Stranger in a Strange Land

Frame cut off the flow when the skin floated six inches from the top. They lugged him into it, awkwardly because he had frozen into foetal position. «Get a collar pillow under his neck,» instructed Nelson, «and call me if you need me. We'll walk him again this afternoon. In three months he'll be swinging through the trees like a monkey. There's nothing really wrong with him.»

«Yes, Doctor,» Frame answered doubtfully.

«Oh, yes, when he comes out of it, teach him to use the bathroom. Have the nurse help you; I don't want him to fall.»

«Yes, sir. Uh, any particular method — I mean, how — »

«Eh? Show him! He won't understand much that you say, but he's bright as a whip.»

Smith ate lunch without help. Presently an orderly came in to remove his tray. The man leaned over. «Listen,» he said in a low voice, «I've got a fat proposition for you.»

«Beg pardon?»

«A deal, a way for you to make money fast and easy.»

«“Money?” What is “money”?»

«Never mind the philosophy; everybody needs money. I'll talk fast because I can't stay long — it's taken a lot of fixing to get me here. I represent Peerless Features. We'll pay sixty thousand for your story and it won't be a bit of trouble to you — we've got the best ghost writers in the business. You just answer questions; they put it together.» He whipped out a paper. «Just sign this.»

Smith accepted the paper, stared at it, upside down. The man muffled an exclamation. «Lordy! Don't you read English?»

Smith understood this enough to answer. «No.»

«Well — Here, I'll read it, then you put your thumb print in the square and I'll witness it. “I, the undersigned, Valentine Michael Smith, sometimes known as the Man from Mars, do grant and assign to Peerless Features, Limited, all and exclusive rights in my true-fact story to be titled I was a Prisoner on Mars in exchange for — ”»

«Orderly!»

Dr. Frame was in the door; the paper disappeared into the man's clothes. «Coming, sir. I was getting this tray.»

«What were you reading?»

«Nothing.»

«I saw you. This patient is not to be disturbed.» They left; Dr. Frame closed the door behind them. Smith lay motionless for an hour, but try as he might he could not grok it at all.

IV

GILLIAN BOARDMAN was a competent nurse and her hobby was men. She went on duty that day as supervisor of the floor where Smith was. When the grapevine said that the patient in suite K-12 had never seen a woman in his life, she did not believe it. She went to pay a call on the strange patient.

She knew of the «No Female Visitors» rule and, while she did not consider herself to be a visitor, she sailed past without attempting to use the guarded door — marines had a stuffy habit of construing orders literally. Instead she went into the adjacent watch room.

Dr. Thaddeus looked up. «Well, if it ain't “Dimples!” Hi, honey, what brings you here?»

«This is part of my rounds. What about your patient?»

«Don't worry your head, honey chile; he's not your responsibility. See your order book.»

«I read it. I want to look at him.»

«In one word — no.»

«Oh, Tad, don't go regulation.»

He gazed at his nails. «If I let you put your foot inside that door, I'd wind up in Antarctica. I wouldn't want Dr. Nelson even to catch you in this watch room.»

She stood up. «Is Doctor Nelson likely to pop in?»

«Not unless I send for him. He's sleeping off low-gee fatigue.»

«Then what's the idea of being so duty struck?»

«That's all, Nurse.»

«Very well, Doctor!» She added, «Stinker.»

«Jill!»

«A stuffed shirt, too.»

He sighed. «Still okay for Saturday night?»

She shrugged. «I suppose. A girl can't be fussy these days.» She went back to her station, picked up the pass key. She was balked but not beaten, as suite K-12 had a door joining it to the room beyond, a room used as a sitting room when the suite was occupied by a high official. The room was not then in use. She let herself into it. The guards paid no attention, unaware that they had been flanked.

She hesitated at the door between the two rooms, feeling the excitement she used to feel when sneaking out of student nurses' quarters. She unlocked it and looked in.

The patient was in bed, he looked at her as the door opened. Her first impression was that here was a patient too far gone to care. His lack of expression seemed to show the apathy of the desperately ill. Then she saw that his eyes were alive with interest; she wondered if his face was paralyzed?

She assumed her professional manner. «Well, how are we today? Feeling better?»

Smith translated the questions. The inclusion of both of them in the query was confusing; he decided that it might symbolize a wish to cherish and grow close. The second part matched Nelson's speech forms. «Yes,» he answered.

«Good!» Aside from his odd lack of expression she saw nothing strange about him — and if women were unknown to him, he was managing to conceal it. «Is there anything I can do?» She noted that there was no glass on the bedside shelf. «May I get you water?»