before I share it.» Mike looked very thoughtful. «Confession is needful. Catholics know that — they have a corps of strong men to take it. Fosterites have group confession and pass it around and thin it out. I need to introduce confession in the early purging — oh, we have it, but spontaneously, after the pilgrim no longer needs it. We need strong men for that — “sin” is rarely concerned with a real wrongness but sin is what the sinner groks as sin — and when you grok with him, it can hurt. I know.»
Mike went on earnestly, «Goodness is not enough, goodness is never enough. That was one of my first mistakes, because among Martians goodness and wisdom are identical. But not with us. Take Jill. Her goodness was perfect when I met her. Nevertheless she was all mixed up inside — and I almost destroyed her, and myself too — for I was just as mixed up — before we got squared away. Her endless patience (not common on this planet) was all that saved us … while I was learning to be human and she was learning what I knew.
«But goodness alone is
Jubal squirmed. «Oh, for Pete's sake, Mike, don't make a production out of it. Just tell me what's eating you. We'll find a way out.»
«Yes, Father.»
But Mike did not go on. Finally Jubal said, «Do you feel busted up by the destruction of your Temple? I wouldn't blame you. But you aren't broke, you can build again.»
«Oh, no, that doesn't matter at all!»
«Eh?»
«That temple was a diary with its pages filled. Time for a new one, rather than write over filled pages. Fire can't destroy the experiences … and from a standpoint of practical politics, being chased out in so spectacular a fashion will help, in the long run. Churches thrive on martyrdom and persecution; it's their best advertising. In fact, Jubal, the last couple of days have been an enjoyable break in a busy routine. No harm done.» His expression changed. «Father… lately I learned that I was a spy.»
«What do you mean, son?»
«For the Old Ones. They sent me here to spy on our people.»
Jubal thought about it. Finally he said, «Mike, I know you are brilliant. You possess powers that I don't have and have never seen before. But a man can be a genius and still have delusions.»
«I know. Let me explain and you decide whether or not I'm crazy. You know how the surveillance satellites used by the Security Forces operate.»
«No.»
«I don't mean details that would interest Duke; I mean the general scheme. They orbit around the globe, picking up data and storing it. At a particular point, the Sky-Eye is keyed and it pours out all that it has seen. That is what they did with me. You know that we of the nest use what is called telepathy.»
«I've been forced to believe it.»
«We do. But this conversation is private — and besides, no one would attempt to read you; I'm not sure we could. Even last night the link was through Dawn's mind, not yours.»
«Well, that is some comfort.»
«I am “only an egg” in this art; the Old Ones are masters. They linked with me but left me on my own, ignored me — then triggered me, and all I had seen and heard and done and felt and grokked poured out and into their records. I don't mean that they wiped my mind of it; they simply played the tape, so to speak, made a copy. But the triggering I could feel — and it was over before I could stop it. Then they cut off the linkage; I couldn't even protest.»
«Well … it seems to me that they used you shabbily — »
«Not by their standards. Nor would I have objected — I would have been happy to volunteer — had I known it before I left Mars. But they didn't want me to know; they wanted me to grok without interference.»
«I was going to add,» Jubal said, «that if you are free of this damnable invasion of your privacy now, then what harm has been done? It seems to me that you could have had a Martian at your elbow all these past two and a half years, with no harm other than attracting stares.»
Mike looked very sober. «Jubal, listen to a story. Listen all the way through.» Mike told him of the destruction of the missing Fifth Planet of Sol, whose ruins are asteroids. «Well, Jubal?»
«It reminds me of the myths about the Flood.»
«No, Jubal. The Flood you aren't sure about. Are you sure about the destruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum?»
«Oh, yes. Those are established facts.»
«Jubal, the destruction of the Fifth Planet by the Old Ones is as certain as that eruption of Vesuvius — and is recorded in much greater detail. No myth. Fact.»
«Uh, stipulate it. Do I understand that you fear that the Old Ones of Mars will give this planet the same treatment? Will you forgive me if I say that is hard for me to swallow?»
«Why, Jubal, it wouldn't take the Old Ones to do it. It merely takes knowledge of physics, how matter is put together — and the same control you have seen me use time and again. Simply necessary first to grok what you want to manipulate. I can do it, right now. Say a piece near the core of Earth about a hundred miles in diameter — much bigger than necessary but we want to make this fast and painless, if only to please Jill. Feel out its size and place, grok carefully how it is put together — » His face lost all expression and his eyeballs started to turn up.
«Hey!» broke in Harshaw. «Stop it! I don't know whether you can or not but I don't want you to try!»
The face of the Man from Mars became normal. «Why, I would never
«But not for them?»
«Oh, no. The Old Ones might grok it as beauty. I don't know. Oh, I have the discipline to do it … but not the volition. Jill could do it — that is, she could contemplate the exact method. But she could never
«Mmmm … son, as long as we are checking you for bats in your belfry, clear up something else. You've always spoken of these “Old Ones” as casually as I speak of the neighbor's dog — but I find ghosts hard to swallow. What does an “Old One” look like?»
«Why, just like any other Martian.»
«Then how do you know it's not just an adult Martian? Does he walk through walls, or such?»
«Any Martian can do that. I did, yesterday.»
«Uh … shimmers? Or anything?»
«No. You see, hear, feel them — everything. It's like an image in a stereo tank, only perfect and put right into your mind. But — Look, Jubal, the whole thing would be a silly question on Mars, but I realize it isn't, here. If you were present at the discorporation — death — of a friend, then helped eat his body … and
«Well, either that, or I had slipped my leash.»
«All right. Here it could be hallucination… if I grok correctly that we don't hang around when we discorporate. But in the case of Mars, there is either an entire planet all run by mass hallucination — or the straightforward explanation is correct … the one I was taught and all my experience led me to believe. Because on Mars “ghosts” are the most powerful and the most numerous part of the population. The ones still alive, the corporate ones, are hewers of wood and drawers of water, servants to the Old Ones.»
Jubal nodded. «Okay. I'll never boggle at slicing with Oc cam's Razor. While it runs contrary to my experience, mine is limited to this planet — provincial. All right, son, you're scared they might destroy us?»
Mike shook his head. «Not especially. I think — this is not a grokking but a guess — that they might do one of two things; either destroy us … or attempt to conquer us culturally, make us over into their own image.»
