Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

"What do you mean, Deety?"

"That Revelation isn't history, it's not good poetry, and it's not myth. There must have been some reason for a large number of learned men to include it- while chucking out several dozen gospels. Why not make a first hypothesis with Occam's Razor and read it as what it purports to be? Prophecy."

"Hmm. The shelves under the stairs, next to Shakespeare. The King James version, never mind the other three."

Deety was back in a moment with a well-worn black book-which surprised me. I read the Bible for my own reasons but it never occurred to me that Jacob would, We always marry strangers.

"Here," said Deety. "Chapter thirteen, verse eighteen: 'Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred threescore and six."

"That can't be read as exponents, Deety."

"But this is a translation, Pop. Wasn't the original in Greek? I don't remember when exponents were invented but the Greek mathematicians of that time certainly understood powers. Suppose the original read 'Zeta, Zeta, Zeta!'-and those scholars, who weren't mathematicians, mistranslated it as six hundred and sixty-six?"

"Uh....oondrift, Daughter."

"Who taught me that the world is not only stranger than we imagine but stranger than we can imagine? Who has already taken me into two universes that are not this one... and brought me safely home?"

"Wait a half!" Zebbie said. "You and Pop have already tried the time-space machine?"

"Didn't Pop tell you? We made one minimum translation. We didn't seem to have gone anywhere and Pop thought he had failed. Until I tried to look up a number in the phone book. No 'J' in the book. No 'J' in the Britannica. No 'J' in any dictionary. So we popped back in, and Pop returned the verniers to zero, and we got out, and the alphabet was back the way it ought to be and I stopped shaking. But our rotation was even more scary and we almost died. Out in space with blazing stars-but air was leaking out and Pop just barely put it back to zero before we passed out... and came to, back here in Snug Harbor."

"Jake," Zebbie said seriously, "that gadget has got to have more fail-safes, in series with deadman switches for homing." He frowned. "I'm going to keep my eye open for both numbers, six sixty-six and the long one. I trust Deety's hunches. Deety, where is the verse with the description of the Beast? It's somewhere in the middle of the chapter."

"Here. 'And I beheld another beast coming up out of the earth; and he had two horns like a lamb, and he spake as a dragon."

"Hmm- I don't know how dragons speak. But if something comes up out of the earth and has two horns... and I see or hear either number-I'm going to assume that he has a 'Black Hat' and try to do unto him before he does unto us. Deety, I'm peaceable by policy... but two near misses is too many. Next time I shoot first."

I would as lief Zebbie hadn't mentioned "Black Hats." Hard to believe that someone was trying to kill anyone as sweet and innocent and harmless as my darling Jacob. But they were-and we knew it.

I said, "Where is this time machine? All I've seen is a claptrap."

'Caltrop,' Aunt Hilda. You're looking at the space-time machine."

"Huh? Where? Why aren't we in it and going somewhere fast? I don't want my husband killed; he's practically brand-new. I expect to get years of wear out of him."

"Sharpie, stop the chatter," Zebbie put in. "It's on that bench, across the table from you."

"All I see is a portable sewing machine."

"That's it."

"What? How do you get inside? Or do you ride it like a broom?"

"Neither. You mount it rigidly in a vehicle-one airtight and watertight by strong preference. Pop had it mounted in their car-not quite airtight and now kaputt. Pop and I are going to mount it in Gay Deceiver, which is airtight. With better fail-safes."

"Much better fail-safes, Zebbie," I agreed.

"They will be. I find that being married makes a difference. I used to worry about my own skin. Now I'm worried about Deety's. And yours. And Pop's. All four of us."

"Hear, hear!" I agreed. "All for one, and one for all!"

"Yup," Zebbie answered. "Us four, no more. Deety, when's lunch?"

"Avete, alieni, nos morituri vos spernimus!"

Deety:

While Aunt Hilda and I assembled lunch, our men disappeared. They returned just in time to sit down. Zebadiah carried an intercom unit; Pop had a wire that he plugged into a jack in the wall, then hooked to the intercom.

"Gentlemen, your timing is perfect; the work is all done," Aunt Hilda greeted them. "What is that?"

'A guest for lunch, my dearest," Pop answered. "Miss Gay Deceiver."

"Plenty for all," Aunt Hilda agreed. "I'll set another place." She did so; Zebadiah placed the intercom on the fifth plate. "Does she take coffee or tea?"

"She's not programmed for either, Hilda," Zebadiah answered, "but I thank you on her behalf. Ladies, I got itchy about news from Singapore and Sumatra. So I asked my autopilot to report. Jake came along, then pointed out that he had spare cold circuits here and there, just in case-and this was a just-incase. Gay is plugged to the garage end of that jack, and this is a voice-switched master-master intercom at this end. I can call Gay and she can call me if anything new comes in-and I increased her programming by reinstating the earlier programs, Logan and back home, for running retrieval of new data."

1')I add an outlet in the basement," agreed Pop. "But, Son, this is your home-not California."

"Well-"

"Don't fight it, Zebbie. This is my home since Jacob legalized me.. and any step-son-in-law of mine is at home here; you heard Jacob say so. Right, Deety?"

'Of course," I agreed. "Aunt Hilda is housewife and I'm scullery maid. But

Snug Harbor is my home, too, until Pop and, Aunt Hilda kick me out into the snow-and that includes my husband."

"Not into snow, Deety," Aunt Hilda corrected me. "Jacob would insist on a sunny day; he's kind and gentle. But that would not leave you with no roof over your head. My California home-mine and Jacob's-has long been your home-from-home, and Zebbie has been dropping in for years, whenever he was hungry."

"I had better put my bachelor flat into the pot."

"Zebbie, you can't put Deety on your day bed. It's lumpy, Deety. Broken springs. Bruises. Zebbie, break your lease and send your furniture back to Good Will."

"Sharpie, you're at it again. Deety, there is no day bed in my digs. An emperor-size bed big enough for three-six if they are well acquainted."

"My Captain, do you go in for orgies?" I asked.

"No. But you can't tell what may turn up in the future."

"You always look ahead, Zebadiah," I said approvingly. "Am I invited?"

"At any orgy of mine, my wife will pick the guests and send the invitations."

"Thank you, sir. I'll wait until you seem to be bored, then look over the crop and pick out choice specimens for you. Assorted flavors and colors."

"My Princess, I will not spank a pregnant woman. But I can think about it. Pop, Snug Harbor continues to impress me. Did you use an architect?"

"Hrrumph! 'Architect' is a dirty word. I studied engineering. Architects copy each other's mistakes and call it 'Art.' Even Frank Lloyd Wright never understood what the Gilbreths were doing. His houses looked great from the outside-inside they were hideously inefficient. Dust collectors. Gloomy. Psych lab rat mazes. Pfui!"

"How about Neutra?"

"If he hadn't been hamstrung by building codes and union rules and zoning laws, Neutra could have been great. But people don't want efficient machines for living; they prefer to crouch in medieval hovels, as their flea-bitten forebears did. Cold, drafty, unsanitary, poor lighting, and no need for any of it."