Jubal said slowly, «Prometheus paid a high price for bringing fire to mankind.»
«Don't think that Mike doesn't! He pays with twenty-four hours of work every day, seven days a week, trying to teach us how to play with matches without getting burned. Jill and Patty lowered the boom on him, made him take one night a week off, long before I joined.» Caxton smiled. «But you can't stop Mike. This burg is loaded with gambling joints, mostly crooked since it's against the law here. So Mike spent his night off bucking crooked games — and winning. They tried to mug him, they tried to kill him, they tried knock-out drops and muscle boys — he simply ran up a reputation as the luckiest man in town … which brought more people into the Temple. So they tried to keep him out — a mistake. Cold decks froze solid, wheels wouldn't spin, dice rolled nothing but box cars. At last they put up with him … requesting him to move on after he had won a few grand. Mike would do so, if asked politely.»
Caxton added, «So that's one more power bloc against us. Not just the Fosterites and other churches — but now the syndicate and the city machine. I think that job on the Temple was done by professionals — I doubt if the Fosterite goon squads touched it.»
While they talked, people came in, went out, formed groups. Jubal found in them a most unusual feeling, an unhurried relaxation that was also dynamic tension. No one seemed excited, never in a hurry … yet everything they did seemed purposeful, even gestures as apparently unpremeditated as encountering one another and marking it with a kiss or a greeting. It felt to Jubal as if each move had been planned by a choreographer.
The quiet and the increasing tension — or “expectancy”, he decided; these people were not tense in any morbid fashion — reminded Jubal of something. Surgery? With a master at work, no noise, no lost motions?
Then he remembered. Many years earlier when chemically-powered rockets were used for the earliest human probing of space, he had watched a count-down in a blockhouse. He recalled the same low voices, the relaxed, very diverse but coordinated actions, the same rising exultant expectancy. They were «waiting for fullness,» that was certain. But for what? Why were they so happy? Their Temple and all they had built had been destroyed … yet they seemed like kids on a night before Christmas.
Jubal had noted when he arrived that the nudity Ben had been disturbed by on his first visit to the nest did not seem to be the practice here, although private enough for it. He failed to notice it when it did appear; he had become so much in the unique close-family mood that being dressed or not was irrelevant.
When he did notice, it was not skin but the thickest, most beautiful cascade of black hair he had ever seen, gracing a young woman who came in, spoke to someone, threw Ben a kiss, glanced gravely at Jubal, and left. Jubal followed her with his eyes, appreciating that flowing mass of midnight plumage. Only after she left did he realize that she had not been dressed other than in that queenly glory … and then realized that she was not the first of his brothers in that fashion.
Ben noticed his glance. «That's Ruth,» he said. «New high priestess. She and her husband have been on the other coast — to prepare a branch temple, I think. I'm glad they're back. It looks as if the whole family will be home.»
«Beautiful head of hair. I wish she had tarried.»
«Why didn't you call her over?»
«Eh?»
«Ruth certainly came in here to catch a glimpse of you — they must have just arrived. Haven't you noticed that we have been left pretty much alone?»
«Well … yes.» Jubal had been braced to ward off undue intimacy — and found that he had stepped on a step that wasn't there. He had been treated hospitably, but it was more like the politeness of a cat than that of an over-friendly dog.
«They are all terribly interested in the fact that you are here and very anxious to see you … but they are in awe of you.»
«Me?»
«Oh, I told you last summer. You're a myth, not quite real and more than life size. Mike has told them that you are the only human he knows who can “grok in fullness” without learning Martian. Most of them suspect that you read minds as perfectly as Mike does.»
«What poppycock! I hope you disabused them?»
«Who am I to destroy a myth? If you do, you wouldn't admit it. They are a bit afraid of you — you eat babies for breakfast and when you roar the ground trembles. Any of them would be delighted to have you call them over … but they won't force themselves on you. They know that even Mike stands at attention when you speak.»
Jubal dismissed the idea with one explosive word. «Certainly,» Ben agreed. «Mike has blind spots — I told you he was human. But you're the patron saint — and you're stuck with it.»
«Well … there's somebody I know, just came in. Jill!Jill! Turn around, dear!»
The woman turned hesitantly. «I'm Dawn. But thank you.» She came over and Jubal thought that she was going to kiss him. But she dropped to one knee, took his hand and kissed it. «Father Jubal. We welcome and drink deep of you.»
Jubal snatched his hand away. «Oh, for heaven's sake, child! Get up and sit down. Share water.»
«Yes, Father Jubal.»
«Huh? Call me Jubal — and spread the word that I don't appreciate being treated like a leper. I'm in the bosom of my family — I hope.»
«You are … Jubal.»
«So I expect to be called Jubal and treated as a water brother — no more, no less. The first one who treats me with respect will stay after school. Grok?»
«Yes, Jubal,» she agreed. «I've told them.»
«Huh?»
«Dawn means,» explained Ben, «that she's told Patty, probably, and that Patty is telling everybody who can hear — with his inner ear — and they are passing the word to any who are still a bit deaf, like myself.»
«Yes,» agreed Dawn, «except that I told Jill — Patty has gone outside for something Michael wants. Jubal, have you been watching stereo? It's very exciting.»
«Eh? No.»
«You mean the jail break, Dawn?»
«Yes, Ben.»
«We hadn't discussed that. Jubal, Mike didn't merely crash out and come home; he gave them miracles to chew on. He threw away every bar and door in the county jail as he left… did the same at the state prison near here — and disarmed all police. Partly to keep 'em busy … and partly because Mike purely despises locking a man up for any reason. He groks it great wrongness.»
«That fits,» Jubal agreed. «Mike is gentle. It would hurt him to have anybody locked up. I agree.»
Ben shook his head. «Mike isn't gentle, Jubal. Killing a man wouldn't worry him. But he's the ultimate anarchist — locking a man up is a wrongness. Freedom of self — and utter personal responsibility for self. Thou art God.»
«Wherein lies the conflict, sir? Killing a man may be necessary. But confining him is an offense against his integrity — and your own.»
Ben looked at him. «Mike is right. You do grok in fullness — his way. I don't quite … I'm still learning.» He added, «How are they taking it, Dawn?»
She giggled slightly. «Like stirred-up hornets. The mayor is frothing. He's demanded help from the state and from the Federation — and getting it; we've seen lots of troop carriers landing. But as they climb out, Mike is stripping them — not just weapons, even their shoes — and as soon as a carrier is empty, it goes, too.»
Ben said, «I grok he'll stay withdrawn until they give up. Handling that many details he would almost have to stay on eternal time.»
Dawn looked thoughtful. «I don't think so, Ben. I would have to, to handle even a tenth. But I grok Michael could do it riding a bicycle standing on his head.»
«Mmm … I wouldn't know, I'm still making mud pies.» Ben stood up. «Sometimes you miracle workers give me a slight pain, honey child. I'm going to watch the tank.» He stopped to kiss her. «You entertain old Pappy Jubal; he likes little girls.» Caxton left and a package of cigarettes followed him, placed itself in one of his pockets.