Stranger in a Strange Land

«Uh, thou art God.» He might as well relax to the ritual — hell, if he said it often enough, he might lose the rest of his buttons and believe it … and it did have a friendly ring with the arms of the Skipper's vrouw firmly around him. He decided that she could teach even Jill something about kissing. She — how was it Anne described it? — she gave it her whole attention; she wasn't going anywhere.

«I suppose, Van,» he said, «that I shouldn't be surprised to find you here.»

«Well,» answered the spaceman, «a man who commutes to Mars ought to be able to palaver with the natives, don't you think?»

«Just for powwow, huh?»

«There are other aspects.» Van Tromp reached for a piece of toast; the toast cooperated. «Good food, good company.»

«Um, yes.»

«Jubal,» Madame Vesant called out, «soup's on!»

Jubal returned to his place, found eggs-on-horseback, orange juice, and other choice items. Becky patted his thigh. «A fine prayer meeting, me bucko.»

«Woman, back to your horoscopes!»

«Which reminds me, dearie, I want to know the exact instant of your birth.»

«Uh, I was born on three successive days. They had to handle me in sections.»

Becky made a rude answer. «I'll find out.»

«The courthouse burned down when I was three. You can't.»

«There are ways. Want to bet?»

«You keep heckling me and you'll find you're not too big to spank. How've you been, girl?»

«What do you think? How do I look?»

«Healthy. A bit spread in the butt. You've touched up your hair.»

«I have not. I quit using henna months ago. Get with it, pal, and we'll get rid of that white fringe you've got. Replace it with a lawn.»

«Becky, I refuse to grow younger. I came by my decrepitude the hard way and I propose to enjoy it. Quit prattling and let a man eat.»

«Yes, sir. You old goat.»

Jubal was just leaving as the Man from Mars came in.«Father! Oh, Jubal!» Mike hugged and kissed him.

Jubal gently unwound him. «Be your age, son. Sit down and enjoy your breakfast. I'll sit with you.»

«I didn't come here for breakfast, I came looking for you. We'll find a place and talk.»

«All right.»

They went to an unoccupied living room, Mike pulling Jubal by the hand like an excited small boy welcoming his favorite grandparent. Mike picked a big chair for Jubal and sprawled on a couch near him. They were on the side of the wing having the private landing flat; high French windows opened to it. Jubal got up to shift his chair so that he would not be facing the light; he was mildly annoyed to find that the chair shifted itself — remote control over objects was a labor-saver and probably a money-saver (certainly on laundry! — his spaghetti-splashed shirt had been so fresh that he had put it on again), and obviously to be preferred to the blind balkiness of mechanical gadgets. Nevertheless Jubal was not used to telecontrol done without wires or waves; it startled him the way horseless carriages had disturbed decent, respectable horses about the time Jubal was born.

Duke came in and served brandy. Mike said, «Thanks, Cannibal. Are you the new butler?»

«Somebody has to do it, Monster. You've got every brain in the place slaving away over a hot microphone.»

«Well, they'll be through in a couple of hours and you can revert to your usual lecherous sloth. The job is done, Cannibal. Pau. Thirty. Ended.»

«The whole damn Martian language in one lump? Monster, I had better check you for burned-out capacitors.»

«Oh, no! Only the primer knowledge that I have — had, I mean; my brain's an empty sack. Highbrows like Stinky will be going to Mars for a century to fill in what I never learned. But I did turn out a job — six weeks of subjective time since five this morning or whenever it was we adjourned the sharing — and now the stalwart steady types can finish it while I loaf.» Mike stretched and yawned. «Feels good. Finishing a job always feels good.»

«You'll be slaving away at something else before the day is out. Boss, this Martian monster can't take it or leave it alone. This is the first time he has relaxed in over two months. He ought to sign up with “Workers Anonymous”. Or you ought to visit us more often. You're a good influence.»

«God forbid that I should ever be.»

«Get out of here, Cannibal, and quit telling lies.»

«Lies, hell. You turned me into a compulsive truth-teller … and it's a handicap in the joints where I hang out.» Duke left.

Mike lifted his glass. «Share water, Father.»

«Drink deep, son.»

«Thou art God.»

«Mike, I'll put up with that from the others. But don't you come godding at me. I knew you when you were “only an egg”.»

«Okay, Jubal.»

«That's better. When did you start drinking in the morning? Do that at your age and you'll ruin your stomach. You'll never live to be a happy old soak, like me.»