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Stranger in a Strange Land

Who speaks for the Man from Mars? Who ordered an armed guard placed around him? What is his dread disease that no one may glimpse him, nor ask him a question? I address you, Mr. Secretary General; the explanation about «physical weakness» and «gee-fatigue» won't wash; if that were the answer, a ninety-pound nurse would do as well as an armed guard.

Could this disease be financial in nature? Or (let's say it softly) is it political?

There was more of the same; Jill could see that Ben was baiting the administration, trying to force them into the open. She felt that Caxton was taking serious risk in challenging the authorities, but she had no notion of the size of the danger, nor what form it might take.

She thumbed through the paper. It was loaded with stories on the Champion, pictures of Secretary General Douglas pinning medals, interviews with Captain van Tromp and his brave company, pictures of Martians and Martian cities. There was little about Smith, merely a bulletin that he was improving slowly from the effects of his trip.

Ben came out and dropped sheets of onionskin in her lap. «Here's another newspaper.» He left again.

Jill saw that the «newspaper» was a transcription of what her first wire had picked up. It was marked «First Voice,» «Second Voice,» and so on, but Ben had written in names wherever he had been able to make attributions. He had written across the top: «All voices are masculine.»

Most items merely showed that Smith had been fed, washed, massaged and that he had exercised under supervision of a voice identified as «Doctor Nelson» and one marked «second doctor.»

One passage had nothing to do with care of the patient. Jill reread it:

Doctor Nelson: How are you feeling, boy? Strong enough to talk?

Smith: Yes.

Doctor Nelson: A man wants to talk to you.

Smith: (pause) Who? (Caxton had written: All of Smith's speeches are preceded by pauses.)

Nelson: This man is our great (untranscribable guttural word — Martian?). He is our oldest Old One. Will you talk with him?

Smith: (very long pause) I am great happy. The Old One will talk and I will listen and grow.

Nelson: No, no! He wants to ask you questions.

Smith: I cannot teach an Old One.

Nelson: The Old One wishes it. Will you let him ask you questions?

Smith: Yes.

(Background noises)

Nelson: This way, sir. I have Doctor Mahmoud standing by to translate.

Jill read «New Voice.» Caxton had scratched this out and written in: «Secretary General Douglas! ! !»

Secretary General: I won't need him. You say Smith understands English.

Nelson: Well, yes and no, Your Excellency. He knows a number of words, but, as Mahmoud says, he doesn't have any cultural context to hang them on. It can be confusing.

Secretary General: Oh, we'll get along, I'm sure. When I was a youngster I hitchhiked all through Brazil, without a word of Portuguese when I started. Now, if you will introduce us — then leave us alone.

Nelson: Sir? I had better stay with my patient.

Secretary General: Really, Doctor? I'm afraid I must insist. Sorry.

Nelson: And I am afraid that I must insist. Sorry, sir. Medical ethics —

Secretary General: (interrupting) As a lawyer, I know something of medical jurisprudence — so don't give me that «medical ethics» mumbo-jumbo. Did this patient select you?

Nelson: Not exactly, but —

Secretary General: Has he had opportunity to choose physicians? I doubt it. His status is ward of the state. I am acting as next of kin, de facto — and, you will find,de jure as well. I wish to interview him alone.

Nelson: (long pause, then very stiffly) If you put it that way, Your Excellency, I withdraw from the case.

Secretary General: Don't take it that way, Doctor. I'm not questioning your treatment. But you wouldn't try to keep a mother from seeing her son alone, now would you? Are you afraid I might hurt him?

Nelson: No, but —

Secretary General: Then what is your objection? Come now, introduce us and let's get on with it. This fussing may be upsetting your patient.

Nelson: Your Excellency, I will introduce you. Then you must select another doctor for your … ward.

Secretary General: I'm sorry, Doctor, I really am. I can't take that as final — we'll discuss it later. Now, if you please?

Nelson: Step over here, sir. Son, this is the man who wants to see you. Our great Old One.

Smith: (untranscribable)

Secretary General: What did he say?

Nelson: A respectful greeting. Mahmoud says it translates:

«I am only an egg.» More or less that, anyway. It's friendly. Son, talk man-talk.

Smith: Yes.

Nelson: And you had better use simple words, if I may offer a last advice.

Secretary General: Oh, I will.