Robert Heinlein - A Stranger in a Strange Land

"Uh� conceded. You have the floor."

"I was coming back from covering the Cape Town conference; I squeezed out a day and visited them. What I saw worried the hell out of me - so much so that I stopped just long enough in Washington to get a few columns ahead, then came straight here. Jubal, couldn't you rig it with Douglas to shut off the faucet and close down this operation?"

Jubal shook his head. "In the first place, I wouldn't. What Mike does with his life is his business."

"You would if you had seen what I saw."

"Not I! But in the second place I can't. Nor can Douglas."

"Jubal, you know quite well that Mike would accept any decision you made about his money. He probably wouldn't even understand it - and he certainly wouldn't question it."

"Ah, but he would understand it! Ben, recently Mike made his will, drew it up himself - no attorney - and sent it to me to criticize. Ben, it was one of the shrewdest legal documents I've ever seen. He recognized that he had more wealth than his heirs could possibly need - so he used half his money to guard the other half� rigged it so that anyone who contests the will does so to his own great disadvantage. It is a very cynical document in that respect and is booby-trapped not only against possible heirsclaimants of his legal parents and his natural parents - he knows he's a bastard, though I don't know how he found out - but also the same with respect to every member of the Envoy's company� he provided a generous way to settle out of court with any possible unknown heir having a good prima-facie claim - and rigged it so that they would almost have to overthrow the government to go into court and break his will� and the will also showed that he knew exactly each stock, bond, security, and asset he owned. I couldn't find anything to criticize in it." (-including, Jubal thought, his provision for you, my brother!) "Then he went to the trouble of depositing holographic originals in several places� and Fair-Witness copies in half a dozen reliable brains. Don't tell me that I could rig his money without his understanding what I had done!"

Ben looked morose. "I wish you could."

"I don't. But that was just the starter. It wouldn't help if we could. Mike hasn't taken a dollar out of his drawing account for almost a year. I know, because Douglas called me to ask if I thought the major portion of the backlog should be reinvested? Mike hadn't bothered to answer his letters. I told him that was his headache� but that if I were steward, I would follow my principal's last instructions."

"No withdrawals? Jubal, he's spending a lot."

"Maybe the church racket pays well."

"That's the odd part about it. The Church of All Worlds is not really church."

"Then what is it?"

"Uh, primarily it's a language school."

"Repeat?"

"To teach the Martian language."

"Well, no harm in that. But I wish, then, that he wouldn't call it a church."

"Well, I guess it is a church, within the legal definition."

"Look, Ben, a roller skating rink is a church - as long as some sect claims that roller skating is essential to their faith and a part of their worship. You wouldn't even have to go that far - simply claim that roller skating served a desirable though not essential function parallel to that which religious music serves in most churches. If you can sing to the glory of God, you can skate to the same end. Believe me, this has all been threshed out. There are temples in Malaya which are nothing to an outsider but boarding houses for snakes� but the same High Court rules them to be 'churches' as protects our own sects."

"Well, Mike raises snakes, too, as well as teaching Martian. But, Jubal, isn't anything ruled out?"

"Mmm� that's a moot point. There are minor restrictions, adjudicated. A church usually can't charge a fee for fortune telling or calling up spirits of the dead but it can accept offerings� and then let custom make the 'offerings' become fees in fact. Human sacrifice is illegal everywhere - but I'm by no means sure that it is not still done in several spots around the globe - and probably right here in this former land of the free and home of the brave. The way to do anything under the guise of religion that would otherwise be suppressed is to do it in the inner sanctum and keep the gentiles out. Why, Ben? Is Mike doing something that might get him jailed or hanged?"

"Uh, I don't know. Probably not."

"Well, if he's careful - the Fosterites have demonstrated how to get by with almost anything. Certainly much more than Joseph Smith was lynched for."

"Matter of fact, Mike has lifted quite a lot from the Fosterites. That's part of what worries me."

"But what does worry you? Specifically."

"Uh, Jubal, this has got to be a 'water brother' matter."

"Okay, I had assumed that. I'm prepared to face redhot pincers and the rack, if necessary. Shall I start carrying poison in a hollow tooth? Against the possibility of cracking?"

"Uh, the members of the inner circle are supposed to be able to discorporate voluntarily any second - no poison needed."

"I'm sorry, Ben. I never got that far. Never mind, I know other adequate ways to put up the only final defense against the third degree. Let's have it."

"You can discorporate at will, they tell me - if you learn Martian first. Never mind. Jubal, I said Mike raises snakes. I meant that both figuratively and literally - the whole setup is a snake pit. Unhealthy.

"But let me describe it. Mike's Temple is a big place, almost a labyrinth. A big auditorium for public meetings, some smaller ones for invitational meetings - many smaller rooms - and living quarters - quite a lot of living quarters. Jill sent me a radiogram telling me where to go, so I was dropped at the living quarters entrance on the street the Temple backs onto. The living quarters are above the main auditorium, about as private as you can be and still live in a city."

Jubal nodded. "Makes sense. Be your acts legal or illegal, nosy neighbors are noxious."

"In this case a very good idea. A pair of outer doors let me in; I suppose I was scanned first, although I didn't spot the scanner. Through two more sets of automatic doors any one of which would slow down a raiding squad - then up a bounce tube. Jubal, it wasn't an ordinary bounce tube. It wasn't controlled by the passenger, but by someone out of sight. More evidence that they wanted privacy and meant to have it - a raiding squad would need special climbing gear to get up that way. No stairs anywhere. Didn't feel like the ordinary bounce tube, either - frankly, I avoid them when I can; they make me queasy."

"I have never used them and never shall," Jubal said firmly.

"You wouldn't have minded this. I floated up gently as a feather."

"Not me, Ben. I don't trust machinery. It bites." Jubal added, "However, I must concede that Mike's mother was one of the great engineers of all times and his father - his real father - was a number one pilot and a competent engineer, or better� and both of genius level. If Mike has improved bounce tubes until they are fit for humans, I ought not to be surprised."

"As may be. I got to the top and was landed without having to grab for it, or depend on safety nets - I didn't see any, to tell the truth. Through more doors that unlocked for me and into an enormous living room. Enormous! Very oddly furnished and rather austere. Jubal, there are people who think you run an odd household here."

"I can't imagine why. Just plain and comfortable."

"Well, your mnage is Aunt Jane's Finishing School for Refined Young Ladies compared with the weirdie Mike runs. I'm just barely inside the joint when the first thing I see I don't believe. A babe, tattooed from her chin to her toes - and not a goddam stitch otherwise. Hell, not even the home-grown fig leaf - she was tattooed everywhere. Fantastic!"