August 12, 2025 • 11 mins
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
What's he doing in there? By Fritz liber he went
where no martian ever went before? But would he come out?
Or had he gone for good? The Professor was congratulating
(00:22):
Earth's first visitor from another planet on his wisdom in
getting in touch with a cultural anthropologist before contacting any
other scientists or government's God forbid, and in learning English
from radio and TV before landing from his orbit parked rocket.
When the martian stood up and said hesitantly, excuse me, please,
but where is it? That baffled the professor, and the
(00:45):
Martians seemed to grow anxious. At least, his long mouth
curved upward, and he had earlier explained that it curling
downward was his smile, and he repeated, please, where is it?
He was surprisingly humanoid in most respects, but his complexion
was textured so like the rich, dark arm chair he'd
just been occupying that the Professor's pin striped gray suit,
(01:08):
which he had eagerly consented to wear, seemed an arbitrary
interruption between him and the chair, a sort of Mother
Hubbard dress on a phantom conjured from its leather. The
Professor's wife, always a perceptive hostess, came to her husband's
rescue by saying, with equal rapidity, top of the stairs,
end of the hall, last door. The Martian's mouth curled
(01:29):
happily downward, and he said thank you very much, and
was off comprehension burst on the professor. He caught up
with his guest at the foot of the stairs. Here,
I'll show you the way, he said, no, I can
find it myself. Thank you, the martian assured him. Something
rather final in the martian's tone made the professor desist,
(01:49):
and after watching his visitor sway up the stairs with
an almost hypnotic, softly jogging movement, he rejoined his wife
in this study, saying, wonderingly, who'd have thought it? George
function taboos as strict as our own. I'm glad some
of your professional visitors maintain him, his wife said darkly.
But this one's from Mars Darling, and to find out
(02:11):
he's well similar in an aspect of his life is
as thrilling as the discovery that Wooter is burned hydrogen.
When I think of the day not far distant, when
I'll put his entries in the cross cultural index. He
was still rhapsodizing when the Professor's little son raced it. Pop,
the Martian's gone in the bathroom. Hush, dear manners. Now
(02:34):
it's perfectly natural, darling, that the boy should notice and
be excited. Yes, son, the martian's not so very different
from us. Oh, certainly, the professor's wife said, with a
trace of bitterness. I don't imagine his turquoise complexion will
cause any comments at all when you bring him to
a faculty reception. They'll just figure he's had a hard
(02:54):
night and that he's got that baby elephant nose sniffing
around for assistant professorships. Really, Darling, he probably thinks of
our noses as disagreeably amputated and paralyzed. Well, anyway, Pop,
he's in the bathroom. I followed him when he squiggled upstairs. Now, son,
you shouldn't have done that. He's on a strange planet,
(03:15):
and it might make him nervous if he thought he
was being spied on. We must show him every courtesy
by George. I can't wait to discuss these things with Ackerley.
Ram's bottom when I think of how much more this
encounter has to give the anthropologist than even the physicist
or astronomer. He was still going strong on his second
rhapsody when he was interrupted by another high speed entrance.
(03:37):
It was the professor's Coltish daughter. Mom, Pop, the martian's
hushed here we know. The professor's Coltish daughter regained her
adolescent poise, which was considerable. Well he's still in there,
she said, I just tried the door and it was locked.
I'm glad it was, the professor said, while his wife added, yes,
(03:58):
you can't be sure what and caught herself really dear,
that was very bad manners. I thought he'd come downstairs
long ago, her daughter explained, He's been in there an
awfully long time. It must have been a half hour
ago that I saw him gyre and gimbal upstairs in
that real gone way he has. With Nosy here following him,
(04:19):
the professor's coltige daughter was currently soaking up both jive
and alice. When the professor checked his wrist watch, his
expression grew troubled by George, he is taking his time, though,
of course we don't know how much time, martians. I wonder.
I listened for a while. Pop. His son volunteered. He
was running the water a lot running the water. Eh.
(04:42):
We know Mars is a wooter starved planet. I suppose
that in the presence of unlimited water he might be
seized by a kind of madness, And but he seemed
so well adjusted. Then his wife spoke, voicing all their thoughts.
Her outlook on life gave her a naturally sepulchoral voice.
What's he doing in there? Twenty minutes and at least
(05:04):
as many fantastic suggestions later, the professor glanced again at
his watch and nerved himself for action. Motioning his family aside,
he mounted the stairs and tiptoed down the hall. He
paused only once to shake his head and mutter under
his breath, by George, I wish I had Fenchurch or
van gotchtalk here. They're a shade better than I am
(05:25):
on intercultural contracts, especially taboo breakings and affronts. His family
followed him at a short distance. The professor stopped in
front of the bathroom door. Everything was quiet as death.
He listened for a minute and then rapped, measuredly, steadying
his hand by clutching its wrist with the other. There
was a faint splashing, but no other sound. Another minute passed.
(05:49):
The professor rapped again. Now there was no response at all,
he very gingerly tried to knob the door was still locked.
When they had retreated to the stairs, it was the
professor's wife who once more voiced their thoughts. This time
her voice carried over tones of supernatural horror. What's he
doing in there? He may be dead or dying. The
(06:12):
professor's cultish daughter suggested briskly, maybe we ought to call
the fire department, like they did for old missus Frisbee.
The professor winced, I'm afraid you haven't visualized the complications, dear,
he said gently. No one but ourselves knows that the
Martian is on Earth, or even has the slightest inkling
that interplanetary travel has been achieved. Whatever we do, it
(06:34):
will have to be on our own. But to break
in on a creature engaged in well, we don't know
what primal private activity is. Still against all anthropological practice. Still,
dying's a primal activity, his daughter said, crisply So's ritual
bathing before mass murder. His wife added, Please, Still, as
(06:58):
I was about to say, we do have the moral
duty to succor him if, as you all too reasonably suggest,
he has been incapacitated by a germ or virus, or
more likely by some simple environmental factor such as Earth's
greater gravity. Tell you what, Pop, I can look in
the bathroom window and see what he's doing. All I
have to do is crawl out of my bedroom window
(07:20):
and along the gutter a little ways. It's safe as houses.
The professor's question, beginning with son, how do you know?
Died unuttered, and he refused to notice the words his
daughter was voicing silently at her brother. He glanced at
his wife's sardonically composed face, thought once more of the
fire department, and of other and larger and even more
(07:42):
jealous or would it be skeptical government agencies, and clutched
at the straw offered him. Ten minutes later, he was
quite unnecessarily assisting his son back through the bedroom window. Gee, Pop,
I couldn't see a sign of him. That's why I
took so long. Hey, Pop, don't look so skinned. He's
in there, sure enough. It's just that the bathtub's under
(08:03):
the window, and you have to get real close up
to see into it. The martians taking a bath, yep,
got it full up, and just the end of his
little old schnozzle sticking out your suit pop was hanging
on the door. The one word the professor's wife spoke
was like a death knell drowned. No, ma, I don't
(08:24):
think so. His schnozzle was opening and closing regular like.
Maybe he's a shape changer, the professor's cultish daughter said,
in a burst of evil fantasy. Maybe he softens in
water and thins out after a while, until he's like
an eel, and then he'll go exploring through the sewer pipes.
Wouldn't it be funny if he went under the street
and knocked up on the stopper from underneath and crawled
(08:47):
into the bathtub with President Rexford or missus President Rexford,
or maybe right into the middle of one of Jeanie
Rexford's Oh I'm so sexy bubble baths. Please. The professor
put his hand to his eyebrows and kept it there,
cuddling the elbow in his other hand. Well have you
thought of something, the professor's wife asked him after a bit,
(09:09):
What are you going to do? The professor dropped his
hand and blinked his eyes hard and took a deep breath.
Telegraph Fenchurch and ackerly Ram's bottom and then break in,
he said, in a resigned voice, into which nevertheless a
note of hope seemed also to have come first. However,
I'm going to wait until morning. And he sat down
(09:30):
cross legged in the hall, a few yards from the
bathroom door, and folded his arms. So the long vigil commenced.
The professor's family shared it, and he offered no objection.
Other and sterner men, he told himself, might claim to
be able to successfully order their children to go to
bed when there was a martian locked in the bathroom,
but he would like to see them faced with the situation. Finally,
(09:53):
dawn began to seep from the bedrooms. When the bulb
in the hall had grown quite dim, the Professor unfolded
his own arms. Just then there was a loud splashing
in the bathroom. The professor's family looked toward the door.
The splashing stopped, and they heard the martian moving around.
Then the door opened and the martian appeared in the
professor's gray pin striped suit. His mouth curled sharply downward
(10:15):
in a broad alien smile as he saw the professor.
Good morning. The martian said, happily, I've never slept better
in my life, even in my own little wet bed
back on Mars. He looked around more closely, and his
mouth straightened. But where did you all sleep, he asked,
Don't tell me you stayed dry all night. You didn't
(10:36):
give up your only bed to me. His mouth curled
upward in misery. Oh, dear, he said, I'm afraid I've
made a mistake somehow, Yet I don't understand how. Before
I studied you, I didn't know what your sleeping habits
would be. But that question was answered for me. In fact,
it looked so reassuringly homelike when I saw those brief
(10:57):
TV scenes of your female's ready for or sleep in
their little tubs. Of course, on Mars, only the fortunate
can always be sure of sleeping wet. But here, with
your abundance of water, I thought there would be wet
beds for all. He paused. It's true I had some
doubts last night, wondering if I'd used the right words
and all. But then when you rapped good night to me,
(11:19):
I splashed the sentiment back at you and went to
sleep in a wink. But I'm afraid that somewhere I've blundered.
And no, no, dear, Chap, the professor managed to say
he had been waving his hand in a gentle circle
for some time in token that he wanted to interrupt.
Everything is quite all right. It's true we stayed up
all night, but please consider that as a watch, an
(11:42):
honor guard by George, which we kept to indicate our
esteem and of what's he doing in there by Fritz
liber
What's he doing in there? By Fritz liber he went
where no martian ever went before? But would he come out?
Or had he gone for good? The Professor was congratulating
(00:22):
Earth's first visitor from another planet on his wisdom in
getting in touch with a cultural anthropologist before contacting any
other scientists or government's God forbid, and in learning English
from radio and TV before landing from his orbit parked rocket.
When the martian stood up and said hesitantly, excuse me, please,
but where is it? That baffled the professor, and the
(00:45):
Martians seemed to grow anxious. At least, his long mouth
curved upward, and he had earlier explained that it curling
downward was his smile, and he repeated, please, where is it?
He was surprisingly humanoid in most respects, but his complexion
was textured so like the rich, dark arm chair he'd
just been occupying that the Professor's pin striped gray suit,
(01:08):
which he had eagerly consented to wear, seemed an arbitrary
interruption between him and the chair, a sort of Mother
Hubbard dress on a phantom conjured from its leather. The
Professor's wife, always a perceptive hostess, came to her husband's
rescue by saying, with equal rapidity, top of the stairs,
end of the hall, last door. The Martian's mouth curled
(01:29):
happily downward, and he said thank you very much, and
was off comprehension burst on the professor. He caught up
with his guest at the foot of the stairs. Here,
I'll show you the way, he said, no, I can
find it myself. Thank you, the martian assured him. Something
rather final in the martian's tone made the professor desist,
(01:49):
and after watching his visitor sway up the stairs with
an almost hypnotic, softly jogging movement, he rejoined his wife
in this study, saying, wonderingly, who'd have thought it? George
function taboos as strict as our own. I'm glad some
of your professional visitors maintain him, his wife said darkly.
But this one's from Mars Darling, and to find out
(02:11):
he's well similar in an aspect of his life is
as thrilling as the discovery that Wooter is burned hydrogen.
When I think of the day not far distant, when
I'll put his entries in the cross cultural index. He
was still rhapsodizing when the Professor's little son raced it. Pop,
the Martian's gone in the bathroom. Hush, dear manners. Now
(02:34):
it's perfectly natural, darling, that the boy should notice and
be excited. Yes, son, the martian's not so very different
from us. Oh, certainly, the professor's wife said, with a
trace of bitterness. I don't imagine his turquoise complexion will
cause any comments at all when you bring him to
a faculty reception. They'll just figure he's had a hard
(02:54):
night and that he's got that baby elephant nose sniffing
around for assistant professorships. Really, Darling, he probably thinks of
our noses as disagreeably amputated and paralyzed. Well, anyway, Pop,
he's in the bathroom. I followed him when he squiggled upstairs. Now, son,
you shouldn't have done that. He's on a strange planet,
(03:15):
and it might make him nervous if he thought he
was being spied on. We must show him every courtesy
by George. I can't wait to discuss these things with Ackerley.
Ram's bottom when I think of how much more this
encounter has to give the anthropologist than even the physicist
or astronomer. He was still going strong on his second
rhapsody when he was interrupted by another high speed entrance.
(03:37):
It was the professor's Coltish daughter. Mom, Pop, the martian's
hushed here we know. The professor's Coltish daughter regained her
adolescent poise, which was considerable. Well he's still in there,
she said, I just tried the door and it was locked.
I'm glad it was, the professor said, while his wife added, yes,
(03:58):
you can't be sure what and caught herself really dear,
that was very bad manners. I thought he'd come downstairs
long ago, her daughter explained, He's been in there an
awfully long time. It must have been a half hour
ago that I saw him gyre and gimbal upstairs in
that real gone way he has. With Nosy here following him,
(04:19):
the professor's coltige daughter was currently soaking up both jive
and alice. When the professor checked his wrist watch, his
expression grew troubled by George, he is taking his time, though,
of course we don't know how much time, martians. I wonder.
I listened for a while. Pop. His son volunteered. He
was running the water a lot running the water. Eh.
(04:42):
We know Mars is a wooter starved planet. I suppose
that in the presence of unlimited water he might be
seized by a kind of madness, And but he seemed
so well adjusted. Then his wife spoke, voicing all their thoughts.
Her outlook on life gave her a naturally sepulchoral voice.
What's he doing in there? Twenty minutes and at least
(05:04):
as many fantastic suggestions later, the professor glanced again at
his watch and nerved himself for action. Motioning his family aside,
he mounted the stairs and tiptoed down the hall. He
paused only once to shake his head and mutter under
his breath, by George, I wish I had Fenchurch or
van gotchtalk here. They're a shade better than I am
(05:25):
on intercultural contracts, especially taboo breakings and affronts. His family
followed him at a short distance. The professor stopped in
front of the bathroom door. Everything was quiet as death.
He listened for a minute and then rapped, measuredly, steadying
his hand by clutching its wrist with the other. There
was a faint splashing, but no other sound. Another minute passed.
(05:49):
The professor rapped again. Now there was no response at all,
he very gingerly tried to knob the door was still locked.
When they had retreated to the stairs, it was the
professor's wife who once more voiced their thoughts. This time
her voice carried over tones of supernatural horror. What's he
doing in there? He may be dead or dying. The
(06:12):
professor's cultish daughter suggested briskly, maybe we ought to call
the fire department, like they did for old missus Frisbee.
The professor winced, I'm afraid you haven't visualized the complications, dear,
he said gently. No one but ourselves knows that the
Martian is on Earth, or even has the slightest inkling
that interplanetary travel has been achieved. Whatever we do, it
(06:34):
will have to be on our own. But to break
in on a creature engaged in well, we don't know
what primal private activity is. Still against all anthropological practice. Still,
dying's a primal activity, his daughter said, crisply So's ritual
bathing before mass murder. His wife added, Please, Still, as
(06:58):
I was about to say, we do have the moral
duty to succor him if, as you all too reasonably suggest,
he has been incapacitated by a germ or virus, or
more likely by some simple environmental factor such as Earth's
greater gravity. Tell you what, Pop, I can look in
the bathroom window and see what he's doing. All I
have to do is crawl out of my bedroom window
(07:20):
and along the gutter a little ways. It's safe as houses.
The professor's question, beginning with son, how do you know?
Died unuttered, and he refused to notice the words his
daughter was voicing silently at her brother. He glanced at
his wife's sardonically composed face, thought once more of the
fire department, and of other and larger and even more
(07:42):
jealous or would it be skeptical government agencies, and clutched
at the straw offered him. Ten minutes later, he was
quite unnecessarily assisting his son back through the bedroom window. Gee, Pop,
I couldn't see a sign of him. That's why I
took so long. Hey, Pop, don't look so skinned. He's
in there, sure enough. It's just that the bathtub's under
(08:03):
the window, and you have to get real close up
to see into it. The martians taking a bath, yep,
got it full up, and just the end of his
little old schnozzle sticking out your suit pop was hanging
on the door. The one word the professor's wife spoke
was like a death knell drowned. No, ma, I don't
(08:24):
think so. His schnozzle was opening and closing regular like.
Maybe he's a shape changer, the professor's cultish daughter said,
in a burst of evil fantasy. Maybe he softens in
water and thins out after a while, until he's like
an eel, and then he'll go exploring through the sewer pipes.
Wouldn't it be funny if he went under the street
and knocked up on the stopper from underneath and crawled
(08:47):
into the bathtub with President Rexford or missus President Rexford,
or maybe right into the middle of one of Jeanie
Rexford's Oh I'm so sexy bubble baths. Please. The professor
put his hand to his eyebrows and kept it there,
cuddling the elbow in his other hand. Well have you
thought of something, the professor's wife asked him after a bit,
(09:09):
What are you going to do? The professor dropped his
hand and blinked his eyes hard and took a deep breath.
Telegraph Fenchurch and ackerly Ram's bottom and then break in,
he said, in a resigned voice, into which nevertheless a
note of hope seemed also to have come first. However,
I'm going to wait until morning. And he sat down
(09:30):
cross legged in the hall, a few yards from the
bathroom door, and folded his arms. So the long vigil commenced.
The professor's family shared it, and he offered no objection.
Other and sterner men, he told himself, might claim to
be able to successfully order their children to go to
bed when there was a martian locked in the bathroom,
but he would like to see them faced with the situation. Finally,
(09:53):
dawn began to seep from the bedrooms. When the bulb
in the hall had grown quite dim, the Professor unfolded
his own arms. Just then there was a loud splashing
in the bathroom. The professor's family looked toward the door.
The splashing stopped, and they heard the martian moving around.
Then the door opened and the martian appeared in the
professor's gray pin striped suit. His mouth curled sharply downward
(10:15):
in a broad alien smile as he saw the professor.
Good morning. The martian said, happily, I've never slept better
in my life, even in my own little wet bed
back on Mars. He looked around more closely, and his
mouth straightened. But where did you all sleep, he asked,
Don't tell me you stayed dry all night. You didn't
(10:36):
give up your only bed to me. His mouth curled
upward in misery. Oh, dear, he said, I'm afraid I've
made a mistake somehow, Yet I don't understand how. Before
I studied you, I didn't know what your sleeping habits
would be. But that question was answered for me. In fact,
it looked so reassuringly homelike when I saw those brief
(10:57):
TV scenes of your female's ready for or sleep in
their little tubs. Of course, on Mars, only the fortunate
can always be sure of sleeping wet. But here, with
your abundance of water, I thought there would be wet
beds for all. He paused. It's true I had some
doubts last night, wondering if I'd used the right words
and all. But then when you rapped good night to me,
(11:19):
I splashed the sentiment back at you and went to
sleep in a wink. But I'm afraid that somewhere I've blundered.
And no, no, dear, Chap, the professor managed to say
he had been waving his hand in a gentle circle
for some time in token that he wanted to interrupt.
Everything is quite all right. It's true we stayed up
all night, but please consider that as a watch, an
(11:42):
honor guard by George, which we kept to indicate our
esteem and of what's he doing in there by Fritz
liber
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