Stranger in a Strange Land

like; I won't let you oversleep-if you sleep. Mike doesn't sleep."
                "Not at all?"
                "Never. He sort of curls up and thinks a while, if he's got something to think about-but he doesn't sleep."
                Mrs. Paiwonski nodded solemnly. "Another sign. I know it-and, Michael, some day you will know. Your call will come."
                "Maybe," agreed Jill. "Mike, I'm falling asleep. Pop me into bed. Please?" She was lifted, wafted into the bedroom, the covers rolled back by invisible hands-she was asleep before he covered her.
                Jill woke up, as she had planned, exactly at seven. Mike had a clock in his head, too, but his was quite erratic so far as Earth calendars and times were concerned; it vibrated to another need. She slipped out of bed, put her head into the other room. Lights were out and the shades were tight; it was quite dark. But they were not asleep. Jill heard Mike say with soft certainty:
                "Thou art God."
                "'Thou art God'-" Patricia whispered back in a voice as heavy as if drugged.
                "Yes. Jill is God."
                "Jill ... is God. Yes, Michael."
                "And thou art God."
                "Thou-are God. Now, Michael, now!"
                Jill went very softly back in and quietly brushed her teeth. Presently she let Mike know in her mind that she was awake and found, as she expected, that he knew it. When she came back into the living room, shades were up and morning sun was streaming in. "Good morning, darlings!" She kissed them both.
                "Thou art God," Patty said simply.
                "Yes, Patty. And thou art God. God is in all of us." She looked at Patty in the harsh, bright morning light and noted that her new brother did not look tired. She looked as if she had had a full night of sleep and some extra - . . and looked younger and sweeter than ever. Well, she knew that effect-if Mike wanted to stay up, instead of reading or thinking all night, Jill never found it any trouble . . and she suspected that her own sudden sleepiness the night before had been Mike's idea, too - and heard Mike agree in his mind that it was.
                "Now coffee for both you darlings-and me, too. And I just happen to have stashed away a redipak of orange juice, too."
                They breakfasted lightly, filled out with happiness. Jill saw Patty looking thoughtful. "What is it, dear?"
                "Uh, I hate to mention this-but what are you kids going to eat on? Happens that Aunt Patty has a pretty well stuffed grouch bag and I thought-"
                Jill laughed. "Oh, darling, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to laugh. But the Man from Mars is rich! Surely you know that? Or don't you ever read the news?"
                Mrs. Paiwonski looked baffled. "Well, I guess I knew-that way. But you can't trust anything you hear over the news."
                Jill sighed. "Patty, you're an utter darling. And believe me, now that we're water brothers, we wouldn't hesitate an instant to mipose on you- 'sharing the nest' isn't just poetry. But it happens to be the other way around. If you ever need money-it doesn't matter how much; we can't use it up-just say so. Any amount. Any time. Write to me-or better yet, call me-because Mike doesn't have the foggiest idea about money. Why, dear, I've got a couple of hundred thousand dollars in a checking account in my name right this minute. Want some of it?"
                Mrs. Paiwonski looked startled, something she had not looked since Mike had caused her costume to go away. "Bless mel No, I don't need money."
                Jill shrugged. "If you ever do, just holler. We can't possibly spend it all and the government won't let Mike give it away. At least, not much of it. If you want a yacht- Mike would enjoy giving you a yacht."
                "I certainly would, Pat. I've never seen a yacht."
                Mrs. Paiwonski shook her head. "Don't take me up on a tall mountain, dearie-I've never wanted much ... and all I want from you two is your love-"
                "You have that," Jill told her.
                "I don't grok 'love'," Mike said seriously. "But Jill always speaks rightly. If we've got it, it's yours."
                "-and to