If not, the exchange of compliments with the S.S. cop had been rewarding in itself and had left him in a warm glow. Harshaw held that certain feet were made for stepping on, in order to improve the breed, promote the general welfare, and minimize the ancient insolence of office; he had seen at once that Heinrich had such feet.
But he wondered how long he could wait? In addition to the pending collapse of his «bomb» and the fact that he had promised Jill to take steps on behalf of Caxton, something new was crowding him: Duke was gone.
Gone for the day, gone for good (or for bad), Jubal did not know. Duke had been at dinner, had not shown up for breakfast. Neither was noteworthy in Harshaw's household and no one else seemed to miss Duke.
Jubal looked across the pool, watched Mike attempt to perform a dive exactly as Dorcas had just performed it, and admitted to himself that he had not asked about Duke this morning, on purpose. The truth was that he did not want to ask the Bear what had happened to Algy. The Bear might answer.
Well, there was only one way to cope with weakness. «Mike! Come here.»
«Yes, Jubal.» The Man from Mars got out of the pool and trotted over like an eager puppy. Harshaw looked him over, decided that he must weigh twenty pounds more than he had on arrival … all of it muscle. «Mike, do you know where Duke is?»
«No, Jubal.»
Well, that settled it; the boy didn't know how to lie — wait, hold it! Jubal remembered Mike's computer-like habit of answering only the question asked … and Mike had not appeared to know where that pesky box was, once it was gone. «Mike, when did you see him last?»
«I saw Duke go upstairs when Jill and I came downstairs, this morning when time to cook breakfast.» Mike added proudly, «I helped cooking.»
«That was the last time you saw Duke?»
«I am not see Duke since, Jubal. I proudly burned toast.»
«I'll bet you did. You'll make some woman a fine husband, if you aren't careful.»
«Oh, I burned it most carefully.»
«Jubal — »
«Huh? Yes, Anne?»
«Duke grabbed an early breakfast and lit out for town. I thought you knew.»
«Well,» Jubal temporized, «I thought he intended to leave after lunch.» Jubal suddenly felt a load lifted. Not that Duke meant anything to him — of course not! For years he had avoided letting any human being be important to him — but it would have troubled him. A little, anyhow.
What statute was violated in turning a man ninety degrees from everything else?
Not murder, as long as the lad used it only in self-defense, or in the proper defense of another, such as Jill. Pennsylvania laws against witchcraft might apply … but it would be interesting to see how an indictment would be worded.
A civil action might lie — Could harboring the Man from Mars be construed as «maintaining an attractive nuisance?» It was likely that new rules of law must evolve. Mike had already kicked the bottom out of medicine and physics, even though the practitioners of such were aware of the chaos. Harshaw recalled the tragedy that relativity had been for many scientists. Unable to digest it, they had taken refuge in anger at Einstein. Their refuge had been a dead end; all that inflexible old guard could do was die and let younger minds take over.
His grandfather had told him of the same thing in medicine when germ theory came along; physicians had gone to their graves calling Pasteur a liar, a fool, or worse — without examining evidence which their «common sense» told them was impossible.
Well, he could see that Mike was going to cause more hoorah than Pasteur and Einstein combined. Which reminded him — «Larry! Where's Larry?»
«Here, Boss,» the loudspeaker behind him announced. «Down in the shop.»
«Got the panic button?»
«Sure. You said to sleep with it. I do.»
«Bounce up here and give it to Anne. Anne, keep it with your robe.»
She nodded. Larry answered, «Right away, Boss. Count down coming up?»
«Just do it,» Jubal found that the Man from Mars was still in front of him, quiet as a sculptured figure. Sculpture? Uh — Jubal searched his memory. Michelangelo's «David»! Yes, even the puppyish hands and feet, the serenely sensual face, the tousled, too-long hair. «That was all, Mike.»
«Yes, Jubal.»
But Mike waited, Jubal said, «Something on your mind, son?»
«About what I was seeing in that goddamn-noisy-box. You said, “But talk to me later.”»
«Oh.» Harshaw recalled the Fosterite broadcast and winced. «Yes, but don't call that thing a “goddam noisy box.” It is a stereovision receiver.»
Mike looked puzzled. «It is not a goddam-noisy-box? I heard you not rightly?»
«It is indeed a goddam noisy box. But you must call it a stereovision receiver.»
«I will call it a “stereovision-receiver”. Why, Jubal? I do not grok.»
Harshaw sighed; he had climbed these stairs too many times. Any conversation with Smith turned up human behavior which could not be justified logically, and attempts to do so were endlessly time-consuming. «I do not grok it myself, Mike,» he admitted, «but Jill wants you to say it that way.»
«I will do it, Jubal. Jill wants it.»
«Now tell me what you saw and heard — and what you grok of it.»
Mike recalled every word and action in the babble tank, including all commercials. Since he had almost finished the encyclopedia, he had read articles on «Religion,» «Christianity,» «Islam,» «Judaism,» «Confucianism,» «Buddhism,» and related subjects. He had grokked none of this.
Jubal learned that: (a) Mike did not know that the Fosterite service was religious; (b) Mike remembered what he had read about religions but had filed such for future meditation, not having understood them; (c) Mike had a most confused notion of what «religion» meant, although he could quote nine dictionary definitions; (d) the Martian language contained no word which Mike could equate with any of these definitions; (e) the customs which Jubal had described to Duke as Martian «religious ceremonies» were not; to Mike such matters were as matter-of-fact as grocery markets were to Jubal; (f) it was not possible to separate in the Martian tongue the human concepts: «religion,» «philosophy,» and «science» — and, since Mike thought in Martian, it was not possible for him to tell them apart. All such matters were «learnings» from the «Old Ones.» Doubt he had ever heard of, nor of research (no Martian word for either); the answers to any questions were available from the Old Ones, who were omniscient and infallible, whether on tomorrow's weather or cosmic teleology. Mike had seen a weather forecast and had assumed that this was a message from human «Old Ones» for those still corporate. He held a similar assumption concerning the authors of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
But last, and worst to Jubal, Mike had grokked the Fosterite service as announcing impending discorporation of two humans to join the human «Old Ones» — and Mike was tremendously excited. Had he grokked it rightly? Mike knew that his English was imperfect; he made mistakes through ignorance, being «only an egg.» But had he grokked this correctly? He had been waiting to meet the human «Old Ones,» he had many questions to ask. Was this an opportunity? Or did he require more learnings before he was ready?
Jubal was saved by the bell; Dorcas arrived with sandwiches and coffee. Jubal ate silently, which suited Smith as his rearing had taught him that eating was a time of meditation. Jubal stretched his meal while he pondered — and cursed himself for letting Mike watch stereo. Oh, the boy had to come up against religions — couldn't be helped if he was going to spend his life on this dizzy planet. But, damn it, it would have been better to wait until Mike was used to the cockeyed pattern of human behavior… and not Fosterites as his first experience!