Stranger in a Strange Land

«One must allow Mike any dispensation granted other gods. One god alone splits into at least two parts, and breeds, not just Jehovah — they all do. A group of gods will breed like rabbits, and with as little regard for human proprieties. Once Mike entered the godding business, orgies were as predictable as sunrise — so forget the standards of Podunk and judge them by Olympian morals.»

Jubal glowered. «Ben, to understand this, you must start by conceding their sincerity.»

«Oh, I do! It's just that — »

«Doyou?You start by assuming that they must be wrong, judging them by that very code you reject. Try logic instead. Ben, this “growing-closer” by sexual union, this plurality-into-unity, logically has no place for monogamy. Since shared-by-all sexual congress is basic to this creed — a fact that your account makes crystal clear — why expect it to be hidden? One hides what one is ashamed of — but they are not ashamed, they glory in it. To duck behind closed doors would be a sop to the very code they have rejected… or it would shout aloud that you were an outsider who should never have been admitted in the first place.»

«Maybe I shouldn't have been.»

«Obviously you shouldn't have been. Mike clearly had misgivings. But Gillian insisted. Eh?»

«That only makes it worse!»

«How? She wanted you to be one of them “in all fullness”, as Mike would say. She loves you — and is not jealous of you. But you are jealous of her — and, while you claim to love her, your behavior doesn't show it.»

«Damn it, I do love her!»

«So? As may be, you clearly did not understand the Olympian honor you were being offered.»

«I guess I didn't,» Ben conceded glumly.

«I'm going to offer you a way out. You wondered how Mike got rid of his clothes. I'll tell you.»

«How?»

«A miracle.»

«Oh, for God's sake!»

«Could be. One thousand dollars says it was a miracle. Go ask Mike. Get him to show you. Then send me the money.»

«Hell, Jubal, I don't want to take your money.»

«You won't. Bet?»

«Jubal,you go see what the score is. I can't go back.»

«They'll take you back with open arms and never ask why you left. One thousand on that prediction, too. Ben, you were there less than twenty-four hours. Did you give them the careful investigation that you give something smelly in public life before you blast it?»

«But — »

«Did you?»

«No, but — »

«Oh, for God's sake, Ben! You claim to love Jill… yet you won't give her the fair shake you give a crooked politician. Not a tenth the effort she made to help you when you were in trouble. Where would you be if she had made so feeble a try? Roasting in Hell, most likely. You're bitching about friendly fornication — do you know what I'm worried about?»

«What?»

«Christ was crucified for preaching without a police permit. Sweat over that, instead!»

Caxton chewed a thumb and said nothing — then stood up suddenly. «I'm on my way.»

«After lunch.»

«Now.»

Twenty-four hours later Ben wired Jubal two thousand dollars. When, after a week, Jubal received no other message, he sent a stat care of Ben's office:«What the hell are you doing?» The answer was somewhat delayed:

«Studying Martian — aquafraternally yours — Ben»

Part Five His Happy Destiny

XXXIV

FOSTER LOOKED UP FROM WORK IN PROGRESS. «Junior!»

«Sir?»

«That youngster you wanted — he's available now. The Martians have released him.»

Digby looked puzzled. «I'm sorry. There was some young creature toward whom I have a duty?»

Foster smiled angelically. Miracles were never necessary — in Truth the pseudo-concept «miracle» was self-contradicting. But these young fellows always had to learn it for themselves. «Never mind,» he said gently. «It's a minor martyrdom and I'll guard it myself — and Junior?»

«Sir?»

«Call me “Fos”, please — ceremony is all right in the field but we don't need it in the studio. And remind me not to call you “Junior” — you made a very nice record on that temporary duty assignment. Which name do you like to be called?»

His assistant blinked. «I have another name?»

«Thousands. Do you have a preference?»

«Why, I really don't recall at this eon.»

«Well… would you like to be called/“Digby”?»

«Uh, yes. That's a very nice name. Thanks.»

«Don't thank me. You earned it.» Archangel Foster turned back to his work, not forgetting the minor duty he had assumed. Briefly he considered how this cup might be taken from little Patricia — then chided himself for such unprofessional, almost human, thought. Mercy was not possible in an angel; angelic compassion left no room for it.

The Martian Old Ones had reached an elegant trial solution to their major esthetic problem and put it aside for a few filled-threes to let it generate new problems. At which time, unhurriedly and almost absentmindedly, the alien nestling which they had returned to his proper world was tapped of what he had learned of his people and dropped, after cherishing, since he was of no further interest to their purposes.