A Stranger in a Strange Land

by Robert A. Heinlein

  "Honest, I didn't even hear it."

  "Obviously. But for a while we've got to pretend to a modicum of dignity around here - it might be the Secretary General. So get out of range."

  But it was Mr. Mackenzie. "Jubal, what in the devil is going on?"

  "Trouble?"

  "A short while ago I got a wild phone call from a young man claiming to speak for you who urged me to drop everything and get cracking, because you've finally got something for me. Since I had already ordered a mobile unit to your place-"

  "Never got here."

  "I know. They called in, after wandering around somewhere north of you. Our despatcher straightened them out and they should be there any moment now. I tried twice to call you and your circuit was busy. What have I missed?"

  "Nothing yet." Jubal considered it. Damnation, he should have had someone monitor the babble box. Had Douglas actually made that news release? Was Douglas committed? Or would a new passel of cops show up? While the kids played post office! Jubal, you're getting senile. "I'm not sure that there's going to be, just yet. Has there been anything special in the way of a news flash this past hour?"

  "Why, no - oh, one item: the Palace announced that the Man from Mars had returned north and was vacationing in the - Jubal! Are you mixed up in that?"

  "Just a moment. Mike, come to the phone. Anne, grab your robe."

  "Got it, Boss."

  "Mr. Mackenzie - meet the Man from Mars."

  Mackenzie's jaw dropped, then his professional reflexes came to his aid. "Hold it. Just hold it right there and let me get a camera on this! We'll pick it up in flat, right off the phone - and we'll repeat in stereo just as quick as those jokers of mine get there. Jubal, I'm safe on this? You wouldn't- You wouldn't-"

  "Would I swindle you with a Fair Witness at my elbow? Yes, I would, if necessary. But I'm not forcing this interview on you. Matter of fact, we should wait and tie in Argus and Trans-Planet."

  "Jubal! You can't do this to me."

  "And I won't. The agreement with all of you was to monitor what the cameras saw... when I signalled. And use it if it was newsworthy. But I didn't promise not to give out interviews in addition to that - and New World can have this interview, oh, say thirty minutes ahead of Argus and Trans-P... if you want it." Jubal added, "Not only did you loan us all the equipment for the tie-in, but you've been very helpful personally, Tom. I can't express how helpful you've been."

  "You mean, uh, that telephone number?"

  "Correct!"

  "And it got results?"

  "It did. But no questions about that, Tom. Not on the air. Ask me privately - next year."

  "Oh, I wouldn't think of it. You keep your lip buttoned and I'll keep mine. Now don't go away-"

  "One more thing. That spool of messages you're holding for me against the same signal. Make damn sure they don't go out. Send them back to me."

  "Eh? All right, all right - I've been keeping them in my desk, you were so fussy about it. Jubal, I've got a camera on this phone screen right now. Can we start?"

  "Shoot."

  "And I'm going to do this one myself!" Mackenzie turned his face away and apparently looked at the camera. "flash news! This is your NWNW reporter on the spot while its hot! The Man from Mars has just phoned you right here in your local station and wants to talk to you! Cut. Monitor, insert flash-news plug and acknowledgment to sponsor. Jubal, anything special I should ask him?"

  "Don't ask him questions about South America - he's not a tourist. Swimming is your safest subject. You can ask me about his future plans."

  "Okay. End of cut. Friends, you are now face to face and voice to voice with Valentine Michael Smith, the Man from Mars! As NWNW, always first with the burst, told you earlier, Mr. Smith has just returned from his solitary retreat high in the Andes - and we welcome him back! Wave to your friends, Mr. Smith-"

  ("Wave at the telephone, son. Smile and wave at it.")

  "Thank you, Valentine Michael Smith. We're all happy to see you looking so healthy and tan. I understand that you have been gathering strength by learning to swim?"

  "Boss! Visitors. Or something."

  "Cut before interruption - after the word 'swim.' What the hell, Jubal?"

  "I'll have to see. Jill, ride herd on Mike again - it might be General Quarters."

  But it was not. It was the NWNW mobile stereovision unit landing - and again rose bushes were damaged - Larry returning from phoning Mackenzie from the village, and Duke, returning. Mackenzie decided to finish the flat black & white interview quickly, since he was now assured of depth and color through his mobile unit, and in the meantime its technical crew could check the trouble with the equipment on loan to Jubal. Larry and Duke went with them.

  The interview was finished with inanities, Jubal fielding any questions Mike failed to understand; Mackenzie signed off with a promise to the public that a color & depth special interview with the Man from Mars would follow in thirty minutes. "Stay synched with this station!" He stayed on the phone and waited for his technicians to report.

  Which the crew boss did, almost at once: "Nothing wrong with that transceiver, Mr. Mackenzie, nor with any part of this field setup."

  "Then what was wrong with it before?"

  The technician glanced at Larry and Duke, then grinned. "Nothing. But it helps quite a bit to put power through it. The breaker was open at the board."

  Harshaw intervened to stop a wrangle between Larry and Duke, one which seemed concerned with the relative merits of various sorts of idiocy more than with the question of whether Duke had, or had not, told Larry that a certain tripped circuit breaker must be reset if it was anticipated that the borrowed equipment was going to be used. The showman's aspect of Jubal's personality regretted that the "finest unrehearsed spectacular since Elijah bested the Priests of Baal" had been missed by the cameras. But the political finagler in him was relieved that mischance had kept Mike's curious talents still a close secret - Jubal anticipated that he still might need them, as a secret weapon... not to mention the undesirability of trying to explain to skeptical strangers the present whereabouts of certain policemen plus two squad cars.

  As for the rest, it merely confirmed his own conviction that science and invention had reached its peak with the Model-T Ford and had been growing steadily more decadent ever since. And besides, Mackenzie wanted to get on with the depth & color interview- They got through that with a minimum of rehearsing, Jubal simply making sure that no question would be asked which could upset the public fiction that the Man from Mars had just returned from South America. Mike sent greetings to his friends and brothers of the Champion, including one to Dr. Mahmoud delivered in croaking, throat rasping Martian Jubal decided that Mackenzie had his money's worth.

  At last the household could quiet down. Jubal set the telephone for two hours refusal, stood up, stretched, sighed, and felt a great weariness, wondered if he were getting old. "Where's dinner? Which one of you wenches was supposed to get dinner tonight? And why didn't you? Gad, this household is falling to wrack and ruin!"

  "It was my turn to get dinner tonight," Jill answered, "but-"

  "Excuses, always excuses."

  "Boss," Anne interrupted sharply, "how do you expect anyone to cook when you've kept every single one of us penned up here in your study all afternoon?"

  "That's the moose's problem," Jubal said dourly. "I want it clearly understood that, even if Armageddon is held on these premises I expect meals to be hot and on time right up to the ultimate trump. Furthermore-"

  "Furthermore," Anne completed, "it is now only seven-forty and plenty of time to have dinner by eight. So quit yelping, Boss, until you have something to yelp about. Cry-baby."

  "Is it really only twenty minutes of eight? Seems like a week since lunch. Anyhow you haven't left me a civilized amount of time to have a pre-dinner drink."

  "Poor you?'

  "Somebody get me a drink. Get everybody a drink. On second thought let's skip a formal dinner tonight and drink ou
r dinners; I feel like getting as tight as a tent rope on a rainy day. Anne, how are we fixed for smorgasbord?"

  "Plenty."

  "Then why not thaw out eighteen or nineteen kinds and spread 'em around and let anybody eat what he feels like when he feels like it? What's all the argument about?"

  "Right away," agreed Jill.

  Anne stopped to kiss him on his bald spot. "Boss, you've done nobly. We'll feed you and get you drunk and put you to bed. Wait, Jill, I'm going to help."

  "I may to help, too?" Smith said eagerly.

  "Sure, Mike. You can carry trays. Boss, dinner will be by the pool. It's a hot night."

  "How else?" When they had left, Jubal said to Duke, "Where the hell have you been all day?"

  "Thinking."

  "Doesn't pay to. Just makes you discontented with what you see around you. Any results?"

  "Yes," said Duke, "I've decided that what Mike eats, or doesn't eat, is no business of mine."

  "Congratulations. A desire not to butt into other people's business is at least eighty percent of all human 'wisdom... and the other twenty percent isn't very important."

  "You butt into other people's business. All the time."

  "Who said I was wise? I'm a professional bad example. You can learn a lot by watching me. Or listening to me. Either one."

  "Jubal, if I walked up to Mike and offered him a glass of water, do you suppose he would go through that lodge routine?"

  "I feel certain that he would. Duke, almost the only human characteristic Mike seems to possess is an overwhelming desire to be liked. But I want to make sure that you know how serious it is to him. Much more serious than getting married. I myself accepted water brotherhood with Mike before I understood it - and I've become more and more deeply entangled with its responsibilities the more I've grokked it. You'll be committing yourself never to lie to him, never to mislead or deceive him in any way, to stick by him come what may - because that is just what he will do with you. Better think about it."

  "I have been thinking about it, all day. Jubal, there's something about Mike that makes you want to take care of him."

  "I know. You've probably never encountered complete honesty before - I know I hadn't. Innocence. Mike has never tasted the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil... so we, who have, don't understand what makes him tick. Well, on your own head be it. I hope you never regret it." Jubal looked up. "Oh, there you are! I thought you had stopped to distill the stuff."

  Larry answered, "Couldn't find a cork screw, at first."

  "Machinery again. Why didn't you bite the neck off? Duke, you'll find some glasses stashed behind The Anatomy of Melancholy up there-"

  "I know where you hide them."

  "-and we'll all have a quick one, neat, before we get down to serious drinking." Duke got the glasses; Jubal poured and held up his own. "The golden sunshine of Italy congealed into tears. Here's to alcoholic brotherhood... much more suited to the frail human soul, if any, than any other sort."

  "Health."

  "Cheers."

  Jubal poured his slowly down his throat. "Ah," he said happily, and belched. "Offer some of that to Mike, afterwards, Duke, and let him learn how good it is to be human. Makes me feel creative. Front! Why are those girls never around when I need them? Front!!"

  "I'm still 'Front,' " Miriam answered, at the door, "but-"

  "I know. And I was saying: '-to what strange, bittersweet fate my tomboy ambition-'"

  "But I finished that story while you were chatting on the telephone with the Secretary General."

  "Then you are no longer 'Front.' Send it off."

  "Don't you want to read it first? Anyhow, I've got to revise it - kissing Mike gave me a new insight on it."

  Jubal shuddered. "Read it?' Good God, no! It's bad enough to write such a thing. And don't even consider revising it, certainly not to fit the facts. My child, a true-confession story should never be tarnished by any taint of truth."

  "Okay, Boss. And Anne says if you want to come down to the pool and have a bite before you eat, come on."

  "I can't think of a better time. Shall we adjourn to the terrace, gentlemen'?"

  At the pool the party progressed liquidly with bits of fish and other Scandinavian high-caloric comestibles added to taste. At Jubal's invitation Mike tried brandy, somewhat cut with water. Mike found the resulting sensation extremely disquieting, so he analysed his trouble, added oxygen to the ethanol in an inner process of reversed fermentation and converted it to glucose and water, which gave him no trouble.

  Jubal had been observing with interest the effect of his first drink of liquor on the Man from Mars - saw him become drunk almost at once, saw him sober up even more quickly. In an attempt to understand what had happened, Jubal urged more brandy on Mike - which he readily accepted since his water brother offered it. Mike sopped up an extravagant quantity of fine imported liquor before Jubal was willing to concede that it was impossible to get him drunk.

  Such was not the case with Jubal, despite his years of pickling; staying sociable with Mike during the experiment dulled the edge of his wits. So, when he attempted to ask Mike what he had done, Mike thought that he was inquiring about the events during the raid by the S.S. - concerning which Mike still felt latent guilt. He tried to explain and, if needed, receive Jubal's pardon.

  Jubal interrupted when at last he figured out what the boy was talking about. "Son, I don't want to know what you did, nor how you did it. What you did was just what was needed - perfect, just perfect. But-" He blinked owlishly. "-don't tell me about it. Don't ever tell anybody about it."

  "Not?"

  "'Not.' It was the damnedest thing I've seen since my uncle with the two heads debated free silver and triumphantly refuted himself. An explanation would spoil it."

  "I do not grok rightly?"

  "Nor do I. So let's not worry and have another drink."

  Reporters and other newsmen started arriving while the party was still climbing. Jubal received each of them with courteous dignity, invited them to eat, drink, and relax - but to refrain from badgering himself or the Man from Mars.

  Those who failed to heed his injunction were tossed into the pool.

  At first Jubal kept Larry and Duke at flank to administer the baptism as necessary. But, while some of the unfortunate importunates became angry and threatened various things which did not interest Jubal (other than to caution Mike not to take any steps), others relaxed to the inevitable and added themselves to the dousing squad on a volunteer basis, with the fanatic enthusiasm of proselytes - Jubal had to stop them from ducking the doyen lippmann of the New York Times for a third time.

  During the evening Dorcas came out of the house, sought out Jubal and whispered in his ear: "Telephone, Boss. For you."

  "Take a message."

  "You must answer it, Boss."

  "I'll answer it with an ax! Duke, get me an ax. I've been intending to get rid of that Iron Maiden for some time - and tonight I'm in the mood for it."

  "Boss... you want to answer this one. It's the man you spoke to for quite a long time this afternoon."

  "Oh. Why didn't you say so?" Jubal lumbered upstairs, made sure his study door was bolted behind him, went to the phone. Another of Douglas' sleek acolytes was on the screen but was replaced quickly by Douglas. "It took you long enough to answer your phone."

  "It's my phone, Mr. Secretary. Sometimes I don't answer it at all."

  "So it would seem. Why didn't you tell me that this Caxton fellow is an alcoholic?"

  "Is he?"

  "He certainly is! He isn't missing - not in the usual sense. He's been off on one of his periodic benders. He was located, sleeping it off, in a fleabag in Sonora."

  "I'm glad to hear that he has been found. Thank you, sir."

  "He's been picked up on a technical charge of 'vagrancy.' The charge won't be pressed - instead we are releasing him to you."

  "I am very much in your debt, sir."

  "Oh, it's not entirely a favor
! I'm having him delivered to you in the state in which he was found - filthy, unshaven, and, I understand, smelling like a brewery. I want you to see for yourself what sort of a tramp he is."

  "Very well, sir. When may I expect him?"

  "Almost at once, I fancy. A courier arrow left Nogales some time ago. At Mach three or better it should be overhead soon. The pilot has instructions to deliver him to you and get a receipt."

  "He shall have it."

  "Now, Counsellor... having delivered him, I wash my hands of it. I shall expect you, and your client, to appear for talks whether you fetch along that drunken libeller or not."

  "Agreed. When?"

  "Shall we say tomorrow at ten? Here."

  "'Twere best done quickly.' Agreed."

  Jubal went back downstairs and paused at his broken door. "Jill! Come here, child."

  "Yes, Jubal." She trotted toward him, a reporter in close formation with her.

  Jubal waved the man back. "Private," he said firmly. "Family matter. Go have a drink."

  "Whose family?"

  "A death in yours, if you insist. Scat!" The newsman grinned and accepted it. Jubal leaned over Gillian and said softly, "It worked. He's safe."

  "Ben?"

  "Yes. He'll be here soon."

  "Oh, Jubal!" She started to bawl.

  He took her shoulders. "Stop it," he said firmly. "Go inside and lock your door until you get control of yourself. This is not for the press."

  "Yes, Jubal. Yes, Boss."

  "That's better. Go cry in your pillow, then wash your face." He went on out to the pool. "Quiet everybody! Quite! I have an announcement to make. We've enjoyed having you - but the party is over."

  "Boo!"

  "Toss him in the pool, somebody. I've got work to do early tomorrow morning, I'm an old man and I need my rest, And so does my family. Please leave quietly and as quickly as possible. Black coffee for any who need it - but that's all. Duke, cork those bottles. Girls, clear the food away."

  There was minor grumbling, but the more responsible quieted their colleagues. In ten minutes they were alone.

  In twenty minutes Ben Caxton arrived. The S.S. officer commanding the courier car silently accepted Harshaw's signature and thumb print on a prepared receipt, then left at once while Jill continued to sob on Ben's shoulder.