Stranger in a Strange Land

“And Thou art God, my lovely. I wasn’t disputing that… but that one prime fact 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 changed the 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! Thou art 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 for you.”

“But I would still know it. Pain and sickness and hunger and fighting—there’s no 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 and more. 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. I liked being ‘with it’—and now that we’ve shared water with Patty, it would be like being home.”

He didn’t answer. Jill felt his mind and knew that he was contemplating, trying to grok. She waited.

“Jill? What do I have to do to be ordained?”

PART FOUR: HIS SCANDALOUS CAREER

XXX

THE FIRST MIXED LOAD OF permanent colonists arrived on Mars; six of the seventeen survivors of the twenty-three originals returned to Earth. Prospective colonists trained in Peru at sixteen thousand feet. The president of Argentina moved one night to Montevideo, taking with him such portables as could be stuffed into two suitcases, and the new Presidente started an extradition process before the high Court to yank him back, or at least the two suitcases. Last rites for Alice Douglas were held privately in the National Cathedral with less than two thousand attending, and editorialists and stereo commentators alike praised the dignified fortitude with which the Secretary General took his bereavement. A three-year-old named Inflation, carrying 126 pounds with Jinx Jenkins Up, won the Kentucky Derby, paying fifty-four for 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 and Reverend Foster appeared simultaneously on news stands throughout the United States; by nightfall every copy had been burned and the plates destroyed, along with incidental damage to other chattels and to real estate, plus a certain amount of mayhem, maiming, and simple assault. The British Museum was rumored to possess a copy of the first edition (untrue), and also the Vatican Library (true, but available only to certain church scholars).

In the Tennessee legislature a bill was again introduced to make the ratio pi exactly equal to three; it was reported out by the committee on public education and morals, passed with no objection by the lower house and died in committee in the upper house. An interchurch fundamentalist group opened offices in Van Buren, Arkansas, for the purpose of soliciting funds to send missionaries to the Martians; Dr. Jubal Harshaw happily sent them a lavish donation, but took the precaution of sending it in the name (and with the address) of the editor of the New Humanist, a rabid atheist and his close friend.

Other than that, Jubal had very little to feel amused about—there had been too much news about Mike lately, and all of it depressing. He had treasured the occasional visits home of Jill and Mike and had been most interested in Mike’s progress, especially after Mike developed a sense of humor. But they came home less frequently now and Jubal did not relish the latest developments.

It had not troubled Jubal when Mike was run out of Union Theological Seminary, hotly pursued in spirit by a pack of enraged theologians, some of whom were angry because they believed in God and others because they did not—but all united in detesting the Man from Mars. Jubal honestly evalued anything that happened to a theologian short of breaking him on the wheel was no more than meet—and the experience was good for the boy; he’d know better next time.