Goodman walked away, glancing over his shoulder at the government beggar. He observed that the old man seemed to be doing a thriving business.
But begging!
Really, that sort of thing should be stopped. If he ever assumed the Presidency — and quite obviously he should — he would look into the whole matter more carefully.
It seemed to him that there had to be a more dignified answer.
At the Idrig Building, Goodman told Melith about his marriage plans.
The immigrations minister was enthusiastic.
"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful," he said. "I've known the Vley family for a long time. They're splendid people. And Janna is a girl any man would be proud of."
"Aren't there some formalities I should go through?" Goodman asked. "I mean being an alien and all —"
"None whatsoever. I've decided to dispense with the formalities. You can become a citizen of Tranai, if you wish, by merely stating your intention verbally. Or you can retain Terran citizenship, with no hard feelings. Or you can do both — be a citizen of Terra and Tranai. If Terra doesn't mind, we certainly don't."
"I think I'd like to become a citizen of Tranai," Goodman said.
"It's entirely up to you. But if you're thinking about the Presidency, you can retain Terran status and still hold office. We aren't at all stuffy about that sort of thing. One of our most successful Supreme Presidents was a lizard-evolved chap from Aquarella XI."
"What an enlightened attitude!"
"Sure, give everybody a chance, that's our motto. Now as to your marriage — any government employee can perform the ceremonies. Supreme President Borg would be happy to do it, this afternoon if you like." Melith winked. "The old codger likes to kiss the bride. But I think he's genuinely fond of you."
"This afternoon?" Goodman said. "Yes, I would like to be married this afternoon, if it's all right with Janna."
"It probably will be," Melith assured him. "Next, where are you going to live after the honeymoon? A hotel room is hardly suitable." He thought for a moment. "Tell you what — I've got a little house on the edge of town. Why don't you move in there, until you find something better? Or stay permanently, if you like it."
"Really," Goodman protested, "you're too generous —"
"Think nothing of it. Have you ever thought of becoming the next immigrations minister? You might like the work. No red tape, short hours, good pay — No? Got your eye on the Supreme Presidency, eh? Can't blame you, I suppose."
Melith dug in his pockets and found two keys. "This is for the front door and this is for the back. The address is stamped right on them. The place is fully equipped, including a brand-new derrsin field generator."
"A derrsin?"
"Certainly. No home on Tranai is complete without a derrsin stasis field generator."
Clearing his throat, Goodman said carefully, "I've been meaning to ask you — exactly what is the stasis field used for?"
"Why, to keep one's wife in," Melith answered. "I thought you knew."
"I did," said Goodman. "But why?"
"Why?" Melith frowned. Apparently the question had never entered his head. "Why does one do anything? It's the custom, that's all. And very logical, too. You wouldn't want a woman chattering around you all the time, night and day."
Goodman blushed, because ever since he had met Janna, he had been thinking how pleasant it would be to have her around him all the time, night and day.
"It hardly seems fair to the women," Goodman pointed out.
Melith laughed. "My dear friend, are you preaching the doctrine of equality of the sexes? Really, it's a completely disproved theory. Men and women just aren't the same. They're different, no matter what you've been told on Terra. What's good for men isn't necessarily — or even usually — good for women."
"Therefore you treat them as inferiors," Goodman said, his reformer's blood beginning to boil.
"Not at all. We treat them in a different manner from men, but not in an inferior manner. Anyhow, they don't object."
"That's because they haven't been allowed to know any better. Is there any law that requires me to keep my wife in the derrsin field?"
"Of course not. The custom simply suggests that you keep her out of stasis for a certain minimum amount of time every week. No fair incarcerating the little woman, you know."
"Of course not," Goodman said sarcastically. "Must let her live some of the time."
"Exactly," Melith said, seeing no sarcasm in what Goodman said. "You'll catch on."
Goodman stood up. "Is that all?"
"I guess that's about it. Good luck and all that."
"Thank you," Goodman said stiffly, turned sharply and left.
That afternoon, Supreme President Borg performed the simple Tranaian marriage rites at the National Mansion and afterward kissed the bride with zeal. It was a beautiful ceremony and was marred by only one thing.
Hanging on Borg's wall was a rifle, complete with telescopic sight and silencer. It was a twin to Melith's and just as inexplicable.
Borg took Goodman to one side and asked, "Have you given any further thought to the Supreme Presidency?"
"I'm still considering it," Goodman said. "I don't really want to hold public office —"
"No one does."
"— but there are certain reforms that Tranai needs badly. I think it may be my duty to bring them to the attention of the people."
"That's the spirit," Borg said approvingly. "We haven't had a really enterprising Supreme President for some time. Why don't you take office right now? Then you could have your honeymoon in the National Mansion with complete privacy."
Goodman was tempted. But he didn't want to be bothered by affairs of state on his honeymoon, which was all arranged anyhow. Since Tranai had lasted so long in its present near-utopian condition, it would undoubtedly keep for a few weeks more.
"I'll consider it when I come back," Goodman said.
Borg shrugged. "Well, I guess I can bear the burden a while longer. Oh, here." He handed Goodman a sealed envelope.
"What's this?"
"Just the standard advice," Borg said. "Hurry, your bride's waiting for you!"
"Come on, Marvin!" Janna called. "We don't want to be late for the spaceship!"
Goodman hurried after her, into the spaceport limousine. "Good luck!" her parents cried. "Good luck!" Borg shouted.
"Good luck!" added Melith and his wife, and all the guests. On the way to the spaceport, Goodman opened the envelope and read the printed sheet within:
ADVICE TO A NEW HUSBAND
You have just been married and you expect, quite naturally, a lifetime of connubial bliss. This is perfectly proper, for a happy marriage is the foundation of good government. But you must do more than merely wish for it. Good marriage is not yours by divine right. A good marriage must be worked for!
Remember that your wife is a human being. She should be allowed a certain measure of freedom as her inalienable right. We suggest you take her out of stasis at least once a week. Too long in stasis is bad for her orientation. Too much stasis is bad for her complexion and this will be your loss as well as hers.
At intervals, such as vacations and holidays, it's customary to let your wife remain out of stasis for an entire day at a time, or even two or three days. It will do no harm and the novelty will do wonders for her state of mind.
Keep in mind these few common-sense rules and you can be assured of a happy marriage.