While Mrs. Douglas was raving about subjects she knew nothing about, some people were at ease in a villa in the Poconos.Jubal E. Harshaw not only wears the three hats of Master of Laws, Doctor of Medicine and Doctor of Science, but also a gourmet, a master of luxury pleasure, a super best-selling author and a philosopher of new pessimism.He was sitting lazily by the pool, scratching his thick gray chest hair, watching three secretaries play in the pool.They are all stunningly beautiful, and at the same time exceptionally competent.In Harshaw's view, to realize the "principle of least action", it is undoubtedly necessary to perfectly combine practicality and beauty.
Dorcas had dark hair, Anne blond, Miriam red; and the three ranged from sweet and slender to pleasingly voluptuous.The age difference between the youngest one and the oldest is as much as fifteen years, but it is really difficult to judge who is older just by looking at the appearance.
Harshaw is working hard.Most of his senses are occupied with watching pretty girls splashing in the sun; but a hermetic, soundproof part of his brain is conceiving the work.According to Harshaw, writing involves paralleling the thalamus to the gonads while completely disconnecting the brain.His usual writing habits really add a lot of credibility to this theory.
The microphone on the desk is connected to a voice writer, but he only uses it to take notes.Once he was ready to write, he would call in his secretary and watch the other party's reaction while dictating.
Now he is ready.Harshaw yelled, "Shorthand!"
"It's Annie's turn to take shorthand," replied Dorcas, "and I'll take her place. She's under the splash.
"Go down and get her." The brown-haired beauty dived into the water; after a while Anne climbed up from the pool, put on a gown, and sat down at the table.She said nothing, made no preparations—Anne's memory was flawless.
Harshaw poured the brandy out of the ice bucket and took a swig. "Annie, I've come up with a sentimental story. A little kitten, who sneaks into a church on Christmas Eve, trying to keep warm. He's lost, cold and hungry, and--God knows why-- One of the paws is hurt. Well, here we go: 'Snowflakes are falling—'"
"What pseudonym?"
"Um... Molly Wattswith; a sweet title for this one. The title is 'The Other Manger,' Beginning Again." He began, watching Anne's expression.Gradually, tears overflowed from Annie's tightly closed eyes.Seeing this, Harshaw smiled and closed his eyes.By the time he had finished telling the story, both of them were in tears, sharing a deeply sentimental catharsis.
"It's over," he announced. "Blow your nose. Send it away, for God's sake, don't let me see it again."
"Jubbal, have you never felt a little bit ashamed?"
"No."
"One day, I'm going to kick you for this stuff, right in your fleshy belly."
"I know. Get your little ass in the house and get rid of it before I change my mind."
"Okay, boss."
She walked behind his chair and kissed his bald head.Harshaw yelled again, "Shorthand!" and Miriam came toward him.At this moment, the loudspeaker installed in the house spoke:
"boss!"
Harshaw muttered a word that made Miriam giggle.He asked, "What's the matter, Larry?"
The trumpet replied, "A lady comes at the door—with a dead body."
Harshaw thought for a moment. "Is she pretty?"
"Uh...beautiful."
"Then why are you still sucking your finger? Let her in." Harshaw leaned back in the chair. "Begin." He said, "montage of cityscape, fading into close-up of two people indoors, medium shot ...a policeman sits in a straight chair, hatless, open neckline, sweaty face. We see the back of another man, positioned between the audience and the policeman. He raises one hand and stretches his arm backward , hands almost out of camera, and slapped the cop, dub, thick, fleshy voice." Harshaw glanced up, "Next time I'll write from here." A car climbed up a small hill, Drive towards the house.
Jill was driving, with a young man sitting beside him.Before the car came to a complete stop, the man jumped out, as if glad to have nothing to do with it. "That's her, Jubal."
"I see. Good morning, little girl. Larry, where's the body?"
"Backseat, boss. Under the blanket."
"But that's not a corpse," Jill protested. "It was... Ben said you would... I mean—" She bowed her head and sobbed.
"It's all right, my dear," said Harshaw softly. "There are few dead bodies worth weeping. Dorcas—Miriam—come and help her. Let her have a drink, and wash her face."
He walked to the back seat and pulled back the blanket.Jill shook off Miriam's arm and screamed, "Listen! He's not dead. At least I hope he's not. He's... oh my God!" She started crying again, "I'm so dirty ...and so scary!"
"Looks like a dead body," Harshaw said thoughtfully. "The temperature, I think, has dropped to mid-air temperature. The rigor is not complete. How long has he been dead?"
"But he's not dead! Can't we get him out? It took all my troubles to get him in."
"Of course. Larry, help me--and don't be so blue; if you spit, you'll have to do it yourself." They carried Valentine Michael Smith out of the car and set him down on the lawn; His body was curled into a ball, still very stiff.Dorcas got Dr. Harshaw's electronic stethoscope, set it on the ground, flipped it on, and turned it up.
Harshaw put the earbuds of the stethoscope in his ears and began to check the other person's heartbeat. "I'm afraid you are mistaken," he said softly. "There is nothing I can do about this man. Who is he?"
Jill sighed, feeling exhausted.There was no expression on her face, her tone was flat, without any ups and downs. "It's a visitor from Mars. I tried my best."
"I'm sure you did your best—Visitor from Mars?"
"Yes. Ben... Ben Caxton said he should be looking for you."
"Ben Caxton, huh? I appreciate his confidence—shush!" Harshaw gestured for silence.He looked a bit puzzled, and then suddenly surprise was written on his face. "Heartbeat! I must have turned into a baboon. Dorcas—upstairs, infirmary—locked part of the freezer, third drawer; code is Sweet Dreams. Take the drawer down, and the A 1cc subcutaneous injection."
"Come on!"
"Doctor, do not use stimulants!"
Harshaw turned to Jill, "What?"
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm just a nurse . . . but this case is special. I know."
"Mm...he's my patient now, nurse. But then again, I found out about forty years ago that I wasn't God, and thirty years ago I found out that I wasn't even God. What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to try to wake him up. If you drug him, he'll just sink in deeper."
"Mm... go ahead, just don't use the axe, and then we'll try my way"
"Okay, sir." Jill knelt down and tried to spread Smith's limbs.She succeeded, and Harshaw raised an eyebrow.Jill put Smith's head on her lap. "Please wake up," she said softly, "I am your water brother."
Smith's chest rose slowly, he let out a long breath like a sigh, and then opened his eyes.He smiled like a child when he saw Jill, but it disappeared as soon as he saw the others.
"It's all right," Jill said quickly, "they're friends."
"friend?"
"Yes, they're all your friends. Don't worry—and don't leave again. It's all right."
He lay quietly, opened his eyes and looked at everything around him, looking as content as a cat curled up on his master's lap.
Twenty-five minutes later, both patients were in bed.Harshaw asked Jill to take a pill, but before the effect of the medicine took effect, she had told him a lot of the situation, and Harshaw immediately understood that the enemy would soon follow.He looked at Jill's coming car.It says on the car body: Reading for rent - all kinds of land vehicles, long-lasting power - rent a real Dutch speeder!
"Larry, is the fence electrified?"
"No."
"Go on. Then wipe off all the fingerprints on that old car. Take it to the other side of Reading after dark--preferably drive all the way to Lancaster, find a ditch and dump it there. Then go Philadelphia, to Scranton, and fly back from there."
"No problem, Jubal. I said—is he really from Mars?"
"Better hope he isn't. If he is and you get caught before disposing of that car again, they'll hook you up with him and serve you with a blowtorch. I think he is."
"Understood. What else can I order, and grab a bank on the way back?"
"Okay, it's safe to do so."
"Okay, boss." Larry hesitated, "Mind if I spend the night in Philadelphia?"
"Whatever you want. But, in God's name, what night life can you find in Philadelphia?" Harshaw turned. "Shorthand!"
Jill slept until dinnertime, only to wake up feeling refreshed.She sniffed the air coming in from the overhead window and guessed that the doctor had given a stimulant to counteract the earlier sedative.While she was sleeping, someone took off her dirty and rags, leaving behind an evening dress and a pair of sandals.The dress fit well; Jill speculated that it probably belonged to the girl named Miriam.She took a bath, put on her make-up, brushed her hair, and went downstairs into the living room feeling refreshed.
Dorcas curled up in a chair embroidering lace; she nodded to Jill and went on with her work as if he had been part of the family.Harshaw was mixing a drink from an off-white bottle. "Have a drink?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, thank you."
He took two large cocktail glasses, filled them, and handed one of them to Jill. "What is it?" Jill asked.
"My exclusive recipe. One-third vodka, one-third hydrochloric acid, one-third electrolyzed water, two pints of salt, and a pickled beetle."
"It's better to have a glass of whiskey on the rocks." Dorcas suggested.
"Mind your own business," said Harshaw. "The hydrochloric acid is good for digestion, and the beetles are good for vitamins and protein." He raised his glass and said solemnly, "To our extinct noble selves!" He drank the wine and drank it. do.
Jill tried a sip, then drank some more.Whatever the recipe, the stuff seemed to be just what she needed; a good feeling spread from stomach to extremities.She drank about half of it, and Harshaw filled it up for her. "Have you seen any of our patients?" he asked.
"Not yet, sir. I don't know where he is."
"I just visited a few minutes ago and slept like a baby. I think I should rename him and call him. Will he want to come down for dinner?"
Jill mused, "I don't know, Doctor."
"Well, he'll know when he wakes up. He can dine with us, or in his own room. This is the Hall of Freedom, dear. Everyone can do what they want...until something I don't like I kicked that guy out. It kind of reminds me: I don't like being called Doctor."
"gentlemen?"
I" oh, you didn't offend me. It's just that those guys have come up with Ph. D.'s in folk dance comparisons and advanced lure fishing and so on, so my stinky pride kicks out and I'm not allowed to use that title No. I don't drink whiskey and water, and I don't touch water-filled degrees. Just call me Jubal."
"Oh. But a medical degree doesn't suck."
"Then it should be given another name, lest people confuse it with an amusement park superintendent. Why are you interested in this patient, little girl?"
"What? Didn't I tell you, Bo-Jubal."
"You told me how it happened and not why, Jill. I saw you talk to him. Are you in love with him?"
Jill gasped. "What, this is ridiculous!"
"—not at all. You're a big girl and he's a lad—a match made in heaven."
"But—no, Jubal, it's not like that. I... well, he's a prisoner, and I think—or should have thought—that he's a danger. We want him to have his rights."
"Hmmm, honey, I'm a bit suspicious of any non-profit interest. Your hormones seem to be pretty balanced, so I guess you've got either Ben or the poor Martian guy on your mind. Best start Analyze your motives and decide where you want to go. In the meantime, what do you want me to do?"
The question was so broad that it was difficult for Jill to answer.Ever since she broke the boat and started to act, her mind was full of running away, and the rest was completely blank.She doesn't have any plans. "I have no idea."
"I guess so. I presume you didn't want to lose your license, so you took it upon yourself to send a letter from Montreal to your matron saying that someone in the family is sick and you're asking for a leave of absence. Is that all right?"
Jill felt a sudden relief.Previously she had kept all the worries about her well-being buried in her heart, but deep down she was always insecure, always worried about her career. "Oh, Jubal, thank you!" she added, "I haven't started to slow down yet, and it just happens to be my turn today."
"Very well. What do you want to do?"
"I haven't had time to think about it. Well, I should contact the bank and get some money—" She paused, trying to remember the balance in her account.She never had much money in her account, and sometimes she forgot—
Jubal interrupted her train of thought, "If you do that, the cops will rush here in an instant. Better stay here and talk about it when things calm down, okay?"
"Well, Jubal. I don't want to trouble you."
"You've already done it. Don't worry, boy, I've always got a visitor here. No one will bother me if I don't want to, so don't be nervous. Now let's talk about your patient: you say you want him to have himself back 'Rights'. You expect me to help?"
"Well... Ben said—Ben seemed to think you'd help."
"Ben doesn't speak for me. I have no interest in the lad's supposed rights. His claim to Mars is nothing but lawyer's nonsense; I'm a lawyer myself, and I don't have to respect that kind of stuff. As for those supposedly supposed to belong to him He had earned none of the fortune, which was all the whims of other people and our queer tribal customs, and he would be lucky if they swindled it all out. I wouldn't even look through the papers for something like that. If you're expecting me to fight for Smith's 'rights,' you're in the wrong place."
"Well." Jill felt so alone. "Then I'd better take him away."
"Oh no! Unless you really want to."
"But you didn't say—"
"I say I'm not interested in legal nonsense, but the guest who lives under my roof is another matter entirely. He can stay if he wants. I just want to make a point. You or Ben Cox Don may have some rather romantic ideas, but I have no intention of getting involved in politics for them. Honey, I used to think I was serving humanity too... and I was very proud of it. Then I found out that humanity doesn't want anyone to serve. ;on the contrary, it defies all attempts to serve it. So now, I only do what pleases Jubal Harshaw." He turned away. "It's supper time, isn't it, Dorcas? ? Why is there no movement?"
"Miriam is in charge." Dorcas put down the needle and thread in her hand and stood up.
"I've never been able to figure out how these girls divide their labor."
"How could you know, boss? You haven't done any work." Dorcas patted his stomach, "But you never miss a meal."
After the sound of the gong, everyone went in to eat.If Miriam really cooked the food, then she must have used modern technology, because when everyone entered the door, they found that she was already sitting at the head of the dining table, refreshed and beautiful.Besides the secretary, there was a man at dinner named Duke, a little older than Larry, who treated Jill as if she had lived here all her life.They don't have robots serving meals, everything is controlled by buttons on Miriam's head.The food was great, and Jill guessed that none of it was synthetic.
The food, however, was not to Harshaw's liking.He complained that the knife was too blunt, the meat too tough, and accused Miriam of using leftovers to deal with him.Everyone pretended not to hear, except Jill who was rather embarrassed by Miriam.Just then Annie put down her fork and said, "He just mentioned his mother's cooking."
Dorcas nodded, "He's starting to think of himself as the boss again."
"How long has it been like this?"
"About ten days."
"It's been too long." Anne winked at Dorcas and Miriam, and the three stood up together.Duke continued to eat on his own.
Harshaw begged hastily: "Girls, don't at dinner time! Wait till—"
"They headed straight for him; a machine hurried out of the way. Annie grabbed his feet, the two accomplices each had an arm, and the glass door slid open, and Harshaw, who protested loudly, was carried out.
The protest turned into a sound of splashing water.
The women returned to the dinner table, their clothes undisturbed.Miriam sat down and turned to Jill, "Another salad, Jill?"
Harshaw changed out of his evening coat and came in in pajamas and robes.A machine covered his plate as he was hauled away; now it's done, and he's eating. "As I said just now," he commented, "if a woman can't cook, her life is a waste of food. If she still can't get the service she deserves, I'll trade you guys for a dog, and I'll do it again. The gun broke it. What's dessert, Miriam."
"Strawberry Shortcake."
"That makes sense. You're on probation until Wednesday."
Eager to know if she was getting a place in the news, Jill went into the living room after dinner to check out the three-dimensional news broadcast.She couldn't find the receiver, and she couldn't find a trace of the TV.After thinking about it, she really didn't remember seeing that thing in this house.There are no newspapers in the house, but there are plenty of books and magazines.
No one came to the living room.She wanted to see what time it was, but the watch was left upstairs.She started looking around for the clock, but found nothing.Jill tried hard to remember, and found that she had never seen a clock or a calendar in the room she had been to.Just fell asleep.One wall was lined with books, and she saw a volume of Kipling's So Tales and happily carried it upstairs.
.Not only is there an automatic massager, an automatic coffee machine, but there is also a temperature control and a reader - only the wake-up device is missing.Anyway, I probably won't oversleep, Jill thought so, and got into bed, put the scroll into the reader, and lay down to read the words sliding across the ceiling.After a moment, the control panel slipped from slack fingers, and the lights went out.she fell asleep.
Jubal Harshaw's sleep was not coming easily; he was furious with himself.The interest that had previously driven him gradually cooled, and his brain resumed normal operation.Half a century ago, he made a solemn oath that he would never bring home a stray cat again.And now, for goodness sake, Venus, with all her boobs, got two homeless people at once... no, three if you count Ben Caxton.
In fact, he had broken his oath more times than years had passed, but Harshaw never shied away from being consistent, so he didn't mind that.The addition of two diners did not bother him; Harshaw had never had the nerve to count.In nearly a century of ups and downs, he was broke countless times, and many times richer than he is now; he saw both as changes in the weather, and he never cared about the change.
But when detectives find the kids, it's going to be hilarious.The prospect displeased him.As far as he thought, the other party would definitely find him. That baby Jill, who didn't know much about the world, had left countless traces along the way, which must be as obvious as a cow with deformed hooves.
As a result, others would flock to his sanctuary, questions and demands would ensue... and he would have to decide and act.Jubal was convinced of the futility of all human action, and this prospect chagrined him.
He never expected to see reasonable behavior in humans, most of whom were only sent for protective custody.His only hope is that no one bothers him! ——Except for a few playmates he has decided to drink.Jubal was convinced that if he could make his own decisions, he would have already entered the state of Nirvana...like those Indian guys who plunged into their own belly buttons and disappeared from everyone's eyes.Why did they have to bother him?
Near midnight, he stubbed out his twenty-seventh cigarette and sat up.light is on."Shorthand!" he yelled into a microphone.
Dorcas came into the room in her nightgown and slippers, yawned and asked, "What's the matter, boss?"
"Dorcas, I've been a useless, useless parasite for the past twenty or thirty years."
She yawned again, "Everyone knows that."
"Stop flattering. There comes a time in every man's life, Dorcas, when he has to give up his reason - hold his chest up and be human - fight for freedom - crush evil Smash."
"Ok......"
"So stop yawning, it's time."
She glanced down. "Maybe I should get dressed."
"That's right. Get the other girls on, too; we've got to get busy. Pour buckets of water over Duke's head and let him dust that squawking machine and put it in the study. I want the news." .”
Dorcas was really taken aback, "You want to watch stereo TV?"
"You heard me. If the thing breaks, tell Duke to pick a direction and start walking immediately. Go, busy tonight."
"Okay," Dorcas still had some doubts, "but I should take your temperature first."
"Quiet, woman!"
Duke set up the receiver for Harshaw just in time for the rebroadcast of a second fake interview with "The Man From Mars."The comment also mentioned a rumor that Smith is said to be moving to the Andes.Jubal reasoned for a while, then started talking on the phone until morning.At dawn Dorcas brought him breakfast: a large glass of brandy with six eggs.There's something good about being a hundred years old, he wondered as he ate, because you finally get to know all the big people and ask them for a favor in a pinch.
Harshaw prepared a "bomb," but he wasn't going to detonate it until the authorities came after him.He realized that the government could use the excuse that Smith had no civil capacity to take him back into his hands.His first reaction to the question was that, by the usual standards, Smith was not only legally insane but also medically insane: first raised by inhumans, then abruptly transferred to a completely alien society, a landmark unique situation that creates a double-barrier environmental insanity.Smith was a victim.
In Harshaw's view, however, neither the legal concept of sanity nor the medical concept of insanity was relevant to this case.The adaptation of this human animal to a non-human society is profound and appears to be very successful.Of course, the adaptability of babies is always particularly amazing.So, as an adult who has developed certain habits and a fixed mindset, can he adapt to an equally drastic and much more difficult transition for adults?Dr. Harshaw was determined to find out.For the first time in decades, he took a real interest in the practice of medicine.
Besides, he was equally delighted to be able to get the authorities into trouble.Anarchism is the birthright of every American, and Harshaw's brand of anarchism far exceeds that of his compatriots; now that he has the opportunity to compete with the governments of the entire planet, he feels the enthusiasm in his heart Upsurge, the situation has not been so upsurge in a whole generation.
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