Some nations were safe from the slugs through their own customs. A Finn who did not strip down and climb into a steam bath, in company, every day or so would have been conspicuous. The Japanese, too, were casual about undressing. The South Seas were relatively safe, as were large parts of Africa. France had gone enthusiastically nudist, on weekends at least, right after World War III-a slug would have a tough time hiding in France.
But in countries where the body-modesty taboo meant something a slug could stay hidden until his host began to stink. The United States itself, Canada-England, most particularly England. "Aren't you getting excited over nothing, old chap? Take off my weskit? Now, really!"
They flew three slugs (with apes) to London; I understand that the King wanted to set an example as the President had, but the Prime Minister, egged on by the Archbishop of Canterbury, would not let him. The Archbishop had not even bothered to look; moral behavior was more important than mundane peril. Nothing about this appeared in the news and the story may not be true, but English skin was not exposed to the cold stares of neighbors.
The Cominform propaganda system began to blast us as soon as they had worked out a new line. The whole thing was an "American Imperialist fantasy" intended to "enslave the workers"; the "mad dogs of capitalism" were at it again.
I wondered why the titans had not attacked Russia first; Stalinism seemed tailor-made for them. On second thought, I wondered if they had. On third thought I wondered what difference it would make; the people behind the Curtain had had their minds enslaved and parasites riding them for three generations. There might not be two kopeks difference between a commissar with a slug and a commissar without a slug.
There would be one change: their intermittent purges would take a different form; a "deviationist" would be "liquidated" by plastering a titan on his neck. It wouldn't be necessary to send him to the gas chamber.
Except when the Old Man picked me to work with him I was not close to the center of things; I saw the war with the titans as a man sees hurricanes-his small piece only. I did not see the Old Man soon and I got my assignments from Oldfield, his deputy. Consequently I did not know of it when Mary was relieved from special duty with the President. I ran into her in the lounge of the Section offices. "Mary!" I yelped and fell over my feet getting to her.
She gave me that long, slow, sweet smile and moved over to make room for me. "Hello, darling!" she whispered. She did not ask me what I had been doing, nor scold me that I had not been in touch with her, nor even comment on how long it had been. Mary always let the water over the dam take care of itself.
Not me-I babbled. "This is wonderful! I thought you were still tucking the President into his beddy-bye. How long have you been here? Do you have to go back right away? Say, can I dial you a drink–no, you've got one." I started to dial for an old-fashioned and discovered that Mary had already done so; it popped out almost into my hand. "Huh? How'd this get here?"
"I ordered it when you came in the door."
"You did? Mary, did I tell you that you are wonderful?"
"No."
"Very well, then, I wilclass="underline" You're wonderful."
"Thank you."
I went on, "This calls for a celebration! How long are you free? Say, couldn't you possibly get some leave? They can't expect you to be on duty twenty-four hours a day, week after week, with no time off. I think I'll go right straight to the Old Man and tell him just what-"
"I'm on leave, Sam."
"-just what I think of that sort of-Huh?"
"I'm on leave now."
"You are? For how long?"
"Subject to call. All leaves read that way now."
"But-How long have you been on leave?"
"Since yesterday. I've been sitting here, waiting for you to show up."
"Yesterday!" And I had spent yesterday giving more kindergarten lectures to brass hats who did not want them. "Oh, for the love of-" I stood up. "Stay right where you are. Don't move. I'll be right back."
I rushed over to the operations office. I got in to see the chief deputy by insisting that I had a very urgent matter that he had to attend to. Oldfield looked up when I came in and said in a surly tone, "What do you want?"
"Look, chief, that series of bedtime stories I'm scheduled to telclass="underline" better cancel them."
"Why?"
"I'm a sick man; I've been due for sick leave for a long time. Now I've just got to take it."
"You're sick in the head, if you ask me."
"That's right; I'm sick in the head. Sometimes I hear voices. People have been following me around. I keep dreaming I'm back with the titans." That last point was regrettably true.
"But since when has this being crazy been any handicap in this section?" He leaned back and waited for me to argue the point.
"Look-do I get leave or don't I?"
He fumbled through papers on his desk, found one and tore it up. "Okay. Keep your phone handy; you're subject to recall. Get out."
I got. Mary looked up when I came in and gave me the soft warm treatment again. I said, "Grab your things; we're leaving."
She did not ask where; she simply stood up. I snatched my drink, gulped half of it and spilled the rest. We went up and were out on the pedestrian level of the city before either one of us said anything. Then I asked, "Now-where do you want to get married?"
"Sam, we discussed that before."
"Sure we did and now we are going to do it. Where?"
"Sam, Sam my very dear-I will do what you say. But I am bound to tell you that I am still opposed to it."
"Why?"
"Sam, let's go straight to my apartment. I'd like to cook dinner for you."
"Okay, you can cook dinner-but not in your apartment. And we get married first."
"Please, Sam!"
I heard somebody say, "Keep pitching, kid. She's weakening." I looked around and found that we were playing to a good-sized gallery.
I swept an arm wide, almost clipping the youngster who had given me the advice and shouted irritably, "Haven't you people got anything else to do? Go get drunk!"
Somebody else said, "I'd say he ought to take her offer; he won't get a better one."
I grabbed Mary by the arm and hurried her away from there. I did not say another word until I had gotten her into a cab and closed off the driver's compartment from the lounge. "All right," I said gruffly, "why not get married? Let's have your reasons."
"Why get married, Sam? I'm yours; you don't need a contract."
"Why? Because I love you; that's one reason, damn it!"
She did not answer for quite a while; I thought I had offended her. When she did I could hardly hear her. "You hadn't mentioned that before, Sam."
"Hadn't I? Oh, I must have. I'm sure I have."
"No, I'm sure, quite sure, that you haven't. Why didn't you?"
"Unh, I don't know. Just an oversight, I guess. I'm not right sure what the word 'love' means."
"Neither am I," she said softly, "but I love to hear you say it. Say it again, please."
"Huh? Okay. I love you. I love you, Mary."
"Oh, Sam!"
She snuggled in against my shoulder and began to tremble. I shook her a little. "How about you?"
"Me? Oh, I love you, Sam. I do love you. I've loved you ever since-"
"Ever since when?"
I thought she was going to say that she had loved me ever since I took her place in Project Interview; what she said was, "I've loved you ever since you slapped me."