Robert A Heinlein - Stranger in a Strange Land

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NOTICE: All men, gods; and planets in this story are imaginary, Any

coincidence of names is regretted.

Part One HIS MACULATE ORIGIN

Part Two HIS PREPOSTEROUS HERITAGE

Part Three HIS ECCENTRIC EDUCATION

Part Four HIS SCANDALOUS CAREER

Part Five HIS HAPPY DESTINY

Preface

IF YOU THINK that this book appears to be thicker and contain more words

than you found in the first published edition of Stranger in a Strange Land,

your observation is correct. This edition is the original one-the way Robert

Heinlein first conceived it, and put it down on paper.

The earlier edition contained a few words over 160,000, while this one runs

around 220,000 words. Robert’s manuscript copy usually contained about

250 to 300 words per page, depending on the amount of dialogue on the

pages. So, taking an average of about 275 words, with the manuscript

running 800 pages, we get a total of 220,000 words, perhaps a bit more.

This book was so different from what was being sold to the general public, or

to the science fiction reading public in 1961 when it was published, that the

editors required some cutting and removal of a few scenes that might then

have been offensive to public taste.

The November 1948 issue of Astounding Science Fiction contained a letter to

the editor suggesting titles for the issue of a year hence. Among the titles

was to be a story by Robert A. Heinlein-„Gulf.“

In a long conversation between that editor, John W. Campbell, Jr., and

Robert, it was decided that there would be sufficient lead time to allow all the

stories that the fan had titled to be written, and the magazine to come out in

time for the November 1949 date. Robert promised to deliver a short story to

go with the title. Most of the other authors also went along with the gag. This

issue came to be known as the „Time Travel“ issue.

Robert’s problem, then, was to find a story to fit the title assigned to him.

So we held a „brainstorming“ session. Among other unsuitable notions, I

suggested a story about a human infant, raised by an alien race. The idea

was just too big for a short story, Robert said, but he made a note about it.

That night he went into his study, and wrote some lengthy notes, and set

them aside.

For the title „Gulf“ he wrote quite a different story.

The notes sat in a file for several years, at which time Robert began to write

what was to be Stranger in a Strange Land. Somehow, the story didn’t quite

jell, and he set it aside. He returned to the manuscript a few times, but it was

not finished until 1960: this was the version you now hold in your hands.

In the context of 1960, Stranger in a Strange Land was a book that his

publishers feared-it was too far off the beaten path. So, in order to minimize

possible losses, Robert was asked to cut the manuscript down to 150,000

words-a loss of about 70,000 words. Other changes were also requested,

before the editor was willing to take a chance on publication.

To take out about a quarter of a long, complicated book was close to an

impossible task. But, over the course of some months, Robert accomplished

it. The final word count came out at 160,087 words. Robert was convinced

that it was impossible to cut out any more, and the book was accepted at that

length.

For 28 years it remained in print in that form.

In 1976, Congress passed a new Copyright Law, which said, in part, that in

the event an author died, and the widow or widower renewed the copyright,

all old contracts were cancelled. Robert died in 1988, and the following year

the copyright for Stranger in a Strange Land came up for renewal.

Unlike many other authors, Robert had kept a copy of the original typescript,

as submitted for publication, on file at the library of the University of California

at Santa Cruz, his archivists. I asked for a copy of that manuscript, and read

that and the published versions side by side. And I came to the conclusion

that it had been a mistake to cut the book.

So I sent a copy of the typescript to Eleanor Wood, Robert’s agent. Eleanor

also read the two versions together, and agreed with my verdict. So, after the

notification to the publisher, she presented them with a copy of the new/old

version.

No one remembered the fact that such drastic cutting had been done on this

book; over the course of years all the editors and senior officers at the

publishing house had changed. So this version was a complete surprise to

them.

They decided to publish the original version, agreeing that it was better

than the cut one.

You now have in your hands the original version of Stranger in a Strange

Land, as written by Robert Anson Heinlein.

The given names of the chief characters have great importance to the plot.

They were carefully selected: Jubal means „the father of all,“ Michael stands

for „Who is like God?“ I leave it for the reader to find out what the other

names mean. -Virginia Heinlein Carmel, California

STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND

By Robert A. Heinlein

Part one HIS MACULATE ORIGIN

ONCE UPON A TIME when the world was young there was a Martian

named Smith.

Valentine Michael Smith was as real as taxes but he was a race of one.

The first human expedition from Terra to Mars was selected on the theory

that the greatest danger to man in space was man himself. At that time, only

eight Terran years after the founding of the first human colony on Luna, any

interplanetary trip made by humans necessarily had to be made in weary

free-fail orbits, doubly tangent semi-ellipses—from Terra to Mars, two

hundred fifty-eight days, the same for the return journey, plus four hundred

fifty-five days waiting at Mars while the two planets crawled slowly back into

relative positions which would permit shaping the doubly-tangent orbit-a total

of almost three Earth years.

Besides its wearing length, the trip was very chancy. Only by refueling at a

space station, then tacking back almost into Earth’s atmosphere, could this

primitive flying coffin, the Envoy, make the trip at all. Once at Mars she might

be able to return-if she did not crash in landing, if water could be found on

Man to fill her reaction-mass tanks, if some sort of food could be found on

Mars, if a thousand other things did not go wrong.

But the physical danger was judged to be less important than the

psychological stresses. Eight humans, crowded together like monkeys for

almost three Terran years, had better get along much better than humans

usually did. An all-male crew had been vetoed as unhealthy and sociaily

unstable from lessons learned earlier. A ship’s company of four married

couples had been decided on as optimum, if the necessary specialties could

be found in such a combination.

The University of Edinburgh, prime contractor, sub-contracted crew selection

to the Institute for Social Studies. After discarding the chaff of volunteers

useless through age, health, mentality, training, or temperament, the Institute

still had over nine thousand candidates to work from, each sound in mind and

body and having at least one of the necessary special skills. It was expected

that the Institute would report several acceptable four-couple crews.

No such crew was found. The major skills needed were astrogator, medical

doctor, cook, machinist, ship’s commander, semantician, chemical engineer,

electronics engineer, physicist, geologist, biochemist, biologist, atomics

engineer, photographer, hydroponicist, rocket engineer. Each crew member

would have to possess more than one skill, or be able to acquire extra skills

in time. There were hundreds of possible combinations of eight people

possessing these skills; there turned up three combinations of four married

couples possessing them, plus health and intelligence.-but in all three cases

the group-dynamicists who evaluated the temperament factors for

compatibility threw up their hands in horror.

The prime contractor suggested lowering the compatibility figure-ofmerit; the

Institute stiffly offered to return its one dollar fee. In the meantime a computer

programmer whose name was not recorded had the machines hunt for three-

couple rump crews. She found several dozen compatible combinations, each

of which defined by its own characteristics the couple needed to complete it.

In the meantime the machines continued to review the data changing through

deaths, withdrawals, new volunteers, etc.

Captain Michael Brunt, M.S., Cmdr. D. F. Reserve, pilot (unlimited license),

and veteran at thirty of the Moon run, seems to have had an inside track at

the Institute, someone who was willing to look up for him the names of single

female volunteers who might (with him) complete a crew, and then pair his

name with these to run trial problems through the machines to determine

whether or not a possible combination would be acceptable. This would

account for his action in jetting to Australia and proposing marriage to Doctor

Winifred Coburn, a horse-faced spinster semantician nine years his senior.

The Carlsbad Archives pictured her with an expression of quiet good humor

but otherwise lacking in attractiveness.

Or Brant may have acted without inside information, solely through that trait

of intuitive audacity necessary to command an exploration. In any case lights

blinked, punched cards popped out, and a crew for the Envoy had been

found:

Captain Michael Brant, commanding-pilot, astrogator, relief cook, relief

photographer, rocketry engineer;

Dr. Winifred Coburn Brant, forty-one, semantician, practical nurse, stores

officer, historian;

Mr. Francis X. Seeney, twenty-eight, executive officer, second pilot,

astrogator, astrophysicist, photographer;

Dr. Olga Kovalic Seeney, twenty-nine, cook, biochemist, hydroponicist;

Dr. Ward Smith, forty-five, physician and surgeon, biologist;

Dr. Mary Jane Lyle Smith, twenty-six, atomics engineer, electronics and

power technician;

Mr. Sergei Rimsky, thirty-five, electronics engineer, chemical engineer,

practical machinist & instrumentation man, cryologist;

Mrs. Eleanora Alvarez Rimsky, thirty-two, geologist and selenologist,

hydroponicist.

The crew had a well-rounded group of skills, although in some cases their

secondary skills had been acquired by intensive coaching during the last

weeks before blast-off. More important, they were mutually compatible in

their temperaments.

Too compatible, perhaps.

The Envoy departed on schedule with no mishaps. During the early part of

the voyage her daily reports were picked up with ease by private listeners. As

she drew away and signals became fainter, they were picked up and

rebroadcast by Earth’s radio satellites. The crew seemed to be both healthy

and happy. An epidemic of ringworm was the worst that Dr. Smith had to

cope with-the crew adapted to free fall quickly and no antinausea drugs were

used after the first week. If Captain Brant had any disciplinary problems, he

did not choose to report them to Earth.

The Envoy achieved a parking orbit just inside the orbit of Phobos and spent

two weeks in photographic survey. Then Captain Brant radioed: „We will

attempt a landing at 1200 tomorrow GST just south of Lacus Soli.“ No further

message was ever received.

IT WAS A QUARTER of an Earth century before Mars was again visited by

humans. Six years after the Envoy was silent, the drone probe Zombie,

sponsored jointly by the Geographic Society and La Société Astronautique

Internationale, bridged the void and took up an orbit for the waiting period,

then returned. The photographs taken by the robot vehicle showed a land

unattractive by human standards; her recording instruments confirmed the

thinness and unsuitability of the Arean atmosphere to human life.

But the Zombie’s pictures showed clearly that the „canals“ were engineering

works of some sort and there were other details which could only be

interpreted as ruins of cities. A manned expedition on a major scale and

without delay surely would have been mounted had not World War III

intervened.

But the war and the delay resulted eventually in a much stronger, safer

expedition than that of the lost En my. The Federation Ship Champion,

manned by an all-male crew of eighteen experienced spacemen and carrying

more than that number of male pioneers, made the crossing under Lyle Drive

in only nineteen days. The Champion landed just south of Lacus Soli, as

Captain van Tromp intended to search for the Envoy. The second expedition

reported to Earth by radio daily, but three despatches were of more than

scientific interest. The first was:

„Rocket Ship Envoy located. No survivors.“

The second worldshaker was: „Mars is inhabited.“

The third was: „Correction to despatch 23-105: One survivor of Envoy

located.“

III

CAPTAIN WILLEM VAN TROMP was a man of humanity and good sense.

He radioed ahead: „My passenger must not, repeat, must not be subjected to

the strain of a public reception. Provide low-gee shuttle, stretcher and

ambulance service, and anned guard.“

He sent his ship’s surgeon Dr. Nelson along to make sure that Valentine

Michael Smith was installed in a suite in Bethesda Medical Center,

transferred gently into a hydraulic bed, and protected from outside contact by

marine guards. Van Tromp himself went to an extraordinary session of the

Federation High Council.

At the moment when Valentine Michael Smith was being lifted into bed, the

High Minister for Science was saying testily, „Granted, Captain, that your

authority as military commander of what was nevertheless primarily a

scientific expedition gives you the right to order unusual medical service to

protect a person temporarily in your charge, I do not see why you now

presume to interfere with the proper functions of my department. Why, Smith

is a veritable treasure trove of scientific information!“

„Yes. I suppose he is, sir.“

„Then why-„ The science minister broke off and turned to the High Minister

for Peace and Military Security. „David? This matter is obviously now in my

jurisdiction. Will you issue the necessary instructions to your people? After

all, one can’t keep persons of the caliber of Professor Kennedy and Doctor

Okajima, to mention just two, cooling their heels indefinitely. They won’t

stand for it.“

The peace minister did not answer but glanced inquiringly at Captain van

Tromp. The captain shook his head. „No, sir.“

„Why not?“ demanded the science minister. „You have admitted that he

isn’t sick.“

„Give the captain a chance to explain, Pierre,“ the peace minister advised.

„Well, Captain?“

„Smith isn’t sick, sir,“ Captain van Tromp said to the peace minister, „but he

isn’t well, either. He has never before been in a one-gravity field. He now

weighs more than two and one half times what he is used to and his muscles

aren’t up to it. He’s not used to Earth-normal air pressure. He’s not used to

anything and the strain is likely to be too much for him. Hell’s bells,

gentlemen, I’m dog tired myself just from being at one-gee again-and I was

born on this planet.“

The science minister looked contemptuous. „If acceleration fatigue is all that

is worrying you, let me assure you, my dear Captain, that we had anticipated

that. His respiration and heart action will be watched carefully. We are not

entirely without imagination and forethought. After all, I’ve been out myself. I

know how it feels. This man Smith must-„

Captain van Tromp decided that it was time to throw a tantrum. He could

excuse it by his own fatigue-very real fatigue, he felt as if he had just landed

on Jupiter-and he was smugly aware that even a high councilor could not

afford to take too stiff a line with the commander of the first successful

Martian expedition.

So he interrupted with a snort of disgust. „link! ‚This man Smith-‚ This ‚man!’

Can’t you see that that is just what he is not?“

„Eh?“

„Smith ... is . . . not . . . a . . . man.“

„Huh? Explain yourself, Captain.“

„Smith is not a man. He is an intelligent creature with the genes and ancestry

of a man, but he is not a man. He’s more a Martian than a man. Until we

came along he had never laid eyes on a human being. He thinks like a

Martian, he feels like a Martian. He’s been brought up by a race which has

nothing in common with us. Why, they don’t even have sex. Smith has never

laid eyes on a woman-still hasn’t if my orders have been carried out. He’s a

man by ancestry, a Martian by environment. Now, if you want to drive him

crazy and waste that ‚treasure trove of scientific information,’ call in your fat-

headed professors and let them badger him. Don’t give him a chance to get

well and strong and used to this madhouse planet. Just go ahead and

squeeze him like an orange. It’s no skin off me; I’ve done my job!“

The ensuing silence was broken smoothly by Secretary General Douglas

himself. „And a good job, too, Captain. Your advice will be weighed, and be

assured that we will not do anything hastily. If this man, or manMartian,

Smith, needs a few days to get adjusted, I’m sure that science can wait-so

take it easy, Pete. Let’s table this part of the discussion, gentlemen, and get

on to other matters. Captain van Tromp is tired.“

„One thing won’t wait,“ said the Minister for Public Information.

„Eh, Jock?“

„If we don’t show the Man from Mars in the stereo tanks pretty shortly, you’ll

have riots on your hands, Mr. Secretary.“

„Hmm- You exaggerate, Jock. Mars stuff in the news, of course. Me

decorating the captain and his brave crew-tomorrow, that had better be.

Captain van Tromp telling of his experiences-after a night’s rest of course,

Captain.“

The minister shook his head.

„No good, Jock?“

„The public expected the expedition to bring back at least one real live

Martian for them to gawk at. Since they didn’t, we need Smith and need him

badly.“

„’Live Martians?’“ Secretary General Douglas turned to Captain van Tromp.

„You have movies of Martians, haven’t you?“

„Thousands of feet.“

„There’s your answer, Jock. When the live stuff gets thin, trot on the movies

of Martians. The people will love it. Now, Captain, about this possibility of

extraterritoriality: you say the Martians were not opposed to it?“

„Well, no, sir-but they were not for it, either.“

„I don’t follow you?“

Captain van Tromp chewed his lip. „Sir, I don’t know just how to explain it.

Talking with a Martian is something like talking with an echo. You don’t get

any argument but you don’t get results either.“

„Semantic difficulty? Perhaps you should have brought what’s-hisname, your

semantician, with you today. Or is he waiting outside?“

„Mahmoud, sir. No, Doctor Mahmoud is not well. A-a slight nervous

breakdown, sir.“ Van Tromp reflected that being dead drunk was the moral

equivalent thereof.

„Space happy?“

„A little, perhaps.“ These damned groundhogs!

„Well, fetch him around when he’s feeling himself. young man Smith should

be of help as an interpreter.“

„Perhaps,“ van Tromp said doubtfully.

This young man Smith was busy at that moment just staying alive. His body,

unbearably compressed and weakened by the strange shape of space in this

unbelievable place, was at last somewhat relieved by the softness of the nest

in which these others had placed him. He dropped the effort of sustaining it,

and turned his third level to his respiration and heart beat.

He saw at once that he was about to consume himself. His lungs were

beating almost as hard as they did at home, his heart was racing to distribute

the influx, ail in an attempt to cope with the squeezing of space-and this in a

situation in which he was smothered by a poisonously rich and dangerously

hot atmosphere. He took immediate steps.

When his heart rate was down to twenty per minute and his respiration

almost imperceptible, he set them at that and watched himself long enough

to assure himself that he would not inadvertently discorporate while his

attention was elsewhere. When he was satisfied that they were running

properly, he set a tiny portion of his second level on guard and withdrew the

rest of himself. It was necessary to review the configurations of these many

new events in order to fit them to himself, then cherish and praise them-lest

they swallow him up.

Where should he start? When he had left home, enfolding these others who

were now his own nestlings? Or simply at his arrival in this crushed space?

He was suddenly assaulted by the lights and sounds of that arrival, feeling it

again with mind-shaking pain. No, he was not yet ready to cherish and

embrace that configuration-back! back! back beyond his first sight of these

others who were now his own. Back even before the healing which had

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摘要：

NOTICE:Allmen,gods;andplanetsinthisstoryareimaginary,Anycoincidenceofnamesisregretted.PartOneHISMACULATEORIGINPartTwoHISPREPOSTEROUSHERITAGEPartThreeHISECCENTRICEDUCATIONPartFourHISSCANDALOUSCAREERPartFiveHISHAPPYDESTINYPrefaceIFYOUTHINKthatthisbookappearstobethickerandcontainmorewords hanyoufoundi...

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Robert A Heinlein - Stranger in a Strange Land

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