«No,» he answered. «Not anything I can put my finger on.»

«I'll ask you again in a week or two. No hurry.»

«I won't be here a week.»

«You have columns on the spike?»

«Three. But I shouldn't stay that long.»

«I think you will … then you'll phone in a few, probably about the Church. By then you will grok to stay much longer.»

«I don't think so.»

«Waiting is, until fullness. You know it's not a church?»

«Patty said something of the sort.»

«Let's say it's not a religion. It is a church, in every legal and moral sense. But we're not trying to bring people to God; that's a contradiction, you can't say it in Martian. We're not trying to save souls, souls can't be lost. We're not trying to get people to have faith, what we offer is not faith but truth — truth they can check. Truth for here-and-now, truth as matter of fact as an ironing board and as useful as bread … so practical that it can make war and hunger and violence and hate as unnecessary as… well, as clothes in the Nest. But they have to learn Martian. That's the hitch — finding people honest enough to believe what they see, willing to work hard — it is hard — to learn the language it must be taught in. This truth can't be stated in English any more than Beethoven's Fifth can be.» She smiled. «But Mike never hurries. He screens thousands… finds a few… and some trickle into the Nest and he trains them further. Someday Mike will have us so thoroughly trained that we can start other nests, then it can snowball. But there's no hurry. None of us is really trained. Are we, dear?»

Ben looked up at Jill's last words — was startled to find bending over to offer him a plate a woman he recognized as the other high priestess — Dawn, yes, that was right. His surprise was not reduced by her being dressed in Patricia's fashion, minus tattoos.

Dawn smiled. «Your supper, my brother Ben. Thou art God.»

«Uh, thou art God. Thanks.» She kissed him, got plates for herself and Jill, sat down on his right and began to eat. Ben was sorry that she did not sit where he could see her better — she had the best attributes associated with goddesses.

«No,» Dawn agreed, «not yet, Jill. But waiting will fill.»

«For example, Ben,» Jill continued, «I took a break to eat. But Mike hasn't eaten since day before yesterday … and won't until he's not needed. Then he'll eat like a pig and that will carry him as long as necessary. Besides that, Dawn and I get tired. Don't we, sweet?»

«We surely do. But I'm not tired, Gillian. Let me take this service and you stay with Ben. Give me that robe.»

«You're crazy in your little pointy head, my love. Ben, she's been on duty almost as long as Mike. We can take a long stretch — but we eat when we're hungry and sometimes we need sleep. Speaking of robes, Dawn, this was the last in the Seventh Temple. I meant to tell Patty she'd better order a gross or two.»

«She has.»

«I should have known. This one seems tight.» Jill wiggled in a fashion that disturbed Ben. «Are we putting on weight?»

«A little.»

«Good. We were too skinny. Ben, you noticed that Dawn and I have the same figure? Height, bust, waist, hips, weight, everything — not to mention coloration. We were almost alike when we met … then, with Mike's help, we matched exactly. Even our faces are more alike — but that comes from doing and thinking the same things. Stand up and let Ben look at us, dear.»

Dawn put her plate aside and did so, in a pose that reminded Ben of Jill, more than resemblance justified — then he realized it was the pose Jill had been in when she stood revealed as Mother Eve.

Jill said, with her mouth full, «See, Ben? That's me.»

Dawn smiled. «A razor's edge of difference, Gillian.»

«Pooh. I'm almost sorry we'll never have the same face. It's handy, Ben, for us to be alike. We must have two high priestesses; it's all two can do to keep up with Mike. And besides,» she added, «Dawn can buy a dress and it fits me, too. Saves me the nuisance of shopping.»

«I wasn't sure,» Ben said slowly, «that you wore clothes. Except these priestess things.»

Jill looked surprised. «How could we go out dancing in these? That's our favorite way of not getting sleep. Sit down and finish your supper; Ben has stared at us long enough. Ben, there's a man in that transition group who's a perfectly dreamy dancer and this town is loaded with night clubs. Dawn and I have kept the poor fellow up so many nights that we've had to help him stay awake in language classes. But he'll be all right; once you reach Eighth Circle you don't need much sleep. What made you think we never dressed, dear?»

«Uh — » Ben blurted out his dilemma.

Jill looked wide-eyed, barely giggled — stopped at once. «I see. Darling, I'm wearing this robe because I have to gobble and git. Had I grokked that was troubling you, I would have chucked it before I said hello. We're so used to dressing or not according to what we do that I forgot that it might not be polite. Sweetheart, wear those shorts — or not, exactly as suits you.»

«Uh — »

«Just don't fret.» Jill smiled and dimpled. «Reminds me of the time Mike tried a public beach. “Member, Dawn”?»

«I'll never forget!»

«Ben, you know how Mike is. I had to teach him everything. He couldn't see any point to clothes, until he grokked — to his great surprise — that we aren't invulnerable to weather. Body-modesty isn't a Martian concept, couldn't be. Mike grokked clothes as ornaments only after we started experimenting with costuming our acts.

«But while Mike always did what I told him to, whether he grokked it or not, you can't imagine how many little things there are to being human. We take twenty years or more to learn them; Mike had to learn almost overnight. There are still gaps. He does things not knowing that isn't how a human behaves. We all teach him — all but Patty, who is sure that anything Michael does is perfect. He's still grokking clothes. He groks they're a wrongness that keeps people apart — gets in the way of letting love cause them to grow closer. Lately he's grokked that you need a barrier — with outsiders. But for a long time Mike wore clothes only when I told him to.

«And once I failed to tell him.

«We were in Baja California; it was when we met — or remet — Dawn. Mike and I checked in at night at a beach hotel and he was so anxious to grok the ocean that he let me sleep next morning and went down by himself for his first encounter with the sea.

«Poor Mike! He got to the beach, threw off his robe, and headed for the water…looking like a Greek god and just as unaware of conventions — and the riot started and I came awake fast and rushed down to keep him out of jail.»

Jill got a faraway look. «He needs me now. Kiss me good night, Ben; I'll see you in the morning.»

«You'll be gone all night?»

«Probably. It's a fairly big transition class.» She stood up, pulled him to his feet and went into his arms.

Presently she murmured, «Ben darling, you've been taking lessons.Whew!»

«Me? I've been utterly faithful to you — in my own way.»

«The same way I've been to you. I wasn't complaining; I just think Dorcas has been helping you practice kissing.»

«Some, maybe. Nosy.»

«The class can wait while you kiss me again. I'll try to be Dorcas.»

«Be yourself.»

«I would, anyway. Self. Mike says that Dorcas kisses more thoroughly — “groks a kiss more” — than anyone.»

«Quit chattering.»

She did, then sighed. «Transition class, here I come — glowing like a lightning bug. Take care of him,

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