" _The slovenly wub might well have said: Many men\n   talk like philosophers and live like fools._\n\n\nThey had almost finished with the loading. Outside stood the Optus, his\narms folded, his face sunk in gloom. Captain Franco walked leisurely\ndown the gangplank, grinning.\n\n\"What's the matter?\" he said. \"You're getting paid for all this.\"\n\nThe Optus said nothing. He turned away, collecting his robes. The\nCaptain put his boot on the hem of the robe.\n\n\"Just a minute. Don't go off. I'm not finished.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" The Optus turned with dignity. \"I am going back to the village.\"\nHe looked toward the animals and birds being driven up the gangplank\ninto the spaceship. \"I must organize new hunts.\"\n\nFranco lit a cigarette. \"Why not? You people can go out into the veldt\nand track it all down again. But when we run out halfway between Mars\nand Earth--\"\n\nThe Optus went off, wordless. Franco joined the first mate at the bottom\nof the gangplank.\n\n\"How's it coming?\" he said. He looked at his watch. \"We got a good\nbargain here.\"\n\nThe mate glanced at him sourly. \"How do you explain that?\"\n\n\"What's the matter with you? We need it more than they do.\"\n\n\"I'll see you later, Captain.\" The mate threaded his way up the plank,\nbetween the long-legged Martian go-birds, into the ship. Franco watched\nhim disappear. He was just starting up after him, up the plank toward\nthe port, when he saw _it_.\n\n\"My God!\" He stood staring, his hands on his hips. Peterson was walking\nalong the path, his face red, leading _it_ by a string.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Captain,\" he said, tugging at the string. Franco walked\ntoward him.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\nThe wub stood sagging, its great body settling slowly. It was sitting\ndown, its eyes half shut. A few flies buzzed about its flank, and it\nswitched its tail.\n\n_It_ sat. There was silence.\n\n\"It's a wub,\" Peterson said. \"I got it from a native for fifty cents. He\nsaid it was a very unusual animal. Very respected.\"\n\n\"This?\" Franco poked the great sloping side of the wub. \"It's a pig! A\nhuge dirty pig!\"\n\n\"Yes sir, it's a pig. The natives call it a wub.\"\n\n\"A huge pig. It must weigh four hundred pounds.\" Franco grabbed a tuft\nof the rough hair. The wub gasped. Its eyes opened, small and moist.\nThen its great mouth twitched.\n\nA tear rolled down the wub's cheek and splashed on the floor.\n\n\"Maybe it's good to eat,\" Peterson said nervously.\n\n\"We'll soon find out,\" Franco said.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe wub survived the take-off, sound asleep in the hold of the ship.\nWhen they were out in space and everything was running smoothly, Captain\nFranco bade his men fetch the wub upstairs so that he might perceive\nwhat manner of beast it was.\n\nThe wub grunted and wheezed, squeezing up the passageway.\n\n\"Come on,\" Jones grated, pulling at the rope. The wub twisted, rubbing\nits skin off on the smooth chrome walls. It burst into the ante-room,\ntumbling down in a heap. The men leaped up.\n\n\"Good Lord,\" French said. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Peterson says it's a wub,\" Jones said. \"It belongs to him.\" He kicked\nat the wub. The wub stood up unsteadily, panting.\n\n\"What's the matter with it?\" French came over. \"Is it going to be sick?\"\n\nThey watched. The wub rolled its eyes mournfully. It gazed around at the\nmen.\n\n\"I think it's thirsty,\" Peterson said. He went to get some water. French\nshook his head.\n\n\"No wonder we had so much trouble taking off. I had to reset all my\nballast calculations.\"\n\nPeterson came back with the water. The wub began to lap gratefully,\nsplashing the men.\n\nCaptain Franco appeared at the door.\n\n\"Let's have a look at it.\" He advanced, squinting critically. \"You got\nthis for fifty cents?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" Peterson said. \"It eats almost anything. I fed it on grain\nand it liked that. And then potatoes, and mash, and scraps from the\ntable, and milk. It seems to enjoy eating. After it eats it lies down\nand goes to sleep.\"\n\n\"I see,\" Captain Franco said. \"Now, as to its taste. That's the real\nquestion. I doubt if there's much point in fattening it up any more. It\nseems fat enough to me already. Where's the cook? I want him here. I\nwant to find out--\"\n\nThe wub stopped lapping and looked up at the Captain.\n\n\"Really, Captain,\" the wub said. \"I suggest we talk of other matters.\"\n\nThe room was silent.\n\n\"What was that?\" Franco said. \"Just now.\"\n\n\"The wub, sir,\" Peterson said. \"It spoke.\"\n\nThey all looked at the wub.\n\n\"What did it say? What did it say?\"\n\n\"It suggested we talk about other things.\"\n\nFranco walked toward the wub. He went all around it, examining it from\nevery side. Then he came back over and stood with the men.\n\n\"I wonder if there's a native inside it,\" he said thoughtfully. \"Maybe\nwe should open it up and have a look.\"\n\n\"Oh, goodness!\" the wub cried. \"Is that all you people can think of,\nkilling and cutting?\"\n\nFranco clenched his fists. \"Come out of there! Whoever you are, come\nout!\"\n\nNothing stirred. The men stood together, their faces blank, staring at\nthe wub. The wub swished its tail. It belched suddenly.\n\n\"I beg your pardon,\" the wub said.\n\n\"I don't think there's anyone in there,\" Jones said in a low voice. They\nall looked at each other.\n\nThe cook came in.\n\n\"You wanted me, Captain?\" he said. \"What's this thing?\"\n\n\"This is a wub,\" Franco said. \"It's to be eaten. Will you measure it and\nfigure out--\"\n\n\"I think we should have a talk,\" the wub said. \"I'd like to discuss this\nwith you, Captain, if I might. I can see that you and I do not agree on\nsome basic issues.\"\n\nThe Captain took a long time to answer. The wub waited good-naturedly,\nlicking the water from its jowls.\n\n\"Come into my office,\" the Captain said at last. He turned and walked\nout of the room. The wub rose and padded after him. The men watched it\ngo out. They heard it climbing the stairs.\n\n\"I wonder what the outcome will be,\" the cook said. \"Well, I'll be in\nthe kitchen. Let me know as soon as you hear.\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Jones said. \"Sure.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe wub eased itself down in the corner with a sigh. \"You must forgive\nme,\" it said. \"I'm afraid I'm addicted to various forms of relaxation.\nWhen one is as large as I--\"\n\nThe Captain nodded impatiently. He sat down at his desk and folded his\nhands.\n\n\"All right,\" he said. \"Let's get started. You're a wub? Is that\ncorrect?\"\n\nThe wub shrugged. \"I suppose so. That's what they call us, the natives,\nI mean. We have our own term.\"\n\n\"And you speak English? You've been in contact with Earthmen before?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Then how do you do it?\"\n\n\"Speak English? Am I speaking English? I'm not conscious of speaking\nanything in particular. I examined your mind--\"\n\n\"My mind?\"\n\n\"I studied the contents, especially the semantic warehouse, as I refer\nto it--\"\n\n\"I see,\" the Captain said. \"Telepathy. Of course.\"\n\n\"We are a very old race,\" the wub said. \"Very old and very ponderous. It\nis difficult for us to move around. You can appreciate that anything so\nslow and heavy would be at the mercy of more agile forms of life. There\nwas no use in our relying on physical defenses. How could we win? Too\nheavy to run, too soft to fight, too good-natured to hunt for game--\"\n\n\"How do you live?\"\n\n\"Plants. Vegetables. We can eat almost anything. We're very catholic.\nTolerant, eclectic, catholic. We live and let live. That's how we've\ngotten along.\"\n\nThe wub eyed the Captain.\n\n\"And that's why I so violently objected to this business about having me\nboiled. I could see the image in your mind--most of me in the frozen\nfood locker, some of me in the kettle, a bit for your pet cat--\"\n\n\"So you read minds?\" the Captain said. \"How interesting. Anything else?\nI mean, what else can you do along those lines?\"\n\n\"A few odds and ends,\" the wub said absently, staring around the room.\n\"A nice apartment you have here, Captain. You keep it quite neat. I\nrespect life-forms that are tidy. Some Martian birds are quite tidy.\nThey throw things out of their nests and sweep them--\"\n\n\"Indeed.\" The Captain nodded. \"But to get back to the problem--\"\n\n\"Quite so. You spoke of dining on me. The taste, I am told, is good. A\nlittle fatty, but tender. But how can any lasting contact be established\nbetween your people and mine if you resort to such barbaric attitudes?\nEat me? Rather you should discuss questions with me, philosophy, the\narts--\"\n\nThe Captain stood up. \"Philosophy. It might interest you to know that we\nwill be hard put to find something to eat for the next month. An\nunfortunate spoilage--\"\n\n\"I know.\" The wub nodded. \"But wouldn't it be more in accord with your\nprinciples of democracy if we all drew straws, or something along that\nline? After all, democracy is to protect the minority from just such\ninfringements. Now, if each of us casts one vote--\"\n\nThe Captain walked to the door.\n\n\"Nuts to you,\" he said. He opened the door. He opened his mouth.\n\nHe stood frozen, his mouth wide, his eyes staring, his fingers still on\nthe knob.\n\nThe wub watched him. Presently it padded out of the room, edging past\nthe Captain. It went down the hall, deep in meditation.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe room was quiet.\n\n\"So you see,\" the wub said, \"we have a common myth. Your mind contains\nmany familiar myth symbols. Ishtar, Odysseus--\"\n\nPeterson sat silently, staring at the floor. He shifted in his chair.\n\n\"Go on,\" he said. \"Please go on.\"\n\n\"I find in your Odysseus a figure common to the mythology of most\nself-conscious races. As I interpret it, Odysseus wanders as an\nindividual, aware of himself as such. This is the idea of separation, of\nseparation from family and country. The process of individuation.\"\n\n\"But Odysseus returns to his home.\" Peterson looked out the port window,\nat the stars, endless stars, burning intently in the empty universe.\n\"Finally he goes home.\"\n\n\"As must all creatures. The moment of separation is a temporary period,\na brief journey of the soul. It begins, it ends. The wanderer returns to\nland and race....\"\n\nThe door opened. The wub stopped, turning its great head.\n\nCaptain Franco came into the room, the men behind him. They hesitated at\nthe door.\n\n\"Are you all right?\" French said.\n\n\"Do you mean me?\" Peterson said, surprised. \"Why me?\"\n\nFranco lowered his gun. \"Come over here,\" he said to Peterson. \"Get up\nand come here.\"\n\nThere was silence.\n\n\"Go ahead,\" the wub said. \"It doesn't matter.\"\n\nPeterson stood up. \"What for?\"\n\n\"It's an order.\"\n\nPeterson walked to the door. French caught his arm.\n\n\"What's going on?\" Peterson wrenched loose. \"What's the matter with\nyou?\"\n\nCaptain Franco moved toward the wub. The wub looked up from where it lay\nin the corner, pressed against the wall.\n\n\"It is interesting,\" the wub said, \"that you are obsessed with the idea\nof eating me. I wonder why.\"\n\n\"Get up,\" Franco said.\n\n\"If you wish.\" The wub rose, grunting. \"Be patient. It is difficult for\nme.\" It stood, gasping, its tongue lolling foolishly.\n\n\"Shoot it now,\" French said.\n\n\"For God's sake!\" Peterson exclaimed. Jones turned to him quickly, his\neyes gray with fear.\n\n\"You didn't see him--like a statue, standing there, his mouth open. If\nwe hadn't come down, he'd still be there.\"\n\n\"Who? The Captain?\" Peterson stared around. \"But he's all right now.\"\n\nThey looked at the wub, standing in the middle of the room, its great\nchest rising and falling.\n\n\"Come on,\" Franco said. \"Out of the way.\"\n\nThe men pulled aside toward the door.\n\n\"You are quite afraid, aren't you?\" the wub said. \"Have I done anything\nto you? I am against the idea of hurting. All I have done is try to\nprotect myself. Can you expect me to rush eagerly to my death? I am a\nsensible being like yourselves. I was curious to see your ship, learn\nabout you. I suggested to the native--\"\n\nThe gun jerked.\n\n\"See,\" Franco said. \"I thought so.\"\n\nThe wub settled down, panting. It put its paw out, pulling its tail\naround it.\n\n\"It is very warm,\" the wub said. \"I understand that we are close to the\njets. Atomic power. You have done many wonderful things with\nit--technically. Apparently, your scientific hierarchy is not equipped\nto solve moral, ethical--\"\n\nFranco turned to the men, crowding behind him, wide-eyed, silent.\n\n\"I'll do it. You can watch.\"\n\nFrench nodded. \"Try to hit the brain. It's no good for eating. Don't hit\nthe chest. If the rib cage shatters, we'll have to pick bones out.\"\n\n\"Listen,\" Peterson said, licking his lips. \"Has it done anything? What\nharm has it done? I'm asking you. And anyhow, it's still mine. You have\nno right to shoot it. It doesn't belong to you.\"\n\nFranco raised his gun.\n\n\"I'm going out,\" Jones said, his face white and sick. \"I don't want to\nsee it.\"\n\n\"Me, too,\" French said. The men straggled out, murmuring. Peterson\nlingered at the door.\n\n\"It was talking to me about myths,\" he said. \"It wouldn't hurt anyone.\"\n\nHe went outside.\n\nFranco walked toward the wub. The wub looked up slowly. It swallowed.\n\n\"A very foolish thing,\" it said. \"I am sorry that you want to do it.\nThere was a parable that your Saviour related--\"\n\nIt stopped, staring at the gun.\n\n\"Can you look me in the eye and do it?\" the wub said. \"Can you do that?\"\n\nThe Captain gazed down. \"I can look you in the eye,\" he said. \"Back on\nthe farm we had hogs, dirty razor-back hogs. I can do it.\"\n\nStaring down at the wub, into the gleaming, moist eyes, he pressed the\ntrigger.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe taste was excellent.\n\nThey sat glumly around the table, some of them hardly eating at all. The\nonly one who seemed to be enjoying himself was Captain Franco.\n\n\"More?\" he said, looking around. \"More? And some wine, perhaps.\"\n\n\"Not me,\" French said. \"I think I'll go back to the chart room.\"\n\n\"Me, too.\" Jones stood up, pushing his chair back. \"I'll see you later.\"\n\nThe Captain watched them go. Some of the others excused themselves.\n\n\"What do you suppose the matter is?\" the Captain said. He turned to\nPeterson. Peterson sat staring down at his plate, at the potatoes, the\ngreen peas, and at the thick slab of tender, warm meat.\n\nHe opened his mouth. No sound came.\n\nThe Captain put his hand on Peterson's shoulder.\n\n\"It is only organic matter, now,\" he said. \"The life essence is gone.\"\nHe ate, spooning up the gravy with some bread. \"I, myself, love to eat.\nIt is one of the greatest things that a living creature can enjoy.\nEating, resting, meditation, discussing things.\"\n\nPeterson nodded. Two more men got up and went out. The Captain drank\nsome water and sighed.\n\n\"Well,\" he said. \"I must say that this was a very enjoyable meal. All\nthe reports I had heard were quite true--the taste of wub. Very fine.\nBut I was prevented from enjoying this pleasure in times past.\"\n\nHe dabbed at his lips with his napkin and leaned back in his chair.\nPeterson stared dejectedly at the table.\n\nThe Captain watched him intently. He leaned over.\n\n\"Come, come,\" he said. \"Cheer up! Let's discuss things.\"\n\nHe smiled.\n\n\"As I was saying before I was interrupted, the role of Odysseus in the\nmyths--\"\n\nPeterson jerked up, staring.\n\n\"To go on,\" the Captain said. \"Odysseus, as I understand him--\""