“Uh, no.”
“There aren’t any. How many people have kissed you?”
“Several.”
“As a priestess I kiss more than ‘several,’ but there’s never so much as a sniffle in the Nest. I used to be the sort of whiny woman who is never quite well and given to ‘female complaints.’ ” She smiled. “Now I’m more female than ever but I’m twenty pounds lighter, years younger, and have nothing to complain about—I like being female. As Duke flattered me, ‘a Levantine whore’ and unquestionably more limber—I sit in lotus position when I’m teaching, whereas it used to be all I could do just to bend over.
“But it did happen fast,” Ruth went on. “Sam was a professor of Oriental languages; he started coming because it was the only way to learn Martian. Strictly professional, he wasn’t interested in the church. I went along to keep an eye on him. I was jealous, even more possessive than the average.
“So we worked up to Third Circle, Sam learning rapidly and myself grimly studying because I didn’t want him out of my sight. Then boom! the miracle happened. We began to think in it, a little . . . and Michael felt it and had us stay after service one night . . . and Michael and Gillian gave us water. Afterwards, I knew that I was all the things I despised in other women and I despised my husband for letting me and hated him for what he had done. All this in English, with the worst parts in Hebrew. So I wept and moaned and made myself a stinking nuisance to Sam . . . and couldn’t wait to share and grow closer again.
“After that things were easier but not easy as we were pushed through the circles as fast as possible. Michael knew we needed help and wanted to get us into the safety of the Nest. When it came time for our Sharing-Water, I was still unable to discipline myself without help. I wanted to enter the Nest—but wasn’t sure I could merge with seven other people. I was scared silly; on the way over I almost begged Sam to turn around and go home.”
She looked up, unsmiling but beatific, a plump angel with a big spoon in one hand. “We walked into the Innermost Temple and a spotlight hit me and our robes were whisked away. . . and they were in the pool calling to us in Martian to come share the water of life—and I stumbled in and submerged and haven’t come up since!
“Nor ever want to. Don’t fret, Ben, you’ll learn the language and acquire the discipline and you’ll have loving help all the way. You jump in that pool tonight; I’ll have my arms out to catch you. All of us will, welcoming you home. Take this to Duke and tell him I said he was a pig . . . but a charming one. And take this for yourself—oh, you can eat that much!—give me a kiss and run along; Ruthie has work to do.”
Ben delivered the kiss, the message, and the plate. He found Jill, apparently asleep, on one of the couches; he sat down facing her, enjoying the sweet sight and thinking that Dawn and Jill were more alike than he had realized. Jill’s tan was unmarked and just the shade of Dawn’s; their proportions were identical—in rest even their features were more alike.
He looked up from a bite and saw that her eyes had opened, she was smiling. “Thou art God, darling—and that smells good.”
“You look good. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He moved across and sat by her, put a bite into her mouth. “My own cooking, with Ruth’s help.”
“And good, too. You didn’t wake me; I was just lazing until you came out. I haven’t been asleep all night.”
“Not at all?”
“Not a wink. But I feel grand. Just hungry. That’s a hint.”
So he fed her. She let him do so, not stirring. “Did you get any sleep?” she asked presently.
“Uh, some.”
“How much sleep did Dawn get? As much as two hours?”
“Oh, more than that.”
“Then she’s all right. Two hours does as much as eight used to. I knew what a sweet night you were going to have—both of you—but I was worried that she might not rest.”
“Well, it was a wonderful night,” Ben admitted, “although I was, uh, surprised at the way you shoved her at me.”
“Shocked, you mean. I know you, Ben. I was tempted to spend the night with you myself—I wanted to, dear! But you arrived with jealousy sticking out in lumps. I think it’s gone now. Yes?”
“I think so.”
“Thou art God. I had a wonderful night, too—free from worry by knowing you were in good hands. The best hands—better than mine.”
“Oh, never, Jill!”
“So? I grok a few lumps still—but we’ll wash them away.” She sat up, touched his cheek, said soberly, “Before tonight, dear. Because, of all my beloved brothers, I would not have your Sharing-Water be less than perfect.”
“Uh—” Ben stopped.
“Waiting is,” she said, and reached toward the end of the couch. It looked to Caxton as if a pack of cigarettes jumped into her hand.
Glad to change the subject, he said, “You’ve picked up some sleight-of-hand, too.”
Jill smiled. “Nothing much. ‘I am only an egg,’ to quote my teacher.”
“How did you do that?”
“Why, I whistled to it in Martian. First you grok a thing, then you grok what you want it to—Mike.” She waved. “We’re over here, dear!”
“Coming.” The Man from Mars came straight to Ben, pulled him to his feet. “Let me look at you, Ben! Golly, it’s good to see you!”
“It’s good to see you. And to be here.”
“What’s this about three days? Three days indeed!”
“I’m a working man, Mike.”
“We’ll see. The girls are all excited, getting ready for your Welcome tonight. Might just as well shut down—they won’t be worth a damn.”
“Patty has rescheduled,” Jill told Mike. “Dawn and Ruth and Sam are taking care of what’s necessary. Patty sloughed the matinee—so you’re through for the day.”
“That’s good news!” Mike sat down, pulled Jill’s head into his lap, pulled Ben down, put an arm around him, and sighed. He was dressed as Ben had seen him in the outer meeting, smart tropical business suit. “Ben, don’t take up preaching. I spend night and day rushing from one job to another, telling people why they must never hurry. I owe you, along with Jill and Jubal, more than anyone on this planet—yet this is the first time I’ve been able to say hello. How’ve you been? You’re looking fit. Dawn tells me you are fit.”
Ben found himself blushing. “I’m okay.”
“That’s good. Carnivores will be on the prowl tonight. I’ll grok close and sustain you. You’ll be fresher at the end than at the start—won’t he, Little Brother?”
“Yes,” agreed Jill. “Ben, Mike can lend you strength—physical strength, not just moral support. I can do it a little. Mike can really do it.”
“Jill can do it a lot.” Mike caressed her. “Little Brother is a tower of strength to everybody. Last night she certainly was.” He smiled down at her, then sang:“You’ll never find a girl like Jill.
“No, not one in a billion.
“Of all the tarts who ever will
“The willingest is our Gillian!
“—isn’t that right, Little Brother?”
“Pooh,” answered Jill, obviously pleased, covering his hand and pressing it to her. “Dawn is exactly like me—and every bit as willing.”
“But Dawn is downstairs interviewing the possibles out of the tip. She’s busy—you ain’t. That’s an important difference—isn’t it, Ben?”
“Could be.” Caxton was finding their behavior embarrassing, even in this relaxed atmosphere—he wished that they would knock off necking or give him an excuse to leave.
Mike went on cuddling Jill while keeping an arm around Ben’s waist . . . and Ben was forced to admit that Jill encouraged him. Mike said very seriously, “Ben, a night like last night—helping a group to make the big jump to Eighth Circle—gets me terribly keyed up. Let me tell you something out of the lessons for Sixth. We humans have something that my former people don’t even dream of. I must tell you how precious it is . . . how especially preci
ous I know it to be, because I have known what it is not to have it. The blessing of being male and female. Man and Woman created He them-the greatest treasure We-Who-Are-God ever invented. Jill?”
“Beautifully right, Mike—and Ben knows it is Truth. But make a song for Dawn, too, darling.”
“Okay—“Ardent is our lovely Dawn;
“Ben grokked that in her glance—
“She buys new dresses every morn,
“But never shops for pants!”
“Okay—”
Jill giggled. “Did you tune her in?”
“Yes, and she gave me a Bronx cheer—with a kiss behind it for Ben. Say, isn’t there anybody in the kitchen? I just remembered I haven’t eaten for a couple of days. Or years, maybe.”
“I think Ruth is,” Ben said, trying to stand up.
Mike pulled him down. “Hey, Duke! See if you can find somebody who’ll fix me a stack of wheat cakes as tall as you are and a gallon of maple syrup.”
“Sure,” Duke answered. “I’ll do it myself.”
“I’m not that hungry! Find Tony. Or Ruth.” Mike pulled Ben closer and said, “Ben, I grok you are not entirely happy?”
“Huh? Oh, I’m all right!”
Mike looked into his eyes. “I wish you knew the language, Ben. I can feel your uneasiness but can’t see your thoughts.”
“Mike . . .” Jill said.
The Man from Mars looked at her, then looked back at Ben and said slowly, “Jill just now told me your trouble, Ben—and it’s a thing I never have been able to grok in fullness.” He looked worried, and hesitated almost as long as when he was learning English. “But I grok that we can’t hold your Sharing-Water tonight. Waiting is.” Mike shook his head. “I’m sorry. But waiting will fill.”
Jill sat up. “No, Mike! We can’t let Ben leave without it. Not Ben!”
“I do not grok it, Little Brother,” Mike said reluctantly. A long pause followed, silence more tense than speech. At last Mike said doubtfully to Jill, “You speak rightly?”
“You will see!” Jill got up suddenly and sat down on Ben’s other side, put her arms around him. “Ben, kiss me and stop worrying.”
She did not wait but kissed him. Ben did stop worrying, was lulled into a sensuous glow that left no room for misgivings. Then Mike tightened the arm he still had around Ben’s waist and said softly, “We grok closer. Now, Jill?”
“Now! Right here, at once—oh. Share Water, my darlings!”
Ben turned his head—and was snatched out of euphoria by utter surprise. Somehow, the Man from Mars had rid himself of every stitch of clothing.
XXXIII.
“WELL?” SAID Jubal. “Did you accept their invitation?”
“Huh! I got out of there fast! Grabbed my clothes, ignored the sign, jumped into the bounce tube with my arms full.”
“You did? I think, if I were Jill, I would be offended.”
Caxton turned red. “I had to leave, Jubal.”
“Hmmm—Then what?”
“Why, I put on my clothes—found I had forgotten my bag and didn’t go back. In fact I left so fast I durned near killed myself. You know how the ordinary bounce tube—”
“I do not.”
“Huh? Well, if you don’t dial it to lift, you sink slowly, like cold molasses. But I didn’t sink, I fell—six stories. When I was about to splash, something caught me. Not a safety net, some sort of field. Scared me silly, on top of everything else.”
“Put not your faith in gadgets. I’ll stick to stairs and, when unavoidable, elevators.”
“Well, the bugs aren’t out of that gadget. Duke is safety inspector but whatever Mike says is Gospel to Duke; Mike’s got him hypnotized. Hell, he’s got ’em all hypnotized. When the crash comes it will be worse than any faulty bounce tube. Jubal, what can we do? I’m worried sick.”
Harshaw jutted out his lips. “What aspects did you find disquieting?”
“Huh? All of it.”
“So? You gave me to think that you enjoyed your visit—up to the point where you behaved like a scared rabbit.”
“Uh—So I did. Mike had me hypnotized, too.” Caxton looked puzzled. “I might not have snapped out of it if it hadn’t been for that odd thing at the last. Jubal, Mike was sitting by me, his arm around me—he couldn’t possibly have taken his clothes off.”
Jubal shrugged. “You were busy. Probably wouldn’t have noticed an earthquake.”
“Oh, piffle! I don’t close my eyes like a school girl. How did he do it?”
“I can’t see its relevancy. Or are you suggesting that Mike’s nudity shocked you?”
“I was shocked, all right.”
“When your own arse was bare? Come, sir!”
“No, no! Jubal, do I have to draw a diagram? I simply have no stomach for group orgies. I almost lost my breakfast.” Caxton squirmed. “How would you feel if people started acting like monkeys in a cage in the middle of your living room?”
Jubal fitted his fingers together. “That is the point, Ben; it was not my living room. You go into a man’s house, you accept his household rules. That’s a universal rule of civilized behavior.”
“You don’t find such behavior shocking?”
“Ah, you raise another issue. Public displays of rut I find distasteful—but this reflects my early indoctrination. A large part of mankind do not share my taste; the orgy has a very wide history. But ‘shocking’? My dear sir, I am shocked only by that which offends me ethically.”
“You think this is just a matter of taste?”
“Nothing more. And my taste is no more sacred than the very different taste of Nero. Less sacred—Nero was a god; I am not.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Possibly—if damnation is possible. But, Ben, this wasn’t public.”
“Huh?”
“You told me this group was a plural marriage—a group theogamy, to be technical. Therefore whatever took place—or was about to take place; you were mealy-mouthed—was not public but private. ‘Ain’t nobody here but just us gods’—so how could anyone be offended?”
“I was offended!”
“Your apotheosis was incomplete. You misled them. You invited it.”
“Me? Jubal, I did nothing of the sort.”
“Oh, rats! The time to back out was when you got there; you saw at once that their customs were not yours. But you stayed—enjoyed the favors of one goddess—behaved as a god toward her. You knew the score and they knew you knew; their error lay in accepting your hypocrisy as solid coin. No, Ben, Mike and Jill behaved with propriety; the offense lay in your behavior.”
“Damn it, Jubal, you twist things! I did get too involved—but when I left, I had to! I was about to throw up!”
“So you claim reflex? Anyone over the emotional age of twelve would have clamped his jaws and walked to the bathroom, then returned with some acceptable excuse after things cooled down. It was not reflex. Reflex can empty the stomach; it can’t choose a course for feet, recover chattels, take you through doors and cause you to jump down a hole. Panic, Ben. Why did you panic?”
Caxton was long in replying. He sighed and said, “I guess when you come down to it—I’m a prude.”
Jubal shook his head. “A prude thinks that his own rules of propriety are natural laws. That doesn’t describe you. You adjusted to many things that did not fit your code of propriety, whereas a true-blue prude would have affronted that delightful tattooed lady and stomped out. Dig deeper.”
“All I know is that I am unhappy over the whole thing.”
“I know you are, Ben, and I’m sorry. Let’s try a hypothetical question. You mentioned a lady named Ruth. Suppose Gillian had not been present; assume that the others were Mike and Ruth—and they offered you the same shared intimacy: Would you have been shocked?”
“Huh? Why, yes. It’s a shocking situation. I think so, even though you say it’s a matter of taste.”
“How shocking? Nausea? Panic flight?”
Caxton looked
sheepish. “Damn you, Jubal. All right, I would just have found an excuse to go out to the kitchen or something . . . then left as soon as possible.”
“Very well, Ben. You have uncovered your trouble.”
“I have?”
“What element was changed?”
Caxton looked unhappy. At last he said, “You’re right, Jubal—it was because it was Jill. Because I love her.”
“Close, Ben. But not dead center.”
“Eh?”
“ ‘Love’ is not the emotion that caused you to flee. What is ‘love,’ Ben?”
“What? Oh, come off it! Everybody from Shakespeare to Freud has taken a swing at that; nobody has answered it yet. All I know is, it hurts.”
Jubal shook his head. “I’ll give an exact definition. ‘Love’ is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.”
Ben said slowly, “I’ll buy that . . . because that’s the way I feel about Jill.”
“Good. Then you are asserting that your stomach turned and you fled in panic because of a need to make Jill happy.”
“Hey, wait a minute! I didn’t say—”
“Or was it some other emotion?”
“I simply said—” Caxton stopped. “Okay, I was jealous! But, Jubal, I would have sworn I wasn’t. I knew I had lost out, I had accepted it long ago—hell, I didn’t like Mike the less for it. Jealousy gets you nowhere.”
“Nowhere one would wish, certainly. Jealousy is a disease, love is a healthy condition. The immature mind often mistakes one for the other, or assumes that the greater the love, the greater the jealousy—in fact, they’re almost incompatible; one emotion hardly leaves room for the other. Both at once can produce unbearable turmoil—and I grok that was your trouble, Ben. When your jealousy reared its head, you couldn’t look it in the eye—so you fled.”
“It was the circumstances, Jubal! This hands-around harem upsets the hell out of me. Don’t misunderstand me; I would love Jill if she were a two-peso whore. Which she is not. By her lights, Jill is moral.”
Stranger in a Strange Land Page 43
