IN THE VOLANT LAND OF LAPUTA, according to the journal of LemuelGulliver recounting his Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World, noperson of importance ever listened or spoke without the help of a servant,known as a .climenole“ in Laputian-or .flapper“ in rough English translation,as such a Servant’s only duty was to flap the mouth and ears of his masterwith a dried bladder whenever, in the opinion of the servant, it was desirablefor his master to speak or listen.
Without the consent of his flapper it was impossible to gain the attention ofany Laputian of the master class.
Gulliver’s journal is usually regarded by Terrans as a pack of lies composedby a sour churchman. As may be, there can be no doubt that, at this time, the.flapper“ system was widely used on the planet Earth and had beenextended, refined, and multiplied until a Laputian would not have recognizedit other than in spirit.
In an earlier, simpler day one prime duty of any Ten~an sovereign was tomake himself publicly available on frequent occasions so that even thelowliest might come before him without any intermediary of any sort anddemand judgment. Traces of this aspect of primitive sovereignty persisted onEarth long after kings became scarce and impotent. It continued to be theright of an Englishman to .Cry Harold!“ although few knew it and none did it.
Successful city political bosses held open court all through the twentiethcentury, leaving wide their office doors and listening to any gandy dancer orbindlestiff who came in.
The principle itself was never abolished, being embalmed in Articles I & IX ofthe Amendments to the Constitution of the United States of America-andtherefore nominal law for many humans-even though the basic documenthad been almost superseded in actual practice by the Articles of WorldFederation.
But at the time the Federation Ship Champion returned to Terra from Mars,the .flapper system“ had been expanding for more than a century and hadreached a stage of great intricacy, with many persons employed solely incarrying out its rituals. The importance of a public personage could beestimated by the number of layers of flappers cutting him off from readycongress with the plebian mob. They were not called .flappers,“ but wereknown as executive assistants, private secretaries, secretaries to privatesecretaries, press secretaries, receptionists, appointment clerks, et cetera. Infact the titles could be anything-or (with some of the most puissant) no title atall, but they could all be identified as .flappers“ by function: each one heldarbitrary and concatenative veto over any attempted communication from theoutside world to the Great Man who was the nominal superior of the flapper.
This web of intermediary officials surrounding every V.I.P. naturally caused togrow up a class of unofficials whose function it was to flap the ear of theGreat Man without permission from the official flappers, doing so (usually) onsocial or pseudo-social occasions or (with the most successful) via back-doorprivileged access or unlisted telephone number. These unofficials usuallyhad no formal titles but were called a variety of names: .golfing companion,“.kitchen cabinet,“ .lobbyist,“ .elder statesman,“ .five-percenter,“ and so forth.
They existed in benign Symbiosis with the official barricade of flappers, sinceit was recognized almost universally that the tighter the system the moreneed for a safety valve.
The most successful of the unofficials often grew webs of flappers of theirown, until they were almost as hard to reach as the Great Man whoseunofficial contacts they were . . . in which case secondary unofficials sprangup to circumvent the flappers of the primary unofficial. With a personage offoremost importance, such as the Secretary General of the World Federationof Free States, the maze of by-passes through unofficials would be asformidable as were the official phalanges of flappers surrounding a personmerely very important.
Some Terran students have suggested that the Laputians must have been, infact, visiting Martians, citing not only their very unworldly obsession with thecontemplative life but also two concrete matters: the Laputians were allegedto have known about Mars’ two moons at least a century and half before theywere observed by Terran astronomers, and, secondly, Laputa itself wasdescribed in size and shape and propulsion such that the only English termthat fits is .flying saucer.“ But that theory will not wash, as the flapper system,basic to Laputian society, was unknown on Mars. The Martian Old Ones, nothampered by bodies subject to space-time, would have had as little use forflappers as a snake has for shoes. Martians still corporate conceivably coulduse flappers but did not; the very concept ran contrary to their way of living.
A Martian having need of a few minutes or years of contemplation simplytook it. If another Martian wished to speak with him, this friend would simplywait, as long as necessary. With all eternity to draw on there could be noreason for hurrying-in fact .hurry“ was not a concept that could be symbolizedin the Martian language and therefore must be presumed to be unthinkable.
Speed, velocity, simultaneity, acceleration, and other mathematicalabstractions having to do with the pattern of eternity were part of Martianmathematics, but not of Martian emotion, Contrariwise, the unceasing rushand turmoil of human existence came not from mathematical necessities oftime but from the frantic urgency implicit in human sexual bipolarity.
Dr. Jubal Harshaw, professional clown, amateur subversive, and parasite bychoice, had long attempted to eliminate .hurry“ and all related emotions fromhis pattern. Being aware that he had but a short time left to live and havingneither Martian nor Kansan faith in his own immortality, it was his purpose tolive each golden moment as if it were eternity- without fear, without hope, butwith sybaritic gusto. To this end he found that he required something largerthan Diogenes’ tub but smaller than Kubla’s pleasure dome and its twice fivemiles of fertile ground with walls and towers girdled round; his was a simplelittle place, a few acres kept private with an electrified fence, a house offourteen rooms or so, with running secretaries laid on and all other modernconveniences. To support his austerely upholstered nest and its rabble staffhe put forth minimum effort for maximum return simply because it was easierto be rich than to be poor-Harshaw merely wished to live exactly as he liked,doing whatever he thought was best for him.
In consequence he felt honestly aggrieved that circumstances had forced onhim a necessity for hurry and would not admit that he was enjoying himselfmore than he had in years.
This morning he found it needful to speak to the third planet’s chief executive.
He was fully aware of the flapper system that made such contact with thehead of government all but impossible for the ordinary citizen, even thoughHarshaw himself disdained to surround himself with buffers suitable to hisown rank-Harshaw answered his telephone himself if he happened to be athand when it signalled because each call offered good odds that he would bejustified in being gratifyingly rude to some stranger for daring to invade hisprivacy without cause-.cause“ by Harshaw’s definition, not by the stranger’s.
Jubal knew that he could not hope to find the same conditions obtaining atthe Executive Palace; Mr. Secretary General would not answer his ownphone. But Harshaw had many years of practice in the art of outwittinghuman customs; he tackled the matter cheerfully, right after breakfast.
Much later he was tired and very frustrated. His name alone had carried himpast three layers of the official flapper defense, and he was sufficiently anarrow-gauge V.I.P. that he was never quite switched off. Instead he wasreferred from secretary to secretary and wound up speaking voice-&-vision toa personable, urbane young man who seemed willing to discuss the matterendlessly and without visible irritation no matter what Harshaw said-butwould not agree to connect him with the Honorable Mr. Douglas.
Harshaw knew that he would get action if he mentioned the Man from Marsand that he certainly would get very quick action if he claimed to have theMan from Mars with him, but he was far from certain that the resultant actionwould be a face-to-face hookup with Douglas. On the Contrary, he calculatedthat any mention of Smith would kill any chance of reaching Douglas butwould at once produce violent reaction from subordinates-which was notwhat he wanted. He knew from a lifetime of experience that it was alwayseasier to dicker with the top man. With Ben Caxton’s life very possibly atstake Harshaw could not risk failure through a subordinate’s lack of authorityor excess of ambition.
But this soft brush-off was trying his patience. Finally he snarled, .Youngman, if you have no authority yourself, let me speak to someone who has!
Put me through to Mr. Berquist.“The face of the staff stooge suddenly lost its smile and Jubal thoughtgleefully that he had at last pinked him in the quick. So he pushed hisadvantage. .Well? Don’t just sit there! Get Gil on your inside line and tell himyou’ve been keeping Jubal Harshaw waiting. Tell him how long you’ve keptme waiting.“ Jubal reviewed in his own excellent memory all that WitnessCavendish had reported concerning the missing Berquist, plus the report onhim from the detective service. Yup, he thought happily, this lad is at leastthree rungs down the ladder from where Berquist was-so let’s shake him up alittle . . . and climb a couple of rungs in the process.
The face said woodenly, .We have no Mr. Berquist here.“.I don’t care where he is. Get him! If you don’t know Gil Berquist personally,ask your boss. Mr. Gilbert Berquist, personal assistant to Mr. Douglas. Ifyou’ve been around the Palace more than two weeks you’ve at least seenMr. Berquist at a distance-thirty-five years old, about six feet and a hundredand eighty pounds, sandy hair a little thin on top, smiles a lot and has perfectteeth. You’ve seen him. If you don’t dare disturb him yourself, dump it in yourboss’s lap. But quit biting your nails and do something. I’m getting annoyed.“Without expression the young man said, .Please hold on. I will enquire.“.I certainly will hold on. Get me Gil.“ The image in the phone was replaced bya moving abstract pattern; a pleasant female voice recorded, said, .Pleasewait while your call is completed. This delay is not being charged to youraccount. Please relax while-. Soothing music came up and covered thevoice; Jubal sat back and looked around. Anne was waiting, reading, andsafely out of the telephone’s vision angle. On his other side the Man fromMars was also out of the telephone’s sight pickup and was watching imagesin stereovision and listening via ear plugs.
Jubal reflected that he must remember to have that obscene babble boxplaced in the basement where it belonged, once this emergency was over.
.What you got, son?“ he asked, leaned over and turned on the speaker to lowgain.
Mike answered, .I don’t know, Jubal.“The sound confirmed what Jubal had suspected from his glance at theimage: Smith was listening to a broadcast of a Fosterite service. The imagedShepherd was not preaching but seemed to be reading church notices:“-junior Spirit-in-Action team will give a practice demonstration before thesupper, so come early and see the fur fly! Our team coach, Brother Hornsby,has asked me to tell you boys on the team to fetch only your helmets, gloves,and sticks-we aren’t going after sinners this time. However, the LittleCherubim will be on hand with their first-aid kits in case of excessive zeal.“The Shepherd paused and smiled broadly, .And now wonderful news, MyChildren! A message from the Angel Ramzai for Brother Arthur Renwick andhis good wife Dorothy. Your prayer has been approved and you will go toheaven at dawn Thursday morning! Stand up, Art! Stand up, Dottie! Take abow!“The camera angle made a reverse cut, showing the congregation andcentering on Brother and Sister Renwick. To wild applause and shouts of.Hallelujah!“ Brother Renwick was responding with a boxer’s handshake overhis head, while his wife blushed and smiled and dabbed at her eyes besidehim.
The camera cut back as the Shepherd held up his hand for silence. He wenton briskly, .The Bon Voyage party for the Renwicks will start promptly atmidnight and the doors will be locked at that time-so get here early and let’smake this the happiest revelry our flock has ever seen, for we’re all proud ofArt and Dottie. Funeral services will be held thirty minutes after dawn, withbreakfast immediately following for the benefit of those who have to get towork early.“ The Shepherd suddenly looked very stern and the camerapanned in until his head filled the tank. .After our last Ban Voyage, theSexton found an empty pint bottle in one of the Happiness rooms . . . of abrand distilled by sinners. That’s past and done, as the brother who slippedhas confessed and paid penance sevenfold, even refusing the usual cashdiscount-I’m sure he won’t backslide. But stop and think, My Children- Is itworth risking eternal happiness to save a few pennies on an article of worldlymerchandise? Always look for that happy, holy seal-of-approval with BishopDigby’s smiling face on it. Don’t let a sinner palm off on you something .justas good.’ Our sponsors support us; they deserve your support. Brother Art,I’m sorry to have to bring up such a subject-.
.That’s okay, Shepherd! Pour it on!“.-at a time of such great happiness. But we must never forget that-. Jubalreached over and switched off the speaker circuit.
.Mike, that’s not anything you need to see.“.Not?“.Uh-. Jubal thought about it. Shucks, the boy was going to have to learnabout such things sooner or later. .All right, go ahead. But come talk to meabout it later.“.Yes, Jubal.“Harshaw was about to add some advice intended to offset Mike’s tendency totake literally anything he saw or heard. But the telephone’s soothing .hold“music suddenly went down and out, and the screen filled with an image-aman in his forties whom Jubal at once labeled in his mind as .cop.“Jubal said aggressively, .You aren’t Gil Berquist.“The man said, .What is your interest in Gilbert Berquist?“Jubal answered with pained patience, .I wish to speak to him. See here, mygood man, are you a public employee?“The man barely hesitated. .Yes. You must-.
.I .must’ nothing! I am a citizen in good standing and my taxes go to pay yourwages. All morning I have been trying to make a simple phone call-and Ihave been passed from one butterfly-brained bovine to another, and everyone of them feeding out of the public trough. I am sick of it and I do not intendto put up with it any longer. And now you. Give me your name, your job title,and your pay number. Then I’ll speak to Mr. Berquist.“.You didn’t answer my question.“.Come, come! I don’t have to answer your questions; I am a private citizen.
But you are not . . . and the question I asked you any citizen may demand ofany public servant. O’Kelly versus State of California 1972. I demand thatyou identify yourself-name, job, number.“The man answered tonelessly, .You are Doctor Jubal Harshaw. You arecalling from-.
.So that’s what took so long? Stopping to have this call traced. That wasstupid. I am at home and my address can be obtained from any public library,post office, or telephone information service. As to who I am, everyoneknows who I am. Everyone who can read, that is. Can you read?“The man went on, .Dr. Harshaw, I am a police officer and I require yourcooperation. What is your reason-.
.Pooh to you, sir! I am a lawyer. A private citizen is required to cooperate withthe police under certain specified conditions only. For example, during hotpursuit-in which case the police officer may still be required to show hiscredentials. Is this .hot pursuit,’ sir? Are you about to dive through thisblasted instrument? Second, a private citizen may be required to cooperatewithin reasonable and lawful limits in the course of police investigation-.
.This is an investigation.“.Of what, sir? Before you may require my cooperation in an investigation, youmust identify yourself, satisfy me as to your bona-fides, state your purpose,and-if I so require-cite the code and show that a .reasonable necessity’
exists. You have done none of these. I wish to speak to Mr. Berquist.“The man’s jaw muscles were jumping but he answered quietly, .Dr. Harshaw,I am Captain Heinrich of the Federation S.S. Bureau. The fact that youreached me by calling the Executive Palace should be ample proof that I amwho I say I am. However-. He took out a wallet, flipped it open, and held itclose to his own vision pickup. The picture blurred, then quickly refocused.
Harshaw glanced at the I. D. thus displayed; it looked authentic enough, hedecided-especially as he did not care whether it was authentic or not.
.Very well, Captain,“ he growled. .Will you now explain to me why you arekeeping me from speaking with Mr. Berquist?“.Mr. Berquist is not available.“.Then why didn’t you say so? In that case, transfer my call to someone ofBerquist’s rank. I mean one of the half-dozen people who work directly withthe Secretary General, as Gil does. I don’t propose again to be fobbed off Onsome junior assistant flunky with no authority to blow his own nose! If Gil isn’tthere and can’t handle it, then for God’s sake get me someone of equal rankwho can!“.You have been trying to telephone the Secretary General.“.Precisely.“.Very well, you may explain to me what business you have with theSecretary General.“.And I may not. Are you a confidential assistant to the Secretary General?
Are you privy to his secrets?“.That’s beside the point.“.That’s exactly the point. As a police officer, you should know better. I shallexplain, to some person known to me to be cleared for sensitive material andin Mr. Douglas’ confidence, just enough to make sure that the SecretaryGeneral speaks to me. Are you sure Mr. Berquist can’t be reached?“.Quite sure.“.That’s too bad, he could have handled it quickly. Then it will have to beSomeone else-of his rank.“.If it’s that secret, you shouldn’t be calling over a public phone.“.My good Captain! I was not born yesterday-and neither were you. Since youhad this call traced, I am sure you are aware that my personal I phone isequipped to receive a maximum-security return call.“The Special Service officer made no direct reply. Instead he answered,.Doctor, I’ll be blunt and save time. Until you explain your business, youaren’t going to get an~ where. If you switch off and call the Palace again,your call will be routed to this office. Call a hundred times . . . or a month fromnow. Same thing. Until you decide to cooperate.“Jubal smiled happily. .It won’t be necessary now, as you have let slip -unwittingly, or was it intentional?-the one datum needed before we act. If wedo. I can hold them off the rest of the day . . . but the code word is no longer.Berquist.’“.What the devil do you mean?“.My dear Captain, please! Not over an unscrambled circuit surely? But youknow, or should know, that I am a senior philosophunculist on active duty.“.Repeat?“.Haven’t you studied amphigory? Gad, what they teach in schools thesedays! Go back to your pinochle game; I don’t need you.“ Jubal switched off atonce, set the phone for ten minutes refusal, said, .Come along, kids,“ andreturned to his favorite loafing spot near the pool. There he cautioned Anneto keep her Witness robe at hand day and night until further notice, told Miketo stay in earshot, and gave Miriam instructions concerning the telephone.
Then he relaxed.
He was not displeased with his efforts. He had not expected to be able toreach the Secretary General at once, through official channels. He felt thathis morning’s reconnaissance had developed at least one weak spot in thewall surrounding the Secretary and he expected-or hoped-that his stormysession with Captain Heinrich would bring a return call . . . from a higherlevel.
Or something.
If not, the exchange of compliments with the S.S. cop had been rewarding initself and had left him in a warm glow of artistic post-fructification. Harshawheld that certain feet were made for stepping on, in order to improve thebreed, promote the general welfare, and minimize the ancient insolence ofoffice; he had seen at once that Heinrich had such feet.
But, if no action developed, Harshaw wondered how long he could afford towait? In addition to the pending collapse of his .time bomb“ and the fact thathe had, in effect, promised Jill that he would take steps on behalf of BenCaxton (why couldn’t the child see that Ben probably could not be helpedindeed,was almost certainly beyond help-and that any direct or hasty actionminimized Mike’s chance of keeping his freedom?)- in addition to these twofactors, something new was crowding him: Duke was gone.
Gone for the day, gone for good (or gone for bad), Jubal did not know. Dukehad been present at dinner the night before, had not shown up for breakfast.
Neither event was noteworthy in Harshaw’s loosely coupled household andno one else appeared to have missed Duke. Jubal himself would notordinarily have noticed unless he had had occasion to yell for Duke. But thismorning Jubal had, of course, noticed . . . and he had refrained from shoutingfor Duke at least twice on occasions when he normally would have done so.
Jubal looked glumly across the pool, watched Mike attempt to perform a diveexactly as Dorcas had just performed it, and admitted to himself that he hadnot shouted for Duke when he needed him, on purpose. The truth was thathe simply did not want to ask the Bear what had happened to Algy. The Bearmight answer.
Well, there was only one way to cope with that sort of weakness. .Mike!
Come here.“.Yes, Jubal.“ The Man from Mars got out of the pool and trotted over like aneager puppy, waited. Harshaw looked him over, decided that he must weighat least twenty pounds more than he had on arrival . . . and all of it appearedto be muscle. .Mike, do you know where Duke is?“.No, Jubal.“Well, that settled it; the boy didn’t know how to lie-wait, hold it! Jubalreminded himself of Mike’s computer-like habit of answering exactly thequestion asked . . . and Mike had not known, or had not appeared to know,where that pesky box was, once it was gone. .Mike, when did you see himlast?“.I saw Duke go upstairs when Jill and I came downstairs, this morning whentime to cook breakfast.“ Mike added proudly, .I helped cooking.“.That was the last time you saw Duke?“.I am not see Duke since, Jubal. I proudly burned toast.“.I’ll bet you did. You’ll make some woman a fine husband yet, if you aren’tcareful.“.Oh, I burned it most carefully.“.Jubal-.
.Huh? Yes, Anne?“.Duke grabbed an early breakfast and lit out for town. I thought you knew.“.Well,“ Jubal temporized, .he did say something about it. I thought heintended to leave after lunch today. No matter, it’ll keep.“ Jubal realizedsuddenly that a great load had been lifted from his mind. Not that Dukemeant anything to him, other than as an efficient handyman-no, of coursenot! For many years he had avoided letting any human being be important tohim-but, just the same, he had to admit that it would have troubled him. Alittle, anyhow.
What statute was violated, if any, in turning a man exactly ninety degreesfrom everything else?
Not murder, not as long as the lad used it only in self-defense or in the properdefense of another, such as Jill. Possibly the supposedly obsoletePennsylvania laws against witchcraft would apply . . . but it would beinteresting to see how a prosecutor would manage to word an indictment.
A civil action might lie- Could harboring the Man from Mars be construed as.maintaining an attractive nuisance?“ Possibly. But it was more likely thatradically new rules of law must evolve. Mike had already kicked the bottomout of both medicine and physics, even though the practitioners of such werestill innocently unaware of the chaos facing them. Harshaw dug far back intohis memory and recalled the personal tragedy that relativistic mechanics hadproved to be for many distinguished scientists. Unable to digest it throughlong habit of mind, they had taken refuge in blind anger at Einstein himselfand any who dared to take him seriously. But their refuge had been a deadend; all that inflexible old guard could do was to die and let younger minds,still limber, take over.
Harshaw recalled that his grandfather had told him of much the same thinghappening in the field of medicine when the germ theory came along; manyolder physicians had gone to their graves calling Pasteur a liar, a fool, orworse-and without examining evidence which their .common sense“ toldthem was impossible.
Well, he could see that Mike was geing to cause more hooraw than Pasteurand Einstein combined-squared and cubed. Which reminded him- .Larry!
Where’s Larry?“.Here, Boss,“ the loudspeaker mounted under the eaves behind himannounced. .Down in the shop.“.Got the panic button?“.Sure thing. You said to sleep with it on me. I do. I did.“.Bounce up here to the house and let me have it. No, give it to Anne. Anne,you keep it with your robe.“She nodded. Larry’s voice answered, .Right away, Boss. Count downcoming up?“.Just do it.“ Jubal looked up and was startled to find that the Man from Marswas still standing in front of him, quiet as a sculptured figure. Sculpture? Yes,he did remind one of sculpture . . . uh- Jubal searched his memory.
Michelangelo’s .David,“ that was it! Yes, even to the puppyish hands andfeet, the serenely sensual face, the tousled, too-long hair. .That was all Iwanted, Mike.“.Yes, Jubal.“But Mike continued to stand there. Jubal said, .Something on your mind?“.About what I was seeing in that goddam-noisy-box. You said, .All right, goahead. But come talk to me about it later.’“.Oh.“ Harshaw recalled the broadcast services of the Church of the NewRevelation and winced. .Yes, we will talk. But first- Don’t call that thing agoddam noisy box. It is a stereovision receiver. Call it that.“Mike looked puzzled. .It is not a goddam-noisy-box? I heard you notrightly?“.You heard me rightly and it is indeed a goddam noisy box. You’ll hear mecall it that again. And other things. But you must call it a stereovisionreceiver.“.I will call it a .stereovision receiver.’ Why, Jubal? I do not grok.“Harshaw sighed, with a tired feeling that he had climbed these same stairstoo many times. Any conversation with Smith turned up at least one bit ofhuman behavior which could not be justified logically, at least in terms thatSmith could understand, and attempts to do so were endlessly timeconsuming.
.I do not grok it myself, Mike,“ he admitted, .but Jill wants you tosay it that way.“.I will do it, Jubal. Jill wants it.“.Now tell me what you saw and heard in that stereovision receiver- andwhat you grok of it.“The conversation that followed was even more lengthy, confused, andrambling than a usual talk with Smith. Mike recalled accurately every wordand action he had heard and seen in the babble tank, including allcommercials. Since he had almost completed reading the encyclopedia, hehad read its article on .Religion,“ as well as ones on .Christianity,“ .Islam,“.Judaism,“ .Confucianism,“ .Buddhism,“ and many others concerning religionand related subjects. But he had grokked none of this.
Jubal at last got certain ideas clear in his own mind: (a) Mike did not knowthat the Fosterite service was a religious one; (b) Mike remembered what hehad read about religions but had filed such data for future contemplation,having recognized that he did not understand them; (c) in fact, Mike had onlythe most confused notion of what the word .religion“ meant, even though hecould quote all nine definitions for same as given in the unabridgeddictionary; (d) the Martian language contained no word (and no concept)which Mike was able to equate with any of these nine definitions; (e) thecustoms which Jubal had described to Duke as Martian .religiousceremonies“ were nothing of the sort to Mike; to Mike such matters were asmatter-of-fact as grocery markets were to Jubal; (f) it was not possible toexpress as separate ideas in the Martian tongue the human concepts:
.religion,“ .philosophy,“ and .science“-and, since Mike still thought in Martianeven though he now spoke English fluently, it was not yet possible for him todistinguish any one such concept from the other two. All such matters weresimply .learnings“ which came from the .Old Ones.“ Doubt he had neverheard of and research was unnecessary (no Martian word for either); theanswer to any question should be obtained from the Old Ones, who wereomniscient (at least within Mike’s scope) and infallible, whether the subjectbe tomorrow’s weather or cosmic teleology. (Mike had seen a weatherforecast in the babble box and had assumed without question that this was amessage from human .Old Ones“ being passed around for the benefit ofthose still corporate. Further inquiry disclosed that he held a similarassumption concerning the authors of the Encyclopedia Britannica.)But last, and worst to Jubal, causing him baffled consternation, Mike hadgrokked the Fosterite service as including (among things he had not grokked)an announcement of an impending discorporation of two humans who wereabout to join the human .Old Ones“-~and Mike was tremendously excited atthis news. Had he grokked it rightly? Mike knew that his comprehension ofEnglish was less than perfect; he continued to make mistakes through hisignorance, being .only an egg.“ But had he grokked this correctly? He hadbeen waiting to meet the human .Old Ones,“ for he had many questions toask. Was this an opportunity? Or did he require more learnings from hiswater brothers before he was ready?
Jubal was saved by the bell. Dorcas arrived with sandwiches and coffee, thehousehold’s usual fair-weather picnic lunch. Jubal ate silently, which suitedSmith as his rearing had taught him that eating was a time for contemplationhehad found rather upsetting the chatter that usually took place at the table.
Jubal stretched out his meal while he pondered what to tell Mike- and cursedhimself for the folly of having permitted Mike to watch stereo in the first place.
Oh, he supposed the boy had to come up against human religions at somepoint-couldn’t be helped if he was going to spend the rest of his life on thisdizzy planet. But, damn it, it would have been better to wait until Mike wasmore used to the overall cockeyed pattern of human behavior . . . and, in anycase, certainly not Fosterites as his first experience!
As a devout agnostic, Jubal consciously evalued all religions, from theanimism of the Kalahari Bushmen to the most sober and intellectualized ofthe major western faiths, as being equal. But emotionally he disliked somemore than others . . . and the Church of the New Revelation set his teeth onedge. The Fosterites’ fiat-footed claim to utter gnosis through a direct pipelineto Heaven, their arrogant intolerance implemented in open persecution of allother religions wherever they were strong enough to get away with it, thesweaty football-rally & sales-convention flavor of their services-all theseancillary aspects depressed him. If people must go to church, why the devilcouldn’t they be dignified about it, like Catholics, Christian Scientists, orQuakers?
If God existed (a question concerning which Jubal maintained a meticulousintellectual neutrality) and if He desired to be worshipped (a propositionwhich Jubal found inherently improbable but conceivably possible in the dimlight of his own ignorance), then (stipulating affirmatively both the above) itnevertheless seemed wildly unlikely to Jubal to the point of reductio adabsurdum that a God potent to shape galaxies would be titillated and swayedby the whoop-te-do nonsense the Fosterites offered Him as .worship.“But with bleak honesty Jubal admitted to himself that the Universe(correction: that piece of the Universe he himself had seen) might very wellbe in toto an example of reduction to absurdity. In which case the Fosteritesmight be possessed of the Truth, the exact Truth, and nothing but the Truth.
The Universe was a damned silly place at best . . . but the least likelyexplanation for its existence was the no-explanation of random chance, theconceit that some abstract somethings .just happened“ to be some atomsthat .just happened“ to get together in configurations which .just happened“to look like consistent laws and then some of these configurations .justhappened“ to possess self-awareness and that two such .just happened“ tobe the Man from Mars and the other a bald-headed old coot with Jubalhimself inside.
No, Jubal would not buy the .just happened“ theory, popular as it was withmen who called themselves scientists. Random chance was not a sufficientexplanation of the Universe-in fact, random chance was not sufficient toexplain random chance; the pot could not hold itself.
What then? .Least hypothesis“ held no place of preference; Occam’s razorcould not slice the prime problem, the Nature of the Mind of God (might aswell call it that to yourself, you old scoundrel; it’s a short, simple, Anglo-Saxon monosyllable, not banned by having four letters- and as good a tag forwhat you don’t understand as any).
Was there any basis for preferring any one sufficient hypothesis overanother? When you simply did not understand a thing: No! And Jubal readilyadmitted to himself that a long lifetime had left him completely. and totally notunderstanding the basic problems of the Universe.
So the Fosterites might be right. Jubal could not even show that they wereprobably wrong.
But, he reminded himself savagely, two things remained to him~ his owntaste and his own pride. If indeed the Fosterites held a monopoly on Truth(as they claimed), if Heaven were open only to Fosterites, then he, JubalHarshaw, gentleman and free citizen, preferred that eternity of pain. filleddamnation promised to all .sinners“ who refused the New Revela..1 tion. Hemight not be able to see the naked Face of God . . but his ~ eyesight wasgood enough to pick out his social equals-and those Foster~ ites, by damn,did not measure up!
But he could see how Mike had been misled; the Fosterite .going to Heaven“at a pre-selected time and place did sound like the voluntary and planned.discorporation“ which, Jubal did not doubt, was the accepted~ practice onMars. Jubal himself held a dark suspicion that a better term for.~ theFosterite practice was .murder“-but such had never been proved and~ hadrarely been publicly hinted, much less charged, even when the cult wasyoung and relatively small. Foster himself had been the first to .go toHeaven“ on schedule, dying publicly at a self-prophesied instant. Since thatfirst example, it had been a Fosterite mark of special grace . . . and it hadbeen years since any coroner or district attorney had had the temerity to pryinto such deaths.
Not that Jubal cared whether they were spontaneous or induced. In hisopinion a good Fosterite was a dead Fosterite. Let them be!
But it was going to be hard to explain to Mike.
No use stalling, another cup of coffee wouldn’t make it any easier-~ .Mike,who made the world?“.Beg pardon?“.Look around you. All this. Mars, too. The stars. Everything. Yo~ and me andeverybody. Did the Old Ones tell you who made it?“Mike looked puzzled. .No, Jubal.“.Well, you have wondered about it, haven’t you? Where did the Silt comefrom? Who put the stars in the sky? Who started it all? All of it, everything,the whole world, the Universe . - . so that you and I are I talking.“ Jubalpaused, surprised at himself. He had intended to make thc~ usual agnosticapproach . . . and found himself compulsively followin~ his legal training,being an honest advocate in spite of himself, attempti~ to support a religiousbelief he did not hold but which was believed most human beings. He foundthat, willy-nilly, he was attorney for the orthodoxies of his own race againsthewasn’t sure what. An unhuman viewpoint. .How do your Old Ones answersuch questions?“.Jubal, I do not grok ... that these are questions. I am sorry.“.Eh? I don’t grok your answer.“Mike hesitated a long time. .I will try. But words are ... are not rightly. Not.putting.’ Not .mading.’ A nowing. World is. World was. World shall be. Now.“.’As it was in the beginning, so it now and ever shall be, World without end-.“Mike smiled happily. .You grok it!“.I don’t grok it,“ Jubal answered gruffly, .I was quoting something, uh, an .OldOne’ said.“ He decided to back off and try a new approach; apparently Godthe Creator was not the easiest aspect of Deity to try to explain to Mike as anopening . . . since Mike did not seem to grasp the idea of Creation itself. Well,Jubal wasn’t sure that he did, either-he had long ago made a pact withhimself to postulate a Created Universe on even-numbered days, a tailswallowingeternal-and-uncreated Universe on odd-numbered days-sinceeach hypothesis, while equally paradoxical, neatly avoided the paradoxes ofthe other-with, of course, a day off each leap year for sheer solipsistdebauchery. Having thus tabled an unanswerable question he had given nothought to it for more than a generation.
Jubal decided to try to explain the whole idea of religion in its broadest senseand then tackle the notion of Deity and Its aspects later.
Mike readily agreed that learnings came in various sizes, from little learningsthat even a nestling could grok on up to great learnings which only an OldOne could grok in perfect fullness. But Jubal’s attempt to draw a line betweensmall learnings and great learnings so that .great learnings“ would have thehuman meaning of .religious questions“ was not successful, as somereligious questions did not seem to Mike to be questions with any meaning tothem (such as .Creation“) and others seemed to him to be .little“ questions,with obvious answers known even to nestlings-such as life after death.
Jubal was forced to let it go at that and passed on to the multiplicity of humanreligions. He explained (or tried to explain) that humans had hundreds ofdifferent ways by which these .great learnings“ were taught, each with itsown answers and each claiming to be the truth.
.What is .truth’?“ Mike asked.
(.What is Truth?“ asked a Roman judge, and washed his hands of atroublesome question. Jubal wished that he could do likewise.) .An answer istruth when you speak rightly, Mike. How many hands do I have?“.Two hands. I see two hands,“ Mike amended.
Anne glanced up from her knitting. .In six weeks I could make a Witness ofhim.“.You keep out of this, Anne. Things are tough enough without your help.
Mike, you spoke rightly; I have two hands. Your answer was truth. Supposeyou said that I had seven hands?“Mike looked troubled. .I do not grok that I could say that.“.No, I don’t think you could. You would not speak rightly if you did; youranswer would not be truth. But, Mike-now listen carefully-each religion claimsto be truth, claims to speak rightly. Yet their answers to the same questionare as different as two hands and seven hands. The Fosterites say one thing,the Buddhists say another, the Moslems say still another-many answers, alldifferent.“Mike seemed to be making a great effort to understand. .All speak rightly?
Jubal, I do not grok it.“.Nor do I.“The Man from Mars looked greatly troubled, then suddenly he smiled. .I willask the Fosterites to ask your Old Ones and then we will know, my brother.
How will I do this?“A few minutes later Jubal found, to his great disgust, that he had promisedMike an interview with some Fosterite bigmouth-or Mike seemed to think thathe had, which came to the same thing. Nor had he been able to do morethan dent Mike’s assumption that the Fosterites were in close touch withhuman .Old Ones.“ It appeared that Mike’s difficulty in understanding thenature of truth was that he didn’t know what a lie was—the dictionarydefinitions of .lie“ and .falsehood“ had been filed in his mind with no trace ofgrokking. One could .speak wrongly“ only by accident or misunderstanding.
So he necessarily had taken what he had heard of the Fosterite service at itsbald, face value.
Jubal tried to explain that all human religions claimed to be in touch with .OldOnes“ in one way or another; nevertheless their answers were all different.
Mike looked patiently troubled. .Jubal my brother, I try ... but I do not grokhow this can be might speaking. With my people, the Old Ones speak alwaysrightly. Your people-.
.Hold it, Mike.“.Beg pardon?“.When you said, .my people’ you were talking about Martians. Mike, you arenot a Martian; you are a man.“.What is .Man’?“Jubal groaned inwardly. Mike could, he was sure, quote the full list ofdictionary definitions. Yet the lad never asked a question simply to beannoying; he asked always for information-and he expected his water brotherJubal to be able to tell him. .I am a man, you are a man, Larry is a man.“.But Anne is not a man?“.Uh ... Anne is a man, a female man. A woman.“(.Thanks, Jubal.“-.Shut up, Anne.“).A baby is a man? I have not seen babies, but I have seen pictures- and inthe goddam-noi-in stereovision. A baby is not shaped like Anne and Anne isnot shaped like you . . . and you are not shaped like I. But a baby is anestling man?“.Uh ... yes, a baby is a man.“.Jubal ... I think I grok that my people-.Martians’-are man. Not shape, Shapeis not man. Man is grokking. I speak rightly?“Jubal made a fierce resolve to resign from the Philosophical Society and takeup tatting. What was .grokking“? He had been using the word himself for aweek now-and he still didn’t grok it. But what was .Man“? A featherlessbiped? God’s image? Or simply a fortuitous result of the .survival of thefittest“ in a completely circular and tautological definition? The heir of deathand taxes? The Martians seemed to have defeated death, and he hadalready learned that they seemed to have neither money, property, norgovernment in any human sense-so how could they have taxes?
And yet the boy was right; shape was an irrelevancy in defining .Man,“ asunimportant as the bottle containing the wine. You could even take a man outof his bottle, like the poor fellow whose life those Russians had persisted in.saving“ by placing his living brain in a vitreous envelope and wiring him likea telephone exchange. Gad, what a horrible joke! He wondered if the poordevil appreciated the grisly humor of what had beenBut how, in essence, from the unprejudiced viewpoint of a Martian, did Mandiffer from other earthly animals? Would a race that could levitate (and Godknows what else) be impressed by engineering? And, if so, would the AswanDam, or a thousand miles of coral reef, win first prize? Man’s selfawareness?
Sheer local conceit; the upstate counties had not reported, forthere was no way to prove that sperm whales or giant sequoias were notphilosophers and poets far exceeding any human merit.
There was one field in which man was unsurpassed; he showed unlimitedingenuity in devising bigger and more efficient ways to kill off, enslave,harass, and in all ways make an unbearable nuisance of himself to himself.
Man was his own grimmest joke on himself. The very bedrock of humor was-.Man is the animal who laughs,“ Jubal answered.
Mike considered this seriously. .Then I am not a man.“.Huh?“.I do not laugh. I have heard laughing and it frighted me. Then I grokked thatit did not hurt. I have tried to learn-. Mike threw his head back and gave out araucous cackle, more nerve-racking than the idiot call of a kookaburra.
Jubal covered his ears. .Stop! Stop!“.You heard,“ Mike agreed sadly. .I cannot rightly do it. So I am not man.“.Wait a minute, son. Don’t give up so quickly. You simply haven’t learned tolaugh yet . . . and you’ll never learn just by trying. But you will learn, I promiseyou. If you live among us long enough, one day you will see how funny weare-and you will laugh.“.I will?“.You will. Don’t worry about it and don’t try to grok it; just let it come. Why,son, even a Martian would laugh once he grokked us.“.I will wait,“ Smith agreed placidly.
.And while you are waiting, don’t ever doubt that you are a man. You are.
Man born of woman and born to trouble . . . and some day you will grok itsfullness and you will laugh-because man is the animal that laughs at himself.
About your Martian friends, I do not know. I have never met them, I do notgrok them. But I grok that they may be .man.’“.Yes, Jubal.“Harshaw thought that the interview was over and felt relieved. He decidedthat he had not been so embarrassed since a day long gone when his fatherhad undertaken to explain to him the birds and the bees and the flowersmuchtoo late.
But the Man from Mars was not quite done. .Jubal my brother, you were askme, .Who made the World?’ and I did not have words to say why I did notrightly grok it to be a question. I have been thinking words.“.So?“.You told me, .God made the World.’“.No, no!“ Harshaw said hastily. .I told you that, while all these many religionssaid many things, most of them said, .God made the World.’ I told you that Idid not grok the fullness, but that .God’ was the word that was used.“.Yes, Jubal,“ Mike agreed. .Word is .God’“ He added. .You grok.“.No, I must admit I don’t grok.“.You grok,“ Smith repeated firmly. .I am explain. I did not have the word. Yougrok. Anne groks. I grok. The grass under my feet groks in happy beauty. ButI needed the word. The word is God.“Jubal shook his head to clear it. .Go ahead.“Mike pointed triumphantly at Jubal. .Thou art God!“Jubal slapped a hand to his face. .Oh, Jesus H.- What have I done? Look,Mike, take it easy! Simmer down! You didn’t understand me. I’m sorry. I’mvery sorry! Just forget what I’ve been saying and we’ll start over again onanother day. But-.
.Thou art God,“ Mike repeated serenely. .That which groks. Anne is God. Iam God. The happy grass are God, Jill groks in beauty always. Jill is God. Allshaping and making and creating together-.“ He croaked something inMartian and smiled.
.All right, Mike. But let it wait. Anne, have you been getting all this?“.You bet I have, Boss!“.Make me a tape. I’ll have to work on it. I can’t let it stand. I must-. Jubalglanced up, said, .Oh, my God! General Quarters, everybody! Anne! Set thepanic button on .dead-man’ setting-and for God’s sake keep your thumb on it;they may not be coming here.“ He glanced up again, at two large air carsapproaching from the south. .But I’m afraid they are. Mike! Hide in the pool!
Remember what I told you-down in the deepest part, stay there, hold still-anddon’t come up until I send Jill to get you.“.Yes, Jubal.“.Right now! Move!“.Yes, Jubal.“ Mike ran the few steps, cut the water and disappeared. Heremembered to keep his knees straight, his toes pointed and his feettogether.
.Jill!“ Jubal called out. .Dive in and climb Out. You too, Larry. If anybody sawthat, I want .em confused as to how many are using the pool. Dorcast ClimbOut fast, child, and dive in again. Anne- No, you’ve got the panic button; youcan’t.“.I can take my cloak and go to the edge of the pool. Boss, do you want somedelay on this .dead-man’ setting?“.Uh, yes, thirty seconds. If they land here, put on your Witness cloak at onceand get your thumb back on the button. Then wait-and if I call you over tome, let the balloon go up. But I don’t dare shout .Wolf!’ on this unless-. Heshielded his eyes. .One of them is certainly going to land and it’s got thatPaddy-wagon look to it, all right. Oh, damn, I had thought they would parleyfirst.“The first car hovered, then dropped vertically for a landing in the garden areaaround the pool; the second started slowly circling the house at low altitude.
The cars were black, squad carriers in size, and showed only a small,inconspicuous insignia: the stylized globe of the Federation.
Anne put down the radio relay link that would let .the balloon go up,“ gotquickly into her professional garb, picked the link up again and put her thumbback on the button. The door of the first car started to open as it touched andJubal charged toward it with the cocky belligerence of a Pekingese. As a manstepped out, Jubal roared, .Get that God damned heap off my rose hushes!“The man said, .Jubal Harshaw?“.You heard me! Tell that oaf you’ve got driving for you to raise that bucketand move it back! Off the garden entirely and onto the grass! Anne!“.Coming, Boss.“.Jubal Harshaw, I have a warrant here for-.
.I don’t care if you’ve got a warrant for the King of England; first you’ll movethat junk heap off my flowers! Then, so help me, I’ll sue you for-. Jubalglanced at the man who had landed, appeared to see him for the first time.
.Oh, so it’s you,“ he said with bitter contempt. .Were you born stupid,Heinrich, or did you have to study for it? And when did that uniformed jackassworking for you learn to fly? Earlier today? Since I talked to you?“.Please examine this warrant,“ Captain Heinrich said with careful patience.
.Then-.
.Get your go-cart out of my flower beds at once or I’ll make a civil rights caseout of this that will cost you your pension!“Heinrich hesitated. .Wow!“ Jubal screamed. .And tell those other yokelsgetting out to pick up their big feet! That idiot with the buck teeth is standingon a prize Elizabeth M. Hewitt!“Heinrich turned his head. .You men-careful of those flowers. Paskin, you’restanding on one. Rogers! Raise the car and move it back about fifty feet,clear of the garden.“ He turned his attention back to Harshaw. .Does thatsatisfy you?“.Once he actually moves it-but you’ll still pay damages. Let’s see yourcredentials . . and show them to the Fair Witness and state loud and clearlyto her your name, rank, organization, and pay number.“.You know who I am. Now I have a warrant to-.
.I have a common-law warrant to part your hair with a shotgun unless you dothings legally and in order! I don’t know who you are. You look remarkablylike a stuffed shirt I saw over the telephone earlier today -but that’s notevidence and I don’t identify you. You must identify yourself, in the specifiedlegal fashion, World Code paragraph 1602, part II, before you can serve awarrant. And that goes for all those other apes, too, and that pithecanparasite piloting for you.“.They are police officers, acting under my orders.“.I don’t know that they are anything of the sort. They might have hired thoseill-fitting clown suits at a costumer’s. The letter of the law, sir! You’ve comebarging into my castle. You say you are a police officer-and you allege thatyou have a warrant for this intrusion. But I say you are trespassers until youprove otherwise . . . which invokes my sovereign right to use all necessaryforce to eject you-which I shall start to do in about three seconds.“.I wouldn’t advise it.“.Who are you to advise? If I am hurt in attempting to enforce this my right,your action becomes constructive assault-with deadly weapons, if thosethings those mules are toting are guns, as they appear to be. Civil andcriminal, both-why, my man, I’ll wind up with your hide for a door mat!“ Jubaldrew back a skinny arm and clenched a bony fist. .Off my property!“.Hold it, Doctor. We’ll do it your way.“ Heinrich had turned bright red, but hekept his voice under tight control. He offered his identification, which Jubalglanced at, then turned back to him for him to show to Anne. Heinrich thenstated his full name, said that he was a captain of police, Federation SpecialService Bureau, and recited his pay number. One by one, the other six menwho had left the car, and at last the driver, went through the same rigamaroleat Heinrich’s frozen-faced orders.
When they were done, Jubal said sweetly, .And now, Captain Heinrich,how may I help you?“.I have a search warrant here for Gilbert Berquist, which warrant names thisproperty, its buildings and grounds.“.Show it to me, then show it to the Witness.“.I will do so. But I have another search warrant, similar to the first, for GillianBoardman.“.Who?“.Gillian Boardman. The charge is kidnapping.“.My goodness!“.And another for Hector C. Johnson ... and one for Valentine Michael Smith .
. . and one for you, Jubal Harshaw.“.Me? Taxes again?“.No. Look at it. Accessory to this and that ... and material witness on someother things . . . and I’d take you in on my own for obstructing justice if thewarrant didn’t make it unnecessary.“.Oh, come now, Captain! I’ve been most cooperative since you identifiedyourself and started behaving in a legal manner. And I shall continue to be.
Of course, I shall still sue all of you-and your immediate superior and thegovernment-for your illegal acts before that time . . and I am not waiving anyrights or recourses with respect to anything any of you may do hereafter.
Mmm . . . quite a list of victims. I see why you brought an extra wagon. Butdearme! something odd here. This, uh, Mrs. Borkmann?-I see that she ischarged with kidnapping this Smith fellow . . . but in this other warrant heseems to be charged with fleeing custody. I’m confused.“.It’s both. He escaped-and she kidnapped him.“.Isn’t that rather difficult to manage? Both, I mean? And on what charge washe being held? The warrant does not seem to state?“.How the devil do I know? He escaped, that’s all. He’s a fugitive.“.Gracious me! I rather think I shall have to offer my services as counsel toeach of them. Interesting case. If a mistake has been made-or mistakes-itcould lead to other matters.“Heinrich grinned coldly. .You won’t find it easy. You’ll be in the pokey, too.“.Oh, not for long, I trust.“ Jubal raised his voice more than necessary andturned his head toward the house. .I do know another lawyer. I rather think, ifJudge Holland were listening to this, habeas corpus proceedings- for all ofus-might be rather prompt. And if the Associated Press just happened tohave a courier car nearby, there would be no time lost in knowing where toserve such writs.“.Always the shyster, eh, Harshaw?“.Slander, my dear sir. I take notice.“.A fat lot of good it will do you. We’re alone.“.Are We?“