WELL,“ SAID JUBAL, .what did you do? Cheer?“.Like hell. I left, at once. I dashed for the outer door, grabbed my clothes andshoes-forgot my bag and didn’t go back for it-ignored the sign on the door,went on through-jumped in that bounce tube with my clothes in my arms.
Blooie! Gone without saying good-by.“.Rather abrupt“.I felt abrupt. I had to leave. In fact I left so fast that I durn near killed myself.
You know the ordinary bounce tube-.
.I do not.“.Well, unless you set it to take you up to a certain level, when you get into ityou simply sink slowly, like cold molasses I didn’t sink, I fell_and I was aboutsix stories up. But just when I thought I had made my last mistake, something.Ah, you’ve raised an entirely different issue. Public exhibitiOn ~luSt I wouldfind most distasteful, either as participant or spectator . . but I grok thisreflects my early indoctrination, nothing more. A very large minority ofmankind-possibly a majority-do not share my taste in this matter. Decidedlynot-for the orgy has a long and very widespread history. Nonetheless it is notto my taste. But shocking? My dear sir, I can be shocked only by that whichoffends me ethically. Ethical questiotions are subject to logic-but this is amatter of taste and the old saw is in point-.de gusribus non est disputandu.“caught me. Not a safety net-a field of some sort I didn’t quite splash. ButMike needs to smooth out that gadget. Or put in the regular sort of bouncetube.“Jubal said, .I’ll stick to stairs and, when unavoidable,elevators“.Well, I hadn’t realized that this one was so risky. But the only safetyinspector they’ve got is Duke . . . and to Duke whatever Mike says is Gospel.
Jubal, that whole place is riding for a fall. They’re all hypnotized by one man .
. . who isn’t right in his head. What can be done about it?“Jubal jutted out his lips and then scowled, .Let’s see first if you’ve got itanalyzed correctlY. Just what aspects of the situation did you finddisquieting?“.Why...the whole thing.“.So? In fact, wasn’t it just one thing? And that an essentiallY harmless actwhich we both know was nothing new . . . but was, we can assume ratherconclusively, initially performed in this house or on these grounds about twoyears ago? I did not then object-nor did you, when you learned of it,whenever that was, in fact, I have implied that you yourself have, on otheroccasions, joined in that same act with the same young lady-and she is alady, despite your tale-and you neither denied my implication nor actedoffended at my presumPtion. To put it bluntly, son-what are you belly-achingabout?“.Well, for cripe’s sake, Jubal...Would you put up with it, in your livingroom?“.Decidedly not-unless perhaps I have, it having taken place so clandestinely,at night perhaps, that no one noticed. In which case it would be-or has been,if such be the case-no skin off’n my nose. But the point is that it was not myliving room . . . nor would I presume to lay down rules for another man’s livingroom. It was Mike’s house . . . and his wife-common law or otherwise, weneed not inquire. So what business is it of mine? Or yours? You go into aman’s house, you accept his household rules-that’s a universal law ofcivilized behavior.“.You mean to say you don’t find it shocking?“.Precisely. In which respect I concede that my own taste, rooted in earlytraining, reinforced by some three generations of habit, and now, I believe,calcified beyond possibility of change, is no more sacred than the verydifferent taste of Nero. Less sacred-Nero was a god; I am not.“.Well, I’ll be damned.“.In due course, possibly-if it is possible ... a point on which I am .neutralagainst.’
But, Ben, this wasn’t public.“.Huh?“.You yourself have said it. You described this group as a plural marriage-agroup theogamy, to be precise. Not public but utterly private. Aint nobodyhere but just us gods’-so how could anyone be offended?“.I was offended!“.That was because your own apotheosis was less complete than theirs-I’mafraid they over-rated you . . . and you misled them. You invited it.“.Me? Jubal, I did nothing of the sort“.Tommy busted my dolly ... I hitted him over the head with it.’ The time toback out was the instant you got there, for you saw at once that their customsand manners were not yours. Instead you stayed, and enjoyed the favors ofone goddess-and behaved yourself as a god toward her-in short, you learnedthe score, and they knew it. It seems to me that Mike’s error lay only inaccepting your hypocrisy as solid coin. But he does have the weakness-agodlike one-of never doubting his .water brothers’-but even Jove nods-andhis weakness-or is it a strength?- comes from his early training; he can’t helpit. No, Ben, Mike behaved with complete propriety; the offense against goodmanners lay in your behavior.“.Damn it, Jubal, you’ve twisted things again. I did what I had to do-I wasabout to throw up on their rug!“.So you claim reflex. So stipulated; however, anyone over the emotional ageof twelve could have clamped his jaws and made a slow march for thebathroom with at worst the hazard of clogged sinuses-instead of a panickeddash for the street door-then returned when the show was over with aeuphemistic but acceptable excuse.“.That wouldn’t have been enough. I tell you I had to leave!“.I know. But not through reflex. Reflex will evacuate the stomach; it will notchoose a course for the feet, recover chattels, take you through doors andcause you to jump down a hole without looking. Panic, Ben. Why did youpanic?“Caxton was long in replying. He sighed and said, .I guess when you comeright down to it, Jubal-I’m a prude.“Jubal shook his head. .Your behavior was momentarily prudish, but not fromprudish motivations. You are not a prude, Ben. A prude is a person whothinks that his own rules of propriety are natural laws. You are almost entirelyfree of this prevalent evil. You adjusted, at least with passable urbanity, tomany things which did not fit your code of propriety whereas a true-blue, stiffnecked,incorrigible prude would promptly have affronted that delightfultattooed lady and stomped out. Dig deeper.. Do you wish a hint?“.Uh, maybe you’d better. All I know is that I am mixed up and unhappy aboutthe whole Situation-on Mike’s account, too, Jubal!- which is why I took a dayoff to see you.“.Very well. Hypothetical situation for you to evaluate: You mentioned a ladynamed Ruth whom you met in passing-a kiss of brotherhood and a fewminutes conversation-nothing more.“.Yeah?“.Suppose the actors had been Ruth and Mike? Gillian not even present?
Would you have been shocked?“.Huh? Hell, yes, I would have been shocked!“.Just how shocked? Retching? Panic flight?“Caxton looked thoughtful, then sheepish. .I suppose not. I still would havebeen startled silly. But I guess I would’ve just gone out to the kitchen orsomething . . . then found an excuse to leave. I still feel like a fool for havingmade that mad dash to get out.“.Would you actually have sought an excuse to leave? Or were you lookingforward to your own .welcome home’ party that night?“.Well,“ Caxton mused. .I hadn’t made up my mind about that when thishappened. I was curious, I admit-but I wasn’t quite sold.“.Very well. You now have your motivation.“.Do I?“.You name it, Ben. Haul it out and look at it-and find out how you want todeal with it.“Caxton chewed his lip and looked unhappy. .All right. I would have beenstartled if it had been Ruth-but I wouldn’t really have been shocked. Hell, inthe newspaper racket you get over being shocked by anything but-well, youexpressed it: something that cuts deep about right and wrong. Shucks, if ithad been Ruth, I might even have sneaked a look ~ -even though I still think Iwould have left the room; such things ought to be-or at least I feel that theyought to be-private.“ He paused. .It was because it was Jill. I was hurt . . .
and jealous.“.Stout fellow, Ben.“.Jubal, I would have sworn that I wasn’t jealous. I knew that I had lost out-Ihad accepted it. It was the circumstances, Jubal. Now don’t get me wrong. Iwould still love Jill if she were a two-peso whore. Which she is not. Thishands-around harem deal upsets the hell out of me. But by her lights Jill ismoral.“Jubal nodded. .I know. I feel sure that Gillian is incapable of being corrupted.
She has an invincible innocence which makes it impossible for her to beimmoral.“ lie frowned. .Ben we are close to the root of your trouble. I amafraid that you-and I, too, i admit-lack the angelic innocence to abide by theperfect morality those people live by.“Ben looked surprised. .Jubal, you think what they are doing is moral?
Monkeys in the zoo stuff and all? All I meant was that Jill really didn’t knowthat what she was doing was wrong__Mike’s got her homswoggled-and Mikedoesn’t know he’s doing wrong either. He’s the Man front Mars; he didn’t getoff to a fair start. Everything about us was strange to him-he’ll probably neverget straightened out.“Jubal looked troubled. .You’ve raised a hard question, Ben-but I’ll give you astraight answer. Yes, I think what those people-the entire Nest, not just ourown kids-are doing is moral. As you described it to me _yes. I haven’t had achance to examine details-but yes: all of it. Group orgies, and open andunashamed swapping off at other times . . . their communal living and theiranarchistic code, everything. And most especially their selfless dedication tOgiving their perfect morality to others.“.Jubal, you utterly astonish me.“ Caxton scratched his head and frowned.
.Since you feel that way, why don’t you join them? You’re welcome, theywant you, they’re expecting you. They’ll hold a jubilee-and Dawn is waiting tokiss your feet and serve you in any way you will permit; I wasn’texaggerating.“Jubal shook his head. .No. Had I been approached fifty years ago- But now?
Ben my brother, the potential for such innocence is no longer in me-and I amnot referring to sexual potency, so wipe that cynical smile off your face. Imean that I have been too long wedded to my own brand of evil andhopelessness to be cleansed in their water of life and become innocentagain. If I ever was.“.Mike thinks you have this innocence-he doesn’t call it that-in full measurenow. Dawn told me, speaking ex officio.“.Then Mike does me great honor; I would not disillusion him. He sees hisown reflection-I am, by profession a mirror.“.Jubal, you’re chicken.“.Precisely, sir! The thing that troubles me most is whether those innocentscan make their pattern fit into a naughty world. Oh, it’s been tried beforel-andevery time the world etched them away like acid. Some of the earlyChristians_anarchy, communism, group marriage-why even that kiss ofbrotherhood has a strong primitive-Christian flavor to it. That might be whereMike picked it up, since all the forms he uses are openly syncretistic,especially that Earth-Mother ritual.“ Jubal frowned. .If he picked that up fromprimitive christa ity-and not just from kissing girls, which he enjoys, I nowthenI would expect men to kiss men, too.“Ben snorted. .I held out on you-they do. But it’s not a pansy gesture. I gotcaught once; after that I managed to duck.“.So? It figures. The Oneida Colony was much like Mike’s .Nest’; it managedto last quite a while but in a low population density-not as an enclave in aresort city. There have been many others, all with the same sad story: a planfor perfect sharing and perfect love, glorious hopes and high idea—followedby persecution and eventual failure.“ Jubal sighed. .I was worried about Mikebefore-now I’m worried about all of them.“.You’re worried? How do you think I feel? Jubal, I can’t accept yoursweetness and light theory. What they are doing is wrong.“.So? Ben, it’s that last incident that sticks in your craw.“.Well ... maybe. Not entirely.“.Mostly. Ben. the ethics of sex is a thorny problem because each of us has tofind a solution pragmatically compatible with a preposterous, utterlyunworkable, and evil public code of so-called .morals.’ Most of us know, orsuspect, that the public code is wrong, and we break it. Nevertheless we payDanegeld by giving it lip service in public and feeling guilty about breaking itin private. Willy-nilly, that code rides us, dead and stinking, an albatrossaround the neck. You think of yourself as a free soul, I know, and you breakthat evil code yourself-but faced with a problem in sexual ethics new to you,you unconsciously tested it against that same Judeo-Christian code whichyou consciously refuse to obey. All so automatically that you retched . . . andbelieved thereby-and continue to believe-that your reflex proved that youwere .right’ and they were .wrong.’ Faugh! I’d as lief use trial by ordeal as useyour stomach to test guilt. All your stomach can reflect are prejudices trainedinto you before you acquired reason.“.What about your stomach?“.Mine is as stupid as yours-but I don’t let it rule my brain. I can at least seethe beauty of Mike’s attempt to devise an ideal human ethic and applaud hisrecognition that such a code must be founded on ideal sexual behavior, eventhough it calls for changes in sexual mores so radical as to frighten mostpeople—including you. For that I admire him-I should nominate him for thePhilosophical Society. Most moral philosophers consciously or unconsciouslyassume the essential correctness of our cultural sexual code-family,monogamy, continence, the postulate of privacy that troubled you so,restriction of intercourse to the marriage bed, et cetera. Having stipulated ourcultural code as a whole, they fiddle with details- even such piffle as solemnlydiscussing whether or not the female breast is an .obscene’ sight! But mostlythey debate how the human animal can be induced or forced to obey thiscode, blandly ignoring the high probability that the heartaches and tragediesthey see all around them originate in the code itself rather than failure toabide by the code.
.Now comes the Man from Mars, looks at this sacrosanct code-and rejects itin toto. I do not grasp exactly what Mike’s sexual code is, but it is clear fromwhat little you told me that it violates the laws of every major nation on Earthand would outrage .right-thinking’ people of every major faith-and mostagnostics and atheists, too. And yet this poor boy-.
.Jubal, I repeat-he’s not a boy, he’s a man“.Is he a .man?’ I wonder. This poor ersatz Martian is saying, by your ownreport, that sex is a way to be happy together. I go along with Mike this far:
sex should be a means of happiness. The worst thing about sex is that weuse it to hurt each other. It ought never to hurt; it should bring happiness, or,at the very least, pleasure. There is no good reason why it should ever beanything less.
.The code says, .Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wif’e’-and the result?
Reluctant chastity, adultery, jealousy, bitter family fights, blows andsometimes murder, broken homes and twisted children . . . and furtive, dirtylittle passes at country club dances and the like, degrading to both man andwoman whether consummated or not, Is this injunction ever obeyed? TheCommandment not to .covet’ I mean; I’m not referring to any physical act. Iwonder. If a man swore to me on a stack of his own Bibles that he hadrefrained from coveting another man’s wife because the code forbade it, Iwould suspect either self-deception or subnormal sexuality. Any male virileenough to sire a child is almost certainly so virile that he has coveted many,many women-whether he takes action in the matter or not.
.Now comes Mike and says: .There’s no need for you to covet my wife . . loveher! There’s no limit to her love, we all have everything to gain-and nothing tolose but fear and guilt and hatred and jealousy.’ The proposition is so naivethat it’s incredible. So far as I recall only precivilization Eskimos were everthis naive-and they were so remote from the rest of us that they almostqualified as .Men from Mars’ themselves. However, we soon gave them ourvirtues and instead of happy sharing they now have chastity and adultery justlike the rest of us-those who survived the transition. I wonder if they gainedby it? What do you think,.I wouldn’t care to be an Eskimo. thank you.“.Neither would I. Spoiled raw fish makes me bilious.“.Well, yes-but, Jubal, I had in mind hot water and soap. I guess I’meffete.“.I’m decadent in that respect, too, Ben; I was born in a house with no moreplumbing than an igloo-and I’ve no wish to repeat my childhood. But Iassume that noses hardened to the stink of rotting blubber would not beupset by unwashed human bodies. But nevertheless, despite curious cuisineand pitiful possessions, the Eskimos were invariably reported to have beenthe happiest people on Earth. We can never be sure why they were happy,but we can be utterly certain that any unhappiness they did suffer was notcaused by sexual jealousy. They borrowed and lent spouses, both ways,both for convenience and purely for fun-and it did not make them unhappy.
.One is tempted to ask: Who’s looney? Mike and the Eskimos? Or the rest ofus? We can’t judge by the fact that you and I have no stomach for suchgroup sports-our canalized tastes are irrelevant. But take a look at this glumworld around you-then tell me this: Did Mike’s disciples seem happier, orunhappier, than other people?“.I talked to only about a third of them, Jubal ... but-yes, they’re happy. Sohappy they seem slap-happy to me. I don’t trust it. There’s some catch in it.“.Mmm ... maybe you yourself were the catch in it.“.How?“.I was thinking that it was regrettable that your tastes have grown canalizedso young. There it was, raining soup-and you were caught without a spoon.
Even three days of what you were offered-urged on you!-would have beensomething to treasure when you reach my age. And you, you young idiot, letjealousy chase you away! Believe me, at your age I would have gone Eskimoin a big way, thankful that I had been given a free pass instead of having toattend church and study Martian to qualify. I’m so vicariously vexed that myonly consolation is the sour one that I know you will live to regret it. Age doesnot bring wisdom, Ben, but it does give perspective . . . and the saddestperspective of all is to see far, far behind you, the temptations you’ve passedup. I have such regrets myself but all of them are as nothing to the whopperof a regret I am happily certain you will suffer.“.Oh, for Pete’s sake, quit rubbing it in!“.Heavens, man!-or are you a mouse? I’m not rubbing it in, I am trying to goadyou into the obvious. Why are you sitting here moaning to an old man?-.-when you should be heading for the Nest like a homing pigeon? Before thecops raid the joint! Hell, if I were even twenty years younger, I’d join Mike’schurch myself.“.Let up on me, Jubal. What do you really think of Mike’s church?“.You told me it wasn’t a church-just a discipline.“.Well ... yes and no, It is supposed to be based on the .Truth’ with a capital.T“ as Mike got it from the Martian .Old Ones.’“.The .Old Ones,’ eli? To me, they’re still hogwash.“.Mike certainly believes in them.“.Ben, I once knew a manufacturer who believed that he ~0nsulted the ghostof Alexander Hamilton on all his business decisions. All that proves is that hebelieved it. However-Damn it, why must I always be the Devil’s advocate?“.What’s biting you now?“.Ben, the foulest sinner of all is the hypocrite who makes a racket of religion.
But we must give the Devil his due. Mike does believe in those .Old Ones’
and he is not pulling a racket. He’s teaching the truth as he sees it eventhough he has seen fit to borrow from other religions to illustrate his meaning.
That .All Mother’ rite—little as I like it, he seems merely to have beenillustrating the versatility of the Female Principle, regardless of name andform. Fair enough. As for his .Old Ones,’ of course I don’t know that theydon’t exist-I simply find hard to swallow the idea that any planet is ruled by ahierarchy of ghosts. As for his Thou-art-God creed, to me it is neither morenor less credible than any other. Come Judgment Day, if they hold it, we mayfind that Mumbo Jumbo the God of the Congo was the Big Boss all along.
.All the names are still in the hat, Ben. Self-aware man is so built that hecannot believe in his own extinction . . and this automatically leads to endlessinvention of religions. While this involuntary conviction of immortality by nomeans proves immortality to be a fact, the questions generated by thisconviction are overwhelmingly important . . . whether we can answer them ornot, or prove what answers we suspect. The nature of life, how the egohooks into the physical body, the problem of the ego itself and why each egoseems to be the centeT of the universe, the purpose of life, the purpose ofthe universe-these are paramount questions Ben; they can never be trivial.
Science can’t, or hasn’t, coped with any of them-and who am I to sneer atreligions for trying to answer them, no matter how unconvincingly to me? OldMumbo Jumbo may eat me yet; I can’t rule Him out because He owns nofancy cathedrals. Nor can I rule out one godstruck boy leading a sex cult inan upholstered attic; he might be the Messiah. The only religious opinion thatI feel sure of is this: self-awareness is not just a bunch of amino acidsbumping together!“.Whew! Jubal, you should have been a preacher.“.Missed it by only a razor’s edge, my boy-and I’ll thank you to keep a civiltongue in your head. One more word in Mike’s defense and I’ll throw tüin onthe mercy of the court. If be can show us a better way to run this fouled-upplanet~his sex life is vindicated thereby, regardless of your taste or mine.
Geniuses are notoriously indifferent to the sexual customs of the culture inwhich they find themselves, they make their own rules; this is not opinion, itwas proved by ArmattOe .way back in 1945. And Mike is a genius; he’sshown it more ways than one. Re can therefore be expected to ignore Mrs.
Grundy and diddle to suit himself. Geniuses are justifiably contemptuous ofthe opinions of their inferiors.
.And from a religious standpoint Mike’s sexual behavior IS as kosher as fishon Friday, as orthodox as Santa Claus. He preaches that all living creaturesare collectively God . . . which makes him and his disciples the only selfawaregods in his pantheon hich rates him a union card by the rules forgodding on this planet. Those rules always permit gods sexual freedomlimited ouly by their own judgment; mortal rules never apply. Leda and theSwan? Europa and the Bull? Osiris, Isis, and Horus? The incredibleincestuous games of the Norse gods? Of course . . . but why stop there?
Take a hard look at the family relations of the Trinity~in~One of the mostwidely respected western religion (I won’t cite eastern tellgions; their gods dothings a mink breeder wouldn’t put up with!). The only way in which the oddinterrelations of the various aspects of what purportS to be a monotheos canbe reconciled with the precepts of the religion thereto is by assuming that therules in these matters for deity are not the rules for ordinary inortais. Ofcourse most people don’t think about it; they compartment it off in their mindsand mark it: .Holy-DO Not Disturb.’
.But an outside referee is forced to allow Mike the same dispensation grantedall other gods. There are rules for this game: one god alone splits into at leasttwo parts~ male and fetnale-and breeds. Not just Jehovah-they all do it. Lookit up. Contrariwise, a group of godS will breed like rabbits, every time, andwith as little regard for human formalities. Once Mike entered the goddingbusiness, those orgies of his group were as logically certain as Sundayfollows Saturday. So quit using the standards of Podunk and judge them onlyby Olympian morals-I think you will then find that they are showing unusualrestraint. Furthermore, Ben, this .growmg-closer’ by sexual union, thisunity~into-Pluralty and plurality-baCk-into-unity, cannot tolerate monogamyinside the god group. Any pairing that excluded the others would be immoral,obscene, under the postulated creed. And if such mutual, shared-by-allsexual congress is essential to their creed, as I grok it has to be, then why doyou expect this holy union to be hidden behind a door? Your insistence thatthey should hide it would have turned a holy rite-which it was-into somethingobscene-which it was not You just plain did not understand what you werelooking at.“.Maybe I didn’t,“ Ben said glumly.
.I’m going to offer you one box-top premium, as an inducement. Youwondered how Mike got rid of his clothes so quickly. I’ll tell you how.“.How?“.It was a miracle.“.Oh, for God’s sake!“.Could be. But one thousand dollars says that it was a miracle by the usualrules for miracles-outcome to be decided by you. Go back and ask Mike howhe did it. Get him to show you. Then send me the money.“.Hell, Jubal, I don’t want to take your money.“.You won’t. I’ve got inside information. Bet?“.No, damn it. Jubal, you go down there and see what the score is. I can’tgo back-not now.“.They’ll take you back with open arms and not even ask why you left soabruptly. One thousand on that prediction, too. Ben, you were there less thana day-fifteen hours, about-and you spent over half that time sleeping andplaying hopscotch with Dawn. Did you give them a square shake? The sort ofcareful investigation you give something smelly in public life before you blastit in your column?“.But-.
.Did you, or didn’t you?“.No, but-.
.Oh, for Pete’s sake yourself, Ben! You claim to be in love with Jill yet youwon’t give her the consideration you give a crooked politician. Not a tenth theeffort she made to help you when you were kidnapped. Where would you betoday if she had given it so feeble a try? Pushing up daisies! Roasting in hell!
You’re bitching about those kids over some friendly fornication-but do youknow what I’m worried about?“.What?“.Christ was crucified for preaching without a police permit. Think it over.“Caxton stood up. .I’m on my way.“.After lunch.“.Now.“Twenty-four hours later Ben wired Jubal two thousand dollars.
When, after a week, Jubal had had no other message, he sent a stat care ofBen’s office: .What the hell are you doing?“ Ben’s answer came back,somewhat delayed: .Studying Martian and the rules for hopscotch—fraternally yours—Ben.