Stranger in a Strange Land (58 page)

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:

“—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 precious
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—

“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.

“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.”

Jubal nodded. “I know. Gillian has an invincible innocence that makes it impossible for her to be immoral.” He frowned. “Ben, I am afraid that you—and I, too—lack the angelic innocence to practice the perfect morality those people live by.”

Ben looked startled. “You think that sort of thing is
moral?
I meant that Jill doesn't
know
she is doing wrong—Mike's got her hornswoggled—and Mike doesn't know it's wrong, either. He's the Man from Mars; he didn't get a fair start.”

Jubal frowned. “Yes, I think what those people—the entire Nest, not just our kids—are doing is moral. I haven't examined details but—
yes,
all of it. Bacchanalia, unashamed swapping, communal living and anarchistic code, everything.”

“Jubal, you astound me. If you feel that way, why don't you join them? They want you. They'll hold a jubilee—Dawn is waiting to kiss your feet and serve you; I wasn't exaggerating.”

Jubal sighed. “No. Fifty years ago—But now? Ben my brother, the capacity for such innocence is no longer in me. I have been too long wedded to my own brand of evil and hopelessness to be cleansed in their water of life and become innocent again. If I ever was.”

“Mike thinks you have this ‘innocence'—he doesn't call it that—in full measure now. Dawn told me, speaking ex officio.”

“Then I would not disillusion him. Mike sees his own reflection—I am, by profession, a mirror.”

“Jubal, you're chicken.”

“Precisely, sir! But my worry is not over their morals but dangers to them from outside.”

“Oh, they're in no trouble that way.”

“You think so? If you dye a monkey pink and shove him into a cage of brown monkeys, they'll tear him to pieces. Those innocents are courting martyrdom.”