Although this face occupied the whole screen and was weirdly distorted, Jim had no trouble in placing it as a colonial's respirator mask. What startled him almost out of the personal unawareness with which he was accepting this shadow show was that he recognized the mask. It was decorated with the very tiger stripes that Smythe had painted out for a quarter credit; it was his own, as it used to be.
He heard his own voice say, “You're too little to be wandering around by yourself; another one of those vermin might really get you. I think I'll take you home.”
The scene went swinging through the canal growth at a greater height, hobbling up and down to the boy's steps. Presently the point of view came out into open country and showed in the distance the star-shaped layout and bubble domes of South Colony.
Jim adjusted to the idea of watching himself, hearing himself, and accepted the notion of seeing things from Willis's viewpoint. The record was quite unedited; it pushed forward in a straight line, a complete recollection of everything Willis had seen and heard from the time Jim had first taken him under his protection. Willis's visual recollections were not entirely accurate; they seemed to be affected by his understanding of what he saw and how used to it he was. Jim—the “Jim” in the shadow show—at first seemed to have three legs; it was some time before the imaginary excrescence vanished. Other actors, Jim's mother, old Doc MacRae, Frank, developed from formless shapes to full, though somewhat distorted, representations.
On the other hand, every sound was heard with great clarity and complete accuracy. As Jim listened and watched he found that he was savoring sounds of every sort and most especially voices with a new and rich delight.
Most especially he enjoyed seeing himself as Willis saw him. With affection and warm humor he saw himself stripped of dignity but clothed in a lively regard; he was loved but not respected. He, Jim himself, was a great bumbling servant, helpful but maddeningly unreliable in his attentions, like a poorly trained dog. As for other human beings, they were curious creatures, harmless on the whole, but unpredictable traffic hazards. This bouncer-eye view of people amused Jim mightily.
Day by day and week by week the account unfolded, even to the periods of dark and quiet when Willis chose to sleep or was shut up. It carried on to Syrtis Minor and into a bad time when Jim was missing. Howe appeared as a despised voice and a pair of legs; Beecher was a faceless nonentity. It continued, step by step, and somehow Jim was neither tired nor bored. He was simply in the continuity and could no more escape from it than could Willis—nor did it occur to him to try. At last it wound up in the Martian city of Cynia and ended in a period of dark and quiet.
Jim stretched his cramped legs; the light was returning. He looked around but Gekko was still deep in his trance. He looked back and found that a door had opened in what had appeared to be blank wall. He looked through and into a room beyond, decorated as Martian rooms so frequently are in careful imitation of an outdoor scene—lush countryside more like the sea bottoms south of Cynia than like the desert.
A Martian was in the room. Jim was never able afterward to visualize him completely for his face and particularly his eyes compelled attention. An Earthling has no good way to estimate the age of a Martian yet Jim had the unmistakable impression that this Martian was very old—older than his father, older even than Doc MacRae.
“Jim Marlowe,” the native said in clear tones. “Welcome, Jim Marlowe, friend of my people and friend of mine. I give you water.” He spoke in Basic English, in an accent vaguely familiar.
Jim had never heard a Martian speak an Earthly tongue before, but he knew that some of them did speak Basic. It was a relief to be able to answer in his own speech. “I drink with you. May you ever enjoy pure and plentiful water.”
“I thank you, Jim Marlowe.” No actual water was used and none was needed. There followed a polite period of quiet, during which Jim thought about the Martian's accent. It was oddly familiar; it put him in mind of his father's voice, again it sounded like Doc MacRae.
“You are troubled, Jim Marlowe. Your unhappiness is ours. How may I help you?”
“I don't want anything,” Jim answered, “except to go home and take Willis with me. They took Willis away. They shouldn't have done that.”
The silence that followed was even longer than before. At last the Martian answered, “When one stands on the ground, one may not see over the horizon—yet Phobos sees all horizons.” He hesitated a moment before the word “Phobos.” As if in afterthought he added, “Jim Marlowe, I have but lately learned your tongue. Forgive me if I stumble.”
“Oh, you speak it beautifully!” Jim said quite sincerely.
“The words I know; the pictures are not clear. Tell me, Jim Marlowe, what is the London-zoo?”
Jim had to ask him to repeat it before it was clear that the Martian asked about the London Zoo. Jim tried to explain, but broke off before he had finished elaborating the idea. The Martian radiated such cold, implacable anger that Jim was frightened.
After a time the Martian's mood changed abruptly and Jim was again bathed in a warm glow of friendliness that poured out of his host like rays from the Sun and was as real as sunshine to Jim. “Jim Marlowe, twice you have saved the little one whom you call ‘Willis’ from—” He used first a Martian term not known to Jim, then changed it to “water-seekers.” “Have you killed many such?”
“Uh, quite a few, I guess,” Jim answered, then added,”I kill ‘em whenever I see ‘em. They're getting too smart to hang around the colonies much.”
The Martian appeared to be thinking this over, but when he got around to answering he had again changed the subject. “Jim Marlowe, twice, perhaps three times, you have saved the little one; once, perhaps twice, our little one has saved you. Each time you have grown closer together. Day by day you have grown together until neither one of you is complete without the other. Do not leave here, Jim Marlowe. Stay. You are welcome in my house, a son and a friend.” He had said “daughter” first, instead of “son,” then corrected it without any comic effect nor loss of emphasis.
Jim shook his head. “I have to go home. In fact I have to go home right away. It's a mighty kind offer and I want to thank you but—” He explained as clearly as he could the threat to the welfare of the colony and the urgent need for him to carry the message. “If you please, sir, we—my friend and I—would like to be taken back where K'boomch found us. Only I want Willis back before we go.”
“You wish to go back to the city where you were found? You do not wish to go home?”
Jim explained that Frank and he would go home from there. “Now, sir, why don't you ask Willis whether or not he wants to stay or to go home with me?”
The old Martian sighed exactly as Jim's father had been known to sigh after a fruitless family discussion. “There is a law of life and a law of death and both are the law of change. Even the hardest rock is worn away by the wind. You understand, my son and friend, that even if the one you call Willis returns with you, there will come a time when the little one must leave you?”
“Uh, yes, I guess so. You mean Willis can come home with me?”
“We will speak to the one you call Willis.”
The old one spoke to Gekko, who stirred and muttered in his sleep. Then the three of them wound back up the ramps, with Gekko carrying Jim and the old one following a little behind.
They stopped in a chamber about halfway up to the surface. The room was dark when they reached it but it became illuminated as soon as the party entered. Jim saw that the place was lined, floor to ceiling, with little niches and each niche contained a bouncer, as similar, each to the other, as identical twins.
The little fellows raised their eye stalks when the light came on and peered interestedly around. From somewhere in the room came a shout of “Hi, Jim boy!”
Jim looked around but could not pick out the bouncer that had spoken. Before he could do anything about it the phrase had echoed around the room, “Hi, Jim boy! Hi, Jim boy! Hi, Jim boy!” eac
h time in Jim's own voice, as borrowed by Willis.
Jim turned back to Gekko in bewilderment. “Which one is Willis?” he demanded, forgetting to speak in the dominant tongue.
The chorus started up again, “Which one is Willis? Which one is Willis? Which—Which—Which one is Willis?”
Jim stepped out into the middle of the room. “Willis!” he commanded, “come to Jim.”
Off to his right a bouncer popped out from a middle tier, landed on the floor, and waddled up to him. “Pick up Willis,” it demanded. Gratefully, Jim did so.
“Where Jim boy been?” Willis wanted to know.
Jim scratched the bouncer. “You wouldn't understand if I told you. Look, Willis—Jim is about to go home. Does Willis want to go home with him?”
“Jim go?” Willis said doubtfully, as if the unrelenting echoing chorus had made it hard for him to undertsand.
“Jim go home, right away. Is Willis coming or is Willis going to stay here?”
“Jim go; Willis go,” the bouncer announced, stating it as a law of nature.
“Okay, tell Gekko that.”
“Why?” Willis asked suspiciously.
“Tell Gekko that, or you'll get left behind. Go on, tell him.”
“Okay.” Willis addressed Gekko in a series of clucks and croaks. Neither the old Martian nor Gekko made any comment; Gekko picked up the two smaller creatures and the procession continued on up toward the surface. Gekko put them down outside the room assigned to Frank and Jim. Jim carried Willis inside.
Frank looked up as they came in. He was sprawled on the silks and, arranged beside him on the floor, was a meal, as yet untouched. “Well, I see you found him,” he commented. “It sure took you long enough.”
Jim was suddenly overcome with remorse. He had been gone goodness knows how long. Days? Weeks? That moving-picture thing had covered months, in detail. “Gee, Frank, Fm sorry,” he apologized. “Were you worried about me?”
“Worried? What for? I just didn't know whether or not to wait lunch on you. You must have been gone at least three hours.”
Three hours? Jim started to object that it had been more like three weeks, then thought better of it. He recalled that he had not eaten while away, nor did he feel anything more than normally hungry.
“Uh—Yeah, sure. Sorry. Fook, do you mind waiting lunch a bit longer?”
“Why? Fm starved.”
“Because we're leaving, that's why. Gekko and another native are waiting to take us back to that town where K'boomch found us.”
“Well—Okay!” Frank stuffed his mouth full and started to pull on his outdoors suit.
Jim imitated him, both as to eating and dressing. “We can finish lunch in the subway dingus,” he said, mumbling with his mouth full. “Don't forget to fill your mask reservoir.”
“Don't worry. I won't pull that stunt twice.” Frank filled his tank and Jim's, took a big drink of water, and offered the rest to Jim. Moments later they slung their skates over their shoulders and were ready to leave. The party filed through ramps and corridors to the “subway station” hall and stopped at one of the archways.
The old Martian went inside, but, somewhat to Jim's surprise, Gekko bade them good-bye. They parted with ritualistic exchange of courtesies appropriate to water friends, then Frank and Jim, with Willis, went inside and the door closed behind them.
The car started up at once. Frank said, “Wups! What is this?” and sat down suddenly. The old Martian, secure on the resting frame, said nothing. Jim laughed.
“Don't you remember the last ride?”
“Not very well. Say, I feel heavy.”
“So do I. That's part of the ride. Now how about a bite to eat? It may be a long time before we get another decent meal.”
“You ain't whistlin’.” Frank got out the remainder of their lunch. When they had finished Frank thought about it and opened another can. Before they had had a chance to eat its contents— cold baked beans and surrogate pork—his stomach suddenly did a flip-flop. “Hey!” he yelped. “What's happened?”
“Nothing. It was like that last time.”
“I thought we had plowed into something.”
“Nope, it's all right, I tell you. Hand me over some of those beans.” They ate the beans and waited; after a time the feeling of extra weight left them and Jim knew that they had arrived.
The door of the car compartment opened and they stepped out into a circular hall exactly like the one they had left. Frank looked around in disappointment. “Say Jim—we haven't gone anyplace. There's some mistake.”
“No, there's not.” He turned, intending to speak to the old Martian, but the archway door behind them was already closed. “Oh, that's too bad,” he said.
“What's too bad? That they gave us a run-around?”
“They didn't give us a run-around; it's just that this room looks like the one back in Cynia. You'll see when we get up to the surface. No, I was saying ‘too bad’ because I let—” Jim hesitated, realizing that he had never gotten the old Martian's name. “—because I let the old fellow, not Gekko, the other one, get away without saying good-bye.”
“Who?”
“You know, the other one. The one that rode with us.”
“What do you mean, the other one? I didn't see anybody but Gekko. And nobody rode with us; we were in there by ourselves.”
“Huh? You must be blind.”
“You must be nuts.”
“Frank Sutton, do you mean to stand there and tell me you didn't see the Martian that rode with us?”
“You heard me the first time.”
Jim took a deep breath. “Well, all Fve got to say is: if you hadn't had your face buried in your food the whole time and had looked around you occasionally, you'd see more. How in—”
“Forget it, forget it,” Frank interrupted, “before you get me sore. There were six Martians, if you like it that way. Let's get on up and outside and see what the score is. We're wasting time.”
“Well, all right.” They started up the ramps. Jim was very silent; the incident bothered him more than it did Frank.
Partway up they were forced to adjust their masks. Ten minutes or so thereafter they reached a room into which the sunlight came flooding; they hurried through it and outdoors.
A moment later it was Frank's turn to be puzzled and uncertain. “Jim, I know I was light-headed at the time but wasn't, uh— wasn't that town we started from just a one-tower burg?”
“It was.”
“This one isn't.”
“No, it isn't.”
“We're lost.”
“That's right.”
POLITICS
THEY WERE IN A LARGE ENCLOSED COURTYARD, SUCH AS CHARACTERIZES many Martian buildings. They could make out the tops of the towers of the city or some of them, but their view was much restricted.
“What do you think we ought to do?” asked Frank.
“Mmm … try to find a native and see if we can find out where we've landed. I wish I hadn't let the old fellow get away from us,” Jim added. “He spoke Basic.”
“You still harping on that?” said Frank. “Anyway I don't think our chances are good; this place looks utterly deserted. You know what I think? I think they've just dumped us.”
“I think they've just dumped us,” agreed Willis.
“Shut up. They wouldn't do that,” Jim went on to Frank in worried tones. He moved around and stared over the roof of the building. “Say, Frank—”
“Yeah?”
“You see those three little towers, just alike? You can just make out their tips.”
“Yeah? What about them?”
“I think I've seen them before.”
“Say, I think I have, too!”
They began to run. Five minutes later they were standing on the city wall and there was no longer any doubt about it; they were in the deserted part of Charax. Below them and about three miles away were the bubble domes of South Colony.
Forty minutes of brisk walking, vari
ed with dog-trotting, got them home.
THEY SPLIT UP AND WENT DIRECTLY TO THEIR RESPECTIVE homes. “See you later!” Jim called to Frank and hurried away to his father's house. It seemed to take forever for the pressure lock to let him through. Before the pressure had equalized he could hear his mother, echoed by his sister, inquiring via the announcing speaker as to who was at the door, please?—he decided not to answer but to surprise them.
Then he was inside, facing Phyllis whose face was frozen in amazement—only to throw herself around his neck while shouting, “Mother! Mother! Mother! It's Jim! It's Jim!” and Willis was bouncing around the floor and chorusing “It's Jim! It's Jim!” and his mother was crowding Phyl aside and hugging him and getting his face wet with her tears and Jim himself wasn't feeling any too steady.
He managed to push them away presently. His mother stood back a little and said, “Just let me look at you, darling. Oh, my poor baby! Are you all right?” She was ready to weep again.
“Sure, I'm all right,” Jim protested. “Why shouldn't I be? Say, is Dad home?”
Mrs. Marlowe looked suddenly apprehensive. “No, Jim, he's at work.”
“I've got to see him right away. Say, Mom, what are you looking funny about?”
“Why, because—Uh, nothing. I'll call your father right away.” She went to the phone and called the ecological laboratory. He could hear her guarded tones: “Mr. Marlowe? Dear, this is Jane. Could you come home right away?” and his father's reply, “It wouldn't be convenient. What's up? You sound strange.”
His mother glanced over her shoulder at Jim. “Are you alone? Can I be overheard?” His father answered, “What's the matter? Tell me.” His mother replied, almost in a whisper, “He's home.”
There was a short silence. His father answered, “I'll be there right away.”
In the meantime Phyllis was grilling Jim. “Say, Jimmy, what in the world have you been doing?”