fromnow on-arranging your press interviews and so forth. I’m sorry to say that theconference room is not quite ready; there have been last minute changesand we’ve had to move to a larger room. Now it’s my thought that-.
　　.It’s my thought that we’ll go to that conference room right now. We’ll standup until chairs are fetched for us.“.Doctor, I’m sure you don’t understand the situation. They are still stringingwires and things, and that room is swarming with reporters andcommentators.“.Very well. We’ll chat with .em till you’re ready.“.No, Doctor. I have instructions“.Youngster, you can take your instructions, fold them until they are all cornersand shove them in your oubliette. We are not at your beck and call. You willnot arrange press interviews for us. We are here for just one purpose: apublic conference. If the conference is not ready to meet, we’ll see the pressnow-in the conference room.“.But-.
　　.And that’s not all. You’re keeping the Man from Mars standing on a windyroof“ Harshaw raised his voice. .Is there anyone here smart enough to leadus straight to this conference room without getting lost?“Sanforth swallowed and said, .Follow me, Doctor.“The conference room was indeed crowded with newsmen and techniciansbut there was a big oval table, plenty of chairs, and several smaller tables.
　　Mike was spotted at once and Sanforth’s protests did not keep them fromcrowding in on him. But Mike’s flying wedge of amateur Amazons got him asfar as the big table; Jubal sat him against it with Dorcas and Jill in chairsflanking him and the Fair Witness and Miriam seated behind him. Once thiswas done, Jubal made no attempt to fend oft questions or pictures. Mike hadbeen warned that he would meet lots of people and that many of them woulddo strange things and Jubal had most particularly warned him to take nosudden actions (such as causing persons or things to go away, or to stop)unless Jill told him to.
　　Mike took the confusion gravely, without apparent upset; Jill was holding hishand and her touch reassured him.
　　Jubal wanted news pictures taken, the more the better; as for questions putdirectly to Mike, Jubal did not fear them and made no attempt to field them. Aweek of trying to talk with Mike had convinced him that no reporter couldpossibly get anything of importance out of Mike in only a few minutes-withoutexpert help. Mike’s habit of answering a question as asked, answering itliterally and stopping, would be enough to nullify most attempts to pump him.
　　And so it proved. Most questions Mike answered with a polite: .I do notknow,“ or an even less committal; .Beg pardon?“But one question backfired on the questioner. A Reuters correspondent,anticipating a monumental fight over Mike’s status as an heir, tried to sneakin his own test of Mike’s competence: .Mr. Smith? What do you know aboutthe laws of inheritance here?“Mike was aware that he was having trouble grokking in fullness the humanconcept of property and, in particular, the ideas of bequest and inheritance.
　　So he most carefully avoided inserting his own ideas and stuck to the book-abook which Jubal recognized shortly as Ely on Inheritance and Bequest,chapter one.
　　Mike related what he had read, with precision and careful lack of expression,like a boring but exact law professor, for page after tedious page, while theroom gradually settled into stunned silence and his interrogator gulped.
　　Jubal let it go on until every newsman there knew more than he wanted toknow about dower and curtesy, consanguinean and uterine, per stirpes andper capita, and related mysteries. At last Jubal touched his shoulder, .That’senough, Mike.“Mike looked puzzled. .There is much more.“.Yes, but later. Does someone have a question on some other subject?“A reporter for a London Sunday paper of enormous circulation jumped in witha question closer to his employer’s pocketbook: .Mr. Smith, we understandyou like the girls here on Earth. But have you ever kissed a girl?“.Yes.“.Did you like it?“.Yes.“.How did you like it?“Mike barely hesitated over his answer. .Kissing girls is a goodness,“ heexplained very seriously. .It is a growing-closer. It beats the hell out of cardgames.“Their applause frightened him. But he could feel that Jill and Dorcas were notfrightened, that indeed they were both trying to restrain thatincomprehensible noisy expression of pleasure which he himself could notlearn. So he calmed his fright and waited gravely for whatever might happennext.
　　By what did happen next he was saved from further questions, answerable ornot, and was granted a great joy; he saw a familiar face and figure justentering by a side door, .My brother Dr. Mahmoud!“ Mike went on talking inoverpowering excitement-but in Martian.
　　The Champion’s staff semanticist waved and smiled and answered in thesame jarring language while hurrying to Mike’s side. The two continuedtalking in unhuman symbols, Mike in an eager torrent, Mahmoud not quite asrapidly, with sound effects like a rhinoceros ramming an ironmonger’s lorry.
　　The newsmen stood it for some time, those who operated by sound recordingit and the writers noting it as local color. But at last one interrupted. .Dr.
　　Mahmoud! What are you saying? Clue us!“Mahmoud turned, smiled briefly and said in clipped Oxonian speech, .For themost part, I’ve been saying, .Slow down, my dear boy-do, please.’
　　.And what does he say?“.The rest of our conversation is personal, private, of no possible intrest toothers, I assure you. Greetings, y’know. Old friends.“ He turned back to Mikeand continued to chat-in Martian.
　　In fact, Mike was telling his brother Malimoud all that had happened to him inthe fortnight since he had last seen him, so that they might grok closer-butMike’s abstraction of what to tell was purely Martian in concept, it beingconcerned primarily with new water brothers and the unique flavor of each . .
　　. the gentle water that was Jill . . . the depth of Anne . . . the strange not-yetfully-grokked fact that Jubal tasted now like an egg, then like an Old One, butwas neither-the ungrokkable vastness of ocean-Mahmoud had less to tell Mike since less had happened in the interim to him,by Martian standards-one Dionysian excess quite unMartian and of which hewas not proud, one long day spent lying face down in Washington’s SuleimanMosque, the results of which he had not yet grokked and was not ready todiscuss. No new water brothers.
　　He stopped Mike presently and offered his hand to Jubal. .You’re Dr.
　　Harshaw, I know. Valentine Michael thinks he has introduced me to all ofyou-and he has, by his rules.“Harshaw looked him over as he shook hands with him. Chap looked andsounded like a huntin’, shootin’, sportin’ Britisher, from his tweedy,expensively casual clothes to a clipped grey moustache . . . but his skin wasnaturally swarthy rather than ruddy tan and the genes for that nose camefrom somewhere close to the Levant. Harshaw did not like fake anything andwould choose to eat cold compone over the most perfect syntho .sirloin.“But Mike treated him as a friend, so .friend“ he was, until proved otherwise.
　　To Mahmoud, Harshaw looked like a museum exhibit of what he thought ofas a .Yank“-vulgar, dressed too informally for the occasion, loud, probablyignorant and almost certainly provincial. A professional man, too, which madeit worse, as in Dr. Mahmoud’s experience most American professional menwere under-educated and narrow, mere technicians. He held a vast butcarefully concealed distaste for all things American. Their incrediblepolytheistic babel of religions, of course, although they were hardly to beblamed for that . . . their cooking (cooking/Il), their manners, their bastardarchitecture and sickly arts . . . and their blind, pathetic, arrogant belief intheir superiority long after their sun had set. Their women. Their women mostof all, their immodest, assertive women, with their gaunt, starved bodieswhich nevertheless reminded him disturbingly of houris. Four of them here,crowded around Valentine Michael-at a meeting which certainly should be allmale- But Valentine Michael had offered him all these people-including theseubiquitous female creatures-offered them proudly and eagerly as his waterbrothers, thereby laying on Mahmoud a family obligation closer and morebinding than that owed to the sons of one’s father’s brother-since Mahmoudunderstood the Martian term for such accretive relationships from directobservation of what it meant to Martians and did not need to translate itclumsily and inadequately as .catenative assemblage,“ nor even as .thingsequal to the same thing are equal to each other.“ He had seen Martians athome; he knew their extreme poverty (by Earth standards); he had dippedinto-and had guessed at far more-of their cultural extreme wealth; and hadgrokked quite accurately the supreme value that Martians place oninterpersonal relationships.
　　Well, there was nothing else for it-he had shared water with ValentineMichael and now he must justify his friend’s faith in him . . . he simply hopedthat these Yanks were not complete bounders.
　　So he smiled warmly and shook hands firmly. .Yes. Valentine Michael hasexplained to me-most proudly-that you are all in-. (Mahmoud used one wordof Martian.) .-to him.“.Eh?“.Water brotherhood. You understand?“.I grok it.“Mahmoud strongly doubted if Harshaw did, but he went on smoothly, .Since Imyself am already in that relationship to him, I must ask to be considered amember of the family. I know your name, and I have guessed that this mustbe Mr. Caxton-in fact I have seen your face pictured at the head of yourcolumn, Mr. Caxton; I read it when I have opportunity-but let me see if I havethe young ladies straight. This must be Anne.“.Yes. But she’s cloaked at the moment.“.Yes, of course. I’ll pay my respects to her when she is not busyprofessionally.“Harshaw introduced him to the other three . . . and Jill startled him byaddressing him with the correct honorific for a water brother, pronouncing itabout three octaves higher than any adult Martian would talk but with sorethroatpurity of accent. It was one of the scant dozen Martian words shecould speak out of the hundred-odd that she was beginning to understandbutthis one she had down pat because it was used to her and by her manytimes each day.
　　Dr. Mahmoud’s eyes widened slightly-perhaps these people would turn outnot to be mere uncircumcised barbarians after all . . . and his young friend didhave strong intuitions. Instantly he offered Jill the correct honorific inresponse and bowed over her hand.
　　Jill saw that Mike was obviously delighted; she managed, slurringly butpassably, to croak the shortest of the nine forms by which a water brothermay return the response-although she did not grok it fully and would not haveconsidered suggesting (in English) the nearest human biological equivalent .
　　. . certainly not to a man she had Just met!
　　However, Mahmoud, who did understand it, took it in its symbolic meaningrather than its (humanly impossible) literal meaning, and spoke rightly inresponse. But Jill had passed the limit of her linguistic ability; she did notunderstand his answer at all and could not reply, even in pedestrian English.
　　But she got a sudden inspiration. At intervals around the huge table wereplaced the age-old furniture of human palavers-water pitchers each with itsclump of glasses. She stretched and got a pitcher and a tumbler, filled thelatter.
　　She looked Mahmoud in the eye, said earnestly, .Water. Our nest is yours.“She touched it to her lips and handed it to Mahmoud.
　　He answered her in Martian, saw that she did not understand him andtranslated, .Who shares water shares all.“ He took a sip and started to handthe glass back to Jill-checked himself, looked at Harshaw and offered him theglass.
　　Jubal said, .I can’t speak Martian, son-but thanks for water. May you neverbe thirsty.“ He took a sip, then drank about a third of it. .Ak!“ He passed theglass to Ben.
　　Caxton looked at Mahmoud and said very soberly, .Grow closer. With thewater of life we grow closer.“ He wet his lips with it and passed it to Dorcas.
　　In spite of the precedents already set, Dorcas hesitated. .Dr. Mahmoud? Youdo know how serious this is to Mike?“.I do, Miss.“.Well ...it’s just as serious to us. You understand? You grok?“.I grok its fullness ... or I would have refused to drink.“.All right. May you always drink deep. May our eggs share a nest.“ Tearsstarted down her cheeks: she drank and passed the glass hastily to Miriam.
　　Miriam whispered, .Pull yourself together, kid,“ then spoke to Mike, .Withwater we welcome our brother,“-then added to Mahmoud, .Nest, water, life.“She drank. .Our brother.“ She offered him the glass.
　　Mahmoud finished what was left in it and spoke, neither in Martian norEnglish, but Arabic: .’And if ye mingle your affairs with theirs, then they areyour brothers.’“.Amen,“ Jubal agreed.
　　Dr. Mahmoud looked quickly at him, decided not to enquire just then whetherHarshaw had understood him, or was simply being polite; this was neither thetime nor the place to say anything which might lead to unbottling his owntroubles, his own doubts. Nevertheless he felt warmed in his soul-as alwaysbywater ritual . . . even though it smelled of heresy.
　　His thoughts were cut short by the assistant chief of protocol bustling up tothem. .You’re Dr. Mahmoud. You belong over on the far side of the table,Doctor. Follow me.“Mahmoud looked at him, then looked at Mike and smiled. .No, I belong here,with my friends. Dorcas, may I pull a chair in here and sit between you andValentine Michael?“.Certainly, Doctor. Here, I’ll scrunch over.“The a.c. of p. was almost tapping his foot in impatience. .Dr. Mahmoud,please! The chart places you over on the other side of the room! TheSecretary General will be here any moment-and the place is still simplyswarming with reporters and goodness knows who else who doesn’t belonghere . . . and I don’t know what I’m going to do!“.Then go do it someplace else, bub,“ Jubal suggested.
　　.What? Who are you? Are you on the list?“ He worriedly consulted theseating chart he carried.
　　.Who are you?“ Jubal answered. .The head waiter? I’m Jubal Harshaw. If myname is not on that list, you can tear it up and start over. And look, buster, ifthe Man from Mars wants his friend Dr. Mahmoud to sit by him, that settlesit.“.But he can’t sit here! Seats at the main conference table are reserved forHigh Ministers, Chiefs of Delegations, High Court Justices, and equal ranksandI don’t know how I can squeeze them all in if any more show up-and theMan from Mars, of course.“.’Of course,’“ Jubal agreed dryly.
　　.And of course Dr. Mahmoud has to be near the Secretary General- just backof him, so that he’ll be ready to interpret as needed. I must say you’re notbeing helpful.“.I’ll help.“ Jubal plucked the paper out of the official’s hand, sat down at thetable and studied it. .Mmm ... lemme see now. The Man from Mars will sitdirectly opposite the Secretary General, just about where he happens to besitting. Then-. Jubal got out a heavy soft pencil and attacked the seatingchart. .-this entire half of the main table, from here clear over to here,belongs to the Man from Mars.“ Jubal scratched two big black cross marks toshow the limits and joined them with a thick black arc, then began scratchingout names assigned to seats on that side of the table. .That takes care of halfof your work ... because I’ll seat anybody who sits on our side of the table.“The protocol officer was too shocked to talk. His mouth worked but nomeaningful noises came out. Jubal looked at him mildly. .Something thematter? Oh-I forgot to make it official.“ He scrawled under his amendments:
　　.J. Harshaw for V At Smith.“ .Now trot back to your top sergeant, son, andshow him that. Tell him to check his rule book on official visits from heads offriendly planets.“The man looked at it, opened his mouth-then left very rapidly withoutstopping to close it. But he was back very quickly on the heels of another,older man. The newcomer said in a firm, no-nonsense manner, .Dr. Harshaw,I’m LaRue, Chief of Protocol. Do you actually need half the main table? Iunderstood that your delegation was quite small.“.That’s beside the point.“LaRue smiled briefly. .I’m afraid it’s not beside the point to me, sir. I’m at mywit’s end for space. Almost every official of first rank in the Federation haselected to be present today. If you are expecting more people-though I dowish you had notified me-I’ll have a table placed behind these two seatsreserved for Mr. Smith and yourself.“.No.“.I’m afraid that’s the way it must be. I’m sorry.“.So am I-for you. Because if half the main table is not reserved for the Marsdelegation, we are leaving right now. Just tell the Secretary General that youbusted up his conference by being rude to the Man from Mars.“.Surely you don’t mean that?“.Didn’t you get my message?“.Uh ... well, I took it as a jest. A rather clever one, I admit.“.Son, I can’t afford to joke at these prices. Smith is either top man fromanother planet paying an official visit to the top man of this planet- in whichcase he is entitled to all the side boys and dancing girls you can dig up-or heis just a simple tourist and gets no official courtesies of any sort. You can’thave it both ways. But I suggest that you look around you, count the .officialsof first rank’ as you called them, and make a quick guess as to whether theywould have bothered to show up if, in their minds, Smith is just a tourist.“LaRue said slowly, .There’s no precedent.“Jubal snorted. .I saw the Chief of Delegation from the Lunar Republic comein a moment ago-go tell him there’s no precedent. Then duck!- I hear he’s gota quick temper.“ He sighed. .But, son, I’m an old man and I had a short nightand it’s none of my business to teach you your job. Just tell Mr. Douglas thatwe’ll see him another day . . . when he’s ready to receive us properly. Comeon, Mike.“ He started to roust himself painfully out of his chair.
　　LaRue said hastily, .No, no, Dr. Harshaw! We’ll clear this side of the table. I’ll-Well, I’ll do something. It’s yours.“.That’s better.“ But Harshaw remained poised to get up. .But where’s theFlag of Mars? And how about honors?“.I’m afraid I don’t understand you.“.Never seen a day when I had so much trouble with plain English. Look- Seethat Federation Banner back of where the Secretary is going to sit? Where’sthe one like it over here, for Mars?“LaRue blinked. .I must admit you’ve taken me by surprise. I didn’t know theMartians used flags.“.They don’t. But you couldn’t possibly whop up what they use for high stateoccasions.“ (And neither could I, boy, but that’s beside the point.) .So we’ll letyou off easy and take an attempt for the deed. Piece of paper, Miriam-now,like this.“ Harshaw drew a rectangle, sketched in it the traditional humansymbol for Mars, a circle with an arrow leading out from it to the upper right.Make the field in white and the sigil of Mars in red-should be sewed inbunting of course, but with a clean sheet and a bucket of paint any Boy Scoutcould improvise one in ten minutes. Were you a Scout?“.Uh, some time ago.“.Good. Then you know the Scout’s motto. Now about honors- maybe you’recaught unprepared there, too, eh? You expect to play .Hail to SovereignPeace’ as the Secretary comes in?“.Oh, we must. It’s obligatory.“.Then you’ll want to follow it with the anthem for Mars.“.I don’t see how I can. Even if there were one ... we don’t have it. Dr.
　　Harshaw, be reasonable!“.Look, son, I am being reasonable. We came here for a quiet, small, informalmeeting-strictly business. We find you’ve turned it into a circus. Well, if you’regoing to have a circus, you’ve got to have elephants and there’s no two waysabout it. Now we realize you can’t play Martian music, any more than a boywith a tin whistle can play a symphony. But you can play a symphony-.TheTen Planets Symphony.’ Grok it? I mean, .Do you catch on?’ Have the tapecut in at the beginning of the Mars movement; play that . . . or enough bars tolet the theme be recognized.“LaRue looked thoughtful. .Yes, I suppose we could-but, Dr. Harshaw, Ipromised you half the table . . . but I don’t see how I can promise sovereignhonors-the flag and the music-even on this improvised, merely symbolicscale. I- I don’t think I have the authority.“.Nor the guts,“ Harshaw said bitterly. .Well, we didn’t want a circus -so tellMr. Douglas that we’ll be back when he’s not so busy . . . and not so manyvisitors. Been nice chatting with you, son. Be sure to stop by the Secretary’soffice and say hello when we come back-if you’re still here.“ He again wentthrough the slow, apparently painful act of being a man too old and feeble toget out of a chair easily.
　　LaRue said, .Dr. Harshaw, please don’t leave! Uh ... the Secretary won’tcome in until I send word that we are ready for him-so let me see what I cando. Yes?“Harshaw relaxed with a grunt. .Suit yourself. But one more thing, while you’rehere. I heard a ruckus at the main door a moment ago-what I could catch,one of the crew members of the Champion wanted to come in. They’re allfriends of Smith, so let .em in. We’ll accommodate .em. Help to fill up this sideof the table.“ Harshaw sighed and rubbed a kidney.
　　.Very well, sir,“ LaRue agreed stiffly and left.
　　Miriam said out of the corner of her mouth: .Boss-did you sprain your backdoing hand stands night before last?“.Quiet, girl, or I’ll paddle you.“ With grim satisfaction Jubal surveyed theroom, which was continuing to fill with high officials. He had told Douglas thathe wanted a .small, informal“ talk-no formality while knowing with uttercertainty that the mere announcement of such talks would fetch all thepowerful and power-hungry as surely as light attracts moths. And now (he feltsure) Mike was about to be treated as a sovereign by each and every one ofthose nabobs-with the whole world watching. Just let .em try to roust the boyaround after this!
　　Sanforth was still trying mightily to shoo out the remaining newsmen, and theunfortunate assistant chief of protocol, deserted by his boss, was jittering likea nervous baby-sitter in his attempt to play musical chairs with too few chairsand too many notables, They continued to come in and Jubal concluded thatDouglas had never intended to convene this public meeting earlier thaneleven o’clock, and that everyone else had been so informed-the earlier hourgiven Jubal was to permit the private preconference that Douglas haddemanded and that Jubal had refused. Well, the delay suited Jubal’s plans.
　　The leader of the Eastern Coalition came in. Since Mr. King was not, by hisown choice, the nominal Chief of Delegation for his nation, his status understrict protocol was merely that of Assemblyman-but Jubal was not even mildlysurprised to see the harried assistant chief of protocol drop what he wasdoing and rush to seat Douglas’ chief political enemy at the main table andnear the seat reserved for the Secretary General; it simply reinforced Jubal’sopinion that Douglas was no fool.
　　Dr. Nelson, surgeon of the Champion, and Captain van Tromp, her skipper,came in together, and were greeted with delight by Mike. Jubal was pleased,too, as it gave the boy something to do, under the cameras, instead of justsitting still like a dummy. Jubal made use of the disturbance to rearrange theseating since there was now no longer any need to surround the Man fromMars with a bodyguard. He placed Mike precisely opposite the SecretaryGeneral’s chair and himself took the chair on Mike’s left-not only to be closeto him as his counsel but to be where he could actually touch Mikeinconspicuously. Since Mike had only the foggiest notions of humancustomary manners, Jubal had arranged with him signals as imperceptible asthose used by a rider in putting a high-schooled horse through dressagemaneuvers-.stand up,“ .sit down,“ .bow,“ .shake hands“-with the differencethat Mike was not a horse and his training had required only five minutes toachieve utterly dependable perfection.
　　Mahmoud broke away from the reunion of shipmates, came around, andspoke to Jubal privately. .Doctor, I must explain that the Skipper and theSurgeon are also water brothers of our brother-and Michael Valentine wantedto confirm it at once by again using the ritual, all of us. I told him to wait. Doyou approve?“.Eh? Yes. Yes, certainly. Not in this mob.“ Jubal worried it for a moment.
　　Damn it, how many water brothers did Mike have? How long was this daisychain? .Maybe you three can come with us when we leave? And have a biteand a talk in private.“.I shall be honored. And I feel sure the other two will come also, ifpossible.“.Good. Dr. Mahmoud, do you know of any other brothers of our youngbrother who are likely to show up?“.No. Not from the company of the Champion, at least; there are no more.“Mahmoud hesitated, then decided not to ask the obvious complementaryquestion, as it would hint at how disconcerted he had been-at first-to discoverthe extent of his own conjugational commitments. .I’ll tell Sven and the OldMan.“ He went back to them.
　　Harshaw saw the Papal Nuncio come in, saw him seated at the main table,and smiled inwardly-if that long-eared debit, LaRue, had any lingering doubtsabout the official nature of this meeting, he would do well to forget them!
　　A man came up behind Harshaw, tapped him on the shoulder. .Is this wherethe Man from Mars hangs out?“.Yes,“ agreed Jubal.
　　.Which one is he? I’m Tom Boone-Senator Boone, that is-and I’ve got amessage for him from Supreme Bishop Digby.“Jubal suppressed his personal feelings and let his cortex go into emergencyhigh speed. .I’m Jubal Harshaw, Senator-. He signalled Mike to stand up andoffer to shake hands. .-and this is Mr. Smith. Mike, this is Senator Boone.“.How do you do, Senator Boone,“ Mike said in perfect dancingschool form.
　　He looked at Boone with interest. He had already had it straightened out forhim that .Senator“ did not mean .Old One“ as the words seemed to shape;nevertheless he was interested in seeing just what a .Senator“ was. Hedecided that he did not yet grok it.
　　.Pretty well, thank you, Mr. Smith. But I won’t take up your time; they seem tobe about to get this shindig started. Mr. Smith, Supreme Bishop Digby sentme to give you a personal invite to attend services at the Archangel FosterTabernacle of the New Revelation.“.Beg pardon?“Jubal moved in on it. .Senator, as you know, many things here- everything-isnew to the Man from Mars. But it so happens that Mr. Smith has alreadyseen one of your church services by stereovision-.
　　.Not the same thing.“.I know. But he expressed great interest in it and asked many questionsabout it-many of which I could not answer.“Boone looked keenly at him. .You’re not one of the faithful?“.I must admit that I am not.“.Come along yourself. Always hope for a sinner.“.Thank you, I will.“ (You’re right, I will, friend!-for I certainly won’t let Mike gointo your trap alone!).Next Sunday then-I’ll tell Bishop Digby.“.Next Sunday if possible,“ Jubal corrected. .We might be in jail by then.“Boone grinned. .There’s always that, ain’t th’r? But send word around to meor the Supreme Bishop and you won’t stay in long.“ He looked around thecrowded room. .Seem to be kind o’ short on chairs in here. Not much chancefor a plain senator with all those muckamucks elbowing each other.“.Perhaps you would honor us by joining us, Senator,“ Jubal answeredsmoothly, .at this table?“.Eh? Why, thank you, sir! Don’t mind if I do-ringside seat.“.That is,“ Harshaw added, .if you don’t mind the political implications of beingseen seated with the official Mars delegation. We aren’t trying to crowd youinto an embarrassing situation.“Boone barely hesitated. .Not at all! Who cares what people think? Matter offact, between you and I, the Bishop is very, very interested in this youngman.“.Fine. There’s a vacant chair there by Captain van Tromp-that man there . . .
　　but probably you know him.“.Van Tromp? Sure, sure, old friends, know him well-met him at thereception.“ Senator Boone nodded at Smith, swaggered down and seatedhimself.
　　Most of those present were seated now and fewer were getting past theguards at the doors. Jubal watched one argument over seating and thelonger he watched it the more it made him fidget. At last he felt that he simplycould not stand it; he could not sit still and watch this indecency go on. So heleaned over and spoke very privately with Mike, made sure that, if Mike didnot understand why, at least he understood what Jubal wanted him to do.
　　Mike listened. .Jubal, I will do.“.Thanks, son.“ Jubal got up and approached a group of three: the assistantchief of protocol, the Chief of the Uruguayan Delegation, and a third man whoseemed angry but baffled. The Uruguayan was saying forcefully: .-seat him,then you must find seats for any and all other local chiefs of state-eighty ormore. You’ve admitted that you can’t do that. This is Federation soil we standon . . . and no chief of state has precedence over any other chief of state. Ifany exceptions are made-.
　　Jubal interrupted by addressing the third man, .Sir-. He waited just longenough to gain his attention, plunged on. .-the Man from Mars has instructedme to ask you to do him the great honor of sitting with him if your presence isnot required elsewhere.“The man looked startled, then smiled broadly. .Why, yes, that would besatisfactory.“The other two, both the palace official and the Uruguayan dignitary, started toobject. Jubal turned his back on them. .Let’s hurry, sir-I think we have verylittle time.“ He had seen two men coming in with what appeared to be a standfor a Christmas tree and a bloody sheet-but what was almost certainly the.Martian Flag.“ As they hurried to where he was, Mike got up and wasstanding, waiting for them.
　　Jubal said, .Sir, permit me to present Valentine Michael Smith. Michael-thePresident of the United States!“Mike bowed very low.
　　There was barely time to seat him on Mike’s right, as the improvised flag waseven then being set up behind them. Music started to play, everyone stood,and a voice proclaimed:
　　.The Secretary General!“
Chapter 20
JUBAL HAD CONSIDERED HAVING Mike remain seated while Douglascame in, but had rejected the idea; he was not trying to place Mike a notchhigher than Douglas but merely to establish that the meeting was betweenequals. So, when he stood up, he signaled Mike to do so likewise. The greatdouble doors at the back of the conference hall had opened at the first strainsof .Hail to Sovereign Peace“ and Douglas came in. He went straight to hischair and started to sit down.
　　Instantly Jubal signaled Mike to sit down, the result being that Mike and theSecretary General sat down simultaneously-with a long, respectful pause ofsome seconds before anyone else resumed his seat. Jubal held his breath.
　　Had LaRue done it? Or not? He hadn’t quite promised- Then the firstfortissimo tocsin of the .Mars“ movement filled the room-the .War God“theme that startles even an audience expecting it. With his eyes on Douglasand with Douglas looking back at him, Jubal was at once up out of his chairagain, like a scared recruit snapping to attention. Douglas stood up, too, notas quickly but promptly.
　　But Mike did not get up; Jubal had not signalled him to do so. He sat quietly,impassively, quite unembarrassed by the fact that everyone else without anyexception got quickly back on his feet when the Secretary General stood up.
　　Mike did not understand any of it and was quite content to do what his waterbrother told him to do. Jubal had puzzled over this bit, after he haddemanded the .Martian Anthem.“ If the demand was met, what should Mikedo while it was played? It was a nice point, and the answer depended on justwhat role Mike was playing in this comedy- The music stopped. On Jubal’ssignals Mike then stood up, bowed quickly, and sat down, seating himselfabout as the Secretary General and the rest were seated. They were all backin their seats much more quickly this time, as no one could have missed theglaring point that Mike had remained seated through the .anthem.“ Jubalsighed with relief. He had gotten away with it. A great many years earlier hehad seen one of that vanishing tribe of royalty (a reigning queen) receive aparade-and he had noticed that the royal lady had bowed after her anthemwas played, i.e., she had acknowledged a salute offered to her ownsovereign self.
　　But the political head of a democracy stands and uncovers for his nation’santhem like any other citizen-for he is not a sovereign.
　　But, as Jubal had pointed out to LaRue, one couldn’t have it two ways. EitherMike was merely a private citizen (in which case this silly gymkhana shouldnever have been held; Douglas should have had the guts to tell all theseoverdressed parasites to stay home!)-or, by the preposterous legal theoryinherent in the Larkin Decision, the kid was a sovereign all by his littlelonesome.
　　Jubal felt tempted to offer LaRue a pinch of snuff. Well, the point had notbeen missed by at least one-the Papal Nuncio was keeping his face straightbut his eyes were twinkling.
　　Douglas started to speak: .Mr. Smith, we are honored and happy to have youhere as our guest today. We hope that you will consider the planet Earth yourhome quite as much as the planet of your birth, our neighbor-our goodneighbor-Mars-. He went on at some length, in careful, rounded, pleasantperiods, which did not quite say anything. Mike was welcome-but whether hewas welcome as a sovereign, as a tourist from abroad, or as a citizenreturning home, was quite impossible to determine (Jubal decided) fromDouglas’ words.
　　Jubal watched Douglas, hoping to catch his eye, looking for some nod orexpression that would show how Douglas had taken the letter Jubal had sentto him by hand immediately on arrival. But Douglas never looked at him.
　　Presently Douglas concluded, still having said nothing and said it very well.
　　Jubal said quietly, .Now, Mike.“Smith addressed the Secretary General-in Martian.
　　But he cut it off before consternation could build up and said gravely: .Mr.
　　Secretary General of the Federation of Free Nations of the Planet Earth-.
　　then went on again in Martian.
　　Then in English: .-we thank you for our welcome here today. We bringgreetings to the peoples of Earth from the Ancient Ones of Mars-. and shiftedagain into Martian.
　　Jubal felt that .Ancient Ones“ was a good touch; it carried more bulge than.Old Ones“ and Mike had not objected to the change in terminology. In fact,while Mike had insisted on .speaking rightly,“ Jubal’s draft had not requiredmuch editing. It had been Jill’s idea to alternate, sentence by sentence, aMartian version and an English version-and Jubal admitted with warmpleasure that her gimmick puffed up a formal little speech as devoid of realcontent as a campaign promise into something as rollingly impressive asWagnerian opera. (And about as hard to figure out, Jubal added.)It didn’t matter to Mike. He could insert the Martian translation as easily as hecould memorize and recite the edited English version, i.e., without effort foreither. If it would please his water brothers to say these sayings, it madeMike happy.
　　Someone touched Jubal on the shoulder, shoved an envelope in his hand,and whispered, .From the Secretary General.“ Jubal looked up, saw that itwas Bradley, hurrying silently away. Jubal opened the envelope in his lap,glanced at the single sheet inside.
　　The note was one word: .Yes,“ and had been signed with initials .J.E.D.“-allin the famous green ink.
　　Jubal looked up, found that Douglas’ eyes were now on him; Jubal noddedever so slightly and Douglas looked away. The conference was now over; allthat remained was to let the world know it.
　　Mike concluded the sonorous nullities he had been given; Jubal heard hisown words: .-growing closer, with mutual benefit to both worlds-. and .-eachrace according to its own nature-. but did not listen. Douglas then thankedthe Man from Mars, briefly but warmly. There was a pause.
　　Jubal stood up. .Mr. Secretary General-.
　　.Yes, Dr. Harshaw?“.As you know, Mr. Smith is here today in a dual role. Like some visiting princein the past history of our own great race, traveling by caravan and sailingacross uncharted vastnesses to a distant realm, he brings to Earth the goodwishes of the Ancient Powers of Mars. But he is also a human being, acitizen of the Federation and of the United States of America. As such, hehas rights and properties and obligations.“ Jubal shook his head. .Peskyones, I’m sorry to say. As attorney for him in his capacity as a citizen and ahuman being, I have been puzzling over his business affairs and I have noteven managed a complete list of what he owns-much less decide what to telltax collectors-.
　　Jubal stopped to wheeze. .I’m an old man, I might not live to complete thetask. Now you know that my client has had no business experience in thehuman sense-Martians do these things differently. But he is a young man ofgreat intelligence-the whole world knows that his parents were geniuses-andblood will tell. There’s no doubt that in a few years, he could, if he wished, dovery nicely on his own without the aid of one old, broken-down lawyer. Buthis affairs need attention today; business won’t wait.
　　.But, in fact, he is more eager to learn the history and the arts and the waysof the people of this, his second home, than he is to bury himself indebentures and stock issues and royalties-and I think in this he is wise.
　　Although without business experience, Mr. Smith possesses a direct andsimple wisdom that continues to astonish me . . . and to astonish all whomeet him. When I explained to him the trouble I was having, he simply lookedat me with a clear, calm gaze and said, .Why, that’s no problem, Jubal-we’llask Mr. Douglas.’“ Jubal paused and said anxiously, .The rest of this is justpersonal business, Mr. Secretary. Should I see you about it privately? And letthe rest of these ladies and gentlemen go home?“.Go right ahead, Dr. Harshaw.“ Douglas added, .Protocol is dispensed withas of now. Anyone who wishes to leave please feel free to do so.“No one left. .All right,“ Jubal went on. .I can wrap it up in one sentence. Mr.
　　Smith wants to appoint you his attorney-in-fact, with full power to handle allhis business affairs. Just that.“Douglas looked convincingly astonished. .That’s a tall order, Doctor.“.I know it is, sir. I pointed out to him that it was an imposition, that you are thebusiest man on this planet and didn’t have time for his affairs.“ Jubal shookhis head and smiled. .I’m afraid it didn’t impress him-seems on Mars thebusier a person is the more is expected of him. Mr. Smith simply said, .Wecan ask him.’ So I’m asking you. Of course we don’t expect an answer offhand-that’s another Martian trait: Martians are never in a hurry. Nor are theyinclined to make things complicated. No bond, no auditing, none of thatclaptrap-a written power of attorney if you want it. But it does not matter tohim; he would do it just as readily, orally and right now-Chinese style. That’sanother Martian trait; if a Martian trusts you, he trusts you all the way. Hedoesn’t come prying around to see if you’re keeping your word. Oh, I shouldadd: Mr. Smith is not making this request of the Secretary General; he’sasking a favor of Joseph Edgerton Douglas, you personally. If you shouldretire from public life, it would not affect this in the slightest. Your successorin office, whoever he might be, doesn’t figure in it. It’s you he trusts ... not justwhoever happens to occupy the Octagon Office in this Palace.“Douglas nodded. .Regardless of my answer, I feel honored .. and humble.“.Because if you decline to serve, or can’t serve, or do take on this chore andwant to drop it later, or anything, Mr. Smith has his own second choice for thejob-Ben Caxton, it is. Stand up for a second, Ben; let people see you. And ifboth you and Caxton can’t or won’t, his next choice is-well, I’ll guess we’llreserve that name for the moment; just let it rest that there are successivechoices. Uh, let me see now-. Jubal looked fuddled- .I’m out of the habit oftalking on my feet. Miriam, where is that piece of paper we listed things on?“Jubal accepted a sheet from her, and added, .Better give me the othercopies, too-. She passed over to him a thick stack of sheets. .This is a littlememo we prepared for you, sir-or for Caxton, if it turns out that way. Mmm,lemme see-oh yes, steward to pay himself what he thinks the job is worth butnot less than-well, a considerable sum, nobody else’s business, really.
　　Steward to deposit monies in a drawing account for living expenses of partyof the first part-uh, oh yes, I thought maybe you would want to use the Bankof Shanghai, say, as your depository, and, say, Lloyd’s as your businessagent-or maybe the other way around-just to protect your own name andfame. But Mr. Smith won’t hear of any fixed instructions-just an unlimitedassignment of power, revocable by either side at choice. But I won’t read allthis; that’s why we wrote it out-. Jubal turned and looked vacantly around.
　　.Uh, Miriam-trot around and give this to the Secretary General, that’s a goodgirl. Urn, these other copies, I’ll leave them here. You may want to pass .emout to people ... or you may need them yourself. Oh, I’d better give one to Mr.
　　Caxton though- here, Ben-.
　　Jubal looked anxiously around. .Uh, I guess that’s all I have to say, Mr.
　　Secretary. Did you have anything more to say to us?’
　　.Just a moment. Mr. Smith?“.Yes, Mr. Douglas?“.Is this what you want? Do you want me to do what it says on this paper?“Jubal held his breath, avoided even glancing at his client- Mike had beencarefully coached to expect such a question - . - but there had been no tellingwhat form it would take, nor any way to tell in advance how Mike’s literalinterpretations could trip them.
　　.Yes, Mr. Douglas.“ Mike’s voice rang out clearly in the big room- and in abillion rooms around a planet.
　　.You want me to handle your business affairs?“.Please, Mr. Douglas. It would be a goodness. I thank you-.
　　Douglas blinked. .Well, that’s clear enough. Doctor, I’ll reserve my answerbutyou shall have it promptly.“.Thank you, sir. For myself as well as for my client.“Douglas started to stand up. Assemblyman Kung’s voice sharply interrupted.
　　.One moment! How about the Larkin Decision?“Jubal grabbed it before Douglas could speak. .Ah, yes, the Larkin Decision.
　　I’ve heard quite a lot of nonsense talked about the Larkin Decision-but mostlyfrom irresponsible persons. Mr. Kung, what about the Larkin Decision?“.I’m asking you. Or your .. client. Or the Secretary General.“Jubal said gently, .Shall I speak, Mr. Secretary?“.Please do.“.Very well.“ Jubal paused, slowly took out a big handkerchief and blew hisnose in a prolonged blast, producing a minor chord three octaves belowmiddle C. He then fixed Kung with his eye and said solemnly, .Mr.
　　Assemblyman, I’ll address this to you-because I know it is unnecessary toaddress it to the government in the person of the Secretary. Once a long,long tine ago, when I was a little boy, another little boy, equally young andfoolish, and I formed a club. Just the two of us. Since we had a club, we hadto have rules . . - and the first rule we passed, unanimously, I should add-wasthat henceforth we would always call our mothers, .crosspatch.’ Silly, ofcourse . . . but we were very young. Mr. Kung, can you deduce the outcomeof that .rule’?“.I won’t guess, Dr. Harshaw.“.I tried to implement our .Crosspatch’ decision once. Once was enough and itsaved my chum from making the same mistake. All it got me was my youngbottom well warmed with a peach switch. And. that was the end of the.crosspatch’ decision.“Jubal cleared his throat. .Just a moment Mr. Kung. Knowing that someonewas certain to raise this non-existent issue I tried to explain the LarkinDecision to my client. At first be had trouble realizing that anyone could thinkthat this legal fiction would apply to Mars. After all, Mars is inhabited, by anold and wise race-much older than yours, sir, and possibly wiser. But whenhe did understand it, he was amused. Just that, sir- tolerantly amused. Oncejustonce-I under-rated my mother’s power to punish a small boy’simpudence. That lesson was cheap, a bargain- But this planet cannot affordsuch a lesson on a planetary scale. Before we attempt to parcel out landswhich do not belong to us, it behooves us to be very sure what peachswitches are hanging in the Martian kitchen.“Kung looked blandly unconvinced- .Dr. Harshaw, if the Larkin Decision is nomore than a small boy’s folly . . . why were national honors rendered to Mr.
　　Smith?“Jubal shrugged- .That question should be put to the government, not me. ButI can tell you how I interpreted them-as elementary politeness to the AncientOnes of Mars.“.Please?“.Mr. Kung, those honors were no hollow echo of the Larkin Decision. In afashion quite beyond human experience, Mr. Smith is the Planet Mars.“Kung did not even blink. .Continue.“.Or, rather, the entire Martian race. In Smith’s person, the Ancient Ones ofMars are visiting us. Honors rendered to him are honors rendered to themandharm done to him is harm done to them. This is true in a very literal bututterly unhuman sense. It was wise and prudent for us to render honors toour neighbors today-but the wisdom in it has nothing to do with the LarkinDecision. No responsible person has argued that the Larkin precedentapplies to an inhabited planet-I venture to say that no one ever will.“ Jubalpaused and looked up, as if asking Heaven for help. .But, Mr. Kung, beassured that the ancient rulers of Mars do not fail to notice how we treat theirambassador. The honors rendered to them through him were a gracioussymbol. I am certain that the government of this planet showed wisdomthereby. In time, you will learn that it was a most prudent act as well.“Kung answered blandly, .Doctor, if you are trying to frighten me, you havenot succeeded.“.I did not expect to. But, fortunately for the welfare of this planet, your opiniondid not control.“ Jubal turned back to Douglas. .Mr. Secretary, this is thelongest public appearance I have made in years . . and I find that I amfatigued. Could we recess these talks? While we await your decision?“
Chapter 21
THE MEETING ADJOURNED. Jubal found his intention of getting his flockout of the Palace balked by the presence of the American President and ofSenator Boone; both wanted to chat with Mike, both were practical politicianswho realized fully the freshly enhanced value of being seen on intimate termswith the Man from Mars-and both were well aware that the eyes of the world,via stereovision, were still on them.
　　And other hungry politicos were closing in.
　　Jubal said quickly, .Mr. President, Senator-we’re leaving at once to havelunch. Can you join us?“ He reflected that two in private would be easier tohandle than two dozen in public-and he had to get Mike out of there beforeanything came unstuck.
　　To his relief both had other duties elsewhere. Jubal found himself promisingnot only to fetch Mike to that obscene Fosterite service but also to bring himto the White House-ob, well, the boy could always get sick, if necessary.
　　.Places, girls.“With his escort again around him Mike was convoyed to the roof, Anneleading the way since she would remember it-and creating quite a bow wavewith her height, her Valkyrie blonde beauty, and her impressive cloak of aFair Witness. Jubal, Ben, and the three officers from the Champion coveredthe rear. Larry and the Greyhound bus were waiting on the roof; a fewminutes later the driver left them on the roof of the New Mayflower. Newsmencaught up with them there, of course, but the girls guarded Mike on down tothe suite Duke had taken earlier. They were becoming quite good at it andwere enjoying it; Miriam and Dorcas in particular displayed ferocity thatreminded Jubal of a mother cat defending her young-only they made a gameof it, keeping score against each other. A reporter that closed within threefeet of either of them courted a spiked instep.
　　They found their corridor patrolled by S.S. troopers and an officer outside thedoor of their suite.
　　Jubal’s back hair rose, but he realized (or .hoped,“ he corrected himself) thattheir presence meant that Douglas was carrying out his half of the bargain infull measure. The letter Jubal had sent to Douglas before the conference,explaining what he was going to do and say, and why, had included a plea toDouglas to use his power and influence to protect Mike’s privacy from hereon-so that the unfortunate lad could begin to lead a normal life. (If a .normal“life was possible for Mike, Jubal again corrected himself.)So Jubal merely called out, .Jill! Keep Mike under control. It’s okay.“.Right, Boss.“And so it was. The officer at the door simply saluted. Jubal glanced at him,.Well! Howdy, Major. Busted down any doors lately?“Major Bloch turned red but kept his eyes forward and did not answer. Jubalwondered if the assignment was punishment? No, likely just coincidence;there probably wouldn’t be more than a handful of S.S. officers of appropriaterank available for the chore in this area. Jubal considered rubbing it in bysaying that a skunk had wandered in that door and ruined his living roomfurniture-and what was the major going to do about that? But he decidedagainst it; it would not only be ungracious but untrue- Duke had rigged atemporary closure out of plywood before the party got too wet for such tasks.
　　Duke was waiting inside. Jubal said, .Sit down, gentlemen. How about it,Duke?“Duke shrugged. .Who knows? Nobody has bugged this suite since I took it; Iguarantee that. I turned down the first suite they offered me, just as you saidto, and I picked this one because it’s got a heavy ceiling-the ballroom isabove us. And I’ve spent the time since searching the place. But, Boss, I’vepushed enough electrons to know that any dump can be bugged, so that youcan’t find it without tearing the building down.“.Fine, fine-but I didn’t mean that. They can’t keep a hotel this big buggedthroughout just on the chance that we might take a room in it-at least, I don’tthink they can. I mean, .How about the supplies?’ I’m hungry, boy, and verythirsty-and we’ve three more for lunch.“.Oh, that. That stuff was unloaded under my eyes, carried down the sameway, placed just inside the door; I put it all in the pantry. You’ve got asuspicious nature, Boss.“.I sure have-and you’d better acquire one if you want to live as long as Ihave.“ Jubal had just trusted Douglas with a fortune equivalent to a mediumsizednational debt-but he had not assumed that Douglas’ overeagerlieutenants would not tamper with food and drink. So to avoid the services ofa food taster he had fetched all the way from the Poconos plenty of food,more than a plenty of liquor-and a little water. And, of course, ice cubes. Hewondered how Caesar had licked the Gauls without ice cubes.
　　.I don’t hanker to,“ Duke answered.
　　.Matter of taste. I’ve had a pretty good time, on the whole. Get crackin’, girls.
　　Anne, douse your cloak and get useful. First girl back in here with a drink forme skips her next turn at .Front.’ After our guests, I mean. Do please sitdown, gentlemen. Sven, what’s your favorite poison? Akvavit, I suppose-Larry, tear down, find a liquor store and fetch back a couple of bottles ofakvavit. Fetch Bols gin for the captain, too.“.Hold it, Jubal,“ Nelson said firmly. .I won’t touch akvavit unless it’s chilledovernight-and I’d rather have Scotch.“.Me, too,“ agreed van Tromp.
　　.All right. Got enough of that to drown a horse. Dr. Mahmoud? If you prefersoft drinks, I’m pretty sure the girls tucked some in.“Mahmoud looked wistful. .I should not allow myself to be tempted bystrong drink.“.No need to be. Let me prescribe for you, as a physician.“ Jubal looked himover. .Son, you look as if you had been under considerable nervous strain.
　　Now we could alleviate that with meprobamate but since we don’t have thatat hand, I’m forced to substitute two ounces of ninety proof ethanol, repeat asneeded. Any particular flavor you prefer to kill the medicinal taste? And withor without bubbles?“Mahmoud smiled and suddenly did not look at all English. .Thank you,Doctor-but I’ll sin my own sins, with my eyes open. Gin, please, with water onthe side. Or vodka. Or whatever is available.“.Or medicinal alcohol,“ Nelson added. .Don’t let him pull your leg, Jubal.
　　Stinky drinks anything-and always regrets it.“.I do regret it,“ Mahmoud said earnestly, .because I know it is sinful.“.Then don’t needle him about it, Sven,“ Jubal said brusquely. .If Stinky getsmore mileage out of his sins by regretting them, that’s his business. My ownregretter burned out from overload during the market crash in .29 and I’venever replaced it-and that’s my business. To each his own. How aboutvictuals, Stinky? Anne probably stuffed a ham into one of those hampers-andthere might be other unclean items not as clearly recognizable. Shall Icheck?“Mahmoud shook his head. .I’m not a traditionalist, Jubal. That legislation wasgiven a long time ago, according to the needs of the time. The times aredifferent now.“Jubal suddenly looked sad. .Yes. But for the better? Never mind, this tooshall pass and leave not a rack of mutton behind. Eat what you will, mybrother-God forgives necessity.“.Thank you. But, truthfully, I often do not eat in the middle of the day.“.Better eat, or the prescribed ethanol will do more than relax you. Besides,these kids who work for me may sometimes misspell words but they are allsuperb cooks.“Miriam had come up behind Jubal with a tray bearing four drinks, ordershaving been filled at once while Jubal ranted. .Boss,“ she broke in, .I heardthat. Will you put it in writing?“.What?“ He whirled around and glared at her. .Snooping! You stay in afterschool and write one thousand times~ .I will not flap my ears at privateconversations.’ Stay until you finish it.“.Yes, Boss. This is for you, Captain .. and for you, Dr. Nelson and this isyours, Dr. Mahmoud. Water on the side, you said?“.Yes, Miriam. Thank you.“.Usual Harshaw service-sloppy but fast. Here’s yours, Boss.“ .You putwater in it!“.Anne’s orders. She says you’re too tired to have it on the rocks.“Jubal looked long-suffering. .You see what I have to put up with, gentlemen?
　　We should never have put shoes on .em. Miriam, make that .one thousandtimes’ in Sanskrit.“.Yes, Boss. Just as soon as I find time to learn it.“ She patted him on thehead. .You go right ahead and have your tizzy, dear; you’ve earned it. We’reall proud of you.“.Back to the kitchen, woman. Hold it-has everybody else got a drink?
　　Where’s Ben’s drink? Where’s Ben?“.They have by now. Ben is phoning in his column, His drink is at hiselbow.“.Very well. You may back out quietly, without formality-and send Mike in.
　　Gentlemen! Me ke aloha pau ole!-for there are fewer of us every year.“ Hedrank, they joined him.
　　.Mike’s helping. He loves to help-I think he’s going to be a butler when hegrows up.“.I thought you had left. Send him in anyhow; Dr. Nelson wants to give him aphysical examination.“.No hurry,“ put in the ship’s surgeon. .Jubal, this is excellent Scotch -but whatwas the toast?“.Sorry. Polynesian. .May our friendship be everlasting.’ Call it a footnote tothe water ceremony this morning. By the way, gentlemen, both Larry andDuke are water brothers to Mike, too, but don’t let it fret you. They can’t cook. . - but they’re the sort to have at your back in a dark alley.“.If you vouch for them, Jubal,“ van Tromp assured him, .admit them and tylethe door. But let’s drink to the girls while we’re alone. Sven, what’s that toastof yours to the flickas?“.You mean the one to all pretty girls everywhere? Let’s drink just to the fourwho are here. Skim!!“ They drank to their female water brothers and Nelsoncontinued, .Jubal, where do you find them?“.Raise .em in my own cellar. Then just when I’ve got .em trained and someuse to me, some city slicker always comes along and marries them. It’s alosing game.“.I can see how you suffer,“ Nelson said sympathetically.
　　.I do. I trust all of you gentlemen are married?“Two were. Mahmoud was not. Jubal looked at him bleakly. .Would you havethe grace to discorporate yourself? After lunch, of course-I wouldn’t want youto do it on an empty stomach.“.I’m no threat, I’m a permanent bachelor.“.Come, come, sir! I saw Dorcas making eyes at you ... and you werepurring.“.I’m safe, I assure you.“ Mahmoud thought of telling Jubal that he wouldnever marry out of his faith, decided that a gentile would take it amiss-even arare exception like Jubal. He changed the subject. .But, Jubal, don’t make asuggestion like that to Mike. He wouldn’t grok that you were joking-and youmight have a corpse on your hands. I don’t know . . . I don’t know that Mikecan actually think himself dead. But he would try . . . and if he were truly aMartian, it would work.“.I’m sure he can,“ Nelson said firmly. .Doctor-.Jubal,’ I mean- have younoticed anything odd about Mike’s metabolism?“.Uh, let me put it this way. There isn’t anything about his metabolism which Ihave noticed that is not odd. Very.“.Exactly.“Jubal turned to Mahmoud. .But don’t worry that I might invite Mike to suicide.
　　I’ve learned not to joke with him, not ever. I grok that he doesn’t grok joking.“Jubal blinked thoughtfully. .But I don’t grok .grok’ -not really. Stinky, youspeak Martian.“.A little.“.You speak it fluently, I heard you. Do you grok .grok’?“Mahmoud looked very thoughtful. .No. Not really. .Grok’ is the most importantword in the Martian language-and I expect to spend the next forty yearstrying to understand it and perhaps use some millions of printed words tryingto explain it. But I don’t expect to be successful. You need to think in Martianto grok the word .grok.’ Which Mike does and I don’t. Perhaps you havenoticed that Mike takes a rather veering approach to some of the simplesthuman ideas?“.Have I! My throbbing head!“.Mine, too.“.Food,“ announced Jubal. .Lunch, and about time, too. Girls, put it downwhere we can reach it and maintain a respectful silence. Go on talking,Doctor, if you will. Or does Mike’s presence make it better to postpone it?“.Not at all.“ Mahmoud spoke briefly in Martian to Mike. Mike answered him,smiled sunnily; his expression became blank again and he applied himself tofood, quite content to be allowed to eat in silence. .I told him what I wastrying to do and he told me that I would speak rightly; this was not his opinionbut a simple statement of fact, a necessity. I hope that if I fail to, he will noticeand tell me. But I doubt if he will. You see, Mike thinks in Martian-and thisgives him an entirely different .map’ of the universe from that which you and Iuse. You follow me?“.I grok it,“ agreed Jubal. .Language itself shapes a man’s basic ideas.“.Yes, but- Doctor, you speak Arabic, do you not?“.Eh? I used to, badly, many years ago,“ admitted Jubal. .Put in a while as asurgeon with the American Field Service, in Palestine. But I don’t now. I stillread it a little . . . because I prefer to read the words of the Prophet in theoriginal.“.Proper. Since the Koran cannot be translated-the .map’ changes ontranslation no matter how carefully one tries. You will understand, then, howdifficult I found English. It was not alone that my native language has muchsimpler inflections and more limited tenses; the whole .map’ changed.
　　English is the largest of the human tongues, with several times thevocabulary of the second largest language-this alone made it inevitable thatEnglish would eventually become, as it did, the lingua franca of this planet,for it is thereby the richest and the most flexible-despite its barbaricaccretions . . . or, I should say, because of its barbaric accretions. Englishswallows up anything that comes its way, makes English out of it. Nobodytried to stop this process, the way some languages are policed and haveofficial limits . . probably because there never has been, truly, such a thing as.the King’s English’-for .the King’s English’ was French. English was in truth abastard tongue and nobody cared how it grew . . . and it did!-enormously.
　　Until no one could hope to be an educated man unless he did his best toembrace this monster.
　　.Its very variety, subtlety, and utterly irrational, idiomatic complexity makes itpossible to say things in English which simply cannot be said in any otherlanguage. It almost drove me crazy . . . until I learned to think in it-and thatput a new .map’ of the world on top of the one I grew up with. A better one, inmany ways-certainly a more detailed one.
　　.But nevertheless there are things which can be said in the simple Arabictongue that cannot be said in English.“Jubal nodded agreement. .Quite true. That’s why I’ve kept up my readingof it, a little.“.Yes. But the Martian language is so much more complex than is English-andso wildly different in the fashion in which it abstracts its picture of theuniverse-that English and Arabic might as well be considered one and thesame language, by comparison. An Englishman and an Arab can learn tothink each other’s thoughts, in the other’s language. But I’m not certain that itwill ever be possible for us to think in Martian (other than by the uniquefashion Mike learned it)-oh, we can learn a sort of a .pidgin’ Martian, yes-thatis what I speak.
　　.Now take this one word: .grok.’ Its literal meaning, one which I suspect goesback to the origin of the Martian race as thinking, speaking creatures-andwhich throws light on their whole .map’-is quite easy. .Grok’ means .to drink.’“.Huh?“ said Jubal. .But Mike never says .grok’ when he’s just talking aboutdrinking. He-.
　　.Just a moment.“ Mahmoud spoke to Mike in Martian.
　　Mike looked faintly surprised and said, .’Grok’ is drink,“ and dropped thematter.
　　.But Mike would also have agreed,“ Mahmoud went on, .if I had named ahundred other English words, words which represent what we think of asdifferent concepts, even pairs of antithetical concepts. And .grok’ means all ofthese, depending on how you use it. It means .fear,’ it means .love,’ it means.hate’-proper hate, for by the Martian .map’ you cannot possibly hate anythingunless you grok it completely, understand it so thoroughly that you mergewith it and it merges with you-then and only then can you hate it. By hatingyourse1f~ But this also implies, by necessity, that you love it, too, and cherishit and would not have it otherwise. Then you can hate- and (I think) thatMartian hate is an emotion so black that the nearest human equivalent couldonly be called a mild distaste.“Mahmoud screwed up his face. .It means .identically equal’ in themathematical sense. The human cliché, .This hurts me worse than it doesyou’ has a Martian flavor to it, if only a trace. The Martians seem to knowinstinctively what we learned painfully from modern physics, that the observerinteracts with the observed simply through the process of observation. .Grok’
　　means to understand so thoroughly that the observer becomes a part of theprocess being observed-to merge, to blend, to intermarry, to lose personalidentity in group experience. It means almost everything that we mean byreligion, philosophy, and science-and it means as little to us as color meansto a blind man.“ Mahmoud paused. .Jubal, if I chopped you up and made aStew of you, you and the stew, whatever else was in it, would grok-and whenI ate you, we would grok together and nothing would be lost and it would notmatter which one of us did the chopping up and eating.“.It would to me!“ Jubal said firmly.
　　.You aren’t a Martian.“ Mahmoud stopped again to talk to Mike inMartian.
　　Mike nodded. .You spoke rightly, my brother Dr. Mahmoud. I am beensaying so. Thou art God.“Mahmoud shrugged helplessly. .You see how hopeless it is? All I got was ablasphemy. We don’t think in Martian. We can’t“.Thou art God,“ Mike said agreeably. .God groks.“.Hell, let’s change the subject! Jubal, could I impose on my fraternal statusfor some more gin?“.I’ll get it,“ said Dorcas, and jumped up.
　　It was a pleasant family picnic, made easy by Jubal’s gift for warm informality,a gift shared by his staff, plus the fact that the three newcomers werethemselves the same easy sort of people-each learned, acclaimed, and withno need to strive. And all four men shared a foster-father interest in Mike.
　　Even Dr. Mahmoud, rarely truly off guard with those who did not share withhim the one true faith in submission to the Will of God, always beneficent,merciful, found himself relaxed and happy. It had pleased him very much tolearn that Jubal read the words of the Prophet and, now that he stopped tonotice it, the women of Jubal’s household were really much plumper than hehad thought at first glance. That dark one- But he put the thought out of hismind; he was a guest.
　　But it pleased him very much that these women did not chatter, did notintrude themselves into the sober talk of men, but were very quick with foodand drink in warm hospitality. He had been shocked at Miriam’s casualdisrespect toward her master-then recognized it for what it was: libertypermitted cats and favorite children in the privacy of the home.
　　Jubal explained early that they were doing nothing but waiting on word fromthe Secretary General. .If he means business-and I think he’s ready to dealwemay hear from him yet today. If not, we’ll go home this evening . . andcome back if we have to. But if we had stayed in the Palace, he might havebeen tempted to dicker. Here, dug into our own hole, we can refuse todicker.“.Dicker for what?“ asked Captain van Tromp. .You gave him what hewanted.“.Not all that he wanted. Douglas would rather have that power of attorney beutterly irrevocable . . . instead of on his good behavior, with the powerreverting to a man he despises and is afraid of-namely that scoundrel therewith the innocent smile, our brother Ben, But there are others besidesDouglas who are certain to want to dicker, too. That bland buddha Kunghatesmy guts, I’ve just snatched the rug out from under him. But if he couldfigure a deal that might tempt us-before Douglas nails this down-he wouldoffer it. So we stay out of his way, too. Kung is one reason why we are eatingand drinking nothing that we did not fetch with us.“.You really feel that’s something to worry about?“ asked Nelson. .Truthfully,Jubal, I had assumed that you were a gourmet who insisted on his owncuisine even away from home. I can’t imagine being poisoned, in a majorhotel such as this.“Jubal shook his head sorrowfully. .Sven, you’re the sort of honest man whothinks everybody else is honest-and you are usually right. No, nobody isgoing to try to poison you . . . but your wife might collect your insurancesimply because you shared a dish with Mike.“.You really think that?“.Sven, I’ll order anything you want. But I won’t touch it and I won’t let Miketouch it. For I’ll lay heavy odds that any waiter who comes to this suite will beon Kung’s payroll . . . and maybe on two or three others’. I’m not seeingboogie men behind bushes; they know where we are-and they’ve had acouple of hours in which to act. Sven, in cold seriousness, my principal worryhas been to keep this lad alive long enough to figure out a way to sterilizeand stabilize the power he represents . . . so that it would be to no one’sadvantage to have him dead.“Jubal sighed. .Consider the black widow spider. It’s a timid little beastie,useful and, for my taste, the prettiest of the arachnids, with its shiny, patentleatherfinish and its red hourglass trademark. But the poor thing has the fatalmisfortune of possessing enormously too much power for its size. Soeverybody kills it on sight.
　　.The black widow can’t help it, it has no way to avoid its venomous power.
　　.Mike is in the same dilemma. He isn’t as pretty as a black widow spider-.
　　.Why, Jubal!“ Dorcas said indignantly. .What a mean thing to say! And howutterly untrue!“.Sorry, child. I don’t have your glandular bias in the matter. Pretty or not,Mike can’t get rid of that money, nor is it safe for him to have it. And not justKung. The High Court is not as .non-political’ as it might be although theirmethods would probably make a prisoner out of him rather than kill him-a fatewhich, for my taste, is worse. Not to mention a dozen other interested parties,in and out of public office . . . persons who might or might not kill him, butwho have certainly turned over in their minds just how it would affect theirfortunes if Mike were guest of honor at a funeral. I-.
　　.Telephone, Boss.“.Anne, you have just interrupted a profound thought. You hail fromPorlock.“.No, Dallas.“.And I will not answer the phone for anyone.“.She said to tell you it was Becky.“.Why didn’t you say so?“ Jubal hurried out of the living room, found MadameVesant’s friendly face in the screen. .Becky! I’m glad to see you, girl!“ He didnot bother to ask how she had known where to call him.
　　.Hi, Doc. I caught your act-and I just had to call and tell you so.“.How’d it look?“.The Professor would have been proud of you. I’ve never seen a tip turnedmore expertly. Then you spilled .em before the marks knew what had hit .em.
　　Dot, the profession lost a great talker when you weren’t born twins.“.That’s high praise, coming from you, Becky.“ Jubal thought rapidly. .But youset up the act; I just cashed in on it-and there’s plenty of cash. So name yourfee, Becky, and don’t be shy.“ He decided that, whatever figure she picked,he would double it. That drawing account he had demanded for Mike wouldnever feel it . . . and it was better, far better, to pay Becky off lavishly than tolet the obligation stay open.
　　Madame Vesant frowned. .Now you’ve hurt my feelings.“.Becky, Becky! You’re a big girl now, dear. Anybody can clap and cheer-butapplause worthwhile will be found in a pile of soft, green, folding money. Notmy money. The Man from Mars picks up this tab and, believe me, he canafford it.“ He grinned. .But all you’ll get from me is thanks, and a hug and akiss that will crack your ribs the first time I see you.“She relaxed and smiled. .I’ll hold you to it. I remember how you used to patmy fanny while you assured me that the Professor was sure to get well-youalways could make a body feel better.“.I can’t believe that I ever did anything so unprofessional.“.You did, you know you did. And you weren’t very fatherly about it, either.“.Maybe so. Maybe I thought it was the treatment you needed. I’ve given upfanny-patting for Lent-but I’ll make an exception in your case.“.You’d better.“.And you’d better figure out that fee. Don’t forget the zeroes.“.Uh, I’ll think about it. But, truthfully, Doc, there are more ways of collecting afee than by making a fast count on the change. Have you been watching themarket today?“.No, and don’t tell me about it. Come over and have a drink instead.“.Uh, I’d better not. I promised, well, a rather important client that I would beavailable for instant consultation.“.I see. Mmm ... Becky do you suppose that the stars would show that thiswhole matter would turn out best for everybody if it were all wrapped up,signed, sealed, and notarized today? Maybe just after the stock marketcloses?“She looked thoughtful. .I could look into it.“.You do that. And come stay with us when you aren’t so busy. Stay as longas you like and never wear your hurtin’ shoes the whole time. You’ll like theboy. He’s as weird as snake’s suspenders but sweet as a stolen kiss, too.“.Uh... I will. As soon as I can. Thanks, Doc.“They said good-by and Jubal returned to find that Dr. Nelson had taken Mikeinto one of the bedrooms and was checking him over. He joined them to offerNelson the use of his kit since Nelson had not had with him his professionalbag.
　　Jubal found Mike stripped down and the ship’s surgeon looking baffled.
　　.Doctor,“ Nelson said, almost angrily, .I saw this patient only ten days ago.
　　Tell me where he got those muscles?“.Why, he sent in a coupon from the back cover of Rut: The Magazine for He-Men. You know, the ad that tells how a ninety-pound weakling can-.
　　.Doctor, please!“.Why don’t you ask him?“ Jubal suggested.
　　Nelson did so. .I thinked them,“ Mike answered.
　　.That’s right,“ Jubal agreed. .He .thinked’ .em. When I got him, just over aweek ago, he was a mess, slight, flabby, and pale. Looked as if he had beenraised in a cave-which I gather he was, more or less. So I told him he had togrow strong. So he did.“.Exercises?“ Nelson said doubtfully.
　　.Nothing systematic. Swimming, when and as he wished.“.A week of swimming won’t make a man look as if he had been sweatingover bar bells for years!“ Nelson frowned. .I am aware that Mike hasvoluntary control over the so-called .involuntary’ muscles, But that is notentirely without precedent. This, on the other hand, requires one to assumethat-.
　　.Doctor,“ Jubal said gently, .why don’t you just admit that you don’t grok itand save the wear and tear?“Nelson sighed. .I might as well. Put your clothes on, Michael.“Somewhat later, Jubal, under the mellowing influence of congenial companyand the grape, was unburdening to the three from the Champion hismisgivings about his morning’s work. .The financial end was simple enough:
　　just tie up Mike’s money so that a struggle over it couldn’t take place. Noteven if he dies, because I’ve let Douglas know privately that Mike’s deathends his stewardship whereas a rumour from a usually reliable source-me, inthis case-has reached Kung and several others to the effect that Mike’s deathwill give Douglas permanent control. Of course, if I had had magical powers, Iwould have stripped the boy not only of all political significance but also ofevery penny of his inheritance. That-.
　　.Why would you have done that, Jubal?“ the captain inteirupted.
　　Harshaw looked surprised. .Are you wealthy, Skipper? I don’t mean: .Areyour bills paid and enough in the sock to buy any follies your taste runs to?’ Imean rich . . . so loaded that the floor sags when you walk around to takeyour place at the head of a board-room table.“.Me?“ Van Tromp snorted. .I’ve got my monthly check, a pension eventually,a house with a mortgage and two girls in college. I’d like to try being wealthyfor a while, I don’t mind telling you!“.You wouldn’t like it.“.Huh! You wouldn’t say that ... if you had two daughters in school.“.For the record, I put four daughters through college, and I went in debt to myarmpits to do it. One of them justified the investment; she’s a leading light inher profession which she practices under her husband’s name because I’m adisreputable old bum who makes money writing popular trash instead ofhaving the grace to be only a revered memory in her paragraph in Who’sWho. The other three are nice people who always remember my birthday anddon’t bother me otherwise I can’t say that an education hurt them. But myoffspring are not relevant save to show that I understand that a man oftenneeds more than he’s got. But you can fix that easily; you can resign from theservice and take a job with some engineering firm that will pay you severaltimes what you’re getting just to put your name on their letterhead GeneralAtomics. Several others, You’ve had offers, haven’t you?“.That’s beside the point,“ Captain van Tromp answered stiffly. .I’m aprofessional man.“.Meaning there isn’t enough money on this planet to tempt you into giving up~0~mafl lg space ships. i understand that.“.But I wouldn’t mind having money, too.“.A little more money won’t do you any good, because daughters can use upten percent more than a man can make in any normal occupation regardlessof the amount. That’s a widely experienced but previously unformulated lawof nature, to be known henceforth as .Harshaw’s Law.’ But, Captain, realwealth, on the scale that causes its owner to hire a battery of finaglers to holddown his taxes, would ground you just as certainly as resigning would.“.Why should it? I would put it all in bonds and just clip coupons.“.Would you? Not if you were the sort of person who acquires great wealth inthe first place. Big money isn’t hard to come by. All it costs is a lifetime ofsinglem1~ed devotion to acquiring it and making it grow into more money, tothe utter exclusion of all other interests. They say that the age of opportunityhas passed. Nonsense! Seven out of ten of the wealthiest men on this planetstarted life without a shilling_-and there are plenty more such strivers on theway up. Such people are not stopped by high taxation nor even by socialism;they simply adapt themselves to new rules and presently they change therules. But no premiere ballerina ever works harder, nor more narrowly, than aman who acquires riches. Captain, that’s not your style; you don’t want tomake money, you simply want to have money-in order to spend it.“.Correct, sir! Which is why I can’t see why you should want to take Mike’swealth away from him.“.Because Mike doesn’t need it and it would cripple him worse than anyphysical handicap. Wealth-great wealth-is a curse . . . unless you aredevoted to the money making game for its own sake. And even then it hasserious drawbacks.“.Oh, nonsense, Jubal, you talk like a harem guard trying to convince a wholeman of the advantages of being a eunuch. Pardon me.“.Very possibly.“ agreed Jubal, .and perhaps for the same reason; the humanmind’s ability to rationalize its own shortcomings into virtues is unlimited, andI am no exception. Since I, like yourself, sir, have no interest in money otherthan to spend it, there has never been the slightest chance that I wouldacquire any significant degree of wealth just enough for my vices. Nor anyteal danger that I would fail to scrounge that modest amount, since anyonewith the savvy not to draw to a small pair can always manage to feed hisvices, whether they be tithing or chewing betel nut. But great wealth? Yousaw that performance this morning. Now answer me truthfully. Do you think Icould have revised it slightly so that I myself acquired all that plunderbecomeits sole manager and de-facto owner while milking off for my ownuse any income I cared to name-and still have rigged the other issues so thatDouglas would have supported the outcome? Could I have done that, sir?
　　Mike trusts me; I am his water brother. Could I have stolen his fortune and soarranged it that the government in the person of Mr. Douglas would havecondoned it?“.Uh ... damn you, Jubal, I suppose you could have.“.Most certainly I could have. Because our sometimes estimable SecretaryGeneral is no more a money-seeker than you are. His drive is political poweradrum whose beat I do not hear. Had I guaranteed to Douglas (oh,gracefully, of course-there is decorum even among thieves) that the Smithestate would continue to bulwark his administration, then I would have beenleft undisturbed to do as I liked with the income and had my actingguardianship made legal.“Jubal shuddered. .I thought that I was going to have to do exactly that, simplyto protect Mike from the vultures gathered around him-and I was panicstricken.
　　Captain, you obviously don’t know what an Old Man of the Seagreat wealth is. It is not a fat purse and time to spend it. Its owner findshimself beset on every side, at every hour, wherever he goes, by persistentpleaders, like beggars in Bombay, each demanding that he invest or giveaway part of his wealth. He becomes suspicious of honest friendship-indeedhonest friendship is rarely offered him; those who could have been his friendsare too fastidious to be jostled by beggars, too proud to risk being mistakenfor one.
　　.Worse yet, his life and the lives of his family are always in danger. Captain,have your daughters ever been threatened with kidnapping?“.What? Good Lord, I should hope not!“.If you possessed the wealth Mike had thrust on him, you would have thosegirls guarded night and day-and even then you would not rest, because youwould never be sure that those very guards were not tempted. Look at therecords of the last hundred or so kidnappings in this country and note howmany of them involved a trusted employee - - and note, too, how few victimsescaped alive. Then ask yourself: is there any luxury wealth can buy which isworth having your daughters’ pretty necks always in a noose?“Van Tromp looked thoughtful. .No. I guess I’ll keep my mortgaged house-it’smore my speed. Those girls are all I’ve got, Jubal.“.Amen. I was appalled at the prospect. Wealth holds no charm for me. All Iwant is to live my own lazy, useless life, sleep in my own bed- and not bebothered! Yet I thought I was going to be forced to spend my last few yearssitting in an office, barricaded by buffers, and working long hours as Mike’sman of business.
　　.Then I had an inspiration. Douglas already lived behind such barricades,already had such a staff. Since I was forced to surrender the power of thatmoney to Douglas merely to ensure Mike’s continued health and freedom,why not make the beggar pay for it by assuming all the headaches, too? Iwas not afraid that Douglas would steal from Mike; only pipsqueak, secondratepoliticians are money hungry-and Douglas, whatever his faults, is nopipsqueak. Quit scowling, Ben, and hope that he never dumps the load onyou.
　　.So I dumped the whole load on Douglas-and now I can go back to mygarden. But, as I have said, the money was relatively simple, once I figured itout. It was the Larkin Decision that fretted me.“Caxton said, .I thought you had lost your wits on that one, Jubal. That sillybusiness of letting them give Mike sovereign .honors.’ Honors indeed! ForGod’s sake, Jubal, you should simply have had Mike sign over all right, title,and interest, if any, under that ridiculous Larkin theory. You knew Douglaswanted him to-Jill told you.“.Ben m’boy,“ Jubal said gently, .as a reporter you are hard-working andsometimes readable.“.Gee, thanks! My fan.“.But your concepts of strategy are Neanderthal.“Caxton sighed. .I feel better, Jubal. For a moment there I thought you hadbecome softly sentimental in your old age.“.When I do, please shoot me. Captain, how many men did you leave onMars?“.Twenty-three.“.And what is their status, under the Larkin Decision?“Van Tromp looked troubled. .I’m not supposed to talk.“.Then don’t,“ Jubal reassured him. .I can deduce it, and so can Ben.“Dr. Nelson said, .Skipper, both Stinky and I are civilians again. I shall talkwhere and how I please-.
　　.And shall I,“ agreed Mahmoud.
　　.-and if they want to make trouble for me, they know what they can do withmy reserve commission. What business has the government, telling us wecan’t talk? Those chair-warmers didn’t go to Mars. We did.“.Stow it, Sven. I intended to talk-these are our water brothers. But, Ben, Iwould rather not see this in your column. I would like to command a spaceship again.“.Captain, I know the meaning of .off the record.’ But if you’ll feel easier, I’lljoin Mike and the girls for a while-I want to see Jill anyhow.“.Please don’t leave. But ... this is among water brothers. The government isin a stew about that nominal colony we left behind. Every man in it joined insigning away his so-called Larkin rights-assigned them to the governmentbeforewe left Earth. Mike’s presence when we got to Mars confused thingsenormously. I’m no lawyer, but I understood that, if Mike did waive his rights,whatever they might be, that would put the administration in the driver’s seatwhen it came to parceling out things of value.“.What things of value?“ demanded Caxton. .Other than pure science, I mean.
　　Look, Skipper, I’m not running down your achievement, but from all I’ve seenand heard, Mars isn’t exactly valuable real estate for human beings. Or arethere assets that are still classified .drop dead before reading’?“Van Tromp shook his head. .No, the scientific and technical reports are alldeclassified, I believe. But, Ben, the Moon was a worthless hunk of rockwhen we first got it. Now look at it.“.Touché,“ Caxton admitted. .I wish my grandpappy had bought LunarEnterprises instead of Canadian uranium. I don’t have Jubal’s objections tobeing rich.“ He added, .But, in any case, Mars is already inhabited.“Van Tromp looked unhappy. .Yes. But- Stinky, you tell him.“Mahmoud said, .Ben, there is plenty of room on Mars for human colonization. . . and, so far as I was ever able to find out, the Martians would not interfere.
　　They did not object when we told them we intended to leave a colony behind.
　　Nor did they seem pleased. Not even interested. We’re flying our flag andclaiming extraterritoriality right now. But our status may be more like that ofone of those ant cities under glass one sometimes sees in school rooms. Iwas never able to grok it.“Jubal nodded. .Precisely. Myself, too. This morning I did not have theslightest idea of the true situation . . . except that I knew that the governmentwas anxious to get those so-called Larkin rights from Mike. Beyond that I wasignorant. So I assumed that the government was equally ignorant and wentboldly ahead. .Audacity, always audacity’-soundest principle of strategy. Inpracticing medicine I learned that when you are most at loss is the time whenyou must appear confident. In law I had learned that, when your case seemshopeless, you must impress the jury with your relaxed certainty.“Jubal grinned. .Once, when I was a kid in high school, I won a debate onshipping subsidies by quoting an overwhelming argument from the files of theBritish Colonial Shipping Board. The opposition was totally unable to refuteme-because there never was a .British Colonial Shipping Board.’ I had madeit up, whole cloth.
　　.I was equally shameless this morning. The administration wanted Mike’s.Larkin rights’ and was scared silly that we might make a deal with Kung orsomebody. So I used their greed and worry to wring out of them that ultimatelogical absurdity of their fantastic legal theory, a public acknowledgment inunmistakable diplomatic protocol that Mike was a sover eign equal of theFederation itself-and must be treated accordingly!“ Jubal looked smug.
　　.Thereby,“ Ben said dryly, .putting yourself up the well-known creekwithout a paddle.“.Ben, Ben,“ Jubal said chidingly. .Wrong metaphor. Not a canoe, but a tiger.
　　Or a throne. By their own logic they had publicly crowned Mike. Need I pointout that, despite the old saw about uneasy heads and crowns, it isnevertheless safer to be publicly a king than it is to be a pretender in hiding?
　　A king can usually abdicate to save his neck; a pretender may renounce hispretensions but it makes his neck no safer-less so, in fact; it leaves himnaked to his enemies. No, Ben, Kung saw that Mike’s position had beenenormously strengthened by a few bars of music and an old sheet, even ifyou did not-and Kung did not like it a bit.
　　.But I acted through necessity, not choice, and, while Mike’s position wasimproved, it was still not an easy one. Mike was, for the nonce, theacknowledged sovereign of Mars under the legalistic malarky of the Larkinprecedent . . . and, as such, was empowered to hand out concessions,trading rights, enclaves, ad nauseam. He must either do these things himself. . . and thus be subjected to pressures even worse than those attendant ongreat wealth and for which he is even less fitted-or he must abdicate histitular position and allow his Larkin rights to devolve on those twenty-threemen now on Mars, i.e., to Douglas.“Jubal looked pained. .I disliked these alternatives almost equally, since eachwas based on the detestable doctrine that the Larkin Decision could apply toinhabited planets. Gentlemen, I have never met any Martians, I have novocation to be their champion-but I could not permit a client of mine to betrapped into such a farce. The Larkin Decision itself had to be rendered void,and all .rights’ under it, with respect to the planet Mars-while the matter wasstill in our hands and without giving the High Court a chance to rule.“Jubal grinned boyishly. .So I appealed to a higher court for a decision thatwould nullify the Larkin precedent-I cited a mythical .British Colonial ShippingBoard.’ I lied myself blue in the face to create a new legal theory. Sovereignhonors had been rendered Mike; that was fact, the world had seen it. Butsovereign honors may be rendered to a sovereign . . . or to a sovereign’salter ego, his viceroy or ambassador. So I asserted that Mike was nocardboard sovereign under a silly human precedent not in point-but in awfulfact the ambassador of the great Martian nation!“Jubal sighed. .Sheer bluff ... and I was scared silly that I would be required toprove my claims. But I was staking my bluff on my hope and strong belief thatothers-Douglas, and in particular, Kung-would be no more certain of the factsthan was I.“ Jubal looked around him. .But I ventured to risk that bluffbecause you three were sitting with us, were Mike’s water brethren. If youthree sat by and did not challenge my lies, then Mike must be accepted asthe Martian equivalent of ambassador- and the Larkin Decision was a deadissue.“.I hope it is,“ Captain van Tromp said soberly, .but I did not take yourstatements as lies, Jubal; I took them as simple truth.“.Eh? But I assure you they were not. I was spinning fancy words,extemporizing.“.No matter. Inspiration or deduction-I think you told the truth.“ The skipper ofthe Champion hesitated. .Except that I would not call Mike an ambassador-Ithink he’s an expeditionary force.“Caxton’s jaw dropped. Harshaw did not dispute him but answered with equalsoberness. .In what way, sir?“Van Tromp said, .I’ll amend that. It would be better to say that I think he’s ascout for an expeditionary force, reconnoitering us for his Martian masters. Itis even possible that they are in telepathic contact with him at all times, thathe doesn’t even need to report back. I don’t know- but I do know that, aftervisiting Mars, I find such ideas much easier to swallow . . . and I know this:
　　everybody seems to take it for granted that, finding a human being on Mars,we would of course bring him home and that he would be anxious to comehome. Nothing could be further from the truth. Eh, Sven?“.Mike hated the idea,“ agreed Nelson. .We couldn’t even get close to him atfirst; he was afraid of us. Then he was ordered to go back with us and fromthen on he did exactly what we told him to do. He behaved like a soldiercarrying out with perfect discipline orders that scared him silly.“.Just a moment,“ Caxton protested. .Captain, even so-Mars attack us? Mars?
　　You know more about these things than I do, but wouldn’t that be about likeus attacking Jupiter? I mean to say, we have about two and a half times thesurface gravity that Mars has, just as Jupiter has about two and a half timesour surface gravity. Somewhat analogous differences, each way, onpressure, temperature, atmosphere, and so forth. We couldn’t stay alive onJupiter . . . and I don’t see how Martians could stand our conditions. Isn’t thattrue?“.Close enough,“ admitted van Tromp.
　　.Then tell me why we should attack Jupiter? Or Mars attack us?“.Mmm ... Ben, have you seen any of the proposals to attempt a beachhead on Jupiter?“.Yes, but- Well, nothing has ever gotten beyond the dream stage. Itisn’t practical.“.Space flight wasn’t practical less than a century ago. Go back in the filesand see what your own colleagues said about it-oh, say about 1940. TheseJupiter proposals are, at best, no farther than drawing board-but theengineers working on them are quite serious. They think that, by using allthat we’ve learned from deep ocean exploration, plus equipping men withpowered suits in which to float, it should be possible to put human beings onJupiter. And don’t think for a moment that the Martians are any less cleverthan we are. You should see their cities.“.Uh-. said Caxton. .Okay, I’ll shut up. I still don’t see why they wouldbother.“.Captain?“.Yes, Jubal?“.I see another objection-a cultural one. You know the rough division ofcultures into .Apollonian’ and .Dionysian.’“.I know in general what you mean.“.Well, it seems to me that even the Zuni culture would be called .Dionysian’
　　on Mars. Of course, you’ve been there and I haven’t-but I’ve been talkingsteadily with Mike. That boy was raised in an extremely Apollonian cultureandsuch cultures are not aggressive.“.Mmm ... I see your point-but I wouldn’t count on it.“Mahmoud said suddenly, .Skipper, there’s strong evidence to support Jubal’sconclusion. You can analyse a culture from its language, every time -andthere isn’t any Martian word for .war.’“ He stopped and looked puzzled. .Atleast, I don’t think there is. Nor any word for .weapon’ nor for .fighting.’ If aword for a concept isn’t in a language, then its culture simply doesn’t havethe referent the missing word would symbolize.“.Oh, twaddle, Stinky! Animals fight-and ants even conduct wars. Are youtrying to tell me they have to have words for it before they can do it?“.I mean exactly that,“ Mahmoud insisted, .when it applies to any verbalizingrace. Such as ourselves. Such as the Martians-even more highly verbalizedthan we are. A verbalizing race has words for every old concept . . . andcreates new words or new definitions for old words whenever a new conceptcomes along. Always! A nervous system that is able to verbalize cannotavoid verbalizing; it’s automatic. If the Martians know what .war’ is, then theyhave a word for it.“.There is a quick way to settle it,“ Jubal suggested. .Call in Mike.
　　.Just a moment, Jubal,“ van Tromp objected. .I learned years ago never toargue with a specialist; you can’t win. But I also learned that the history ofprogress is a long, long list of specialists who were dead wrong when theywere most certain-SOr1~Y, Stinky.“.You’re quite right, Captain-Only I’m not wrong this time.“.As may be, all Mike can settle is whether or not he knows a certain word . . .
　　which might be like asking a two-year-old to define .calculus.’ Proves nothing.
　　I’d like to stick to facts for a moment. Sven? About Agnew?“Nelson answered, .It’s up to you, Captain“.Well ... this is still private conversation among water brothers, gentlemen.
　　Lieutenant Agnew was our junior medical officer. Quite brilliant in his line,Sven tells me, and I had no complaints about him otherwise; he was wellenoughliked. But he had an unsuspected latent xenophobia. Not againsthumans. But he couldn’t stand Martians. Now I bad given orders againstgoing armed outside the ship once it appeared that the Martians werepeaceful-too much chance of an incident.
　　.Apparently young Agnew disobeyed me-at least we were never able to findhis personal side arm later and the two men who last saw him alive say thathe was wearing it. But all my log shows is: .Missing and presumed dead.’
　　.Here is why. Two crewmen saw Agnew go into a sort of passage betweentwo large rocks_rather scarce on Mars; mostly it’s monotonous. Then theysaw a Martian enter the same way . . whereupon they hurried, as Dr.
　　Agnew’s peculiarity was well known.
　　.Both say that they heard a shot. One says that he reached this opening intime to glimpse Agnew past the Martian, who pretty well filled the spacebetween the rocks; they’re so big. And then he didn’t see him. The secondman says that when he got there the Martian was just exiting, simply sailedon past them and went his way-which is characteristically Martian; if he hasno business with you, he simply ignores you. With the Martian out of the waythey could both see the space between the two rocks . . . and it was a deadend, empty.
　　.That’s all, gentlemen ... except to say that Agnew might have jumped thatrock wall, under Mars’ low surface gravity and the impetus of fear-but I couldnot and I tried-and to mention that these two crewmen were wearingbreathing gear-have to, on Mars-and hypoxia can make a man’s senses quiteunreliable. I don’t know that the first crewman was drunk through oxygenshortage; I just mention it because it is an explanation easier to believe thanwhat he reported . . . which is that Agnew simply disappeared~ in the blink ofan eye. In fact I suggested as much to him and ordered him to check thedemand valve and the rest of his breather gear before he went outside again.
　　.You see, I thought Agnew would show up presently ... and I was lookingforward to chewing him out and slapping him under hack for going armed (ifhe was) and for going alone (which seemed certain), both being flagrantbreaches of discipline.
　　.But he never returned, we never found him nor his body. I do not know whathappened. But my own misgivings about Martians date to that incident. Theynever again seemed to me to be just big, gentle~ harmless, rather comicalcreatures, even though we never had any trouble with them and they alwaysgave us anything we wanted, once Stinky figured out how to ask for it. Iplayed down the incident-Can’t let men panic when you’re a hundred millionmiles from home. Oh, I couldn’t play down the fact that Dr. Agnew wasmissing and the whole ship’s company searched for him. But I squelched anysuggestion that there had been anything mysterious about it-Agnew hadgotten lost among those rocks. had eventually died, no doubt, when hisoxygen ran out . . . and was buried under sand drift or something. You do getquite a breeze both at sunrise and sundown on Mars; it does cause the sandto drift. So I used it as a reason to clamp down ever harder on alwaystraveling in company, always staying in radio contact with the ship, alwayschecking breather gear . . . with Agnew as a horrible example. I did not tellthat crewman to keep his mouth shut; I simply hinted that his story wasunbelievable, especially as his mate was not able to back it up. I think theofficial version prevailed.“Mahmond said slowly, .It did with me, Captain-this is the first time I’ve heardthat there was any mystery about Agnew. And truthfully, I prefer your .ofticial’
　　version-I’m not inclined to be superstitious.“Van Tromp nodded. .That’s what I had hoped for. Only Sven and myselfheard that crewman’s wild tale-and we kept it to ourselves. But, just thesame-. The space ship captain suddenly looked old. .-I still wake up in thenight and ask myself: .What became of Agnew?’“Jubal listened to the story without comment. He was still wondering what heshould add to it when it ended. He wondered, too, if Jill had told Ben aboutBerquist and that other fellow-JOhThsO~~ He knew that he bad not. Therehadn’t been time the night Ben had been rescued . . . and in the sober light ofthe following dawn it had seemed better to let such things ride.
　　Had the kids told Ben about the battle of the swimming pool? And the twocarloads of cops who were missing afterwards? Again, it seemed mostunlikely; the kids knew that the .official“ version was that the first task forcehad never showed up~ they had all heard his phone call with Douglas. AllJubal’s family were discreet; whether guests or employees, gossipy personswere quickly ousted-Jubal regarded gossip as his own prerogative, solely.
　　But Jill might have told Ben-Well, if she had, she must have bound him tosilence; Ben had not mentioned disappearances to Jubal . . . and he wasn’ttrying to catch Jubal’s eye now.
　　Damn it, the only thing to do was to keep quiet and go on trying to impress onthe boy that he simply must not go around making unpleasant strangersdisappear!
　　Jubal was saved from further soul-searching (and the stag conversation wasbroken up) by Anne’s arrival. .Boss, that Mr. Bradley is at the door. The onewho called himself .senior executive assistant to the Secretary General.’
　　.You didn’t let him in?“.No. I looked at him through the one-way and talked to him through thespeakie. He says he has papers to deliver to you, personally, and that he willwait for an answer.“.Have him pass them through the flap. And you tell him that you are my.senior executive assistant’ and that you will fetch my receipt acknowledgingpersonal delivery if that is what he wants. This is still the Martian EmbassyuntilI check what’s in those papers.“.Just let him stand in the corridor?“.I’ve no doubt that Major Bloch can find him a chair. Anne, I am aware thatyou were gently reared-but this is a situation in which rudeness pays off. Wedon’t give an inch, nor a kind word, until we get exactly what we want.“.Yes, Boss.“The package was bulky because there were many copies; there was onedocument only. Jubal called in everyone and passed them around. .Girls, Iam offering one lollipop for each loophole, boobytrap, or ambiguity-prizes ofsimilar value to males. Now everybody keep quiet.“Presently Jubal broke the silence. .He’s an honest politician-he staysbought.“.Looks that way,“ admitted Caxton.
　　.Anybody?“ No one claimed a prize; Douglas had kept it simple andstraightforward, merely implementing the agreement reached earlier. .Okay,“said Jubal, .everybody is to witness every copy, after Mike signs it-especiallyyou, Skipper, and Sven and Stinky. Get your seal, Miriam. Hell, let Bradley innow and have him witness, too-then give the poor guy a drink. Duke, call thedesk and tell .em to send up the bill; we’re checking out. Then callGreyhound and tell .em we want our go-buggy. Sven, Skipper, Stinky-we’regetting out of here the way Lot left Sodom...why don’t you three come up inthe country with us, take off your shoes, and relax? Plenty of beds, homecooking, and no worries.“The two married men asked for, and received, rain checks; Dr. Mahmoudaccepted. The signing took rather long, mostly because Mike enjoyed signinghis name, drawing each letter with great care and artistic satisfaction. Thesalvageable remains of the picnic (mostly unopened bottles) had been sentup and loaded by the time all copies were signed and sealed, and the hotelbill had arrived.
　　Jubal glanced at the fat total and did not bother to add it. Instead he wrote onit: .Approved for payment-J. Harshaw for V. M. Smith,“ and handed it toBradley.
　　.This is your boss’s worry now,“ he told Bradley.
　　Bradley blinked. .Sir?“.Oh, just to keep it .via channels.’ Mr. Douglas will doubtless turn it over tothe Chief of Protocol. Isn’t that the usual procedure? I’m rather green aboutthese things.“Bradley accepted the bill. .Yes,“ he said slowly. .Yes, that’s right. LaRue willvoucher it-I’ll give it to him.“.Thank you, Mr. Bradley. Thanks for everything!“
Chapter 22
IN ONE LIMB OF A SPIRAL GALAXY, close to a star known as .Sol“ to someof its dependents, another star of the same type underwent catastrophicreadjustment and became nova. Its glory would be seen on Mars in anotherthree-replenished (729) years, or 1370 Terran years. The Old Ones noted thecoming event as being useful, shortly, for instruction of the young, whilenever ceasing the exciting and crucial discussion of esthetic problemsconcerning the new epic woven around the death of the Fifth Planet.
　　The departure of the spaceship Champion for its home planet was notedwithout comment and a watch was kept on the strange nestling sent back init, but nothing more, since it would be some time yet before it would be fruitfulto grok the outcome. The twenty-three humans left behind on Mars coped,successfully in most ways, with an environment lethal to naked humans butless difficult, on the whole, than that in the Free State of Antarctica. One ofthem discorporated through an undiagnosed illness sometimes called.heartbreak“ and at other times .homesickness.“ The Old Ones cherished thewounded spirit and sent it back where it belonged for further healing; asidefrom that the Martians left the Terrans alone.
　　On Earth the exploding neighbor star was not noticed at all, humanastronomers still being limited by speed of light. The Man from Mars, havingbeen briefly back in the news, had dropped out of the news again. Theminority leader in the Federation Senate called for .a bold, new approach“ tothe twin problems of population and malnutrition in southeast Asia, startingwith increased emergency grants-in-aid to families with more than fivechildren. Mrs. Percy B. S. Souchek sued the supervisors of Los Angeles City-County over the death of her pet poodle Piddle which had taken place duringa five-day period of stationary inversion layer. Cynthia Duchess announcedthat she was going to have the Perfect Baby by a scientifically selectedanonymous donor and an equally perfect host mother just as soon as abattery of experts completed calculating the exact instant for conception toinsure that the wonder child would be equally a genius in music, art, andstatesmanship-and that she would (with the aid of hormonal treatments)nurse her child herself. She gave out a statement to the press on thepsychological benefits of natural feeding and permitted, or insisted, that thepress take pictures of her to prove that she was physically endowed for thishappy duty-a fact that her usual publicity pictures had never really leftundecided-Supreme Bishop Digby denounced her as the Harlot of Babylon and forbadeany Fosterite to accept the commission, either as donor or hostmother. AliceDouglas was quoted as saying: .While I do not know Miss Duchesspersonally, one cannot help but admire her. Her brave example should be aninspiration to mothers everywhere.“By accident, Jubal Harshaw saw one of the pictures and the accompanyingstory in a magazine some visitor had left in his house- He chuckled over itand posted it on the bulletin board in the kitchen ... then noted (as he hadexpected) that it did not stay up long, which made him chuckle again.
　　He did not have too many chuckles that week; the world had been too muchwith him. The working press soon ceased bothering Mike and the Harshawhousehold when it was clear that the story was over and that Harshaw didnot intend to let any fresh news happen-but a great many thousands of otherpeople, not in the news business, did not forget Mike. Douglas honestly triedto insure Mike’s privacy; S. S. troopers now patrolled Harshaw’s fence andan S.S. car circled over the grounds and challenged any car that tried to land.
　　But Harshaw resented the necessity of having guards.
　　Guards kept people out; the mail and the telephone came through. Thetelephone Jubal coped with by changing his call number and having all callsrouted through an answering service to which was given a very limited list ofpersons from whom Harshaw would accept calls-and, at that, he kept theinstrument in the house set on .refuse & record“ most of the time.
　　But the mail always comes through.
　　At first, Harshaw told Jill that the problem was Mike’s. The boy had to growup someday; he could start by handling his own mail and she could help andadvise him. .But don’t bother me with it; I have enough trouble with screwballmail of my own!“Jubal could not make his decision stick; there was too much of it and Jillsimply did not know how.
　　Just sorting the mail into categories was a headache. Jubal solved that byfirst making a phone call to the local postmaster (which got no results), thenby a phone call to Bradley, which did get results after a .suggestion“ from onhigh trickled back down to local level; thereafter mail for Mike arrived sackedas first class, second class, third class, and fourth class, with mail foreveryone else in the household in still another sack.
　　Second and third class mail was used to insulate a new root cellar north ofthe house, the old root cellar having been dug by the former owner as afallout shelter and never having been satisfactory as root cellar. Once thenew root cellar was heavily over-insulated and could use no more, Jubal toldDuke to dump such mail as fill to check erosion in gullies; combined with asmall amount of brush such mail compacted very nicely.
　　Fourth class mail was a problem, especially as one package explodedprematurely in the village post office, blowing several years of .Wanted“announcements off the notice board and ruining one .Use Next Window“sign-by great good luck the postmaster was out for coffee and his assistant,an elderly lady with weak kidneys, was safe in the washroom. Jubalconsidered having all fourth class mail addressed to Mike processed by thebomb-disposal specialists of the S.S, who performed the same service for theSecretary General.
　　This turned out not to be necessary; Mike could spot a .wrongness“ about apackage without opening it. Thereafter all fourth class mail was unsacked ina heap just inside the gate; then, after the postman had left, Mike would prythrough the pile from a distance, cause to disappear any harmful parcel; thenLarry would truck the remainder to the house. Jubal felt that this method wasfar better than soaking suspect packages, opening them in darkness, Xrayingthem, or any other conventional method.
　　Mike loved opening the harmless packages; it made every day Christmas forhim. He particularly enjoyed reading his own name on address labels. Theplunder inside might or might not interest him; usually he gave it to one of theothers-and, in the process, at last learned what .property“ was in discoveringthat he could make gifts to his friends. Anything that nobody wanted woundup in a gully; this included, by definition, all gifts of food, as Jubal was notcertain that Mike’s nose for .wrongness“ extended to poisons - especiallyafter Mike had drunk, through error, a beaker of a poisonous solution Dukehad left in the refrigerator he used for his photographic work. Mike had simplysaid mildly that the .Iced tea“ had a flavor he was not sure that he liked.
　　Jubal told .iii that it was otherwise all right to keep anything that caine to Mikeby parcel post provided that none of it was (a) ever paid for, (b) everacknowleged, (c) nor ever returned no matter how marked. Some of theitems were legitimatly gifts; more of it was unordered merchandise. Eitherway, Jubal assumed conclusively that unsolicted chattels from strangersalways represented efforts to make use of the Man from Mars and thereforemerited no thanks.
　　An exception was made for live stock, from baby chicks to baby alligatorswhich Jubal advised her to return unless she was willing to guarantee thecare and feeding thereof, and the responsibilitY of keeping same from fallinginto the pool.
　　First class mail was a separate headache. After looking over a bushel or soof Mike’s first class mail Jubal set up a list of categories:
　　A. Begging letters, personal and institutionaa-erosion fill.
　　B. Threatening letters-file unanswered. Second and later lettersfrom any one source to be turned over to S.S.
　　C. Offers of business deals of any nature forward to Douglasunanswered.
　　D. Crackpot letters not containing threat-Pass around any realdillies; the rest to go in a gully.
　　E. Friendly letters-answer only if accompanied by stamped, selfaddressed envelope, in which case use one of several formletters to be signed by Jill (Jubal pointed out thatletters signed by the Man from Mars were valuable per se,and an open invitation to more useless mail.)F. Scatological letters-Pass to Jubal (who had a bet with himselfthat no such letter would ever show the faintest sign ofliterary novelty) for further disposition- i.e., gully.
　　G. Proposals of marriage and propositions not quite so formal—ignore and file. Use procedure under .B“ on third offense.
　　H. Letters from scientific and educatiional institutions-handleas under .E“; if answered at all, use form letterexplaining that the Man from Mars was not available foranything; if Jill felt that a form brushoff would not do,pass along to Jubal.
　　I. Letters from persons who actually had met Mike, such as allthe crew of the Champion, the President of the UnitedStates, and a few others-let Mike answer them exactlY ashe pleased; the exercise in penmanship would be good forhim and the exercise in humam personal relations he neededeven more (and if he wanted advice, let him ask for it).
　　This guide cut the number of letters that had to be answered down tomanageable size-a few each day for Jill, seldom even one for Mike. Justopening the mail took a major effort, but Jill found that she could skim andclassify in about one hour each day, after she got used to it. The first fourcategofles remained large at all times; category .G“ waS very large duringthe fortnight following the world stereocast from the Palace, then dwindledand the curve flattened to a steady trickle.
　　Jubal cautioned Jill that, while Mike should himself answer letters only fromacquaintances and friends, mail addressed to him was his to read if hewished.
　　The third morning after the category system had gone into effect Jill broughta letter, category .G,“ to Jubal. More than half of the ladies and other females(plus a few misguided males) who supplied this category included picturesalleged to be of themselves; some of these pictures left little to theimagination, as did the letters themselves in many cases-This letter enclosed a picture which managed not only to leave nothing to theimagination, but started over by stimulating fresh imaginings. Jill said, .Lookat this, Boss! I ask you!“Jubal read the letter, then looked at the picture. .She seems to know whatshe wants. What does Mike think of it?“.He hasn’t seen it. That’s why I brought it to you.“Jubal glanced again at the picture. .A type which, in my youth, we referred toas .stacked.’ Well, her sex is not in doubt, nor her agility. But why are youshowing it to me? I’ve seen better, I assure you.“.But what should I do with it? The letter is bad enough ... but that disgustingpicture-should I tear it up? Before Mike sees it?“.Oh- Siddown, Nurse. What does it say on the envelope?“.Nothing. Just the address and the return address.“.How does the address read?“.Huh? .Mr. Valentine Michael Smith, the Man from-.
　　.Oh. Then it’s not addressed to you.“.Why, no, of course-.
　　.That’s all I wanted to be sure of. Now let’s get something straight. I am notMike’s guardian. You are neither his mother nor his chaperon. I’ve simply cooptedyou as his secretary. If Mike wants to read everything that comes inhere addressed to him, including third class junk mail, he is free to do so.“.Well, he does read almost all of those ads. But surely you don’t want him tosee filth? Jubal, Mike doesn’t know what the world is like. He’s innocent.
　　.So? How many men has he killed so far, Jill?“Jill did not answer; she looked unhappy. Jubal went on: .If you want to helphim, you will concentrate on teaching him that casual killing is frowned on inthis society. Otherwise he is bound to be unpleasantly conspicuous when hegoes out into the world.“.Uh, I don’t think he wants to .go out into the world.’“.Well, I’m damned well going to push him out of the nest as soon as I thinkhe can fly. He can come back later, if he wishes—But I shan’t make itpossible for him to live out his life here, as an arrested infant. For one thing, Ican’t even if I wanted to . . because Mike will probably outlive me by sixty orseventy years and this nest will be gone. But you are correct; Mike isinnocent our standards. Nurse, have you ever seen that sterile laboratory atNotre Dame?“.No. I’ve read about it.“.Healthiest animals in the world_hut they can’t ever leave the laboratory.
　　Child, I’m not running a sterile laboratorY. Mike has got to get acquaintedwith .filth,’ as you call it-and get immunized to it. One day he’s going to meetthe gal who wrote this letter, or her spiritual twin sister -in fact he’s going tomeet her by the dozens and hundreds ~hucks, with his notoriety and hislooks he can spend his life skipping from one warm bed to another, if helikes. You can’t stop it, I can’t stop it; it’s up to Mike. Furthermore, I wouldn’twant to stop it, although for my taste it’s a silly way to spend one’s life-doingthe same monotonous exercises over and over again, I mean- What do youthink?“.I-. Jill stopped and blushed.
　　.I withdraw the question. Maybe you don’t find them monotonous but none ofmy business, either way. But if you don’t want Mike’s feet kicked out fromunder him by the first five hundred women that get him alone_and I don’tregard it as a good idea, either; he should have other interests as well-thendon’t try to intercept his mail. Letters like that may vaccinate him a little - . . orat least tend to put him on guard. Don’t make a thing out of it; just pass italong in the stack, cum .filthy’ picture. Answer his questionS if he asks them .
　　. . and try not to blush.“.Uh, all right. Boss, you’re infuriating when you’re logical.“ .Yes, a mostuncouth way to argue. Now run along.“.All right. But I’m going to tear up that picture after Mike has seen it.“.Oh, don’t do that!“.What? Do you want it, Boss?“.Heaven forbid! I told you I bad seen much better. But Duke is not asjaundiced as I am; he collects such pictures- If Mike doesn’t want it-and fiveto-one he doesn’t-give it to Duke- He’ll be delighted.“.Duke collects such trash? But he seems such a nice person.
　　.He is. A very nice person indeed. Or I’d kick him out.“.But- I don’t understand it“Jubal sighed. .And 1 could sit here all day explaining it and you still wouldn’tunderstand it. My dear, there are aspects of sex on which it is jmpossible tocommunicate between the two sexes of our race. They are sometimesgrokked by intuition across the gulf that separates us, by a few exceptionallygifted individuals. But words are useless, so I won’t try. Just take my word forit: Duke is a perfect knight, sans peur et sans reproche- and he would like tohave that picture.“.All right, he can have it if Mike doesn’t keep it. But I’ll just pass it along toyou. I won’t give it to Duke myself_be might get ideas.“.Sissy. You might enjoy his ideas- Anything startling in the mail otherwise?“.No. The usual crop of people who want Mike to endorse this and that, orpeddle .Official Man-from-Mars this’s and that’s-one character had the nerveto ask for a five-year monopoly royalty free, on the name, but wants Mike tofinance it as well.“.I admire that sort of whole-hearted thief. Encourage him. Tell him that Mikeis so rich that he makes crepes suzettes with Napoleon brandy and needssome tax losses-so how much guarantee would he like?“.Are YOU serious, Boss? I’ll have to dig it out of the group already sackedfor Mr. Douglas.“.Of course I’m not serious. The gonif would show up here tomorrow, with hisfamily. But you’ve given me a fine Idea for a story, so run along. Front!“Mike was not uninterested in the .disgusting“ picture. He grokked correctly (ifonly theoreticly) what the letter and the picture symbolized-and studied thepicture with the clear-eyed delight With which he studied each passingbutterfly. He found both butterflies and women tremendously interesting-infact, all the grokking world around him was enchanting and he wanted todrink so deep of it all that his own grokking would be perfect.
　　He understood, intellectually, the mechanical and biological processes beingoffered to him in these letters but he wondered why these strangers wantedhis help in quickening their eggs? Mike understood (without grokking it) thatthese people made ritual of this simple necessity, a .growing closer“ possiblyalmost as important and precious as the water ceremony. He was eager togrok it.
　　But he was not in a hurry, .hurry“ being one human concept he had failed togrok at all. He was sensitively aware of the key importance of correct timingin all acts-but with the Martian approach: correct timing was accomplished bywaiting. He had noticed, of course, that his human brothers lacked his ownfine discrimination of time and often were forced to wait a little faster than aMartian would-but he did not hold their innocent awkwardness against them;he simply learned to wait faster himself to cover their lack.
　　In fact, he sometimes waited faster so efficiently that a human would haveconcluded that he was hurrying at breakneck speed. But the human wouldhave been mistaken-Mike was simply adjusting his own waiting in warmconsideration for the needs of others.
　　So he accepted Jill’s edict that he was not to reply to any of these brotherlyoffers from female humans, but he accepted it not as a final veto but as awaiting-possibly a century hence would be better; in any case now was notthe correct time since his water brother Jill spoke rightly.
　　Mike readily assented when Jill suggested, quite firmly, that he give thispicture to Duke. He went at once to do so and would have done so anyhow;Mike knew about Duke’s collection, he had seen it, looked through it withdeep interest, trying to grok why Duke said, .That one ain’t much in the face,but look at those legs-brother!“ It always made Mike feel good to be called.brother“ by one of his water brothers but legs were just legs, save that hisown people had three each while humans each had only two-without beingcrippled thereby, he reminded himself~ two legs were proper for humans, hemust always grok that this was correct.
　　As for faces, Jubal had the most beautiful face Mike had ever seen, clearlyand distinctly his own. It seemed to Mike that these human females in Duke’spicture collection could hardly be said to have grown faces as yet, so muchdid one look like the other in the face. All young human females had muchthe same face-how could it be otherwise? Of course he had never had anytrouble recognizing Jill’s face; she was not only the first woman he had everseen but, most important, his first female water brother-Mike knew every poreon her nose, every incipient wrinkle in her face and had praised each one inhappy meditation.
　　But, while he now knew Anne from Dorcas and Dorcas from Miriam by theirfaces alone, it had not been so when first he came here. For several daysMike had distinguished between them by size and coloration-and, of course,by voice, since no two voices were ever alike. But, as sometimes did happen,all three females would be quiet at once and then it was well that Anne wasso much bigger, Dorcas so small, and that Miriam, who was bigger thanDorcas but smaller than Anne, nevertheless need not be mistaken for themissing one if either Anne or Dorcas was absent because Miriam hadunmistakable hair called .red,“ even though it was not the color called .red“when speaking of anything but hair.
　　This special meaning for .red“ did not trouble Mike; he knew before hereached Earth that every English word held more than one meaning. It was afact one could get used to, without grokking, just as the sameness of all girlfaces could be gotten used to . . . and, after waiting, they were no longerquite the same. Mike now could call up Anne’s face in his mind and count thepores in her nose as readily as with Jill’s. In essence, even an egg wasuniquely itself, different from all other eggs any where and when- Mike hadalways known that. So each girl had her own face, no matter how small thosedifferences might be.
　　Mike gave the .disgusting“ picture to Duke and was warmed by Duke’spleasure. Mike did not feel that he was depriving himself in parting with thepicture; he had seen it once, he could see it in his mind whenever he wishedeventhe face in that picture, as it had glowed with a most unusualexpression of beautiful pain.
　　He accepted Duke’s thanks gravely and went happily back to read the restof his mail.
　　Mike did not share Jubal’s annoyance at the avalanche of mail; he reveled init, the insurance ads quite as much as the marriage proposals. His trip to thePalace had opened his eyes to the enonnous variety in this world and he wasresolved to grok it all. He could see that it would take him several centuriesand that he must grow and grow and grow, but he was undaunted and in nohurry-he grokked that eternity and the everbeautifully-changing now wereidentical.
　　He had decided not to reread the Encyclopedia Britannica; the flood of mailgave him brighter glimpses of the world. He read it, grokked what he could,remembered the rest for contemplation at night while the household slept.
　　From these nights of meditation he was beginning, he thought, to grok.business,“ and .money,“ and .buying,“ and .selling,“ and related unMartianactivities-the articles in the Encyclopedia had always left him feeling unfilled,as (he now grokked) each one had assumed that he knew many things thathe did not know. But there arrived in the mail, from Mr. Secretary GeneralJoseph Edgerton Douglas, a check book and other papers, and his brotherJubal had taken great pains to explain to him what money was and how itwas used.
　　Mike had failed utterly to understand it at first, even though Jubal showed himhow to make out his first check, gave him .money“ in exchange for it, taughthim how to count it.
　　Then suddenly, with a grokking so blinding that he trembled and forcedhimself not to withdraw, he understood the abstract symbolic nature ofmoney. These pretty pictures and bright medallions were not .money“; theywere concrete symbols for an abstract idea which spread all through thesepeople, all through their world. But these things were not money, any morethan water shared in water ceremony was the growingcloser. Water was notnecessary to the ceremony . . . and these pretty things were not necessary tomoney. Money was an idea, as abstract as an Old One’s thoughts-moneywas a great structured symbol for balancing and healing and growing closer.
　　Mike was dazzled with the magnificent beauty of money.
　　The flow and change and countennarching of the symbols was anothermatter, beautiful in small, but reminding him of games taught to nestlings toencourage them to learn to reason correctly and grow. It was the totalstructure that dazzled him, the idea that an entire world could be reflected inone dynamic, completely interconnected, symbol structure. Mike grokkedthen that the Old Ones of this race were very old indeed to have composedsuch beauty, and he wished humbly that he might soon be allowed to meetone of them.
　　Jubal encouraged him to spend some of his money and Mike did so, with thetimid, uncertain eagerness of a bride being brought to bed. Jubal suggestedthat he .buy presents for his friends“ and Jill helped him with it, starting byplacing arbitrary limits: only one present for each friend and a total cost thatwas not even a reciprocal filled-three of the sum that had been placed to hisaccount-Mike’s original intention had been to spend all of that pretty balanceon his friends.
　　He quickly learned how difficult it is to spend money. There were so manythings from which to choose, all of them wonderful and most of themincomprehensible. Surrounded by thick catalogs from Marshall Field’s to theGinza, and back by way of Bombay and Copenhagen, he felt smothered in aplethora of riches. Even the Sears & Montgomery catalog was too much forhim.
　　But Jill helped. .No, Mike, Duke would not want a tractor.“.Duke likes tractors.“.Um, maybe-but he’s got one, or Jubal has, which is the same thing. Hemight like one of those cute little Belgian unicycles-be could take it apart andput it together and shine it all day long. But even that is too expensive, whatwith the taxes. Mike dear, a present ought not to be very expensive-unlessyou are trying to get a girl to marry you, or something. Especially .something.’
　　But a present should show that you thought about it and considered thatperson’s tastes. Something he would enjoy but probably would not buy forhimself.“.How?“.That’s always the problem. Wait a minute. I just remembered something inthis morning’s mail-I hope Larry hasn’t carted it oft’ yet.“ She was backquickly. .Found it! Listen to this: .Living Aphrodite: A de-luxe Album ofFeminine Beauty in Gorgeous Stereo-Color by the World’s Greatest Artists ofthe Camera. Notice: this item will not be sent by mail. It will be forwarded atpurchaser’s risk by prepaid express only. Orders cannot be accepted fromaddresses in the following states-. Um, Pennsylvania is on the verboten listbutdon’t let that worry you; if it is addressed to you, it will be delivered-and ifI know Duke’s vulgar tastes, this is just what he would like.“Duke did like it. It was delivered, not by express, but via the S.S. patrol carcapping the house-and the next ad for the same item to arrive in the houseboasted: .-exactly as supplied to the Man from Mars, by specialappointment,“ which pleased Mike and annoyed Jill.
　　Other presents were just as difficult, but picking a present for Jubal wassupremely difficult. Jill was stumped. What does one buy for a man who haseverything-everything~ that is to say, that be wants which money can buy?
　　The Sphinx? Three Wishes? The fountain that Ponce de Leon failed to find?
　　Oil for his ancient bones, or one golden day of youth? Jubal had long agoeven foresworn pets, because he outlived them, or (worse yet) it was nowpossible that a pet would outlive him, be orphaned.
　　Privately they consulted the others. .Shucks,“ Duke told them, .didn’t youknow? The boss likes statues.“.Really?“ Jill answered. .I don’t see any sculpture around.“.That’s because most of the stuff he likes isn’t for sale. He says that the crudthey’re making nowdays looks like disaster in a junk yard and any idiot with ablow torch and astigmatism can set himself up as a sculptor.“Anne nodded thoughtfully. .I think Duke is right. You can tell what Jubal’stastes in sculpture are by looking at the books in his study. But I doubt if it willhelp much.“Nevertheless they looked, Anne and Jill and Mike, and Anne picked out threebooks as bearing evidence (to her eyes) of having been looked at most often.
　　.Hmm ..“ she said. .It’s clear that the Boss would like anything by Rodin.
　　Mike, if you could buy one of these for Jubal, which one would you pick? Oh,here’s a pretty one-.Eternal Springtime.’“Mike barely glanced at it and turned the page. .This one.“.What?“ Jill looked at it and shuddered. .Mike, that one is perfectly dreadful! Ihope I die long before I look like that.“.That is beauty,“ Mike said firmly.
　　.Mike!“ Jill protested. .You’ve got a depraved taste-you’re worse than Duke.
　　Or else you just don’t know any better.“Ordinarily such a rebuke from a water brother, most especially from Jill,would have shut Mike up, forced him to spend the following night in trying tounderstand his fault. But this was art in which he was sure of himself. Theportrayed statue was the first thing he had seen on Earth which felt like abreath of home to him. Although it was clearly a picture of a human woman itgave him a feeling that a Martian Old One should be somewhere around,responsible for its creation. .It is beauty,“ he insisted stubbornly. .She has herown face. I grok.“.Jill,“ Anne said slowly, .Mike is right.“.Huh? Anne! Surely you don’t like that?“.It frightens me. But Mike knows what Jubal likes. Look at the book itself. Itfalls open naturally to any one of three places. Now look at the pages-thispage has been handled more than the other two. Mike has picked the Boss’sfavorite. This other one-.The Caryatid Who has Fallen under the Weight ofHer Stone’-he likes almost as well. But Mike’s choice is Jubal’s pet.“.I buy it,“ Mike said decisively.
　　But it was not for sale. Anne telephoned the Rodin Museum in Paris onMike’s behalf and only Gallic gallantry and her beauty kept them fromlaughing in her face. Sell one of the Master’s works? My dear lady, they arenot only not for sale but they may not be reproduced. Non, non, non! Quelleidét!
　　But for the Man from Mars some things are possible which are not possiblefor others. Anne called Bradley; a couple of days later he called her back. Asa compliment from the French government-no fee, but a strongly couchedrequest that the present never be publicly exhibited- Mike would receive, notthe original, but a full-size, microscopically-exact replica, a bronzephotopantogram of .She Who Used to Be the Beautiful Heaulmiêre.“Jill helped Mike select presents for the girls, here she knew her ground. Butwhen he asked her what he should buy for her; she not only did not help butinsisted that he must not buy her anything.
　　Mike was beginning to realize that, while a water brother always spokerightly, sometimes they spoke more rightly than others, i.e., that the Englishlanguage had depths to it and it was sometimes necessary to probe to reachthe right depth. So he consulted Anne.
　　.Go ahead and buy her a present, dear. She has to tell you that but you giveher a present anyhow. Hmm...Anne vetoed clothes and jewelry, finallyselected for him a present which puzzled hint-Jill already smelled exactly theway Jill should smell.
　　The small size and apparent unimportance of the present, when it arrived,added to his misgivings-and when Anne let him whiff it before having himgive it to Jill, Mike was more in doubt than ever; the odor was very strong andsmelled not at all like Jill.
　　Nevertheless, Anne was right; Jill was delighted with the perfume andinsisted on kissing him at once. In kissing her he grokked fully that this giftwas what she wanted and that it made them grow closer.
　　When she wore it at dinner that night, he discovered that the fragrance trulydid not differ from that of Jill herself; in some unclear fashion it simply madeJill smell more deliciously like Jill than ever. Still stranger, it caused Dorcas tokiss him and whisper, .Mike hon ... the negligee is lovely and just what Iwanted-but perhaps someday you’ll give me perfume?“Mike could not grok why Dorcas would want it, since Dorcas did not smell atall like Jill and therefore perfume would not be proper for her nor, he realized,would he want Dorcas to smell like Jill; he wanted Dorcas to smell likeDorcas.
　　Jubal interrupted with: .Quit nuzzling the lad and let him eat his dinnedDorcas, you already reek like a Marseilles cat house; don’t wheedle Mike formore stinkum.“.Doss, you mind your own business.“It was all very puzzling-both that Jill could smell still more like Jill and thatDorcas should wish to smell like Jill when she already smelled like herself . . .
　　and that Jubal would say that Dorcas smelled like a cat when she did not.
　　There was a cat who lived on the place (not as a pet, but as co-owner); onrare occasion it came to the house and deigned to accept a handout. The catand Mike had grokked each other at once, and Mike had found itscarniverous thoughts most pleasing and quite Martian. He had discovered,too, that the cat’s name (Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche) was not the cat’s nameat all, but he had not told anyone this because he could not pronounce thecat’s real name; he could only hear it in his head.
　　The cat did not smell like Dorcas.
　　Giving presents was a great goodness and the buying thereof taught Mikemuch about the true value of money. But he had not forgotten evenmomentarily that there were other things he was eager to grok. Jubal had putoff Senator Boone’s invitation to Mike twice without mentioning it to Mike andMike had not noticed, since his quite different grasp of time made .nextSunday“ no particular date.
　　But the next repetition of the invitation came by mall and was addressed toMike; Senator Boone was under pressure from Supreme Bishop Digby toproduce the Man from Mars and Boone had sensed that Harshaw wasstalling him and might stall indefinitely.
　　Mike took it to Jubal, stood waiting. .Well?“ Jubal growled. .Do you want togo, or don’t you? You don’t have to attend a Fosterite service. We can tell.em to go to hell.“So a Checker Cab with a human driver (Harshaw refused to trust his life toan autocab) picked them up the next Sunday morning and delivered Mike,Jill, and Jubal to a public landing fiat just outside the sacred grounds ofArchangel Foster Tabernacle of the Church of the New Revelation.
Chapter 23
JUBAL HAD BEEN TRYING to warn Mike all the way to church; of what,Mike was not certain. He had listened, he always listened-but the landscapebelow them tugged for attention, too; he had compromised by storing whatJubal said. .Now look, boy,“ Jubal had admonished, .these Fosterites areafter your money. That’s all right, most everybody is after your money; youjust have to be firm. Your money and the prestige of having the Man fromMars join their church. They’re going to work on you-and you have to be firmabout that, too.“.Beg pardon?“.Damn it, I don’t believe you’ve been listening.“.I am sorry, Jubal.“.Well ... look at it this way. Religion is a solace to many people and it is evenconceivable that some religion, somewhere, really is Ultimate Truth. But inmany cases, being religious is merely a form of conceit. The Bible Belt faithin which I was brought up encouraged me to think that I was better than therest of the world; I was .saved’ and they were .damned’ -we were in a state ofgrace and the rest of the world were .heathens’ and by .heathen’ they meantsuch people as our brother Mahmoud. It meant that an ignorant, stupid loutwho seldom bathed and planted his corn by the phase of the Moon couldclaim to know the final answers of the Universe. That entitled him to lookdown his nose at everybody else. Our hymn book was loaded with sucharrogance-mindless, conceited, self-congratulation on how cozy we were withthe Almighty and what a high opinion he had of us and us alone, and whathell everybody else was going to catch come Judgment Day. We peddled theonly authentic brand of Lydia Pinkham’s-.
　　.Jubal!“ Jill said sharply. .He doesn’t grok it.“.Uh? Sorry. I got carried away. My folks tried to make a preacher out of meand missed by a narrow margin; I guess it still shows.“.It does.“.Don’t rub it in, girl. I would have made a good one if I hadn’t fallen into thefatal folly of reading anything I could lay hands on. With just a touch more selfconfidence and a liberal helping of ignorance I could have been a famousevangelist. Shucks, this place we’re headed for today would have beenknown as the .Archangel Jubal Tabernacle.’“Jill made a face. .Jubal, please! Not so soon after breakfast.“.I mean it. A confidence man knows that he’s lying; that limits his scope. Buta successful shaman ropes himself first; he believes what he says -and suchbelief is contagious; there is no limit to his scope. But I lacked the necessaryconfidence in my own infallibility; I could never become a prophet . . . just acritic-which is a poor thing at best, a sort of fourthrate prophet suffering fromdelusions of gender.“ Jubal frowned. .That’s what worries me aboutFosterites, Jill. I think that they are utterly sincere and you and I know thatMike is a sucker for sincerity.“.What do you think they’ll try to do to him?“.Convert him, of course. Then get their hands on his fortune.“.I thought you had things fixed so that nobody could do that?“.No, I just fixed it so that nobody could take it away from him against his will.
　　Ordinarily he couldn’t even give it away without the government stepping in.
　　But giving it to a church, especially a politically powerful church like theFosterites, is another matter.“.I don’t see why.“Jubal sighed. .My dear, religion is practically a null area under the law. Achurch can do anything any other human organization can do- and has norestrictions. It pays no taxes, need not publish records, is effectively immuneto search, inspection, or control-and a church is anything that calls itself achurch. Attempts have been made to distinguish between .real’ religionsentitled to these immunities and .cults.’ This can’t be done, short ofestablishing a state religion . . . which is a cure worse than the disease. Inany case, we haven’t done it, and both under what’s left of the old UnitedStates Constitution and under the Treaty of Federation, all churches areequal and equally immune-especially if they swing a big bloc of votes. If Mikeis converted to Fosterism . . . and makes a will in favor of his church . . . andthen .goes to heaven’ some sunrise, it will all be, to put it in the correcttautology, .as legal as church on Sunday.’“.Oh, dear! I thought we had him safe at last.“.There is no safety this side of the grave.“.Well ... what are you going to do about it, Jubal?“.Nothing. Just fret, that’s all.“Mike stored their conversation without any effort to grok it. He recognized thesubject as one of utter simplicity in his own language but amazingly slipperyin English. Since his failure to achieve mutual grokking on this subject, evenwith his brother Mahmoud, with his admittedly imperfect translation of the allembracingMartian concept as: .Thou art God,“ be had simply waited untilgrokking was possible. He knew that the waiting would fructify at its time; hisbrother Jill was learning his language and he would be able to explaln it toher. They would grok together.
　　In the meantime the scenery flowing beneath him was a never-endingdelight, and he was filled with eagerness for experience to come. Heexpected, or hoped, to meet a human Old One.
　　Senator Tom Boone was waiting to meet them at the landing flat. .Howdy,folks! And may the Good Lord bless you on this beautiful Sabbath. Mr. Smith,I’m happy to see you again. And you, too, Doctor.“ He took his cigar out ofhis mouth and looked at Jill. .And this little lady- didn’t I see you at thePalace?“.Yes, Senator. I’m Gillian Boardman.“.Thought so, m’dear. Are you saved?“.Uh, I guess not, Senator.“.Well, it’s never too late. We’ll be very happy to have you attend the seekers’
　　service in the Outer Tabernacle-I’ll find a Guardian to guide you. Mr. Smithand the Doc will be going into the Sanctuary, of course.“ The Senator lookedaround.
　　.Senator-.
　　.Uh, what, Doc?“.If Miss Boardmnan can’t go into the Sanctuary, I think we had all betterattend the seekers’ service. She’s his nurse and translator.“Boone looked slightly perturbed. .Is he ill? He doesn’t look it. And why doeshe need a translator? He speaks English-I heard him.“Jubal shrugged. .As his physician, I prefer to have a nurse to assist me, ifnecessary. Mr. Smith is not entirely adjusted to the conditions of this planet.
　　An interpreter may not be necessary. But why don’t you ask hint? Mike, doyou want Jill to come with you?“.Yes, Jubal.“.But- Very well, Mr. Smith.“ Boone again removed his cigar, put two fingersbetween his lips and whistled. .Cherub here!“A youngster in his early teens came dashing up. He was dressed in a shortrobe, tights, and slippers, and had what appeared to be pigeon’s wings(because they were) fastened, spread, on his shoulders. He wasbareheaded, had a crop of tight golden curls, and a sunny smile. Jill thoughtthat he was as cute as a ginger ale ad.
　　Boone ordered, .Fly up to the Sanctum office and tell the Warden on dutythat I want another pilgrim’s badge sent to the Sanctuary gate right away.
　　The word is Mars.“.’Mars,’“ the kid repeated, threw Boone a Boy Scout salute, turned and madea mighty sixty-foot leap over the heads of the crowd. Jill realized why theshort robe had looked so bulky; it concealed a personal jump harness.
　　.Have to be careful of those badges,“ Boone remarked. .You’d be surprisedhow many sinners would like to sneak in and sample a little of God’s Joywithout having their sins washed away first. Now we’ll just mosey along andsight-see a little while we wait for the third badge. I’m glad you folks got hereearly.“They pushed through the crowd and entered the huge building, foundthemselves in a long high hallway. Boone stopped. .I want you to noticesomething. There is economics in everything, even in the Lord’s work. Anytourist coming here, whether he attends seekers’ service or not-and servicesrun twenty-four hours a day-has to come in through here. What does he see?
　　These happy chances.“ Boone waved at slot machines lining both walls ofthe hall. .The bar and quick lunch is at the far end, he can’t even get a drinkof water without running this gauntlet. And let me tell you, it’s a remarkablesinner who can get that far without shedding his loose change.
　　.But we don’t take his money and give him nothing. Take a look-. Booneshouldered his way to a machine, tapped the woman playing it on theshoulder; she was wearing around her neck a Fosterite rosary. .Please,Daughter.“She looked up, her annoyance changed to a smile. .Certainly, Bishop.“.Bless you. You’ll note,“ Boone went on, as he fed a quarter into themachine, .that no matter whether it pays off in worldly goods or not, a sinnerplaying this machine is always rewarded with a blessing and an appropriatesouvenir text.“The machine stopped whirring and, lined up in the windows, was: GODWATCHES-YOU.
　　.That pays three for one,“ Boone said briskly and fished the pay-off out of thereceptacle, .and here’s your souvenir text.“ He tore a paper tab off that hadextruded from a slot, and handed it to Jill. .Keep it, little lady, and ponder it.“Jill sneaked a glance at it before putting it into her purse: .But the Sinner’sbelly is filled with filth- N.R. XXII 17“.You’ll note,“ Boone went on, .that the pay-off is in tokens, not in coin-and thebursar’s cage is clear back past the bar . . . and there is plenty of opportunitythere to make love offerings for charity and other good works. So the sinnerprobably feeds them back in . . . with a blessing each time and another text totake home. The cumulative effect is tremendous, really tremendous! Why,some of our most diligent and pious sheep got their start right here in thisroom.“.I don’t doubt it,“ agreed Jubal.
　　.Especially if they hit a jackpot. You understand, every combination is acomplete sentence, a blessing. All but the jackpot. That’s the three HolyEyes. I tell you, when they see those eyes all lined up and starin’ at .em andall that manna from Heaven coming down, it really makes .em think.
　　Sometimes they faint. Here, Mr. Smith-. Boone offered Mike one of the slugsthe machine had just paid. .Give it a whirl.“Mike hesitated. Jubal quickly took the proffered token himself- damn it, hedidn’t want the boy getting hooked by a one-armed bandit! .I’ll try it, Senator.“He fed the machine.
　　Mike really hadn’t intended to do anything. He had extended his time sense alittle and was gently feeling around inside the machine trying to discover whatit did and why they were stopping to look at it. But he had been too timid toplay it himself.
　　But when Jubal did so, Mike watched the cylinders spin around, noted thesingle eye pictured on each, and wondered what this .jackpot“ was when allthree were lined up. The word had only three meanings, so far as he knew,and none of them seemed to apply. Without really thinking about it, certainlywithout intending to cause any excitement, he slowed and stopped eachwheel so that the eyes looked out through the window.
　　A bell tolled, a choir sang hosannas, the machine lighted up and startedspewing slugs into the receptacle and on into a catch basin below it, in aflood. Boone looked delighted. .Well, bless you! Doc, this is your day! Here,I’ll help you-and put one back in to take the jackpot off.“ He did not wait forJubal but picked up one of the flood and fed it back in.
　　Mike was wondering why all this was happening, so he lined up the threeeyes again. The same events repeated, save that the flood was a meretrickle. Boone stared at the machine. .Well, I’ll be-blessedl It’s not supposedto hit twice in a row. But never mind; it did-and I’ll see that you’re paid onboth of them.“ Quickly he put a slug back in.
　　Mike still wanted to see why this was a .jackpot.“ The eyes lined up again.
　　Boone stared at them. Jill suddenly squeezed Mike’s hand and whispered,.Mike ... stop it!“.But, Jill, I was seeing-.
　　.Don’t talk about it. Just stop. Oh, you just wait till I get you home!“ Boonesaid slowly, .I’d hesitate to call this a miracle. Machine probably needs arepairman.“ He shouted, .Cherub here!“ and added, .We’d better take the lastone off, anyhow,“ and fed in another slug.
　　Without Mike’s intercession, the wheels slowed down on their own andannounced: .FOSTER-LOVES-YOU,“ and the mechanism tried, but failed, todeliver ten more slugs. A Cherub, older and with sleek black hair, came upand said, .Happy day. You need help?“.Three jackpots,“ Boone told him.
　　.’Three’?“.Didn’t you hear the music? Are you deef? We’ll be at the bar; fetch themoney there. And have somebody check this machine.“.Yes, Bishop.“They left the Cherub scratching his head while Boone hurried them onthrough the Happiness Room to the bar at the far end. .Got to get you out ofhere,“ Boone said jovially, .before you bankrupt the Church. Doc, are youalways that lucky?“.Always,“ Harshaw said solemnly. He had not looked at Mike and did notintend to-he told himself that he did not know that the boy had anything to dowith it . . . but he wished mightily that this ordeal were over and all of themhome again.
　　Boone took them to a stretch of the bar counter marked .Reserved“ and said,.This’ll do-or would the little lady like to sit down?“.This is fine.“ (-and if you call me .little lady“ just once more I’ll turn Mikeloose on you!)A bartender hurried up. .Happy day. Your usual, Bishop?“.Double. What’ll it be, Doc? And Mr. Smith? Don’t be bashful; you’re theSupreme Bishop’s guests.“.Brandy, thank you. Water on the side.“.Brandy, thank you,“ Mike repeated ... thought about it, and added, .No waterfor me, please.“ While it was true that the water of life was not the essence inthe water ceremony, nevertheless he did not wish to drink water here.
　　.That’s the spirits“ Boone said heartily. .That’s the proper spirit with spirits!
　　No water. Get it? It’s a joke.“ Re dug Jubal in the ribs. .Now what’ll it be forthe little lady? Cola? Milk for your rosy cheeks? Or do you want a real HappyDay drink with the big folks?“.Senator,“ Jill said carefully, .Would your hospitality extend to a martini?“.Would it! Best martinis in the whole world right here-we don’t use anyvermouth at all. We bless .em instead. Double martini for the little lady. Blessyou, son, and make it fast.“ He turned to the others. .We’ve just about tImefor a quick one, then pay our respects to Archangel Foster and on into theSanctuary in time to hear the Supreme Bishop.“The drinks arrived and the jackpots’ payoff. They drank with Boone’sblessing, then he wrangled in a friendly fashion with Jubal over the threehundred dollars just delivered, insisting that all three prizes belonged to Jubaleven though Boone had inserted the slugs on the second and third. Jubalsettled it by scooping up all the money and depositing it in a loveoffering bowlnear them on the bar.
　　Boone nodded approvingly. .That’s a mark of grace, Doc. We’ll save you yet.
　　Another round, folks?“Jill hoped that someone would say yes. The gin was watered, she decided,and the flavor was poor; nevertheless it was starting a small flame oftolerance in her middle. But nobody spoke up, so she trailed along as Booneled them away, up a flight of stairs, past a sign reading: POSITIVELY NOSEEKERS NOR SINNERS ALLOWED ON THIS LEVEL-THIS MEANS YOU!
　　Beyond the sign was a heavy grilled gate. Boone said to it: .Bishop Booneand three pilgrims, guests of the Supreme Bishop.“The gate swung open. He led them around a curved passage and into aroom.
　　It was a moderately large room, luxuriously appointed in a style thatreminded Jill of undertakers’ parlors, but it was filled with cheerful music. Thebasic theme seemed to be .Jingle Bells“ but a Congo beat had been addedand the arrangement so embroidered that its ancestry was not certain. Jillfound that she liked it and that it made her want to dance.
　　The far wall of the room was clear glass and appeared to be not even that.
　　Boone said briskly, .Here we are, folks-in the Presence.“ He knelt quickly,facing the empty wall. .You don’t have to kneel, you’rt pilgrims -but do so if itmakes you feel better. Most pilgrims do. And there he is just as he was whenhe was called up to Heaven.“Boone gestured with his cigar. .Don’t he look natural? Preserved by amiracle, his flesh incorruptible. That’s the very chair he used to sit in when hewrote his Messages . . . and that’s just the pose he was in when he went toHeaven. He never moved and he’s never been moved-we just built theTabernacle right around him . . . removing the old church, naturally, andpreserving its sacred stones.“ Opposite them about twenty feet away, facingthem, seated in a big arm chair remarkably like a throne, was an old man. Relooked as if he were alive - . and he reminded Jill strongly of an old goat thathad been on the farm where she had spent her childhood summers-Yes,even to the out-thrust lower lip, the cut of the whiskers, and the fierce,brooding eyes. Jill felt her skin prickle; the Archangel Foster made heruneasy. Mike said to her in Martian, .My brother, this is an Old One?“.I don’t know, Mike. They say he is.“He answered in Martian, .I do not grok an Old One here.“.I don’t know, I tell you.“.I grok wrongness.“.Mike! Remember!“.Yes, Jill.“Boone said, .What was he saying, little lady? What was your question, Mr.
　　Smith?“Jill said quickly, .It wasn’t anything. Senator, can I get out of here? I feelfaint.“ She glanced back at the corpse. There were billowing clouds above itand one shaft of light always cut through and sought out the face. The lightchanged enough so that the face seemed to change and the eyes seemedbright and alive.
　　Boone said soothingly, .It sometimes has that effect, the first time. But youought to look at him from the seekers’ gallery below us-looking up at him andwith entirely different music. Entirely. Heavy music, with subsonics in it, Ibelieve it is-reminds .em of their sins. Now this room is a Happy Thoughtsmeditation chamber for high officials of the Church-I often come here and sitand smoke a cigar for an hour if I’m feeling the least bit low.“.Please, Senator!“.Oh, certainly. You just wait outside, m’dear. Mr. Smith, you stay aslong as you like.“Jubal said, .Senator, hadn’t we best get on into the services?“They all left. Jill was shaking and squeezed Mike’s hand-she had beenscared silly that Mike might do something to that grisly exhibit-and get themall lynched, or worse.
　　Two guards, dressed in uniforms much like the Cherubim but more ornate,thrust crossed spears in their path when they reached the portal of theSanctuary. Boone said reprovingly, .Come, come! These pilgrims are theSupreme Bishop’s personal guests. Where are their badges?“The confusion was straightened out, the badges produced~ and with themtheir door prize numbers. A respectful usher said, .This way, Bishop,“ and ledthem up wide stairs and to a center box directly facing the stage.
　　Boone stood back for them to go in. .You first, little lady.“ There followed atussle of wills; Boone wanted to sit next to Mike in order to answer hisquestions. }larshaW won and Mike sat between Jill and Jiib~~l, with Booneon the aisle.
　　The box was roomy and luxurious, with very comfortable, self-adjustingseats, ash trays for each seat and drop tables for refreshments foldedagainst the rail in front of them. Their balcony position placed them aboutfifteen feet over the heads of the congregation and not more than a hundredfeet from the altar. In front of it a young priest was warming up the crowd,shuffling to the music and shoving his heavily muscled arms back and forth,fists clenched, like pistons. His strong bass voice joined the choir from time totime, then he would lift it in ex.hortatiofl:
　　.Up off your behinds! What are you waiting for? Gonna let the Devil catchyou napping’?“The aisles were very wide and a snake dance was moving down the rightaisle, across in front of the altar, and weaving back up the center aisle, feetstomping in time with the priest’s piston-like jabs and with the syncopatedchant of the choir. Clumps clump, moan! . . . clump, clump, moan! Jill felt thebeat of it and realized sheepishly that it would be fun to get into that snakedance-as more and more people were doing under the brawny young priest’staunts.
　　.That boy’s a corner,“ Boone said approvinglY. .I’ve team.pteached with hima few times and I can testify that he turns the crowd over to you alreadysizzlin’. The Reverend .Jug’ Jackerman-used to play left tackle for the Rams.
　　You’ve seen him play.“.I’m afraid not,“ Jubal admitted. .I don’t follow football.“.Really? You don’t know what you’re missing. Why, during the season mostof the faithful stay after services, eat their lunches in their pews, and watchthe game. The whole back wall behind the altar slides away and you’relooking right into the biggest stereo tank ever built~ Puts the plays right inyour lap. Better reception than you get at home-and it’s more of a thrill towatch with a crowd around you.“ He stopped and whistled. .Hey, Cherub!
　　Over here!“An usher hurried over. .Yes, Bishop?“.Son, you ran away so fast when you seated us, I didn’t have time toput in my order.“.I’m sorry, Bishop.“.Being sorry won’t get you into Heaven. Get happy, son. Get that old springinto your step and stay on your toes. Same thing all around, folks? Fine!“ Hegave the order and added, .and bring me back a handful of my cigars—justask the chief barkeep.“.Right away, Bishop.“.Bless you, son. Hold it-. The head of the snake dance was just about topass under them; Boone leaned over the rail, made a megaphone of hishands and cut through the high noise level. .Dawn! Hey, Dawn!“ A womanlooked up; he caught her eye, motioned her to come up. She smiled. .Add awhiskey sour to that order. Fly.“The woman showed up quickly, as did the drinks. Boone swung a seat out ofthe box’s back row and put it cornerwise in front of him so that she could visitmore easily. .Folks, meet Miss Dawn Ardent. M’dear, that’s Miss Boardnlan,the little lady down in the corner-and this is the famous Doctor Jubal Harshawhere by me-.
　　.Really? Doctor, I think your stories are simply divine~“.Thank you.“.Oh, I really do. I put one of your tapes on my player and let it lull me to sleepalmost every night.“.Higher praise a writer cannot expect,“ Jubal said with a straight face.
　　.That’s enough, Dawn,“ put in Boone. .The young man sitting between themis . . . Mr. Valentine Smith the Man from Mars.“He eyes came open wider as her mouth opened. .Oh, my goodness!“Boone roared. .Bless you, child! I guess I really snuck up on you that time.“She said, .Are you really the Man from Mars?“.Yes, Miss Dawn Ardent.“.Just call me .Dawn.’ Oh, goodness!“Boone patted her hand. .Don’t you know it’s a sin to doubt the word of aBishop? M’dear, how would you like to help lead the Man from Mars ta thelight?“.Oh, I’d love it!“(You certainly would, you sleek bitch! Jill said to herself~ She had beengrowing increasingly angry ever since Miss Ardent had joined them. Thedress the woman was wearing was long sleeved, high necked, and opaqueandcovered nothing. It was a knit fabric almost exactly the shade of hertanned skin and Jill was certain that skin was all there was under it-other thanMiss Ardent, which was really quite a lot, in all departments. The dress wasostentatiously modest compared with the extreme styles worn by many of thefemale half of the congregation, some of whom, in the snake dance, seemedabout to jounce out of their clothes.
　　Jill thought that, despite being dressed, Miss Ardent looked as if she had justwiggled out of bed and was anxious to crawl back in. With Mike. Quitsquirming your carcass at him, you cheap hussy!
　　Boone said, .I’ll speak to the Supreme Bishop about it, m’dear. Now you’dbetter get back downstairs and lead that parade. Jug needs your help.“She stood up obediently. .Yes, Bishop. Pleased to meet you, Doctor, andMiss Broad. I hope I’ll see you again, Mr. Smith. I’ll pray for you.“ Sheundulated away.
　　.A fine girl, that,“ Boone said happily. .Ever catch her act, Doctor?“.I think not. What does she do?“Boone seemed unable to believe his ears. .You don’t know?“.Didn’t you hear her name? That’s Dawn Ardent-she’s simply the highestpaid peeler in all Baja California, that’s who she is. Men have committedsuicide over her-very sad. Works under an irised spotlight and by the timeshe’s down to her shoes, the light is just on her face and you really can’t seeanything else. Very effective. Highly spiritual. Would you believe it, looking atthat sweet face now, that she used to be a most immoral woman?“.I can’t believe it.“.Well, she was. Ask her. She’ll tell you. Better yet, come to a cleansing forseekers-I’ll let you know when she’s going to be on. When she confesses, itgives other women courage to stand up and tell about their sins. She doesn’thold anything back-and, of course, it does her good, too, to know that she’shelping other people. Very dedicated woman now-flies her own car up hereevery Saturday night right after her last show, so as to be here in time toteach Sunday School. She teaches the Young Men’s Happiness Class andattendance has more than tripled since she took over.“.I can believe that,“ Jubal agreed. .How old are these lucky .Young Men’?“Boone looked at him and laughed. .You’re not fooling me, you old devilsomebodytold you the motto of Dawn’s class: .Never too old to be young.’“.No, truly.“.In any case you can’t attend her class until you’ve seen the light and gonethrough cleansing and been accepted. Sorry. This is the One True Church,Pilgrim, nothing at all like those traps of Satan, those foul pits of iniquity thatcall themselves .churches’ in order to lead the unwary into idolatry and otherabominations. You can’t just walk in here because you want to kill a couplehours out of the rain-you gotta be saved first. In fact- Oh, oh, camerawarning.“ Red lights were blinking in each corner of the great hail. .And Jug’sgot .em done to a turn. Now you’ll see some action.“The snake dance picked up more volunteers and the few left seated wereclapping the cadence and bouncing up and down. Pairs of ushers werehurrying to pick up the fallen, some of whom were quiet but others, mostlywomen, were writhing and foaming at the mouth. These were dumped hastilyin front of the altar and left to flop like freshly caught fish. Boone pointed hiscigar at a gaunt redhead, a woman apparently about forty whose dress wasbadly torn by her exertions. .See that woman? It has been at least a yearsince she has gone all through a service without being possessed by theSpirit. Sometimes Archangel Foster uses her mouth to talk to us . . . andwhen that happens it takes four husky acolytes to hold her down. She couldgo to heaven any time, she’s ready. But she’s needed here. Anybody need arefill? Bar service is likely to be a little slow once the cameras are switchedon and things get lively.“Almost absently Mike let his glass be replenished. He shared none of Jill’sdisgust with the scene. He had been deeply troubled when he haddiscovered that the .Old One“ had been no Old One at all but mere spoiledfood, with no Old One anywhere near. But he had tabled that matter and wasdrinking deep of the events around him.
　　The frenzy going on below him was so Martian in its flavor that he felt bothhomesick and warmly at home. No detail of the scene was Martian, all waswildly different, yet he grokked correctly that this was a growing-closer as realas water ceremony, and in numbers and intensity that he had never metbefore outside his own nest. He wished forlornly that someone would invitehim to join that jumping up and down. His feet tingled with an urge to mergehimself with them.
　　He spotted Miss Dawn Ardent again in its van and tried to catch her eyeperhapsshe would invite him. He did not have to recognize her-by size andproportions even though he had noted when he had first seen her that shewas exactly as tall as his brother Jill with very nearly the same shapings andmasses throughout. But Miss Dawn Ardent had her own face, with her painsand sorrows and growings graved on it under her warm smile. He wonderedif Miss Dawn Ardent might some day be willing to share water with him andgrow closer. Senator Bishop Boone had made him feel wary and he was gladthat Jubal had not permitted them to sit side by side. But Mike was sonywhen Miss Dawn Ardent had been sent away.
　　Miss Dawn Ardent did not feel him looking at her. The snake dance carriedher away.
　　The man on the platform had both his arms raised; the great cave becamequieter. Suddenly he brought them down. .Who’s happy?“.WE’RE HAPPY!“.Why?“.GOD... LOVES US!“.How d’you know?“.FOSTER TOLD US!“He dropped to his knees, raised one clenched fist. .Let’s hear that LionROAR!“The congregation roared and shrieked and screamed while he controlled thedin using his fist as a baton, raising the volume, lowering it, squeezing itdown to a subvocal growl, then suddenly driving it to crescendo that shookthe balcony. Mike felt it beat on him and he wallowed in it, with ecstasy sopainful that he feared that he would be forced to withdraw. But Jill had toldhim that he must not ever do so again, except in the privacy of his own room;he controlled it and let the waves wash over him.
　　The man stood up. .Our first hymn,“ he said briskly, .is sponsored by MannaBakeries, makers of Angel Bread, the loaf of love with our Supreme Bishop’ssmiling face on every wrapper and containing a valuable premium couponredeemable at your nearest neighborhood Church of the New Revelation,Brothers and Sisters, tomorrow Manna Bakeries with branches throughoutthe land start a giant, price-slashing sale of pre-equinox goodies. Send yourchild to school tomorrow with a bulging box of Archangel Foster cookies,each one blessed and wrapped in an appropriate text-and pray that eachgoodie he gives away may lead a child of sinners nearer to the light.
　　.And now let’s really live it up with the holy words of that old favorite:
　　.Forward, Foster’s Children!’ All together-.
　　.Forward, Foster’s Chil-dren! Smash apart your foesFaith our Shield and Ar-mar! Strike them down by rows-!“.Second verse!“.Make no peace with sin-nen! God is on our side!“Mike was so joyed by it all that he did not stop then to translate and weighand try to grok the words. He grokked that the words were not of essence; itwas a growing-closer. The snake dance started moving again, the marcherschanting the potent sounds along with the choir and those too feeble tomarch.
　　After the hymn they caught their breaths while there were announcements,Heavenly messages, another commercial, and the awarding of door prizes.
　　Then a second hymn, .Happy Faces Uplifted,“ was sponsored byDattelbaum’s Department Stores where the Saved Shop in Safety since nomerchandise is offered which competes with a sponsored brand-a children’sHappy Room in each branch supervised by a Saved sister. The young priestmoved out to the very front of the platform and cupped his ear, listening- .We... want . . . .Digby!“.Who?“.We-Want—DIG-BY!“.Louder! Make him hear you!“.WE-WANT-DIG-BY!“ Clap, clap, stomp, stomp.
　　.WE- WANT-DIG-BY!“ Clap, clap, stomp, stomp- It went on and on, gettinglouder as the building rocked with it. Jubal leaned to Boone and said, .Muchof that and you’ll do what Samson did.“ .Never fear,“ Boone told him, aroundhis cigar. .Reinforced, fireproof, and sustained by faith. Besides, it’s built toshake; it was designed that way. Helps.“The lights went down, curtains behind the altar parted, and a blindingradiance from no visible source picked out the Supreme Bishop, waving hisclasped hands over his head and smiling at them.
　　They answered with the lion’s roar and he threw them kisses. On his way tothe pulpit he stopped, half raised one of the possessed women still writhingslowly near the altar, kissed her on the forehead, lowered her gently, startedon-stopped again and knelt by the bony redhead. The Supreme Bishopreached behind him and a portable microphone was instantly placed in hishand.
　　He put his other arm around the woman’s shoulders, placed the pickupnear her lips.
　　Mike could not understand her words. Whatever they were, he wasreasonably sure that they were not English.
　　But the Supreme Bishop was translating, interjecting his words quickly ateach pause in the foaming spate. .Archangel Foster is with us today- .He isespecially pleased with you. Kiss the sister on your right- .Archangel Fosterloves you all. Kiss the sister on your left-.He has a special message for one of us here today.“The woman spoke again; Digby seemed to hesitate. .What was that? Louder,I pray you.“ She muttered and screamed at length.
　　Digby looked up and smiled. .His message is for a pilgrim from anotherplanet-Valentine Michael Smith the Man from Mars! Where are you,Valentine Michael! Stand up, stand up!“Jill tried to stop him but Jubal growled, .Easier to do it than to fight it. Let himstand up, Jill. Wave, Mike. Now you can sit down.“ Mike did so, amazed tofind that they were now chanting: .Man from Mars! Man from Mars!“The sermon that followed seemed to be directed at him, too, but try as hewould, he could not understand it. The words were English, or most of themwere, but they seemed to be put together wrongly and there was so muchnoise, so much clapping, and so many shouts of .Hallelujah!“ and .HappyDay!“ that he grew quite confused. He was glad when it was over.
　　As soon as the sermon was finished, Digby turned the service back to theyoung priest and left; Boone stood up. .Come on, folks. We pull a sneak nowaheadof the crowd.“Mike followed along, Jill’s hand in his. Presently they were going through anelaborately arched tunnel with the noise of the crowd left behind them. Jubalsaid, .Does this way lead to the parking lot? I told my driver to wait.“.Eh?“ Boone answered. .It does if you go straight ahead. But we’re going tosee the Supreme Bishop first.“.What?“ Jubal replied. .No, I don’t think we can. It’s time for us to get onhome.“Boone stared. .Doctor, you don’t mean that. The Supreme Bishop is waitingfor us right now. You can’t just walk out on him-you must pay your respects.
　　You’re his guests.“Jubal hesitated, then gave in. .Well- There won’t be a lot of other people?
　　This boy has had enough excitement for one day.“.Just the Supreme Bishop. He wants to see you privately.“ Boone usheredthem into a small elevator concealed in the decorations of the tunnel;moments later they were waiting in a parlor of Digby’s private apartments.
　　A door opened, Digby hurried in. He had removed his vestments and wasdressed in flowing robes. He smiled at them. .Sorry to keep you waiting,folks-I just have to have a shower as soon as I come off. You’ve no notionhow it makes you sweat to punch Satan and keep on slugging. So this is theMan from Mars? God bless you, son. Welcome to the Lord’s House.
　　Archangel Foster wants you to feel at home here. He’s watching over you.“Mike did not answer. Jubal was surprised to see how short the SupremeBishop was. Lifts in his shoes when he was on stage? Or the way the lightingwas arranged? Aside from the goatee he wore in evident imitation of thedeparted Foster, the man reminded him of a used-car salesman-the sameready smile and warm sincere manner. But he reminded Jubal of some oneelse, too . . . somebody- Got it! .Professor“ Simon Magus, Becky Vesey’slong-dead husband. Jubal relaxed a little and felt friendlier toward theclergyman. Simon had been as likable a scoundrel as he had ever known-Digby had turned his charm on Jill, .Don’t kneel, daughter; we’re just friendsin private here.“ He spoke a few words to her, startling Jill with a surprisingknowledge of her background and adding earnestly, .I have deep respect foryour calling, daughter. In the blessed words of Archangel Foster, Godcommands us first to minister to the body in order that the soul may seek thelight untroubled by ills of the flesh. I know that you are not yet one of us . . .
　　but your service is blessed by the Lord. We are fellow travelers on the road toHeaven.“He turned to Jubal. .You, too, Doctor. Archangel Foster has told us that theLord commands us to be happy - . - and many is the time I have put down mycrook, weary unto death with the cares and woes of my flock, and enjoyed aninnocent, happy hour over one of your stories - and have stood up refreshed,ready to fight again.“.Uh, thank you, Bishop.“.I mean it deeply. I’ve had your record searched in Heaven-now, now, nevermind; I know that you are an unbeliever but let me speak. Even Satan has apurpose in God’s Great Plan. It is not yet time for you to believe. Out of yoursorrow and heartache and pain you spin happiness for other people. This isall credited on your page of the Great Ledger. Now please! I did not bring youhere to argue technology. We never argue with anyone, we wait until theysee the light and then we welcome them. But today we shall just enjoy ahappy hour together.“Digby then proceeded to act as if he meant it. Jubal was forced to admit thatthe glib fraud was a charming host, and his coffee and liquor and food wereall excellent. Jubal noticed that Mike seemed decidedly jumpy, especiallywhen Digby deftly cut him out of the herd and spoke with him alone-but,confound it, the boy was simply going to have to get used to meeting peopleand talking to them on his own, without Jubal or Jill or somebody to feed himhis lines.
　　Boone was showing Jill some relics of Foster in a glass case on the otherside of the room; Jubal covertly watched her evident reluctance with mildamusement while he spread pate de fois gras on toast. He heard a door clickand looked around; Digby and Mike were missing. .Where did they go,Senator?“.Eh? What was that, Doctor?“.Bishop Digby and Mr. Smith. Where are they?“Boone looked around, seemed to notice the closed door. .Oh, they’ve juststepped in there for a moment. That’s a little retiring room used for privateaudiences. You were in it, weren’t you? When the Supreme Bishop wasshowing you around.“.Um, yes.“ It was a small room with nothing in it but a chair on a dais-a.throne,“ Jubal corrected himself with a private grin-and a kneeler with an annrest. Jubal wondered which one would use the throne and which one wouldbe left with the kneeler-if this tinsel bishop tried to argue religion with Mike hewas in for some shocks. .I hope they don’t stay in there too long. We reallydo have to be getting back.“.I doubt if they’ll stay long. Probably Mr. Smith wanted a word in private.
　　People often do - . - and the Supreme Bishop is very generous that way.
　　Look, I’ll call the parking lot and have your cab waiting right at the end of thatpassageway where we took the elevator-that’s the Supreme Bishop’s privateentrance. Save you a good ten minutes.“.That’s very kind of you.“.So if Mr. Smith has something on his soul he wants to confess, we won’thave to hurry him. I’ll step outside and phone.“ Boone left.
　　Jill came over and said worriedly, .Jubal, I don’t like this. I think we weredeliberately maneuvered so that Digby could get Mike alone and work onhim.“.I’m sure of it.“.Well? They haven’t any business doing that. I’m going to bust right in onthem and tell Mike it’s time to leave.“.Suit yourself,“ Jubal answered, .but I think you’re acting like a broody hen.
　　This isn’t like having the S.S. on our tails, Jill; this swindle is much smoother.
　　There won’t be any strong-arm stuff.“ He smiled. .It’s my opinion that if Digbytries to convert Mike, they’ll wind up with Mike converting him. Mike’s ideasare pretty hard to shake.“.I still don’t like it.“.Relax. Help yourself to the free chow.“.I’m not hungry.“.Well, I am .. and if I ever tuned down a free feed, they’d toss me out of theAuthors’ Guild.“ He piled paper-thin Virginia ham on buttered bread, added toit other items, none of them syntho, until he had an unsteady ziggurat,munched it and licked mayonnaise from his fingers.
　　Ten minutes later Boone had not returned. Jill said sharply, .Jubal, I’m notgoing to remain polite any longer. I’m going to get Mike out of there.“.Go right ahead.“She strode to the door. .Jubal, it’s locked.“.Thought it might be.“.Well? What do we do? Break it down?“.Only as a last resort.“ Jubal went to the inner door, looked it over carefully.
　　.Mmm, with a battering ram and twenty stout men I might try it. But I wouldn’tcount on it. Jill, that door would do credit to a bank vault-it’s just been prettiedup to match the room. I’ve got one much like it for the fireproof off my study.“.What do We do?“.Beat on it, if you want to. You’ll just bruise your hands. I’m going to seewhat’s keeping friend Boone-.
　　But when Jubal looked out into the hallway he saw Boone just returning.
　　.Sorry,“ Boone said. .Had to have the Cherubim hunt up your driver. He wasin the Happiness Room, having a bite of lunch. But your cab is waiting foryou, just where I said.“.Senator,“ Jubal said, .we’ve got to leave now. Will you be so kind as to tellBishop Digby?“Boone looked perturbed. .I could phone him, if you insist. But I hesitate to doso-and I simply cannot walk in on a private audience.“.Then phone him. We do insist.“But Boone was saved the embarrassment as, just then, the inner dooropened and Mike walked out. Jill took one look at his face and shrilled, .Mike!
　　Are you all right?“.Yes, Jill.“.I’ll tell the Supreme Bishop you’re leaving,“ said Boone and went past Mikeinto the smaller room. He reappeared at once. .He’s left,“ he announced.
　　.There’s a back way into his study.“ Boone smiled. .Like cats and cooks, theSupreme Bishop goes without saying. That’s a joke. He says that .good-by’s’
　　add nothing to happiness in this world, so he never says good-by. Don’t beoffended.“.We aren’t. But we’ll say good-by now-and thank you for a most interestingexperience. No, don’t bother to come down; I’m sure we can find our wayout.“
Chapter 24
ONCE THEY WERE IN THE AIR Jubal said, .Well, Mike, what did youthink of it?“Mike frowned. .I do not grok.“.You aren’t alone, son. What did the Bishop have to say?“Mike hesitated a long time, finally said, .My brother Jubal, I need to ponderuntil grokking is.“.Ponder right ahead, son. Take a nap. That’s what I’m going to do.“Jill said suddenly, .Jubal? How do they get away with it?“.Get away with what?“.Everything. That’s not a church-it’s a madhouse.“It was Jubal’s turn to ponder before answering. .No, Jill, you’re mistaken. It isa church - . . and the logical eclecticism of our times.“.Huh?“.The New Revelation and all doctrines and practices under it are all old stuff,very old. All you can say about it is that neither Foster nor Digby ever had anoriginal thought in his life. But they knew what would sell, in this day and age.
　　So they pieced together a hundred timeworn tricks, gave them a new paintjob, and they were in business. A booming business, too. The only thing thatscares me is that I might live to see it sell too well- until it was compulsory foreverybody.“.Oh, no!“.Oh, yes. Hitler started with less and all he had to peddle was hate. Hatealways sells well, but for repeat trade and the long pull happiness is soundermerchandise. Believe me, I know; I’m in the same grift myself. As Digbyreminded me.“ Jubal grimaced. .I should have punched him, Instead, hemade me like it. That’s why I’m afraid of him. He’s good at it, he’s clever. Heknows what people want. Happiness. The world has suffered a long, bleakcentury of guilt and fear-now Digby tells them that they have nothing to fear,in this life or hereafter, and that God commands them to love and be happy.
　　Day in, day out, he keeps pushing it: Don’t be afraid, be happy“.Well, that part’s all right,“ Jill admitted, .and I concede that he works hardat it. But-.
　　.Piffle! He plays hard.“.No, he gave me the impression that he really is devoted to his work, that hehad sacrificed everything else to-.
　　.’Piffle!’ I said. For Digby it’s play. Jill, of all the nonsense that twists theworld, the concept of .altruism’ is the worst. People do what they want to do,every time. If it sometimes pains them to make a choice-if the choice turnsout to look like a .noble sacrifice’-you can be sure that it is in no wise noblerthan the discomfort caused by greediness . . . the unpleasant necessity ofhaving to decide between two things both of which you would like to do whenyou can’t do both. The ordinary bloke suffers that discomfort every day, everytime he makes a choice between spending a buck on beer or tucking it awayfor his kids, between getting up when he’s tired or spending the day in hiswarm bed and losing his job. No matter which he does he always chooseswhat seems to hurt least or pleasures most. The average chump spends hislife harried by these small decisions. But the utter scoundrel and the perfectsaint merely make the same choices on a larger scale. They still pick whatpleases them. As Digby has done. Saint or scoundrel, he’s not one of theharried little chumps.“.Which do you think he is, Jubal?“.You mean there’s a difference?“.Oh, Jubal, your cynicism is just a pose and you know it! Of course there’sa difference.“.Mmm, yes, you’re right, there is. I hope he’s just a scoundrel-because asaint can stir up ten times as much mischief as a scoundrel. Strike that fromthe record; you would just tag it as .cynicism’-as if tagging it proved it wrong.
　　Jill, what troubled you about those church services?“.Well ... everything. You can’t tell me that that is worship.“.Meaning they didn’t do things that way in the Little Brown Church in the Valeyou attended as a kid? Brace yourself, Jill-they don’t do it your way in St.
　　Peter’s either. Nor in Mecca.“.Yes, but- Well, none of them do it that way! Snake dances, slot machines . .
　　- even a bar right in church! That’s not reverence, it’s not even dignified! Justdisgusting.“.I don’t suppose that temple prostitution was very dignified, either.“.Huh?“.I rather imagine that the two-backed beast is just as sweaty and comicalwhen the act is performed in the service of a god as it is under any othercircumstances. As for those snake dances, have you ever seen a Shakerservice? No, of course not and neither have I; any church that is agin sexualintercourse (as they were) doesn’t last long. But dancing to the glory of Godhas a long and respected history. It doesn’t have to be good dancingaccordingto eye-witness reports the Shakers could never have made theBolshoi Ballet-it merely has to be enthusiastic. Do you consider the RainDances of our Southwest Indians irreverent?“.No. But that’s different.“.Everything always is-and the more it changes, the more it is the same. Nowabout those slot machines- Ever see a Bingo game in church?“.Well ... yes. Our parish used to hold them when we were trying to raise themortgage. But we held them on Friday nights; we certainly didn’t do suchthings during church services.“.So? Minds me of a married woman who was very proud of her virtue. Sheslept with other men only when her husband was away.“.Why, Jubal, the two cases aren’t even slightly alike!“.Probably not. Analogy is even slipperier than logic. But, .little lady’-.
　　.Smile when you call me that!“.’It’s a joke.’ Why didn’t you spit in his face? He had to stay on his goodbehavior no matter what we did; Digby wanted him to. But, Jill, if a thing issinful on Sunday, it is sinful on Friday-at least it groks that way to an outsider,myself . . . or perhaps to a man from Mars. The only difference I can see isthat the Fosterites give away, absolutely free, a scriptural text even if youlose. Could your Bingo games make the same claim?“.Fake scripture, you mean. A text from the New Revelation. Boss, haveyou read the thing?“.I’ve read it.“.Then you know. It’s just dressed up in Biblical language. Part of it is justicky-sweet with no substance, like a saccharine tablet, more of it is sheernonsense . . . and some of it is just hateful. None of it makes sense, it isn’teven good morals.“Jubal was silent so long that Jill thought he had gone to sleep. At last hesaid, .Jill, are you familiar with Hindu sacred writings?“.Mmm, I’m afraid not.“.The Koran? Or any other major scripture? I could illustrate my point from theBible but I would not wish to hurt your feelings.“.Uh, I’m afraid I’m not much of a scholar, Jubal. Go ahead, you won’t hurtmy feelings.“.Well, I’ll stick to the Old Testament, picking it to pieces usually doesn’t upsetpeople quite so much. You know the story of Sodom and Gomorrah? Andhow Lot was saved from these wicked cities when Yahweh smote .em with acouple of heavenly A-bombs?“.Oh, yes, of course. His wife was turned into a pillar of salt.“.Caught by the fallout, perhaps. She tarried and looked back. Always seemedto me to be too stiff a punishment for the peccadillo of female curiosity. Butwe were speaking of Lot. Saint Peter describes him as a just, Godly, andrighteous man, vexed by the filthy conversation of the wicked. I think we muststipulate Saint Peter to be an authority on virtue, since to him was given thekeys to the Kingdom of Heaven. But if you search the only recordsconcerning Lot, in the Old Testament, it becomes hard to determine exactlywhat Lot did or did not do that established him as such a paragon. He dividedup a cattle range at his brother’s suggestion. He got captured in a battle.
　　When he was tipped off, he lammed out of town in time to save his skin. Hefed and sheltered two strangers overnight but his conduct shows that heknew them to be V.I.P.s whether or not he knew they were angels-and by theKoran and by my own lights, his hospitality would have counted for more if hehad thought they were just a couple of unworthy poor in need of a pad and ahandout. Aside from these insignificant items and Saint Peter’s characterreference, there is just one thing that Lot did mentioned anywhere in theBible on which we can judge his virtue-virtue so great, mind you, thatheavenly intercession saved his life. See chapter nineteen of Genesis, verseeight.“.And what does it say?“.Look it up when we get home. I don’t expect you to believe me.“.Jubal! You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.“.And you’re a very pretty girl and a fair cook, so I don’t mind your ignorance.
　　All right, I’ll tell you-then you look it up anyhow. Some of Lot’s neighborscame and beat on his door and wanted to meet these two blokes from out oftown. Lot didn’t fight with them; he offered .em a deal instead. He had twoyoung daughters, virgins-at least, such was his opinion-and he told thiscrowd of men that he would give them these two little girls and they could usethem any way they liked-a gang shagging, a midnight revue, he pleaded withthem to do any damn thing they pleased to his daughters . . - only please go.way and quit beating on his door.“.Jubal ... does it really say that?“.Look it up yourself. I’ve modernized the language but the meaning is asunmistakable as a whore’s wink. Lot offered to let a gang of men- .young andold,’ the Bible say&-abuse two young virgins under his protection if only theywouldn’t break down his door. Say!“ Jubal leaned forward and beamed.
　　.Maybe I should have tried that when the S.S. was breaking my door down!
　　Maybe it would have got me into heaven-and Saint Peter knows my chancesaren’t too good otherwise.“ Then he frowned and looked worried. .No, itwouldn’t have worked. The recipe plainly calls for .virgins intactae’-and Iwouldn’t have known which two of you gals to offer those troopers.“.Hmmph/ You won’t find out from me.“.Possibly I couldn’t find out from any of you. Even Lot might have beenmistaken. But that’s what he promised .em-his virgin daughters, young andtender and scared-urged this street gang to rape them as much as theywished in any way they liked - . . if only they would leave him in peace?“Jubal snorted in disgust. .And the Bible cites this sort of scum as being arighteous man.“Jill said slowly, .I don’t think that’s quite the way we were taught it inSunday School.“.Damn it, look it up! They probably gave you a Bowdlerized version. That’snot the only shock in store for anybody who actually reads the Bible.
　　Consider Elisha. It says here that Elisha was so all-fired holy that merelytouching his bones restored a dead man to life. But he was a baldheaded oldcoot, like myself. So one day some children marie fun of his baldness, just asyou girls do. So God personally interceded and sent two bears to tear fortytwosmall children into bloody bits. That’s what it says -second chapter ofSecond Kings.“.Boss, I never make fun of your bald head.“.Who was it sent my name to those hair-restorer quacks? Dorcas, maybe?
　　Whoever it was, God knows-and she had better keep a sharp eye out forbears. I might turn pious in my dotage and start enjoying divine protection.
　　But I shan’t give you any more samples. The Bible is loaded with such stuff;read it and find out. Crimes that would turn your stomach are asserted to beeither divinely ordered or divinely condoned . . . along with, I must add, a lotof hard common sense and some pretty workable rules for social behavior. Iam not running down the Bible; it stacks up pretty well as sacred writings go.
　　It isn’t a patch on the sadistic, pornographic trash that goes by the name ofsacred writings among the Hindus. Or a dozen other religions. But I’m notsingling out any of them for condemnation, either; it is entirely conceivablethat some one of these mutually contradictory mythologies is the literal wordof God . . . that God is in truth the sort of bloodthirsty paranoid Who wouldrend to bits forty-two children for the crime of sassing one of his priests. Don’task me about the Front Office’s policies; I just work here. My point is thatFoster’s New Revelation that you’re so contemptuous of is pure sweetnessandlightas scripture goes. Bishop Digby’s Patron is a pretty good Joe; Hewants people to be happy-happy here on Earth plus guaranteed eternal blissin Heaven. He doesn’t expect you to chastise the flesh here and now in orderto reap rewards after you’re dead. Oh no! this is the modern gianteconomypackage. If you like to drink and gamble and dance and wench- and mostpeople do-come to church and do it under holy auspices. Do it with yourconscience free of any trace of guilt. Really have fun at it. Live it up! Gethappy!“Jubal failed to look happy himself. He went on, .Of course there’s a slightcharge; Digby’s God expects to be acknowledged as such-but that has beena foible of gods always. Anyone who is stupid enough to refuse to get happyon His terms is a sinner . . . and a sinner deserves anything that happens tohim. But this is one rule common to all gods and goddesses throughouthistory; don’t blame Foster and Digby, they didn’t invent it. Their brand ofsnake oil is utterly orthodox in all respects.“.Boss, you sound as if you were halfway converted.“.Not me! I don’t enjoy snake dances, I despise crowds, and I do not proposeto let my social and mental inferiors tell me where I have to go on SundaysandI wouldn’t enjoy Heaven if that crowd is going to be there. I simply objectto your criticizing them for the wrong things. As literature, the New Revelationstacks up about average-it should; it was composed by plagiarizing otherscriptures. As for logic and internal consistency, these mundane rules do notapply to sacred writings and never have-but even on these grounds the NewRevelation must be rated superior; it hardly ever bites its own tail. Tryreconciling the Old Testament with the New Testament sometime, orBuddhist doctrine with Buddhist apocrypha. As morals, Fosterism is merelythe Freudian ethic sugar-coated for people who can’t take their psychologystraight, although I doubt if the old lecher who wrote it-pardon me, .wasinspired to write it’-was aware of this. He was no scholar. But he was in tunewith his times, he tapped the Zeitgeist. Fear and guilt and a loss of faith- Howcould he miss? Now pipe down, I’m going to nap.“.Who’s been talking?“.’The woman tempted me.’“ Jubal closed his eyes.
　　On reaching home they found that Caxton and Mahmoud had flown intogether for the day. Ben had been disappointed to find Jill not at home onhis arrival but he had managed to bear up without tears through the companyof Anne, Miriam, and Dorcas. Mahinoud always visited for the avowedpurpose of seeing his protégé, Mike, and Dr. Harshaw; however, he too hadshown fortitude at having only Jubal’s food, liquor, garden- and odalisques-toentertain him during his host’s absence. He was lying face down with Miriamrubbing his back while Dorcas rubbed his head.
　　Jubal looked at him. .Don’t get up.“.I can’t, she’s sitting on me. A little higher up, Miriam. Hi, Mike.“.Hi, my brother Stinky Dr. Mahmoud.“ Mike then gravely greeted Ben,and asked to be excused.
　　.Run along, son,“ Jubal told him.
　　Anne said, .Wait a minute, Mike. Have you had lunch?“He said solemnly, .Anne, I am not hungry. Thank you,“ turned and wentinto the house.
　　Mahmoud twisted, almost unseating Miriam. .Jubal? What’s troublingour son?“.Yeah,“ said Ben. .He looks seasick.“.Let him alone and he’ll get well. An overdose of religion. Digby has beenworking on him.“ Jubal sketched the morning’s events.
　　Mahmoud frowned. .But was it necessary to leave him alone with Digby?
　　This seems to me—pardon me, my brotber! -- unwise.“.He’s not hurt. Stinky, he’s got to learn to take such things in his stride.
　　You’ve preached your brand of theology to him-I knoW you have; he’s toldme about it. Can you name me one good reason .why Digby shouldn’t havehis innings? Answer me ~s a scientist, not as a Muslim.“.I am unable to answer anything other than as a Muslim,“ Dr. Mahmoudsaid quietly.
　　.Sorry. I recognize the correctnesS of your answer, even though I don’tagree with it.“.But, Jubal, I used the word .Muslim’ in its exact, technical sense, not as asectarian which Maryam incorrectlY terms .Mohammedan.’“.And which I’m going to go right on calling you until you learn to pronounce.Miriam’ correctly! Quit squirming. I’m not hurting you.“.Yes, Maryant. Ouch! Women should not be so muscular. Jubal, as ascientiSt, I find Michael the greatest prize of my career. As a Muslim, I find inhim a willingness to submit to the will of God . . - and this makes me happyfor his sake, although I readily admit that there are great semantic difficultiesand as yet he does not seem to grok what the English word .God’ means.“He shrugged. .Nor the Arabic word .Allah’ But as a man -and always a Slaveof God-I love this young man, our foster son and water brother, and I wouldnot have him come under bad influences. Quite aside from his creed, thisDigby strikes me as a bad influence. What do you think?“.Ok!“ Ben applauded. .He’s a slimy bastard-and the only reason I haven’tbeen taking his racket apart in my column is that the Syndicate is afraid toprint it. Stinky, keep talking that well and you’ll have me studying Arabic andbuying a rug.“.I hope so. But the rug is not necessary.“Jubal sighed. .I agree with both of you. I’d rather see Mike smokingmarijuana than be converted by Digby. But I don’t think there is the slightestchance of Mike’s being taken in by that syncretiC hodgepodge Digbypeddles...and he’s got to learn to stand up to bad influences. I consider you agood influence-but I don’t really think you stand much more chance thanDigby has-the boy has an amazinglY strong mind of his own. Muhammadmay have to make way for a new prophet.“.If God so wills it,“ Mahmoud answered calmly.
　　.That leaves no room for argument,“ Jubal agreed.
　　.We were discussing religion before you got home,“ Dorcas said softly .Boss,did you know that women have souls?“.They do?“.So Stinky says.“.Maryam,“ Mahmoud explained, .wanted to know why we .Moharnmedans’
　　thought only men had souls. So I cited the Writings.“.Miriam, I’m surprised at you. That’s as vulgar a misconception as the notionthat Jews sacrifice Christian babies in secret, obscene rites. The Koran isexplicit in half a dozen places that entire families enter into Paradise, menand Women together. For example, see .Ornaments of Gold’ -verse seventy,isn’t it, Stinky?“.’Enter the Garden, ye and your wives, to be made glad.’ That’s as well as itcan be put, in English,“ agreed Mahmoud.
　　.Well,“ said Miriam, .I had heard about the beautiful bouris thatMohammedan men have for playthingS when they go to heaven and thatdidn’t seem to leave much room for wives.“.Houris aren’t women,“ said Jubal. .They are separate creations, like djinniand angels. They don’t need human souls, they are spirits to start with,eternal and unchanging and beautiful. There are male houris, too, or themale equivalent of houris. Houris don’t have to earn their way into Paradise;they’re on the staif. They serve endless delicious foods and pass arounddrinks that never give hangovers and entertain in other ways as requested.
　　But the souls of human wives don’t have to do any housework, any morethan the men. Correct, Stinky?“.Close enough, aside from your flippant choice of words. The lionris-. Hestopped and sat up so suddenly that he dumped Miriam. .Say! It’s justpossible that you girls don’t have souls!“Miriam sat up and said bitterly, .Why, you ungrateful dog of an infidel! Takethat back!“ .Peace, Maryam. If you don’t have a soul, then you’re immortalanyhow and won’t miss it. Jubal - . . is it possible for a man to die and notnotice it?“.Can’t say. Never tried it.“.Could I have died on Mars and just dreamed that I came home? Lookaround you! A garden the Prophet himself would be pleased with. Fourbeautiful houris, passing around lovely food and delicious drinks at all hours.
　　Even their male counterparts, if you want to be fussy. Is this Paradise?“.I can guarantee that it isn’t,“ Jubal assured him. .My taxes are due thisweek.“.Still, that doesn’t affect me.“.And take these houris- Even if we stipulate for the sake of argument thatthey are of beauty adequate to meet the specifications-alter all, beauty is inthe eye of the beholder-.
　　.They pass.“.And you’ll pay for that, Boss,“ Miriam added.
　　.-there still remains,“ Jubal pointed out, .one more requisite attribute ofhouris.“.Mmmm-. said Mahmoud, .I don’t think we need go into that. In Paradise,rather than a temporary physical condition, it would be a permanent spiritualattribute-more a state of mind. Yes?“.In that case,“ Jubal said emphatically, .I am certain that these are nothouris.“Mahmoud sighed. .In that case I’ll just have to convert one.“.Why only one? There are still places left in the world where you canhave the full quota.“.No, my friend. In the wise words of the Prophet, while the Legislations permitfour, it is impossible for a man to deal justly with more than one.“.That’s some relief. Which one?“.We’ll have to see. Maryam, are you feeling spiritual?“.You go to hell! .Houris’ indeed!“.Jill?“.Give me a break,“ Ben protested. .I’m still working on Jill.“.Later, Jill. Anne?“.Sorry. I’ve got a date.“.Dorcas? You’re my last chance.“.Stinky,“ she said softly, .just how spiritual do you want me to feel?“When Mike got inside the house, he went straight upstairs to his room,closed the door, got on the bed, assumed the foetal position, rolled up hiseyes, swallowed his tongue, and slowed his heart almost to nothing. He knewthat Jill did not like him to do this in the daytime, but she did not object aslong as he did not do it publicly. There were so many things that he must notdo publicly, but only this one really aroused her ire. He had been waiting todo this ever since he had left that room of terrible wrongness; he needed verybadly to withdraw and try to grok all that had happened. For he had donesomething else that Jill had told him not to- He felt a very human urge to tellhimself that it had been forced on him, that it was not his fault; but his Martiantraining did not permit him this easy escape. He had arrived at a cusp, rightaction had been required, the choice had been his. He grokked that he hadchosen correctly. But his water brother Jill had forbidden this choice- But thatwould have left him no choice. This was contradiction; at a cusp, choice is.
　　By choice, spirit grows.
　　He considered whether or not Jill would have approved had he taken otheraction, not wasting food?
　　No, he grokked that Jill’s injunction had covered that variant of action, too.
　　At this point the being sprung from human genes shaped by Martian thought,and who could never be either one, completed one stage of his growth, burstout and ceased to be a nestling. The solitary loneliness of predestined freewill was then his and with it the Martian serenity to embrace it, cherish it,savour its bitterness, and accept its consequences. With tragic joy he knewthat this cusp was his, not Jill’s. His water brother could teach, admonish,guide-but choice at a cusp was not shared. Here was .ownership“ beyondany possible sale, gift, hypothecation; owner and owned grokked fully,inseparable~ He eternally was the action he had taken at cusp.
　　Now that he knew himself to be self he was free to grok ever closer to hisbrothers, merge without let. Self’s integrity was and is and ever had been.
　　Mike stopped to cherish all his brother selves, the many threesfulfilled onMars, both corporate and discorporate, the precious few on Earth-the as-yet-unknown powers of three on Earth that would be his to merge with andcherish now that at last long waiting he grokked and cherished himself.
　　Mike remained in his trance; there was still much to grok, loose ends and bitsand pieces to be puzzled over and fitted into his growing pattern- all that hehad seen and heard and been at the Archangel Foster Tabernacle (not justthe cusp he had encountered when he and Digby had come face to facealone), why Bishop Senator Boone had made him warily uneasy withoutfrightening him, why Miss Dawn Ardent had tasted like a water brother whenshe was not, the texture and smell of the goodness he had incompletelygrokked in the jumping up and down and the wailing- Jubal’s storedconversation both coming and going-Jubal’s words troubled him more thanother details; he studied them with great care, compared them with what hebad been taught as a nestling, making great effort to bridge between his twolanguages, the one he thought with and the one he now spoke and wasgradually learning to think in, for some purposes. The human word .church“which turned up over and over again among Jubal’s words gave him mostknotty difficulty; there was no Martian concept of any sort to match it-unlessone took .church“ and .worship“ and .God“ and .congregation“ and manyother words and equated them all to the totality of the only world he hadknown during most of his growing-waiting . . . then forced the concept backawkwardly into English in that phrase which had been rejected Qiut by eachdifferently) by Jubal, by Mahmoud, by Digby.
　　.Thou art God“ He came closer to understanding it in English himself now,although it could never have the crystal inevitability of the Martian concept itstood for. In his mind he spoke simultaneously the English sentence and theMartian word and felt closer grokking. Repeating it like a student tellinghimself that the jewel is in the lotus he sank into nirvana untroubled.
　　Shortly before midnight he speeded up his heart, resumed normal breathing,ran down his engineering check list, found that all was in order, uncurled andsat up. He had been spiritually weary; now he felt light and gay and clearheaded,eager to get on with the many actions he saw spreading out beforehim.
　　He felt a puppyish need for company almost as strong as his earliernecessity for quiet. He stepped out into the upper hail, was delighted toencounter a water brother.
　　.!!!!“.Oh. Hello, Mike. My, you look chipper.“.I feel fine! Where is everybody?“.Everybody’s asleep but you and me-so keep your voice down. Ben andStinky went home an hour ago and people started going to bed.“.Oh.“ Mike felt mildly disappointed that Mahmoud had left; he wanted toexplain to him his new grokking. But he would do so, when next he saw him.
　　.I ought to be asleep, too, but I felt like a snack. Are you hungry?“.Me? Sure, I’m hungry!“.Good. You ought to be, you missed dinner. Come on, I know there’s somecold chicken and we’ll see what else.“ They went downstairs, loaded a traylavishly. .Let’s take it outside. It’s still plenty warm.“.That’s a fine idea,“ Mike agreed.
　　.Warm enough to swim if we wanted to-this is a real Indian summer. Just asecond, I’ll switch on the floods.“.Don’t bother,“ Mike answered. .I’ll carry the tray, I can see.“ He could see, asthey all knew, in almost total darkness. Jubal said that his exceptional nightsightprobably caine from the conditions in which he had grown up, and Mikegrokked that that was true but he grokked also that there was more to it thanthat; his foster parents had taught him to see. As for the night being warmenough, he would have been comfortable naked on Mount Everest, but heknew that his water brothers bad very little tolerance for changes intemperature and pressure; he was always considerate of their weakness,once he had learned of it. But be was eagerly looking forward to snow-seeingfor himself that each tiny crystal of the water of life was a unique individual,as he had read-walking barefoot in it, rolling in it.
　　In the meantime he was equally pleased with the unseasonably warmautumn night and the still more pleasing company of his water brother.
　　.Okay, you carry the tray. I’ll switch on just the underwater lights. That’ll beplenty to eat by.“.Fine.“ Mike liked having light coming up through the ripples; it was agoodness, a beauty, even though he did not need it. They picnicked by thepool, then lay back on the grass and looked at the stars.
　　.Mike, there’s Mars. It is Mars, isn’t it? Or is it Antares?“.It is Mars.“.Mike? What are they doing on Mars?“He hesitated a long time; the question was too wide in scope to pin down tothe sparse English language. .On the side toward the horizon- the southernhemisphere-it is spring; the plants are being taught to grow.“.’Taught to grow?’“He hesitated only slightly. .Larry teaches plants to grow every day. I havehelped him. But my people-the Martians, I mean; I grok now that you are mypeople-teach the plants another way. Jn the other hemisphere it is growingcolder and the nymphs, those who have stayed alive through the summer,are being brought into the nests for quickening and more growing.“ Hethought. .Of the humans we left at the equator when I came here, one hasdiscorporated and the others are sad.“.Yes, I heard about it in the news.“Mike had not heard about it in the news; he had not known it until he wasasked. .They should not be sad. Mr. Booker T. W. Jones Food TechnicianFirst Class is not sad; the Old Ones have cherished him.“.You knew him?“.Yes. He had his own face, dark and beautiful. But he was homesick.“.Oh, dear! Mike ... do you ever get homesick? For Mars?“.At first I was very homesick,“ he answered truthfully. .I was lonely always.“He rolled toward her and took her in his arms. .But now I am not lonely. Igrok I shall never be lonely again.“.Mike darling-. They kissed, and went on kissing.
　　Presently his water brother said breathlessly. .Oh, my! That was almostworse than the first time.“.You are all right, my brother?“.Yes. Yes indeed. Kiss me again.“Quite a long time later, by cosmic clock, she said, .Mike? Is that-I mean,.Do you know-.“.I know. It is for growing-closer. Now we grow closer.“.Well, I’ve been ready a long time-goodness, we all have, but never mind,dear; turn just a little. I’ll help.“As they merged, grokking together, Mike said softly and triumphantly:
　　.Thou art God.“Her answer was not in words. Then, as their grokking made them ever closerand Mike felt himself almost ready to discorporate, her voice called him back:
　　.Oh? ,.. Oh! Thou art God!“.We grok God.“
Chapter 25
ON MARS THE LITTLE HUMAN ADVANCE GUARD were building halfburiedpressure domes for the larger male & female party that would arriveby next ship. This work went much faster than originally scheduled as theMartians were uncritically helpful. Part of the time saved was spent inpreparing a preliminary estimate on a very long-distance plan to free thebound oxygen in the sands of Mars to make the planet more friendly to futurehuman generations.
　　The Old Ones neither helped nor hindered these long-distance human plans;time was not yet. Their own meditations were approaching a violent cusp thatwould control the shape of Martian art for many millennia. On Earth electionscontinued as usual and a very advanced poet published a limited edition ofverse consisting entirely of punctuation marks and spaces; Time magazinereviewed it and suggested that the Federation Assembly Daily Record couldprofitably be translated into the same medium. The poet was invited tolecture at the University of Chicago, which he did, clad in full formal eveningdress lacking only trousers and shoes.
　　A colossal advertising campaign opened to sell more sexual organs of plantsfor human use and Mrs. Joseph (.Shadow of Greatness“) Douglas wasquoted as saying: .I would no more think of sitting down to eat withoutflowers on my table than without serviettes.“ A Tibetan swami from Palermo,Sicily, announced in Beverly Hills a newly discovered, ancient yoga disciplinefor ripple breathing which greatly increased both pranha and the cosmicattraction between the sexes. His chelas were required to assume thematsyendra posture dressed in hand-woven diapers while he read aloud fromthe Rig-Veda and an assistant guru checked through their purses in anotherroom-nothing was ever stolen from the purses; the purpose was lessimmediate.
　　The President of the United States, by proclamation, named the first Sundayin November as .National Grandmothers’ Day“ and urged the grandchildrenof America to say it with flowers. A funeral parlor chain was indicted for pricecutting.
　　The Fosterite bishops, after secret conclave, announced theChurch’s second Major Miracle: Supreme Bishop Digby had been translatedbodily to Heaven and spot-promoted to Archangel, ranking with-but-afterArchangel Foster. The glorious news had been held up pending Heavenlyconfirmation of the elevation of a new Supreme Bishop, Huey Short-acompromise candidate accepted by the Boone faction after the lots had beencast repeatedly.
　　L .Unita and Hoy published identical doctrinaire denunciations of Short’selevation, L .Osservatore Romano and the Christian Science Monitor ignoredit, Times of India snickered at it editorially, and the Manchester Guardianreported it without comment-the Fbsterite congregation in England was smallbut extremely militant.
　　Digby was not pleased with his promotion. The Man from Mars hadinterrupted him with his work half finished-and that stupid jackass Short wascertain to louse it up. Foster listened to him with angelic patience until Digbyran down, then said, .Listen, junior, you’re an angel now-so forget it. Eternityis no time for recriminations. You too were a stupid jackass until youpoisoned me. Afterwards you did well enough. Now that Short is SupremeBishop he’ll do all right, too; he can’t help it. Same as with the Popes. Someof them were warts until they got promoted. Check with one of them, goahead-there’s no professional jealousy here.“Digby calmed down a little, but made one request.
　　Foster shook his halo in negation. .You can’t touch him. You shouldn’t havetried to touch him in the first place. Oh, you can submit a requisition for amiracle if you want to make a bloody fool of yourself. But, I’m telling you, it’llbe turned down-you simply don’t understand the System yet. The Martianshave their own setup, different from ours, and as long as they need him, wecan’t touch him. They run theft own show their own way-the Universe hasvariety, something for everybody-a fact you field workers often miss.“.You mean this punk can brush me aside and I’ve got to hold still for it?“.I held still for the same thing, didn’t I? I’m helping you now, am I not? Nowlook, there’s work to be done and lots of it-before you can expect to bepromoted again. The Boss wants performance, not gripes- If you need a Dayoff to get your nerve back, duck over to the Muslim Paradise and take it.
　　Otherwise, straighten your halo, square your wings, and dig in. The sooneryou start acting like an angel the quicker you’ll start feeling angelic. GetHappy, junior!“Digby heaved a deep ethereal sigh. .Okay, I’m Happy. Where do I start?“Jubal was not disturbed by Digby’s disappearance because he did not hearof it even as soon as it was announced, and, when he did hear, while he hada fleeting suspicion as to who had performed the miracle, he dismissed itfrom his mind; if Mike had had a finger in it, he had gotten away with it-andwhat happened to supreme bishops worried Jubal not at all as long as hedidn’t have to be bothered with it.
　　More important, his own household had gone through a considerable upset.
　　In this case Jubal knew what had happened but did not care to inquire. Thatis to say, Jubal guessed what had happened but did not know with whomanddidn’t want to know. A slight case of rape. Was .rape“ the word? Well,.statutory rape.“ No, not that, either; Mike was of legal age and presumed tobe able to defend himself in the clinches. Anyhow, it was high time the boywas salted, no matter how it had happened.
　　Jubal couldn’t even reconstruct the crime from the way the girls behavedbecause their patterns kept shifting-sometimes ABC vs D, then BCD vs A . . .
　　or AB vs CD, or AD vs CB, through all possible ways that four women cangang up on each other.
　　This continued for most of the week following that ill-starred trip to church,during which period Mike stayed in his room in a withdrawal trance so deepthat Jubal would have pronounced him dead had he not seen it before. Jubalwould not have minded it if the service around the place had not gone to hellin a bucket. The girls seemed to spend half their time tiptoeing in~“to see ifMike was all right“ and they were too preoccupied to cook properly, muchless to be decent secretaries. Even rock-steady Anne-Hell, Anne was theworst of the lot! Absent-minded and subject to unexplained tears . . . andJubal would have bet his life that if Anne were to witness the SecondComing, she would simply have memorized date, time, personae, events,and barometric pressure without batting her calm blue eyes.
　　Then late Thursday afternoon Mike woke himself up and suddenly it wasABCD in the service of Mike, .less than the dust beneath his chariot wheels.“Inasmuch as the girls now found time to give Jubal perfect service too, Jubalcounted his blessings and let it lie - except for a wry and very private thoughtthat, if he had demanded a showdown, Mike could easily quintuple theirsalaries simply by dropping a post card to Douglas-but that the girls wouldjust as readily have supported Mike.
　　Once domestic tranquility was restored Jubal did not mind that his kingdomwas now ruled by a mayor of the palace. Meals were on time and (if possible)better than ever; when he shouted .Front!“ the girl who appeared was brighteyed,happy, and efficient-such being the case, Jubal did not give a hoot whorated the most side boys. Or girls.
　　Besides, the change in Mike was as interesting to Jubal as the restoration ofpeace was pleasant. Before that week Mike had been docile in a fashion thatJubal classed as pathological; now he was so self-confident that Jubal wouldhave described it as cocky had it not been that Mike continued to beunfailingly polite and considerate.
　　But he accepted homage from the girls as if a natural right, he seemed olderthan his calendar age rather than younger, his voice had deepened, hespoke with disciplined forcefulness rather than timidly. Jubal decided thatMike had joined the human race; he could, in his mind, discharge this patientas cured.
　　Except (Jubal reminded himself) on one point: Mike still did not laugh. Hecould smile at a joke and sometimes did not ask to have them explained tohim. Mike was cheerful, even merry-but he never laughed.
　　Jubal decided that it was not important. This patient was sane, healthy . . .
　　and human. Short weeks earlier Jubal would have given odds against thecure taking place. He was honest and humble enough as a physician not toclaim credit; the girls had had more to do with it. Or should he say .girl?“From the first week of his stay Jubal had told Mike almost daily that he waswelcome to stay . . . but that he should stir out and see the world as soon ashe felt able. In view of this Jubal should not have been surprised when Mikeannounced one breakfast that he was leaving. But he was both surprisedand, to his greater surprise, hurt.
　　He covered it by using his napkin unnecessarily before answering, .So?
　　When?“.We’re leaving today.“.Um- Plural.’t Jubal looked around the table. .Are Larry and Duke and I goingto have to put up with our own cooking until I can dig up more help?“.We’ve talked that over,“ Mike answered. .Jill is going with me- nobody else. Ido need somebody with me, Jubal; I know quite well that I don’t know, as yet,how people do things out in the world. I still make mistakes; I need a guide,for a time. I think it ought to be Jill, because she wants to go on learningMartian-and the others think so, too. But if you want Jill to stay, then it couldbe someone else. Duke and Larry are each willing to help me, if you can’tspare one of the girls.“.You mean I get a vote?“.What? Jubal, it has to be your decision. We all know that.“(Son, you’re a gent-and you’ve probably just told your first lie- I doubt if Icould hold even Duke if you set your mind against it.) .I guess it ought to beJill. But look, kids- This is still your home. The latch string is out.“.We know that-and we’ll be back. Again we will share water.“.We will, son.“.Yes, Father.“.Huh?“.Jubal, there is no Martian word for .father.’ But lately I have grokked that youare my father. And Jill’s father.“Jubal glanced at Jill. .Mmm, I grok. Take care of yourselves.“.Yes. Come, Jill.“ They were gone before he left the table.
Chapter 26
IT WAS THE USUAL SORT OF CARNIVAL in the usual sort of town. Therides were the same, the cotton candy tasted the same, the flat jointspracticed a degree of moderation acceptable to the local law in separatingthe marks from their half dollars, whether with baseballs thrown at targets,with wheels of fortune, or what-but the separation took place just the same.
　　The sex lecture was trimmed to suit local opinions concerning CharlesDarwin’s opinions, the girls in the posing show wore that amount of gauzethat local mores required, and the Fearless Fentons did their Death-Defying(in sober truth) Double Dive just before the last bally each night.
　　The ten-in-one show was equally standard. It did not have a mentalist, it didhave a magician; it did not have a bearded lady, it did have a half-man halfwoman;it did not have a sword swallower, it did have a fire eater. In place ofa tattooed man the show had a tattooed lady who was also a snake channerandfor the blow-off (at another half dollar per mark) she appeared.absolutely nude! .. clothed only in bare living flesh in exotic designs!“-andany mark who could find one square inch below her neckline untattooedwould be awarded a twenty dollar bill.
　　That twenty dollars had gone unclaimed all season, because the blowoff washonestly ballyhooed. Mrs. Paiwonski stood perfectly still and completelyunclothed-other than in .bare, living flesh“ ... in this case a fourteen-foot boaconstrictor known as .Honey Bun.“ Honey Bun was looped around Mrs. P. sostrategically that even the local ministerial alliance could find no real excuseto complain, especially as some of their own daughters wore not nearly asmuch and covered still less while attending the carnival. To keep the placid,docile Honey Bun from being disturbed, Mrs. P. took the precaution ofstanding on a small platform in the middle of a canvas tank-on the floor ofwhich were more than a dozen cobras.
　　The occasional drunk who was certain that all snake charmer’s snakes weredefanged and so tried to climb into the tank in pursuit of that undecoratedsquare inch invariably changed his opinion as soon as a cobra noticed him,lifted and spread its hood.
　　Besides, the lighting wasn’t very good.
　　However, the drunk could not have won the twenty dollars in any case. Mrs.
　　P’s claim was much sounder than the dollar. She and her late husband hadhad for many years a tattooing studio in San Pedro; when trade was slackthey had decorated each other-and, eventually, at some minor inconvenienceto herself, the art work on her was so definitively complete from her neckdown that there was no possible room for an encore. She took great prideboth in the fact that she was the most completely decorated woman in theworld (and by the world’s greatest artist, for such was her humbly gratefulopinion of her late husband) and also in the certainty that every dollar sheearned was honest.
　　She associated with grifters and sinners and did not hold herself aloof fromthem. But her own integrity was untouched. She and her husband had beenconverted by Foster himself, she kept her membershiP in San Pedro andattended services at the nearest branch of the Church of the New Revelationno matter where she was.
　　Patricia Paiwoush would gladly have dispensed with the protection of HoneyBun in the blow-off not merely to prove that she was honest (that needed noproof, since she knew it was true) but because she was serene in herconviCtiOn that she was the canvas for religiouS art greater than any on thewalls or ceilings of the Vatican. When she and George had seen the light.
　　there was still about three square feet of Patricia untouched before he diedshe carried a complete pictorial life of Foster, from his crib with the angelShovering around to the day of glory when he had taken his appointed placeamong the archangels.
　　Regrettably (since it might have turned many sinners into seekers of the light)much of this sacred history bad to be covered up. the amount depending onthe local lawmen. But she could show it in closed Happiness ~eetiflgS of thelocal churches she attended, if the shepherd wanted her to, which he almostalways did. But, while it was always good to add to Happiness~ the saved didnot need it; Patricia would rather have saved sinners. She couldn’t preach.
　　she couldn’t sing, and she had never been called to speak in tongues__butshe was a living witness to the light.
　　In the ten-in-One, her act came next to last, just before the magician; thisgave her time to put away unsold photograPhs of herself (a quarter for black& white, half a dollar in color, a set of special photograPhs for five dollars in asealed envelope sold only to marks who signed a printed form alleging thatthey were doctors of medicine, psychology, sociology, or other such entitledto professional material not available to the general public-and such wasPatricia’s integrity that she would not sell these even for ten dollars if themark did not look the part; she would then ask to see his business card - nodirty dollars were going to put her kids through school-and also gave her timeto slip behind the rear canvas and get herself and her snakes ready for theblOW-Off.
　　The magician, Dr. Apollo, performed on the last platform nearest to thecanvas fly leading to the blow-Off. He started by passing out to his audiencea dozen shiny steel rings, each as wide as a plate; he invited them toconvince themselves that each ring was solid and smooth. Then he bad themhold the rings so that they overlapped. Dr. Apollo walked along the platform~reached out with his wand and tapped each overlap-the solid steel linksformed a chain.
　　Casually he laid his wand in the air, rolled up his sleeves, accepted a bowl ofeggs from his 5ssistant, and started to juggle half a dozen of them. Hisjuggling did not attract too many eyes; his assistant was more worthy ofstares. She was a fine example of modern functional design and, while shewore a great deal more than did the young ladies in the posing show,nevertheless there seemed to be a strong probability that she was nottattooed anywhere. The marks hardly noticed it when the six eggs becameeve, then four three, two—until at last Dr. Apollo was tossing one egg in theair, with his sleeves still rolled up and a puzzled look on his faceAt last hesaid, .Eggs are getting scarcer every year,“ and tossed the remaining eggover the heads of those nearest the platform to a man in the back of thecrowd. .Catch!“He turned away and did not seem to notice that the egg never reached itsdestination.
　　Dr. Apollo performed several other tricks, while wearing always the sameslightly puzzled expression and with the same indifferent patter. Once hecalled a young boy close to the platform. .Son, I can tell you what you arethinking. You think I’m not a real magician. And you’re right~ For that you wina dollar.“ He handed the kid a dollar bill. It disappeared.
　　The magician looked unhappy. .Dropped it? Well, hang on to this one.“ Asecond bill disappeared.
　　.Oh, dear. Well, we’ll have to give you one more chance. Use both hands.
　　Got it? All right, better get out of here fast with it-YOU should be home in bedanyhow.“ The kid dashed away with the money and the magician turned backand again looked puzzled .Madame Merlin, what should we do now?“His pretty assistant came up to him, pulled his head down by one ear,whispered into it. He shook his head. .No, not in front of all these people.“She whispered again; he looked distressed. .I’m sorry, friends, but MadameMerlin insists that she wants to go tobed. Will any of you gentlemen helpher?“He blinked at the rush of volunteers- .Oh, just two of you. Were any of yougentlemen in the Army?“There were still more than enough volunteers. Dr. Apollo picked two andsaid, .There’s an army cot under the end of the platforms just lift up thecanvas_flow, will you set it up for her here on the platform? Madame Merlin,face this way, please.“While the two men set up the cot, Dr. Apollo made passes in the air at hisassistant. .Sleep ... sleep . . you are now asleep. Friends, she is in a deeptrance. Will you two gentlemen who so kindly prepared her bed now placeher on it? One take her head, one take her feet. Careful, now-. In corpselikerigidity the girl was transferred to the cot.
　　.Thank you, gentlemen. But we ought not to leave her uncovered, shouldwe? There was a sheet here, somewhere. Oh, there it is.“ The magicianreached out, recovered his wand from where he had parked it, pointed to atable laden with props at the far end of his platform; a sheet detached itselffrom the pile and came to him. .Just spread this over her. Cover her head,too; a lady should not be exposed to public gaze while sleeping. Thank you.
　　Now if you will just step down off the platform. Fine! Madame Merlin . . . canyou hear me?“.Yes, Doctor Apollo.“.You were heavy with sleep. Now you are resting. You feel lighter, muchlighter. You are sleeping on a bed of clouds. You are floating away onclouds-. The sheet-covered form raised slowly up about a foot. .Wups! Don’tget too light. We don’t want to lose you.“In the crowd, a boy in his late teens explained in a loud whisper, .She’s notunder the sheet now. When they put the sheet over her, she went downthrough a trap door. That’s just a light framework, doesn’t weigh as much asthe sheet. And in a minute he’ll flip the sheet away and while he does, theframework will collapse and disappear. It’s just a gimmick—anybody could doit,“Dr. Apollo ignored him and went on talking. .A little higher, Madame Merlin.
　　Higher. There-. The draped form floated about six feet above the platform.
　　The smart youngster whispered to his friends, .There’s a slender steel rodbut you can’t see it too easily. It’s probably where one corner of the sheethangs down there and touches the cot.“Dr. Apollo turned and requested his volunteers to remove the cot and put itback under the platform. .She doesn’t need it now. She sleeps on clouds.“He faced the floating form and appeared to be listening. .What? Louder,please. Oh? She says that she doesn’t want the sheet-it’s too heavy.“(.Here’s where the framework disappears.“)The magician tugged one corner of the sheet, snatched it away; the audiencehardly noticed that the sheet disappeared without his bothering to gather it in;they were looking at Madame Merlin, still floating, still sleeping, six feetabove the platform. The platform stood in the middle rear of the tent and theaudience surrounded it on all sides. A companion of the boy who knew allabout stage magic said, .Okay, Speedy, where’s the steel rod?“The kid said uncertainly, .You have to look where he doesn’t want you tolook, it’s the way they’ve got those lights fixed to shine right into your eyes.“Dr. Apollo said, .That’s enough sleep, fairy princess. Give me your hand.
　　Wake up, wake up!“ He took her hand, pulled her erect and helped her stepdown to the platform.
　　(.You see? You saw how stiff she got down, you saw where she put her foot?
　　That’s where the steel rod went.“ The kid added with satisfaction, .Just agimmick.“)The magician went on talking, .And now friends, if you will kindly give yourattention to our learned lecturer, Professor Timoshenko-.
　　The talker cut in at once. .Don’t go .way! For this one performance only byarrangement with the Council of Colleges and Universities and with thepermission of the Department of Safety and Welfare of this wonderful city, weare offering this twenty dollar bill absolutely free to any one of you-.
　　Most of the tip was turned into the blow-off. A few wandered around, thenstarted to leave as most of the lights in the main tent were turned off. Thefreaks and other carnies started packing their props and slum preparatory totear-down. There was a train jump coming in the morning and living topswould remain up for a few hours sleep, but canvas boys were alreadyloosening stakes on the sideshow top.
　　Shortly the talker-owner-manager of the ten-in-one came back into the semidarkenedtent, having rushed the blow-off and spilled the last marks out therear exit. .Smitty, don’t go .way. Got something for you.“ He handed themagician an envelope, which Dr. Apollo tucked away without looking at it.
　　The manager added, .Kid, I hate to tell you this-but you and your wife ain’tgoing with us to Paducah.“.I know.“.Well ... look, don’t take it hard, there’s nothing personal about it -but I got tothink of the show. We’re replacing you with a mentalist team. They do a topreading act, then she runs a phrenology and mitt camp while he makes withthe mad ball. We need .em . . . and you know as well as I do you didn’t haveno season’s guarantee. You were just on trial.“.I know,“ agreed the magician. .I knew it was time to leave. No hardfeelings, Tim.“.Well, I’m glad you feel that way about it.“ The talker hesitated. .Smitty, doyou want some advice? Just say no if you don’t.“.I would like very much to have your advice,“ the magician said simply.
　　.Okay, you asked for it. Smitty, your tricks are good. Hell, some of .em evengot me baffled. But clever tricks don’t make a magician. The trouble is you’renot really with it. You behave like a carney-you mind your own business andyou never crab anybody else’s act and you’re helpful if anybody needs it. Butyou’re not a carney. You know why? You don’t have any feeling for whatmakes a chump a chump; you don’t get inside his mind. A real magician canmake the marks open their mouths and catch flies just by picking a quarterout of the air. That Thurston’s levitation you do-I’ve never seen it done anymore perfectly but the marks don’t warm to it. No psychology. Now take me,for example. I can’t even pick a quarter out of the air-hell, I can barely use aknife and fork without cutting my mouth. I got no act . . . except I got the oneact that counts. I know marks. I know where that streak of larceny is in hisheart, I know just how wide it is. I know what he hungers for, whether heknows it or not. That’s showmanship, son, whether you’re a politician runningfor office, a preacher pounding a pulpit . . . or a magician. You find out whatthe chumps want and you can leave half your props in your trunk.“.I’m sure you’re right.“.I know I am. He wants sex and blood and money. We don’t give him any realblood-unless a fire eater or a knife thrower makes a terrible mistake. Wedon’t give him money, either; we just encourage him to hope for it while wetake away a little. We don’t give him any real sex. But why do seven out often of a tip buy the blow-off? To see a nekkid broad, that’s why-and a chanceto be paid a double sawbuck for lookin’-when maybe they got one just asgood or better at home, nekkid anytime they like. So he don’t see one and hedon’t get paid-and sill we send him out happy.
　　.What else does a chump want? Mystery! He wants to think that the world isa romantic place when he knows damn well it ain’t. That’s your job . . . onlyyou ain’t learned how. Shucks, son, even the marks know that your tricks arefake . . . only they’d like to believe they’re real, and it’s up to you to help .embelieve, as long as they’re inside the show. That’s what you lack.“.How do I get it, Tim? How do I learn what makes a chump tick?“.Hell, I can’t tell you that; that’s the piece you have to learn for yourself. Getout and stir around and be a chump yourself a while, maybe. But- Well, takethis notion you had of billing yourself as .The Man from Mars.’ You mustn’toffer the chump what he won’t swallow. They’ve all seen the Man from Mars,in pictures and on stereovision. Hell, I’ve seen him myself. Sure, you look abit like him, same general type, a casual resemblance-but even if you werehis twin brother, the marks know they won’t find the Man from Mars in a tenin-one in the sticks. It’s as silly as it would be to bill a sword swallower as .thePresident of the United States.’ Get me? A chump wants to believe-but hewon’t thank you to insult what trace of intelligence he has. And even a chumphas brains of a sort. You have to remember that.“.I will remember.“.Okay. I talk too much-but a talker gets in the habit. Are you kids going to beall right? How’s the grouch bag? Hell, I oughtn’t to do it-but do you need aloan?“.Thanks, Tim. We’re not hurtin’ any.“.Well, take care of yourself. Bye, Jill.“ He hurried out.
　　Patricia Paiwonski came in through the rear fly, wearing a robe. .Kids? Timsloughed your act.“.We were leaving anyhow, Pat.“.I knew he was going to. He makes me so mad I’m tempted to jump theshow myself.“.Now, Pat-.
　　.I mean it. I could take my act anywhere and he knows it. Leave him withouta blow-off. He can get other acts . . . but a good blow-off that the clownswon’t clobber is hard to find.“.Pat, Tim is right, and Jill and I know it. I don’t have showmanship.“.Well ... maybe so. But I’m going to miss you. You’ve been just like my ownkids to me. Oh, dear! Look, the show doesn’t roll until morning-come back tomy living top and set awhile and visit.“Jill said, .Better yet, Patty, come into town with us and have a couple ofdrinks. How would you like to soak yourself in a big, hot tub, with bath salts?“.Uh, I’ll bring a bottle.“.No,“ Mike objected, .I know what you drink and we’ve got it. Come along.“.Well, I’ll come-you’re at the Imperial, aren’t you?-but I can’t come with you.
　　I’ve got to be sure my babies are all right first and tell Honey Bun I’ll be gonea bit and fix her hot water bottles. I’ll catch a cab. Half an hour, maybe.“They drove into town with Mike at the controls. It was a fairly small town,without automatic traffic control even downtown. Mike drove with carefulprecision, exactly at zone maximum and sliding the little ground car into holesJill could not see until they were through them. He did it without effort in thesame fashion in which he juggled. Jill knew how it was done, had evenlearned to do it a bit herself; Mike stretched his time sense until the problemof juggling eggs or speeding through traffic was an easy one with’ everythingin slow motion. Nevertheless she reflected that it was an oddaccomplishment for a man who, only months earlier, had been baffled bytying shoelaces.
　　She did not talk. Mike could talk while on extended time, if necessary, but itwas awkward to converse while they were running on different time rates.
　　Instead she thought with mild nostalgia of the life they were leaving, calling itup in her mind and cherishing it, some of it in Martian concepts, more of it inEnglish. She had enjoyed it very much. All her life, until she had met Mike,she had been under the tyranny of the clock, first as a little girl in school, thenas a bigger girl in a much harder school, then under the unforgivingpressures of hospital routine.
　　The carnival had been nothing like that. Aside from the easy and ratherpleasant chore of standing around and looking pretty several times a dayfrom midafternoon to the last bally of the night, she never had anything sheactually had to do at any set time. Mike did not care whether they ate once aday or six times, and whatever housekeeping she chose to do suited him.
　　They had their own living top and camping equipment; in many towns theyhad never left the lot from arrival to tear-down. The carnival was a closedlittle world, an enclave, where the headlines and troubles of the outside worlddid not reach. She had been happy in it.
　　To be sure, in every town the lot was crawling with marks-but she hadacquired the carney viewpoint; marks did not count-they might as well havebeen behind glass. Jill quite understood why the girls in the posing showcould and did exhibit themselves in very little (and, in some towns, nothing, ifthe fix was solid) without feeling immodest . . . and without being immodest intheir conduct outside the posing show. Marks weren’t people to them; theywere blobs of nothing, hardly seen, whose sole function was to cough up halfdollars for the take.
　　Yes, the carnie had been a happy, utterly safe home, even though theft acthad flopped. It had not always been that way when first they left the safety ofJubal’s home to go out into the world and increase Mike’s education. Theyhad been spotted more than once and several times they had had troublegetting away, not only from the press, but from the endless people whoseemed to feel that they had a right to demand things of Mike, simplybecause he had the misfortune to be the Man from Mars.
　　Presently Mike had thought his features into more mature lines and hadmade other slight changes in his appearance. That, plus the fact that theyfrequented places where the Man from Mars would certainly not be expected(by the public) to go, got them privacy. About that time, when Jill was phoninghome to give a new mailing address, Jubal had suggested a cover-up storyanda couple of days later Jill had read that the Man from Mars had againgone into retreat, this time in a Tibetan monastery.
　　The retreat had actually been .Hank’s Grill“ in a .nowhere“ town, with Jill as awaitress and Mike as dishwasher. It was no worse than being a nurse andmuch less demanding-and her feet no longer hurt. Mike had a remarkablyquick way of cleaning dishes, although he had to be careful not to use itwhen the boss was watching. They kept that job a week, then moved on,sometimes working, sometimes not. They visited public libraries almost daily,once Mike found out about them-Jill had discovered that Mike had taken forgranted that Jubal’s library contained a copy of every book on Earth. Whenhe learned the marvelous truth, they had remained in Akron nearly a month.
　　Jill did quite a lot of shopping that month, as Mike with a book was almost nocompany at all.
　　But Baxter’s Combined Shows and Riot of Fun for All the Family had beenthe nicest part of their meandering trip. Jill recalled with an inner giggle thetime in-what town?-no matter-when the entire posing show had beenpinched. It wasn’t fair, even by chumps’ standards, since that concessionalways worked under precise prearrangement: bras or no bras; blue lights orbright lights; whatever the top town clown ordained. Nevertheless the sheriffhad hauled them in and the local justice of the peace had seemed disposednot only to fine but to jail the girls as .vagrants.“The lot had closed down and most of the carnies had gone to the hearing,along with innumerable chumps slavering to catch sight of .shamelesswomen“ getting their come-uppance. Mike and Jill had managed to crowdagainst the back wall of the courtroom.
　　Jill had long since impressed on Mike that he must never do anything that anordinary human could not do where it might be noticed. But Mike hadgrokked a cusp and had not discussed it with Jill.
　　The sheriff was testifying as to what he had seen, the details of this .publiclewdness“-and he was enjoying it.
　　Mike had restrained himself, Jill admitted. In the midst of testimony bothsheriff and judge became suddenly and completely without clothes of anysort.
　　She and Mike slipped quietly away during the excitement, and later shelearned that the accused, all of them, had left, too, and nobody seemeddisposed to object. Of course no one had connected the miracle with Mike,and he himself had never mentioned it to Jill-nor she to him; it was notnecessary. The show had torn down at once and moved on two days early,to a more honest town where the rule was net bra and briefies and no beefsafterwards.
　　But Jill would treasure forever the expression on the sheriff’s face, and hisappearance, too, when it was plain to be seen that his sudden sag in frontmeant that the sheriff had been wearing a tight corset for his pride.
　　Yes, carnie days had been nice days. She started to speak to Mike in hermind, intending to remind him of how funny that hick sheriff had looked withcreases from his girdle on his hairy pot belly. But she stopped. Martian hadno concept for .funny“ so of course she could not say it. They shared agrowing telepathic bond~but in Martian only.
　　(.Yes Jill?“) his mind answered hers.
　　(.Later.“)Shortly they approached the Imperial Hotel and she felt his mind slow downas he parked the car. Jill much prefeffed camping on the carnival grounds . . .
　　except fox one thing: bathtubS. Showers were a1~ right, but nothing couldbeat a big tub of hot, hot water, climb into it up to your chin and soak!
　　Sometimes they checked into a hotel for a few days and rented a ground car.
　　Mike did not, by early training, share her fanatic enthusiasm for scrubbing; hewas now as fastidiously clean as she was- but only because she had trainedhim to be; it did not annoy him. Moreover, he could keep himself immaculatewithout wasting time on washing or bathing, just as he never had to see abarber once he knew precisely how Jill wanted his hair to grow. But Mike,too, liked the time spent in hotels for the sake of baptism alone; be enjoyedimmersing himself in the water of life as much as ever, irrespective of a nonexistantneed to clean and no longer with any superstitious feeling aboutwater.
　　The Imperial was a very old hotel and had not been much even when new,but the tub in what was proudly called the .Bridal Suite“ was satisfactorilylarge. Jill went straight to it as they came in, started to fill it-and was hardlysurprised to find herself suddenly ready for her bath, even to pretty bare feet,except that her purse was still clutched under her arm. Dear Mike! He knewhow she liked to shop. how pleased she was with new clothes; he gentlyforced her to indulge her childish weakness by sending to neverwhere anyoutfit which he sensed no longer delighted her. He would have done so dailyhad she not cautioned him that too many new clothes would make themconspicuous around the carnival.
　　.Thanks, dear!“ she called out. .Let’s climb in.“He had either undressed or caused his own clothes to go away- probably theformer she decided; Mike found buying clothes for himself without interest.
　　He still could see no possible reason for clothes other than for simpleprotection against the elements, a weakness he did not share. They got intothe tub facing each other; she scooped up a handful of water, touched it toher lips, offered it to him. lt was not necessary to speak, nor was the ritualnecessary; it simply pleased Jill to remind them both of something for whichno reminder could ever be necessary, through all eternity.
　　When he raised his head, she said, .The thing I was thinking of while youwere driving was how funny that horrid sheriff looked in his skin“.Did be look funny?“.Oh, very funny indeed! It was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud.
　　But I did not want us noticed.“.Explain to me why he was funny. I do not see the joke.“.Uh ... dear, I don’t think I can explain it. It was not a joke-not like puns andthings like that which can be explained.“.I did not grok that he was funny,“ Mike said seriously. .In both those men-thejudge and the lawman-I grokked wrongness. Had I not known that it woulddisplease you, I would have sent them both away.“.Dear Mike.“ She touched his cheek. .Good Mike. Believe me, dearest, it wasbetter far to do only what you did do. Neither one of them will ever live itdown-and I’ll bet that there won’t be another attempt to arrest anyone forindecent exposure in that township for another fifty years. Let’s talk aboutsomething else. I have been wanting to say that I am sorry, truly sorry, thatyour act didn’t go over. I did my best in writing the patter for it, dear-but Iguess I’m no showman, either.“.It was my lack, Jill. Tim speaks rightly-I don’t grok the chumps. Neverthelessit has been good to be with Baxter’s Combined Shows . . . I have grokkedcloser to the chumps each day.“.Only we must not call them chumps any longer, nor marks, now that we areno longer with it. Just people-not .chumps.’“.I grok that they are chumps.“.Yes, dear. But it isn’t polite to say so.“.I will remember.“.Have you decided where we are going now?“.No. When the time comes, I will know.“.Yes, dear.“ Jill reflected that Mike always did know. From his first changefrom docility to dominance he had grown steadily in strength andsureness~all ways. The boy (he bad seemed like a boy then) who had foundit tiring to hold an ash tray in the air, could now not only hold her in the air(and it did feel like .floating on clouds“; that was why she had written it intothe patter that way) while doing several other things and continuing to talk,but also could exert any other strength he needed~be recalled one very rainylot where one of the trucks had bogged down. Twenty men were crowdedaround it, trying to get it free-Mike had added his shoulder . . and the truckmoved.
　　She had seen how it had happened; the sunken hind wheel had simply lifteditself out of the mud. But Mike, much more sophisticated now, had notallowed anyone to guess.
　　She recalled, too, when be had at last grokked that the injunction about.wrongness“ being necessary before he could make things go away appliedonly to living, grokking things-her dress did not have to have .wrongness“ forhim to toss it away. The injunction was merely a precaution in the training ofnestlings; an adult was free to do as he grokked.
　　She wondered what his next major change would be? But she did not worryabout it; Mike was good and wise. All she could teach him were little detailsof how to live among humans-while leaning much more from him, in perfecthappiness, greater happiness than she had known since her father died.
　　.Mike, wouldn’t it be nice to have Dorcas and Anne and Miriam all here in thetub, too? And Father Jubal and the boys and- oh, our whole family!“.It would take a bigger tub.“.Who minds a little crowding? But Jubal’s pool would do nicely. When are wemaldng another visit home, Mike? Jubal asks me every time I talk to him.“.I grok it will be soon.“.Martian .soon’? Or Earth .soon’? Never mind, darling, I know it will be whenthe waiting is filled. But that reminds me that Aunt Patty will be here soon andI do mean Earth .soon.’ Wash me off?“She stood up, he stayed where he was. The soap lifted out of the soap dish,traveled all over her, replaced itself, and the soapy layer slathered intobubbles of lather. .Ooohl That’s enough. You tickle.“.Rinse?“.I’ll just dunk.“ Quickly she squatted down, sloshed suds off her, stood up.
　　.Just in time, too.“Someone was knocking at the outer door. .Deane? Are you decent?“.Coming, Pat!“ Jill shouted and added as she stepped out of the tub, .Dryme, please?“At once she was dry, leaving not even wet footprints on the bath mat. .Dear?
　　You’ll remember to put on some clothes before you come out? Patty’s a ladynotlike me.“.I will remember.“
Chapter 27
JILL STOPPED TO GRAB a negligee from a well-stocked wardrobe, hurriedout into the living room and let in Mrs. Paiwonski. .Come in, dear. We weregrabbing baths in a hurry; he’ll be right out. I’ll get you a drink- then you canhave your second drink in the tub if you like. Loads of hot water.“.I had a shower after I put Honey Bun to bed, but-yes, I’d love a tub bath.
　　But, Jill baby, I didn’t come here to borrow your bath tub; I came because I’mjust heartsick that you kids are leaving the show.“.We won’t lose track of you.“ Jill was busy with glasses. The hotel was so oldthat not even the .Bridal Suite“ had its own ice dispenser but the nightbellman, indoctrinated and subsidized, had left a carton of ice cubes. .Timwas right and you know he was. Mike and I have got to slick up our act a lotbefore we can hold up our end.“.Your act is okay. Needs a few laughs in it, maybe, but-Hi, Smitty.“ As Mikecame in, she offered him a gloved hand. Mrs. Paiwonski always wore glovesaway from the lot, and a high-necked dress and stockings. Dressed so, shelooked like a middle-aged, most respectable widow, who had kept her figuretrim in spite of her years-looked so, because she was precisely that.
　　.I was just telling Jill,“ she went on, .that you’ve got a good act, you two.“Mike smiled gently. .Now, Pat, you don’t have to kid us. It stinks. We knowit.“.No, it doesn’t, dearie. Oh, maybe it needs a little something to give it somezing. A few jokes. Or, well, you could even cut down on Jill’s costume a little.
　　You’ve got an awful cute figure, hon.“Jill shook her head. .That wouldn’t do it.“.Well, I saw a magician once that used to bring his assistant out dressed forthe Gay .Nineties-the eighteen-nineties, that is-not even her legs showing.
　　Then he would disappear one garment after another. The marks loved it. Butdon’t misunderstand me, dear-nothing unrefined. She finished . . . oh, inalmost as much as you wear now.“.Patty,“ Jill said frankly, .I’d do our act stark naked if the clowns wouldn’tclose the show.“ As she said it, she realized that she meant it- and wonderedhow Graduate Nurse Boardman, floor supervisor, had reached the pointwhere she could mean it?
　　Mike, of course- And she was quite happy about it.
　　Mrs. Paiwonski shook her head. .You couldn’t, honey. The marks would riot.
　　Just a touch more ginger ale, dear. But if you’ve got a good figure, why notuse it? How far do you think I would get as a tattooed lady ii I didn’t peel offall they’ll let me?“.Speaking of that,“ Mike said, .you don’t look comfortable in all those clothes,Pat. I think the aircooling in this dump has gone sour again -it must be atleast eighty.“ He himself was dressed in a light robe, his concession to theeasy-going conventions of carney good manners. Extreme heat, he hadlearned, affected him slightly, enough so that he sometimes had to adjustconsciously his metabolism-extreme cold affected him not at all. But he knewthat their friend was used to the real comfort of almost nothing and affectedthe clothes she now wore to cover her tattoos when out among the marks; Jillhad explained it to him. .Why don’t you get comfortable? .Ain’t nobody herebut just us chickens.’“ The latter, he knew, was a joke, an appropriate one foremphasizing that friends were in private-Jubal had tried to explain it to him,but failed. But Mike had carefully noted when and how the idiom could beused.
　　.Sure, Patty,“ Jill agreed. .If you’re raw under that dress, I can get yousomething light and comfortable. Or we’ll just make Mike close his eyes.“.Uh ... well, I did slip back into one of my costumes.“.Then don’t be stiff with friends. I’ll get your zippers.“.Le’me get these stockings and shoes.“ She went on talking while trying tothink how she could get the conversation around to religion, where shewanted it. Bless them, these kids were ready to be seekers, she was certainandshe had counted on the whole season to bring them around to the light .
　　. . not just one hurried visit before they left. .The point about show business,Smitty, is that first you have to know what the marks want . . . and you haveto know what it is you’re giving them and how to make .em like it. Now if youwere a real magician- oh, I don’t mean that you aren’t skillful, dear, becauseyou are.“ She tucked her carefully rolled hose in her shoes, loosened hergarter belt and got out of it modestly, let Jill get her dress zippers. .I mean ifyour magic was real like you had made a pact with the Devil. That’d be onething. But the marks know that it’s clever sleight-of-hand. So you give .em alight-hearted show to match. But did you ever see a fire eater with a prettyassistant? Heavens, a pretty girl would just clutter his act; the marks arestanding around hoping he’ll set fire to hisself~ or blow up.“She snaked the dress over her head; Jill took it and kissed her. .You lookmore natural, Aunt Patty. Sit back and enjoy your drink.“.Just a second, deane.“ Mrs. Paiwonski prayed mightily for guidance -wishedthat she were a preacher . . . or had even the gift of gab of a talker. Well, herpictures would just have to speak for themselves-and they would; that waswhy George had put them there. .Now this is what I’ve got to show the marks... this and my snakes, but this is more important. Have either one of youever looked, really looked, at my pictures?“.No,“ Jill admitted, .I guess not. We didn’t want to stare at you, like acouple of marks.“.Then stare at me now, dears-because that’s why George, bless his sweetsoul safe in heaven, put them on me. To be stared at . . . and studied. Nowright up here under my chin is the birth scene of our prophet, the holyArchangel Foster-just an innocent babe and maybe not knowing whatHeaven had in store for him. But the angels knew-see .em there around him?
　　The next scene is his first miracle, when a young sinner in the country schoolhe attended shot down a poor little birdie . . - and he picked it up and strokedit and it flew away unharmed. See the school house behind? Now it kind o’
　　jumps a little and I’ll have to turn my back. But all of .em are dated for eachholy event in his life.“ She explained how George had not had a bare canvasto work with when first the great opus was started-since they had both beensinners and young Patricia already rather much tattooed . . . how with greateffort and inspired genius George had been able to turn .The Attack on PearlHarbor“ into .Armageddon,“ and .Skyline of New York“ into .The Holy City.“.But,“ she admitted candidly, .even though every single one of them is asacred picture now, it did kind of force him to skip around to find enough bareskin to record in living flesh a witness to each milestone in the earthly life ofour prophet. Here you see him preaching on the steps of the ungodlytheological seminary that turned him down-that was the first time he wasarrested, the beginning of the Persecution. And on around, right on my spine,you see him smashing idolatrous images - . . and next you see him in jail,with the holy light streaming down on it. Then the Faithful Few bust into thejail-.
　　The Reverend Foster had realized early that, when it caine to upholdingreligious freedom, brass knucks, clubs, and a willingness to tangle with copswas worth far more than passive resistance. His had been a church militantfrom scratch. But he had been a tactician, too; pitched battles were foughtonly where the heavy artillery was on the side of the Lord.
　　.-and they rescue him and tar & feather the idolatrous judge who put himthere. Around in front here. Uh, you can’t see it very well; my bra covers mostof it, A shame.“(.Michael, what does she want?“)(.Thou knowest. Tell her. .).Aunt Patty,“ Jill said gently, .you want us to look at all your pictures. Don’tyou?“.Well ...it’s just as Tim says in the bally, George used up all the skin I have inmaking the story complete.“.If George went to all that work, I’m sure he meant for them to be seen. Takeoff your costume. I told you that I wouldn’t mind working our own act starknaked if they’d let me-and ours is just entertainment. Yours has a purpose - .
　　- a holy purpose.“.Well ... all right. If you really want me to.“ She sang a silent hallelujah anddecided that Foster himself was sustaining her-with blessed luck andGeorge’s pictures she would yet have these dear kids seeking the light.
　　.I’ll unhook you-.
　　(.Jill-.)(.No, Michael?“)(.Wait“)To her utter surprise and some fear Mrs. Paiwonski found that her spangledbriefies and bra were gone! But Jill was surprised to find that her almost-newnegligee followed the little costume into wherever and nowhere. Jill was onlymildly surprised when Mike’s robe disappeared, too; she chalked it up,correctly but not completely, to his catlike good manners.
　　Mrs. Paiwonski clutched at her mouth and gasped. Jill at once put her armsaround her. .There, there, dear! It’s all right, nobody’s hurt.“ She turned herhead and said, .Mike, you did it, you’ll simply have to tell her.“.Yes, Jill. Pat-.
　　.Yes, Smitty?’
　　.You said a while ago that I wasn’t a real magician, that my tricks were justsleight-of-hand. You were going to take off your costume anyhow -so I took itoff for you.“.But how? And where is it?“.Same place Jill’s wrapper is-and my robe. Gone.“.But don’t worry about it, Patty,“ put in Jill. .We’ll replace it. Two more - . - andtwice as pretty. Mike, you shouldn’t have done it.“.I’m sorry, Jill. I grokked it was all right.“.Well ... I suppose it is.“ Jill decided that Aunt Patty wasn’t too upset-andcertainly she would never tell; she was carney.
　　Mrs. Paiwonski was not worried by the loss of two scraps of costume, nor byher own nudity. Nor by the nakedness of the other two. But she was greatlytroubled by a theological problem that she felt was out of her depth. .Smitty?
　　That was real magic?“.I guess you would call it that,“ he agreed, using the words mostexactly.
　　.I’d rather call it a miracle,“ she said bluntly.
　　.You can call it that, too, if you want to. But it wasn’t sleight-of-hand.“.I know that. You weren’t even near me.“ She, who daily handled live cobrasand who had more than once handled obnoxious drunks with her bare hands(to their sorrow), was not afraid. Patricia Paiwonski was not afraid of the Devilhimself; she was sustained by her faith that she was saved and thereforeinvulnerable to the Devil. But she was uneasy for the safety of her friends.
　　.Smitty ... look me in the eye. Have you made a pact with the Devil?“.No, Pat, I have not.“She continued to look into his eyes, then said, .You aren’tlying-.
　　.He doesn’t know how to lie, Aunt Patty.“.-so it’s a miracle. Smitty ... you are a holy man!“.I don’t know, Pat.“.Archangel Foster didn’t know that he was a holy man until he reached histeens . . . even though he performed many miracles before that time. But youare a holy man; I can feel it.“ She thought. .I think I felt it when I first metyou.“.I don’t know, Pat.“.I think he may be,“ admitted Jill. .But he really doesn’t know, himself.
　　Michael - . . I think we’ve told her too much not to tell her more.“.’Michael!’“ Patty repeated suddenly. .The Archangel Michael, send downto us in human form.“.Aunt Patty, please! If he is, he doesn’t know it-.
　　.He wouldn’t necessarily know it. God performs his wonders in his ownway.“.Aunt Patty, will you please wait and let me talk, just for a bit?“Some minutes later Mrs. Paiwonski had accepted that Mike was indeed theMan from Mars, she had agreed to accept him as a man and to treat him as aman - . . while stating explicitly that she still held to her own opinion as to histrue nature and why he was on Earth-explaining (somewhat fuzzily, itseemed to Jill) that Foster had been really and truly a man while he was onEarth, but had been also and always had been, an archangel, even thoughhe had not known it himself. If Jill and Michael insisted that they were notsaved, she would treat them as they asked to be treated-God moves inmysterious ways.
　　.I think you could properly call us .seekers,’“ Mike told her.
　　.Then that’s enough, my dears! I’m sure you’re saved-but Foster himself wasa seeker in his early years~ I’ll help.“She had participated in another minor miracle. They had been seated in acircle on the rug. Jill lay back flat and suggested it to Mike in her mind. Withno patter of any sort, with no sheet nor anything to conceal a non-existentsteel rod, Mike lifted her. Patricia watched it with serene happiness,convinced that she was vouchsafed sight of a miracle. .Pat,“ Mike then said.
　　.Lie flat.“She did so without argument, as readily as if he had been Foster. Jill turnedher head. .Hadn’t you better put me down first, Mike?“.No, I can do it.“Mrs. Paiwonski felt herself gently lifted. She was not frightened by it; shesimply felt overpowering religious ecstasy like heat lightning in her loins,making tears come to her eyes, the power of which she had not felt since, asa young woman, Holy Foster himself had touched her. When Mike movedthem closer together and Jill put her arms around her, her tears increased,but her cries were the gentle sobs of happiness.
　　Presently he lowered them gently to the floor and found, as he expected, thathe was not tired-he could not recall when last he had been tired.
　　Jill said to him, .Mike ... we need a glass of water.“(.????“)(.Yes, . her mind answered.)(.And?“)(.Of elegant necessity. Why do you think she came here?“)(.I knew. I was not sure that you knew .. or would approve. My brother. Myself“)(.My brother.“)Mike did not get up to fetch water. He sent a glass from the tray of drinks intothe bathroom, had the tap fill it, returned it to Jill’s hands. Mrs. Paiwonskiwatched this with almost absent-minded interest; she was beyond beingastonished. Jill held the glass, said to her, .Aunt Patty, this is like beingbaptized - . . and like getting married. It’s ... a Martian thing. It means that youtrust us and we trust you . . . and we can tell you anything and you can tell usanything . . . and that we are always partners, now and forever. It’s veryserious ... and once done it can never be broken. If you broke it, we wouldhave to die-at once. Saved or not. If we broke it- But we won’t. But you don’thave to share water with us if you don’t want to-we’ll still be friends. Now - . -if this in any way interferes with your faith, don’t do it. We don’t belong to yourchurch even though you guessed that we did. We don’t. We may neverbelong. .Seekers’ is the most you can call us now. Mike?“.We grok,“ he agreed. .Pat, Jill speaks rightly. I wish we could say it to you inMartian, it would be clearer. But this is everything that getting married is . . -and a great deal more. We are free to offer water to you but if there is anyreason at all, in your religion or in your heart, not to accept-don’t drink it!“Patricia Paiwonski took a deep breath. She had made such a decision oncebefore - with her husband watching . . . and had not funked it. And who wasshe to refuse a holy man? And his blessed bride? .I want it,“ she said firmly.
　　Jill took a sip. .We grow ever closer.“ She passed the glass to Mike.
　　He looked at Jill, then at Patricia. .I thank you for water, my brother.“ He tooka sip. .Pat, I give you the water of life. May you always drink deep.“ Hepassed the glass to her.
　　Patricia took it. .Thank you. Thank you, oh my dears! The .water of life’-oh, Ilove you both!“ She drank thirstily.
　　Jill took the glass from her, finished it. .Now we grow closer, my brothers.“(.Jill?“)(.Now!!!“)Michael lifted his new water brother, wafted her in and placed her gently onthe bed.
　　Valentine Michael Smith had grokked, when first he had known it fully, thatphysical human love-very human and very physical-was not simply anecessary quickening of eggs, nor was it mere ritual through which one grewcloser; the act itself was a growing-closer, a very great goodness-and (so faras he knew) unknown even to the Old Ones of his former people. He was stillgrokking it, trying at every opportunity to grok its fullness. But he had longsince broken through any fear that heresy lay in his suspicion that even theOld Ones did not know this ecstasy-he grokked already that these his newpeople held spiritual depths unique. Happily he tried to sound them, with noinhibitions from his childhood to cause him guilt or reluctance of any sort.
　　His human teachers had been unusually well qualified to instruct hisinnocence without bruising it. The result was as unique as he himself.
　　Jill was very pleased but not really surprised to find that .Aunt Patty“accepted as inevitable and necessary, and with forthright fullness, the factthat sharing water in a very ancient Martian ceremony with Mike led at onceto sharing Mike himself in a human rite ancient itself. Jill was somewhatsurprised (although still pleased) at Pat’s continued calm acceptance when itcertainly had been demonstrated to their new water brother that Mike wascapable of more miracles than he had disclosed up to then. However, Jill didnot then know that Patricia Paiwonskj had met a holy man before-Patriciaexpected more of holy men. Jill herself was simply serenely happy that acusp had been reached and passed with right action and was ecstaticallyhappy herself to grow closer as the cusp was determinbed-all of which shethought in Martian and quite differently.
　　In time they rested and Jill had Mike treat Patty to a bath given by telekinesis,and herself sat on the edge of the tub and squealed and giggled when theolder woman did. It was just play, very human and not at all Martian; Mikehad done it for Jill on the initial occasion almost lazily rather than raisehimself up out of the water-an accident, more or less. Now it had become acustom, one that Jill knew Patty would like. It tickled Jill to see Patty’s facewhen she found herself being scrubbed all over by gentle. invisible hands . . .
　　and then, presently dried in a whisk with neither towel nor blast of air.
　　Patricia blinked. .After that I need a drink. A big one.“.Certainly, darling.“.And I still want to show you kids my pictures... all of them.“ Patricia followedJill out into the living room, Mike in train, and stood in the middle of the rug.
　　.But first look at me. Look at me, not at my pictures. What do you see?“With mild regret Mike stripped her tattoos off in his mind and looked at hisnew brother without her decorations. He liked her tattoos very much; theywere peculiarlY her own, they set her apart and made her a self. Theyseemed to him to give her a slightly Martian flavor, in that she did not havethe bland sameness of most humans. He had already memorized them alland had thought pleasantly of having hiniseif tattooed all over, once begrokked what should be pictured. The life of his father, water brother Jubal?
　　Re would have to ponder it. He would discuss it with Jill-and Jill might wish tobe tattooed, too. What designs would make Jill more beautifully Jill? In theway in which perfume multiplied Jill’s odor without changing it?
　　What he saw when he looked at Pat without her tattooS pleased him but notas much; she looked as a woman necessarily must look to be woman. Mikestill did not grok Duke’s collection of pictures; the pictures were interestingand had taught Mike that there was more variety in the sizes, shapes,proportions and colors of women than he had known up to then and thatthere was some variety in the acrobadcs involving physical love-but havinglearned these simple facts he seemed to grok that there was nothing more tobe learned from Duke’s prized pictures. Mike’s early training had made of hima very exact observer, by eye (and other senses), but that ssme training badleft him unresponsive to the subtle pleasures of voyeurism, it was not that bedid not find women (including, most emphaticaly Patricia Paiwoiiski) sexuallystimulating, but it lay not in seeing them. Of his senses, smell and touchcounted inucb higher-in which he was quasi-human, quasi-Martian; theparallel Martian reflex (as unsubtle as a sneeze) was triggered by those two,but could activate only in season-what must be termed .sex“ in a Martian isas romantic as intravenous feeding.
　　But, having been invited to see her without her pictures. Mike did notice moresharply one thing about Patricia that he already knew: she had her own face,marked in beauty by bet life. She bad, he saw with gentle wonder, her ownface even more than Jill had, and it made him feel toward Fat even more ofan emotion he did not as yet call love but for which be used a Martianconcept more discriminating.
　　She had her own odor, too, and her own voice, as all humans did. Her voicewas husky and he liked to hear it even when he did not grok her meaning;her odor was mixed (he knew) with an unscrubbed trace of bitter muskinessfrom daily contact with snakes. It did not put him off; Pat’s snakes were partof Pat as were her tattoos. Mike liked Pat’s snakes and could handle thepoisonous ones with perfect safety-and not alone by stretching time toanticipate and avoid their strikes. They grokked with him; he savored theirinnocent merciless thoughts-they reminded him of home. Other than Pat,Mike was the only person who could handle Honey Bun with pleasure to theboa constrictor. Her torpor was usually such that others could, if necessary,handle her-but Mike she accepted as a substitute for Pat.
　　Mike let the pictures reappear.
　　Jill looked at her and wondered why Aunt Patty had ever let herself betattooed in the first place? She would really look rather nice-if she weren’t aliving comic strip. But she loved Aunt Fatty for what she was, not the way shelooked-and, of course, it did give her a steady living at least until she got soold and haggard that the marks wouldn’t pay to look at her even if all thosepictures had been signed by Rembrandt. She hoped that Patty was tuckingaway plenty in the grouch bag_then she remembered that Aunt Patty wasnow one of Mike’s water brothers (and her own, of course) and Mike’sendless fortune gave Patty certain old-age insurance; Jill felt warmed by it.
　　.Well?“ repeated Mrs. Paiwonski. .What do you see? How old am I,Michael?“.I don’t know,“ he said simply.
　　.Guess.“.I can’t guess, Pat.“.Oh, go ahead. You won’t hurt my feelings.“.Patty,“ Jill put in, .he really does mean that he can’t guess. He hasn’t hadmuch chance to learn to judge ages-you know how short a time he’s been onEarth. And besides that, Mike thinks of things in Martian years and Martianarithmetic. If it’s time or figures, I keep track of it for him.“.Well ... you guess, hon. Be truthful.“Jill looked Patty over again, noting her trim figure but also noting her handsand throat and the corners of her eyes-then discounted her guess by fiveyears despite the Martian honesty she owed a water brother. .Mmm, thirtyish,give or take a year.“Mrs. Paiwonski laughed triumphantly. .That’s just one bonus from the TrueFaith, my dears! Jill hon, I’m .way into my forties. Just how far in we won’tsay; I’ve quit counting.“.You certainly don’t look it.“.I know I don’t. That’s what Happiness does for you, dear. Alter my first kid, Ilet my figure go to pot. I got quite a can on me-they invented the word .broad’
　　just to fit me. My belly always looked like four months gone, or worse. Mybusts hung down-and I’ve never had .em lifted. You don’t have to believe me;sure, I know a good plastic surgeon doesn’t leave a scar . . . but on me itwould show, dear; it would chop chunks out of two of my pictures.
　　.Then I seen the light! I got converted. Nope, not exercise, not diet- I still eatlike a pig and you know it. Happiness, dear. Perfect Happiness in the Lordthrough the help of Blessed Foster.“.It’s amazing,“ said Jill, and meant it. She knew women who had kept theirlooks quite as well (as she firmly intended to keep hers) but in every caseonly through great effort. She knew that Aunt Patty was telling the truth aboutdiet and exercise, at least during the time she had known her . . . and as asurgical nurse Jill knew exactly what was excised and where in a breastliftingjob; those tattoos had certainly never known a knife.
　　But Mike was not amazed. He assumed conclusively that Pat had learnedhow to think her body as she wished it, whether she attributed it to Foster ornot. He was still trying to teach this control to Jill, but knew that she wouldhave to perfect her knowledge of Martian before it could be perfect. No hurry,waiting would accomplish it. Pat went on talking:
　　.I wanted you to see what the Faith has done for me. But that’s just outside;the real change is inside. Happiness. I’ve got to try to tell you about it. Thegood Lord knows that I’m not ordained and I’m not gifted with tongues . . . butI’ve got to try. And then I’ll answer your questions if I can. The first thing thatyou’ve got to accept is that all the other socalled churches are traps of theDevil. Our dear Jesus preached the True Faith, so Foster said and I trulybelieve. But, in the Dark Ages his words were deliberately twisted and addedto and changed until Jesus wouldn’t recognize .em. And that is why Fosterwas sent down to Earth, to proclaim a New Revelation and straighten it outand make it clear again.“Patricia Paiwonski pointed her finger and suddenly looked very impressive, apriestess clothed in holy dignity and mystic symbols. .God wants us to beHappy. He filled the world with things to make us Happy if only we see thelight. Would God let grape juice turn into wine if He didn’t want us to drinkand be joyful? He could just as easily let is stay grape juice . . . or turn itstraight into vinegar that nobody could get a happy giggle out of. Ain’t thattrue? Of course He don’t mean you should get roaring drunk and beat yourwife and neglect your kids . . . but He gave us good things to use, not abuse .
　　. . and not to ignore. But if you feel like a drink or six, among friends whohave seen the light, too, and it makes you want to jump up and dance andgive thanks to the Lord on high for his goodness-why not? God made alcoholand he made feet- and he made .em so you could put .em together and behappy!“She paused and said, .Fill .er up again, honey; preaching is thirsty work-andnot too strong on the ginger ale this time; that’s good rye. And that ain’t all. IfGod didn’t want women to be looked at, he would have made .em ugly-that’sreasonable, isn’t it? God isn’t a cheat; He set up the game Himself-Hewouldn’t rig it so that the marks can’t win, like a flat joint wheel in a town withthe fix on. He wouldn’t send anybody to Hell for losing in a crooked game.
　　.All right! God wants us to be Happy and he told us how: .Love one another!’
　　Love a snake if the poor thing needs love. Love thy neighbor if he’s seen thelight and has love in his heart . . . and the back of your hand only to sinnersand Satan’s corruptors who want to lead you away from the appointed pathand down into the pit. And by .love’ he didn’t mean namby-pamby old-maidauntlove that’s scared to look up from a hymn book for fear of seeing atemptation of the flesh. If God hated flesh, why did lie make so much of it?
　　God is no sissy. He made the Grand Canyon and comets coursing throughthe sky and cyclones and stallions and earthquakes-can a God who can doall that turn around and practically wet his pants just because some littlesheila leans over a mite and a man catches sight of a tit? You know better,hon-and so do I! When God told us to love, He wasn’t holding out a card onus; He meant it. Love little babies that always need changing and love strong,smelly men so that there will be more little babies to love-and in between goon loving because it’s so good to love!
　　.Of course that don’t mean to peddle it any more than a bottle of rye whiskeymeans I gotta get fighting drunk and clobber a cop. You can’t sell love andyou can’t buy Happiness, no price tags on either one and if you think there is,the way to Hell lies open to you. But if you give with an open heart andreceive what God has an unlimited supply of, the Devil can’t touch you.
　　Money?“ She looked at Jill. .Hon, would you do that water-sharing thing withsomebody, say for a million dollars? Make it ten million, tax free.“.Of course not.“ (.Michael, do you grok this?“)(.Almost in fullness, Jill. Waiting is. .).You see, dearie? I knew what it meant, I knew love was in that water. You’reseekers, very near the light. But since you two, from the love that is in you,did .share water and grow closer,’ as Michael says, I can tell you things Icouldn’t ordinarily tell a seeker-.
　　The Reverend Foster, self-ordained—or directly ordained by God, dependingon authority cited-had an intuitive instinct for the pulse of his culture and histimes at least as strong as that of a skilled carney sizing up a mark. Thecountry and culture commonly known as .America“ had had a badly splitpersonality all through its history. Its overt laws were almost alwayspuritanical for a people whose covert behavior tended to be Rabelaisian; itsmajor religions were all Apollonian in varying degree-its religious revivalswere often hysterical in fashion almost Dionysian. In the twentieth century(Terran Christian Era) nowhere on Earth was sex so vigorously suppressedas in America-and nowhere else was there such a deep interest in it.
　　The Reverend Foster had in common with almost every great religious leaderof that planet two traits: he had an extremely magnetic personality(.hypnotist“ was a word widely used by his detractors, along with others lessmild) and, sexually, he did not fall anywhere near the human norm. Greatreligious leaders on Earth were always either celibate, or the antithesis.
　　(Great leaders, the innovators-not necessarily the major administrators andconsolidators.) Foster was not celibate.
　　Nor were any of his wives and high priestesses-the clincher for completeconversion and rebirth under the New Revelation usually included a ritualwhich Valentine Michael Smith at a later time was to grok as especially suitedfor growing-closer.
　　This, of course, was nothing new; in Terran history sects, cults, and majorreligions too numerous to list had used essentially the same technique-butnot on a major scale in America before Foster’s times. Foster was run out oftown more than once before he .perfected“ a method and organization thatpermitted him to expand his capric cult. In organization he borrowed asliberally from freemasonry, from Catholicism, from the Communist Party, andfrom Madison Avenue as he had borrowed from any and all earlier scripturesin composing his New Revelation . . . and he sugar-coated it all as a return toprimitive Christianity to suit his customers. He set up an outer church whichanybody could attend-and a person could remain a .seeker“ with manybenefits of the church for years. Then there was a middle church, which to alloutward appearance was .The Church of the New Revelation,“ the happysaved, who paid their tithes, enjoyed all economic benefits of the church’sever-widening business tie-ins, and whooped it up in the endless carnival &revival atmosphere of Happiness, Happiness, Happiness! Their sins wereforgiven-and henceforth very little was sinful as long as they supported theirchurch, dealt honestly with their fellow Fosterites, condemned sinners, andstayed Happy. The New Revelation does not specifically encourage adultery;it simply gets rather mystical in discussing sexual conduct.
　　The saved of the middle church supplied the ranks of the shock troops whendirect action was needed. Foster borrowed a trick from the early-twentiethcenturyWobblies; if a community tried to suppress a budding Fosteritemovement, Fosterites from elsewhere converged on that town until therewere neither jails nor cops enough to cope with them- and the cops usuallyhad had their ribs kicked in and the jails were smashed.
　　If some prosecutor were brave enough to push an indictment thereafter, itwas almost impossible to make it stick. Foster (after learning his lesson underfire) saw to it that such prosecutions were indeed persecution under the letterof the law; not one Conviction of a Fosterite qua Fosterite ever was upheld bythe national Supreme Court-nor, later, by the High Court.
　　But, in addition to the overt church, there was the Inner Church, never namedas such-a hard core of the utterly dedicated who made up the priesthood, allthe church lay leaders, all keepers of keys and records and makers of policy.
　　They were the .reborn,“ beyond sin, certain of their place in heaven, and soleparticipants of the inner mysteries-and the only candidates for directadmission to Heaven.
　　Foster selected these with great care, doing so personally until the operationgot too big. He looked for men as much like himself as possible and forwomen like his priestess-wives----dynamic, utterly convinced (as he washimself convinced), stubborn, and free (or able to be freed, once their guiltand insecurity was purged) of jealousy in its simplest, most human meaningandall of them potential satyrs and nymphs, as the secret inner church wasthat utterly Dionysian cult that America had never had and for which therewas an enormous potential market.
　　But he was most cautious-if candidates were married, it had to be bothspouses. An unmarried candidate had to be sexually attractive as well assexually aggressive-and he impressed on his priests that the males mustalways equal or exceed in number the females. Nowhere is it admitted thatFoster had studied the histories of earlier, somewhat parallel cults in Americabut he either knew (or sensed) that most of such had foundered because thepossessive concupiscence of their priestS led to male jealousy and violence.
　　Foster never made this error; not once did he keep a woman entirely tohimself, not even the women he married legally.
　　Nor did he try too eagerly to expand his core group; the middle church, theone known to the public~ offered plenty to slake the milder needs of the greatmasses of guilt-ridden and unhappy. If a local revival produced even twocouples who were capable of .Heavenly Marriage“ Foster was content-if itproduced none, he let the other seeds grow and sent in a salted priest andpriestess to nurture them.
　　But, so far as possible, he always tested candidate couples himself, incompany with some devoted priestess. Since such a couple was already.saved“ insofar as the middle church was concerned, he ran little risk- none,really, with the woman candidate and he always sized up the man himselfbefore letting his priestess go ahead.
　　At the time she was saved, Patricia Paiwonsi was still young, married, and.very happy, very happy.“ She had her first child, she looked up to andadmired her much older husband. George Paiwoüski was a generous, veryaffectionate man. He did have one weakness, which often left him too drunkto show his affection after a long day . . . but his tattooing needle was stillsteady and his eye sharp. Patty counted herself a faithful wife and, on thewhole, a lucky one-true, George occasionally got affectionate with a femaleclient . . . quite affectionate if it was early in the day-and, of course, sometattooing required privacy, especially with ladies. Patty was tolerant . . .
　　besides, she sometimes herself made a date with a male client, especiallyafter George got to hitting the bottle more and more.
　　Nevertheless there was a lack in her life, one which was not filled even whenan especially grateful client made her the odd gift of a bull snake- shippingout on a freighter, he said, and couldn’t keep it any longer. She had alwaysliked pets and had none of the vulgar phobia about snakes; she made ahome for it in their show window facing the street, and George made abeautiful four-color picture to back it up: .Don’t Tread on Me!“ His new designturned out to be very popular.
　　Preseutly she had more snakes and they were quite a comfort to her. But shewas the daughter of an Ulster Protestant and a girl from Cork; the armedtruce between her parents had left her with no religion.
　　She was already a .seeker“ when Foster preached in san Pedro; she hadmanaged to get George to go a few Sundays but he had not yet seen thelight.
　　Foster brought them the light, they made their confessions the same day.
　　When Foster returned six months later for a quick check on how his branchwas doing, the Paiwonskis were so dedicated that he gave them personalattention.
　　.I never had a minute’s trouble with George from the day he saw the holylight,“ she told Mike and Jill- .Of course, he still drank ... but he drank inchurch and never too much. When our holy leader returned, George hadalready started his Great Project. Naturally we wanted to show it to Foster, ifhe could find time-. Mrs. Paiwonski hesitated. .Kids, I really ought not to betelling you any of this.“.Then don’t,“ sill said emphatically .Patty darling, neither of us want you everto do or say anything you don’t feel easy about. .Sharing water’ has to beeasy and natural . . and waiting until it comes easy for you is easy for us.“.Uh ... but I do want to share it. Look, darlings, I trust you both utterly. But Ijust want you to remember that this is Church things Pm telling you, so youmustn’t ever tell anyone . . . just as I wouldn’t tell anything about you.“Mike nodded. .Here on Earth we sometimes call it .water brother’ business.
　　On Mars there’s no problem . . . but here I grok that there sometimes is.
　　~Water brother’ business you don’t repeat.“.I...I,’Grok.’ That’s a funny word, but I’m learning it, All right, darlings, this is.water brother’ business. Did you know that all Fosterites are tattooed? RealChurch members I mean, the ones who are eternally saved forever and everand a day-like me? Oh, I don’t mean tattooed all over, the way I am, but-look,see that? Right over my heart . . . see? That’s Foster’s holy kiss. Georgeworked it into the design so that it looks like part of the picture it’s in ... so thatnobody could guess unless I told .em. But it’s his kiss-and Foster put it therehisselfi“ She looked ecstatically proud.
　　They both examined it. .It is a kiss mark,“ Jill said wonderingly. .Just likesomebody had kissed you there wearing lipstick. But, until you showed us, Ithought it was part of that sunset.“.Yes, indeedy, that’s why George did it. Because you don’t go showingFoster’s kiss to anyone who doesn’t wear Foster’s kiss-and I never have, upto now. But,“ she insisted, .I’m sure you’re going to wear one, both of you,someday-and when you do, I want to be the one to tattoo .em on.“Jill said, .I don’t quite understand, Patty. I can see that it’s wonderful for youto have been kissed by Foster-but how can he ever kiss us? After all, he’s-upin Heaven.“.Yes, dearie, he is. But let me explain. Any ordained priest or priestess cangive you Foster’s kiss. It means God’s in your heart. God is part of you . . .
　　forever.“Mike was suddenly intent. .Thou art God!“.Huh, Michael? Well, that is a strange way to say it-I’ve never heard a priestput it quite that way. But that does sort of express it . . . God is in you and ofyou and with you, and the Devil can’t ever get at you.“.Yes,“ agreed Mike. .You grok God.“ He thought happily that this was nearerto putting the concept across than he had ever managed before except thatJill was learning it, in Martian. Which was inevitable. .That’s the idea,Michael. God ... groks you-and you are married in Holy Love and eternalHappiness to His Church. The priest, or maybe priestess-it can be eitherkissesyou and then the kiss mark is tattooed on to show that it’s forever. Ofcourse it doesn’t have to be this big-mine is just exactly the size and shape ofFoster’s blessed tips-and the kiss can be placed anywhere to shield fromsinful eyes. Lots of men have a patch of skull shaved and then wear a hat ora bandage until the hair grows out. Or any spot where it’s blessed certain itwon’t be seen unless you want it to be. You mustn’t sit or stand on it-butanywhere else is okay. Then you show it when you go into a closedHappiness gathering of the eternally saved.“.I’ve heard of Happiness meetings,“ Jill commented, .but I’ve never knownquite what they are.“.Well,“ Mrs. Paiwonski said judicially, .there are Happiness meetings andHappiness meetings. The ones for ordinary members, who are saved butmight backslide, are an awful lot of fun-grand parties with only the amount ofpraying that comes natural and happily, and plenty of whoopit-up that makesa good party. Maybe, even, a little real lovin’-but that’s frowned on there andyou’d better be mighty careful who and how, because you mustn’t be a seedof dissension among the brethren. The Church is way strict about keepingthings in their proper place.
　　.But a Happiness meeting for the eternally saved-well, you don’t have to becareful because there won’t be anybody there who can sin-all past and donewith, If you want to drink and pass out . . . okay, it’s God’s will or you wouldn’twant to. You want to kneel down and pray, or lift up your voice in song-Ortear off your clothes and dance; it’s God’s will. Although,“ she added, .youmight not have any clothes on at all, because there can’t possibly beanybody there who would see anything wrong in it.“.It sounds like quite a party,“ said Jill.
　　.Oh, it is, it is-always! And you’re filled with heavenly bliss the whole time.
　　And if you wake up in the morning on a couch with one of the eternally savedbrethren, you know he’s there because God willed it to make you allblessedly Happy. And you are. They’ve all got Foster’s kiss on -they’reyours.“ She frowned slightly. .It feels a little like .sharing water.’ Youunderstand me?“.I grok,“ agreed Mike.
　　(.Mike?!!?“)(.Wait, Jill. Wait for fullness.“).But don’t think,“ Patricia said earnestly, .that a person can get into an InnerTemple Happiness meeting just with a little tattoo mark-after all, it’s too easyto fake. A visiting brother or sister- Well, take me. As soon as I know wherethe carnie is going, I write to the local churches and send .em my finger printsso they can check .em against the master file of the eternally saved atArchangel Foster Tabernacle_-unless they already know me. I give .em myaddress care of Billboard. Then when I go to church-and I always go tochurch Sundays and I would never miss a Happiness meeting even if itmeans Tim has to slough the blow-off some nights-I go first time and getpositively identified. Most places they’re mighty glad to see me; I’m an addedattraction, with my unique and unsurpassed sacred pictures-I often spendmost of the evening just letting people examine me . . . and every minute of itbliss. Sometimes the priest wants me to bring Honey Bun and I do Eve andthe serpent-that takes body make-up, of course, or skin-colored tights if thereisn’t time. Some local brother plays Adam and we get scourged out of theGarden of Eden, and the local priest explains the real meaning, not all thetwisted lies you hear-and we end by regaining our blessed innocence andhappiness, and that’s certain to get the party realLy rolling. Joy!“She added, .But everybody is atways interested in my Foster’s kiss,Because, since he went back to Heaven almost twenty years ago now andthe Church has increased and flourished, not too many of us have a Foster’skiss that wasn’t laid on by proxy-I always have the Tabernacle testify to that,too. And I tell them about it. Uh-.
　　Mrs. Paiwonski hesitated, then told them about it, in explicit detail-and Jillwondered where her admittedly limited ability to blush had gone? Then shegrokked that Mike and Patty were two of a kind-God’s innocents, unable tobe anything else, no matter what they did. She wished, for Patty’s sake, thatthis preposterous mishmash were really true, that Foster had really been aholy prophet who had saved her for eternal bliss.
　　But Foster! God’s Wounds, what a travesty! Then suddenly, through hergreatly improved recall, Jill was standing back in a room with a wall of glassand looking into Foster’s dead eyes. But, in her mind, he seemed alive andshe felt a shiver in her loins and wondered what she would have done ifFoster himself had offered her his holy kiss-and his holy self?
　　She shut it out of her mind, but not before Mike had caught much of it. Shefelt him smile, with knowing innocence.
　　She stood up. .Pattycake darling, what time do you have to be back at thelot?“.Oh dear! I should be back this blessed minutel“.Why? The show doesn’t roll until nine-thirty.“.Well ... Honey Bun misses me...and she’s jealous if I stay out late.“.Can’t you tell her that it’s a Happiness meeting night?“.Uh...The older woman gathered Jill in her arms. .It is! It certainly is!“.Good. Then I’m going to get a certain amount of sleep-Jill is bushed, believeme. What time do you have to be up, then?“.Uh, if I’m back on the lot by eight, I can get Sam to tear down my living topand have time to make sure that my babies are loaded safely.“.Breakfast?“.I don’t eat breakfast right away, I’ll get it on the train. Just coffee when Iwake up, usually.“.We can make that right here in the room. I’ll see that you’re up. Now youdears stay up and talk religion as long as you like; I won’t let you oversleep-ifyou sleep. Mike doesn’t sleep.“.Not at all?“.Never. He sort of curls up and thinks a while, if he’s got something to thinkabout-but he doesn’t sleep.“Mrs. Paiwonski nodded solemnly. .Another sign. I know it-and, Michael,some day you will know. Your call will come.“.Maybe,“ agreed Jill. .Mike, I’m falling asleep. Pop me into bed. Please?“ Shewas lifted, wafted into the bedroom, the covers rolled back by invisible handsshewas asleep before he covered her.
　　Jill woke up, as she had planned, exactly at seven. Mike had a clock in hishead, too, but his was quite erratic so far as Earth calendars and times wereconcerned; it vibrated to another need. She slipped out of bed, put her headinto the other room. Lights were out and the shades were tight; it was quitedark. But they were not asleep. Jill heard Mike say with soft certainty:
　　.Thou art God.“.’Thou art God’-. Patricia whispered back in a voice as heavy as ifdrugged.
　　.Yes. Jill is God.“.Jill ... is God. Yes, Michael.“.And thou art God.“.Thou-are God. Now, Michael, now!“Jill went very softly back in and quietly brushed her teeth. Presently she letMike know in her mind that she was awake and found, as she expected, thathe knew it. When she came back into the living room, shades were up andmorning sun was streaming in. .Good morning, darlings!“ She kissed themboth.
　　.Thou art God,“ Patty said simply.
　　.Yes, Patty. And thou art God. God is in all of us.“ She looked at Patty in theharsh, bright morning light and noted that her new brother did not look tired.
　　She looked as if she had had a full night of sleep and some extra - . . andlooked younger and sweeter than ever. Well, she knew that effect-if Mikewanted to stay up, instead of reading or thinking all night, Jill never found itany trouble . . and she suspected that her own sudden sleepiness the nightbefore had been Mike’s idea, too - and heard Mike agree in his mind that itwas.
　　.Now coffee for both you darlings-and me, too. And I just happen to havestashed away a redipak of orange juice, too.“They breakfasted lightly, filled out with happiness. Jill saw Patty lookingthoughtful. .What is it, dear?“.Uh, I hate to mention this-but what are you kids going to eat on? Happensthat Aunt Patty has a pretty well stuffed grouch bag and I thought-.
　　Jill laughed. .Oh, darling, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to laugh. But the Man fromMars is rich! Surely you know that? Or don’t you ever read the news?“Mrs. Paiwonski looked baffled. .Well, I guess I knew-that way. But you can’ttrust anything you hear over the news.“Jill sighed. .Patty, you’re an utter darling. And believe me, now that we’rewater brothers, we wouldn’t hesitate an instant to mipose on you- .sharing thenest’ isn’t just poetry. But it happens to be the other way around. If you everneed money-it doesn’t matter how much; we can’t use it up-just say so. Anyamount. Any time. Write to me-or better yet, call me-because Mike doesn’thave the foggiest idea about money. Why, dear, I’ve got a couple of hundredthousand dollars in a checking account in my name right this minute. Wantsome of it?“Mrs. Paiwonski looked startled, something she had not looked since Mikehad caused her costume to go away. .Bless mel No, I don’t need money.“Jill shrugged. .If you ever do, just holler. We can’t possibly spend it all andthe government won’t let Mike give it away. At least, not much of it. If youwant a yacht- Mike would enjoy giving you a yacht.“.I certainly would, Pat. I’ve never seen a yacht.“Mrs. Paiwonski shook her head. .Don’t take me up on a tall mountain, dearie-I’ve never wanted much ... and all I want from you two is your love-.
　　.You have that,“ Jill told her.
　　.I don’t grok .love’,“ Mike said seriously. .But Jill always speaks rightly. Ifwe’ve got it, it’s yours.“.-and to know that you’re both saved. But I’m no longer worried about that.
　　Mike has told me about waiting, and why waiting is. You understand me,Jill?“.I grok. I’m no longer impatient about anything.“.But I do have something for you two.“ The tattooed lady got up and crossedto where she had left her purse, took a book out of it. She came back, stoodclose to them. .My dear ones ... this is the very copy of the New Revelationthat Blessed Foster gave me . . . the night he placed his kiss on me. I wantyou to have it.“Jill’s eyes suddenly filled with tears and she felt herself choking. .But, AuntPatty-Patty our brother! We can’t take this one. Not this one. We’ll buy one.“.No. It’s ...it’s .water’ I’m sharing with you. For growing-closer.“.Oh-. Jill jumped up. .We’ll take it. But it’s ours now-all of us.“ Shekissed her.
　　Presently Mike tapped her on the shoulder. .Greedy little brother. Myturn.“.I’ll always be greedy, that way.“The Man from Mars kissed his new brother first on her mouth, then pausedand gently kissed the spot where Foster had kissed her. Then he pondered,briefly by Earth time, picked a corresponding spot on the other side where hesaw that George’s design could be matched well enough for his purpose-kissed her there while he thought by stretched-out time and in great detailwhat he wanted to accomplish. It was necessary to grok the capillaries- Tothe other two, subject and spectator, he simply gently and briefly pressed hislips to the garishly decorated skin. But Jill caught a hint of the effort he hadexerted and looked. .Patty! See!“Mrs. Paiwonski looked down at herself. Marked on her skin, paired stigmatain blood red, were his lips. She started to faint-then showed the depth of herown staunch faith. .Yes. Yes! Michael-.
　　Most shortly thereafter the tattooed lady had disappeared, replaced by arather mousy housewife in high neck, long sleeves and gloves. .I won’t cry,“she said soberly, .and it’s not good-by; there are no good-bys in eternity. ButI will be waiting.“ She kissed them both, briefly, left without looking back.
Chapter 28
BLASPHEMY!“Foster looked up. .Something bite you, Junior?“ This temporary annex hadbeen run up in a hurry and Things did get in-swarms of almost invisible impsusually - . . harmless, of course, but a bite from one left an itch on the ego.
　　.Uh ... you’d have to see it to believe it-here, I’ll run the omniscio back atouch.“.You’d be surprised at what I can believe, Junior.“ Nevertheless Digby’ssupervisor shifted a part of his attention. Three temporals-humans, he sawthey were; a man and two women-speculating about the eternal. Nothing oddabout that. .Yes?“.You heard what she said! The .Archangel Michael’ indeed!“.What about it?“.’What about it?’ Oh, for God’s sake!“.Very possibly.“Digby was so indignant that his halo quivered. .Foster, you must not havetaken a good look. She meant that over-age juvenile delinquent that sent meto the showers. Scan it again.“Foster let the gain increase, noted that the angel-in-training had spokenrightly-and noticed something else and smiled his angelic smile. .How do youknow he isn’t, Junior?“.Huh?“.I haven’t seen Mike around the Club lately and I recall that his name hasbeen scratched on the Millennial Solipsist Tournament-that’s a Sign that he’slikely away on detached duty, as Mike is one of the most eager Solipsismplayers in this sector.“.But the notion’s obscene!“.You’d be surprised how many of the Boss’s best ideas have been called.obscene’ in some quarters-or, rather, you should not be surprised, in view ofyour field work. But .obscene’ is a concept you don’t need; it has notheological meaning. .To the pure all things are pure.’“.But-.
　　.I’m still Witnessing, Junior. You listen. In addition to the fact that our brotherMichael seems to be away at this micro-instant-and I don’t keep track of him;we’re not on the same Watch list-that tattooed lady who made that oracularpronouncement is not likely to be mistaken; she’s a very holy temporalherself.“.Who says?“.I say. I know.“ Foster smiled again with angelic sweetness. Dear littlePatricia! Getting a little long in the tooth now but still Earthily desirable-andshining with an inner light that made her look like a stained glass window. Henoted without temporal pride that George had finished his great dedicationsince he had last looked at Patricia-and that picture of his being called up toHeaven wasn’t bad, not bad at all, in the Higher sense. He must remember tolook up George and compliment him on it, and tell him he had seen Patriciahnun,where was George? A creative artist in the universe design sectionworking right under the Architect, as he recalled-no matter, the master filewould dig him out in a split millennium.
　　What a delicious little butterball Patricia had been and such holy frenzy! Ifshe had had just a touch more assertiveness and a touch less humility hecould have made her a priestess. But such was Patricia’s need to acceptGod according to her own nature that she could have qualified only amongthe Lingayats . . . where she wasn’t needed. Foster considered scanningback and seeing her as she had been, decided against it with angelicrestraint; there was work to be done- .Forget the omniscio, Junior. I want aWord with you.“ Digby did so and waited. Foster twanged his halo, anannoying habit he had when he was meditating. .Junior, you aren’t shapingup too angelically.“.I’m sorry.“.Sorrow is not for eternity. But the Truth is you’ve been preoccupied with thatyoung fellow who may or may not be our brother Michael. Now wait- In thefirst place it is not for you to Judge the instrument used to call you from thepasture. In the second place it is not he who vexes you-you hardly knew himwhat’sbothering you is that little brunette secretary you had. She had earnedmy Kiss quite some temporal period before you were called. Hadn’t she?“.I was still testing her.“.Then no doubt you have been angelically pleased to note that SupremeBishop Short, after giving her a most thorough examination himself-oh, verythorough; I told you he would measure up-has passed her and she nowenjoys the wider Happiness she deserves. Mmmm, a shepherd should takejoy in his work . . . but when he’s promoted, he should take joy in that, too.
　　Now it just happens I know there is a spot open for a Guardian-in-Training ina new sector being opened up-a job under your nominal rank, I concede, butgood angelic experience. This planet-well, you can think of it as a planet;you’ll see-is occupied by a race of tripolaxity instead of bipolarity and I have iton High Authority that Don Juan himself could not manage to take Earthlyinterest in any of their three polarities . . . that’s not an opinion; he wasborrowed as a test. He screamed, and prayed to be returned to the solitaryhell he has created for himself.“.Going to send me out to Flatbush, huh? So I won’t interfere!“.Tut, tut! You can’t interfere-the one Impossibility that permits all else to bepossible; I tried to tell you that when you arrived. But don’t let it fret you; youare eternally permitted to try. Your orders will include a loop so that you willcheck back at here-now without any loss of temporality. Now fly away andget cracking; I have work to do.“ Foster turned back to where he had beeninterrupted. Oh, yes, a poor soul temporally designated as .Alice Douglas“-tobe a goad was a hard assignment at best and she had met it unflaggingly.
　　But her job was complete and now she would need rest and rehabilitationfrom the inescapable battle fatigue . . . she’d be kiclthig and screaming andfoaming ectoplasm at all orifices.
　　Oh, she would need a thorough exorcism after a job that rough! But theywere all rough; they couldn’t be anything else. And .Alice Douglas“ was anutterly reliable field operative; she could take any left-hand assignment aslong as it was essentially virginal-burn her at the stake or put her in anunnery; she always delivered.
　　Not that he cared much for virgins, other than with professional respect forany job well done. Foster sneaked a quick last look at Mrs. Paiwonski. Therewas a fellow worker he could appreciate. Darling little Patricia! What ablessed, lusty benison
Chapter 29
AS THE DOOR OF THEIR SUITE closed itself behind Patricia Paiwonski, Jillsaid, .What now, Mike?“.We’re leaving. Jill, you’ve read some abnormal psychology.“.Yes, of course. In training. Not as much as you have, I know.“.Do you know the symbolism of tattooing? And snakes?“.Of course. I knew that about Patty as soon as I met her. I had been hopingthat you would find a way.“.I couldn’t, until we were water brothers. Sex is necessary, sex is a helpfulgoodness-but only if it is sharing and growing closer. I grok that if I did itwithout growing closer-well, I’m not sure.“.I grok that you would learn that you couldn’t, Mike. That is one of thereasons-one of the many reasons-I love you.“He looked worried. .I still don’t grok .love.’ Jill, I don’t grok .people.’ Not evenyou. But I didn’t want to send Pat away.“.Stop her. Keep her with us.“(.Waiting is, Jill.“)(.I know.“)He added aloud, .Besides, I doubt if I could give her all she needs. Shewants to give herself all the time, to everybody. Even her Happinessmeetings and her snakes and the marks aren’t enough for Pat. She wants tooffer herself on an altar to everybody in the world, always-and make themhappy. This New Revelation . . . I grok that it is a lot of other things to otherpeople. But that is what it is to Pat.“.Yes, Mike. Dear Mike.“.Time to leave. Pick the dress you want to wear and get your purse. I’lldispose of the rest of the trash.“Jill thought somewhat sadly that she would like, sometimes, to take along justone or two things. But Mike always moved on with just the clothes on hisback-and seemed to grok that she preferred it that way, too. .I’ll wear thatpretty blue one.“It floated out to her, poised itself over her, wriggled down onto her as sheheld up her hands; the zipper closed. Shoes to suit it walked toward her,waited while she stepped into them. .I’m ready, Mike.“Mike had caught the wistful flavor of her thought, but not the concept; it wastoo alien to Martian ideas. .Jill? Do you want to stop and get married?“She thought about it. .We couldn’t, today, Mike. It’s Sunday. We couldn’tget a license.“.Tomorrow, then. I will remember. I grok that you would like it.“She thought about it. .No, Mike.“.Why not, Jill?“.Two reasons. One, we couldn’t be any closer through it, because we alreadyshare water. That’s logic, both in English and in Martian. Yes?“.Yes.“.And two, a reason valid just in English. I wouldn’t have Dorcas and Anneand Miriam-and Patty-think that I was trying to crowd them out and one ofthem might think so.“.No, Jill, none of them would think so.“.Well, I won’t chance it, because I don’t need it. Because you married me in ahospital room ages and ages ago. Just because you were the way you are.
　　Before I even guessed it.“ She hesitated. .But there is something you mightdo for me.“.What, Jill?“.Well, you might call me pet names occasionally! The way I do you.“.Yes, Jill. What pet names?“.Oh!“ She kissed him quickly. .Mike, you’re the sweetest, most lovable manI’ve ever met-and the most infuriating creature on two planets! Don’t botherwith pet names. Just call me .little brother’ occasionally...it makes me go allquivery inside.“.Yes, Little Brother.“.Oh, my! Now get decent fast and let’s get out of here-before I take you backto bed. Come on. Meet me at the desk; I’ll be paying the bill.“ She left verysuddenly.
　　They went to the town’s station flat and caught the first Greyhound goinganywhere. A week or two later they stopped at home, shared water for acouple of days, left again without saying good-by—or, rather, Mike did not;saying good-by was one human custom Mike stubbornly resisted and neverused with his own. He used it formally with strangers under circumstances inwhich Jill required him to.
　　Shortly they were in Las Vegas, stopping in an unfashionable hotel near butnot on the Strip. Mike tried all the games in all the casinos while Jill filled inthe time as a show girl-gambling bored her. Since she couldn’t sing or danceand had no act, standing or parading slowly in a tall improbable hat, a smile,and a scrap of tinsel was the job best suited to her in the Babylon of theWest. She preferred to work if Mike was busy and, somehow, Mike couldalways get her the job she picked out. Since the casinos never closed, Mikewas busy almost all their time in Las Vegas.
　　Mike was careful not to win too much in any one casino, keeping to limits Jillset for him. After he had milked each one for a few thousand he carefully putit all back, never letting himself be the big-money player at any game,whether winning or losing. Then he took a job as a croupier, studying people,trying to grok why they gambled. He grokked unclearly a drive in many of thegamblers that seemed to be intensely sexual in nature-but he seemed to grokwrongness in this. He kept the job quite a while, letting always the little ballroll without interference.
　　Jill was amused to discover that the customers in the palatial theaterrestaurant where she worked were just marks . . . marks with more moneybut still marks. She discovered something about herself, too; she enjoyeddisplaying herself, as long as she was safe from hands that she did not wantto grab her. With her steadily increasing Martian honesty she examined thisnewly uncovered facet in herself. In the past, while she had known that sheenjoyed being admired, she had sincerely believed that she wanted it onlyfrom a select few and usually only from one-she had been irked at thediscovery, now long past, that the sight of her physical being really didn’tmean anything to Mike even though he had been and remained asaggressively and tenderly devoted to her physically as a woman could dreamof-il he wasn’t preoccupied.
　　And he was even generous about that, she reminded herself. If she wished,he would always let her call him out of his deepest withdrawal trances, shiftgears without complaint and be smiling and eager and loving.
　　Nevertheless, there it was-one of his strangenesses, like his inability tolaugh. Jill decided, after her initiation as a show girl, that she enjoyed beingvisually admired because that was the one thing Mike did not give her.
　　But her own perfecting self-honesty and steadily growing empathy did notallow that theory to stand. The male half of the audience always had that tobe-expected high percentage who were too old, too fat, too bald, and ingeneral too far gone along the sad road of entropy to be likely to be attractiveto a female of Jill’s youth, beauty, and fastidiousness-she had always beenscornful of .lecherous old wolves“-althOugh not of old men per se, shereminded herself in her own defense; Jubal could look at her, even use crudelanguage in deliberate indecencies, and not give her the slightest feeling thathe was anxious to get her alone and grope her. She was so serenely sure ofJubal’s love for her and its truly spiritual nature that she told herself that shecould easily share a bed with him, go right to sieep-and be sure that be wouldalso, with only the goodnight peck she always gave him.
　　But now she found that these unattractive males did not set her teeth onedge. When she felt their admiring stares or even their outright lust- and shefound that she did feel it, could even identify the source-she did not resent it;it warmed her and made her feel smugly pleased.
　　.Exhibitionism“ had been to her simply a word used in abnormal psychologyaneurotic weakness she had held in contempt. Now, in digging out her ownand looking at it, she decided that either this form of narcissism was normal,or she was abnormal and had not known it. But she didn’t feel abnormal; shefelt healthy and happy-healthier than she had ever been. She had beenalways of better than average health-nurses need to be-but she hadn’t had asniffle nor even an upset stomach in she couldn’t remember when . . . why,she thought wonderingly, not even cramps.
　　Okay, she was healthy-and if a healthy woman liked to be looked at-and notas a side of beefi-then it follows as the night from day that healthy menshould like to look at them, else there was just no darn sense to itl At whichpoint she finally understood, intellectually, Duke and his pictures . . . andbegged his pardon in her mind.
　　She discussed it with Mike, tried to explain her changed viewpoint- not easy,since Mike could not understand why Jill had ever minded being looked at, atany time, by anyone. Not wishing to be touched he understood; Mike avoidedshaking hands if he could do so without offense, he wanted to touch and betouched only by water brothers (Jill wasn’t sure just how far this includedmale water brothers in Mike’s mind; she had explained homosexuality tOhim, after he had read about it and failed to grok it-and had given himpractical rules for avoiding even the appearance thereof and how to keepsuch passes from being made at him, since she assumed correctly that Mike,pretty as he was, would attract such passes. He had followed her advice andhad set about making his face more masculine, instead of the androgynousbeauty he had first had. Nevertheless Jill was not sure that Mike would refusesuch an invitation from, say, Duke-but fortunately Mike’s male water brotherswere all decidedly masculine men, just as his others were very femalewomen. Jill hoped that it would stay that way; she suspected that Mike wouldgrok a .wrongness“ in the poor in-betweeners anyhow-they would never beoffered water.)Nor could Mike understand why it now pleased her to be stared at. The onlytime when their two attitudes had been even roughly similar had been as theyleft the carnival, when Jill had discovered that she had become indifferent tostares-willing to do their act .stark naked,“ as she had told Patty, if it wouldhelp.
　　Jill saw that her present self-knowledge had been nascent at that point; shehad never been truly indifferent to masculine stares. Under the uniquenecessities of adjusting to life with the Man from Mars she had been forced toshuck off part of her artificial, training-imposed persona, that degree ofladylike prissiness a nurse can retain despite the rigors of an unusually nononsenseprofession. But Jill hadn’t known that she had any prissiness tolose until she lost it.
　　Of course, Jill was even more of a .lady“ than ever-but she preferred to thinkof herself as a .gent.“ But she was no longer able to conceal from herconscious mind (nor had any wish to) that there was something inside her ashappily shameless as a tabby in heat going into her belly dance for theenticement of the neighborhood toms.
　　She tried to explain all this to Mike, giving him her theory of thecomplementary and functional nature of narcissist display and voyeurism,with herself and Duke as clinical examples. .The truth is, Mike, that I find I geta real kick out of having all those men stare at me . . . lots of men and almostany man. So now I grok why Duke likes to have lots of pictures of women,the sexier the better. Same thing, only in reverse. It doesn’t mean that I wantto go to bed with them, any more than Duke wants to go to bed with aphotograph-ShUcks~ dearest, I don’t even want to say hello to them. Butwhen they look at me and tell me-think at me-that I’m desirable, it gives me atingle, a warm pleasant feeling right in my middle.“ She frowned slightly. .Youknow, I think I ought to get a real naughty picture taken of me and send it toDuke. Just to tell him that I’m sorry I snooted him and failed to grok what Ithought was a weakness in him, If it’s a weakness, I’ve got it, too-but girlstyle. If it is a weakness- But I grok it isn’t.“.All right. We’ll find a photographer in the morning.“She shook her head. .I’ll simply apologize to Duke the next time we go home,I wouldn’t actually send such a picture to Duke. He has never made a pass atme-and I don’t want him getting ideas.“.Jill, you would not want Duke?“She heard an echo of .water brother“ in his mind. .11mm truthfully I’ve neverreally thought about it. I guess I’ve been .being faithful’ to you-not that it hasbeen an effort. But I grok you speak rightly; I wouldn’t turn Duke down-and Iwould enjoy it, too. What do you think of that darling?“.I grok a goodness,“ Mike said seriously.
　　.Hmm ... my gallant Martian, there are times when we human femalesappreciate at least a semblance of jealousy-but I don’t think there is theslightest chance that you will ever grok .jealousy.’ Darling, what would yougrok if one of those marks-those men in the audience, not a water brothermadea pass at me?“Mike barely smiled. .I grok he would be missing.“.Mmm ... I grok he might be, too. But, Mike-listen to me carefully, dear. Youpromised me that you wouldn’t do anything of that sort except in utteremergency. So don’t be hasty. If you hear me scream and shout, and reachinto my mind and know that I’m in real trouble, that’s another matter. But Iwas coping with wolves when you were still on Mars. Nine times out often, ifa girl gets raped, it’s at least partly her own fault. That tenth time-well, allright. Give him your best heave-ho to the bottomless pit. But you aren’t goingto find it necessary.“.All right, I will remember. I wish you were sending that naughty picture toDuke.“.What, dear? I will if you want me to. It’s just that if I ever make a pass atDuke-and I might, now that you’ve put the idea into my little pointy head-I’drather grab his shoulders and look him in the eye and say, .Duke, how aboutit?-I’m willing.’ I don’t want to do it by sending him a naughty picture throughthe mail, like those nasty women used to send to you. But if you want me to,okay. Uh, I needn’t make it too naughty-I could make it obviously a showgirl’s professional picture and tell him what I’m doing and ask him if he hasroom for it in his scrap book. He might not take it as a pass.“Mike frowned. .I spoke incompletely. If you wish to send Duke a naughtypicture, do so. If you do not wish, then do not. But I had hoped to see thenaughty picture taken. Jill, what is a .naughty’ picture?“Mike was baffled by the whole idea-Jill’s reversal from an attitude that he hadnever understood but bad learned to accept into exactly the opposite attitudeof pleasure-sexual pleasure, he understood-at being stared at . . . plus a thirdand long-standing bafflement at Duke’s .art“ collection-it certainly was not art.
　　But the pale, wan Martian thing which parallels tumultuous human sexualitygave him no foundation for grokking either narcissism or voyeurism, modestyor display.
　　He added, .“Naughty’ means a wrongness, usually a small wrongness, but Igrokked that you did not mean even a small wrongness, but a goodness.“ anaughty picture could be either one, I guess-depending on who it’s for-nowthat I’m over some prejudice. But- Mike, I’ll have to show you; I can’t tell you.
　　But first close those slats, will you?“The Venetian blinds flipped themselves shut. .All right,“ she said. .Now thispose would be just a little bit naughty-any of the show girls would use it as aprofessional pic . . . and this one is just a little bit more so, some of the girlswould use it. But this one is unmistakably naughty and this one is quitenaughty . . . and this one is so extremely naughty that I wouldn’t pose for itwith my face wrapped in a towel- unless you wanted it.“.But if your face was covered, why would I want it?“.Ask Duke. That’s all I can say.“He continued to look puzzled. .I grok not wrongness, I grok not goodness. Igrok-. He used a Martian word indicating a null state of all emotions.
　　But he was interested because he was so baffled; they went on discussing it,in Martian as much as possible because of its extremely fine discriminationsfor emotions and values-and in English, too, because Martian. rich as it is,simply couldn’t cope with the concepts.
　　Mike showed up at a ringside table that night, Jill having coached him in howto bribe the ma.tre d’h.tel to give him such a spot; he was determined topursue this mystery. Jill was not averse. She came strutting out in the firstproduction number, her smile for everyone but a quick wink for Mike as sheturned and her eyes passed across his. She discovered that, with Mikepresent, the warm, pleased sensation she had been enjoying nightly wasgreatly amplified-she suspected that, if the lights were out, she would glow inthe dark.
　　When the parade stopped and the girls formed a tableau, Mike was no morethan ten feet from her-she had been promoted her first week to a frontposition. The director had looked her over on her fourth day with the showand had said, .I don’t know what it is, kid. We’ve got girls around townbegging for just any job with twice the shape you’ve got-but when the lightshit you, you’ve got what the customers look at. Okay, I’m moving you upwhere they can see better. The standard raise . . . and I still don’t know why.“She posed and talked with Mike in her mind. (.Feel anything?“)(.I grok but not in fullness.’)(.Look where I am looking, my brother. The small one. He quivers. Hethirsts for me.’)(.I grok his thirst .)(.Can you see him?“) Jill stared straight into the customer’s eyes and gavehim a warm smile . . . not alone to increase his interest in her but also to letMike use her eyes, if possible. As her grokking of Martian thought hadincreased and as they had grown steadily closer in other ways they hadbegun to be able to use this common Martian convenience. Not fully as yet,but with increasing ease-Jill had no control over it; Mike could see throughher eyes simply by calling to her, she could see through his only if he gave ithis attention.
　　(.We grok him together,“ Mike agreed. (.Great thirst for my little brother.“)(.!!!!“)(.Yes. Beautiful agony.“)A music cue told Jill to break her pose and resume her slow strut. She did so,moving with proud sensuousness and feeling lust boil up in herself inresponse to emotions she was getting both from Mike and from the stranger.
　　The routine caused her to walk away from Mike and almost toward the ruttylittle stranger, approaching him during her first few steps. She continued tolock eyes with him.
　　At which point something happened which was totally unexpected to herbecause Mike had never explained that it was possible. She had been lettingherself receive as much as possible of the stranger’s emotions, intentionallyteasing him with eyes and body, and relaying what she felt from him back toMike- -when suddenly the circuit was completed and she was looking atherself, seeing herself through strange eyes, much more lavish than sheconsidered herself to be-and feeling the primitive need with which thatstranger saw her.
　　Blindly she stumbled and would have fallen flat had not Mike instantly sensedher hazard, caught her, lifted her, straightened her up, and steadied her untilshe could walk unassisted, second-sight gone.
　　The parade of beauties continued on through exit. Once off stage the girlbehind her said, .What the devil happened to you, Jill?“.Caught my heel.“.Happens. But that was the wildest recovery I ever saw. For a second thereyou looked like a puppet on strings.“(-and so I was, dear, and so I was! But we won’t go into that.) .i’m going toask the stage manager to check that spot. I think there’s a loose board. A galcould break her leg.“For the rest of the show whenever she was on stage Mike gave her quickglimpses of how she looked to various men while always making sure thatshe was not again taken by surprise. Jill was amazed to discover how variedwere their images of her: one noticed only her legs, another seemedfascinated by the undulations of her torso, a third saw only her proud bosom.
　　Then Mike, warning her first, let her look at other girls in the tableaux. Shewas relieved to find that Mike saw them as she saw them-but sharper.
　　But she was amazed to find that her own excitement did not diminish as shelooked at, second hand, the girls around her; it increased.
　　Mike left promptly at the finale, ducking out ahead of the crowd as she hadwarned him to do, She did not expect to see him again that night since hehad asked for relief from his job as croupier only long enough to see his wifein her show. But when she dressed and returned to their hotel room, she felthim inside before she reached the room.
　　The door opened for her, she stepped inside, it closed behind her. .Hello,darling!“ she called out. .How nice you came home!“He smiled gently. .I now grok naughty pictures.“ Her clothes vanished. .Makenaughty pictures.“.Huh? Yes, dear, of course.“ She ran through much the same poses she hadearlier in the day. With each one, as soon as she was in it, Mike let her usehis eyes to see herself. She looked at herself and felt his emotions and felther own swell in response in a closed and mutually amplified re-echoing. Atlast she placed herself in a pose as randily carefree as her imagination coulddevise.
　　.Naughty pictures are a great goodness,“ Mike said gravely.
　　.Yes! And now I grok them, too! What are you waiting for?“They quit their jobs and for the next several days saw as many of the revuesas possible, during which period Jill made still another discovery: she.grokked naughty pictures“ only through a man’s eyes. If Mike watched, shecaught and shared his mood, from quiet sensuous pleasure in a beautifulwoman to fully aroused excitement at times-but if Mike’s attention waselsewhere, the model, dancer, or peeler was just another woman to Jill,possibly pleasant to look at but in no wise exciting. She was likely to getbored and wish mildly that Mike would take her home. But only mildly for shewas now nearly as patient as he was.
　　She pondered this new fact from all sides and decided that she preferred notto be excited by women other than through his eyes. One man gave her allthe problems she could handle and more-to have discovered in herselfunsuspected latent Lesbian tendencies would have been entirely too much.
　　But it certainly was a lot of fun-.a great goodness“-~to see those girls throughhis eyes as he had now learned to see them-and a still greater, ecstaticgoodness to know that, at last, he looked at her herself in the same way . . .
　　only more so.
　　They stopped in Palo Alto long enough for Mike to try (and fail to) swallow allthe Hoover Library in mammoth gulps. The task was mechanicallyimpossible; the scanners could not spin that fast, nor could Mike turn pagesof bound books fast enough to read them all. He gave up and admitted thathe was taking in raw data much faster than he could grok it, even byspending all hours the library was closed in solitary contemplation. With reliefJill moved them to San Francisco and he embarked on a more systematicsearch.
　　She came back to their flat one day to find him sitting, not in trance but doingnothing, and surrounded by books-many books: The Talmud, the Kama-Sutra, Bibles in various versions, the Book of the Dead, the Book of Mormon,Patty’s precious copy of the New Revelation, Apocrypha of various sorts, theKoran, the unabridged Golden Bough, The Way, Science and Health withKey to the Scriptures, the sacred writings of a dozen other religions majorand minor-even such deviant oddities as Crowley’s Book of the Law.
　　.Trouble, dear?“.Jill, I don’t grok.“ He waved his hand at the books. (.Waiting, Michael Waitingfor fullness is~ .).I don’t think waiting will ever fill it. Oh, I know what’s wrong; I’m not really aman, I’m a Martian-a Martian in a body of the wrong shape.“.You’re plenty of man for me, dear-and I love the way your body isshaped.“.Oh, you grok what I’m talking about. I don’t grok people. I don’t understandthis multiplicity of religions. Now among my people-.
　　.Your people, Mike?“.Sorry. I should have said that, among the Martians, there is only onereligion-and that one is not a faith, it’s a certainty. You grok it. .Thou art God!“.Yes,“ she agreed. .I do grok ... in Martian. But you know, dearest, that itdoesn’t say the same thing in English . . . or any other human speech. I don’tknow why.“.Mmmm ... on Mars, when we needed to know anything-anything at all-wecould consult the Old Ones and the answer was never wrong. Jill, is itpossible that we humans don’t have any .Old Ones?’ No souls, that has tomean. When we discorporate-die!--do we die dead? die all over and nothingleft? Do we live in ignorance because it doesn’t matter? Because we aregone and not a rack behind in a time so short that a Martian would use it forone long contemplation? Tell me, Jill. You’re human.“She smiled with sober serenity. .You yourself have told me. You have taughtme to know eternity and you can’t take it away from me, ever. You can’t die,Mike-you can only discorporate.“ She gestured down at herself with bothhands. .This body that you have taught me to see through your eyes . . . andthat you have loved so well, someday it will be gone. But I shall not be gone .
　　. . I am that I am! Thou art God and I am God and we are God, eternally. I amnot sure where I will be, or whether I will remember that I was once JillBoardman who was happy trotting bedpanS and equally happy strutting herstuff in her buff under bright lights. I have liked this body-.
　　With a most uncustomary gesture of impatience Mike threw away herclothes.
　　.Thank you, dear,“ she said quietly, not stirring from where she was seated.
　　.It has been a nice body to me-and to you-to both of us who thought of it. ButI don’t expect to miss it when I am through with it. I hope that you will eat itwhen I discorporate.“.Oh, I’ll eat you, all right-unless I discorporate first.“.I don’t suppose that you will. With your much greater control over your sweetbody I suspect that you can live several centuries at least. If you wish it.
　　Unless you choose to discorporate sooner.“.I might. But not now. Jill, I’ve tried and tried. How many churches have weattended?“.All the sorts there are in San Francisco, I think-except, possibly, for little,secret ones that don’t list their addresses. I don’t recall how many times wehave been to seekers’ services.“.That’s just to comfort Pat-I’d never go again if you weren’t sure that sheneeds to know that we haven’t given up.“.She does need to. And we can’t lie about it-you don’t know how and I can’t,not to Patty. Nor any brother.“.Actually,“ he admitted, .the Fosterites do have quite a bit on the ball. Alltwisted, of course. They are clumsy, groping-the way I was as a carney. Andthey’ll never correct their mistakes, because this thing-. He caused Patty’sbook to lift. .-is mostly crap!“.Yes. But Patty doesn’t see those parts of it. She is wrapped in her owninnocence. She is God and behaves accordingly . . . only She doesn’t knowwho She is.“.Uh huh,“ he agreed. .That’s our Pat. She believes it only when I tell her-withproper emphasis. But, Jill, there are only three places to look. Science-and Iwas taught more about how the physical universe is put together while I wasstill in the nest than human scientists can yet handle. So much that I can’teven talk to them . . . even about as elementary a gimmick as levitation. I’mnot disparaging human scientists . . . what they do and how they go about itis just as it should be; I grok that fully. But what they are after is not what I amlooking for-you don’t grok a desert by counting its grains of sand. Thenthere’s philosophy-supposed to tackle everything. Does it? All anyphilosopher ever comes Out with is exactly what be walked in with-except forthose sell-deluders who prove their assumptions by their conclusions, in acircle. Like Kant. Like many other tail-chasers. So the answer, if it’sanywhere, ought to be here.“ He waved at the pile of religious books. .Onlyit’s not. Bits and pieces that grok true, but never a pattern-Or if there is apattern, every time, without fail, they ask you to take the hard part on faith.
　　Faith! What a dirty Anglo~ Saxon monosyllable-Jill, how does it happen thatyou didn’t mention that one when you were teaching me the words thatmustn’t be used in polite company?“She smiled. .Mike, you just made a joke.“.I didn’t mean it as a joke ... and I can’t see that it’s funny. Jill, I haven’t evenbeen good for you-you used to laugh. You used to laugh and giggle until Iworried about you. I haven’t learned to laugh; instead you’ve forgotten how.
　　Instead of my becoming human . . . you’re becoming Martian.“.I’m happy, dear. You probably iust haven’t noticed me laughing.“.If you laughed clear down on Market Street, I would hear it. I grok. Once Iquit being frightened by it I always noticed it-you, especially~ If I grokked it,then I would grok people-I think. Then I could help somebody like Pat . . .
　　either teach her what I know, or learn from her what she knows. Or both. Wecould talk and understand each other.“.Mike, all you need to do for Patty is to see her occasionally. .Why don’t we,dear? Let’s get out of this dreary fog. She’s home now; the carnie is closedfor the season. Drop south and see her . . . and I’ve always wanted to seeBaja California; we could go on south into warmer weather-and take her withus, that would be fun!“.All right.“She stood up. .Let me get a dress on. Do you want to save any of thosebooks? Instead of one of your usual quick housecleanings I could ship themto Jubal.“He flipped his fingers at them and all were gone but Patricia’s gift. .Just thisone and we’ll take it with us; Pat would notice. But, Jill, right now I need to goout to the zoo.“.All right.“.I want to spit back at a camel and ask him what he’s so sour about. Maybecamels are the real .Old Ones’ on this planet . . . and that’s what is wrongwith the place.“.Two jokes in one day, Mike.“.I ain’t laughing. And neither are you. Nor is the camel. Maybe he groks why.
　　Come on. is this dress all right? Do you want underCloth& I noticed you werewearing some when i moved those other clothes.“.Please, dear. It’s windy and chilly outdoors.“.Up easy.“ He levitated her a couple of feet. .Pants. Stockings. Garter belt.
　　Shoes. Down you go and lift your arms. Bra? You don’t need a bra. And nowthe dress-and you’re decent again. And you’re pretty, whatever that is. Youlook good. Maybe I can get a job as a lady’s maid if I’m not good for anythingelse. Baths, shampoos, massages, hair styling, make-up, dressing for alloccasions-I’ve even learned to do your nails in a fashion that suits you. Willthat be all, Madom?“.You’re a perfect lady’s maid, dear. But I’m going to keep you myself.“.Yes, I grok I am. You look so good I think I’ll toss it all away again and giveyou a massage. The growing closer kind.“.Yes, Michael!“.I thought you had learned waiting? First you have to take me to the zooand buy mc peanuts~“.Yes, Mike. Jill will buy you peanuts.“It was cold and windy out at Golden Gate Park but Mike did not notice it andJill had learned that she didn’t have to be cold or uncomfortable if she did notwish it. Nevertheless it was pleasant to relax her control by going into thewarm monkey house. Aside from its heat Jill did not like the monkey housetoo well-monkeys and apes were too much like people, too depressinglyhuman. She was, she thought, finished forever with any sort of prissiness;she had grown to cherish an ascetic, almost Martian joy in all things physicalThe public copulations and evacuations of these simian prisoners did nottrouble her as they once had; these poor penned people possessed noprivacy, they were not at fault. She could now watch such withoutrepugnance; her own impregnable fastidiousness untouched. No, it was thatthey were .Human, All Too Human“, every action, every expression, everypuzzled troubled look reminded her of what she liked least about her ownrace.
　　Jill preferred the Lion House-the great males arrogant and sure ofthemselves even in captivity-the placid motherliness of the big females, thelordly beauty of Bengal tigers with jungle staring out of their eyes, the littleleopards~swift and deadly, the reek of musk that airconditioners could notpurge. Mike usually shared her tastes for other exhibits, too; he would spendhours in the Aviary, or the Reptile House, or in watching seals- once he hadtold her that, if one had to be hatched on this planet to be a sea lion would beof greatest goodness.
　　When he had first seen a zoo, Mike had been much upset; Jill had beenforced to order him to wait and grok, as be had been about to take immediateaction to free all the animals. He had conceded presently, under herarguments- that most of these animals could not stay alive free in the climateand environment where he proposed to turn them ioose~that a zoo was anest . . of a sort. He had followed this first experience with many hours ofwithdrawal, after which he never again threatened to remove all the bars andglass and grills. He explained to Jill that the bars were to keep people out atleast as much as to keep the animals in, which he had failed to grok at first.
　　After that Mike never missed a zoo wherever they went.
　　But today even the unmitigated misanthropy of the camels could not shakeMike’s moodiness; he looked at them without smiling. Nor did the monkeysand apes cheer him up. They stood for quite a while in front of a cagecontaining a large family of capuchins, watching them eat, sleep, court,nurse, grooms and swarm aimlessly around the cage, while Jill surreptitiouslytossed them peanuts despite .No Feeding“ signs.
　　She tossed one to a medium sized monk; before he could eat it a muchlarger male was on him and not only stole his peanut but gave him a beating,then left. The little fellow made no attempt to pursue his tormentor; besquatted at the scene of the crime, pounded his knucks against the concretefloor, and chattered his helpless rage. Mike watched it solemnly. Suddenlythe mistreated monkey rushed to the side of the cage, picked a monkey stillsmaller, bowled it over and gave it a drubbing worse than the one he hadsuffered-after which he seemed quite relaxed. The third monk crawled away,still whimpering, and found shelter in the arm of a female who had a stillsmaller one, a baby, on her back. The other monkeys paid no attention toany of it.
　　Mike threw back his head and laughed-went on laughing, loudly anduncontrollably. He gasped for breath, tears came from his eyes; he started totremble and sink to the floor, still laughing.
　　.Stop it, Mike!“He did cease folding himself up but his guffaws and tears went on. Anattendant hurried over. .Lady, do you need help?“.No. Yes, I do. Can you call us a cab? Ground car, air cab, anything -I’ve gotto get him out of here.“ She added, .He’s not well.“.Ambulance? Looks like he’s having a fit.“.Anything!“ A few minutes later she was leading Mike into a piloted atr cab.
　　She gave the address, then said urgently. .Mike, you’ve got to listen to me.
　　Quiet down.“He became somewhat more quiet but continued to chuckle, laugh aloud,chuckle again, while she wiped his eyes, for all the few minutes it took to getback to their flat. She got him inside, got his clothes off, made him lie downon the bed. .All right, dear. Withdraw now if you need to.“.I’m all right. At last I’m all right.“.I hope so.“ She sighed. .You certainly scared me, Mike.“.I’m sorry, Little Brother. I know. I was scared, too, the first time I heardlaughing.“.Mike, what happened?“.Jill ... I grok people!“.Huh?“ (.!!??“)(.I speak rightly, Little Brother. I grok.“).I grok people now, Jill Little Brother . . . precious darling , little imp with livelylegs and lovely lewd lascivious lecherous licentious libido . . beautiful bumpsand pert posterior . . . with soft voice and gentle hands. My baby darling.“.Why, Michael!“.Oh, I knew all the words; I simply didn’t know when or why to say them . . .
　　nor why you wanted me to. I love you, sweetheart-I grok .love’ now, too.“.You always have. I knew. And I love you ... you smooth ape. Mydarling.“.’Ape,’ yes. Come here, she ape, and put your bead on my shoulderand tell me a joke.“.Just tell you a joke?“.Well, nothing more than snuggling. Tell me a joke I’ve never heard and seeif I laugh at the right place. I will, I’m sure of it-and I’ll be able to tell you whyit’s funny. Jill ... I grok people!“.But how, darling? Can you tell me? Does it need Martian? Or mindtalk?“.No, that’s the point. I grok people. I am people ... so now I can say it inpeople talk. I’ve found out why people laugh. They laugh because it hurts somuch . . . because it’s the only thing that’ll make it stop hurting.“Jill looked puzzled. .Maybe I’m the one who isn’t people. I don’tunderstand.“.Ah, but you are people, little she ape. You grok it so automatically that youdon’t have to think about it. Because you grew up with people. But I didn’t.
　　I’ve been like a puppy raised apart from other dogs-Who couldn’t be like hismasters and had never learned how to be a dog. So I had to be taught.
　　Brother Mahmoud taught me, Jubal taught me, lots of people taught me . . .
　　and you taught me most of all. Today I got my diploma-and I laughed. Thatpoor little monk.“.Which one, dear? I thought that big one was just mean ... and the one Iflipped the peanut to turned out to be just as mean. There certainly wasn’tanything funny.“.Jill, Jill my darling! Too much Martian has rubbed off on YOU. Of course itwasn’t funny-it was tragic. That’s why I had to laugh. I looked at a cageful ofmonkeys and suddenly I saw all the mean and cruel and utterlyunexplainable things I’ve seen and beard and read about in the time I’vebeen with my own people and suddenly it hurt so much I found myselflaughing.“.But- Mike dear, laughing is something you do when something is nice - . .
　　not when it’s horrid.“.Is it? Think back to Las Vegas- When all you pretty girls came out on thestage, did people laugh?“.Well ... no.“.But you girls were the nicest part of the show. I grok now, that if they hadlaughed, you would have been hurt. No, they laughed when a comic trippedover his feet and fell down . . . or something else that is not a goodness.“.But that’s not all people laugh at.“.Isn’t it? Perhaps I don’t grok all its fullness yet. But find me something thatreally makes you laugh, sweetheart . . . a joke, or anything else-butsomething that gave you a real belly laugh, not a smile. Then we’ll see ifthere isn’t a wrongness in it somewhere and whether you would laugh if thewrongness wasn’t there.“ He thought. .I grok when apes learn to laugh, they’llbe people.“.Maybe.“ Doubtfully but earnestly Jill started digging into her memory forjokes that had struck her as irresistibly funny, ones which had jerked a laughout of her . . . incidents she had seen or heard of which had made herhelpless with laughter:
　　.-her entire bridge club.“.Should I bow?“.Neither one, you idiot—instead!“.-the Chinaman objects.“.-broke her leg.“.-make trouble for me!“.-but it’ll spoil the ride for me.“.-and his mother-in-law fainted.“.Stop you? Why, I bet three to one you could do it!“.-something has happened to Ole.“.-and so are you, you clumsy ox!“She gave up on .funny“ stories, pointing out to Mike that such were justfantasies, not real, and tried to recall real incidents. Practical jokes? Allpractical jokes supported Mike’s thesis, even ones as mild as a dribble glassandwhen it came to an interne’S notion of a practical joke-Well, internes andmedical students should be kept in cages. What else? The time Elsa Maehad lost her monogrammed panties? It hadn’t been funny to Elsa Mae. Orthe- She said grimly, .Apparently the pratfall is the peak of all humor. It’s nota pretty picture of the human race, Mike.“.Oh, but it is!“.Huh?“.I had thought-I had been told-that a .funny’ thing is a thing of a goodness. Itisn’t. Not ever is it funny to the person it happens to. Like that sheriff withouthis pants. The goodness is in the laughing itself. I grok it is a bravery . . . anda sharing . . . against pain and sorrow and defeat.“.But- Mike, it is not a goodness to laugh at people.“.No. But I was not laughing at the little monkey. I was laughing at u& People.
　　And I suddenly knew that I was people and could not stop laughing.“ Hepaused. .This is hard to explain, because you have never lived as a Martian,for all that I’ve told you about it. On Mars there is never anything to laugh at.
　　All the things that are funny to us humans either physically cannot happen onMars or are not permitted to happen- sweetheart, what you call .freedom’
　　doesn’t exist on Mars; everything is planned by the Old Ones-or the thingsthat do happen on Mars which we laugh at here on Earth aren’t funnybecause there is no wrongness about them. Death, for example.“.Death isn’t funny.“.Then why are there so many jokes about death? Jill, with us-us humansdeathis so sad that we must laugh at it. All those religions- they contradicteach other on every other point but every one of them is filled with ways tohelp people be brave enough to laugh even though they know they aredying.“ He stopped and Jill could feel that he had ahuost gone into his trancestate. .Jill? Is it possible that I was searching them the wrong way? Could itbe that every one of all those religions is true?“.Huh? How could that possibly be? Mike, if one of them is true, then theothers are wrong. Logic.“.So? Point to the shortest direction around the universe. It doesn’t matterwhich way you point, it’s the shortest ... and you’re pointing right back atyourself.“.Well, what does that prove? You taught me the true answer, Mike. .Thouart God.’“.And Thou art God, my lovely. I wasn’t disputing that ... but that one primefact which doesn’t depend at all on faith may mean that all faiths are true.“.Well . . . if they’re all true, then right now I want to worship Siva.“ Jill changedthe subject with emphatic direct action.
　　.Little pagan,“ he said softly. .They’ll run you out of San Francisco.“.But we’re going to Los Angeles ... where it won’t be noticed. Oh! Thouart Siva!“.Dance, Kali, dance!“Some time during the night she woke and saw him standing at the window,looking out over the city. (.Trouble, my brother?“)He turned and spoke. .There’s no need for them to be so unhappy.“.Darling, darling! I think I had better take you home. The city is not good foryou.“.But I would still know it. Pain and sickness and hunger and fighting -there’sno need for any of it. It’s as foolish as those little monkeys.“.Yes, darling. But it’s not your fault-.
　　.Ah, but it is!“.Well ... that way-yes. But it’s not just this one city; it’s five billion people andmore. You can’t help five billion people.“.I wonder.“He came over and sat down by her. .I grok with them now, I can talk to them.
　　Jill, I could set up our act again . . . and make the marks laugh every minute.
　　I am certain.“.Then why not do it? Patty would certainly be pleased ... and so would I. Iliked being .with it’-and now that we’ve shared water with Patty, it would belike being home.“He didn’t answer. Jill felt his mind and knew that he was contemplating, tryingto grok. She waited.
　　.Jill? What do I have to do to be ordained?“
Chapter 30
THE FIRST MIXED LOAD Of permanent colonists arrived on Mars; six of theseventeen survivors of the twenty~thtee originals retumed to Earth.
　　Prospective colonists trained in Peru at sixteen thousand feet. The presidentof Argentina moved one night to Montevideo, taking with him such portablesas could be stuffed into two suitcases, and the new Presidente started anextradition procesS before the high Court to yank him back, or at least thetwo suitcases. Last rites for Alice Douglas were held privately in the NationalCathedral with less than two thousand attending, and editorialists and stereocomentators alike praised the dignified fortitude with which the SecretaryGeneral took his bereavement. A three-year-old named Inflation, carrying126 pounds with Jinx Jenkins Up, won the Kentucky Derby, paying fifty-fourfor one, and two guests of the Colony Airotel, Louisville, Kentucky,discorporated, one voluntarily, the other by heart failure.
　　Another bootleg edition of the (unauthorized) biography The Devil andReverend Foster appeared simultaneously on news stands throughout theUnited States; by nightfall every copy had been burned and the platesdestroyed, along with incidental damage to other chattels and to real estate,plus a certain amount of mayhem, maiming, and simple assault. The BritishMuseum was rumored to possess a copy of the first edition (untrue), and alsothe Vatican Library (true, but available only to certain church scholars).
　　In the Tennessee legislature a bill was again introduced to make the ratio piexactly equal to three; it was reported out by the committee on publiceducation and morals, passed with no objection by the lower house and diedin conimittee in the upper house. An interchurch fundamentalist groupopened offices in Van Buren, Arkansas, for the purpose of soliciting funds tosend missionaries to the Martians; Dr. Jubal Harshaw happily sent them alavish donation, but took the precaution of sending it in the name (and withthe address) of the editor of the New Humanist, a rabid atheist and his closefriend.
　　Other than that, Jubal had very little to feel amused about_there had beentoo much news about Mike lately, and all of it depressing. He had treasuredthe occasional visits home of Jill and Mike and had been most interested inMike’s progress, especially after Mike developed a sense of humor. But theycame home less frequently now and Jubal did not relish the latestdevelopments.
　　It bad not troubled Jubal when Mike was run out of Union TheologicalSeminary, hotly pursued in spirit by a pack of enraged theologians, some ofwhom were angry because they believed in God and others because they didnot-but all united in detesting the Man from Mars. Jubal honestly evaluedanything that happened to a theologian short of breaking him on the wheelwas no more than meet-and the experience was good for the boy; he’d knowbetter next time.
　　Nor had he been troubled when Mike (with the help of Douglas) had enlistedunder an assumed name in the Federation armed forces. He had been quitesure (through private knowledge) that no sergeant could cause Mike anypermanent distress, and contrariwise, Jubal was not troubled by what mighthappen to sergeants or other ranks-an unreconciled old reactionary, Jubalhad burned his own honorable discharge and all that went with it on the daythat the United States had ceased having its own armed forces.
　　Actually, Jubal had been surprised at how little shambles Mike had createdas .Private Jones“ and how long be had lasted-almost three weeks. He hadcrowned his military career the day that be had seized on the question periodfollowing an orientation lecture to hold forth on the utter uselessness of forceand violence under any circumstances (with some side continents on thedesirability of reducing surplus population through cannibalism) and hadoffered himself as a test animal for any weapon of any nature to prove tothem that force was not only unnecessary but literally impossible whenattempted against a self-disciplined person.
　　They had not taken his offer; they had kicked him out.
　　But there had been a little more to it than that, Douglas had allowed Jubal tosee a top-level super secret eyes-only numbered-one-of-three report aftercautioning Jubal that no one, not even the Supreme Chief of staff, knew that.Private Jones“ was the Man from Mars. Jubal had merely scanned theexhibits, which bad been mostly highly conflicting reports of eye witnesses asto what had happened at various times when .Jones“ had been .trained“ inthe uses of various weapons; the only surprising thing to Jubal about themwas that some witnesses bad the courage and self-confidence to state underoath that they bad seen weapons disappear. .Jones“ had also been placedon the report three times for losing weapons, same being accountableproperty of the Federation.
　　The end of the report was all that Jubal had bothered to read carefullyenough to remember: .Conclusion: Subject man is an extremely talentednatural hypnotist and, as such, could conceivably be useful in intelligencework, although he is totally unfitted for any combat branch. However, his lowintelligence quotient (moron), his extremely low general classification score,and his paranoid tendencies (delusions of grandeur) make it inadvisable toattempt to exploit his idiot-savant talent. Recommendation: Discharge,Inaptitude-no pension credit, no benefits.“Such little romps were good for the boy and Jubal had greatly enjoyed Mike’singlorious career as a soldier because Jill had spent the time at home. WhenMike had come home for a few days after it was over, he hadn’t seemed hurtby it-he had boasted to Jubal that he had obeyed Jill’s wishes exactly andhadn’t disappeared anybody merely a few dead things . . . although, as Mikegrokked it, there had been several times when Earth could have been madea better place if Jill didn’t have this queasy weakness. Jubal didn’t argue it;he had a lengthy-though inactive, .Better Dead“ list himself.
　　But apparently Mike had managed to have fun, too. During parade on his lastday as a soldier, the commanding General and his entire staff had suddenlylost their trousers as Mike’s platoon was passing in review-and the topsergeant of Mike’s company fell fiat on his face when his shoes momentarilyfroze to the ground. Jubal decided that, in acquiring a sense of humor, Mikebad developed an atrocious taste in practical jokes-but what the hell? the kidwas going through a delayed boyhood; he needed to dump over a fewprivies. Jubal recalled with pleasure an incident in medical school involving acadaver and the Dean-Jubal had worn rubber gloves for that caper, and agood thing, too!
　　Mike’s unique ways of growing up were all right; Mike was unique.
　　But this last thing-.The Reverend Dr. Valentine M. Smith, AS., D.D., Ph.D.,“founder and pastor of the Church of All Worlds, inc.-gad! It was bad enoughthat the boy had decided to be a Holy Joe, instead of leaving other people’ssouls alone, as a gentleman should. But those diploma-mill degrees he hadtacked onto his name-Jubal wanted to throw up.
　　The worst of it was that Mike had told him that he had gotten the whole ideafrom something he had heard Jubal say, about what a church was and whatit could do. Jubal was forced to admit that it was something he could havesaid, although he did not recall it; it was little consolation that the boy knewso much law that he might have arrived at the same end on his own.
　　But Jubal did concede that Mike had been cagy about the operation- someactual months of residence at a very small, very poor (in all senses) sectariancollege, a bachelor’s degree awarded by examination, a .call“ to their ministryfollowed by ordination in this recognized though flat-headed sect, a doctor’sdissertation on comparative religion which was a marvel of scholarship whileducking any real conclusions (Mike had brought it to Jubal for literarycriticism, Jubal had added some weasel words himself through conditionedreflex), the award of the .earned“ doctorate coinciding with an endowment(anonymous) to this very hungry school, the second doctorate (honorary)right on top of it for .contributions to interplanetary knowledge“ from adistinguished university that should have known better, when Mike let it beknown that such was his price for showing up as the drawing card at aconference on solar system studies. The one and only Man from Mars hadturned down everybody from CalTech to the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute in thepast; Harvard University could hardly be blamed for swallowing the bait.
　　Well, they were probably as crimson as their banner now, Jubal thoughtcynically. Mike had then put in a few weeks as assistant chaplain at hischurch-mouse alma mater-then had broken with the sect in a schism andfounded his own church. Completely kosher, legally airtight, as venerable inprecedent as Martin Luther . . . and as nauseating as last week’s garbage.
　　Jubal was called out of his sour daydream by Miriam. .Boss! Company!“Jubal looked up to see a car about to land and ruminated that he had notrealized what a blessing that S.S. patrol cap had been until it was withdrawn.
　　.Larry, fetch my shotgun-I promised myself that I would shoot the next doltwho landed on the rose bushes.“.He’s landing on the grass, Boss.“.Well, tell him to try again. We’ll get him on the next pass.“.Looks like Ben Caxton.“.So it is. We’ll let him live-this time. Hi, Ben! What’ll you drink?“.Nothing, this early in the day, you professional bad influence. Need totalk to you, Jubal.“.You’re doing it. Dorcas, fetch Ben a glass of warm milk; he’s sick.“.Without too much soda,“ amended Ben, .and milk the bottle with the threedimples in it. Private talk, Jubal.“.All right, up to my study-although if you think you can keep anything from thekids around here, let me in on your method.“ After Ben finished greetingproperly (and somewhat unsanitarily, in three cases) the members of thefamily, they moseyed upstairs.
　　Ben said, .What the deuce? Am I lost?“.Oh. You haven’t seen the alterations, have you? A new wing on the north,which gives us two more bedrooms and another bath downstairs- and uphere, my gallery.“.Enough statues to fill a graveyard!“.Please, Ben. .Statues’ are dead politicians at boulevard intersections. Whatyou see is .sculpture.’ And please speak in a low, reverent tone lest I becomeviolent . . . for here we have exact replicas of some of the greatest sculpturethis naughty globe has produced.“.Well, that hideous thing I’ve seen before ... but when did you acquire the restof this ballast?“Jubal ignored him and spoke quietly to the replica of La Belle Heaulmière.
　　.Do not listen to him, ma petite chere-he is a barbarian and knows no better.“He put his hand to her beautiful raaged cheek, then gently touched oneempty, shrunken dug. .I know just how you feel but it can’t be very muchlonger. Patience, my lovely.“He turned back to Caxton and said briskly, .Ben, I don’t know what you haveon your mind but it will have to wait while I give you a lesson in how to look atsculpture-though it’s probably as useless as trying to teach a dog toappreciate the violin. But you’ve just been rude to a lady and I don’t toleratethat.“.Huh? Don’t be silly, Jubal; you’re rude to ladies-live ones-a dozen times aday. And you know which ones I mean.“Jubal shouted, .Anne! Upstairs! Wear your cloak!“.You know I wouldn’t be rude to the old woman who posed for that. Never.
　　What I can’t understand is a so-called artist having the gall to posesomebody’s great grandmother in her skin . . . and you having the bad tasteto want it around.“Anne came in, cloaked, said nothing. Jubal said to her, .Anne have I everbeen rude to you? Or to any of the girls?“.That calls for an opinion.“.That’s what I’m asking for. Your opinion. You’re not in court-.
　　.You have never at any time been rude to any of us, Jubal.“.Have you ever known me to be rude to a lady?“.I have seen you be intentionally rude to a woman. I have never seen yoube rude to a lady.“.That’s all. No, one more opinion. What do you think of this bronze?“Anne looked carefully at Rodin’s masterpiece, then said slowly, .When I firstsaw it, I thought it was horrible. But I have come to the conclusion that it maybe the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.“.Thanks. That’s all.“ She left. .Do you want to argue it, Ben?“.Huh? When I argue with Anne, that’s the day I turn in my suit.“ Ben looked atit. .But I don’t get it.“.All right, Ben. Attend me. Anybody can look at a pretty girl and see a prettygirl. An artist can look at a pretty girl and see the old woman she will become.
　　A better artist can look at an old woman and see the pretty girl that she usedto be. But a great artist-a master-and that is what Auguste Rodin was-canlook at an old woman, portray her exactly as she is . . . and force the viewerto see the pretty girl she used to be . . . and more than that, he can makeanyone with the sensitivity of an armadillo, or even you, see that this lovelyyoung girl is still alive, not old and ugly at all, but simply prisoned inside herruined body. He can make you feel the quiet, endless tragedy that there wasnever a girl born who ever grew older than eighteen in her heart . . . nomatter what the merciless hours have done to her. Look at her, Ben. Growingold doesn’t matter to you and me; we were never meant to be admired-but itdoes to them. Look at her!“Ben looked at her. Presently Jubal said gruffly, .All right, blow your nose andwipe your eyes-she accepts your apology. Come on and sit down. That’senough for one lesson.“.No,“ Caxton answered, .I want to know about these others. How about thisone? It doesn’t bother me as much . . . I can see it’s a young girl, right off.
　　But why tie her up like a pretzel?“Jubal looked at the replica .Caryatid Who has Fallen under the Weight of herStone“ and smiled. .Call it a tour de force in empathy, Ben. I won’t expect youto appreciate the shapes and masses which make that figure much morethan a .pretzel’-but you can appreciate what Rodin was saying. Ben, what dopeople get out of looking at a crucifix?“.You know how much I go to church.“.’How little’ you mean. Still, you must know that, as craftsmanship, paintingsand sculpture of the Crucifixion are usually atrocious-and the painted,realistic ones often used in churches are the worst of all . . . the blood lookslike catsup and that ex-carpenter is usually portrayed as if he were a pansy . .
　　. which He certainly was not if there is any truth in the four Gospels at all. Hewas a hearty man, probably muscular and of rugged health. But despite thealmost uniformly poor portrayal in representations of the Crucifixion, a poorone is about as effective as a good one for most people. They don’t see thedefects; what they see is a symbol which inspires their deepest emotions; itrecalls to them the Agony and Sacrifice of God.“.Jubal, I thought you weren’t a Christian?“.What’s that got to do with it? Does that make me blind and deaf tofundamental human emotion? I was saying that the crummiest paintedplaster crucifix or the cheapest cardboard Christmas Crèche can be sufficientsymbol to evoke emotions in the human heart so strong that many have diedfor them and many more live for them. So the craftsmanship and artisticjudgment with which such a symbol is wrought are largely irrelevant. Nowhere we have another emotional symbol-wrought with exquisitecraftsmanship, but we won’t go into that, yet. Ben, for almost three thousandyears or longer, architects have designed buildings with columns shaped asfemale figures-it got to be such a habit that they did it as casually as a smallboy steps on an ant. After all those centuries it took Rodin to see that thiswas work too heavy for a girl. But he didn’t simply say, .Look, you jerks, if youmust design this way, make it a brawny male figure.’ No, he showed it . . .
　　and generalized the symbol. Here is this poor little caryatid who has tried-andfailed, fallen under the load. She’s a good girl-look at her face. Serious,unhappy at her fafrure, but not blaming anyone else, not even the gods . . .
　　and still trying to shoulder her load, after she’s crumpled under it.
　　.But she’s more than good art denouncing some very bad art; she’s a symbolfor every woman who has ever tried to shoulder a load that was too heavy forher-over half the female population of this planet, living and dead, I wouldguess. But not alone women-this symbol is sexless. It means every man andevery woman who ever lived who sweated out life in uncomplaining fortitude,whose courage wasn’t even noticed until they crumpled under their loads. It’scourage, Ben, and victory.“.’Victory?’“.Victory in defeat, there is none higher. She didn’t give up, Ben; she’s stilltrying to lift that stone after it has crushed her. She’s a father going down to adull office job while cancer is painfully eating away his insides, so as to bringhome one more pay check for the kids. She’s a twelve-yearold girl trying tomother her baby brothers and sisters because Mama had to go to Heaven.
　　She’s a switchboard operator sticking to her job while smoke is choking herand the fire is cutting off her escape. She’s all the unsung heroes whocouldn’t quite cut it but never quit. Come. Just salute as you pass her andcome see my Little Mermaid.“Ben took him precisely at his word; if Jubal was surprised, he made nocomment. .Now this one,“ he said, .is the only one Mike didn’t give to me. Butthere is no need to tell Mike why I got it . . . aside from the selfevident factthat it’s one of the most delightful compositions ever conceived and proudlyexecuted by the eye and hand of man.“.She’s that, all right. This one I don’t have to have explained-it’s just plainpretty!“.Yes. And that is excuse in itself, just as with kittens and butterflies. But thereis more to it than that . . . and she reminded me of Mike. She’s not quite amermaid-see?-and she’s not quite human. She sits on land, where she haschosen to stay . . . and she stares eternally out to sea, homesick and foreverlonely for what she left behind. You know the story?“.Hans Christian Andersen.“.Yes. She sits by the harbor of K.benhavn-Copenhagen was his home townandshe’s everybody who ever made a difficult choice. She doesn’t regret herchoice, but she must pay for it; every choice must be paid for. The cost to heris not only endless homesickness. She can never be quite human; when sheuses her dearly bought feet, every step is on sharp knives. Ben, I think thatMike must always walk on knives-but there is no need to tell him I said so. Idon’t think he knows this story or, at least, I don’t think he knows that Iconnect him with it.“.I won’t tell him.“ Ben looked at the replica. .I’d rather just look at her and notthink about the knives.“.She’s a little darling, isn’t she? How would you like to coax her into bed?
　　She would probably be lively, like a seal, and about as slippery.“.Cripes! You’re an evil old man, Jubal.“.And getting eviler and eviler by the year. Uh ... we won’t look at any others;three pieces of sculpture in an hour is more than enough- usually I don’t letmyself look at more than one in a day.“.Suits. I feel as if I had had three quick drinks on an empty stomach. Jubal,why isn’t there stuff like this around where a person can see it?“.Because the world has gone nutty and contemporary art always paints thespirit of its times. Rodin did his major work in the tail end of the nineteenthcentury and Hans Christian Andersen antedated him by only a few years.
　　Rodin died early in the twentieth century, about the time the world startedflipping its lid . . . and art along with it.
　　.Rodin’s successors noted the amazing things he had done with light andshadow and mass and composition-whether you see it or not-and theycopied that much. Oh, how they copied it! And extended it. What they failedto see was that every major work of the master told a story and laid bare thehuman heart. Instead, they got involved with .design’ and becamecontemptuous of any painting or sculpture that told a story- sneering, theydubbed such work .literary’-a dirty word. They went all out for abstractions,not deigning to paint or carve anything that resembled the human world.“Jubal shrugged. .Abstract design is all right-for wall paper or linoleum. But anis the process of evoking pity and terror, which is not abstract at all but veryhuman. What the self-styled modern artists are doing is a sort of unemotionalpseudo-intellectual masturbation . . . whereas creative art is more likeintercourse, in which the artist must seduce- render emotional-his audience,each time. These laddies who won’t deign to do that-and perhaps can’t-ofcourse lost the public. If they hadn’t lobbied for endless subsidies, they wouldhave starved or been forced to go to work long ago. Because the ordinarybloke will not voluntarily pay for .art’ that leaves him unmoved-if he does payfor it, the money has to be conned out of him, by taxes or such.“.You know, Jubal, I’ve always wondered why I didn’t give a hoot for paintingsor statues-but I thought it was something missing in me, like color blindness.“.Mmm, one does have to learn to look at art, just as you must know French toread a story printed in French. But in general it’s up to the artist to uselanguage that can be understood, not hide it in some privite code like Pepysand his diary. Most of these jokers don’t even want to use language you and Iknow or can learn . . . they would rather sneer at us and be smug, becausewe .fail’ to see what they are driving at. If indeed they are driving at anythingobscurityis usually the refuge of incompetence. Ben, would you call me anartist?“.Huh? Well, I’ve never thought about it. You write a pretty good stick.“.Thank you. .Artist’ is a word I avoid for the same reasons I hate to be called.Doctor.’ But I am an artist, albeit a minor one. Admittedly most of my stuff isfit to read only once . . . and not even once for a busy person who alreadyknows the little I have to say. But I am an honest artist, because what I writeis consciously intended to reach the customer-reach him and affect him, ifpossible with pity and terror . . . or, if not, at least to divert the tedium of hishours with a chuckle or an odd idea. But I am never trying to hide it from himin a private language, nor am I seeking the praise of other writers for.technique’ or other balderdash. I want the praise of the cash customer, givenin cash because I’ve reached him-or I don’t want anything. Support for thearts-merdel A government-supported artist is an incompetent whore! Damn it,you punched one of my buttons. Let me fill your glass, and you tell me whatis on your mind.“.Uh, Jubal, I’m unhappy.“.This is news?“.No. But I’ve got a fresh set of troubles.“ Ben frowned. .I shouldn’t have comehere, I guess. No need to burden you with them. I’m not even sure I want totalk about them.“.Okay. But as long as you’re here, you can listen to my troubles.“.You have troubles? Jubal, I’ve always thought of you as the one man whohad managed to beat the game, six ways from zero.“.Hmm, sometime I must tell you about my married life. But-yes, I’ve gottroubles now. Some of them are evident. Duke has left me, you know-or didyou?“.Yeah. I knew.“.Larry is a good gardener-but half the gadgets that keep this log cabinrunning are failing to pieces. I don’t know how I can replace Duke. Good allaroundmechanics are scarce . . . and ones that will fit into this household, bea member of the family in all ways, are almost non-existent. I’m limping alongon repalnnen called in from town-every visit a disturbance, all of them withlarceny in their hearts, and most of them incompetent to use a screw driverwithout cutting themselves. Which I am incapable of doing, too, so I have tohire help. Or move back into town, God forbid.“.My heart aches for you, Jubal.“.Never mind the sarcasm, that’s just the start. Mechanics and gardenem areconvenient, but for me secretaries are essential. Two of mine are pregnant,one is getting married.“Caxton looked utterly astounded. Jubal growled, .Oh, I’m not telling tales outof school; they’re smug as can be-nothing secret about any of it. They’reundoubtedly sore at me right now because I took you up here without givingthem time to boast. So be a gent and be surprised when they tell you.“.Uh, which one is getting married?“.Isn’t that obvious? The happy man is that smooth-talking refugee from asand storm, our esteemed water brother Stinky Mahmoud. I’ve told him flatlythat they have to live here whenever they’re in this country. Dastard justlaughed and said how else?-pointed out that I had invited him to live here,permanently, long ago.“ Jubal sniffed. .Wouldn’t be so bad if he would just doit. I might even get some work out of her. Maybe.“.You probably would. She likes to work. And the other two are pregnant?“.Higher .n a kite. I’m refreshing myself in O.B. because they both say they’regoing to have .em at home. And what a crimp that’s going to put into myworking habits! Worse than kittens. But why do you assume that neither ofthe two turgescent tummies belongs to the bride?“.Oh- Why, I suppose I assumed that Stinky was more conventional than that .
　　. . or maybe more cautious.“.Stinky wouldn’t be given a ballot. Ben, in the eighty or ninety years I havegiven to this subject, trying to trace out the meanderings of their twisty littleminds, the only thing that I have learned for certain about women is thatwhen a gal is gonna, she’s gonna. All a man can do is cooperate with theinevitable.“Ben thought ruefully about times when he had resorted to fast footwork-andother times when he hadn’t been fast enough. .Yeah, you’re right. Well,which one isn’t getting married or anything? Miriam? Or Anne?“.Hold it, I didn’t say the bride was pregnant ... and anyhow, you seem to beassuming that Dorcas is the prospective bride. You haven’t kept your eyesopen. It’s Miriam who is studying Arabic like mad, so she can do it right.“.Huh? Well, I’ll be a cross-eyed baboon!“.You obviously are.“.But Miriam was always snapping at Stinky-.
　　.And to think that they trust you with a newspaper column. Ever watch abunch of sixth-graders?“.Yes, but- Dorcas did everything but a nautch dance.“.That is just Dorcas’s natural, normal behavior with all men. She used ittoward you, too-although I suppose you were too preoccupied elsewhere torealize it. Never mind. Just be sure that when Miriam shows you her ring-thesize of a roe’s egg and about as scarce-be sure to be surprised. And I’mdamned if I’ll sort out which two are spawning, so that you’ll be certain to besurprised. Just remember that they are pleased about it . . . which is why Itipped you off ahead of time, so that you wouldn’t make the mistake ofthinking that they thought they were .caught.’ They don’t. They weren’t.
　　They’re smug.“ Jubal sighed. .But I’m not. I’m getting too old to enjoy thepatter of little feet when I’m busy ... and contrariwise, I won it lose perfectsecretaries-and kids that I love, as you know-for any reason if I can possiblyinduce them to stay. But I must say that this household has become steadilymore disorganized ever since the night Jill kicked Mike’s feet out from underhim. Not that I blame her and I don’t think you do, either.“.No, I don’t, but-Jubal, let me get this straight. Are you under the impressionthat Jill started Mike on his merry rounds?“.Huh?“ Jubal looked startled, then thought back-and admitted to himself thathe had never known . . . he had simply assumed it from the fact that when itcame to a decision, Jill had been the one who had gone away with Mike.
　　.Who was it?“.’Don’t be nosy, bub,’ as you would put it. If she wants to tell you, she will.
　　However, Jill told me-straightened me out when I made the same jumping-toconclusionsthat you did. Mmm-. Ben thought. .As I understand it, which oneof the four happened to score the first run was more or less chance.“.Mmm ... yes. I believe you’re right.“.Jill thinks so. Except that she thinks Mike was exceedingly lucky inhappening to seduce, or be seduced by (if! have the proper verb)-by the onebest fitted to start him off right. Which may give you some hint if you knowanything about how Jill’s mind works.“.Hell, I don’t even know how mine works ... and as for Jill, I would never haveexpected her to take up preaching no matter how lovestruck she was-so Icertainly don’t know how her mind works.“.She doesn’t do much preaching-we’ll get to that. Jubal, what do you readfrom the calendar?“.Huh?“.You know what I mean. You think Mike did it-in both cases. Or you think so ifhis visits home match up in either or both cases.“Jubal said guardedly, .Why do you say that, Ben? I’ve said nothing to leadyou to think so.“.The hell you haven’t. You said that they were smug, both of them. I know alltoo well the effect that goddam superman has on women.“.Hold it, son-he’s your water brother.“Ben said levelly, .I know it-and I love him, too. If! ever decided to go gay,Mike would be my only choice. But that’s all the more reason why Iunderstand why they are smug.“Jubal stared at his glass. .Maybe they just hope. Ben, seems to me yourname could be on the list, even easier than Mike’s. Yes?“.Jubal, you’re out of your mind!“.Take it easy. Nobody is trying to make you get married, I promise you-why, Ihaven’t even painted my shotgun white. While I am not snoopy and I neverhold a bed check around here and I really do, so help me by all the BillionNames of God, believe in not poking my nose into other people’s business,nevertheless while I may be out of my mind-a .least hypothesis’ more thanonce, the last couple of years-I do have normal eyesight and hearing . . . andif a brass band parades through my home, fortissimo, I’ll notice it eventually.
　　Question: You’ve slept under this roof dozens of times. Did you, on at leastone of those nights, sleep alone?“.Why, you scoundrel! Uh, I slept alone the very first night I was ever here.“.Dorcas must have been off her feed. No, I remember, you were undersedative that night. You were my patient-doesn’t count. Some other night?
　　Just one?“.Your question is irrelevant, immaterial, and beneath my notice.“.That’s an adequate answer, I think. But please note that the addedbedrooms are as far from my bedroom as possible. Soundproofing is neverperfect.“.Jubal, it seems to me that your name is much higher up that list than minecan possibly be.“.What?“.Not to mention Larry and Duke. But, Jubal, almost everybody who knowsyou assumes that you are keeping the fanciest harem since the Sultan wentout of business. Oh, don’t misunderstand me-they envy you. But they thinkyou’re a lecherous old goat, too.“Jubal drummed on the arm of his chair before replying. .Ben, I ordinarily donot mind being treated flippantly by my juniors. I encourage it, as you know.
　　But in some matters I insist that my years be treated with respect. This is oneof them.“.Sorry,“ Ben said stiffly. .I thought if it was all right for you to kick my sex lifearound, you would not mind my being equally frank.“.No, no, no, Ben!-you misunderstand me. Your inquiry was in order and yourside comments no more than I had invited. I mean that I require the girls totreat me with respect-on this one subject.“.Oh-.
　　.I am, as you pointed out, old-quite old. Privately, to you alone, I am happy tosay that I am still lecherous. But my lechery does not command me and I amnot a goat. I prefer dignity and self-respect to indulging in pastimes which,believe me, I have already enjoyed in full measure and do not need to repeat.
　　Ben, a man my age, who looks like a slum clearance in its most depressingstages, can attract a young girl enough to bed her- and possibly big her andthanks for the compliment; it just possibly might not be amiss-through threemeans only: money . . . or second, the equivalent of money in terms of willsand community property and the like and-pause for question: Can youimagine any of these three girls- these four, let me include Jill-bedding with aman, even a young and handsome one, for those reasons?“.No. Categorical no-not any of them.“.Thank you, sir. I associate only with ladies; I see that you know it. The thirdincentive is a most female one. A sweet young girl can, and sometimes does,take an old wreck to bed because she is fond of him and sorry for him andwishes to make him happy. Would that reason apply here?“.Uh ... yes, Jubal, I think it might. With all four of them.“.I think it might, too. Although I’d hate like hell to have any of them sorry forme. But this third reason which any of these four ladies might find sufficientmotivation is not sufficient motivation for me. I wouldn’t put up with it. I havemy dignity, sir-and I hope that I retain my reason long enough to extinguishmyself if it ever appears about to slip. So please take my name off the list.“Caxton grinned. .Okay-you stiff-necked old coot. I just hope that when I amyour age I won’t be so all-fired hard to tempt.“Jubal smiled. .Believe me, it’s better to be tempted and resist, than not toresist and be disappointed. Now about Duke and Larry: I don’t know nor care.
　　Whenever anyone has come here, to work and live as a member of thefamily, I have made it bluntly plain that this was neither a sweat shop nor awhore house, but a home . . . and, as such, it combined anarchy and tyrannywithout a trace of democracy, as in any well-run family, i.e., that they wereutterly on their own except where I saw fit to give orders, which orders werenot subject to vote or debate. My tyranny has never extended to their lovelife, if any. All the kids who live here have always chosen to keep their privatematters reasonably private. At least-. Jubal smiled ruefully. .-until the Martianinfluence caused things to get a little out of hand . . . which includes you, too,my water brother. But Duke and Larry have been more restrained, in onesense or the other. Perhaps they have been dragging the gals behind everybush. If so, I haven’t seen it-and there have been no screams.“Ben thought of adding a little to Jubal’s store of facts, decided against it.
　　.Then you think it’s Mike.“Jubal scowled. .Yep, I think it’s Mike. That part’s all right-I told you the girlswere smugly happy . . . and I’m not broke plus the fact that I could bleed Mikefor any amount without telling the girls. Their babies won’t lack. But, Ben, I’mtroubled about Mike himself. Very.“.So am I, Jubal.“.And about Jill, too. I should have named Jill.“.Uh ... Jubal, Jill isn’t the problem-other than for me, personally. And that’smy hard luck, I hold no grudge. It’s Mike.“.Damn it, why can’t the boy come home and quit this obscene pulpitpounding?“.Mmm ... Jubal, that’s not quite what he’s doing.“ Ben added, .I’ve justcome from there.“.Huh? Why didn’t you say so?“Ben sighed. .First you wanted to talk art, then you wanted to sing the blues,then you wanted to gossip. What chance have I had?“.Uh ... conceded. You have the floor.“.I was coming back from covering the Cape Town conference; I squeezedout a day and visited them. What I saw worried the hell out of me-so much sothat I stopped just long enough in Washington to get a few columns ahead,then came straight here. Jubal, couldn’t you rig it with Douglas to shut off thefaucet and close down this operation?“Jubal shook his head. .In the first place, I wouldn’t. What Mike does with hislife is his business.“.You would if you had seen what I saw.“.Not I! But in the second place I can’t. Nor can Douglas.“.Jubal, you know quite well that Mike would accept any decision you madeabout his money. He probably wouldn’t even understand it-and he certainlywouldn’t question it.“.Ah, but he would understand it! Ben, recently Mike made his will, drew it uphimself-no attorney-and sent it to me to criticize. Ben, it was one of theshrewdest legal documents I’ve ever seen. He recognized that he had morewealth than his heirs could possibly need-so he used half his money to guardthe other half . . . rigged it so that anyone who contests the will does so to hisown great disadvantage. It is a very cynical document in that respect and isbooby-trapped not only against possible heirsclaimants of his legal parentsand his natural parents-he knows he’s a bastard, though I don’t know how hefound out-but also the same with respect to every member of the Envoy’scompany . . . he provided a generous way to settle Out of court with anypossible unknown heir having a good prima-facie claim-and rigged it so thatthey would almost have to overthrow the government to go into court andbreak his will . . . and the will also showed that he knew exactly each stock,bond, security, and asset he owned. I couldn’t find anything to criticize in it.“(-including, Jubal thought, his provision for you, my brother!) .Then he wentto the trouble of depositing holographic originals in several places . . . andFair-Witness copies in half a dozen reliable brains. Don’t tell me that I couldrig his money without his understanding what I had done!“Ben looked morose. .I wish you could.“.I don’t. But that was just the starter. It wouldn’t help if we could. Mike hasn’ttaken a dollar out of his drawing account for almOst a year. I know, becauseDouglas called me to ask if I thought the major portion of the backlog shouldbe reinvested? Mike hadn’t bothere~l to answer his letters. I told him that washis headache . . . but that if I were steward, I would follow my principal’s lastinstructions.“.No withdrawals? Jubal, he’s spending a lot.“.Maybe the church racket pays well.“.That’s the odd part about it. The Church of All Worlds is not really church.“.Then what is it?“.Uh, primarily it’s a language school.“.Repeat?“.To teach the Martian language.“.Well, no harm in that. But I wish, then, that he w.uldn’t call it a church.“.Well, I guess it is a church, within the legal definition.“.Look, Ben, a roller skating rink is a church-as long as some sect claims thatroller skating is essential to their faith and a part of their worship. Youwouldn’t even have to go that far-Simply claim that roller skating served adesirable though not essential function parallel to that which religious musicserves in most churches. If you can sing to the glory of God, you can skate tothe same end. Believe me, this has all been threshed out. There are templesin Malaya which are nothing to an outsider but boarding houses for snakes . .
　　but the same High Court rules them to be .churches’ as protects our ownsects.“.Well, Mike raises snakes, too, as well as teaching Martian. But, Jubal, isn’tanything ruled out?“.Mmm ... that’s a moot point. There are minor restrictiOnS, adjudicated. Achurch usually can’t charge a fee for fortune telling or calling up spirits of thedead_but it can accept offerings . . . and then let custom make the .offerings’
　　become fees in fact. Human sacrifice is illegal everywhere-but I’m by nomeans sure that it is not still done in several spots around the globe-andprobably right here in this former land of the free and home of the brave. Theway to do anything under the guise of religion that would otherwise besuppressed is to do it in the inner sanctum and keep the gentiles out. Why,Ben? Is Mike doing something that might get him jailed or hanged?“.Uh, I don’t know. Probably not.“.Well, if he’s careful- The Fosterites have demonstrated how to get by withalmost anything. Certainly much more than Joseph Smith was lynched for.“.Matter of fact, Mike has lifted quite a lot from the Fosterites. That’s part ofwhat worries me.“.But what does worry you? Specifically.“.Uh, Jubal, this has got to be a .water brother’ matter.“.Okay, I had assumed that. I’m prepared to face redhot pincers and the rack,if necessary. Shall I start carrying poison in a hollow tooth? Against thepossibility of cracking?“.Uh, the members of the inner circle are supposed to be able to discorporatevoluntarily any second-no poison needed.“.I’m sorry, Ben. I never got that far. Never mind, I know other adequate waysto put up the only final defense against the third degree. Let’s have it.“.You can discorporate at will, they tell me-if you learn Martian first. Nevermind. Jubal, I said Mike raises snakes. I meant that both figuratively andliterally-the whole setup is a snake pit. UnhealthY.
　　.But let me describe it. Mike’s Temple is a big place, almost a labyrinth. A bigauditorium for public meetings, some smaller ones for invitational meetingsmanysmaller rooms-and living quarters-quite a lot of living quarters. Jill sentme a radiogram telling me where to go, so I was dxopped at the livingquarters entrance on the street the Temple backs onto. The living quartersare above the main auditOrium, about as private as you can be and still livein a city.“Jubal nodded. .Makes sense. Be your acts legal or illegal, nosy neighborsare noxious.“.In this case a very good idea. A pair of outer doors let me in; I suppose I wasscanned first, although I didn’t spot the scanner. Through two more sets ofautomatic doors any one of which would slow down a raiding squad-then upa bounce tube. Jubal, it wasn’t an ordinary bounce tube. It wasn’t controlledby the passenger, but by someone out of sight. More evidence that theywanted privacy and meant to have it-a raiding squad would need specialclimbing gear to get up that way. No stairs anywhere. Didn’t feel like theordinary bounce tube, either-frankly, I avoid them when I can; they make mequeasy.“.I have never used them and never shall,“ Jubal said firmly.
　　.You wouldn’t have minded this. I floated up gently as a feather.“.Not me, Ben. I don’t trust machinery. It bites.“ Jub8l added, .However, I mustconcede that Mike’s mother was one of the great engineers of all times andhis father-his real father-was a number one pilot and a competent engineer,or better . . . and both of genius level. If Mike has improved bounce tubesuntil they are fit for humans, I ought not to be surprised.“.As may be. I got to the top and was landed without having to grab for it, ordepend on safety nets-I didn’t see any, to tell the truth. Through more doorsthat unlocked for me and into an enormous living room. Enormous! Veryoddly furnished and rather austere. Jubal, there are people who think you runan odd household here.“.I can’t imagine why. Just plain and comfortable.“.Well, your ménage is Aunt Jane’s Finishing School for Refined YoungLadies compared with the weirdie Mike runs. I’m just barely inside the jointwhen the first thing I see I don’t believe. A babe, tattooed from her chin to hertoes-and not a goddam stitch otherwise. Hell, not even the home-grown figleaf-she was tattooed everywhere. Fantastic!“Jubal said quietly, .You’re a big-city bumpkin, Ben. I knew a tattooed ladyonce. Very nice girl. Intense in some ways. But sweet.“.Well,“ Ben conceded. .I was giving you a first impression. This gal is verynice, too, once you get adjusted to her pictorial supplement- and the fact thatshe usually has a snake with her. She’s the one who raises them, rather thanMike.“Jubal shook his head. .I was wondering if by any chance it was the samewoman. Fully tattooed women are rather scarce these days. But the lady Iknew, some thirty years back-too old now to be this one, I suppose -had theusual vulgar fear of snakes, to excess. However, I’m fond of snakes myself . .
　　. I look forward to meeting your friend. I hope.“.You will when you visit Mike. She’s sort of a majordomo for him- and apriestess, if you’ll pardon the word. Patricia-but called .Pat,’ or .Patty.’“.Oh, yes! Jill has spoken of her ... and thinks very highly of her. Nevermentioned her tattoos, however. Probably didn’t think it was relevant. Orperhaps none of my business.“.But she’s nearly the right age to be your friend. She says. When I said .babe’
　　I was again giving a first impression. She looks to be in her twenties; sheclaims her oldest child is that old. Anyhow, she trotted up to meet me, all bigsmile, put her anns around me and kissed me. .You’re Ben, I know.
　　Welcome, brother! I give you water!’
　　.You know me, Jubal. I’ve been in the newspaper racket for years- I’ve beenaround. But I had never been kissed by a totally strange babe dressed only intattoos . . . who was determined to be as friendly and affectionate as a colliepup. I was embarrassed.“.Poor Ben. My heart bleeds.“.Damn it, you would have felt the same way.“.No. Remember, I’ve met one tattooed lady. They feel completely dressed inthose tattoos-and rather resent having to put on clothes. Or at least this wastrue of my friend Sadako. Japanese, she was. But of course the Japaneseare not body conscious the way we are.“.Well,“ Ben answered. .Pat isn’t exactly body conscious, either-just about hertattoos. She wants to be stuffed and mounted, nude, when she dies, as atribute to George.“.’George’?“.Sorry. Her husband. Up in heaven, to my relief ... although she talked abouthim as if he had just slipped out for a short beer. While she was behaving asif she expected a trial mounting and stuffing any moment. But, essentially,Pat is a lady . . . and she didn’t let me stay embarrassed-.
Chapter 31
PATRICIA HAD HER ARMS around Ben Caxton and gave him the all-outkiss of brotherhood before he knew what hit him. She felt at once his uneaseand was herself surprised, because Michael had told her to expect him, givenher Ben’s face in her mind, had explained that Ben was a brother in allfullness, of the Inner Nest, and she knew that Jill was growncloser with Bensecond only to that with Michael . . . which was always necessarily first sinceMichael was the fountain and source of all their knowledge of the water oflife.
　　But the foundation of Patricia’s nature was an endless wish to make otherpeople as happy as she was; she slowed down. She invited Ben to get rid ofhis clothes but did so casually and did not press the matter, except to askhim to remove his shoes, with the explanation that the Nest was everywherekind to bare feet and the unstated corollary that street shoes would not bekind to it-it was soft and clean as only Michael’s powers could keep thingsclean, which Ben could see for himself.
　　Aside from that she merely pointed out where to hang any clothes he foundtoo warm for the Nest and hurried away to fetch him a drink. She didn’t askhis preferences; she knew them from Jill. She merely decided that he wouldchoose a double martini this time rather than Scotch and soda, the poor dearlooked tired. When she came back with a drink for each of them, Ben wasbarefooted and had removed his street jacket. .Brother, may you neverthirst.“.We share water,“ he agreed and drank. .But there’s mighty little water inthat.“.Enough,“ she answered. .Michael says that the water could be completely inthe thought; it is the sharing. I grok he speaks rightly.“.I grok. And it’s just what I needed. Thanks, Patty.“.Ours is yours and you are ours. We’re glad you’re safely home. Just now theothers are all at services or teaching. But there’s no hurry; they will comewhen waiting is filled. Would you like to look around your Nest?“Still puzzled but interested Ben let her lead him on a guided tour. Some partsof it were commonplace: a huge kitchen with a bar at one end-rather short ongadgets and having the same kind-to-the-feet floor covering as elsewhere,but not notable otherwise save for size-a library even more loaded thanJubal’s, bathrooms ample and luxurious, bedrooms- Ben decided that theymust be bedrooms although they contained no beds but simply floors thatwere even softer than elsewhere; Patty called them .little nests“ and showedhim one she said she usually slept in.
　　It contained her snakes.
　　It had been fitted on one side for the comfort of snakes. Ben suppressed hisown slight queasiness about snakes until he came to the cobras. .It’s allright,“ she assured him. .We did have glass in front of them. But Michael hastaught them that they must not come past this line.“.I think I would rather trust glass.“.Okay, Ben.“ In remarkably short order she replaced the glass barrier, frontand top. But he was relieved when they left, even though he managed tostroke Honey Bun when invited to. Before returning to the huge living roomPat showed him one other room. It was large, circular, had a floor whichseemed almost as cushiony as that of the bedrooms, and no furniture. In itscenter was a round pool of water, almost a swimming pool. .This,“ she toldhim, .is the Innermost Temple, where we receive new brothers into the Nest.“She went over and dabbled a foot in the water. .Just right,“ she said. .Wantto share water and grow closer? Or maybe just swim?“.Uh, not right now.“.Waiting is,“ she agreed. They returned to the living room and Patricia wentto get him another drink. Ben settled himself on a big, very comfortablecouch-then got up at once. The place was too warm for him, that first drinkwas making him sweat, and leaning back on a couch that adjusted itself toowell to his contours made him just that much hotter. He decided it was damnsilly to dress the way he would in Washington, warm as it was in here-andwith Patty decked out in nothing but ink and a bull snake she had left aroundher shoulders during the latter part of the tour that reptile would keep himfrom temptation even if it wasn’t already clearly evident that Patty was nottrying to be provocative.
　　He compromised by leaving on jockey shorts and hung his other clothes inthe foyer. As he did so, he noticed a sign printed on the inside of the doorthrough which he had entered: .Did You Remember to Dress?“He decided that, in this odd household, this gentle warning might benecessary if any were absent-minded. Then he saw something else that hehad missed on coming in, his attention earlier having been seized by thesight of Patty herself. On each side of the door was a large bowl, as gross asa bushel basket-and each was tilled with money.
　　More than filled- Federation notes of various denominations spilled out onthe floor.
　　He was staring at this improbability when Patricia returned. .Here’s yourdrink, Brother Ben. Grow close in Happiness.“.Uh, thanks.“ His eyes returned to the money.
　　She followed his glance. .You must think I’m a sloppy housekeeper, Ben-andI am. Michael makes it so easy, most of the cleaning and such, that I forget“She squatted down, retrieved the money, stuffed it into the less crowdedbowl.
　　.Patty, why in the world?“.Oh. We keep it here because this door leads out to the street. Just forconvenience. If one of us is leaving the Nest-and I do, myself, almost everyday for grocery shopping-we are likely to need money. So we keep it whereyou won’t forget to take some with you.“.You mean ... just grab a handful and go?“.Why, of course, dear. Oh, I see what you mean. But there is never anyonehere but us. No visitors, ever. If any of us have friends outside- and, ofcourse, all of us do-there are plenty of nice rooms lower down, the ordinarySort that outsiders are used to, where we can visit with them. This moneyisn’t where it can tempt a weak person.“.Huh! I’m pretty weak, myself!“She chuckled gently at his joke. .How can it tempt you when it’s alreadyyours? You’re part of the Nest.“.Uh ... I suppose so. But don’t you worry about burglars?“ He was trying toguess how much money one of those bowls contained. Most of the notesseemed to be larger than singles-hell, he could see one with three zeroes onit still on the floor, where Patty had missed it in her tidying up.
　　.One did get in, just last week.“.So? How much did he steal?“.Oh, he didn’t. Michael sent him away.“.Called the cops?“.Oh, no, no- Michael would never turn anybody over to the cops. I grok thatwould be a wrongness Michael just-. She shrugged. .-made him go away.
　　Then Duke fixed the hole in the skylight in the garden room-did I show youthat? It’s lovely ... a grass floor. But I remember that you have a grass floor,Jill told me. That’s where Michael first saw one. Is it grass all over? Everyroom?“.Just my living room.“.If I ever get to Washington, can I walk on it? Lie down on it? Please?“.Of course, Patty. Uh, ..it’s yours.“.I know, dear. But it’s not in the Nest, and Michael has taught us that it isgood to ask, even when we know the answer is yes. I’ll lie on it and feel thegrass against me and be filled with Happiness to be in my brother’s .littlenest.’
　　.You’ll be most welcome, Patty.“ Ben reminded himself sharply that he didn’tgive a hoot in hell what his neighbors thought-but he hoped she would leaveher snakes behind. .When will you be there?“.I don’t know. When waiting is filled. Maybe Michael knows.“.Well, warn me if you can, so I’ll be in town. If not, Jill always knows the codefor my door-I change it occasionally. Patty, doesn’t anybody keep track of thismoney?“.What for, Ben?“.Uh, people usually do.“.Well, we don’t. Just help yourself as you go out-then put back any you haveleft when you conic home, if you remember to. Michael told rue to keep thegrouch bag filled. If it runs low I get some more from him.“Ben dropped the matter, stonkered by the simplicity of the arrangement. Healready had some idea, from Mike and second-hand from Jill and Jubal, ofthe moneyless communism of the Martian culture; he could see that Mikehad set up an enclave of it here-and these bowls of cash marked thetransition point whereby one passed from Martian to Terran economy. Hewondered if Patty knew that it was a fake . . - bolstered up by Mike’senormous fortune. He decided not to ask.
　　.Patty, how many are there in the Nest?“ He felt a mild worry that he wasacquiring too many sharing brothers without his consent, then shoved backthe thought as unwOrthy after all, why would any of them want to sponge onhim? Other than, possibly to lie on his grass rug~-he didn’t have any pots ofgold just inside his door.
　　.Let me see ... there are almost twenty now, ~ountiflg novitiate brothers whodon’t really think in Martial) yet and aren’t ordained.“.Are you ordained, Patty?“.Oh, yes. But mostly I teach. Beginners’ classes in Martian, and I helpnovitiate brothers and such. And Dawn and I-Dawn and Jill are each HighPriestes -Dawn and I are pretty well-known Fosterites, especially Dawn, sowe work together to show other FosteriteS that the Church of All Worldsdoesn’t conflict with the Faith, any more than being a Bapfist keeps a manfrom joining the Masons.“ She showed Ben Foster’s kiss, explained what itmeant, and showed him also its miraculous companion placed by Mike.
　　.They all know what Foster’s kiss means and how hard it is to win it and bythen they’ve seen some of Mike’s miracles and they are just about ripe tobuckle down and sweat to climb into a higher circle.“.It’s an effort?“.Of course it is, Ben-for them. In your case and mine, and Jill’s, and a fewothers-YOU know them all-Michael called us straight into brotherhood. But toothers Michael first teaches a discipline-not a faith but a way to realize faith inworks. And that means they’ve got to start by learning Martian. That’s noteasy; I’m not perfect in it myself. But it is much Happiness to work and learn.
　　You asked about the size of the Nest-let me see, Duke and Jim and Michaeland myself-two Fosterites, Dawn and myself . . . one circumcised Jew andhis wife and four children-.
　　.Kids in the Nest?“.Oh, more than a dozen. Not here, but in the nestlings’ nest just off of here;nobody could meditate with kids hooting and hollering and raising Ned, Wantto see it?“.Uh, later.“.One Catholic couple with a baby boy-excommunicated I’m sorry to say; theirpriest found out about it. Michael had to give them very special help; it was anasty shock to them-and so utterly unnecessary. They were getting up earlyevery Sunday morning to go to mass just as usual-but kids will talk. OneMormon family of the new schism-that’s three more, and their kids. The restare the usual run of Protestants and one atheist . . . that is, he thought hewas an atheist, until Michael opened his eyes. He came here to scoff; hestayed to learn . . - and he’ll be a priest before long. Uh, nineteen grown-ups-I’m pretty sure that’s right though it’s hard to say, since we’re hardly ever allin the Nest at once, except for our own services in the Innermost Temple.
　　The Nest is built to hold eighty-one-that’s .three-filled,’ or three times threemultiplied by itself-but Michael says that there will be much waiting beforewe’d need a bigger nest and by then we will be building other nests. Ben?
　　Wouldn’t you like to see an outer service, see how Michael makes the pitch,instead of just listening to me ramble on? Michael will be preaching just aboutnow.“.Why, yes, if it’s not too much trouble.“.You could go by yourself. But I’d like to go with you ... and I’m not busy. Justa see, dearie, while I get decent.“.Jubal, she was back in a couple of minutes in a robe not unlike Anne’sWitness robe but cut differently, with angel-wing sleeves and a high neck andthe trademark Mike uses for the Church of All Worlds-nine concentric circlesand a conventionalized Sun-embroidered over her heart. This getup was apriestess robe, her vestments; Jill and the other priestesses wear the samesort, except that Patty’s was opaque, a heavy synthetic silk, and came sohigh that it covered her cartoons, and was caught at both wrists for the samereason. She had put on stockings, too, or maybe bobby socks, and wascarrying sandals.
　　.Changed the hell out of her, Jubal. It gave her great dignity. Her face is quitenice and I could see that she was considerably older than I had first guessedher although not within twenty years of what she claims to be. She has anexquisite complexion and I thought what a shame it was that anyone hadever touched a tattooing needle to such skin.
　　.I had dressed again. She asked me to take off just my shoes because weweren’t going out the way I had come in. She led me back through the Nestand out into a corridor; we stopped to put on shoes and went down a rampthat wound down maybe a couple of floors until we reached a gallery. It wassort of a loge overlooking the main auditorium. Mike was holding forth on theplatform. No pulpit, no altar, just a lecture hall, with a big All-Worlds symbolon the wall behind him. There was a robed priestess on the platform with himand, at that distance, I thought it was Jill- but it wasn’t; it was another womanwho looks a bit like her and is almost as beautiful. The other high priestess,Dawn-Dawn Ardent.“.What was that name?“ Jubal interrupted.
　　.Dawn Ardent-née Higgins, if you want to be fussy.“.I’ve met her.“.I know you have, you allegedly retired goat. She’s got a crush on you...“Jubal shook his head. .Some mistake. The .Dawn Ardent’ I mean I just barelymet, about two years ago. She wouldn’t even remember me.“.She remembers you. She gets every one of your pieces of commercial crud,on tape, under every pseudonym she has been able to track down. She goesto sleep by them, usually, and they give her beautiful dreams. She says.
　　Furthermore there is no doubt that she knows who you are. Jubal, that bigliving room, the Nest proper, has exactly one item of ornamentation, if you’llpardon the word-a life-sized color so11y of your head. Looks as if you hadbeen decapitated, with your face in a hideous grin. A candid shot that Dukesneaked of you, I understand.“.Why, that brat!“.Jill asked him to, behind your back.“.Double brat!“.Sir, you are speaking of the woman I love-although I’m not alone in thatdistinction. But Mike put her up to it. Brace yourself, Jubal-you are the patronsaint of the Church of All Worlds.“Jubal looked horrified. .They can’t do this to me!“.They already have. But don’t worry; it’s unofficial and not publicized. ButMike freely gives you credit, inside the Nest just among water brothers, forhaving instigated the whole show and explained things to him so well that hewas finally able to figure out how to put over Martian theology to humans.“Jubal looked about to retch. Ben went on, .I’m afraid you can’t duck it. But inaddition, Dawn thinks you’re beautiful. Aside from that quirk, she is anintelligent woman-and utterly charming. But I digress. Mike spotted us atonce, waved and called out, .Hi, Ben! Later’-and went on with his spiel.
　　.Jubal, I’m not going to try to quote him, you’ll just have to hear it. He didn’tsound preachy and he didn’t wear robes-just a smart, welltailored, whitesyntholinen suit. He sounded like a damned good car salesman, except thatthere was no doubt he was talking about religion. He cracked jokes and toldparables-none of them straitlaced but nothing really dirty, either. The essenceof it was a sort of pantheism . . . one of his parables was the oldy about theearthworm burrowing along through the soil who encounters anotherearthworm and at once says, .Oh, you’re beautiful! You’re lovelyl Will youmarry me?’ and is answered: .Don’t be silly! I’m your other end.’ You’veheard it before?“.’Heard it?’ I wrote it!“.I hadn’t realized it was that old. Anyhow, Mike made good use of it. His ideais that whenever you encounter any other grokking thing-he didn’t say.grokking’ at this stage-any other living thing, man, woman, or stray cat . . .
　　you are simply encountering your .other end’ . . . and the universe is just alittle thing we whipped up among us the other night for our entertainment andthen agreed to forget the gag. He put it in a much more sugar-coated fashion,being extremely careful not to tread on competitors’ toes.“Jubal nodded and looked sour. .Solipsism and Pantheism. Teamed togetherthey can explain anything. Cancel out any inconvenient fact, reconcile alltheories, and include any facts or delusions you care to name. Trouble is, it’sjust cotton candy, all taste and no substance-and as unsatisfactory as solvinga story by saying: .-and then the little boy fell out of bed and woke up; it wasjust a dream.’“.Don’t crab at me about it; take it up with Mike. But believe me, he made itsound convincing. Once he stopped and said, .You must be tired of so muchtalk-. and they yelled back, .No!’-I tell you, he really had them. But heprotested that his voice was tired and, anyhow, a church ought to havemiracles and this was a church, even though it didn’t have a mortgage.
　　.Dawn, fetch me my miracle box.’ Then he did some really amazing sleightof-hand. Did you know he had been a magician with a carnival?“.I knew he had been with it. He never told me the exact nature of hisshame.“.He’s a crackerjack magician; he did stunts for them that had me fooled. Butit wouldn’t have mattered if it had been only the card tricks kids learn; it washis patter that had them rolling in the aisles. Finally he stopped and saidapologeticallY~ .The Man from Mars is supposed to be able to do wonderfulthings . . . so I have to pass a few miracles each meeting. I can’t help beingthe Man from Mars; it’s just something that happened to me. But miraclescan happen for you, too, if you want them. However, to be allowed to seeanything more than these narrow-gauge miracles, you must enter the Circle.
　　Those of you who truly want to learn I will see later. Cards are being passedaround,’
　　.Patty explained to me what Mike was really doing. .This crowd is just marks,dear-people who come out of curiosity or maybe have been shined in bysome of our own people who have reached one of the inner circles.’ Jubal,Mike has the thing rigged in nine circles, like degrees in a lodge-and nobodyis told that there actually is a circle farther in until they’re ready to be inductedinto it. .This is just Michael’s bally,’ Pat told me, .which he does as easy as hebreathes-while all the time he’s feeling them out, sizing them up, gettinginside their heads and deciding which ones are even possible. Maybe one inten. That’s why he strings it out- Duke is up behind that grille and Michaeltells him every mark who just might measure up, where he sits andeverything. Michael’s about to turn this tip . . . and spill the ones he doesn’twant. Dawn will handle that part, after she gets the seating diagram fromDuke.’“.How did they work that?“ asked Harshaw.
　　.I didn’t see it, Jubal. Does it matter? There are a dozen ways they could cutfrom the herd the ones they wanted as long as Mike knew which they wereand bad worked out some way to signal Duke. I don’t know. Patty says he’sclairvoyant and says it with a straight face-and, do you know, I won’t discountthe possibility. But right after that, they took the collection. Mike didn’t doeven this in church style-you know, soft music and dignified ushers. He saidnobody would believe that this was a church service if be didn’t take acollection . . . so he would, but with a difference. Either take it or put it-suityourself. Then, so help me, they passed collection baskets already loadedwith money. Mike kept telling them that this was what the last crowd had left,so help themselves . . . if they were broke or hungry and needed it. But if theyfelt like giving . . - give. Share with others. Just do one or the other-putsomething in, or take something out. When I saw it, I figured he had foundone more way to get rid of too much money.“Jubal said thoughtfully, .I’m not sure he would lose by it. That pitch, properlygiven, should result in more people giving more . . . while a few take just alittle. And probably very few. I would say that it would be hard indeed to reachin and take out money when the people on each side of you are puttingmoney in . . unless you need it awfully badly.“.I don’t know, Jubal ... but I understand that they are just as casual aboutthose collections as they are about that stack of dough upstairs. But Pattywhisked me away when Mike turned the service over to his high priestess. Iwas taken to a much smaller auditorium where services were just opening forthe seventh circle in-people who had belonged for several months at leastand had made progress. If it is progress.
　　.Jubal, Mike had gone straight from one to the other, and I couldn’t adjust tothe change. That outer meeting was half popular lecture and half sheerentertainment-this one was more nearly a voodoo rite. Mike was in robes thistime; he looked taller, ascetic, and intense-! swear his eyes gleamed. Theplace was dimly lighted, there was music that was creepy and yet made youwant to dance. This time Patty and I took a double seat together, a couchthat was darn near a bed. What the service was all about I couldn’t say. Mikewould sing out to them in Martian, they would answer in Martian__-except forchants of .Thou art GodI Thou art God!’ which was always echoed by someMartian word that would make my throat sore to try to pronounce it.“Jubal made a croaking noise. .Was that it?“.Huh? I believe it was-allowing for your horrible tall-corn accent. Jubal . . . areyou hooked? Have you just been stringing me along?“.No. Stinky taught it to me-and he says that it’s heresy of the blackest sort.
　　By his lights I mean-I couldn’t care less. It’s the Martian word Mike translatesas: .Thou art God.’ But our brother Mahmoud says that isn’t even close tobeing a translation. It’s the universe proclaiming its own self-awareness . . *or it’s .peccavimus’ with a total absence of contrition or a dozen other things,all of which don’t translate it. Stinky says that not only it can’t be translatedbut that he doesn’t really understand it in Martian-except that it is a bad word,the worst possible in his opinion and much closer to Satan’s defiance than itis to the blessing of a benevolent God. Go on. Was that all there was to it?
　　Just a bunch of fanatics yelling Martian at each other?“.Uh ... Jubal, they didn’t yell and it wasn’t fanatical. Sometimes they wouldbarely whisper, the room almost dead quiet. Then it might climb in volume alittle but not much. They did it in sort of a rhythm, a pattern, like a cantata, asif they had rehearsed it a long time . . . and yet it didn’t feel as if they hadrehearsed it; it felt more as if they were all just one person, humming tohimself whatever he felt at the moment. Jubal, you’ve seen how theFosterites get themselves worked up-.
　　.Too much of it, I’m sorry to say.“.Well, this was not that sort of frenzy at all; this was quiet and easy, likedropping off to sleep. It was intense all right and got steadily more so, but-Jubal, ever sit in on a spiritualist séance?“.I have. I’ve tried everything I could, Ben.“.Then you know how the tension can grow without anybody moving or sayinga word. This was much more like that than it was like a shouting revival, oreven the most sedate church service. But it wasn’t mild; it packed terrificwallop.“.The technical word is .Apollonian.’“.Huh?“.As opposed to .Dionysian.’ And both rather Procrustean I’m sorry to say.
　　People tend to simplify .Apollonian’ into .mild,’ and .calm,’ and .cool.’ But.Apollonian’ and .Dionysian’ are two sides of the same coin-a nun on herknees in her cell, holding perfectly still and her facial muscles relaxed, can bein a religious ecstasy more frenzied than any priestess of Pan Priapuscelebrating the vernal equinox. Ecstasy is in the skull, not in the setting-upexercises.“ Jubal frowned. .Another common error is to identify .Apollonian’
　　with .good’-merely because our most respectable sects are all ratherApollonian in ritual and precept. Mere local prejudice. Proceed.“.Well ... things weren’t as quiet as a nun at her devotions anyhow. Theydidn’t just stay seated and let Mike entertain them. They wandered about abit, swapped seats, and there was no doubt that there was necking going on;no more than necking, I believe, but the lighting was very low key and it washard to see from one pew to another. One gal wandered over our way,started to join us, but Patty gave her some sign to let us be so she just kissedus and left.“ Ben grinned. .Kissed quite well, too, though she didn’t dailyabout it. I was the only person not dressed in a robe; I was as conspicuousas a space suit in a salon. But she gave no sign of noticing.
　　.The whole thing was very casual ... and yet it seemed as coordinated as aballerina’s muscles. Mike kept busy, sometimes out in front, sometimeswandering among the others-once he squeezed my shoulder and kissedPatty, unhurriedly but quickly. He didn’t speak to me. Back of the spot wherehe stood when he seemed to be leading them was some sort of a dingus likea magic mirror, or possibly a big stereo tank; he used it for .miracles,’ only atthis stage he never used the word-at least not in English. Jubal, every churchpromises miracles. But it’s always jam yesterday and jam tomorrow, neverjam today.“.Exception,“ Jubal interrupted again. .Many of them deliver as a matter ofroutine-exempli gratia among many: Christian Scientists and RomanCatholics.“.Catholics? You mean Lourdes?“.The example included Lourdes, for what it may be worth. But I referred tothe Miracle of Transubstantiation, called forth by every Catholic priest at leastdaily.“.Hmm- Well, I can’t judge that subtle a miracle. To a heathen outsider likemyself that sort of miracle is impossible to test. As for Christian Scientists, Iwon’t argue-but if I break a leg, I want a sawbones.“.Then watch where you put your feet,“ Jubal growled. .Don’t bother mewith your fractures.“.Wouldn’t think of it. I want one who wasn’t a classmate of WilliamHarvey.“.Harvey could reduce a fracture. Proceed.“.Yeah, but how about his classmates? Jubal, those things you cited asmiracles may be such-but Mike offers splashy ones, ones the cashcustomers can see. He’s either an expert illusionist, one who would make thefabled Houdini look clumsy ... or an amazing hypnotist-.
　　.He might be both.“.-or he’s smoothed the bugs out of closed-circuit stereovision to the pointwhere it simply cannot be told from reality, for his special effects. Or .I’vebeen .ad fer a button, dearie.’“.How can you rule out real miracles, Ben?“.I included them with the button. It’s not a theory I like to think about.
　　Whatever he used, it was good theater. Once the lights came up behind himand here was a black~mafled lion, lying as stately and sedately as if guardinglibrary steps, while a couple of little lambs wobbled around him. The lion justblinked and yawned. Sure, Hollywood can tape that sort of special effect anyday-but it looked real, so much so that I thought I smelled the lion . . . and ofcourse that can be faked, too.“.Why do you insist on fakery?“.Damn it, I’m trying to be judicial!“.Then don’t lean over backwards so far you fall down. Try to emulateAnne.“.I’m not Anne. And I wasn’t very judicial at the time. I just lounged back andenjoyed it, in a warm glow. It didn’t even annOY me that I couldn’tunderstand most of what was said; it felt as if I got the gist of it. Mike did a lotof gang-ho miracles-or illusions. Levitation and such. I wasn’t being critical, Iwas willing to enjoy it as good showmanship Patty slipped away toward theend after whispering to me to stay where I was and she would be back.
　　.Michael has just told them that any who do not feel ready for the next circleshould now .eave,’ she told me.
　　.I said, .I guess I had better leave, too.’
　　.And she said, .Oh, no, dear-You’re already Ninth Circle-Y0U know that. Juststay seated, I’ll be back.’ And she left.
　　.I don’t think anybody decided to chicken out. This group was not onlySeventh Circle but Seventh Circlers who were all supposed to be promoted.
　　But I didn’t really notice for the lights came up again . . . and there was Jill!
　　.Jubal, this time it definitely did not feel like stereoviSiofl. Jill picked me outwith her eyes and smiled at me. Oh, I know, if the person beingphotograPhed looks directly at the cameras, then the eyes meet yours nomatter where you’re seated But if Mike has it smoothed out this well, he hadbetter patent it. Jill was dressed in an outlandish costume-~ priestess outfit, IsuppoSe~ but not like the others. Mike started intoning something to her andto us, partly in English ... stuff about the Mother of All, the unity of many, andstarted calling her by a series of names . . and with each name her costumechanged-.
　　Ben Caxton came quickly alert when the lights came up behind the HighPriest and he saw Jill Boardmafl posed, above and behind the priest. Heblinked and made sure that he had not again been fooled by lighting anddistance-this was Jill She looked back at him and smiled. He half listened tothe invocation while thinking that he had been convinced that the spacebehind the Man from Mars was surely a stereo tank, or some gitumick. But hecould almost swear that he could walk up those steps and pinch her. He wastempted to do so-then reminded himself that it would be a crummY trick toruin Mike’s show. Wait till it was over and Jill was free- .Cybele!“ -and Jill’scostume suddenly changed-again.Frigg!“.Gel“.Devil“.Ishtar!“.Maryam“.Mother Eve! Mater Deus Magna! Loving and Beloved, Life Undying-.
　　Caxton stopped hearing the woids . . . for Jill suddenly was Mother Eve,clothed only in her own glory. The light spread and he saw that she wasstanding gently at rest in a Garden, beside a tree around and on which wastwined a great serpent.
　　Jill smiled at them all, turned a little, reached up and smoothed the serpent’shead turned back and opened her arms to all of them. The first of thecandidates moved forward to enter the Garden. Patty returned and touchedCaxton on the shoulder. .Ben, I’m back. Come with me, dear.“Caxton was reluctant, he wanted to stay and drink in the glorious vision of Jill. . . he wanted to do more than that; he wanted to join that proceSsiOn andgo where she was. But he found himself getting up and leaving with Patricia.
　　He looked back and saw Mike about to put his arms around and kiss the firstwoman in the line . . . turned to follow Patricia outside and failed to see thecandidates’ robe vanish as Mike kissed her- and did not see what followed atonce, when Jill kissed the first male candidate for elevation to the eighthcircle...and his robe vanished.
　　.We have to go long way .round,“ Patty explained~ .to give them time to getclear and on into the Temple of the Eighth Circle. Oh, it wouldn’t actually hurtto barge in, but it would waste Michael’s time, getting them back in the mooaandhe does work so very hard.“.Where are we going now?“.To pick up Honey Bun. Then back to the Nest. Unless you want to take partin the initiation to the Eighth Circle. You can, you know, since you’re NinthCircle. But you haven’t learned Martian yet; you’d find it very confusing.“.Well-I’d like to see Jill. When will she be free?“.Oh. She told me to tell you that she was going to duck upstairs and see you.
　　Down this way, Ben.“A door opened and Ben found himself in the garden he had seeD. Theserpent was still festooned on the tree; she raised her head as they came in.
　　.There, there, dears“ Patricia said to her. .You were Mama’s good girl,weren’t you?“ She gently unwrapped the boa and flaked it down into abasket, tail first. .Duke brought her down for me but I have to arrange her onthe tree and tell her to stay there and not go wandering off. You were lucky,Ben; a transition service from Seventh to Eighth happens very seldom-Michael won’t hold it until there are enough candidateS ready to build andhold the mood ... although we used to supply people out of the InnermostCircle to help the first candidates from outside through.“Ben carried Honey Bun for Patty until they reached the top level and learnedthat a fourteen-foot snake is quite a load; the basket had steel braces andneeded them. As soon as they were that high, Patricia stopped. .Put herdown, Ben.“ She took off her robe and handed it to him, then go out thesnake and draped it around her. .This is Honey Bun’s reward for being agood girl; she expects to cuddle up to Mama. I’ve got a class starting almostat once, so I’ll walk the rest of the way with her on me and let her stay on meuntil the last possible second. It’s not a goodness to disappoint a snake;they’re just like babies. They can’t grok in fullness, except that Honey Bungroks Mama...and Michael, of course.“They walked the fifty yards or so to the entrance to the Nest proper and at itsdoor Patricia let Ben take off her sandals for her after he removed his shoes,He wondered bow she could balance on one foot under such a load . . . andnoticed, too, that she had gotten rid of her socks or stockings at some point—no doubt while she was out arranging Honey Bun’s stage appearance.
　　They went inside and she went with him, still clothed in the big snake, whilebe shucked down to his jockey shorts-stalling as he did so, trying to make uphis mind whether to discard the shorts, too. He had seen enough to be fairlycertain that clothing, any clothing, inside the Nest was as unconventional bythese conventions (and possibly as rude), as hob-nailed boots on a dancetloor. The gentle warning on the exit door, the fact that there were nowindows anywhere in the Nest, the womblike comfort of the Nest itself,Patricia’s lack of attire plus the fact that she had suggested (but not insisted)that he do likewise-all added up to an unmistakable pattern of habitualdomestic nudity . . . among people who were all at least nominally his own.water brothers,“ even though he had not met most of them.
　　He had seen further confirmation in addition to Patricia, whose behavior hehad discounted somewhat from a vague feeling that a tattooed lady mightvery .well have odd habits about clothing. On coming into the living room theyhad passed a man beaded the other way, toward the baths and the .little ~“-and he had worn less than Patricia by one snake and lots of pictures. He hadgreeted them with .Thou art God“ and gone on, apparently as used to buff asPatricia was. But, Ben reminded himself, this .brother“ hadn’t seemedsurprised that Ben was dressed, either.
　　There had been other such evidence in the living room: a body sprawled facedown on a couch across the room-a woman, Ben thought, although he hadnot wanted to stare after a quick glance had shown him that this one wasnaked, too.
　　Ben Caxtofl had thought himself to be sophisticated about such things.
　　Swimming without suits be considered only sensible. He knew that manyfamilies were casually naked in their own homes-and this was a family, ofsorts-although he himself had not been brought up in the custom. He hadeven (once) let a girl invite him to a nudist resort, and it had not troubled himespecially after the first five minutes or so-he had simply regarded it as a sillylot of trouble to go to for the dubiOus pleasures of poison ivy, scratches, andan all-over sunburn that bad put him in bed for a day.
　　But now he found himself balanced in perfect indecision, unable to make uphis mind between the probable urbanity of removing his symbolic fig leaf . . .
　　and the even stronger probability-certainty he decided-that if he did so andstrangers came in who were dressed and stayed that way, he would feel allfiredsilly~ Hell, he might even blush!
　　.What would you have done, Jubal?“ Ben demanded.
　　Harshaw lifted his eyebrows. .Axe you expecting me to be shocked, Ben? Ihave seen the human body, professionally and otherwise, for most of acentury. It is often pleasing to the eye, frequently most depressiflg and neversignificant per se. Only in the subjective value the viewer places on the sight.
　　I grok Mike runs his household along nudist lines. Shall I cheer? Or must Icry? Neither. It leaves me unmoved.“.Damn it man!, it’s easy for you to sit there and be Olympian about it-youweren’t faced with the choice. I’ve never seen you take off your pants incompany.“.Nor are you likely to. .Other times, other customs.’ But I grok you were notmotivated by modesty. You were suffering from a morbid fear of appearingridiculous-a well-known phobia with a long, pseudo-Greek name with which Ishall not bore you.“.Nonsense! I simply wasn’t certain what was polite.“.Nonsense to you, sir-YOU already knew what was polite ... but were afraidyou might look silly . . or possibly feared being trapped inadvertently in thegallant reflex. But I seem to grok that Mike had a reason for instituting thishousehold custom-Mike always has reasons for everything he does, althoughsome of them seem strange to me.“.Oh, yes. He has reasons. Jill told me about them.“Ben Caxton was standing in the foyer, his back to the living room and hishands on his shorts, having told himself, not very firmly, to take the plungeand get it over with-when two arms came snugly around his waist frombehind. .Ben darling! How wonderful to have you here!“He turned and had Jill in his arms and her mouth warm and greedy againsthis-and was very glad that he had not quite finished stripping. For she was nolonger .Mother Eve“; she was wearing one of the long, allenvelopingpriestess robes. Nevertheless he was happily aware that he had a doublearmful of live, warm, and gently squirming girl; her priestly vestment was nogreater impediment than would have been a thin gown, and both kinestheticand tactile senses told him that the rest was Jill.
　　.Golly!“ she said, breaking from the kiss. .I’ve missed you, you old beast.
　　Thou art God.“.Thou art God,“ he conceded. .Jill, you’re prettier than ever.“.Yes,“ she agreed. .It does that for you. But I can’t tell you what a thrill it gaveme to catch your eye at the blow-off.“.’Blow-off’?“.Jill means,“ Patricia put in, .the end of the service where she is All Mother,Mater Deum Magna. Kids, I must rush.“.Never hurry, Pattycake.“.I gotta rush so I won’t have to hurry. Ben, I must put Honey Bun to bed andgo down and take my class-so kiss me good-night now. Please?“Ben found himself kissing good-night a woman still wrapped most thoroughlyby a giant snake-and decided that he could think of better ways . . . saywearing full armor. But he tried to ignore Honey Bun and treat Patty as shedeserved to be treated.
　　Jill kissed her and said, .Stop by and tell Mike to stall until I get there,pretty please.“.He will anyhow. .Night, dears.“ She left unhurriedly.
　　.Ben, isn’t she a lamb?“.She certainly is. Although she had me baffled at first.“.I grok. But it’s not because she’s tattooed nor because of her snakes, Iknow. She baffled you-she baffles everybody-because Patty never has anydoubts; she just automatically always does the right thing. She’s very muchlike Mike. She’s the most advanced of any of us-she ought to be highpriestess. But she won’t take it because her tattoos would make some of theduties difficult-be a distraction at least-and she doesn’t want them taken off.“.How could you possibly take off that much tattooing? With a flensing knife?
　　It would kill her.“.Not at all, dear. Mike could take them off completely, not leave a trace, andnot even hurt her. Believe me, dear, he could, But he groks that she does notthink of them as belonging to her; she’s just their custodian- and he grokswith her about it. Come sit down. Dawn will be in with supper for all three ofus in a moment-I must eat while we visit or I won’t have a chance untiltomorrow. That’s poor management with all eternity to draw from . . . but Ididn’t know when you would get here and you happen to arrive on a very fullday. But tell me what you think of what you’ve seen? Dawn tells me you sawan outsiders’ service, too.“.Yes.“.Well?“.Mike,“ Caxton said slowly, .has certainly blossomed out. I think he could sellshoes to snakes.“.I’m quite sure he could. But he never would because it would be wrongsnakesdon’t need them. What’s the matter, Ben? I grok there’s somethingbothering you.“.No,“ he answered. .Certainly not anything I can put my finger on. Oh, I’m notmuch for churches ... but I’m not against them exactly- certainly not againstthis one. I guess I just don’t grok it.“.I’ll ask you again in a week or two. There’s no hurry.“.I won’t be here even a week.“.You have some columns on the spike“-it was not a question.
　　.Three fresh ones. But I shouldn’t stay even that long.“.I think you will ... then you’ll phone in a few . . . probably about the Church.
　　By then I think you will grok to stay much longer.“.I don’t think so.“.Waiting is, until fullness. You know it’s not a church?“.Well, Patty did say something of the sort.“.Let’s say it’s not a religion. It is a church, in every legal and moral sensesandI suppose our Nest is a monastery. But we’re not trying to bring people toGod; that’s a contradiction in terms, you can’t even say it in Martian. We’renot trying to save souls, because souls can’t be lost. We’re not trying to getpeople to have faith, because what we offer is not faith but truth-truth theycan check; we don’t urge them to believe it. Truth for practical purposes, forhere-and-now, truth as matter of fact as an ironing board and as useful as aloaf of bread . . . so practical that it can make war and hunger and violenceand hate as unnecessary as . . . as-well, as clothes here in the Nest. But theyhave to learn Martian first. That’s the only hitch-finding people who arehonest enough to believe what they see, and then are willing to do the hardwork-it is hard work- of learning the language it can be taught in. A composercouldn’t possibly write down a symphony in English . . and this sort ofsymphony can’t be stated in English any more than Beethoven’s Fifth canbe.“ She smiled. .But Mike never hurries. Day after day he screens hundredsof people finds a few dozen . . . and out of those a very few trickle into theNest and he trains them further. And someday Mike will have some of us sothoroughly trained that we can go out and start other nests, and then it canbegin to snowball. But there’s no hurry. None of us, even us in the Nest, arereally trained. Are we, dear?“Ben looked up, somewhat startled by Jill’s last three words-then was reallystartled to find bending over him to offer him a plate a woman whom hebelatedly recognized as the other high priestess-Dawn, yes, that was right.
　　His surprise was not reduced by the fact that she was dressed in Patricia’sfashion, minus tattoos.
　　But Dawn was not startled. She smiled and said, .Your supper, my brotherBen. Thou art God.“.Uh, thou art God. Thanks.“ He was beyond being surprised when sheleaned down and kissed him, then got plates for herself and Jill, sat down onthe other side of him and began to eat. He was willing to concede that, if notGod, Dawn had the best attributes associated with goddesses; he was rathersorry she had not sat down across from him-he couldn’t see her well withoutbeing obvious about it.
　　.No,“ Dawn agreed, between bites, .we aren’t really trained yet, Jill. Butwaiting will fill.“.That’s the size of it, Ben,“ Jill continued. .For example, I took a break to eat.
　　But Mike hasn’t had a bite for well over twenty-four hours and won’t eat untilhe’s not needed-you happened to bit a crowded day, because of that groupmaking transition to Eighth Circle. Then when Mike is through, he’ll eat like apig and that will carry him as long as necessary. Besides that, Dawn and Iget tired . . . don’t we, sweet?“.We surely do. But I’m not too tired, Gillian. Let me take this service and youcan visit with Ben. Give me that robe.“.You’re crazy in your little pointy head, my love-and Mama spank. Ben, she’sbeen on duty almost as long as Mike has. We both can take that long astretch-but we eat when we’re hungry and sometimes we need sleep.
　　Speaking of robes, Dawn, this was the last vanishing robe in the SeventhTemple. I meant to tell Patty she’d better order a gross or two.“.She has.“.I should have known. This one seems a little tight.“ Jill wiggled in it in afashion that disturbed Ben more than Dawn’s perfect and unrobed skin. .Arewe putting on weight, Dawn?“.I think we are, a little. No matter.“.Helps, you mean. We were too skinny. Ben, you noticed, didn’t you, thatDawn and I have the same figure? Height, bust, waist, hips, weight,everything-not to mention coloration. We were almost the same when we met. . . and then, with Mike’s help, we matched up exactly and are holding it thatway. Even our faces are getting more alike-but we didn’t plan that. That justcomes from doing the same things and thinking about the same things. Standup and let Ben look at us, dear.“Dawn put her plate aside and did so, in a pose that reminded Ben oddly ofJill, more so than the figure resemblance seemed to justify; then he realized itwas the exact pose Jill had been in when she had first stood revealed asMother Eve.
　　Invited to Stare, he did. Jill said, with her mouth full, .See, Ben? That’sme.“Dawn smiled at her. .A razor’s edge of difference, Gillian.“.Pooh. You’re getting that control, too. I’m almost sorry we’ll never have thesame face. It’s very handy, Ben, for Dawn and myself to look so much alike.
　　We have to have two high priestesses; it’s all two of us can do to keep upwith Mike. We can trade places right in the middle of a service -andsometimes do. And besides,“ she added, swallowing, .Dawn can buy a fitteddress and it fits me, too. Saves me the nuisance of shopping for clothes.
　　When we wear clothes.“.I wasn’t sure,“ Ben said slowly, .that you still wore clothes at all. Exceptthese priestess things.“Jill looked surprised. .Do you think we would go out dancing in these? Wewear evening dresses, same as everybody else. That’s our favorite way ofnot getting our beauty sleep, isn’t it, dear? Sit back down and finish yoursupper; Ben has stared at us long enough for the moment. Ben, there’s aman in that transition group you were just with who’s a perfectly dreamydancer and this town is loaded with good night clubs-and Dawn and I havekept the poor fellow so busy, alternated keeping him up so many nights in arow, that we’ve had to help him stay awake in language classes. But he’ll beall right; once you reach Eighth Circle you don’t need nearly so much sleep.
　　Whatever made you think we never dressed, dear?“.Uh-. Ben finally blurted Out the embarrassing predicament he had beenin.
　　Jill looked wide-eyed, then barely giggled-and stopped it at once, at whichBen realized that he had heard none of these people laugh only the .marks“in the outer service. .I see. But, darling, I just never got around to taking thisrobe off. I am wearing it because I have to gobble and git. But had I grokkedthat that was troubling you, I certainly would have chucked it before I saidhello even though I wasn’t sure there was another one handy. We’re so usedto dressing or not dressing according to what we need to do that I just plainforgot that I might not be behaving politely. Sweetheart, take those shorts offorleave them on, exactly as suits you.“.Uh-.
　　.Just don’t fret about it, either way.“ Jill smiled and dimpled. .Reminds me ofthe first time Mike tried a public beach, but in reverse. .Member, Dawn?“.I’ll never forget it!“.Ben, you know how Mike is about clothes. He just doesn’t understand them.
　　Or didn’t. I had to teach him everything. He couldn’t see any point to them asprotection, until he grokked-to his great surprise-that we aren’t asinvulnerable as he is. Modesty-that sort of .modesty’; he’s so modest in itstrue sense that it hurts-body-modesty isn’t a Martian concept, it couldn’t be.
　　And only lately has Mike grokked clothes as ornaments, after we startedexperimenting with various ways to costume our acts.
　　.But, Ben, while Mike was always wiJling to do what I told him to, whether hegrokked it or not, you can’t imagine how many million little things there are tobeing a human being. We take twenty or thirty years to learn them; Mike hadto learn them almost overnight. There are gaps, even now. He does thingsnot knowing that isn’t how a human does them. We all teach him-Dawn and Iespecially. All but Patty, who is sure that anything that Michael does must beperfect. But he’s still grokking the nature of clothes. He’s groks mostly thatthey’re a wrongness that keeps people apart-and get in the way of lettinglove cause them to grow closer. Lately he’s come to realize that part of thetime you want and need, such a barrier-with outsiders. But for a long timeMike wore clothes only because I told him to and when I told him he must.
　　.And I missed a gap.“.We were down in Baja California; it was just at the time we met-or remet,actually-Dawn. Mike and I checked in at night at one of those big fancy beachhotels and he was so anxious to grok the ocean, get wet all over, that he letme sleep the next morning and went down by himself for his first encounterwith the ocean. And I didn’t realize that Mike didn’t know about swim suits.
　　Oh, he may have seen them . . . but he didn’t know what they were for or hadsome mixed-up idea. He certainly didn’t know that you were supposed towear them in the water-the idea was almost sacrilege. And you know Jubal’srigid rules about keeping his pool clean-I’m sure it’s never seen a suit. I doremember one night a lot of people got tossed in with all their clothes on, butit was when Jubal was going to have it drained right away anyhow.
　　.Poor Mike! He got down to the beach and threw off his robe and headed forthe water . . . looking like a Greek god and just as unaware of localconventions-and then the riot Started and I came awake fast and grabbedsome clothes myself and got down there just in time to keep him out of jail . .
　　. and fetched him back to the room and he spent the rest of the day in atrance.“Jill got a momentary faraway look. .And he needs me now, too, so I must runalong. Kiss me good-night, Ben; I’ll see you in the morning.“.You’ll be gone all night?“.Probably. It’s a fairly big transition class and, truthfully, Mike has just beenkeeping them busy the past half hour and more while we visited. But that’s allright.“ She stood up, pulled him gently to his feet and went into his arms.
　　Presently she broke from the kiss but not from his arms and murmured, .Bendarling, you’ve been taking lessons. Whew!“.Me? I’ve been utterly faithful to you-in my own way.“.In the same way I’ve been to you ... the nicest way. I wasn’t complaining . . .
　　I just think Dorcas has been helping you to practice kissing.“.Some, maybe. Nosy.“.Uh huh, I’m always nosy. The class can wait while you kiss me once more.
　　I’ll try to be Dorcas.“.You be yourself.“.I would be, anyway. Self. But Mike says that Dorcas kisses more thoroughly-.groks a kiss more’-than anyone.“.Quit chattering.“She did, for a while, then sighed. .Transition class, here I come- glowing likea lightning bug. Take good care of him, Dawn.“.I will.“.And better kiss him right away and see what I mean!“.I intend to.“.’Bye, darlings! Ben, you be a good boy and do what Dawn tells You.“ Sheleft, not hurrying-but running.
　　Dawn stood up, flowed up against him, put up her arms.
　　Jubal cocked an eyebrow. .And now I suppose you are going to tell me thatat that point, you went chicken.“.Uh, not exactly. A near miss, call it. To tell the truth I didn’t have too much tosay about it. I, uh, .cooperated with the inevitable.’“Jubal nodded. .No other possible course. You were trapped and couldn’t run.
　　Whereupon the best a man can do is try for a negotiated peace.“ He added,.But I’m sorry that the civilized habits of my household caused the boy to fallafoul the law of the jungles of Baja California.“.I don’t think he’s a boy any longer, Jubal.
Chapter 32
BEN CAXTON HAD AWAKENED not knowing where he was nor what time itwas. It was dark around him, perfectly quiet, he was lying on something soft.
　　Not a bed-where was he?
　　The night came back in a rush. The last he clearly remembered he had beenlying on the soft floor of the Innermost Temple, talking quietly and intimatelywith Dawn. She had taken him there, they had immersed, shared water,grown closer- Frantically he reached around him in the dark, found nothing.
　　.Dawn!“Light swelled softly to a gentle dimness. .Here, Ben.“.Oh! I thought you had gone!“.I didn’t intend to wake you.“ She was wearing-to his sudden and intensedisappointment-her robe of office. .I must go start the Sunrisers’ OuterService. Gillian isn’t back yet. As you know, it was a fairly big class.“Her words brought back to him things she had told him last night thingswhich, at the time, had upset him despite her gentle and quite logicalexplanations . . . and she had soothed his upset until he found himselfagreeing with her. He still was not quite straight in his mind he didn’t grok itall-but, yes, Jill was probably still busy with her rites as high priestess-a task,or perhaps a happy duty, that Dawn had offered to take for her. Ben felt atwinge that he really should have been sorry that Jill had refused, hadinsisted that Dawn get much needed rest.
　　But he did not feel sorry. .Dawn ... do you have to leave?“ He scrambled tohis feet, put his arms around her.
　　.I must go, Ben dear ... dear Ben.“ She melted up against him.
　　.Right now? In such a rush?“.There is never,“ she said softly, .that much hurry.“ Suddenly the robe nolonger kept them apart. He was too bemused to wonder what had become ofit.
　　He woke up a second time, found that the .little nest“ he was in lighted softlywhen he stood up. He stretched, discovered that he felt wonderful, thenlooked around the room for his shorts. They were not in sight and no way forthem to be out of sight. He tried to recall where he had left them . . . and hadno recollection of ever having taken them off. But he certainly had not wornthem into the water. Probably beside the pool in the Innermost Temple- Hemade a mental note to stop back there and pick them up, then went out andfound a bathroom.
　　Some minutes later, shaved, showered, and refreshed, he did remember tolook into the Innermost Temple, failed to find his shorts and decided thatsomebody, Patty maybe, had noticed them and put them near the outer doorwhere apparently everybody kept what they needed for street wear . . . saidto hell with it and grinned at himself for having made such a jittery old-maidissue last night out of wearing them or not. He needed them, here in theNest, the way he needed a second head.
　　Come to think of it, he didn’t have the slightest trace of a head-a hangoverhead-although he recalled that he had had more than several drinks withDawn. Hadn’t got drunk, as he recalled, but certainly more than he ordinarilyallowed himself-he couldn’t sop up the stuff the way Jubal did without payingfor it.
　　Dawn didn’t seem to be affected by liquor at all-which was probably why hehad gone over his usual quota. Dawn . . . what a gal, what a gal! She hadn’teven seemed annoyed when, in a moment of emotional confusion, he hadcalled her Jill-she had seemed pleased.
　　He found no one in the big room and wondered what time it was? Not that hegave a damn, except that his stomach told him that it was long past breakfasttime. He went into the kitchen to see what he could scrounge.
　　A man in there looked up as he came in. .Ben!“.Well! Hi, Duke!“Duke gave him a bear hug and slapped him on the back. .Ben, you’re a sightfor sore eyes! Gosh, it’s good to see you. Thou art God. How do you like youreggs?“.Thou art God. Are you the cook?“.Only when I can’t find somebody else to do it for me-such as right now. Tonydoes most of it. We all do some. Even Mike unless Tony catches him andchases him out-Mike is the world’s worst cook, bar none.“ Duke went onbreaking eggs into a dish.
　　Ben moved in on the job. .You look after toast and coffee. Any Wocestershiresauce around here?“.You name it, Pat’s got it. Here.“ Duke added, .I looked in on you a half hourago, but you were still sawing wood. I’ve been busy or you’ve been busy eversince you got here-until now.“.What do you do around here, Duke? Aside from cooking when you can’tavoid it?“.Well, I’m a deacon ... and I’ll be a priest someday. But I’m slow-not that itmatters. I study Martian . . . everybody does that. And I’m the fix-it boy, sameas I was for Jubal“.Must take quite a gang to maintain a place this size.“.Ben, you’d be surprised how little it takes. Aside from keeping an eye on theplumbing-and sometime you must see Mike’s unique way of dealing with astopped toilet-I don’t have to play plumber very much. Aside from plumbing,ninety percent of the gadgetry in this building is right here in the kitchen . . .
　　and it’s not as gadgeted as Jubal’s kitchen.“.I had the impression that you have some very complicated gadgets for someof the temple ceremonies.“.Uuh uh, nary a gadget. Some lighting controlS, that’s all, and simple ones.
　　Actually“ Duke grinned. .-One of my most important jobs is no job at all. Firewarden“.Huh?“.I’m a licensed deputy fire warden, examined and everything, and same forsanitation and safety inspector-neither one takes any work. But it means thatwe never have to let an outsider go through the joint-and we don’t. Theyattend outer services...but they never get any farther unless Mike gives an upcheck.“They transferred food to plates and sat down at a table. Duke said, .You’restaying, aren’t you, Ben?“.I don’t see how I can, Duke.“.Mmmm . . . I had hoped that you would have more sense than I had. I camefor just a short visit, too . . went back and moped around for nearly a monthbefore I told Jubal I was leaving and wouldn’t be back. But never mind; you’llbe back. Don’t make any final decisions before the water sharing tonight.“.Didn’t Dawn tell you? Or Jill?“.Uh ... I don’t think so.“.Then they didn’t. Hmm, maybe i should let Mike explain it. No, no need to;people will be mentioning it to you all day long. Sharing water you grok, ofcourse; you’re one of the First Called.“.’First Called?’ Dawn used that expression.“.That handful of us who became Mike’s water brothers without learningMartian. The others ordinarily do not share water and grow closer until theypass from the Seventh Circle to the Eighth . . . and by that time they arebeginning to think in Martian. Heck, some of them know more Martian by thatstage than I do now, since I’m a .First Called’ myself and started my studiesafter I was already in the Nest. Oh, it’s not actually forbidden to share waterwith someone who isn’t ready for Eighth Circle. Hell, if I wanted to, I couldpick up a babe in a bar, share water with her, then take her to bed—and thentake her to the Temple and start her on her apprentisship But I wouldn’t wantto. That’s the point; I wouldn’t even want to. At the very most I might decidethat it was worth while to bring her around to an outer service and let Mikelook her over and find out whether any of it clicked with her. Ben, I’ll make aflat-footed prediction. You’ve been around a lot—I’m sure you’ve been insome fancy beds with some fancy babes.“.Uh . . some,“.I know damn’ well you have. But you will never again in your life crawl in withone who is not your water brother.“.Hmm.“.You’ll see. Let’s cheek it a year from now and you tell me. Now Mike maydecide that someone is ready to share water before that person reacheseven Seventh Circle. One couple we’ve got in the Nest, Mike picked, andoffered them Water, when they had just entered Third Circle and now he’s apriest and she’s a priestess . . . Sam and Ruth.“.Haven’t met .em.“.You will. Tonight at the latest. But Mike is the only one who can be certain,that soon. Very occasionally Dawn, and sometimes Patty, will spot somebodyfor special promotion and special training . . but never as far down as ThirdCircle and I’m pretty sure that they always consult Mike before going ahead.
　　Not that they are required to. Anyhow, into the Eighth Circle . . . and sharingand growing closer starts. Then, sooner or later, into Ninth Circle, and theNest itself—and that’s the service we mean when we say .Sharing Water’
　　even though we share water all day long. The whole Nest attends and thenew brothers—usually it’s a couple—becomes forever part of the Nest. Inyour case you already are . . , but we’ve never held the service for you, soeverything else is being pushed aside tonight while we welcome you. Theydid the same for me.“ Duke got a faraway look. .Ben, it’s the most wonderfulfeeling in the world“.But I still don’t know what it is, Duke.“.Uh ...it’s a lot of things. Ever been on a real luau of a party, the kind the copsraid and usually ends up in a divorce or two?“.Well ... yes.“.Up to now, brother, you’ve only been on Sunday School picnics. That’s oneaspect of it. Have you ever been married?“.No.“.You are married. You just don’t know it yet. After tonight there will neveragain be any doubt in your mind about it.“ Duke again looked faraway,happily pensive. .Ben, I was married before ... and for a short time it waspretty nice and then it was steady hell on wheels. This time I like it, all thetime. Shucks, I love it! And look, Ben, I don’t mean just that it’s fun to beshacked up with a bunch of bouncy babes. I love them-all my brothers, bothsexes. Take Patty-and you willi-Patty mothers all of us . . . and I don’t thinkanybody, man or woman, gets over needing that, even if they think they’veoutgrown it. Patty . . . well, Patty is just swell! She reminds me of Jubal . . .
　　and that old bastard had better get down here and get the word! My point isthat it is not just that Patty is female. Oh, I’m not running down tail-.
　　.Who is running down tail?“ The voice, a rich contralto, came from behindthem.
　　Duke swung around. .Not me, you limber Levantine whore! Come here,babe, and kiss your brother Ben.“.Never charged for it in my life,“ the woman denied as she glided towardthem. .Started giving it away before anybody told me.“ She kissed Bencarefully and thoroughly. .Thou art God, brother.“.Thou art God. Share water.“.Never thirst. And don’t ever pay any mind to what Duke says- from the wayhe behaves he must have been a bottle baby.“ She leaned over Duke andkissed him even more lingeringly while he patted her ample fundament. Bennoted that she was short, plump, brunette almost to swarthiness, and had amane of heavy blue-black hair almost to her waist .Duke, did you seeanything of a Ladies’ Home Journal when you got up?“ She reached past hisshoulder, took his fork and started eating his scrambled eggs. .Mmm ... good.
　　You didn’t cook these, Duke.“.Ben did. What in the world would I want with a Ladies’ Home Journal?“.Ben, stir up a couple of dozen more exactly the same way and I’ll scramble.em in relays. There was an article in it I wanted to show Patty, dear.“.Okay,“ agreed Ben and got up to do it.
　　.Don’t you two get any ideas about redecorating this dump or I’m moving out.
　　And leave some of those eggs for me! You think us men can do our work onmush?“.Tut, tut, Dukie darling. Water divided is water multiplied. As I was saying,Ben, Duke’s complaints never mean anything-as long as he has enoughwomen for two men and enough food for three, he’s a perfect little lamb.“ Sheshoved one forkful into Duke’s mouth, went on eating the rest herself. .Soquit making faces, brother; I’m about to cook you a second breakfast. Or willthis be your third?“.Not even the first, yet. You ate ~. Ruth, I was telling Ben how you and Sampole-vaulted from Third to Ninth. I think he’s uneasy about whether hebelongs in the Sharing-Water tonight.“She pursued the last bite on Duke’s plate, then moved over and startedpreparations to cook. .Duke, you run along and I’ll send you out somethingother than mush. Take your coffee cup and skedaddle. Ben, I was worried,too, when my time came-but don’t you be worried, dear, because Michaeldoes not make mistakes. You belong here or you wouldn’t be here. You’regoing to stay?“.Uh, I can’t. Ready for the first installment?“.Pour them in. Then you’ll be back. And someday you’ll stay. Duke is correct-Sam and I pole-vaulted . . . and it was almost too fast for a middle-aged, primand proper housewife.“.Middle-aged?“.Ben, one of the bonuses about the discipline is that as it straightens out yoursoul, your body straightens out, too. That’s a matter in which the ChristianScientists are precisely right. Notice any medicine bottles in any of thebathrooms?“.Uh, no.“.There aren’t any. How many people have kissed you?“.Several, at least.“.As a priestess I kiss a lot more than .several,’ believe me. But there’s neverso much as a sniffle in the Nest. I used to be the sort of whiny woman who isnever quite well and given to .female complaints.’“ She smiled. .Now I’mmore female than ever but I’m twenty pounds lighter and years younger andhave nothing to complain about-I like being female. As Duke flattered me, .aLevantine whore’ and unquestionably much more limber than I was-I alwayssit in the lotus position when I’m teaching a class, whereas it used to be all Icould do just to squat down and straighten up again . . . hot flashes anddizziness.
　　.But it did happen fast,“ Ruth went on. .Sam was a professor of Orientallanguages at the University here-the city U., that is. Sam started coming tothe Temple because it was a way, the only way, to learn the Martianlanguage. Strictly professional motivation, he wasn’t interested in it as achurch. And I went along to keep an eye on him . . . I had heard rumors and Iwas a jealous wife, even more possessive than the average.
　　.So we worked up to the Third Circle, Sam learning the language rapidly, ofcourse, and myself grimly hanging on and studying hard because I didn’twant to let him out of my sight. Then boom! the miracle happened. Wesuddenly began to think in it, just a little . . . and Michael felt it and had usstay after service, a Third Circle service, one night and Michael and Gilliangave us water. Afterwards, I knew that I was all the things I had despised inother women and I knew that I should despise my husband for letting me doit and hate him for what he had done himself. All this in English, with the wontparts in Hebrew. So I wept all day and moaned and made myself a stinkingnuisance to Sam . . . and couldn’t wait to get back to share more water andgrow closer again that night.
　　.After that things were steadily easier but not easy, as we were pushedthrough all the inner circles just as rapidly as we could take it; Michael knewthat we needed help and wanted to get us into the safety and peace of theNest. So when it came time for our Sharing.Water, I was still unable todiscipline myself without constant help. I knew that I wanted to be receivedinto the Nest-once you start, there’s no turning back-but I wasn’t sure I couldmerge myself with seven other people. I was scared silly; on the way over Ialmost begged Sam to turn around and go home.“She stopped talking and looked up, unsmiling but beatific, a plump angle witha big stirring spoon in one hand. .Then we walked into the Innermost Templeand a spotlight hit me and our robes were whisked away . . . and they wereall in the pool and calling out to us in Martian to come, come and share thewater of life-and I stumbled into that pool and submerged and I haven’t comeup since!
　　.Nor ever want to. Don’t fret, Ben, you’ll learn the language and acquire thediscipline and you’ll have loving help from all of us every step of the way. Youstop worrying and jump in that pool tonight; I’ll have my arms out to catchyou. All of us will have our arms out, welcoming you home. Now take thisplate in to Duke and tell him I said he was a pig but a charming one. And takethis one in for yourself-oh, of course you can eat that much!-give me a kissand run along; Ruthie has work to do.“Ben delivered the kiss and the message and the plate, then found that he didhave some appetite left . . . but nevertheless did not concentrate on food ashe found Jill stretched out, apparently asleep, on one of the wide, softcouches. He sat down opposite her, enjoying the sweet sight of her andthinking that Dawn and Jill were even more alike than he had realized thenight before.
　　He looked up from a bite and saw that her eyes were open and she wassmiling at him. .Thou art God, darling-and that smells good.“.And you look good. But I didn’t mean to wake you.“ He got up and sat byher, put a bite in her mouth. .My own cooking, with Ruth’s help.“.I know. And good, too. Duke told me to stay out of the kitchen becauseRuthie was giving you a good-for-your-soul lecture. You didn’t wake me; Iwas just lazing until you came out. I haven’t been asleep all night.“.Not at all?“.Not a wink. But I’m not tired, I feel grand. Just hungry. That’s a hint.“ So hefed her. She let him do so, never stirring, not using her own hands. .But didyou get any sleep?“ she asked presently.
　　.Uh, some.“.Enough? No, you got enough. But how much sleep did Dawn get? Asmuch as two hours?“.Oh, more than that, I’m certain.“.Then she’s all right. Two hours of sleep does us as much good as eightused to. I knew what a sweet night you were going to have-both of you-but Iwas a teeny bit worried that she might not rest.“.Well, it was a wonderful night,“ Ben admitted, .although I was, uh, surprisedat the way you shoved her at me.“.Shocked, you mean. I know you, Ben, maybe better than you know yourself.
　　You arrived here yesterday with jealousy sticking out in lumps. I think it’sgone now. Yes?“He looked back at her. .I think so.“.That’s good. I had a wonderful and joyous night, too-made free from anyworry by knowing you were in good hands. The best hands- better thanmine.“.Oh, no!“.Hmm. I grok a few lumps still-but tonight we’ll wash them away in water.“She sat up, reached toward the end of the couch-and it looked to Canon as ifa pack of cigarettes on the end table jumped the last few inches into herhand.
　　.You seemed to have picked up some sleight-of-hand tricks, too.“She seemed momentarily puzzled, then she smiled. .Some. Nothing much.
　　Parlor tricks. .I am only an egg,’ to quote my teacher.“.How did you do that trick?“.Why, I just whistled to it in Martian. First you grok a thing, then you grokwhat you want it to-Mike!“ She waved. .We’re over here, dear!“.Coming.“ The Man from Mars came straight to Ben, took his hands, pulledhim to his feet. .Let me look at you, Ben! Golly, it’s good to see you!“.It’s good to see you. And to be here.“.And we’re going to twist your arm to keep you here. What’s this about threedays? Three days indeed!“.I’m a working man, Mike.“.We’ll see. The girls are all excited, getting ready for your party tonight. Mightjust as well shut down services and classes for the rest of the day-they won’tbe worth a damn.“.Patty has already done any necessary rescheduling,“ Jill told Mike. .She justdidn’t bother you with it. Dawn and Ruth and Sam are going to take care ofwhat’s necessary. Patty decided to slough the Outer matinee- so you’rethrough for the day.“.That’s good news.“ Mike sat down, pulled Jill’s head into his lap, pulled Bendown, put an arm around him, and sighed. He was dressed as Ben had seenhim in the outer meeting, smart tropical business suit, lacking only shoes.
　　.Ben, don’t ever take up preaching. I spend my days and nights rushing from.Could be.“ Caxton was finding that their unself-conscious behavior wasbeginning to embarrass him, even in this uniquely relaxed atmosphere-hewished that they would either knock off necking . . . or give him an excuse toleave.
　　Instead Mike went right on cuddling Jill with one hand while keeping his otherarm snug around Ben’s waist . . . and Ben was forced to admit that Jillencouraged him, rather than otherwise. Mike said very seriously, .Ben, anight like last night-helping a group to make the big jump to Eighth Circlegetsme terribly keyed up. Let me tell you something out of the lessons forSixth, Ben. We humans have something that my former people don’t evendream of. They can’t. And I can tell you how precious it is . . . how especiallyprecious I know it to be, because I have known what it is not to have it. Theblessing of being male and female. Man and Woman created He them-thegreatest treasure We-Who-Are-God ever invented. Right, Jill?“.Beautifully right, Mike-and Ben knows it is Truth. But make a song forDawn, too, darling.“one job to another, telling people why they must never hurry. I owe you,along with Jill and Jubal, more than anyone else on this planet-yet you’vebeen here since yesterday afternoon and this is the first time I’ve been ableto say hello. How’ve you been? You’re looking fit. In fact Dawn tells me youare fit.“Ben found himself blushing. .I’m okay.“.That’s good. Because, believe me, the hill tribes will be restless tonight. ButI’ll grok close and sustain you. You’ll be fresher at the end of the party than atthe start-won’t he, Little Brother?“.Yes,“ agreed Jill. .Ben, you won’t believe it until you’ve had it done for you,but Mike can lend you strength-physical strength, I mean, not just moralsupport. I can do it a little bit. Mike can really do it.“.Jill can do it quite a lot.“ Mike caressed her. .Little Brother is a tower ofstrength to everybody. Last night she certainly was.“ He smiled down at her,then sang:
　　.You’ll never find a girl like Jill.
　　.No, not one in a billion.“.Of all the tarts who ever will .The willingest is our Gillian!-isn’t that right, LittleBrother?“.Pooh,“ answered Jill, obviously pleased, covering his hand with her own andpressing it to her. .Dawn is exactly like me and you know it- and every bit aswilling.“.Maybe. But you’re here ... and Dawn is downstairs interviewing thepossibles out of the tip. She’s busy-you ain’t. That’s an important differenceisn’tit, Ben?“.Okay- .Ardent is our lovely Dawn;“Ben grokked that in her glance- .She buysnew dresses every morn. .But never shops for pants!“ Jill giggled andsquirmed. .Did you tune her in?“.Yes, and she gave me a big Bronx cheer-with a kiss behind it for Ben. Say,isn’t there anybody in the kitchen this morning? I just remembered I haven’teaten for a couple of days. Or years, maybe; I’m not sure.“.I think Ruth is,“ Ben said, untangling himself and standing up. .I’ll go see.“.Duke can do it. Hey, Duke! See if you can ~nd somebody who’ll fix me astack of wheat cakes as tall as you are and a gallon of maple syrup.“.Right, Mike!“ Duke called back.
　　Ben Caxton hesitated, without an excuse to run an errand. He thought of atrumped-up excuse and glanced back over his sboulder.
　　.Jubal,“ Caxton said earnestly, .I wouldn’t tell you this part at all if it weren’tessential to explaining how I feel about the whole thing, why I’m worriedabout them-all of them, Duke and Mike as well as Jill and Mike’s othervictims, too. By that morning I was myself half conned into thinkingeverything was all right-Weird as bell in spots-but jolly. Mike himself had mefascinated, too-his new personalitY is pretty powerful. Cocky and too muchsupersalesman . . but very compelling. Then he-or both of them-got merather embarassed, so 1 took that chance to get up from the couch.
　　.Then I glanced back-and couldn’t believe my eyes. I hadn’t been tu~ncdaway five seconds . . and Mike bad managed to get rid of every stitch ofclothes . . . and so help me, they were going to it, with myself and three orfour others in the room at the time-just as boldly as monkeys in a zoo!
　　.Jubal, I was so shocked I almost lost my breakfast.
Chapter 33
WELL,“ SAID JUBAL, .what did you do? Cheer?“.Like hell. I left, at once. I dashed for the outer door, grabbed my clothes andshoes-forgot my bag and didn’t go back for it-ignored the sign on the door,went on through-jumped in that bounce tube with my clothes in my arms.
　　Blooie! Gone without saying good-by.“.Rather abrupt“.I felt abrupt. I had to leave. In fact I left so fast that I durn near killed myself.
　　You know the ordinary bounce tube-.
　　.I do not.“.Well, unless you set it to take you up to a certain level, when you get into ityou simply sink slowly, like cold molasses I didn’t sink, I fell_and I was aboutsix stories up. But just when I thought I had made my last mistake, something.Ah, you’ve raised an entirely different issue. Public exhibitiOn ~luSt I wouldfind most distasteful, either as participant or spectator . . but I grok thisreflects my early indoctrination, nothing more. A very large minority ofmankind-possibly a majority-do not share my taste in this matter. Decidedlynot-for the orgy has a long and very widespread history. Nonetheless it is notto my taste. But shocking? My dear sir, I can be shocked only by that whichoffends me ethically. Ethical questiotions are subject to logic-but this is amatter of taste and the old saw is in point-.de gusribus non est disputandu.“caught me. Not a safety net-a field of some sort I didn’t quite splash. ButMike needs to smooth out that gadget. Or put in the regular sort of bouncetube.“Jubal said, .I’ll stick to stairs and, when unavoidable,elevators“.Well, I hadn’t realized that this one was so risky. But the only safetyinspector they’ve got is Duke . . . and to Duke whatever Mike says is Gospel.
　　Jubal, that whole place is riding for a fall. They’re all hypnotized by one man .
　　. . who isn’t right in his head. What can be done about it?“Jubal jutted out his lips and then scowled, .Let’s see first if you’ve got itanalyzed correctlY. Just what aspects of the situation did you finddisquieting?“.Why...the whole thing.“.So? In fact, wasn’t it just one thing? And that an essentiallY harmless actwhich we both know was nothing new . . . but was, we can assume ratherconclusively, initially performed in this house or on these grounds about twoyears ago? I did not then object-nor did you, when you learned of it,whenever that was, in fact, I have implied that you yourself have, on otheroccasions, joined in that same act with the same young lady-and she is alady, despite your tale-and you neither denied my implication nor actedoffended at my presumPtion. To put it bluntly, son-what are you belly-achingabout?“.Well, for cripe’s sake, Jubal...Would you put up with it, in your livingroom?“.Decidedly not-unless perhaps I have, it having taken place so clandestinely,at night perhaps, that no one noticed. In which case it would be-or has been,if such be the case-no skin off’n my nose. But the point is that it was not myliving room . . . nor would I presume to lay down rules for another man’s livingroom. It was Mike’s house . . . and his wife-common law or otherwise, weneed not inquire. So what business is it of mine? Or yours? You go into aman’s house, you accept his household rules-that’s a universal law ofcivilized behavior.“.You mean to say you don’t find it shocking?“.Precisely. In which respect I concede that my own taste, rooted in earlytraining, reinforced by some three generations of habit, and now, I believe,calcified beyond possibility of change, is no more sacred than the verydifferent taste of Nero. Less sacred-Nero was a god; I am not.“.Well, I’ll be damned.“.In due course, possibly-if it is possible ... a point on which I am .neutralagainst.’
　　But, Ben, this wasn’t public.“.Huh?“.You yourself have said it. You described this group as a plural marriage-agroup theogamy, to be precise. Not public but utterly private. Aint nobodyhere but just us gods’-so how could anyone be offended?“.I was offended!“.That was because your own apotheosis was less complete than theirs-I’mafraid they over-rated you . . . and you misled them. You invited it.“.Me? Jubal, I did nothing of the sort“.Tommy busted my dolly ... I hitted him over the head with it.’ The time toback out was the instant you got there, for you saw at once that their customsand manners were not yours. Instead you stayed, and enjoyed the favors ofone goddess-and behaved yourself as a god toward her-in short, you learnedthe score, and they knew it. It seems to me that Mike’s error lay only inaccepting your hypocrisy as solid coin. But he does have the weakness-agodlike one-of never doubting his .water brothers’-but even Jove nods-andhis weakness-or is it a strength?- comes from his early training; he can’t helpit. No, Ben, Mike behaved with complete propriety; the offense against goodmanners lay in your behavior.“.Damn it, Jubal, you’ve twisted things again. I did what I had to do-I wasabout to throw up on their rug!“.So you claim reflex. So stipulated; however, anyone over the emotional ageof twelve could have clamped his jaws and made a slow march for thebathroom with at worst the hazard of clogged sinuses-instead of a panickeddash for the street door-then returned when the show was over with aeuphemistic but acceptable excuse.“.That wouldn’t have been enough. I tell you I had to leave!“.I know. But not through reflex. Reflex will evacuate the stomach; it will notchoose a course for the feet, recover chattels, take you through doors andcause you to jump down a hole without looking. Panic, Ben. Why did youpanic?“Caxton was long in replying. He sighed and said, .I guess when you comeright down to it, Jubal-I’m a prude.“Jubal shook his head. .Your behavior was momentarily prudish, but not fromprudish motivations. You are not a prude, Ben. A prude is a person whothinks that his own rules of propriety are natural laws. You are almost entirelyfree of this prevalent evil. You adjusted, at least with passable urbanity, tomany things which did not fit your code of propriety whereas a true-blue, stiffnecked,incorrigible prude would promptly have affronted that delightfultattooed lady and stomped out. Dig deeper.. Do you wish a hint?“.Uh, maybe you’d better. All I know is that I am mixed up and unhappy aboutthe whole Situation-on Mike’s account, too, Jubal!- which is why I took a dayoff to see you.“.Very well. Hypothetical situation for you to evaluate: You mentioned a ladynamed Ruth whom you met in passing-a kiss of brotherhood and a fewminutes conversation-nothing more.“.Yeah?“.Suppose the actors had been Ruth and Mike? Gillian not even present?
　　Would you have been shocked?“.Huh? Hell, yes, I would have been shocked!“.Just how shocked? Retching? Panic flight?“Caxton looked thoughtful, then sheepish. .I suppose not. I still would havebeen startled silly. But I guess I would’ve just gone out to the kitchen orsomething . . . then found an excuse to leave. I still feel like a fool for havingmade that mad dash to get out.“.Would you actually have sought an excuse to leave? Or were you lookingforward to your own .welcome home’ party that night?“.Well,“ Caxton mused. .I hadn’t made up my mind about that when thishappened. I was curious, I admit-but I wasn’t quite sold.“.Very well. You now have your motivation.“.Do I?“.You name it, Ben. Haul it out and look at it-and find out how you want todeal with it.“Caxton chewed his lip and looked unhappy. .All right. I would have beenstartled if it had been Ruth-but I wouldn’t really have been shocked. Hell, inthe newspaper racket you get over being shocked by anything but-well, youexpressed it: something that cuts deep about right and wrong. Shucks, if ithad been Ruth, I might even have sneaked a look ~ -even though I still think Iwould have left the room; such things ought to be-or at least I feel that theyought to be-private.“ He paused. .It was because it was Jill. I was hurt . . .
　　and jealous.“.Stout fellow, Ben.“.Jubal, I would have sworn that I wasn’t jealous. I knew that I had lost out-Ihad accepted it. It was the circumstances, Jubal. Now don’t get me wrong. Iwould still love Jill if she were a two-peso whore. Which she is not. Thishands-around harem deal upsets the hell out of me. But by her lights Jill ismoral.“Jubal nodded. .I know. I feel sure that Gillian is incapable of being corrupted.
　　She has an invincible innocence which makes it impossible for her to beimmoral.“ lie frowned. .Ben we are close to the root of your trouble. I amafraid that you-and I, too, i admit-lack the angelic innocence to abide by theperfect morality those people live by.“Ben looked surprised. .Jubal, you think what they are doing is moral?
　　Monkeys in the zoo stuff and all? All I meant was that Jill really didn’t knowthat what she was doing was wrong__Mike’s got her homswoggled-and Mikedoesn’t know he’s doing wrong either. He’s the Man front Mars; he didn’t getoff to a fair start. Everything about us was strange to him-he’ll probably neverget straightened out.“Jubal looked troubled. .You’ve raised a hard question, Ben-but I’ll give you astraight answer. Yes, I think what those people-the entire Nest, not just ourown kids-are doing is moral. As you described it to me _yes. I haven’t had achance to examine details-but yes: all of it. Group orgies, and open andunashamed swapping off at other times . . . their communal living and theiranarchistic code, everything. And most especially their selfless dedication tOgiving their perfect morality to others.“.Jubal, you utterly astonish me.“ Caxton scratched his head and frowned.
　　.Since you feel that way, why don’t you join them? You’re welcome, theywant you, they’re expecting you. They’ll hold a jubilee-and Dawn is waiting tokiss your feet and serve you in any way you will permit; I wasn’texaggerating.“Jubal shook his head. .No. Had I been approached fifty years ago- But now?
　　Ben my brother, the potential for such innocence is no longer in me-and I amnot referring to sexual potency, so wipe that cynical smile off your face. Imean that I have been too long wedded to my own brand of evil andhopelessness to be cleansed in their water of life and become innocentagain. If I ever was.“.Mike thinks you have this innocence-he doesn’t call it that-in full measurenow. Dawn told me, speaking ex officio.“.Then Mike does me great honor; I would not disillusion him. He sees hisown reflection-I am, by profession a mirror.“.Jubal, you’re chicken.“.Precisely, sir! The thing that troubles me most is whether those innocentscan make their pattern fit into a naughty world. Oh, it’s been tried beforel-andevery time the world etched them away like acid. Some of the earlyChristians_anarchy, communism, group marriage-why even that kiss ofbrotherhood has a strong primitive-Christian flavor to it. That might be whereMike picked it up, since all the forms he uses are openly syncretistic,especially that Earth-Mother ritual.“ Jubal frowned. .If he picked that up fromprimitive christa ity-and not just from kissing girls, which he enjoys, I nowthenI would expect men to kiss men, too.“Ben snorted. .I held out on you-they do. But it’s not a pansy gesture. I gotcaught once; after that I managed to duck.“.So? It figures. The Oneida Colony was much like Mike’s .Nest’; it managedto last quite a while but in a low population density-not as an enclave in aresort city. There have been many others, all with the same sad story: a planfor perfect sharing and perfect love, glorious hopes and high idea—followedby persecution and eventual failure.“ Jubal sighed. .I was worried about Mikebefore-now I’m worried about all of them.“.You’re worried? How do you think I feel? Jubal, I can’t accept yoursweetness and light theory. What they are doing is wrong.“.So? Ben, it’s that last incident that sticks in your craw.“.Well ... maybe. Not entirely.“.Mostly. Ben. the ethics of sex is a thorny problem because each of us has tofind a solution pragmatically compatible with a preposterous, utterlyunworkable, and evil public code of so-called .morals.’ Most of us know, orsuspect, that the public code is wrong, and we break it. Nevertheless we payDanegeld by giving it lip service in public and feeling guilty about breaking itin private. Willy-nilly, that code rides us, dead and stinking, an albatrossaround the neck. You think of yourself as a free soul, I know, and you breakthat evil code yourself-but faced with a problem in sexual ethics new to you,you unconsciously tested it against that same Judeo-Christian code whichyou consciously refuse to obey. All so automatically that you retched . . . andbelieved thereby-and continue to believe-that your reflex proved that youwere .right’ and they were .wrong.’ Faugh! I’d as lief use trial by ordeal as useyour stomach to test guilt. All your stomach can reflect are prejudices trainedinto you before you acquired reason.“.What about your stomach?“.Mine is as stupid as yours-but I don’t let it rule my brain. I can at least seethe beauty of Mike’s attempt to devise an ideal human ethic and applaud hisrecognition that such a code must be founded on ideal sexual behavior, eventhough it calls for changes in sexual mores so radical as to frighten mostpeople—including you. For that I admire him-I should nominate him for thePhilosophical Society. Most moral philosophers consciously or unconsciouslyassume the essential correctness of our cultural sexual code-family,monogamy, continence, the postulate of privacy that troubled you so,restriction of intercourse to the marriage bed, et cetera. Having stipulated ourcultural code as a whole, they fiddle with details- even such piffle as solemnlydiscussing whether or not the female breast is an .obscene’ sight! But mostlythey debate how the human animal can be induced or forced to obey thiscode, blandly ignoring the high probability that the heartaches and tragediesthey see all around them originate in the code itself rather than failure toabide by the code.
　　.Now comes the Man from Mars, looks at this sacrosanct code-and rejects itin toto. I do not grasp exactly what Mike’s sexual code is, but it is clear fromwhat little you told me that it violates the laws of every major nation on Earthand would outrage .right-thinking’ people of every major faith-and mostagnostics and atheists, too. And yet this poor boy-.
　　.Jubal, I repeat-he’s not a boy, he’s a man“.Is he a .man?’ I wonder. This poor ersatz Martian is saying, by your ownreport, that sex is a way to be happy together. I go along with Mike this far:
　　sex should be a means of happiness. The worst thing about sex is that weuse it to hurt each other. It ought never to hurt; it should bring happiness, or,at the very least, pleasure. There is no good reason why it should ever beanything less.
　　.The code says, .Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wif’e’-and the result?
　　Reluctant chastity, adultery, jealousy, bitter family fights, blows andsometimes murder, broken homes and twisted children . . . and furtive, dirtylittle passes at country club dances and the like, degrading to both man andwoman whether consummated or not, Is this injunction ever obeyed? TheCommandment not to .covet’ I mean; I’m not referring to any physical act. Iwonder. If a man swore to me on a stack of his own Bibles that he hadrefrained from coveting another man’s wife because the code forbade it, Iwould suspect either self-deception or subnormal sexuality. Any male virileenough to sire a child is almost certainly so virile that he has coveted many,many women-whether he takes action in the matter or not.
　　.Now comes Mike and says: .There’s no need for you to covet my wife . . loveher! There’s no limit to her love, we all have everything to gain-and nothing tolose but fear and guilt and hatred and jealousy.’ The proposition is so naivethat it’s incredible. So far as I recall only precivilization Eskimos were everthis naive-and they were so remote from the rest of us that they almostqualified as .Men from Mars’ themselves. However, we soon gave them ourvirtues and instead of happy sharing they now have chastity and adultery justlike the rest of us-those who survived the transition. I wonder if they gainedby it? What do you think,.I wouldn’t care to be an Eskimo. thank you.“.Neither would I. Spoiled raw fish makes me bilious.“.Well, yes-but, Jubal, I had in mind hot water and soap. I guess I’meffete.“.I’m decadent in that respect, too, Ben; I was born in a house with no moreplumbing than an igloo-and I’ve no wish to repeat my childhood. But Iassume that noses hardened to the stink of rotting blubber would not beupset by unwashed human bodies. But nevertheless, despite curious cuisineand pitiful possessions, the Eskimos were invariably reported to have beenthe happiest people on Earth. We can never be sure why they were happy,but we can be utterly certain that any unhappiness they did suffer was notcaused by sexual jealousy. They borrowed and lent spouses, both ways,both for convenience and purely for fun-and it did not make them unhappy.
　　.One is tempted to ask: Who’s looney? Mike and the Eskimos? Or the rest ofus? We can’t judge by the fact that you and I have no stomach for suchgroup sports-our canalized tastes are irrelevant. But take a look at this glumworld around you-then tell me this: Did Mike’s disciples seem happier, orunhappier, than other people?“.I talked to only about a third of them, Jubal ... but-yes, they’re happy. Sohappy they seem slap-happy to me. I don’t trust it. There’s some catch in it.“.Mmm ... maybe you yourself were the catch in it.“.How?“.I was thinking that it was regrettable that your tastes have grown canalizedso young. There it was, raining soup-and you were caught without a spoon.
　　Even three days of what you were offered-urged on you!-would have beensomething to treasure when you reach my age. And you, you young idiot, letjealousy chase you away! Believe me, at your age I would have gone Eskimoin a big way, thankful that I had been given a free pass instead of having toattend church and study Martian to qualify. I’m so vicariously vexed that myonly consolation is the sour one that I know you will live to regret it. Age doesnot bring wisdom, Ben, but it does give perspective . . . and the saddestperspective of all is to see far, far behind you, the temptations you’ve passedup. I have such regrets myself but all of them are as nothing to the whopperof a regret I am happily certain you will suffer.“.Oh, for Pete’s sake, quit rubbing it in!“.Heavens, man!-or are you a mouse? I’m not rubbing it in, I am trying to goadyou into the obvious. Why are you sitting here moaning to an old man?-.-when you should be heading for the Nest like a homing pigeon? Before thecops raid the joint! Hell, if I were even twenty years younger, I’d join Mike’schurch myself.“.Let up on me, Jubal. What do you really think of Mike’s church?“.You told me it wasn’t a church-just a discipline.“.Well ... yes and no, It is supposed to be based on the .Truth’ with a capital.T“ as Mike got it from the Martian .Old Ones.’“.The .Old Ones,’ eli? To me, they’re still hogwash.“.Mike certainly believes in them.“.Ben, I once knew a manufacturer who believed that he ~0nsulted the ghostof Alexander Hamilton on all his business decisions. All that proves is that hebelieved it. However-Damn it, why must I always be the Devil’s advocate?“.What’s biting you now?“.Ben, the foulest sinner of all is the hypocrite who makes a racket of religion.
　　But we must give the Devil his due. Mike does believe in those .Old Ones’
　　and he is not pulling a racket. He’s teaching the truth as he sees it eventhough he has seen fit to borrow from other religions to illustrate his meaning.
　　That .All Mother’ rite—little as I like it, he seems merely to have beenillustrating the versatility of the Female Principle, regardless of name andform. Fair enough. As for his .Old Ones,’ of course I don’t know that theydon’t exist-I simply find hard to swallow the idea that any planet is ruled by ahierarchy of ghosts. As for his Thou-art-God creed, to me it is neither morenor less credible than any other. Come Judgment Day, if they hold it, we mayfind that Mumbo Jumbo the God of the Congo was the Big Boss all along.
　　.All the names are still in the hat, Ben. Self-aware man is so built that hecannot believe in his own extinction . . and this automatically leads to endlessinvention of religions. While this involuntary conviction of immortality by nomeans proves immortality to be a fact, the questions generated by thisconviction are overwhelmingly important . . . whether we can answer them ornot, or prove what answers we suspect. The nature of life, how the egohooks into the physical body, the problem of the ego itself and why each egoseems to be the centeT of the universe, the purpose of life, the purpose ofthe universe-these are paramount questions Ben; they can never be trivial.
　　Science can’t, or hasn’t, coped with any of them-and who am I to sneer atreligions for trying to answer them, no matter how unconvincingly to me? OldMumbo Jumbo may eat me yet; I can’t rule Him out because He owns nofancy cathedrals. Nor can I rule out one godstruck boy leading a sex cult inan upholstered attic; he might be the Messiah. The only religious opinion thatI feel sure of is this: self-awareness is not just a bunch of amino acidsbumping together!“.Whew! Jubal, you should have been a preacher.“.Missed it by only a razor’s edge, my boy-and I’ll thank you to keep a civiltongue in your head. One more word in Mike’s defense and I’ll throw tüin onthe mercy of the court. If be can show us a better way to run this fouled-upplanet~his sex life is vindicated thereby, regardless of your taste or mine.
　　Geniuses are notoriously indifferent to the sexual customs of the culture inwhich they find themselves, they make their own rules; this is not opinion, itwas proved by ArmattOe .way back in 1945. And Mike is a genius; he’sshown it more ways than one. Re can therefore be expected to ignore Mrs.
　　Grundy and diddle to suit himself. Geniuses are justifiably contemptuous ofthe opinions of their inferiors.
　　.And from a religious standpoint Mike’s sexual behavior IS as kosher as fishon Friday, as orthodox as Santa Claus. He preaches that all living creaturesare collectively God . . . which makes him and his disciples the only selfawaregods in his pantheon hich rates him a union card by the rules forgodding on this planet. Those rules always permit gods sexual freedomlimited ouly by their own judgment; mortal rules never apply. Leda and theSwan? Europa and the Bull? Osiris, Isis, and Horus? The incredibleincestuous games of the Norse gods? Of course . . . but why stop there?
　　Take a hard look at the family relations of the Trinity~in~One of the mostwidely respected western religion (I won’t cite eastern tellgions; their gods dothings a mink breeder wouldn’t put up with!). The only way in which the oddinterrelations of the various aspects of what purportS to be a monotheos canbe reconciled with the precepts of the religion thereto is by assuming that therules in these matters for deity are not the rules for ordinary inortais. Ofcourse most people don’t think about it; they compartment it off in their mindsand mark it: .Holy-DO Not Disturb.’
　　.But an outside referee is forced to allow Mike the same dispensation grantedall other gods. There are rules for this game: one god alone splits into at leasttwo parts~ male and fetnale-and breeds. Not just Jehovah-they all do it. Lookit up. Contrariwise, a group of godS will breed like rabbits, every time, andwith as little regard for human formalities. Once Mike entered the goddingbusiness, those orgies of his group were as logically certain as Sundayfollows Saturday. So quit using the standards of Podunk and judge them onlyby Olympian morals-I think you will then find that they are showing unusualrestraint. Furthermore, Ben, this .growmg-closer’ by sexual union, thisunity~into-Pluralty and plurality-baCk-into-unity, cannot tolerate monogamyinside the god group. Any pairing that excluded the others would be immoral,obscene, under the postulated creed. And if such mutual, shared-by-allsexual congress is essential to their creed, as I grok it has to be, then why doyou expect this holy union to be hidden behind a door? Your insistence thatthey should hide it would have turned a holy rite-which it was-into somethingobscene-which it was not You just plain did not understand what you werelooking at.“.Maybe I didn’t,“ Ben said glumly.
　　.I’m going to offer you one box-top premium, as an inducement. Youwondered how Mike got rid of his clothes so quickly. I’ll tell you how.“.How?“.It was a miracle.“.Oh, for God’s sake!“.Could be. But one thousand dollars says that it was a miracle by the usualrules for miracles-outcome to be decided by you. Go back and ask Mike howhe did it. Get him to show you. Then send me the money.“.Hell, Jubal, I don’t want to take your money.“.You won’t. I’ve got inside information. Bet?“.No, damn it. Jubal, you go down there and see what the score is. I can’tgo back-not now.“.They’ll take you back with open arms and not even ask why you left soabruptly. One thousand on that prediction, too. Ben, you were there less thana day-fifteen hours, about-and you spent over half that time sleeping andplaying hopscotch with Dawn. Did you give them a square shake? The sort ofcareful investigation you give something smelly in public life before you blastit in your column?“.But-.
　　.Did you, or didn’t you?“.No, but-.
　　.Oh, for Pete’s sake yourself, Ben! You claim to be in love with Jill yet youwon’t give her the consideration you give a crooked politician. Not a tenth theeffort she made to help you when you were kidnapped. Where would you betoday if she had given it so feeble a try? Pushing up daisies! Roasting in hell!
　　You’re bitching about those kids over some friendly fornication-but do youknow what I’m worried about?“.What?“.Christ was crucified for preaching without a police permit. Think it over.“Caxton stood up. .I’m on my way.“.After lunch.“.Now.“Twenty-four hours later Ben wired Jubal two thousand dollars.
　　When, after a week, Jubal had had no other message, he sent a stat care ofBen’s office: .What the hell are you doing?“ Ben’s answer came back,somewhat delayed: .Studying Martian and the rules for hopscotch—fraternally yours—Ben.
Chapter 34
FOSTER LOOKED UP from his current Work in Progress. .Junior!“.Sir?“.That youngster you wanted-he’s available now. The Martians havereleased him.“Digby looked puzzled. .I’m sorry. There was some young creaturetoward whom I have a Duty?“Foster smiled angelically. Miracles were never necessary-in Truth thepseudo-concept .miracle“ was self-contradicting. But these young fellowsalways had to learn it for themselves. .Never mind,“ he said gently. .It’s aminor job and I’ll handle it myself-and Junior?“.Sir?“.Call me .Fog,’ please-ceremony is all right in the field but we don’t need it inthe studio. And remind me not to call you .Junior’ after this- you made a verynice record on that temporary duty assignment. Which name do you like tobe called?“His assistant blinked. .I have another name?“.Thousands of them. Do you have a preference?“.Why, I really don’t recall at this eon.“.Well ... how would you like to be called .Digby’?“.Uh, yes. That’s a very nice name. Thanks.“.Don’t thank me. You earned it.“ Archangel Foster turned back to his work,not forgetting the minor item he had assumed. Briefly he considered how thiscup might be taken from little Patricia-then chided himself for suchunprofessional, almost human, thought. Mercy was not possible to an angel;angelic compassion left no room for it.
　　The Martian Old Ones had reached an elegant and awesome trial solution totheir major esthetic problem and put it aside for a few filledthrees to let itgenerate new problems. At which time, unhurriedly but at once and almostabsent-mindedly, the alien nestling which they had returned to his properworld was tapped of what he had learned of his people and dropped, aftercherishing, since he was of no further interest to their purposes.
　　They collectively took the data he had accumulated and, with a view totesting that trial solution, began to work toward considering an inquiry leadingto an investigation of esthetic parameters involved in the possibility of theartistic necessity of destroying Earth. But necessarily much waiting would be,before fullness would grok decision.
　　The Daibutsu at Kamakura was again washed by a giant wave secondary toa seismic disturbance some 280 kilometers off Honshu. The wave killed morethan 13,000 people and lodged a small male infant high up in the Buddhaimage’s interior, where it was eventually found and succored by survivingmonks. This infant lived ninety-seven Terran years after the disaster thatwiped out his family, and himself produced no progeny nor anything of anynote aside from a reputation reaching to Yokohama for loud and sustainedbelching. Cynthia Duchess entered a nunnery with all benefits of modernpublicity and left same without fanfare three days later. Ex-Secretary GeneralDouglas suffered a slight stroke which impaired the use of his left hand butdid not reduce his ability to conserve assets entrusted to his stewardship.
　　Lunar Enterprises, Ltd., published a prospectus on a bond issue for thewholly owned subsidiary Ares Chandler Corporation. The Lyle-DriveExploratory Vessel Mary Jane Smith landed on Pluto. Fraser, Colorado,reported the coldest average February of its recorded history.
　　Bishop Oxtongue, speaking at the New Grand Avenue Temple in KansasCity, preached on the text (Matt. XXIV:24): .Por there shall arise false Christsand false prophets, and shall shew great signs and wonders; insomuch that,if it were possible, they shall deceive the very elect.“ He was careful to makeclear that his diatribe did not refer to Mormons, Christian Scientists, RomanCatholics, nor Fosterites-most especially not to the last-nor to any otherfellow travelers whose good works counted for more than minute and, in thefinal analysis, inconsequential differences in creed or ritual . - . but solely torecent upstart heretics who were seducing faithful contributors away from thefaiths of their fathers. In a lush subtropical resort city in the southern part ofthe same nation three complainants swore an information charging publiclewdness on the part of a pastor, three of his assistants, and Joe Doe, MaryRoe, et al., plus further charges of running a disorderly house andcontributing to the delinquency of minors. The county attorney had at firstonly the mildest interest in prosecuting under the information as he had onfile a dozen much like it- the complaining witnesses had always failed toappear at arraignment.
　　He pointed this out. Their spokesman said, .We know. But you’ll have plentyof backing this time. Supreme Bishop Short is determined that this Antichristshall flourish no longer.“The prosecutor was not interested in antichrists-but there was a primarycoming up. .Well, just remember I can’t do much without backing.“.You’ll have it.“Farther north, Dr. Jubal Harshaw was not immediately aware of this incidentand its consequences, but he did know of too many others for peace of mind.
　　Against his own rules he had succumbed to that most insidious drug, thenews. Thus far, he had contained his vice; he merely subscribed to a clippingservice instructed for .Man from Mars,“ .V. M. Smith,“ .Church of All Worlds,“and .Ben Caxton.“ But the monkey was crawling up his back-twice lately hehad had to fight off an impulse to order Larry to set up the babble box in hisstudy- Damn it, why couldn’t those kids tape him an occasional letter?-instead of letting him wonder and worry. .Front!“He heard Anne come in but he still continued to stare Out a window at snowand an empty swimming pool. .Anne,“ he said without turning around, .rentus a small tropical atoll and put this mausoleum up for sale.“.Yes, Boss. Anything else?“.But get that atoll tied down on a long-term lease before you hand thiswilderness back to the Indians; I will not put up with hotels. How long has itbeen since I wrote any pay copy?“.Forty-three days.“.You see? Let that be a lesson to you. Begin. .Death Song of a Wood’sColt’:
　　.The depths of winter longing are ice within my heartThe shards of broken covenants lie sharp against my soulThe wraiths of long-lost ecstasy still keep us two apartThe sullen winds of bitterness still keen from turn to pole.
　　.The scars and twisted tendons, the stumps of struck-off limbs,The aching pit of hunger and the throb of unset bone,My sanded burning eyeballs, as light within them dims,Add nothing to the torment of lying here alone.The shimmering flames of fever trace out your blessed faceMy broken eardrums echo yet your voice inside my headI do not fear the darkness that comes to me apaceI only dread the loss of you that comes when I am dead.
　　.There,“ he added briskly, .sign it .Louisa M. Alcott’ and have the agencysend it to Togetherness magazine.“.Boss, is that your idea of .pay copy’?“.Huh? Of course it isn’t. Not now. But it will be worth something later, so put itin file and my literary executor can use it to help settle the death duties.
　　That’s the catch in all artistic pursuits; the best work is always worth mostafter the workman can’t be paid. The literary life.- dreck! It consists inscratching the cat till it purrs.“.Poor Jubali Nobody ever feels sorry for him, so he has to feel sorry forhimself.“.Sarcasm yet. No wonder I don’t get any work done.“.Not sarcasm, Boss. Only the wearer knows where the shoe pinches.“.My apologies. All right, here’s pay copy. Begin. Title: .One for the Road,’
　　.There’s amnesia in a hang knot,And comfort in the ax,But the simple way of poison will make your nerves relax.
　　.There’s surcease in a gunshot,And sleep that comes from racks,But a handy draft of poison avoids the harshest tax.
　　.You find rest upon the hot squat,Or gas can give you pax,But the closest corner chemist has peace in packaged stacks.
　　.There’s refuge in the church lotWhen you tire of facing facts,And the smoothest route is poison prescribed by kindly quacks.
　　.Chorus-With an ugh! and a groan, and a kick of the heels,Death comes quiet, or it comes with squeals-But the pleasantest place to find your endIs a cup of cheer from the hand of a friend.“.Jubal,“ Anne said worriedly, .is your stomach upset?“.Always.“.That one’s for file, too?“.Huh? That’s for the New Yorker. Their usual pen name.“.They’ll bounce it.“.They’ll buy it. It’s morbid, they’ll buy it.“And besides, there’s something wrong with the scansion.“.Of course there is! You have to give an editor something to change, or hegets frustrated. After he pees in it himself, he likes the flavor much better, sohe buys it. Look, my dear, I was successfully avoiding honest work longbefore you were born-so don’t try to teach Granpaw how to suck eggs. Orwould you rather I nursed Abby while you turn Out copy? Hey! It’s Abigail’sfeeding time, isn’t it? And you weren’t .Front,’ Dorcas is .Front.’ I remember.“.It won’t hurt Abby to wait a few minutes. Dorcas is lying down. Morningsickness.“.Nonsense. If she’s pregnant, why won’t she let me run a test? Anne, I canspot pregnancy two weeks before a rabbit can-and you know it. I’m going tohave to be firm with that girl.“.Jubal, you let her be! She’s scared she didn’t catch ... and she wants to thinkshe did, as long as possible. Don’t you know anything about women?“.Mmm ... come to think about it-no. Not anything. All right, I won’t heckle her.
　　But why didn’t you bring our baby angel in and nurse her here? You haveboth hands free when you take dictation.“.In the first place, I’m glad I didn’t-she might have understood what youwere saying-.
　　.So I’m a bad influence, am I?“.She’s too young to see the marshmallow syrup underneath, Boss. But thereal reason is that you don’t do any work at all if I bring her in with me; youjust play with her.“.Can you think of any better way of enriching the empty hours?“.Jubal, I appreciate the fact that you are dotty over my daughter; I think she’spretty nice myself. But you’ve been spending all your time either playing withAbby . . . or moping. That’s not good.“.How soon do we go on relief?“.That’s beside the point. If you don’t crank out stories, you get spirituallyconstipated. It’s reached the point where Dorcas and Larry and I are bitingour nails-and when you do yell .Front!’ we jitter with relief. Only it’s always afalse alarm.“.If there’s money in the bank to meet the bills, what are you worriedabout?“.What are you worried about, Boss?“Jubal considered it. Should he tell her? Any possible doubt as to the paternityof Abigail had been settled, in his mind, in her naming; Anne had waveredbetween .Abigail“ and .Zenobia“-and had settled it by loading the infant withboth names. Anne had never mentioned the meanings of those names;presumably she did not know that he knew them.
　　Anne went on firmly, .You’re not fooling anyone but yourself; Jubal. Dorcasand Larry and I all know that Mike can take care of himself . and you ought toknow it. But because you’ve been so frenetic about it-.
　　.’Frenetic!’ Me?“.-Larry very quietly set up the stereo tank in his room and some one of usthree had been catching the news, every broadcast. Not because we areworried, for we aren’t-except about you. But when Mike gets into the newsandof course he does get into the news; he’s still the Man from Mars-weknow about it before those silly clippings ever reach you. I wish you wouldquit reading them.“.How do you know anything about any clippings? I went to a lot of trouble tosee that you didn’t. I thought.“.Boss,“ she said in a tired voice, .somebody has to dispose of the trash. Doyou think Larry can’t read?“.So. That confounded oubliette hasn’t worked right since Duke left. Damnit, nothing has!“.All you have to do is to send word to Mike that you want Duke to come back-Duke will show up at once.“.You know I can’t do that.“ It graveled him that what she said was almostcertainly true - . - and the thought was followed by a sudden and bittersuspicion. .Anne! Are you still here because Mike told you to stay?“She answered promptly, .I am here because I wish to be here.“.Mmmm ... not sure that’s a responsive answer.“.Jubal, sometimes I wish you were small enough to spank. May I finishwhat I was saying?“.You have the floor.“ Would any of them be here? Would Maryam havemarried Stinky and gone off to Beirut if Mike had not approved it? The name.Fatima Michele“ might be an acknowledgment of her adopted faith plus herhusband’s wish to compliment his closest friend-or it might be code almost asexplicit as baby Abby’s double name, one which stated that Mike wassomewhat more than godfather to the daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Mahmoud. Ifso, did Stinky wear his antlers unaware? Or with serene pride as Joseph wasalleged to have done? Uh . . . but it must be concluded with utter certaintythat Stinky knew the minutes of his houri; water.brothershiP permitted noteven diplomatic omission of any matter so important. If indeed it wasimportant, which as a physician and agnostic Jubal doubted. But to them itwould be- .You aren’t listening.“.Sorry. Woolgathering.“ -and stop it, you nasty old man ... reading meaningsinto names that mothers give their children indeed! Next thing you’ll be takingup numerology - . . then astrology . . . then spiritualism-until your senility hasprogressed so far that all there is left is custodial treatment for a hulk too dimwittedto discorporate in dignity. Go to locked drawer nine in the clinic, code.Lethe“-and use at least two grains to be sure, although one is more thanenough- .There’s no need for you to read those clippings, because we knowthe public news about Mike before you do - . - and lien has given us a waterpromise to let us know any private news we need to know at once- and Mikeof course knows this. But, Jubal, Mike can’t be hurt. If you would only visit theNest, as we three have done, you would know this.“.I have never been invited.“.We didn’t have specilic invitations, either; we just went. Nobody has to havean invitation to go to his own home . . . any more than they require invitationsto come here. Like .The Death of the Hired Man.’ But you are just makingexcuses, Jubal, and poor ones . - . for Ben urged you to, and both Dawn andDuke sent word to you.“.Mike hasn’t invited me.“.Boss, that Nest belongs to me and to you quite as much as it does to Mike.
　　Mike is first among equals - . . as you are here. Is this Abby’s home?“.Happens,“ he answered evenly, .that title aheady vests in her with lifetimetenancy for me.“ Jubal had changed his own will, knowing that Mike’s willnow made it unnecessary to provide for any water brother of Mike. But notbeing sure of the exact .water’ status of this nestling- save that she wasusually wet-he had made redispositions in her favor and n favor ofdescendants, if any, of certain others. .I hadn’t intended to tell you, but thereis no harm in your knowing.“.Jubal ... you’ve made me cry. And you’ve almost made me forget what I wassaying. And I must say it. Mike would never hurry you, you know that. I grokhe is waiting for fullness-and I grok that you are, too.“.Mmmm ... I grok you speak rightly.“.All right. I think you are especially glum today simply because Mike hasbeen arrested again. But that’s happened many-.
　　.’Arrested?’ I hadn’t heard about this! What goes on?“ He added, .Damn it,girl-.
　　.Jubal, Jubal! Ben hasn’t called; that’s all we need to know. You know howmany times Mike has been arrested-in the army, as a carney, other placeshalfa dozen times as a preacher. He never hurts anybody; he just lets themdo it. They can never convict him and he gets out as soon as he wishes-atonce, if he wants to.“.What is it this time?“.Oh, the usual nonsense-public lewdness, statutory rape, conspiracy todefraud, keeping a disorderly house, contributing to the delinquency ofminors, conspiracy to evade the state truancy laws-.
　　.Huh?“.That involves their own nestlings’ school. Their license to operate aparochial school was canceled; the kids still didn’t go back to public school.
　　No matter, Jubal-none of it matters. The one thing on which they aretechnically in violation of the law-and so are you, Boss darling-can’t possiblybe proved. Jubal, if you had ever seen the Temple and the Nest you wouldknow that even the F.D.S. couldn’t sneak a spy-eye into it. So relax. After alot of publicity, charges will be dropped-and the crowds at the outer serviceswill be bigger than ever.“.Hmm! Anne, does Mike rig these persecutions himself?“She looked startled, an expression her face was unused to. .Why, I hadnever considered the possibility, Jubal. Mike can’t lie, you know.“.Does it involve lying? Suppose he planted perfectly true rumors abouthimself? But ones that can’t be proved in court?“.Do you think Michael would do that?“.I don’t know. I do know that the slickest way in the world to lie is to tell theright amount of truth at the right time-and then shut up. And it wouldn’t be thefirst time that persecution has been courted for its headline value. All right, I’lldismiss it from my mind unless it turns out he can’t handle it. Are you still.Front’?“.If you can refrain from chucking Abby under the chin and saying cootchy-cooand similar uncommercial noises, I’ll fetch her. Otherwise I had better tellDorcas to get up and get to work.“.Bring in Abby. I’m going to make an honest effort to make some commercialnoises-a brand-new plot, known as boy-meets-girl.“.Say, that’s a good one, Boss! I wonder why nobody ever thought of itbefore? Half a sec-. She hurried out.
　　Jubal did restrain himself-less than one minute of uncommercial noises anddemonstrations, just enough to invoke Abigail’s heavenly smile, cum dimples,then Anne settled back and let the infant nurse. .Title:“ he began. .’Girls AreLike Boys, Only More So.’ Begin. Henry M. Haversham Fourth had been verycarefully reared, He believed that there were only two kinds of girls: those inhis presence and those who were not. He vastly preferred the latter sort,especially when they stayed that way. Paragraph. He had not beenintroduced to the young lady who fell into his lap, and he did not consider acommon disaster as equivalent to a formal intro-. What the hell do you want?
　　Can’t you see I’m working?“.Boss-. said Larry.
　　.Get out of that door, close it behind you, and-.
　　.Boss! Mike’s church has burned down!“They made a disorderly rout for Larry’s room, Jubal a half length behind Larryat the turn, Anne with eleven pounds up closing rapidly despite her handicap.
　　Dorcas trailed the field through being late out the starting gate; the racketwakened her.
　　.-midnight last night. What you are now viewing is what was the mainentrance of the cult’s temple, as it appeared immediately after the explosion.
　　This is your Neighborly Newsman for New World Networks with yourmidmorning roundup. Stay switched to this pitch for dirt that’s alert, And nowa moment for your local sponsor-. The scene of destruction shimmered outand med-close shot of a lovely young housewife replaced, with dolly-in.
　　.Damn, Larry, unplug that contraption and wheel it into the study. Anne-no,Dorcas. Phone Ben.“Anne protested, .You know the Temple never had a telephone-ever. Howcan she?“.Then have somebody chase over and-no, of course not; the Templewouldn’t have anybody-uh, call the chief of police there. No, the districtattorney. The last you heard Mike was still in jail?“.That’s right.“.I hope he still is-and all the others, too.“.So do I. Dorcas, take Abby. I’ll do it.“But as they returned to the study the phone was signalling an incoming calland demanding hush & scramble. Jubal cursed and set the combo, intendingto blast whoever it was off the frequency.
　　But it was Ben Caxton. .Hi, Jubal.“.Ben! What the hell is the situation?“.I see you’ve had some of the news. That’s why I called, to put your mind atrest. Everything is under control. No sweat.“.What about the fire? Anybody hurt?“.No damage at all. Mike says to tell you-.
　　.No damage? I just saw a shot of it; it looked like a total-.
　　.Oh, that-. Ben shrugged it off. .Look, Jubal, please listen and let me talk. I’vegot other things and other calls after this one. You aren’t the only person whoneeds to be reassured. But Mike said to call you first.“.Uh ... very well, sir. I shall keep silent.“.Nobody hurt, nobody even scorched. Oh, a couple of million dollars inproperty damage, most of it uninsured. Nichevo. The place was alreadychoked with experiences; Mike planned to abandon it soon in any case. Yes,it was fireproof-but anything will burn with enough gasoline and dynamite.“.Incendiary job, huh?“.Please, Jubal. They had arrested eight of us-all they could catch of the NinthCircle, John Doe warrants, mostly. Mike had all of us bailed out in a couple ofhours, except himself. He’s still in the hoosegow-.
　　.I’ll be right there!“.Take it easy. Mike says for you to come if you want to, but there isabsolutely no need for it. His words. And I agree. It would just be a pleasuretrip. The fire was set last night while the Temple was empty, everythingcanceled because of the arrests-empty, that is, except for the Nest. All of usin town, except Mike, were gathered in the Innermost Temple, holding aspecial Sharing-Water in his honor, when the explosion and fire were set off.
　　So we adjourned to an emergency Nest.“.From the looks of it, you were lucky to get out at all.“.We were completely cut off, Jubal. We’re all dead-.
　　.What?“.We’re all listed as dead or missing so far as the authorities know. You see,nobody left the building after that holocaust started - . . by any known exit.“.Uh ... a .priest’s hole’ arrangement?“.Jubal, Mike has very special methods for dealing with such things- and I’mnot going to discuss them over the phone, even scrambled.“.You said he was in jail?“.So I did. He still is.“.But-.
　　.That’s enough. If you do come here, don’t go to the Temple. It’s kaput. Ourorganization is busted up. We’re through in this town. You could say thatthey’ve licked us, I suppose. I’m not going to tell you where we are . . - andI’m not calling from there, anyhow. If you must come- and I see no point in it;there’s nothing you can do-just come as you ordinarily would . . . and we’llfind you.“.That’s all. Good-by. Anne, Dorcas, Larry-and you, too, Jubal, and the baby.
　　Share water. Thou art God.“ The screen went blank.
　　Jubal swore. .I knew it! I knew it all along! That’s what comes of muckingaround with religion. Dorcas, get me a taxi. Anne-no, finish feeding yourchild. Larry, pack me a small bag. Anne, I’ll want most of the iron money andLarry can go into town tomorrow and replenish the supply.“.But, Boss,“ protested Larry, .we’re all going.“.Certainly we are,“ Anne agreed crisply.
　　.Pipe down, Anne. And close your mouth, Dorcas. This is not a time whenwomen have the vote. That city is the front line at the moment and anythingcan happen. Larry, you are going to stay here and protect two women and ababy. Forget that about going to the bank; you won’t need cash becausenone of you is to stir off the place until I’m back. Somebody is playing roughand there is enough hook.up between this house and that church that theymight play rough here, too. Larry, flood lights all night long, heat up the fence,don’t hesitate to shoot. And don’t be slow about getting everybody into thevault if necessary-better put Abby’s crib in there at once. Now get with it, allof you-I’ve got to change clothes.“Thirty minutes later Jubal was alone, by choice, in his suite; the rest werebusy at assigned tasks. Larry called up, .Boss! Taxi about to land.“.Be right down,“ he called back, then turned to take a last look at the FallenCaryatid. His eyes were filled with tears. He said softly, .You tried, didn’t you,youngster? But that stone was always too heavy - . . too heavy for anyone.“Gently he touched a hand of the crumpled figure, turned and left.
Chapter 35
JUBAL HAD A MISERABLE TRIP. The taxi was automatic and it did justwhat he expected of machinery, developed trouble in the air and homed formaintenance instead of carrying out its orders. Jubal wound up in New York,farther from where he wanted to be than when he started. There he foundthat he could make better time by commercial schedule than he could by anycharter available. So he arrived hours later than he expected to, having spentthe time cooped up with strangers (which he detested) and watching a stereotank (which he detested only slightly less).
　　But it did inform him somewhat. He saw an insert of Supreme Bishop Shortproclaiming a holy war against the Antichrist, i.e.. Mike, and he saw too manyshots of what was obviously an utterly ruined building-he failed to see howany of them had escaped alive. Augustus Greaves, in his most solemnlippmann tones, viewed with alarm everything about it but pointed out that, inevery spite-fence quarrel, one neighbor supplies the original incitement-andmade it plain that, in his weasel-worded opinion, the so-called Man from Marswas at fault.
　　At last Jubal stood on a municipal landing flat sweltering in winter clothesunsuited to the blazing sun overhead, noted that palm trees still looked like apoor grade of feather duster, regarded bleakly the ocean beyond them,thinking that it was a dirty unstable mass of water, certainly contaminatedwith grape fruit shells and human excrement even though he couldn’t seesuch at this distance-and wondered what to do next.
　　A man wearing a uniform cap approached him. .Taxi, sir?“.Uh, yes, I think so.“ At worst he could go to a hotel, call in the press, andgive out an interview that would publicize his whereabouts- there wasoccasionally some advantage to being newsworthy.
　　.Over this way, sir.“ The cabby led him out of the crowd and to a batteredYellow Cab. As he put his bag in after Jubal, the pilot said quietly, .I offer youWater.“.Eh? Never thirst.“.Thou art God.“ The hack driver sealed the door and got into his owncompartment.
　　They wound up on a private landing flat on one wing of a big beach hotel-afour-car space, the hotel’s own landing flat being on another wing. The pilotset the cab to home-in alone, took Jubal’s bag and escorted him inside. .Youcouldn’t have come in too easily via the lobby,“ he said conversationally, .asthe foyer on this floor is filled with some very badtempered cobras. So if youdecide you want to go down to the street, be sure to ask somebody first. Me,or anybody-I’m Tim.“.I’m Jubal Harshaw.“.I know, brother Jubal. In this way. Mind your step.“ They entered the hotelsuite of the large, extreme luxury sort, and Jubal was led on into a bedroomwith bath; Tim said, .This is yours,“ put Jubal’s bag down and left. On theside table Jubal found water, glasses, ice cubes, and a bottle of brandy,opened but untouched. He was unsurprised to find that it was his preferredbrand. He mixed himself a quick one, sipped it and sighed, then took off hisheavy winter jacket.
　　A woman came in bearing a tray of sandwiches. She was wearing a plaindress which Jubal took to be the uniform of a hotel chambermaid since it wasquite unlike the shorts, scarves, pediskirts, halters, sarongs and other brightcoloredways to display rather than conceal that characterized most femalesin this resort. But she smiled at him, said, .Drink deep and never thirst, ourbrother,“ put the tray down, went into his bath and started a tub for him, thenchecked around by eye in bath and in bedroom. .Is there anything you need,Jubal?“.Me? Oh, no, everything is just fine. I’ll make a quick cleanup and-is BenCaxton around?“.Yes. But he said you would want a bath and get comfortable first. If you wantanything, just say so. Ask anyone. Or ask for me. I’m Patty.“.Oh! The Life of Archangel Foster.“She dimpled and suddenly was not plain but pretty, and much younger thanthe thirtyish Jubal had guessed her to be. .Yes.“.I’d like very much to see it some time. I’m interested in religious art.“.Now? No, I grok you want your bath. Unless you’d like help with yourbath?“Jubal recalled that his Japanese friend of the many tattoos had been a bathgirl in her teens and would have made-had, many times-the same offer. ButPatty was not Japanese and he simply wanted to wash away the sweat andstink and get into clothes suited to the climate. .No, thank you, Patty. But I dowant to see them, at your convenience.“.Any time. There’s no hurry.“ She left, unhurried but moving silently andvery quickly.
　　Jubal soaped and dunked himself and refrained from lounging as the warmwater invited his tired muscles to do; he wanted to see Ben and find out thescore. Shortly he was checking through what Larry had packed for him andgrunted with annoyance to find no summerweight slacks. He settled forsandals, shorts, and a bright sport shirt, which made him look like a paintsplashedemu and accented his hairy, thinning legs. But Jubal had ceasedworrying about his appearance several decades earlier; it was comfortableand it would do, at least until he needed to go out on the Street . . . or intocourt. Did the bar association here have reciprocity with Pennsylvania? Hecouldn’t recall. Well, it was always possible to act with another attorney-ofrecord.
　　He found his way into a large living room, most comfortable but having thatimpersonal quality of all hotel accommodations. Several people weregathered near the largest stereovision tank Jubal had ever seen outside atheater. One of them glanced up, said, .Hi, Jubal,“ and came toward him.
　　.Hi, Ben. What’s the situation? Is Mike still in jail?“ .Oh, no. He got out shortlyafter I talked to you.“.He’s been arraigned then. Is the preliminary hearing set?“Ben smiled. .That’s not quite the way it is, Jubal. Mike is technically a fugitivefrom justice. He wasn’t released on bail. He escaped.“Jubal looked disgusted. .What a silly thing to do. Now the case will be eighttimes as difficult.“.Jubal, I told you not to worry. All the rest of us are presumed dead-and Mikeis simply missing. We’re through with this city, so it doesn’t matter in theleast. We’ll go someplace else.“.They’ll extradite him.“.Never fear. They won’t.“.Well ... where is he? I want to talk to him.“.Oh, he’s right here, a couple of rooms down from you. But he’s withdrawn inmeditation. He left word to tell you, when you arrived, to take no action-none.
　　You can talk to him right now if you insist; Jill will call him out of it. But I don’trecommend it. There’s no hurry.“Jubal thought about it, admitted that he was damnably eager to hear fromMike himself just what the score was-and chew him out for having gotten intosuch a mess-but admitted, too, that disturbing Mike while he was in a trancewas almost certainly much worse than disturbing Jubal himself when he wasdictating a story-the boy always came out of his self-hypnosis when he had.grokked the fullness,“ whatever that was-and if he hadn’t, then he alwaysneeded to go back into it. As pointless as disturbing a hibernating bear.
　　.All right, I’ll wait. But I want to talk to him when he wakes up.“.You will. Now relax and be happy. Let the trip get out of your system.“ Benurged him toward the group around the stereo tank.
　　Anne looked up. .Hello, Boss.“ She moved over and made room. .Sitdown.“Jubal joined her. .May I ask what the devil you are doing here?“.The same thing you’re doing-nothing. Watching stereo. Jubal, please don’tget heavy-handed because we didn’t do what you told us. We belong here asmuch as you do. You shouldn’t have told us not to come. . . but you were tooupset for us to argue with you. So relax and watch what they’re saying aboutus. The sheriff has just announced that he’s going to run all us whores out oftown.“ She smiled. .I’ve never been run out of town before. It should beinteresting. Does a whore get ridden on a rail? Or will I have to walk?“.I don’t think there’s protocol in the matter. You all came?“.Yes, but don’t fret. Jed McClintock is sleeping in the house. Larry and Imade a standing arrangement with the McClintock boys for one of them to doso, more than a year ago-just in case. They know how the furnace works andwhere the switches are and things; it’s all right.“.Hmm! I’m beginning to think I’m just a boarder there.“.Were you ever anything else, Boss? You expect us to run it withoutbothering you. We do. But it’s a shame you didn’t relax and let us all traveltogether. We got here more than two hours ago-you must have had sometrouble.“.I did, A terrible trip. Anne, once I get home I don’t intend ever to set foot offthe place again in my life . . - and I’m going to yank out the telephone andtake a sledgehammer to the babble box.“.Yes, Boss.“.This time I mean it.“ He glanced at the giant babble box in front of him. .Dothose commercials go on forever? Where’s my goddaughter? Don’t tell meyou left her to the mercies of McClintock’s idiot sons!“.Oh, of course not. She’s here. She even has her own nursemaid, thankGod.“.I want to see her.“.Patty will show her to you. I’m bored with her-she was a perfect little beastall the way down. Patty dear! Jubal wants to see Abby.“The tattooed woman checked one of her unhurried dashes through the roomsofar as Jubal could see, she was the only one of the several present whowas doing any work, and she seemed to be everywhere at once. .Certainly,Jubal. I’m not busy. Down this way.
　　.I’ve got the kids in my room,“ she explained, while Jubal strove to keep upwith her, .so that Honey Bun can watch them.“Jubal was mildly startled to see, a moment later, what Patricia meant by that.
　　The boa was arranged on one of twin double beds in squared-off loops thatformed a nest-a twin nest, as one bight of the snake had been pulled acrossto bisect the square, making two crib-sized pockets, each padded with ababy blanket and each containing a baby.
　　The ophidian nursemaid raised her head inquiringly as they came in. Pattystroked it and said, .It’s all right, dear. Father Jubal wants to see them. Pether a little, and let her grok you, so that she will know you next time.“First Jubal coochey-cooed at his favorite girl friend when she gurgled at himand kicked, then petted the snake. He decided that it was the handsomestspecimen of Bojdae he had ever seen, as well as the biggest- longer, heestimated, than any other boa constrictor in captivity. Its cross bars weresharply marked and the brighter colors of the tail quite showy. He enviedPatty her blue-ribbon pet and regretted that he would not have more time inwhich to get friendly with it.
　　The snake rubbed her head against his hand like a cat. Patty picked up Abbyand said, .Just as I thought. Honey Bun, why didn’t you tell me?“- thenexplained, as she started to change diapers,“She tells me at once if one ofthem gets tangled up, or needs help, or anything, since she can’t do much forthem herself-no hands-except nudge them back if they try to crawl out andmight fall. But she just can’t seem to grok that a wet baby ought to bechanged-Honey Bun doesn’t see anything wrong about that. And neitherdoes Abby.“.I know. We call her .Old Faithful.’ Who’s the other cutie pie?“.Huh? That’s Fatima Michele, I thought you knew.“.Are they here? I thought they were in Beirut!“.Why, I believe they did come from some one of those foreign parts. I don’tknow just where. Maybe Maryam told me but it wouldn’t mean anything tome; I’ve never been anywhere. Not that it matters; I grok all places are alikejustpeople. There, do you want to hold Abigail Zenobia while I checkFatima?“Jubal did so and assured her that she was the most beautiful girl in the world,then shortly thereafter assured Fatima of the same thing. He was completelysincere each time and the girls believed him-Jubal had said the same thingon countless occasions starting in the Harding administration, had alwaysmeant it and had always been believed. It was a Higher Truth, not bound bymundane logic.
　　Regretfully he left them, after again petting Honey Bun and telling her thesame thing, and just as sincerely.
　　They left and at once ran into Fatima’s mother. .Boss honey!“ She kissed himand patted his tummy. .I see they’ve kept you fed.“.Some. I’ve just been in smooching with your daughter, She’s an angeldoll, Miriam.“.Pretty good baby, huh? We’re going to sell her down to Rio-get a fancyprice for her.“.I thought the market was better in Yemen?“.Stinky says not. Got to sell her to make room.“ She put his hand on herbelly. .Feel the bulge? Stinky and I are making a boy now-got no time fordaughters.“.Maryam,“ Patricia said chidingly, .that’s no way to talk, even in fun.“.Sorry, Patty. I won’t talk that way about your baby- Aunt Patty is a lady, andgroks that I’m not.“.I grok that you aren’t, too, you little hellion, But if Fatima is for sale, I’ll giveyou twice your best commercial offer.“.You’ll have to take it up with Aunt Patty; I’m merely allowed to see heroccasionally.“.And you don’t bulge, so you may want to keep her yourself. Let me see youreyes. Mmm ... could be.“.Is. And Mike has grokked it most carefully and tells Stinky he’s made aboy.“.How can Mike grok that? Impossible. I’m not even sure you’re pregnant-.
　　.Oh, she is, Jubal,“ Patricia confirmed.
　　Miriam looked at him serenely. .Still the skeptic, Boss. Mike grokked it whileStinky and I were still in Beirut, before we were sure we had caught. So Mikephoned us. And the next day Stinky told the university that we were taking asabbatical for field work-or his resignation, if they wished. So here we are.“.Doing what?“.Working. Working harder than you ever made me work, Boss-myhusband is a slave driver.“.Doing what?“.They’re writing a Martian dictionary,“ Patty told him.
　　.Martian to English? That must be difficult.“.Oh, no, no, no!“ Miriam looked almost shocked. .That wouldn’t be difficult,that would be impossible. A Martian dictionary in Martian. There’s never beenone before; the Martians don’t need such things. Uh, my part of it is justclerical; I type what they do. Mike and Stinky-mostly Stinky-worked out aphonetic script for Martian, eighty-one characters. So we had an I.B.M. typerworked over for those characters, using both upper and lower case-Bossdarling, I’m ruined as a secretary; I type touch system in Martian now. Willyou love me anyhow? When you shout .Front!’ and I’m not good foranything? I can still cook . . . and I’m told that I have other talents.“.I’ll learn to dictate in Martian.“.You will, before Mike and Stinky get through with you. I grok. Eh,Patty?“.You speak rightly, my brother.“They returned to the living room, Caxton joined them and suggested finding aquieter place, away from the giant babble box, led Jubal down a passage andinto another living room. .You seem to have most of this floor“.All of it,“ agreed Ben. .Four suites-the Secretarial; the Presidential, theRoyal, and Owner’s Cabin, opened into one and not accessible other than byour own landing fiat . except through a foyer that is not very healthy withOuthelp. You were warned about that?“.Yes.“.We don’t need so much room right now... but we may: people are~~ck~ng in.“.Ben, how can you hide from the cops as openiy as this? The hotel staffalone will give you away.“.Oh, there are ways- The staff doesn’t come up here. You see, Mike ownsthe hotel.“.So much the worse, I would think-.
　　.So much the better ... unless our doughty police chief has Mr. Douglas onhis payroll, which I doubt. Mike bought it through about four links ofdummies_and Douglas doesn’t snoop into why Mike wants things done.
　　Douglas doesn’t despise me quite as much since Os Kilgallen took over mycolumn, I think, but nevertheless he doesn’t want to surrender control to mehedoes what Mike wants. The hotel is a sound investment; it makesmoney_but the owner of record is one of our clandestine Ninth Circle. So theowner decides he wants this floor for the season and the manager can’t anddoesn’t and wouldn’t want to inquire into why, or how many guests of his ownthe owner has coming or going—he likes his job; Mike is paying him morethan he’s worth. It’s a pretty good hide-out, for the time being. .Till Mike grokswhere we will go next.“.Sounds like Mike had anticipated a need for a hide~out.“.Oh, I’m sure he did. Almost two weeks ago Mike cleared out the nestlings’
　　nest except for Maryam and her baby; Maryam is needed for the job she’son. Mike sent the parents with children to other cities-places he means toopen temples~ I think-and when the time came, there were just about adozen 0f us to move. No sweat.“.As it was, you barely got out with your lives, I take it.“ Jubal wondered howthey had even managed to grab clothes in view of how they probably werenot dressed. .You lost all the contents of the Nest? All your personalpossessions?“.Oh, no, not anything we really wanted. Stuff like Stinky’s language tapes anda trick typer that Maryam uses; even that horrible Madame Tussaud pictureof you. And Mike grabbed our clothes and some cash that was on hand.“Jubal objected, .You say Mike did this? But I thought Mike was in jail whenthe fire broke out.“.Uh, he was and he wasn’t. His body was in jail ... curled up in withdrawat Buthe was actually with us. You understand?“.Uh, I don’t grok.“.Rapport. He was inside Jill’s bead, mostly, but we were all pretty closely tiedin together. Jubal, I can’t explain it; you have tO do it. When the exploSiOnhit, he moved us over here. Then he went back and saved the minor stuffworth saving.“Jubal frowned. Caxton said impatiently,“Teleportation, of course. What’s sohard to grok about it, Jubal? You yourself told me to come down here andopen my eyes and know a miracle when I saw one. So I did and they were.
　　Only they aren’t miracles, any more than radio is a miracle. Do you grokradio? Or stereovsion? Or electronic computers?“.Me? No.“.Nor do I, I’ve never studied electronics. But I’m sure I could if I took the timeand the hard sweat to learn the language of e1ctronics. I don’t think it’smiraculous-just complex. Teleportation is quite simple, once you learn thelanguage-it’s the language that is so difficult.“.Ben, you can teleport things?“.Me? Oh, no, they don’t teach that in kindergarten. Oh, I’m a deacon bycourtesy, simply because I’m .First Called’ and Ninth Circle-but my actualprogress is about Fourth Circle, bucking for Fifth. Why, I’m just beginning toget control of my own body~Patty is the only one of us who uses teleportationherself with any regularity . . . and I’m not sure she ever does it withoutMike’s support. Oh, Mike says she’s quite capable of it, but Patty is such acuriously naive and humble person for the genius she is that she is quitedependent on Mike. Which she needn’t be. Jubal, I grok this: we don’tactuallY need Mike-Oh, I’m not running him down; don’t get me wrong. Butyou could have been the Man from Mars. Or even me.
　　It’s like the first man to discover fire. Fire was there all along-and after heshowed that it could be used, anybody could use it . . anybody with senseand savvy enough not to get burned with it. Follow me?“.I grok, somewhat at least.“.Mike is our Prometheus-but remember, Prometheus was not God. Mikekeeps emphasizing this. Thou art God, I am God, he is God that groks. Mikeis a man along with the rest of us . . . even though he knows more. A verysuperior man, admittedly-a lesser man, taught the things the Martians know,probably would have set himself up as a pipsqueak god. Mike is above thattemptation. Prometheus . . . but that’s all,“Jubal said slowly, .As I recall, Prometheus paid a high price for bringingfire to mankind.“.And don’t think that Mike doesn’t! He pays with twenty-four hours of workevery day, seven days a week, trying to teach a few of us how to play withmatches without getting burned. Jill and Patty lowered the boom on him,started making him take one night a week off, long before I joined up.“Caxton smiled. .But you can’t stop Mike. This burg is loaded with gamblingjoints, no doubt you know, and most of them crooked since it’s against thelaw here. Mike usually spends his night off bucking crooked games-andwinning. Picks up ten, twenty, thirty thousand dollars a night. They tried tomug him, they tried to kill him, they tried knock-out drops and muscle boysnothingworked; he simply ran up a reputation as the luckiest man in town . . .
　　which brought more people into the Temple; they wanted to see this manwho always won. So they tried to shut him out of the games-which was amistake. Their cold decks froze solid, their wheels wouldn’t spin, their dicewould roll nothing but box cars. At last they started putting up with him . . .
　　and requesting him politely to please move along after he had won a fewgrand. Mike would always do so, if asked politely.“Caxton added, .Of course that’s one more power bloc we’ve got against us.
　　Not just the Fosterites and some of the other churches-but the gamblingsyndicate and the city political machine. I rather suppose that job done on theTemple was by professionals brought in from out of town-I doubt if theFosterite goon squads touched it. Too professional.“While they talked, people came in, went out again, formed groupsthemselves or joined Jubal and Ben. Jubal found in them a most unusualfeeling, an unhurried relaxation that at the same time was a dynamic tension.
　　No one seemed excited, never in a hurry . . . yet everything they did seemedpurposeful, even gestures as apparently accidental and unpremeditated asencountering one another and marking it with a kiss or a greeting-orsometimes not. It felt to Jubal as if each move had been planned by a masterchoreographer . . . yet obviously was not.
　　The quiet and the increasing tension-or rather .expectancy,“ he decided;these people were not tense in any morbid fashion-reminded Jubal ofsomething he had known in the past. Surgery? With a master at work, nonoise, no lost motions? A little.
　　Then he recalled it. Once, many years earlier when gigantic chemicallypowered rockets were used for the earliest probing of space from the thirdplanet, he had watched a count-down in a block house . . . and he recallednow the same low voices, the same relaxed, very diverse but coordinatedactions, the same rising exultant expectancy as the count grew ever smaller.
　　They were .waiting for fullness,“ that was certain. But for what? Why werethey so happy? Their Temple and all they had built had just been destroyed .
　　. . yet they seemed like kids on the night before Christmas.
　　Jubal had noted in passing, when he arrived, that the nudity Ben had been sodisturbed by on his abortive first visit to the Nest did not seem to be thepractice in this surrogate Nest, although private enough in location. ThenJubal realized later that he had failed to notice such cases when they didappear; he had himself become so much in the unique close-family mood ofthe place that being dressed or not had become an unnoticeable irrelevancy.
　　When he did notice, it was not skin but the thickest, most beautiful cascadeof black hair he had ever seen, gracing a young woman who came in, spoketo someone, threw Ben a kiss, glanced gravely at Jubal, and left. Jubalfollowed her with his eyes, appreciating that flowing mass of midnightplumage. Only after she left did he realize that she had not been dressedother than in her queenly crowning glory . . . and then realized, too, that shewas not the first of his brothers in that fashion.
　　Ben noticed his glance. .That’s Ruth,“ he said. .New high priestess. She andher husband have been away, clear on the other coast-their mission was toprepare a branch temple, I think. I’m glad they’re back. It’s beginning to lookas if the whole family will be home at once-like an oldfashioned Christmasdinner.“.Beautiful head of hair. I wish she had tarried.“.Then why didn’t you call her over?“.Eh?“.Ruth almost certainly found an excuse to come in here just to catch aglimpse of you-I suppose they must have just arrived. But haven’t younoticed that we have been left pretty much alone, except for a few who satdown with us, didn’t say much, then left?“.Well ... yes.“ Jubal had noticed and had been a touch disappointed, as hehad been braced, by all that he had heard, to ward off undue intimacy-andhad found that he had stepped on a top step that wasn’t there. He had beentreated with hospitality and politeness, but it was more like the politeness of acat than that of an over-friendly dog.
　　.They are all terribly interested in the fact that you are here and are veryanxious to see you . . . but they are a little bit afraid of you, too.“.Me?“.Oh, I told you this last summer. You’re a venerable tradition of the church,not quite real and a bit more than life size. Mike has told them that you arethe only human being he knows of who can .grok in fullness’ without needingto learn Martian first. Most of them suspect that you can read minds asperfectly as Mike does.“.Oh, what poppycock! I hope you disabused them?“.Who am I to destroy a myth? Perhaps you do read minds-I’m sure youwouldn’t tell me. They are just a touch afraid of you-YOU eat babies forbreakfast and when you roar the ground trembles. Any of them would bedelighted to have you call them over . . . but they won’t force themselves onyou. They know that even Mike stands at attention and says .sir’ when youspeak.“Jubal dismissed the whole idea with one short, explosive word.
　　.Certainly,“ Ben agreed. .Even Mike has his blind spots-I told you he wasonly human. But that’s how it is. You’re the patron saint of this church- andyou’re stuck with it.“.Well ... there’s somebody I know, iust came in. Jill! Jill! Turn around, dear!“The woman turned rather hesitantly. .I’m Dawn. But thank you.“ She cameover, however, and Jubal thought for an instant that she was going to kisshim . . . and decided not to duck it. But she either had not that intention, orchanged her mind. She dropped to one knee, took his hand and kissed it.
　　.Father Jubal. We welcome you and drink deep of you.“Jubal snatched his hand away. .Oh, for heaven’s sake, child! Get up fromthere and sit with us. Share water.“.Yes, Father Jubal.“.Uh ... and call me Jubal-and pass the word around that I don’t appreciatebeing treated like a leper. I’m in the bosom of my family-I hope.“.You are ... Jubal.“.So I expect to be called Jubal and treated as a water brother-no more, noless. The first one who treats me with respect will be required to stay in afterschool. Grok?“.Yes, Jubal,“ she answered demurely. .I’ve told them. They will.“.Huh?“.Dawn means,“ explained Ben, .that she’s told Patty, probably~ since Mike iswithdrawn at the moment . . . and that Patty is telling everybody who canhear easily-with his inner ear-and they are passing the word to any who arestill a bit deaf, like myself.“.Yes,“ agreed Dawn, .except that I told Jill-Patty has gone outside forsomething Michael wants. Jubal, have you been watching any of what isshowing in the stereo tank? It’s very exciting.“.Eli? No.“.You mean the jail break, Dawn?“.Yes, Ben“.We hadn’t discussed that-and Jubal doesn’t like stereo. Jubal, Mike didn’tmerely crush out and come home when he felt like it; he gave them adilemma to sit on. Here he has just been arrested for everything but rapingthe Statue of Liberty, with Bigmouth Short denouncing him as the Antichriston the same day. So he gave .em miracles to chew on. He threw away everybar and door in the county jail as he left . . . did the same at the state prisonjust Out of town for good measure~and disarmed all the police forces, city,county, and state. Partly to keep .em busy and interested . . . and partlybecause Mike just purely despises locking a man up for any reason at all. Hegroks a great wrongness in it.“.That fits,“ Jubal agreed. .Mike is gentle, always. It would hurt him to haveanybody locked up. I agree.“Ben shook his head. .Mike isn’t gentle, Jubal. Killing a man wouldn’t worryhim. But he’s the ultimate anarrchist~locking a man up is a wrongness.
　　Freedom of self-and utter personal responsibility for self. Thou art God.“.Wherein lies the conflict, sir? Killing a man might be necessary. Butconfining him is an offense against his integrity-and your own.“Ben looked at him. .I grok Mike was right. You do grok in fullness- his way. Idon’t quite-I’m still learning.“ He added, .How are they taking it, Dawn?“She giggled slightly. .Like a stirred-UP hornets’ nest. The mayor has been on. . . and he’s frothing at the mouth. He’s demanded help from the state andfrom the Federation-and he’s getting it; we’ve seen lots of troop carrierslanding. But as they pour out, Mike is stripping them-not just their weapons.
　　even their shoes-and as soon as the troop carTer is empty, it goes, too.“Ben said, .I grok he’ll stay withdrawn until they get tired and give up.
　　Handling that many details he would almost have to stay in it and on eternaltime.“Dawn looked thoughtful. .No, I don’t think so, Ben. Of course I would have to,in order to handle even a tenth so much. But I grok Michael could do it ridinga bicycle while standing on his head.“.Mmm ... I wouldn’t know, I’m still making mud pies.“ Ben stood up.
　　.Sometimes you miracle workers give me a slight pain, honey child. I’m goingto go watch the tank for a while.“ He stopped to kiss her. .You entertain oldPappy Jubal; he likes little girls.“ Caxton left and a package of cigarettes hehad left on a coffee table got up, followed him, and placed themselves in oneof his pockets.
　　Jubal said, .Did you do that? Or Ben?“.Ben did. I don’t smoke, unless the man I’m with wants to smoke. But he’salways forgetting his cigarettes; they chase him all over the Nest.“.Hmmm ... pretty fair-sized mud pies he makes these days.“.Ben is advancing much more rapidly than he will ever admit. He’s a veryholy person-but he hates to admit it. He’s shy.“.Umph. Dawn, you are the Dawn Ardent I met at Foster Tabernacle abouttwo and half years ago, aren’t you?“.Oh, you remember!!“ She looked as if he had handed her a lollipop.
　　.Of course I remember. But I was slightly puzzled. You’ve changed some. Allfor the better. You seem much more beautiful.“.That’s because I am more beautiful,“ she said simply. .You mistook me forGillian. And she is more beautiful, too.“.Where is that child? I haven’t seen her ... and I expected to see her atonce.“.She’s been working.“ Dawn paused. .But I told her and she says she’scoming in.“ She paused again. .And I am to take her place. If you will excuseme.“.Oh, certainly. Run along, child.“.There’s no hurry.“ But she did get up and leave almost at once as Dr.
　　Mahmoud sat down.
　　Jubal looked at him sourly. .You might at least have had the commoncourtesy to let me know that you were in this country instead of letting memeet my goddaughter for the first time through the good offices of a snake.“.Oh, Jubal, you’re always in such a bloody hurry,“.Sir, when one is of-. Jubal was interrupted by two hands placed over hiseyes from behind. A well-remembered voice demanded:
　　.Guess who?“.Beelzebub?“.Try again.“.Lady Macbeth?“.Much closer. Third guess, or a forfeit.“.Gillian, stop that and come around here and sit beside me.“.Yes, Father.“ She obeyed.
　　.And knock off calling me .Father’ anywhere but home. Sir, I was saying thatwhen one is of my age, one is necessarily in a hurry about some things. Eachsunrise is a precious jewel . . . for it may never be followed by its sunset. Theworld may end at any moment.“Mahmoud smiled at him. .Jubal, are you under the impression that if you stopcranking, the world stops going around?“.Most certainly, sir-from my viewpoint.“ Miriam joined them silently, sat downon Jubal’s free side; he put an arm around her. .While I might not be honingto see your ugly face again . . . nor even to gaze on the somewhat moreacceptable one of my former secretary-.
　　Miriam whispered, .Boss, are you honing for a kick in the stomach? I’mexquisitely beautiful; I have it on highest authority.“.Quiet. -new goddaughters are in another category. Through your failure todrop me so much as a postcard, I might have missed seeing Fatima Michele.
　　In which case I would have returned to haunt you.“.In which case,“ Miriam pointed out, .you could take a took at Micky at thesame time . . . rubbing strained carrots in her hair. A disgusting sight.“.I was speaking metaphorically.“.I wasn’t. She’s a sloppy trencherman.“.Why,“ asked Jill quietly, .were you speaking metaphorically, Boss?“.Eh? The concept .ghost’ is one I feel no need for, other than as a figure ofspeech.“.It’s more than a figure of speech,“ insisted Jill.
　　.Uh ... as may be. I prefer to meet baby girls in the flesh, including myown.“Dr. Malunoud said, .But that is what I was saying, Jubal. You aren’t about todie; you aren’t even close to it. Mike has grokked you to be certain. He saysyou have a long stretch of years ahead of you.“Jubal shook his head. .I set a top limit of three figures years ago. Nomore.“.Which three figures, Boss?“ Miriam inquired innocently. .The threeMethuselah used?“He shook her shoulders. .Don’t be obscene!“.Stinky says women should be obscene but not heard.“.Your husband speaks rightly. So pipe down. The day my machine firstshows three figures on its mileage meter is the day I discorporate, whetherMartian style or by my own crude methods. You can’t take that away fromme. Going to the showers is the best part of the game.“.I grok you speak rightly, Jubal,“ Jill said slowly, .about its being the best partof the game. But I wouldn’t count on it any time soon. Your fullness is not yet.
　　Allie cast a horoscope on you just last week.“.A horoscope? Oh, my God! Who is .Ailie?’ And how dare she cast ahoroscope on me! Show her to me! Swelp me, I’ll turn her in to the BetterBusiness Bureau.“.I’m afraid you can’t, Jubal,“ Mahmoud put in, .just now, as she is working onour dictionary. As to who she is, she’s Madame Alexandra Vesant.“Jubal sat up and looked pleased. .Becky? Is she in this nut house, too? Ishould have known it. Where is she?“.Yes, Becky. But we call her .Allie’ because we’ve got another Becky. Butyou’ll have to wait. And don’t scoff at her horoscopes, Jubal; she has theSight.“.Oh, balderdash, Stinky. Astrology is nonsense and you know it.“.Oh, certainly. Even Allie knows it. And a percentage of astrologers areclumsy frauds. Nevertheless Allie practices it even more assiduously thanshe used to, when she did it for the public-using Martian arithmetic now andMartian astronomy-much fuller than ours. But it’s her device for grokking, Itcould be gazing into a pool of water, or a crystal ball, or examining theentrails of a chicken. The means she uses to get into the mood do not matterand Mike has advised her to go on using the symbols she is used to. Thepoint is: she has the Sight.“.What the hell do you mean by .the Sight,’ Stinky?“.The ability to grok more of the universe than that little piece you happen tobe sitting on at the moment. Mike has it from years of Martian discipline; Alliewas an untrained semi-adept. The fact that she used as meaningless asymbol as astrology is beside the point. A rosary is meaningless, too-I speakof a Muslim rosary, of course; I’m not criticizing our competitors across thestreet.“ Mahmoud reached into his pocket, got out one, started fingering it. .Ifit helps to turn your hat around during a poker game-then it helps. It isirrelevant that the hat has no magic powers and cannot grok.“Jubal looked at the Islamic device for meditation and ventured a question hehad hesitated to put before. .Then I take it you are still one of the Faithful? Ihad thought perhaps that you had joined Mike’s church all the way.“Mahmoud put away the beads. .I have done both.“.Huh? Stinky, they’re incompatible. Or else I don’t grok either one.“Mahmoud shook his head. .Only on the surface. You could say, I suppose,that Maryam took my religion and I took hers; we consolidated. But, Jubal mybeloved brother, I am still God’s slave, submissive to His will . . . andnevertheless can say: .Thou art God, I am God, all that groks is God.’ TheProphet never asserted that he was the last of all prophets nor did he claimto have said all there was to say-only fanatics after his lifetime insisted onthose two very misleading fallacies. Submission to God’s will is not tobecome a blind robot, incapable of free decision and thus of sin-and theKoran does not say that. Submission can include -and does include-utterresponsibility for the fashion in which I, and each of us, shape the universe. Itis ours to turn into a heavenly garden or to rend and destroy.“ He smiled.
　　.’With God all things are possible,’ if I may borrow for a moment-except onething . . . the one Impossible. God cannot escape Himself, He cannotabdicate His own total responsibility-He forever must remain submissive toHis own will. Islam remains-He cannot pass the buck. It is His-mine . . . yoursMike’s.“Jubal heaved a sigh. .Stinky, theology always gives me the pip. Where’sBecky? Can’t she knock off this dictionary work and say hello to an oldfriend? I’ve seen her only once in the last twenty-odd years; that’s too long.“.You’ll see her. But she can’t stop now, she’s dictating. Let me explain thetechnique, so that you won’t insist. Up to now, I’ve been spending part ofeach day in rapport with Mike-just a few moments although it feels like aneight-hour day. Then I would immediately dictate all that he had poured intome onto tape. From those tapes several other people, trained in Martianphonetics but not necessarily advanced students, would make long-handphonetic transcriptions. Then Maryam would type them out, using a specialtyper-and this master copy Mike or I-Mike by choice, but his time is chokedwouldcorrect by hand.
　　.But our schedule has been disturbed now, and Mike groks that he is going tosend Maryam and me away to some Shangri-la to finish the job- or, morecorrectly, he has grokked that we will grok such a necessity. So Mike isgetting months and years of tape completed in order that I can take it awayand unhurriedly break it into a phonetic script that humans can learn to read.
　　Besides that, we have stacks of tapes of Mike’s lectures-in Martian-that needto be transcribed into print when the dictionary is finished . . . lectures that weunderstood at the time with his help but later will need to be printed, with thedictionary.
　　.Now I am forced to assume that Maryam and I will be leaving quite soon,because, busy as Mike is with a hundred other things, he’s changed themethod. There are eight bedrooms here equipped with tape recorders. Thoseof us who can do it best-Patty, Jill, myself; Maryam, your friend Allie, someothers-take turns in those rooms. Mike puts us into a short trance, pourslanguage-definitions, idioms, concepts-into us for a few moments that feellike hours . . . then we dictate at once just what he has poured into us,exactly, while it’s still fresh. But it can’t be just anybody, even of theInnermost Temple. It requires a sharp accent and the ability to join the trancerapport and then spill out the results. Sam, for example, has everything butthe clear accent-he manages, God knows how, to speak Martian with aBronx accent. Can’t use him, it would cause endless errata in the dictionary.
　　And that is what Allie is doing now-dictating. She’s still in the semi-tranceneeded for total recall and, if you interrupt her, she’ll lose what she still hasn’trecorded.“.I grok,“ Jubal agreed, .although the picture of Becky Vesey as a Martianadept shakes me a little. Still, she was once one of the best mentalists inshow business; she could give a cold readilig that would scare any mark rightout of his shoes-a~ loosen his pocketb00~ Say, Stinky, if you are going to besent away for peace and quiet while you unwind all this data, why don’t youand Maryam come home? Plenty of room for a study & bedroom suite in thenew wing.“.Perbaps we shall. Waiting still is.“.Sweetheart,“ Miriam said earnestlY, .that’s a solutiOn I would just plain loveif Mike pushes us out of the Nest.“.If we grok to leave the Nest, you mean.“.Same thing . . . you grok.“.You speak rightly, my dear. But when do we eat around here? I feel a mostunMartian urgency inside. The service was better in the Nest.“.You can’t expect Patty to work on your dratted old dictionary, see to it thateveryone who arrives is comfortable, run errands for Mike, and still have foodon the table the instant you get hungry, my love. Jubal, Stinky will neverachieve priesthood~he’s a slave to his stomach.“.Well, so am I.“.And you girls might give Patty a hand,“ her husband added.
　　.That sounds like a crude hint. You know we do, dear, all she will let us—andTony will hardly allow anyone in his kitchen . . . even this kitchen.“ She stoodup. .Come on, Jubal, and let’s see what’s cooking. Tony will be very flatteredif you visit his kitchen.“Jubal went with her, was a bit bemused to see telekinesis used in preparingfood, met Tony, who scowled until he saw who was with her, then wasbeamingly proud to show off his workshop, accompanied by a spate ofinvective in mixed English and Italian at the scoundrels who had destroyed.his“ kitchen in the Nest. In the meantime a spoon, unassisted, continued tokeel a big pot of spaghetti sauce.
　　Shortly thereafter Jubal declined to be jockeyed into a seat at the head of along table, grabbed one elsewhere. Patty sat at one end; the head chairremained vacant . . . except for an eerie feeling which Jubal suppressed thatthe Man from Mars was sitting there and that everyone present but himselfcould see him_whith was true only in some cases.
　　Across the table from him was Dr. Nelson.
　　Jubal discovered that he would have been surprised only if Dr. Nelson hadnot been present. He nodded and said, .Hi, Sven.“.Hi, Doc. Share water.“.Never thirst. What are you around here? Staff physician?“ Nelson shook hisbead. .Medical student.“.So. Learn anything?“.I’ve learned that medicine isn’t necessary.“.If youda ast me, I coulda told yah. Seen Van?“.He ought to be in sometime late tonight or early tomorrow. His shipgrounded today.“.Does he always come here?“ inquired Jubal.
　　.Call him an extension student. He can’t spend much time here.“.Well, it will be good to see him. I haven’t laid eyes on him for a year and half,about.“ Jubal picked up a conversation with the man on his right while Nelsontalked with Dorcas on his right. Jubal noticed the same tingling expectancy atthe table which he had felt before, but reinforced. Yet there was still nothinghe could put his finger on_lust a quiet family dinner in relaxed intimacY.
　　Once, a glass of water was passed all around the table, but, if there wasritual of words with it, they were spoken too low to carry. When it reachedJubal’s placer he took a sip and passed it along to the girl on his left-roundeyedand too awed to make chit-chat with him-and himself said in a lowvoice, .I offer you water.“She managed to answer, .I thank you for water, Fa- Jubal.“ That was almostthe only word be got out of her. When the glass completed the cjtcUit,reaching the vacant chair at the head of the table, there was perhaps a halfinch of water in it. It raised itself, poured, and the water disappeared, then thetumbler placed itself on the cloth. Jubal decided, correctly, that he had takenpart in a group Sharing Water of the Innermost Temple . . . and probably inhis honour-although it certainly was not even slightly like the Bacchallalhanrevels he had thought accompamed such formal welcome of a brother. Wasit because they were in strange surroundings? Or had he read into unexplicitreports what his own id wanted to find in those reports?
　　Or had they simply toned it down to an ascetic formality out of deference tohis age and opinions?
　　The last seemed the most likely theory-and he found that it vexed him. Ofcourse, he told himself, he was glad to be spared the need to refuse aninvitation that he certainly did not want-and would not have relished at anyage, his tastes being what they were.
　　But just the same, damn it-.Don’t anybody mention ice skating becauseGrandmaw is too old and frail for ice skating and it wouldn’t be polite. Hulda,you suggest that we play checkers and we’ll all chime in-Grandmaw likescheckers. And we’ll go ice skating some other time. Okay, kids?“Jubal resented the respectful consideratiOn, if that was what it was- he wouldalmost have preferred to have gone ice skating anyhow, even at the cost of abroken hip.
　　But he decided to forget the matter, put it entirely out of mind, which he didwith the help of the man on his right, who was as talkative as the girl on hisleft was not. His name, Jubal learned, was Sam, and presently he learnedthat Sam was a man of broad and deep scholarship, a trait Jubal valued inanyone when it was not mere parrot learning-and he grokked that in Sam itwas not.
　　.This setback is only apparent,“ Sam assured him. .The egg was ready tohatch and now we’ll spread out. Of course we’ve had trouble; we’ll go onhaving trouble-because no society, no matter how liberal its law may appearto be, will allow its basic concepts to be challenged with impunity. Which isexactly what we are doing. We are challenging everything from the sanctity ofproperty to the sanctity of marriage.“.Do you know?“Sam shook his head. .Not interested. But Saul over there-that other bigHebe; he’s my cousin-gives it grokking, along with Allie. Michael has them bevery cautious about it, no big killings, and they use a dozen-odd dummyaccounts-but the fact remains that any of the disciplined can make anyamount of money at anything-real estate, stocks, horse races, gambling, youname it-when competing with the half awake. No, I don’t think that moneyand property will disappear-Michael says that both concepts are useful-but Ido say that they’re going to be turned upside down and inside out to the pointwhere people will have to learn new rules (and that means learn the hardway, just as we have) or be hopelessly outclassed. What happens to LunarEnterprises when the common carrier between here and Luna City isteleportation?“.Should I buy? Or sell?“.Ask Saul. He might use the present corporation, or he might bankrupt it. Or itmight be left untouched for a century or two. But besides bankers andbrokers, consider any other occupation. How can a school teacher teach achild who knows more than she does and won’t hold still for mistakenteaching? What becomes of physicians and dentists when people are trulyhealthy? What happens to the cloak & suit industry and to the I.L.G.W.U.
　　when clothing isn’t really needed at all and women aren’t so endlesslyinterested in dressing up (they’ll never lose interest entirely)- and nobodygives a damn if he’s caught with his arse bare? What shape does .the FarmProblem’ take when weeds can be told not to grow and crops can beharvested without benefit of International Harvester or John Deere? Justname it; it changes beyond recognition when the discipline is applied. Takejust one change that will shake both the sanctity of marriage-in its presentform-and the sanctity of property. Jubal, do you have any idea how much isspent each year in this country on Malthusian drugs and devices?“.I have a fairly exact idea, Sam. Almost a billion dollars on oralcontraceptives alone this last fiscal year . . . more than half of which was forpatent nostrums about as useful as corn starch.“.Oh, yes, you’re a medical man.“.Only in passing. A pack rat mind.“.Either way. What happens to that big industry-and to the shrill threats ofmoralists—when a female can conceive only when she elects to as an act ofvolition, when also she is immune to disease, cares only for the approval ofher own sort . . . and has her orientation so changed that she desiresintercourse with a whole-heartedness that Cleopatra never dreamed of-butany male who tried to rape her would die so quickly, if she so grokked, thathe wouldn’t know what hit him? When women are free of guilt and fear-butinvulnerable other than by decision of self? Hell, the pharmaceutical industrywill be just a passing casualty-what other industries, laws, institutions,attitudes, prejudices, and nonsense must give way?“.I don’t grok its fullness,“ admitted Jubal. .It concerns a subject that has beenof little direct interest to me in quite a while.“.One institution won’t be damaged by it. Marriage.“.So?“.Very much so. Instead it will be purged, strengthened, and made endurable.
　　Endurable? Ecstatic! See that wench down there with the long black hair?“.Yes. I was delighting in its beauty earlier.“.She knows it’s beautiful and it’s grown a foot and a half longer since wejoined the church. That’s my wife. Not much over a year ago we livedtogether about like bad-tempered dogs. She was jealous . . . and I wasinattentive. Bored. Hell, we were both bored and only our kids kept ustogether-that and her possessiveness; I knew she would never let me gowithout a fight and a scandal . . . and I didn’t have any stomach for trying toput together a new marriage at my age, anyhow. So I got a little on the side,when I could get away with it-a college professor has many temptations, fewsafe opportunities-and Ruth was quietly bitter. Or sometimes not so quiet.
　　And then we joined up.“ Sam grinned happily. .And I fell in love with my ownwife. Number-one gal friend~“Sam’s words had been very quiet, an intimate conversation walled by noiseof eating and cheerful company. His wife was far down the table. She lookedup and said clearly, .That’s an exaggeration, Jubal. I think I’m about numbersix.“Her husband called out, .Stay out of my mind, beautiful!-we’re talking mentalk. Give Larry your undivided attention.“ He picked up a hard roll, threw it ather.
　　She stopped it in mid-trajectory, threw it back at him while continuing to talk;Sam caught it and buttered it. .I’m giving Larry all the attention he wants . . .
　　until later, maybe. Jubal, that brute didn’t let me finish. Number-six place iswonderful! Because my name wasn’t even on the list till we joined the church.
　　I hadn’t rated as high as six with Sam in the past twenty years.“ She did thenturn her attention back to Larry.
　　.The real point,“ Sam said quietly, .is that we two are now partners, muchmore than we ever were even at the best period in our outside marriage-andwe got that way through the training, culminating in sharing and growingcloser with others who had the same training. We all wind up in twosomepartnerships inside the larger group-usually, but not necessarily, with our ownspouses-of-record. Sometimes not . . . and if not, the readjustment takesplace with no heartache and a warmer, closer, better relationship betweenthe soidisant .divorced’ couple than ever, both in bed and out. No loss and allgain. Shucks, this pairing as partners needn’t even be between man andwoman. Dawn and Jill for example- they work together like an acrobaticteam.“.Hmm ... I suppose,“ Jubal said thoughtfully, .that I had thought of those twoas being Mike’s wives.“.No more so than they are to any of us. Or than Mike is to all the rest. Mike istoo busy, has been, I should say, until the Temple burned-to do more thanmake sure that he shared himself all the way around.“ Sam added, .Ifanybody is Mike’s wife, it’s Patty, although she keeps so busy herself that therelation is more spiritual than physical. Actually, you could say that both Mikeand Patty are short-changed when it comes to mauling the mattress.“Patty was not quite as far away as Ruth, but far enough. She looked up andsaid, .Sam dear, I don’t feel short-changed.“.Huh?“ Sam then announced, loudly and bitterly, .The only thing wrong withthis church is that a man has absolutely no privacy!“This brought a barrage of food in his direction, all from distaff members. Hehandled it all and tossed it back without lifting a hand . . . until the complexityof it apparently got to be too much and a plateful of spaghetti caught him fullin the face-thrown, Jubal noticed, by Dorcas.
　　For a moment Sam looked like a particularly ghastly crash victim. Thensuddenly his face was clean and even the sauce that had spattered onJubal’s shirt was gone. .Don’t give her any more, Tony. She wasted it; let hergo hungry.“.Plenty more in the kitchen,“ Tony answered. .Sam, you look good inspaghetti. Pretty good sauce, huh?“ Dorcas’s plate sailed out to the kitchen,returned, loaded. Jubal decided that Dorcas had not been concealing talentsfrom him-the plate was much more heavily filled than she would have chosenherself; he knew her appetite.
　　.Very good sauce,“ agreed Sam. .I salvaged some that hit me in the mouth.
　　What is it? Or shouldn’t I ask?“.Chopped policeman,“ Tony answered.
　　Nobody laughed. For a queasy instant Jubal wondered if the joke was a joke.
　　Then he recalled that these his water brothers smiled a lot but rarelylaughed-and besides, policeman should be good healthy food. But the saucecouldn’t be .long pig“ in any case, or it would taste like pork. This sauce hada distinct beef flavor to it.
　　He changed the subject. .The thing I like best about this religion-.
　　.Is it a religion?“ Sam inquired.
　　.Well, church. Call it a church. You did.“.It is a church,“ agreed Sam. .It fills every function of a church, and its quasitheologydoes, I admit, match up fairly well with some real religions. Faiths. Ijumped in because I used to be a stalwart atheist-and now I’m a high priestand I don’t know what I aim“.I understood you to say you were Jewish.“.I am. From a long line of rabbis. So I wound up atheist. Now look at me. Butmy cousin Saul and my wife Ruth are both Jews in the religious sense-andtalk to Saul; you’ll find it’s no handicap to this discipline. A help, probably . . .
　　as Ruth, once she broke past the first barrier, progressed faster than I did;she was a priestess quite a while before I became a priest. But she’s thespiritual sort; she thinks with her gonads. Me, I have to do it the hard way,between my ears.“.The discipline,“ repeated Jubal. .That’s what I like best about it. The faith Iwas reared in didn’t require anybody to know anything. Just confess yoursins and be saved, and there you were, safe in the arms of Jesus. A mancould be too stupid to hit the floor with his hat . . . and yet he could beconclusively presumed to be one of God’s elect, guaranteed au eternity ofbliss, because he had been .converted.’ He might or might not become aBible student; even that wasn’t necessary . . . and he certainly didn’t have toknow, or even try to know, anything else. This church doesn’t accept.conversion’ as I grok it-.
　　.You grok correctly.“.A person must start with a willingness to learn and follow it with some long,hard study. I grok that is salutary, in itself.“.More than salutary,“ agreed Sam. .Indispensable. The concepts ~ can’t bethought about without the language, and the discipline that results in thishorn-of-plenty of benefits-from how to live without fighting to how to pleaseyour wife-all derive from the conceptual logic . . . understanding who you are,why you’re here, how you tick-and behaving accordingly. Happiness is amatter of functioning the way a human being is organized to function . . . butthe words in English are a mere tautology, empty. In Martian they are acomplete set of working instructions. Did I mention that I had a cancer when Icame here?“.Eh? No, you didn’t.“.Didn’t know it myself. Michael grokked it, sent me out for the usual X raysand so forth so that I would be sure. Then we got to work on it together.
　　.Faith’ healing. A miracle. The clinic called it .spontaneous remission’ which Igrok means .I got well.’“Jubal nodded. .Professional double-talk. Some cancers go away, we don’tknow why.“.I know why this one went away. By then I was beginning to control my ownbody. With Mike’s help I repaired the damage. Now I can do it without hishelp. Want to feel a heart stop beating?“.Thanks, I have observed it in Mike, many times. My esteemed colleague,Croaker Nelson, would not be sitting across from us if what you are talkingabout was .faith healing.’ It’s voluntary control of the body. I grok.“.Sorry. We all know that you do. We know.“.Mmm ... I dislike to call Mike a liar because he isn’t. But the lad happens tobe prejudiced in my case.“Sam shook his head. .I’ve been talking with you all through dinner. I wantedto check it myself, despite what Mike said. You grok. I’m wondering what newthings you cotild disclose to us if you troubled to learn the language?“.Nothing. I’m an old man with little to contribute to anything.“.I insist on reserving my opinion. All the rest of the First Called have had totackle the language to make any real progress. Even the three you’ve keptwith you have had some powerful coaching, being kept in trance during mostof the short days and the few occasions we’ve had them with us. All but you .
　　. . and you don’t really need it. Unless you want to wipe spaghetti from yourface without a towel, which I grok you aren’t interested in anyhow.“.Only to observe it.“Most of the others had left the table, leaving quietly and without formalitywhen they wished. Ruth came over and stood by them. .Are you two going tosit here all night? Or shall we move you out with the dishes?“.I’m henpecked. Come on, Jubal.“ Sam stopped to kiss his wife.
　　They stopped only momentarily in the room with the stereo tank. .Anythingnew?“ asked Sam.
　　.The county attorney,“ someone said, .has been orating in an attempt toprove that all of today’s disasters are our doing . . . without admitting that hedoesn’t have the slightest notion how any of it was done.“.Poor fellow. He’s bitten a wooden leg and his teeth hurt.“ They went onthrough and found a quieter living room; Sam said, .I had been saying thatthese troubles can be expected-and they will get much worse before we canexpect to control enough public opinion to be tolerated. But Mike is in nohurry. So we close down the Church of All Worlds-it is closed down. So wemove and open the Congregation of the One Faith-and we get kicked outagain. Then we reopen elsewhere as the Temple of the Great Pyramid-thatone will bring flocking the foolish fat and fatuous females, and some of themwill end up neither fat nor foolish-and when we have the Medical Associationand the local bar and the newspapers and the boss politicos snapping at ourheels there-why, we open the Brotherhood of Baptism somewhere else. Eachone means solid progress, a hard core of disciplined who can’t be hurt-Mikestarted here hardly over a year ago, uncertain himself, and with only the helpof three untrained priestesses-bycourtesy. Now we’ve got a solid Nest . . .
　　plus a lot of fairly advanced pilgrims we can get in touch with later and letrejoin us. And someday, someday, we’ll be too strong to persecute.“.Well,“ agreed Jubal, .it could work. Jesus made quite a splash with onlytwelve disciples. In due course.“Sam grinned happily. .A Jew boy. Thanks for mentioning Him. He’s theoutstanding success story of my tribe-and we all know it, even though manyof us don’t talk about Him. But He was a Jew boy that made good and I’mproud of Him, being a Jew boy myself. Please to note that Jesus didn’t try toget it all done by next Wednesday. He was patient. He set up a oundorganization and let it grow. Mike is patient, too. Patience is so much part ofthe discipline that it isn’t even patience; it’s automatic. No sweat. Never anysweat.“.A sound attitude at any time.“.Not an attitude. The functioning of the discipline. Jubal? I grok you are tired.
　　Would you wish to become untired? Or would you rather go to bed? If youdon’t, our brothers will keep you up all night, talking. Most of us don’t sleepmuch, you know.“Jubal yawned. .I think I’ll choose a long, hot soak and about eight hours ofsleep. I’ll visit with our brothers tomorrow ... and other days.“.And many other days,“ agreed Sam.
　　Jubal found his own room, was immediately joined by Patty, who againinsisted on drawing his tub, then turned back his bed, neatly, withouttouching it, placed his setup for drinks (fresh ice cubes) by his bed, and fixedone and placed it on the shelf of the tub. Jubal did not try to hurry her out;she had arrived displaying all her pictures. He knew enough about thesyndrome which can lead to full tattooing to be quite sure that if he did notnow remark on them and ask to be allowed to examine them, she would bevery hurt even though she might conceal it.
　　Nor did he display or feel any of the fret that Ben had felt on
Chapter 36
JUBAL WOKE UP ALERT, rested, and happy, realized that he felt betterbefore breakfast than he had in years. For a long, long time he had beengetting through that black period between waking and the first cup of coffeeby comforting himself with the thought that tomorrow might be a little easier.
　　This morning he found himself whistling, which he did very badly. He noticedit, stopped himself, forgot it and started up again.
　　He saw himself in the mirror, smiled wryly, then grinned openly. .Youincorrigible old goat. They’ll be sending the wagon for you any minute now.“He noticed a white hair on his chest, plucked it out, didn’t bother with manyothers just as white, went on making himself ready to face the world.
　　When he went outside his door Jill was there. Accidentally? No, he no longertrusted any .coincidence“ in this ménAge; it was as organized as a computer.
　　She came straight into his anns. .Jubal- Oh, we love you so! Thou art God.“He returned her kiss as warmly as it was given, grokking that it would behypocritical not to-and discovering that kissing Jill differed from kissing Dawnonly in some fashion unmistakable but utterly beyond instrument ordescription.
　　Presently he held her away from him without letting her go. .You babyMessalina . . . you framed me.“.Jubal darling ... you were wonderful!“.Uh ... how the hell did you know I was able?“She gave him back a gaze of clear-eyed innocence. .Why, Jubal, I’ve beencertain of that ever since Mike and I first lived at home. You see, even then,when Mike was asleep-in trance-.-he could see around him quite a distanceand sometimes he would look in on you-a question to ask you or somethingtosee if you were asleep.“.But I slept alone! Always.“.Yes, dear. But that wasn’t quite what I meant. And I always had to explainthings to Mike that he didn’t understand.“.Hrrrmph!“ He decided not to pursue the inquiry. .Just the same, youshouldn’t have framed me.“.I grok you don’t mean that in your heart, Jubal ... and you grok that I speakrightly. We had to have you in the Nest. All the way in. We need you. Sinceyou are shy and humble in your goodness, we did what was needful towelcome you without hurting you. And we did not hurt you, as you grok.“.What’s this .we’ stuff?“.It was a full Sharing-Water of all the Nest, as you grok-you were there. Mikestopped what he was doing and woke up for it . . . and grokked with you andkept us all together.“Jubal hastily abandoned this line of inquiry, too. .So Mike is awake at last.
　　That’s why your eyes are shining so.“.Only partly. Of course, we are always delighted when Mike isn’t withdrawn,it’s jolly ... but he’s never really away. Jubal, I grok that you have not grokkedthe fullness of our way of Sharing-Water. But waiting will fill. Nor did Mikegrok it, at first-he thought it was only for quickening of eggs, as it is on Mars.“.Well ... that’s the primary purpose, the obvious purpose. Babies. Whichmakes it rather silly behavior on the part of a person, namely me, who has nointention and no wish, at my age, to cause such increase.“She shook her head. .Babies are the obvious result ... but not the primarypurpose at all. Babies give meaning to the future, and that is a greatgoodness. But only three or four or a dozen times in a woman’s life is a babyquickened in her . . . out of the thousands of times she can share herself-andthat is the primary use for what we can do so often but would need to do soseldom if it were only for reproduction. It is sharing and growing closer,forever and always. Jubal, Mike grokked this because on Mars the twothings-quickening of eggs, and sharing-closer-are entirely separate . . . andhe grokked, too, that our way is best. What a happy thing it is not to havebeen hatched a Martian . . . to be human and a woman!“He looked at her closely. .Child, are you pregnant?“.Yes, Jubal. I grokked at last that waiting had ended and I was free to be.
　　Most of the Nest have not needed to wait-but Dawn and I have been quitebusy. But when we grokked this cusp coming, I grokked that there would be awaiting after the cusp-and you can see that there will certainly be. Mike willnot rebuild the Temple overnight-so this high priestess will be unhurried inbuilding a baby. Waiting always fills.“From this high-flown mishmash Jubal abstracted the central fact or Jill’s beliefconcerning such a possible fact. Well, she no doubt had had plenty ofopportunity. He resolved to keep an eye on the matter and try to bring herhome for it, if possible. Mike’s superman methods were all very well, but itwouldn’t hurt to have the best modern equipment and techniques at hand,too. Losing Jill to eclampsia or some other mishap was something he did notintend to let happen, even if he had to get tough with the kids.
　　He wondered about another such possibility, decided not to mention it.
　　.Where’s Dawn? And where’s Mike? The place seems awfully quiet.“ No onehad come through the hail they were in and he heard no voices and yet thatodd feeling of happy expectancy was even stronger than it had been thenight before. He would have expected a certain release from tension after theceremony he had apparently joined in himself- unbeknownst-but the placewas more charged up than ever. It suddenly reminded him of how he had felt,as a very small boy, when waiting for his first circus parade . . . and someonehad called out: .There come the elephants!“Jubal felt as if, were he just a little taller, he could see the elephants, past theexcited crowd. Yet there was no crowd.
　　.Dawn told me to give you a kiss for her; she’ll be busy for the next threehours, about. And Mike is busy, too-he went back into withdrawal.“.Oh.“.Don’t sound so disappointed; he’ll be free soon. He’s making a special effortso that he will be free on your account . . . and to let all of us be free, too.
　　Duke spent all night scouring the city for the high-speed tape recorders weuse for the dictionary and now we’ve got everybody who can possibly do itbeing jammed full of Martian phonic symbols and then Mike will be throughand can visit. Dawn has just started dictating; I finished one session, duckedout to say good-morning to you . . . and am about to go back and get pouredfull of my last part of the chore, so I’ll be gone just a little longer than Dawnwill be. And here’s Dawn’s kiss-the first one was just from me.“ She put herarms around his neck and again put her mouth greedily to his-at last said,.My goodness! Why did we wait so long? .Bye for a little!“Jubal found a sparse few in the big dining room. Duke looked up, smiled andwaved, went back to hearty eating. He did not look as if he had been up allnight-nor had he; he had been up two nights.
　　Becky Vesey looked around when Duke waved and said happily, .Hi, you oldgoat!“-grabbed his ear, pulled him down, and whispered into it:
　　.I’ve known it all along-but why weren’t you around to console me when theProfessor died?“ She added aloud, .Sit down here beside me and we’ll getsome food into you while you tell me what devilment you’ve been plottinglately.“.Just a moment, Becky.“ Jubal went around the table. .Hi, Skipper. Goodtrip?“.No trouble. It’s becoming a milk run. I don’t believe you’ve ever met Mrs. vanTromp. My dear, the founder of this feast, the one and only Jubal Harshawtwoof him would be too many.“The Captain’s wife was a tall, plain woman with the calm eyes of one whohas watched from the Widow’s Walk. She stood up, kissed Jubal. .Thou artGod.“.Uh, thou art God.“ Jubal decided that he might as well relax to the ritual-hell,if he said it often enough, he might lose the rest of his buttons and believe it .
　　. . and it did have a friendly ring to it with the arms of the Skipper’s yrouwfirmly around him. He decided that she could even teach Jul something aboutkissing. She-how was it Anne had once described it? -she gave it her wholeattention; she wasn’t going anywhere.
　　.I suppose, Van,“ he said, .that I really shouldn’t be surprised to find youhere.“.Well,“ answered the spaceman, .a man who commutes to Mars ought to beable to palaver with the natives, don’t you think?“.Just for powwow, huh?“.There are other aspects.“ Van Tromp reached for a piece of toast; the toastcooperated. .Good food, good company.“.Um, yes.“.Jubal,“ Madame Vesant called out, .soup’s on!“Jubal returned to his place, found eggs-on-horseback, orange juice, andother choice comestibles waiting for him. Becky patted his thigh. .A fineprayer meeting, me bucko.“.Woman, back to your horoscopes!“.Which reminds me, deane, I want to know the exact instant of your birth.“.Uh, I was born on three successive days, at various hours. I was too big aboy-they had to handle me in sections.“Becky made a rude answer. .I’ll find out.“.The courthouse burned down when I was three. You can’t.“.There are ways. Want to make a small bet?“.You go on heckling me and you’ll find you’re not too big to spank.
　　How’ve you been, girl?“.What do you think? How do I look?“.Healthy. A bit spread in the butt. You’ve touched up your hair.“.I have not. I quit using henna months ago. Get with it, pal, and we’ll get rid ofthat white fringe you’ve got. Replace it with a real lawn.“.Becky, I refuse to grow any younger for any reason. I came by mydecrepitude the hard way and I propose to enjoy it. Quit prattling and let aman eat.“.Yes, sir. You old goat.“Jubal was just leaving the table as the Man from Mars came in. .Father! Oh,Juball“ Mike hugged and kissed him.
　　Jubal gently unwound himself from the embrace. .Be your age, son. Sit downand enjoy your breakfast. I’ll sit with you.“.I didn’t come here looking for breakfast, I came looking for you. We’ll find aplace and talk.“.All right.“They went to the livingroom of one of the suites, Mike pulling Jubal by thehand like an excited small boy welcoming his favorite grandparent. Mikepicked a big comfortable chair for Jubal and sprawled himself on a couchopposite and close to him. This room was on the side of the wing having theprivate landing flat; there were high French windows opening to it. Jubal gotup and shifted his chair slightly so that he would not be facing so directly intothe light in looking at his foster son; not to his surprise but mildly to hisannoyance the heavy chair shifted as if it had been no more massive than achild’s balloon, his hand merely guided it.
　　Two men and a woman were in the room when they arrived. These leftshortly, leisurely, severally, and unostentatiously. After that they were alone,except that they were both served with Jubal’s favorite brandy-by hand, toJubal’s pleasure; he was quite ready to agree that the remote control thesepeople had over objects around them was a labor-saver and probably amoney-saver (certainly on laundry!-bis spaghetti-splashed shirt had been sofresh that he had put it on again today), and obviously a method much to bepreferred for household convenience to the blind balkiness of mechanicalgadgets. Nevertheless he was not used to telecontrol done without wires orwaves; it startled Jubal the way horseless carriages had disturbed decent,respectable horses about the time Jubal was born.
　　Duke served the brandy. Mike said, .Hi, Cannibal. Thanks. Are you thenew butler?“.De nada, Monster. Somebody has to do it and you’ve got every brain in theplace slaving away over a hot microphone.“.Well, they’ll all be through in a couple of hours and you can revert to youruseless, lecherous existence. The job is done, Cannibal. Pau. Thirty. Ended.“.The whole damn Martian language all in one lump? Monster, I had bettercheck you for burned-out capacitors.“.Oh, no, no! Only the primer knowledge that I have of it-had of it, my brain’san empty sack. But highbrows like Stinky will be going back to Mars for acentury to fill in what I never learned. But I did turn out quite a job-about sixweeks of Subjective time since around five this morning or whenever it waswe adjourned the meeting-and now the stalwart steady types can finish it andI’m free to visit with Jubal with nothing on my mind.“ Mike stretched andyawned. .Feels good. Finishing a job always feels good.“.You’ll be slaving away at something else before the day is out. Boss, thisMartian monster can’t take it or leave it alone. I know for a fact that this is thefirst time he has simply relaxed and done nothing for over two months. Heought to sign up with .Workers Anonymous.’ Or you ought to visit us moreoften. You’re a good influence on him.“.God forbid that I should ever be a good influence on anybody.“.And you get out of here, Cannibal, and quit telling lies about me.“.Lies, hell. You turned me into a compulsive truth-teller ... and it’s a greathandicap in some of the jomts where I hang out.“ Duke left them.
　　Mike lifted his glass. .Share water, my brother Father Jubal“.Drink deep, son.“.Thou art God.“.Take it easy, Mike. I’ll put up with that from the others and answer it politely.
　　But don’t you come godding at me. I knew you when you were .only an egg.’“.Okay, Jubal.“.That’s better. When did you start drinking in the morning? Do that at yourage and you’ll ruin your stomach. You’ll never live to be a happy old soak,like me.“Mike looked at his partly emptied glass. .I drink when it’s a sharing to do so.
　　It doesn’t have any effect on me, nor on most of the others, unless we want itto. Once I let it have its effect without stopping it, until I passed Out. It’s anodd sensation. Not a goodness, I grok. Just a way to discorporate for a whilewithout discorporating. I can get a similar effect, only much better and with nodamage to be repaired afterwards, by withdrawing.“.Economical, at least.“.Uh huh, our liquor bill isn’t anything. Matter of fact, running that wholeTemple hasn’t cost what it costs you to keep up our home. Except for theinitial investment and replacing some of the props, coffee and cakes wasabout all-we made our own fun. We were happy. We needed so little that Iused to wonder what to do with all the money that came in.“.Then why did you take collections?“.Huh? Oh, you have to charge .em, Jubal. The marks won’t pay seriousattention to anything that’s free.“.I knew that, I just wondered if you did.“.Oh, yes, I grok marks, Jubal. At first I did try to preach free-just give it away.
　　I had plenty of money, I thought it was all right. It didn’t work. We humanshave to make considerable progress before we can accept a free gift, andvalue it. Usually I never let them have anything free until about Sixth Circle.
　　By then they can accept . . . and accepting is much harder than giving.“.Hmm ... son, I think maybe you should write a book on humanpsychology.“.I have. But it’s in Martian. Stinky has the tapes.“ Mike looked again at hisglass, took a slow sybaritic sip. .We do use some liquor. A few of us -Saul,myself, Sven, some others-like it. And I’ve learned that I can let it have just alittle effect, then hold it right at that point, and gain a euphoric growing-closermuch like trance without having to withdraw. The minor damage is easy torepair.“ He sipped again. .That’s what I’m doing this morning-letting myselfget just the mildest glow and be happy with you.“Jubal studied him closely. .Son, you aren’t drinking entirely to be sociable;you’ve got something on your mind.“.Yes, I have.“.Do you want to talk it out?“.Yes. Father, it’s always a great goodness to be with you, even if nothing istroubling me. But you are the only human I can always talk to and know thatyou will grok and that you yourself won’t be overwhelmed by it, too. Jill . . . Jillalways groks-but if it hurts me, it hurts her still more. Dawn the same. Patty . .
　　. well, Patty can always take my hurt away, but she does it by keeping itherself. All three of them are too easily hurt for me to risk sharing in full withthem anything I can’t grok and cherish before I share it.“ Mike looked verythoughtful. .Confession is needful. The Catholics know that, they have it-andthey have a corps of strong men to take it. The Fosterites have groupconfession and pass it around among themselves and thin it out. I need tointroduce confession into this church, as part of the early purging-oh, wehave it now, but spontaneously, after the pilgrim no longer really needs it. Weneed strong men for that-.sin’ is hardly ever concerned with a real wrongnessbut sin is what the sinner groks as sin-and when you grok it with him, it canbe very disturbing. I know.“Mike went on earnestly, .Goodness is not enough, goodness is neverenough. That was one of my first mistakes, because among Martiansgoodness and wisdom are the same thing, identical. But not with us. TakeJill. Her goodness was perfect when I met her. Nevertheless she was allmixed up inside-and I almost destroyed her, and myself too-for I was just asmixed up-before we got squared away. Her endless patience (not verycommon on this planet) was all that saved us . . . while I was learning to be ahuman and she was learning what I knew.
　　.But goodness alone is never enough. A hard, cold wisdom is required, too,for goodness to accomplish good. Goodness without wisdom invariablyaccomplishes evil.“ He smiled and his face lit up. .And that’s why I need you,Father, as well as loving you. I need to make confession to you.,’
　　Jubal squirmed. .Oh, for Pete’s sake, Mike, don’t make a production out of it.
　　Just tell me what’s eating you. We’ll find a way out.“.Yes, Father.“But Mike did not go on. Finally Jubal said, .Do you feel busted up by thedestruction of your Temple? I wouldn’t blame you. But you aren’t broke, youcan build again.“.Oh, no, that doesn’t matter in the slightest!“.Eh?“.That temple was a diary with all its pages filled. Time for a new one, ratherthan write over and deface the filled pages. Fire can’t destroy the experiencein it . . . and strictly from a standpoint of publicity and practical church politics,being run Out of it in so spectacular a fashion will be helpful, in the long run.
　　No, Jubal, the last couple of days have simply been an enjoyable break in abusy routine. No harm done.“ His expression changed. .Father ... lately Ilearned that I was a spy.“.What do you mean, son? Explain yourself.“.For the Old Ones. They sent me here to spy on our people.“Jubal thought about it. Finally he said, .Mike, I know that you are brilliant.
　　You obviously possess powers that I don’t have and that I have never seenbefore. But a man can be a genius and still fall ill with delusions.“.I know. Let me explain and you can decide whether or not I’m crazy. Youknow how the surveillance satellites used by the Security Forces operate.“.No.“.I don’t mean the details that would interest Duke; I mean the generalscheme. They orbit around the globe, picking up data and storing it. At aparticular point, the Sky-Eye is keyed and it pours out in a spate all that it hasseen. That is what was done with me. You know that we of the Nest use whatis called telepathy.“.I’ve been forced to believe it.“.We do. By the way, this conversation is completely private-and besides that,no one of us would ever attempt to read you; I’m not sure we could. Even lastnight the link was through Dawn’s mind, not yours.“.Well, that is some slight comfort.“.Uh, I want to get to that later. I am .only an egg’ in this art; the Old Ones arepast masters. They stayed linked with me but left me on my own, ignored methenthey triggered me and all that I had seen and heard and done and feltand grokked poured out of me and became part of their permanent records. Idon’t mean that they wiped my mind of my experiences; they simply playedthe tape, so to speak, made a copy. But the triggering I was aware of-and itwas over before I could possibly do anything to stop it. Then they droppedme, cut off the linkage; I couldn’t even protest.“.Well ... it seems to me that they used you pretty shabbily-.
　　.Not by their standards. Nor would I have objected-I would have been happyto volunteer-had I known about it before I left Mars. But they didn’t want meto know; they wanted me to see and grok without interference.“.I was going to add,“ Jubal said, .that if you are free of this damnableinvasion of your privacy now, then what harm has been done? It seems tome that you could have had a Martian at your elbow all these past two and ahalf years, with no harm other than attracting stares.“Mike looked very sober. .Jubal, listen to a story. Listen all the way through.“Mike told him of the destruction of the missing Fifth Planet of Sol, whoseruins are the asteroids. .Well, Jubal?“.It reminds me a little of the myths about the Flood.“.No, Jubal. The Flood you aren’t sure about. Are you sure about thedestruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum?“.Oh, yes. Those are established historical facts.“.Jubal, the destruction of the Fifth Planet by the Old Ones is as historicallycertain as that eruption of Vesuvius-and it is recorded in much greater detail.
　　No myth. Fact.“.Uh, stipulate it as such. Do I understand that you fear that the Old Ones ofMars will decide to give this planet the same treatment? Will you forgive me ifI say that is a bit hard for me to swallow?“.Why, Jubal, it wouldn’t take the Old Ones to do it. It merely takes a certainfundamental knowledge of physics, how matter is put together- and the samesort of control that you have seen me use time and again. Simply necessaryfirst to grok what you want to manipulate. I can do it unassisted, right now.
　　Say a piece near the core of the planet about a hundred miles in diametermuchbigger than necessary but we want to make this fast and painless, ifonly to please Jill. Feel out its size and place, then grok carefully how it is puttogether-. His face lost all expression as he talked and his eyeballs started toturn up.
　　.Hey!“ broke in Harshaw. .Cut it out! I don’t know whether you can or youcan’t but I’m certain I don’t want you to try!“The face of the Man from Mars became normal. .Why, I would never do it.
　　For me, it would be a wrongness-I am human.“.But not for them?“.Oh, no. The Old Ones might grok it as beauty. I don’t know. Oh, I have thediscipline to do it . . . but not the volition. Jill could do it-that is, she couldcontemplate the exact method. But she could never will to do it; she is humantoo; this is her planet. The essence of the discipline is, first, self-awareness,and then, sell-control. By the time a human is physically able to destroy thisplanet by this method-instead of by clumsy things like cobalt bombs-it is notpossible, I grok fully, for him to entertain such a volition. He woulddiscorporate. And that would end any threat; our Old Ones don’t hang aroundthe way they do on Mars.“.Mmmm ... son, as long as we are checking you for bats in your belfry, clearup something else. You’ve always spoken of these .Old Ones’ as casually asI speak of the neighbor’s dog-but I find ghosts hard to swallow. What does an.Old One’ look like?“.Why, just like any other Martian ... except that there is more variety in theappearance of adult Martians than there is in us.“.Then how do you know it’s not just an adult Martian? Doesn’t he walkthrough walls, or some such?“.Any Martian can do that. I did, just yesterday.“.Uh ... shimmers? Or anything?“.No. You see, hear, feel them-everything. It’s like an image in a stereo tank,only perfect and put right into your mind. But- Look, Jubal, the whole thingwould be a silly question on Mars, but I realize it isn’t, here. But if you hadbeen present at the discorporation-death-of a friend, then you helped eat hisbody . . . and then you saw his ghost, talked with it, touched it, anythingwouldyou then believe in ghosts?“.Well, either ghosts, or I myself had slipped my leash.“.All right. Here it would be an hallucination . . if I grok correctly that we don’tstay here when we discorporate. But in the case of Mars, there is either anentire planet with a very rich and complex civilization all run by masshallucination-or the straightforward explanation is correct the one I wastaught and the one all my experience led me to believe. Because on Mars the.ghosts’ are by far the most important and most powerful and much the mostnumerous part of the population. The ones still alive, the corporate ones, arethe hewers of wood and drawers of water, servants to the Old Ones.“Jubal nodded. .Okay. I’ll never boggle at slicing with Occam’s razor. While itruns contrary to my own experience, my experience is limited to this planetprovincial.
　　All right, son, you’re scared that they might destroy us?“Mike shook his head. .Not especially. I think-this is not a grokking but a mereguess-that they might do one of two things: either destroy us or attempt toconquer us culturally, make us over into their own image.“.But you’re not fretted that they might blow us up? That’s a pretty detachedviewpoint, even for me.“.No. Oh, I think they might reach that decision. You see, by their standards,we are a diseased and crippled people-the things that we do to each other,the way we fail to understand each other, our almost complete failure to grokwith one another, our wars and diseases and famines and cruelties-these willbe complete idiocy to them. I know. So I think they may very probably decideon a mercy killing. But that’s a guess, I’m not an Old One. But, Jubal, if theydecide to do this, it will be-. Mike stopped and thought for quite a long time. .-an utter minimum of five hundred years, more likely five thousand, beforeanything would be done.“.That’s a long time for a jury to be out.“.Jubal, the most different thing about the two races is that Martians neverhurry-and humans always do. They would much rather think about it an extracentury or half a dozen, just to be sure that they have grokked all thefullness.“.In that case, son, I suggest that you not worry about it. If, in another fivehundred or a thousand years, the human race can’t handle its neighbors, youand I can’t help it. However, I suspect that they will be able to.“.So I grok, but not in fullness. But I said I wasn’t worried about that. The otherpossibility troubled me more, that they might move in and try to make usover. Jubal, they can’t do it. An attempt to make us behave like Martianswould kill us just as certainly but much less painlessly. It would all be a greatwrongness.“Jubal took time to answer. .But, son, isn’t that exactly what you have beentrying to do?“Mike looked unhappy. .Yes and no. It was what I started out to do. It is notwhat I am trying to do now. Father, I know that you were disappointed in mewhen I started this.“.Your business, son.“.Yes. Self. I must grok and decide at each cusp myself alone. And so mustyou . . . and so must each self. Thou art God.“.I don’t accept the nomination.“.You can’t refuse it. Thou art God and I am God and all that groks is God,and I am all that I have ever been or seen or felt or experienced. I am all thatI grok. Father, I saw the horrible shape this planet is in and I grokked, thoughnot in fullness, that I could change it. What I had to teach couldn’t be taughtin schools or colleges; I was forced to smuggle it into town dressed up as areligion-which it is not-and con the marks into tasting it by appealing to theircuriosity and their desire to be entertained. In part it worked exactly as I knewit would; the discipline and the knowledge was just as available to others as itwas to me, who was raised in a Martian nest. Our brothers get alongtogether-you’ve seen us, you’ve shared-live in peace and happiness with nobitterness, no jealousy.
　　.That last alone was a triumph that proved I was right. Male-femaleness isthe greatest gift we have-romantic physical love may be unique to this planet.
　　I don’t know. If it is, the universe is a much poorer place than it could be . . .
　　and I grok dimly that we-who-are-God will save this precious invention andspread it. The actual joining and blending of two physical bodies withsimultaneous merging of souls in shared ecstasy of love, giving and receivingand delighting in each other-well, there’s nothing on Mars to touch it, and it’sthe source, I grok in fullness, of all that makes this planet so rich andwonderful. And, Jubal, until a person, man or woman, has enjoyed thistreasure bathed in the mutual bliss of having minds linked as closely asbodies, that person is still as virginal and alone as if he had never copulated.
　　But I grok that you have; your very reluctance to risk a lesser thing proves it .
　　. . and, anyhow, I know it directly. You grok. You always have. Without evenneeding the aid of the language of grokking. Dawn told us that you were asdeep into her mind as you were into her body.“.Unh ... the lady exaggerates.“.It is impossible for Dawn to speak other than rightly about this. And-forgiveme-we were there. In her mind but not in yours . . . and you were there withus, sharing.“Jubal refrained from saying that the only times he had ever felt even faintlythat he could read minds was precisely in that situation . . . and then notthoughts, but emotions. He simply regretted without bitterness that he wasnot half a century younger-in which case he knew that Dawn would have hadthat .Miss“ taken off the front of her name and he would have boldly riskedanother marriage, in spite of his scars. Also that he would not trade thepreceding night for all the years that might be left to him. In essence, Mikewas dead right. .Go on, sir.“.That’s what it should be. But that’s what I slowly grokked it rarely was.
　　Instead it was indifference and acts mechanically performed and rape andseduction as a game no better than roulette but with poorer odds andprostitution and celibacy by choice and by no choice and fear and guilt andhatred and violence and children brought up to think that sex was .bad’ and.shameful’ and .animal’ and something to be hidden and always distrusted.
　　This lovely perfect thing, male-femaleness, turned upside down and insideout and made horrible.
　　.And every one of those wrong things is a corollary of .jealousy.’ Jubal, Icouldn’t believe it. I still don’t grok .jealousy’ in fullness, it seems an insanityto me, a terrible wrongness. When I first learned what this ecstasy was, myfirst thought was that I wanted to share it, share it at once with all my waterbrothers-directly with those female, indirectly by inviting more sharing withthose male. The notion of trying to keep this neverfailing fountain to myselfwould have horrified me, had I thought of it. But I was incapable of thinking ofit. And in perfect corollary I had not the slightest wish to attempt this miraclewith anyone I did not already love and trust-Jubal, I am physically unableeven to attempt love with a female who has not already shared water withme. And this same thing runs all through the Nest. Psychic impotence unlessour spirits blend as our flesh blends.“Jubal had been listening and thinking mournfully that it was a fine system-forangels-when a sky car landed on the private landing flat diagonally in front ofhim. He turned his head to see and, as its skids touched, it disappeared,vanished.
　　.Trouble?“ he said.
　　.No trouble,“ Mike denied. .It’s just that they are beginning to suspect that weare here-that I am here, rather. They think the rest are dead. The InnermostTemple, I mean. The other circles aren’t being bothered especially . . . andmany of them have left town until it blows over.“ He grinned. .We could get agood price for these hotel rooms; the city is filling up .way past capacity withBishop Short’s shock troops.“.Well? Isn’t it about time to get the family elsewhere?“.Jubal, don’t worry about it. That car never had a chance to report, even byradio. I’m keeping a close watch. It’s no trouble, now that Jill is over hermisconceptions about .wrongness’ in discorporating persons who havewrongness in them. I used to have to go to all sorts of complicatedexpedients to protect us. But now Jill knows that I do it only as fullness isgrokked.“ The Man from Mars grinned boyishly. .Last night she helped mewith a hatchet job . . . nor was it the first time she has done so.“.What sort of a job?“.Oh, just a follow-up on the jail break. Some few of those in jail or prison Icouldn’t release; they were vicious. So I got rid of them before I got rid of thebars and doors. But I have been slowly grokking this whole city for manymonths now . . . and quite a few of the worst were not in jail. Some of themwere even in public office. I have been waiting, making a list, making sure offullness in each case. So, now that we are leaving this city-they don’t livehere anymore. Missing. They needed to be discorporated and sent back tothe foot of the line to try again. Incidentally, that was the grokking thatchanged Jill’s attitude from squeamishness to hearty approval: when shefinally grokked in fullness that it is utterly impossible to kill a man-that all wewere doing was much like a referee removing a man from a game for.unnecessary roughness.’“.Aren’t you afraid of playing God, lad?“Mike grinned with unashamed cheerfulness. .I am God. Thou art God . . .
　　and any jerk I remove is God, too. Jubal, it is said that God notes eachsparrow that falls. And so He does. But the proper closest statement of it thatcan be made in English is that God cannot avoid noting the sparrow becausethe Sparrow is God. And when a cat stalks a sparrow both of them are God,carrying out God’s thoughts.“Another sky car started to land and vanished just before touching; Jubalhardly thought it worth comment. .How many did you find worthy of beingtossed out of the game last night?“.Oh, quite a number. About a hundred and fifty. I guess-I didn’t count. This isa large city, you know. But for a while it is going to be an unusually decentone. No cure, of course-there is no cure, short of acquiring a hard discipline.“Mike looked unhappy. .And that is what I must ask you about, Father. I’mafraid I have misled the people who have followed me. All our brothers.“.How, Mike?“.They’re too optimistic. They have seen how well it has worked for us, they allknow how happy they are, how strong and healthy and aware-how deeplythey love each other. And now they think they grok that it is just a matter oftime until the whole human race will reach the same beatitude. Oh, nottomorrow-some of them grok that two thousand years is but a moment forsuch an experiment. But eventually.
　　.And I thought so, too, at first. I led them to think so. But, Jubal, I had misseda key point: Humans are not Martians. I made this mistake again and againcorrectedmyself ... and still made it. What works perfectly for Martians doesnot necessarily work for humans. Oh, the conceptual logic which can bestated only in Martian does work for both races. The logic is invariant . . . butthe data are different. So the results are different.“.I couldn’t see why, if people were hungry, some of them didn’t volunteer tobe butchered so that the rest could eat . . . on Mars this is obvious-and anhonor. I couldn’t understand why babies were so prized. On Mars our twolittle girls in there would simply be dumped outdoors, to live or to die-and onMars nine out of ten nymphs die their first season. My logic was right but Ihad misread the data: here babies do not compete but adults do; on Marsadults don’t compete at all, they’ve been weeded out as babies. But one wayor another, competing and weeding has to take place . . . or a race goesdown hill.
　　.But whether or not I was wrong in trying to take the competition out at bothends, I have lately begun to grok that the human race won’t let me, no matterwhat.“Duke stuck his head into the room. .Mike? Have you been watching outside?
　　There is quite a crowd gathering around the hotel.“.I know,“ agreed Mike. .Tell the others that waiting has not filled.“ He went onto Jubal, .’Thou art God.’ It’s not a message of cheer and hope, Jubal. It’s adefiance-and an unafraid unabashed assumption of personal responsibility.“He looked sad. .But I rarely put it over. A very few, so far just these few herewith us today, our brothers, understood me and accepted the bitter half alongwith the sweet, stood up and drank it- grokked it. The others, the hundredsand thousands of others, either insisted on treating it as a prize without acontest-a .conversion’ . . . or ignored it entirely. No matter what I said theyinsisted on thinking of God as something outside themselves. Something thatyearns to take every indolent moron to His breast and comfort him. Thenotion that the effort has to be their own . . . and that all the trouble they arein is of their own doing . . . is one that they can’t or won’t entertain.“The Man from Mars shook his head. .And my failures are so much morenumerous than my successes that I am beginning to wonder if full grokkingwill show that I am on the wrong track entirely-that this race must be split up,hating each other, fighting each other, constantly unhappy and at war evenwith their own individual selves . . . simply to have that weeding Out thatevery race must have. Tell me, Father? You must tell me.“.Mike, what in hell ever led you to believe that I was infallible?“.Perhaps you are not. But every time I have needed to know something, youhave always been able to tell me-and fullness always showed that you spokerightly.“.Damn it, I refuse this apotheosis! But I do see one thing, son. You are theone who has urged everyone else never to be in a hurry-.waiting will fill,’ yousay.“.That is right.“.And now you are violating your own prime rule. You have waited only a littlewhile-a very short while by Martian standards, I take it-and already you wantto throw in the towel. You’ve proved that your system can work for a smallgroup-and I’m glad to confirm it; I’ve never seen such happy, healthy,cheerful people. That ought to be enough to suit you for the short time you’veput in. Come back when you have a thousand times this number, all workingand happy and unjealous, and we’ll talk it over again. Fair enough?“.You speak rightly, Father.“.But I ain’t through. You’ve been fretting that maybe the fact that you failed tohook more than ninety-nine out of a hundred was because the race couldn’tget along without its present evils, had to have them for weeding out. Butdamn it, lad, you’ve been doing the weeding out-or rather, the failures havebeen doing it to themselves by not listening to you. Had you planned toeliminate money and property?“.Oh, no! Inside the Nest we don’t need it, but-.
　　.Nor does any family that’s working well. Yours is just bigger. But outside youneed it in dealing with other people. Sam tells me that our brothers, insteadof getting unworldly, are slicker with money than ever. Is that right?“.Oh, yes. Making money is a simple trick, once you grok.“.You’ve just added a new beatitude: .Blessed is the rich in spirit, for he shallmake dough.’ How do our people stack up in other fields? Better or worsethan average?“.Oh, better, of course-if it’s anything worth grokking at all. You see, Jubal, it’snot a faith; the discipline is simply a method of efficient functioning at anyactivity you try.“.That’s your whole answer, son. If what you say is true-and I’m not judging;I’m asking, you’re answering-then that’s all the competition you need . . . anda fairly one-sided race, too. If one tenth of one percent of the population iscapable of getting the news, then all you have to do is show them-and in amatter of some generations all the stupid ones will die out and those withyour discipline will inherit the Earth. Whenever that is-a thousand years fromnow, or ten thousand-will be plenty soon enough to worry about whethersome new hurdle is necessary to make them jump higher. But don’t gogetting faint-hearted because only a handful have turned into angelsovernight. Personally, I never expected any of them to manage it. I simplythought you were making a damn fool of yourself by pretending to be apreacher.“Mike sighed and smiled. .I was beginning to be afraid I was-worrying that Ihad let my brothers down.“.I still wish you had called it .Cosmic Halitosis’ or some such. But the namedoesn’t matter. If you’ve got the truth, you can demonstrate it. Show people.
　　Talking about it doesn’t prove it.“The Man from Mars stood up. .You’ve got me all squared away, Father. I’mready now. I grok the fullness.“ He looked toward the doorway. .Yes, Patty. Iheard you. The waiting is ended.“.Yes, Michael.
Chapter 37
JUBAL AND THE MAN FROM MARS strolled slowly into the living room withthe big stereo tank. Apparently the entire Nest was gathered, watching it. Itshowed a dense and turbulent crowd, somewhat restrained by policemen.
　　Mike glanced at it and looked serenely happy. .They come. Now is thefullness.“ The sense of ecstatic expectancy Jubal had felt growing ever sincehis arrival swelled greatly, but no one moved.
　　.It’s a mighty big tip, sweetheart,“ Jill agreed.
　　.And ready to turn,“ added Patty.
　　.I’d better dress for it,“ Mike commented. .Have I got any clothes aroundthis dump? Patty?“.Right away, Michael.“Jubal said, .Son, that mob looks pretty ugly to me. Are you sure this is anytime to tackle them?“.Oh, sure,“ said Mike. .They’ve come to see me ... so now I go down to meetthem.“ He paused while some clothing got out of the way of his face; he wasbeing dressed at break-neck speed with the unnecessary help of severalwomen-unnecessary as each garment seemed to know where to go and howto drape itself. .This job has its obligations as well as its privileges-the starhas to show up for the show . . * grok me? The marks expect it.“Duke said, .Mike knows what he’s doing, Boss.“.Well ... I don’t trust mobs.“.That crowd is mostly curiosity seekers, they always are. Oh, there are someFosterites and some others with grudges-but Mike can handle any crowd.
　　You’ll see. Right, Mike?“.Keerect, Cannibal. Pull in a tip, then give .em a show. Where’s my hat?
　　Can’t walk in the noonday sun without a hat.“ An expensive Panama with asporty colored band glided out and settled itself on his head; he cocked itjauntily. .There! Do I look all right?“ He was dressed in his usual outerservicesmufti, a smartly tailored, sharply creased, white business suit, shoesto match, snowy shirt, and luxurious dazzling scarf.
　　Ben said, .All you lack is a brief case.“.You grok I need one? Patty, do we have one?“Jill stepped up to him. .Ben was kidding, dear. You look just perfect.“ Shestraightened his tie and kissed him-and Jubal felt kissed. .Go talk to them.“.Yup. Time to turn the tip. Anne? Duke?“.Ready, Mike.“ Anne was wearing her floor-length Fair Witness, cloak,wrapping her in dignity; Duke was just the opposite, being sloppily dressed,with a lighted cigarette dangling from his face, an old hat on the back of hishead with a card marked .PRESS“ stuck in its band, and himself hung aboutwith cameras and kit.
　　They headed for the door to the foyer common to the four penthouse suites.
　　Only Jubal followed; all the others, thirty and more, stayed around the stereotank. Mike paused at the door. There was a hall table there, with a pitcher ofwater and glasses, a dish of fruit and a fruit knife. .Better not come anyfarther,“ he advised Jubal, .or Patty would have to escort you back throughher pets.“Mike poured himself a glass of water, drank part of it. .Preaching is thirstywork.“ He handed the glass to Anne. then took the fruit knife and sliced off achunk of apple.
　　It seemed to Jubal that Mike sliced off one of his fingers . . . but his attentionwas distracted as Duke passed the glass to him. Mike’s hand was notbleeding and Jubal had grown somewhat accustomed to legerdemain. Heaccepted the glass and took a sip, finding that his own throat was very dry.
　　Mike gripped his arm and smiled. .Quit fretting. This will take only a fewminutes. See you later, Father.“ They went out through the guardian cobrasand the door closed. Jubal went back to the room where the others were, stillcarrying the glass. Someone took it from him; he did not notice, as he waswatching images in the big tank.
　　The mob seemed denser, surging about and held back by police armed onlywith night sticks. There were a few shouts but mostly just the unlocalizedmuttering of crowd.
　　Someone said, .Where are they now, Patty?“.They’ve just dropped down the tube. Michael is a little ahead, Duke stoppedto catch Anne. They’re entering the lobby. Michael has been spotted, picturesare being taken.“The scene in the tank resolved into enormous head and shoulders of abrightly cheerful newscaster: .This is NWNW New World Networks’ mobilenewshound on the spot while it’s hot-your newscaster, Happy Holliday. Wehave just learned that the fake messiah, sometimes known as the Man fromMars, has crawled out of his hide-out in a hotel room here in beautiful St.
　　Petersburg, the City that Has Everything to Make You Sing. Apparently Smithis about to surrender to the authorities. He crushed out of jail just yesterday,using high explosives smuggled in to him by his fanatic followers. But thetight cordon placed around this city seems to have been too much for hint Wedon’t know yet-I repeat, we don’t know yet-so stay with the chap who coversthe map-and now a word from your local sponsor who has given you thiskeyhole peep at the latest leap-.
　　.Thank you, Happy Holliday and all you good people watching via NWNW!
　　What Price Paradise? Amazingly Low! Come out and see for yourself atElysian Fields, just opened as homesites for a restricted clientele. Landreclaimed from the warm waters of the glorious gulf and every lot guaranteedto be at least eighteen inches above mean high water and only a small downpayment on a Happy-oh, oh, later, friends-phone Gulf nine-two eight twoeight!“.And thank you, Jick Morris and the developers of Elysian Fields! I thinkwe’ve got something, folks! Yes, sir, I think we do-.
　　(.They’re coming out the front entrance,“ Patty said quietly. .The crowd hasn’tspotted Michael yet.“).Maybe not yet ... but soon. You are now looking at the main entrance of themagnificent Sans Souci Hotel, Gem of the Gulf, whose management is in noway responsible for this hunted fugitive and who have cooperated with theauthorities throughout according to a statement just issued by Chief of PoliceDavis. And while we’re waiting to see what will happen, a few high lights inthe strange career of this half-human monster raised on Mars-.
　　The live scene was replaced by quick cuts of stock shots: The Envoy blastingoff years earlier, the Champion floating upwards silently and effortlesslyunder Lyle Drive, Martians on Mars, the triumphant return of the Champion, aquick of the first faked interview with the .Man from Mars“-.What do you thinkof the girls here on Earth?“ .Gee!“-a quicker shot of the conference in theExecutive Palace and the muchpublicized awarding of a doctorate inphilosophy, all with rapid-fire commentary.
　　.See anything, Patty?“.Michael is at the top of the steps, the crowd is at least a hundred yardsaway, being kept off the hotel grounds. Duke has grabbed some pix and Mikeis waiting to let him change lenses. No hurry.“Happy Holliday Went on, as the tank shifted to the crowd, semi-close andpanning: .You understand, friends, that this wonderful community is in aunique condition today. Something strange has been going on and thesepeople are in no mood to trifle. Their laws have been flouted, their securityforces treated with contempt, they are angry, righteously so. The fanaticfollowers of this alleged antichrist have stopped at nothing to create turmoil ina futile effort to let their leader escape the closing net of justice. Anything canhappen-anything!“The announcer’s voice climbed: .Yes, he’s coming out now-he’s walkingtoward the people!“ The scene cut to reverse; Mike was walking directlytoward another camera. Anne and Duke were behind him and droppingfarther behind. .This is it! This is it! This is the blow-off’.“Mike continued to walk unhurriedly toward the crowd until he loomed up inthe stereo tank in life size, as if he were in the room with his water brothers.
　　He stopped on the grass verge in front of the hotel, a few feet from thecrowd. .You called me?“He was answered with a growl.
　　The sky held scattered clouds; at that instant the sun caine out from behindone and a shaft of golden light hit him.
　　His clothes vanished. He stood before them, a golden youth, clothed only inhis own beauty-beauty that made Jubal’s heart ache, thinking thatMichelangelo in his ancient years would have climbed down from his highscaffolding to record it for generations unborn. Mike said gently, .Look at me.
　　I am a son of man.“The scene cut for a ten-second plug, a line of can-can dancers singing:
　　.Come on, ladies, do your duds!
　　In the smoothest, yummiest suds!
　　Lover Soap is kind to hands-But be sure you save the bands!“The tank filled completely with foamy suds amid girlish laughter and thescene cut back to the newscast: .God damn you!“ A half brick caught Mike inthe ribs. He turned his face slightly toward his assailant. .But you yourself areGod. You can damn only yourself . . . and you can never escape yourself.“.Blasphemer!“ A rock caught him just over his left eye and blood welledforth.
　　Mike said calmly, .In fighting me, you fight yourself... for Thou art God and Iam God . . . and all that groks is God-there is no other.“More rocks hit him, from various directions; he began to bleed in severalplaces. .Hear the Truth. You need not hate, you need not fight, you need notfear. I offer you the water of life-. Suddenly his hand held a tumbler of water,sparkling in the sunlight. .-and you may share it whenever you so will . . . andwalk in peace and love and happiness together.“A rock caught the glass and shattered it. Another struck him in the mouth.
　　Through bruised and bleeding lips he smiled at them, looking straight into thecamera with an expression of yearning tenderness on his face. Some trick ofsunlight and stereo formed a golden halo back of his head. .Oh my brothers,I love you so! Drink deep. Share and grow closer without end. Thou art God.“Jubal whispered it back to him. The scene made a five-second cut:
　　.Cahuenga Cave! The night club with real Los Angeles smog, imported freshevery day. Six exotic dancers.“.Lynch him! Give the bastard a nigger necktie!“ A heavy-gauge shotgunblasted at close range and Mike’s right arm was struck off at the elbow andfell. It floated gently down, then came to rest on the cool grasses, its handcurved open in invitation.
　　.Give him the other barrel, Shortie-and aim closer!“ The crowd laughed andapplauded. A brick smashed Mike’s nose and more rocks gave him a crownof blood.
　　.The Truth is simple but the Way of Man is hard. First you must learn tocontrol yourself. The rest follows. Blessed is he who knows himself andcommands himself, for the world is his and love and happiness and peacewalk with him wherever he goes.“ Another shotgun blast was followed by twomore shots. One shot, a forty-five slug, hit Mike over the heart, shattering thesixth rib near the sternum and making a large wound; the buckshot and theother slug sheered through his left tibia five inches below the patella and leftthe fibula sticking out at an angle, broken and white against the yellow andred of the wound.
　　Mike staggered slightly and laughed, went on talking, his words clear andunhurried. .Thou art God. Know that and the Way is opened.“.God damn it-let’s stop this taking the Name of the Lord in vain!“- .Come on,men! Let’s finish him!“ The mob surged forward, led by one bold with a club;they were on him with rocks and fists, and then with feet as he went down.
　　He went on talking while they kicked his ribs in and smashed his goldenbody, broke his bones and tore an ear loose. At last someone called out,.Back away a little so we can get the gasoline on him!“The mob opened up a little at that waning and the camera zoomed to pick uphis face and shoulders. The Man from Mars smiled at his brothers, said oncemore, softly and clearly, .I love you.“ An incautious grasshopper camewhirring to a landing on the grass a few inches from his face; Mike turned hishead, looked at it as it stared back at him. .Thou art God,“ he said happilyand discorporated.
Chapter 38
FLAME AND BILLOWING SMOKE came up and filled the tank. .Golly!“ Pattysaid reverently. .That’s the best blow-off ever used.“.Yes,“ agreed Becky judicially, .the Professor himself never dreamed up abetter one.“Van Tromp said very quietly, apparently to himself: .In style. Smart and withstyle-the lad finished in style.“Jubal looked around at his brothers. Was he the only one who felt anything?
　　Jill and Dawn were seated each with an arm around the other- but they didthat whenever they were together; neither one seemed disturbed. EvenDorcas was dry-eyed and calm.
　　The inferno in the tank cut to smiling Happy Holiday who said, .And now,folks, a few moments for our friends at Elysian Fields who so graciously gaveup their-. Patty cut him off.
　　.Anne and Duke are on their way back up,“ she said. .I’ll let them through thefoyer and then we’ll have lunch.“ She started to leave.
　　Jubal stopped her. .Patty? Did you know what Mike was going to do?“She seemed puzzled. .Huh? Why, of course not, Jubal. It was necessary towait for fullness. None of us knew.“ She turned and left.
　　.Jubal-. Jill was looking at hint. .Jubal our beloved father please stop andgrok the fullness. Mike is not dead. How can he be dead when no one can bekilled? Nor can he ever be away from us who have already grokked him.
　　Thou art God.“.’Thou art God,’“ he repeated dully.
　　.That’s better. Come sit with Dawn and me-in the middle.“.No. No, just let me be.“ He went blindly to his own room, let himself in andbolted the door after him, leaned heavily with both hands gripping the foot ofthe bed. My son, oh my son! Would that I had died for thee! He had had somuch to live for . . . and an old fool that he respected too much had to shootoff his yap and goad him into a needless, useless martyrdom. If Mike hadgiven them something big-like stereo, or bingo-but he gave them the Truth.
　　Or a piece of the Truth. And who is interested in Truth? He laughed throughhis sobs.
　　After a while he shut them off, both heart-broken sobs and bitter laugh, andpawed through his traveling bag. He had what he wanted with him; he hadkept a supply in his toilet kit ever since Joe Douglas’s stroke had remindedhim that all flesh is grass.
　　Well, now his own stroke had come and he couldn’t take it. He prescribedthree tablets for himself to make it fast and certain, washed them down withwater, and lay quickly on the bed. Shortly the pain went away.
　　From a great distance the voice reached him. .Jubal-.
　　.’M resting, Don’ bother me.“.Jubal! Please, Father!“.Uh ... yes, Mike? What is it?“.Wake up! Fullness is not yet. Here, let me help you.“Jubal sighed. .Okay, Mike“ He let himself be helped and led into the bath, lethis head be held while he threw up, accepted a glass of water and rinsed outhis mouth.
　　.Okay now?“.Okay, son. Thanks.“.Then I’ve got some things to attend to. I love you, Father. Thou art God.“.I love you, Mike. Thou art God.“ Jubal puttered around for a while longer,making himself presentable, changing his clothes, taking one short brandy tokill the slightly bitter taste still in his stomach, then went out to join the others.
　　Patty was alone in the room with the babble tank and it was switched off. Shelooked up. .Some lunch now, Jubal?“.Yes, thanks.“She came up to him. .That’s good. I’m afraid most of them simply ate andscooted. But each of them left a kiss for you. And here it is, all in onepackage.“ She managed to deliver in full all the love placed in her proxycemented together with her own; Jubal found that it left him feeling strong,with her own serene acceptance shared, no bitterness left.
　　.Come out into the kitchen,“ she said. .Tony’s gone so most of the rest arethere-not that his growls ever really chased anybody out anyhow.“ Shestopped and tried to stare down the back of her neck. .Isn’t that final scenechanging a little? Sort of smoky, maybe?“Jubal solemnly agreed that he thought it was. He couldn’t see any changehimself . . . but he was not going to argue with Patty’s idiosyncrasy. Shenodded. .I expected it. I can see around me all right-except myself. I stillneed a double mirror to see my back clearly. Mike says my Sight will includethat presently. No matter.“In the kitchen perhaps a dozen were lounging at a table and elsewhere; Dukewas standing at the range, stirring a small sauce pan. .Hi, Boss. I ordered atwenty-place bus. That’s the biggest that can land on our little landing flat . . .
　　and we’ll need one almost that big, what with the diaper set and Patty’s pets.
　　Okay?“.Certainly. Are they all coming home now?“ If they ran out of bedrooms, thegirls could make up dosses that would do in the living room and here andthere-and this crowd would probably double up mostly anyhow. Come tothink of it, he might not be allowed to sleep solo himself and he made up hismind not to fight it. It was friendly to have a warm body on the other side ofthe bed, even if your intentions weren’t active. By God, he had forgotten howfriendly it was! Growing closer- .Not everybody. Tim will pilot us, then turn inthe bus and go to Texas for a while. The Skipper and Beatrix and Sven we’resimply going to drop off in New Jersey.“Sam looked up from the table. .Ruth and I have got to get back to our kids.
　　And Saul is coming with us.“.Can’t you stop by home for a day or two first?“.Well, maybe. I’ll talk it over with Ruth.“.Boss,“ put in Duke, .how soon can we fill the swimming pool?“.Well, we never filled it earlier than the first of April before-but with the newheaters I suppose we could fill it anytime.“ Jubal added, .But we’ll still havesome nasty weather-snow still on the ground yesterday.“.Boss, lemme clue you. This gang can walk through snow hip deep on a tallgiraffe and not notice it-and will, to swim. Besides that, there are cheaperways of keeping that water from freezing than with those big oil heaters.“.Jubal!“.Yes, Ruth?“.We’ll stop for a day or maybe more. The kids don’t miss me-and I’m notaching to take over being motherly without Patty to discipline them anyhow.
　　Jubal, you’ve never really seen me until you’ve seen me with my hair floatingaround me in the water-looking like Mrs. DoAsYouWouldBeDoneBy.“.It’s a date. Say, where is the Squarehead and the Dutchman? Beatrix hasnever been home-they can’t be in such a hurry.“.I’ll tell .em, Boss.“.Patty, can your snakes stand a clean, warm basement for a while? Until wecan do better? I don’t mean Honey Bun, of course; she’s people. But I don’tthink the cobras should have the run of the house.“.Of course, Jubal.“.Mmm-. Jubal looked around. .Dawn, can you take shorthand?“.She doesn’t need it,“ put in Anne, .anymore thab I do.“.I see. I should have known. Use a typewriter?“.I will learn, if you wish it,“ Dawn answered.
　　.Consider yourself hired-until there’s a vacancy for a high priestesssomewhere. Jill, have we forgotten anybody?“.No, Boss. Except that all those who have left feel free to camp on youanytime, too. And they will.“.I assumed that. Nest number two, when and as needed.“ He went over tothe range and joined Duke, glanced into the pan he was stirring. It held asmall amount of broth. .Hmm ... Mike?“.Yup.“ Duke dipped out a little in the spoon, tasted it. .Needs a little salt.“.Yes, Mike always did need a little seasoning.“ Jubal took the spoon andtasted the broth. Duke was correct; the flavor was sweet and could haveused salt. .But let’s grok him as he is, Who’s left to share?“.Just you. Tony left me here with strict instructions to stir by hand, add wateras needed, and wait for you. Not to let it scorch.“.Then grab a couple of cups. We’ll share it and grok together.“.Right, Boss.“ Two cups came sailing down and rested by the sauce pan.
　　.This is a joke on Mike-he always swore that he would outlive me and serveme up for Thanksgiving. Or maybe the joke’s on me-because we had a beton it and now I can’t collect.“.You won only by default. Split it evenly.“Duke did so. Jubal raised his cup. .Share!“.Grow ever closer.“Slowly they drank the broth, stretching it out, savoring it, praising andcherishing and grokking their donor. Jubal found, to his surpriser thatalthough he was overflowing with emotion, it was a calm happiness that didnot bring tears. What a quaint and gawky puppy his son had been when firsthe saw him . . . so eager to please, so naive in his little mistakes-and what aproud power he had become without ever losing his angelic innocence. I grokyou at last, son-and would not change a line!
　　Patty had his lunch waiting for him; he sat down and dug in, hungry andfeeling that it bad been days since breakfast. Sam was saying, .I was tellingSaul that I grok no need to make any change in plans. We go on as before. Ifyou’ve got the right merchandise, the business grows, even though thefounder has passed on.“.I wasn’t disagreeing,“ Saul objected. .You and Ruth will found anothertemple-and we’ll found others. But we’ll have to take time now to accumulatecapital. This isn’t a street corner revival, nor yet something to set up in avacant shop; it requires staging and equipment. That means money-not tomention such things as paying for a year or two on Mars for Stinky andMaryam . . . and that’s just as essential.“.All right already! Who’s arguing? We wait for fullness ... and go ahead.“Jubal said suddenly, .Money’s no problem.“.How’s that, Jubal?“.As a lawyer I shouldn’t tell this ... but as a water brother I do what I grok.
　　Just a moment-Anne.“.Yes, Boss.“.Buy that spot. The one where they stoned Mike. Better get about a hundredfootradius around it.“.Boss, the spot itself is public parkway. A hundred-foot radius will cut offsome public road and a piece of the hotel grounds.“.Don’t argue.“.I wasn’t arguing, I was giving you facts.“.Sorry. They’ll sell. They’ll reroute that road. Hell, if their arms are twistedproperly, they’ll donate the ~~nd-twisting done through Joe Douglas, I think.
　　And have Joe Douglas claim from the morgue whatever was left when thoseghouls got through with him and we’ll bury him right on that spot-say a yearfrom now . . . with the whole city mourning and the cops that didn’t protecthim today standing at attention.“ What to put over him? The Fallen Caryatid?
　　No, Mike had been strong enough for his stone. The Little Mermaid would bebetter-but it wouldn’t be understood. Maybe one of Mike himself, just as hewas when he had said, .Look at me. I am a Son of Man.“ If Duke didn’t catcha shot of it, New World did-and maybe there was a brother, or would be abrother, with the spark of Rodin in him to do it right and not fancy it up.
　　.We’ll bury him there,“ Jubal went on, .unprotectS~ and let the worms andthe gentle rain grok him. I grok Mike will like that. Anne, I want to talk to JoeDouglas as soon as we get home.“.Yes, Boss. We grok with you.“.Now about that other.“ He told them about Mike’s will. .So you see, eachone of you is at least a millionaire-Just how much more than that I haven’testimated lately . . . but much more, even after taxes. No strings on it at all . .
　　. but I grok that you will spend as needed for temples and similar stuff. Butthere’s nothing to stop you from buying yachts if you wish. Oh, yes! JoeDouglas stays on as manager for any who care to let the capital ride, samepay as before . . . but I grok Joe won’t last long, whereupon managementdevolves on Ben Caxton. Ben?“Caxton shrugged. .It can be in my name. I grok I’ll hire me a real businessman, name of Saul.“.That wraps it then. Some waiting time but nobody will dare really fight thiswill; Mike rigged it. You’ll see. How soon can we get out of here? Is the tabsettled’?“.Jubal,“ Ben said gently, .we own this hotel.“Not long thereafter they were in the air, with no trouble from police-the townhad quieted down as fast as it had flared up. Jubal sat forward with StinkyMabmoud and relaxed-discovered that he was not tired, not unhappy, noteven fretting to get back to his sanctuary. He discussed with Mahinoud hisplans to go to Mars to learn the language more deeply after, Jubal waspleased to learn, completing the work on the dictionary, which Mahinoudestimated at about a year more for his own part in checking the phoneticspellings.
　　Jubal said grumpily, .I suppose I shall be forced to learn the pesky stuffmyself, just to understand the chatter going on around me.“.As you grok, brother.“.Well, damn it, I won’t put up with assigned lessons and regular school hours!
　　I’ll work as suits me, just as I always have.“Mabmoud was silent a few moments. .Jubal, we used classes and schedulesat the Temple because we were handling groups. But some got specialattention.“.That’s what I’m going to need.“.Anne, for example, is much, much farther along than she ever let you know.
　　With her totahrecall memory, she learned Martian in nothing flat, hooked inrapport with Mike.“.Well, I don’t have that sort of memory-and Mike’s not available.“.No, but Anne is. And, stubborn as you are, nevertheless Dawn can placeyou in rapport with Aiine-if you’ll let her. And you won’t need Dawn for thesecond lesson; Anne will then be able to handle it all. You’ll be thinking inMartian inside of days, by the calendar-much longer by subjective time, butwho cares?“ Mahmoud leered at him. .You’ll enjoy the warming-upexercises.“Jubal bristled. .You’re a low, evil, lecherous Arab-and besides that you stoleone of my best secretaries.“.For which I am forever in your debt. But you haven’t lost her entirely; she’llgive you lessons, too. She’ll insist on it.“.Now go .way and find another seat. I want to think.“Somewhat later be shouted, .Front!“Dorcas came forward and sat down beside bini, steno gear ready.
　　He glanced at her before he started to work. .Child, you look even happierthan usual. Glowing.“Dorcas said dreamily, .I’ve decided to name him .Dennis.’“ Jubal nodded.
　　.Appropriate. Very appropriate.“ Appropriate meaning even if’ she weremixed up about the paternity, he thought to himself. .Do you feel likeworking?“.Oh, yes! I feel grand.“.Begin. Stereoplay. Rough draft. Working title: .A Martian Named Smith.’
　　Opener: zoom in on Mars, using stock or bonestelled shots, unbrokensequence, then dissolving to miniature matched set of actual landing place ofEnvoy. Space ship in middle distance. Animated Martians, typical, with stockas available or rephotographed. Cut to close: Interior space ship. Femalepatient stretched on-.
Chapter 39
THE VERDICT TO BE PASSED on the third planet around Sol was never indoubt. The Old Ones of the fourth planet were not omniscient and in theirway were as provincial as humans. Grokking by their own local values, evenwith the aid of vastly superior logic, they were certain in time to perceive anincurable .wrongness“ in the busy, restless, quarrelsome beings of the thirdplanet, a wrongness which would require weeding, once it had been grokkedand cherished and hated.
　　But, by the time that they would slowly get around to it, it would be highlyimprobable approaching impossible that the Old Ones would be able todestroy this weirdly complex race. The hazard was slight that thoseconcerned with the third planet did not waste a split eon on it.
　　Certainly Foster did not. .Digby!“His assistant looked up. .Yes, Foster?“.I’ll be gone a few eons on a special assignment. Want you to meet your newsupervisor.“ Foster turned and said, .Mike, this is Archangel Digby, yourassistant. He knows where everything is around the studio and you’ll find hima very steady straw boss for anything you conceive.“.Oh, we’ll get along,“ Archangel Michael assured him, and said to Digby,.Haven’t we met before?“Digby answered, .Not that I remember. Of course, out of so many whenwheres“He shrugged.
　　.No matter. Thou art God.“.Thou art God,“ Digby responded.
　　Foster said, .Skip the formalities, please. I’ve left you a load of work and youdon’t have all eternity to fiddle with it. Certainly .Thou art God’ -but who isn’t?“He left, and Mike pushed back his halo and got to work. He could see a lot of changes he wanted to make
The End