Stranger in a Strange Land

“No, no, no, Ben!—you misunderstand me. Your inquiry was in order and your side comments no more than I had invited. I mean that I require the girls to treat me with respect—on this one subject.”

“Oh—”

“I am, as you pointed out, old—quite old. Privately, to you alone, I am happy to say that I am still lecherous. But my lechery does not command me and I am not 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 depressing stages, can attract a young girl enough to bed her—and possibly big her and thanks for the compliment; it just possibly might not be amiss—through three means only: money… or second, the equivalent of money in terms of wills and community property and the like and—pause for question: Can you imagine any of these three girls—these four, let me include Jill—bedding with a man, 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 third incentive 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 and wishes 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 for me. But this third reason which any of these four ladies might find sufficient motivation is not sufficient motivation for me. I wouldn’t put up with it. I have my dignity, sir—and I hope that I retain my reason long enough to extinguish myself 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 am your 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 to resist 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 the family, I have made it bluntly plain that this was neither a sweat shop nor a whore house, but a home… and, as such, it combined anarchy and tyranny without a trace of democracy, as in any well-run family, i.e., that they were utterly on their own except where I saw fit to give orders, which orders were not subject to vote or debate. My tyranny has never extended to their love life, if any. All the kids who live here have always chosen to keep their private matters reasonably private. At least—” Jubal smiled ruefully. “—until the Martian influence 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 one sense or the other. Perhaps they have been dragging the gals behind every bush. 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 girls were smugly happy… and I’m not broke plus the fact that I could bleed Mike for any amount without telling the girls. Their babies won’t lack. But, Ben, I’m troubled 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’s my hard luck, I hold no grudge. It’s Mike.”

“Damn it, why can’t the boy come home and quit this obscene pulpit pounding?”

“Mmm… Jubal, that’s not quite what he’s doing.” Ben added, “I’ve just come 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 squeezed out a day and visited them. What I saw worried the hell out of me—so much so that 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 the faucet and close down this operation?”

Jubal shook his head. “In the first place, I wouldn’t. What Mike does with his life 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 made about his money. He probably wouldn’t even understand it—and he certainly wouldn’t question it.”