Stranger in a Strange Land

His joy was muted by awareness that his brother did not share it — he seemed more distressed than was possible save in one about to discorporate because of shameful lack or failure. But Smith had learned that these creatures could endure emotions dreadful to contemplate and not die. His Brother Mahmoud underwent a spiritual agony five times daily and not only did not die but had urged the agony on him as a needful thing. His Brother Captain van Tromp suffered terrifying spasms unpredictably, any one of which should have, by Smith's standards, produced immediate discorporation to end the conflict — yet that brother was still corporate so far as he knew.

So he ignored Jill's agitation.

Jill handed him a bundle. «Here, put these on. Hurry!»

Smith accepted the bundle and waited. Jill looked at him and said, «Oh, dear! All right, get your clothes off. I'll help.»

She was forced both to undress and dress him. He was wearing hospital gown, bathrobe, and slippers, not because he wanted to but because he had been told to. He could handle them by now, but not fast enough to suit Jill; she skinned him quickly. She being a nurse and he never having heard of the modesty taboo — nor would he have grasped it — they were not slowed by irrelevancies. He was delighted by false skins Jill drew over his legs. She gave him no time to cherish them, but taped the stockings to his thighs in lieu of garter belt. The nurse's uniform she dressed him in she had borrowed from a larger woman on the excuse that a cousin needed one for a masquerade. Jill hooked a nurse's cape around his neck and reflected that it covered most sex differences — at least she hoped so. Shoes were difficult; they did not fit well and Smith found walking in this gravity field an effort even barefooted.

But she got him covered and pinned a nurse's cap on his head. «Your hair isn't very long,» she said anxiously, «but it is as long as some girls wear it and will have to do.» Smith did not answer as he had not fully understood the remark. He tried to think his hair longer but realized that it would take time.

«Now,» said Jill. «Listen carefully. No matter what happens, don't say a word. Do you understand?»

«Don't talk. I will not talk.»

«Just come with me — I'll hold your hand. If you know any prayers,pray!»

«Pray?»

«Never mind. Just come along and don't talk.» She opened the outer door, glanced outside, and led him into the corridor.

Smith found the many strange configurations upsetting in the extreme; he was assaulted by images he could not bring into focus. He stumbled blindly along, with eyes and senses almost disconnected to protect himself against chaos.

She led him to the end of the corridor and stepped on a slide-away leading crosswise. He stumbled and would have fallen if Jill had not caught him. A chambermaid looked at them and Jill cursed under her breath — then was very careful in helping him off. They took an elevator to the roof, Jill being sure that she could never pilot him up a bounce tube.

There they encountered a crisis, though Smith was not aware. He was undergoing the keen delight of sky; he had not seen sky since Mars. This sky was bright and colorful and joyful — a typical overcast Washington day. Jill was looking for a taxi. The roof was deserted, as she had hoped since nurses going off duty when she did were already headed home and afternoon visitors were gone. But the taxis were gone too. She did not dare risk an air bus.

She was about to call a taxi when one headed in for a landing. She called to the roof attendant. «Jack! Is that cab taken?»

«It's one I called for Dr. Phipps.»

«Oh, dear! Jack, see how quick you can get me one, will you? This is my cousin Madge — works over in South Wing — and she has laryngitis and must get out of this wind.»

The attendant scratched his head. «Well … seeing it's you, Miss Boardman, you take this and I'll call another for Dr. Phipps.»

«Oh, Jack, you're a lamb! Madge, don't talk; I'll thank him. Her voice is gone; I'm going to bake it out with hot rum.»

«That ought to do it. Old-fashioned remedies are best, my mother used to say.» He reached into the cab and punched the combination for Jill's home from memory, then helped them in. Jill got in the way and covered up Smith's unfamiliarity with this ceremonial. «Thanks, Jack. Thanks loads.»

The cab took off and Jill took a deep breath. «You can talk now.»

«What should I say?»

«Huh? Whatever you like.»

Smith thought this over. The scope of the invitation called for a worthy answer, suitable to brothers. He thought of several, discarded them because he could not translate, settled on one which conveyed even in this strange, flat speech some of the warm growing-closer brothers should enjoy. «Let our eggs share the same nest.»

Jill looked startled. «Huh? What did you say?»