In fact, he sometimes waited faster so efficiently that a human would have concluded that he was hurrying at breakneck speed. But the human would have been mistaken—Mike was simply adjusting his own waiting in warm consideration for the needs of others.

So he accepted Jill’s edict that he was not to reply to any of these brotherly offers from female humans, but he accepted it not as a final veto but as a waiting—possibly a century hence would be better; in any case now was not the correct time since his water brother Jill spoke rightly.

Mike readily assented when Jill suggested, quite firmly, that he give this picture to Duke. He went at once to do so and would have done so anyhow; Mike knew about Duke’s collection, he had seen it, looked through it with deep interest, trying to grok why Duke said, “That one ain’t much in the face, but look at those legs—brother!” It always made Mike feel good to be called “brother” by one of his water brothers but legs were just legs, save that his own people had three each while humans each had only two—without being crippled thereby, he reminded himself; two legs were proper for humans, he must always grok that this was correct.

As for faces, Jubal had the most beautiful face Mike had ever seen, clearly and distinctly his own. It seemed to Mike that these human females in Duke’s picture collection could hardly be said to have grown faces as yet, so much did one look like the other in the face. All young human females had much the same face—how could it be otherwise? Of course he had never had any trouble recognizing Jill’s face; she was not only the first woman he had ever seen but, most important, his first female water brother—Mike knew every pore on her nose, every incipient wrinkle in her face and had praised each one in happy meditation.

But, while he now knew Anne from Dorcas and Dorcas from Miriam by their faces alone, it had not been so when first he came here. For several days Mike had distinguished between them by size and coloration—and, of course, by voice, since no two voices were ever alike. But, as sometimes did happen, all three females would be quiet at once and then it was well that Anne was so much bigger, Dorcas so small, and that Miriam, who was bigger than Dorcas but smaller than Anne, nevertheless need not be mistaken for the missing one if either Anne or Dorcas was absent because Miriam had unmistakable hair called “red,” even though it was not the color called “red” when speaking of anything but hair.

This special meaning for “red” did not trouble Mike; he knew before he reached Earth that every English word held more than one meaning. It was a fact one could get used to, without grokking, just as the sameness of all girl faces could be gotten used to . . . and, after waiting, they were no longer quite the same. Mike now could call up Anne’s face in his mind and count the pores in her nose as readily as with Jill’s. In essence, even an egg was uniquely itself, different from all other eggs any where and when—Mike had always known that. So each girl had her own face, no matter how small those differences might be.

Mike gave the “disgusting” picture to Duke and was warmed by Duke’s pleasure. Mike did not feel that he was depriving himself in parting with the picture; he had seen it once, he could see it in his mind whenever he wished—even the face in that picture, as it had glowed with a most unusual expression of beautiful pain.

He accepted Duke’s thanks gravely and went happily back to read the rest of his mail.

Mike did not share Jubal’s annoyance at the avalanche of mail; he reveled in it, the insurance ads quite as much as the marriage proposals. His trip to the Palace had opened his eyes to the enormous variety in this world and he was resolved to grok it all. He could see that it would take him several centuries and that he must grow and grow and grow, but he was undaunted and in no hurry—he grokked that eternity and the ever-beautifully-changing now were identical.

He had decided not to reread the Encyclopedia Britannica; the flood of mail gave him brighter glimpses of the world. He read it, grokked what he could, remembered the rest for contemplation at night while the household slept.

From these nights of meditation he was beginning, he thought, to grok “business,” and “money,” and “buying,” and “selling,” and related unMartian activities—the articles in the Encyclopedia had always left him feeling unfilled, as (he now grokked) each one had assumed that he knew many things that he did not know. But there arrived in the mail, from Mr. Secretary General Joseph Edgerton Douglas, a check book and other papers, and his brother Jubal had taken great pains to explain to him what money was and how it was used.