Stranger in a Strange Land

“Well, I hadn’t realized that this one was so risky. But the only safety inspector 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 it analyzed correctly. Just what aspects of the situation did you find disquieting?”

“Why… the whole thing.”

“So? In fact, wasn’t it just one thing? And that an essentially harmless act which we both know was nothing new… but was, we can assume rather conclusively, initially performed in this house or on these grounds about two years 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 other occasions, joined in that same act with the same young lady—and she is a lady, despite your tale—and you neither denied my implication nor acted offended at my presumption. To put it bluntly, son—what are you belly-aching about?”

“Well, for cripe’s sake, Jubal… Would you put up with it, in your living room?”

“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 my nose. But the point is that it was not my living room… nor would I presume to lay down rules for another man’s living room. It was Mike’s house… and his wife—common law or otherwise, we need not inquire. So what business is it of mine? Or yours? You go into a man’s house, you accept his household rules—that’s a universal law of civilized behavior.”

“You mean to say you don’t find it shocking?”

“Ah, you’ve raised an entirely different issue. Public exhibition of lust I would find most distasteful, either as participant or spectator… but I grok this reflects my early indoctrination, nothing more. A very large minority of mankind—possibly a majority—do not share my taste in this matter. Decidedly not—for the orgy has a long and very widespread history. Nonetheless it is not to my taste. But shocking? My dear sir, I can be shocked only by that which offends me ethically. Ethical questions are subject to logic—but this is a matter of taste and the old saw is in point—‘de gusribus non est disputandu.’”

“You think that a public shagging is merely ‘a matter of taste?’”

“Precisely. In which respect I concede that my own taste, rooted in early training, reinforced by some three generations of habit, and now, I believe, calcified beyond possibility of change, is no more sacred than the very different 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 ‘neutral-against.’ But, Ben, this wasn’t public.”

“Huh?”

“You yourself have said it. You described this group as a plural marriage—a group theogamy, to be precise. Not public but utterly private. ‘Aint nobody here 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’m afraid 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 to back out was the instant you got there, for you saw at once that their customs and manners were not yours. Instead you stayed, and enjoyed the favors of one goddess—and behaved yourself as a god toward her—in short, you learned the score, and they knew it. It seems to me that Mike’s error lay only in accepting your hypocrisy as solid coin. But he does have the weakness—a godlike one—of never doubting his ‘water brothers’—but even Jove nods—and his weakness—or is it a strength?—comes from his early training; he can’t help it. No, Ben, Mike behaved with complete propriety; the offense against good manners lay in your behavior.”

“Damn it, Jubal, you’ve twisted things again. I did what I had to do—I was about to throw up on their rug!”

“So you claim reflex. So stipulated; however, anyone over the emotional age of twelve could have clamped his jaws and made a slow march for the bathroom with at worst the hazard of clogged sinuses—instead of a panicked dash for the street door—then returned when the show was over with a euphemistic 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 not choose a course for the feet, recover chattels, take you through doors and cause you to jump down a hole without looking. Panic, Ben. Why did you panic?”

Caxton was long in replying. He sighed and said, “I guess when you come right down to it, Jubal—I’m a prude.”