Read Red Planet for Free Online

sworn statements—say there he was and then there he wasn't. As if he had met a boojum.’
    'What's a boojum?’ Jim had wanted to know.
    'You modern kids don't get any education, do you? The boojum is in a book; I'll dig up a copy for you.’
    'But how did he disappear?’
    'Don't ask me. Call it mass hypnosis if it makes you feel any better. It makes me feel better, but not much. All I can say is that seven-eighths of an iceberg never shows.’ Jim had never seen an iceberg, so the allusion was wasted on him—but he felt decidedly not better when he saw the rolled up Martian.
    'Did you see that?’ demanded Frank.
    'I wish I hadn't,’ said Jim. ‘I wonder what happened?’
    'Maybe he ran for mayor and lost.’
    'It's nothing to joke about. Maybe he— Sssh!' Jim broke off. He caught sight of another Martian, immobile, but not rolled up; politeness called for silence.
    The Martian carrying them made a sudden turn to the left and entered a hall; he put them down. The room was very large to them; to Martians it was probably suitable for a cozy social gathering. There were many of the frames they use as a human uses a chair and these were arranged in a circle. The room itself was circular and domed; it had the appearance of being outdoors for the domed ceiling simulated Martian sky, pale blue at the horizon, increasing to warmer blue, then to purple, and reaching purple-black with stars piercing through at the highest point of the ceiling.
    A miniature sun, quite convincing, hung west of the meridian. By some trick of perspective the pictured horizons were apparently distant. On the north wall Oeroe seemed to flow past.
    Frank's comment was, ‘Gee whiz!'; Jim did not manage that much.
    Their host had placed them by two resting frames. The boys did not attempt to use them; stepladders would have been more comfortable and convenient. The Martian looked first at them, then at the frames, with great sorrowful eyes. He left the room.
    He came back very shortly, followed by two others; all three were carrying loads of colourful fabrics. They dumped them down in a pile in the middle of the room. The first Martian picked up Jim and Frank and deposited them gently on the heap.
    'I think he means, Draw up a chair,’ commented Jim.
    The fabrics were not woven but were a continuous sheet, like cobweb, and almost as soft, though much stronger. They were in all hues of all colours from pastel blue to deep, rich red. The boys sprawled on them and waited.
    Their host relaxed himself on one of the resting frames; the two others did the same. No one said anything. The two boys were decidedly not tourists; they knew better than to try to hurry a Martian. After a bit Jim got an idea; to test it he cautiously raised his mask. Frank snapped, ‘Say! What ‘cha trying to do? Choke to death?’
    Jim left his mask up. ‘It's all right. The pressure is up.’
    'It can't be. We didn't come through a pressure lock.’
    'Have it your own way.’ Jim left his mask up. Seeing that he did not turn blue, gasp, nor become slack-featured, Frank ventured to try it himself. He found himself able to breathe without trouble. To be sure, the pressure was not as great as he was used to at home and it would have seemed positively stratospheric to an Earthling, but it was enough for a man at rest.
    Several other Martians drifted in and unhurriedly composed themselves on frames. After a while Frank said, ‘Do you know what's going on, Jim?’
    'Uh—maybe.’
    'No maybes about it. It's a growing-together.’
    'Growing together’ is an imperfect translation of a Martian idiom which names their most usual social event—in bald terms, just sitting around and saying nothing. In similar terms, violin music has been described as dragging a horse's tail across the dried gut of a cat. ‘I guess you're right,’ agreed Jim. ‘We had better button our lips.’
    'Sure.’
    For a long time nothing was said. Jim's thoughts drifted away, to school and what he would do