Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html Robert A Heinlein - The Number of the Beast Copyright (c) 1980 Robert A. Heinlein Contents PART ONE The Mandarin's Butterfly I "-- it is better to marry than to burn." -- Saul of Tarsus II "This Universe never did make sense --" III "-- Professor Moriarty isn't fooled --" IV Because two things equal to the same thing are never equal to each other. V "-- a wedding ring is not a ring in my nose --" VI Are men and women one race? VII _"Avete, Alieni, nos morituri vos spernimus!"_ VIII "Let us all preserve our illusions --" IX Most males have an unhealthy tendency to obey laws. X "`-- and he had two horns like a lamb, and he spake as a dragon'!" XI "-- citizens must protect themselves." XIII Being too close to a fireball can worry a man -- XIV "Quit worrying and enjoy the ride." XV "We'll hit so hard we'll hardly notice it." XVI -- a maiden knight, eager to break a lance -- XVII The world wobbled -- XVIII "-- the whole world is alive." PART TWO The Butterfly's Mandarin XIX Something is _gained_ in translation -- XX -- right theory, wrong universe. XXI -- three seconds is a _long_ time -- XXII "From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs." XXIII "The farce is over." XXIV Captains aren't supposed to cry. XXV "-- leave bad enough alone!" XXVI The Keys to the City XXVII "Are you open to a bribe?" XXVIII "He's too fat." XXIX "-- we place no faith in princes." XXX "Different physical laws, a different topology." XXXI "-- the first ghosts ever to search for an obstetrician." XXXII "Where Cat is, _is_ civilization." XXXIII "-- `solipsism' is a buzz word." XXXIV "-- all my dreams _do_ come true!" XXXV "It's a disturbing idea --" XXXVI "Pipe down and do your job." XXXVII The First Law of Biology XXXVIII "-- under his vine and under his fig tree; and none shall make them afraid --" PART THREE Death and Resurrection XXXIX Random Numbers XL "Is there a _mathematician_ in the house?" XLI "A cat can be caught in almost any trap _once_ --" Page 1 Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html XLII "You're a figment of imagination." XLIII To Pull a Hat Out of a Rabbit -- XLIV "-- where do we get the corpse?" XLV A Stitch in Time XLVI "I'm gifted with second sight." XLVII "There are no tomorrows." L'Envoi XLVIII Rev. XXII: 13 PART ONE The Mandarin's Butterfly I "-- it is better to marry than to burn." -- Saul of Tarsus Zeb: "He's a Mad Scientist and I'm his Beautiful Daughter." That's what she said: the oldest cliché in pulp fiction. She wasn't old enough to remember the pulps. The thing to do with a silly remark is to fail to hear it. I went on waltzing while taking another look down her evening formal. Nice view. Not foam rubber. She waltzed well. Today most girls who even attempt ballroom dancing drape themselves around your neck and expect you to shove them around the floor. She kept her weight on her own feet, danced close without snuggling, and knew what I was going to do a split second before I led it. A perfect partner -- as long as she didn't talk. "Well?" she persisted. My paternal grandfather -- an unsavory old reactionary; the FemLibbers would have lynched him -- used to say, "Zebadiah, the mistake we made was not in putting shoes on them or in teaching them to read -- we should never have taught them to talk!" I signaled a twirl by pressure; she floated into it and back into my arms right on the beat. I inspected her hands and the outer corners of her eyes. Yes, she really was young -- minimum eighteen (Hilda Corners never permitted legal "infants" at her parties), maximum twenty-five, first approximation twenty-two. Yet she danced like her grandmother's generation. "Well?" she repeated more firmly. This time I openly stared. "Is that cantilevering natural? Or is there an invisible bra, you being in fact the sole support of two dependents?" She glanced down, looked up and grinned. "They do stick out, don't they? Your comment is rude, crude, unrefined, and designed to change the subject." Page 2 Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html "What subject? I made a polite inquiry; you parried it with amphigory." "`Amphigory' my tired feet! I answered precisely." "`Amphigory,'" I repeated. "The operative symbols were `mad,' `scientist,' `beautiful,' and `daughter.' The first has several meanings -- the others denote opinions. Semantic content: zero." She looked thoughtful rather than angry. "Pop isn't rabid . although I did use `mad' in ambivalent mode. `Scientist' and `beautiful' each contain descriptive opinions, I stipulate. But are you in doubt as to my sex? If so, are you qualified to check my twenty-third chromosome pair? With transsexual surgery so common I assume that anything less would not satisfy you." "I prefer a field test." "On the _dance floor?_" "No, the bushes back of the pool. Yes, I'm qualified -- laboratory or field. But it was not your sex that lay in the area of opinion; that is a fact that can be established . although the gross evidence is convincing. I --" "Ninety-five centimeters isn't gross! Not for my height. One hundred seventy bare-footed, one eighty in these heels. It's just that I'm wasp-waisted for my mass -- forty-eight centimeters versus fifty-nine kilos." "And your teeth are your own and you don't have dandruff. Take it easy, Deedee; I didn't mean to shake your aplomb" -- or those twin glands that are not gross but delicious. I have an infantile bias and have known it since I was six -- six months, that is. "But the symbol `daughter' encompasses two statements, one factual -- sex -- and the other a matter of opinion even when stated by a forensic genetohematologist." "Gosh, what big words you know, Mister. I mean `Doctor'." "`Mister' is correct. On this campus it is swank to assume that everyone holds a doctorate. Even I have one, Ph.D. Do you know what that stands for?" "Doesn't everybody? I have a Ph.D., too. `Piled Higher and Deeper.'" I raised that maximum to twenty-six and assigned it as second approximation. "Phys. ed.?" "Mister Doctor, you are trying to get my goat. Won't work. I had an undergraduate double major, one being phys. ed. with teacher's credentials in case I needed a job. But my real major was math -- which I continued in graduate school." "And here I had been assuming that `Deedee' meant `Doctor of Divinity.'" "Go wash out your mouth with soap. My nickname is my initials -- Dee Tee. Or Deety. Doctor D. T. Burroughs if being formal, as I can't be `Mister' and refuse to be `Miz' or `Miss.' See here, Mister; I'm supposed to be luring you with my radiant beauty, then hooking you with my feminine charm . and not getting anywhere. Let's try another tack. Tell me what you piled higher and deeper." "Let me think. Flycasting? Or was it basketweaving? It was one of those transdisciplinary things in which the committee simply weighs the dissertation. Tell you what. I've got a copy around my digs. I'll find it Page 3 Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html and see what title the researcher who wrote it put on it." "Don't bother. The title is `Some Implications of a Six-Dimensional Non-Newtonian Continuum.' Pop wants to discuss it." I stopped waltzing. "Huh? He'd better discuss _that_ paper with the bloke who wrote it." "Nonsense; I saw you blink -- I've hooked you. Pop wants to discuss it, then offer you a job." "_`Job'!_I just slipped off the hook." "Oh, dear! Pop will be _really_ mad. Please? Please, sir!" "You said that you had used `mad' in ambivalent mode. How?" "Oh. Mad-angry because his colleagues won't listen to him. Mad-psychotic in the opinions of some colleagues. They say his papers don't make sense." "Do they make sense?" "I'm not that good a mathematician, sir. My work is usually simplifying software. Child's play compared with _n_-dimensional spaces." I wasn't required to express an opinion; the trio started _Blue Tango,_ Deety melted into my arms. You don't talk if you know tango. Deety knew. After an eternity of sensual bliss, I swung her out into position precisely on coda; she answered my bow and scrape with a deep curtsy. "Thank you, sir." "Whew! After a tango like that the couple ought to get married." "All right. I'll find our hostess and tell Pop. Five minutes? Front door, or side?" She looked serenely happy. I said, "Deety, do you mean what you appear to mean? That you intend to marry _me?_ A total stranger?" Her face remained calm but the light went out -- and her nipples went down. She answered steadily. "After that tango we are no longer strangers. I construed your statement as a proposal -- no, a willingness -- to marry me. Was I mistaken?" My mind went into emergency, reviewing the past years the way a drowning man's life is supposed to flash before his eyes (how could anyone know that?): a rainy afternoon when my chum's older sister had initiated me into the mysteries; the curious effect caused by the first time strangers had shot back at me; a twelve-month cohabitation contract that had started with a bang and had ended without a whimper; countless events which had left me determined never to marry.