Stranger in a Strange Land

“That’s the name. And I have reason to suspect that—Jill, what’s the trouble? Stop it! Don’t faint, or swelp 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 bit of a bastard; there might be only one. Out I mean the one on the Executive staff. Why? Do you know him?”

“I don’t know. But if it is the same one… I don’t think there’s any use looking 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 two men who suddenly were not there. Jubal simply listened. “And that’s all,” she concluded sadly. “I screamed and scared Mike… and he went into that trance you saw him in—and then I had a simply terrible time getting here. But I told 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. Keep quiet and let me think.”

Jill kept quiet. Jubal held still about ten minutes. At last he opened his eyes and said, “I don’t see your problem, child. He’s probably lying on the bottom of the pool again—”

“He is.”

“—so dive in and get him. Dry him off and bring him up to my study. I want to find out if he can repeat this stunt at will… and I don’t think we need an audience. No, we do need an audience. Tell Anne to put on her Witness robe and 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 be missed. Regrettably we are all friends. Do you suppose Mike can do this stunt with inanimate objects?”

“I don’t know.”

“We’ll find out. Well, what are you standing there for? Haul that boy out of the water and wake him up.” Jubal blinked thoughtfully. “What a way to dispose of—no, I mustn’t be tempted. See you upstairs, girl.”

XII

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 and dictating to Dorcas; he did not appear to notice Jill’s arrival and went on dictating:

“—from under the sprawled body, soaking one corner of the rug and seeping out beyond it in a spreading dark red pool on the tiled hearth, where it was attracting the attention of two unemployed flies. Miss Simpson clutched at her mouth. ‘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 first installment. Mail it off. Git.”

Dorcas stood up and left, taking along her shorthand machine, and nodding and 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 was formal.”

“But he has to get dressed.”

“Why? It makes no never-mind to me whether you kids wear skin or fleece-lined overcoats—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 train him.”

“Hmmph! You’re trying to force on him your own narrow-minded, middle class, 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 been teaching him necessary customs.”

“Customs, morals—is there a difference? Woman, do you realize what you are doing? Here, by the grace of God and an inside straight, we have a personality untouched by the psychotic taboos of our tribe—and you want to turn him into a carbon copy of every fourth-rate conformist in this frightened land! Why don’t you go whole hog? Get him a brief case and make him carry it 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 his operation.”

“Oh!” Jill stopped and appeared to be counting ten. Then she said formally and bleakly, “This is your house, Doctor Harshaw, and we are in your debt. If you will excuse me, I will fetch Michael at once.” She got up to leave.

“Hold it, Jill.”

“Sir?”