Stranger in a Strange Land

The note was one word: «Yes,» and had been signed with «J.E.D.» — in the famous green ink.

Jubal looked up, found Douglas's eyes on him; Jubal nodded and Douglas looked away. The conference was over; all that remained was to let the world know it.

Mike concluded the sonorous nullities; Jubal heard his own words: « — growing closer, with mutual benefit to both worlds — » and «each race according to its own nature — » Douglas then thanked the Man from Mars, briefly but warmly.

Jubal stood up. «Mr. Secretary General — »

«Yes, Dr. Harshaw?»

«Mr. Smith is here in a dual role. Like some visiting prince in the history of our own great race, traveling by caravan and sail across uncharted vastnesses to a distant realm, he brings the good wishes of the Ancient Powers of Mars. But he is also a human being, a citizen of the Federation of the United States of America. As such, he has rights and properties and obligations.» Jubal shook his head. «Pesky ones. As attorney for his capacity as a citizen and a human being, I have been puzzling over his affairs and I have not even managed a complete list of what he owns — much less decide what to tell tax collectors.»

Jubal stopped to wheeze. «I'm an old man, I might not live to complete the task. You know that my client has no business experience in the human sense — Martians do these things differently. But he is a young man of great intelligence — the whole world knows that his parents were geniuses — and blood will tell. There's no doubt that in a few years he could, if he wished, do nicely on his own without the aid of one old, broken-down lawyer. But his affairs need attention today; business won't wait.

«But, he is more eager to learn the history and arts and ways of the people of this, his second home, than he is to bury himself in debentures and stock issues and royalties — and I think in this he is wise. Mr. Smith possesses a direct wisdom that continues to astonish me … and astonishes all who meet him. When I explained the trouble, he looked at me with a clear gaze and said, “That's no problem, Jubal — we'll ask Mr. Douglas”. » Jubal paused and said anxiously, «The rest is personal business, Mr. Secretary. Should I see you privately? And let these ladies and gentlemen go home?»

«Go ahead, Dr. Harshaw.» Douglas added, «Protocol is dispensed with. Anyone who wishes to leave please feel free to do so.»

No one left. «All right,» Jubal went on. «I can wrap it up in one sentence. Mr. Smith wants to appoint you his attorney-in-fact, with full power to handle all his business affairs.»

Douglas looked convincingly astonished. «That's a tall order, Doctor.»

«I know it is, sir. I pointed out to him that you are the busiest man on this planet and didn't have time for his affairs.» Jubal shook his head and smiled. «I'm afraid I didn't impress him — seems on Mars the busier a person is the more is expected of him. Mr. Smith simply said, “We can ask him”. So I'm asking you. Of course we don't expect an answer off-hand-that's another Martian trait; Martians are never in a hurry. Nor are they inclined to make things complicated. No bond, no auditing, none of that claptrap — a written power of attorney if you want it. But it does not matter to him; he would do it just as readily, orally and right now. That's another Martian trait; if a Martian trusts you, he trusts you all the way. Oh, I should add: Mr. Smith is not making this request of the Secretary General; he's asking a favor of Joseph Edgerton Douglas, you personally. If you retire from public life, it will not affect this. Your successor in office doesn't figure in it. It's you he trusts … not just whoever happens to occupy the Octagon Office in this Palace.»

Douglas nodded. «Regardless of my answer, I feel honored … and humble.»

«Because if you decline to serve, or can't serve, or take on this chore and want to drop it later, or anything, Mr. Smith has his second choice — Ben Caxton, it is. Stand up, Ben; let people see you. And if both you and Caxton can't or won't, his next choice is — well, I guess we'll reserve that for the moment; just let it rest that there are successive choices. Uh, let me see now — » Jubal looked fuddled. «I'm out of the habit of talking on my feet. Miriam, where is that paper we listed things on?»

Jubal accepted a sheet from her and added, «Better give me the other copies, too.» She passed over a thick stack of sheets. «This is a memo we prepared for you, sir — or for Caxton, if it turns out that way. Mmm, lemme see — oh yes, steward to pay himself what he thinks the job is worth but not less than — well, a considerable sum, nobody else's business, really. Steward to deposit monies in a drawing account for living expenses of party of the first part — uh, oh yes, I thought maybe you would want to use the Bank of Shanghai, say, as depository, and say, Lloyd's as your business agent — or the other way around — just to protect your name and fame. But Mr. Smith won't hear of fixed instructions — just an unlimited assignment of power, revocable by either side. But I won't read all this; that's why we wrote it out.» Jubal peered vacantly around. «Uh, Miriam — trot around and give this to the Secretary General, that's a good girl. Um, these other copies, I'll leave them here. You may want to pass 'em out … or you may need them yourself. Oh, I'd better give one to Mr. Caxton — here, Ben.»

Jubal looked anxiously around. «Uh, I guess that's all, Mr. Secretary. Did you have anything to say to us?»

«Just a moment. Mr. Smith?»

«Yes, Mr. Douglas?»

«Is this what you want? Do you want me to do what it says on this paper?»

Jubal held his breath, avoided glancing at his client. Mike had been coached to expect such a question … but there had been no telling what form it would take, nor any way to tell how Mike's literal interpretations could trip them.

«Yes, Mr. Douglas.» Mike's voice rang out in the room — and in a billion rooms around the planet.

«You want me to handle your business affairs?»

«Please, Mr. Douglas. It would be a goodness. I thank you.»

Douglas blinked. «Well, that's clear enough. Doctor, I'll reserve my answer — but you shall have it promptly.»

«Thank you, sir. For myself as well as for my client.»

Douglas started to stand up. Assemblyman Kung's voice interrupted. «One moment! How about the Larkin Decision?»

Jubal grabbed it. «Ah, yes, the Larkin Decision. I've heard a lot of nonsense about the Larkin Decision — mostly from irresponsible persons. Mr. Kung, what about it?»

«I'm asking you. Or your… client. Or the Secretary General.»

Jubal said gently, «Shall I speak, Mr. Secretary?»

«Please do.»

«Very well.» Jubal took out a handkerchief and blew his nose in a prolonged blast, a minor chord three octaves below middle C. He fixed Kung with his eye and said solemnly, «Mr. Assemblyman, I'll address you — because I know it is unnecessary to address it to the government in the person of the Secretary. A long time ago, when I was a little boy, another boy and I formed a club. Since we had a club, we had to have rules … and the first rule we passed — unanimously — was that henceforth we could call our mothers “Crosspatch.” Silly, of course … but we were very young. Mr. Kung, can you deduce the outcome?»

«I won't guess, Dr. Harshaw.»

«I implemented our “Crosspatch” decision just once. Once was enough and it saved my chum from the same mistake. All it got me was my bottom warmed with a peach switch. And that was the end of the “Crosspatch” decision.»

Jubal cleared his throat. «Knowing that someone was certain to raise this non-existent issue I tried to explain the Larkin Decision to my client. He had trouble realizing that anyone could think that this legal fiction would apply to Mars. After all, Mars is inhabited, by an old and wise race — much older than yours, sir, and possibly wiser. But when he did understand it, he was amused. Just that, sir — tolerantly amused. Once — just once — I underrated my mother's power to punish impudence. That lesson was cheap. But this planet cannot afford such a lesson on a planetary scale. Before we parcel out lands which do not belong to us, it behooves us to be very sure what peach switches are hanging in the Martian kitchen.»

Kung looked unconvinced. «Dr. Harshaw, if the Larkin Decision is no more than a small boy's folly … why were sovereign honors rendered to Mr. Smith?»