"Though No Mammal, I Pack a Lot of Uplift," Says
Beautiful Fizbian Gal Reporter
"I feel that you Terrans and we Fizbians can get along much
better," lovely Tarb Morfatch, Fizbus _Times_ feature writer, told
her fellow-reporters yesterday at the Moonfield Restaurant, "if we
learn to understand each other's differences as well as appreciate
our similarities.
"With commerce between the two planets expanding as rapidly as it
has been," Miss Morfatch went on, "it becomes increasingly
important that we make sure there is no clash of mores between us.
Where adaptation is impossible, we must both adjust. 'When in Rome,
do as the Romans do' is an outmoded concept in the complex
interstellar civilization of today. The Romans must learn to accept
us as we are, and vice versa.
"Forgive me if I've offended you by my frankness," she said,
sticking out her tongue in the charming gesture of apology that is
acquiring such a vogue on Earth, Belinda Romney and many other
socialites having enthusiastically adopted it, "but you've violated
our privacy so many times, I feel I'm entitled to hurt your
feelings just a teeny-weeny bit...."
"Those Terran journalists," Tarb said admiringly. "Never miss a trick,
do they? Am I in all the other papers too, Stet? Same cheesecake?"
"You've made an ovulating circus out of us--that's what you've done!"
"Nonsense. Good strong human interest stuff; it'll make us lovable as
chicks all over the planet. Gee--" she read on--"did I say all that
while I was caffeinated? I ought to turn out some pretty terrific copy
sober."
"And to think you, the woman I had asked to make my wife, did this to
me."
"Oh, that's all right, Stet," Tarb said without looking up from the
paper. "I wasn't going to accept you, anyway."
"Good for you, Tarb," Drosmig approved.
"You're going back to Fizbus on the next liner--do you hear me?" Stet
raged.
She smiled sunnily. "Oh, but I'm not, Stet. I'm going to stay right here
on Earth. I like it. You might say the spiritual aura got me."
He snorted. "How can you possibly stay? You don't have an independent
income and this is an expensive planet. Besides, I won't let you stay on
Earth. I have considerable influence, you know!"
"Poor Stet." She smiled at him again. "I'm afraid the Fizbian press--the
Fizbian consul even--are pretty small pullets beside the Solar Press
Syndicate. You see, I came in this morning only to resign."
He stared at her.
"Yesterday," she informed him, "I was offered another position--as
feature writer for the SP. I hadn't decided whether or not to accept
when I reported back last evening, but you made up my mind for me, so I
called them this morning and took the job. My work will be to explain
Fizbians to Terrans and Terrans to Fizbians--as I wanted to do for the
_Times_, Stet, only you wouldn't let me."
"It's no use saying anything to you about loyalty, I suppose?"
"None whatsoever," she said. "I owe the _Times_ no loyalty and I'm doing
what I do out of loyalty to Fizbus ... plus, of course, a much higher
salary."
"I'm glad for you, Tarb," Drosmig said sincerely.
"Be glad for yourself, Senbot, because Stet will have to let you conduct
the column your way from now on. Either it'll supplement my work in the
Terrestrial papers or he'll look like a fool. And you do hate looking
like a fool, don't you, Stet?"
He didn't answer.
"Better give up, Stet." She turned to Drosmig. "Well, good-by,
Senbot--or, rather, so long. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again.
Good-by, Stet. No hard feelings, I hope?"
He neither moved nor spoke.
"Well ... good-by, then," she said.
The door closed. Stet stared after her. The forgotten umbrella dripped
forlornly in the corner.