Stranger in a Strange Land

«Mmm… we'll run films later — but I'm convinced. Mike — »

«Yes, Jubal?»

«Where is that box?»

«The box is — » Smith paused. «Again I have not words. I am sorry.»

«I'm confused. Son, can you reach in and haul it out?»

«Beg pardon?»

«You made it go away; now make it come back.»

«How can I? The box is not.»

Jubal looked thoughtful. «If this method becomes popular, it'll change the rules for corpus delicti. “I've got a little list… they never will be missed.” Mike, how close do you have to be?»

«Beg pardon?»

«If you had been in the hallway and I had been back by the window — oh, thirty feet — could you have stopped it from hitting me?»

Smith appeared mildly surprised. «Yes.»

«Hmm … come to the window. Suppose Jill and I were on the far side of the pool and you were here. Could you have stopped the box?»

«Yes, Jubal.»

«Well … suppose Jill and I were down at the gate, a quarter of a mile away. Is that too far?»

Smith hesitated. «Jubal, it is not distance. It is not seeing. It is knowing.»

«Hmm … let's see if I grok it. It doesn't matter how far. You don't even have to see it. If you know that a bad thing is happening, you can stop it. Right?»

Smith looked troubled. «Almost is right. But I am not long out of the nest. For knowing I must see. An Old One does not need eyes to know. He knows. He groks. He acts. I am sorry.»

«I don't know why you're sorry,» Jubal said gruffly. «The High Minister for Peace would have declared you Top Secret ten minutes ago.»

«Beg pardon?»

«Never mind.» Jubal returned to his desk, picked up a heavy ash tray. «Jill, don't aim at my face. Okay, Mike, stand in the hallway.»

«Jubal … my brother …please not!»

«What's the trouble? I want one more demonstration — and this time I won't take my eyes off it.»

«Jubal — »

«Yes, Jill?»

«I grok what is bothering Mike.»

«Well, tell me.»

«We did an experiment where I was about to hurt you with that box. But we are his water brothers — so it upset Mike that I even tried. I think there is something very unMartian about such a situation.»

Harshaw frowned. «Maybe it should be investigated by the Committee on unMartian Activities.»

«I'm not joking, Jubal.»

«Nor I. All right, Jill, I'll re-rig it.» Harshaw handed the ash tray to Mike. «Feel how heavy it is, son. See those sharp corners.»

Smith examined it gingerly. Harshaw went on, «I'm going to throw it up — and let it hit me in the head as it comes down.»

Mike stared. «My brother … you will now discorporate?»

«Eh? No, no! But it will hurt me — unless you stop it. Here we go!» Harshaw tossed it straight up within inches of the high ceiling.

The ash tray topped its trajectory, stopped.

Harshaw looked at it, feeling stuck in one frame of a motion picture. He croaked, «Anne. What do you see?»

She answered in a flat voice, «That ash tray is five inches from the ceiling. I do not see anything holding it up.» She added, «Jubal, I think that's what I'm seeing… but if the cameras don't show the same thing, I'm going to tear up my license. »

«Um. Jill?»

«It floats…»

Jubal went to his desk and sat down without taking his eyes off the ash tray. «Mike,» he said, «why didn't it disappear?»

«But, Jubal,» Mike said apologetically, «you said to stop it; you did not say to make it go away. When I made the box go away, you wanted it to be again. Have I done wrongly?»

«Oh. No, you have done exactly right. I keep forgetting that you take things literally.» Harshaw recalled insults common in his early years — and reminded himself never to use such to Mike — if he told the boy to drop dead or get lost, Harshaw felt certain that the literal meaning would ensue.

I am glad,» Smith answered soberly. »I am sorry I could not make the box be again. I am sorry twice that I wasted food. Then a necessity was. Or so I grokked.»

«Eh? What food?»

Jill said hastily, «He's talking about those men, Jubal. Berquist and the man with him.»

«Oh, yes.» Harshaw reflected that he retained unMartian notions of food. «Mike, don't worry about wasting that “food.” I doubt if a meat inspector would have passed them. In fact,» he added, recalling the Federation convention about «long pig,» «they would have been condemned as unfit to eat. Besides, it was a necessity. You grokked the fullness and acted rightly.»

«I am much comforted,» Mike answered with relief in his voice. «Only an Old One can always be sure of right action at a cusp … and I have much learning to learn and growing to grow before I may join the Old Ones. Jubal? May I move it? I am tiring.»

«You want to make it go away? Go ahead.»

«But I cannot.»

«Eh? Why not?»

«Your head is no longer under it. I do not grok wrongness in its being, where it is.»

«Oh. All right. Move it.» Harshaw continued to watch, expecting it to float to the spot now over his head and thus regain a wrongness. Instead the ash tray slanted downward until it was close above his desk, hovered, then came in to a landing.

«Thank you, Jubal,» said Smith.