Jubal was properly awed and appropriately complimentary, while completely the impersonal art critic. But it was, he admitted to himself, the goddamdest display of virtuosity with a needle he had ever seen - it made his fully decorated Japanese friend look like a cheap carpet as compared with the finest Princess Bokhara.
"They've been changing a little," she told him. "Take the holy birth scene here - that rear wall is beginning to look curved� and the bed looks almost like a hospital table. Of course I have been changing, too, quite a lot. I'm sure George doesn't mind. There hasn't been a needle touched to me since he went to Heaven� and if some miraculous changes take place, I'm sure he knows about them and has a finger in it somehow."
Jubal decided that Patty was a little dotty but quite nice� on the whole, he preferred people who were a little dotty; "the salt of the earth" citizen left him cold. Not too dotty, he amended; Patty had let him undress himself, then had whisked his clothes into his wardrobe without coming near them. She was probably a clear proof that one didn't have to be sane, whatever that was, to benefit by this remarkable Martian discipline that the boy apparently could teach to anyone.
Presently he sensed that she was ready to leave and suggested it by asking her to kiss his goddaughters goodnight - he had forgotten to. "I was tired, Patty."
She nodded. "And I am called for dictionary work." She leaned over and kissed him, warmly but quickly. "I'll take that one to our babies."
"And a pat for Honey Bun."
"Yes, of course. She groks you, Jubal. She knows you like snakes."
"Good. Share water, brother."
"Thou art God, Jubal." She was gone. Jubal settled back in the tub, was surprised to find that he did not seem tired now and his bones no longer ached. Patty was a tonic� serene happiness on the hoof. He wished that he himself had no doubts - then admitted that he didn't want to be anybody but himself, old and cranky and self-indulgent.
Finally he soaped and showered and decided to shave so that he wouldn't have to before breakfast. After a leisurely time he bolted the door of his room, turned out the overhead light, and got into bed.
He had looked around for something to read, found nothing to his annoyance, being addicted to this vice above all else and not wishing to go out again and scare up something. He sipped part of a drink instead and turned out the bed light.
He did not go right to sleep. His pleasant chat with Patty seemed to have wakened and rested him. He was still awake when Dawn came in.
He called out, "Who's there?"
"It's Dawn, Jubal."
"It can't be dawn yet; it was only- Oh."
"Yes, Jubal. Me."
"Damn it, I thought I bolted that door. Child, march straight out of - Hey! Get out of this bed. Git!"
"Yes, Jubal. I will. But I want to tell you something first."
"Huh?"
"I have loved you a long time. Almost as long as Jill has."
"Why, the very- Quit talking nonsense and shake your little fanny out that door."
"I will, Jubal," she said very humbly. "But I want you to listen to something first. Something about women."
"I don't want to hear it now. Tell me in the morning."
"Now, Jubal."
He sighed. "Talk. Stay where you are."
"Jubal� my beloved brother. Men care very much how we women look. So we try to be beautiful and that is a goodness. I used to be a peeler, as I know you know. It was a goodness, too, to let men enjoy the beauty I was for them. It was a goodness for me, to know that they needed what I had to give.
"But, Jubal, women are not men. We care about what a man is. It can be something as silly as: Is he wealthy? Or it can be: Will he take care of my children and be good to them? Or, sometimes, it can be: Is he good? - as you are good, Jubal. But the beauty we see in you is not the beauty you see in us. You are beautiful, Jubal."
"For God's sake!"
"I think you speak rightly. Thou art God and I am God - and I need you. I offer you water. Will you let me share and grow closer?"
"Now, look, little girl, if I understood what you are offering-"
"You grokked, Jubal. To share together all that we have. Ourselves. Selves."
"I thought so. My dear, you have plenty to share - but� myself - well, you arrived some years too late. I am sincerely regretful, believe me. Thank you. Deeply. Now go away and let an old man get his sleep."
"You will sleep, when waiting is filled. Jubal� I could lend you strength. But I grok clearly that it is not necessary."
(Goddamit - it wasn't necessary!) "No, Dawn. Thank you, dear."
She got to her knees and bent over him. "Just one more word, then. Jill told me, that if you argued, I was to cry. Shall I get my tears all over your chest? And share water with you that way?"
"I'm going to spank Jill!"
"Yes, Jubal. I'm starting to cry." She made no sound, but in only a second or two a warm, full tear splashed on his chest - was followed quickly by another� and another - and still more. She sobbed almost silently.
Jubal cursed and reached for her� and cooperated with the inevitable.
XXXVI
JUBAL WOKE UP ALERT, rested, and happy, realized that he felt better before breakfast than he had in years. For a long, long time he had been getting through that black period between waking and the first cup of coffee by comforting himself with the thought that tomorrow might be a little easier.
This morning he found himself whistling, which he did very badly. He noticed it, stopped himself, forgot it and started up again.
He saw himself in the mirror, smiled wryly, then grinned openly. "You incorrigible old goat. They'll be sending the wagon for you any minute now." He noticed a white hair on his chest, plucked it out, didn't bother with many others just as white, went on making himself ready to face the world.
When he went outside his door Jill was there. Accidentally? No, he no longer trusted any "coincidence" in this mnage; it was as organized as a computer. She came straight into his arms. "Jubal - Oh, we love you so! Thou art God."
He returned her kiss as warmly as it was given, grokking that it would be hypocritical not to - and discovering that kissing Jill differed from kissing Dawn only in some fashion unmistakable but utterly beyond instrument or description.
Presently he held her away from him without letting her go. "You baby Messalina� you framed me."
"Jubal darling� you were wonderful!"
"Uh� how the hell did you know I was able?"
She gave him back a gaze of clear-eyed innocence. "Why, Jubal, I've been certain of that ever since Mike and I first lived at home. You see, even then, when Mike was asleep - in trance - he could see around him quite a distance and sometimes he would look in on you - a question to ask you or something - to see if you were asleep."
"But I slept alone! Always."
"Yes, dear. But that wasn't quite what I meant. And I always had to explain things to Mike that he didn't understand."
"Hrrrmph!" He decided not to pursue the inquiry. "Just the same, you shouldn't have framed me."
"I grok you don't mean that in your heart, Jubal� and you grok that I speak rightly. We had to have you in the Nest. All the way in. We need you. Since you are shy and humble in your goodness, we did what was needful to welcome you without hurting you. And we did not hurt you, as you grok."
"What's this 'we' stuff?"
"It was a full Sharing-Water of all the Nest, as you grok - you were there. Mike stopped what he was doing and woke up for it� and grokked with you and kept us all together."
Jubal hastily abandoned this line of inquiry, too. "So Mike is awake at last. That's why your eyes are shining so."
"Only partly. Of course, we are always delighted when Mike isn't withdrawn, it's jolly� but he's never really away. Jubal, I grok that you have not grokked the fullness of our way of Sharing-Water. But waiting will fill. Nor did Mike grok it, at first - he thought it was only for quickening of eggs, as it is on Mars."
>
"Well� that's the primary purpose, the obvious purpose. Babies. Which makes it rather silly behavior on the part of a person, namely me, who has no intention and no wish, at my age, to cause such increase."
She shook her head. "Babies are the obvious result� but not the primary purpose at all. Babies give meaning to the future, and that is a great goodness. But only three or four or a dozen times in a woman's life is a baby quickened in her� out of the thousands of times she can share herself - and that is the primary use for what we can do so often but would need to do so seldom if it were only for reproduction. It is sharing and growing closer, forever and always. Jubal, Mike grokked this because on Mars the two things - quickening of eggs, and sharing-closer - are entirely separate� and he grokked, too, that our way is best. What a happy thing it is not to have been hatched a Martian� to be human and a woman!"
He looked at her closely. "Child, are you pregnant?"
"Yes, Jubal. I grokked at last that waiting had ended and I was free to be. Most of the Nest have not needed to wait - but Dawn and I have been quite busy. But when we grokked this cusp coming, I grokked that there would be a waiting after the cusp - and you can see that there will certainly be. Mike will not rebuild the Temple overnight - so this high priestess will be unhurried in building a baby. Waiting always fills."
From this high-flown mishmash Jubal abstracted the central fact or Jill's belief concerning such a possible fact. Well, she no doubt had had plenty of opportunity. He resolved to keep an eye on the matter and try to bring her home for it, if possible. Mike's superman methods were all very well, but it wouldn't hurt to have the best modern equipment and techniques at hand, too. Losing Jill to eclampsia or some other mishap was something he did not intend to let happen, even if he had to get tough with the kids.
He wondered about another such possibility, decided not to mention it. "Where's Dawn? And where's Mike? The place seems awfully quiet." No one had come through the hail they were in and he heard no voices and yet that odd feeling of happy expectancy was even stronger than it had been the night before. He would have expected a certain release from tension after the ceremony he had apparently joined in himself - unbeknownst - but the place was more charged up than ever. It suddenly reminded him of how he had felt, as a very small boy, when waiting for his first circus parade� and someone had called out: "There come the elephants!"
Jubal felt as if, were he just a little taller, he could see the elephants, past the excited crowd. Yet there was no crowd.
"Dawn told me to give you a kiss for her; she'll be busy for the next three hours, about. And Mike is busy, too - he went back into withdrawal."
"Oh."
"Don't sound so disappointed; he'll be free soon. He's making a special effort so that he will be free on your account� and to let all of us be free, too. Duke spent all night scouring the city for the high-speed tape recorders we use for the dictionary and now we've got everybody who can possibly do it being jammed full of Martian phonic symbols and then Mike will be through and can visit. Dawn has just started dictating; I finished one session, ducked out to say good-morning to you� and am about to go back and get poured full of my last part of the chore, so I'll be gone just a little longer than Dawn will be. And here's Dawn's kiss - the first one was just from me." She put her arms around his neck and again put her mouth greedily to his - at last said, "My goodness! Why did we wait so long? 'Bye for a little!"
Jubal found a sparse few in the big dining room. Duke looked up, smiled and waved, went back to hearty eating. He did not look as if he had been up all night - nor had he; he had been up two nights.
Becky Vesey looked around when Duke waved and said happily, "Hi, you old goat!" - grabbed his ear, pulled him down, and whispered into it:
"I've known it all along - but why weren't you around to console me when the Professor died?" She added aloud, "Sit down here beside me and we'll get some food into you while you tell me what devilment you've been plotting lately."
"Just a moment, Becky." Jubal went around the table. "Hi, Skipper. Good trip?"
"No trouble. It's becoming a milk run. I don't believe you've ever met Mrs. van Tromp. My dear, the founder of this feast, the one and only Jubal Harshaw - two of him would be too many."
The Captain's wife was a tall, plain woman with the calm eyes of one who has watched from the Widow's Walk. She stood up, kissed Jubal. "Thou art God."
"Uh, thou art God." Jubal decided that he might as well relax to the ritual - hell, if he said it often enough, he might lose the rest of his buttons and believe it� and it did have a friendly ring to it with the arms of the Skipper's wife firmly around him. He decided that she could even teach note 4 something about kissing. She - how was it Anne had once described it? - she gave it her whole attention; she wasn't going anywhere.
"I suppose, Van," he said, "that I really shouldn't be surprised to find you here."
"Well," answered the spaceman, "a man who commutes to Mars ought to be able to palaver with the natives, don't you think?"
"Just for powwow, huh?"
"There are other aspects." Van Tromp reached for a piece of toast; the toast cooperated. "Good food, good company."
"Um, yes."
"Jubal," Madame Vesant called out, "soup's on!"
Jubal returned to his place, found eggs-on-horseback, orange juice, and other choice comestibles waiting for him. Becky patted his thigh. "A fine prayer meeting, me bucko."
"Woman, back to your horoscopes!"
"Which reminds me, dearie, I want to know the exact instant of your birth."
"Uh, I was born on three successive days, at various hours. I was too big a boy - they had to handle me in sections."
Becky made a rude answer. "I'll find out."
"The courthouse burned down when I was three. You can't."
"There are ways. Want to make a small bet?"
"You go on heckling me and you'll find you're not too big to spank. How've you been, girl?"
"What do you think? How do I look?"
"Healthy. A bit spread in the butt. You've touched up your hair."
"I have not. I quit using henna months ago. Get with it, pal, and we'll get rid of that white fringe you've got. Replace it with a real lawn."
"Becky, I refuse to grow any younger for any reason. I came by my decrepitude the hard way and I propose to enjoy it. Quit prattling and let a man eat."
"Yes, sir. You old goat."
Jubal was just leaving the table as the Man from Mars came in. "Father! Oh, Jubal!" Mike hugged and kissed him.
Jubal gently unwound himself from the embrace. "Be your age, son. Sit down and enjoy your breakfast. I'll sit with you."
"I didn't come here looking for breakfast, I came looking for you. We'll find a place and talk."
"All right."
They went to the living room of one of the suites, Mike pulling Jubal by the hand like an excited small boy welcoming his favorite grandparent. Mike picked a big comfortable chair for Jubal and sprawled himself on a couch opposite and close to him. This room was on the side of the wing having the private landing flat; there were high French windows opening to it. Jubal got up and shifted his chair slightly so that he would not be facing so directly into the light in looking at his foster son; not to his surprise but mildly to his annoyance the heavy chair shifted as if it had been no more massive than a child's balloon, his hand merely guided it.
Two men and a woman were in the room when they arrived. These left shortly, leisurely, severally, and unostentatiously. After that they were alone, except that they were both served with Jubal's favorite brandy - by hand, to Jubal's pleasure; he was quite ready to agree that the remote control these people had over objects around them was a labor-saver and probably a money-saver (certainly on laundry! - his spaghetti-splashed shirt had been so fresh that he had put it on again today), and obviously a method much to be preferred for household convenience to the blind balkiness of mechanical gadgets. Nevertheless he was not used to t
elecontrol done without wires or waves; it startled Jubal the way horseless carriages had disturbed decent, respectable horses about the time Jubal was born.
Duke served the brandy. Mike said, "Hi, Cannibal. Thanks. Are you the new butler?"
"De nada, Monster. Somebody has to do it and you've got every brain in the place slaving away over a hot microphone."
"Well, they'll all be through in a couple of hours and you can revert to your useless, lecherous existence. The job is done, Cannibal. Pau. Thirty. Ended."
"The whole damn Martian language all in one lump? Monster, I had better check you for burned-out capacitors."
"Oh, no, no! Only the primer knowledge that I have of it - had of it, my brain's an empty sack. But highbrows like Stinky will be going back to Mars for a century to fill in what I never learned. But I did turn out quite a job - about six weeks of subjective time since around five this morning or whenever it was we adjourned the meeting - and now the stalwart steady types can finish it and I'm free to visit with Jubal with nothing on my mind." Mike stretched and yawned. "Feels good. Finishing a job always feels good."
"You'll be slaving away at something else before the day is out. Boss, this Martian monster can't take it or leave it alone. I know for a fact that this is the first time he has simply relaxed and done nothing for over two months. He ought to sign up with 'Workers Anonymous.' Or you ought to visit us more often. You're a good influence on him."
"God forbid that I should ever be a good influence on anybody."
"And you get out of here, Cannibal, and quit telling lies about me."
"Lies, hell. You turned me into a compulsive truth-teller� and it's a great handicap in some of the joints where I hang out." Duke left them.
Mike lifted his glass. "Share water, my brother Father Jubal"
"Drink deep, son."
"Thou art God."
"Take it easy, Mike. I'll put up with that from the others and answer it politely. But don't you come godding at me. I knew you when you were 'only an egg'."
"Okay, Jubal."
A Stranger in a Strange Land Page 60
