those who stayed alive through the summer, are being brought into nests for quickening and more growing.» He thought. «Of the humans we left at the equator, one has discorporated and the others are sad.»
«Yes, I heard it in the news.»
Mike had not heard it; he had not known it until asked. «They should not be sad. Mr. Booker T. W. Jones Food Technician First Class is not sad; the Old Ones have cherished him.»
«You knew him?»
«Yes. He had his own face, dark and beautiful. But he was homesick.»
«Oh, dear! Mike … do you ever get homesick? For Mars?»
«At first I was homesick,» he answered. «I was lonely always.» He rolled toward her and took her in his arms. «But now I am not lonely. I grok I shall never be lonely again.»
«Mike darling — » They kissed, and went on kissing.
Presently his water brother said breathlessly. «Oh, my! That was almost worse than the first time.»
«You are all right, my brother?»
«Yes. Yes indeed. Kiss me again.»
A long time later, by cosmic clock, she said, «Mike? Is that — I mean, “Do you know — ”»
«I know. It is for growing closer. Now we grow closer.»
«Well… I've been ready a long time — goodness, we all have, but… never mind, dear; turn just a little. I'll help.»
As they merged, grokking together, Mike said softly and triumphantly: «Thou art God.»
Her answer was not in words. Then, as their grokking made them ever closer and Mike felt himself almost ready to discorporate her voice called him back: «Oh! …
«We grok God.»
XXV
ON MARS humans were building pressure domes for the male and female party that would arrive by next ship. This went faster than scheduled as the Martians were helpful. Part of the time saved was spent on a preliminary estimate for a long-distance plan to free bound oxygen in the sands of Mars to make the planet more friendly to future human generations.
The Old Ones neither helped nor hindered this plan; time was not yet. Their meditations were approaching a violent cusp that would shape Martian art for many millennia. On Earth elections continued and a very advanced poet published a limited edition of verse consisting entirely of punctuation marks and spaces;
A colossal campaign opened to sell more sexual organs of plants and Mrs. Joseph («Shadow of Greatness») Douglas was quoted as saying: «I would no more sit down without flowers on my table than without serviettes.» A Tibetan swami from Palermo, Sicily, announced in Beverly Hills a newly discovered, ancient yoga discipline for ripple breathing which increased both pranha and cosmic attraction between sexes. His chelas were required to assume the matsyendra posture dressed in hand-woven diapers while he read aloud from Rig-Veda and an assistant guru examined their purses in another room — nothing was stolen; the purpose was less immediate.
The President of the United States proclaimed the first Sunday in November as «National Grandmothers' Day» and urged America to say it with flowers. A funeral parlor chain was indicted for price-cutting. Fosterite bishops, after secret conclave, announced the Church's second Major Miracle: Supreme Bishop Digby had been translated bodily to Heaven and spot-promoted to Archangel, ranking with-but-after Archangel Foster. The glorious news had been held up pending Heavenly confirmation of the elevation of a new Supreme Bishop, Huey Short — a candidate accepted by the Boone faction after lots had been cast repeatedly.
Digby was not pleased with his promotion. The Man from Mars had interrupted him with his work half finished — and that stupid jackass Short was certain to louse it up. Foster listened with angelic patience until Digby ran down, then said, «Listen, junior, you're an angel now — so forget it. Eternity is no time for recriminations. You too were a stupid jackass until you poisoned me. Afterwards you did well enough. Now that Short is Supreme Bishop he'll do all right, he can't help it. Same as with the Popes. Some of them were warts until they got promoted. Check with one of them, go ahead — there's no professional jealousy here.»
Digby calmed down, but made one request.
Foster shook his halo. «You can't touch him. You shouldn't have tried to. Oh, you can submit a requisition for a miracle if you want to make a fool of yourself. But, I'm telling you, it'll be turned down — you don't understand the System yet. The Martians have their own setup, different from ours, and as long as they need him, we can't touch him. They run their show their way — the Universe has variety, something for everybody — a fact you field workers often miss.»
«You mean this punk can brush me aside and I've got to hold still for it?»
«I held still for the same thing, didn't I? I'm helping you now, am I not? Now look, there's work to be done and lots of it. The Boss wants performance, not gripes. If you need a Day off to calm down, duck over to the Muslim Paradise and take it. Otherwise, straighten your halo, square your wings, and dig in. The sooner you act like an angel the quicker you'll feel angelic. Get Happy, junior!»
Digby heaved a deep ethereal sigh. «Okay, I'm Happy. Where do I start?»
Jubal did not hear of Digby's disappearance when it was announced, and, when he did, while he had a fleeting suspicion, he dismissed it; if Mike had had a finger in it, he had gotten away with it — and what happened to supreme bishops worried Jubal not at all as long as he wasn't bothered.
His household had gone through an upset. Jubal deduced what had happened but did not know with whom-and didn't want to inquire. Mike was of legal age and presumed able to defend himself in the clinches. Anyhow, it was high time the boy was salted.
Jubal couldn't reconstruct the crime from the way the girls behaved because patterns kept shifting — ABC vs D, then BCD
This continued most of the week following that ill-starred trip to church, during which period Mike stayed in his room and usually in a trance so deep that Jubal would have pronounced him dead had he not seen it before. Jubal would not have minded it if service had not gone to pieces. The girls seemed to spend half their time tiptoeing in «to see if Mike was all right» and they were too preoccupied to cook, much less be secretaries. Even rock-steady Anne — Hell, Anne was the worst! Absent-minded, subject to unexplained tears … Jubal would have bet his life that if Anne were to witness the Second Coming, she would memorize date, time, personae, events, and barometric pressure without batting her calm blue eyes.
Late Thursday Mike woke himself and suddenly it was ABCD in the service of Mike, «less than the dust beneath his chariot wheels.» The girls resumed giving Jubal service, so he counted his blessings and let it lie … except for a wry thought that, if he demanded a showdown, Mike could quintuple their salaries by a post card to Douglas — but the girls would just as readily support Mike.
With domestic tranquility restored Jubal did not mind that his kingdom was ruled by a mayor of the palace. Meals were on time and better than ever; when he shouted «Front!» the girl who appeared was bright-eyed, happy, and efficient — such being the case, Jubal did not give a hoot who rated the most side boys. Or girls.
Besides, the change in Mike was interesting. Before that week Mike had been docile in a fashion that Jubal classed as neurotic; now he was so self-confident that Jubal would have described it as cocky had it not been that Mike continued to be unfailingly polite and considerate.
He accepted homage from the girls as if a natural right, he seemed older than his age rather than younger,
