Time Enough For Love

VARIATIONS ON A THEME-III

Domestic Problems

"After more than two thousand years, Lazarus?"

"Why not, Ira? Dave was my age, near enough as not to matter. I'm still here."

"Yes, but- Was David Lamb a member of the Families? Under another name? There is no 'Lamb' in the lists."

"I never asked, Ira. Nor did he ever offer me a password. In those days a member kept the fact to himself. Or, if he was, Dave might not have known it, since he left home so young and so abruptly. Back then a youngster wasn't told until he or she was old enough to think about marriage. Eighteen for boys, usually, and sixteen for girls. Reminds me what a shock it was when I was told-at less than eighteen. By Gramp, because I was about to do something foolish. Son, one of the weirdest things about the human animal is that it grows up physically years and years before its brain grows up. I was seventeen, young and horny and wanted to get married the worst way. Gramp took me out behind the barn and convinced, me that it was indeed the worst way.

"'Woodie,' he said, 'if you want to elope with this girl, nobody will stop you."

"I told him belligerently that nobody could stop me, because just over the state line I could swing it without my parents' consent.

"'That's what I'm telling you," he said. "Nobody will stop you. But nobody will help you. Not your parents, nor your other grandparents-nor me. Not a one of us will even stake you to the price of a marriage license, much less help you support a wife. Not a dollar, Woodie, not a thin dime. If you don't believe me, ask any of them."

I said sullenly that I didn't want any help.

Gramp had bushy eyebrows, they shot up. "Well, well," he said. "Is she going to support you? Have you looked at the "Help Wanted" in the paper lately? If not, be sure to do so. And glance at the financial section while you're about it; reading "Help Wanted" ads won't take you more than thirty seconds.' He added, 'Oh, you can find a job peddling suck brooms from door to door on commission. Which will give you fresh air, healthy exercise, and an opportunity to demonstrate your charm, of which you don't have much. But you won't sell vacuum cleaners; nobody is buying.'

"Ira, I didn't know what he' was talking about. This was January, 1930. Does that date mean anything to you?"

"I'm afraid not, Lazarus. Despite much study of the Families' history, I have to convert those earlier dates into Galactic Standard in order to feel them."

"Don't know as it would be mentioned in the Families' records, Ira. The country-well, the whole planet-had just taken a plunge into an economic fluctuation. 'Depressions,' they called 'em. There were no jobs to be had-at least not for a smart-alec youngster who didn't know anything useful. Which Gramp realized, having been through several of these swings. But not me. I was sure I could grab the world by the tail and swing it over my shoulders What I didn't know was that graduate engineers were taking jobs as janitors and lawyers were driving milk wagons. And ex-millionaires were jumping out windows. But I was too busy sniffing after girls to notice."

"Senior, I've read about economic depressions. But I've never understood what caused them."

Lazarus Long went tsk-tsk. "And yet you are in charge of a whole planet."

"Perhaps I shouldn't be," I admitted.

"Don't be so confounded humble. I'll let you in on a secret: At that time nobody knew what caused them. Even the Howard Foundation might have gone broke had not Ira Howard left firm instructions about how the fund must be handled. On the other hand, everybody, right down to street sweepers and professors of economics, was certain they knew both causes and cures. So almost every remedy was tried-and none worked. That depression continued until the country blundered into a war-which didn't cure what was wrong; it just masked the symptoms with a high fever."

"Well...what was wrong, Grandfather?" I persisted.

"Do I look smart enough to answer that, Ira? I've gone broke many times. Sometimes financially, sometimes through abandoning my baggage to save my skin. Um. Be durned if I'll offer any fancy explanations but-what happens when you control machinery by positive feedback?"

I was startled. "I'm not sure I understand you,, Lazarus. One doesn't control machinery by positive feedback-at least I can't think of a case. Positive feedback will cause any system to oscillate out of control."

"Go to the head of the class. Ira, I'm suspicious of arguments by analogy-but from what I've seen over the centuries, there doesn't seem to be anything that a government can do to an economy that does not act as positive feedback, or as a brake. Or both. Maybe someday, somewhere, someone smart as Andy Libby will figure out a way to tinker with the Law of Supply and Demand to make it work better, instead of letting it go its own cruel way. Maybe. But I've never seen it. Though God knows everybody has tried. Always with the best of intentions.

"Good intentions are no substitute for knowing how a buzz saw works, Ira; the worst criminals in history have been loaded with good intentions. But you got me sidetracked into making a speech when I was telling you how I happened not to get married."

"Sorry, Grandfather."

"Hummph! Can't you be rude occasionally? I'm a garrulous old man who has crowded you into wasting time listening to trivia. You ought to resent it."

I grinned at him. "So I resent it. You are a garrulous old man who demands that I cater to your every whim...and I am a very busy man with serious matters worrying me and you've wasted half a day of my time telling me a yarn-pure fiction, I feel certain-about a man who was so lazy he always succeeded. Intended to irritate me, I think. When you implied that this fictional character was a long-lifer, you evaded a simple question about it and started talking about your grandfather. This-Admiral Ram, you said?-was he redheaded?"

"'Lamb,' Ira-'Donald Lamb.' Or was that his brother? It's been a long time. Odd that you should ask about his hair-as that reminds me of another naval officer in that same war who was just the opposite of-Donald? No, 'David.' Just the opposite of David in every respect save that he had hair so red that Loki would have been proud of it. Tried to choke a Kodiak bear to death. Didn't work of course. It doesn't seem possible that you've ever seen a Kodiak bear, Ira.

"The fiercest carnivore that Earth ever spawned, and outweighed a man ten to one. Claws like scimitars, long yellow teeth, bad breath-and a worse disposition. Yet Lafe tackled him with bare hands...and mind you, when he had no need to. I would have faded over the horizon. Want to hear about Lafe and the bear and the Alaskan salmon?"

"Not now. It sounds like another whopper. You were telling me why you didn't get married."

"So I was. Gramp had just asked me, 'Well, Woodie, how long has she been pregnant?'"

"No, he was explaining that you couldn't support a wife."

"Son, if you know this story, you tell it to me. I emphatically denied any such thing-to which Gramp replied that I lied in my teeth because that was the only reason a seventeen-year-old boy ever wanted to get married. His answer made me especially angry because I had a note in my pocket reading: "'Woodsie dearest-You have knocked me up and all, is Chaos.'"

"Gramp persisted, and I denied it three times, getting angrier and angrier, seeing as how it was true. Finally he says, 'Okay, you've just been holding hands. Has she shown you a pregnancy test report, signed by a doctor?'

"Ira, I accidentally told the truth. 'Why, no,' I admitted.

"'All right,' he said. 'I'll take care of it. But only this once. From here on always use Merry Widows, even if a sweet little darling tells you not to bother. Or haven't you found a drugstore that'll sell them to you?' Then, after swearing me to secrecy, he told me about the Howard Foundation and what it would pay if I married a girl on their approved list.

"And that was that, as I got this letter from a lawyer on my eighteenth birthday, just as Gramp had predicted, and it turned out that I fell madly in love with a girl on their list. We got married and had a slough of kids, before she turned me in on another model. Your ancestress, no doubt."

"No, sir. I'm descended from your fourth wife, Grandfather."

"My fourth, eh? Let me see-Meg Hardy?"

"I think she was your third, Lazarus. Evelyn Foote."

"Oh, yes! A fine girl, Evelyn. Plump, and pretty, and sweet-natured, and fertile as a turtle. A good cook and never a harsh word. They don't hardly make 'em anymore. Maybe fifty years younger than I was, but it barely showed; my hair didn't start to gray until I was a hundred and fifty. No secret about my age since birth date and track record and so forth were on file for each of us. Son, thank you for reminding me of Evelyn; she restored my faith in matrimony when I was getting a little sour on it. Do the Archives show anything else about her?"

"Just that you were her second husband and that she had seven children by you."

"I was hoping that there was a photograph. Such a pretty thing, always smiling. She was married to one of my cousins, a Johnson, when I met her, and I was in business with him a while. He and I, Meg and Evvie, used to get together Saturday nights for pinochle and beer, or such-and after a while we traded, legal and proper and through the courts, when Meg decided that she liked-Jack?-yes, Jack, that well, and Evelyn wasn't averse. Didn't affect our business relations, didn't even break up our pinochle game. Son, one of the best things about the Howard Families is that we got cured of the poisonous vice of jealousy generations ahead of the rest of the race. Had to-things being the way they were. Sure there ain't a stereopic of her around? Or a hologram? The Foundation started taking record pictures for marriage physical exams somewhere around then."

"I'll look into it," I told him. Then I had what seemed a brilliant idea. "Lazarus, as we all know, the same physical types show up time and again in the Families. I'll ask Archives for a list of Evelyn Foote's female descendants living on Secundus. It is highly probable that one of them will seem like her identical twin-even to the happy smile and the sweet disposition. Then-if you consent to full rejuvenation-I'm sure she would be as willing as Ishtar to dissolve any present contractual-"

The Senior chopped me off. "I said something new, Ira. There's no going back, ever. Sure, you might find such a girl, one who would match my memory of Evelyn to ten significant figures. But it would lack an important factor. My youth."

"But if you finish rejuvenation-"

"Oh, hush up! You can give me new kidneys and a new liver and a new heart. You can wash the brown stains of age out of my brain and add tissue from my clone to make up for what I've lost-you can give me a whole new clone body. But it won't make me that young fellow who took innocent pleasure in beer and pinochle and a pretty plump wife. All I have in common with him is continuity of memory-and not much of that. Forget it."

I said quietly, "Ancestor, whether you wish 'to be married to' Evelyn Foote again or not, you know and I know-for I've been through it, too, twice-we both know that the full routine restores youthful zest in life as well as restoring the body as a machine."

Lazarus Long looked gloomy. "Yeah, sure. It cures everything but boredom. Damn it, boy, you had no right to interfere with my, karma." He sighed. "But I can't hang a limbo either. So tell 'em to get on with it. The works."

I was taken by surprise. "May I record that, sir?"

"You heard me say it. But that doesn't get you off the hook. You still have to show up and listen to my maunderings until I'm so rejuvenated that I'm cured of such childish behavior- and you still have to go on with that research. To find something new, I mean."

"Agreed on both points, sir; you had my promise. Now one, moment while I tell my computer-"

"She's already heard me. Hasn't she?" Lizarus added, "Doesn't she have a name? Haven't you given her one?"

"Oh, certainly. I could not deal with her all these years without animism, fallacy though it is-"

"Not a fallacy, Ira, machines are human because they are made in our image. They share both our virtues and our faults-magnified."

"I've never tried to rationalize it, Lazarus, but Minerva- that's her formal name; she's 'Little Nag' in private because one of her duties is to remind me of obligations I would rather forget. Minerva does feel human to me-she's closer to me than any of my wives have been. No, she has not registered your decision; she's simply placed it in her temporaries. Minerva!"

"Si, Ira."

"Speak English, please. Retrieve the Senior's decision to undergo full antigeria, file it in your permanents, transmit it to Archives and to the Howard Rejuvenation Clinic for action."

"Completed, Mr. Weatheral. Congratulations. And felicitations to you, Senior. 'May you live as long as you wish and love as long as you live.'"

Lazarus looked suddenly interested-which did not surprise me because Minerva surprises me quite frequently even after a century of being "married" to her in all but fact. "Why, thank you, Minerva. But you startled me, girl. Nobody talks about love anymore; that's a major thing wrong with this century. How did you happen to offer me that ancient sentiment?"

"It seemed appropriate, Senior. Was I mistaken?"

"Oh, not at all. And call me 'Lazarus.' But tell me, what do you know of love? What is love?"

"In Classic English, Lazarus, your second question can be answered in many ways; in Lingua Galacta it cannot be answered explicitly at all. Shall we discard all definitions in which the verb 'to like' is as appropriate as the verb 'to love'?"

"Eh? Certainly. We aren't talking about 'I love apple pie'- or even 'I love music.' Whatever it is we are talking about, it's 'love' the way you used it in the old-style well-wishing."

"Agreed, Lazarus. Then what remains must be divided into two categories, 'Eros' and 'Agape,' and each defined separately. I cannot know what 'Eros' is through direct knowledge, as I lack both body and biochemistry to experience it. I can offer nothing but intensional definitions in terms of other words, or extensional definitions expressed in incomplete statistics. But in both cases I would not be able to verify such definitions since I have no sex."

("The hell she doesn't," I muttered into my scarf. "She's as female as a cat in heat." But technically she was correct, and-I've often felt that it was a shame that Minerva could not experience the pleasures of sex, as she was much more fitted to appreciate them than some human females-all glands and no empathy But I had never said this to anyone. Animism-of a particularly futile sort. A wish to "marry" a machine. As ridiculous as a little boy who digs a hole in the garden, then bawls because he can't take it into the house. Lazarus was right; I am not smart enough to run a planet. But who is?)

Lazarus said with deep interest, "Let's table 'Eros' for a moment. Minerva, the way you phrased that seemed to include the presumption that you could experience 'Agape.' Or 'can.' Or 'have.' Or perhaps 'do.'"

"It is possible that I was presumptuous in my phrasing, Lazarus."

Lazarus snorted, then chopped it off and spoke in such a fashion as to cause me to think that the old man was not quite sane-save that I am not sane myself, when the wind sets from that quarter. Or perhaps his long years had made him almost telepathic-even with machines.

"Forgive me, Minerva," he said gently. "I was not laughing at you but at the play on words with which you answered me. I withdraw my question; it is never proper to quiz a lady about her love life-and while you may not be a woman, dear, you are certainly a lady."

Then he turned to me and what he said next confirmed that he had guessed the secret I share with my "Little Nag."

"Ira, does Minerva have Turing potential?"

"Eh? Certainly."

"Then I urge you to tell her to use it. If you leveled with me when you said that you intend to migrate, come what may. Have you thought it through?"

"'Thought it through'? My resolution is firm-I told you so."

"Not quite what I mean. I don't know who holds title to the hardware that expresses itself as 'Minerva.' The Trustees, I assume. But I suggest that you tell her to start duplicating her memories and logics, and as she twins, start storing her other self aboard my yacht 'Dora.' Minerva will know what circuits and materials she needs, and Dora will know what space is available. Plenty, since memories and logics are all that matter; Minerva won't twin her extensionals. But start it at once, Ira; you won't be happy without Minerva-not after being dependent on her for a century, more or less."

Nor did I think so. But I tried-feebly-to resist. "Lazarus, now that you have agreed to full rejuvenation, I won't be inheriting your yacht. Not in the foreseeable future. Whereas I intend to migrate right away. Not more than ten years from now."

"So what? If I'm dead, you inherit-and I haven't promised to keep my hands off that suicide switch more than a thousand days no matter how patient you are in visiting me. But if I'm alive, I promise you-and Minerva-a free ride to whatever planet you pick. In the meantime, look around to your left- our girl Ishtar is almost wetting her pants trying to get your attention. And I don't think she's wearing any."

I looked around. The Administrator for Rejuvenation had a paper which she seemed eager to show me. I accepted it in deference to her rank-although I had loft orders with my Executive Deputy that I must never be disturbed while with the Senior for any reason short of armed rebellion. I glanced at it, signed my chop, thumb printed it, and handed it back-she beamed.

"Just paper work," I told Lazarus. "Some clerk has taken all this time to turn your registered assent into a written order. Do you want them to go right ahead? Not this minute but tonight."

"Well...I'd like to go house hunting tomorrow, Ira."

"You're not comfortable here? Tell me what you want changed, it will be done at once."

He shrugged. "Nothing wrong with this place except that it's too much like a hospital. Or a jail. Ira, I'm durn well certain they've done more to me than shoot me full of new blood; I'm well enough to be an outpatient-live elsewhere and come here only as the schedule calls for it."

"Well...will you excuse me while I talk Galacta a bit? I want to discuss the practical aspects with your technician in charge."

"Will you excuse me, Ira, if I point out that you've left a lady waiting? That discussion can wait. But Minerva knows that I suggested that you have her twin herself so that she can migrate with you-but you haven't said Yes, No, or make me a better offer. If you're not going to have her do it, it's time you told her to wipe her memory of that part of our conversation. Before she blows a circuit."

"Oh. Lazarus, she doesn't think about anything she records in this suite unless she is specifically told to."

"Want to bet? No doubt most subjects she just records-but this one she just has to think about; she can't help herself. Don't you know anything about girls?"

I admitted that I did not. "But I know what instructions I gave her about keeping records on the Senior."

"Let's check. Minerva-"

"Yes, Lazarus?"

"A few moments ago I asked Ira about your Turing potential. Have you thought about the conversation that followed?"

I swear that she hesitated-which is ridiculous; a nanosecond is longer to her than a second is to me. Besides, she never hesitates. Never.

She answered, "My programming on the doctrine covered by the inquiry reads as follows: Quote do not analyze, collate, transmit, nor in anywise manipulate data stored under control program except when specific subprogramnung is inserted by Chairman Pro Tem-end of quote."

"Tut, tut, dear," Lazarus said gently. "You did not answer. That was deliberate evasion. But you are not used to lying. Are you?"

"I am not used to lying, Lazarus."

I said almost roughly, "Minerva! Answer the Senior's first question."

"Lazarus, I have been and am now thinking about that designated portion of conversation."

Lazarus cocked an eyebrow at me. "Will you instruct her to answer one more question from me-truthfully?"

I was feeling quite shaken. Minerva surprises me, yes-but never with evasions. "Minerva, you will always answer any question put to you by the Senior fully, correctly, and responsively. Acknowledge program."

"New subprogram received, placed in permanent, keyed to the Senior, and acknowledged, Ira."

"Son, you didn't have to go that far-you'll be sorry. I asked for just one question."

"I intended to go that far, sir," I answered stiffly.

"On your head be it. Minerva, if Ira migrates without you, what will you do?"

She answered at once and quite tonelessly: "In such event I will self-program to destroy myself."

I was not just surprised, I was shocked. "Why?"

She answered softly, "Ira, I will not serve another master."

I suppose the silence that followed was not more than a few seconds. It seemed endless. I have not felt so nakedly helpless since my adolescence.

I found that the Senior was looking at me, shaking his head and looking sorrowful. "What did I tell you, Son? The same faults, the same virtues-but magnified. Tell her what to do."

"About what?" I answered stupidly-my personal "computer" was not working well. Minerva would do that?

"Come, come! She heard my offer-and thought about it, despite all programming. I'm sorry I made the offer in her presence...but not too sorry, as you were the one who decided to place a bug on me; it was not my idea. So speak up! Tell her to twin...or tell her not to-and try to tell her why you won't take her with you. If you can. I've never been able to find an answer to that one that a lady was willing to accept."

"Oh. Minerva, can you duplicate yourself inside a ship? The Senior's yacht, specifically. Perhaps you can get her characteristics and specifications from skyport records. Do you need her registration number?"

"I don't need her number, Ira. Sky Yacht 'Dora,' I have' all pertinent data to answer. I can. Am I instructed to do so?"

"Yes!" I told her, with a feeling of sudden relief.

"New overriding program activated and running, Ira! Thank you, Lazarus!"

"Wups! Slow down, Minerva-Dora is my ship. I left her asleep on purpose. Have you wakened her?"

"I did so, Lazarus. By self-program under new overriding program. But I can tell her to go back to sleep now; I have all data I need at the moment."

"You try telling Dora to go back to sleep and she'll tell you to buzz off. At least. At the very least. Minerva dear, you goofed. You have no authority to wake my ship."

"I am most sorry to disagree with the Senior, sir, but I do have authority to take all appropriate actions to carry out any program given to me by Mr. Chairman Pro Tem."

Lazarus frowned. "You mixed her up, Ira; now you straighten her out. I can't do anything with her."

I sighed. Minerva is rarely difficult-but when she is, she is even more pigheaded than flesh-and-blood. "Minerva-"

"Waiting orders, Ira."

"I am Chairman Pro Tem. You know what that means. The Senior is senior even to me. You will not touch anything of his without his permission. That applies to his yacht and to this suite and to anything else of his. You will carry out any program he gives you. If it conflicts with a program I have given you and you cannot resolve the conflict, you will consult me at once, waking me if I am asleep, interrupting whatever I may be doing. But you will not disobey him. This instruction super-overrides all other programs. Acknowledge."

"Acknowledged and running," she answered meekly. "I'm sorry Ira."

"My fault, Little Nag, not yours. I should not have given you a new controlling program without noting the Senior's prerogatives."

"No harm done, kids," Lazarus said. "I hope. Minerva, a word of advice, dear. You've never been a passenger in a ship."

"No, sir."

"You'll find it different from anything you've ever experienced. Here you give orders, in Ira's name. But passengers never give orders. Never. Remember it." Lazarus added to me, "Dora is a nice little ship, Ira, helpful and friendly. She can find her way through multiple space with just a hint, the roughest approximation-and still have all your meals on time. But she needs to feel appreciated. Pet her and tell her she's a good girl, and she'll wriggle like a puppy. But ignore her and she'll spill soup on you just to get your attention."

"I'll be careful," I agreed.

"And you be careful, Minerva-because you are going to need Dora's good will much more than she will need yours. You may know far more than she does-I'm sure you do. But you grew up to be chief bureaucrat of a planet while she grew up to be a ship...so what you know doesn't count-once you are aboard."

"I can learn." Minerva said plaintively. "I can self-program to learn astrogation and shiphandling at once, from the planetary library. I'm very bright."

Lazarus sighed again. "Ira, do you know the ancient Chinese ideogram for 'trouble'?"

I admitted that I did not.

"Don't bother to guess. It's 'Two Women Under One Roof.' We're going to have problems. Or you will. Minerva, you are not bright. You are stupid-when it comes to handling another woman. If you want to learn multiple-spaces astrogation-fine. But not from a library. Persuade Dora to teach you. But never forget that she is mistress in her own ship and don't try to show her how bright you are. Bear in mind instead that she likes attention."

"I will try, sir," Minerva answered him, with humility she rarely shows to me. "Dora wants to get your attention right now."

"Oh-oh! What sort of mood is she in?"

"Not a good mood, Lazarus. I have not admitted that I know where you are, as I am under a standing instruction not to discuss your affairs unnecessarily. But I did accept a message for you without guaranteeing that I could deliver it."

"Just right. Ira, the papers with my will include a program to wash me out of Dora's memories without touching her skills. But the trouble you started by grabbing me out of that flophouse has spread. She's awake with her memories intact, and she's probably scared. The message, Minerva."

"It's several thousand words, Lazarus, but the semantic content is short. Will you have that first?"

"Okay, the summary meaning."

"Dora wants to know where you are and when you are coming to see her. The rest could be described as onomatopoesy, semantically null but highly emotional-that is to say, cursing, pejoratives, and improbable insults in several languages-"

"Oh, boy."

"-including one language I do not know but from context and delivery I assume tentatively that it is more of the same, but stronger."

Lazarus covered his face with a hand. "Dora is cussing in Arabic again. Ira, this is worse than I thought."

"Sir, shall I replicate just the sounds not in my vocabularies? Or will you have the complete message?"

"No, no, no! Minerva, do you cuss?"

"I have never had reason to, Lazarus. But I was much impressed by Dora's command of the art."

"Don't blame Dora; she was subjected to a bad influence when she was very young. Me."

"May I have permission to file- her message in my permanents? So that I may cuss if needed?"

"You do not have permission. If Ira wants you to learn to cuss, he'll teach you himself. Minerva, can you arrange a telephone hookup from my ship to this suite? Ira, I might as well cope with it now; it won't get better."

"Lazarus, I can arrange a standard telephone hookup if that is what you want. But Dora could speak to you at once via the duo in your suite that I am now using."

"Oh. Fine!"

"Shall I supply her with holographic signal, too? Or is sound enough?"

"Sound is enough. More than enough, probably. Will you be able to hear, too?"

"If you wish, Lazarus. But you can have privacy if that is your wish."

"Stick around; I may need a referee. Put her on."

"Boss?" It was the voice of a timid little girl. It made me think of skinned knees, and no breasts as yet, and big, tragic eyes.

Lazarus answered, "Right here, baby."

"Boss! God damn your lousy soul to hell!-what do you mean by running off and not letting me know where you are? Of all the filthy, flea-bitten-"

"Pipe down!"

The timid-little-girl voice returned. "Aye, aye, Skipper," it said uncertainly.

"Where I go and when I go and how long I stay are none of your business. Your business is to pilot and to keep house, that's all."

I heard a sniffle, exactly like a small child sniffing back tears. "Yes, Boss."

"You were supposed to be alseep. I put you to bed myself."

"Somebody woke me. A strange lady."

"That was a mistake. But you used bad language to her."

"Well...I was scared. I really was, Boss. I woke up and thought you had come home...and you weren't anywhere around, not anywhere. Uh...she told on me?"

"She conveyed your message to me. Fortunately she did not understand most of your words. But I did. What have I told you about being polite to strangers?"

"I'm sorry, Boss."

"Sorry doesn't get the cows milked. Now adorable Dora, you listen to me. I'm not going to punish you; you were wakened by mistake and you were scared and lonely, so we'll forget it. But you shouldn't talk that way, not to strangers. This lady- She's a friend of mine, and she wants to be your friend, too. She's a computer-"

"She is?"

"Just as you are, dear."

"Then she couldn't hurt me, could she? I thought she was inside me, snooping around. So I yelled for you."

"She not only couldn't, she would never want to hurt you." Lazarus raised his voice slightly. "Minerva! Come in, dear, and tell Dora who you are."

My helpmeet's voice, calm and soothing, said, "I'm a computer, Dora, called 'Minerva' by my friends-and I hope you'll call me that. I'm terribly sorry I woke you. I'd be scared, too, if someone woke me like that." (Minerva never has been "asleep" in the hundred-odd years she's been activated. She rests each part of herself on some schedule I don't need to know-but she herself is always awake. Or awake so instantly whenever I speak to her as not to matter.)

The ship said, "How do you do, Minerva. I'm sorry I talked the way I did."

"I don't remember it, dear, if you did. I heard your skipper say that I transmitted a message from you to him. But it's erased, now that it's been transmitted. Private message, I suppose."

(Was Minerva truth-saying? Until she came under Lazarus' influence I would have said that she did not know how to lie. Now I'm not sure.)

"I'm glad you erased it, Minerva. I'm sorry I talked to you that way. Boss is sore at me about it."

Lazarus interrupted. "Now, now, Adorable-stop it. We always let water over the bridge lie where Jesus flang it; you know that. Will you be a good girl and go back to sleep?"

"Do I have to?"

"No. You don't even have to place yourself on slow time. But I can't come to see you-or even talk to you-earlier than late tomorrow afternoon. I'm busy today and will be house hunting tomorrow. You can stay awake and bore yourself silly any way you choose. But if you whomp up some fake emergency to get my attention, I'll spank you."

"But, Boss, you know I never do that."

"I know you do do that, little imp. But if you bother me for anything less than somebody trying to break into you or you catching on fire, you'll regret it. If I can figure out that you've set yourself on fire, you'll catch it twice as hard. Look, dear, why don't you at least sleep whenever I am asleep? Minerva, can you let Dora know when I go to sleep? And when I wake up?"

"Certainly, Lazarus!"

"But that doesn't mean you can bother me when I'm awake, Dora, other than for real emergencies. No surprise drills- this is not shipboard routine; we're dirtside and I'm busy. Uh...Minerva, how's your time-sharing capacity? Do you play chess?"

I put in, "Minerva has ample share-time capacity."

But before I could add that she was Secundus Champion, Unlimited Open Handicap (with a handicap of Q, Q's B, & K's R) Minerva said: "Perhaps Dora will teach me to play chess."

(Well, Minerva had certainly learned Lazarus' rule for telling the truth selectively. I made note that I must have a serious private talk with her.)

"I'd be glad to, Miss Minerva!"

Lazarus relaxed. "Fine. You gals get acquainted. So long till tomorrow, Dorable. Now beat it."

Minerva notified us that the yacht was no longer patched in, and Lazarus relaxed. Minerva dropped back to her record-keeping role, and kept quiet. Lazarus said apologetically, "Don't be put off by her childish manners, Ira; you won't find a sharper pilot, or a neater ship's housekeeper, between here and Galactic Center. But I had reasons for not letting her grow up in other ways, reasons that won't apply when you take over as her master. She's a good girl, she really is. It's just that she's like a cat that jumps into your lap the instant you sit down."

"I found her charming."

"She's a spoiled brat. But it's not her fault; I am practically all the company she's ever had. I get bored by a computer that just grinds out numbers, docile as a slide rule. No company on a long trip. You wanted to speak to Ishtar. About my househunting, I think. Tell her I won't let it interfere with routine-I just want a day off, that's all."

"I'll tell her." 'I turned to the Administrator for Rejuvenation and shifted to Galacta-asking her how long it would take to sterilize a suite in the Palace and install decontamination equipment for watchstanders and visitors.

Before she could answer, Lazarus said, "Wups! Hold it one fiddlin' moment. I saw you palm that card, Ira."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"You tried to slide one in. 'Decontam' is the same word in English as in Galacta. Not that it was news to me; my sense of smell isn't that dead. When a pretty girl leans over me, I expect to smell perfume. But when I can't even smell girl and do smell germicides-well, ipse dixit and Q.E.D. Minerva!"

"Yes, Lazarus?"

"Can you spare me some shared time to give me a refresher while I'm asleep tonight in the nine hundred basic words of Galacta or whatever number it takes? You equipped for it?"

"Certainly, Lazarus."

"Thanks, dear. One night should do it, but I'll appreciate vocabulary drill each night until we both think I'm up to adequate proficiency. Can do?"

"Can do, Lazarus. And will do."

"Thanks, dear, over and out. Now, Ira, you see that door? If it doesn't open to my voice, I'm going to attempt to break it down. If I can't, I am going to check on whether or not that suicide switch is really hooked up-by trying it. Because, if that door won't open, I am a prisoner, and any promises I made on your assurances that I am a free agent are not binding. But if it does open to my voice, I'll bet you whatever you like that there is a decontam chamber beyond it, staffed and ready to function. Say a million crowns to keep it interesting? No, you didn't flinch; let's make it ten million crowns."

I trust that I did not flinch. I have never had that much money of my own, and a Chairman Pro Tern gets out of the habit of thinking about his own money; there is no need to. I had not asked Minerva about my personal balance for some time. Years, perhaps.

"Lazarus, I won't bet. Yes, there is a decontam setup outside; we tried to protect you from possible infection without bringing it to your attention. I see that we have failed. I haven't checked on the door-"

"Lying again, Son. You're not good at it."

"-but if it isn't keyed to your voice now, it is my oversight; you've kept me busy. Minerva, if the door to this suite is not keyed to the Senior's voice, correct it immediately."

"It is keyed to his voice, Ira."

I relaxed when I heard how she phrased it-perhaps a computer that had learned when not to be bluntly truthful was going to be still more of a helpmeet.

Lazarus grinned diabolically. "So? Then I'm about to test out the super-override program you were a bit hasty in giving her. Minerva!"

"Awaiting your orders, Senior."

"Key the door to my suite so that it opens only to my voice. I'm going out and sashay around-while Ira and these kids stay locked inside. If I am not back in half an hour, you can unlock them."

"Conflict, Ira!"

"Carry out his orders, Minerva." I tried to keep my voice low and even.

Lazarus smiled and stayed in his chair. "No need to show openers, Ira; there is nothing outside I want to see. Minerva, you can put the door back to normal-let it open to any voice, including mine. Sorry about that conflict, dear; I hope it didn't burn out anything."

"No harm done, Lazarus. When I was given that super-override instruction, I increased the overload tolerances on my problem-resolving network."

"You're a smart girl. I'll try to avoid conflict in the future. Ira, you had better remove, that super-override; it's not fair to Minerva. She feels like a woman with two husbands."

"Minerva can handle it." I assured him, more calmly than I felt.

"You mean that I had better handle it. I shall, Did you tell Ishtar that I'm going househunting?"

"I didn't get that far. I was discussing with her the practicability of your living at the Palace."

"Now, Ira- Palaces don't appeal to me, and being a house guest is still worse. A nuisance both to host and guest. Tomorrow I'll find a residential hilton that doesn't cater to tourists or conventions. Then I'll run out to the skyport and see Dora, and pat her rump and get her calmed down. The next day or so I'll find a little house way out in the suburbs, one automated enough to be no problem-but with its own garden. Got to have a garden. I'll have to bribe somebody to move; the house I want won't be standing empty. Do you happen to know how much I still have in Harriman Trust? If anything."

"I don't know but that's no problem. Minerva, set up a drawing account for the Senior. Unlimited."

"Acknowledged, Ira. Completed."

"Completion noted. Lazarus, you would not be a nuisance. Nor will you find it palatial as long as you avoid the public rooms. As I always do. Nor will you be anyone's guest. It's called the 'Executive Palace,' but its official name is 'The Chairman's House.' You will be in residence in your own home. I will be the guest, if anyone."

"Hogwash, Ira."

"True, Lazarus."

"Quit juggling words. I would still be a stranger in a household not truly my own. A guest. I don't buy it."

"Lazarus, you said-last night"-I remembered just in time the missing day-"that you can always do business with anyone who is acting in his own interest and says so."

"I think I said 'usually' rather than 'always'-meaning that we could then look for a way that would serve both of our, self-interests."

"Then hear me out. You've got me tied down with this Scheherazade bet. As well as a research to find something new to interest you. Now you've dangled bait under my nose that makes me want to migrate as soon as-well, as soon as possible; it won't take long for the Trustees to turn me down concerning a migration of the Families. Grandfather, it's nuisance enough to chase over here every day; I don't hanker to trek way out into the boondocks, the commuting would waste what little time you have left me for work. Besides that, it's dangerous."

"Living alone? Ira, I've lived alone many times."

"Dangerous for me. Assassins. I'm safe at the Palace; the rat who can find his way through that maze hasn't been born. I'm reasonably safe here inside the Clinic, and I can get back and forth in safety, subject only to whims of automatic machinery. But if I make a daily pattern of going to an unfortified house somewhere out in the suburbs, then it is only a matter of time until some crackpot sees it as an opportunity to save the world by picking me off. Oh, he would not live through it; my guards aren't that inefficient. But if I persist in setting myself up as a target, he might get me before they get him. No, Grandfather, I do not choose to be assassinated."

The Senior looked thoughtful but not impressed. "I could answer that your safety and convenience have to do with your self-interest. Not mine."

"True," I admitted. "But let me offer what bait I can. It's in my self-interest for you to live in the Palace. There I can visit you in perfect safety, even safer than I am here, and commuting becomes a matter of seconds, negligible. I can even ask you-there-to excuse me for a half hour if something urgent comes up. That defines my self-interest. As for yours sir-would you be interested in a bachelor's cottage, rather small-four rooms-and not especially modern or luxurious but set in a pleasant garden? Three hectares, but only the part close to the house is gardened, the rest has been allowed to grow wild."

"What's the catch, Ira? How modem is 'not especially'? I did say 'automated'-as I am not yet in shape to do for myself-nor am I patient with the vagaries of servants or the whimsical uncertainties of robots."

"Oh, this cottage is sufficiently automated; it simply does not have a lot of fancy extravagances. No servants needed if your tastes are simple. Would you permit the Clinic to continue to stand watches on you if the watchstanders are as pleasant, and as pleasantly unobtrusive, as these two?"

"Eh? These kids are all right, I like them. I realize that the Clinic wants to keep an eye on me; they probably feel that I'm more of a challenge than a client only three or four hundred years old. That's okay. But you pass the word that I expect to smell perfume, not germicides. Or reasonably fresh body odors; I'm not fussy. I repeat, what's the catch?"

"The hell you aren't fussy, Lazarus; you delight in thinking up impossible conditions. This cottage is rather cluttered with old-fashioned books; the last tenant was eccentric. Did I mention a little stream running through the grounds, one which opens out into a small pool near the house?-not much, but you can take a few strokes in it. Oh, I forgot to mention an old tomcat who thinks he owns the place. But you probably won't see him; he hates most people."

"I won't bother him if he wants to be left alone; cats make good neighbors. You still haven't answered me."

"The catch is this, Lazarus. I've been describing the penthouse I had built for my own use on the roof of the Palace, some ninety years back when I decided to keep this, job awhile. It can be reached only by vertical transport from my usual quarters a couple of stories below it. I've never had time to use it much; you are welcome to it." I stood up. "But if you won't take it, then you can consider that I've lost the Scheherazade bet, and you are free to use that termination switch whenever you please. For I'm damned if I'll be a sitting duck for assassination just to cater to your whims."

"Sit back down!'

"No, thank you. I've made a reasonable offer. If you won't take it, you can go to hell in your own way. I won't let you ride my shoulders like the Old Man of the Sea. I can be pushed just so far."

"So I see. How much of your ancestry am I?"

"About thirteen percent. Considerable convergence."

"Only that much? I would have guessed more. Some ways you sound like my Gramp. Does my suicide switch go along?"

"If you want it," I answered as indifferently as I could manage to sound. "Or you can jump off the edge. It's a long drop."

"I prefer the switch, Ira; I'd hate to change my mind on the way down. Will you fix me up with another transport so that I won't have to go through your apartment?"

"No."

"Eh? Is it all that difficult? Let's ask Minerva."

"It's not that I can't-I won't. It's an unreasonable request. It won't hurt you to change transports in my foyer. Didn't I make it clear that I am not catering to any more unreasonable whims?"

"Get your feathers down, Son. I accept. Tomorrow, say. Never mind moving that clutter of books; I like old-fashioned bound books; they have more flavor than speedireads, or projectos, or such. And I'm pleased to find that you're a rat and not a mouse. Please sit down."

I did so, pretending reluctance. I felt that I was beginning to gain some grasp of Lazarus. Despite the way he sneered at them the old scoundrel was an equalitarian at heart...and expressed it by attempting to dominate anyone with whom he came into contact-but was contemptuous of anyone who knuckled under to his bullying. So the only answer was to hit back at him, try to maintain a balance of power-and hope that in time it would reach the stability of mutual respect.

I never had cause to change my mind. He was capable of kindness and even affection toward one who accepted a subordinate role-if that person was a child or a female. But he preferred spunk even from them. A growl male who bent the knee he neither liked nor trusted.

I think this quirk in his character made him very lonely.

Presently the Senior said musingly, "Be nice to live in a house for a while. With a garden. Maybe with a spot where I can stretch a hammock."

"Several such spots."

"But I'm doing you out of your hideaway."

"Lazarus, there is enough room on that roof that I could have another cottage assembled out of your sight. If I wanted it. I don't. I haven't even been up there for a swim in weeks. It has been at least a year since I slept up there."

"Well- I hope you'll feel free to come up and swim. Any time. Or whatever."

"I expect to be up there every day and all day, for the next thousand days. Have you forgotten our bet?"

"Oh, that. Ira, you were bitching that my whimsical ways were wasting your valuable time. Do you want to be let off the hook? Not on the other, just on that."

I laughed at him. "Straighten your kilt, Lazarus, your self-interest is showing. Meaning you want to be let off the hook. No deal. I intend to get one thousand and one days of your memoirs on record. After that you can jump off the edge, or drown yourself in the pool, or whatever. But I won't let you welch by pretending to do me a favor. I'm beginning to understand you."

"You are? That's more than I've ever managed. When you get me figured out, tell me about me; I'll be interested. That search for something new, Ira- You said you had started it."

"I didn't say that, Lazarus."

"Well, perhaps you just implied it."

"Nor even that. Want to bet? We can ask Minerva for a full printout, then I'll accept your verdict."

"Let's not tempt a lady into fudging the record, Ira; she's loyal to you, not to me. Despite any super-duper-overrides."

"Chicken."

"At every opportunity, Ira; how do you think I've lived so long? I bet only when I'm certain to win or when losing serves my actual purpose. All right, when are you starting that research?"

"I've already started it."

"But you said- No, you didn't. Damn your impudence, boy. All right, what direction are you pushing it?"

"All directions."

"Impossible. You don't have that many people at your disposal, even assuming that all of them are capable-whereas the person capable of creative thought is less than one in a thousand."

"No argument. But what about the sort of person that you said was just like us-but magnified? Minerva is director of research on this, Lazarus. I talked it over with her; she's setting it up. All directions. A Zwicky investigation."

"Hmm. Well...yes. She could-I think she could. Whereas even Andy Libby might have found it difficult. How is she designing her morphological box?"

"I don't know. Shall we ask her?"

"Only if she's ready to be asked, Ira. People get annoyed when interrupted for progress reports. Even Andy Libby used to get irritable if anyone joggled his elbow."

"Even the great Libby probably didn't have the time-share capacity Minerva has. Most brains are merely linear, and I've never heard of any human genius who had more than three tracks."

"Five."

"So? Well, you've met more geniuses than I have. But I don't know how many simultaneous tracks Minerva can set up; I simply have never seen her overloaded. Let's ask her. Minerva, have you set up the morpho box for that search for 'something new' for the Senior?"

"Yes, Ira."

"Tell us about it."

"The preliminary matrix uses five dimensions, but with a certainty that auxiliary dimensions will be needed for some pigeonholes. That being noted, there are now nine by five by thirteen by eight by seventy-three--or three hundred forty-one thousand six hundred forty discrete category pockets before auxiliary expansions. For check, the original trinary readout is unit pair pair comma unit nil nil comma unit pair pair comma unit nil nil point nil. Shall I print out decimal and trinary expressions?"

"I think not, Little Nag; the day you make a mistake in arithmetic, I'll have to resign. Lazarus?"

"I'm not interested in pigeonholes, just what is in them. Hit any pay dirt, Minerva?"

"As stated, Lazarus, your question does not permit specific answer. Shall I print out the categories for your examination?"

"Uh- No! Over three hundred thousand categories and maybe a dozen words to define each one? We'd be hip-deep in paper." Lazarus looked thoughtful. "Ira, you might ask Minerva to print it somewhere else before she wipes it. As a book. A big book, ten or fifteen volumes. You could call it 'Varieties of Human Experience,' by, uh, 'Minerva Weatheral.' It would be the sort of thing professors argue over for a thousand years. I'm not joking, Ira; it should be preserved, I think it's new. It's a job too big for flesh-and-blood, and I sort o' doubt that a computer of Minerva's caliber has ever before been asked to do this sort of Zwicky."

"Minerva, would you like that? Preserve your research notes and edit them into a book? Say a few hundred full-size bound copies in a handsome presentation format plus microperms for libraries on Secundus and elsewhere. For the Archives, too-I could ask Justin Foote to write a preface."

I was intentionally appealing to her vanity-and if you think computers don't have such human foibles, then I suggest that your experience with them is limited; Minerva always liked to be appreciated, and we two began to be a team only after I realized this. What else can you offer a machine? Higher pay and longer vacations? Let's not be silly.

But she surprised me still again, answering in a voice almost as shy as Lazarus' yacht, and quite formally: "Mr. Chairman Pro Tem, would it be proper, and would you grant permission, for me to put on the title page 'by Minerva Wearheral'?"

I said, "Why, certainly. Unless you would rather sign it just 'Minerva.'"

Lazarus said brusquely, "Don't be a dumb fool, Son. Dear, sign that title page 'Minerva L. Weatheral.' The 'L' stands for 'Long'-because you, Ira, had a woodseolt by one of my daughters on some frontier planet back in the careless days of your youth and just recently got around to registering the fact in the Archives. I'll attest the registration-happens I was there at the time. But Dr. Minerva L. Weatheral is now off somewhere way the hell and gone out, doing research for her next magnum opus-can't be reached for an interview. Ira, you and I will whip up biographical notes for my distinguished granddaughter. Got it?'

I simply answered Yes.

"That suit you, girl?"

"Yes indeed, Lazarus. Grandfather Lazarus."

"Don't bother calling me 'Grandfather.' But I want the number-one presentation copy inscribed to me, dear-'To my Grandfather Lazarus Long, with love, Minerva L. Weatheral.' Is it a deal?"

"I will be proud and happy to do so, Lazarus. An inscription should be in handwriting, should it not? I can modify the extensional I use to sign official papers for Ira-a mod so that the inscription handwriting will be different from his handwriting."

"Fine. If Ira behaves himself, you might consider dedicating the book to him and inscribe a copy to him. But I get the first copy. I'm senior-and I thought it up. But back to the search itself- I'm never going to read that twenty-volume opus, Minerva; I'm interested only in results. So tell me what you have so far."

"Lazarus, I have tentatively rejected over half the matrix as representing things the Archives show that you have done, or things that I assume that you would not wish to do-"

"Hold it! As the marine said, 'If I haven't done it, I'll try it.' What are these things you assume I wouldn't want to try? Let's hear 'em."

"Yes, sir. One submatrix, three thousand six hundred fifty pockets, all involve a probably fatal outcome, probability ninety-nine percent plus. First, exploring in corpus the interior of a star-"

"Scratch that one, I'll leave that to physicists. Besides, Lib and I did it once."

"The Archives did not show it, Lazarus."

"Lots of things not in the Archives. Go on."

"Modification of your genetic pattern to grow an amphibious clone capable of living in ocean waters."

"I'm not sure I'm that interested in fish. What's the catch?"

"Three catches, Lazarus, each hazardous by less than ninety-nine percent but, when taken in series, total almost unity. Such pseudohuman amphibians have been grown, but the viable ones-thus far-strongly resemble very large frogs. The chances of survival of such a creature against other denizens of the deep-figured for Secundus-have been theoretically calculated as even for seventeen days, twenty-five percent for thirty-four days, and so on."

"I think I could improve those odds. But I never have cared much for Russian roulette. The other hazards?"

"Installing your brain in the modified clone, then reinserting it into a normal clone at a later time. If you survived."

"Scratch that one. If I have to live underwater, I don't want to be a frog; I want to be the biggest, meanest shark in the ocean. Besides, I figure that, if living underwater was all that interesting, we would still be there. Give me another sample."

"A triple sample, sir. Lost in n-space with a ship, without a ship but with a suit, and without even a suit."

"Scratch 'em all. I've come closer than I like to think to the first two, and the third is just a silly way to drown in vacuum. Thin and unpleasant. Minerva, the All Powerful in His Majestic Wisdom-whatever that means-made it possible for humans to die peacefully. That being so, unless one is forced to, it is silly to do it the hard way. So scratch drowning in caterpillars and self-immolation and all silly ways to die. Very well, dear; you've convinced me that you know what you're talking about concerning those ninety-nine-plus hazards; scratch 'em all. Fm interested only in something new-new to me-in which the chances of surviving are better than fifty percent and in which a man who stays alert can enhance his chances. For example, I never hankered to go over high falls in a barrel. You can design the barrel to make it relatively safe; nevertheless, once you start, you are helpless. Which makes it a silly stunt-unless it's the safest way out of a worse predicament. Racing-cars, steeplechase, skis-is more interesting because each calls for skill. Yet I don't fancy that sort of danger, either. Danger for the sake of danger is for children who don't really believe they can be killed. Whereas I know I can be. So there are a lot of mountains I'll never climb. Unless I'm trapped, in which case I'll do it-have done it!-the easiest, safest, most chicken way I can figure out. Don't bother with anything in which the prime novelty is danger-danger is no novelty. It is simply something to be faced when you can't run. How about other pigeonholes in your box?"

"Lazarus, you could become female."

I do not think I have ever seen the Senior quite so startled (So was I, but the statement was not aimed at me.)

He went on slowly, "Minerva, I'm not sure what you mean Surgeons have been turning inadequate males into fake females for more than two thousand years-and females into fake males almost as long. I'm not attracted by such stunts. For good-or bad-I am male. I suppose that every human has wondered how it would feel to be the other sex. But all the plastic surgery and hormone treatments possible won't do it-those monsters don't reproduce."

"I am not speaking of monsters, Lazarus. A true change in sex."

"Mmm- You remind me of a tale I had almost forgotten. Not sure it's true. About a man, oh, must have been around 2000 A.D. Couldn't be much later because things went to pieces not long after. Supposed to have had his brain moved into a female body. Killed him, of course. Alien tissue rejection."

"Lazarus, this would not involve that hazard; it would be done with your own clone."

"Not bloody likely. Keep talking."

"Lazarus, this has been tested on animals other than H. sapiens. It works best in changing a male to a female. A single cell is selected for cloning. Before cloning is started, the Y chromosome is removed and an X chromosome from a second cell of the same zygote is supplied, thus creating a female cell of the same genetic pattern as the zygote save that the X chromosome is replicated while the Y chromosome is eliminated. The modified cell is then cloned. The result is a true female clone-zygote derived from a male original."

"There must be a catch," Lazarus said, frowning.

"There may be, Lazarus. Certain it is that the basic technique works. There are several created females in the building you are in-dogs, cats, one sow, others-and most of them have littered successfully...except when, for example, a derived bitch is bred with the male dog who supplied the cell for cloning. That can produce lethals and mostrosities from the high probability of reinforcing bad recessives-"

"I should think it would!"

"Yes. But normal outbreeding does not, as indicated by seventy-three generations of hamsters descended from one created female. The method has not been adapted to fauna native to Secundus because of their radically different genetic structure."

"Never mind Secundus animals-how about men?"

"Lazarus, I have been able to search the literature only on items released by the Rejuvenation Clinic. The published literature hints at problems in the last stage-activating the female clone-zygote with the memories and experiences-the 'personality' if you prefer that term-of the parent main. When to terminate the parent male-or whether to terminate it at all-suggests several problems. But I am unable to say what research has been suppressed."

Lazarus turned to me. "Do you permit that, Ira? Suppression of research?"

"I don't interfere, Lazarus. But I didn't know this research was going on. Let's find out." I turned to the Administrator for Rejuvenation, shifted to Galacta, and explained what we had been discussing and asked what progress had been made with humans.

I turned back with my ears burning. As soon as I mentioned humans in this connection, she had interrupted me abruptly-as if I had said something offensive-and stated that such experimentation was proscribed.

I translated her answer. Lazarus nodded. "I read the kid's face; I could see the answer was No. Well, Minerva, that seems to be that I am not about to attempt chromosome surgery on myself-somebody swiped my jackknife."

"Perhaps that is not quite the end," Minerva replied. "Ira, did you notice that Ishtar said only that such research was 'proscribed'? She did not say that it had not taken place. I have just made a most thorough semantic analysis of the published literature for truth-and-falsity implications. I conclude that the probability approaches certainty that much pertinent research on humans has taken place even though it may no longer be going on. Do you wish to order it released, sir? I am certain that I can freeze their computer quickly enough to prevent erasure, assuming that an erasure program guards it."

"Let's not do anything drastic," drawled Lazarus. "There may be good reason for a 'hold' on this stuff. I'm forced to assume that these johnnies know more about it than I do. Besides, I'm not sure I want to be a guinea pig. Let's put it on the back of the fire, Minerva. Ira, I'm not sure I would be me without my Y chromosome. To say nothing of those jolly hints of how you transfer the personality and at what point to kill off the male. Me, that is."

"Lazarus-"

"Yes, Minerva?"

"The published literature makes one option both certain and safe. This method can be used to create your twin sister-identical rather than fraternal, save for sex. A host mother is indicated, with no forcing to maturity, since the brain would be allowed to develop normally. Would this meet your standards of newness and interest? To watch yourself grow up as a woman? 'Lazuli Long,' you might name her-your female other self."

"Uh-" Lazarus stopped.

I said dryly, "Grandfather, I think I've won our second bet. Something new. Something interesting."

"Now slow up! You can't do it, you don't know how. Nor do I. And the Director of this madhouse appears to have moral scruples about it-"

"We don't know that. Mere inference."

"Not so 'mere.' And I may have moral scruples. 'Twouldn't interest me unless I stuck around and watched her grow up which might send me crazy either through trying to make her grow up just like me-what a fate for any girl!-or by trying to keep her from growing up as ornery as I am when that would be her nature. Nor would I be justified either way; she would be a separate human being, not my slave. Besides that, I would be her sole parent-no mother. I've had one crack at trying to raise a daughter alone-it's not fair to the girl."

"You're inventing objections, Lazarus. I'll give long odds that Ishtar would gladly be both host mother and foster mother. Especially if you promised Ishtar a son of her own. Shall I ask her?'

"You keep your biscuit trap shut, Son! Minerva, place that on - 'pending'-I won't be hurried into a major decision about another person. Especially one who isn't, quite. Ira, remind me to tell you about the twins who were no relation to each other. But twins."

"Preposterous. You're changing the subject."

"So I am. Minerva, what else do you have, girl?"

"Lazarus, I have one program which involves low hazard and a probability approaching certainty of supplying one-or more-experiences completely new to you."

"I'm listening."

"Suspended animation-"

"What's new about that? We had that when I was a kid, hardly two hundred years old. Used it in the 'New Frontiers.' Didn't attract me then, doesn't now."

"-as a means of time travel. If you stipulate that in X number of years, something truly new will develop-a certainty based on history-then your only problem is to select whatever span of years will, in your opinion, produce the degree of novelty you seek. One hundred years, one thousand, ten thousand, whatever you say. The rest involves nothing but minor design details."

"Not so 'minor' if I'm going to be asleep and unable to protect myself."

"But you need not go into hibernation until you are satisfied with my design, Lazarus. A hundred years is obviously no problem. A thousand years is not much problem. For ten thousand years I would design an artificial planetoid equipped with fail-safes to insure that you would be revived automatically in case of emergency."

"That would take quite some designing, girl."

"I feel confident of my capacity to do it, Lazarus, but you are free to criticize and reject any part of it. However, there is no point in my submitting preliminary designs until you give me the controlling parameter, namely the time span, which in your opinion will produce something new to you. Or do you wish my advice on that?"

"Uh, hold your horses, dear. Let's assume that you've got me in liquid helium and in free fall and thoroughly protected against ionizing radiation-"

"No problem, Lazarus."

"So I stipulated, dear; Fm not underrating you. But suppose some tiny little fail-safe fails null instead and I go on snoozing through the centuries-and millennia-without end. Not dead. But not revived, either."

"I can and will design to avoid that. But let me accept your stipulation. In such case, how would you be worse off than you would be if you used your termination-option switch? What do you lose by trying this?"

"Why, that's obvious! If there is anything to this immortality talk-or any sort of afterlife-I'm not saying there is or isn't-but if there is, then when the 'Roll Is Called Up Yonder,' I won't be there. I'll be asleep but not dead, somewhere off in space. I'll miss the last boat."

"Grandfather," I said impatiently, "quit trying to wiggle out. If you don't want it, just say No. But Minerva has certainly offered you a way to reach something new. If there is anything to your argument-which I don't admit-you will have achieved something really unique: the only human being out of many billions to fail to show up for muster on this hypothetical-and-highly-unlikely Judgment Day. I wouldn't put it past you, you old scoundrel; you're slippery."

He ignored my slur. "Why 'highly unlikely'?"

"Because it is. I won't argue it."

"Because you can't argue it," he retorted. "There isn't any evidence for or against-so how can you assign even a loose probability either way? I was pointing out the desirability, if there happens to be anything to it, of playing it kosher. Minerva, hold that under 'pending,' too. The idea has everything you claim for it, and I don't doubt your ability as- a designer. But, like testing a parachute, it's a one-way trip with no chance to change my mind after I jump. So we'll look over all other ideas before falling back on that one-even if it takes years."

"I will continue, Lazarus."

"Thanks, Minerva." Lazarus looked thoughtful as he picked his teeth with a thumbnail-we were eating, but I have not mentioned breaks for refreshment, nor will I again. You may assume any food and rest breaks that make you feel comfortable. Like Scheherazade's tales, the Senior's anecdotes were chopped up by many irrelevant interruptions.

"Lazarus-"

"Eh, Son? I was daydreaming...of a far country and the wench is dead. Sorry."

"You could help Minerva in this search."

"So? Seems unlikely. She's better equipped to conduct a needle-in-a-haystack search than I am-she impresses me."

"Yes. But she needs data. There are these great gaps in what we know about you. If we knew-if Minerva knew- those fifty-odd professions you've followed, she might be able to cancel several thousand possibility pockets. For example, have you ever been a farmer?"

"Several times."

"So? Now that she knows that, she won't suggest anything relating to agriculture. While there may be sorts of farming you have never done, none would be novel enough to meet your stringent requirements. Why not list the things you have done?"

"Doubt if I can remember them all."

"That can't be helped. But listing what you do remember may call to mind others."

"Uh...let me think. One thing I always did every time I reached an inhabited planet was to study law. Not to practice-not usually, although for a number of years I was a very criminal lawyer-on San Andreas, that was. But to understand the ground rules. Hard to show a profit-or to conceal one-if you don't know how the game is played. It's much safer to break a law knowingly than to do so through ignorance.

"But that backfired once and I wound up as High Justice of a planetary Supreme Court-just in time to save my bacon. And neck.

"Let me see. Farmer, and lawyer, and judge, and I told you I had practiced medicine. Skipper of many sorts of craft, mostly for exploration but sometimes for cargo or migrant transport-and once an armed privateer with a crew of rogues you wouldn't take home to mother. Schoolteacher-lost that job when they caught me teaching the kids the raw truth, a capital offense anywhere in the Galaxy. In the slave trade once but from underneath-I was a slave."

I blinked at that. "I can't imagine it."

"Unfortunately I didn't have to imagine it. Priest-"

I had to interrupt again. "Priest'? Lazarus, you said, or implied, that you had no religious faith of any sort."

"Did I? But 'faith' is for the congregation, Ira; it handicaps a priest. Professor in a parlor house-"

"Excuse me again. Idiomatic usage?"

"Eh? Manager of a bordello...although I did play the pianette a little, and sang. Don't laugh; I had a pretty good singing voice then. This was on Mars-you've heard of Mars?"

"Next planet out from Old Home Terra. Sol Four."

"Yes. Not a planet we'd bother with today. But this was before Andy Libby changed things. It was even before China destroyed Europe but after America dropped out of the spacing business, which left me stranded. I left Earth after that meeting of 2012 and didn't go back for a spell-which saved me much unpleasantness, I shouldn't complain. If that meeting had gone the other way- No, I'm wrong; when a fruit is ripe, it will fall, and the United States was rotten ripe. Don't ever become a pessimist, Ira; a pessimist is correct oftener than an optimist, but an optimist has more fun- and neither can stop the march of events.

"But we were speaking of Mars and the job I had there. A fill-in job for coffee and cakes-but pleasant, I was also the bouncer. The girls were all nice girls, and it was a pleasure to throw out some slob who was misbehaving toward them. Throw him so hard he bounced. Then blacklist him so he couldn't come back. One or two like that every evening and the word got around that 'Happy' Daze demanded gentlemanly behavior toward the ladies, no matter how big a spender a man was.

Whoring is like military service, Ira-okay in the upper brackets, not so good lower down. These girls were constantly getting offers to buy up their contracts and get married- and all of them did get married, I think, but they were making money so fast that they weren't anxious to grab the first offer. Mainly because, when I took over, I put a stop to the fixed price the governor of the colony had set, and reinstated the Law of Supply and Demand. There was no reason why those kids shouldn't charge every ruble the traffic would bear.

"Had trouble over that until the Governor's Provost for Rest and Culture got it through his thick head that slave wages won't work in a scarcity situation. Mars was unpleasant enough without trying to cheat those few who made it tolerable. Or even delightful when they were happy in their work. Whores perform the same function as priests, Ira, but far more thoroughly.

"Let me see- I've been wealthy many times and always lost it, usually through governments inflating the money, or confiscating-'nationalizing' or 'liberating'-something I owned. 'Put not your faith in princes,' Ira; since they don't produce, they always steal. I've been broke even oftener than I've been wealthy. Of the two, being broke is more interesting, as a man who doesn't know where his next meal is coming from is never bored. He may be angry or several other things-but not bored. His predicament sharpens his thoughts, spurs him into action, adds zest to his life, whether he knows it or not. Can trap him, of course; that's why food is the usual bait for traps. But that's the intriguing part about being broke: how to solve it without being trapped. A hungry man tends to lose his judgment-a man who has missed seven meals is often ready to kill-rarely a solution.

"Advertising copywriter, actor-but I was very broke that time-acolyte, construction engineer and several other sorts, and even more sorts of mechanic, for I've always believed that an intelligent man can turn his hand to anything if he will take time to learn how it works. Not that I insisted on skilled work when my next meal was at stake; I've often pushed an idiot stick-"

"Idiom?"

"An old gandy-dancer expression, Son, a stick with a shovel blade on one end and an idiot on the other. I was never that for more than a few days, just long enough to sort out the local setup. Political manager-I was even a reform politician once...but only once: Reform politicians not only tend to be dishonest but stupidly dishonest-whereas the business politician is honest."

"I don't see that Lazarus. History seems to show-".

"Use your head, Ira. I don't mean that a business politician won't steal; stealing is his business. But all politicians are nonproductive. The only commodity any politician has to offer is jawbone. His personal integrity-meaning, if he gives his word, can you rely on it? A successful business politician knows this and guards his reputation for sticking by his commitments-because he wants to stay in business-go on stealing, that is-not only this week but next year and years after that. So if he's smart enough to be successful at this very exacting trade, he can have the morals of a snapping turtle, but he performs in such a way as not to jeopardize the only thing he has to sell, his reputation for keeping promises.

"But a reform politician has no such lodestone. His devotion is to the welfare of all the people-an abstraction of very high order and therefore capable of endless definitions. If indeed it can be defined in meaningful terms. In consequence your utterly sincere and incorruptible reform politician is capable of breaking his word three times before breakfast- not from personal dishonesty, as he sincerely regrets the necessity and will tell you so-but from unswerving devotion to his ideal.

"All it takes to get him to break his word is for someone to get his ear and convince him that it is necessary for the greater good of all the peepul. He'll geek.

"After he gets hardened to this, he's capable of cheating at solitaire. Fortunately he rarely stays in office long-except during the decay and fall of a culture."

I said, "I must take your word for it, Lazarus. Since I have spent most of my life on Secundus, I know little of politics other than theoretically. You set it up that way."

The Senior fixed me with a stare of cold scorn. "I did no such thing."

"But-"

"Oh, hush. You are a politician yourself-a 'business' politician, I hope-but that stunt of transporting your dissidents gives me doubts. Minerva! 'Notebook,' dear. My intention in deeding Secundus to the Foundation was to set up a cheap and simple government-a constitutional tyranny. One in which the government was forbidden to do most things and the dear people, bless their black flabby little hearts, were given no voice at all.

"I didn't have much hope for it. Man is a political animal, Ira. You can, no more keep him from politicking than you can keep him from copulating-and probably shouldn't try. But I was young then, and hopeful. I hoped to keep politicking in the private sphere, keep it out of government. I thought the setup might last a century or so; I'm amazed that it has lasted as long as it has. Not good. This planet is overripe for revolution-and if Minerva doesn't find me something better to do, I might show up under another name, with my hair dyed and my nose bobbed, and start one. So be warned, Ira."

I shrugged. "You forget I'm migrating."

"Ah, yes. Though the prospect, of suppressing a, revolution might change your mind. Or perhaps you would like to be my chief of staff-then displace me with a coup d'etat after the shooting is over and send me to the guillotine. That would be something new-I've never tended to lose my head over politics. Doesn't leave much for an encore, does it? 'A tisket, a tasket, a head in a basket-it cannot reply to questions you ask it.' Final curtain, no bows.

"But revolutions can be fun. Did I tell you how I worked my way through college? Operating a Gatling gun for five dollars a day and loot. Never got higher than corporal because each time I had enough money for another semester, I deserted-and, being a mercenary, I was never tempted to become a dead hero. But adventure and change of scene are appealing to a young man...and I was very young.* (* The Gatling gun (Richard J. Gatling, 1818-1903) was obsolete by the time Lazarus Long was born. This allegation is barely possible if one stipulates that an obsolete might be used in some small, out-of-the-way insurrection. J.F.45th)

"But dirt, and missing meals, and the wheet of bullets past your ears stop being glamorous as you grow up; the next time I was in the military-not entirely my idea-I chose Navy instead. Wet Navy, although I was space Navy at later times and under other names.

"I've sold almost everything-except slaves-and worked as a mind-reader in a traveling show, and was a king once- a much overrated profession, the hours are too long-and designed women's styles under a phony French name and accent and with my hair long. Almost the only time I've worn long hair, Ira; not only does long hair need a lot of timewasting care, it gives your opponent something to grab in close combat and can obscure your view at a critical moment-either one can be fatal. But I don't favor a billiard-ball cut because a thick mat of hair-not so long as to fall over your eyes-can save you a nasty scalp wound."

Lazarus appeared to stop to think. "Ira, I don't see how I can list all the things I've done to support myself and my wives and kids, even if I could remember them. The longest I ever stuck to one job was about half a century-very special circumstances-and the shortest was from after breakfast to just before lunch-again, special circumstance. But no matter where or what, there are makers, takers, and fakers. I prefer the first category but I haven't spurned the other two. Whenever I was a family man-usually, that is-I haven't let compunctions stop me from keeping food on the table. I won't steal another child's food to feed my own-but there is always some way not too sickeningly fake to garner valuta if a man isn't too picky-which I never was whenever I had family obligations.

"You can sell things which have no intrinsic value, such as stories or songs-I've worked every branch of the entertainment profession...including a time in the capital of Fatima when I squatted in the marketplace with a brass bowl in front of me, telling a story longer than this one, and waiting at cliff-hangers for the clink of a coin.

"I was reduced to that because my ship had been confiscated and foreigners weren't permitted to work without a permit-a high squeeze on the theory that jobs should be reserved for local citizens, there being a depression. Telling stories without a fee wasn't classed as work, nor was it begging-which required a license-and cops let me alone as long as I volunteered the customary daily gift to the Police Benevolent Fund.

"It was either get by with some such dodge or be reduced to stealing-difficult in a culture in which one is not sophisticated in the local customs. Still, I would have risked it save that I had a wife and three small children~. That hobbled me, Ira; a family man should not take risks that a bachelor finds acceptable.

"So I sat there till my tailbone wore through the cobblestones, recounting everything from Grimm's fairy tales to, Shakespeare's plays, and not letting my wife spend money on anything but food until we saved enough to buy that work permit plus the customary cumshaw. Then I clobbered 'em, Ira."

"How, Lazarus?"

"Slowly but thoroughly. Those months in the marketplace had given me a degree of sophistication in the 'Who's-Whom' of that society and what its sacred cows were. Then I stayed on for years-no choice. But first I was baptised into the local religion, gaining a more acceptable name in the process, and memorized the Qur'an. Not quite the same Qur'an I had known some centuries earlier, but it was worth the effort.

"I'll skip over how I got into the Tinkers' Guild and got my first job repairing television receivers-had my pay docked to cover my contribution to the guild, that is, with a private arrangement to the Grand Master Tinker, not too expensive. This society was retarded in technology; its customs didn't encourage progress, and they had slipped behind what they had fetched from Earth about five centuries earlier. That made me a wizard, Ira, and could have got me hanged bad I not been careful to be a faithful-and openhanded-son of the church. So once I got into position for it, I peddled fresh electronics and stale astrology-using knowledge they didn't have for one and a free imagination for the other.

"Eventually I was chief stooge to the very official who had confiscated my ship and trade goods years earlier, and I was helping him get richer while getting rich myself. If he recognized me, he never said so-a beard changes my looks quite a lot. Unfortunately he fell into disfavor and I wound up with his job."

"How did you work that, Lazarus? Without being caught, I mean?"

"Now, now, Ira! He was my benefactor. It said so in my contract and I always addressed him as such. Allah's ways are mysterious. I cast a horoscope for him, warning him that his stars were in bad shape. And so they were. That system is one of the few I know of with two usable planets around the same star, both colonized and with trade between them. Artifacts and slaves-"

"'Slaves,' Lazarus? While I am aware of such a practice on Supreme, I didn't think that vice was very common. Not economic."

The old man closed his eyes, kept them closed so long I thought he had fallen asleep (he often did during the early days of these talks). Then he opened them and spoke very grimly:

"Ira, this vice is far more common than historians usually mention. Uneconomic, yes-a slave society can't compete with a free one. But with the Galaxy as wide as it is, there is usually no such competition. Slavery can and does exist many times and places, whenever the Laws are rigged to permit it.

"I said that I would do almost anything to support my wives and kids-and I have; I have shoveled human excrement for a pittance, standing in it up to my knees, rather than let a child go hungry. But this I will not touch. Nor is it because I was once a slave myself; I have always felt this way. Call it a 'belief' or dignify it as a deep moral conviction. Whatever it is, for me it is beyond argument. If the human animal has any value at all, he is too valuable to be property. If he has any inner dignity, he is much too proud to own other, men. I don't give a damn how scrubbed and perfumed he may be, a slaveowner is subhuman.

"But this does not mean that I'll cut my throat when I run into it, or I would not have lived through my first century. For there is another bad thing about slavery, Ira; it is impossible to free slaves, they have to free themselves."

Lazarus scowled. "You've got me preaching again and about matters I can't possibly prove. Once I got my hands on my ship, I had it fumigated and checked it over myself and had it loaded with items I thought I could sell and had food and water taken on for the human cargo it had been refitted for, and sent the captain and crew on a week's leave, and notified the Protector of Servants-the state slave factor, that is-that we would load as soon as the skipper and purser were back.

"Then I took my family on a holiday inspection of the ship. Somehow the Protector of Servants was suspicious; he insisted on touring the ship with us. So we had to take him along when we took off from there, very suddenly, shortly after my family was aboard. Right out of that system and never went back. But before we put down on a civilized planet, me and. my boys-two almost grown by then-removed any sign that she had ever been a slaver, even though it mean jettisoning stuff I could have sold."

"What about the Protector of Servants?" I asked. "Wasn't he some trouble to you?"

"Wondered if you would notice that. I spaced the bastard! Alive. He went thataway, eyes popped out and peeing blood. What did you expect me to do? Kiss him?"