“Chopped policeman,” Tony answered.

Nobody laughed. For a queasy instant Jubal wondered if the joke was a joke. Then he recalled that these his water brothers smiled a lot but rarely laughed—and besides, policeman should be good healthy food. But the sauce couldn’t be “long pig” in any case, or it would taste like pork. This sauce had a distinct beef flavor to it.

He changed the subject. “The thing I like best about this religion—”

“Is it a religion?” Sam inquired.

“Well, church. Call it a church. You did.”

“It is a church,” agreed Sam. “It fills every function of a church, and its quasi-theology does, I admit, match up fairly well with some real religions. Faiths. I jumped in because I used to be a stalwart atheist—and now I’m a high priest and I don’t know what I am.”

“I understood you to say you were Jewish.”

“I am. From a long line of rabbis. So I wound up atheist. Now look at me. But my cousin Saul and my wife Ruth are both Jews in the religious sense—and talk to Saul; you’ll find it’s no handicap to this discipline. A help, probably . . . as Ruth, once she broke past the first barrier, progressed faster than I did; she was a priestess quite a while before I became a priest. But she’s the spiritual sort; she thinks with her gonads. Me, I have to do it the hard way, between my ears.”

“The discipline,” repeated Jubal. “That’s what I like best about it. The faith I was reared in didn’t require anybody to know anything. Just confess your sins and be saved, and there you were, safe in the arms of Jesus. A man could be too stupid to hit the floor with his hat . . . and yet he could be conclusively presumed to be one of God’s elect, guaranteed an eternity of bliss, because he had been ‘converted.’ He might or might not become a Bible student; even that wasn’t necessary . . . and he certainly didn’t have to know, or even try to know, anything else. This church doesn’t accept ‘conversion’ as I grok it—”

“You grok correctly.”

“A person must start with a willingness to learn and follow it with some long, hard study. I grok that is salutary, in itself.”

“More than salutary,” agreed Sam. “Indispensable. The concepts can’t be thought about without the language, and the discipline that results in this horn-of-plenty of benefits—from how to live without fighting to how to please your wife—all derive from the conceptual logic . . . understanding who you are, why you’re here, how you tick—and behaving accordingly. Happiness is a matter of functioning the way a human being is organized to function . . . but the words in English are a mere tautology, empty. In Martian they are a complete set of working instructions. Did I mention that I had a cancer when I came here?”

“Eh? No, you didn’t.”

“Didn’t know it myself. Michael grokked it, sent me out for the usual X rays and so forth so that I would be sure. Then we got to work on it together. ‘Faith’ healing. A miracle. The clinic called it ‘spontaneous remission’ which I grok means ‘I got well.’”

Jubal nodded. “Professional double-talk. Some cancers go away, we don’t know why.”

“I know why this one went away. By then I was beginning to control my own body. With Mike’s help I repaired the damage. Now I can do it without his help. Want to feel a heart stop beating?”

“Thanks, I have observed it in Mike, many times. My esteemed colleague, Croaker Nelson, would not be sitting across from us if what you are talking about was ‘faith healing.’ It’s voluntary control of the body. I grok.”

“Sorry. We all know that you do. We know.”

“Mmm . . . I dislike to call Mike a liar because he isn’t. But the lad happens to be prejudiced in my case.”

Sam shook his head. “I’ve been talking with you all through dinner. I wanted to check it myself, despite what Mike said. You grok. I’m wondering what new things you could disclose to us if you troubled to learn the language?”

“Nothing. I’m an old man with little to contribute to anything.”

“I insist on reserving my opinion. All the rest of the First Called have had to tackle the language to make any real progress. Even the three you’ve kept with you have had some powerful coaching, being kept in trance during most of the short days and the few occasions we’ve had them with us. All but you . . . and you don’t really need it. Unless you want to wipe spaghetti from your face without a towel, which I grok you aren’t interested in anyhow.”