Education of a Martian — Edition Insights

There were no problems. There was nothing to be afraid of.

"His name is Gregrill," she said. "They don't have last names. We'll have to make one up or perhaps use mine."

"I'll see my daughter dead before I let her marry a Martian!" Harley roared.

"But if she really loves him--" Ethel intruded timorously.

"Loves him? Love that miserable scum?"

"Dad, please," Joyce said quietly. "You're condemning somebody you've never seen."

"I don't have to see him! He's a Martian, isn't he? He has horns, doesn't he?"

"They're not horns. They're antennae."

"Call them what you like, they're horns!"

"They're antennae, Dad," Joyce repeated firmly. "They're proof of advanced development. They can communicate with each other hundreds of miles. They can sense instantly--"

"I don't want to hear about it!"

"But, dear," Ethel tried again, "sometimes, when they marry an Earthling girl, they cut those horns off, and then they look just like us."

"I wouldn't let him--" Joyce bit off each word--"do any such thing. I'd be utterly ashamed of him. I wouldn't marry him if he knuckled under to our prejudices like that. What does he have to be apologetic about? He's a superior being--"

"Superior?" her father howled at her, but his voice was losing its power.

"In spite of our buildings and machines and things, they're far richer than we are, really. They have such a richness of feeling, such warmth, such sensitivity. They understand and feel so much more than we do. It's--it's fantastic. It's just something we can't comprehend."

"I see," he said bitterly. "And how are you going to comprehend them?"

"Gregrill can speak Earthling as well as I can," Joyce said. "He's a graduate of the university there in Memnonia. Maybe, with his guidance, I'll eventually get some insight into--"

"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--"

"_I'm_ that stupid and prejudiced! I wouldn't let a Martian in my house! They're the scum of the Solar System!"

"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."

"I'll stop you. You'll never marry that scum. By God, if I have to take it to the Panterrestrial Court--"

"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."

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....