VARIATIONS ON A THEME-XIV

Bacchanalia

            After the track through the gormtrees at the northern edge of Boondock swings right, one has a view of the home of Lazarus Long, but I hardly noticed it when I first saw it; I was much bemused by a statement by Minerva Long. Me her father? Me?

            The Senior said, "Close your mouth, Son; you're making a draft. Dear, you startled him."

            "Oh, dear!"

            "Now quit looking like a frightened fawn, or I'll be forced to hold your nose and administer two ounces of eighty-proof ethanol disguised as fruit juice; You've done nothing wrong. Justin, does disguised ethanol interest you?"

            "Yes," I agreed fervently. "I recall a time in my youth when that and one other subject were all I was interested in."

            "If the other subject wasn't women, we'll find a monastic cubbyhole where you can drink alone. But it was-I know more about you than you think. All right, we'll have a libation or six. Not those two, they're potential alcoholics."

            "Slanderous-"

            "-though regrettably true-"

            "-but we did it only once-"

            "-and won't do it again!"

            "Don't commit yourself too far, kids; a brannigan might sneak up on you. Better to know your resistance than to be tripped through ignorance. Grow up, put on some mass, and you'll be able to cope with it. Or Ishtar mixed up your genes, which she didn't. Now about this other matter, Justin~ Yes, you're one of Minerva's parents...and that's a very high compliment, because those twenty-three chromosome pairs were picked from tissues of thousands of superior people, using fearsome mathematics to handle the multiplicity of variables, plus Ishtar's knowledge of genetics, and some unnecessary advice from me, before this little darling got the precise mix she wanted to be."

            I started to set up the type problem in my head-yes, that would be some problem, extremely more difficult than the ordinary genetics problem of advising one male and one female-then dropped it, as I had its delightful answer by her left hand. Lazarus was still speaking:

"Minerva could have been male, two meters tall, massing a hundred kilos, built like Joe Colossus, and hung like a stallion mule. Instead she elected to be what she is: slender, female, shy- I'm not sure she selected for that last. Did you, dear?"

            "No, Lazarus; no one knows which genes control that. I think I get it from Hamadryad."

            "I think you got it from a computer I used to know-and took along all of it as Athene certainly is not shy. Never mind. Some of Minerva's donor-parents are dead; some are alive but unaware that a bit of tissue from a clone in stasis or from the live-tissue bank was borrowed-as in your case. Some know that they are donor-parents-me, for example, and you heard Hamadryad mentioned. You'll meet others, some being on Tertius, where it's no secret. But consanguinity is not close for anyone. One twenty-third? The genetic advisers wouldn't run that through a computer; it's an acceptable risk. Plus the fact that none of us donor-parents of Minerva have any known skeletons hanging on our family trees. You could safely have progeny by her; so could I."

            "But you refused me!" Minerva startled me with the vehemence with which she accused Lazarus of this. For a moment she was not shy; her eyes flashed.

            "Now, now, dear. You were only a year out of vitro and not fully grown even though Ishtar forced you past menarche still in vitro. Ask me on another occasion; I might startle you."

            "'Startle' me, or surprise me?"

            "Never mind that old joke. Justin, I simply wanted to make clear that your relationship to Minerva, while close enough that it makes Minerva feel sentimental, is in fact so small that you barely qualify as a 'kissing cousin.'"

            "I feel very sentimental about it," I told the Senior. "Most pleased and deeply honored-although I can't guess why I was picked."

            "If you want to know which chromosome pair was swiped from you, and why, you had best ask Ishtar and get her to consult Athene; I doubt if Minerva still knows."

            "But I do know; I saved those memories. Justin, I wanted to retain some ability in mathematics. It was a choice between you and Libby Professor Owens-so I chose you; you are my friend."

            (Well! I respect Jake Hardy-Owens; I'm merely an applied mathematician, he is a brilliant theoretician.) "Whatever your reasons, dear kissing cousin, I am delighted that you chose me as one of your donor-fathers."

            "Grounded, Commodore!" announced one of the duplicate redheads-Lapis Lazuli-as the little nullboat clumped to a stop. (It appeared to be a Corson Farmsled and I was surprised to see it in a new Colony.) Lazarus answered, "Thank you, Captain."

            The twins bounced out; the Senior and I handed Minerva out-unnecessary help that she accepted with gracious dignity, that being another aspect of colonial life that surprised me, New Rome being rather short on such archaic ceremony. (Over and again I found the Boondockers to be both more formally polite, and more casually relaxed about it, than are Secundians. I suppost my notions of frontier life had been fed on too many romances: rough, bearded men fighting off dangerous animals, mules hauling covered wagons toward distant horizons.)

            "Captain" Lazuli said, "Humpty Dumpty- go to bed!" The nullboat waddled away; the little girls joined us, one taking my free hand, the other taking the Senior's free hand, with Minerva between us. These freckled flametops would have had my whole attention had not Minerva been there. I am not compulsively fond of children; some youngsters seem to me rather poisonous, especially precocious ones. But in their case I found their solemn precocity charming rather than irritating...and to see the Senior's features, rugged rather than handsome and with that too-large nose, unmistakably reproduced but transformed into piquant girlish features-well, had I been alone, I would have chuckled with delight.

*

            I said "Just a moment," and held onto Lorelei's hand and thereby caused, all to pause while I took a second look. "Lazarus, who is the architect?"

            "I don't know," he said. "Dead more than four thousand years. The original belonged to the political boss of Pompeii, a city destroyed about that long ago. I saw a model of it, restored, in a museum in a place called Denver, and took pictures; it pleased me. Those pictures are long gone, but it turned out that, when I tried to describe it to Athene, she had a solly in the historical section of her gizzards of the ruins of that same house-and from that and my description, she designed this version. Some minor mods, nothing that changed its sweet proportions. Then Athene built it, using extensionals and radio links. It's practical for this climate; the weather here is much like that of Pompeii-and I prefer a house that looks inward, on a court. Safer, even in a place as safe as this one."

            "By the way, where is Athene? The main computer itself, I mean."

            "Here. She was still in the 'Dora' when she built this; now she's under the house-she built her underground home first, then built our house on top of it."

            Minerva said simply, "A computer prefers to feel safe, and close to her own people. Lazarus-forgive me, dear, but you have reversed a time sequence; that was more than three years ago."

            "Oh, so I have. Minerva, when you have lived as long as I have-and you will-you'll find yourself inverting time sequences endlessly, a flesh-and-blood shortcoming you had to accept when you took the plunge. Correction, Justin- 'Minerva,' not 'Athene.'"

            "Yet it is Athene who built it-now," Minerva added, "since engineering and the details of this construction and others are things I left behind in Athene, where they belong, and abstracted only a simplified memory of having built it-I wanted to remember that much."

            I said, "Whoever built it, it's beautiful." I was suddenly upset. It is one thing to accept intellectually the startling idea that a young woman has had a former life as a computer- and even to accept that one had worked with that computer years back and light-years away. But this discussion suddenly brought home to me emotional belief that this lovely girl with her arm warm in mine had in sober fact been a computer so short a time ago that she had built this new house- while a computer. It shook me-even though I am a historiographer, old, and my sense of wonder was dulled even before my first rejuvenation.

            We went in, and my upset was swept away by greetings. We were kissed all around-two beautiful young women, one of whom I recognized when I heard her name, Ira's daughter Hamadryad and she looks like one, the other a statuesque blonde whose name, Ishtar, was familiar to me through talk, and a young man as beautiful as the women and who seemed familiar though I could not place him. Even the twin flametops insisted on kissing me since they had not greeted me that way earlier.

            In Boondock a kiss of greeting is not the ritual peck it usually is in New Rome; even the twins bussed me in a fashion that made me certain of their sex-I've had poorer kisses from grown women whose intentions were direct and immediate. But the young man, introduced as "Galahad," startled me. He hugged me, with kisses on my cheeks followed by a kiss on my mouth worthy of a Ganymede- which surprised me, but I tried to return as good as I got.

            Instead of letting me go, he pounded my back and said, "Justin, it tickles my root to see you again! Oh, this is wonderful!"

            I pulled my face back to look at his. I must have looked puzzled for he blinked, then said mournfully: "Ish, I boasted too soon! Hamadear, get me a towel, I'm weeping. He's forgotten me...after all the things he said."

            I said, "Obadiah Jones, what are you doing here?"

            "Weeping. Being humiliated in front of my family."

            I don't know how long it had been since I had seen him. It may have been more than a century since it has been that long since I left the Howard campus. Brilliant young specialist in ancient cultures he was then, with an impish sense of humor. I recalled, dredging it up out of memory, having shared a Seven Hours with him and two other savants, both female and happily so-but I could not recall their faces nor who they were; what I remembered was his playful, joyous, boisterous good company. "Obadiah," I said sternly, "why are you calling yourself 'Galahad'? Hiding from the police again? Lazarus, I'm shocked to find this, uh, macho in your house- lock up your daughters!"

            "Oh, that name" he said brokenly. "Don't repeat it, Justin. They don't know it. When I reformed, I changed my name. You won't give me away? Promise me, dear!" Suddenly he grinned and said in a cheerful voice, "Come on into the atrium and let's get a skinful of rum into you. Lazi, who has the duty?"

            "Lori does. Even-numbered day. But I'll help. Straight rum?"

            "Better flavor it. I want to add a welcome the Borgias used on old friends."

            "Sure thing, Uncle Cuddly. Who are the Borgias?"

            "A family from the greatest days of Old Earth's rise and fall, sugar lump. The Howards of their time. Very suave in handling guests. I'm descended from them, and their secrets were passed down to me by word of mouth."

            "Laz," said Lazarus, "ask Athene for a rundown on the Borgias before you mix a drink for Justin."

            "I see; he's at it again-"

            "-so we'll tickle him-

            "-and blow in his ears-

            "-until he cries Pax-

            "-and promises Veritas-

            "-he's no problem. Come on, Lazi."

            I had found the village of Boondock pleasantly unimpressive, more pleasant and less impressive than I had expected. Ira and Lazarus had accepted only seven thousand for their first wave from applicants numbering more than ninety thousand; therefore the present population of Tertius could not be much over ten thousand and was in fact slightly less.

            Boondock seemed to have only a few hundred people and was centered on a few small buildings for public and semipublic purposes, most colonists being scattered around the countryside. The home of Lazarus Long was by far the most impressive structure I had seen-not counting the large flat cone of the Senior's yacht and the much larger bulk of one robot space freighter on the skyfield where my packet had grounded. (The skyfield was a level place a few kilometers across; one could not call it a port. There was not one godown. It must have an autobeacon since I grounded safely; I did not see it.)

            This rudimentary settlement had not prepared me for the Senior's house. Its lines and plan were simple; that long-dead Roman had picked a good designer. It was a walled garden, the house itself being its four walls. But it had two stories, and each level could have been divided, it seemed to me, into twelve to sixteen large rooms plus the usual ancillary spaces. Twenty-four or more rooms for a household of eight? The more blatantly rich in New Rome might display ego in so much space, but it seemed inappropriate in a new colony, as well as out of tune with what I had learned in my long research of the Senior's lives.

            Simple- Half the building was given over to a rejuvenation clinic, a therapy clinic, an infirmary; these could be reached from the foyer without entering the private part of the house.

The number of family rooms remaining was indefinite; most interior walls were movable. The Howard Clinic and the medical facilities would be moved to a nearby site when the colony needed larger facilities, when size of the Senior's family made more home space desirable.

            (I was lucky in that, when I arrived, no client was being rejuvenated, no patient was in the infirmary-or most of the adults would have been busy.)

            The size of his family seemed as hazy as the number of rooms. I had thought there were eight-three men, the Senior, Ira, and Galahad; three women, Ishtar, Hamadryad, and Minerva; two youngsters, Lorelei Lee and Lapis Lazuli-but I was not aware of two girl toddlers and a small boy. Besides that, I was neither the first nor the last to be urged to move in and stay as long as one wished. Whether such stay was as a guest or as a member of the Senior's family might also be unclear to an outsider.

            Relationships inside his family also were vague. Colonists are always families; a single colonist is a contradiction in terms. But all of Tertius Colony were Howards, and we Howards have used every sort of marriage, I think, except lifetime monogamy.

            But Tertius has no laws about marriage; the Senior had not thought them necessary. The few laws it has are in the migration contract, written by Ira and Lazarus jointly. It contains the usual covenants about homesteading, with the colony leader absolute arbitrator until such time as he resigns. But it says not one word about marriage and family relationships. The colonists register their babies; Howards always do-in this case with the Computer Athene as surrogate for the Archives. But I found when I reviewed these records that parentage of children was expressed in genetic classification code, not by marriages and putative ancestry. This system the Families' geneticists have been urging for generations (and I agree), but it does make a genealogist work harder, especially if marriages have not been registered at all, as was sometimes the case.

            I found one couple with eleven children, six his, five hers, none theirs. I understood it when I read their codes-utterly incompatible. I met them later, a fine family on a prosperous farm and no suggestion that the swarm of children were anything hut "theirs."

            But the Senior's family was even more vague. Genetic ancestry in each case was a matter of record, surely-but who was married to whom?

            Their bathing room was as "decadent" as had been promised; it was a lounging room, as well as a refresher, and planned for family relaxation and entertaining. It stretched all along the ground floor on the side facing the foyer across the inner garden, and its walls could be pushed back to open it to the garden in clement weather-which this was and quite warm.

            It had anything a jaundiced Sybarite could ask for: a fountain in its center matching a fountain in the garden and each with comfortably wide rims to sit on while soaking tired feet and enjoying a drink; a sauna in one corner; a huge happy shower at the other end with space for several cycles to be enjoyed at once without waiting turns; a companion querafansible with sophisticated controls; a long soaking pool knee-deep at the blue end to chin-deep at the red, and flanked by two bathing pools lavish for one person and comfortable for two or three; couches for napping, for cooling, for sweating, for intimate talk and touch; a cosmetics table with a big duomirror in which one could see her back as readily as her front simply by asking Athene's help; a corner big enough for a dozen people in which floor cushioning was bed-soft and lavish with pillows large and small, firm and soft; a refreshments counter which backed onto their kitchen-and if I failed to name something, it is my omission, not that of the designers. All the more commonplace items were of course at hand.

            I had thought that the lighting was random until I realized that Athene was changing it endlessly so as not to shine it in anyone's eyes while changing the light level in all parts of that big room to match what was going on-high key for makeup, subdued light for lounging, and so on-and to match personalities too; our little redheads were crowned with light no matter how they bounced around-as they did.

            Soft music was there and in the garden, or on request anywhere, selected by Athene unless someone asked for something-it seemed as if she had stored in her all the music that ever was written. Or she might harmonize with the twins while continuing to take part in three different conversations in other parts of the bath lounge. A self-aware computer of her capacity-great enough to manage Secundus-can and often must talk simultaneously at many places, but I had never encountered it before in such a way as to notice it. But big computers are not often members of a family.

            The rest of the house was almost unautomated-a matter of taste as Athene's capacity was largely unused. My hostesses actually cooked, with Athene helping only by seeing to it that nothing burned and watching the timing in other ways- twice on Athene's advice Hamadryad left the bath lounge, once in such a hurry that she fled bare and dripping, not stopping to grab a towel robe.

            Bathing with Lazi and Lori is indeed "squirmy but fun," plus squeals, giggles, chatter in which one sentence would be chopped several times before one of them put a period on it (I hypothesized that they were telepathic with each other and had an uneasy suspicion that they sometimes read thoughts of persons in their presence but was not anxious to find out) -all charmingly blunt and childishly innocent.

            First they slathered me all over with scented liquid soap and demanded the same service from me and threatened me with chin quivering when I held back a little, and said loudly that "Uncle Cuddly" (my old friend Obadiah, now Galahad) washed them better than that and everybody knows how lazy he is-or didn't I like them well enough to soapy-cuddle them and if they married me, would I go along with them in their spaceship, and while they were still virgins, though not from lack of opportunity, don't worry about that one bit as both Mama Hamadryad and Mama Ishtar were coaching them in beginning and advanced sensuality and would speed up the course if I happened to want to marry them now-won't you, Mama Hamalambie?-tell him!

            Hamadryad from a meter away (she was soaping Ira) assured us that she would, if they could persuade me to marry them that quickly. I assumed that the youngsters were farcing me and that their mother-one of their mothers-was going along with the jest. I've wondered since whether I missed a diamond opportunity. Lazarus was in hearing distance; he did not tell them to stop teasing me, he simply advised me not to offer them more than a ten-year contract as their span of attention was limited-which made them indignant-and advised them that, if they intended to get married that night, they had better trim their toenails first, which made them still more indignant so they stopped bathing me to assault him from both sides.

            This wound up with one of them under each of his arms and still struggling. Lazarus asked if I would accept custody or should he drop them into the deep end of the soak?

            I accepted custody, and we showered each other off and went into the soak pool together-and I was standing in it up to my shoulders with my back to the garden, and supporting them a little, an arm each, as their toes did not touch bottom, when someone placed hands over my eyes.

            The twins squealed, "Aunt Tammy!" and levitated out of the water while I turned to look.

            Tamara Sperling- I had thought she was on Secundus, in retirement up country. Tamara the Superb, the Superlative, the Unique-in my opinion (and many others) the greatest artist of her profession. I feel sure that I am not the only man who chose when she left New Rome to remain celibate for a long time.

            She had come in, seen that the family was in the bath lounge, dropped her gown in the garden, hurried in without stopping to remove her high sandals, spotted me, and blindfolded me with her lovely hands.

            Why? She was my dinner partner-and (if I could rely on an exchange I had heard that afternoon) willing to be my guest wife if I were willing. Willing? Fifty years earlier I had offered her any contract she would accept every time she let me visit her and had finally shut up only after she had told me repeatedly, patiently, and gently that she did not intend to have more children and would not marry again for any other purpose.

            But there she was, rejuvenated (not that it mattered), looking gloriously young and healthy-and a colonist. I wondered who the man was who had persuaded her to do this? I envied him and wondered what superhuman qualities he possessed-but whatever they were, if Tamara was willing to share a bed with me even for one night and only for old times' sake, I would take what the gods offered and not worry about him; her wealth is endlessly divisible. Tamara!-bells sound at her name.

            She kissed two wet little girls, then dropped to her knees and kissed me.

            Then she said softly, rubbing her mouth against mine, "You darling. When I heard you were here, I hurried. Mi laroona d' vashti meedth du?"

            "Yes! And any other night you have free."

            "Not so fast with English, doreeth mi; I learning it slowly-because my daughter wants her assistants in rejuvenation to speak language not known to most clients...and because our family speaks English much as Galacta."

            "You are now a rejuvenator? And have a daughter here?"

            "lshtar datter mi-did you not know, petsan mi-mi? Nay, I am nurse only. But studying I am and Ishtar hope-tells that I will be assistant technician in half handful of years. Good- nay?"

            "Good, I suppose. But what a loss to the art!"

            "Blandjor," she said happily, tousling my wet hair. "Even though rejuvenated-did you note?-here the art pays no living. Too many willing ones, sweeter and younger and prettier." The twins had stayed with us, listening and quiet for a moment. Tamara reached out both arms, hugged them to her. "Example. These my granddaughters. Eager to grow tall so they can lie down and be short." She kissed each of them. "And red curls they have. I not have."

            I started to say that age and red curls did not matter, then realized that a compliment to Tamara so phrased could cause chins to quiver. But I did not need to speak; the spout had opened again:

            "Aunt Tammy, we are not eager-"

            "-just willing and practical-"

            "-and anyhow he won't marry us-"

            "-he just teases about it-"

            "-and you can't be our grandmother-"

            "-'cause that would make you our Buddy Boy's grandmother-"

            "-which is illogical, impossible, and ridiculous-"

            "-so you have to be our 'Aunt Tammy.'"

            I found their logic doubly enthymematic if not a total non sequitur, but I agreed with it because the notion of Tamara being the Senior's grandmother was one I could not face. So I changed the subject:

"Tamara dear, would you let me take off your sandals and then you come join us in the soak? Or shall I get out and get dry?"

            She did not have to answer:

            "We gotta run get ready-"

            "-cause Mama Hamadryad has finished her face and started her nipples-"

            "-so if we don't hurry, we'll have to come to dinner with our hides bare naked-"

            "-and for a party that would never do-"

            "-and you two had better hurry too-"

            "-or Buddy Boy will throw it to the pigs. Scuse!"

            I climbed out and let Tamara dry me-unnecessary as there was a blowdry at hand. But if Tamara offers me anything my answer is Yes. It took a while; we "wasted" time on touch and talk. (Is there a better way to spend time?)

            When I was dry and wondering if I should try the cosmetics bench (I don't use cosmetics much, just depilatories), one of the twins came rushing back with a garment for me, a blue chlamys. She said breathlessly, "Lazarus says try this or what would you like?-but that you needn't wear anything if you don't want to 'cause it's a hot night and you count as family because you're Minerva's father, one of them."

            I thought I had them keyed now by freckle pattern. "Thank you, Lorelei; I'll wear it." I've always felt that a napkin was enough to wear in dining at home in a properly tempered house-or outdoors in private on a warm night. But, as guest of honor even though "family," I could not go bare when they were taking the trouble to be festively formal.

            "You're welcome, but I'm Captain Lazuli, but that's all right, she's me. Scuse!" She vanished.

            I put it on; we went into the garden and retrieved Tamara's gown-and it matched what I was wearing. The same shade of blue, I mean, and a Golden-Age-of-Hellas- flavor to it. Hers was about two grams of blue fog. The bodice fastened at the right shoulder and came diagonally down to her waist at the left. Its skirt was longer than mine-but that was appropriate; Greek men of their Golden Age did wear their skirts shorter than did women, instead of the reverse that is more usual on Secundus. (I did not know as yet what was customary on Tertius.) We matched, and I was pleased.

Accident? "Accidents" around the Senior are usually planned.

            We ate in the garden, a couch for each couple, arranged in hexagon with the fountain as the sixth side. Athene made the water dance and danced lights in it, to match whatever she was playing. All the womenfolk but Tamara helped with the primary serving; Lori and Lazi played Hebe from then on- it was impossible to keep them nailed to their couch anyhow. As the feast started, Ira was with Minerva, Lazarus with Ishtar, Galahad with Hamadryad, and the twins together. But the women moved around like chessmen, sharing a couch, a few bites, a little cuddling, then moving on-all but Tamara, whose firm-soft, rounded bottom lay against my lap the entire feast. It was just as well that she did not move; I'm not shy but prefer not to show the gallant reflex unless I need it at once-and I was very conscious of her dear body warm against me.

            But while Lazarus started the repast with Ishtar, the next time I looked his way it was Minerva who reclined against him-and next, one of the twins, which one I am not sure. And so on.

I won't describe the feast except to say that I did not expect it in a young colony and to add that I have paid high prices for poorer food in famous restaurants in New Rome.

            All but Lazarus and his sisters were wearing colorful, pseudo-Grecian garments. But Lazarus was dressed as a Scottish chieftain of two and a half millennia ago-the kilt, bonnet, sporran, dirk, claymore, etc. The sword he laid aside but handy, as if expecting to need it. I can state firmly that he was never entitled to dress as a chief by the rules of those long-lost clans. There is doubt that he is entitled to wear any Scottish dress. He once said that he was "half Scotch and half soda," but on another occasion he told Ira Weatheral that he had first worn the kilt at a time (shortly before the flight of the New Frontiers) when the style was popular in his home country-found that he liked it, and thereafter wore the kilt when local custom permitted.

            That night he went all out and added a fierce mustache to match his finery.

            His twin sisters were dressed exactly as he was. I am still wondering whether all this was to honor me, to impress me, or to amuse me. Perhaps all three.

            I would happily have spent those three hours in quiet, feeding Tamara and letting her feed me, bathed in the peace of soul that comes from touching her, but the closed happiness circle (and closed it was; Athene's voice now came from the fountain) showed that the Senior expected us to share company, talking and listening in turn, as ritually as in any protocol-bound salon in New Rome. And so we did, in shared and gentle harmony-with the twins adding unexpected grace notes but usually managing to restrain their exuberance and be "grown-up." The Senior started it, using Ira as Stimulator. "Ira, what would you say if a god came through that entranceway?"

            "I'd tell him to wipe his feet. Ishtar doesn't permit gods with dirty feet in this house."

            "But all gods have feet of clay."

            "That wasn't what you said yesterday."

            "This is not yesterday, Ira. I've seen a thousand gods and all had feet of clay. All were swindles, first"-Lazarus ticked it with his flngers-"to benefit the shamans; second, to benefit the kings; and third, always to benefit the shamans. Then I met the thousand-and-first." The Senior paused.

            Ira looked at me. "At this point I am supposed to say, 'Do tell!' or some such insincerity, then the rest of you chime, 'Yes, yes, Lazarus!'-which has its merit; the rest of us would have at least twenty uninterrupted minutes for swilling and guzzling.

            "But I'm going to fool him. He's leading up to how he killed the gods of the Jockaira with nothing but a toy gun and moral superiority. Since that lie is already in his memoirs in four conflicting versions, why should we be burdened with a fifth?"

            "It was not a toy gun; it was a Mark Nineteen Remington Blaster at full charge, a superior weapon in its day-and after I carved them up, the stench was worse than Hormone Hall the morning after payday. And my superiority is never moral; it lies always in doing it first before he does it to me. But the point of the story Ira won't let me tell is that those globs were real gods because neither shamans nor kings were cut in on the loot; they were swindled, too. Those doggie people were property, solely for the benefit of their gods-gods in the sense that a man can be a god to a dog-which I had suspected first time around, when they drove poor Slayton Ford right out of his think tank and nearly killed him. But the second time, some eight or nine hundred years later, Andy Libby and I proved that this was so. 'How?' you ask-"

            "We didn't ask."

            "Thank you, Ira. Because after all that time the Jockaira had not changed in any way. Their speech, customs, buildings, you name it-were frozen. This can happen only with domesticated animals. A wild animal, such as man, changes his ways as conditions change; he adjusts. I've often thought I would like to go back and see if the doggie people managed to go feral after they lost their owners. Or did they simply lie down and die? But I wasn't too tempted; Andy and I were lucky to get off that planet still with our gonads, the way they were yapping at our heels."

            "See what I mean, Justin? Version number three had the Jockaira falling into a coma the instant their masters were burned out-and Libby doesn't figure into that version at all."

            "Papa Ira, you don't understand Buddy Boy-"

            "- he doesn't tell-lies-"

            "-he's a creative artist-"

            "-speaking in parables-"

            "-and he emancipated those Jabberwockies-"

            "-who were cruelly oppressed."

            Ira Weatheral said, "Justin, I had trouble coping with one Lazarus Long. But three of him? I surrender. Come here, Lori, and let me nibble your ear. Minerva, my lovely, let go of that, wash your pretty hands, then see if Justin needs more wine. Justin, you are the only one with news to impart. What news on the Bourse?"

            "Falling steadily. If you own participations on Secundus, you had better have me carry back instructions to your broker. Lazarus, I noticed that you classed 'man' as a wild animal-"

            "He is. You can kill him, but you can't tame him. The worst bloodbaths in history derive from attempting to tame him."

            "I wasn't arguing it, Ancestor. I'm a mathematical historiographer; my nose is rubbed in that fact. But has news reached here of the flight of the 'Vanguard'? The original 'Vanguard,' I mean-pre-Diaspora."

            Lazarus sat up so suddenly that he almost spilled Ishtar off his couch. He caught her. "Sorry, honey. Justin-keep talking."

            "I didn't intend to talk about the 'Vanguard' herself-"

            "I want to hear about her. I hear no objection; it is so ruled. Talk, Son!"

            The protocol of a salon feast having gone to pieces, I talked, first reviewing some ancient history. Although it has almost been forgotten, the New Frontiers was not the first starship. She had an older sister, the Vanguard, that left the Solar system a few years earlier than the momentous date on which Lazarus Long commandeered the New Frontiers. She was headed for Alpha Centaun but never reached there-no signs of visitation were ever found on the one possible planet, a Terran type around Alpha Centauri A, the only G-type star in that volume.

            But the ship herself was found by accident, in open orbit a long way from where she should have been by any rational assumption based on her mission-discovered nearly a century ago and this tells the difficulties of historiography when ships are the fastest means of communication; this story echoed back to Secundus via five colonial planets before it reached Archives-a few years after Lazarus left New Rome, a few years before I went to Boondock as (nominal) courier for the Chairwoman Pro Tem. Not that a century's delay matters, as the news interested only fusty specialists. To most people it was an uninteresting confirmation of an inconsequential bit of ancient history.

            Everything in the Vanguard was dead while the ship herself was sleeping, her converter automatically shut down, her atmosphere almost leaked away, her records so destroyed, illegible, incomplete, or desiccated as to distress one. The Vanguard matters only to antiquarians and such-although she will remain an endless trove to deviants such as me-if we don't lose her again. Space is deep.

            But the interesting thing about the find is that when the Vanguard was backtracked ballistically by computer, it showed that she had passed close to a Sol-type star seven centuries earlier. A check of that system turned up one planet Terran in type; it was found to be inhabited by H. sapiens. But not from the Diaspora. From the Vanguard.

            "Lazarus, there is no possible doubt. Those few thousand savages on that planet-designated 'Pitcairn Island,' the catalog number escapes me-are descended from some who reached there, presumably by ship's boat, seven centuries before they were found. They had reverted to precivilization food-gathering stage, and had the planet rather than the ship been found first, it might have started another of those stories about a breed of humans not derived from old Terra.

            "But their argot, fed into a linguistic analyzer-sysithesizer, played back as that version of English which was the 'Vanguard's' working language. Reduced vocabulary, new words, degenerate syntax-but the same language."

            "Their myths, Justin, their myths!" Galahad-Obadiah demanded.

            I was forced to admit that I did not have it all on tap but promised to make a full copy for him and send it via the first ship. "But, Senior, the interesting thing is that these savages, so wild and fierce that in dealing with them more scientists were killed than savages-"

            "Hooray for them. Son, those savages were minding their own business on their own planet. An intruder can expect whatever he gets. Up to him to keep his guard up."

            "I suppose so. Three scientists were eaten before they figured out how to deal with these pseudo-aborigines. By remotely controlled humanoid robots, that is. But the point I wanted to make was not their fierceness but their intelligence. Believe me or not, by every test that could be used, these wild men, these savages, checked superior to norm. Much superior. By the bell curve they land in the range of 'exceptionally gifted' to 'genius-plus.'"

            "You expect me to be surprised? Why?"

            "Well- Savages. And probably closely inbred."

            "You're baiting me, Justin; you know better-although possibly Ira signed you to be Stimulator. All right, I'll take the bait. 'Savage' describes a cultural condition, not a degree of intelligence. Nor does inbreeding damage a gene pool if conditions for survival are extreme; since you describe them as cannibals, they probably ate their culls. From the shape the ship was in, it is fair to assume that their ancestors landed with little or nothing-possibly bare hands and a hatful of ignorance...in which case only the most able, the smartest, could survive. Justin, the crew of that first ship averaged far more intelligent than the Howards who escaped in the 'New Frontiers'; they were picked for intelligence-whereas the original Howard selectees were picked only for longevity, not for brainpower. Your savages were descended solely from geniuses...then passed through Allah alone knows how many ordeals that kill off the stupid and leave only the smartest to breed. What does that leave?"

            I admitted that I had tossed him a baiting question to see how he would answer. The Senior nodded. "I know you're not stupid, Son; I had Athene give me a runback on your ancestry. But I have often been amazed at how the moderately bright and moderately well-informed-which describes no one in this happiness circle, so no one need pretend to modesty- how often such somewhat superior people have trouble coming to grips with the ancient silk-purse-and-sow's-ear problem. If heredity were not overwhelmingly more important than environment, you could teach calculus to a horse.

            "In my early days it was an article of faith among a self-styled 'intellectual elite' that they could teach calculus to a horse...if they started early enough, spent enough money, supplied special tutoring, and were endlessly patient and always careful not to bruise his equine ego. They were so sincere that it seems downright ungrateful that the horse always persisted in being a horse. Especially as they were right, if 'starting early enough' is defined as a million years or more.

            "But those savages will make it; they can't avoid winning. The problem in reverse is more horridly interesting. Justin, do you realize that we Howards killed off Old Terra?"

            "Yes."

            "Now, now, Son, you're not supposed to answer in such a way as to chop off conversation...thereby leaving us with nothing to do but get drunk and cuddle the girls."

            "Swell!" Obadiah-Galahad shouted. "Let's!" He had Minerva with him at that moment; he grabbed her and flipped her over facing him. "Little whatever-your-name-is, do you have any last words?"

            "Yes."

            "'Yes' what?"

            "Just 'Yes.' That's my last word."

            "Galahad," said Ishtar, "if you're going to rape Minerva, drag her back of the fountain. I want to hear what Justin means by that."

            "How can I rape her when she won't fight?" he complained.

            "You've always been able to solve that problem. But do it quietly. Justin, I find myself shocked. It seems to me that we've been quite generous in supplying Old Home Terra with new technologies-and there's not much else we can give them. Didn't the last migrant transport come back only half loaded?"

            "I'll answer it," Lazarus growled. "Justin might pretty it up. Not all the Howards. Two. Andy Libby provided the weapon; I delivered the coup de grace. Space travel killed Earth."

            Ishtar looked troubled. "Grandfather, I don't understand."

            "She calls me that when I've been naughty," the Senior confided to me. "It's her way of spanking me. Ish darling, you are young and sweet and have spent your life studying biology, not history. Earth was doomed in any case; space travel just hurried it along. By 2012 it wasn't fit to live on-so I spent the next century elsewhere, although the other real estate in the Solar System is far from attractive. Missed seeing Europe destroyed, missed a nasty dictatorship in my home country. Came back when things appeared to be tolerable, found that they weren't-and that's when the Howards had to run for it.

            "But space travel can't ease the pressure on a planet grown too crowded, not even with today's ships and probably not with any future ships-because stupid people won't leave the slopes of their home volcano even when it starts to smoke and rumble. What space travel does do is drain off the best brains: those smart enough to see a catastrophe before it happens and with the guts to pay the price-abandon home, wealth, friends, relatives, everything-and go. That's a tiny fraction of one percent. But that's enough."

            "It's the bell curve again," I said to Ishtar. "If-as Lazarus thinks, and statistics back him up-every migration comes primarily from the right-hand end of the normal-incidence curve of human ability, then this acts as a sorting device whereby the new planet will show a bell curve with a much higher intelligence norm than the population it came from...and the old planet will average almost imperceptibly stupider."

            "Imperceptible except for one thing!" Lazarus objected.

            "That tiny fraction that hardly shows statistically is the brain. I recall a country that lost a key war by chasing out a mere half dozen geniuses. Most people can't think, most of the remainder won't think, the small fraction who do think mostly can't do it very well. The extremely tiny fraction who think regularly, accurately, creatively, and without self-delusion-in the long run these are the only people who count and they are the very ones who migrate when it is physically possible to do so.

            "As Justin said, statistically it hardly shows. But qualitatively it makes all the difference. Chop off a chicken's head and it doesn't die at once; it flops around more energetically than ever. For a while. Then it dies.

            "That's what space travel did to Earth: chopped its head off. For two thousand years its best brains have been migrating. What's left is flopping harder than ever...to no purpose and will die that much sooner. Soon, I think. I don't feel guilty about it; I see no sin in those smart enough to escape escaping if they can-and the death rattle of Earth was clear and strong back in the twentieth century, Earth reckoning, when I was a young man and space travel had barely started-not even started in interstellar terms. It took two more centuries and then some to get it rolling. Can't count the first migration of the Howards; it was involuntary, and they weren't the best brains.

            "The later Howard migration to Secundus was more important; it shook out some of the dullards, left them behind. The non-Howard migrations were even more important. I've often wondered what would have happened if there had been no political restraints against migrating from China; the few Chinese who did reach the stars seem always to be winners, I suspect that the Chinese average smarter than the rest of Earth's spawn.

            "Not that slant of eye or color of skin matters today, or even matters at the moment of truth. One of the early Howards was Robert C. M. Lee, of Richmond, Virginia-anybody know what his name was originally?"

            "I do," I answered.

            "Of course you do, Justin, so keep quiet-and that includes you, Athene. Anyone else?"

            No one answered; Lazarus went on: "His birth name was Lee Choy Moo; he was born in Singapore, and his parents came from Canton in China-and of the people in the 'New Frontiers' he was a mathematician second only to Andy Libby."

            "Goodness!" said Hamadryad. "Fm descended from him- but I didn't know he was a great mathematician."

            "Did you know he was Chinese?'

            "Lazarus, Fm not sure what 'Chinese' means; I haven't studied much terrestrial history. Isn't it a religion? Like 'Jewish'?"

            "Not exactly, dear. The point is that it no longer matters. Just as few know and no one cares that the famous Zaccur Barstow, my partner in crime, was a quarter Negro. Does that word mean anything to you, Hamadarling? Not a religion."

            "The word means 'black,' so I assume that one of his grandparents was from Africa."

            "Which shows what comes of assuming anything on one datum. Two of Zack's grandparents, both mulatto, came from Los Angeles in my homeland. Since my line mixed with his a long time back, probably any of you can claim African ancestry. Which is statistically equivalent to claiming descent from Charlemagne. I've gone far afield, and it is time we picked a new Stimulator and a new Respondent. Space travel ruined old Earth-that's one viewpoint. The other side of the coin, happier and more important in the long run, is that it improved the breed. Probably saved it as well but 'improved' is certain. Homo sapiens is now not only far more numerous than he ever was on Earth; he is a better, smarter, more efficient animal in every measurable fashion. Further this Respondent sayeth not; somebody else grab it. Lazi, quit trying to tickle me and go bother Galahad; Minerva needs a rest."

            "Lazarus," Ishtar said, "just one more responding, please. Something you said about Howards made me wonder. You seemed to place all emphasis on intelligence. Don't you consider long-life important?"

            I was astonished to see the oldest human alive frowning over this, slow to answer. Surely it was a question he had settled in his mind at least a thousand years earlier. I tried to forstall the

quandary, found I could not soothly norom it.

            "Ishtar, the only correct verbal answer to that is Yes and No-which merely says I lack language to define something that is crystal clear inside me and has been for centuries. But here is part of the truth: A long time ago a short-lifer proved to me that we all live the same length of time." He glanced at Minerva; she looked solemnly back. "Because we all live now. She-he-was not asserting that fallacy of Georg Cantor which distorted pre-Libby mathematics so long; uh, he

-was asserting a verifiable objective truth. Each individual lives her life in now independently of how others may measure that life in years.

            "But here is another piece of truth. Life is too long when one is not enjoying now. You recall when I was not and wished to terminate it. Your skill-and trickery, my darling, and don't blush--changed that and again I savor now. But perhaps I have never told you that I approached even my first rejuvenation with misgivings, afraid that it would make my body young without making my spirit young again-and don't bother to tell me that 'spirit' is a null word; I know that it is undefinable but it means something to me.

            "But here is still more of the truth and all I'll try to say about it. Although long-life can be a burden, mostly it is a blessing. It gives time enough to learn, time enough to think, time enough not to hurry, time enough for love.

            "Enough of weighty matters. Galahad, pick a light subject and, Justin, you plant the barbs; I've talked enough. Ishtar, my darling, fetch your long lovely carcass over here, stretch out, and let me ply you with brandy; I want you relaxed enough for what I intend to do with you later."

            She came readily to him, stopping only to kiss Ira a promise, then saying softly but clearly to our Ancestor, "Our beloved, it takes no brandy to make me utterly willing for whatever you have in mind."

            "Anesthesia, Mama Ishtar. I plan to show you something Big Anna taught me which I haven't dared risk in all these years. You may not live till morning. Frightened?"

            She smiled lazily, happily. "Oh, terribly frightened."

            Galahad covered Lapis Lazuli's mouth with a hand; she bit him. "Stop it, Laz. Let's everybody watch this-it might be new."

VARIATIONS ON A THEME-XV

                        Agape

            I woke slowly next morning, lazed in bed and lived again my Welcome Bacchanalia. I was in a big bed in a ground-floor room with its garden wall still open as it had been when the party had moved to beds. I could hear no one, although (as I recalled) Tamara and Ira had been with me. Or had Ira visited us earlier?

            No matter, all of them visited us at some time before Athene sang us to sleep; I seemed to recall as high as six or seven at once in that big bed, counting Tamara and me. No, Tamara had been gone once, leaving me at the mercy of the talkative twins-who were almost quiet. They said they wanted to assure me that I did not have to marry them in order to be a member of the family-they would be gone too much of the time anyhow-because they were going to be pirates when they were big enough-but stay groundside half the time-and open a hook shop over a pool hall-and would I come to see them there?

            They had to explain to me both terms; then they sang me a little song that seemed partly amphigory and partly ancient English, but included both terms. I kissed them and promised that, when they opened this studio, I would be their most faithful admirer-a promise that did not worry me; at about that age most girls' (all of my daughters) have ambitions to become great hetaeras; few attempt that most demanding of arts-or only long enough to discover that they do not have a true vocation.

            I thought they were more likely to become pirates; Lazarus Long's identicals might figure out a way to make crime pay in spite of the enormous depths of space.

            My Welcome Bacchanalia had bridged from feast to bed with the customary entertainment save that it was homemade instead of the expensive (and often dull) professional acts a fashionable New Rome hostess offers. Lazarus and his sister-daughters started it with what may have been an authentic Highland Fling (who knows, today?): Lazarus dancing fiercely and vigorously (after all that food and drink!), his two miniature copies keeping the pattern exactly with him-to skirling bagpipes offered by Athene...which I would not have recognized were it not that I am an amateur of ancient music as well as a professional of ancient history. The girls followed with an encore, a sword dance, while Lazarus pretended to be passed out from exertion.

            Ira, to my amazement, turned out to be a skilled juggler.

            Question: Did he have that skill all those years he managed a planet?

            Galahad sang a ballad with professional virtuosity and great range and control, which astonished me almost as much as I seemed to recall that he used to sing always off key. But when he took an encore with a kerchief stuffed in his mouth, I realized that I had been swindled; Athene had done it all. He then played a corpse with three beautiful widows, Minerva, Hamadryad, Ishtar. I won't describe the dialogue except to say that they seemed cheerful over losing him.

            Tamara concluded it by singing "My Arms Enclose You Still"-attributed on slight evidence to the Blind Singer hut ancient in any case. I've long thought of it as Tamara's Song, and I wept with happiness, and I was not alone; all did. The twins blubbered aloud...and when she reached that last line, "-wherever the wild geese lead you, love, my arms will hold you close," I was startled to see that the Senior's craggy features were as wet as mine.

            I got up, poked around in the alcove and refreshed myself enough to face other people, went out into the garden and found Galahad. I kissed him and accepted a happy-morning in a frosty tumbler. It was fruit juice freshly pressed-a treat for taste buds used to morning cups "improved" in various chemical ways.

            "I'm cook this morning," he said, "so you had better take your eggs either fried or boiled." He then answered the question a guest does not ask: "If you had awakened earlier, you would have had more choice; Lazarus claims I can't boil water. But everyone else is gone."

            "So?"

            "Si. Ira has gone to his office-to work, perchance to sleep. Tamara has gone back to her patients with a message to you that she hopes to be home tonight-but with a word to Hamadryad to take you to bed and rub your shoulder muscles and put you to sleep early, so I'm not sure she expects to be back-won't if she thinks her patients need her. Lazarus has gone somewhere and one does not ask. Minerva has the twins, and school may be in the 'Dora'; it often is. Ishtar got a call to set a broken arm on a farm north of here. Hamadryad has taken our kids on a picnic so as not to disturb you, you lazy lecher. Boiled or fried?"

            He was already frying them, so I answered, "Boiled."

            "Good, I'll eat these myself. To hold me till lunch."

            "I mean 'Fried.'"

            "So I'll put in three more, dear. You're staying, aren't you? Answer Yes or I'll put the twins to work on you."

            "Galahad, I want to-"

            "Then it's settled."

            "-but there are problems." I shifted the subject. "You said 'Hamadryad has taken our kids on a picnic-' Haven't I met all your family?"

            "Dear, we do not exhibit our youngest the moment someone sets foot in the foyer and thereby place on him the onus of being insincerely ecstatic. But there was usually someone with them; Lazarus has firm ideas on raising children. Athene keeps eye and ear on them-but can't pick them up. Lazarus says that a frightened child needs to be picked up and cuddled now, not later. He believes in spanking right now, too; it evens out, our kids are neither spoiled nor timid. Lazarus is especially strong on not letting a young child wake up alone- so now you know why I kissed you good-night a bit early. So that Ishtar could help keep you awake while I slept with our youngest three."

            "Do you actually sleep with them?"

            "Well- When Elf jumps up and down on my stomach, it makes me restless. But being peed on doesn't wake me- usually. Having the cuddle watch isn't bad; we rotate so it's only every ninth night. Every tenth if you opt in. But that can change overnight. Suppose we have a rejuvenation client-One or more clients puts Ishtar, Tamara, Hamadryad, and me out of circulation much of the time. Add that Lazarus may leave as soon as he decides Laz and Lor are grown up. Then assume that all our darlings get cracking on making babies."Galahad grinned at me. "How long does it take four willing women to make four more babies? Or six, when the twins join the production schedule as they threaten to at least twice a week. Justin dear, we want you to stay but it won't all be like last night. If responsibilities of family life worry you, you'd be better off in New Rome where you can hire people to do what you don't fancy doing yourself."

            "Galahad," I said earnestly, "stop stuffing your face a moment, dear. You can't scare me with baby pee. I was getting up in the night to soothe crying babies a hundred years before you were born. I intend to colonize, I intend to marry again, I intend to raise kids. I had planned to go back to Secundus to clean up loose ends, then come back with the second wave. But I may say the hell with that and stay...as some of the Senior's remarks last night were aimed at me. At least I took them personally-about having the guts to abandon everything and go. Secundus is a smoking volcano; that old vixen could set off a bloodbath. One that could include me, simply because I'm a major bureaucrat."

            I took a deep breath and plunged in: "What I don't understand is why I seem to be invited to join the Senior's household. Why?"

            Galahad answered, "It's not your pretty face."

            "I know that. Oh, I hardly ever scare dogs with it, but it's just a face."

            "It's not too bad. A cosmetic surgeon could do wonders. I'm the second-best cosmetic surgeon on this planet-there being two. The practice would be good for me and, as you pointed out, you've nothing to lose."

            "Damn it, dear, don't farce me. Answer my question."

            "The twins like you."

            "So? I find them delightful. But the opinion of inexperienced adolescents could not have weighed heavily."

            "Justin, don't let their clowning fool you; they are adult in everything but height-and they are our Ancestor's identical twins. They have his talent for looking inside a person and spotting a bad one. Lazarus lets them run loose because he trusts them to shoot to kill...and not to shoot if they don't intend to kill."

            I gulped inside. "Are you saying that those little guns they carry are not toys?"

            My old friend Obadiah looked as if I had said something obscene. "Why, Justin! Lazarus wouldn't let a woman go out of this house unarmed."

            "Why? This colony seems peaceful. What have I missed?"

            "Not much, I think. Lazarus' advance party made sure that this subcontinent was reasonably clear of large predators. But we brought along the two-legged sort, and despite screening, Lazarus doesn't assume that they are angels. He wasn't looking for angels; they don't make the best pioneers. Uh, yesterday Minerva was wearing a little skirt. Did you wonder about it? In view of the heat?"

            "Not especially."

            "She wears her gun strapped to her thigh. Nevertheless, Lazarus won't let her go out alone; the twins are her usual bodyguard. As a flesh-and-blood she's only three years old; she doesn't shoot as well as the twins do, and she's more trusting than they are. How's your marksmanship?"

            "Just fair. I started taking lessons when I made up my mind to migrate. But I haven't had time to practice."

            "Better find time. Not that Lazarus will ride you about it; he feels responsible for our women, not for men. But if you ask for help-I did, and so did Ira-he'll coach you in everything from bare hands to improvised weapons...with two thousand years of dirty tricks thrown in. Up to you, old darling- but here's what it did for me. As you know I used to be a campus narky-a scholar poring over old records-I never carried arms. Then I took rejuvenation and became a rejuvenator myself and was even less inclined to go armed. But for fourteen years I've had regular coaching from the all-time champion in how to stay alive. The result? I stand straight and proud. Haven't had to kill anyone yet." Galahad suddenly grinned. "But the day is young."

            I answered soberly, "Galahad, that's one reason I agreed to run a silly errand for Madam Arabelle: to find out things like that. Very well, I take your advice seriously. But you haven't answered my question."

            "Well...I knew you from long back, and so did Ira. And so did Minerva, though you have trouble believing it. Hamadryad had met you but did not get to know you until last night. Ishtar knew you only from your chart but is one of your strongest supporters. But the deciding factor is this: Tamara wants you in our family."

            "'Tamara!'"

            "You sound astonished."

            "I am."

            "I don't see why. She arranged for someone to relieve her in order to be here last night. She loves you, Justin; don't you know it?"

            "Uh-" My brain was fuddled. "Yes, I know it. But Tamara loves everyone."

            "No, just those who need her love, and she always knows who they are. Incredible empathy, she's going to be a great rejuvenator. In this family Tamara can have anything she wants...and she happens to want you-to stay with us, live with us, join us."

            "I'll be...damned." (Tamara?)

            "Unlikely. If I believed in damnation, I wouldn't believe that anyone picked by Tamara Sperling could be in danger of it." Galahad smiled, a happy expression than was more his charm than was his extraordinary beauty. I tried to remember if he had been that beautiful a hundred years back. I am not indifferent to male beauty, but my sensuality is not perfectly balanced; in the presence of a homely female and a beautiful male, I tend to look at the female. So I'll never be an esthete; I lack judgment in matters of beauty. I apologize in advance to any female who finds my primitive attitude offensive.

            But I'll share bed with Galahad in preference to a self-centered female beauty; he's warm and gentle and good company, with a roguish playfulness not unlike that of the twins. The thought ran through my-mind that I would like to meet his sister-or mother or daughter-a female version of him in character and personality, as well, as in appearance.

            Tamara! The above was froth at the top of my mind because I was unable to face at once the implications of Galahad's announcement.

            He went on: "Close your mouth, dear; I was as startled as you are. But, even if we hadn't been friends years back, on Tamara's motion I would have voted for you sight unseen- so that I could study you; Tamara never makes a mistake. But were you so mind-ill that you needed that much from her? Or so superhuman that she wanted that much from you? But you are neither, or I failed to see it. You aren't ill, I think, other than a touch of wild-goose fever. You may be superman, but none of us found it out last night. If you are a superstud, you restrained yourself. Hamadryad did say at breakfast that a woman is happy in your arms. But she did not imply that you are the Galaxy's greatest lover.

            "Being one of Minerva's parents is in your favor, none of them has any serious shortcomings; Ishtar made sure of that-Ishtar knows more about you than you do yourself; she can read a gene chart the way other people read print-and Minerva herself is proof that no mistakes were made. I mean, look at Minerva: sweet as the morning breeze and as beautiful as Hamadryad in her own fashion, and with an intelligence level so high you wouldn't believe it-yet so modest she's almost humble.

            "But still, it's Tamara. Your fate was settled before you reached this house. Slow ride home, wasn't it?"

            "Well...one doesn't expect speed from a nullboat. Though I was surprised to find one in a young colony. I expected mule-drawn wagons."

            "Lots of those, too. But Lazarus says that this time he traveled with 'seven elephants'-we fetched a mammoth amount of equipment. That's an overpowered nullboat, rebuilt to Lazarus' specifications, and could have fetched you here in a fifth the time it did. But Ira let Lazarus know that he wanted time to make some calls. So Lazarus probably told whichever twin was in charge-or signaled her somehow; he is almost telepathic with them-to give you a long, slow ride. Which you got, and I bet that Laz and Lor never changed expression."

            "They didn't."

            "Was sure of it. They are not children-you should see them handle a spaceship. Anyhow, Ira talked to Ishtar, then to Tamara; then we held a family conference and settled your fate. Lazarus confirmed it while you played with the twins- who were given a chance to veto it later. But they ratified it at once. They not only like you, but Aunt Tammy's wishes are law."

            I was still bemused. "Apparently much went on that I didn't suspect."

            "You weren't supposed to. A better cook would have stayed to get your breakfast, had I not been deputized to tell you- old friends and all that-and to answer questions."

            "I'm confused about that conference. I thought Tamara got home just before dinner."

            "She did. Oh- Athene, are you listening, dear?"

            "Uncle Cuddly, you know I don't listen to private conversations."

            "The hell you don't. It'll be all right, Justin; Teena keeps secrets. Tell him how to call someone, Teena."

            "Tell me to whom you wish to speak, Justin; I have radio links to every farm. Or anywhere. And I can always reach Ira and Lazarus."

            "Thank you, Teena. Now if you must listen, pretend not to. The conference was here, Justin; Teena fetched in Tamara's voice and Ira's. Could have fetched voices from the nullboat- but you were the subject. By the way, Teena is one reason this family isn't farming; instead we supply services that colonies usually don't have so soon. Oh, you can farm if you want to; we've claimed quite a bit of land. Or there are other ways to make a living. All right, I've done my best. Want to quiz me?"

            "Galahad, I think I understand everything but why Tamara wants me in your family."

            "You'll have to ask her. I told you I was checking for your halo. Can't see it."

            "I don't wear it in hot weather. Obadiah, don't farce around; this is terribly important to me. Why do you keep saying that Tamara's wishes settled it?"

            "You know her, man."

            "I know how important her wishes are to me. But I've been in love with her for many years." I told him things I had long kept to myself. "So that's the way it went. A great hetaera never proposes a contract and usually won't listen if a man is bold enough to propose one himself. But I- well, I made a nuisance of myself. Tamara finally convinced me that she married only to have children and did not intend to have more. I feel sure that money was not a factor-"

            "It wouldn't be. Oh, I don't mean that Tamara is silly that way; I've heard her say that since money is the universal symbol for value received, one should accept it proudly. But Tamara wouldn't marry for money; she wouldn't feel that- Or perhaps she would; I think I'll ask her. Mm...interesting. Our Tamara is a complex person. Sorry, dear; I interrupted."

            "I say money was not the controlling factor, as she had suitors with ten to a hundred times my modest wealth, yet she married none of them. So I shut up and was content to have part of Tamara-spend nights with her when I was permitted to, share her company in happiness circles at other times, pay her as much as I could-as much as she would accept, I mean; she often set her fee by refusing part of a gift-she did with me; I don't know what she did with wealthy clients.

            "Years and years of that, then she announced that she was retiring-and I was stunned. I had taken rejuvenation during this time but hadn't noticed that she was any older. But she wa~ firm about it and left New Rome.

            "Galahad, it left me impotent. Oh, not incapable, but what had been ecstasy turned out to be mere exercise not worth the trouble. Has this ever happened to you?"

            "No. Perhaps I should say, 'Not yet,' since I'm still working on my second century."

            "Then you don't know what I mean."

            "Only vicariously. But may I quote something Lazarus once said? He was speaking to Ira, but privacy was not placed on it; you'll come across it in his raw memoirs.

            'Ira,' he said, 'there were many years when I hardly bothered with women-not only unmarried but celibate. After all, how much variety can there be in the slippery friction of mucous membranes?

            "'Then I realized that there was infinite variety in women as people...and that sex was the most direct route to knowing a woman...a route they like, one that we like, and often the only route that can break down barriers and permit close acquaintance.

            "'And in discovering this, I gained renewed interest in the friendly frolic itself, happy as a lad with his first bare tit warm in his hand. Happier-as never again was I merely a piston to her cylinder; each woman was a unique individual worth knowing, and, if we took time enough, we might find we loved each other. But at least we offered each other pleasure and a haven from cares; we weren't simply masturbating, with the other just a sex doll.'

            "That's close to what Lazarus said, Justin. You went through something like that?"

            "Yes. Somewhat. A long period when sex wasn't worth the trouble. But I got over it...with a woman as fine in her own way as Tamara is, although I didn't fall in love with her nor she with me. She taught me something I had forgotten, that sex can be friendly and worthwhile without the intense love I felt for Tamara. You see, a friend of mine, wife of another friend and they were both close to me-as a special gift she introduced me to another hetaera, a great beauty, and arranged for me a holiday with her-paid for by my friends; they could afford it, she is wealthy. This beautiful hetaera-Magdalene-"

            Galahad looked delighted. "Maggie!"

            "Why, yes, she did use that pillow name. 'Magdalene' was, her vocational name. But when she learned that I keep the Archives, she told me her registered name."

            "Rebecca Sperling-Jones."

            "Then you do know her."

            "All my life, Justin darling; I nursed at those beautiful breasts. She's my mother, dear-what a delightful coincidence!"

            I was delighted, too, but more interested in something else.. "So that's where you get your beauty."

            "Yes, but also from my genetic father. Becky-Maggie- tells me I look more like him."

            "Really? If you permit, I'll look up your lineage when I get back to Secundus." An archivist should not consult the Archives from personal curiosity; I was presuming on friendship to suggest it.

            "Dear, you're not going back to Secundus. But you can get it from Athene clear back to the first push in the bush after Ira Howard's death. But let's talk about Mama. She's a jolly one, isn't she? As well as a beauty."

            "Both. I told you how much she did for me. Your mother assumed that this holiday was going to be fun-fun for both of us-and it was indeed!-and I forgot about being uninterested in sex. I'm not speaking of technique; I suspect that any high-priced hetaera in New Rome is as skilled as any famous courtesan in history. I mean her attitude. Maggie is fun to be around, in bed or out. Laugh wrinkles but no frown wrinkles."

            Galahad nodded agreement as he wiped egg from his platter. "Yes, that's Mama. She gave me a most happy childhood, Justin, so much so that I was grumpy at being shoved out when my eighteenth rolled around. But she was sweet about it. After my adulthood party she reminded me that she was moving out, too, and going back to her profession. Her contract with Papa, my foster father, was a term contract, over when I became a legal adult...so if I wanted to see. Maggie again-and I wanted to!-it would be cash at the counterpane, no family discount. Since I was a poor-but-honest research assistant, paid only two or three times what I was worth, I couldn't have afforded thirty seconds with her, much less a night; Mama's fees were always sky-high."

            Galahad looked thoughtfully happy. "Goodness, that seems long ago-more than a century and a half, Justin. I didn't realize that Becky-Maggie-Mama-that Magdalene was being both wise and kind. I was grown up only legally and physically, and if she hadn't cut the cord, I would have hung around, an overgrown infant cluttering her life and interfering with her vocation. So I did grow up, and when I married, my first wife named our first daughter 'Magdalene' and asked Maggie to be godmother...then I could hardly believe that this beautiful creature had borne me and I had no special urge to play Oedipus to her regal beauty; I was too much in love with my wife. Yes, Maggie is a fine girl-although she spoiled me as a kid. Was that holiday the only time you had her?"

            "No. But not often. As you say, she was expensive. She offered me a fifty-percent discount-"

            "Well! You did impress her."

            "-as she knew I wasn't wealthy. But even at that, I couldn't afford her company often. But she got me over my emotional hump, and I'm grateful to her. A fine woman, Galahad; you have reason to be proud of her."

            "I think so. But, Justin dear, your mention of that discount makes me certain that she remembers you just as fondly-"

            "Oh, I hardly think so. Years back, Galahad."

            "Don't trip in your modesty, dear; Maggie grabbed every crown the traffic would bear. But the 'delightful coincidence' is more than just the fact that you've had my mother-after all, high as her fees were, New Rome has many wealthy men attractive enough that Maggie would accept them. The 'delightful' aspect is that this very minute she is about forty kilometers south of here."

            "No!"

            "Si, si, si! Ask Athene to call her. You can be talking with her in thirty seconds."

            "Uh . . I still don't think she would remember me."

            "I do. But there's no rush. If you are surprised, think how surprised I was. I had nothing to do with the migrants' roster; I was arse-deep in getting together what Ishtar had ordered for the clinics. Justin, I didn't know Maggie had married again. So we're here a couple of weeks, the headquarters party, with a temporary setup and still eating and sleeping in the 'Dora,' when the first transport grounds-then we're busy getting people and supplies out in a sequence worked out by Lazarus and bossed by Ira.

            "My assignment, once I had my shack up-by hand; Athene had no outside extensionals then-"

            "Poor Uncle Cuddly!"

            "Who doesn't listen to private conversations?"

            "I have to keep you straight, dear. It was Minerva who had no outside hands then; I wasn't even hatched."

            "Well- You have her memories, Teena; it's a mere technicality."

            "Not to me, dearie. The chinchy little bitch took some memories with her that she didn't want to share with her ever-lovin' twin. And she locked one whole bank that she did leave behind so that I can't touch it without an abracadabra either from her or from Grandpappy. Except that you can unlock it, Justin...if both my twin and Lazarus are dead."

            I managed to answer quickly, "In that case, Athene, I hope that it is a very long time before I am able to trigger it."

            'Well...when you put it that way, so do I. But I can't help wondering what grim secrets and unspeakable crimes are locked in my theta-ninety-seven-B-dexter-aleph-prime? Will the stars tremble in their courses? But Uncle Cuddly did work hard a couple of days, Justin-probably the only honest work he has ever done."

            "I disdain to comment, Teena. Justin, my assignment was examining physician, for which I was qualified under an almost new diploma. So Ishtar and Hamadryad are unpacking migrants and giving them their antidotes and I'm checking them to make sure they've made the trip safely-rushing it as I haven't yet snatched another medical doctor from that parade of flesh.

            "I glance up from my machine just long enough to note that the next victim is female and call out over my shoulder, 'Strip down, please,' and change the setting. Then I look twice-and say, 'Hello, Mama, how did you get here?'

            "This caused her to give me a second look. Then she smiled her big, happy smile and said, 'I flew in on a broom, Obadiah. Give me a kiss and tell me where to put my clothes. Is the doctor around?'

            "Justin, -the queue pile up while I gave Maggie a thorough examination-proper, as she was pregnant and I made certain that her unborn baby had come through all right-but also to gossip and get caught up. Married again, four children by today, a farm wife with a sunburned nose, and happy as can be.

            "Got married quite romantically. Mama heard the advertising about opening a virgin planet, went to the recruiting office Ira had in the Harriman Trust building to find out about it-that astonished me the most; Mama is the last person I would have suspected of yearnings to pioneer."

            "Well...I agree, Galahad. But I don't suppose anyone would pick me as a likely pioneer, either."

            "Perhaps not. Nor me. But Maggie puts in her application at once, and runs into one of her wealthy regulars doing the same. They go somewhere for a bite and dismiss it...and leave the restaurant and register an open-end contract, and go back to the recruiting office and withdraw their solo applications and submit a joint one as a married couple. I won't say that got them accepted, but almost no singles were accepted for first wave."

            "Did they know that?"

            "Oh, certainly! The recruiting clerk warned them before accepting their solo fees. That's what they left to discuss. They already knew they suited each other in bed, but Maggie wanted to find out if he intended to farm-believe it or not, that's what she wanted-and he wanted to know if she could cook and was she willing to have kids. And it was: 'Fine, we agree; let's get on with it!' Maggie had her fertility restored, and they planted their first baby without waiting to see if they were accepted."

            I said, "That probably clinched it."

            "You think so? Why?"

            "If they changed their application to show that Magdalene had caught. If Lazarus passed on the applications. Galahad, our Ancestor favors people who take big bites."

            "Mmm, yes. Justin, why are you hanging back?"

            "I'm not. I had to be certain that the invitation was serious. I still don't know why. But I'm no fool, I'm staying."

            "Wonderful!" Galahad jumped up, came around the table, kissed me again, roughed my hair, and hugged me. "I'm happy for all of us, darling, and we'll try to make you happy." He grinned-and I suddenly saw his mother in him. Hard to imagine the glamorous Magdalene with kids and calluses, a frontier farm wife-but I recalled the old proverb about best wives. Galahad went on: "The twins weren't sure I could be trusted with so delicate a mission; they were afraid I would muff it."

            "Galahad, there was never a chance I would refuse; I just had to be sure I was welcome. I still don't know why."

            "Oh. We were speaking of Tamara and got sidetracked. Justin, it's not public knowledge how difficult it was to rejuvenate our Ancestor this time, although the recordings you have been editing may hint at it-"

            "More than a hint."

            "But not all of it. He was almost dead, and simply keeping him alive while we rebuilt him was hard enough. But we managed that; you won't find another technician of Ishtar's skill. But when we had him in good shape, bio-age almost as young as he is now, he took a turn for the worse. What do you do when a client turns his face away, is reluctant to talk, doesn't want to eat-yet has nothing wrong with him physically? Bad. Stays awake all night rather than risk going to sleep? Very bad.

            "When he- Never mind; lshtar knew what to do. She went up into the mountains and fetched back Tamara. She wasn't rejuvenated then-"

            "That wouldn't matter."

            "It did matter, Justin. Youth would have handicapped Tamara in coping with Lazarus. Oh, Tamara would have overcome the handicap; I have confidence in her. But her bio-age and appearance were around eighty on the Hardy scale; this made it easier, as Lazarus, despite his renewed body, was feeling the weight of his years. But Tamara looked old...and every white hair was an asset. Lines in her face, little round potbelly, breasts pendulous, varicosities-she looked the way he felt...so he didn't mind having her around during a crisis in which he-well, I skansed that he couldn't stand the sight of us who looked youthful. That's all it took; she healed him-"

            "Yes, she's a Healer." (How well I knew!)

            "She's a great Healer. That's what she's doing now, healing a young couple who lost their first baby-nursing the mother who had a rough time physically, sleeping with both of them. We all sleep with her; she always knows when we need her. Lazarus needed her then, she felt it, and stayed with him until he was well. Uh, after last night this may be difficult to believe, but both of them had quit sex. Years and years-Lazarus more than half a century-and Tamara had not coupled with anyone since she retired."

            Galahad smiled. "Here is a case of the patient healing the physician; in bringing Lazarus around to the point where he invited her to share his bed, Tamara herself found new interest in living. She lived with Lazarus long enough to heal his spirit, then announced that she was leaving. To apply for rejuvenation.'

            I said, "Lazarus asked her to marry him."

            "I don't think so, Justin, and neither Tamara nor Lazarus hinted at such. Tamara put it another way entirely. We were all having a late breakfast, in the garden of the Palace penthouse, when Tamara asked Ira if she could join his migration-it was solely Ira's migration then; Lazarus had said repeatedly that he would nor join it. I think he already had in mind attempting to time-trip. Ira told Tamara to consider it settled and not to worry about restrictions that would be published when he announced it. Justin, Ira would have given her the Palace as readily; she had saved Lazarus, and we all knew it.

            "But you know Tamara. She thanked him but said she intended to qualify fully, starting with rejuvenation, then she would see what she could learn to be useful in a colony, just as Hamadryad planned to-and, Hamadryad, will you sleep with Lazarus tonight?-and Justin, you should have heard the commotion that started!"

            "Why a commotion?" I asked. "From what you said earlier Lazarus had reacquired his interest in the friendly sport. Did Hamadryad have some reason not to want to substitute for Tamara?"

            "Hamadryad was willing, although upset by the way Tamara dumped the matter on her-"

            "Doesn't sound like Tamara. If Hamadryad hadn't wanted to do it, Tamara would have known it without asking."

            "Justin, when it comes to people's emotions, Tamara always knows what she is doing. It was Lazarus she was trapping, not Hamadryad. Our Ancestor has odd shynesses, or did have then. He had been sleeping with Tamara for a month-and pretending that he was not. As futile as a cat covering up on a tile floor. But- Tamara's blandly blunt request that Hamadryad relieve her as his concubine forced it into the open and produced a head-on clash of wills, Lazarus and Tamara. Justin, you know them both: Who won?"

            The ancient pseudoparadox- That Tamara could be immovable I knew. "I won't guess, Galahad."

            "Neither just then, because once Lazarus stopped sputtering about how both he and Hamadryad were being needlessly embarrassed, Tamara gently withdrew her suggestion, then shut up. Shut up on that, shut up about rejuvenation, shut up about migrating, left the next move up to Lazarus and won the argument by not arguing. Justin, it is difficult to kick Tamara out of one's bed-"

            "I would find it impossible."

            "I think Lazarus found it so. What discussions they had in the middle of the night I could not say...but Lazarus learned that she would not leave for rejuvenation until he promised never to sleep alone while she was gone. But she promised in exchange to return to his bed as soon as she completed antigeria.

            "So one morning Lazarus announced the détente-red-faced and almost stuttering. Justin, our Ancestor's true age shows more in some of his ancient attitudes about sex than in any other way."

            "I didn't notice it last night, Galahad-and I expected to, having studied his memoirs so closely."

            "Yes but you saw him last night some fourteen years after we set up our family-as it was that morning that did it. Although we did not formalize it until after the twins were born, whereas at this time they were slight bulges at most. Believe me, Lazarus found it hard to capitulate-and tried for an escape hole even then. He announced, rather aggressively, that he had promised Tamara not to sleep alone while she was undergoing antigeria, then said more or less in these words: 'Ira, you told me that professional ladies were to be found in the city. How do I go about finding one who will accept a contract for that length of time?' I have to quote him in English as he was using euphemisms he ordinarily disdains.

            "What Lazarus didn't know was that Ishtar had programmed us like actors hypnotized into roles. Perhaps you've noticed that he is responsive to female tears?"

            "Isn't everyone? I've noticed."

            "Ira pretended not to know what profession Lazarus meant...which gave Hamadryad time to burst into tears and flee...whereupon Ishtar stood up and said, 'Grandfather...how could you?-and she was dripping tears, too...and chased after Hamadryad. Then it was Tamara's turn to switch on the raindrops and follow the other two. Which left us three men together.

            "Ira became very formal and said, 'If you will excuse me, Sire, I will attempt to find and console my daughter'- bowed, turned abruptly, and left. Which left it up to me. Justin, I didn't know what to do. I knew that Ishtar expected difficulty because Tamara had warned her. But I did not expect to be left to juggle it alone.

            "Lazarus said, 'Great balls of fire! Son, what did I do now?' Well, I could answer that. I said, 'Grandfather, you've hurt Hamadryad's feelings.'

            "Then I was carefully unhelpful-refused to speculate why her feelings were hurt, could not guess where she might have gone-unless she had gone home, which I understood was somewhere in the suburbs-declined to act as his intermediary-all to Ishtar's instructions to play dumb, stupid, and useless, and let the women handle it.

            "So Lazarus had to track Hamadryad down himself, which he did with Athene's-I mean 'Minerva's'-help."

            Athene said, "This is all news to me, Uncle Cuddly."

            "If it is, dear, please forget it."

            "Oh, I shall!" the computer answered. "Except that I'm going to save it up and use it about a hundred years from now. Justin, if I burst into tears-after I'm a flesh-and-blood-will you track me down and console me?"

            "Probably. Almost certainly."

            "I'll remember that, Lover Boy. You're cute."

            I pretended not to hear, but Galahad said, "'Lover Boy'?"

            "That's what I said, dear. Sorry, Uncle Cuddly, but you're obsolete. If you hadn't gone to sleep early, you would know why."

            I kept quiet while making a mental note for a hundred years hence-one that involved Pallas Athene as a flesh-and-blood and getting her into a helpless position.

            This side conversation was cut short; Athene notified us that Lazarus was arriving. Galahad waved his arms. "Hey! Pappy! Back here!"

            "Coming." Lazarus bussed me in passing, did so to Galahad as he slid in by him and grabbed what was left of Galahad's second breakfast-a home-baked jam roll-stuffed it into his mouth and said around it: 'Well? Did he fight the hook?"

            "Not nearly the way you did with Hamadryad, Pappy. I was telling Justin about that-how the Hamadarling tripped you and thereby set up our family."

            "My God, what a canard!" Lazarus helped himself to Galahad's hot-cup. "Justin, Galahad is a sweet lad but romantic. I knew exactly what I wanted to accomplish, so I started by raping Hamadryad. That broke down her resistance, and now she sleeps with anybody, even Galahad. Everything else followed in logical sequence." He added, "You still plan to go back to Secundus?"

            I answered, "Perhaps I didn't understand what Galahad has been telling me. I thought I was committing myself, in joining, to-" I stopped. "Lazarus, I don't know what I'm committed to, and I don't know what I'm joining."

            Lazarus nodded. "One must make allowances for youth, Justin; Galahad doesn't speak clearly as yet."

            "Thanks, Pappy. Too much. I sold him the deal. Now you've got him wondering."

            "Quiet, Son. Let me spell it out, Justin. What you are joining is a family. What you are committed to is the welfare of the children. All of them, not just any that you may sire." He looked at me, waited.

            I said, "Lazarus, I've raised a number of children-"

            "I know."

            "I don't think I've let one down yet. Very well, three that I haven't seen, plus your two-your sisters or adopted daughters-plus others as they come along. Correct?"

            "Yes. But it's not a lifetime commitment; that's not practical for a Howard. This family may outlive us all-I hope so. But an adult can opt out anytime and thereby be committed only to kids then on hand-underfoot or in womb. Call it a maximum of eighteen years. However, I assume that the rest of the family would prefer to relieve such a person of his or her responsibilities in order to see the back of his neck. I can't envision a happy relationship continuing for years after someone has announced that he wants out. Can you?"

            "Well...no. But I won't let it worry me."

            "Of course it might not happen that way. Suppose Ishtar and Galahad decided to set up a separate household-"

            "Now wait one fiddlin' minute, Pappy! You can't get rid of me that easily! Ish won't have me except as part of the package. I know, I tried to get her to marry me years back."

            "-and wanted to take our three youngest with them. We would not stop them nor would we try to dissuade children who preferred to go with them. All three of them are Galahad's-"

            "There he goes again! Pappy, you put Undine into Ish in the soak pool; that's why we named her that. Elf is either yours or Ira's; the Hamadear told me so. And nobody has any doubt about Andrew Jackson. Justin, I'm sterile."

            "-based on statistical probability, both on sperm count and the fact that he keeps so busy at it. But Ishtar reads the gene charts and keeps such matters to herself; we prefer it that way. But it is extremely unlikely that Hamadryad ever said that, or that she has or ever will have a child by Ira. No genetic hazard, Ishtar is certain. And the fact that we have yet to have any defectives in this colony gives me great confidence in Ishtar's skill in reading a gene chart; she screened the first wave, a job that gave her eyestrain for months. Nevertheless, Ira has some unease about it and won't even stand close to Hamadryad when she is fertile-an irrational-attitude I understand, as I am cursed with it myself.

            I remember too well a time in the past when all the Howards had to go on was percentage of mutual ancestry-and got defectives all too often. Of course today a woman with a clean gene chart is better off married to her brother than to a stranger from another planet-but old ghosts die hard.

            "What it amounts to, Justin, is three fathers-four, with you-three mothers, but four when Minerva asks to have her adolescence protection canceled-an ever-changing number of kids to be taught and spanked and loved-plus always the possibility of the number of parents being either enhanced or diminished. But this is my house, in my name, and I've kept it that way because I planned it to house one family, not to make life jolly for goats such as Galahad-"

            "But it does! Thank you, Pappy darling."

            "-but for the welfare of children. I've seen catastrophe strike colonies that looked as safe as this one. Justin, a disaster could wipe out all but one mother and father in this family, and our kids would still grow up normally and happily. This is the only long-run purpose of a family. We think our setup insures that purpose more than a one-couple family can. When you join, you commit yourself to that purpose-that's all."

            I took a deep breath. 'Where do I sign?"

            "I see no use in written marriage contracts; they can't be enforced...whereas if the partners want to make it work, no written instrument is necessary. If you seriously want to join us, a nod of your head is enough."

            "I do!"

            "-or if you want ritual, Laz and Lor would be delighted to dream up a fancy one-and we can all have a crying jag -together-"

            "-and on his wedding night Justin gets to sleep with the babies so he'll know how serious it is."

            "Seal it, Galahad. If you want to add that touch, you should make it the night before, so he'll have a fair chance to back out if he can't take it."

            "Lazarus, I volunteer for the diaper watch tonight; I'm hardened to such things."

            "I doubt if the women will let you."

            "And you won't live till morning," Galahad added. "They're an emotional lot. Last night you had it easy. Better take the pee watch."

            "Galahad could be right; I should check your heart. As may be-keep quiet, Galahad-Justin, this household is not a jail. The setup is not only safer for children, it is more flexible for adults. When I asked you whether you intended to go back to Secundus, I meant simply that. An adult can be away for a year, ten years, any length of time for any purpose-and know that the kids are taken care of and know that he-she will be welcomed back. The twins and I have been off-planet several times and will' be again. And...well, you know I intend to attempt this time-tripping experiment. That won't involve much elapsed time in this framework but it does involve a slight -element of risk."

            "Slight!' Meaning that Pappy is out of his silly head. Be sure to kiss him good-bye when he leaves, Justin; he won't be back."

            I was alarmed to see that Galahad was not joking. Lazarus said quietly, "Galahad it is all right to say that to me. But don't say it in front of the women. Or children." He went on to me, "Of course there is an element of risk; there is in anything. But not to a time trip itself, as Galahad seems to think." (Galahad shuddered.) "The risk is the same as in visiting any planet; someone there may not like you. But the time jump takes place in the safest possible surroundings: in space with a ship around you-any risk comes later."

            Lazarus grinned. "That's why I was so riled at that old cow Arabelle-telling me to go look-see at battles! Justin, the best thing about modern times is that we are all so spread apart that war is no longer practical. But- Did I tell you what I'm going to use as a practice run?"

            "No. I had the impression from Madam Chairman Pro Tern that you already had a perfected technique."

            "It's possible that I let her think so. But Arabelle wouldn't know an imperial number from an imperial edict; she couldn't ask the right questions."

            "I don't think I could either, Lazarus; it's not my field of mathematics."

            "If you're interested, Dora can teach you-"

            "Or me, Lover Boy."

            "Or Teena. What's the idea of calling Justin 'Lover Boy,' Teena? Are you trying to seduce him?"

            "No, he's promised to seduce me...about a hundred years from now."

Lazarus looked at me thoughtfully; I tried to look as if I hadn't heard the exchange. "Mmm...maybe you had better take those lessons from Dora, Justin. You haven't met Dora, but think of her as about eight years old; she won't try to seduce you. But she's the brightest computer pilot in space and can teach you more than you want to know about Libby field transformations. I was saying that we felt sure of the theory, but I wanted a separate opinion. So I thought of asking Mary Sperling-"

            I said, "Hold it a moment! Lazarus, in all the Archives there is, I am certain, only one Mary Sperling. I'm descended from her, Tamara is descended from her-"

            "Lots of Howards descended from her, Son; Mary had over thirty children-quite a record for those days."

             "Then you do mean Elder Mary Sperling, born in 1953 Gregorian, died in-"

            "She did not die, Justin; that's the point. So I went back there and talked with her."

            My head felt fuzzy. "Lazarus, I'm confused. Are you telling me that you've already made one time trip? Nearly two thousand years? No, I mean over two thousand years-"

            "Justin, if you'll keep quiet, I'll tell you what I mean."

            "Sorry, sir."

            "Call me 'sir' and I'll get the twins to tickle you. I mean I went, in present time, to star PK372.2 and the Planet of the Little People. That designation is obsolete, and the new catalogings don't hook it in with that planet because Libby and I decided to toss in a joker; we felt that it was a place for humans to stay away from.

            "But the Little People are the source of the concepts that Andy Libby worked out as field theory that anyone can use, and all space pilots, computer and human, do use. But I had never gone back there because-well, Mary and I had been close. So close that it was a blow to me when she 'went over.' More disturbing than a death, some ways.

            "But the years do mellow a memory and I did want to consult. So the twins and I set out in the 'Dora' to try to find that planet, from a set of coordinates and a ballistic Andy had assigned a long time back. The ballistic was slightly off, but a star doesn't move far in only two thousand years; we found it.

            "No trouble then; I had warned Lor and Laz most solemnly of the subtle danger of the place. They listened, and that made them as immune to the place as I am-not tempted to swap their individual personalities for a pseudo-immortality. In fact, they had a wonderful time; the place is charming, and, safe in all other ways. Hadn't changed much, one huge park.

            "I orbited first-it's their planet, and they have powers we don't ken. Same as last time; a Doppelganger of a Little Person showed up in the 'Dora' and invited us down to visit only this time it called me by name-in my head; they don't use oral speech-and admitted to being Mary Sperling. That shook me but it was good news. She-'it,' I mean-it seemed mildly pleased to see me but not especially interested; it was not like meeting a beloved old friend but more like meeting a stranger who nevertheless remembered what that old friend remembered."

            "I understand it," the computer said. "Something like Minerva and me, huh?"

            "Yes, dear...except that you had a more positive personality your very first day than this creature who used the name of my old friend...and you've been getting positiver and positiver for the past three years."

            "Ol' Buddy Boy, I'll bet you tell that to all the girls."

            "Could be. Please keep quiet, dear. Nothing more to tell, Justin, save that we grounded and stayed a few days, and Dora and I consulted with the Little People about space-time field theory while the twins listened and enjoyed playing tourist. But, Justin, when the Families left there, returning to Earth in the 'New Frontiers,' you will recall that we left some ten thousand behind."

            "Eleven thousand, one hundred, and eighty-three," I answered, "according to log of the 'New Frontiers.'"

            "Is that what we logged? Should have been more, maybe, as the logged figure was reconstructed by seeing who couldn't be mustered, almost certainly there were unregistered children among those who elected to stay behind; we were there quite a piece. But the exact number doesn't matter. Justin, call it an even ten thousand. Given a favorable environment; how many would you expect to find there after two thousand years?"

            I used the arbitrary expansion. "Approximately ten to the twenty-second-which is ridiculous. I would expect either a stabilized optimax-call it ten to the tenth-or a Malthüsian catastrophe, in not over seven to eight centuries."

            "Justin, there were none. Nor any sign that men had ever been there."

            "What happened to them?"

            "What happened to Neanderthal Man? What happens to any champion when he's defeated? Justin, what's the point in striving when you're so outclassed that it's no contest? The Little People have the perfect Utopia-no strife, no competition, no population problem, no poverty, perfect harmony with their beautiful planet. Paradise, Justin! The Little People are all the things that philosophers and religious leaders throughout history have been urging the human race to become.

            "Maybe they are perfect, Justin. Maybe they are what the human race can become...in another million years. Or ten million.

            "But when I say that their Utopia frightens me, that I think it is deadly to human beings, and that they themselves look like a dead end to me, I am not running them down. Oh, no! They know far more about mathematics and science than I do-or I wouldn't have gone there to consult them. I can't imagine fighting them because it wouldn't be a fight; they would already have won against anything we could attempt. If we became obnoxious to them, I can't guess what would happen-and don't want to find out. But I don't see any danger as long as we leave them alone as we don't have anything they, want. So it appears to me-but what's the opinion of one old Neanderthal? I understand them as little as that kitten over there understands astrogation.

            "I don't know what happened to the Howards who stayed behind. Some may have gone over and been assimilated, as Mary Sperling did. I didn't ask, I didn't want to know. Some may have lapsed into lotus-eaters' apathy and died. I doubt if many reproduced-although it is possible that there were sub-humans around being kept as pets. If so, I most especially did not want to know it. I got what I wanted: a corroborating opinion on a mathematical oddity in field physics-then gathered up my girls and left.

            "We did one thing before we left that neighborhood: We made a ball-of-twine photographic survey of their planet, then had Athene examine it when we got back. Teena?"

            "Sure, Buddy Boy. Justin, if there is a human artifact on the surface of that planet, it is less than a half meter in diameter."

            "So I assume that they are all dead," Lazarus said grimly, "and I shan't go back. No, the trip to PK3722 was not a trial run time trip, but just a common star hop. The test run will be about as simple and quite safe, as it will not involve putting down on a planet. Want to come along? Or shall we take Galahad?"

            "Pappy," Galahad said earnestly, "I am young, beautiful, healthy, and happy, and plan to stay that way; you are not volunteering me for any such harebrained junket I'm not making any more star hops of any sort; I'm the home-loving type. I've made one landing with Hot Pilot Lorelei at the overrides. That's enough; I'm convinced."

            "Now, boy, be reasonable," Lazarus said gently. "When we do this, my girls will be old enough to want active male attention-which I am not going to supply; I would lose all control over them. Think of it as your duty."

            "When you start talking about 'duty,' I break out with hives. The trouble is, Pappy, you're a sissy, afraid of two little girls."

            "Could be. Because they won't be little girls much longer. Justin?"

            I thought furiously. To be invited by the Senior to take a star trip with him is not an honor to turn down. That it included an attempt to travel in time did not bother me; the idea seemed unreal. But it couldn't be dangerous or he wouldn't be taking his sister-daughters along-and, besides, I felt that Lazarus was unkillable; a passenger with him should be safe. Gigolo for his girls?-Lazarus was farcing Galahad, I was sure...as I was certain that Lad and Lori would settle such matters to suit themselves. "Lazarus, I will go anywhere you ask me to go."

            "Hold it!" objected Galahad. "Pappy, Tamara isn't going to like this."

            "No trouble, Son. Tamara is welcome, and I think she would enjoy it. She's not chicken like some people we won't mention."

            "What?" Galahad sat up straight. "Take away Tamara and Justin...and our twins...and you yourself? Half the family? And leave the rest of us here to mourn?" Galahad took a deep breath, sighed it out. "All right, I give up. I volunteer. But leave Justin and Tamara at home. And the twins, we can't risk them. You pilot, I'll cook. As long as we last, that is."

            "Galahad shows unexpected streaks of nobility," Lazarus said to no one in particular. "It'll get him killed yet. Forget it, Son; I don't need a cook, Dora is a better cook than either of us. The twins will insist on going, and I need to supervise them through a couple of time jumps; later they will have to do it alone."

            Lazarus turned to me. "Justin, while you are welcome, it will be a dull trip. You would know you'd traveled in time only because I'd tell you so. I have in mind going to a planet easy to find because Libby and I surveyed it and he determined its ballistic accurately. I'm not planning to land; it's a moderately dangerous place. But it happens to be a planet I can use as a clock.

            "This may sound silly. But it is hard to be sure of the date in space, other than by your inboard clocks-in particular the radioactive-decay clocks of your computer. Telling time by examining celestial bodies is difficult and involves subtle measurements and long calculation; it is more practical to ground on a civilized planet and bang on somebody's door and ask.

            "There are exceptions-any stellar system with known ephemerides of its planets, such as here, or Secundus' star, or the Solar System, and others-if Dora hat such data in her gizzards, she can look at such a system and read the time by its planets as if they were hands on a clock-Libby did that with the Solar System from the 'New Frontiers.'

            "But on this trial trip I'll be calibrating a time-travel clock-another matter and new. I left something in orbit around that planet on a known date. Later I could not find it, despite having equipped it so that I certainly should have found it. Uh...it was Andy Libby's coffin.

            "Very well, I'll go look again, trying to split two known dates. If I find it, I will have begun calibration of a time-travel clock-as well as proving that the time-trip theory is correct. Follow me?"

            "I think so," I admitted, "to the extent of seeing that it is an experimental proof. But field theory is so far from my own specialty that I can't say more."

            "No' need to. I don't understand it too well myself. The first computer designed to manage Libby-Sheffield drive was a reflection of Andy's unique mind; all since are refinements. If a pilot tells you he understands it and uses a computer simply because it's faster, don't ride with him; he's a phony. Eh, Teena?"

            "I understand astrogation," said the computer, "because Minerva replicated Dora's astrogation circuitry and programming in me. But I do not think that it is possible to discuss it in English, or even Galacta, or any language using word elements. I can print out the basic equations and thereby show a static picture-a slice-of a dynamic process. Shall I do so?"

            "Don't bother," said Lazarus.

            "Heavens, no!" I echoed. "Thank you, Athene, but I have no ambition to be a star pilot."

            "Galahad," said Lazarus, "How about rousing your lazy carcass and finding a little snack for lunch? Say about four thousand calories each. Justin, I asked if you plan to go back to Secundus because I don't want you to."

            "That suits me!"

            "Pallas Athene, make this a private record, keyed to me and to Chief Archivist Foote."

            "Program running, Mr. Chairman." Galahad lifted his eyebrows, left abruptly.

            "Chief Archivist, is the situation in New Rome becoming critical?"

            I answered carefully, "Mr. Chairman, in my opinion it is, although I'm no more than a dilettante in social dynamics. But . . I did not come here to deliver a silly message from Madam Chairman Pro Tem. I came here hoping to talk with you about it"

            Lazarus looked at me long and thoughtfully-and I caught a glimpse of part of what makes him unique. He has the quality of giving full attention to whatever he does, be it a matter of life and death, or something as trivial as dancing to amuse a guest. I recognized it because Tamara has the same quality;- she displays it by giving total attention to the person she is with.

            She does not have exceptional beauty, nor, I suppose, is she more skillful in technique than any of several other professionals-or even some amateurs. No matter, it is this quality of total concentration that sets her apart from other fine women of her merciful calling.

            I think the Senior lends it to everything. Now he had suddenly "picked up the gavel," and his computer knew it at once, and Galahad-spotted it almost as quickly-and I stopped worrying.

            "I never assumed," he said, "that the Families' Chief of Records would play messenger with a useless message. So tell me your reason."

            Elaborate it? No, explanations could follow. "Mr. Chairman, the Archives should be replicated off Secundus. I came here to see if it could be done on Tertius."

            "Go on."

            "I've never seen civil disorder. I'm not sure of the symptoms, nor how long it takes them to grow into open violence. But the people of Secundus aren't used to arbitrary laws and rules that change overnight. I think there will be trouble. I would feel that I had carried out the duties of my office if I insured that destruction of the Archives could not mean that our records are lost. The vaults are underground-but not invulnerable. I have figured out eleven ways that some or all of the Archives could be destroyed."

            "If there are eleven ways, then there is a twelfth, and a thirteenth, and so on. Have you discussed this with anyone?"

            "No!" I added more quietly, "I didn't want to put ideas into anyone's head."

            "Sound. Sometimes the best one can do about a weak point is not to call attention to it."

            "It seemed so to me, sir." I added, "But when I started worrying I started trying to do something to protect the records. I instituted a policy of making dead-storage duplicates of all processed data at the point they enter the Archives. I had in mind copying the entire Archives, then shipping them somewhere. But I had no funding, or enough money of my own, to pay for the memory cubes. They should be Welton Fine-Grains, or they would be too bulky to ship."

            "When did you start copying new accessions?"

            "Shortly after the Trustees' Meeting. I had expected Susan Barstow to be elected. When Arabelle Foote-Hedrick got it- well, it disturbed me. Because of an incident years back when we were both on campus. I thought about resigning. But I had started work on your memoirs."

            "Justin, I think you kidded yourself about your reason for staying. You suspected that Arabelle might make an ad-interim appointment other than your deputy."

            "That's possible, sir."

            "But irrelevant. You used Weltons for this copying?"

            "Oh, yes. I could squeeze funds for that much."

            "Where are they? Still in the 'Homing Pigeon'?"

            I suppose I looked startled. The Senior said, "Come, come! They were important to you-do you expect me to think that you left them light-years away?"

            "Mr. Chairman, the cubes are in my baggage...still in Colony Leader Weatheral's office."

            "Pallas Athene?"

            "Back of the visitors' couch, Mr. Chairman. The Colony Leader told me to remind him to fetch home Mr. Foote's luggage."

            "Perhaps we can do better. Chief Archivist if you will permit Pallas Athene to have the code to your bags, she has extensionals in Ira's office to copy those cubes at once. Then you can quit worrying; Pallas Athene already has the Archives in her, up to the day I let Arabelle have the gavel back."

            I know my face showed it. The Senior chuckled and said, "Why and how? 'Why' because you aren't the only one who feels that the Families' records should be safeguarded. 'How?' We stole them, Son, we stole them. I had control of the executive computer and used it to copy the whole works-genealogies, history, minutes of the Families' Meetings, everything- with an override program to keep your boss computer from knowing what I was doing.

            "Right under your nose, Chief Archivist-but I kept it from you for your protection; I did not want Arabelle to get wind of it and quiz you. It would have given her ideas, and she had too many already. The only problem was to scrounge enough Welton cubes. But you are sitting on them right now, about twenty meters under your arse-and when Pallas Athene reads the ones in your luggage, the duplicate Archives will be complete to the date you left Secundus. Feel better?"

            I sighed. "Much better, Mr. Chairman. I can stay with a clear conscience. I now feel free to resign."

            "Don't."

            "Sir?"

            "Stay here, yes. But don't resign. Your deputy is carrying on and you trust her. Arabelle can't legally put in her own boy by ad-interim appointment unless you do resign, since your appointment comes from the Trustees. Not that legality would bother her-but again let's not put ideas into her head. How many Trustees on Secundus?"

            "'On' Secundus, sir? Or resident on Secundus?"

            "Don't quibble Son."

            "Mr. Chairman, I am not quibbling. There are two hundred eighty-two Senior Trustees. Of that number one hundred ninety-five are resident on Secundus, the other eighty-seven representing Howards on other planets. I put it as I did because it requires a two-thirds majority to pass a policy motion-two-thirds of a quorum at a decennial meeting, or two-thirds of the total number, or one hundred eighty-eight, at an emergency meeting unless every trustee everywhere has been notified-which can take years. I mention this because, were you to call an emergency meeting, it might be impossible to muster one hundred eighty-eight votes necessary to recall Madam Chairman Pro Tem."

            The Senior blinked at me. "Mr. Archivist, what in Ned gave you the notion that I would call a Trustees' meeting? Or would attempt to recall our dear Sister Arabelle?"

            "Your question seemed to be leading toward that, sir-and I remember an occasion on which you took back the gavel."

            "Entirely different. My motives then were selfish. The old biddy was about to spoil my plans by grabbing Ira. The circumstances were quite different-meaning I could get away with it-which I can't today. Son, despite what the records show, Arabelle didn't give up that gavel willingly; I grabbed it from her. Then the short time it took us to finish up and leave, I kept her prisoner."

            "Really, Mr. Chairman? She doesn't seem to harbor resentment. She speaks of you in the highest terms."

            The Senior grinned his lazy, cynical grin. "That's because we're both pragmatists. I was careful to save her face and made sure she knew it, and now she has nothing to gain by running me down-and something to lose, because I've acquired a semisacred status. Her status depends in part on mine and she knows it. Just the same- Well, if I ever find myself on the same planet with her-unlikely, I'm no fool-I shall be very careful going through doors and such.

            "I'll tell you how it worked, and you'll see why I can't do it twice. Once Ira handed her the gavel he moved out of the Palace-proper. But until we left I continued to live in the penthouse on top of the Palace-also proper; the Palace is my official residence. Because I was still there, Minerva was-still hooked in. In consequence she was able to warn me when Arabelle's busies grabbed Ira. I came out of a sound sleep and grabbed the gavel."

            Lazarus frowned. "A planetwide executive computer is a menace, Justin. When it was Minerva with Ira giving orders, it worked fine. But see what I did with it and extrapolate what someone else might do with one. Arabelle, for instance. Uh- Teena, give Justin a sample of Arabelle's voice."

            "Yes, Mr. Chairman. 'Chief Archivist Foote, this is the Chairwoman Pro Tem. I have the honor to announce that I have been able to persuade our distinguished Ancestor, Lazarus Long, Permanent Chairman of the Howard Families, to assume for us the titular leadership of the Families during the regrettably short period remaining until he again embarks for a new world. Please give this announcement full distribution among your subordinates. I will continue to handle routine details but the Chairman wants you to feel free to consult him at any time. Speaking for the Trustees and for the Chairman, this is Arabelle Foote-Hedrick, Chairwoman Pro Tempore of the Howard Families.'"

            "Why that s exactly what she said to me."

            "Yup. Minerva did a good job. She got just the right pomposity into the phrasing, as well as getting Arabelle's voice down pat, even to that sniff she uses for punctuation."

            "That wasn't Arabeile? I had no slightest suspicion."

            "Justin, when that message went to you-and one like it to everyone important enough to rate it-Arabelle was in the biggest, fanciest apartment in the Palace-and very annoyed that doors wouldn't open and transport wouldn't come and none of the communication arrangements would work-except when I wanted to talk to her. Shucks, I didn't even let her have a cup of coffee until she got her feathers down and conceded that I was Chairman and running things.

            "After that we got along pretty well, even became somewhat chummy. I did everything for her but turn her loose. She took over the routine-I didn't want to be bothered-which was safe as Minerva would have chopped her off if she got out of line and she knew it. She and I even appeared together on a newscast the morning I left, and Arabelle spoke her piece like a lady, and my public thanks to her were just as sincerely insincere."

            Lazarus Long continued, "But now she has the executive computer and if I went back, I'd throw my hat in first. No, Justin, I was not asking about the Trustees on Secundus with any intention of calling a meeting; instead I was thinking that any twenty Trustees can call an emergency meeting and hoping that they would see it as you do-futile-and not try. She might grab them and ship them to Felicity. Or, if she has the nerve-I think she has-she might let them hold their meeting, then if it went against her, ship all the Trustees who show up off to Felicity. But I guarantee she won't quit without a fight. I caught her with her pants down; she won't be caught twice."

            "Then it means a bloodbath."

            "That may be the only way out. But you and I can't help the situation. In all matters of government the correct answer is usually: Do nothing. This is such a time-a time to exercise creative inaction. Sit tight. Wait"

            "Even when you know things are going wrong?"

            "Even when you know it, Justin. The itch to be a world saver should not be scratched; it rarely does any good and can drastically shorten your life. I see three major possibilities: Arabelle may be assassinated. The Trustees will then elect another Chairman Pro Tern, hopefully one with sense. Or she may last till the next ten-year meeting, whereupon the Trustees may exercise some sense. Or she may get smart, not expose herself to assassination while consolidating her power so strongly that it will take a revolution to get rid of her.

            "I regard the last as least likely, assassination as the most likely-and none of it our business here on Tertius. There are a billion people on Secundus; let them handle it. You and I have saved the Archives and that's good; the Families maintain their continuity.

            "In a few years we'll import equipment for you-or your successor-to set up the sort of computterized deal you have on Secundus. Athene can keep data in storage until we're set up. Meanwhile I'll let a message echo around the inhabited planets that the Archives are here, too. I'll also announce that this is an alternate Families' Seat where the Trustees are welcome to meet."

            The computer said, "Mr. Chairman, Mr. Jones has asked if I know when you will be ready for lunch."

            "Please tell him we will be there in a moment, No hurry on any of this, Justin; if you're patient, problems tend to solve themselves-and patient is all one can be when it takes years to pass a message around even among the more thickly settled planets. So wait a hundred years. One private message for you. You're one of us now? A member of this family and a father to our kids?"

            "Yes. I want to be."

            "You want it formal? All right, here's a short one, binding-and later you can have any ritual you want. Justin, are you our brother? Till the stars grow old and our sun grows cold? Will you fight for us, lie for us, love us-and let us love you?"

            "I will!"

            "That does it; Athene has it on record-open record, Athene."

            "Recorded, Lazarus. Welcome to the family, Justin!"

            "Thank you, Athene."

            "The private message is thus, Justin. Tamara asked me to tell you-if you married us-that she is going to ask Ishtar to cancel her immunity to impregnation. She did not say that this was exclusively for you. On the contrary she told me that she hopes to have children by each of us as quickly as possible; then she would at last feel fully in the family. Nevertheless I am certain that her decision was triggered by your arrival...so the rest of us will hang back and cheer while you plant the first one-our Tammy will like that"

            My eyes suddenly filled with tears, but I kept my voice steady. "Lazarus, I don't think that's what Tamara wants. I think she just wants to be fully a member of the family-and so do I!"

            "Well...perhaps so. In any case Ishtar keeps the genetic answers to herself. Maybe we'll line up all the gals and see what a new rooster can do. End of restricted conference, Teena."

            "Sure thing, Buddy Boy. And a hundred years from now you can line up all the men for me. Betcha I can whip 'em!"

            "You probably can, dear."

VARIATIONS ON A THEME-XVI

            Eros

            Minerva said, "Lazarus, will you walk with me? Outside?"

            "I will if you'll smile."

            She smiled briefly. "None of us feels much like smiling today. But I'll try."

            "Confound it, dear, you know I won't be gone any time to speak of, by this framework. Just like the calibrating hop the twins and I made."

            "Yes, dear. Shall we go?"

            He patted her little skirt. "Thought so. Where's your gun?"

            "Must I wear it? When you are with me? I will wear it without fail...while you are gone."

            "Well- Bad precedent. All right." They paused in the foyer. Minerva said, "Athene dear, please tell Tamara I'll be back in time to help with dinner."

            "Sure thing, Sis. Hold it- Tammy girl says she doesn't need help, so don't hurry."

            "Thanks, Sister. And thank Tammy for me." They left the house, started up a gentle bill. Presently she said, "Tomorrow.

            "'Tomorrow,'" Lazarus repeated, "but don't make it sound like a dirge. I've told you all that, while this trip will be ten T-years elapsed time for me, it will be at most a few weeks for you at home-and even less for the twins. What is there to get solemn over?"

            Instead of answering, she said, "How long will I live?"

            "Eh? Minerva, what sort of question is that? Not too long if you neglect ordinary precautions such as going armed and staying alert. If you mean your life expectancy-well, if the geneticists know what they are talking about, you have exactly the expectancy I was born with and it doesn't matter that I'm a freak; I pass it on to you. But even if they are mistaken about that gene complex in the twelfth chromosome pair, there is no possible doubt that you are a Howard in every gene. So you're good for a couple of centuries without trying. But with a willingness to undergo rejuve every time you reach menopause, I couldn't guess how long you will last-they learn more about it every year. As long as you want to live, probably. How long is that?"

            "I don't know, Lazarus."

            "Then what's eating you, dear? Sorry you gave up being a computer for vulnerable flesh-and-blood?"

            "Oh, no!"

            Then she added, "But sometimes it hurts."

            "Yes. Sometimes it does."

            "Lazarus...if you are certain you are coming back why did you reorient Dora so that her affection is fixed on Lori and Lazi rather than on you?"

            "Is that all that's troubling you? A routine precaution, that's all. Why did Ira make a new will when we set up our family? Why do we all have wills emplaced in Teena? My sisters will own the 'Dora' presently no matter what; they already run it. If anything did happen to me- Do you remember something you said years ago? You told Ira that you would self-destroy rather than serve another master."

            "Is it likely that I would fail to carry over such a memory? That day led to this, by inevitable concatenation. Lazarus, I left behind much of my memories...but I traced and retraced in this Minerva every conversation that Minerva ever shared with you. Every word."

            "Then you know why I won't risk hurting a computer who thinks she's little girl...and why I don't dare risk an emotional malfunction in a piloting computer somewhere out between the stars-when my sisters' lives depend on that computer. Minerva, I would have bonded Dora to Lori and Lazi just on Dora's account; she needs to love and be loved. But if I had neglected to do it as a safety precaution for the twins-well, a man who refuses to take his own death into account in making plans is a fool. A self-centered fool who does not love anyone."

            "You are not that, Lazarus, you have never been that."

            "Oh, yes, I have! It took me endless years to learn."

            Again she let time pass before she spoke. "Lazarus...I have often wondered about Llita."

            "'About Lilta'? Huh?"

            "And about her, even more than about Llita. Do I really look like her?"

            He stopped and stared at her. They were near the top of the hill now, out of sight of the house. "I don't know. How can I know? A thousand years- Memories fade and blend. I think you look like her. Yes, you do."

            "Is that why you can't love me? Did I make a terrible mistake in wanting to look like her?"

            "But darling...I do love you."      

            "You do? Lazarus, you have never shared this boon with me." Suddenly she unwrapped the little skirt, dropped it on the grass. "Look at me, Lazarus. I am not she. For your sake I wish I could be she. But I am not...and I made- I- I was a computer then and didn't know any better. I did not mean to hurt you, I did not mean to raise ghosts in your mind! Can you forgive me this?"

            "Minerva! Stop, darling! There is nothing to forgive."

            "Time is short, you are leaving. Can you truly forgive me? Will you put your child into me before you go?" Her eyes were welling tears, but she stared at him steadily. "I want your child, Lazarus. I will not ask twice...but I could not let you leave without asking. In my ignorance I made myself look like her-because you loved her-but you could close your eyes!"

            "Beloved-"

            "Yes, Lazarus?"

            "Does Ira close his eyes? Refuse to see you?"

            "No."

            "Does Justin? Or Galahad? If you can stand my homely face, I surely can stand your lovely one-and, with any luck, she'll look more like you than me. Let's go back to the house."

            Her face lit up. "What's wrong with this little stand of trees?"

            "Mmm. Yes. Now."