Stranger in a Strange Land

“Try gargling with aspirin.” Jubal looked at her. “That’s a silly excuse, nurse—but it 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 my staff research assistant for Martian linguistics which includes such extra duties as may be necessary. Take that up with the girls. Anne, put her on the payroll—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 you take 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 to learn it just to spite you!”

He grinned warmly at her. “That’s a motive I grok perfectly—you’ll learn it all right. 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 lifting things without touching them.”

Smith looked puzzled. “I do not know.”

“How could he know,” protested Jill, “when he doesn’t really know what we can and can’t do?”

“Mmm—yes. Anne, change that job title to ‘staff research assistant for Martian linguistics, culture, and techniques.’ Jill, in learning their language you are bound to stumble onto Martian things that are different, really different—and when you do, tell me. Everything and anything about a culture can be inferred from the shape of its language—and you’re probably young enough to learn to think like a Martian… which I misdoubt I am not. And you, 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 bottom of the pool much longer than we can. Hmm… Duke!”

“Yes, Boss? I’ve got both hands full of film. 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 the morning.”

“How’s the count?”

“The count is okay, the water is safe enough to serve at the table. It just looks messy.”

“Let it stay murky for the time being. Test it as usual. I’ll let you know when I want it cleaned up.”

“Hell, Boss, nobody likes to swim in a pool that looks like dishwater. I would have tidied it up long before this if there hadn’t been so much hooraw around here this week.”

“Anybody too fussy to swim in it can stay dry. Quit jawing about it, Duke; I’ll explain 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 throwing projectiles by the force of some explosive, as gunpowder, consisting of a tube 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 we were talking about, in the room with the grass on the floor—but don’t get upset now! 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’s New International Dictionary of the English Language, Third Edition, published in—”

“That’s fine, son,” Harshaw said hastily. “That was certainly a gun. Now listen to 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 waste food?”

“No, I would not be angry. Under those circumstances no one would be angry at you. But I am trying to find out something else. Could you make just the gun 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 without hurting the man?”

“Jubal, he would not hurt at all. I would make the gun go away, but the man I would just stop. He would feel no pain. He would simply be discorporate. The food he leaves after him would not damage at all.”

Harshaw sighed. “Yes, I’m sure that’s the way it would be. But could you cause to go away just the gun? Not do anything else? Not ‘stop’ the man, not kill 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.”