The Number of the Beast

XLI

"A cat can be caught in almost any trap once-"

Jacob:

If A, then B. I trust I am a rational mathematician, not one of the romantics who have brought disrepute to our calling through such inanities as defining "infinity" as a number, confusing symbol with referent, or treating ignorance as a datum. When I found myself in the Land of Oz, I did not assume that I had lost my reason. Instead it prepared me emotionally to meet other "fictional" characters.

Stipulated: I may be in a locked ward. But to assume that to be factual serves no purpose other than suicide of personality. I shall act on what my senses report. I am not the bumpkin who said on seeing a giraffe: "There ain't no sich animal."

I find myself in bed with my lovely wife Hilda in sumptuous quarters of star yacht Dora as guests of the utterly fictional "Lazarus Long." Is this a reason to try to find the call button in order to ask a still-more-fictional nurse for a nonexistent shot to end this hallucination? This is an excellent bed. As for Hilda Solomon has reason to env5i me; Mahomet with all his houris is not as blessed as I.

Tomorrow is soon enough to unravel any paradox. Or the Day After Tomorrow. Better yet, Not This October. After The End of Eternity may be best.

Why disturb a paradox? As Dora pointed out, Hilda and I are a pair o' docs ourselves . with no wish to be disturbed, and most certainly not to be unravelled.

Since Hilda married me, I have not once taken a sleeping pill.

No one called us. I woke up feeling totally rested, found my wife in the fresher brushing her teeth with, Yes, Pepsodent-removed brush from mouth, kissed her, placed brush back in her mouth. When she finished brushing her teeth, I asked, "Seen the kids?"

"No, Jacob."

"So. Dora!"

"No need to shout; I'm sitting on your shoulder. Would you like breakfast trays in bed?"

"Have we missed the breakfast hour?"

"Professor Burroughs, breakfast hour in me starts at midnight and ends at noon. Lunch is at thirteen, tea at sixteen-thirty, dinner at twenty, snacks and elevenses at any time. Dinner always formal, no other meal."

"Hmm- How formal is 'formal'?" Hilda now had more wardrobe-but Beulahiand is not high style.

"Formal' means formal dress of your culture or ours, or it means skin. No casual dress. As defined by the Commodore: 'Whole hawg or none.' Amendment: Jewelry, perfume, and cosmetics are not proscribed by the no-casualdress rule. Ship's services include sixty-minute cleaning and pressing, and a variety of formal dress of New-Rome styling, washables for the convenience of guests who do not travel with formal dress, prefer to be dressed at a formal meal, and do not choose to dine alone."

"Very hospitable. Speaking of washables, we found everything but a dirtyclothes hamper. I have a laplap to put in."

"But that's a washable, Doctor."

"That's what I said. I've worn it; it should be washed."

"Sir, I am not as fluent in English as in Galacta. By 'washable' I mean: Step into a shower while wearing it; it will go away."

Hilda said, "We'll take a dozen gross."

"Captain Hilda, 'dozen' and 'gross' are not in my memories. Will you please rephrase?"

"Just a side remark to my husband, Dora. What are New-Rome high styles today?"

"Today' I must construe as meaning the latest I have in stock. Styles follow the stock market. In evening dress, men are wearing their skirts floor length with a slight train. Bodices are off one or both shoulders. Bare feet or sandals are acceptable. Colors are bright and may be mixed in discordants. Weapons are required-may be symbolic but must be displayed. Ladies, of course, follow the cycle out of phase. Skirts are hardly more than ruffles this season, worn quite low. If tops are worn-not required this season and some ladies prefer cosmetics in flat colors-if worn, the teat windows may be either open or transparent. Transparents having quarter-lambda iridescence are popular this cycle, especially if one teat is bare without cosmetics while the other sports a changing-iridescent transparency." The computer's voice changed from a well-modulated adult female voice to that of an eager little girl:

"I hope somebody picks that; I like to look at it! How about Doctor Deety and Doctor Lib, one shiny on her left teat, the other shiny on her right, and place them side by side. Neat, huh!"

"It would be spectacular," I agreed. (And they would look like clowns! Still, Deety might go along. The child likes to please people, even a computer. Perhaps especially a computer.)

"You old goat, would you like a skirt with a slight train?"

"Hilda!"

"Dora, do you have formal washables in my husband's size? What measurements do you need?"

"I have the Professor's measurements, Ma'am. I will fetch an assortment to your quarters sometime after noon when you are not sleeping or otherwise engaged. An equivalent assortment for you, I assume?"

"If you wish, Dora. I may not wear that style."

"Captain Hilda is an excellent composition herself. I'm an expert engineer; I know good design when I see it. That's not flattery; Laz-Lor tell me that I should learn to flatter. I'm not sure I have the circuitry for it. Perhaps I can learn it from Gay."

"You sure can, Dorable; I've been flattering my four charges seems like forever."

"Gay, have you been listening?"

"Mad at me, Aunt Hilda?"

"Never angry with our Gay Deceiver. But it's polite to let people know you're present."

"But- Dora has eyes and she lets me look."

"Captain Hilda, Gay is with me all the time now. Do you forbid that? We didn't know." Dora had slipped into her little-girl voice and sounded stricken.

Time to intervene- "Gay, Dora-Hilda and I don't mind. I'll tell Deety and Zeb; they won't mind."

"Jake, you're my pal!"

"Gay, you've saved our lives many times; we owe you any fun we can offer. But, Gay, with Dora's eyes and ears you'll see and hear things not seen by your radars, not heard unless we switched you on. Do either of you have the word 'discretion' in your perms?"

"No, Jake. What does it mean?"

"I'll explain it," Dora said eagerly. "It means we see and hear but pretend not to. Like last night when-"

"Later, Dora. Over your private circuits. What ship's time is it and are we late for breakfast? I don't see a clock."

"I'm the clock. It is ship's time nine-oh-three. You are not last for breakfast. Commander Laz is sleeping late; she didn't go to bed right after the mutiny. Captain Long-that's Lor-ate on the bridge-a crude insult to my watchstanding but she's good company. The Commodore always eats breakfast in the flag cabin. The Doctors Deety and Zeb and Lib are just starting."

"How are they dressed?" asked my Hilda.

"In serviettes. Doctor Lib is wearing 'Jungle Flower' in cologne and powder and perfume; she likes strong ones. Doctor Zeb seems to have forgotten to use any but his own scent is rather pleasant. I can't place what Doctor Deety is Wearing but it has both musk and sandalwood. Shall I formularize it by symbols?"

"It's 'Blue Hour' and I'm startled; my stepdaughter doesn't need a scent. Neither does Lib, darn it. Jacob, are you ready?"

I answered at once. I had taken care of this and that while the computers chattered, including trying a depilatory tricky until I learned how to block it

off-my sideburns were missing. Zeb dressed in a serviette- Libby Long the only one not of our family-and Lib used to be male. A good time to rub blue mud in my belly button- "I'm ready."

Hilda noticed my decision by not noticing it. The blue "Tinker-Bell" light appeared, led us to a small dining room, where we encountered a Long-Family custom-did not realize it because it matched a ceremony of our own: Lib saw us, came over, kissed Hilda, kissed me-briefly but with time-stop. Then my daughter was kissing me good-morning while Zeb kissed my wife. We swapped as usual; Deety kissed Hilda-and Zeb took my shoulders, hissed into my ear, "Stand still"-and gave me the double Latin kiss, each cheek.

Did my blood brother think I would let him down in the presence of one not of our family? Our custom had started after our double elopement. While Zeb and I usually used the Latin symbol, four rapid pecks, once at Snug Harbor we had missed the fast timing, hit each other mouth to mouth-didn't pull back but didn't stretch it out. We declined to make anything of it-although I was aware of the break in taboo and he was, too.

Two mornings later I was last in; Zeb was seated with his back to me. He leaned back and turned his head to speak to me; I leaned down, kissed him on the mouth firmly but briefly, moved on and kissed my daughter not as briefly, moved on and kissed my wife thoroughly, sat down and demanded, "What's for breakfast?"

After that the only invariant was: "What's for breakfast?" Zeb and I used either Latin pecks or busses on the mouth-brief, dry, symbolic, initiated by either of us. It meant that we were closer than a handshake; it held no sexual significance.

SO I was disgrunted that Zeb thought it was necessary to warn me. Let me add: Women are my orientation and Hilda my necessity. But I tried the other way with my high school chum our graduation week. We were experimenting to find out what the shooting was all about-planned but date subject to opportunity-which turned up that last week of school. A two-hour examination, no other school that day; a half hour of tennis, sudden realization that we were free and that his parents' flat was empty and would remain so until late afternoon. Der Tag!

We gave it a fair trial. We bathed first and thoroughly. We were not shy or afraid of each other. We were not afraid of getting caught-doors locked and bolted, chains on, S.O.P. by his parents' rules. We liked each other and wanted it to work. Total failure- Got up, had peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches with milk, discussed it as

we ate. Neither of us upset, not disgusted, no bad breath or similar hazards- but no results.

Brushed our teeth again, washed each other-gave it a second try. So much calisthenics. No "morals" about it, willing and eager to add it on. Not for us- so we killed all evidence and got in three more sets of tennis.

That's how it is with Zeb and me. I love him dearly-but I love him for what

he is-while fully empathizing that my daughter thinks he is the greatest lover since- Well, the greatest.

But if Zeb ever makes a pass at me, I will do my amateur-acting best to make him feel that this is what I have been waiting for all my life.

I've been trying to say why I was miffed. Never mind, I shall make it clear to Zeb that I will never let him down.

About that Long-Family custom- "Long" is not the name of a Howard Family; it is a group of Howards who live together and who added "Long" (the pseudonym most used by Lazarus) to their regular names. It's a commune, an extended family, a serial family, a god-knows-what. There is probably no word for it in any language and at least two computers are full members. They come and go and raise children and only the family geneticist (Doctor Ishtar) is sure of parentage and who cares? I suspect that they are all ambi in sex but no outsider could guess-and I am an outsider.

But of this I am certain: When Long meets Long for the first time any day, they kiss-and it's no Latin peck.

I learned that I could have anything I wanted for breakfast. This should have been enough to tell me that we were being set up for the tale. I'm getting ahead of my story, as I know things about the Long Family that I read in a book that you may not have read. This ship Dora came from a planet many parsecs from the Earth-analog of that universe, from a time over two thousand years in my future looked at one way... or a time totally irrelevant to mine through not having duration axis in common.

Yet I could have anything: Post Toasties, hens' eggs any style, bacon, ham, sausage, breakfast steak, toast, orange marmalade, Concord grape jelly, buckwheat cakes-and not one of these foods is from Tertius, home of the Long Family.

Pepsodent in our 'fresher- As I was contemplating a beautiful golden waffle with one bite of it melting

in my mouth, Lazarus Long walked in....nd a voice in my head played back: 'The Commodore always eats breakfast in the flag cabin."

Add that Lazarus was dressed as were Zeb and I save that he did not yet have a napkin.

Working hypothesis: Lazarus had listened in on every word between husband and wife.

Second hypothesis: "Dora, tell me when they get up, tell me when they arrive in the breakfast room-if they do, but offer trays as usual. If they eat in the breakfast room, let me know how each is dressed."

The first hypothesis defines a grave social offense; the second outlines information a host or hostess is entitled to know. How do I find out which is which? Answer: I can't, as Lazarus Long will give me the answer that profits him and that computer is loyal to him, not to me.

As soon as Lazarus finished kissing Lib Long, he was grabbed by Deety and kissed....hen he caught Hilda's eye, glanced at me and sloooowly bent to kiss her, giving her and me, severally, time to make that tiny gesture that says

No-and did kiss her because I depend on Hilda's instincts and will never tell her No in such circumstances, or greater or lesser. Hilda put her hand back of his neck and thereby controlled the kiss and made it long-and I tore up the first hypothesis and marked the second one "Q.E.D." Hilda's instincts about people are infallible; I think she is a touch telepathic.

As may be, we would now help him if possible.

To Zeb and me he simply said, "Good morning"-his instincts are reputed to be infallible, too.

I agreed that it was a "good morning" while noting to myself that it was a symbol without a referent save for social connotation (morning? In an irrelevancy?) but added sincerely, "Lazarus, this is the best waffle I ever tasted."

"Then please tell Dora."

"Dora, did you hear what I said to the Commodore?"

"I surely did, Professor Jake! Six more?"

I felt my waistline-firm and many centimeters trimmed off. "Six more is what I want-"

"Right away!"

"But half of one is all I dare eat. Deety, the next time we go to Oz, will you ask Glinda whether or not there is a magic for gluttons-me, I mean-to permit them to eat as much as they want while three fourths of it disappears?"

"I'm sure she could do it; I'm equally sure that she would not. She's an ethical witch; you would not be able to convince her that your purpose was worthy."

"You are depressingly logical, my dear."

Lib said, "Professor, you have actually been to the Land of Oz? Really and truly?"

"Really and truly. Dora, is Gay on the line?"

"On deck, Jake"-Gay's voice.

"Has anyone been in to see our portside annex?"

"How could they? Captain Hilda has not authorized it."

"But- Hilda?"

"No, dear. Sorry to be blunt, Commodore and Doctor Lib, but I won't authorize an open door because there are too many things that must not be touched. But I will be delighted to escort guests into Gay Deceiver almost anytime including right now; I've finished eating."

"I accept!"

"Then come along, Elizabeth. Anyone else?"

Lazarus said, "Dora, shove my breakfast to the back of the stove; I'll eat it later."

"A jelly omelet? I'll eat it myself."

"Do that, Dorable. Captain, I'm ready."

Laz-Lor showed up together, did not want to be left out. We ended up quite a crowd: eight humans, two computers.

Hilda stopped us at Gay's starboard door. "Friends, again I must be blunt. As you cross the sill of that door, you are leaving Star Yacht Dora and entering an independent command, the Gay Deceiver, even though Dora totally sur

rounds Gay. Inside that door, I command, responsible to no one, unlimited in authority. Captain Lor, do you understand and agree with the legal theory?"

Captain Lorelei glanced at her sister, looked unhappy. "Captain Hilda, I do agree. Therefore I can't come aboard. I can't abandon my command."

My wife looked terribly distressed. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

Lazarus Long interrupted. "Captain Hilda, I'm sorry another way. I don't agree with your legal theory. I have had more than two thousand years more experience with law than my sister has... all sorts of law in all sorts of cultures. I'm not speaking of justice; I'll leave that to philosophers. But I know what legal theories work with humans, and what ones have been attempted, then abandoned because they could not be made to work. This situation is not new; it has occurred thousands, millions, of times: a larger vessel with a smaller vessel nested in it. The solution is always the same, whether it concerns starships, fishing boats, aircraft carriers, whatever. The smaller vessel is a separate command outside the larger vessel, but when it is inside the carrier vessel, it is legally part of it."

My darling did not answer. She was picking out me, Zeb, and Deety by eye as Lazarus talked. As he finished she said briskly, "GayDeceiverOpenStarboardDoor. Man the car, prepare for space."

I'm proud of our family. Zeb zipped past me to the farthest seat-which left me room to dive for mine as Deety was picking up Hilda bodily, shoving her inside, crowding in after her, turning and pulling her feet clear of the doorframe-yelping, "GayCloseDoors!"

I was belting in but looking to the right, where the action was. Lazarus Long grabbed the door while calling out, "Hey, wait a moment!"

He realized his mistake in time to keep his fingers. I had argued with Zeb when I discovered, during refitting, that he had removed the interlocks that prevent that sort of accident. He answered my protest: "Jake, when I tell those doors to close, I want them to close. If, in closing, one chops off a man's head, you can assume that I think he looks better that way."

Lazarus saved his hand but was knocked off his feet by the door-and I saw a bit of why he had lived so long. Instead of trying to check his fall, he gathered himself into a ball and took it on one buttock.

"Report!"

"Copilot belted checking seal!"

"Chief Pilot belted all systems go. Door seal being rechecked."

"Navigator belted, ready."

"Starboard door seal okay!"

"GayBounce!"

We were in free fall. No stars-total darkness.

"Astrogator. Advise."

"I don't know, Captain. We'll have to ask Gay whether or not she can backtrack. Any backtrack. Beulahland, or any spot in her perms. I'm lost."

Suddenly the stars came out. "Dora, calling Gay Deceiver. Come in, Gay."

"Don't answer. Zebbie, advise again. What happened?"

"I'm guessing. They cancelled encapsulation rather than risk losing us.

They must be awfully anxious." Zeb added, "The only thing we have that you can't buy at the corner drugstore is Jake's space-time twister. How they knew of it and why they want it I do not know."

"Dora, calling Gay. Gay, please talk to me. Aren't you still my friend? I know our bosses had a silly fuss-but we didn't. Aren't you ever going to speak to me again? I love you, Gay. Please don't be mean to me."

"Captain Hilda, may I please say hello to Dora and tell her that I am not angry at her? She's a sweet girl, she really is. Captain, she let me use her eyes."

"Let me speak to her first."

"Oh, thank you! Gay, answering Dora. Come in, Dora."

'Gay! You had me so scared. Don't go away again, please. The Commodore wants to apologize to your boss. Will she talk to him?"

"Captain?"

"No. I'll speak to Dora's Captain, however."

A cartoon of Lorelei's features displayed on our central screen. "Lor speaking, Captain Hilda. My brother is terribly sorry and wants to apologize. My sisters and I are dreadfully upset and want you please to come back. I don't claim any command over your ship despite the silly things my brother said. Lib has a message for you, too. She says that, topologically, there is no difference between you being inside us or us being inside you. Either way, we each surround the other."

"I don't see it topologically, Captain; I see it pragmatically. But please thank Elizabeth for me. I have this message for Lazarus Long. A cat can be caught in almost any trap once; but that cat will not be caught in the same trap twice."

"The message is delivered."

"Then it is time to say good-bye. Captain Lorelei, I cannot honestly thank you as kidnapping is not hospitality even when it is luxurious. But I don't think that you or your sister-sisters-meant it that way. I blame it on that deceitful, devious brother of yours. Please tell your sisters and Libby good-bye for us and say that I am sorry we had to leave."

"Captain, wait! There is something I must do first."

"Captain Lor, I must warn you I have you in my gunsights."

"What? Oh! We are unarmed. Not anything like that. I'll be back quickly. Perhaps you would like Dora to sing? But please don't go away!" The face in the screen pulled away.

"What kind of songs do you like, folks? I know lots of songs. One-Ball Reilly; and the Green Hills and On Guard Christmas So's Yours and Santa Carolita and Mademoiselle from Army Tears and the Pawnshot song and The Monkey Wrapped His Tail Around the Flagpole and Mary O'Meara and Soldier, Ask Not and just tell me what you like, and-here comes Sister. Captain Lor."

"Captain Hilda, thanks from my heart for waiting. Can you record?"

"Gay, recording mode. Go ahead."

"I have placed my brother under arrest and confined him to quarters. I, Captain Lorelei Lee Long, Master of Star Yacht Dora, affirm for use in any court that I have no authority over yacht Gay Deceiver and will never attempt to assert authority over Gay Deceiver no matter what circumstances and,

furthermore, I now place myself, my crew, and my ship Dora under command of Captain Hilda Burroughs, henceforth commodore of both ships, this assignment of command irrevocable by me or my sisters, and revocable solely by Commodore Burroughs at her sole discretion. End of message. Hilda, won't you come home? Laz is crying and I don't know what to do. We need you. Buddy Boy never did tell you why. But we do! May I tell you?"

"Go ahead, Lor."

"To save our mother's life!"

(I said, softly, "I'll be damned.")

My wife hesitated, then said, "Is Elizabeth Long there?"

"Yes, yes! She's been listening-she's crying, too-and I would be but I'm Captain and can't."

The smudged faces changed. "Lib Long speaking, Commodore."

"Libby, Captain Lorelei has told me something not only hard to believe but, if she is cloned from her brother as I have read, she may have his talent for lying. From what I know of you, I don't think you ever learned how to lie."

"Commodore, it is true that I never learned to lie convincingly. So I gave it up a long time ago."

"Very well, Lib. Is Lazarus Long in fact confined and under arrest?"

"Yes, to both. His door won't open and Dora has been instructed not to let him out until you permit it."

"What's this about saving her mother's life? If they are clones from a man the age Lazarus is alleged to be, their mother must have died a couple of millennia back."

"It's as complex as my case, Commodore, but quite different. The twins have host-mothers. But Lor was speaking of the genetic mother of herself, her twin sister, and Lazarus Long. She was reported dead more than two thousand OldHome-Terra years ago. But there is some hope that the records were confused and that it may be possible to save her. It can't be done without your help and the help of the Gay Deceiver. I don't think the chances are good, even so. But without your help-well, I would have to try to devise such a drive as Gay is reported to have-and I don't think I can."

"Wait a moment, Libby. Gay, cut transmission from cabin; keep circuit ready. Can you find your way unassisted back into your berth in Dora? Did you get it into your perms?"

"I did. I thought I might want to find Dora someday. Are you displeased with me? I know it wasn't authorized. But I didn't three-times it! I can wipe it."

"Gay Deceiver. New program. New parking spot. Code word 'Dora Long.' I tell you three times."

"Hilda, I hear you three times!"

"Gay Deceiver. 'Dora Long.' Execute!"

The stars went away and lighted alcoves were at our doors.