"Uh, no."
"You expect him to go hopping around through the snow? We migrate when it gets cold; he lives here."
Jim's mouth dropped open. "You mean he's trying to hibernate?"
"What else? Willis's ancestors have had a good many millions of years to get used to the seasons around here; you can't expect him to ignore them."
Jim looked worried. "I had planned to take him with me to Syrtis Minor."
"Syrds Minor? Oh, yes, you go away to school this year, don't you? You, too, Frank."
"You bet!"
"I can't get used to the way you kids grow up. It was just last week I was painting your thumb to keep you from sucking it."
"I never sucked my thumb!" Francis answered.
"No? Then it was some other kid. Never mind. I came to Mars so that the years would be twice as long, but it doesn't seem to make any difference."
"Say, Doc, how old are you?" inquired Francis.
"Mind your own business. Which one of you is going to study medicine and come back to help me with my practice?"
Neither one answered. "Speak up, speak up!" urged the doctor. "What are you going to study?"
Jim said, "Well, I don't know. I'm interested in aerography*, but I like biology, too. Maybe I'll be a planetary economist, like my old man."
"That's a big subject. Ought to keep you busy a long time. You, Frank?"
Francis looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, uh-shucks, I still think I'd like to be a rocket pilot."
"I thought you had outgrown that." Doctor MacRae looked almost shocked.
"Why not?" Francis answered doggedly. "I might make it."
"That's just what I'd be afraid of. See here, Frank, do you really want to live a life bound around with rules and regulations and discipline?"
"Mmmm... I want to be a pilot. I know that."
"On your own head be it. Me, I left Earth to get away from all that nonsense. Earth has gotten so musclebound with laws that a man can't breathe. So far, there's still a certain amount of freedom on Mars. When that changes-"
" 'When that changes' what. Doc?"
"Why, I'll go find another planet that hasn't been spoiled, naturally. Speaking of such things, you younkers go to school before the colony migrates, don't you?" Since Earth-humans do not hibernate, it was necessary that the colony migrate twice each Martian year. The southern summer was spent at Charax, only thirty degrees from the southern pole; the colony was now about to move to Copals in Utopia, almost as far to the north, there to remain half a Martian year, or almost a full Earth year.
There were year-around establishments near the equatorNew Shanghai, Marsport, Syrtis Minor, others-but they were not truly colonies, being maimed mainly by employees of the Mars Company. By contract and by charter the Company was required to provide advanced terrestrial education on Mars for colonials; it suited the Company to provide it only at Syrtis Minor.
"We go next Wednesday," said Jim, "on the mail scooter."
"So soon?"
"Yes, and that's what worries me about Willis. What ought I to do. Doc?"
Willis heard his name and looked inquiringly at Jim. He repeated, in exact imitation of Jim, "What ought I to do, Doc?'"
"Shut up, Willis-"
" 'Shut up, Willis.'" Willis mutated the doctor just as perfectly.
"Probably the kindest thing would be to take him out, find him a hole, and stuff him in it. You can renew your acquaintance when he's through hibernating."
"But, Doc, that means I'll lose him! He'll be out long before I'm home from school. Why, he'll probably wake up even before the colony comes back."
"Probably." MacRae thought about it. "It won't hurt him to be on his own again. It's not a natural life he leads with you, Jim. He's an individual, you know; he's not property."
"Of course he's not! He's my friend."
"I can't see," put in Francis, "why Jim sets such store by him. Sure, he talks a lot, but most of it is just parrot stuff. He's a moron, if you ask me."
"Nobody asked you. Willis is fond of me, aren't you, Willis? Here, come to papa." Jim spread his arms; the little Martian creature hopped into them and settled in his lap, a warm, furry mass, faintly pulsating. Jim stroked him.
"Why don't you ask one of the Martians?" suggested MacRae.
"I tried to, but I couldn't find one that was in a mood to pay any attention."
"You mean you weren't willing to wait long enough. A Martian will notice you if you're patient. Well, why don't you ask himt He can speak for himself."
"What should I say?"
"I'll try it. Willis!"
Willis turned two eyes on the doctor; MacRae went on, "Want to go outdoors and go to sleep?"
"Willis not sleepy."
"Get sleepy outdoors. Nice and cold, find hole in ground. Curl up and take good long sleep. How about it?"
"No!" The doctor had to look sharply to see that it was not Jim who had answered; when Willis spoke for himself he always used Jim's voice. Willis's sound diaphragm had no special quality of its own, any more than has the diaphragm 6f a radio loudspeaker. It was much like a loudspeaker's diaphragm, save that it was part of a living animal.
"That seems definite, but we'll try it from another angle. Willis, do you want to stay with Jim?"
"Willis stay with Jim." Willis added meditatively, "Warm!"
"There's the key to your charm, Jim," the doctor said dryly. "He likes your blood temperature. But ipse dixit-keep him with you. I don't mink it will hurt him. He may live fifty years instead of a hundred, but he'll have twice as much fun."
"Do they normally live to be a hundred?" asked Jim.
"Who knows? We haven't been around this planet long enough to know such things. Now come on, get out. I've got work to do." The doctor eyed his bed thoughtfully. It had not been made in a week; he decided to let it wait until wash day.
"What does 'ipse dixit' mean. Doc?" asked Francis.
"It means, 'He sure said a mouthful.'"
"Doc," suggested Jim, "Why don't you have dinner with us tonight? I'll call mother. You, too, Frank."
"Huh uh," Frank denied. "I'd better not. My mother says I eat too many meals with you folks."
"My mother, if she were here, would undoubtedly say the same thing," admitted the doctor. "Fortunately I am free of her restraining influence. Call your mother, Jim."
Jim went to the phone, tuned out two colonial housewives gossiping about babies, and finally reached his home on an alternate frequency. When his mother's face appeared on the screen he explained his wish. "Delighted to have me doctor with us," she said. 'Tell him to hurry along. Jimmy."
"Right away. Mom!" Jim switched off and reached for his outdoor suit.
"Don't put it on," advised MacRae. "It's too chilly out. We'll go through the tunnels."
"It's twice as far," objected Jim.
"We'll leave it up to Willis. Willis, how do you vote?"
"Warm," said Willis smugly.
CHAPTER TWO
South Colony, Mars
SOUTH COLONY WAS arranged like a wheel. The administration building was the hub; tunnels ran out in all directions and buildings were placed over them. A rim tunnel had been started to join the spokes at the edge of the wheel; thus far a forty-five degree arc had been completed.
Save for three Moon huts erected when the colony was founded and since abandoned, all the buildings were shaped alike. Each was a hemispherical bubble of silicone plastic, processed from the soil of Mars and blown on the spot. Each was a double bubble, in fact; first one large bubble would be blown, say thirty or forty feet across; when it had hardened, the new building would be entered through the tunnel and an inner bubble, slightly smaller than the first, would be blown. The outer bubble, "polymerized"-that is to say, cured and hardened, under the rays of the sun; a battery of ultra-violet and heat lamps cured the inner. The walls were separated by a foot of dead air space, which provided insulation against the bitter sub-zero nights of Mars.