19, 2022 at 9:19 pm).
"Good. Mike, do you know what a gun is?"
"A gun," Smith answered carefully, "is a piece of ordnance for throwing projectiles by the force of some explosive, as gunpowder, consisting of a tube or barrel closed at one end, where the-"
"Okay, okay. Do you grok it?"
"I am not sure."
"Have you ever seen a gun?"
"I do not know."
"Why, certainly you have," Jill interrupted. "Mike, think back to that time we were talking about, in the room with the grass on the floor – but don't get upset now! The big man hit me, you remember."
"Yes."
"The other man pointed something at me. In his hand."
"Yes. He pointed a bad thing at you."
"That was a gun."
"I had thinked that the word for that bad thing might be 'gun.' The Webster's New International Dictionary of the English Language, Third Edition, published in-"
"That's fine, son," Harshaw said hastily. "That was certainly a gun. Now listen to me carefully. If someone points a gun at Jill again, what will you do?"
Smith paused rather longer than usual. "You will not be angry if I waste food?"
"No, I would not be angry. Under those circumstances no one would be angry at you. But I am trying to find out something else. Could you make just the gun go away, without making the man who is pointing it go away?"
Smith considered it. "Save the food?"
"Uh, that isn't quite what I mean. Could you cause the gun to go away without hurting the man?"
"Jubal, he would not hurt at all. I would make the gun go away, but the man I would just stop. He would feel no pain. He would simply be discorporate. The food he leaves after him would not damage at all."
Harshaw sighed. "Yes, I'm sure that's the way it would be. But could you cause to go away just the gun? Not do anything else? Not 'stop' the man, not kill him, just let him go on living?"
Smith considered it. "That would be much easier than doing both at once. But, Jubal, if I left him still corporate, he might still hurt Jill. Or so I grok it."
Harshaw stopped long enough to remind himself that this baby innocent was neither babyish nor innocent – was in fact sophisticated in a culture which he was beginning to realize, however dimly, was far in advance of human culture in some very mysterious ways, and that these naive remarks came from a superman – or what would do in place of a "superman" for the time being. Then he answered Smith, choosing his words most carefully as he had in mind a dangerous experiment and did not want disaster to follow from semantic mishap.
"Mike, if you reach a – 'cusp' – where you must do something in order to protect Jill, you do it."
"Yes, Jubal. I will."
"Don't worry about wasting food. Don't worry about anything else. Protect Jill."
"Always I will protect Jill."
"Good. But suppose a man pointed a gun at someone – or simply had it in his hand. Suppose you did not want or need to kill him, but you needed to make the gun go away. Could you do it?"
Mike paused only briefly. "I think I grok it. A gun is a wrong thing. But it might be needful for the man to remain corporate." He thought. "I can do it."
“Good. Mike, I am going to show you a gun. A gun is a wrong thing.”
“A gun is a very wrong thing. I will make it go away.”
“Don't make it go away as soon as you see it.”
“Not?”
“Not. I will lift the gun and start to point it at you. Like this. Before I can get it pointed at you, make it go away. But don't stop me, don't hurt me, don't kill me, don't do anything to me. Just the gun. Don't waste me as food, either.”
“Oh, I never would,” Mike said earnestly. “When you discorporate, my brother Jubal, I hope to be allowed to eat of you myself, praising and cherishing you with every bite, until I grok you in fullness.”
Harshaw controlled a seasick reflex he had not felt in decades and answered gravely, “Thank you, Mike.”
“It is I who must thank you, my brother – and if it should come to be that I am selected before you, I hope that you will find me worthy of grokking. Sharing me with Jill. You would share me with Jill? Please?”
Harshaw glanced at Jill, saw that she had kept her face serene – reflected that she probably was a rock-steady scrub nurse. “I will share you with Jill,” he said solemnly. “But, Mike, no one of us will be food today, nor any time soon. Right now I am going to show you this gun – and you wait until I say, and then you be very careful, because I have, many things to do before I am ready to discorporate.”
“I will be careful, my brother.”
“All right.” Harshaw leaned over, grunting slightly, and opened a lower drawer of his desk. “Look in here, Mike. See the gun? I'm going to pick it up. But don't do anything until I tell you to. Girls – get up and move away to the left; I don't want it pointed at you. Okay. Mike, not yet.” Harshaw reached for the gun, a very elderly police special, took it out of the drawer. “Get ready, Mike. Now!”– and Harshaw did his very best to get the weapon aimed at the Man from Mars.
His hand was suddenly empty. No shock, no jar, no twisting – the gun was gone and that was all.
Jubal found that he was shaking, so he stopped it. “Perfect,” he said to Mike. “You got it before I had it aimed at you. That's utterly perfect.”
“I am happy.”
“So am I. Duke, did that get in the camera?”
“Yup. I put in fresh film cartridges. You didn't say.”
“Good.” Harshaw sighed and found that he was very tired. “That's all today, kids. Run along. Go swimming. You, too, Anne.”
Anne said, “Boss? You'll tell me what the films show?”
“Want to stay and see them?”
“Oh, no! I couldn't, not the parts I Witnessed. But I would like to know – later – whether or not they show that I've slipped my clutches.”
“All right.”
<…>
The cameras were Mitchell servos; the projector was a Yashinon tabletop tank, with an adapter to permit it to receive Land Solid-Sight-Sound 4 mm. film. Shortly they were listening to and watching the events leading up to the disappearance of the empty brandy case.
Jubal watched the box being thrown at his head, saw it wink out in midair. “That's enough,” he said. “Anne will be pleased to know that the cameras back her up. Duke, let's repeat that last bit in slow motion.”
“Okay.” Duke spooled back, then announced, “This is ten-to-one.”
The scene was the same but the slowed-down sound was useless; Duke switched it off. The box floated slowly from Jill's hands toward Jubal's head, then quite suddenly ceased to be. But it did not simply wink out; under slow-motion projection it could be seen shrinking, smaller and smaller until it was no longer there.
Jubal nodded thoughtfully. “Duke, can you slow it down still more?”
“Just a sec. Something is fouled up with the stereo.”
“What?”
“<…> It looked all right on the fast run. But when I slowed it down, the depth effect was reversed. You saw it. That box went away from us fast, mighty