According to the description in ①, there is a small island called Leputy, where, no matter whether the big people are obedient or speaking, they must pass the "Klemenole"-translated, it roughly means "clap hands", referring to a certain person. A servant with a special mission.This kind of person has only one task, which is to hold a pad made of dry air bags, and whenever he thinks the owner should be obedient and speak, he will use the air bag to pat the owner's ears or mouth.Without this dry airbag, the bigwigs out there couldn't communicate.
The Martians had never seen anything like clapping hands.Spirit elders don't need them any more than snakes don't need shoes.The undisintegrated Martians could have used it, but they didn't; the idea ran counter to their way of life.
If a Martian needs minutes or years to meditate, he does it; if his friend wants to talk to him, the friend waits.With eternity in hand, there's no reason to rush.There is no such thing as "hurry" in the Martian language.Velocity, velocity, simultaneity, acceleration, and various other abstractions of eternal time have their place in Martian mathematics, but they have nothing to do with Martian emotion.
Earthlings, in contrast, are constantly on the go, not because of a mathematical need for time, but because of a frantic sense of urgency created by the gendered pattern of humanity On a planet called Earth, the clapping system slowly developed with.At some time in the past, any ruler on earth would have held his court in the open, where the humblest subject could face the king without hindrance.Long after kings were nearly extinct, vestiges of the custom persisted, such as the British being able to complain publicly (although nobody did).Until the past half of the twentieth century, among the bigwigs in charge of the city, there were still a few clever ones who could open their doors to any railway worker or tramp.The remains of this principle are preserved in the First and Ninth Amendments to the United States Constitution.Of course, they were later superseded by the regulations of the World Federation.
By the time the Victory returned from Mars, the principle of free access to rulers, whatever the nominal form of government, was effectively dead.To know how important a man really is, one need only see how many layers of clapping separate him from the common people.These clappers are called executive assistants, personal secretaries, personal secretary's secretary, press secretary, receptionist, appointment secretary, and so on and on.All of these officials actually clap their hands because each has an arbitrary veto over outside voices.
The large network formed by these officials has created a group of unofficial personnel. They use social occasions, or go through the back door, or unknown phone numbers, bypassing the barrier of official applause, and go directly to photograph those big people.These people are called "golf buddies," "kitchen cabinets," "lobbyists," "elder politicians," "five per centers," and the like.These people, too, have networks and end up almost as out of reach as the big shots themselves, thus giving rise to the secondary unofficial clap, the clap responsible for bypassing the primary unofficial clap.If a great man is of paramount importance, the unofficial clapping around him must be considerable enough to match the official phalanx around a mere very important man.
Professional hustler, amateur saboteur, willing parasite, Dr. Jubal Harshaw has an almost Martian attitude to "the haste."Knowing that he has only a little time to live, and a belief in the immortality of the soul and no Martians or Kansans, he decides to make every golden moment an eternity—no fear, no hope, only luxuries.For this purpose, he needed a shelter slightly larger than a barrel and smaller than Kublai Khan's palace.What he had was a simple little place, a few acres of land, grid-fenced from disturbance, a house of about fourteen bedrooms with an on-the-go secretary and other modern conveniences.Of course, it all takes money to maintain his modest nest and support his troublesome employees.Harshaw put in the least amount of effort and managed to get the most out of it.After all, it's easier to be rich than poor.Harshaw wanted to live in lazy luxury, doing only what made Harshaw happy.
Now, circumstances forced him to act in such a hurry that he mourned and would never admit that he actually enjoyed it.
This morning, he needed to speak to the planet's CEO.He knew that the clapping system made such contact almost impossible.Harshaw despised the clapping system, even though in his position he should have had one himself.But in fact, whenever he is free, he always answers the phone himself, because every call may give him the opportunity to speak out to strangers, scolding the other party for daring to invade his personal space for no reason-this "reason" is naturally all By Harshaw definition.He knew that there was no such good thing in the Secretary-General's official residence, and Mr. Secretary-General would never answer the phone himself.Harshaw, however, had years of experience in outwitting human conventions, and after breakfast he cheerfully set to work on the subject.
His name carried him slowly through several layers of clapping.He is a well-known VIP, so the phone has never been hung up.He was passed from secretary to secretary, and ended up in the hands of a polite young man.No matter what Harshaw said, the other party seemed willing to listen to it endlessly, but he just refused to connect him with the respected Mr. Douglas.
Harshaw knew that if he announced that the visitor from Mars was with him, the other party would definitely do something, but he didn't think the result would satisfy him.He had calculated that mentioning Smith would only kill any hope of getting Douglas, and at the same time provoke a reaction from the other party's subordinates-which was not what he wanted.With Ben Caxton's life at stake, Harshaw couldn't risk it.A subordinate is likely to let them down because they lack the necessary authority or have too much ambition.
But being dismissed so softly really tested his patience.At last he growled: "Young man, if you don't have the power, let me speak to someone who has power! Get me Mr. Berquist."
The puppet suddenly lost the smile on his face, and Jubal was delighted to see himself finally stab the other where it hurt.So he chased after the victory: "What? Don't just sit around! Take your inside line and call Keel and tell him you've been keeping Jubal Harshaw waiting."
The face replied blankly: "We don't have Mr. Berquist here."
"I don't care where he is. Get him! If you don't know Gilbert Berquist, ask your boss. Mr. Gilbert Berquist, private secretary to Mr. Douglas. If you Working around the Grand Mansion, you must have seen Mr. Berquist. Thirty-five, six feet, one hundred and eighty pounds, sandy hair, a little bald, with a good smile and good teeth. If you don't dare Disturb him and leave it to your boss. Stop biting your fingernails and move!"
The young man said, "Just a moment, please. I'll go and check."
"Of course I'm going to wait. Bring me Kiel." The image is replaced by an abstract pattern; a voice says, "The call is not over, please wait. There is no charge for this delay. Please relax in the meantime—" The soothing music played, and Jubal leaned back in his chair and looked around.Annie is sitting out of the phone's camera lens, reading a book.On the other side of Harshaw, the visitor from Mars is also off-camera, watching stereo TV with headphones on.
Jubal thought to himself, this indecent cheep cheep box must be sent back to the basement. "What are you looking at, kid?" He reached up and turned on the speaker.
Mike replied, "I don't know, Jubal."
The voice confirmed Jubal's fears: Smith was listening to a Foster service.
On the TV, a church announcement was being read: "—Before dinner, the 'Holy Spirit is on the move', the youth team will be performing publicly, so don't forget to come early and watch the boys play hard! Our coach Hornsby Brother wants me to tell the boys on the team, just bring a helmet, gloves and a bat, we're not going to fight sinners this time. But the little angel will still be on call with a first aid kit, in case anyone Enthusiasm is too much." The shepherd paused, showing a big smile, "and now is exciting news, my children! Lamb sent an angel to our brother Arthur Leewink and his wife Dorothy has the news. Your prayers are granted, and you will go to Heaven at dawn on Thursday morning! Rise up, Art! Rise up, Dottie! Bow to all!"
The camera pans to show the crowd at the rally and focuses on Brother and Sister Lee Wink.The crowd clapped wildly and shouted "Hallelujah!"Brother Liwenk shook hands with everyone around him like a boxer; his wife stood beside him blushing, wiping her eyes and smiling.
The camera cuts back to the Shepherd, who raises his hand for silence and continues in a brisk tone: "The farewell starts at midnight, lock the doors on time - so remember to get there early and let's all work together to make it our flock The happiest revelry ever seen; for we are all so proud of Art and Dotty. The funeral will be held thirty minutes after sunrise, and after that, those who need to go to work early in the morning can have breakfast right away." Shepherd The man suddenly straightened his face, and the camera zoomed in until his face filled the TV, "After the last farewell party, the sexton found an empty beer bottle in one of the happy rooms—belonging to a Distilled brand. That's over; the brother of the crime confessed his crime and did sevenfold penance, even refusing a discount when paying with cash - I'm sure he won't do it again Same mistake. But think about it, my boys: Is it worth saving a few pennies on a worldly commodity at the risk of losing eternal happiness? Never forget to look for that happiness in merchandise , Holy seal of approval. Archbishop Digby's face smiles on you from the seal of approval. Don't let some sinner give you something 'just as good'. Our sponsors support us and they deserve our support. Brother Art, I'm sorry to bring up such a question at such a happy time—"
"It's all right, Shepherd! Go ahead!"
"—but we must always remember—" Harshaw turned off the speaker. "Mike, you don't need to watch this."
"unnecessary?"
"Well—" Well, the kid will know these things sooner or later, "Okay, keep reading. But come and talk to me later."
"Okay, Jubal."
Harshaw was about to add some advice to counteract Mike's tendency to take everything literally, when the phone's "on hold" music faded and died, and a picture appeared on the screen.It was a man of about forty years of age who Jubal classified as a "tiaozi".
"You're not Keir Berquist," Jubal said angrily.
"What is your business with Gilbert Berquist?"
Jubal's patience seemed to be tested most painfully. "I wish to speak to him. Look, my good man, do you hold public office?"
The man hesitated, "Yes. You have to—"
"I 'must' be a ghost! I'm a citizen and I pay taxes in your salary. I just wanted to make a simple phone call, but it took me a whole morning. You guys took me from a brainless cow Go to the other end, each fattened in the public feed trough. Now it's you again. Tell me your name, your title, and your pay number. Let me speak to Mr. Berquist."
"you did not answer my question."
"Ha, come on! I don't have to answer; I'm a citizen out of office, you're not. Also, I'm asking questions that any citizen has the right to ask any public officer to answer." From O'Kelly v. California , 1972. I ask you to identify yourself: name, occupation, serial number."
The other party replied in a monotonous and rigid tone: "You are Dr. Jubal Harshaw. You are calling from—"
"I've been waiting so long for this? Stupid. My address can be found at any library, post office, or call center. As for who I am, everyone knows. Everyone who can read. You can read. ?"
"Dr. Harshaw, I am a police officer and I ask for your cooperation. Why did you-"
"Bah, sir! I'm a lawyer. Citizens are only obliged to cooperate with the police in certain circumstances, such as the scene of a manhunt; even then, an officer can still be asked to identify himself. Is this 'in the middle of a manhunt', sir ? Are you going to jump to my side from this damn phone call right away? Secondly, citizens are also obliged to cooperate in the police investigation process under the premise of reasonable and legal—"
"That's the investigation."
"Investigate what, sir? To ask me to cooperate, you must first reveal your identity, satisfy me with your sincerity; state your purpose, and—if I ask—recite the relevant regulations, proving that 'reasonable The need' is real. You did nothing. I wish to speak to Mr. Berquist."
The muscles in the man's jaw twitched, but he answered anyway: "I am Captain Heinrich of the Federal Secret Service. Your call to the Secretary-General's residence was transferred to me, which is enough to prove my identity. But— —” He pulled out a wallet, flipped it open, and sent it to the camera.Harshaw glanced at his ID card.
"Very well, Captain," he said angrily, "now can you explain why you are preventing me from speaking with Mr. Berquist?"
"Mr. Berquist is unavailable."
"Then why don't you just say so? Put my call on someone on Berquist's level. I mean someone who works directly for the Secretary General, someone like Keel. I'm not going to have any of the lower slaves come Damn me, those people don't even have the right to wipe their own noses! If Keir isn't here, for God's sake, get me someone of the same rank!"
"You've been meaning to speak to the Secretary General."
"Exactly."
"Very well, you can explain what you want from the Secretary-General."
"I don't have to explain. Are you the Secretary-General's confidant assistant? Can you participate in his secret?"
"That's not the problem."
"That's the problem. As a security officer, you should be very clear. I'll explain it, to someone who I know has access to sensitive material and who enjoys the trust of Mr. Douglas, and can only go so far as to make him understand. I must be put on the phone with the Secretary General. Are you sure you can't find Mr. Berquist?"
"Pretty sure."
"Then we'll have to find someone else—someone on his level."
"Since it's so secretive, you shouldn't use the phone to communicate."
"My good captain, since you have traced the source of the call, you must know that my phone is equipped to receive maximum security callbacks."
The Secret Service captain ignored this and replied, "Doctor, I'll just get straight to the point. You can't go anywhere until you explain your intentions. If you call again, your call will also be redirected to this One office. One hundred times, one month, same result. Until you cooperate."
Jubal laughed happily, "There's no need for that now. You slipped your tongue—was it by accident, or was it on purpose? Well, now I have the little intel I need before I can act. Of course , which means that if I have to take action. I can also not act for a while, within today... In short, the key word now is no longer 'Berquist'."
"What the hell do you mean?"
"My dear captain, please! This is an unencrypted line. By the way, you know, or should know, that I am a master at pretending to be a pig and eating a tiger, and I just scammed you."
"I didn't understand, what did you say?"
"Haven't you learned idioms? My God, what are the schools teaching now! Go back and play your poker, I don't need you anymore." Jubal hung up the phone, set it to refuse to answer within ten minutes, and called "Come on, kids," said the man, and went back to the pool, taking his usual place to kill time.He reminded Annie to put on the notary's cloak at all times, told Mike to stay nearby and be on call, gave Miriam instructions about the telephone, and went off on his own.
Jubal was not at all offended.He didn't expect to find the Secretary-General immediately.The Secretary-General is surrounded by a wall, and he has detected a breach.He hoped this bout with Captain Heinrich would lead to a higher-level call.
Even if it didn't work out, the exchange of compliments with the Secret Service was a reward in itself, keeping Harshaw warm.Harshaw firmly believed that some feet were born to be trampled on, in order to improve the race, promote the public welfare, and minimize the ancient arrogance of officials; he saw at a glance that Heinrich had such feet.
But he still couldn't help but doubt, how long can he wait?His "bomb" was about to fall apart, and he had promised Jill to do something for Ben Caxton.And one more thing: Duke is gone.
Is it a temporary incident, or is it a good time to escape (or a big disaster)?Jubal didn't know.Duke came out for dinner yesterday and didn't show up for breakfast.This kind of thing was so common in the Harshaw family that no one else seemed to take it seriously.
Jubal looked across the pool to rest on Mike, who was trying to copy Dorcas' dive.Harshaw secretly admitted that he had deliberately not asked Duke this morning.In fact,.
Well, there's only one way to deal with weakness. "Mike! Come here."
"Okay, Jubal." The Martian comes out of the pool and trots over like an eager dog.Harshaw looked him up and down and decided he had gained at least twenty pounds since he arrived... all muscle. "Mike, do you know where Duke is?"
"No, Jubal."
Well, take it easy now; the kid won't lie at all.No, wait!It suddenly occurred to Jubal that Mike was like a computer, asking what to say... and after the box disappeared, Mike didn't seem to know where the damn box was. "Mike, when was the last time you saw him?"
"When Jill and I went downstairs, I saw Duke go upstairs, when I was supposed to make breakfast this morning." Mike added proudly, "I helped make breakfast."
"That was the last time you saw Duke?"
"Duke I didn't see after that, Jubal. I burned the bread proudly."
"I bet you burned. You'd make a good husband to some woman if you weren't careful."
"Oh, I burn very, very carefully."
"Jubbal—"
"Huh? What's the matter, Anne?"
"Duke ate something early in the morning and hurried off into town. I thought you knew."
"Oh," Jubal acted accordingly, "I thought he was going to leave after lunch." Suddenly, Jubal felt a stone in his heart fall to the ground.Not that Duke mattered to him—of course not!For years, he tried his best not to let anyone have a place in his heart.But if there is any accident, it will still make him a little troubled.A little bit, at least.
Isn't it against some law to send a person at a ninety-degree angle to everything else?
Not murder—as long as the kid used it in self-defense, or in the legitimate defense of someone else, like Jill.Pennsylvania's witchcraft laws may apply...but how should the indictment be worded?It might be fun.
The possibility of civil litigation also exists.Can harboring visitors from Mars be criminalized as concealment?It is likely that a whole new set of legal provisions will develop.Although practitioners of medicine and physics are still in the dark, Mike has kicked the bottom line of these two disciplines.Harshaw recalls the tragedy that relativity brought to many scientists.Unable to comprehend, they raged at Einstein, evading it by insulting and attacking him.Their sanctuary is a dead end; the only thing left to do for old-school moralists who can't move is to kick their feet up and let young minds take over the world.
His grandfather told him that the same thing happened when the germ theory came out; the doctors died calling Pasteur a liar, a fool, and worse, without even bothering to examine the evidence , because their "common sense" told them that it was impossible.
Well, he could foresee that the reaction Mike would cause would be greater than Pasteur and Einstein combined.It reminded him—"Larry! Where's Larry?"
"Here, Boss," answered the loudspeaker behind him. "The workshop down below."
"With a panic button?"
"Of course. You said you have to bring it to sleep. I brought it."
"Come up and give it to Annie. Annie, let it stay with your coat."
She nodded.Larry replied, "Come on, boss. Is this the countdown?"
"Just come up." Jubal found that the visitor from Mars was still standing in front of him, as quiet as a statue of a man.sculpture?Hmm... Jubal searched through memory.Michelangelo's "David"!That's right, even the immature hands and feet, the quiet and sensual face, and the long messy hair are very similar. "Nothing else, Mike."
"Okay, Jubal." But Mike still waited.
Jubal asked, "What's on your mind, kid?"
"About what I saw in that goddamn chirping chirping box. You said 'but come talk to me later'."
"Oh." Harshaw flinched, remembering the program taught by Foster, "Yeah, but don't call that thing a 'Damn Chick Chick Box'. It's a stereoscopic receiver. "
Mike looked puzzled, "Isn't that a goddamn chirp chirp box? Did I hear you wrong?"
"It's a goddamn cheep cheep box. But you've got to call it a stereo receiver."
"I'll call it a 'stereoscopic receiver.' Why, Jubal? I don't get it."
Harshaw let out a long sigh. He had climbed similar ladders many times.Any conversation with Smith will bring up certain human behaviors that cannot be explained logically, and trying to explain them is an endless waste of time. "I don't have epiphany myself, Mike," he admitted, "but Jill wants you to call it that."
"I will, Jubal. Jill's hope."
"Now, tell me what you saw and heard, and what you realized."
Mike began to recall every word and every movement in that chirping box, even the commercials.He has almost finished the Encyclopedia Britannica and of course has read articles on "Religion", "Christianity", "Islam", "Judaism", "Confucianism", "Buddhism", and related, but nothing works realized.
Jubal learned the following: 1. Mike didn't know that the programs Foster taught were religious; Three, Mike's concept of "religion" is a mess, although he can quote nine dictionary definitions; Four, Mike can't find any equivalent to human religious teachings in the Martian language; Five, Jubal described Duke as Mars The customs of "religious ceremonies" are not really religious; they are as real to Mike as the grocery market is to Jubal; Indistinguishable in Martian - so since Mike was thinking in Martian it was impossible for him to tell them apart.All these things are "knowledge" obtained from "spiritual elders".He has never heard of the so-called "doubt", and the same is true for "research" (there is no corresponding word in Martian language); the spiritual elders are omniscient and infallible, and the answer to any question is within their grasp, no matter what Is it tomorrow's weather or cosmic teleology.Mike saw the weather forecast once, but thought it was a message from the human "spiritual elder" who had not yet disintegrated and was still in a physical state.He speculated similarly about the authors of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
But last but not least (and worst for Jubal) is Mike's epiphany of the Forster church as announcing the imminent disintegration of the two members of humanity into the ranks of the "spiritual elders" of humanity - which thrills him It's hard to hold on to yourself.Is he enlightened?Mike knew his English wasn't perfect; he was "just an egg" and had made many mistakes out of ignorance.But was he right this time?He has been looking forward to meeting the "spiritual elders" of mankind, and he has many questions to answer.Is this an opportunity?Or does he have to study further to be ready?
The bell saves Jubal; Dorcas brings sandwiches and coffee.Jubal ate in silence.As it happens, Smith's upbringing taught him that meals are moments of meditation.Jubal procrastinated, giving himself a chance to think it over—while cursing himself for letting Mike watch TV.Alas, the boy has to figure out what religion is all about.Since he was going to spend his life on this messy planet, it couldn't be avoided.But, damn it, it would have been nice to wait until Mike got used to the absurd patterns of human behavior... Also, the first time he ran into a Fosterist!
A devout agnostic, Jubal treats all religions equally.In his view, there is no distinction between religions, from the animism of the Bushmen of the Kahalari to the most rationalistic beliefs.But emotionally, he loathes some religions more than others, and the Church of the New Revelation has always made him hate it.The Frostites' unabashed claim to a direct connection to Heaven and their monopoly on knowledge; their arrogance to the point of being intolerant, their football rivalries and their bazaars—all of it depressed him.If people had to go to church, why couldn't they be a little more respectable and go Catholic or Christian Science or Quaker or something?
If God exists (Jubbal is neutral on this) and wants to be worshiped (Jubbal thinks this hypothesis is unlikely, but because of his own ignorance, he still admits it is possible), then a powerful To God who can shape galaxies, would he accept the hordes of demons and absurd carnival offered by the Fosterists as his own "worship"?The odds seem slim.
But Jubal admitted with deadpan honesty that the Fosterians might indeed have the truth, the complete truth, the truth without falsehood.The universe is a silly place at best, but the least likely of all explanations for it is the random coincidence theory that explains nothing at all, that is, that some abstract thing "just happens" to be an atom, and the atom "Coincidentally" are arranged and combined together, and the combination "coincidentally" seems to have internal laws, and some permutations and combinations "coincidentally" have self-awareness, two of which "coincidentally" are visitors from Mars and a bald old skin, It contained Jubal.
No, he couldn't swallow such a "chance" theory, despite its popularity among those who call themselves scientists.Random coupling is not an adequate explanation of the universe—random coupling is insufficient to explain random coupling; a jar cannot hold itself.
What's left? "Minimum assumptions" are no more desirable; Occam's razor fails to cut through the primary question: What is the nature of the Holy Spirit? (Holy spirit is holy spirit, don't hang on to that word, you old bastard. It's an Anglo-Saxon word, short and simple, not some forbidden swear word. As for what it stands for, you don't understand anyway, It's fine to just use it as a label.) Of all the hypotheses, is there reason to prefer one over the other?When you know nothing, the answer is undoubtedly: no!Jubal admits that despite his advanced age, age has not given him the ability to understand fundamental questions about the universe.
The Fosterians may be right.
But even so, he reminded himself manically, two issues remained unresolved: his preferences and his dignity.If the Firsts monopolize the truth, if the gates of heaven are open only to them, then he, Jubal Harshaw, a gentleman, would rather reject the New Revelation and become a "sinner" and accept the promise of "sinners" Never ending pain.His eyes weren't good enough to see the face of God...but not bad enough to see who deserved to be his equal--and none of the Fosterians deserved it!
But he could still see why Mike could be misled.The Firsts' "going to heaven" at their chosen time does sound a lot like autonomous "disintegration."Jubal had no doubts that the Martians had indeed disintegrated on their own.But Jubal suspects that the more accurate wording for this practice of the Fosterists might be "murder."Of course, this has never been confirmed, and very few people have ever made such hints.Foster was the first to "go to heaven" on time, dying at the exact moment he predicted; and it has been a sign of their special grace ever since... It has been years and no coroner has been rash enough to Dare to investigate these deaths.
Not that Jubal cared about their safety or anything - a good Forster is a dead Forster.
But that would be difficult to explain.
Procrastination is useless, and another cup of coffee won't make things any easier. "Mike, who made the world?"
"Feel sorry?"
"Look around. All of them. And Mars, the stars. Everything. You, me, everyone. Did the Elder ever tell you who created the universe?"
Mike said bewilderedly, "No, Jubal."
"Well, haven't you ever wondered? Where did the sun come from? Who put the stars in the sky? Who started it all? Everything, everything, the whole world, the universe... who made it, we To be able to talk here?" Jubal paused, surprised at his own words.He was about to adopt customary agnosticism, only to find himself involuntarily adopting the method taught to him in his past lawyer training: a lawyer of integrity, even if he does not agree with his client, will vigorously defend him.Now he is trying to support a religious belief that he personally does not agree with, but that is accepted by most human beings.He found that he had no choice but to become a defense lawyer for the orthodox doctrine of the tribe, and the opponent—he couldn’t tell who the opponent was, maybe it was the point of view of all non-human intelligent life, “How did your spiritual elders answer? of these questions?"
"Jubbal, I don't have a vision... Where is the 'problem'? I'm sorry."
"Huh? I don't understand your answer."
Mike hesitated, "I tried to say it. But the word... the word is not... right. It's not 'put'. It's not 'creating'. It's the present. The present world, the past world, the future world, it's all now.
"'As it was then as it is now, the world without end—'"
Mike smiled happily, "You have enlightenment!"
"I didn't," Jubal replied sullenly. "I was quoting, uh, one of our 'soul elders. Cannot grasp the concept of creation.Well, it's hard to say whether Jubal himself can understand this.He made an agreement with himself a long time ago that on even-numbered days, he would assume that the universe has been arranged by the Creator, and on odd-numbered days, he would assume that the universe was neither created by anyone, but it is eternal (a bit like a snake with its head biting its tail). unclear).Either hypothesis can avoid the self-contradictory aspects of the other hypothesis, and at the same time appear utterly absurd.Every leap year, he had an extra day to indulge in total solipsistic indulgence.In this way, he put the unanswerable question aside, and did not think about it again for more than thirty years.
Jubal decided to explain religion in the broadest sense first, and deal with the concept of God and divinity later.
Mike agrees with Jubal.There are indeed differences in the scale of knowledge, from elementary knowledge that can be enlightened even by Chaozai to great knowledge that can only be fully realized by spiritual elders.Next, Jubal wants to draw a line between the great and the small, so as to compare those "great learnings" to "religious questions."But his attempt was unsuccessful.For Mike, some religious questions are not a problem at all (e.g. "Creationism"), others are just "little" questions for him, the answer is obvious even to the brood (e.g. life after death) .朱巴尔放弃了，开始谈起人类宗教的多样性。他解释说，人类有上百种不同的方法来教授“伟大的学识”，每一个都有自己的答案，而且个个都宣称自己的答案是真理。
“什么是'真理'？”迈克问。
（“什么是真理？”。朱巴尔真希望自己也能这么做。）“当你正确地回答一个问题时，你的答案就是真理，迈克。我有几只手？”
“两只手。”迈克修正道，“我看见两只手。”
安妮从书本上抬起眼睛，“六个星期，我就能把他变成一个公证官。”
“安静，安妮。事情已经够难办的了。迈克，你回答得没错；我有两只手。你的答案是真理。假设你说我有七只手呢？”
迈克有些困惑，“我没灵悟到我能那么说。”
“对，我想你不能。但如果你那么做了，你就没有说对；你的答案就不是真理了。但是，迈克——仔细听着——每个宗教都宣称自己是真理，宣称自己的话是正确的。但它们的答案又如此不同，就好像两只手和七只手的区别。弗斯特教徒这样说，佛教徒那样说，穆斯林又是另一种说法。许多答案，各不相同。
看上去迈克在极力思考。“全都说得对？朱巴尔，我没灵悟。”
"me too."
火星来客一脸困惑，突然微笑起来，“我会请弗斯特教徒去问问你们的灵老，然后我们就会知道了，我的兄弟。这件事我该怎么做？”
几分钟之后，朱巴尔满心厌恶地向迈克保证，自己会安排他会见某个弗斯特大嘴巴。而且，尽管他好说歹说，迈克仍然以为弗斯特教徒与人类的“灵老”有联系。迈克的困难在于他不知道谎言是什么东西。“谎言”和“虚假”的定义都储存在他脑子里，却毫无灵悟的迹象。一个人也许会“说错”，但那只可能是个意外。于是，迈克根本没想过弗斯特教派撒谎的可能性，他们说什么，迈克就信什么。
朱巴尔试着向他解释，所有的人类宗教都自称同“灵老”有这样那样的联系，然而它们的答案却各不相同。
迈克很耐心，也很困惑，“朱巴尔我的兄弟，我试过了……但我没灵悟这怎么可能是对的。在我们那里，灵老说的总是对的。你们——”
“等等，迈克。”
"Feel sorry?"
“当你说'我们'时，你指的是火星人。迈克，你不是火星人；你是地球人，人。”
“'人'是什么？”
Jubal groaned.他知道迈克能引用字典上的定义。还有，这孩子问的问题从来不是故意惹你心烦；他总是为了得到信息——而且期待朱巴尔能给他答案。 “我是人，你是人，拉里是人。”
“但安妮不是人？”
“唔……安妮也是人，一个女性的人。一个女人。”
（“谢谢，朱巴尔。”——“闭嘴，安妮。）
“婴儿是人吗？我看过图片，在天杀的叽叽——在立体影像机里也有。婴儿的形象和安妮不同……安妮的形象和你不同……你的形象也和我不同。对了，婴儿是个巢仔人吧？”
“唔……是的，婴儿是人。”
“朱巴尔……我想我灵悟了，我的同胞——'火星人'——也是人。不管样子。样子不是人。人是灵悟。对吗我说得？”
朱巴尔决心退出哲学学会，还是去织布的好！什么是“灵悟”？这个词他已经用了一个星期——直到现在也没灵悟。但什么是“人”？——只没有羽毛的两足动物？上帝的形象？或者是那个所谓“适者生存”的循环定义所产生的偶然结果？必须受死亡和税收双重折磨的生物？火星人似乎已经战胜了死亡，他们好像也没有人类所谓的钱、财产和政府之类，他们又怎么可能有税收呢？
然而这孩子是对的；形象与“人”的定义毫无关系，形象并不重要，它不过是装酒的瓶子。你甚至可以把人从他的瓶子里取出来，就好像那个被俄国人“拯救”的可怜虫，他的大脑被裹在玻璃里，接上无数电线，活像个电话中转站。老天爷，好个恐怖的玩笑！不知那个倒霉鬼是不是能欣赏其中的幽默。
但是，从火星人的角度看，人类和其他动物该如何区分呢？一个掌握了遥控悬浮术（天晓得还有些别的什么）的种族会为工程学叹服吗？如果会，那么阿斯旺水坝和一千英里的珊瑚礁哪一个会拔得头筹？人的自我意识？不过是自大而已，谁能证明鲸鱼精子或者红杉不是超越人类极限的哲学家和诗人？
有一个领域，人倒是无与伦比：他能不断花样翻新，发明更大更有效的方法去消灭、奴役、折磨，永远使他成为对他自己而言最难以忍受的大祸害。在这方面，人类所展示出的创造性简直没有止境。人是他自己最严酷的玩笑。幽默的根基其实就是——
“人是会哈哈大笑的动物。”朱巴尔回答道。
迈克想了想，“那我就不是人。”
"Ok?"
“我不会哈哈大笑。我听过大笑声，它让我害怕，后来我灵悟到它并不害人。我试着学习——” 迈克把头向后一扬，发出刺耳的咯咯声。
朱巴尔捂住耳朵，“停下！”
“你听见了，”迈克悲伤地说，“我不能做对，所以我不是人。”
“等等，孩子。你不过是还没学会罢了……还有，硬学是学不会的；但你会学到的，我保证。只要你跟我们在一起，时间长了，你自然会发觉我们是多么可笑，那时候你就会哈哈大笑了。”
“我会吗？”
“会。别担心，不要强求。真的，孩子，一旦灵悟了我们，就连火星人也会放声大笑的。”
“我会等。”史密斯平静地同意了这个安排。
“还有，在等待期间，别怀疑自己是人。你是人。人生自女人，生而麻烦……总有一天你会充分灵悟它，并且大笑出声——人是会嘲笑自己的动物。至于你的火星朋友嘛，我不知道；但我灵悟他们也可能是'人'。”
“是的，朱巴尔。”哈肖以为会谈可以到此结束，不禁松了口气。他已经很久没有感到如此尴尬了，上一回已经是十分遥远的过去了。有一天，父亲向他解释了小鸟、花朵和蜜蜂的事——只可惜太迟了。
然而火星来客却不肯善罢甘休，“朱巴尔我的兄弟，你刚才问我：'谁造了世界？'当时我没有词语表达为什么我灵悟这不是一个问题。我一直在想词语。”
"Think about it?"
“你已经告诉我了，'上帝创造了世界'。”
“不，不！”哈肖道，“我告诉你的是，宗教谈到了很多东西，它们中的大多数都说'上帝造了世界'，我还告诉你说我没有充分灵悟。'上帝'只不过是它们用的一个词而已。”
“对，朱巴尔，“迈克附和道，”就是这个词，'上帝'。”他加上一句，“你灵悟了。”
“我必须承认我没有灵悟。”
“你灵悟了。”迈克坚定地重复道，“我解释。我没有词。你灵悟。安妮灵悟。我灵悟。我脚下的青草在美丽的欢乐中灵悟。但我需要那个词。那个词就是'上帝'。”
"Go ahead."
迈克得意地指着朱巴尔，“你是上帝！”
朱巴尔抬起一只手，啪一声拍在脸上，“哦，耶稣基督——我都干了些什么啊？听着，迈克，放松些！你没理解我的意思。对不起。非常抱歉！忘了我的话，咱们另找一天，从头再来。不过——”
“你是上帝，”迈克庄重地重复道，“凡灵悟者，是上帝。安妮是上帝。我是上帝。快乐的青草是上帝。吉尔总美丽地灵悟。吉尔是上帝。所有的塑造、制作、创造加在一起——”他用火星语叽哩咕噜地说了些什么，然后微笑起来。
“好吧，迈克。不过别着急。安妮！你都听见了？”
“那还用说，老板！”
“录卷带子。我得好好下一番功夫，不能让这事儿就这么过去。我必须——”他朝天上瞟了一眼，“哦，上帝啊！所有人，各就各位！安妮！把紧急按钮设成'死人'级别，看在上帝份上拇指别离开它；他们或许不是朝这儿来的。”他又抬头望了望，两辆空中汽车正从南方飞来，“恐怕他们的目的地正是这儿。迈克！躲到游泳池里！记住我跟你说过的话——去最深的地方，留在那儿，别动——我派吉尔来找你之前别出来。”
“好的，朱巴尔。”
“现在！行动！”
“好的，朱巴尔。”迈克跑了几步，然后膝盖伸直，脚尖绷着，双脚并拢在一起，以这种姿势跳进水里，消失了。
“吉尔！”朱巴尔大喊一声，“跳进池子再出来。你也是，拉里。如果有人看见了迈克，我要让他们搞不清有多少人在用游泳池。朵卡丝！快上来，孩子，再跳进去。安妮——不，你得拿着紧急按钮。”
“我可以拿上我的外套，去池边坐着。老板，你想要延迟'死人'设置吗？”
“唔，三十秒。如果他们降落，穿上你的公证大氅，然后把拇指再放回按钮上，等着——如果我叫你过来，马上放飞气球。我绝不会乱喊'狼来了'，除非——”他手搭凉棚向上望去，“其中一辆要降落了……看上去有点像条子拉货的家伙。哦，该死，我还以为他们会谈判呢。”
第一辆车盘旋着降落在游泳池旁的花园里；第二辆开始在低空绕圈子。看大小，这些车子像是运送部队的，车身上还有代表联邦的地球标志。
安妮放下无线电中继器，迅速换上自己的职业装束，然后再次拿起中继器，拇指放回到按钮上。第一辆车刚落地，车门便打开了。朱巴尔像只好斗的哈巴狗似的朝它冲了过去。车里出来一个人，朱巴尔咆哮道：“把那辆该死的破车从我的玫瑰花丛上挪开！”
那人说：“朱巴尔·哈肖？”
“让那个蠢猪把那辆烂货升起来，退后！退到花园外头，停在草地上！安妮！”
“来了，老板。”
“朱巴尔·哈肖，我有一张逮捕令，奉命逮捕——”
“你就是奉命逮捕英国国王我也不管；把那堆垃圾从我的花上挪开！然后，老天在上，我要指控你——”朱巴尔瞅了眼对方，似乎刚刚才看见这么个人，“哦，原来是你，”他轻蔑地说，“你生来就是个傻子吗，海因里希？或者还需要后天的学习才能这么蠢？那头穿制服的蠢驴是什么时候学的飞行？”
“请检査逮捕令。”海因里希上尉谨慎、耐心地说。
“把你的婴儿车弄到我的花床外头去，否则我就要提起民权诉讼，让你们跟退休金说再见！”
海因里希有些犹豫。“快！”朱巴尔吼道，“还有，告诉那些从车里出来的乡巴佬把脚抬起来！那个长兔牙的白痴正站在一朵伊丽莎白·M·休伊特上！那可是得过奖的！”
海因里希转过头，“你们——小心那些花。帕斯金，你正踩着—朵。罗杰斯！把车升起来，开到花园外面去。”他转向哈肖，“满意了？”
“等他把车挪开之后——不过你们还是得赔偿损失。让我们来看看你的证件……把它们给公证官看，大声清晰地表明你的名字、等级、组织和工资编码。”
“你知道我是谁。我有一张逮捕令，授权我——”
“我也有授权，可以用霰弹枪把你的头发分开，除非你遵守条例按部就班。我不知道你是谁。我在电话上见过一个塞在衬衫里的家伙，和你有些相似——但我还是认不出你来。你必须以特定的方式，自己报出你的身份。《世界章程》第二部分1602段。那以后，你才能执行你的逮捕令。其余那几只猿人也一样，还有那只为你驾车的猴子。”
“他们都是警务人员，听我的命令行事。”
“我可不知道他们是什么警务人员。他们没准儿是在哪家服装店租了几套不合身的小丑衣服。法律条文，先生！你们闯进我的城堡。你说你们是警务人员，还宣称这次入侵有合法的逮捕令。除非你们能证明我错了，我会一直说你们是非法闯人……这让我可以行使主权，动用武力驱逐你们——就在大约三秒钟之后。”
“我不会建议你这么做。”
“你有什么资格建议？如果我在试图行使我的权利时受伤，你的行为就变成了主动攻击——而且是使用致命武器，假如那些驴子带的是枪的话，我看挺像。民事和刑事，一个也跑不了。怎么，伙计，我能剥了你的皮做门垫！”朱巴尔收起一只瘦巴巴的胳膊，捏紧了拳头，“滚出我的地盘！”
“慢着，医生。我们照你说的做就是。”海因里希已经涨红了脸，但声音仍然控制得很好。他拿出自己的身份证明，朱巴尔只瞟了一眼就递还给他，让他给安妮看。于是，他陈述了自己的全名，说自己是个上尉，隶属联邦特勤部，并背诵了自己的工资编码。海因里希一脸寒霜地下达命令，其他队员和司机也一个个走完了这套冗长的过场。
结束之后，朱巴尔立刻和和气气地说：“好了，上尉，有什么我能帮忙的？”
“我有一张逮捕基尔伯特·伯奎斯特的许可状，上述许可状的授权范围是这块地产及其建筑。”
“把你的许可状出示给我和我的公证官。”
“我会的。我还有另一张逮捕令，与第一个相仿，授权我逮捕吉尔·博德曼。”
"Who?"
“吉尔·博德曼。罪名是绑架。”
"My goodness!"
“还有一张是赫克托·C·约翰逊……一张给瓦伦丁·迈克尔·史密斯……还有一张是你，朱巴尔·哈肖。”
“我？又是偷税漏税？”
“不。这一个和那一个嫌犯的从犯……以及其他事件的重要证人。就算没有逮捕令，我自己也会以妨碍执行公务的罪名把你抓起来。”
“哦，得了吧，上尉！自从你表明身份、举止开始合法之后，我可是再合作不过了。而且会继续合作下去。当然，我还是要起诉你——外加你的直接上司和政府，罪名是那之前的非法行为……对于你们任何人以后可能的所作所为，我也不会放弃任何权利或者追索权。呣……好长的抓人单子，我算明白你干吗要带上另一辆车了。不过——天哪！——奇怪了。这个，唔，博德曼女士？——我看见她的罪名是绑架了一个叫史密斯的家伙，可这张逮捕令里史密斯又似乎被指控为在逃犯。我弄糊涂了。”
“两者都有。他逃跑了——然后她绑架了他。”
“这么实施起来不是有些困难吗？逃跑和绑架的难度都挺大的呀。他又是以什么罪名被监禁的呢？逮捕令上似乎没有说明？”
“我怎么会知道？他逃了，就这么简单。他是个逃犯。”
“哎呀！我想我得向他俩提供我的服务，做他们的法律顾问。有趣的案子。如果出了一个娄子——或是几个，很可能会导致其他问题。”
海因里希冷冷地一笑，“你会发现这么做不太容易，你自己也得在里头缚着。”
“哦，我相信时间不会太长。”朱巴尔提高声音，转头面向房子，“我想，如果霍兰法官在听的话，可以马上执行人身保护程序了——为我们所有人。还有，如果联合新闻正好有辆通讯车在附近，还得赶紧弄清楚我们会被关在哪儿。”
“真不愧是个讼棍，哈肖。”
“诽谤，我亲爱的先生。我记下了。”
“对你能有多大好处？这儿没别人。”
"yes?"
Notes:
Notes: