Stranger in a Strange Land

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." Jub8l 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 ménage 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!"
                Jubal said quietly, "You're a big-city bumpkin, Ben. I knew a tattooed lady once. Very nice girl. Intense in some ways. But sweet."
                "Well," Ben conceded. "I was giving you a first impression. This gal is very nice, too, once you get adjusted to her pictorial supplement- and the fact that she usually has a snake with her. She's the one who raises them, rather than Mike."
                Jubal shook his head. "I was wondering if by any chance it was the same woman. Fully tattooed women are rather scarce these days. But the lady I knew, some thirty years back-too old now to be this one, I suppose -had the usual vulgar fear of snakes, to excess. However, I'm fond of snakes myself . . . I look forward to meeting your friend. I hope."
                "You will when you visit Mike. She's sort of a majordomo for him- and a priestess, if you'll pardon the word. Patricia-but called 'Pat,' or 'Patty.'"
                "Oh, yes! Jill has spoken of her ... and thinks very highly of her. Never mentioned her tattoos, however. Probably didn't think it was relevant. Or perhaps none of my business."
                "But she's nearly the right age to be your friend. She says. When I said 'babe' I was again giving a first impression. She looks to be in her twenties; she claims her oldest child is that old. Anyhow, she trotted up to meet me, all big smile, put her anns around me and kissed me. 'You're Ben, I know. Welcome, brother! I give you water!'
                "You know me, Jubal. I've been in the newspaper racket for years- I've been around. But I had never been kissed by a totally strange babe dressed only in tattoos . . . who was determined to be as friendly and affectionate as a collie pup. I was embarrassed."
                "Poor Ben. My heart bleeds."
                "Damn it, you would have felt the same way."
                "No. Remember, I've met one tattooed lady. They feel completely dressed in those tattoos-and rather resent having to put on clothes. Or at least this was true of my friend Sadako. Japanese, she was. But of course the Japanese are not body conscious the way we are."
                "Well," Ben answered. "Pat isn't exactly body conscious, either-just about her tattoos. She wants to be stuffed and mounted, nude, when she dies, as a tribute to George."
                "'George'?"
                "Sorry. Her husband. Up in heaven, to my relief ... although she talked about him as if he had just slipped out for a short beer. While she was behaving as if she expected a trial mounting and stuffing any moment. But, essentially, Pat is a lady . . . and she didn't let me stay embarrassed-"

    XXXI

                PATRICIA HAD HER ARMS around