"Yes, Jubal. I grokked at last that waiting had ended and I was free to be. Most of the Nest have not needed to wait - but Dawn and I have been quite busy. But when we grokked this cusp coming, I grokked that there would be a waiting after the cusp - and you can see that there will certainly be. Mike will not rebuild the Temple overnight - so this high priestess will be unhurried in building a baby. Waiting always fills."
From this high-flown mishmash Jubal abstracted the central fact or Jill's belief concerning such a possible fact. Well, she no doubt had had plenty of opportunity. He resolved to keep an eye on the matter and try to bring her home for it, if possible. Mike's superman methods were all very well, but it wouldn't hurt to have the best modern equipment and techniques at hand, too. Losing Jill to eclampsia or some other mishap was something he did not intend to let happen, even if he had to get tough with the kids.
He wondered about another such possibility, decided not to mention it. "Where's Dawn? And where's Mike? The place seems awfully quiet." No one had come through the hail they were in and he heard no voices and yet that odd feeling of happy expectancy was even stronger than it had been the night before. He would have expected a certain release from tension after the ceremony he had apparently joined in himself - unbeknownst - but the place was more charged up than ever. It suddenly reminded him of how he had felt, as a very small boy, when waiting for his first circus parade� and someone had called out: "There come the elephants!"
Jubal felt as if, were he just a little taller, he could see the elephants, past the excited crowd. Yet there was no crowd.
"Dawn told me to give you a kiss for her; she'll be busy for the next three hours, about. And Mike is busy, too - he went back into withdrawal."
"Oh."
"Don't sound so disappointed; he'll be free soon. He's making a special effort so that he will be free on your account� and to let all of us be free, too. Duke spent all night scouring the city for the high-speed tape recorders we use for the dictionary and now we've got everybody who can possibly do it being jammed full of Martian phonic symbols and then Mike will be through and can visit. Dawn has just started dictating; I finished one session, ducked out to say good-morning to you� and am about to go back and get poured full of my last part of the chore, so I'll be gone just a little longer than Dawn will be. And here's Dawn's kiss - the first one was just from me." She put her arms around his neck and again put her mouth greedily to his - at last said, "My goodness! Why did we wait so long? 'Bye for a little!"
Jubal found a sparse few in the big dining room. Duke looked up, smiled and waved, went back to hearty eating. He did not look as if he had been up all night - nor had he; he had been up two nights.
Becky Vesey looked around when Duke waved and said happily, "Hi, you old goat!" - grabbed his ear, pulled him down, and whispered into it:
"I've known it all along - but why weren't you around to console me when the Professor died?" She added aloud, "Sit down here beside me and we'll get some food into you while you tell me what devilment you've been plotting lately."
"Just a moment, Becky." Jubal went around the table. "Hi, Skipper. Good trip?"
"No trouble. It's becoming a milk run. I don't believe you've ever met Mrs. van Tromp. My dear, the founder of this feast, the one and only Jubal Harshaw - two of him would be too many."
The Captain's wife was a tall, plain woman with the calm eyes of one who has watched from the Widow's Walk. She stood up, kissed Jubal. "Thou art God."
"Uh, thou art God." Jubal decided that he might as well relax to the ritual - hell, if he said it often enough, he might lose the rest of his buttons and believe it� and it did have a friendly ring to it with the arms of the Skipper's wife firmly around him. He decided that she could even teach note 4 something about kissing. She - how was it Anne had once described it? - she gave it her whole attention; she wasn't going anywhere.
"I suppose, Van," he said, "that I really shouldn't be surprised to find you here."
"Well," answered the spaceman, "a man who commutes to Mars ought to be able to palaver with the natives, don't you think?"
"Just for powwow, huh?"
"There are other aspects." Van Tromp reached for a piece of toast; the toast cooperated. "Good food, good company."
"Um, yes."
"Jubal," Madame Vesant called out, "soup's on!"
Jubal returned to his place, found eggs-on-horseback, orange juice, and other choice comestibles waiting for him. Becky patted his thigh. "A fine prayer meeting, me bucko."
"Woman, back to your horoscopes!"
"Which reminds me, dearie, I want to know the exact instant of your birth."
"Uh, I was born on three successive days, at various hours. I was too big a boy - they had to handle me in sections."
Becky made a rude answer. "I'll find out."
"The courthouse burned down when I was three. You can't."
"There are ways. Want to make a small bet?"
"You go on heckling me and you'll find you're not too big to spank. How've you been, girl?"
"What do you think? How do I look?"
"Healthy. A bit spread in the butt. You've touched up your hair."
"I have not. I quit using henna months ago. Get with it, pal, and we'll get rid of that white fringe you've got. Replace it with a real lawn."
"Becky, I refuse to grow any younger for any reason. I came by my decrepitude the hard way and I propose to enjoy it. Quit prattling and let a man eat."
"Yes, sir. You old goat."
Jubal was just leaving the table as the Man from Mars came in. "Father! Oh, Jubal!" Mike hugged and kissed him.
Jubal gently unwound himself from the embrace. "Be your age, son. Sit down and enjoy your breakfast. I'll sit with you."
"I didn't come here looking for breakfast, I came looking for you. We'll find a place and talk."
"All right."
They went to the living room of one of the suites, Mike pulling Jubal by the hand like an excited small boy welcoming his favorite grandparent. Mike picked a big comfortable chair for Jubal and sprawled himself on a couch opposite and close to him. This room was on the side of the wing having the private landing flat; there were high French windows opening to it. Jubal got up and shifted his chair slightly so that he would not be facing so directly into the light in looking at his foster son; not to his surprise but mildly to his annoyance the heavy chair shifted as if it had been no more massive than a child's balloon, his hand merely guided it.
Two men and a woman were in the room when they arrived. These left shortly, leisurely, severally, and unostentatiously. After that they were alone, except that they were both served with Jubal's favorite brandy - by hand, to Jubal's pleasure; he was quite ready to agree that the remote control these people had over objects around them was a labor-saver and probably a money-saver (certainly on laundry! - his spaghetti-splashed shirt had been so fresh that he had put it on again today), and obviously a method much to be preferred for household convenience to the blind balkiness of mechanical gadgets. Nevertheless he was not used to telecontrol done without wires or waves; it startled Jubal the way horseless carriages had disturbed decent, respectable horses about the time Jubal was born.
Duke served the brandy. Mike said, "Hi, Cannibal. Thanks. Are you the new butler?"
"De nada, Monster. Somebody has to do it and you've got every brain in the place slaving away over a hot microphone."
"Well, they'll all be through in a couple of hours and you can revert to your useless, lecherous existence. The job is done, Cannibal. Pau. Thirty. Ended."
"The whole damn Martian language all in one lump? Monster, I had better check you for burned-out capacitors."
"Oh, no, no! Only the primer knowledge that I have of it - had of it, my brain's an empty sack. But highbrows like Stinky will be going back to Mars for a century to fill in what I never learned. But I did turn out quite a job - about six weeks of subjective time since around five this morning or whenever it was we adjourned the meeting - and now the stalwart steady types can finish it and I'm free to visit with Jubal with nothing on my mind." Mike stretched and yawned. "Feels good. Finishing a job always feels good."