Stranger in a Strange Land

“And I won’t. The agreement with all of you was to monitor what the cameras saw… when I signalled. And use it if it was newsworthy. But I didn’t promise not to give out interviews in addition to that—and New World can have this interview, oh, say thirty minutes ahead of Argus and Trans-P… if you want it.” Jubal added, “Not only did you loan us all the equipment for the tie-in, but you’ve been very helpful personally, Tom. I can’t express how helpful you’ve been.”

“You mean, uh, that telephone number?”

“Correct!”

“And it got results?”

“It did. But no questions about that, Tom. Not on the air. Ask me privately—next year.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t think of it. You keep your lip buttoned and I’ll keep mine. Now don’t go away—”

“One more thing. That spool of messages you’re holding for me against the same signal. Make damn sure they don’t go out. Send them back to me.”

“Eh? All right, all right—I’ve been keeping them in my desk, you were so fussy about it. Jubal, I’ve got a camera on this phone screen right now. Can we start?”

“Shoot.”

“And I’m going to do this one myself!” Mackenzie turned his face away and apparently looked at the camera. “Flash news! This is your NWNW reporter on the spot while its hot! The Man from Mars has just phoned you right here in your local station and wants to talk to you! Cut. Monitor, insert flash-news plug and acknowledgment to sponsor. Jubal, anything special I should ask him?”

“Don’t ask him questions about South America—he’s not a tourist. Swimming is your safest subject. You can ask me about his future plans.”

“Okay. End of cut. Friends, you are now face to face and voice to voice with Valentine Michael Smith, the Man from Mars! As NWNW, always first with the burst, told you earlier, Mr. Smith has just returned from his solitary retreat high in the Andes—and we welcome him back! Wave to your friends, Mr. Smith—”

(“Wave at the telephone, son. Smile and wave at it.”)

“Thank you, Valentine Michael Smith. We’re all happy to see you looking so healthy and tan. I understand that you have been gathering strength by learning to swim?”

“Boss! Visitors. Or something.”

“Cut before interruption—after the word ‘swim.’ What the hell, Jubal?”

“I’ll have to see. Jill, ride herd on Mike again—it might be General Quarters.”

But it was not. It was the NWNW mobile stereovision unit landing—and again rose bushes were damaged—Larry returning from phoning Mackenzie from the village, and Duke, returning. Mackenzie decided to finish the flat black & white interview quickly, since he was now assured of depth and color through his mobile unit, and in the meantime its technical crew could check the trouble with the equipment on loan to Jubal. Larry and Duke went with them.

The interview was finished with inanities, Jubal fielding any questions Mike failed to understand; Mackenzie signed off with a promise to the public that a color & depth special interview with the Man from Mars would follow in thirty minutes. “Stay synched with this station!” He stayed on the phone and waited for his technicians to report.

Which the crew boss did, almost at once: “Nothing wrong with that transceiver, Mr. Mackenzie, nor with any part of this field setup.”

“Then what was wrong with it before?”

The technician glanced at Larry and Duke, then grinned. “Nothing. But it helps quite a bit to put power through it. The breaker was open at the board.”

Harshaw intervened to stop a wrangle between Larry and Duke, one which seemed concerned with the relative merits of various sorts of idiocy more than with the question of whether Duke had, or had not, told Larry that a certain tripped circuit breaker must be reset if it was anticipated that the borrowed equipment was going to be used. The showman’s aspect of Jubal’s personality regretted that the “finest unrehearsed spectacular since Elijah bested the Priests of Baal” had been missed by the cameras. But the political finagler in him was relieved that mischance had kept Mike’s curious talents still a close secret—Jubal anticipated that he still might need them, as a secret weapon… not to mention the undesirability of trying to explain to skeptical strangers the present whereabouts of certain policemen plus two squad cars.

As for the rest, it merely confirmed his own conviction that science and invention had reached its peak with the Model-T Ford and had been growing steadily more decadent ever since. And besides, Mackenzie wanted to get on with the depth & color interview—They got through that with a minimum of rehearsing, Jubal simply making sure that no question would be asked which could upset the public fiction that the Man from Mars had just returned from South America. Mike sent greetings to his friends and brothers of the Champion, including one to Dr. Mahmoud delivered in croaking, throat rasping Martian Jubal decided that Mackenzie had his money’s worth.