Stranger in a Strange Land

“Mike is utterly civilized, Martian style. Duke, I don’t understand the Martian viewpoint and probably never shall. But I’ve talked enough with Mike on this subject to know that the Martian practice isn’t at all dog-eat-dog… or Martian-eat-Martian. Surely they eat their dead, instead of burying them, or burning them, or exposing them to vultures. But the custom is highly formalized and deeply religious. A Martian is never grabbed and butchered against his will. In fact, so far as I have been able to find out, the idea of murder isn’t even a Martian concept. Instead, a Martian dies when he decides to die, having discussed it with and been advised by his friends and having received the consent of his ancestors’ ghosts to join them. Having decided to die, he does so, as easily as you close your eyes—no violence, no lingering illness, not even an overdose of sleeping pills. One second he is alive and well, the next second he’s a ghost, with a dead body left over. Then, or maybe later (Mike is always vague about time factors) his closest friends eat what he no longer has any use for, ‘grokking’ him, as Mike would say, and praising his virtues as they spread the mustard. The new ghost attends the feast himself, as it is sort of a bar mitzvah or confirmation service by which the ghost attains the status of ‘Old One’—becomes an elder statesman, if I understand it.”

Duke made a face of disgust. “God, what superstitious junk! Turns my stomach.”

“Does it? To Mike it’s a most solemn—but joyful-religious ceremony.”

Duke snorted, “Jubal, you don’t believe that stuff about ghosts, do you? Oh, I know you don’t. It’s just cannibalism combined with the rankest sort of superstition.”

“Well, now, I wouldn’t go that far. I admit that I find these Martian ‘Old Ones’ a little hard to swallow—but Mike speaks of them as matter-of-factly as we talk about last Wednesday. As for the rest—Duke, what church were you brought up in?” Duke told him; Jubal nodded and went on: “I thought it might be; in Kansas most belong to yours or to one enough like it that you would have to look at the sign out in front to tell the difference. Tell me… how did you feel when you took part in the symbolic cannibalism that plays so paramount a part in your church’s rituals?”

Duke stared at him. “What the devil do you mean?”

Jubal blinked solemnly back. “Were you actually a church member? Or were you simply sent to Sunday School as a kid?”

“Huh? Why, certainly I was a church member. My whole family was. I still am… even though I don’t go much.”

“I thought perhaps you weren’t entitled to receive it. But apparently you are, so you know what I’m talking about, if you stop to think.” Jubal stood up suddenly. “But I don’t belong to your church nor to Mike’s, so I shan’t attempt to argue the subtle differences between one form of ritual cannibalism and another. Duke, I’ve got urgent work to do; I can’t spend any more time trying to shake you loose from your prejudices. Are you leaving? If you are, I think I had better chaperone you off the place, make sure you’re safe. Or do you want to stay? Stay and behave yourself, I mean—eat at the table with the rest of us cannibals.”

Duke frowned. “Reckon I’ll stay.”

“Suit yourself. Because from this moment forward I wash my hands of any responsibility for your safety. You saw those movies; if you’re bright enough to hit the floor with your hat, you’ve figured out that this man-Martian we’ve got staying with us can be unpredictably dangerous.”

Duke nodded. “I got the point. I’m not as stupid as you think I am, Jubal. But I’m not letting Mike run me off the place, either.” He added, “You say he’s dangerous… and I see how he could be, if he got stirred up. But I’m not going to stir him up. Shucks, Jubal, I like the little dope, most ways.”

“Mmm… damn it, I still think you underestimate him, Duke. See here, if you really do feel friendly toward him, the best thing you can do is to offer him a glass of water. Share it with him. Understand me? Become his ‘Water brother.’”

“Um. I’ll think about it.”

“But if you do, Duke, don’t fake it. If Mike accepts your offer of water-brotherhood, he’ll be dead serious about it. He’ll trust you utterly, no matter what—so don’t do it unless you are equally willing to trust him and stand by him, no matter how rough things get. Either all out—or don’t do it.”

“I understood that. That’s why I said, ‘I’ll think about it.’”

“Okay. But don’t take too long making up your mind… because I expect things to get very rough before long.”

XIV