Stranger in a Strange Land

At last the household could quiet down. Jubal set the telephone for two hours refusal, stood up, stretched, sighed, and felt a great weariness, wondered if he were getting old. “Where’s dinner? Which one of you wenches was supposed to get dinner tonight? And why didn’t you? Gad, this household is falling to wrack and ruin!”

“It was my turn to get dinner tonight,” Jill answered, “but—”

“Excuses, always excuses.”

“Boss,” Anne interrupted sharply, “how do you expect anyone to cook when you’ve kept every single one of us penned up here in your study all afternoon?”

“That’s the moose’s problem,” Jubal said dourly. “I want it clearly understood that, even if Armageddon is held on these premises I expect meals to be hot and on time right up to the ultimate trump. Furthermore—”

“Furthermore,” Anne completed, “it is now only seven-forty and plenty of time to have dinner by eight. So quit yelping, Boss, until you have something to yelp about. Cry-baby.”

“Is it really only twenty minutes of eight? Seems like a week since lunch. Anyhow you haven’t left me a civilized amount of time to have a pre-dinner drink.”

“Poor you?”

“Somebody get me a drink. Get everybody a drink. On second thought let’s skip a formal dinner tonight and drink our dinners; I feel like getting as tight as a tent rope on a rainy day. Anne, how are we fixed for smorgasbord?”

“Plenty.”

“Then why not thaw out eighteen or nineteen kinds and spread ’em around and let anybody eat what he feels like when he feels like it? What’s all the argument about?”

“Right away,” agreed Jill.

Anne stopped to kiss him on his bald spot. “Boss, you’ve done nobly. We’ll feed you and get you drunk and put you to bed. Wait, Jill, I’m going to help.”

“I may to help, too?” Smith said eagerly.

“Sure, Mike. You can carry trays. Boss, dinner will be by the pool. It’s a hot night.”

“How else?” When they had left, Jubal said to Duke, “Where the hell have you been all day?”

“Thinking.”

“Doesn’t pay to. Just makes you discontented with what you see around you. Any results?”

“Yes,” said Duke, “I’ve decided that what Mike eats, or doesn’t eat, is no business of mine.”

“Congratulations. A desire not to butt into other people’s business is at least eighty percent of all human wisdom… and the other twenty percent isn’t very important.”

“You butt into other people’s business. All the time.”

“Who said I was wise? I’m a professional bad example. You can learn a lot by watching me. Or listening to me. Either one.”

“Jubal, if I walked up to Mike and offered him a glass of water, do you suppose he would go through that lodge routine?”

“I feel certain that he would. Duke, almost the only human characteristic Mike seems to possess is an overwhelming desire to be liked. But I want to make sure that you know how serious it is to him. Much more serious than getting married. I myself accepted water brotherhood with Mike before I understood it—and I’ve become more and more deeply entangled with its responsibilities the more I’ve grokked it. You’ll be committing yourself never to lie to him, never to mislead or deceive him in any way, to stick by him come what may—because that is just what he will do with you. Better think about it.”

“I have been thinking about it, all day. Jubal, there’s something about Mike that makes you want to take care of him.”

“I know. You’ve probably never encountered complete honesty before—I know I hadn’t. Innocence. Mike has never tasted the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil… so we, who have, don’t understand what makes him tick. Well, on your own head be it. I hope you never regret it.” Jubal looked up. “Oh, there you are! I thought you had stopped to distill the stuff.”

Larry answered, “Couldn’t find a cork screw, at first.”

“Machinery again. Why didn’t you bite the neck off? Duke, you’ll find some glasses stashed behind The Anatomy of Melancholy up there—”

“I know where you hide them.”

“—and we’ll all have a quick one, neat, before we get down to serious drinking.” Duke got the glasses; Jubal poured and held up his own. “The golden sunshine of Italy congealed into tears. Here’s to alcoholic brotherhood… much more suited to the frail human soul, if any, than any other sort.”

“Health.”

“Cheers.”

Jubal poured his slowly down his throat. “Ah,” he said happily, and belched. “Offer some of that to Mike, afterwards, Duke, and let him learn how good it is to be human. Makes me feel creative. Front! Why are those girls never around when I need them? Front!!”

“I’m still ‘Front,’” Miriam answered, at the door, “but—”

“I know. And I was saying: ‘—to what strange, bittersweet fate my tomboy ambition—’”

“But I finished that story while you were chatting on the telephone with the Secretary General.”

“Then you are no longer ‘Front.’ Send it off.”

“Don’t you want to read it first? Anyhow, I’ve got to revise it—kissing Mike gave me a new insight on it.”