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Read Ebook: Education of a Martian by Shallit Joseph Emshwiller Ed Illustrator
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Ebook has 153 lines and 7302 words, and 4 pages
"My God," Harley said dully. He walked unsteadily away from her and fell into his chair. "A daughter of mine...." He looked at her again. "Joyce, can't you see it's impossible? It couldn't work. These mixed marriages have never worked out. Never! Don't you see how it would be? You'd be an outcast. None of your friends would ever want to see you again."
"Well, if they should happen to be stupid and prejudiced--"
"Dad, I won't listen to you talk like that."
"What do you want to do--be the wife of a janitor?" he went on relentlessly. "Porters and janitors, that's all they're fit for."
"If they were ever given a chance--"
"A chance? What would they do with it? Loaf around dreamily, get nowhere. Nowhere at all! And pull us down to their level while they're fouling up our civilization!"
Joyce stood up, her hands trembling.
"You're not going to Mars!" Harley shouted. "You're not going, you hear? You're staying right here on earth!"
"I'm afraid," she said unsteadily, "that you're too late. I already have my ticket. I expected you'd make a fuss. My--my trunk is at the spaceport. Nothing can stop me now, Dad."
"Good-by, Dad. I'm not booked to sail till Thursday, but I think it's better if I spend the remaining days in a hotel. It'll be more comfortable for all of us."
"Joyce, come back here!"
"Good-by, Dad." She waved a shaky hand at her mother. "Good-by, Mom. See you soon."
"Joyce! Come back!"
She went out, quietly closing the door behind her.
The huge 1200-passenger spaceship settled down slowly toward the landing field, its braking jets making a queer whistling sound in the thin Martian air. The passengers crowded to the windows. Most of them were already in their thermosuits, though the daylight temperature was close to fifty degrees. Some were even adjusting their oxygen packs. These weren't necessary at all, except for long hikes or intense exertion, which few of the visitors would indulge in. But they'd bought the things and they were going to use them--it was part of the adventure.
Most of the passengers were working people on vacation, taking advantage of the special two-in-a-room rate. There were a few salesmen, nervous but hopeful about the possibilities of opening up the hinterlands; so far, only Memnonia, the Martian capital, had provided Earthlings with any business.
In the bow of the spaceship was a crowd of girls, a college graduating class. Some of them were dressed in the new skin-tight thermosuits which were stirring up so much fuss in the fashion magazines. Listening to their ecstatic, senseless chatter, Joyce suddenly felt immensely older. The day, thirteen months ago, when she first sighted the Memnonian landscape with her own class, seemed impossibly long ago....
The ship nestled in against the vast loading ramp. A whistle sounded. The doors slid open. Husky, bare-chested Martian porters crowded aboard, began wheeling out the luggage. Joyce stepped out into the pale sunlight. The clear, thin air tingled at her nostrils, dizzied her, as she'd known it would till she got used to it. She followed her porter down the ramp. It seemed to her, in her giddiness, that Gregrill himself was down there, down at the end of the ramp, bronzed, bare-armed, coming toward her--
He had made the two-hundred-mile trip to meet her!
She began to run. She stumbled, caught herself on somebody's arm, ran again, plunged against him, lost herself against his big, powerful chest.
"Oh, Greg! Greg, you're here!"
It was a long while before she could pull herself away to look at him. She had forgotten his strength, the magnificent arch of his chest. He was wearing a white fiber vest in the traditional style, sleeveless, cut low in front. His sun-washed skin glowed like polished bronze. The highlights shone on the strong, high arc of his nose, the ridge of his cheekbones. His fragile russet antennae swayed like wheat stalks in the wind.
There were muttered complaints around her. She was being shoved, prodded. She'd hardly realized they were standing in the midst of the swarming passengers.
"Oh," she laughed tremulously, "let's move. My luggage. Where--oh, there it is, that man over there with the cart."
"I will get it," Gregrill said.
"Oh, no, please."
But he was already striding away, big and powerful, towering over most of the Earthlings who were scurrying past. She saw him give something to the Martian porter, watched him swing the trunk up on his shoulder. It writhed in her, it devastated her, her father's contemptuous dismissal--"porters and janitors, that's all they're fit for."
"Greg, put it down," she said frantically. "I won't have you carrying it!"
He smiled at her indulgently. "It is not heavy."
"I don't want you to," she pleaded.
"Why do you not want me to?" he asked puzzledly. "Somebody must."
"We shall take the airbus," Gregrill said.
"Oh, do we have to?" she asked.
"How else can we go?"
He looked at her wonderingly. "To travel three times as long? I am aware that you are tired--"
"I'm tired of a lot of things," she blurted. "I'm tired of all the smooth, cynical, streamlined--Right now, I'd rather walk the whole way than step into an Earthling airbus."
He gave an uncertain laugh. "I am not sure that I understand your meaning."
"I'll explain it some time."
But how could she ever? He thought Earthlings were all such noble, shining, gifted creatures. How could she tell him of the rot at the heart of so many of them?
The driver let them out at Gregrill's road. Gregrill shouldered the trunk, and they walked down past the irregular row of red, sunbaked, dome-shaped houses, each with its big tank in the rear for catching Mars' meager rainfall. Joyce felt a quickening, a surge of warmth, when she saw them and the quiet, open-faced people in their doorways, smiling their shy welcomes. She was coming home.
She was coming home....
Gregrill's mother and father were waiting just inside their door. They opened their arms; they hardly said a word. Joyce ran to them, folded them against her. She didn't mind the tears.
She let them lead her into the main room, let them seat her, put pillows around her. She sat there bathing in their tenderness, their simple good-heartedness.
Couldn't everybody see it? Why couldn't her father know it? These were the best people in the Universe!
Joyce hid her disappointment. She had an impulse to say, "Please, please don't mimic our Earthling ways. Stay the way you are. Don't spoil anything. Don't lose what you have."
After dinner, Gregrill took her for a walk. Joyce had her thermosuit on now. The Sun was setting, and the startling cold of the Martian night was coming in fast. Gregrill changed his fiber vest for a sleeved jacket, though of the same light material. It was incredible how little protection these people needed against the cold. But, of course, they'd adapted to it.
They walked along the edge of the gorge that cut through the stunted forest half a mile from Gregrill's home. The rough sides of the gorge rose sheer and splendid, a marvel of glittering color--red, orange, yellow, brown. Far down on the rocky bed, a shallow stream flowed sluggishly to the south.
If she could only stay here, if they could only build their lives here with these simple, good-hearted people....
But she knew it couldn't be. Gregrill would be wasted here. Earth, despite all its hatefulness for her, was the only place where his genius would have a chance to unfold and display its potentialities.
"It is time that we go back?" Gregrill asked. "You are cold?"
Suddenly, helplessly, Joyce began to laugh.
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