I WILL FEAR NO EVIL
Robert A. Heinlein

Note: The National Rare Blood Club (mentioned herein) is a nonprofit
organization having its national headquarters at 164 Fifth Avenue, New
York, N. Y. 10010, telephone (212) Chelsea 3-8037. R.A.H.



To Rex and Kathleen



1


The room was old-fashioned, 1980 baroque, but it was wide, long, high, and
luxurious. Near simulated view windows stood an automated hospital bed. It
looked out of place but was largely concealed by a magnificent Chinese
screen. Forty feet from it a boardroom table also failed to match the decor.
At the head of this table was a life-support wheelchair; wires and tubings
ran from it to the bed.
Near the wheelchair, at a mobile stenodesk crowded with directional mikes,
voice typewriter, clock-calendar, controls, and the usual ancillaries, a young
woman sat. She was beautiful.
Her manner was that of the perfect unobtrusive secretary but she was
dressed in a current exotic mode. "Half & Half"-right shoulder and breast
and arm concealed in jet-black knit, left leg sheathed in a scarlet tight,
panty-ruffle in both colors joining them, black sandal on the scarlet side, red
sandal on her bare right foot. Her skin paint was patterned in the same
scarlet and black.
On the other side of the wheelchair was an older woman garbed in a
nurse's conventional white pantyhose and smock. She ignored everything
but her dials and a patient in the chair. Seated around the table were a
dozen-odd men, most of them in spectator-sports style affected by older
executives.
Cradled in the life-support chair was a very old man. Except for restless
eyes, he looked like a poor job of embalming. No cosmetic help had been
used to soften the brutal fact of his decrepitude.
"Ghoul," he was saying softly to a man halfway down the table. "You're a
slavering ghoul, Parky me boy. Didn't your father teach you that it is polite
to wait for a man to stop kicking before you bury him? Or did you have a
father? Erase that last, Eunice. Gentlemen, Mr. Parkinson has moved that I
be invited to resign as chairman of the board. Do I hear a second?"
He waited, looking from face to face, then said, "Oh, come now! Who is
letting you down, Parky? You,
George?"
"I had nothing to do with it."
"But you would love to vote 'Aye.' Motion fails for want of a second."
"I withdraw my motion."
"Too late, Parkinson. Erasures are made only by unanimous consent,
implied or overt. One objection is enough-and I, Johann Sebastian Bach
Smith, do so object... and that rule controls because 1 wrote it before you
learned to read.
"But"-Smith looked around at the others-"I do have news. As you heard
from Mr. Teal, all our divisions are in satisfactory shape; Sea Ranches and
General Textbooks are more than satisfactory-so this is a good time for me
to retire."
Smith waited, then said, "You can close your mouths. Don't look smug,
Parky; I have more news for you. I stay on as chairman of the board but will
no longer be chief executive. Our chief counsel, Mr. Jake Salomon,
becomes deputy chairman and-"
"Hold it, Johann. I am not going to manage this five-ring circus."
"Nobody said you would, Jake. But you can preside at board meetings
when I'm not available. Is that too much to ask?"
"Mmm, I suppose not."
"Thank you. I'm resigning as president of Smith Enterprises, and Mr. Byram
Teal becomes our president and chief executive officer-he's doing the work;
it's time he got the title-and pay and stock options and all the perks and
privileges and tax loopholes. No more than fair."
Parkinson said, "Now see here, Smith!"
"Hold it, youngster. Don't start a remark to me with 'Now see here-' Address
me as 'Mr. Smith' or Mr. Chairman.' What is your point?"
Parkinson controlled himself, then said, "Very well, Mister Smith. I can't
accept this. Quite aside from promoting your assistant to the office of
president in one jump-utterly unheard of!-if there is a change in
management, 1 must be considered. I represent the second largest block of
voting stock."
"I did consider you for president, Parky."
"You did?"
"Yep. I thought about it...and snickered."
"Why, you-"
"Don't say it, I might sue. What you forget is that my block has voting
control. Now about your block- By company policy anyone representing five
                                     2
percent or more of voting stock is automatically on the board even if nobody
loves him and he suffers from spiritual bad breath. Which describes both
you and me.
"Or did describe you. Byram, what's the late word on proxies and stock
purchases?"
"A full report, Mr. Smith?"
"No, just tell Mr. Parkinson where he stands."
"Yes, sir. Mr. Parkinson, you now control less than five percent of the voting
stock."
Smith added sweetly, "So you're fired, you young ghoul. Jake, call a special
stockholders' meeting, legal notice, all formalities, for the purpose of giving
Parky a gold watch and kicking him out-and electing his successor. Further
business? None. Meeting's adjourned. Stick around, Jake. You, too,
Eunice. And Byram, if you have anything on your mind."
Parkinson jumped to his feet. "Smith, you haven't heard the last of this!"
"Oh, no doubt," the old man said sweetly. "Meantime my respects to your
mother-in-law and tell her that Byram will go on making her rich even
though I've fired you."
Parkinson left abruptly. Others started to leave. Smith said mildly, "Jake,
how does a man get to be fifty years old without acquiring horse sense?
Only smart thing that lad ever did was pick a rich mother-in-law. Yes,
Hans?"
"Johann," Hans von Ritter said, leaning on the table and speaking directly
to the chairman, "I did not like your treatment of Parkinson."
"Thanks. You're honest with me to my face. Scarce these days."
"Removing him from the board is okay; he's an obstructionist. But there was
no need to humiliate him."
"I suppose not. One of my little pleasures, Hans. I don't have many these
days."
A Simplex footman rolled in, hung the vacated chairs on its rack, rolled out;
von Ritter continued: "1 have no intention of being treated that way. If you
want nothing but Yes men on your board, let us note that I control much
less than five percent of the voting stock. Do you want my resignation?"
"Good God, no! I need you, Hans-and Byram will need you still more. I can't
use trained seals; a man has to have the guts to disagree with me, or he's a
waste of space. But when a man bucks me,. I want him to do it intelligently.
You do. You've forced me to change my mind several times-not easy,
stubborn as I am. Now about this other-sit down. Eunice, whistle up that
easy chair for Dr. von Ritter."
The chair approached; von Ritter waved it back, it retreated. "No, I haven't
time to be cajoled. What do you want?" He straightened up; the boardroom

                                      3
table folded its legs, turned on edge, and glided away through a slot in the
wall.
"Hans, I've surrounded myself with men who don't like me, not a Yes man
or trained seal among them. Even Byram-especially Byram-got his job by
contradicting me and being right. Except when he's been wrong and that's
why he needs men like you on the board. But Parkinson- I was entitled to
clip him-publicly-because he called for my resignation-publicly.
Nevertheless you are right, Hans; 'tit for tat' is childish. Twenty years ago-
even ten-I would never have humiliated a man. If a man operates by reflex,
as most do instead of using their noggins, humiliating him forces him to try
to get even. I know better. But I'm getting senile, as we all know."
Von Ritter said nothing. Smith Went on, "Will you stick?-and help keep
Byram steady?"
"Uh...I'll stick. As long as you behave yourself." He turned to leave.
"Fair enough. Hans? Will you dance at my wake?"
Von Bitter looked back and grinned. "I'd be delighted!"
"Thought so. Thanks, Hans. G'bye."
Smith said to Byram Teal, "Anything, son?"
"Assistant Attorney General coming from Washington tomorrow to talk to
you about our Machine Tools Division buying control of Homecrafts, Ltd. I
think-"
"To talk to you. If you can't handle him, I picked the wrong man. What
else?"
"At Sea Ranch number five we lost a man at the fifty-fathom line. Shark."
"Married?"
"No, sir. Nor dependent parents."
"Well, do the pretty thing, whatever it is. You have those videospools of me,
the ones that actor fellow dubbed the sincere voice onto. When we lose one
of our own, we can't have the public thinking we don't give a hoot."
Jake Salomon added, "Especially when we don't." Smith clucked at him.
"Jake, do you have a way to look into my heart? It's our policy to be lavish
with death benefits, plus the little things that mean so much."
"-and look so good. Johann, you don't, have a heart-just dials and
machinery. Furthermore you never did have."
Smith smiled. "Jake, for you we'll make an exception. When you die, we'll
try not to notice. No flowers, not even the customary black-bordered page in
our house organs."
"You won't have anything to say about it, Johann. I'll outlive you twenty
years."
"Going to dance at my wake?"
"I don't dance," the lawyer answered, "but you tempt me to learn."

                                      4
"Don't bother, I'll outlive you. Want to bet? Say a million to your favorite tax
deduction? No, I can't bet; I need your help to stay alive. Byram, check with
me tomorrow. Nurse, leave us; I want to talk with my lawyer."
"No, sir. Dr. Garcia wants a close watch on you at all times."
Smith looked thoughtful. "Miss Bedpan, I acquired my speech habits before
the Supreme Court took up writing dirty words on sidewalks. But I will try to
use words plain enough for you to understand. I am your employer. I pay
your wages. This is my home. I told you to get out. That's an order."
The nurse looked stubborn, said nothing.
Smith sighed. "Jake, I'm getting old-I forget that they follow their own rules.
Will you locate Dr. Garcia-somewhere in the house-and find out how you
and I can have a private conference in spite of this too faithful watchdog?"
Shortly Dr. Garcia arrived, looked over dials and patient, conceded that
telemetering would do for the time being. "Miss MacIntosh, shift to the
remote displays."
"Yes, Doctor. Will you send for a nurse to relieve me? I want to quit this
assignment."
"Now, Nurse-"
"Just a moment, Doctor," Smith put in. "Miss MacIntosh, I apologize for
calling you, 'Miss Bedpan' Childish of me, another sign of increasing
senility. But, Doctor, if she must leave-I hope she won't-bill me for a
thousand-dollar bonus for her. Her attention to duty has been
perfect...despite many instances of unreasonable behavior on my part."
"Oh...see me outside, Nurse."
When doctor and nurse had left Salomon said dryly, "Johann, you are
senile only when it suits you."
Smith chuckled. "I do take advantage of age and illness. What other
weapons have I left?"
"Money."
"Ah, yes. Without money I wouldn't be alive. But I am childishly bad-
tempered these days. You could chalk it up to the fact that a man who has
always been active feels frustrated by being imprisoned. But it's simpler to
call it senility...since God and my doctor know that my body is senile."
"I call it stinking bad temper, Johann, not senility-since you can control it
when you want to. Don't use it on me; I won't stand for it."
Smith chuckled. "Never, Jake; I need you. Even more than I need Eunice-
though she's ever so much prettier than you. How about it, Eunice? Has my
behavior been bad lately?"
His secretary shrugged-producing complex secondary motions pleasant to
see. "You're pretty stinky at times, Boss. But I've learned to ignore it."
"You see, Jake? If Eunice refused to put up with it-as you do-I'd be the
sweetest boss in the land. As it is, I use her as a safety valve."
                                       5
Salomon said, "Eunice, any time you get fed up with this vile-tempered old
wreck you can work for me, at the same salary or higher."
"Eunice, your salary just doubled!"
"Thank you, Boss," she said promptly. "I've recorded it. And the time." I'll
notify Accounting."
Smith cackled. "See why I keep her? Don't try to outbid me, you old goat,
you don't have enough chips."
"Senile," Salomon growled. "Speaking of money, whom do you want to put
into Parkinson's slot?"
"No rush, he was a blank file. Do you have a candidate, Jake?"
"No. Although after this last little charade it occurs to me that Eunice might
be a good bet."
Eunice looked startled, then dropped all expression. Smith looked
thoughtful. "It had not occurred to me. But it might be a perfect solution.
Eunice, would you be willing to be a director of the senior corporation?"
Eunice flipped her machine to "NOT RECORDING."
"You're both making fun of me! Stop it."
"My dear," Smith said gently, "you know I don't joke about money. As for
Jake, it is the only subject sacred to him-he sold his daughter and his
grandmother down to Rio."
"Not my daughter," Salomon objected. "Just Grandmother...and the old girl
didn't fetch much. But it gave us a spare bedroom."
"But, Boss, I don't know anything about running a business!"
"You wouldn't have to. Directors don't manage, they set policy. But you do
know more about running it than most of our directors; you've been on the
inside for years. Plus almost inside during the time you were my secretary's
secretary before Mrs. Bierman retired. But here are advantages I see in
what may have been a playful suggestion on Jake's part. You are already
an officer of the corporation as Special Assistant Secretary assigned to
record for the board-and I made you that, you'll both remember, to shut up
Parkinson when he bellyached about my secretary being present during an
executive session. You'll go on being that-and my personal secretary, too;
can't spare you-while becoming a director. No conflict, you'll simply vote as
well as recording. Now we come to the key question: Are you willing to vote
the way Jake votes?"
She looked solemn. "You wish me' to, sir?"
"Or the way I do if I'm present, which comes to the same thing. Think back
and you'll see that Jake and I have always voted the same way on basic
policy-settling it ahead of time-while wrangling and voting against each
other on things that don't matter. Read the old minutes, you'll spot it."
"I noticed it long ago," she said simply, "but didn't think it was my place to
comment."
                                      6
"Jake, she's our new director. One more point, my dear: If it turns out that
we need your spot, will you resign? You won't lose by it."
"Of course, sir. I don't have to be paid to agree to that."
"You still won't lose by it. I feel better. Eunice, I've had to turn management
over to Teal; I'll be turning policy over to Jake-you know the shape I'm in. I
want lake to have as many sure votes backing him as possible. Oh we can
always fire directors. . . but it is best not to have to do so, a fact von Bitter
rubbed my nose in. Okay, you're a director. We'll formalize it at that
stockholders' meeting. Welcome to the ranks of the Establishment. Instead
of a wage slave, you have sold out and are now a counterrevolutionary,
warmongering, rat-fink, fascist dog. How does it feel?"
"Not 'dog," Eunice objected. "The rest is lovely but 'dog' is the wrong sex;
I'm female. A bitch."
"Eunice, I not only do not use such words with ladies around, you know that
I do not care to hear them from ladies."
"Can a 'rat-fink fascist' be a lady? Boss, I learned that word in kindergarten.
Nobody minds it today."
"I learned it out behind the barn and let's keep it there."
Salomon growled. "I don't have time to listen to amateur lexicologists. Is the
conference over?"
"What? Not at all! Now comes the top-secret part, the reason I sent the
nurse out. So gather ye round."
"Johann, before you talk secrets, let me ask one question. Does that bed
have a mike on it? Your chair may be bugged, too."
"Eh?" the old man looked thoughtful. "I used a call button. . . until they
started standing a heel-and-toe watch on me."
"Seven to two you're bugged. Eunice my dear, can you trace the circuits
and make sure?"
"Uh . . . I doubt it. The circuitry isn't much like my stenodesk. But I'll look."
Eunice left her desk, studied the console on the back of the wheelchair.
"These two dials almost certainly have mikes hooked to them; they're
respiration and heart beat. But they don't show voices as my voice does not
make the needles jiggle. Filtered out, I suppose. "But"-she looked
thoughtful-"voice could be pulled off either circuit ahead of a filter. I do
something like that, in reverse, whenever I record with a high background
db. I don't know what these dials do. Darn it, I, might spot a voice
circuit...but I could never be sure that there was not one. Or two. Or three.
I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, dear," the lawyer said soothingly. "There hasn't been real
privacy in this country since the middle of the twentieth century-why, I could
phone a man I know of and have you photographed in your bath I and you
would never know it."
                                        7
"Really? What a dreadful idea. How much does this person charge for such
a job?"
"Plenty. Depends on difficulty and how much chance he runs of being
prosecuted. Never less than a couple of thousand and then up like a kite.
But he can do it."
"Well!" Eunice looked thoughtful, then smiled. "Mr. Salomon, if you ever
decide that you must have such a picture of me, phone me for a competitive
bid. My husband has an excellent Chinese camera and I would rather have
him photograph me in my bath than some stranger."
"Order, please," Smith said mildly. "Eunice, if you want to sell skin pictures
to that old lecher, do it on your own time. I don't know anything about these
gadgets but I know how to solve this. Eunice, go out to where they
telemeter me-I think it's next door in what used to be my upstairs lounge.
You'll find Miss MacIntosh there. Hang around three minutes. I'll wait two
minutes; then I'll call out: Miss Macintosh! Is Mrs. Branca there?' If you hear
me, we'll know she's snooping. If you don't, come back at the end of three
minutes."
"Yes, sir. Do I give Miss MacIntosh any reason for this?"
"Give the old battle-ax any stall you like. I simply want to know if she is
eavesdropping."
"Yes, sir." Eunice started to leave the room. She pressed the door switch
just as its buzzer sounded. The door snapped aside, revealing Miss
MacIntosh, who jumped in surprise.
The nurse recovered and said bleakly, to Mr. Smith, "May 1 come in for a
moment?"
"Certainly."
"Thank you, sir." The nurse went to the bed, pulled its screen aside,
touched four switches on its console, replaced the screen. Then she
planted herself in front of her patient and said, "Now you have complete
privacy, so far as my equipment is concerned. Sir."
"Thank you."
"I am not supposed to cut the voice monitors except on Doctor's orders. But
you had privacy anyhow. I am as bound to respect a patient's privacy as .a
doctor is, I never listen to sickroom conversation. I don't even hear it! Sir."
"Get your feathers down. If you weren't listening, how did you know we
were discussing the matter?"
"Oh! Because my name was mentioned. Hearing my name triggers me to
listen. It's a conditioned reflex. Though I don't suppose you believe me?"
"On the contrary, I do. Nurse-please switch on whatever you switched off.
Then bear in mind that I must talk privately...and I'll remember not to
mention your name. But I'm glad to know that I can reach you so promptly.
To a man in my condition that is a comfort."
                                       8
"Uh-very well, sir."
"And I want to thank you for putting up with my quirks. And bad temper."
She almost smiled. "Oh, you're not so difficult, sir. I once put in two years in
an N.P. hospital."
Smith looked startled, then grinned. "Touché! Was that where you acquired
your hatred for bedpans?"
"It was indeed! Now if you will excuse me, sir-"
When she was gone, Salomon said, "You really think she won't listen?"
"Of course she will, she can't help it, she's already triggered and will be
trying too hard not to listen. But she's proud, Jake, and I would rather
depend on pride than gadgetry. Okay, I'm getting tired, so here it is in a
lump. I want to buy a body. A young one."
Eunice Branca barely showed reaction; Jake Salomon's features dropped
into the mask he used for poker and district attorneys. Presently Eunice
said, "Am I to record, sir?"
"No. Oh, hell, yes. Tell that sewing machine to make one copy for each of
us and wipe the tape. File mine in my destruct file; file yours in your destruct
file-and, Jake, hide your copy in the file you use to outwit the Infernal
Revenue Service."
"I'll file it in the still safer place I use for guilty clients. Johann, anything you
say to me is privileged but I am bound to point out that the Canons forbid
me to advise a client in how to break the law, or to permit a client to discuss
such intention. As for Eunice, anything you say to her or in her presence is
not privileged."
"Oh, come off it, you old shyster; you've advised me in how to break the law
twice a week for years. As for Eunice, nobody can get anything out of, her
short of all-out brainwash."
"I didn't say I always followed the Canons; I merely told you what they
called for. I won't deny that my professional ethics have a little stretch in
them-but I won't be party to anything smelling of bodysnatching,
kidnapping, or congress with slavery. Any self-respecting prostitute-
meaning me-has limits."
"Spare me the sermon, Jake; what I want is both moral and ethical. I need
your help to see that all of it is legal-utterly legal, can't cut corners on this!-
and practical."
"I hope so."
"I know so. I said I wanted to buy a body-legally. That rules out
bodysnatching, kidnapping, and slavery. I want to make a legal purchase."
"You can't."
"Why not? Take this body," Smith said, pointing to his chest, "it's not worth
much even as manure; nevertheless I can will it to a medical school. You
know I can, you okayed it."
                                         9
"Oh. Let's get our terms straight. In. the United States there can be no
chattel ownership of a human being. Thirteenth Amendment. Therefore
your body is not your property because you can't sell it. But a cadaver is
property-usually of the estate of the deceased although a cadaver is not
often treated the way other chattels are treated. But it is indeed property. If
you want to buy a cadaver, it can be arranged-but who were you calling a
ghoul earlier?"
"What is a cadaver, Jake?"
"Eh? A dead body, usually of a human. So says Webster. The legal
definition is more complicated but comes to the same thing."
"It's that 'more complicated' aspect I'm getting at. Okay, once it is dead, it is
property and maybe we can buy it. But what is 'death,' Jake, and when
does it take place? Never mind Webster; what is the law?"
"Oh. Law is what the Supreme Court says it is. Fortunately this point was
nailed down in the seventies-'Estate of Henry M. Parsons v. Rhode Island.'
For years, many centuries, a man was dead when his heart quit beating.
Then for about a century he was dead when a licensed M.D. examined him
for heart condition action and respiration and certified that he was dead-and
sometimes that turned out grisly, as doctors do make mistakes. And then
along came the first heart transplant and oh, mother, what a legal snarl that
stirred up!
"But the Parsons case sealed it; a man is dead when all brain activity has
stopped, permanently,"
"And what does that mean?" Smith persisted.
"The Court declined to define it. But in application- look, Johann, I'm a
corporation lawyer, not a specialist in medical jurisprudence nor in forensic
medicine-and I would have to research before I-"
"Okay, so you're not God. You can revise your remarks later. What do you
know now?"
"When the exact moment of death is important, as it sometimes is in estate
cases, as it often is in accident, manslaughter, and murder cases, as it
always is in an organ, transplant case, some doctor determines that the
brain has quit and isn't going to start up again. They use various tests and
talk about 'irreversible coma' and 'complete absence of brain wave activity'
and 'cortical damage beyond possibility of repair' but it all comes down to
some M.D. laying his reputation and license on the line to certify that this
brain is dead and won't come alive again. Heart and lungs are now
irrelevant; they are classed with hands and feet and gonads and other parts
that a man can do without or have replaced. It's the brain that counts. Plus
a doctor's opinion about the brain. In transplant cases there are almost
always at least two doctors in no way connected with the operation and
probably a coroner as well. Not because the Supreme Court requires it-in
                                       10
fact only a few of the fifty-four states have legislated in re thanatotic
requirements-but-"
"Just a moment, Mr. Salomon-that odd word. My typewriter has placed a
query after it." Eunice kept her hand over the "Hold" light.
"How did your typer spell it?"
"T-H-A-N-A-T-O-T-I-C."
"Smart machine. It's the technical adjective referring to death. From the
Greek god Thanatos, Death."
"Half a second while I tell it so." Eunice touched the "Memory" switch with
her other hand, whispered briefly, then said, "It feels better if I reassure it at
once. Go ahead." She lifted her hand from the "Hold" light.
"Eunice, are you under the impression that that machine is alive?"
She blushed, then touched "Erase" and covered "Hold."
"No, Mr. Salomon. But it does behave better with me than with any other
operator. It can get downright sulky if it doesn't like the way it is handled."
"I can testify to that," Smith agreed. "If Eunice takes a day off, her relief had
better fetch her own gadgets, or fell back on shorthand. Listen, dear, knock
off the chatter. Talk with Jake about the care and feeding of machines some
other time; great-grandfather wants to go to bed."
"Yes, sir." She lifted her hand.
"Johann, I was saying that in transplant cases the medical profession has
set up tight rules or customs, both to protect themselves from criminal and
civil actions and also, I am sure, to forestall restrictive legislation. They have
to get that heart out while it's still alive and nevertheless protect themselves
from indictments for murder, cum multimillion-dollar damage suits. So they
spread the responsibility thin and back each other up."
"Yes," agreed Smith. "Jake, you haven't told me a thing I didn't know-but
you have relieved my mind by confirming facts and law. Now I know it can
be done. Okay, I want a healthy body between ages twenty and forty, still
warm, heart still working and no other damage too difficult to repair...but
with the brain legally dead, dead, dead. I want to buy that cadaver and have
this brain-mine--transplanted into it."
Eunice held perfectly still. Jake blinked. "When do you want this body?
Later today?"
"Oh, next Wednesday ought to be soon enough. Garcia says he can keep
me going."
"I suggest later today. And get you a new brain at the same time-that one
has quit functioning."
"Knock it off, Jake; I'm serious. My body is falling to pieces. But my mind is
clear and my memory isn't bad-ask me yesterday's closing prices on every
stock we are interested in. I can still do logarithmic calculations without
tables; I check myself every day. Because I know how far gone I am. Look
                                       11
at me-worth so many megabucks that it's silly to count them. But with a
body held together with Scotch tape and string-I ought to be in a museum.
"Now all my life I've heard 'You can't take it with you.' Well, eight months
ago when they tied me down with all this undignified plumbing and wiring,
having nothing better to do I started thinking about that old saw. I decided
that, if I couldn't take it with me, I wasn't going to go!"
"Humph! 'You'll go when the wagon comes."
"Perhaps. But I'm going to spend as much as necessary of that silly stack of
dollars to try to beat the game. Will you help?"
"Johann, if you were talking about a routine heart transplant, I would say
'Good luck and God bless you!' But a brain transplant-have you any idea
what that entails?"
"No, and neither do you. But I know more about it than you do; I've had
endless time to read up. No need to tell me that no successful transplant of
a human brain has ever been made; I know it. No need to tell me that the
Chinese have tried it several times and failed-although they have three
basket cases still alive if my informants are correct."
"Do you want to be a basket case?"
"No. But there are two chimpanzees climbing trees and eating bananas this
very day-and each has the brain the other one started with."
"Oho! That Australian."
"Dr. Lindsay Boyle. He's the surgeon I must have."
"Boyle. There was a scandal, wasn't there? They ran him out of Australia."
"So they did, Jake. Ever hear of professional jealousy? Most
neurosurgeons are wedded to the notion that a brain transplant is too
complicated. But if you dig into it, you will find the same opinions expressed
fifty years ago about heart transplants. If you ask neurosurgeons about
those chimpanzees, the kindest thing any of them will say is that it's a fake-
even though there are motion pictures of both operations. Or they talk about
the many failures Boyle had before he learned how. Jake, they hate him so
much they ran him out of his home country when he was about to try it on a
human being. Why, those bastards-excuse me, Eunice."
"My machine is instructed to spell that word as 'scoundrel,' Mr. Smith."
"Thank you, Eunice."
"Where is he now, Johann?"
"In Buenos Aires."
"Can you travel that far?"
"Oh, no! Well, perhaps I could, in a plane big enough for these mechanical
monstrosities they use to keep me alive. But first we need that body. And
the best possible medical center for computer-assisted surgery. And a
support team of surgeons. And all the rest. Say Johns Hopkins. Or Stanford
Medical Center."
                                      12
"I venture to say that neither one will permit this unfrocked surgeon to
operate."
"Jake, lake, of course they will. Don't you know how to bribe a university?"
"I've never tried it."
"You do it with really big chunks of money, openly, with an academic
procession to give it dignity. But first you find out what they want-football
stands, or a particle accelerator, or an endowed chair. But the key is plenty
of money. From, my point of view it is better to be alive and young again,
and broke, than it is to be the richest corpse in Forest Lawn." Smith smiled.
"It would be exhilarating to be young-and broke. So don't spare the shekels.
"I know you can set it up for Boyle; it's just a question of whom to bribe and
how-in the words of Bill Gresham, a man I knew a long time ago: 'Find out
what he wants-he'll geek!'
"But the toughest problem involves no bribery but simply' a willingness to
spend money. Locating that warm body. Jake, in this country over ninety
thousand people per year are killed in traffic accidents alone-call it two
hundred and fifty each day-and a lot of those victims die of skull injuries. A
far percentage are between twenty and forty years old and in good health
aside from a broken skull and a ruined brain. The problem is to find one
while the body is still alive, then keep it alive and rush it to surgery."
"With wives and relatives and cops and lawyers chasing along behind."
"Certainly. If money and organization weren't used beforehand. Finders'
fees-call them something else. Life support teams and copters equipped for
them always standing by, near the worst concentrations of dangerous
traffic. Contributions to highway patrol relief funds, thousands of release
forms ready to sign, lavish payment to the estate of the deceased-oh, at
least a million dollars. Oh, yes, nearly forgot-I've got an odd blood type and
any transplant is more likely to take if they don't have to fiddle with
swapping blood. There are only about a million people in this country with
blood matching mine. Not an impossible number when you cut it down still
further by age span-twenty to forty-and good health. Call it three hundred
thousand, tops. Jake, if we ran big newspaper ads and bought prime time
on video, how many of those people could we flush out of the bushes? If we
dangled a million dollars as bait? One megabuck in escrow with Chase
Manhattan Bank for the estate of the accident victim whose body is used?
With a retainer to any prospective donor and his spouse who will sign up in
advance."
"Johann, I'm durned if I know. But I would hate to be married to a woman
who could collect a million dollars by 'accidentally' hitting me in the head
with a hammer."
"Details, Jake. Write it so that no one can murder and benefit by it-and
suicide must be excluded, too; I don't want blood on my hands. The real
                                      13
problem is to locate healthy young people who have my blood type, and
feed their names and addresses into a computer."
"Excuse me, Mr. Smith, but have you thought of consulting the National
Rare Blood Club?"
"Be darned! I am growing senile. No, I hadn't, Eunice-and how do you
happen to know about it?"
"I'm a member, sir."
"Then you're a donor, dear?" Smith sounded pleased and impressed.
"Yes, sir. Type AB-Negative."
"Be darned twice. Used to be a donor myself-until they told me I was too
old, long before you were born. And your type-AB-Negative."
"I thought you must be, sir, when you mentioned the number. So small.
Only about a third of one percent of us in the population. My husband is AB-
Negative, too, and a donor. You see-well, I met Joe early one morning
when we were both called to give blood to a newborn baby and its mother."
"Well, hooray for Joe Branca! I knew he was smart-he grabbed you, didn't
he? I had not known that he was an Angel of Mercy as well. Tell you what,
dear-when you get home tonight, tell Joe that all he has to do is to dive into
a dry swimming pool. . . and you'll be not only the prettiest widow in town-
but the richest."
"Boss, you have a nasty sense of humor. I wouldn't swap Joe for any million
dollars-money won't keep you warm on a cold night."
"As I know to my sorrow, dear. Jake, can my will be broken?"
"Any will can be broken. But I don't think yours will be. I tried to build fail-
safes into it."
"Suppose I make a new will along the same general lines but with some
changes-would it stand up?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"You said it yourself. Senility. Any time a rich man dies at an advanced age
with a new will anyone with an interest in breaking it-your granddaughters, I
mean-will try to break it, alleging senility and undue influence. I think they
would succeed."
"Darn. I want to put Eunice down for a million so she won't be tempted to kill
her AB-Negative husband."
"Boss, you're making fun of me again. Nasty fun."
"Eunice, I told you that I do not joke about money. How do we handle it,
Jake? Since I'm too senile to make a will."
"Well, the simplest way would be an insurance policy with a paid-up single
premium...which would cost, in view of your age and health, slightly more
than a million, I surmise. But she would get it even if your will was broken."
"Mr. Salomon, don't listen to him!"
                                      14
"Johann, do you want that million to revert to you if by any long chance you
outlive Eunice?"
"Mmm...no, if it did, a judge might decide to look at the matter-and God
himself doesn't know what a judge will do these days. Make the Red Cross
the residuary. No, make it the National Rare Blood Club."
"Very well."
"Get it paid up first thing in the morning. No, do it tonight. I may not live till
morning. Get an underwriter-Jack Towers, maybe-get Jefferson Billings to
open that pawnshop of his and get a certified check. Use my power of
attorney, not your own money, or you might be stuck for it. Get the
signature of a responsible officer of the insurance company; then you can
go to bed."
"Yes, Great Spirit. I'll vary that; I'm a better lawyer than you are. But the
policy will be in force before night-with your money, not mine. Eunice, be
careful not to kick those hoses and wires as you go out. But tomorrow you
needn't be careful-as long as you don't get caught."
She sniffed. "You each have a nasty sense of humor! Boss, I'm going to
erase this. I don't want a million dollars. Not from Joe dying, not from you
dying."
"If you don't want it, Eunice," her employer said gently, "You can step aside
and let the Rare Blood Club have it."
"Uh . . . Mr. Salomon, is that correct?"
"Yes, Eunice. But money is nice to have, especially when you don't have it.
Your husband might be annoyed if you turned down a million dollars."
"Uh-" Mrs. Branca shut up.
"Take care of it, Jake. While thinking about how to buy a warm body. And
how to get Boyle here and get him whatever permission he needs to do
surgery in this country. And so forth. And tell-no, I'll tell her. Miss
MacIntosh!"
"Yes, Mr. Smith?" came a voice from the bed console.
"Get your team in; I want to go to bed."
"Yes, sir. I'll tell Dr. Garcia."
Jake stood up. "Good day, Johann. You're a crazy fool."
"Probably. But I do have fun with my money."
"So you do. Eunice, may I run you home?"
"Oh, no, sir, thank you. My Gadabout is in. the basement."
"Eunice," said her boss, "can't you see that the old goat wants to take you
home? So be gracious. One of my guards will take your Gadabout home."
"Uh. . . thank you, Mr. Salomon. I accept. Get a good night's sleep, Boss."
They started to leave.
"Wait, Eunice," Smith commanded. "Hold that pose.

                                        15
Jake, pipe those gams! Eunice, that's obsolete slang meaning that you
have pretty legs."
"So you have told me before, sir-and so my husband often tells me. Boss
you're a dirty old man."
He cackled. "So I am, my dear. . . and have been since I was six, I'm happy
to say."


2


Mr. Salomon helped her into her cloak, rode down with her to the
basement, waved his guards aside and handed her into his car. Shotgun
locked them in, got in by driver-guard and locked that compartment. As she
sat down Mrs. Branca said, "Oh, how big! Mr. Salomon, I knew a Rolls was
roomy-but I've never been in one before."
"A Rolls only by courtesy, my dear-body by Skoda, power plant by Imperial
Atomics, then Rolls-Royce pretties it and backs it with their reputation and
service. You should have seen a Rolls fifty years ago, before gasoline
engines were outlawed. There was a dream car!"
"This one is dreamy enough. Why, my little Gadabout would fit inside this
compartment."
A voice from the ceiling said, "Orders, sir?"
Mr. Salomon touched a switch. "One moment, Rockford." He lifted his hand.
"Where do you live, Eunice? Or the coordinates of wherever you want to
go?"
"Oh. I'll go home. North one one eight, west thirty-seven, then up to level
nineteen-though I doubt that this enormous car will fit into the vehicle lift."
"If not, Rocky and his partner will escort you up the passenger lift and to
your door."
"That's nice. Joe doesn't want me to ride passenger lifts by myself."
"Joe is right. So we'll deliver you like a courier letter.
Eunice, are you in a hurry?"
"Me? Joe expects me when I get there, Mr. Smith's working hours being so
irregular now. Today I'm quite early."
"Good." Mr. Salomon again touched the intercom switch. "Rockford, we're
gong to kill some time. Uh, Mrs. Branca, what zone for those coordinates?
Eighteen something?"
"Nineteen-B, sir."
"Find a cruising circle near nineteen-B; I'll give you coordinates later."
"Very good, sir."

                                      16
Salomon went on to Eunice. "This compartment is soundproof unless I
thumb this switch; they can talk to me but can't hear us. Which is good as I
want to discuss things with you and make phone calls about that insurance
policy."
"Oh! Surely that was a joke?"
"Joke, eh? Mrs. Branca, I have been working for Johann Smith for twenty-
six years, the last fifteen with his affairs as my sole practice. Today he
made me dc-facto chairman of his industrial empire. Yet if I failed to carry
out his orders about that insurance policy-tomorrow I would be out of a job."
"Oh, surely not! He depends on you."
"He depends on me as long as he can depend on me and not one minute
longer. That policy must be written tonight.
I thought you had quit fretting when you learned that you could step aside
for the Rare Blood Club?"
"Well, yes. Except that I'm afraid I might get greedy and take it. When the
time comes."
"And why not? The Rare Blood Club has done nothing for him; you have
done much."
"I'm well paid."
"Listen, you silly child, don't be a silly child. He wanted you to have a million
dollars in his will. And he wanted you to know it so that he could enjoy
seeing your face. I pointed out that it is too late to change his will. Even this
insurance gimmick is chancy if his natural heirs get a look at the books and
discover it-which I shall try to prevent-as a judge might decide it was just a
dodge-as it is-and require the insurance company to pay it to his estate.
Which is where the Rare Blood Club comes in handy; they would probably
fight it and win, if you cut them in for half.
"But there are other ways. Suppose you knew nothing about this and were
invited to the reading of his will and discovered that your deceased
employer had bequeathed you a lifetime income 'in grateful appreciation of
long and faithful service.' Would you turn it down?"
"Uh-" she said, and stopped.
"'Uh,'" he repeated. "Exactly 'uh.' Of course you wouldn't turn it down. He'd
be gone and you'd be out of a job and there would be no reason to refuse it.
So, instead of a lump sum so big it embarrasses you, I'm going to write a
policy that sets up a trust to pay you an annuity." He paused to think. "A
safe return, after taxes, on, a trust is about four percent. What would you
say to around seven hundred and fifty a week? Would that upset you?"
"Well . . . no. I understand seven hundred and fifty dollars much better than
I understand a million."


                                       17
"The beauty of it is that we can use the principal to insure against inflation-
and you can still leave that million, or more, to the Rare Blood Club when
your own Black Camel kneels."
"Really? How wonderful! I never will understand high finance."
"That's because most people think of money as something to pay the rent.
But a money man thinks of money in terms of what he can do with it. Never
mind, I'll fix it so that all you need to do is spend it. I'll use a Canadian
insurance company and a Canadian bank, as each will be stuffy about
letting a U.S. court look at its records. In case his granddaughters find out
what I've done, I mean."
"Oh. Mr. Salmon, shouldn't this money go to them?"
"Again, don't be silly. They are harpies. Snapping turtles. And had nothing
to do with making this money. Do you know anything about Johann's
family? Outlived three wives-and his fourth married him for his money and it
cost him millions to get shut of her. His first wife gave him a son and died in
doing so-then Johann's son was killed trying to capture a worthless hill. Two
more wives, two divorces, a daughter by each of those two wives resulting
in a total of four granddaughters-and those ex-wives and their daughters
are au dead, and their four carnivorous descendants have been waiting for
Johann to die and sore at him because he hasn't."
Salomon grinned. "They're in for a shock. I wrote his will so as to give them
small lifetime incomes-and chop them off-with a minimal dollar if they
contest. Now excuse rue; I must make phone calls, then take you home and
run over to Canada and nail this down."
"Yes, sir. Do you mind if I take off my cloak? It's rather warm."
"Want the cooling turned up?"
"Only if you are too warm. But this cloak is heavier than it looks."
"I noticed it was heavy. Body armor?"
"Yes, sir. I'm out by myself quite a lot."
"No wonder you're too warm. Take it off. Take off anything you wish to."
She grinned at him. "I wonder if you are a dirty old man, too. For another
million?"
"Not a durned dime! Shut up, child, and let me phone."
"Yes, sir." Mrs. Branca wiggled out of her cloak, then raised the leg rest on
her side, stretched out, and relaxed.
Such a strange day! ...am I really going to be rich?...doesn't seem
real...well, I'm not going to spend a dime
-or let Joe spend it-unless it's safe in the bank...learned that the hard way
first year we were married...some men understand money-such as Mr.
Salomon, or Boss-and some don't, such as Joe. . . but as sweet a husband
as a girl could wish. . . as long as I never again let him share a joint
account.
                                      18
Dear Joe! . . . those are pretty 'gams' if you do say so as shouldn't, you
bitch.. . 'Bitch-'. . . how quaint Boss is with his old-fashioned taboos. . .
always necessary not to shock him-not too much, that is; Boss enjoys a
slight flavor of shock, like a whiff of garlic . . -. especially necessary not to
annoy him with language everybody uses nowadays. . . Joe is good for a
girl, never have to be careful around him. . . except about money- Wonder
what Joe would think if he could see me locked in this luxurious vault with
this old goat?. . . probably be amused but best not to tell him, dearie; men's
minds don't work the way ours do, men are not logical...wrong to think of
Mr. Salomon as an 'old goat' though; he certainly has not acted like one . . .
you had to reach for that provocative remark, didn't you, dear? . . . just to
see what he would say...and found out! ...got squelched- Is he too old?
...hell, no, dear, the way they hike 'em up with hormones a man is never
'too old' until he's too feeble to move. . . the way Boss is...not that Boss
ever made the faintest pass even years back when he was still in fair
shape...
Did Boss really expect to regain his youth by transplanting his brain?. . .
arms and legs and kidneys and even hearts, sure, sure-but a brain?...
Salomon switched off the telephone. "Done," he announced. "All but signing
papers, which I'll do in Toronto this evening."
"I'm sorry to be so much trouble, sir."
"My pleasure."
"I do appreciate it. And I must think about how to thank Boss-didn't thank
him today but didn't think he meant it."
"Don't thank him."
"Oh, but I must. But I don't know how. How does one thank a man for a
million dollars? And not seem insincere?"
"Hmm! There are ways. But, in this case, don't. My dear, you delighted
Johann when you showed no trace of gratitude; I know him. Too many
people have thanked him in the past. . . then figured him as an easy mark
and tried to bleed him again. Then tried to knife him when he turned out not
to be. So don't thank him. Sweet talk he does not believe; he figures it's
always aimed at his money. I notice you're spunky with him."
"I have to be, sir, or he tromps on me. He had me in tears a couple of
times-years back-before I found out he wanted me to stand up to him."
"You see? The old tyrant is making bets with himself as to whether you'll
come trotting in tomorrow and lick his hand like a dog. So don't even
mention it. Tell me about yourself, Eunice-age, how long you've been
married, and how often, number of children, childhood diseases, why you
aren't on video, what your husband does, how you got to be Johann's
secretary, number of arrests and for what- Or tell me to go to hell; you are

                                       19
entitled to privacy. But I would like to know you better; we are going to be
working together from here on."
"I don't mind answering"-(I'll tell just want I want to tell!)-"but does this work
both ways?" She stopped to let down the leg rest, straightened up. "Do I
quiz you the same, way?"
He chuckled. "Certainly. I may take the Fifth. Or lie."
"I could lie, too, sir. But I don't need to. I'm twenty-eight and married once
and still am. No children-no children yet; I'm licensed for three. As for my
job-well, I won a beauty contest at eighteen, the sort that offers a one-year
contract making appearances around your home state, plus a video test
with an option for a seven-year contract-"
"And they didn't pick up your option. I'm astonished."
"Not that sir. Instead I took stock of myself-and quit. Winning that state
contest and then losing the national; contest made me realize how many
pretty girls there are. Too many. And some things I heard from them about
what you have to go through to get into video and stay there, well, I didn't
want it that much. And went back to school and took an associate's degree
in secretarial electronics, with a minor in computer language and
cybernetics, and went looking for a job." (And I'm not going to tell you how I
got through school!) "And eventually filled in as Mrs. Bierman's secretary
while her regular secretary had a baby then she didn't come back and I
stayed on. . . and when Mrs. Bierman retired, Boss let me fill in. And kept
me on. So here I am-a very lucky girl."
"A very smart girl. But I'm sure your looks had much to do with Johann's
decision to keep you on."
"I know they did," she answered quietly. "But he would not have kept me
had I not been able to do his work. I know how I look but Fm not conceited
about it; appearance is a matter of heredity."
"So it is," he agreed, "but there are impressive data to show that beautiful
women are, on the average, more intelligent than homely ones."
"Oh, I don't think so! Take Mrs. Bierman-downright homely. But she was
terribly smart."
"I said 'On the average,'" he repeated. "What is 'Beauty'? A lady
hippopotamus must look beautiful to her boy friend, or we would run out of
hippopotamuses-potami-in one generation. What we think of as 'Physical
beauty' is almost certainly a tag for a complex of useful survival
characteristics. Smartness-intelligence-among them. Do you think that a
male hippopotamus would regard you as beautiful?"
She giggled. "Not likely!"
"You see? In reality you're no prettier than a female hippopotamus; you are
simply an inherited complex of survival characteristics useful to your
species."
                                        20
"I suppose so." (Humph! Give me one opening and I'll show you what I am.)
"But since Johann-and I-are of your species, what that means to us is
'Beauty.' Which Johann has always appreciated."
"I know he does," she said quietly. She straightened her scarlet-covered leg
in full extension and looked at it. "I dress this way to amuse Boss. When I
first went to work for Smith Enterprises I wore as little as the other girls in
the outer offices-you know, skin paint and not much else.
Then when I went to work for Mrs. Bierman I started dressing quite
modestly because she did-covered up all over, I mean, like Nurse
MacIntosh-not even a see-through. Uncomfortable. I went on dressing that
way when Mrs. Bierman left. Until one morning I had only one such outfit-I
wore disposables, cheaper than having them cleaned-and spilled coffee
down the front and was caught with nothing to wear.
"And no time to buy anything for I was more afraid of being late-you know
how impatient Mr. Smith is-than I was that he might disapprove of my dress.
Or lack of it. So I gritted my teeth and got out an office-girl bikini and asked
Joe to paint me and hurry it up! Joe's an artist, did I say?"
"I don't believe so."
"He is. He does my skin painting, even styles my face. But I was late
anyhow that morning as Joe really is an artist and refused to let it go with
just spraying me the background color. The two-piece was white with
assorted sizes of big blue polka dots...and Joe insisted on continuing the
pattern all over me, with me cussing and telling hint to hurry and him
insisting on painting just one more big polka dot. I was so late that I cut
through an Abandoned Area I ordinarily circled around."
"Eunice, you should never go into an Abandoned Area. Good God; child,
even the police don't risk it other than in a car as well armored as this one.
You could be mugged, raped, and murdered and no one would ever know."
"Yes, sir. But I was scared of losing my job. I tried to explain to Boss why I
was late, and he told me to shut up and go to work. Nevertheless he was
unusually mellow that day. The next day I wore the sort of full cover-up I
have been wearing-and he was downright mean all day. Mr. Salmon, I don't
have to be slapped in the face with a wet fish; from then on I quit trying to
look like a nun, and dressed and painted to enhance what I've got, as
effectively as possible."
"It's effective. But, dear, you should be mere careful. It's all very well to
wear sexy clothes for Johann; that's charity, the old wretch can't get much
pleasure out of life and is no threat to you, the shape he is in."
"He never was a threat, sir. In all the years I've worked for Mr. Smith he has
never so much as touched my hand. He just makes flattering remarks about
each new getup-sometimes quite salty and then I sass him and threaten to
tell my husband, which makes him cackle. All innocent as Sunday School."
                                      21
"I'm sure it is. But you must be more careful going to and from work. I don't
mean just stay out of Abandoned Zones. Dressed the way you dress and
looking as you do, you are in danger anywhere. Don't you realize it?
Doesn't your husband know it?"
"Oh. I'm careful, sir; I know what can happen, I see the news. But I'm not
afraid. I'm carrying three unregistered illegal weapons-and know how to use
them. Boss got them for me and had his guards train me."
"Hmm. As an officer of the Court I should report you. As a human being
who knows what a deadly jungle this city is, I applaud your good sense. If
you really do know how to use them. If you have the courage to use them
promptly and effectively. If, having defended yourself, you're smart enough
to get away fast and say nothing to cops. That's a lot of 'ifs,' dear."
"Truly, I'm not afraid. Uh, if you were my attorney, anything I told you would
be privileged, would it not?"
"Yes. Are you asking me to be your attorney?"
"Uh . . . yes, sir."
"Very well, I am. Privileged. Go ahead."
"Well, one night I had to go out on a blood-donor call. By myself, Joe wasn't
home. Didn't worry me, I've made donations at night many times and often
alone. I keep my Gadabout in our flat and stay in it until I'm inside the
hospital or whatever. But- Do you know that old, old hospital on the west
side, Our Lady of Mercy?"
"I'm afraid not."
"No matter. It's old, built before the government gave up trying to guarantee
safety in the streets. No vehicle lift, no indoor parking. Just a lot with a
fence and a guard at the gate. Happened when I came out. This frog tried
to hop me between the parked cars. Don't know whether he was after my
purse. Or me. Didn't wait to find out-don't even know if it was a man, could
have been a woman-"
"Unlikely."
"As may be. Stun bomb in his face with my left hand as I zapped with my
right and didn't wait to see if he was dead. Buzzed out of there and straight
home. Never told the police, never told Joe, never told anybody until just
now."
(But it. took a triple dose of Narcotol to stop your shakes, didn't it, dearie-
oh, shut up, that's not the pomt.)
"So you're a brave girl and can shoot if you have to. But you are a silly girl,
too, and very lucky. Hmm. Johann has an armored car much like this and
two shifts of guards to go with it."
"Of course he has guards, sir, but I know nothing about his cars."


                                      22
"He has a Rolls-Skoda. Eunice, we are no longer going to depend on how
fast you are with weapons. You can sell your Gadabout or plant flowers in
it; from here on you'll have mobile guards and an armored car. Always."
Mrs. Branca looked startled. "But, Mr. Salomon! Even with my new salary I
couldn't begin to-"
"Switch off, dear. You know that Johann will never again ride in a car.
Chances are he will never leave that room. But he still owns his personal
defense car; he still keeps a double crew, two drivers, two Shotguns-and
maybe they run an errand once a week. Eating their heads off and playing
pinochle the rest of the time. Tomorrow morning my car will pick you up;
tomorrow afternoon your own car-Johann's-will take you home. And will be
on call for you at all other times, too."
"I'm not sure Boss is going to like this."
"Forget it. I'm going to chew him out for letting you take I risks. If he gives
me any back talk, he'll find I have enough chips to hire you away from him.
Be sensible, Eunice; this doesn't cost him a dollar; it's a business expense
that he is already incurring. Change of subject. What do you think of his
plans for this soi-disant 'warm body'?"
"Is a brain transplant possible? Or is he grabbing at a straw? I know he's
not happy tied down to all that horrid machinery-goodness. I've been
combing the shops for the naughtiest styles I can find but it gets harder and
harder to get a smile out of him, is it practical, this scheme?"
"That's beside the point, dear; he's ordered it and we are going to deliver.
This Rare Blood Club-does it have all the AB-Negatives?"
"Heavens, no. The last club report showed less than four thousand AB-
Negs enrolled out of a nationwide probability of about million."
"Too bad. What do you think of his notion of page ads and prime time on
video?"
"It would cost a dreadful lot of money. But l suppose he can afford it."
"Certainly. But it stinks."
"Sir?"
"Eunice, if this transplant is to take place, there must be no publicity. Do
you remember the fuss when they started freezing people? No, you're too
young. It touched a bare nerve which set off loud howls, and the practice
was very nearly prohibited-on the theory that, since most people can't afford
it, no one should be allowed to have it. The Peepul, bless 'em-our country
has at times been a democracy, an oligarchy, a dictatorship, a republic, a
socialism, and mixtures of all of those, without changing its basic
constitution, and now we are a dc-facto anarchy under an elected dictator
even though we still have laws and legislatures and Congress. But through
all of this that bare nerve has always been exposed: the idea that if
everyone can't have something, then no one should have it.
                                      23
So what will happen when one of the richest men in the country advertises
that he wants to buy another man's living body-just to save his own stinking,
selfish life?"
"I don't think Boss is all that bad. If you make allowances for his illness, he's
rather sweet."
"Beside the point. That bare nerve will jump like an ulcerated tooth.
Preachers will denounce him and bills will be submitte4 in legislatures and
the A.M.A. will order its members to have nothing to with it and Congress
might even pass a law against it. Oh, the Supreme Court would find such a
law unconstitutional I think-but by then Johann would be long dead. So no
publicity. Does the Rare Blood Club know who these other AB-Negatives
are who are not members?"
"I don't know. I don't think so."
"We'll check. I would hazard that at least eighty percent of the people in this
country have had their blood typed at some time. Does blood type ever
change?"
"Oh, no, never. That's why we rares-that's what we call ourselves-are so in
demand."
"Good. Almost all of the population who have been typed have the fact
listed in computers somewhere, and with computers so interlinked today it
is a matter of what questions to ask and how and where-and I don't know
how, but I know the firm to hire for it. We progress, my dear. I'll get that
started and off-load the details onto you, and then get other phases started
and leave you to check on them while I go to South America and see this
butcher Boyle. And-"
"Mr. Salomon! Bad turf coming up."
Salomon thumbed his intercom. "Roger." He added, "Damn them, those two
beauties like to go through Abandoned Areas. They hope somebody will
shoot so that they will have legal excuse to shoot back. I'm sorry, my dear.
With you aboard I should have given orders to stay out of A.A.s no matter
what."
"It's my fault," Mrs. Branca said meekly. "I should have told you that it is
almost impossible to circle near Nineteen-B without crossing a bad zone. I
have to detour way around to reach Boss's house. But we're safe inside,
are we not?"
"Oh, yes. If we're hit, this old tank has to be prettied up, that's all. But I
should not have to tell them. Rockford isn't so bad; he's just a Syndicate
punk, an enforcer who took a fall. But Charlie-the one riding Shotgun-is
mean. An XYZ. Committed his first murder at eleven. He-" Steel shutters
slid up around them and covered the bulletproof glass. "We must be
entering the A.A."
Inside lights came on as shutters darkened windows.
                                       24
Mrs. Branca said, "You make it sound as if we were in more danger from
your mobiles than we are from the bad zone."
He shook his head. "Not at all, my dear. Oh, I concede that any rational
society would have liquidated them-but since we don't have capital
punishment I make use of their flaws. Both are on probation paroled to me,
and they like their jobs. Plus some other safe-" The rap-rap-rap! of an
automatic weapon stitched the length of the car.
In that closed space the din was ear-splitting. Mrs. Branca gasped and
clutched at her host. A single explosion, still louder, went POUNGK! She
buried her face in his shoulder, clung harder. "Got 'im!" a voice yelped. The
lights went out.
"They got us?" she asked, her voice muffled by the ruffles of his shirt.
"No, no." He patted her and put his right arm firmly around her. "Charlie got
them. Or thinks he did. That last was our turret gun. You're safe, dear."
"But the lights went out."
"Sometimes happens. The concussion. I'll find the switch for the emergency
lights." He started to take his arms from around her.
"Oh, no! Just hold me, please-I don't mind the dark. Feel safer in it-if you
hold me."
"As you wish, my dear." He settled himself more comfortably, and closer.
Presently he said softly, "My goodness, what a snuggly baby you are."
"You're pretty snuggly yourself. . . Mr. Salomon."
"Can't you say 'Jake'? Try it."
"'Jake.' Yes, Jake. Your arms are so strong. How old are you, Jake?"
"Seventy-one."
"I can't believe it. You seem ever so much younger."
"Old enough to be your grandfather, little snuggle puppy.
I simply look younger. . . in the dark. But one year into borrowed time
according to the Bible."
"I won't let you talk that way; you're young! Let's not talk at all, Jake. Dear
Jake."
"Sweet Eunice."
Some minutes later the driver's voice announced, "All clear, sir," as the
shutters started sliding down-and Mrs. Branca hastily disentangled herself
from her host.
She giggled nervously. "My goodness!"
"Don't fret. It's one-way glass."
"That's a comfort. Just the same, that light is like a dash of cold water."
"Um, yes. Breaks the mood. Just when I was feeling young."
"But you are young-Mr. Salomon."
"Jake."

                                      25
"'Jake.' Years don't count, Jake. Goodness me, I got skin paint all over your
shirt ruffles."
"Fair enough, I mussed your hair."
"My hair I can comb. But what will your wife say when she sees that shirt?"
"She'll ask why I didn't take it off. Eunice dear, I have no wife. Years ago
she turned me in on a newer model."
"A woman of poor taste. You're a classic, Jake-and classics improve with
age. Does my hair look better now?"
"Lovely. Perfect."
"I'm almost tempted to ask to have us driven back into that bad zone so you
can muss it again."
"I'm more than 'almost tempted.' But I had better take you home-unless you
want to go with me over into Canada? Back by midnight, probably."
"I want to and I can't, really I can't. So take me home.
But let me sit close, and put your arm around me but don't muss my hair
this time."
"I shall be careful." He gave his driver the coordinates of Mrs. Branca's flat,
then added, "And get there without going through any more Abandoned
Areas, you trigger-happy bandits!"
"Very good, Mr. Salomon."
They rode in silence; then Mrs. Branca said, "Jake, you were feeling quite
young, just before we were interrupted."
"I'm sure you know it."
"Yes. I was ready to let you, and you know that, too. Jake? Would you like a
skin pic of me? A good one, not one taken by that snoopy character who
charges so much."
"Will your husband take one? Can you sneak me a copy?"
"No huhu, lake dear, I have dozens of skin pix-I was once a beauty
contestant, remember? You are welcome to one...if you'll keep your mouth
shut about it."
"Privileged communication. Your secrets are always safe with your
attorney."
"What do you like? Artistic? Or sexy?"
"Uh...what a choice to have to make!"
"Mmm, a pic can be both. I'm thinking of one of me in a shower, hair
soaked, wet all over, not a speck of body paint, not even face makeup, not
even-well, you'll see. Is that on your wave length?"
"I'll howl like a wolf!"
"You shall have it. Quick change of subject; we're almost there. Jake? Does
Boss stand any chance with this brain transplant thing?"
"I'm not a medical man. In my lay opinion-none."

                                      26
"So I thought. Then he doesn't have long to live whether he has the
operation or not, lake, I'm going to make still greater effort to dress even
naughtier for him, as long as he lasts."
"Eunice, you are a sweet girl. There is nothing nicer you could do for him.
Much better than saying thanks for this trust fund."
"I wasn't thinking about that ridiculous million dollars, lake; I was thinking
about Boss. Feeling sorry for him. I'll go shopping tonight for something
really exotic-or if I can't find a novel exotic, then a simple skintight see-
through. . . passé but always effective with the right paint job underneath-
Joe is good at that. And-well, if I'm going to have guards now, some days I
may wear nothing but paint-stilt heels to make my legs look even better-
yes, I know they're pretty!-heels, a minimum-gee, and paint."
"And perfume."
"Boss can't smell, Jake. All gone."
"I still have my sense of smell."
"Oh. All right. I'll wear perfume for you. And paint for Boss. I've never tried
anything that extreme at work...but now that we no longer work at his
offices-no longer see many people-and I can keep a semi-see-through
smock around, just in case-I might as well see if Boss likes it. Joe will enjoy
thinking up provocative designs, likes to paint me, and is not jealous of
Boss, feels sorry for the poor old man just as I do. And it is so hard to find
novelty in exotic clothes. Even though I shop at least one night a week."
"Eunice."
"Yes, sir. Yes, Jake."
"Don't shop tonight. That's an order-from your boss by virtue of the power of
attorney I hold."
"Yes, Jake. May one ask why?"
"You can wear a paint-only job tomorrow if you wish-this car and my guards
will deliver you like crown jewels. But I need the car tonight. Starting
tomorrow you'll have Johann's car and guards, and you will always use
them for shopping. And everything."
"Yes, sir," she said meekly.
"But you are mistaken about Johann not having long to live. His problem is
that he has too long to live."
"I don't understand."
"He's trapped, dear. He's fallen into the clutches of the medical profession
and they won't let him die. Once he allowed them to harness him into that
life-support gear he lost his last chance. Have you noticed that his meals
are served without a knife? Nor even a fork? Just a plastic spoon.,'
"But his hands tremble so. I sometimes feed him as he hates to have
nurses 'messing around' as he calls it."

                                      27
"Think about it, dear. They have made it impossible for him to do anything
but stay alive. A machine. A weary machine that hurts all the time. Eunice,
this brain transplant is just a way for Johann to outsmart his doctors. A
fancy way to commit suicide."
"No!"
"Yes. They've taken the simple ways away from him, so he's had to think up
a fancy one. You and I are going to help him do it, exactly the way he wants
it done. We seem to have arrived. Don't cry, damn it; your husband will
want to know why and you must not tell him. Do you feel like kissing me
good-bye?"
"Oh, please do!"
"Stop the tears and turn up your pretty face, they'll be unlocking us in a
moment or two."
Presently she whispered, "That was as good a kiss as the very first one,
Jake...and I no longer feel like crying.
But I heard them unlock us."
"They'll wait until I unlock from inside. May I go up the lift with you and see
you to your door?"
"No. . . I can explain your guards but would have trouble explaining why the
firm's chief counsel bothers to do so. Joe isn't jealous of Boss-but might be
of you. I don't want him to be...especially when I came so close to giving
him reason to be."
"We could correct that near miss."
"Could be, dear Jake. My Iowa-farm-girl morals don't seem very strong
today-I think I've been corrupted by a million dollars and a Rolls-Royce. . .
and a city slicker. Let me go, dear."


3


The guards escorted her up and to her door in respectful silence. Mrs.
Branca looked with new interest at "Charlie," the Shotgun-wondered how a
mousy, fatherly little man could be as vicious as Jake seemed to know that
he was.
They "stood sideboy" as she spoke to her door's lock, then waited until her
husband unbolted it. As the door opened Rockford saluted and said, "Oh-
nine-forty, Miss-we'll be waiting right here."
"Thank you, Rockford. Good night. Good night, Charlie."
Joe Branca waited until he had thrown the bolts and reset the alarm before
he spoke. "What t'hell happen? An' where you trap uniform apes?"
"Don't I get a kiss first? Surely I'm not all that late? It's not yet eighteen."
                                       28
"Talk, woman. Other ape shows back two hours with your jitterbuggy-tha's
okay; your boss's butler phoned." He took off her cloak and kissed her. "So
where you been, dizzy baggage? Missed you."
"That's the nicest thing I've heard all day. That you've missed me."
"Walking the ceiling! What happen?"
"Were you worried? Oh, dear!"
"Not worried, Smith's door flunky said you been sent on errand an 'ud come
home in a Brink's. So knew you safe. Just torched it took so long when call
made spec you'd short it. Rozzer?"
"Roz. Simple, though. Boss sent me with his Best Boy-Jake Salomon, you
know."
"Fixer. Roz."
"Mr. Salomon took me in his car to his office to work on things Boss wanted
at once-you know how right-now Boss is and worse since he's been wired
down."
"Poor old muck should take the Big One. Pitiful."
"Don't say that, dear. I cry when I think about it."
"You're a slob, Sis. But me, too."
"That's why I love you, dear. Anyhow a longish job and Mr. Salomon had
his guards take me home-and they drove through Bird's Nest turf and we
got fired on. Chopped all down one side."
"Huh? Doom?"
"Not even grief. Fun."
"Like what inside?"
"Teribly noisy. But exciting. Made me horny."
"Everything makes you horny, Tits." He grinned and mussed her hair.
"You're home and no aches, what counts. So peel. Inspiration eating me,
who1e day. Walking the ceiling!"
"Which sort of inspiration, dearest?" she asked while sliding the half-
sweater off her right shoulder and peeling it down her arm. "And have you
eaten? If you start painting, you won't stop to eat."
"Ate some. Too high on inspiration. Big, big! I'll flash a pack for you.
Chicken? Spaghetti? Pizza?"
"Anything. I'd better eat if it's that sort of inspiration." She kicked off her
sandals, pushed down the panty-ruffle, sat on the floor to slide off the single
tight attached to it. "Am I going to pose for a painting or are you going to
paint on me and mug it?"
"Both. Tha's the grabber. A Nova."
She laid her dress carefully aside, rocked forward into Lotus seat. "I don't
roz it. 'Both?'
"Both. You'll see." He looked down, ran his eyes over her, smiled; "And
both sorts inspiration."
                                      29
"Well! Happy-making!"
"Not too hungry? Can wait."
"Beloved man, when was I ever that hungry? Never mind the bed; just grab
a pillow and come here!"
Shortly Mrs. Branca was thinking happily how lucky it was that she had not
let dear Jake go ahead-the sweet thing would have been a disappointment
compared with what she had at home. . . yet he had got her wonderfully
primed for this. Really, it was best to be a faithful wife. Usually. What a
wonderful, extraordinary day! Should she tell Joe about her big pay raise?
No hurry. Couldn't tell him anything else. Too bad. Then she quit thinking
coherently.
Sometime later she opened her eyes and smiled up at him. "Thank you,
Beloved."
"Good vibes?"
"Just what Eunice needed. At times like this I'm convinced that you're
Michelangelo."
He shook his head. "Not old Mike. Boys his jolly. Picasso maybe."
She hugged him. "Anyone you want to be, darling, as long as you go on
being mine. All right. I'll pose now, and eat at the breaks."
"Forgot. Letter from Mama. Read?"
"Certainly, darling. Let me up and find it."
He fetched it, still unopened. She sat up and glanced through it to see how
much editing it would require. Uh huh, just as you expected, dearie, the
periodic threat to come pay us "a nice long visit." Well, she knew how to
deal with that. Out! Because Joe did not know how to refuse his mother
anything. That one visit had been one too many-yet that had been when
they had had two rooms, before she had found this wonderful one-big-
everything studio room for Joe. Let that clinging old bag move in? No more
jolly romps on the floor? No, Mama Branca, I will not let you ruin our happy
nest with your smothering presence. You stay where you are and live on
Welfare...and I'll send you a check from time to time and let you think it's a
present from Joe. But that's all!
"Anything?"
"The usual, dearest. Her stomach still bothers her but the priest sent her to
another doctor and she's doing better, she says. But let me start at the
beginning. 'My darling Baby Boy, Not much news since last time Mama
wrote but if I don't write I don't never get a letter back. Tell Eunice to write a
longer letter this time and tell me everything that's happened to you; a
mother worries so. Eunice is a very nice girl even though I do think you
would be better off with a nice girl of your own religion-'"
"Enough."

                                        30
"Be tolerant, Joe. She's your mother. I don't mind and I will take time-
tomorrow-to write her a long letter. I'll send it by Mercury in the company
pouch so that she will be sure to get it; Boss doesn't mind. All right, I'll skip
the rest of that; we know what she thinks of Protestants. Or ex-Protestants.
I wonder what she would think if she heard us chanting 'Om Mani Padme-'"
"Kark her drawers."
"Oh, Joe!" She skipped, including the self-invitation. "'Angela is going to
have another baby. The Visitor is sore at her but I gave the. Visitor a piece
of my mind and I guess that learned her not to mistreat decent people. I
can't see why they can't just leave us alone. What's wrong with having a
baby?' Which of your sisters is Angela, Joe?"
"Third one. Visitor's right. Mama's wrong. Don't read all, Tits. Just read and
tell."
"Yes, dear. Nothing more, really, just gossip about neighbors, remarks
about the weather. The actual news is that your mother's stomach is better
and Angela is pregnant. Give me a moment to shower this red and black
off-Boss liked the combo, by the way-and I'll be ready to be painted or to
pose or whatever. You can flash a pizza for me while I get clean and I'll
gnaw it between times. And, dear? I shouldn't pose later than midnight and
I'd be awfully pleased if you would get up when I do tomorrow-rather early,
I'm afraid. But you can go back to bed."
"So?"
"For Boss, dearest. To cheer him up." She explained her idea of full-paint
costume alternated with erotic styles.
He shrugged. "Glad to. Why gee-string? Silly. Old man dying, let him look.
Can't hurt."
"Because, dear. Boss prides himself on being 'modern' and 'keeping up with
the times.' But the truth is he formed his ideas so long ago that nakedness
wasn't just uncommon1 it was a sin. He thinks I'm a nice girl from so far
back in the cornstalks that I've never been touched by changes. As long as
I wear a minimum-gee-and paint and shoes-I'm dressed, not naked. By his
'modern' standards, I mean. A nice girl pretending to be naughty to amuse
him. Which he likes."
He shook his head. "No roz."
"Oh, but you do, dear. Symbolism, as you have explained to me about art.
But it has to be Boss's symbols. Nudity doesn't mean a thing to our
generation. But it does to Boss. If I leave off that scrap of nylon, then by his
symbols I'm not just a sweet girl, naughty-but-nice; I'm a whore."
"Whores okay. Angela one."
(A clumsy one, she said under her breath.) "Sure they are. But not to Boss.
The hard part is to guess what-his symbols are. I'm twenty-eight and he's
over ninety and I can't possibly roz his mind. If I push it too far, he might be
                                       31
angry-even very angry; he might fire me. Then what would we do? We'd
have to give up this lovely studio."
Still in Lotus, she looked around. Yes, lovely. Aside from the Gadabout
parked near the door and the bed in the corner all the rest was the colorful
clutter of an artist's studio, always changing and always the same. The
steel grid over the high north windows made a pretty pattern-and was so
strong that she never worried. She felt warm and safe and happy here.
"Eunice my darling-"
She was startled. Joe used short-talk so habitually that she was always
surprised when he chose to shift idiom, even though he could use formal
English as well as she could-well, almost, she corrected. . . but he was
quite grammatical for a man who had bad only a high school practical
curriculum. "Yes, dearest?"
"I roz it perfectly. Wasn't sure you did. Just testing, Beautiful. Not ninety
myself but any artist understands figleaf symbol. Could happen you crowd
Mr. Smith's symbols too hard, don' know. But we'll do it. Figleaf so that his
mind can lie to itself-'No, no, mustn't touch; Mama spank'-then I paint you
like sex crime looking for spot marked 'X.'
"Oh, good!"
"But never worry about job. Sure, this pad is righteous, good north light, I
like it. But we lose it, who cares? Broke don't scare me."
(It scares me, dear!) "I love you, darling."
"But we do it for nice old boy dying, not to save studio. Understand?"
"Roz indeed! Joe, you're the nicest husband a girl ever had."
He did not answer and got a pained scowl, which she recognized as birth
pangs of creativity. So she kept still. Presently he sighed. "Down off ceiling.
Problem what to do for Boss solves inspiration that put me up there.
Tomorrow you're a mermaid."
"All right."
"And tonight. Upper body sea green with rosy glow showing through on lips
and cheeks and nipples. Lower body golden fish scales blending at waist.
Undersea background with sunlight filtering down. Traditional sea bottom
symbols, romantic. But upside down."
She hesitated. "So?" (Hard to know when to ask, when to keep quiet, when
Joe was creating.)
He smiled. "Fool-the-eye. You're swimming. Diving straight down to bottom,
back arched, hair streaming, toes pointed-main light dapple-scrimmed for
water. Beautiful. But can't wire you, even if had wires-no way to hide
harness, and hair would hang down and buttocks and breasts would sag-"
"My breasts don't sag!"
"Chill it, Jill. You got beautiful breasts and you know I know. But masses of
flesh sag and artist sees it. Everybody sees, just don' realize. Something
                                      32
wrong, don' know why. Eye not fooled. Has to be real dive, or it's fake. Bad
art."
"Well," she said doubtfully, "if you borrowed a stepladder and dragged the
mattress under your background, I suppose I could dive off and roll out and
not hurt myself. I guess."
"I don't guess! Break pretty neck, little stupid. Dive up.
Not down."
"Huh?"
"I said. Background upside down. So jump straight up in air. Like going for
hot return in volley ball. I shoot stereo stop-action, a thousandth. Shoot six,
seven, eight, nine times till just right. Turn pic upside down-lovely mermaid
diving for sea bottom."
"Oh. Yes, I'm stupid."
"Not stupid, just not artist." He started scowling again; she kept quiet. "Too
much for one night. Tomorrow paint background, tonight paint you for drill.
Then maybe stereo-mug some jumps against any background, more drill.
Bed early, up early-paint you again for Boss."
"Fine," she agreed. "But why paint me twice, dear, if I'm to be a mermaid for
Boss tomorrow? If you set up the cot for me and I slept alone, I wouldn't
disturb paint job much. Then you could touch it up in the morning. Not get
up as early."
He shook his head. "Won't paint quite same way for Boss. But won't let you
sleep in paint anyhow."
"My skin won't break out."
"No, my darling. Your skin don' break out because I don' paint you too
much, or too often, or let paint stay on too long-and always damn sure you
get it all off, then oil you. But you see, I see, everybody see what happen to
girls who paint too much. Pimples, blackheads, itching, scratching-ugly.
Sure, we'll paint you for Boss from ears to toes-but not too often and scrub
you minute you're home. That's official."
"Yes, sir."
"So scrub jet and scarlet off, while I flash pizza."
A few minutes later she shut off the shower and called out through the door
of the bath unit.: "What did you say?"
"Forgot. Big Sam stopped by. Pizza ready."
"Cut me a chunk, that's a dear. What did he want? Money?"
"No. Well, I let him have a fin. But stopped to invite us. Sunday. All day
meditation. Gigi's pad."
She stepped out into the room, till toweling. "All day, huh? Just us four? Or
his whole class?"
"Neither. A Seven Circle."
"Swinging?"
                                      33
"Suppose so. Didn't say."
"Swinging." She sighed. "Darling, I don't mind you lending him a five you'll
never see. But Big Sam is no guru, he's just a stud. And a bliffy."
"Big Sam and Gigi share what they got, Eunice. And nobody has to swing.
Ever."
"Theoretically, yes. But the only good way to break a Circle is never to join
it. Especially a Seven Circle. Did you promise? I can grit my teeth and smile
if I have to."
"No. Told him had to see you, tell him tomorrow."
"Well? What do you want me to say, dearest?"
"I'll tell him No."
"Dearest, I don't think you answered me. Is there some special reason you
want us in this Seven? An art critic perhaps? Or a dealer? If it's Gigi you
have on your mind, why not ask her to model some daytime while I'm
working? She'd be up here at once, her tail quivering-I've seen her eyeing
you."
He shook his head and grinned. "Nyet, Yvette. Believe, lass-I stalled Big
Sam because possible you wanted to join in. But Big Sam chills me too-bad
aura."
"Oh, I'm so relieved! I'll swing, darling; I promised you that when I asked
you to marry me. And I have, the few times you've wanted to. And most
were fun and only one struck me as boring. But I like to size up the
players."
"Grab pizza, climb throne. Paint legs while you eat."
"Yes, darling." She mounted the model's throne with a I wedge of pizza in
each hand; there followed a long period broken only by sounds of
chomping, and of low profanity that punctuated his alternating pleasure and
exasperation. Neither noticed either; Joe Branca was deep in the euphoria
of creation, his wife was immersed in the warm glow of being cherished.
At last he said, "Down," and offered his hand.
"May I look?"
"No. Ribs and tits now. Don' raise arms yet. Want to study them."
"As if you didn't know every wrinkle."
"Shut up. Want to think about how to paint 'em In the morning." Presently
he said, "Been thinking maybe you crowd Boss too hard with only a gee-
panty. Solved now."
"So."
"Da. Paint a bra on you."
"But wouldn't that spoil it, dear? Mermaids don't wear bras."
"Was problem. Bad empathy. So use sea shells. Flat curved kind with
nubbly backs. You know."
"Sorry but I don't, dear. Sea shells are scarce in Iowa."
                                     34
"No matter. Sea shells fix bad empathy, symbols all match." He grinned.
"Pretty one, I'll paint sea-shell bra cups so fool-the-eye that Boss won' know
for sure. He'll spend day trying to see whether is real bra or just paint. If he
breaks down and asks-I win."
She gurgled happily. "Joe, you're a genuis!"


4


As Dr. Boyle came out of the operating theater Mr. Salomon stood up.
"Doctor!"
Boyle checked his impatient strides. "Oh. You again. Go to hell."
"No doubt I will. But wait a moment, Doctor."
The surgeon answered with controlled fury: "Listen, chum-I've been
operating eleven hours with one short break. By now I hate everybody,
especially you. So let me be."
"I thought perhaps you could use a drink."
The surgeon suddenly smiled. "Where's the nearest pub?"
"About twenty yards from here. In my car. Parked on this floor. Stocked with
Australian beer, both cold and room temperature. And other things. Whisky.
Gin. Name it."
"My word, you Yahnk barstahds do know how. Right. But I must change
first." Again he turned away.
Salomon again stopped him. "Doctor, I took the liberty of having your street
clothes packed into your bag and placed in my car. So let's have that drink
at once."
Boyle shook his head and grinned. "You do take liberties-too right. Very
well, if you can stand the stink, I'll tub and change at my hotel 'Lay on,
MacDuff!'"
Salomon let it go at that until they were locked into his car and he had
poured beer for them-the authentic kangaroo kick for the surgeon, a much
weaker American brew for himself; he had tangled with Australian beer in
his youth and was wary. The big car started smoothly and-continued so;
Rockford had been warned that drinking might take place in the passenger
compartment.
Salomon waited until his guest bad half a glass down him and had sighed in
relief. "Doctor, bow did it go?"
"Eh? Smoothly. We had planned it, we rehearsed it, we did it. How else?
That's a good team you got for me."
"I take it you are saying the operation was successful?"
"'-but the patient died.' That's the rest of the old saw."
                                       35
Jacob Salomon felt a wave of sorrow and relief. He sighed and answered,
"Well, I expected it. Thank you, Doctor. I know you tried."
"Slow down! I don't mean that this patient died; I merely completed the
cliché. The operation went exactly as planned; the patient was in
satisfactory shape when I relinquished control to the support team."
"Then you expect him to live?"
"'It,' not 'he.' That thing back there is not a human being and may never be.
It won't die, it can't-unless one of your courts gives permission to switch off
the machinery. That body is young and healthy; with the support it is
receiving it can stay alive-as protoplasm, not as a human being-for any
length of time. Years. And the brain was alive when I left; it was continuing
to show strong alpha-wave response. It should stay alive, too; it is receiving
blood supply from that healthy body. But whether that brain and that body
will ever marry into a living human being-what church do you attend?"
"I don't."
"Too bad, I was about to suggest that you ring up God and ask Him, as I do
not know. Since I saved the retinas and the inner ears-first surgeon ever to
do that, by the bye, even though they call me a quack-it might be able to
see and hear. Possibly. If the spinal cord fuses, it might regain some motor
control, even be able to dispense with some of the artificial support. But I
tell you the stark truth, Counselor, the most likely outcome is that that brain
will never again be in touch with the outside world in any fashion."
"I hope your misgivings are unfounded," Salomon said mildly. "Your
contingent fee depended on your achieving sight, hearing, and speech, at a
minimum."
"In a pig's arse."
"I'm not authorized to pay it otherwise. Sorry."
"Wrong. There was mention of a bonus, a ridiculously large sum-which I
ignored. Look, cobber, you shysters are allowed to work on contingent fees;
we butchers have other rules. My fee is for operating. I operated. Finis. I'm
an ethical surgeon, no matter what the barstahds say about me."
"Which reminds me-" Salomon took an envelope from his pocket. "Here's
your fee."
The surgeon pocketed it. Salomon said, "Aren't you going to check it?"
"Why should I? Either I was paid in full. Or I sue. Either way, I couldn't care
less. Not now."
"More beer?" Salomon opened another bottle of Down-Under dynamite.
"You are paid. In full, in gold, in Switzerland-that envelope contains a note
advising you of your account number. Plus an acknowledgment that we pay
your expenses, all fees of assisting teams, all computer time, all hospital
charges, whatever. But I hope, later, to pay that 'ridiculous' bonus, as you
called it."
                                      36
"Oh, I won't turn down a gift; research is expensive-and I do want to go on; I
would like to be a respectable paragraph in medical histories. . . instead of
being sneered at as a charlatan."
"No doubt. Not quite my own reason."
Boyle took a swig of beer and blinked thoughtfully. "I suppose I've been a
stinker, again. Sorry-I always come out of surgery in a vile mood. I forgot he
is your friend."
Salomon again felt that bittersweet wave of relief and sorrow. He answered
carefully, "No, Johann Smith is not my friend."
"So? I had an impression that he was."
"Mr. Smith has no friends. I am a lawyer in his hire. As such, he is entitled
to my loyalty."
"I see. I'm glad you aren't emotionally involved, as the prognosis on a brain
transplant is never good-as I know better than anyone." Boyle added
thoughtfully, "It might work this time. It was a good tissue match,
surprisingly good in view of the wide difference between donor and
recipient. And identical blood type, that helps. We might luck it. Even
disparity in skulls turned out to be no problem once I could see that brain."
"Then why are you gloomy?"
"Do you know how many millions of nerve connections are involved? Think
I could do them all in eleven hours? Or eleven thousand hours? We don't
try; we just work on the nerves of the head, then butt the raw ends of two
spinal cords together-and sit back and spin our prayer wheels. Maybe they
fuse, maybe they don't-and no one knows why."
"So I understood. What I don't understand is how those millions of
connections can ever take place. Yet apparently you were successful with
two chimpanzees."
"Bloody! I was successful. Sorry. The human nervous system is infinitely
inventive in defending itself. Instead of reconnecting old connections it finds
new paths-if it can-and learns to use them. Do you know the psych lab
experiment with inverting spectacles?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Some student has inverting lenses taped to his eyes. For a day or two he
sees everything upside down, has to be led by the hand, fed, escorted to
the jakes. Then rather suddenly he sees everything right side up again; the
brain has switched a few hundred thousand connections and is now
interpreting the new data successfully. At this point we remove the
spectacles from the volunteer chump-and now his bare eyes see the world
upside down. So he goes through it a second time-and again the brain finds
new paths and eventually the images flip over again and he sees the world
normally.

                                      37
"Something somewhat analogous to that happened to my two prize chimps.
Abelard and Heloise. Nothing at first, thought I had still another failure.
Then they started to twitch and we had to restrain them to keep them from
hurting themselves-motor action but no control. Like a very young baby. But
in time the brains learned to manage their new bodies. Don't ask me how;
I'm a surgeon and won't guess-ask a psychologist, they love to guess. Or
ask a priest; you'll get as good an answer and maybe better.
Say, isn't your driver chap taking us around the barn? My hotel was only
five minutes from the medical center."
"I must now admit to having taken another liberty, Doctor. Your luggage
was packed, your hotel bill has been paid, and all your things were moved
to my guest room."
"My word. Why?"
"Better security."
"That hotel seemed secure to me. Armed guards on every door, more
armed men operating the lifts-I could not get in or out without showing my
I.D. at least thrice. Reminded me of the army. Hadn't realized what an
armed camp the States are. Isn't it rather a nuisance?"
"Yes. But one grows used to it. Your hotel is safe enough, physically. But
the press are onto us now and they can get inside. And so can the police."
Boyle looked troubled but not panicky. "Legal complications? You assured
me that all that sort of thing had been taken care of."
"I did. It has. The donor was married, as I told you, and by great luck
husband and wife had given pre-consent. We had a good many thousands
of that blood type quietly signed up-and paid retainers-but we couldn't
predict that one would be accidentally killed in time; the statistical projection
did not favor it. But one of them was indeed killed and there were no
complications-no insuperable ones," Salomon corrected, thinking of a bag
of well-worn Federal Reserve notes, "and a court permitted it as 'useful and
necessary research.' Nevertheless the press will stir up a storm and some
other court may decide to look into it. Doctor, I can put you in Canada in an
hour, anywhere on this planet in a day-even on the Moon without much
delay. If you so choose."
"Hmm. Wouldn't mind going to the Moon, I've never been there. You say
my clothes are in your guest room?"
"Yes. And you are most welcome."
"Is there a tub of hot water nearby?"
"Oh, certainly."
"Then I'll ask for another beer and that hot tub and about ten hours' sleep.
I've been arrested before. Doesn't worry me."


                                       38
5


Johann Sebastian Bach Smith was somewhere else. Where, he did not
know, nor care, nor wonder...did not know that he was himself, was not
aware of himself nor of anything, was not aware that he was not aware.
Then slowly, over eons, he came up from the nothingness of total
anesthesia, surfaced into dreaming. The dreams went on for unmeasured
time, endlessly. Mrs, Schmidt, can Yonny come out and play. . . Wuxtra!
Horrible atrocities in Belgium, read all about it! Johann, don't ever walk in
like that without knocking, you bad, bad boy. . . under a cabbage leaf . . .
more margin before the market opens tomorrow. . . like hell a cabbage leaf;
it comes out of her belly button Yoho you don't know nothing. . . Johnny you
know it's not nice to do that and what if my father came downstairs.. . a
pretty girl is like a melody. . . hey get a load of that not a damn thing on her
boobs. . . sergeant I volunteered once and that's enough for a lifetime.. .
Our Father 'Which art in Heaven hallowed be thy Name of the game is look
out for yourself Smith old Buddy you co-signed the note and I have other
fish to Friday at the latest and that's a promise Johann darling I don't know
how you could even bring yourself to think such a thing of your own wife is
a man's responsibility Mr. Smith and I'm sure the court will agree that four
thousand per monthlies is a very modest girl would never do such a thing
Schmidt and if I ever catch you hanging around my daughter again I'll shoot
the whole works they're not worth the paper they're printed on Johann I
don't know what your father will say when he gets home on the range
where the deer and antelope play square with me and you'll get a fair shake
it, girlie, shake it, shake it twice is regulation shake it thrice pudding with
creamed in her coffin my head off and her old man beard us and that
queered it not queer Johann just curious you understand me old body boy I
ain't got no body and no body works very long for some body else if he
expects to get ahead in the world of business girl has got just as much right
to be treated like a lady as any body seen my girl's best friend is her cherish
as long as you both shall live right and work hard and pay your bills of
lading son goes down and the stars come out of my room at once my
husband would kill me and the neighbors are always snooping where did
you leave your bicycle would pay for itself in no time Pop if I get this paper
rout and in full retreat as we go to press me closer Johnny you're so huge
national debt will never be paid off and all our companies' policies must be
in inflation so borrow now and pay later than you think I'm that sort of a girl
simply because I let you go on to college to be a teacher son but now I see
by the dawn's early warning system is useless gentlemen without second-
strike capabilities of sustained growth when treated last time so it's your
                                      39
treat this time you treat me nice and I treat you nice you-thee Eunice
Eunice! where did that girl go I've lost Rome and I've lost Gaul but worst of
all I've lost Eunice somebody find Eunice coming where have you been
right here all along Boss- His dreams went on endlessly in full stereo-
sound, sight, odor, touch-and always surrealistic, which he never noticed.
They flowed through him, or he through them, with perfect logic. To him.
Meanwhile the world flowed on around him-and forgot him. The attempt at
transplanting a living brain offered opportunity for much loose talk by video
commentators, plus guest "experts" who were encouraged to add their own
mixture of prejudice, speculation, and bias in the name of "science." A
judge in need of publicity issued a warrant for the arrest of "Dr. Lyndon
Doyle" (sic) but Dr. Lindsay Boyle was outside of jurisdiction before the
warrant was signed and long before the name was straightened out. A
famous and very stylish evangelist prepared a sermon denouncing the
transplant, using as a text "Vanity of Vanities."
But on the third day a spectacular and unusually bloody political
assassination crowded Johann Smith out of the news and the evangelist
found that he could use the sermon by changing a few sentences-which he
did, understanding instinctively the American lust for the blood of the
mighty.
As usual, the unlicensed birth rate exceeded the licensed rate while the
abortion rate exceeded both. Upjohn International declared an extra
dividend. The backing and filling for the upcoming Presidential campaign
speeded up with a joint announcement by the national committees of the
two conservative parties, the SDS and the PLA, that they would hold their
conventions together (while preserving mutual autonomy) for the
(unannounced but understood) purpose of reelecting the incumbent. The
chairman of the extreme left-wing Constitutional Liberation Rally denounced
it as a typical crypto-fascist capitalistic plot, and predicted a November
victory for Constitutional freedom. The splinter parties, Democratic,
Socialist, and Republican, met quietly (few members and almost no
delegates under sixty-five) and stole away without causing more than a
ripple in the news.
In the Middle East an earthquake killed nine thousand people in three
minutes and brought close the ever-present possibility of war through
disturbing the balance of terror.
The Sino-American Lunar Commission announced that the Lunar Colonies
were now 87% self-sufficient in proteins and carbohydrates, and raised the
subsidized out-migration quota but again refused to relax the literacy
requirement.
Johann Sebastian Bach Smith dreamed on.

                                     40
After an unmeasured time (how measure a dream?) Smith woke enough to
be aware of himself-the reflexive self-awareness of waking as contrasted
with the unquestioning and unexplicit self-experience of dreaming.. He
know who he was, Johann Sebastian Bach Smith, a very old man-not a
baby, not a boy, not any of his younger selves-and was aware of his
sensory surroundings, which were zero: darkness, silence, absence of any
physical sensation, not even pressure, touch, kinesthesia.
He wondered if the operation had started, and what it would feel like when
he died. He did not worry about pain; he had been assured that the brain
itself had no pain receptors and that he was being anesthetized solely to
keep him quiet and unworried while the job was done-besides, pain had not
worried Smith in years; it was his constant companion, almost an old friend.
Presently he went back to sleep and to more dreams, unaware that his
brain-wave pattern was being monitored and had caused great excitement
when change in rhythm and peak had shown that the patient was awake.
Again be was awake and this time gave thought to the possibility that this
nothingness was death. He considered the idea without panic, having come
to terms with death more than a half century earlier. If this was death, it was
neither the Heaven he had been promised as a child nor the Hell he had
long since ceased to believe in, nor even the] total lack of self he had come
to expect-it was just one damn big bore.
He slept again, unaware that the physician in charge of his life-support
team had decided that the patient had been awake long enough and had
slowed his breathing and made a slight change in his blood chemistry.
He woke again and tried to take stock of the situation. if he was dead-and
there seemed no longer reason to doubt it-what did he have left and how
could he cut his losses? Assets: none. Correction: one asset, memory. He
had a recent memory-of-a-memory, vague and undefined, of confused and
crazy dreams-probably from anesthesia and no use to him-plus other
memories older but much sharper of being (or having been) Johann Smith.
Well, Johann you old bastard, if you and me are going to have to spend all
eternity locked in this limbo we had better get to work on total recall of
everything we ever did.
Everything? Or concentrate on the good parts? No, a stew had to have salt
or it was too bland. Try to remember all of it. If we have all eternity with
nothing to play but this one rerun, we're going to want to have all of it on
tap, as even the best parts may get boring after a few thousand times.
Still, it wouldn't hurt to concentrate-just for practice-on some exceptionally
pleasant memory. So what'll it be, partner? There are only four top subjects,
the rest are sideshows: money, sex, war, and death. So which do we
choose? Right! You're correct, Eunice; I'm a dirty old man and my only
regret (and a sharp one!) is that I didn't find you forty or fifty years back.
                                      41
When you were not yet a gleam in your father's eye, more's the pity. Tell
me, girl, were those sea-shell doodads a brassiere or just paint on your
pretty skin? Euchered myself on that one-should have asked and let you
sass me. So tell great-grandpappy. Give me a phone call and tell me. Sorry,
I can't tell you the wave length, dear; it's unlisted. Golly, you looked cute!
Let's try another one-no chance that I'll forget you, Eunice my dear, but I
never laid a finger on you, damn it.
Let's go way, way back to one we did lay a finger on. Our very first piece?
No, you mucked that up pretty badly, you clumsy lout. The second one? Ah,
yes, she was the cat's pajamas! Mrs. Wicklund. First name? Did I ever
know her first name? Certainly I never called her by it, not then or later.
Even though she let me come back for more. Let me? Encouraged me, set
it up.
Let's see, I was fourteen, fourteen and a half, and she must have been. . .
thirty-five? I remember her mentioning that she had been married fifteen
years, so call it thirty-five at a guess. No matter, it was the first time I ever
encountered a female who wanted it, managed to let me know that she
wanted it, then without any bobbles could take charge of a lanky, too-eager,
almost-virgin boy, steady him, lead him through it, make him enjoy it, let him
know she enjoyed it-make him feel good about it afterwards.
God bless your generous soul, Mrs. Wicklund! If you are lost somewhere in
this darkness-for you must have died many years sooner than I did-I hope
you remember me and are as happy in remembering me as I am in
remembering you.
All the details now- Your flat was right under ours. Cold windy afternoon
and you gave me 'a quarter (big money then, a dime was standard) for
going to the grocery for you. For what? How good is your memory, you
horny old goat? Correction: horny old 'ghost.' What have I got left to be
horny with? Never mind, I am-it's up here, Doc. Half a pound of sliced
boiled ham, a sack of russet potatoes, a dozen ranch eggs (seven cents a
dozen then-my God!), a ten-cent loaf of Holsum bread and-something else.
Oh, yes, a spool of sixty white cotton thread at the notions shop next to Mr.
Gilmore's drugstore. Mrs. Baum's shop-two sons, one killed in War One and
the other made a name for himself in electronics. But let's get back to you,
Mrs. Wicklund.
You heard me bring my bike into the hallway and opened your door, and I
carried your groceries on through to your kitchen. You paid me and offered
me hot cocoa and-why wasn't I nervous about Mama? Pop at work and Mr.
Wicklund, too; that figured-but where was Mama? Oh, yes, her Sewing
Circle afternoon.


                                       42
So while I drank cocoa and was being polite, you cranked your Victrola and
put on a record-uh. "Margie," it was, and you asked me if I knew how to
dance. You taught me to dance all right-on the sofa.
A life-support technician studied an oscilloscope, noted an increase in brain
activity, concluded that the patient might be frightened and decided to
tranquilize. Johann Smith slipped gently into sleep without knowing it-to the
scratchy strains of a mechanical phonograph. He was "fox-trotting," so she
told him. He did not care what it was called; his arm was around her waist,
hers was around his neck, her warm clean odor was sweet in his nostrils.
Presently she seduced him.
After a long, ecstatic, and utterly satisfying time he said, "Eunice honey, I
didn't know you could fox-trot."
She smiled into his eyes. "You never asked me, Boss. Can you reach past
me and shut off the Victrola?"
'"Sure, Mrs. Wicklund."


6


Johann Smith became aware that this limbo was no longer featureless-
head resting on something, mouth unpleasantly dry and felt crowded, as if
with the sort of junk a dental surgeon inflicts on his victims. There was still
total blackness but not quite dead silence. A sucking noise- Any sensation
was most welcome. Johann shouted, "Hey! I lived through it!"
Two rooms away the monitoring technician on watch jumped up so fast he
knocked over his chair. "Patient's trying to articulate! Get Dr. Brenner!"
Brenner answered quietly over the voice monitor. "I'm with the patient, Cliff.
Get a team in here. And notify Dr. Hedrick and Dr. Garcia."
"Right away!"
Johann said, "Hey, damn it! Isn't anybody here?" The words came out as
incoherent grunts.
The Doctor touched a wand speaker to the patient's teeth, held the
microphone hooked to it against his own throat. "Mr. Smith, do you hear
me?"
The patient mumbled again, louder and more forcefully. The Doctor
answered, "Mr. Smith, I'm sorry but I cannot understand you. If you hear
me, make one sound. Any sort but just one."
The patient grunted once.
"Good, wonderful-you can hear me. All right, one sound by itself means
Yes; two sounds mean No. If you
understand me, answer with two sounds. Two grunts." Smith grunted twice.
                                      43
"Good, now we can talk. One sound for Yes, two for No. Do you hurt?"
Two grunts-"Uh. . . ko!"
"Fine! Now we try something else. Your ears are covered and completely
soundproofed; my voice is reaching your inner ears through your teeth and
upper jawbone. I'm going to remove part of the covering on your left ear
and speak to you that way. The sounds may be painfully loud at first, so I
will start with whispers. Understand me?"
One grunt- Smith felt gentle firmness as something pulled loose.
"Do you still hear me?"
"Uh . . . ko-"
"Now do you hear me?"
"Uh . . . ko . ah . ee . . oh . . ce . . . oo. . ow!"
"I think that was a sentence. Don't try to talk yet. Just one grunt, or two."
Johann said, "Of course I can't talk, you damned idiot!
Take this junk out of my mouth!" The vowels came through fairly clearly;
consonants were distorted or missing.
"Doctor, how the patient can talk with all that gear in the way?"
Brenner said quietly, "Shut up, Nurse. Mr. Smith, we have an aspirator
down your throat to keep you from choking on phlegm, drowning in your
own saliva. I can't remove it yet, so try to be patient. Besides that, your
eyes are masked. Your eye specialist will decide when that comes off. I
can't-I'm the life-support specialist on duty at the moment, not the physician
managing your case; that's Dr. Hedrick assisted by Dr. Garcia. I can't do
much more than I have till one of them gets here. Are you comfortable?
One grunt or two."
One grunt- "Good. I'll stay here with you. And talk to you if you want me to.
Do you?"
One grunt-
"Okay, I will. You can talk with more than a Yes or No any time you wish.
By spelling. I'll recite the alphabet, slowly, and you stop me with one grunt
when I reach a letter you want. And so on for the next letter, until it's spelled
out. It's slow. . . but neither one of us is going anywhere. Want to try it?"
One grunt- "Good. I've had lots of practice at it; I've been on many a life-
support watch in which the patient could not talk but was awake and
perfectly rational. As you are," the Doctor added, lying hopefully, one eye
on the master oscilloscope. "But bored, of course. Very bored-that's the
worst part for a patient in life-support; he's bored silly, yet we can't let him
sleep all the time; it's not good for him and sometimes we need his
cooperation. All right, any time you want to spell anything, give three distinct
grunts and I'll prove I know my abc's."
Three grunts- "A. . b. . c. . d . . e. . f-" Johann grunted at "r."

                                       44
"'R'?" Dr. Brenner repeated. "Don't bother to answer if I'm right. Okay, first
letter is 'r.' A..b. .c. .d..-"
The message read: "Right ear."
"Do you want the plug removed from your right ear?"
One grunt- Carefully the Doctor removed it. "Testing," he said.
"Cincinnati, sixty-six, Susannah. Are you hearing with both ears? Does my
voice seem to move from side to side?"
One grunt, followed by three grunts- "Okay, spelled message. A. . b. . c-"
Shortly the Doctor said, "'Nobody'? Is that the first word of your message?"
Double grunt- "All right, I'll try again. A. . b-" He was interrupted by a series
of grunts, and stopped. "You don't want me to spell again . . . yet 'Nobody'
is not the first word of your message. But I would have sworn that I got it
right. 'Nobody-' Uh. . . hey! 'No. .. body'-two words?"
One emphatic grunt- "Are you trying to tell me that you feel as if you had no
body? Can't feel it?"
Grunt- "Oh! Of course you can't feel it; you haven't finished healing. But
honestly," the Doctor went on, lying with the skill of long practice, "your
progress has been amazingly fast. Both speech and hearing so soon, that's
wonderfully encouraging. In fact you've just won a bet for me. Five
hundred," he went on, still lying, "and at that I demanded more than twice
the recovery time you've shown. And now I'm going to double my winnings
by putting them back and betting that you'll have full recovery of the use of
your whole body in no longer time. Because this is a wonderfully healthy
body you have even though you can't feel it yet. Marvelous repair factor."
Triple grunt- Then the spelled message was: "How long?"
"How long since your operation? Or how long until you get the use of your
whole body?"
Dr. Brenner was saved by the bell. He stopped reciting the alphabet and
said, "Half a moment, Mr. Smith; Dr. Hedrick has arrived, I must report.
Nurse will stay with you-just let the patient rest, Nurse; this has been tiring."
Outside the door Dr. Brenner stopped the case-managing physician,
saying, "Dr. Hedrick, one moment before you go in. You've checked the
remotes?"
"Certainly. Awake-normal, apparently."
"And rational, in my opinion. I have removed the central stopples from both
ear pads and we have been talking, spell-and-grunt, killing time until you-"
"I heard you on monitor, assumed you must have opened the ears. You
take a lot on yourself, Doctor." Dr. Brenner stiffened, then answered coldly,
"Doctor-your patient, conceded. But I was here alone and had to use my
own judgment. If you wish me to leave the case, you have only to say so."
"Don't be so damned touchy, young man. Now let's go in and see the
patient. Our patient."
                                       45
"Yes, sir."
They went inside. Dr. Hedrick said, "I'm Dr. Hedrick, Mr. Smith, physician in
charge of your case.
Congratulations! Welcome back to our weary world. This is a triumph for
everyone-and vindication for a great man, Dr. Boyle."
Three grunts-
"You wish to spell a message?"
One grunt-
"If you will wait a moment, we will remove some items from your mouth and
you can talk instead." (With great good luck, Hedrick amended to himself-
but I never expected the case to progress even this far. That arrogant
butcher really is a great man. To my surprise.) "Would that suit you?"
An emphatic grunt-
"Good. Hand aspiration, Dr. Brenner. Adjust those lights, Nurse. Monitor
watch! Find out what's keeping Dr. Feinstein."
Johann Smith felt hands working rapidly but gently, then Dr. Hedrick said,
"Let me check, Doctor. Very well, remove the jaw wedges. Mr. Smith, we
will have to aspirate every few moments-I'd rather not have to force you to
cough up fluid. Or go after it the hard way. But you may talk if you wish."
"Aye-gah-aye-hay-dih!"
"Slowly, slowly. You're having to learn to talk all over again, like a baby.
That same remark now-but slowly and carefully."
"By...God...I...made...it!"
"You surely did. The first man in history to have his brain moved into a new
body-and lived through it. And you will go on living. This is a fine body.
Healthy."
"But . can't. peal-feel-a damn. . thing . from . chin. down."
"Lucky you," said the Doctor. "Because we've got you restrained all over
against the day-soon, I hope"-but never, more likely, he added to himself-
"when you will start feeling your entire new body. When that day comes,
you may jerk uncontrollably-if we didn't have you restrained. Then you'll
have to go to work and learn to control your body. Like a new baby.
Practice. Possibly long and tedious practice."
"How . . . long?" -
"I don't know. Dr. Boyle's chimps made it rather quickly, I understand. But it
might take you as long as it takes a baby to learn to walk. But why worry
about that now? You're got a new body, good for many, many years-why,
you might be the first human being to live two hundred years. So don't be in
a hurry. Now rest, please-I've got to examine you. Chin screen, Nurse."
"The patient's eyes are covered, Doctor."


                                      46
"Ah, yes, so they are. Mr. Smith, when Dr. Feinstein arrives, we will see if
he wants to expose your eyes to light today. In the meantime-uncover the
patient, Nurse."
Uncovered, the new body was still mostly covered. A plastic corset "iron
lung" encased the torso from chin to pubis; arms and legs were strapped
and the straps cushioned; urethral and anal catheters were in place and
secured; two blood vessels were in use, one for nourishment, the other for
monitoring; four others were prepared for use but currently stopped off.
Wires were here and there. The body inside this dismal mess could have
been one that Michelangelo would have treasured but the assemblage of
artifact and protoplasm could seem beautiful only to a medical specialist.
Dr. Hedrick seemed pleased. He took a stylus from his pocket, suddenly
scratched the sole of the right foot-got the reflex he expected, got no
response from Johann Smith, also as expected.
"Dr. Hedrick?" came a voice from the bed console.
"Yes."
"Dr. Feinstein is operating."
"Very well." He indicated to a nurse that he wanted the body covered. "Did
you hear that, Mr. Smith? Your ophthalmologist is in surgery, can't see you
today. Just as well, as you have had enough for one day. It's time for you to
sleep."
"No. You. . do. . it. My. . eyes."
"No. We wait for Dr. Feinstein."
"No! You. are, in . charge."
"So I am and your eyes won't be touched until your specialist is present."
"Damn. .you. Get. . Jake. . Sal . o . mon!"
"Mr. Salomon is in Europe, will be notified that you are awake, and he may
possibly be here tomorrow. I couldn't say. In the meantime I want you to
rest. Sleep."
"Won't!"
"Ah, but you will." Dr. Hedrick pointed to Dr. Brenner, nodded. "As you
pointed out, I am in charge. Want to know why I am certain you will sleep?
Because we are slowing your breathing rate and introducing into your
bloodstream a harmless drug that will insure that you do sleep. So good
night, Mr. Smith, and again-my congratulations."
"Damn...your...ins-insuffera-" Johann Smith slept.
Once he half roused. "Eunice?" (Right here, Boss. Go back to sleep.) He
slept on.


7

                                     47
"Hi, Jake!"
"Hello, Johann. How do you feel?"
"Mean as a fox with its tail in a trap except when these tyrants dope me with
something that makes me sweetness-and-light in spite of myself. Where the
hell have you been? Why didn't you come when I sent for you?"
"On vacation. First decent vacation I've had in fifteen years. Any
objections?"
"Get your feathers down. You do have a nice tan. And taken off a little
weight, too, I think. Okay, okay-though I don't mind saying I was
disappointed that you didn't trot back for a day or two at least when I woke
up. Hurt my feelings."
"Humph! You have no feelings. Never did."
"Now, Jake-I do so have feelings, just never was one for showing them.
But, damn it, I needed you."
The lawyer shook his head. "You didn't need me. I know why you thought
you did. You wanted me to interfere with Dr. Hedrick's management of your
case. Which I would not have done. So I extended my vacation to avoid
useless argument."
Johann grinned at him. "Always the sly one, Jake. Okay, I've never been
one to fret about yesterday's trouble. But now that you're back-well,
Hedrick's a good doctor, but he's highhanded with me when it's not
necessary. So we'll change that. I'll tell you what I want and you tell
Hedrick-and if he balks, you can let him know that he is not indispensable."
"No."
"What do you mean, 'No'?'
"I mean No. Johann, you still require constant medical attention. I haven't
interfered with Dr. Hedrick up to now and the results have been good. I
won't interfere now."
"Oh, for Pete's sake, Jake. Sure, sure, you have my interests at heart. But
you don't understand the situation. I'm no longer in a critical condition; I'm
convalescent. Look, here's late news, important. Know what I did this
morning during physiotherapy? Moved my right index finger. On purpose,
Jake. Know what that means?"
"Means you can bid in an auction. Or signal a waiter."
"Crab apples. Wiggled my toes a little, too. Jake, in a week I'll be walking,
unassisted. Why, I spend thirty minutes each day now without this lung
thing, this corset and when they put it back on me, it's simply set to assist, if
necessary. But despite all this wonderful progress, I'm still treated like a
wired-up laboratory monkey. Allowed to stay awake only a short time each
day-hell, they even shave me while I'm asleep and God alone knows what
else; I don't. I'm strapped down every minute that at least six people don't
                                       48
have their hands on me for physio. If you don't believe me, lift the sheet and
take a look. I'm a prisoner. In my own house."
Salomon didn't move. "I believe you."
"Move that chair around so that I can see you better. They've even got my
head clamped-now I ask you, is that necessary?"
"No opinion. Ask your doctor." Salomon stayed where he was.
"I asked you. . . because I'm fed up with his top-sergeant behavior."
"And I declined to express an opinion in a field in which I have no
competence. Johann, you're getting well, that's evident. But only a fool
replaces a quarterback who is winning. I never thought you would live
through the operation. I don't think you did, either."
"Well . . . truthfully, I didn't. I was betting my life-literally--on a long gamble.
But I won."
"Then why don't you try being grateful?-instead of behaving like a spoiled
child!"
"Temper, Jake, temper-why, you sound like me."
"God knows I don't want to sound like you. But I mean it. Show gratitude.
Praise the Lord-and Dr. Hedrick."
"And Dr. Boyle, Jake. Yes, I am grateful, truly I am. I've been snatched back
from the edge of death-and now have every reason to expect a wonderful
new life-and all I risked was a few more weeks of a life that had grown
intolerable." Johann smiled. "I can't express how grateful I am, there are no
words. My eyes are twenty/twenty again and I'm seeing shades of color I
had forgotten existed. I can hear high notes I haven't heard in years. I get
'em to play symphonies for me and I can follow the piccolo clear up to the
roof. And the violins. I can hear all sorts of high sounds now, higher than
ever-even my new voice sounds high; he must have been a tenor. And I
can smell, Jake-and I lost my last trace of a sense of smell years ago.
Nurse, walk past me and let me smell you."
The nurse, a pretty redhead, smiled, said nothing, did not move from the
bed's console.
Johann went on, "I'm even allowed to eat now, once a day-eat and swallow,
I mean, not a blasted tube. Jake, did you know that Cream o' Wheat tastes
better than filet mignon? It can. Hell, everything tastes good now; I had
forgotten what fun it is to eat. Jake, it's so grand to be alive-in this body-that
I can't wait to go out in the country and walk in fields and climb a hill and
look at trees and watch birds. And clouds. Sunbathe. Ice-skate, maybe.
Square-dance. Ever square-dance, Jake?"
"I used to be good at it. No time for it, late years."
"I never had time for it even when I was young. I'm going to take time, now.
Reminds me, who's minding the store?"
"Teal, of course. He wants to see you."
                                        49
"You see him, I'm too busy learning to use my new body. And enjoying it.
Do I have any money left? Not that I give a hoot."
"You want the ungarnished truth?"
"You can't scare me, Jake. If I have to sell this house to pay off this gang of
jailers, it won't worry me. Might be fun. I can tell you this: I'll never be on
Welfare. I'll get by-always have, always will."
"Brace yourself. You're worth more than ever."
"Huh? Oh, what a shame! When I was just beginning to enjoy being broke."
"Hypocrite."
"Not at all, Jake. I-"
"Hypocrite, I said. Oh, hush up. Your fortune had already reached the
takeoff point, where it can't possibly be spent no matter how you try; it just
keeps growing. I didn't even spend all your income on this operation and all
that went with it. However, you no longer control Smith Enterprises."
"So?"
"Yes. I encouraged Teal to borrow money and buy some of your voting
shares; it gave him incentive in minding the store. And it looked better. Also,
as de-facto chairman of the board, I thought it would look better if I owned a
bigger block, too, so I traded you some blue chips and tax-exempts for
some of your senior-corporation voting stock.
At present two of us-you and I, or you and Teal-hold voting control. But no
one of us. However, I'll trade back any time you want to resume control."
"God forbid!"
"We'll leave the matter open, Johann. I was not trying to take advantage of
your illness."
"No, Jake. If I don't have controlling interest, I don't have even a moral
responsibility to look out for the company. I'll resign as chairman of the
board-and you can be chairman, or Teal, or you can put it up for grabs."
"Wait till you're well."
"Okay but I shan't change my mind. But now about that other matter-Uh,
Nurse, don't you have to go empty something, or wash your hands, or
check the roof to see if it's on tight? I want private conversation with my
lawyer."
She smiled and shook her head. "No, sir. You know I can't leave the room
even a moment without being relieved. But I'm authorized by Dr. Hedrick to
do this, sir: I can shut off the voice monitor to the remotes, then go over in
that far corner and watch video with the sound turned up high so that you'll
be certain I can't hear you. Dr. Hedrick said you might want privacy in
speaking with Mr. Salomon."
"Well! The old bug-bug-hunter is human after all. You do that, Nurse."
Shortly, Johann was able to say quietly, "You saw that, Jake? God knows
there could be no harm in you alone watching me a few minutes-you could
                                      50
call for help if I choked or something. Anyhow, any trouble would show on
their dials. But, no they chaperon me every second and won't agree to the
most harmless request. Look, very quietly now-do you have a pocket mirror
on you?"
"Eh? Never carried one in my life."
"A pity. Well, have one on you next time you're here to see me. Tomorrow, I
hope. Jake, Hedrick is a good doctor, conceded-but he won't tell me
anything. Just this week I asked him whose body this had been-and he
wasn't even polite enough to lie; he just told me that it was none of my
business."
"It isn't."
"Huh?"
"Remember the contract I worked out? It said-"
"Never read it. Your pidgin."
"I told you; you didn't listen. Donor's privacy to be respected unless donor
specifically grants permission to breach it. . . and even then his estate must
confirm after death. In this case neither proviso was met. So you can never
be told."
"Oh, rats. I can find out, once I'm up and around. I would never publicize it; I
just want to know."
"No doubt you will find out. But 1 won't be a party to breaching a contract
with the dead."
"Hmm. Jake, you're a stiff-necked old bastard; it wouldn't do any harm. All
right, all right. But get me that mirror. Look, you can get me one now. Go
into my bathroom, usual excuse, and look around. Search. Four or five
small mirrors in there, drawers and such-or were the last time I was on my
feet. Almost certainly still are. Just don't let a nurse see it. In your pocket.
Or under your jacket."
"Why don't you simply ask for one?"
"Because they won't let me have one, Jake. You may think I'm paranoid but
I am being persecuted by this high-and-mighty doctor. Won't let me see my
new face in a mirror. Okay, it's probably scarred; I don't care. Won't let me
look at myself at all. When they work on me they put up a chin screen; I
haven't even seen my hands. Would you believe it, I don't even know what
color I am. Am I a soul? Or a honk? Or something else? It's maddening."
"Johann, it might be literally maddening for you to see yourself. Before you
have your strength back."
"What? Oh, be your age, Jake; you know me better than that. If I'm the
ugliest thing since wart hogs and covered with purple stripes, I can take it."
Johann grinned. "I was ugly as sin before the operation; any change for the
worse can't be great. But I tell you no lie, old friend; if they keep treating me
like a retarded child, they really will drive me off the rails."
                                       51
Salomon sighed. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Johann, but it is no news
to me that they won't let you see yourself in a mirror-"
"What?"
"Steady down. I've discussed it with Dr. Hedrick and with the psychiatrist
working with him. They are of the opinion that you could suffer a severe
emotional shock-one that might give you a grave setback, even (as you,
say) 'drive you off the rails'-if you see your new self before you are fully well
and strong."
Johann Smith did not answer at once. Then he said quietly, "Pig whistle. I
know I'm physically something else now. What harm do they think it could
do me?"
"The psychiatrist mentioned the possibility of a split personality."
"Move around and look me in the eyes. Jake Salomon, do you believe
that?"
"My opinion is neither relevant nor competent. I am not going to buck your
physicians. Nor help you to outwit them."
"So that's how the wind sets, Jake...I am sorry to be forced to say this-but
you are not the only lawyer in this city."
"So I know. I am sorry-truly sorry!-to be forced to say this, Johann-but I am
the only lawyer you can turn to."
"What do you mean?"
"Johann, you are now a ward of the Court. I am your guardian."
Johann Smith was slow to answer, then barely whispered: "Conspiracy. I
never thought it of you, Jake."
"Johann, Johann!"
"Do you mean to keep me locked up forever? If not, what's the price to turn
me loose? Is the Judge in on it? And Hedrick?"
Salomon controlled himself. "Please, Johann, let me speak. I'm going to
pretend that you never said what you did say. . . and I'll have a transcript of
the proceedings brought here for you to see. Hell, I'll have the Judge
himself fetch them. But you've got to listen."
"I'm listening. How can I help listening?-I'm a prisoner."
"Johann, you will cease being a ward as soon as you are able to appear in
court-in person-and convince the Judge-Judge McCampbell, it is, an honest
man as you know-convince .McCampbell that you are no longer non
compos mentis. He took the step reluctantly-and I had to fight to be named
your guardian, as I was not the petitioner."
"So? And who asked to have me committed?"
"Johanna Darlington Seward, et aliae-meaning your other three
granddaughters, too."
"I see," Johann said slowly. "Jake, I owe you an apology."

                                       52
Salomon snorted. "For what? How can you do or say anything calling for an
apology when you are legally non compos mentis?"
"Whew! Hand me the traditional piece of snuff; that was razor sharp. Dear
little Johanna-I should have drowned her at birth. Her mother, my daughter
Evelyn, used to shove her into my lap and remind me that she was my
namesake. Jake, the only thing that brat ever did for me was to pee on my
trousers-on purpose. So June and Marla and Elinor are in it, too. Not
surprising."
"Johann, they darn near made it. I had to resort to everything short of
treason to get it into Judge McCampbell's court. Even then, only the fact
that I have held your general power of attorney for an unbroken fifteen
years kept the Court from naming Mrs. Seward as guardian and
conservator. That and one other thing."
"What other thing?"
"Their stupidity. If they had shot for guardianship right off, they might have
made it. Instead their first move was to try to have you declared legally
dead."
"Well! Jake, do you suppose-later-that I can cut them out of my will
entirely?"
"You can do better than that; you can outlive them. Now."
"Mmm, yes, I suppose I can. I will! It'll be a pleasure."
"That move wasn't serious, just stupid. Stupid lawyer. Took four days for the
expert witnesses to unwind, took the Court four minutes to rule in
accordance with 'Estate of Parsons v. Rhode Island.' Hoped I had seen the
last of them then; that diploma-mill shyster seemed pretty cowed. Then
Parkinson got into it. . . and his lawyer is not stupid."
"Parkinson'? Our boy Parky, our idiot ex-director?"
"The same."
"Hmm. Von Ritter was right; it doesn't pay to humiliate a man. But how
could Parky show an interest?"
"He didn't. That Parkinson put them up to it is simply a conclusion but a firm
one-Parkinson's mother-in-law's lawyer and Parkinson himself present
every day in court, a happy spectator. Johann, I didn't dare ask that the
matter be continued during your recovery; our own expert witnesses were
unwilling to testify that you would ever be yourself again, able to manage
your own affairs. So we stipulated your temporary lack of competence-
surprised 'em, caught 'em unprepared-and I had our attorney move that I be
appointed your guardian pro tem. Made it. But Johann, as soon as this was
in the wind I started shuffling stock around. For several weeks Teal held a
big chunk of your voting stock-Teal is okay; you made a good choice-Teal
held all of your stock that I now hold, using money I lent him. An open
transaction that could be verified, none of this 'ten dollars and other
                                      53
valuable considerations' dodge. During that period, your stock that I had
sold to Teal using my money, plus Teal's stock that he already had, plus
what I have long held, was voting control. . . because I knew that if I lost,
the next day Parkinson would show up with proxies for your stock-signed by
your granddaughters-and demand a stockholders' meeting and kick me out
of the chair and fire Teal as president. Yet I didn't dare buy stock from you
myself-or I would go into court as an interested party and the other side
might sniff it. It was touch-and-go for a while, Johann."
"Well, I'm glad we're out of the woods. Parky."
"We aren't. Other actions coming up, none of which you need worry about
today."
"Jake, I'm not going to worry about anything. I'm going to think about birds
and bees and fleecy clouds and enjoy the wonderful taste of Cream o'
Wheat. And prunes, strained prunes fixed baby-style. I'm just glad to know
that my oldest friend didn't knife me while I was unconscious and sorry as
hell I thought so even for a moment. Oh, I still think you're a timid, gutless,
stinking sissy not to help me out on this mirror nonsense but we'll argue that
another day. I can wait if I have to; I see why you don't want to buck a
psychiatrist if I have to go into court when I'm up and convince Judge
McCampbell that I can still hit the floor with my hat."
"I'm glad to hear it. And I'm glad to see that you are getting well, Johann.
I'm certain you are since you are again, or still, the same stinking bad-
tempered, unreasonable old scoundrel you always were."
Johann chuckled. "Thanks, Jake-and I see that you are in good health, too.
May we never see the day we talk sweet to each other. What else is now?
Oh, yes! Where is hell is my secretary? Eunice, I mean. There is not a one
of this gang of kidnappers around me who ever knew her...and they show
no interest in trying to find her. Oh, Garcil xnew her by sight-but he says
that he doesn't know where she is and claims he's too busy to run errands.
Told me to ask you."
"Oh." Salomon hesitated. "Do you know her address?"
"Eh? Somewhere at the north end of town. I suppose my accountant has it.
Wait a moment! You took her home once, I remember clearly."
"So I did. It was indeed somewhere in the north end. But those rabbit
warrens all look alike. My guards may know. Hold it-your mobile guards
escorted her for several months, right up to the time you went in for surgery.
Have you asked them?"
"Hell, Jake, I haven't been allowed to see anyone. I don't even know that
they are still working for me."
"I'm fairly sure they still were when I left for Europe.
But, Johann, while we can ask them, I doubt if it will do any good."
"Why not?"
                                      54
"Because I did see Eunice just before your operation. She was interested-
she was fond of you, Johann, much more so than you deserved-"
"Conceded! Make it march."
"Well, she didn't mention specific plans but I don't think she intended to stay
in secretarial work. Hell, man, none of us expected that you would ever
need a secretary again. I would happily have hired her myself; she is a
good secretary. But-"
"I'm sure you would, you old goat. But surely you let her know that she
could stay on my payroll forever? Well, until I died, at least."
"She knew that. But she is a proud girl, Johann. Not a parasite. I'll make an
effort to find her. However, if I don't, there are many good secretaries. I'll
find one for you. That's a promise."
"Look, I don't want another secretary; I want Eunice Branca."
"I meant-"
"I know what you meant. You'd find me some old witch who does perfect
work but is no fun to look at or have around...while you've probably got
Eunice stashed away in your office."
Salomon said slowly, "Johann, I swear by all that's holy that I do not have
her in my office nor anywhere."
"Then she did turn you down. Jake, I trust you with my life and all my
worldly goods. But I don't trust you or any man not to steal a perfect
secretary if he can."
"Nolo contendere. I did offer her a job anytime she wanted it. She did not
accept."
"So we find her. You find her."
Salomon sighed. "What clues can you give me? Her husband, perhaps?
Isn't he an artist?"
"I suppose you could call him that. Look, Jake, don't hold this against
Eunice-but I would call him a gigolo. But I'm old-fashioned. I had to get a
report when she married him. He was clean, no reason to lose the best
secretary a man ever had just because she chose to marry him. Yes, he
was an artist, one who didn't sell much; she supported him. That was her
business; Branca was all right- didn't use drugs, didn't even drink. But he
wasn't up to her. Illiterate. Surely I know how common that is today; I'm not
prejudiced, I've got illiterates right in this house-and only God and
Accounting know how many are working for Smith Enterprises. Branca may
never have attended a school in which reading is taught. But I can give you
one lead-if Eunice is not working as a secretary-easy to check through
Social Security-and if they aren't on the Welfare rolls-she won't be, he might
be-then check model agencies, video, artists, photographers, et cetera. For
both of them. For he was as handsome as Eunice was beautiful; the
snoopshot with the security report made that plain."
                                      55
"Very well, Johann; I'll get a skiptrace firm on it."
"Hell, put a regiment of detectives on it!"
"But suppose they dropped out? People do."
Johann sniffed. "Perhaps he would, I would lay any amount that she never
would. But if necessary, I want every Abandoned Area in this city combed."
"Expensive. You send a private detective into an A.A. and the premium on
his life goes sky high."
"Didn't you tell me that I have more money than I know what to do with?"
"True. But I don't relish hiring a man for hazardous work even if he wants
the job. But we're borrowing trouble; it may take nothing more than getting
Accounting to dig out that address. Or do a back check on a Social Security
number with the customary small bribe. I'll let you know."
Salomon stood up to leave. Smith said, "Hold it. Will I see you tomorrow?
And will you phone in a report-tell Hedrick or the physician on watch; they
won't let me talk on the phone-phone a report each day? Till you find her?"
"Every day, Johann."
"Thanks, Jake. You'll make Eagle Scout yet. Tell nursy she can come out of
the corner now. They're probably waiting to slip me my Mickey Finn-this is
the longest they've let me stay awake so far."

Two rooms away Salomon stopped to speak to Dr. Hedrick. The physician
looked at him. "Rough," he stated.
"Quite. Doctor, how long do you expect to keep your patient from using a
mirror?"
"Hard to say. Progress has been rapid lately . . . but Smith still has very
imperfect control of the new body. Plus tingling and itching and numbness-
all to be expected-and imaginary pains. Psychosomatic, rather; they are
real to the patient. Counselor, if you expect me to have my patient ready for
a competency hearing any time soon, emotional shocks must be delayed as
long as possible. That's my opinion, though of course I am strongly
influenced by Dr. Rosenthal's judgment. Besides imperfect body control,
our patient is weak and emotionally extremely unstable."
"So I am aware."
"Mr. Sabomon, you look as if you needed another tranquilizer. May I?"
Salomon grudged a smile. "Only if it involves grain alcohol."
Hedrick chuckled. "Will you settle for some bottled in Scotland?"
"Yes! No water. Well, just a touch."
"I'll dispense the drug, you add water to taste. I'll prescribe for myself, too-I
also find this case a bit trying. Even though we are making medical history."


8
                                       56
Dr. Garcia rubbed Jake Salomon's arm where he had just injected him.
"Now wait three minutes. With a tenth cc. of 'Tranquille' in you, you could
attend your own hanging in a calm mood."
"Thank you, Doctor. Dr. Hedrick, what's bothering Johann now? Your
message was not specific."
Hedrick shook his head. "The patient won't talk to us. Simply demands to
see you."
"Uh...he has found out? Or, rather, if he has, what then?"
Hedrick turned to his colleague. "Dr. Garcia?"
"You know my opinion, Doctor. Your patient has recovered, is simply weak
from being too long in bed. There is no longer any excuse-any medical
excuse-for restraints."
"Dr. Rosenthal?"
The psychiatrist shrugged. "The human mind is a weird and wonderful
thing-and the longer I study it the less I'm sure about anything concerning it.
But I agree with Dr. Garcia on one point: You can't keep a patient tied down
forever."
Hedrick said, "I'm afraid that's it, Counselor."
Salomon sighed. "And I've been appointed a volunteer."
"Any of us will go in with you if you wish, sir. But the patient flatly refuses to
talk to us. We'll be standing by, ready to move fast if a crisis develops."
"The dummy-switches dodge again?"
"Oh, certainly. And this time the nurse has been instructed to get out if you
tell her to. You, not the patient. But don't worry; I'll be watching and listening
by closed-circuit video; Dr. Garcia and Dr. Rosenthal will watch the monitor
scopes."
"I'm not worrying, that drug must have hit me. Okay, I'll go in-and if I have to
ride the tiger, I'll hang onto its ears."
Johann Smith said, "Jake! Where the hell have you been? You've come to
see me just, once in the past three weeks. Once! Damn you."
"I've been working. Which is more than you can say."
"You think so, eh? Physiotherapy is damned hard work, harder than you
ever do, you shyster-and I have to go through it seven days a week."
"My heart bleeds, Johann-want a chit to' see the Chaplain? I was laid up
sick for ten days-which I'm sure Hedrick told you-and I still don't feel
chipper, so move over, you lazy bastard, and let me stretch out. Damn it,
Johann, I'm not as young as I used to be; I can't jump through hoops every
time you snap your fingers."
"Now, now, Jake, don't take that line with me. I'm sorry you were in. I told
'em to send you flowers. Did you get them?"
                                       57
"Yes. Thank you."
"That's odd, I didn't send any. Caught you, didn't I? Jake, I never intend to
overwork a man-but, damn it, when he's on my payroll, I expect to hear
from him occasionally. And see him."
"I'm not on your payroll."
"Huh? What nonsense is this?"
"When the Court appointed me your guardian pro tern and conservator,
McCampbell awarded me a token fee of ten dollars a month. That's all I am
allowed to accept from you-and I haven't collected it."
Johann looked incredulous. "Well, we'll change that in a hurry! You get
word to Judge McCampbell that I said-"
"Stow it, Johann. It was part of the deal to shut up your granddaughters.
Now what is eating you? Mrs. Branca? You've had a report each day-
negative. I fetched a briefcase stuffed with detailed reports-alt negative but
showing what has been done. Want to read 'em? I see you have a reading
machine now."
"Read negative reports? Jake, don't be silly. Yes, I'm fretted about Eunice-
damn it, even if she didn't want to work for me any longer, you'd think she
would have paid me the minimum courtesy of a sickroom visit. But that's not
what is on my mind-not why I sent for you, I mean. Nurse!"
"Yes, sir?"
"Switch off the voice-monitors; then go hide your head in the idiot box. Pick
any program as long as it's loud; I want privacy."
"Yes, sir." She stood up and switched off the dummy switches.
"Nurse."
"Yes, Mr. Salomon?"
"Ask Dr. Hedrick if we can have full privacy. I don't think Mr. Smith is going
to swing from the chandelier simply because I don't have a nursing degree."
"Mr. Salomon, Dr. Hedrick says that we are doing so well"-she smiled
brightly-"aren't we, Mr. Smith?-that if you wanted to talk privately, I could
leave. Just push this red button when you want me." She smiled again and
left.
Johann said, "Well, that's a surprise!"
"Why so? You're getting well, Hedrick says so."
"Hmm. 'I fear the Greeks, even bearing gifts.' Jake, come close, I want to
whisper...because I wouldn't put it past 'em to have a spare microphone
tucked away somewhere."
"Paranoia, you old fool. Why would Hedrick bother to listen to our
conversation?"
"'Young fool,' please-I'm young again. Paranoid, possibly. Anyhow I don't
want anybody to hear this but you. Because if I'm mistaken, it won't sound

                                      58
good to have this repeated in court in a competency hearing. So lean close
and listen hard. Jake. . I'm almost certain this new body of mine is female!"
Jake Salomon's ears started to buzz and he was glad that Garcia had given
him that shot. "So? Interesting idea. 'If true, what are you going to do? Take
it back to complaint desk and demand another one?"
"Oh, don't talk like a fool, Jake. Whatever body I have now, I'm stuck with-
and if it's female, well, it'll seem odd but half the human race manages to
bear up under it; I, guess I can. But don't you see? If my notion is correct,
that's why they've taken such great care not to let me see myself. Afraid I
would jump my cams, no doubt." Johann chuckled. "I'm tougher than that.
Shucks, they haven't even let you see anything you could spot as female-
sheet over my whole body, not even my arms in sight, and enough gear
hooked to me to clutter up any lines of figure. Towel over my scalp-I
suppose the hair is growing back,' or such. If I'm horsefaced enough, you
couldn't tell my sex just from my face. My new face."
"Perhaps. It's an interesting theory. How did you reach. it?"
"Oh, a number of things. Especially the fact that, even though I now can
use my hands and arms, they won't le me. Except during controlled
physiotherapy. Can't touch myself, I mean; they strap me down again at
once, with an excuse about 'spastic muscle action' and so forth. Which I did
have at first and don't have now. But never mind. This is the first time there
hasn't been a nurse in the room. So find out. Lift the sheet and look! Tell
me, Jake, am I male or female? Hurry-she might come back."
Salomon sat still. "Johann."
"What, Jake? Hurry up, man!"
"You're female."
Johann Smith was silent several moments, then said, "Well, it's a relief to
be sure. At least I'm not crazy. If 'female' and 'crazy' aren't synonyms. Well,
Jake? How did it happen?"
"I've known it all along, Johann. It's been a strain on me to see you and not
let on. For you are correct; your doctors were afraid that you might not take
it well. While you were still weak."
"They don't know me very well-it's not half the surprise it was to me when-at
about six, it was-I found out that girls really are different from boys. Little girl
down the block, it was. Showed me. 'But how did it happen, Jake? It wasn't
what I signed up for."
"Oh, but it was."
"Eh?"
"No instruction you gave said one word about race or sex. You specified
'healthy,' and around twenty to forty years old, and with AB-Negative blood.
Nothing else."

                                        59
Johann blinked. "Yes. But it never occurred to me that they might put me
into a woman's body."
"Why not? They put women's hearts into male bodies and vice versa every
day."
"True. I'm simply saying that I never thought about it. But even if I had, I
don't think I would have risked cutting my chances in half by making such a
restriction. As may be, I've never been one to cry over spilt milk. Well, now
that I know, there's no reason to continue that silly business about 'no
mirrors.' Will you step out and tell that stubborn doctor that I want to see
myself at once and no more nonsense? If necessary, knock his ears in."
"I'll see, Johann." Salmon buzzed for the nurse, then went out. He was
gone five minutes, returned with Drs. Hedrick, Garcia, and Rosenthal, and a
second nurse, who was carrying a large hand mirror.
Hedrick said, "How do you feel, Miss Smith?"
She smiled wryly. "So it's 'Miss' Smith now, is it? Much better, thank you;
my mind is at ease. You could have told me weeks ago; I am not as
unstable as you think."
"That is possible, Miss Smith, but I am bound to do what I think is best for
my patient."
"No criticism, none. But now that the cat is out of the bag, please ask the
nurse to show me what I look like. I'm curious."
"Certainly, Miss Smith."
Dr. Garcia waved the nurse at the console aside and sat down; Hedrick
stationed himself on one side of the bed, Rosenthal on the others Only then
did Hedrick take the mirror from the nurse, hold it to let his patient see
herself in it.
Johann Smith looked at her new face first with intense interest, then with
unbelief-then her features broke in horror. "Oh, my God! Dear God, what
have they done to us? Jake! You knew!"
The lawyer's face was working in the convulsions of a strong man trying not
to weep. "Yes, I knew, Johann. That's why I couldn't find her for you-
because she was here all along. Right here-and I had. . . to talk to her!"
He gave up and sobbed.
"Jake, how could you let them do it? Eunice, oh Eunice my darling, forgive
me-I didn't know!" Her sobs echoed his, an octave higher.
Hedrick snapped, "Dr. Garcia!"
"Started, Doctor!"
"Dr. Rosenthal, take care of Mr. Salomon. Nurse, help him, he's about to
fall! Damn it, where's that aspirator?"




                                     60
Five minutes later the room was quiet. The patient had been forced into
sedated sleep. Dr. Hedrick satisfied himself that Miss Smith was safe and
turned the bedside watch over to Dr. Garcia. Hedrick then left the sickroom.
He found Mr. Salomon stretched out on a couch at the remote watch
station; Dr. Rosenthal was seated by the couch, a stethoscope around his
neck. Hedrick cocked an eyebrow at the, psychiatrist, who mouthed
soundlessly, "Okay," then added aloud, "Perhaps you will check me."
"Very well, Doctor." Hedrick sat down where Rosenthal had been, hitched
the chair closer, took Salomon's wrist and felt his pulse. "How do you feel?"
"I'm okay," Salomon said gruffly. "Sorry I made a fool of myself. How is
she?"
"Sleeping. You were fond of her."
"We both were fond of her. Doctor, she was an angel."
"Go ahead and cry. Tears are lubricant for the soul. Males would be better
off if they cried as easily as women do. Eh, Rosenthal?"
"Correct, Doctor. Cultures in which men cry easily have little need of my
specialty." He smiled. "Mr. Salomon, you're in good hands so I'll run along-
got to shrink a few heads for my collection. Unless you need me, Doctor?"
"Run along Rosy. You might be here in the morning when we wake the
patient. Say ten o'clock."
"Good-bye, Dr. Rosenthal. Thank you. Thank you for everything."
"No huhu, Counselor. Don't let that veterinarian sell you any flea powder."
He left.
"Dr. Salomon," said Hedrick, "this big castle is loaded with beds. What do
you say to sacking out in one, then about twenty-one or two o'clock I can
give you a pill guaranteed to slug you for eight hours of dreamless sleep?"
"I'm okay, really I am."
"If you say so. I can't force treatment on you. But as another human being
who has come to know you fairly well-and admire you-I must admit that I
am more worried about you than I am about my patient. You referred to her
as an 'angel'-by which you meant the donor, not Miss Smith."
"Eh? Yes,' of course. Eunice Branca." Salomon's features contorted
momentarily.
"I never knew her and I've had little experience with angels; doctors don't
see people at their best. But her body would do credit to an angel; I have
never seen a healthier one. Twenty-eight years old by the records,
physiologically perhaps five years younger. She-Miss Smith I now mean,
Miss Johann 'Smith-can take a severe shock and bounce out of it; she has
that superb young body to sustain her. But you have had much the same
shock and-forgive me-are no longer young. If you won't sleep here-best-"
"I don't want to sleep here!"

                                     61
"Very well. Second best would be for you to permit me to check your heart
and lungs and blood pressure. If I don't like what I find, then I want you to
rest while I send for your physician."
"He doesn't make house calls."
Hedrick grunted. "Then he's not a physician; physicians go where they are
needed. A most unprofessional remark as we are expected to pretend that
any M.D. with a license is a dedicated saint with the wisdom of Jove-even
when we know he is a bungler whose dedication is to the Internal Revenue
Service. Don't quote me; they might lift my union card. Now about that
checkup? Do you want it?"
"Uh, yes. Please. And I'll take that pill if you'll let me take it home. Don't
ordinarily use such-but tonight is a special case."
"Good. If you'll slip off your shirt-"
While he worked the physician said quietly, "Mr. Salomon, I don't have Dr.
Rosenthal's training. But if it will do you any good to talk, I can listen. This
has been on your mind, I know. I think your worst hurdle is past-letting
Johann Smith know that he is now 'Miss' Smith, plus the still worse shock of
seeing him-her--discover that she now inhabits his former secretary's body.
So you are past that crisis. If there is more it would help to get off your
mind, feel free to talk. In my profession as in yours, such talk is privileged."
"I don't mind talking about Eunice. But I don't know what to say."
"Well, you might tell me how such a lovely girl got killed. Never knew the
donor's name until you told me. There was a privacy restriction. So we don't
ask-as long as the donation is properly certified."
"Yes, there was such restriction. We'll never know why but I suspect that
the child-woman, I mean, and a very competent one-but I thought of her as
a child, being so much older than she was. I think Eunice had a romantic
notion that she could give her body to her boss if she no longer needed it
and not let him find out. Ridiculous, but it fitted her sweet nature. I had to
tell you, once it looked as if old Johann might live through it. Because I
knew he would blow his wig. And he did."
"A very good thing you told me, Counselor. I think-and Dr. Rosenthal thinks-
that we would never have pulled this patient through if we hadn't taken
extraordinary precautions to keep her from knowing her sex. In view of the
patient's relation to the donor. Close, that is."
"Close. Close for both of us. Doctor, I am not exaggerating-if I had been as
little as twice Eunice's age-and she not married-I would have done my
damnedest to marry her. And the same, I feel certain, goes for old Johann.
So I knew what a shock it would be to him-worse than simply learning that
she had been killed."
"Car accident?"

                                      62
"Nothing so innocent. Killed by a mugger. Psychopath probably but the
point is immaterial as Johann's mobile guards caught him almost in the act
and killed him. That's how she was saved-her body was saved, I mean-
because they rushed her to a hospital hoping to save her." Jake Salomon
sighed. "It does help to talk."
"Good. How did Johann Smith's guards happen to be so Johnny-on-the-
spot, yet not quite?"
"Oh. The poor darling tried to save ten minutes. She was a blood donor-AB-
Negative, and-"
"Oh! Now I know why 'Miss' Smith has seemed vaguely familiar. I saw her
once, I'm now certain, giving blood to a patient I had been called in to
support. A lovely girl, with a warm disposition, friendly, who dressed in, um,
exotic styles."
"Erotic styles you mean, let's not use euphemisms. Yes, Eunice did. She
knew she was beautiful and did not mind sharing her beauty. Played up to
it."
"I wish I had known her."
"I wish you had, Doctor; your life would have been richer thereby. If she had
a call to give blood, Johann's guards were under orders to drive her. Protect
her. Pick her up at her door, escort her to the car, deliver her, wait for her.
But this was an emergency and she lives-lived-nineteen levels up in one of
those beehives in the north end. Vehicle lift, sure-but not able to lift the sort
of armor Johann owned. Owns. So the poor darling decided to save ten
minutes and used the passenger elevator without waiting for escort. And
that's where she was jumped. Killed."
"A pity. I suppose she didn't know that we can always stretch a patient an
extra ten minutes if we know a donor is on the way."
"Maybe she did, maybe she didn't-but it is characteristic of Eunice Branca
that she tried to hurry."
"A pity. You can put your shirt on. How old did you say you were?"
"I didn't say. Seventy-two is staring me in the face."
"I'm amazed. You seem to be younger-internally I mean, not necessarily
your face-"
"So I'm ugly. I know it."
"I think 'distinguished' is the accepted term. You seem much younger,
physiologically. Say twenty years."
"So I take my hormones."
"I'm not sure you need them. Go home if you wish. Or stay. If you stay, I'd
like to put a monitor on your heart. Professional interest." (And to make
damn sure you don't conic out, old fellow-sometimes a heart stops for no
good reason, after a shock such as you have had.)

                                       63
"Uh...I am tired. Could I skip dinner and go straight to bed? With maybe a
twelve-hour dose instead of eight?"
"No trouble."
Soon Jake Salomon was in bed and asleep. Hedrick ate, looked in on his
patient, left orders with the night watch to call him if the displays exceeded
certain tolerances, went to bed and to sleep; he never needed the drugs he
prescribed.
Despite sedation, Johann Smith's dreams were troubled. Once the old man
in the borrowed skull muttered, "Eunice?" (I'm here, Boss. Go back to
sleep.) "All right, my dear. Just wanted to know where you'd gone." (Quit
fretting, Boss. I'm here.) Johann smiled in his sleep and then slept, quietly,
no more bad dreams.


9


The morning nurse bustled in with a tray. "Good morning, Miss Smith! How
are we today?"
"I don't know how you are, but I'm hungry."
"Good! Hot oatmeal this morning, dear, and orange juice and a boiled egg-
and we'll soak a little toast in egg so that it will go down easily. I'm going to
tilt the bed up a touch."
"Mrs. Sloan-"
"Yes? Let me tuck the napkin under your chin."
"Stop that, or I'll tell you where to tuck it! Uncover me and unstrap me; I'm
going to feed myself." (Boss, don't be rude to her. She's trying to help you.)
(Eunice?) (Of course, dear-didn't I promise I wouldn't leave again?) (But-
)(Shush, she's talking.)
"Now, Miss Smith, you know I can't do that. Please, dear. Doesn't this smell
good?"
"Uh. . . I suppose you can't unstrap me without Dr. Hedrick's permission. I'm
sorry I snapped at you." (That's better, Boss!) "But don't try to feed me,
please don't. Instead please find Dr. Hedrick and tell him I'm being difficult
again. You might also tell him that, if he doesn't want to go along with my
unreasonable demands, he had better try to reach Mr. Salomon. Because if
anyone tries to put food in my mouth while my hands are strapped, I'll do
my best to spit it on the ceiling." (Is that better, Eunice?)
(Some, Boss. Say ten percent.) (Uh, darn, I don't have any practice in being
a lady.) (I'll teach you, Boss.) (Eunice, are you really there, dear? Or have I
come unstuck just as they thought I would?) (Discuss it later, Boss dear-
you're going to have to face the doctor right away...and don't mention
                                       64
me...or you know what'll happen. They'll never unstrap our wrists. You know
that, don't you.) (Of course I do! Think I'm crazy?) (Irrelevant and immaterial
as Jake would say. The point is never to let Dr. Hedrick-or anybody-guess
that I'm here . . . or they'll be certain you're crazy. Now I'm going to sbut
up.) (Don't go 'way!); (Boss, I'll never go away; I'll just keep quiet. You and I
had better talk mostly when others aren't around. Unless I see you about to
make a mistake.) (Going to nag me, huh?); Johann heard her merry giggle.
(Haven't I always, Boss?"
Watch it; here come the cops.)
Dr. Hedrick came in, followed by Dr. Garcia. "Good, morning, Miss Smith."
"Good morning, gentlemen."
"Nurse says that you would like to try feeding yourself."
"That's true but that's not all of it. I want these straps, and clamps removed,
all of them."
"Letting you feed yourself is no problem. It's a good idea, good practice. 'As
for the rest- That calls for thought."
"Doctor, the masquerade is over. If you can't see your way clear to remove
all restraints from my body, then forget about breakfast; I won't starve. Get
my lawyer instead."
"As it happens, Mr. Salomon is in the house-"
"Then get him!"
"Just a moment, please." Dr. Hedrick glanced at Dr. Garcia, who had
seated himself at the console; Dr. Garcia,' nodded. "Miss Smith, would you
agree to a reasonable compromise? Or at least listen?"
"I'll listen. But-" (Shut up, Boss!) "I'll listen, Doctor."
"Mr. Salomon is, as you know, an elderly man, and he had a trying day
yesterday. I persuaded him to stay overnight, and rest. I'm told that he is
just getting up; he has not had breakfast. I have and so has Dr. Garcia-but
so long ago that we could use a bit of brunch. Now I can unstrap your arms,
let you feed yourself- But unstrapping your pelvis . . . well, as you must
have guessed, there is some odd plumbing down there and other things.
Takes time to unhitch everything.
"So here is my thought. You can invite Mr. Salomon to join you for
breakfast...and you could invite us, too, for that bit of brunch-and we four
can talk over what needs to be done next. I shall follow the wishes of your
guar-your lawyer. Or let him select another physician and withdraw, if I find
that I must."
"My guardian," Johann said quietly. "We'll do whatever my guardian
requires. But I hope he does not decide to replace you, Dr. Hedrick. I have
been a difficult patient and I'm sorry. I know what a miraculous job you have
done on me. . . and I am grateful."
"Thank you, Miss Smith."
                                       65
"I would be delighted to have you three gentlemen join me for brunch. . . if
you will be so kind as to unstrap my arms."
(Boss!) (What's biting you, little one? I thought I was being a perfect lady?)
(You are-but don't you dare let gentlemen in here to eat with us until we're
made pretty!
Not a speck of makeup, and our hair must be a mess. Horrid!) (But look,
dear, it's just Jake and our doctors.) (It's the principle of the thing. I know
more about being a girl than you do-well, don't I? When did I ever come to
work with my face stark naked and my hair in rats? Why, I often got up
much earlier than I had to, just to make sure that I was as pretty as
possible, just for you. Didn't I? Did I not?)
"A pain, Miss Smith?"
"Eh? I mean, 'Oh?' Sorry, Doctor, just thinking. If I am to have gentlemen
guests for breakfast, shouldn't I start practicing how to be a lady? It's new to
me, you know. Do I have any makeup on?"
Hedrick looked startled. "Do you mean lipstick?"
"Whatever it is that ladies put on their faces; I'm sure it's always more than
lipstick. And my hair should be brushed. Or do I have hair?"
"Why, certainly you have. Still short but a fine, healthy growth."
"That's a relief. I thought possibly I had a plastic skull and would have to
wear wigs."
"There was some prosthetic restoration. But Dr. Boyle managed to save the
scalp and you'll never notice the prosthesis." Hedrick smiled briefly.
"Tougher than natural bone. With good blood supply to your scalp and
normal hair-just hasn't grown out very far."
"I'm relieved. Dandruff?"
"Haven't noticed any."
"We won't worry about it this morning. Doctor, I'd like to be made up to look
like a lady ready to receive guests. If you'll have one of the servants take in
a cup of coffee and some orange juice to Mr. Salomon along with our
invitation to breakfast, I'm sure he won't mind waiting." (How'm I doing,
Eunice?) (Fine, old dear!)
Dr. Hedrick looked puzzled. "Miss Smith when I set up a support team, I try
to anticipate every possible emergency, supplies, drugs, and so forth. This
is the first time I've been asked to produce lipstick. And cosmetics."
"Oh. But you're not being asked to, Doctor. The ladies' powder room on the
first floor is stocked with all shades of lipstick and many cosmetics. Should
be. Was. Should still be, or someone will hear about it. And one of the
nurses can help me. That pretty redhead- Minnie? Ginny? Miss Gersten, I
mean. She must know quite a lot about cosmetics." (She does-that red hair
came out of a bottle, Boss.) (Meeowl Shut up, pussy cat.) (Wasn't being
catty, Boss. She does well, in spite of those godawful uniforms.)
                                      66
"Winifred Gersten," said Dr. Garcia. "Nurse, find Winnie. And take that tray
out; it's cold."
Forty minutes later Miss Johann Smith was ready to receive. Her hair was
fluffed, her face had been made up with restrained boldness by the red-
haired nurse, and the result as shown in a mirror had been approved by the
second voice inside Smith-grudgingly, it seemed to Johann-(I can do better.
It'll do for now.)
The bed had been contoured to let her sit up and from somewhere a smart
bed jacket had been produced, one that matched her eyes. Best of all, her
hands and arms were free.
Johann found that her hands were trembling. She attributed it to excitement
and decided that, if she had trouble controlling a fork, she would stick to
things that would not slop on her jacket-besides, she was not hungry now.
Too excited.
(Steady down, Boss darling. Leave, the eating to me.)
(But-)
(No 'buts.' I've been feeding that face for years. The body remembers,
Boss. You talk to the gentlemen; I'll handle the calories. Now let's shut up;
they're arriving.)
"May we come in?"
"Do, gentlemen, please. Good morning, Jake. I hope you bad a good night's
rest." (Put out your hand to him, Boss.)
"Slept like a child."
"Good. So did I." Johann extended her left arm and hand, that being the
side the lawyer was on. "Look, Jake! Hands!"
Salomon took her hand, bowed over it-hesitated and then touched it to his
lips. Johann was so amazed that the hand was almost snatched back.
(Good God! What does Jake think I am? A pansy?) (He thinks you're a
beautiful girl. You are. I should know. Look, Boss, we must talk about Jake-
later. Say hello to your shrink.)
Dr. Rosenthal was saying, "I'm a party-crasher. May I come in, Miss
Smith?"
"You're most welcome. Someone is going to have to assure these other
gentlemen that I don't have termites in the attic; I'm depending on you,
Doctor."
The psychiatrist smiled down at her. "That is an appeal hard to resist. I
must say your improvement since yesterday is astounding. You're looking
lovely-Miss Smith."
Johann smiled and gave him her hand. Dr. Rosenthal bowed over it and
kissed it-not a quick and frightened peck such as Salomon had given it, but
a kiss that was soft and warm and unhurriedly sensuous. Johann felt a

                                     67
tingle run up her arm. (Hey, what is this?) (Stay off his couch, Boss. He's a
wolf-I can tell.)
When he straightened up he held her hand a moment longer than
necessary, smiled again, then moved away. Johann thought of asking him if
that was his standard way of treating patients, decided not to-but felt slightly
annoyed that the other two doctors had not offered the same homage.
Yonny Schmidt had been born at a time and place where hand-kissing was
unheard of; Johann Smith had never taken it up; Miss Johann Smith was
discovering that the silly custom was habit-forming. She felt flustered.
She was saved by another voice from the door, that of her butler. "May we
serve now, Miss Smith?"
"Cunningham! It's good to see you. Yes, you may serve." Johann wondered
who had given instructions to make the meal formal?
The butler stared over her head and said tonelessly, "Thank you, Miss."
Johann was startled. The butler, like all the male household staff (and some
of the females), was sudden death armed or unarmed; his manner alone
could intimidate news snoops. (The poor man is scared!) (Of course. So
calm him down, Boss.)
"But first come here, Cunningham."
"Yes, Miss." Her household chief walked carefully toward her, stopped a
very respectful distance away.
"Oh, do come closer. Look at me. Right at me, don't turn your eyes away.
Cunningham, the way I look is a shock to you. Isn't it?"
Cunningham swallowed without speaking; his Adam's apple bobbed.
"Oh, come now," Johann said firmly. "Of course it is. But if it upsets you,
think what a shock it is to me. Until yesterday I didn't even know that I had
been turned into a woman. I'll have to get used to it and so will you. Just
remember this: Underneath I am the same cantankerous, unreasonable,
unappreciative old scoundrel who hired you as a guard-footman nineteen
years ago. I'll go on expecting perfect service, notice it as little, and
remember to say 'Thank you' as seldom. Do we understand each other?"
The butler barely smiled. "Yes, sir-I mean 'Yes, Miss'."
"You meant 'Yes, sir' but you're going to have to learn to call me 'Yes, Miss'
and I'm going to have to learn to expect it. We old dogs must learn new
tricks. How's Mrs.
Cunningham's lumbago?"
"Some better, she says. Thank you, Miss."
"Good. Tell Mary I asked. You may serve."
The brunch was almost merry. Johann tasted the wine when Cunningham
offered a sample, approved it but declined a glass herself. She barely
touched it to her tongue but the flavor spread like strong brandy and she
had' been startled almost into choking by the vibrant wonder of its bouquet.
                                      68
Yet the bottle she recognized as that of an adequate but not spectacular
Chablis. She played safe with orange juice.
Table talk was lively and directed mostly at the hostess with no reference to
her status as a patient. The men seemed to vie for her attention-and
Johann found that she enjoyed it. She laughed frequently, answered their
sallies, and felt witty herself.
But she could see that Jake was not eating much and looked at her all the
time except when she looked back... at which his gaze wavered and shifted.
Poor Jake. (Eunice, what are we going to do about Jake?) (Later, Boss-one
thing at a time.)
She was startled again when Cunningham came to remove her plate from
her lap table-startled to see that scrambled eggs and two rolls had
disappeared as well as orange juice, half a glass of milk, and one of three
link sausages. "Coffee, Miss?"
"I don't know. Dr. Hedrick, am 1 allowed coffee?"
"Miss Smith, now that you can eat sitting up, there is no reason why you
should not eat or drink anything you want."
"Then I'll celebrate. The first coffee I've been permitted in ten years-Demi-
tasse for me, Cunningham, but man-size cups for the gentlemen. And
Cunningham?-is there any Mumm ninety-seven on ice?"
"Certainly, Miss."
"Serve it." She raised her voice a little. "Any sissies who won't drink
champagne this early in the day may sneak out quietly."
No one left. When glasses were filled and bubbles were chasing up their
stems, Dr. Hedrick stood up. "Gentlemen, a toast-" He waited until they
were standing. Johann raised her glass with them.
But did not drink: the toast was "To our lovely and gracious hostess-long
may she live!"
"Amen!" "Cheers!"-and the tinkle of breaking glass.
Johann felt tears, ignored them. "Thank you, gentlemen. Cunningham,
fresh glasses."
When they were filled she said, "Gentlemen, I ask for another standing
toast"-she waited, then went on-"this should be to Dr. Boyle . . . and to you,
Jake old friend, without whose loyal help I would not be here . . . and
certainly to you, Dr. Hedrick, and to all the doctors who have helped you
and helped Dr. Boyle...and to all the patient nurses I have snapped at. But
those can wait. I ask you to drink"-her tears were falling and her voice was
almost a whisper-"to the memory of the sweetest, loveliest, and most
gallant girl I have ever known Eunice Branca."
The toast was drunk in silence. Then Jake Salomon slowly crumpled into
his chair and covered his face with his hands.

                                      69
Dr. Hedrick jumped to help him, Dr. Garcia was quick on the other side.
Johann stared in helpless distress. (Oh, I should have known better! But I
meant it, darling, I meant every word.) (I know you did, Boss, and I
appreciate it. But it's all right. Jake has got to admit that I'm dead. And so
do you.) (Are you dead, Eunice? Are you?) (Don't worry over a word, Boss.
I'm here and I won't leave you ever. I promised you. Have you ever known
me to break my word?) (No, never.) (So believe me this time. But we've got
to take care of Jake.) (How, dearest girl?) (When the time comes, you'll
know. Talk later, when we're alone.)
Dr. Rosenthal was leaning over her. "Are you all right, my dear?"
"I'm okay-just terribly sorry about Mr. Salomon. Is he all right?"
"He will be shortly. Miss Smith, don't worry about Mr. Salomon. Yes, you
brought on another catharsis-which he needed, or he would not have had it.
As for his physical well-being, he's in Dr. Hedrick's hands . . and Curt
Hedrick hasn't lost a patient he reached in time since he started practicing
his specialty. Your house is loaded with everything Dr. Hedrick could
possibly need...and Mr. Salomon isn't even ill; he simply needs to lie down,
plus a happy drug."
Dr. Rosenthal sat with her while the room was cleared of dishes, brunch
table, dining chairs, etc. Dr. Hedrick returned with Dr. Garcia. Johann again
asked, "How is he?"
"Half asleep. Slightly ashamed of being a 'spectacle' and a 'nuisance'-his
terms. But only slightly as what I gave him doesn't permit such self-hate
very long. How are you?"
"She's ready to go six rounds," Rosenthal assured him.
"So the scopes say. We might as well get on with our conference, Miss
Smith. I discussed all that I am going to say with Mr. Salomon while you
were getting pretty before brunch, and it has his approval. I am withdrawing
from your case."
"Oh, Dr. Hedrick! No!"
"Yes. Dear lady, ain't nobody going away mad. This means that you are
well. Well. Oh, still weak, still in need of care. But I'm not deserting you. I'm
turning you over to Dr. Garcia."
She looked at Dr. Garcia, who nodded. "Nothing to worry about, Miss
Smith."
"But-Dr. Hedrick, you will come back and see me? Won't you?"
"Delighted to. But not very soon, I'm afraid. You see- Well, there is an
interesting transplant case which has been hanging fire. A radical, one, the
heart and both lungs. Now they are ready to start surgery. I received a call
before you were awake, asking if I would be available. I said that I would
have to call back-and after I saw you I did call and said that I could do it.

                                       70
After consulting Dr. Garcia, of course, and notifying Mr. Salomon." He
smiled quickly. "So, if you will excuse me, I'll leave."
Johann sighed and reached out her hand. "Since you must."
Hedrick took her hand, bent over it; Dr. Rosenthal said lazily, "Aren't you
going to scrub first, Doctor?"
Hedrick said, "You go to hell, Rosy!" and kissed her hand. It seemed to
Johann that Dr. Hedrick stretched it at least twice as long as Dr.
Rosenthal's earlier effort She felt goose pimples on her arm and a most
curious feeling at her middle-yes, she decided, if one had to be a woman,
this was a custom to be encouraged.
(Going to lay him, boss?) (Eunice!) (Oh, piffle, Boss. We're Siamese twins
now and should be honest with each other. You wanted to lay me for years.
But couldn't. You knew you wanted to, I knew it too; we just never talked
about it. Now you still can't. But you can lay him if you want to. . . and it's
the best way to say 'Thank you.' But watch it, dearie. Do it here, not where
you might get caught. He has a jealous wife; he has all the signs.) (Eunice,
I'm not going to discuss such a ridiculous idea! I'm surprised at you. You, a
nice girl-and married yourself.) (Wups, dearie! I'm not married. 'Until death
do us part' is the limit . . . and I'm a ghost. 'Minds me, though-my husband-
erase and correct; my widower, Joe Branca. Got to talk about him, too.
Doc's turning to go. So wet your lips and smile, if you have it even faintly on
your mind. And you have.)
Miss Smith wet her lips and smiled. "Adios, Doctor, not good-bye. Hurry
back. When you can." (You're learning, dearie, you're learning.)
Dr. Garcia said, "Miss Smith-"
"Oh. Yes, Doctor?"
"If you're ready, I'll get nurses in and we'll unharness you and several other
things. You can have a general anesthetic if you wish. I suggest locals, with
a chin screen to keep you from seeing how I'm bungling it. With something
you want to read projected, and some music."
"Music would be nice. But I won't read, I'm too interested. Locals, then. Or
nothing, pain doesn't upset me."
"But it upsets me, so we'll use local anesthesia."
For an hour and more she listened to a tape of evergreens, from classic
rock she had never grown used to clear back to folk music popular before
Johann Schmidt was born. Mostly she enjoyed lazily the sensuous pleasure
of feeling her body being touched and handled and manipulated. Not only
was it wonderful to have a body after days of complete paralysis from the
neck down (plus fear of being forever a basket case, a fear Johann had
never fully admitted) but also, most important, this body felt everything so
sensitively-just to be touched was pleasure.

                                      71
Not much like that old wreck you discarded! For the past ten, fifteen years
that body's sole virtue had been that it still ran. It reminded her of a fifth-
hand Model-T Ford that he and four other young cake-eaters had bought for
seventy dollars in Baltimore and had driven half across the continent-no
lights, no brakes (the reverse had to serve), no driving licenses (unheard
of), no instruments, no nothing. But the tough and ugly little touring car had
chugged along on three cylinders (not always the same three) at an
(estimated) top speed of twenty-five miles an hour. They had stopped now
and then to throw water on the spokes to keep them from falling out.
Somewhere on a dirt road in Missouri it had coughed and quit, and smell
had traced the trouble to the wiring.
Yonny had fixed it-wrapped the burned insulation with toilet paper, tied it
with string...cranked the heap and it had started at once and chugged along
as before.
She wondered where the sturdy old junkpile had wound up? And what had
become of her male body? Johann's will had left it to a medical school-but
since Johann hadn't died, quite, that will did not control. Had they pickled it?
Or swept it out with the trash? Must ask.
Several times she felt pulling sensations that should have hurt but did not
and once a sharp pain which she ignored. There were odors, sour-sweet
and nauseating; she thought of suggesting that the air system be turned up,
then decided to mind her own business. Presently the odors were gone and
she became aware that she was being given a bed bath; then sheets and
pad were being changed.
The chin screen was removed; the top part of the fresh bottom sheet was
whisked into place by two nurses while a third lifted Miss Smith's shoulders.
Two nurses left the room, carrying a hamper between them. "There," said
Dr. Garcia. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Not at all. I feel grand." She wiggled her toes, opened and closed her
thighs. "Grand! Now I'm me all over-free! Doctor? Since I'm no longer wired
for sight and sound, not to mention plumbing, do we need this fancy
hospital bed? I would stop feeling like an invalid sooner if I had my own
bed."
"Mmm...must you rush it? This bed is the right height for nurses to work on
you-back rubs and such-and it has side rails which can be raised when you
sleep. Miss Smith, every nurse's nightmare is the thought of a patient falling
out of bed."
"Well! What do you think I am? A baby?"
"Yes, Miss, that's what I think you are. A baby getting acquainted with its
body. Babies can fall. But I don't intend to let you fall. Either out of bed, or in
learning to walk. Or in taking a tub bath, which you will be demanding
almost at once."
                                        72
(Play it cool, Boss!) "Doctor, I will follow your orders. But my own bed has
its points. It will contour, just touch a button. And it has hydraulic lift Raises
as high as this one or higher-but will also lower till it's hardly more than a
mattress on the floor, ten inches high. Will this one do that?"
"Mmm...no."
"I did fall out of bed, ten years back. It shook me up so, that I ordered this
special bed. Back when I was still walking I used to raise it to the easiest
height-about at my hips-to get into it. Then lower it all the way down to
sleep."
"Mmm. . . maybe we can make a deal. Will you promise me always to lower
the bed once you get into it? Even if you don't intend to sleep."
She smiled. "Signed and witnessed and with posted performance bond."
"I don't think we need to go that far. Miss Smith, we no longer need to
monitor you the forty-'leven ways we've been doing. But I want a continuous
check on heart action and respiration until you are living a normal life.
That's the main reason I need this life-support bed. But if you will let me
fasten to your skin, anywhere on your ribs, a little pickup-transmitter
weighing a half ounce and no bigger than an alloy dollar, we don't need this
fancy bed. It's comfortable, you'll forget it's on you. You can bathe with it in
place-waterproof and sticks like a poor relation."
She smiled. "Start sticking!"
"I'll fetch it. And have the nurses swap beds."
"Oh, the nurses can't move my bed. It takes big huskies and a power dolly.
Tell Cunningham. But no rush. Speaking of nurses-Winnie, don't you need
to wash your hands or something? I want to talk to my doctor."
The redhead smiled at her. "Dear, I've heard everything. Don't mind me."
"Look, Winnie, you did a lovely job on my face when I did not know how.
But that's the point, dear. Outside I'm a woman. But up here back of my
eyes is still a crabby old man who is far too shy-chicken, I mean-too chicken
to discuss intimate matters with a pretty girl present And I
must."
"Miss Gersten, go to the watch station and take a break. I'll call you."
"Yes, Doctor."
One she was gone Johann said, "You're durn sure all the mikes are dead?"
"We're private, Miss Smith."
"Call me 'Johann,' Doc; this has got to be a man-to-man-and embarrasses
me even discussing it with a man. All right, first question: Did I come sick-
menstruate-in the last few days?"
Garcia looked surprised. "You twigged? Yes, you are just over your period;
we removed a tampon while we were working on you and it was not
necessary to replace it. But where did I miss? I thought I had anticipated it
and bad bolshoi painkiller in you in time. You felt cramps?"
                                       73
"Not a twinge. But things didn't feel right...and that's when I started getting
suspicious about my sex." She looked thoughtful. "Perhaps it was the
tampons-I felt something odd down there-and now the feeling is no longer
there."
"Might have been that. I would have used napkin pads, usual hospital
practice. But there were just too many bells and whistles-plumbing I mean-
in the way. I didn't think you would notice a tampon placed while you were
sedated. Contrary to popular belief there is almost no sensation inside a
vagina."
"So? There damn well is in mine! I just didn't know what the sensation was."
"Well, the matter has never come up before; your case is unique. Was that
all that was troubling you, Miss-sorry! 'Johann.'"
"No. This new body of mine- Has it had a whatchamacallit, a female
examination?"
"Oh, certainly. Dr. Kystra, best G-Y-N man in town. Done while you were
paralyzed, checked again after your spinal cord fused but done while you
were in deep sedation. All okay."
"I want a full report. Damn it, Doc, I'm in charge of this body now...and I
know as little about how to be female as my Grossmutter knew about
aircraft Nothing, that is."
"I can get the report out of file if you want it-"
"I do!"
"-but I can tell it in terms you are more likely to understand. Shall I?"
"Go ahead."
"You have a normal female body, physiological age circa twenty-five--
calendar age somewhat older, I understand. Breasts normal virginal--which
doesn't mean your body is virgo intacta; it isn't. Just means you haven't
suckled a child. No trace of abdominal surgery, from which I conclude that
your appendix is in place and your tubes are intact-"
"Meaning I could get pregnant."
"-the latter opinion having been confirmed by insufflation while you were
paralyzed. You not only could get pregnant; you will. Unless you live an
absolutely chaste life-and even if you plan to, I would still recommend
precautionary contraception-say six-month implants in one buttock. The
best-laid plans of mice and men, you know. And women. Especially women.
Since you are Rh-negative, about six-sevenths of the male population could
give you a damaged or stillborn child. We can prevent that if we know it in
time, but an unexpected pregnancy can turn out tragically. So don't let it be
unexpected. Plan it. In the meantime use contraception."
"Doe, what makes you so damn sure I'll get pregnant? Even if I get married-
which I do not plan on-hell, I've had only hours to get used to the notion of
being female; I certainly haven't had time to consider being actively female.
                                      74
But even so, as the old gal said, 'Shucks, honey, hundreds and hundreds of
times ain't nothing happen a-tall.'"
"If you adjust normally to being a young female, you will be active about it,
that's why. Or you will eventually wind up on Dr. Rosenthal's confession
couch or some emotional equivalent such as joining a nunnery. Johann,
your new body has a normal female hormonal balance; you had better plan
accordingly. Even getting your tubes cut is no answer; you might come
down with the emotional never-get-overs through regretting it. As for what
the old gal said, it doesn't apply. Because of that child you've already had."
"What?" (Boss, why didn't you mind your own business? I could have told
you all of this you need to know.) (Shut up, Eunice.)
Garcia looked surprised. "You didn't know? I had assumed that, since this
body was that of your secretary, you knew that she had had a child. Or
children."
"Not only didn't know it, I don't believe it." Surely the security investigation
would have turned up such an obvious fact. . . and God knows Eunice had
never been out of his sight since then long enough to bear a child.
"I'm afraid you will have to believe it, uh, Johann. Striations called stretch
marks on belly and buttocks-hardly noticeable unless your skin is tanned
and then easily concealed by cosmetics. But present. Not definitive, as a
woman, or even a male, can get stretch marks from obesity. But
characteristic. But the thing that nails it down is that the cervix of the virgin
womb does not look like that of a woman who has borne a child. The
difference is so marked that a layman can spot it. I have seen yours. Q.E.D.
Could be photographed if you doubt me."
(Drop it, Boss!)
"Oh, I believe you, now that you've explained it."
"A comparison photo might be a good idea. Make you more careful. I was
not implying any criticism of Mrs. Branca; I was simply warning you that the
baby-baking apparatus you inherited from her is in prime shape and ready
to be triggered each lunar month. Say about ten days from now."
"I'll be careful."
"Want a lecture on contraception?"
"No." Johann smiled wryly. "Apparently I have at least a week before I need
a chastity girdle."
"Approximately, by statistics. But, uh, Johann. No, 'Miss' Smith-do you know
the technical term we physicians use to describe girls who depend on
rhythm?"
"No. What?"
"We call them 'mothers.'"
"Oh. Oh!"
"So don't wait too long. Next question?"
                                       75
"Uh. . . no more today, Doctor; I need to digest what you've told me. Thank
you."
"Not at all, Miss Smith. Shall I have them switch beds now?"
"I'll send for Cunningham later; I'd like to rest. Doctor? Could you stick that
dingus on my ribs? Then have the nurses stay out a couple of hours?"
"Certainly. If you'll let me raise the safety rails, as this bed is not only ten
inches from the floor."
"Oh, of course."


10


(Well, Eunice?) (So you want to hear about my little bastard? Boss, you're a
dirty old man.) (Sweetheart, I don't want to hear anything you don't want to
tell. You could have quintuplets by a Barbary ape and it wouldn't affect how
I feel about you.) (Mealymouthed old hypocrite. You're dying of curiosity.) (I
am like hell 'dying of curiosity.' It's your business and yours alone.) (Oh,
don't be so mean, Boss. My business is your business. How else? Seeing
the close relationship we have...and which I like, if there is any doubt in
your dirty old mind. You brought me back to life. . . when I was as dead as
folk songs. And now I'm happy. So coax me a little, I'll give.) (All right,
dearest-how in the world did you manage to have a baby? When did you
find time? Your snoop sheet traced you clear back through high school.)
(Boss, did that security report mention the high school semester I lost from
rheumatic fever?) (Let me think. Yes, it did.) (Misspelling. Spell it 'romantic'
fever. I was fifteen and a cheerleader. Our basketball team won the regional
conference . . . and I felt so good, I got knocked up.) (Eunice, 'knocked up'
is not an expression a lady uses.) (Oh, Boss, sometimes you make me sick.
By your rules I'm not a lady and never was-and I've got as much right to be
inside this skull as you have and maybe more-so you haven't any business
trying to force me to talk the way your mother did. Not when I no longer
have Joe to turn to when I get tired of your prissy ways.)
(I'm sorry, Eunice.)
('Sail right, Boss. I love you. But you and I are cuddle up pretty close; we
ought to relax and enjoy it. I can teach you a lot about how to be female, if
you'll let me. But right now you listen. Don't interrupt.) The ghost voice
started reciting a string of monosyllables, all of them taboo in the faraway
days of Johann's youth.
(Eunice! Please, darling, it doesn't become you.)
(Pipe down, Boss. I'm going to finish this even if you blow every fuse.) The
recitation went on- (That does it, I guess-those are the words I had tagged
                                       76
in my mind never to use in your presence. Now tell, me-was there even one
you didn't understand?)
(That's not the point. A person should not use language-which offends
others.)
(I never did, Boss. In public. But I'm home now thought I was. Do you want
me to go away again?)
(No, no, no! Uh, you were away?) (I certainly was, Boss. Dead, I suppose.
But I'm here now and I want to stay. If you'll let me. If I can relax and be
happy and not have to be on guard all the time for fear of offending you. I
can't see why a Latin polysyllable makes me more a lady than a
monosyllable with the same meaning. You and I think with the same brain-
yours-eat with the same mouth-mine, or used to be-and pee through the
same hole. So why shouldn't we share the same vocabulary? Speaking
peeing-oh, pardon me, sir, I meant to say 'micturition'-).
(None of your sarcasm, girl!)
(Just who are you calling a 'girl,' girlie? Feel yourself, go ahead and feel.
Some knockers, eh, Boss?-and how you used to stare at them, you horny
old goat. Made me tingle. But I was saying, speaking of micturition, that we
are going to have to ring for a bedpan fairly soon, now that we no longer are
rigged with plumbing. . . and there is no way for me to leave the room while
you pee. I don't dare leave; it's dark out there and I might not find my way
back. So it's either get used to such things-or send me away forever-or bust
your nice new bladder.)
(Okay, Eunice, you've made your point.)
(Have I offended you again, Boss?)
(Eunice, you have never offended me. Sometimes you have startled me,
sometimes you have surprised me and often delighted me. But you have
never offended me. Not even with that list of blunt words.)
(Well...as I saw it, if you already knew them, you couldn't really be offended;
if you didn't understand them, then you couldn't possibly be offended.)
(All right, dear. I'll quit trying to correct your speech. But for the record-I
used all those words long before your mother was born. Possibly before
your grandmother was born.) (Grandma is sixty-eight). (Learned 'em all and
used them with relish long before your grandmother was born-with relish
because they were sinful, then. I take it they aren't, to you kids now.)
(No, they're just words. Short-talk.)
(Not short-talk, as they were used before video corrupted the language.
Except-What was that one word? 'Frimp'?)
(Oh. Shouldn't have included that one, Boss; it's not a classic word. Current
slang, swing talk. It's a general verb, one which includes every possible way
to copulate-) (Pfui! You youngsters. When I was a kid, we had at least two
dozen words meaning 'frimp,' some new, some old besides the standard
                                      77
taboo words for it) (You didn't let me finish, Boss-every possible way to
hook up two or more bodies-any number-of any sex, or combinations of all
six sexes, and including far-out variations that would shock you right out of
this bed. But swing is a today scene, so it's not surprising you hadn't heard
the word 'frimp' before.)
(Oh, I'd heard it. I have news for you, infant.)
(Yes, sir? I mean 'Yes, Miss Smith,' dearie. 'Miss' Smith-what a giggle I got
when I first heard it. But it's nice, since it means both of us. Say, Rosy is all
right, isn't he? Puts more into handkissing than some studs do into a romp
on the pad.) (Sweetheart, you not only have a dirty mind-but it veers.) (How
can I help having a dirty mind when it's actually yours, Boss-I'm hip deep in
the stuff.) (Shut up, Eunice; it's my turn. The swing scene is nothing new.
The Greeks had a word for it. So did the Romans. And so on through
history. The orgy was relished in Victorian England. It was far from
unknown in my youth in the heart of the Bible Belt, even though it was
dangerous in those days. Eunice, as long as we are trying to get easy with
each other, let me say this: Anything you've ever seen, or tried, or heard of,
I did, or had done to me, before your grandmother was born-and if I liked it,
I did it again and again and again. No matter how risky.)
The second voice was silent a moment. (Maybe we simply start younger
today. Less risk and fewer rules.)
(Beg to doubt.)
(Oh, I'm sure we do. I told you how young I was when I got caught. Fifteen.
And I started a year younger.)
(Eunice my love, the main difference between the young and the old, the
cause of the so-called Generation Gap-a gap in understanding that has
existed throughout all time-is that the young simply cannot believe that the
old ever really were young. . . whereas to an old person his youth is
something that happened just last week, and it annoys the hell out of him
when someone in effect denies that this old duffer ever owned a youth.)
(Boss?) The thought was gentle and soft.
(Yes, dearest?)
(Boss, I always knew you were young underneath, behind all those horrid
liver spots-knew it when I was alive, I mean...and wished dreadfully that you
weren't old and sick in your body. It hurt me so, to see you hurt. Sometimes
I went home and cried. Especially when it made you cross and you would
say something you didn't mean and then be sorry. I wanted you to get well..
. and knew you couldn't. I was one of the first to sign up-Joe and I both-as
soon as word reached us through the Rare Blood Club. Couldn't do it
sooner or you might have found out-and forbidden me to.)
(Eunice, Eunice!)
(Don't you believe me?)
                                       78
(Yes, darling, yes. . . but you're making us cry.)
(So blow your nose, Boss, and stop it. Because everything turned out all
right. Look, you wanted to hear about my little bastard-will that take your
mind off troubles we no longer have?)
(Uh. . . only if you want to, Eunice. My love. My only love.)
(I made it plain that I wanted to tell you, didn't I? I'll tell all-and that'll take a
long time-if you want to hear. If you won't be shocked. Say 'Please,' Boss-
because the details of my sex life ought to help you in handling your own
sex life. Our sex life, that is. Or did you mean that stuff you were shoveling
at Dr. Garcia about not being 'actively female'?)
(Uh. . . I don't know, Eunice, I haven't been a woman long enough to know
what I want. Shucks, darling, instead of thinking like a girl I'm still ogling
girls. That little redheaded nurse, for example.)
(So I noticed.)
(Was that sarcasm? Or jealousy?)
(What? I do not intend to be sarcastic, Boss dear; I don't want us ever to be
nasty with each other. And jealousy is just a word in the dictionary to me. I
simply meant that, when Winnie was making up our face and you were
sneaking a peek down the neck of her smock every time she leaned over, I
was staring as hard as you were. No bra. Cute ones, aren't they? Winnie is
female and knows it. If you were male in your body as well as in your head,
I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw a bed.)
(I thought you said you weren't jealous?)
(I'm not. I merely meant that Winnie would trip you and beat you to the floor.
But I was not criticizing her. I've nothing against girls. A girl can be quite a
blast.)
Johann was slow in answering. (Eunice, uh, were you implying that you
have-used to have-relations with other, uh-)
(Oh, Boss, don't be so early-twentieth-century; we've turned the corner on
the twenty-first. Tell it bang. Do you mean 'Am I a Lez?' Homosexual?)
(No, not at all! Well, perhaps I did mean that in a way. At least I wanted you
to clear up what you meant. As it didn't seem possible. You were married
and-or was your marriage just a cover-up? I suppose-)
(Quit supposing, dear. Bang. I was not homosexual and neither is Joe. Joe
is a tomcat always ready to yowl, and wonderful at it. Except when he's
painting; then he forgets everything else. But 'homosexual' isn't a word that
bothers anyone my age, either the word or the fact. And why not, with the
Government practically subsidizing it with propaganda about too many
babies that starts in kindergarten? If I had taken the Bilitis pledge, I would
never have had that phony 'rheumatic fever.' But, while girls are cuddly and
I've never had any inhibitions about them, I was-always-far too interested in
boys to live on Gay Street But which team are you on, Boss? One minute
                                         79
you're telling me how you drool over Winnie, the next minute you seem
upset that I drooled, too. So what are you going to do with us, dear?' Left-
handed? Right-handed? Both hands? Or no hands at all? I guess I could
stand anything but the last. Do I have a vote?)
(Why, of course you do.)
(I wonder, Boss. You sputtered when I suggested that you could thank Doc
Hedrick in bed. . . and sparked some more at the notion of going to bed with
a girl. Sure you're not planning on sewing it up?)
(Oh, Eunice, don't talk silly! Beloved, happy as I am that we are together,
that 'Generation Gap' is still there. My fault this time, as I have a lifelong
habit of being careful in what I say to a woman, even one I am in bed with-)
(You're certainly in bed with me!)
(I certainly am. And I'm finding it ever harder to be flatly truthful with you-'tell
it bang' as you say-than it is to adjust to being female. But before Dr.
Hedrick brought up the matter I saw the implications-and complications-and
consequences-of being female. . . and young and rich.)
('Rich.' I hadn't thought about that one.)
(Eunice beloved, we're going to have to think about it. Of course we're
going to be 'actively female'-)
(Hooray!)
(Quiet, dear. If we were poor, the simplest thing would be to ask your Joe to
take us back. If he would have us. But we aren't poor; we're embarrassingly
rich-and a fortune is harder to get rid of than it is to accumulate. Believe me.
When I was about seventy-five, I tried to unload my wealth while I was still
living so that it would not go to my granddaughters. But to give away money
without wasting most of it in. the process is as difficult as getting the genie
back into the bottle. So I gave up and simply arranged my will to keep most
of it out of the hands of my alleged descendants.)
('Alleged'?)
(Alleged. Eunice, my first wife was a sweet girl, much like yourself, I think.
But the poor dear died in childbirth-bearing my one son, also dead for many
years now. Agnes had made me promise to marry again and I did, almost at
once. One daughter from that marriage and her mother divorced me before
the child was a year old. I married a third time-again one daughter, again a
divorce.
I never knew my daughters well and outlived both of them and their
mothers. But-Eunice, you're a rare-blood yourself; do you know how blood
types are inherited?)
(Not really.)
(Thought you might. Being mathematically inclined, the first time I laid eyes
on an inheritance chart for blood types I understood it as well as I
understand the multiplication tables. Having lost my first wife to childbirth,
                                        80
with both my second and third wives I made certain that donors were at
hand before they went into delivery rooms. Second wife was type A, third
was type B-years later I learned that both my putative daughters were type
0.)
(I think I missed something, Boss.)
(Eunice, it is impossible for a type-AB father to sire type-O children. Now
wait-I did not hold it against my daughters; it was none of their doing. I
would have loved Evelyn and Roberta-tried to, wanted to-but their mothers
kept me away from them and turned them against me. Neither girl had any
use for me. . . until it turned out that I was going to dispose of a lot of money
someday-and then the switch from honest dislike to phony 'affection' was
nauseating. I feel no obligation to my granddaughters since in fact they are
not my granddaughters. Well? What do you think?)
(Uh-Boss, I don't see any need to comment.)
(So? Who was it not five minutes ago was saying that we ought to be
absolutely frank with each other?)
(Well...I don't disagree with your conclusion, Boss, just with how you
reached it. I don't see that heredity should enter into it. Seems to me you
are resenting something that happened a long time ago-and that's not
good. Not good for you, Boss.)
(Child, you don't know what you're talking about)
(Maybe not)
(No 'maybes' about it. A baby is a baby. Babies are to love and take care of
and that's what this whole bloody mess is about, else none of it makes
sense. Eunice, I told you that my first wife was something like you. Agnes
was my Annabel Lee and we loved with a love that was more than a love
and I had her for only a year-then she died giving me my son. Then I loved
him just as much. When he was killed something died inside me. . . and I
made a foolish fourth marriage hoping to bring it alive again by having
another son. But I was lucky that time-no children and it merely cost me a
chunk of money to get shut of it.)
(I'm sorry, Boss.)
(Nothing to be sorry about now. But I was telling you something else-
Eunice, when we're up and around, remind me to dig into my jewelry case
and show you my son's 'dog tag'-all that I have left of him.)
(If you want to. But isn't that morbid, dear? Look forward, not back.)
(Depends on how you look back. I don't grieve over him; I'm proud of him.
He died honorably, fighting for his country. But that military dog tag shows
his blood type. Type O.)
(Oh.)
(Yes, I said 'O'. So my son was no more my physical descendant than were
my daughters. Didn't keep me from loving him.)
                                       81
(Yes, but-you learned it from his identification tag? After he was dead?)
(Like hell l did. I knew it the day he was bom; I had suspected that he might
not be mine from the time Agnes turned out to be pregnant-and I accepted
it. Eunice, I wore horns with dignity and always kept suspicions to myself.
Just as well-as all my wives contributed to my
cornute state. Horns? Branching antlers! The husband who expects.
anything else is riding for a fall. But I never had illusions about it, so it never
took me by surprise. No reason why it should, as I got the best parts of my
own training from married women, starting clear back in my early teens. I
think that happens in every generation. But horns make a man's head ache
only when he's stupid enough to believe that his wife is different-when all
the evidence he has accumulated should cause him to assume the exact
opposite.)
(Boss, you think all women are like that?)
(Oh, no! In my youth I knew many married couples in which both bride and
groom-to the best of my knowledge and belief-went to the altar virgin and
stayed faithful a lifetime. There may be couples like that among you kids
today.)
(Some, I think. But you couldn't prove it by me.)
(Nor by me. Nor by all the kinseys who ever collected statistics. Eunice, sex
is the one subject everybody lies about. But what I was saying is this: A
man who takes his fun where he finds it, then marries and expects his wife
to be different, is a fool. I wasn't that sort of fool. Let me tell you about
Agnes.)
(Agnes was an angel-with round heels. That's obsolete slang which means
what it sounds like. I don't think Agnes ever hated anyone in her short life
and she loved as easily as she breathed. She-Eunice, you said you had
started young?)
(Fourteen, Boss. Precocious slut, huh?)
(Precocious possibly, a slut never. Nor was my angel Agnes ever a slut and
she happily gave away her virginity-so she told me-at twelve. I-)
('Twelve!')
(Surprised, dear? That Generation Gap again; your generation thinks it
invented sex. Agnes was precocious; sixteen was fairly young in those
days, from what a male could guess about it-not much!-and seventeen or
eighteen was more common. I think. Actually encountering female virginity
and, being certan of it-well, I'm no expert. But Agnes wasn't hanging up a
record even for those days; I recall a girl in my grammar school who was
'putting out,' as kids called it then, at eleven-and getting away with it cold,
teacher's pet and butter wouldn't melt in her mouth and winning pins for
Sunday School attendance.

                                        82
(My darling Agnes was like that except that Agnes's goodness wasn't
pretense; she was good all the way through. She simply didn't see anything
sinful about sex.)
(Boss, sex is not sinful.)
(Did I ever say it was? However, in those days I felt guilty about it, until
Agnes cured me of such nonsense. She was sixteen and I was twenty and
her father was a prof at the cow college I went to and I was invited to their
house for dinner one Sunday night-and our first time happened on their
living room sofa so fast it startled me, scared me some.)
(What frightened you, dear? Her parents?)
(Well, yes. Just upstairs and probably not asleep. Agnes being so young
herself-age of consent was eighteen then and while I don't recall ever
letting it stop me, boys were jumpy about it. And that night I wasn't
prepared, not having expected it.)
(Prepared how, Boss?)
(Contraception. I had a year to go to get my degree, and no money and no
job lined up, and having to get married wasn't something I relished.)
(But contraception is a girl's responsibility, Boss. That's why I felt so silly
when I got caught. I wouldn't have dreamed of asking a boy to marry me on
that account-even if I had been certain which boy. Once I knew I was
caught I gutted my teeth and told my parents and took my scolding-Daddy
was going to have to pay my fine; I was not yet licensed. Grim-but no talk of
getting married. I wasn't asked who did it and never volunteered an
opinion.)
(Didn't you have an opinion, Eunice?)
(Well. . . just an opinion. Let me tell it bang. Our basketball team and us
three girl cheerleaders were all in the same hotel, with the coach and the
girls' phys-ed teacher riding herd on us. Only they didn't; they went out on
the town. So we gathered to celebrate in the suite the boys were in.
Somebody had lettuce. Marijuana. I took two puffs and didn't like it-and
went back to gin and ginger ale which tasted better and was almost as new
to me.
Didn't have any intention of swinging; it wasn't the smart scene at our
school and I had a steady I was faithful to-well, usually-who wasn't on the
trip. But when the head cheerleader took her clothes off-well, there it was.
So I counted days in my mind and decided I was safe by two days and
peeled down, last of the three to do so. Nobody made me do it, Boss, no
slightest flavor of rape. So how could I blame the boys?
(Only it turned out I didn't have two days leeway and by the middle of
January I was fairly certain. Then I was certain. Then my parents were
certain-and I was sent south to stay with an aunt while I recovered from
rheumatic fever I never had. And recovered two hundred sixty-nine days
                                      83
after that championship game, barely in time to enter school in the fall. And
graduated with my class.)
(But your baby, Eunice? Boy? Girl? How old now? Twelve? And where is
the child?)
(Boss, I don't know. I signed an adoption waiver so that Daddy would get
his money back if somebody with a baby license came along. Boss, is that
fair? Five thousand dollars was a lot of money to my father-yet anyone on
Welfare gets off free, or can even demand a free abortion. I can't see it.)
(You changed the subject, dear. Your baby?)
(Oh. They told me it was born dead: But I hear they usually say that if a girl
signs the papers and somebody is waiting for it.)
(We can find out. If your baby didn't live, then the fine was never levied.
Didn't your father tell you?)
(I never asked. It was a touchy subject, Boss. It was 'rheumatic fever,' never
an unlicensed baby. Just as well, I guess, as when I turned eighteen, I was
licensed for three with no questions raised.)
(Eunice, no matter what cover-up was used, if your baby is living, we can
find it!)
The second voice did not answer. Johann persisted.
(Well, Eunice?)
(Boss...it's better to let the dead past bury its dead.)
(You don't want children, Eunice?)
(That wasn't what I said. You said it didn't matter that your son wasn't really
yours. I think you were right. But doesn't it cut both ways? If there is a child
somewhere, almost thirteen now-we're strangers. I'm not the mother who
loved it and brought it up; I'm nobody. Really nobody-you forget that I was
killed.)
(Eunice! Oh, darling!)
(You see? If we found that boy, or girl, we couldn't admit that I'm still alive-
alive again, I mean-inside your head. That's the thing we don't dare admit. .
. or back they come with those horrid straps and we'll never be free.) She
sighed. (But I wish I could have had your baby. You were telling me about
Agnes, dearest. Tell me more. Am I really somewhat like her?)
(Very much like her, Eunice. Oh, I don't mean she looked like you. But if I
believed in reincarnation-I don't-I would be tempted to think that you were
Agnes, come back to me.)
(Maybe I am. Why don't you believe in it, Boss?)
(Uh. . . do you?)
(No. I mean I didn't believe in it, even though most of our friends did. I
couldn't see any reason to believe either way, so I kept -my mouth shut.
But, Boss, it gives one a different viewpoint to have been killed...and then

                                      84
turn out not to stay dead. Dearest Boss-you think I'm a figment of your
imagination, don't you?)
Johann did not answer. The voice went on: (Don't be afraid to admit it,
Boss; you won't offend me. I know I'm me. I don't need proof. But you do.
You need to know. Admit it, darling. Be open with me.)
She sighed again. (Eunice, I do need to know. But-if I'm crazy-if you are just
my own mind talking back to me-I'd rather not know it. Darling, forgive me. .
. but I was relieved when you told me that you didn't want us to try to find
your baby.)
(I knew you were relieved. . . and I knew why. Boss, don't be so right-now.
We have all the time in the world, so relax and be happy. Proof will turn up-
something I know and that you couldn't possibly know except through me.
And that will be that, and you will be as certain as I am.)
She nodded to herself. (That makes sense, Eunice-and it sounds like the
scoldings you used to give me when I got fretful. You used to mother me.)
(I'm going to go right on mothering you, and scolding you when you need it-
and loving you all the time, Boss. But there is one thing there is some hurry
about.)
(What?)
(That bedpan. Unless you want us to have a childish accident.)
(Oh, damn!)
(Relax, Boss. Get used to it.)
(Damnation, I do not want to be placed on a bedpan by a nurse like a baby
being put on a potty. You know what'll happen? Nothing! I'll clamp down
and not be able to do it. Eunice, there's my bathroom through that door-
can't we ask to be helped into there...and left in private?)
(Boss, you know what would happen. You ring for the nurse and tell her.
She'll try to argue you out of it. Then she'll go find Dr. Garcia. He'll show up
and argue, too. If you're stubborn, he'll get Jake. By the time Jake shows
up, we've wet the bed.)
(Eunice, you're infuriating. All right, let's ring for that goddam pan.)
(Hold it, Boss. Can we get this side rail down?)
(Huh?)
(If we can, what's stopping us from going to the bathroom without asking?)
(But, Eunice--I haven't walked in more than a year!)
(That was before you got this secondhand, good-as-new, factory-
reconditioned, female body, Boss.)
(You think we can walk?)
(Let's find out. If standing up makes us dizzy, we can hang onto the bed
and ease down to the floor. I'm certain we can crawl, Boss.)
(Let's do it!)
(Let's see how this side rail works.)
                                      85
Johann found the guard rails baffling. There seemed to be no way for a
person in the bed to let them down. Not surprising, she told herself; if these
bars were meant to protect a befuddled patient, then proper design called
for it to be impossible for a patient to remove them. (Eunice, we're going to
have to ring for the nurse. Damn!) (Don't give up, Boss. Maybe it's a button
on the console. If we scrooch around till our head is at the foot, I think we
can reach the console.)
So Johann pulled up her knees and twisted and switched ends-and was
surprised and delighted at how limber her new body was. Then she
stretched her right arm through the bars at the foot of the bed, could not
quite reach the console-~-and cussed, and then discovered how the side
rails locked-two simple catches, one for each side, at the foot of the bed
below the springs, out of reach (no doubt the designer thought) of any
patient ill enough to need the side rails.
She thumbed open the leftside catch; the rail, counterweighted, pushed
down easily. She giggled. (How're we doing, partner?) (Fine so far, Boss.
Hang onto the end of the bed while we get our feet down. Keel over and
they'll put us in a wet pack-so hang on!)
Johann got her feet to the floor, stood trembling while she clung to the bed.
(Dizzy.) (Of course. It will go away. Steady down, dear. Boss, I think we
could walk . . . but let's play safe and crawl. If we get dizzy again and take a
dive on the rug, Winnie will be in here like a shot-and from then on they'll
feed us through the bars. What do you think?) (I think we had better reach
that pot pronto before we have to blame it on the cat. We crawl.)
Getting to the floor was no problem; crawling was another matter, she
caught her knees on the hospital gown. So she sat up-Johann discovered
that her new body folded easily and naturally into a contortion young
Johann had found difficult at twelve.
She did not stop to wonder. The bed jacket was no trouble; it fastened in
front with a magnostrip, she shrugged it off and laid it aside. But the hospital
gown fastened in back. (Stickstrip?) (Just a tie-tie. Feels like a bow knot.
Careful, Boss, don't snarl it.)
The gown joined the jacket. Unencumbered now, Johann resumed
crawling. The bath-dressing room door snapped out of her way and she
reached her objective. Presently she sighed in relief. (I feel better.) (That
makes two of us. Want to try walking back? As far as we have something to
grab onto? Or clear to the bed if we whistle a chair and have it roll in front of
us.) (I'm game.)
Johann found that she was not unsteady on her feet-walking was easier
than it had been for twenty years.
Nevertheless she stayed close to the walls, the bathroom having been
equipped years ago with grab rails for a frail old man grimly afraid of falling.
                                       86
It took her close to a tall three-way mirror in the dressing room end. She
stopped.
Then she stepped into the central spot and looked at herself. (My God,
Eunice, but you're beautiful!)
(My God, but we're a sloppy bitch! BOSS, look at those toenails! Claws.
Talons. And, oh dear, my breasts sag! And my belly is positively flabby.)
(Beautiful. Utterly gorgeous. Eunice beloved, I always wanted to see you
stark naked. And now I do.)
(So you do. I wish I had had time to get looking nice before you saw me.
Hair a mess. And-yes, I thought so. We stink.) (Hey!) (Sorry, hit the panic
button by mistake. Boss, we're going to have a hot, soapy bath before we
get back into that bed. That's straight from Washington. We can't do much
about flab in one day-hut we can get clean.) She turned and inspected her
buttocks. (Oh, dear! A broad should be broad-but not that broad.) (Eunice,
that's the prettiest fanny in the state. In the whole country.) (Used to be,
maybe. And it's going to be again and that's a promise, Boss. Tomorrow
morning we start systematic exercise. Tighten up everything.) (Okay, if you
say so-though I still say you're the most gorgeously beautiful thing I ever
saw in my life. Uh, Eunice? That mermaid getup you wore once-You were
wearing a trick bra with it weren't you?)
She giggled. (Heavens, no. Just me, Boss. And paint. But my breasts were
firm as rocks then; Joe had something to work with. I guess that's the
nakedest you've ever seen me.)
(What do you think I'm staring at now, Beautiful?)
(Oh, I meant back before I was killed. When I was your 'nice' girl who didn't
dare let you see me as naked as I knew you would like, you dirty old man.
Although you could have seen me naked-and much more beautiful-any time
you had gotten up the nerve to ask.)
(I'm going to spend hours every day standing right here and staring.)
(No reason why you shouldn't, dear; it's your body now. But let's put an
exercise mat on the floor and get in that toning up at the same time. Most
exercises can be done better with the aid of a full-length mirror. I think we-)
The door snapped open. "Miss Smith!"
Johann started with surprise, then answered savagely, "Miss Gersten, what
the devil do you mean by bursting into my bath without knocking?"
The nurse ignored the outburst, hurried to her patient, put an arm around
her. "Lean on my shoulder, let's get you back into bed. Oh, dear, I don't
know what Dr. Garcia will say! He'll kill me-are you all right?" Johann saw
that the little nurse was about to cry.
"Of course I'm all right." Johann tried to shrug off the arm, found that the girl
was stronger than she looked. "You didn't answer."

                                       87
The nurse did cry then. "Oh, please, dear, don't argue with me! Let's get
you into bed before you hurt yourself. Maybe Dr. Garcia won't be quite so
angry."
Seeing that the younger woman was most unprofessionally disturbed,
Johann let herself be urged out into the bedroom and to the bed. The little
redhead caught her breath. "There! Now if you'll hold tight around my neck,
I can get your legs up-you bad, bad girl! To worry me so!"
Johann did not cooperate. "Winnie."
"Yes, dear? Oh, do let me get you into bed! Doctor will be terribly angry."
"Not so fast. If you're planning on telling teacher, go do it. I can hang onto
the bed, I won't fall."
The nurse looked desperate. "Are you trying to get me fired, Miss? Maybe
blacklisted? What have I ever done to you?"
"Winnie dear."
"Yes?"
"You aren't going to say a word to Dr. Garcia." Johann slid an arm around
the redhead's waist. "Are you?"
The nurse looked flustered but did not pull away. "Well, I should. I'm
supposed to report everything."
"But you aren't going to. And I'm not going to tell him, either. Tight secret,
just you and me. And no huhu for anyone."
"Well. . . I won't if you won't."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Johann kissed her. Winnie did not dodge but seemed startled and
somewhat timid. Then she caught her breath and her lips opened and the
kiss progressed rapidly.
The nurse pulled her mouth free and said huskily, "I could get fired almost
as quickly for this." She did not say what "this" was. She ignored the fact
that Johann's free hand was cupping one of her breasts,
"So we'll stop and I'll get into bed-no, don't help me; I don't need it."
Johann proved it by doing it. The nurse pulled the sheet over her,, at once
resumed her professional persona. "Now let's put our clothes back on, shall
we?" She stooped to retrieve them. "What a naughty girl, throwing her
clothes on the floor. And giving me such a fright."
"Stuff 'em in the hamper. I'm not going to wear them."
"Now, now, dear. You needn't wear the jacket. Just the gown. Or do you
want a fresh one?"
"Winnie, I'm not going to wear those silly angel robes ever again, so chuck
it. You can hang up the jacket. But I won't wear a hospital gown. I'll stay
raw."
"Dr. Garcia-"
                                      88
"Quit threatening me with Dr. Garcia. We're past that. Aren't we?"
The nurse bit her lip. "Well. . . yes."
"It's none of his business if I sleep raw. And I shall, until something more
appropriate can be bought for me. Or-Do you sleep in the house? Maybe
you could lend me a nightie. A girl-type nightgown."
"Well, yes, I sleep here. But I can't lend you a gown because, well-I sleep
raw myself."
"Sensible."
"But there are nightgowns and negligees and things right here. In your
dressing room."
"Be damned. Who ordered them?"
"I don't know, Miss Smith. They were brought in and -stored there when,
well, when it became clear that you were going to need them."
"Good planning. Uh, do you know if they're my size? Whatever that, size is,
I don't know myself."
"Oh, yes! I helped measure you."
"More good planning. Find me the most feminine -nightgown in there-I
might as well practice."
"Glad to." The nurse left the bedroom.
(Butch.) (Oh, nonsense, Eunice. Sure, she's a cute little trick...but I simply
suddenly realized what treatment she would respond to. Had to dig back
into my memory; I'm out of practice.) ('Butch' I said. You enjoyed it.) (Didn't
you enjoy it?) (Sure I did. She kisses like don't-stop. But I'm not a hypocrite
about it. Who was shocked when I said girls could be a blast? You, you
dirty old hypocrite. And butch.)
(Eunice, you are out of your frimping mind. I've had most of a century to
appreciate girls; do you expect me to change overnight? The time I'll feel
like a queer is the first time some man kisses us. I'll probably faint.) (Poor
Boss. Doesn't know whether he's A.C. or D.C. Never mind, dear, Eunice will
coach you-as I do know how to kiss a man.)
(I imagine you do.) (Was there salt in that one? Never mind, I know how. He
faints. Boss, you claimed you had done everything. Everything?) (See here,
little snoopy, I am not going to give you any excuse to call me both 'butch'
and 'pansy' in the same sentence. You can have my memoirs later. But,
Eunice, speaking of butch, is that what Winnie is? She certainly
responded.) (More 'sweetheart' than 'butch' is my guess, though she may
stroll both sides of Gay Street. But if you were asking 'Is she a Lez?' then I
would bet anything she's not. Ambi, sure, but much more interested in men.
Haven't you watched her? Sparks.)
Winnie returned with a nightgown in each hand. "I think these two are the
prettiest, Miss Smith. I thought-"
"Winnie."
                                      89
"Yes, Miss Smith?"
"No 'Miss Smith.' I mean you are not to call me 'Miss Smith.' Not after
kissing me. Or did I get the message wrong?" (Butch.) (Shut up, Eunice.
She's going to help us.)
The nurse said nothing, blushed.
Johann said gently, "That's answer enough, dear. So call me-no, damn it, I
don't want you to call me 'Johann.' I need a new name. Winnie dear, what
girl's name is closest to 'Johann'?"
"Uh, 'Johanna.'
"Mmmm, yes. But there is already a 'Johanna' in my family. Got another?"
"Well . . . if you called yourself 'Joan' and gave it the two-syllable
pronounciation, it would be almost like 'Johann' except for the 'J' instead of
the 'Y' sound."
"Perfect! You've named me. I think that makes you my godmother. Do you
mind being godmother to an old, old man who has just been reborn as a
woman?"
Winnie smiled. "I'm flattered."
"So call mc 'Joan,' not 'Miss Smith.' Uh, I need a middle name. 'Eunice.' "
(Why, Boss, now I'm flattered.)-(Yes, beloved. Now shut up.) " 'Joan Eunice
Smith.' Winnie, do you know why that's my middle name?"
The nurse said slowly, "I'm not supposed to know."
"Then you do know. It's for the sweet and gracious lady who gave me this
wonderful body-and I hope she can hear rue wherever she is." (I can,
Boss!) "Put down those gowns and come here and name me with my new
name.
Name me formally, for it's all the christening I will ever have. Then seal it."
Almost timidly the little redhead came close to the bed, bent over her
patient. She said softly, "I name thee 'Joan Eunice' "-and kissed her.
Perhaps Winnie intended to make it a formal peck; Joan Eunice did not let it
be. Both women were leaking tears before it was over.
Joan patted the nurse's cheek and let her straighten up. "Thank you, dear.
I'm Joan now. Joan Eunice. Hand me a tissue and you need one, too."
(How was that one, Eunice?) (Butch, your technique is improving. I felt that
one clear down in our toes.) (Who the hell are you calling 'Butch,' Butch?
My name is Joan Eunice.) (No, you're Joan and I am Eunice and
collectively we're Joan Eunice and I've never had a nicer present, Boss.
Joan. And I know you're not a butch but you had better cool it with our
godmother. Unless you mean business.)
"Which gown do you like. . . Joan?"
"Winnie, I don't know first verse about women's clothes. What do you
think?"

                                      90
"Well...this Cretan design is rather extreme. But you have the figure to
justify it." (No, Boss! Take the one with. the high neckline.) (Eunice, I
thought you were proud of our bumps? They don't really sag.) (It's not that
at all. Trust me, Joan; I know what I'm doing.)
"You may be right, Winnie. But it may not be the right gown for doctors and
lawyers. I had better start easy, with the high neckline. Help me, please."
While they were getting Joan into a nightgown she asked, "Winnie? How
did you happen to burst in on me?"
"What? Why, the displays of course. Both your heart rate and respiration
were way up. Exercise. So I rushed in to check-and sure enough, my bad
girl had managed to get out of bed. Oh, how you frightened me, dear!"
"Winnie, there's a hole in that story I could throw a dog through."
The nurse stiffened. "What do you mean-Joan?"
"My heart rate and respiration must have climbed a good ten minutes
before you came in."
"Oh, dear! You won't tell on me? You promised."
"I did and so did you. Winnie with the sweet mouth, from now on neither of
us is ever going to tell Dr. Garcia a durn thing unless we think he needs to
know it. You and I, dear. Solid. Now tell me what happened."
"Uh . . . oh, this is silly. Whoever is on watch at the remotes isn't supposed
to take his eyes off the displays even a moment. But you were doing so
nicely . . . and Mrs. Sloan was taking a nap-which she needed, poor dear-
and Dr. Garcia had gone to check on Mr. Salomon and he takes a grim
view of being sent for unless the patient needs him. . . and the washroom is
just down the hall from the displays-"
"I get it. We had the same urge at the same time. Right?"
Winnie blushed again. "I deserve to be fired. I know better than to take any
chance with a patient. Patients do the damnedest things."
"You aren't ever going to be fired, you're going to be here long after Dr.
Garcia leaves. If you'll stay. How do I look?"
"Simply lovely. I wouldn't have guessed it but I do think this gown does
more for you than that Cretan number." (What did I tell you, Boss?) "But I'm
going to put more lipstick on you. It's all gone."
"Now how in the world did that happen?"
Winnie giggled. "Don't ask me. But guess maybe I'll put on some myself
before Doctor sees us. Joan? Is it all right for me to call you 'Miss Joan'
when Dr. Garcia is around? He's terribly strict."
"Tell him to go soak his head. Sho', sho', honey, if it makes you feel easier.
But I'm 'Joan' when he's not around. You're my coach. You're going to
make a lady out of me." (That's my job, Boss. And a tough one, I can see.)
(So you need help with it. Don't joggle my elbow; Winnie is our secret

                                      91
weapon.) (Okay. But this weapon night explode.) (Look, infant, I learned to
cope with women long before your grandmother was born.)
"I'll be glad to help, any way I can . . . Joan dear."
"Then you can start by convincing dear Doctor that I'm well enough for a tub
bath. I stink. Ladies ought not to stink."
"Why, you had a bed bath' not two hours ago!"
"I need more than a bed bath and you know it. Sell him the idea that you
can help me into and- out of the tub and keep me from falling. If you have
trouble with him, fetch him in and I'll throw a tantrum. If he gives us grief, I'll
make him scrub my back." Joan grinned. "So get lipstick on us; then go find
him."

(Joan Boss honey, see what I mean about the high neckline job? See what
it does for us?) (I know that I feel somewhat more covered up. But only
somewhat. Eunice, those breast panels are wicked.) (Oh, full, they're not
even transparent, just translucent. But that's why this nightgown is so much
sexier than the Cretan one. Men always mistake bare skin for sexiness. A
typical male mistake~) (Maybe so, but I have never in my long life
complained about bare skin.) (I won't argue, Joan, but I'm going to pick out
our clothes. Until you start thinking like a woman. But I had a specific
reason for picking the gown which is-superficially-more modest. So that we
will have it on when Jake comes in.)
(Eunice, Jake has probably gone home. He's had a rough time.)
(So he has and what do you think I'm talking about? He's still in the house;
he would not leave without saying goodbye.)
(Oh, nonsense, Jake and I aren't that formal.)
(Boss, Jake is a gentleman to his fingertips. He might feel free to duck out
without formality in dealing with his old friend Johann Smith-but not with a
lady. 'Johann' is one thing, 'Joan Eunice' is another matter.)
(But he knows I'm Johann.)
(So? Then why did he kiss our hand? Joan, I'm going to have to watch you
every second; you don't know anything about men.)
(I spent almost a century being one.)
(Irrelevant. Hush up; he maybe here any time, I've got to tell this bang.
Joan, the last few months before I was killed I was Jake's mistress.)
(How was the old goat?)
(Is that all you have to say?)
(Eunice, you think I know nothing about men. Possibly true, in one sense.
But I can teach you about men-from the inside-the way you can teach me
about men from the outside. Jake is tough. Yet I saw him collapse twice in
grief over you. Understandable that your death would upset him some.
Understandable that it was a strain on him to help out in the masquerade of
                                        92
not letting me know that I had inherited your lovely body. Nevertheless you
were just a girl he had known through business, one who helped him with
my affairs. Not one he knew intimately. Yet this tough old lawyer collapsed
twice. Over you. So he must have known you far better than anyone
guessed. How? And where? Only one answer. In bed.)
(Not always in bed, you dirty old man with a girl's name. In bed, certainly.
But lots of other places, too. In his car. Is your car. Several times in this
house-)
(Be damned! Then all my servants know it, too.)
(I doubt if they suspect. We used your study to work-and did work-and
Cunningham didn't let us be disturbed any more than he would have
disturbed you and me. You asked a rude question, you'll get a blunt
answer. The old goat was good. And quite daring in grabbing every chance.
We hardly missed a day up to the time I was killed.)
(A couple of j.d.'s, you two. Well, 'My hat's off to the Duke.')
(Jealous, Boss?)
(No, envious. I wouldn't have been up to it the first day] laid eyes on you.
Impossible. And now still more impossible. Just envious. The old goat.)
(Not impossible, Joan.)
(Eh?)
(I was shocked when I saw Jake. My death must have hurt him terribly. I
know it did, he loved me. But we can pull him out of it, Joan, you and I-only
this time we won't use your study.)
(What? Why, that's incest!)
(Don't be ridiculous, dear. I was no relation to Jake and I don't think you
are, either.)
(I mean it would feel like incest. Jake? Jake? Eunice, when I admitted that J
supposed that I would- eventually-be 'actively female,' I didn't have Jake in
mind.)
(I did.)
(Then get it out of your mind! Forget it. Dr. Hedrick if you want to-at least I'll
try to cooperate-after I get used to being female. Your former husband, Joe,
I owe that to yo-u-)
(Not Joe.)
(Why not? You spoke highly of him in that respect, and I always thought
you thought well of him in other respects. Not urging you-hell, I can't think
about sex other than abstractly about any man; rm not yet reoriented. But I
had already decided to go along with your need for Joe.)
(Boss, I can't. Not with Joe. Because he was my husband. To him, I'd be a
zombie. A walking corpse. I doubt if he would touch us. . . and if he did, I'd
be terribly tempted to tell him. Tell him I'm still here. Can't. I know it.)

                                        93
(And 1 can't make it with Jake. It's the same with Jake, too, you know. A
walking corpse.)
(Not quite the same. Surely, he knows we're a patchwork, your brain Sand
my body. But he loved us both. He's loved you much longer than he's loved
me. While Joe doesn't even know you.)
(Jake loved me? Eunice, you're out of your mind!)
(Impossible, dear; I don't have one to be out of. Why do you think Jake put
up with your bad temper? Not for money; he's rich, even though he's not as
rich as you are. Why is he still around at all? For me? He would have
avoided seeing me-this body-had it been possible; it hurts him. He stuck
because you needed him. Look, dear-Joan, I mean-Joan, this is your big
sister Eunice talking, you listen to her. Be nice to Jake. Be a sweet girl to
Jake. Then let things run easy. I'm not asking you to do anything you don't
want to do-heavens, no! Jake would spot it if you forced yourself; he's no
fool about women. Just be sweet. Don't be Johann, be Joan. Be little and
feminine and let him take care of you.)
(Well-I'll try. Jake is going to think I'm off my rocker.) (He's going to think
you're a darling girl. It's possible he'd rather be your father than what he
was to me. If so, we'll be good and let him baby us.)
She sighed. (I'll try, Eunice. But I don't know. Jake!)
(That's my good girl, Joan. Be helpless and female; Jake will do the rest.)

Dr. Garcia bustled in, came straight to the bed. "What's this about a tub
bath? I thought I made it plain that you weren't to rush things."
(Don't let him argue, Joan!) (Watch me trip him!) "Oh Doctor, you startled
me so!"
"Eh? How?"
"Bursting in on me without warning. Is that nice?"
Garcia looked baffled. "Miss Smith, I've been here more than a year and
I've always entered this room without ceremony. Am I to understand that
you find it offensive? After all this time?"
"That's not the point, Doctor. When you first came here you were attending
a helpless old man. Then you were helping Dr. Hedrick with a female
patient who was paralyzed, and unconscious most of the time-and I do
appreciate the care you gave that helpless patient, for I am she. But things
change. I am now having to learn to be a woman and, if possible, a lady. It's
not easy. Won't you help me by showing me the formal courtesies you
show other ladies?"
Garcia reddened slightly. "A doctor doesn't have time for formalities."
(Slug him again, dearie! He's still twitching.) (I shall!) "Doctor, if I were in
danger, I would expect you to rush in without buzzing; I depend on you. But
you came in to tell me I can't have a bath-surely not an emergency. I'm not
                                      94
asking much-just asking you to think of this room, not as an old man's
sickroom, but as a lady's boudoir. To help me. Please?"
Dr. Garcia said stiffly, "Very well, Miss Smith. I shall remember."
"Thank you, sir. By the way, my name is 'Joan Smith' now; I can't go on
being 'Johann.' You might call me 'Miss Joan' to help me get used to it. Or
simply 'Joan,' as I don't want to be unnecessarily formal with my doctor,
truly I don't. Just that little touch of formality that I need as training in
learning how to be my new self. Will you call me 'Joan'?"
He grudged a smile. "All right-Joan."
She gave him Eunice's best you-wonderful-man smile.
"That sounds nice. And you are welcome any time, Doctor, either
professionally or just to visit. Which I hope you will do. Just have the nurse
make sure I'm ready to receive a gentleman. Things. You know." She
raised herself on an elbow and looked at him, acutely aware of her
"modest" nightgown. "Such as lipstick." She wet her lips. "Odd to have to
wear it. Is it on properly? Does it look right?"
"You look lovely!"
(Cancel and erase-change 'butch' to 'tart.' You're a natural-born tart, dearie.
Where's your beat?) (Stow it, sister tart; I haven't finished hustling him.)
"Why, thank you sir! Now tell me why I can't have a hot, soapy, tub bath so
that I will feel lovely, too. I'll follow your orders, Doctor, but I would like to
understand them. Can you tell me without using a lot of long medical
words?"
"Well- Joan, my objection is to the tub itself. People are forever breaking
legs or cracking skulls through slipping in bathtubs. And you haven't even
learned to stand up, much less walk."
"True." Joan threw the sheet back, dropped her feet over the edge of the
bed, sat up-controlled a slight dizziness and smiled. "Let's see if I can. Will
you help me, Doctor? Arm around me perhaps?"
"Lie down!"
"Must I? I feel fine. Is there a stool? My feet don't touch the floor."
"Miss Sm- Joan, damn it, so hell me I'm going to quit this business and buy
a junkyard! Lie down while I call a nurse. Then we'll get on each side of you
and let you stand up. When you find out how weak and dizzy you are, I'll
expect you to go back to bed and stay there."
"Yes, Doctor," she said meekly, and lay down.
Winnie answered the summons. "You rang, Doctor?"
"We're going to try a practice walk. Help me get the patient up. You take her
left side."
"Yes, sir."


                                       95
With too much help Joan got out of bed, stood up. The room wobbled a little
but she steadied herself on Winnie while letting her arm be feather-light on
the Doctor's shoulder.
"How do you feel?"
"Fine. We should have music; I feel like dancing."
"Feel like it if you wish, don't try it. Slow march now and short steps." They
walked toward the door, while Joan relished the thick pile of the rug against
her bare feet. Walking was fun; everything was fun! (Eunice my love, do
you realize what a perfect body this is?) (It's way out of shape. But two
weeks' hard work and we'll have it tuned up.) (Oh, pooh, I never felt this
good even as a child.) (You'll see, Boss. Say a vertical split with our hair
sweeping the floor, then hold it through ten controlled breaths-and come out
of it with a slow walkover and melt on down into a full Lotus with never a
hurried movement. Just wait.) (You think we'll be able to do that? I was
c1umsy even as a boy.) (No huhu. The body remembers, dear.)
They stopped. "Now turn around slowly, and bead for your bed."
"Doctor? Now that I'm up, why not head me straight for that soap and
water?"
"Aren't you tired?"
"Not a bit. I didn't lean on you, did I? I thought I had been promised a real
bath as soon as I was able to walk.
Must I stand on my hands as well? Back away and I'll try." She let go of his
arm.
The Doctor promptly put his arm around her waist "No nonsense! Nurse,
that tub has grab rails; make her use them."
"Yes, Doctor."
"If this patient falls, you had better head for Canada-you can find the
shortest route by following me. If you're fast enough."
"Winnie won't let me fall," Joan said warmly while warmly leaning into his
arm. "But if you're worried, you can come in and help. Scrub my back."
He snorted. "Ten minutes ago you bawled me out merely for walking into
your bedroom unannounced."
"And if you do it again, I shall again. That's social; this is professional.
Doctor, I'm well aware that you've seen my new body-professionally-many
times. One more time won't kill me." She wiggled slightly in his arm.
"Scrubbing a patient's back is not part of my professional duties. Lukewarm
tub, Nurse, and don't let her stay in too long."
Once inside the bathroom and the door shut Joan threw her arms around
her nurse and giggled. "Honey, did you see his face?"
Winnie shook her head. "Joan, you don't need me to coach you in how to
be female. You already know."

                                      96
"Oh, but I do need you, dear. Because I don't know. I simply used on dear
Doctor things that used to fluster me when I was his age-and male." She
giggled again. "For a second I thought he was going to take my dare and
scrub my back." (And I thought you were going to lay him, right on the rug.)
(Oh, be quiet, Eunice; I didn't even pinch him.) Joan let go of Winnie,
stepped back, and started to skin the gown over her head. "Now for a bath.
Oh boy!"
"Joan! Please hold onto something. Doctor might show up any second."
"Oh, pooh, he wouldn't dare. Never again." Joan turned and touched the
latch switch. "Now he can't, so quit fretting."
"You mustn't lock the door. Hospital baths are never locked."
"This isn't a hospital and I'll lock my bathroom door whenever I like and if
Dr. Garcia finds out I've locked it the only way he can-by trying to walk in-
and dares to mention it, I'll scream my head off to Jake Salomon and there'll
be a change in doctors. Winnie dear, I wasn't a cranky old man more years
than I care to think about without learning how to get my own way. I just
have to use different weapons now. Want to peel off that uniform and hang
it in the dressing room? I not only may splash you but this end is going to fill
up with steam."
"No, Joan-lukewarm tub. You heard him."
"I heard him and it's going to be the temperature 1 like and that's another
thing he'll never know and you know that I'm lively as a frog and not the
weak kitten he insists on thinking I am; a hot tub won't hurt me. If you want
to get your uniform clammy, that's your business. Better yet, climb into the
tub with me. It's big, and short as I am now, I might slide under and drown,
alone."
"I shouldn't," Winnie said slowly.
"Isn't that a horrid thought? Patient faints in tub and drowns before nurse
can reach her. Not good enough for flash news but they might mention it on
the late-late-late early news."
"Joan! You're teasing me." (You sure are, Boss. Erase and correct again-
Both tart and butch.) (Fiddlesticks, Eunice. That's a big enough tub for all
three of us.)
Winnie bit her lip and slowly unfastened her smock. Joan turned away and
started filling the tub, adjusted the temperature, and avoided watching her.


11


An hour later Joan was seated in an easy chair, with her feet on a stool. To
the nightgown had been added a filmy negligee and a pair of high-heeled
                                      97
boudoir pumps. Her hair had been arranged, her face had been most
carefully made up, and she was lavishly scented with a cologne labeled
"April Mist" but which deserved the title of "Criminal Assault." Her toenails
were trimmed, not to Eunice's satisfaction but well enough for the time
being. Best of all, she was enjoying the euphoria of a woman who is utterly
clean, scented and powdered, and dressed attractively.
Beds had been switched, the room no longer held any flavor of sickroom,
and Joan found that this greatly increased her feeling of well-being.
Eunice's stenodesk had been restored to its usual spot beyond Johann's
baby grand piano, Joan having learned that it was in her study where it had
last been used, and had told Cunningham to have it brought in. It did not fit
the room-but it fitted her notion of what the room should be; it was homey, it
belonged.
She was alone, Winnie having gone to invite Mr. Salomon to dine with his
hostess-ward. Joan sighed with satisfaction. (Feel better, hon? I do.)
(Heavens, yes. But why did you lose your nerve?) (Oh, piffle, Eunice! I
never intended to seduce her.) (Liar. Hypocrite. Dirty old man. You had her
all set. Then you went chicken. I've met men like you before, dearie-talk a
good game, then lose their nerve in the clutch. Cowardly Casanovas. Pfui!)
(Nonsense! You don't shoot ducks on water. If I ever make a real pass at
her-I'm not saying I will but I admit she's a cuddlesome little bundle-) (She is
indeed!) (Oh, shut up! If I ever do, I'll give her a sporting chance-not grab
her when she dasn't scream.) ('Sporting chance' my tired back. Listen to
your big sister, Joan-sex isn't a sport, it's a way to be happy. There is
nothing more exasperating to a woman than to be ready to give in-then
have the matter dropped. You'll find out. You'll cry in your pillow and hate
every man alive. Till the next time, that is.)
(Eunice? You've never had that sort of turn-down, have you? I don't believe
it.) (Happens to every woman, Joan. Men are sissies, if we women weren't
so willing, if we didn't just plain lead 'em by the hand, the race would die
out.)
(Uh-You know more about a woman than I do-)
(Lots more!) (-so let's talk about specifics. We're clean now and I know
we're pretty; I checked us in the big glass and you agreed. But it isn't the
job you used to turn out. I don't mean body paint, wouldn't be appropriate
now anyhow. But, what does it take? Just that 'tuning up'? Exercise?)
('More than that, Boss-although exercise is essential. You're talking about a
professional job?) (Yes. The works.) (Well, I used to do myself-but I had
had lots of practice, plus expert help from Joe. But let's say you want the
best and don't care what it costs-) (Certainly! What's money? I can't get rid
of it.) (All right, say you retain Helena Rubinstein, Limited, or some other top
glamour shop. Say you phone and tell th~n to send a full team.
                                      98
They would send an art director-male, but he may not be all that male and
he's seen more female bodies unmade-up than an undertaker-and he
doesn't touch you; he's too high up. He creates. And bosses. Won't look at
you until several others get you ready. Minimum, bath girl, masseuse,
manicurist, pedicurist, coiffeuse, depilatrix, parfumiste, lace and skin team
of at least four, costume designer, highlight and accent specialist, and
assistants for all of these if you expect the job done in less than all day. If
you put a time limit on it, the price goes up-and if you don't, the price goes
up.)
(Say that again?)
(It's like taxes. Any way you play it the price goes up. Boss, we don't need
them. With what I know and the chassis we have to work with and a good
lady's maid, you can be as glamorous as you like. I don't know where you
would find a creative paint man equal to Joe; nevertheless there are good
ones for hire. We can shop the market, we'll find one.)
(Eunice, 1 had no idea that being a woman was so complicated.)
(Relax, Boss. Being a woman is easier than being a man-and lots more fun.
I'm going to teach you to be a twenty-first-century woman-and I'd be
pleased if you would teach me how it was to be a twentieth-century man,
and we'll close that silly 'Generation Gap.' Understand each other as well as
loving each other.)
(Beloved.)
(I think you're pretty nice, too, you cranky old bastard. With your brain and
my body, we make a fine team. We'll get by.) (I'm sure we will, darling.) (We
will. The first thing we need is a good lady's maid-scarce as whales in
Kansas. We'll probably have to train one. Then lose her as soon as she's
worth anything.) (Eunice, do we need a maid? You used to do yourself.) (I
did, and kept house for Joe, and was your secretary and worked any hours
you wanted me. But you're not used to that, Boss. You had a valet.) (Yes,
of course. But I was very old and didn't have time to waste on such things.
Eunice, one of the worst parts about getting old is that the days get shorter
while the demands on your time increase. I didn't want a valet; I was forced
into it. Didn't enjoy being dependent on a secretary, either-until you came
along.)
(Dear Boss. Joan, we will need a maid. But not a secretary until you're
active in business again-) (Won't be!) (We'll see. You may have to be. But
may not need a secretary unless you get pushed for time. I can handle it.
And thanks for having Betsy brought in; it makes me feel at home to see
her again. My stenodesk, I mean. Pet name.)
('Betsy,' huh? I always thought of it as 'the Octopus.')


                                      99
(Why, what a nasty name to apply to a nice, respectable well-behaved
machine! Boss, I'm not sure I'm speaking to you. I'm glad Betsy isn't
switched on; if she had heard that her feelings would be hurt.)
(Eunice, don't be silly. I wonder what's keeping Jake?)
(Probably cutting his toenails. Lesson number two in. how to be a woman:
Men are almost always late but you never, never, never notice it-because
they pride: themselves on promptness. Boss, you didn't quite promise
Winnie to stay in this chair-when she gave you strict orders.) (Of course not.
Because it might not suit me. And it doesn't; I want to try the eighty-eight.
Eunice, two gets you seven it hasn't been kept in tune-and I gave
Cunningham orders about both pianos, this baby and the concert grand
downstairs, not five years ago. So let's see.)
She stood up, did not notice that high heels gave her no trouble, and glided
gracefully over to the little piano, sat down and opened it-let the first bars of
Dvorak's Slavonic Dance # 10 run through her mind, then started to play-
-and achieved a clash of noise.
"What the hell!" She looked at the keyboard, then hit middle C with her right
forefinger. It sounded okay-and so did the C an octave below it. Several
one- and two-finger experiments convinced her that the piano was not at
fault. Yet to strike a single chord required studying the keyboard, then
carefully positioning each finger by sight.
Presently she managed a slow, uneven, faulty version of "Chopsticks" by
watching the keyboard and controlling her hands so hard they trembled.
She quit before reaching its undistinguished coda and crashed the keys
with both hands. (There go ten years of piano lessons!) (What did you
expect, Boss? I was never much good even with a guitar.) (Well, I'm glad
Mama didn't hear that-she always wanted me to be a concert pianist.
Eunice, why the devil didn't you study piano as a kid?) (Because I was too
busy studying boys! A much more rewarding subject. Joan, if you want to
play the piano again, we can learn. But we'll have to start almost from
scratch. It's in your head, I know; I could hear it. But to get from there down
into our bands-my hands, dear-will probably take more patient work than
slimming our hips.)
(Doesn't matter, not really.) She got up from the piano bench. (Boss. Just a
sec. While we're here, let's warm up Betsy and give her a check run.) (Huh?
I know nothing about a stenodesk. It'll be worse than the piano.) (We'll see.)
She moved over and sat down at the stenodesk. (Well, Eunice? Which way
to the Egress?) (Relax, Boss. The body remembers. Just say 'Dictation,
Eunice,' then recite something you know. Think about what you're
dictating.)


                                      100
(Okay.) "Dictation, Eunice. 'Four score and seven years ago our fathers
brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and
dedicated to the proposition...
Deftly her hands touched the switches, swiveled the microphone in time to
catch the first word, required the machine to listen & hold while she inserted
punctuation, used erase & correct when the machine spelled "fourth" rather
than "forth"-all without hurrying. -She stopped and looked at the result. (Be
durned! How,
Eunice?) (Don't ask, dear-or we might get fouled up in the dilemma of the
centipede. But Betsy is purring like a kitten; she's glad I'm back.) (Well, so
am I. Uh, Eunice, this machine-Betsy, I mean-has access to the
Congressional Library St. Louis Annex, does it not? -she not?) (Certainly.
Hooked into the Interlibrary Net, rather, though you can restrict a query to
one library.)
(Better query just one. I want to find out what is known about memory and
how it works.) (All right. I'm interested, too; I think my memory is spotty.
Can't be sure. But on a search-of-literature it's best to let Betsy handle it
through preprograms-ask for references, followed by abstracts, followed by
items selected from abstracts...else, on a generalized question like that,
thousands of books would be transmitted and poor Betsy would gulp them
down until she was constipated, and stop and not do anything until her
temporary memory was erased.)
(You know how, I don't. Uh, stick in a restriction not to bother with
behaviorist theories. I know all about Pavlov and his robots I care to know,
namely, that every time a dog salivates a behaviorist psychologist has to
ring a bell.)
(All Eight. Boss? Can we spend a little more money?) (Go ahead, buy the
Pyramids. What do you want, dearest?) (Let's have a Triple-A-One snoop
search run on me. Eunice Branca, I mean-the 'me' that used to be.) (Why,
beloved? If you've been selling government secrets, they can't touch you
now.) (Because. It might fill some of those holes I think I have in my
memory. . . and it might turn up something you've heard from me since I
came back but which was not in the security report you got on me originally.
Then you would know, dear. . . and could stop worrying that I may be only a
figment of your imagination.)
(Eunice, if I'm crazy, the only thing that worries me is that some damned
shrink might cure me. Then you would go away.)
(That's sweet of you, Boss. But I won't go away; I promised.)
(And even if I am crazy, it just makes me fit that much better into the
present world. Eunice, don't you remember anything between being killed
and waking up here?)

                                     101
The inner voice was silent a moment. (Not really. There were dreams and I
think you were in them. But there was one that does not seem like a dream;
it seems as real as this room. But if I tell you, you'll think 1 am crazy.) (If so,
it doesn't detract from your charm, dear.) (AU right but don't laugh. Joan,
while I was away, I was in this-place. There was an old, old Man with a long
white beard. He had a great big book. He looked at it, then He looked at me
and said, 'Daughter, you've been a naughty girl. But not too naughty, so I'm
going to give you a second chance.')
(A dream, Eunice. Anthropomorphism, straight out of your childhood
Sunday School.) (Maybe, Boss. But here I am and I do have a second
chance.)
(Yes, but God didn't give it to you. Eunice my own, I don't believe in God
nor Devil.)
(Well . . . you haven't been dead-and 1 have. Truly I don't know what I
believe; I guess I wasn't dead long enough to find out. But do you mind if
we pray occasionally?")
(Jesus H. Christ!)
(Stop that, Joan! Or I'll use every one of those words you consider
'unladylike.' It's not much to ask.)
(I'm henpecked. Okay. If it's a beautiful church, with good music, and the
sermon isn't over ten minutes.) (Oh, I didn't mean in a church. Can't stand
'em. Filled with bad vibrations. I mean pray by ourselves, Joan. I'll teach
you.) (Oh. All right. Now?)
(No, I want to get these search orders in. You think about something else; I
don't want centipede trouble-think about Winnie all slickery with soapsuds.)
(A pious thought. Much better than prayer.) (Dirty old man. How do you
know-I'll bet you've never prayed in your life.) (Oh, yes, I have, dearest-but
God had gone fishing.) (So think about Winnie.)
She was busy for several minutes. Then she patted the machine
affectionately and switched it off. (Well, did you?) (Did I what?) (Did you
think about Winnie? Lecher.) (I took advantage of the unusual peace and
quiet to contemplate the wonders of the universe.) (So?) (I thought about
Winnie.) (I know you did; I was right with you. Joan, for a girl who is, in one
sense at least, a virgin, you have an unusually low and vivid imagination.)
(Aw, shucks, I'll bet you say that to all the girls.) (The stark truth, Joan
sweet-with your imagination I can hardly wait for you you start us on that
'actively female' career. In all the wrestling I've done I've never had a man-
or a girl-grab me the way you were thinking about.) (Oh. Learned that one
from a respectable housewife, clear back in my teens. A most charming
lady.) (Hmm! Perhaps, I was born too late for the real action.) (So I've been
trying to tell you. Did you get those orders in?) (Certainly, Boss, when did I
ever miss? Let's get back to our chair; our back is tired.)
                                        102
Joan Eunice negotiated the thirty feet back to her chair without
remembering that she had kicked off her pumps to handle the lower
controls of the stenodesk more easily; the rug simply felt good to her bare
feet. Then she did notice as she sat down in the big easy chair and folded
her legs in the awkward, elegant, and surprisingly comfortable Lotus
position. But it did not seem worthwhile to go get them.
The door buzzer sounded. "It's me, Winnie."
"Come in, dear."
The nurse entered. "Mr. Salomon asked me to tell you that he will be in to
see you in a few minutes. But he can't stay for dinner."
"He'll stay. Come here and kiss me. What did you tell Cunningham?"
"Dinner for two, in here, just as you said-to be served when you rang. But
Mr. Salomon seemed quite firm about leaving."
"I still say he'll stay. But if he doesn't, you come eat dinner with me. Would
you fetch my pumps? Over there on the floor beyond the piano."
The nurse looked, fetched the pumps, stood over Joan Eunice, and sighed.
"Joan, I don't know what to do about you. You've been a bad girl again.
Why didn't you ring?"
"Don't scold me, dear. Here, sit on the stool and lean against my knees and
talk. There. Now tell me- By any chance were you ever a lady's maid before
you took nurse's training?"
"No. Why?"
"You did such a fine job of taking care of me in the bath and getting me
pretty. Well, it was just a thought. I don't suppose a nurse-a professional
woman-would consider a job as a maid. No matter how high the salary. But
Dr. Garcia is going to insist that I have a nurse after he leaves. I don't need
a nurse and you know it. But dear Doctor will insist. I do need a maid; I
won't be able to dress myself at first-women's clothes are so different. Not
to mention knowing nothing about makeup. Or buying women's clothes.
What are you paid now, Winnie?"
The nurse told her.
"Goodness! No wonder they're always saying there's a shortage of nurses. I
can't hire an in-house guard at that price. What would you think of staying
on as my nurse-but actually doing things for me that a maid would do and I
don't know how to do-at three times your present salary? With whatever
you wish paid in cash so that you won't have to report it?"
The redhead looked thoughtful. "How would you want me to dress, Joan?"
"That's up to you. Your white nurse's uniform, if you prefer it-since you'll be
my nurse in Dr. Garcia's eyes. Or what you wish. There's a bedroom
through that door where my valet used to sleep. With a nice bath-and
another room beyond it which we can redo as your living room. Redecorate
all three rooms to suit your taste. Your private apartment."
                                     103
(Boss, what was that about not shooting ducks on water?) (Stuff it, Eunice.
If she takes the bait, it's better than hiring some illit and having to train her-
and then have her steal the jewelry and drop out about the time she's some
use.) (Oh, I see advantages. But you place Winnie one unlocked door away
and she'll be in bed with you before you can say 'Sappho.' You may not
want men in our life-but I do.) (Oh, nonsense! She's already thinking about
the money. If she takes the job, she'll be more standoffish-she'll start calling
us 'Miss' again.)
"Miss Joan? It'll really be my own apartment? I can entertain?"
"Of course, dear. Private. Oh, Cunningham's staff will clean and so forth,
any service you want. Breakfast tray, whatever. Or never enter it if you
prefer it that way."
"It sounds heavenly. I'm sharing a room with two other girls . . . at a rent
that's horrid because it's inside an enclave. Safe-but I never have any
privacy."
"Winnie. Look at me, dear, and lay it on the line. The bed in there now is, I
believe, a single. Would you like to have it replaced with a big, big double
bed?"
The girl blushed. "Uh, it would be nice."
"So stop blushing. I won't know you have a visitor unless you tell me; that~
door is soundproof. Of course visitors have to be identified and checked for
weapons, just as visitors to an enclave have to be-but that simply means
you must vouch for a visitor to my chief guard the first visit. But I won't know
it unless you choose to tell me. The in-house staff all have visitors. But
security is my chief guard's worry, not mine."
"But he does have to show his I.D.?"
"You still would have to vouch for him to Chief O'Neil but- Hold the
countdown. Did you mean he would rather not show an I.D.? Is he married,
or something?"
Winnie blushed again, did not answer. Joan Eunice went on, "Nobody's
business, dear. This is a private home, not a government compound. You
vouch for him, that's enough. Chief O'Neil doesn't trust I.D.s; they're often
faked. But he has a photographic eye. Are you going to stay with me? As
nurse in residence, or lady's companion, or social secretary, or whatever
you want to call it."
"Lady's maid. If I'm to be your maid, Miss Joan, I'd rather that your staff
knew it and no pretense. And dress as your maid. What sort of uniform?
Traditional? Or Acapulco? Or something in between?"
"Oh, not traditional, surely; you have such pretty legs. All-out Acapulco, if
you like."


                                       104
Winnie looked pleased. "I might go all out. A girl gets tired of these white
coveralls." (Joan! Tell her not to use an all-out Acapulco paint job. Bad for
her skin.)
"Suit yourself, dear. But don't use a lot of paint. Bad for your skin."
"Oh, I know! I'm a real redhead, you probably noticed. I can't even
sunbathe. I was thinking of a little black frill skirt with a white lace apron
about the size of a saucer. Little perky maid's cap, white on a black ribbon.
Cling-On cups, in black. Transparent? Or opaque?"
"Whichever suits you, Winnie. High heels?"
"Uh, translucent, I guess, like the panels in that nightie. High heels,
certainly, or the effect is lost-I can wear real stilts if I'm barefooted most of
the time. Then just enough paint for accent. There are lovely decals that go
on in no time and come right off with cold cream. Butterflies and flowers and
things. Cheap, too. Everything I mentioned I can buy in disposables. I'll look
like a proper lady's maid, yet not spend more time getting dressed than I do
in pulling on this smock and tights."
"You'll look cute, dear. Going to dress up in a maid's outfit and model it for
your friend?"
Winnie started to blush again, then grinned. "I certainly am! And let him
take it off me, too!"
(Cheers!) (Eunice, you have a one-track mind.) (You should know, dearie-
it's your mind.)

A few moments later Winnie announced Mr. Salomon, then left. The lawyer
came toward Joan solemnly, took the hand she extended and bowed over
it. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Disappointed," Joan answered soberly. "Because my oldest and dearest
friend hasn't time to dine with me my first day up. But physically I feel fine.
Weak, but that's to be expected."
"Sure you're not overdoing?"
"I'm sure. My respiration and heartbeat are being telemetered-if I weren't all
right, someone would come in and order me to bed. Truly, I'm all right,
Jake-and I won't get strong unless I do stay out of bed. But how about you,
old friend? I have been terribly worried."
"Oh, I'm all right. Just made a fool of myself, Johann."
"You did not make a fool of yourself . . . and I feel certain Eunice knows it,
Jake." (Watch it, Boss!) (Pipe down.) "You could have paid her no finer
tribute than those honest tears." Joan found her own tears starting; she
encouraged them while ignoring them. "She was a sweet and gallant lady,
Jake, and it touched me more than I can say to learn that you appreciated
her wonderful qualities as much as I did. Jake-please sit down, if only for a
moment. There is something I must ask you."
                                      105
"Well...all right. Can't stay long."
"Whistle that chair closer, and face me. Uh, a glass of sherry? Doctor says I
may have it-and I find that I need it. That Spanish cocktail sherry, dry as
your wit. Will you do me the honor of pouring for us?"
Joan waited until the lawyer had filled their glasses, and had seated
himself. She raised her glass and at the same time raised her chest, letting
those "wicked" panels do their best. "A toast, Jake-no, don't get up. The
same toast, Jake-always the same toast from now on whenever you and I
drink together. . . but silently." She took a sip and put her glass down.
"Jake-"
"Yes. . . Johann?"
"'Joan,' please-I can't be 'Johann' any longer. Jake, you know that I never
expected to live through any such operation? It was a-device. A legal
device."
"Yes, Joha- Yes, Joan, I knew. That's why I helped."
"I knew. The most generous act of friendship I have ever known. What is it
the Japanese name it?-the friend who helps, when it is necessary to die.
Never mind. Jake, look me in the eye. Do you know, deep in your heart,
that I would rather be dead. . . than to have lived through it by this incredible
circumstance? Be alive. . . at her expense? Do you know that, Jake? Or
must I live still another life, hating myself?"
Salomon raised his eyes, met hers firmly. "Yes-Joan. I know it. It was no
fault of yours . . . you must not hate yourself. Uh. . . Eunice wouldn't want
you to!"
"I know. Weep, dear Jake; don't hold back your tears-see, I am not holding
back mine. Just try not to go to pieces, or I will, too. Jake, each of us would
happily have died rather than let this happen. I am as certain of it about you
as I hope you are about me. I don't think I could stand it if you had not
reassured me. Look at me, a lovely body and young-yet I am almost ninety-
five years old and have not one friend left alive. . . but you."
"You'll make more friends."
"I wonder if I can. The span is great, perhaps too great. I feel as the
Wandering Jew must have felt, alive beyond his allotted time. His name-
Aha-something. My memory is not as good as this young body. But I can't
forget one question which I must ask. Jake, is there any possibility that
Eunice's husband had something to do with her death? That prize I put up,
that blood money-did it tempt him?"
(Boss, Boss, you're way off base. I know!) (Sorry, beloved, more sorry than
I can say. But I must have proof.)
"Jake? Did 1 entice a murder?"


                                      106
The lawyer shook his head. "I'm astounded. But of course you don't know
the circumstances. You enticed nothing. I wrote that offer most carefully.
Were there any guilt I would share it. There was none."
"How do you know?" (Drop it, Boss. Please!)
"Mr. Branca was in Philadelphia, visiting his mother." (You see, Boss?) "I
had to find him to get the post-death ratification. Took three days, while
both of you were kept ready for surgery. Joe Branca didn't know she was
dead. Hell of a job even to find him. Three long days."
"'Three days.' Why wasn't I told!"
"And waste Eunice's death? Are you crazy? You were unconscious; Garcia
put you under as soon as I notified him that a body was going to be ready.
Then that dreadful wait. I need your forgiveness, too, for-Joan-no, 'Johann!'
I hated you . . . for being alive when she was dead. But I pushed on-for her
sake. Oh, I got over it, it was a sick hate. I knew better."
"Do you hate me now?"
"Eh?" Salomon looked at her, in sorrow. "No. You are not only my old
friend, who has always been honest and decent under his crusty exterior-
whose virtues outweighed his faults." Salomon managed to smile. "Though
sometimes just barely. But also you are the only tie I have left to her."
"Yes. You may find me better tempered now, Jake. It's easier to smile,
easier to be patient, then it was in that old wreck of a body I had. But, Jake,
about Joe Branca. All right, he was in Philadelphia. But could he have
arranged it?"
"No."
"You're certain?"
"Certain. Joha-Joan, it's that million dollars that worries you, fear that it
might have started a chain of events. When they located Joe Branca, I had
to jet there and get that piece of paper. He was dazed. Couldn't believe it.
But accepted the fact. But not the money. I couldn't get him to sign the post-
death authorization without first preparing another document, waiving the
money. The escrow trustee-Chase Manhattan-was instructed by Joe to pay
it to the Rare Blood Club-his idea-as a memorial to Eunice Evans Branca."
(Oh, Boss! I'm crying.) (We all are.) (But, Boss-Joe must be starving.) (We'll
take care of it.)
She sighed: "I'll be damned."
"Perhaps. And perhaps myself. But I don't think Joe Branca will be. He's an
unworldly man-Joan. From a slum family. A flower in the muck. I couldn't
even get him to accept a lesser sum. He insisted on paying for witnessing
and notarizing his mark, and the tax stamp on the assignment-and it took
almost every dime he could dig up. He just shook his head and said, 'Broke
don't scare me.'
"Jake, we must take care of him."
                                     107
"I don't think you can, Joan. In his own odd way he is as proud as she was.
But I did one thing. In searching for him I had to get a court order to open
their studio-indispensable it turned out, as an old letter from his mother
gave us the clue that located him. But I learned that the rent was almost
due . . . the corporation's rent agent wanted to know how soon the lease
was going to lapse-he assumed that, with her dead, the rent would not be
paid. So I covered the matter for the moment; then when I got back, I
bought the lease. As long as Joe chooses to stay, he won't be asked for
rent. Then I checked around and located her bank account and arranged
with a friendly judge to let me guarantee the matter and had it assigned to
Joe without bothering him with legal formalities. The little dear was smart
about money-a nice sum, enough to keep him eating a couple of years, I
think." (All gone in a couple of months, I think. Boss, Joe doesn't
understand money. A bank account isn't real, to him.) (Don't worry, darling.
Jake and I will handle it.)
She sighed. "I feel reassured, Jake. But distressed about her husband. We
must look into it. If he's that unworldly, then there must be some way to
subsidize him without his knowing it."
"All right, Joan, we will try. But Joe Branca taught me-at my age!-that there
are things money cannot buy. Not if the prospective seller is indifferent to
money."
"Will you have more sherry? And may I have another drop? If you can't
stay, I think I'll ask to be put to bed and right to sleep. Skip dinner."
"Oh, but you must eat, Joan. For your strength. Look, if I stay, will you eat?"
She gave him Eunice's best sun-coming-up smile. "Yes! Yes, Jake dear!
Thank you."

Dinner was informal, service only by Cunningham and two assistants. Joan
did her best to simulate a charming, gracious hostess-while trying not to
appear greedy; everything tasted so wonderful! But she waited until coffee
had been served and Jake had refused a perfecto and accepted a glass of
port, and she then could say, "Thank you, Cunningham, that will be all,"
before returning to personal matters.
Once they were alone she said, "Jake, when will I be up for a competency
hearing?"
"Eh? Any time you feel well enough. Are you in a hurry?"
"No. I would be utterly content to be your ward the rest of my life."
Her lawyer smiled slightly. "Joan, by the actuarial tables you now have a life
expectancy of about sixty years; mine is more like ten or twelve."
"Well. . . that's hard to answer. But will you go on as before as my de-facto
manager? Or am I asking too much?"

                                      108
Salomon studied his glass. "Joan . . . once the court dissolves this
guardian-and-ward relationship, there is no reason why you should not
manage your affairs."
(Joan! Change the subject; he's trying to leave us!) (So I know! Keep quiet!)
(Tell him your middle name!) "Jake. Jake dear. . . look at me. Look hard
and keep on looking. That's better, Jake-is it that you would rather not see
me ...as l am now?"
The lawyer said nothing. She went on, "Isn't it better to get used to what
is...than to run away from it? Wouldn't she-Eunice-want you to stay?" (Keep
slugging, Sis-he wants to stay.)
"It isn't that simple . . . Joan."
"Nothing ever is. But I don't think you can run away from it any more than I
can-for I won't stop being what I am-her body, my mind-and you will always
know it. All you accomplish by leaving is to deprive me of my one friend and
the only man on earth I trust utterly. What does it take to change my
name?"
"Eh?"
"Just what I said. I changed my surname from 'Schmidt' to 'Smith' when I
enlisted on December eighth nineteen-forty-one simply by spelling it that
way to a recruiting sergeant: No one has bothered me about it since. This
time perhaps it must be formal, considering the thousands of places where
my signature appears. It is technically a sex-change case, is it not? A court
takes judicial notice, or some such, and it's made a matter of record'?"
Salomon slipped into his professional persona and relaxed. "Yes, of course;
I had not thought about that aspect-too many other details on my mind.
Joan, your earlier name change was legal-although informal- because any
person is free to call himself by any name, without permission of a court, as
long as there is no criminal intent-to defraud, deceive, evade responsibility,
avoid taxes, whatever. You can call yourself 'Joan'-or 'Johann'-or 'Miniver
Cheevy'-and that is your name, as long as your purpose is innocent. And
pronounce it as you like. Knew of a case once of a man who spelled his
name 'Zaustinski' and pronounced it 'Jones' and went to the trouble of
publishing the odd pronunciation as a legal notice-although he did not have
to; a name may be pronounced in any fashion its owner chooses."
"Why did he do it, Jake?"
"His grandmother's will required him to change his name in order to inherit-
but did not specify how he must pronounce it. Joan, in your case a formal
change of name is advisable, but it might be best to wait until you are no
longer my ward. But de facto your new name is already what you say it is."
"Then my name is now-'Joan Eunice Smith.'"
Salomon knocked over his glass of port. He made quite a busyness of
mopping it up. Joan said, "Jake, let it be, no importance. I did not mean to
                                     109
shock you. But don't you see the necessity? It's a tribute to her, a public
acknowledgment of my debt to her. Since I can never pay it, I want to
publish it, place it on the wall for all to see, like a Chinese man's debt to his
tong. Besides that, ninety-five percent of me is Eunice...and only five
percent is old Johann now named 'Joan' and even that fraction no one can
see, only surgeons have seen it. Last but by no means least-Jake dear,
look at me-if you ever forget that fraction and call me 'Eunice,' it won't
matter; it's my name.
And if you intentionally-call me 'Eunice,' it will matter, for I shall be pleased
and flattered. And any time it suits you to call me 'Joan Eunice,' it will make
me happy, as I will be certain you have done it intentionally-and accepted
me as I am."
"Very well. . . Joan Eunice."
She smiled. "Thank you, Jake. I feel happier than I have felt since I first
knew. I hope you do."
"Um. Yes. I think so. It's a good change-Joan Eunice."
"Did you get wine on your clothes? If so, let Cunningham see to it. Jake, is
there any reason I or you to go clear out to Safe Harbor tonight? I'm sure
Cunningham can find you clean socks or whatever."
"Goodness, Joan-Joan Eunice-I've been here two nights already."
"Do you think three will wear out your welcome? You can't wear it out."
"And the drive isn't that far, as I placed my house for sale with the enclave
trustees months ago. I have rooms at the Gibraltar Club now. Good service,
central location, none of the fiddlin' worries of a householder."
"I see your point. Hmm, must remember to resign from the Gib myself." She
smiled. "They'll never let me past the ladies' lounge-now."
The lawyer said dryly, "I took the liberty of withdrawing you from
membership shortly after I became your guardian-Joan Eunice."
She laughed in delight. "And me a founding member! This is delicious-souls
and honks and thirds all welcome but females are second-class citizens.
Jake dear, I'm going to have to get used to a lot of things."
"I suppose so-Joan Eunice."
"So I'll need you more than ever. Where have you been sleeping?"
"The Brown Room."
"Cunningham must be slipping. He should have put you in the Green Suite."
"Well . . . the Green Suite has been used for hospital equipment and
supplies. I authorized it."
"Then you can just unauthorize it, as that is your suite. They can store that
stuff somewhere else. Or remove it, as little of it will be needed from now
on7'
"Hedrick had most of it removed the middle of the day."

                                      110
"All, right, you stay in the Brown Room tonight; then tomorrow Cunningham
can get the Green Suite in shape for you."
"Joan Eunice, what leads you to think I'm moving in here? I'm not."
"I didn't say you were. I said that the Green Suite is yours. Whether you
stay a night or a year. Yours without invitation, yours to come and go
without bothering to say hello or good-bye. Although I hope it will suit you to
say hello to me frequently. Is Hubert, my former valet, still around?"
"Yes. He's tended me the last two nights."
"From now on he'll tend the Green Suite and take care of you whenever you
honor us with your presence. Jake, you had better move some clothes
here."
"Damn it- Pardon me, Joan Eunice."
"For saying 'Damn it'? It's a strange day when my oldest friend must curb
his language in my presence. Jake, I've heard you use language that would
blister paint at forty yards-and at me, not merely in my presence."
"True. But I must now remember that you are a lady, Joan Eunice."
"Please yourself. I'm going to have more trouble learning to be a lady than
you will have in remembering that I am supposed to be one. If you slip,
ignore it-for you know that I never took a back seat to any muleskinner in
other days. You were saying?"
"Well, I was saying, 'Damn it, we must remember your reputation-Joan
Eunice."
"My what? My reputation as a woman? I doubt if I have one-other than as a
sideshow freak. Doesn't worry me."
"You're not in the news, Joan Eunice, since shortly after the operation. Oh,
you will be again when we go into court and perhaps sooner, when
someone in your household staff or Dr. Hedrick's staff spills the fact of your
recovery."
"So I'll be a sideshow freak again and who cares? A nine-day wonder lasts
only a couple of days now; they wear out faster than they did when I was a
kid. Jake, I haven't worried about what anyone said about me for over half a
century. The image our P.R. men built up was for the company, not for me
personally. As for Mrs. Grundy-I think she's dead. The present generation
does not care about her opinion-a change for the better in a world otherwise
deteriorating. I doubt if Eunice ever heard of Mrs. Grundy." (Sure have,
Boss. My fourth-grade teacher. Used to shack with the vice-principal until
his wife found out. We kids giggled over it-but you would have liked her, you
dirty old darling. Keep working on Jake, dear-time to back away closer.)
(Who's driving this car?) (I am.)
Mr. Salomon said thoughtfully, "I think you are right about this younger
generation, Joan Eunice. Only people my age and older give such matters

                                     111
a thought. But you know that I should not live under your roof now. And so
do I."
"Jake, I am not trying to force you. Nor am I trying to compromise you-"
"Eh? Me? It's your reputation I am thinking of. With your servants, at least."
(Why, the old hypocrite. Ask him about the time he crowded me into a cloak
closet with Cunningham almost breathing down our necks. Go on, I dare
you. Oh, he's a one, that one-courage under fire.) "Jake, that is sweet of
you but I don't give a triple damn how my servants gossip in the kitchen.
But I am able to protect you from gossip, sir. I have acquired the most
conventional of Victorian chaperonage-a respectable lady's maid. She'll
sleep just through that door, where Hubert used to sleep. If it frets you, she
can always be present when you and I are together." (Hey, what is this?
Trying to get Winnie into act? She might go for it-Jake won't. Watch it,
dear.) (Qui kibitzing, Eunice.)
The lawyer raised his brows. "You've hired a maid already? Surprising.
Though you never were one to dillydally. Or did you shift around part of
your in-house staff?"
"Some of both, Jake. I anticipated that Dr. Garcia will insist on my having a
trained nurse. . . so I persuaded one of the nurses to stay on, in both
capacities. Winnie. You've seen her, the little redhead."
"Possibly I have."
('Possibly' he says. All you men are hypocrites. If he hasn't patted her butt,
he's thought about it.)
"I'm lucky to get her. Intelligent. Educated. Able to teach me things I must
know and, being a nurse, used to caring for people even more than a maid
does. I used the usual argument-money-but I was careful to respect her
professional pride; she'll still be my nurse, she'll lady's-maid me as a
friendly favor. I think she may be in bed. But she would get up and
chaperon us if asked. Shall I send for her?"
"What? Oh, don't be silly, Joan Eunice. You're making a mountain of a
molehill."
"It seemed to me that you were, Jake. I do feel defenseless as a woman . . .
even though I was far more vulnerable as a sick old man than I am now in
this strong young body. But I feel safe with you present-and not at all safe
when you are away. Jake, I can't urge you to live here. . . but can't you see
what a favor it would be to me? As well as- How many rooms do you have
at the Gib?"
"Two; Adequate for my needs."
"The rooms there aren't large . . . whereas the living room of the Green
Suite is as large as this room. We could cut a door from it into the upstairs
library and it could be your study. Move anything into it you need for my
affairs or your own-plenty of room for files or books. Jake, I don't need this
                                     112
big mausoleum any more than you needed your house. But if I tried to sell
it, I couldn't get ten percent of what it cost; I built it during the worst of the
Riot Years and the cost doesn't show; it's a prettied-up fortress, stronger
than police barracks. Well, we may have such years again; I may yet be
glad I spared no expense. In the meantime it's big and safe and
comfortable, and you might as well use it. When you wish, I mean,
especially when you work on my affairs."
"Well, I have been working on some of your affairs here in the house. Uh,
Joan Eunice, as your guardian, I had to take over management of your
household."
"Hasn't Cunningham saved you from such picayune worries? I must speak
to him."
"Well., yes, he has and I've let him go on, as before; I've made no changes.
But I have had to look over the household books and authorize charges and
confound it, they're stealing you blind. Cunningham especially."
"Good!"
"What's good about it?"
"Jake, you told me that it was impossible to spend my income. If my butler
is black-marketing two-thirds of what he buys for me and pocketing the
proceeds-and he always has-then he's anxious to keep his job. Which
means that he has to please me. Jake, can you think of a cheaper way to
buy the nearest thing to loyalty that can be bought? Let him steal. Do not
bind the mouths of the kine who tread the grain. The good horse must
always get his lump of sugar."
"Bad precedent. corrupts the country."
"The country is corrupt. But 'it is the only game in town'; we have no choice.
The problem is always how to live in a decadent society. Jake, I want you to
live here. I hope you will live here. It will make me feel happy and safe for
you to be under the same roof. But don't worry about my reputation-and
Winnie is here to protect yours. Most certainly don't think about such trivia
as household expenses; just close your eyes and sign. But don't hesitate to
chew out Cunningham if the service is less than perfect; that's the price he
must pay for the privilege of swindling me. By the way, my chief guard
steals, too; I think he has a fifty-fifty split with Cunningham. I've never tried
to find out the arrangement; it would embarrass them."
Salomon smiled. "Joan Eunice, for a young-and beautiful-woman, you
sound. remarkably like a cynical old man I used to know."
"Do I, Jake dear? I must learn not to sound that way. I must now leave the
'cynical old man' things to you and try to behave like a lady. If I can. But
please don't disrupt a smooth household by trying to reform it-or it will wind
up like a reform administration: less efficient and still more expensive. Didn't
your servants steal from you?"
                                       113
The lawyer looked sheepish. "Well...yes. But I had the best cook in Safe
Harbor enclave. If I had fired her, I might have wound up with one just as
expensive-who put sugar in gravy. I think I was groused that they were
stealing from you-when you were helpless. But I didn't want to tamper with
your household while there was any chance that you might recover. Wanted
to hand it back as it was. And I have. Or shall."
"Thank you, Jake. At the moment, while I may not yet be a lady, I feel not at
all like a cynical old man. I find that I feel like a woman who has been ill and
is not yet fully recovered. I had best go to bed. Will you help me?"
"Uh, I'll call the nurse."
"Jake, Jake-this is the body I have; we must quit being jumpy about it. Here,
lend me your arm. I can stand if you'll help me...and walk to the bed if you'll
let me lean on you."
Salomon gave up, offered her both hands to help her out of the chair,
steadied her with his arm to the bed. Joan Eunice got into it quickly, slid her
negligee off as she slid under the sheet. "Thank you, Jake."
"My pleasure-Joan Eunice."
"Will you have breakfast with me? Or lunch if you want to sleep late?"
"Uh . . . lunch."
"I'm looking forward to it." She put out her hand. He took it, bowed over it-
hesitated only slightly and kissed it firmly.
Joan Eunice kept his hand and pulled. "Come closer, Jake dear." She
reached up, took his face between her palms. "You loved her."
"Yes."
"I loved her."
"I know."
"Say my name. My new name."
"Joan-Joan Eunice."
"Thank you, Jake." Unhurriedly, she pulled his face down, kissed him softly
on the lips. "Good night, dear friend."
"Good night-Joan Eunice." He left quickly.
(Joan you bitch, you're pushing him too hard.) (I am not!) (The hell you
aren't. For a second I thought you were going to drag him right into bed.)
(Ridiculous!) (And you're pushing yourself too hard, too.) (Eunice, quit
crabbing. I could have backed out up to the last split second. I found that I
did not mind it. After all, there are many cultures in which men kiss men, as
a gesture of friendship.)
(In case you haven't noticed, you are no longer a man-you're a mixed-up
chick.) (I've noticed. Look, snoopy, it was a necessary symbol. I had to
show Jake that he could touch me, even kiss me good-night . . . and not
have it be tragic. And it wasn't. Reminded me of my father kissing me good-
night . . . which he did until I was a big boy.)
                                      114
(Well . . . perhaps Jake is going to settle for being fatherly. But don't count
on it, Joan. Let mc warn you, Sis- Jake can kiss much better than that. He
can kiss so well that your insides melt down, starting at your belly button
and spreading in all directions.) (A possibility. A remote one. Now will you
shut up, and let us sleep? I really am tired.) (Love me. Boss?) (I've never
stopped loving you dear-and never will.) (Me, too--and wish I could kiss you
good-night. Sleep, Boss-everything's going to he all right.)
Before she could get to sleep, Winifred came in, in robe and slippers. "Miss
Joan?" she said softly.
"Yes, dear? Put the floor lights on."
"Mr. Salomon said that you had gone to bed-"
"And you look as if you had. Did he wake you?"
"Oh, no. I was chatting with Mrs. Sloan; she's on watch. But Dr. Garcia left
word that your bed was to be all the way down-and I see that it isn't. How
do I put it down?"
"I do it myself, right from the bed-down, like that-or back up, like that. I
wasn't asleep yet. It's all right, I'll put it all the way down before you leave. .
. and you can tell Doctor that I was a good girl."
"Fine! You can have this capsule if you want it. You don't have to take it,
Mrs. Sloan says that Doctor says."
"I'll take it; I want to go right to sleep. If you'll hand me the water there . . .
and kiss me good-night. If you won't, I'll sulk and ring for Mrs. Sloan and
ask her to kiss me good-night."
The little nurse grinned. "I'll force myself."
Winifred left about sixty seconds later. (Well, Eunice? How did that one
stack up?) (Quite well, Butch. Say eighty percent as well as Jake can do.)
(You're teasing.) (You'll find out. Winnie is sweet-but Jake has had years
more practice. I'm not chucking asparagus at Winnie. I thought you were
going to drag her right in with us.) (With Mrs. Sloan outside and watching
our heart rate? What do you think I am? A fool?) (Yes.) (Oh, go to sleep!)


12


Peace Negotiations, both in Paris and in Montevideo, continued as before.
Fighting continued on a token basis, and the dead did not complain.
Harvard's new president was dismissed by the student government, which
then adjourned without appointing a successor. The Secretary of H.E.W.
announced a plan to increase the water content of San Francisco Bay to
37%; the Rivers & Harbors Commission denied that H.E.W. had jurisdiction.
In Alma Ata a Morale Corps sergeant gave birth to a healthy two-headed
                                        115
boy by Caesarean section; it was watched worldwide and on Luna, via
satellite, to a specially arranged chorus of the Thoughts of Chairman Lu. In
Washington the I.R.S., acting under Budget Executive Order (Emergency)
of '87, announced an additional temporary surtax of 7%. In Miami Miss
Universe (Miss Ghana-42-22-38), speaking through her press secretary &
interpreter, revealed that she intended to be the first starship commander
and had been studying neoEinsteinian ballistics under hypnosis for two
years. The General Secretary of the People's Fraternal Society of
Cosmonauts, Astronauts, & Space Engineers (A.F.L.C.I.O.) wondered
publicly as to Miss Universe's ability to do simple arithmetic with her shoes
on. Madam President of the Federated Women's Clubs of the World stated
that the Honorable Secretary was a counterrevolutionary rat-fink and a
typical example of male arrogance. In Los Angeles smog deaths were down
3% under emergency pollution abatement measures and a brisk west wind.

In a big, ugly, ornate, old house Miss Joan Eunice Smith sat in Lotus on a
mat in her dressing room near a large mirror and facing her nurse-
companion-maid, also in Lotus. "Comfortable, Winnie dear?"
"Very."
"I think you're even more limber than I am. All right, let's get into the mood
for exercise. You start it."
"All right. But, Miss Joan? What does it mean? Oh, I like it; it's very relaxing.
But what jewel in what lotus, and why?"
"It means nothing. And everything. If you must have words, it means peace
and love and understanding and anything that you think of as good. But it's
not for thinking, dear; it's for being. Let yourself be open to it, don't think.
Don't even try not to think. Be."
"All right."
"Start us. Remember the breathing. I'll get in step."
"Om Mani Padme Hum."
(Om Mani Padme Hum. See that aura round her, Boss? She must have had
quite a night.) (Shut up, Eunice; these prayers were your idea.) "Om Mani
Padme Hum."
"Om Mani Padme Hum." (Om Mani Padme Hum.)
"Om Mani Padme Hum." "Om Mani..."
(That's enough, Joan.) (So short, beloved? Clock says only twenty
minutes.) (I use a different clock. We're warm all through, we're ready.
Winnie is more than ready; you'll have to call her back.)
"Om Mani Padme Hum. Winifred. Winnie darling, hear me. The sun is rising
and so must we."
The little redhead was still perfectly in Lotus, soles of her feet turned
upward on her thighs, hands in her lap, palms upward. She was still
                                      116
intoning, with her breathing paced exactly with her prayers. But her eyes
had turned up; only the whites showed. "Come back, Winnie. Time."
The girl's eyes turned down to normal; she looked puzzled, then smiled.
"Already? Seems like only a moment. I must have fallen asleep."
"Happens. Are you ready? Warm and loose and your muscles soft as
cotton?"
"Uh . . . yes, I am."
"Then let's try some singles." Joan Eunice flowed upward from the mat like
a flower unfolding and was standing. "You criticize me and I'll criticize you.
Then we can have companion exercises for dessert." Joan looked at herself
in the long glass. "I think my belly is firmer every day. I keep telling myself."
"It's perfect and you know it." The redhead got up more slowly, caught
herself in a yawn.
"Still sleepy, dear? No pleasant dreams last night?"
The girl barely blushed, then shrugged and smiled. "Pleasant all right but
not enough hours. I hope we didn't disturb you."
"Didn't hear a sound. Wouldn't have guessed if you hadn't told me when
you came in to kiss me good-night. Dear, if you're short on sleep, maybe
you'd rather just criticize."
"Oh, no, I'm getting more out of our exercises than you are-don't want to
miss a day. But-yes, I'm short on sleep. Paul- Oh, dear! But I didn't say his
last name."
"Didn't hear you, I was rubbing my ears."
"Fibber. He didn't leave until half past two. So I did lose sleep. Not that I
minded!"
"I'm sure you didn't. Winnie dear, I did not mean to snoop. Oh, normal
curiosity-being a virgin myself."
The nurse looked startled, said, "But-" and shut up.
Joan Eunice smiled. "Sho', sho', hon, I know what that 'But' means. Mrs.
Branca was married . . . and Johann Smith was married four times, not to
mention jumping out of windows. But Joan Eunice is a virgin-dig me, doll
baby?"
"Well, looked at that way-"
"Only way I can look at it. So I'm curious as a Girl Scout. But telling me
would still leave me knowing nothing, even if you wanted to tell, which I'm
sure you don't. Someday-no hurry-I suppose I'll find out for myself. So don't
you dare blush again and let's get on with our exercises. I'll run through the
Tortoise variations and you push me if I need it."
After an hour of twisting and stretching and posing Joan Eunice said,
"Enough. Much more and we'd be sweating instead of glowing. Ready for
gruesome twosomes?"

                                      117
The high note of the outer door sounded in the bath-dressing room.
"Damn," said Joan. "I mean a ladylike 'darn.' Damn. Into your tights, dear,
and I'll drop your smock over your head. Tell 'em 'No ice today.'"
"Right away." Dressed in seconds, the girl left.
(How'd we look today, Eunice? Tits beginning to suit you?) (We're more
than halfway there, Joan; in another week you can cut the time down.) (Not
anxious to; it's the most fun of the day. . . except when our lord and
guardian deigns to dine with us. Tell me, hon-have you been fretting about
those negative reports?) (No, you have been fretting; they were what I
expected. Nobody knows how memory works except that everyone is sure
he knows and thinks all the others are fools.) (I've been thinking about
those flatworms. If you can chop up a trained flatworm and feed it to
another flatworm and then the second one seems to remember what the
first one learned, then-)
(Boss! I keep telling you, I am not a flatworm! I told you a long time ago that
the body remembers, and-let's table it; here comes the fuzz.)
"Miss Joan, it's Dr. Garcia and Mr. Salomon."
"Oh. Well, I'm not going to dress; we've still to finish. Grab me a negligee-
not that plate-glass job. The London Fog is suitable, don't you think?"
"I guess. Makes you look only half naked instead of bare."
"Who taught me to dress that way, winsome Winnie?" (I did.) (Sure, Eunice-
but she thinks she bosses me. I'm her good baby who always does what
Mama says. . . until we get dear Doctor out of our hair.) "Please tell the
gentlemen that I will be right out."
Miss Smith stopped to apply lipstick, decided that her face could get along
with no other renewals, took a brushcomb and teased her too-short locks
into fluffiness, stepped into stilt-high mules, put on the negligee and looked
at herself in the long glass.
She decided that the selective opacity of the robe was just right-except that
the upper part was a little too modest. So she delayed long enough to apply
lipstick to areolae.
Now satisfied with her appearance-(Boss, we look like a high-priced pooka.)
(Very high-priced, I hope. Were you criticizing?) (Not at all, I was
applauding.)-she went out into her boudoir. "Good morning, Doctor. Hi,
Jake dear. Won't you sit down? Coffee? Or we can find some Old Kentucky
Rat Poison, bottled in the barn."
"Coffee," agreed Salomon. "You look charming, my dear."
"Snake charming. I've been exercising and smell like a horse."
"Not more than a small pony. I'll turn up the ventilation. Joan Eunice, Dr.
Garcia wants to check you over."
"Really? What's wrong? I feel fine. Aside from these cold prison bars all
around me, and my head on a pillow of stone."
                                      118
"Dr. Garcia thinks we can do something about those cold prison bars. Joan
Eunice, we agreed that it was not smart to go into court until you were
discharged as well in all respects. He thinks it may be possible, now."
"Oh. Oh! How about that platoon of psychiatrists?"
"We'll have them. We may never need them. But we'll be ready to offset
their expert witnesses. You will have to put up with long searching
interviews; our own experts must go into court prepared." (Prepared to
justify their fancy fees. Don't worry, Boss; I'll hide under a rock whenever a
shrink is around.)
"That's okay. I'm delighted that Dr. Garcia thinks I'm well. Shall we step into
my dressing room, Doctor? Come along, Winnie. Jake, the Wall Street
Journal is over there."
Once she was alone with her doctor and nurse Miss Smith said, "Well,
Doctor? Shall I stretch out on the massage table?"
"No, this examination is pro forma, to allow me to log that I gave you a
physical on the day I discharged you. I'll listen with a stethoscope and make
you say 'Ah!'-things like that. If you'll sit down at your dressing table and
drop the top of your robe, please."
"Yes, sir."
She kept quiet while he passed the stethoscope here and there, coughed
when she was told to, inhaled sharply and sighed noisily as directed. Once
she said, "Wups! Sorry, I'm ticklish," and asked, "What does that tell you?"
"Just palpating for lumps. Again, pro forma-although it's been some time
since this was done." (Enjoying it, kiddo?) (Maybe you are, Eunice; I'm not.
I'd rather be approached more romantic-like.) (Don't kid your grandmother;
you enjoy it.)
 The doctor stepped back and looked at her thoughtfully. Joan Eunice said,
"Anything more, sir? G-Y-N?"
"Not unless you ask for it. Trouble?"
"Not a bit. I feel healthy enough to whup a grizzly bear."
"And you check out that healthy, too. Nevertheless your case worries me."
"Why, Doctor?"
"Because your case is unique. I know almost as little about it as you do.
Joan, when you left this house-as Mr. Smith-I never expected to see you
alive again. When you were brought back, I did not expect you to regain
consciousness. When you regained consciousness, I felt sorry for you. . .
as I never expected you to be other than paralyzed from the neck down. Yet
here you are, well and healthy. Apparently."
"Why only 'apparently,' Doctor?"
"I don't know. We know little enough about any transplant-and nothing
about a brain transplant other than what we have learned from you. Joan,
for the past two weeks there has been no reason-other than caution-why
                                     119
you needed more supervision than any other young woman in good health.
Say Winifred here, for example."
He shrugged. "Of the two you seem to be somewhat more ruggedly healthy
than she is. Nevertheless I would bet that. Winifred, barring accidents, will
live out her normal span. . . whereas you don't fit any curve; you're unique.
Please, I'm not trying to frighten you, but only a fool makes predictions
based on ignorance; I am not that sort of fool."
"Doctor," she answered calmly, "you're saying that this body could reject
the brain-or vice versa, it's the same thing. Or that I could drop dead, heart
failure, for no defined reason. I know it; I read a great deal on transplants,
while I was still Johann Smith. I am not afraid. If it happens-well, I've had a
wonderful vacation from old age, with its pain and boredom." She smiled
happily. "It's been like dying and going to Heaven-and even a few weeks of
Heaven can be eternity."
"I'm glad you accept it so philosophically."
"Not 'philosophically,' Doctor. With wonder and joy and reaching out
greedily for every golden second!"
"Well...I'm pleased that Winifred is going to stay with you and I hope that
you will keep her a long time-"
"As long as she will stay! Always, I hope."
"-because, otherwise, I would worry. But Winnie can do in an emergency
anything I could do, and she'll have everything here with which to do it-and
she knows and I want you to know that I will get here fast if she sends for
me. All right, my dear, let's get that transmitter off you; you won't be
monitored any longer. Nurse. Rubbing alcohol, and cotton."
"Yes, Doctor." Winifred went past the massage table, reached into a
cupboard.
Dr. Garcia detached the tiny transmitter. "Slight erythema, and a faint circle
of mechanical dermatitis. With your amazing repair factor I'm betting you
won't be able to find where it's been by tomorrow. But I'm going to miss my
morning movie."
"Sir?"
"I don't suppose anyone has told you but I have watched the monitors every
morning, while you exercised, waiting for your heart to pound. Or your
respiration to warn me. Nothing. Never anything abnormal, I mean; I could
tell that you were exercising. Very mild exercise, I concluded."
"Why, yes, I suppose so. Yoga."
"Well! I would not class yoga as 'mild.' If we mean the same thing."
"I meant that yoga isn't a hundred-yard dash, or weight lifting. But I-well,
both of us-have been doing the classic poses. Except the headstands; I'm
not foolish, I know I have a Sears-Roebuck skull."
"I wouldn't have let her, Doctor! But she never tried one; truly she didn't."
                                      120
"Doctor, I haven't been building muscles for show; I am simply trying to get
perfect control over my -new-wonderful!-body. Here, let me show you."
Joan stood up, letting the negligee fall, stood on the floor six inches from
the exercise mat-shifted her weight onto her left foot, brought her right leg
up behind her in perfect extension while she leaned slowly forward. . .
deep... deeper...until she clasped her left ankle with both hands and
pressed her cheek against her shin, with her right leg arrow straight above
her in a perfect split.
She held it for three controlled breaths, then dropped her hands flat to the
floor, slowly lifted her left leg, balancing it against the right, until she was
holding a hand stand, legs together, back arched, toes pointed.
Again slowly she let her limbs sink like drooping petals until they touched
the mat-let the Arch sink into the Wheel, melted still farther into the
Diamond pose, knees and elbows touching mat and floor-held it-let it roll
slowly forward into Lotus. "Om Mani Padme Hum." (Om Mani Padme Hum.
Pick up your check at the gate, girl; we won't need to shoot this scene
over.) (Thanks, Eunice. But I had a good guru, Guru.) (De nada, Chela.)
Dr. Garcia was applauding. "Terrific! Unbelievable. Like everything else
about this case. Winnie! Can you do that?"
Joan flowed upward, was standing. "Sure she can! Skin 'em off, dear, and
show Doctor."
The nurse blushed deeply. "No, I can't. Don't believe her, Doctor; I'm just
learning."
"Oh, fuff. I have to steady her only a little. Come back in two weeks, Doctor,
and she'll do it by herself. It's not hard-just takes angleworms in your
ancestry."
"Which you seem to have. But, if Winnie didn't teach you, where did you
learn it, Joan?"
(Oh, oh! Watch it, Boss-he smells a mouse.)
"How old are you, Doctor?"
"Eh? Thirty-seven."
"I learned it about forty years before you were born. But didn't have time to
keep it up," she went on. "Then for many years didn't have the physique
even to try. But it all came back so easily that I am forced to assume that
Mrs. Branca was better at it than I was even as a limber kid." (Let's see him
check that, sweetheart.) (Never make a lie too complicated, Boss.) (Look,
infant, I was lying with a straight face when your grandmother was in
rompers. Erase and correct-your great-grandmother.)
"Well . . . I'm going to write it up as part of your final physical-if I can figure
out how to describe it. Your robe, Joan?"


                                        121
"Thank you." She took it and held it, instead of presenting her back for him
to put it on her. "Doctor, Mr. Salomon will be settling your fees and
expenses. But, to show my great appreciation, I want to add something."
He shook his head. "A doctor should not accept more than his fee...and, I
assure you, mine are high."
"Nevertheless I want to." She dropped the robe. "Winnie, turn your back,
dear." She went straight into his startled arms, put up her face to be kissed.
He hesitated about one heartbeat, then put his arms around her and kissed
her. Joan sighed softly, her lips came open, and she flowed more closely
against him-
(Don't faint! Let's not miss any of this.) (Don't bother me, Eunice; I'm busy!)
The Doctor broke from it, caught his breath, and looked at her soberly.
Then he reached down, recovered her robe and held it. Joan let him put it
on her, then said, "Thank you, Doctor." She turned and smiled.
"Um. I think I can honestly report that you are in excellent physical
condition. Mr. Salomon is waiting."
"Please tell him I'll be out in a moment."
Joan waited until the door closed. Then she went into Winifred's arms and
giggled against her shoulder. "Winnie, did you turn your back? Didn't you
peek a little? I hope."
"I turned my back. But I had a full view in the mirror. Whew!"
"Whew twice. So that's what it feels like. Honey, I don't feel nearly so
virginal now."
"Is he good? It looked like it."
"I don't know. I have no way to judge. Dear darling Jake kisses me; you've
seen him-but just 'uncle' sort of pecks. And you kiss me-and yours aren't
pecks. But you're a girl and smaller than I am. Doctor is the first man who
has really kissed me . . . and it made me feel so little and helpless that I
darn near dragged him down onto the mat. You've never kissed him?"
"Him? Joan honey, if I told any of the nurses about this, I would not be
believed. Dr. Garcia doesn't even pat bottoms; he just growls."
"He patted my bottom. I think he did. Things were fuzzy right then."
"I know he did. 1 saw it and didn't believe it. Joan? You wouldn't have made
me skin down. Would you?"
"Why not? I was."
"Yes, but you're a patient. I'm a nurse, I'm supposed to be a robot and a
chaperon."
"Only we know you're not. Don't we?"
"Well . . . anyhow I can't do that one; it's much too hard."
"I told him to come back in two weeks and you'd be able to. Shall I remind
him?"

                                      122
"Oh, Joan! You're teasing me again." The redhead added thoughtfully, "Do
you really think I could, by myself, in only two more weeks?"
"I know you can. But not in clothes, not even tights. So if you are going to
blush and go chicken, I had better not remind dear Doctor."
"Uh. . . that did look like quite a kiss. But Paul wouldn't like it."
"Wouldn't like what? Your demonstrating precision body control to a doctor?
Or kissing a doctor? Or what the kiss might lead to? And how is Paul to
know if you don't tell him?" (Boss, you are corrupting the youth of the land.)
(Egg feathers, Eunice. Either Paul won't marry her. . . or he's married and
can't. Either way he's got no business monopolizing her. As you pointed
out, sex is not a sport, it's for being happy.)
"Uh...Doctor wouldn't kiss me, anyway. He doesn't even know I'm female."
"Never believe it. You-are and he's not stupid. He'll kiss you if I suggest that
it's the applause expected for a perfect performance. You've got two weeks
to make up your mind, and right now I've got to go see dear Jake."


13


"-having business before this Honorable Court draw nigh!" -"May it please
the Court, while Petitioners are ready to proceed, may they respectfully
invite to the Court's attention that no proper foundation has been laid. This
matter relates to the competency of Johann Sebastian Bach Smith,
grandfather of the four Petitioners...and Counsel is not aware that he is in
court."
"Order! There will be order in the court-at once. Or the room will be cleared.
Counsel, are you suggesting that Miss Smith-this young lady at whom I am
pointing-is not Johann Sebastian Bach Smith?"
"Counsel suggests nothing, Your Honor. I merely note that we have nothing
in the record to show that the person at whom the Court pointed is Johann
Sebastian Bach Smith-and that the question of competency cannot be
considered until proof of identity is indubitably established."
"Is Counsel attempting to instruct this Court in the law?"
"Oh, not at all!"
"It sounded like 'that. May I remind Counsel that this Court sits today in
equity, not in law-and that the procedures are what the Court says they
are."
"Most certainly, Your Honor. I regret if I inadvertently sounded otherwise."
"You were one-sixteenth of an inch from contempt, and don't let it happen
again."
"Yes, Your Honor."
                                      123
"...as I am sick and tired of the behavior of about fifty percent of the
spectators and at least ninety percent of the press, I order the Bailiff to clear
the room. Use a platoon, Evelyn, and clear these cattle out of the chutes
promptly-and if that fancy video equipment is damaged in the process, we
won't worry about it.
"Counsels, Petitioners, Guardian, and Ward-putative ward, let the record
show-will adjourn to my chambers while we get this silly hassle cleared up."
"Jake, this is fun! If I'm not me, then I'm flat broke and footloose. You'll have
to marry me-to keep me off
Welfare."
"Johann, shut up that drivel. This is serious."
"Jake, I refuse to see doom. If I'm not me, then I'm dead and it would be
worth being broke to hear my will read and see the faces of my loving
descendants when they discover that they wind up with trivial incomes that
aren't even tax-free. Jake, every rich man wants to hear his will read-and I
may get the chance."
"Hmm. Under the theory they seem to be following, Eunice is entitled to
hear your will read-remember that paragraph about 'all persons not
specifically named who are in my personal and private employ at the time of
my demise-'"
"Can't say that I do, but if you put it in, it's there."
"It's there. If you're not Johann, then you have to be Eunice. It's an 'either-
or' " (Nope! It's both.) (Eunice, this is going to be fun?) (I think so, too,
Boss.)
The part of his chambers selected by Judge McCampbell was a
comfortable lounge. Once in it he looked around.
"Mmm . . . Jake, Ned, Miss Smith, Alec, Mrs. Seward, Mrs. Frabish, you"re
Mrs. Crampton, aren't you?-Mrs. Lopez. Parkinson, how the devil did you
get in here?"
"Amicus curiae, Your Honor."
"You're no friend of this Court and you don't belong here."
"But-"
"Will you walk or would you rather be thrown out?" Parkinson elected to
walk. When the door sealed behind him, the Judge said, "Sperling, set that
thing so I can record when I feel like it, then you can leave. Alec, you look
as if you were all set to object."
"Me? Oh, not at all, Judge."
"Good. Because we're going to cut through the fog on this silly business.
Who needs a fog cutter?" The Judge stepped to a corner bar. "Alec? Gin
and tonic as usual?"
"Thanks Judge."

                                      124
"I'm forgetting the ladies. Mrs. Seward? Something with alcohol? Or coffee?
This machine will make tea, too, if I can remember which buttons to push,.
And how about your sister? And your cousins? Miss Smith? I recall what
you used to order at the Gib some years back. Are your tastes the same
now?"
(Watch it, Boss! It's loaded.) (Relax, Eunice.) "Judge, with a new body my
tastes have changed in some respects. But I remember fondly Glen Grant
on the rocks-back before my doctors put a stop to it. But I haven't tasted
anything with that much authority since those days, and, since this is a
competency hearing, I'll settle for coffee. Or a Coke, if you can twist its tail
for that."
The Judge rubbed his nose and looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure it's a
competency hearing until we settle this matter of identity. Jake could have
told you about Glen Grant. The idea of Johann Smith ordering a Coke
shakes me."
Joan smiled at him. "I know-hardly seems in character. My doctors made
me quit carbonated drinks long before they made me give up whisky. Back
about the time you entered law school. If I'm Johann Smith, that is. If I'm
not, I'll ask to be excused-as in that case I'm not a ward of the Court and
shouldn't be here. Isn't that correct?"
McCampbell looked still more thoughtful. "Jake, do you want to caution your
client? No, not your 'client,' your-no, not that either. Blessed if I know what
you are; that's what we've got to find out. Young lady, sit down and I'll fetch
you a Coke. Alec, get drink orders from your four ladies and serve them.
Jake, you and Ned serve yourselves-Alec and I have a date with some fish
in Nova Scotia tomorrow morning and I'll be switched if I'll keep fish waiting
over a surprise turn in this hearing. Alec, confound your Irish soul, are you
seriously questioning the identity of this young lady?"
"Well-Judge, are you going to talk about contempt if I suggest that your
question is not properly put?"
McCampbell sighed. "Young lady, pay no attention to him. He was my
roommate in college and gives me a bad time whenever he comes into my
court. Someday I'm going to give him thirty days to think it over-and about
four-thirty tomorrow morning I'm going to trip him into some very cold water.
Accidentally."
"Do that, Mac, and I'll sue. In Canada."
"I know he was your roommate, Judge; you were both 'Big Greens'-
Dartmouth seventy-eight, was it not? Why not let him ask me questions and
find out for himself who I am?"
Mrs. Seward said shrilly, "That's not the way to go about it! First you must
take the fingerprints of that-that
impostor-and-"
                                      125
 "Mrs. Seward!"
 "Yes, Judge? I was just going to say-"
"Shut up!"
Mrs. Seward shut up. Judge McCampbell went on, "Madam, simply
because it suits me to be informal in my chambers do not think that this is
not a court in session or that I would not find you in contempt. I would enjoy
it. Alec, you had better convince her of that."
"Yes, Your Honor. Mrs. Seward, any suggestions you have, you will make
through me, not to the Court."
"But I was just going to say that-"
"Mrs. Seward, keep quiet! You're here only by courtesy of the Court until
this matter of identity is cleared up. I'm sorry, Judge. I advised my clients
that, at the most, this was a holding action. I know that Jake Salomon would
not risk bringing a ringer-sorry, Miss Smith-a ringer into court."
"And I know it."
"But they insisted. If Mrs. Seward won't control herself, I'll have to ask your
permission to withdraw from the case."
The Judge shook his head and grinned. "No, sirree, Alec. You fetched them
here, you're stuck with them-at least until Court adjourns. Jake? Is Ned still
fronting for you? Or will you speak for yourself?"
"Oh, I think we can both speak up from time to time, without friction."
"Ned?"
"Of course, Judge. Jake can speak for himself and should. But I'm finding it
interesting. Novel situation."
"Quite. Well, speak up if you have anything to contribute. Alec, I don't think
we can get anywhere today. Do you?"
Alec Train stood mute. Joan mid, "Why not, Judge? I'm here, I'm ready. Ask
me anything. Bring out the rack and the thumbscrews-I'll talk."
The Judge again rubbed his nose. "Miss Smith, I sometimes think that my
predecessors were overly hasty in letting such tools be abolished. I think I
can settle to my own satisfaction whether or not you are the person known
as Johann Sebastian Bach Smith, of this city and of Smith Enterprises,
Limited. But it is not that simple. In an ordinary identity case Mrs. Seward's
suggestion of fingerprints would be practical. But not in this case. Alec? Do
Petitioners stipulate that the brain of their grandfather was transplanted into
another body?"
Petitioners' counsel looked unhappy. "May it please the Court, I am under
instructions not to stipulate anything of the sort."
"So? What's your theory?"
"Uh, 'Missing and presumed dead,' I suppose. We take the position that the
burden of proof is on anyone who steps forward and claims to be Johann
Sebastian Bach Smith."
                                      126
"Jake?"
"I can't agree as to the burden of proof, Judge. But my client-my ward who
is also my client, Johann Sebastian Bach Smith-is present in court and I am
pointing at her. I know her to be that named individual. Both of us are ready
to be questioned by the Court in any fashion in order to assure the Court as
to her identity. I was about to say that both of us are willing to be
questioned by anyone-but on second thought I cannot concede that there is
any interested party other than my client."
"Judge?"
"Yes, Miss Smith? Jake, do you want her to speak?"
"Oh, certainly. Anything."
"Go ahead, Miss Smith."
"Thank you. Judge, my granddaughters can ask me anything. I've known
them since they were babies; if they try to trip me, I'll have them hanging on
the ropes in two minutes. For example, Johanna-the one you called 'Mrs.
Seward'-was hard to housebreak. On her eighth birthday-May fifteenth
nineteen-sixty, the day the Paris Conference between Eisenhower and
Khrushchev broke down-her mother, my daughter Evelyn, invited me over
to see the little brat have her birthday cake, and Evelyn shoved Johanna
into my lap and she cut loose-"
"I did no such thing!"
"Oh, yes, you did, Johanna. Evelyn snatched you off my lap and apologized
and said that you had a bed-wetting problem. Can't say as to that-my
daughter lied easily."
"Judge, are you going to sit there and let that-that person-insult the memory
of my dead mother?"
"Mrs. Seward, your counsel cautioned you. If you don't heed his caution,
this Court is capable of nailing you into a barrel and letting you speak only
when I say to pull out the bung. Or some such. Squelch her, Alec. Suppress
her the way they did in the trial in 'Alice in Wonderland'-which this is
beginning to resemble. She's not a party to this; she is here only to give
evidence in case the Court needs it. Miss Smith-"
"Yes, sir?"
"Your opinions as to the veracity of your putative descendants are not
evidential. Can you think of anything that Johann Smith would know and
that I would know or could check on-but which Jake Salomon could not
possibly have briefed you on?"
"That's a tough one, Your Honor."
"So it is. But the alternative-today-is for me to assume that you are an
imposter most carefully coached and then to question you endlessly in an
attempt to trip you. I don't want to do that . . . because final identification-

                                      127
now that the matter has been raised-will have to be by evidence as
conclusive as fingerprints. You see that, don't you?"
"Yes, I see it but I don't quite see how." She smiled and spread her graceful
hands. "My fingerprints-and everything about me that can be seen-are
those of my donor."
"Yes, yes, surely-but there are more ways of killing a cat than buttering it
with parsnips. Later."
"Harrumph!"
"Yes, Jake?"
"Judge, in the interests of my client I cannot concede that physical means
of identifying this body are relevant. The question is: Is this the individual
designated by Social Security number 551-20-0052 and known to the world
as Johann Sebastian Bach Smith? I suggest that 'Estate of Henry M.
Parsons v. Rhode Island,' while not on all fours, is relevant."
McCampbell said mildly, "Jake, you are much older than I am and I'm
reasonably sure you know the law more thoroughly than I do. Nevertheless,
here today, I am the Judge."
"Certainly, Your Honor! May it please the Court, I-"
"So quit being so damned respectful in my chambers. You sat on my orals
and voted to pass me, so you must think I know some law. Of course the
Parsons case is relevant; we'll get to it later. In the meantime I'm trying to
find a basis for a pro-tem ruling. Well, Miss Smith?"
"Judge, I don't care whether I'm identified or not. In the words of a gallant
gentleman: 'Broke don't scare me.'" She suddenly chuckled and glanced at
her granddaughters. "May I tell you something funny-privately?"
"Mmm...I could clear the room of everyone but you and your counsel;
nevertheless you had better save any jokes until after we adjourn."
"Yes, sir. May I address one irrelevant remark to my granddaughters?"
"Hmmph. I may strike it from the record. Go ahead."
"Thank you, Judge. Girls-Johanna, Maria, June, Elinor-look at me. For
thirty-odd years you have been waiting for me to die. Now you hope to
prove that I am dead, else this silly business would never have come up.
Girls, I hope you get away with it...for I can't wait to see your faces when my
will is read." (You zapped 'em, Boss! Look at those expressions!) (I surely
did, darling. Now shut up; we're not home free.)
"Your Honor-"
"Yes, Alec?"
"May I suggest that this is not relevant?"
Joan cut in. "But I said it would be irrelevant, Mr. Train. Just the same, they
had better start thinking about how to break my will, instead of this
nonsense." She added thoughtfully, "Perhaps I had better set up a lifetime
trust that will make them slightly better off with me alive than dead...to
                                     128
protect myself against patricidal assassination. Judge, is 'patricidal' the right
word? Now that I'm female?"
"Blessed if I know. Better make it 'avicidal'-no, 'avicide' already means the
killing of birds and has nothing to do with 'avus.' Never mind. Miss Smith,
take up such matters with your attorney and let us return to our muttons.
Have you thought of anything which Jake Salomon could not have coached
you on?"
"It's difficult. Jake has been handling my affairs for I most of a generation.
Mmm, Judge, will you shake hands with me?"
"Eh?"
"We had best do it under the table, or out of sight of anyone but Mr. Train."
Looking puzzled, the Judge went along with her request. Then he said, "Be
damned! Excuse me. Miss -Smith-shake hands with Alec."
Joan did so, letting her body cover it from spectators. Mr. Train looked
surprised, whispered something to her which she answered in a whisper.
(Boss, what was what?) (Greek. Tell you later, dear-though girls aren't
supposed to know.)
McCampbell said, "Mr. Salomon could not have coached you?"
"Ask him. Jake was a Barb, not a Greek."
"Of course I was a Barb," Salornon growled. "I had no stomach for being
the exhibit Jew in a chapter that did not want its charter lifted. What is this?"
Train said, "Well, it seems that Miss Smith is a fraternity brother of the
Judge and myself. Mmm . . . 'sister,' I suppose. Judge, it's easy to check
this on both Johann Smith and Mr. Salomon. In the meantime I find it
persuasive."
"Perhaps I can add to it," Joan said. "Mr. Train-Brother Alec-of course you
should check on both Jake and myself. But look me up in our fraternal
archives under 'Schmidt' rather than 'Smith' as I changed my name in forty-
one. Which my granddaughters know. But you both know of our fraternal
Distress Fund?"
"Yes."
"Certainly, Miss Smith."
"The fund did not exist when I was pledged-my senior year it was, after I
made Phi Beta Kappa and because our local chapter needed a greasy
grind and had an alumnus willing to pay for my initiation. The fund was
started during World War Two; I helped augment it some years later and
was one of its trustees from fifty-six until late in the eighties when I dropped
most outside activities. Judge, you tapped the fund for fifteen hundred in the
spring of seventy-eight."
"Eh? So I did. But I paid it back, eventually-then donated the same amount
at a later time, according to our customs."

                                      129
"I'm glad to hear it. The latter, I mean; you were off the hook before I
resigned as a trustee. I was a hard-nosed trustee, Judge, and never okayed
a loan until I was certain that it was a distress case and not just a
convenience to a lazy undergraduate. Shall I relate the circumstances
which caused me to okay your loan?"
The Judge blinked. "I would rather you did not, at least not now. Alec knows
them."
"Yes," agreed Train. "Would have lent him the money myself if I had had it."
(What is this, Boss?) (Case of 'rheumatic fever,' sweet.) (Abortion money?)
(No, no-he married the girl-and here lam digging up the skeleton.)
(Bitch.) (No, Eunice-my granddaughters don't know what I'm talking about,
nor does Jake.)
"I see no reason to discuss it," Miss Smith went on, "unless the Judge
wants to question me privately-and if you do, Judge, do remind me to tell
you a real giggle about the ancestries of my so loving granddaughters. Odd
things happen even in the best families-and the Schmidt family was never
one of the best. We're a vulgar lot, me and my descendants-our only claim
to prominence is too much money."
"Later perhaps, Miss Smith. I am now ready to hand down a decision-
temporary and conservative. Counsels?"
"Ready, Judge."
"Nothing to add, Your Honor."
McCampbell fitted his fingertips together. "Identity. It need not depend on
fingerprints or retinal patterns or similar customary evidence. John Doe
could lose both hands and both feet, have both eyes gouged out, be so
scarred and damaged that even his dentist could not identify him-and he
would still be John Doe, with the same Social Security number. Something
like that happened to you, Miss Smith, assuming that you are indeed
Johann Sebastian Bach Smith-though I am happy to see"-he smiled-"that
no scars show.
"This Court finds persuasive the evidence of your identity brought out in this
hearing. We assume, pro tem, that you are Johann Sebastian Bach Smith.
"However"-the Judge looked at Salomon-"we now get to the Parsons case.
Inasmuch as the Supreme Court has ruled that the question of life or death
resides in the brain and nowhere else, this Court now rules that identity
must therefore reside in the brain and nowhere else. In the past it has never
been necessary to decide this point; now it is necessary. We find that to
rule in any other fashion would be inconsistent with the intent of the
Supreme Court in 'Estate of Henry M. Parsons v. Rhode Island.' To rule in
any other way would create chaos in future cases in any way similar to this
one: Identity must lie in the brain. "Now, Jake, I am in effect going to shove
the burden of the proof over onto you and your client. At a later time you
                                     130
must be prepared to prove beyond any possible doubt that Johann
Sebastian Bach Smith's brain was removed from his body and transplanted
into this body"-McCampbell pointed.
Jake nodded. "I realize that, Judge.. A person who wants to cash a check
must prove his identity-this is on all fours. But today we were taken by
surprise."
"So was the Court-and, Alec, I'm going to take you by surprise
someday...with something better than a pie bed or an exploding cigar.
Damn it, you should have warned Court and Counsel."
"I apologize, Your Honor. I received my instructions quite late."
"You should have at once asked for a continuance, not let this hearing
open. You know better. Never mind, the hearing has been instructive. Miss
Smith-Miss Johann Sebastian Bach Smith subject to remarks above-you
were made a ward of this Court and placed under the guardianship of Mr.
Jacob Salomon for one reason alone:
You were at the time not competent to manage your affairs by reason of
post-operative incapacity. Let the record show that neither insanity in the
legal sense nor mental illness in the medical sense had anything to do with
it; you were in an extended condition of unconsciousness following surgery
and that was all. You are no longer unconscious, you appear to be in good
health, and the Court takes judicial notice that during this hearing you
appeared always to be alert and clearheaded. Since the sole condition-
unconsciousness-on which you were made a ward no longer obtains, you
are now no longer a ward and Mr. Salomon is discharged of his
guardianship-what's the trouble, Alec?"
"May it please the Court!-as Counsel for the Petitioners I must ask to have
an objection entered into the record."
"On what grounds?"
"Why, lack of expert witnesses as to, uh, 'Miss Smith's' competence."
"Do you have expert witnesses ready to examine her?"
"Of course."
"Jake?"
"Certainly. Waiting on call."
"How many?"
"Harrumph! One more than Alec has, however many he qualifies."
"So I expected, and if we start qualifying expert witnesses now and let each
one exercise his little ego, those fish in Nova Scotia would die of old age.
Keep your shirt on, Alec. No expert witnesses were used to show this
person's incompetence; the gross condition of unconsciousness was
stipulated-and now no longer exists. Alec, your objection goes into the
record but I am putting you on notice that your claim of need for expert
witnesses lacks foundation~-and this time the burden of proof is on you.
                                    131
Petitioners will have to show something more than great anxiety to get their
hands on the large sums of money at stake in this matter. Every citizen,
every person, is conditionally presumed to be competent-and that means
everyone-you, me, Jake, Miss Smith, Petitioners, and the illiterate who fills
that bar and cleans out the empties. This Court will not set the extremely
bad precedent of allowing you, or anyone, to conduct a fishing expedition
into the matter of a person's competency without proper foundation.
However- Jake."
"Yes, Judge."
"We all know what this hearing is really about. Money. Lots of money. You
might explain to Miss Smith that her competence may he challenged at
some later time."
"We're prepared for it."
"While I've discharged you as her guardian, you will stay on as conservator
of the property of Johann Sebastian Bach Smith pending positive proof of
identity-and I do mean positive; you've got to trace Smith's brain into this
body every step of the way. What was the name of that surgeon? Boyle? I
suppose you'll need him. And several others. I'm not going to take anything
for granted, nor permit any stipulations; there is too much at stake and I
don't intend to be reversed. Alec, if you are going to challenge competency,
you will have to wait until after that time and-if it's in my court-show
foundation for such challenge. That satisfy you?"
"I guess it will have to."
"I guess so, too. Court's adjourned."
Mrs. Seward stood up, red-faced, and said to Alec Train, "You're fired!"
McCampbell said coldly, "Madam, consider yourself lucky that you saved
that outburst until after Court adjourned. Now, get out of my chambers. You
other three ladies may leave, too."
Johanna's sister June said as she stood up: "Judge, may I ask a question?"
"Certainly, Mrs. Frabish."
"You've turned this person loose-that's all right, I'm not criticizing. But are
you leaving her in our grandfather's house? I think you ought to know that it
is loaded, simply loaded, with valuable works of art. What is to keep her
from gutting it while we are proving that she can't be our grandfather?"
"Oh. Madam, Mr. Salomon knows the duties and responsibilities of a
conservator. However-Jake, it would be prudent not to permit any objects of
sentimental or artistic value to leave that house during this waiting period."
"No problem. Since I've had to manage the household, I've been staying
there much of the time. But I'll have a word with Johann's chief guard."
"Judge, may I say something?"
"Certainly- Miss Smith."

                                      132
"I'd like protection against them. June doesn't know what objets d'art I own.
Not one of them has been inside my house since it was built. During my
long illness and confinement not one of them called on me or sent flowers
or anything. And the same for my post-surgery convalescence, except that I
learned that Johanna-Mrs. Seward-tried to crash in right after my operation.
I don't trust them; I'd like the Court's protection."
"Jake?"
"I wasn't there but I heard it from Johann's chief guard."
"Mrs. Seward?"
She sniffed. "I had a perfect right! Next of kin."
"I think I understand it. All right, you four ladies-listen carefully, then leave.
You will refrain from visiting the home or offices or other properties of
Johann Sebastian Bach Smith. You will refrain from making any attempt to
see or to speak with this young lady I have been addressing as 'Miss
Smith.' If you need to communicate with her or with the Court's appointed
conservator, Mr. Salomon, you will do so only through this Court or through
your attorney, whoever he may be, to Mr. Salomon and never directly to
Miss Smith. This is an order to all four of you and each of you will obey
under pain of severe penalties for contempt. Do you understand? Are there
any questions?"
McCampbell waited, then went on, "Very well. Now all four of you leave."
The Judge remained standing while they filed out. When the door sealed,
he sighed. "Whew! Miss Smith-or should I say 'Brother Schmidt'?-will you
have that Glen Grant on rocks now? Glenlivet actually, I don't have Glen
Grant."
She smiled. "Truly, I haven't tried anything that potent on this new body.
Jake and I should leave-you and
Brother Alec have a date with a fish."
"Oh, do sit down. Alec has his gear in his car in the basement and my
copter is picking us up from the roof in about an hour. Another Coke?"
"Is there sherry? I get a very pleasant buzz on just a glass of sherry-I
conclude that my donor did not drink at all." (Almost never, Boss-and you're
giving me a taste for the stuff.) (Quiet, darling-later.) ('All right. . . but ask
him about our name. Isn't Judgie Wudgie a darling? Wonder what he's like
in bed?) (You and your one-track mind! I'll ask him about our name. Now
shut up!)
"Sherry it shall be. Jake? Ned? Alec?"
"Judge, since Jake doesn't need me, I'll ask to be excused."
"Okay, Ned. Alec, serve yourself and take care of Jake; I want to stare at
Brother Schmidt. I probably won't be seeing you again, Miss Smith. Your
granddaughters are almost certain to try to move it into a higher court. That

                                       133
business of proving who you are by our fraternity grip-that tore it. All I could
do today was to give you a little protection in the interim."
"Which I appreciated, sir. Here's an odd thing about this sex change. When
I was an old man, frail and helpless, I was afraid of nothing. Now I'm young
and healthy and strong. But female. To my surprise I find that I want to be
protected."
Alec Train said over his shoulder from the bar, "I'll protect you, Brother
Schmidt! Don't trust Brother McCampbell-he was the worst wolf in our
chapter. Step aside, Brother Wolf--it's my turn to stare at our new brother."
"Boys, I am not a 'new brother,' I was pledged years before you were born.
But I'm not surprised that you like to stare at me, as my donor-Jake, do they
know?"
"It's not much of a secret, Johann. Judge McCampbell knows, I think Alec
knows, too." (Joan, if he doesn't know, tell him. And don't forget our name!)
(What do you think I'm leading up to?)
"All right. My donor, Eunice Branca, my former secretary and the sweetest,
loveliest girl I've ever known, was not only a perfect secretary; she was a
beauty contest winner not many years back. I know what a treasure I
inherited from her. 1 don't wear her body with the charming grace she gave
it-but I'm trying to learn."
(You're learning, Boss.)
"It is the opinion of this Court that you have learned."
"Shut up, Mac. Brother Schmidt, I agree with him merely because he's
right."
"Thank you both-on behalf of Eunice Branca. Jake? Now that Court has
adjourned do I have to wear this Mother Hubbard? It's too warm."
"That's up to you. I suppose it depends on how much you have under it."
"Mmm . . . perhaps I'd better not. Minimum decency under the customs of
today-but it would get a burlesque queen thirty days back when I was a
youngster." (Exhibitionist. You're asking to be coaxed.) (Certainly. And who
taught me? At least the bra isn't just paint, like that mermaid outfit you
zapped me with.)
Alec Train said, "Brother Schmidt, in identity cases it is sometimes
necessary to require the challenged individual to strip completely.
Birthmarks and scars and such-tell her, Judge."
"Ignore him, Brother Schmidt. I wouldn't call that lovely Grecian robe a
'Mother Hubbard.' But I can see that it was intended for outdoors and I'll
happily hang it up for you."
"Uh . . . oh, goodness, I'm having trouble shucking off my early-twentieth-
century Puritanism. Jake has seen me in the nothing-much girls wear today,
and he's seen Eunice in even less than I have on under this; Eunice wasn't
shy about sharing her beauty." (You milked that, didn't you, dearie? Which
                                      134
one are you after?) (Shut up!) Joan ran a finger down the magnostrip, let
the robe fall open; Alec Train hurried to claim it ahead of the Judge.
Then she posed. "See? This is almost the way Eunice Branca looked-
except that she walked in glory, always while I am an old man who is trying
to learn to wear her body." Besides Eunice's body, Joan was wearing some
of Winnie's clothes-black frill skirt, translucent black Cling-On cups, six-inch
Sticktite stilt sandals that left her pretty feet in view-no paint, just restrained
enhancement with rouge and shadow.
She posed, they stared. Jake cleared his throat louder than usual. "Joan,
had I known what you were wearing-not wearing, rather-under that robe, I
would have advised you to keep it on."
"Oh, pooh, Jake, you wouldn't have scolded Eunice for dressing this way.
But that brings up something I must ask. Judge, I can't go on being 'Johann
Smith.' Will you let inc change my name?"
"That's not properly put, Brother Schmidt. You can have any name you like.
At most a court confirms it. You mean that you need a girl's name now.
Helen, perhaps? Or Cleopatra?"
"Thank you-for Eunice." (Boss,, find out if Judge is still married.) (Go back
to sleep!) "Not either of those names. I want to be known as 'Joan'-for
'Johann'-'Joan Eunice...Smith.'"
Judge McCampbell lOoked surprised, then smiled in, approval. "A good
choice. The flavor of your masculine name, plus, I assume, a tribute to your
donor. But may I offer a word of advice? You can start calling yourself that
today-"
"I already have."
"I noticed that Jake called you 'Joan.' But let it be a family name, and keep
your masculine name at other times-use it to sign letters, checks, and so
forth-until your identity has been finally established-in the Supreme Court if
possible. Don't cloud the issue."
"I gave her the same advice," Salomon put in.
"I'm not surprised. Miss-Brother Schmidt, what do you want me to call you?
In private."
"Why, either 'Joan' or 'Eunice.' Both by preference, as I do not want anyone
ever to forget Eunice Branca. Me least of all-I want 'to be reminded of my
benefactor. Benefactrix. But don't call me 'Miss' in private. Look, brothers,
as 'Brother Schmidt' I am half a century older than you two . . . but as 'Joan
Eunice' I am only a few weeks old. However, Eunice's body is that of a
young woman, and that is what I am learning-must learn!-to be. You could
have daughters my age. So please call me 'Joan Eunice' and save 'Miss
Smith' for court appearances." She smiled. "Or 'Brother Schmidt if you wish-
although 'Yonny' was what I was called by our brothers in my chapter."

                                       135
Alec said, "Joan Eunice Brother Yonny Schmidt, I'm pleased to call you
whatever you like, and I don't have daughters your age and you make me
feel younger just to look at you. But I'm not speaking for my roommate and
I'd hate to tell you how old some of his offspring are; he was the scourge of
P.S. 238-stay away from him and let me protect you. And did I mention how
happy I am that Mrs. Seward fired me? Brother Joan Eunice, I would never
have been in this case other than as a favor to Parkinson's mother-in-law.
But at first it did look like a straightforward case of protecting the interests of
an invalid too ill to protect himself. Believe me."
"Don't listen to him," advised the Judge. "He's an ambulance chaser. I throw
legitimate business his way just to protect the good name of our Brothers.
But back to this matter of identity. Joan Eunice, I don't know how much law
you know-"
"Just what has rubbed off in the course of a long and evil life. I depend on
experts. Such as Jake."
"I see. Well, your granddaughters probably think it is wrong of me to help
you establish your identity. It is not. True, in a civil suit or a criminal action a
judge must be impartial. But such a matter as establishing identity is neither
one, and there is no rule of law or equity which prohibits a court from being
helpful. The situation is like that of a citizen who has lost his passport and
appeals to his consul. The consul doesn't sit as a judge; he tries to get the
mixup straightened out. So- Jake, you've been in the Law much longer than
I have; do you want my opinions?"
"I am always most happy to have Judge McCampbell's opinions on any
matter."
"I think I'll reconvene court and slam you for contempt. After I've finished
this drink. All right, you're going to get 'em anyhow. Do you anticipate any
difficulty in proving that the brain of Brother Schmidt was moved into the
body of Eunice Branca?"
"None. A nuisance but no difficulty."
"Or in showing that this body-this lovely body-was once that of Eunice
Branca?"
"Same answer."
"What evidence?"
"Police reports, photographs, hospital personnel, and so forth."
"Let's say it's my court. I'm going to make you go back and touch second at
every opportunity. I intentionally got into the record today that ruling based
on 'Parsons' estate v. Rhode Island'; I think it's important-"
"So do I."
"Thank you. In following the principle that identity lies in the brain and
nowhere else"-(We could tell him something, couldn't we, Boss?) (Yes,
beloved-but we aren't going to!)-"I am going to be as tough as possible. No
                                        136
depositions when it is possible to bring the witness into court. Photographs
and other records not only allowed but required-but the originals must be
brought into court, not copies, and photographers or record keepers must
appear and identify same, and the surgeons or others whose work appears
in those films, photographs, or records must appear and confirm each
record. Do you know if each body was fingerprinted just prior to surgery?"
"Not of my own knowledge. Damn it, I was taken by surprise today-and at
the time of Eunice Branca's death I had other things worrying me."
Joan Eunice reached over and squeezed his hand. Alec Train said, "I can
help on that. When Parkinson brought Mrs. Seward to see me, I checked on
that point at once. Prints were taken from both bodies-so I gave identity no
further thought. That's why I was taken as much by surprise as you two. I
don't know what chimney-corner lawyer put the idea in Mrs. Seward's head-
Parkinson, probably; he's stayed at her elbow all through-but I received
instructions just ac court convened. I'm not spilling any privileged
communication when I say that-nor do I know of any Canon which forbids
me to say that I am damn sick of both Mrs. Seward and Parkinson."
"Hmm. Every possible bit of evidence," McCampbell went on. "You will have
to trace that brain out of that body-Joan Eunice-no, Jake. Jake, do you
know what became of Johann Smith's body?"
"That one I can answer. Here we have a unique case of a body becoming a
chattel while the person who lived in it is still alive. I knew what Johann
Smith-Joan Eunice, that is-had wanted done with it, as his will contains the
standard 'donated for medical research' clause. But the will did not control
because Johann Smith was, and is, alive. The Medical Center asked what
to do with it. I told them to hold it, in their morgue. I assume that it is still
there."
Mr. Train said, "Counselor, I hope you're right. But unless that cadaver was
nailed down, two gets you ten that some eager medical student has
chopped it up."
The Judge said, "I'm afraid Alec could be right. Jake, it may be a matter of
great urgency to perpetuate the evidence-all the evidence. Verb. sap. We
all know how key evidence has a way of disappearing when big money is
involved. And besides eager medical students-well, we all know that almost
any illegal act is for sale at a price. Films and records can be stolen, others
substituted, ostensibly respectable witnesses can be bribed. Let's speculate
for a moment that Brother Schmidt is opposed by nameless dishonest
persons, persons willing to bribe, suborn, and so forth. Such crime is not
cheap. Does anyone have a guess as to how much money might be used
to destroy or change the evidence?"
Jake said, "I won't guess. But in the case of four nameless females I can
find out."
                                      137
Joan said, "I can help a little on this. Maria and Elinor lost their father before
they were of age and his estate wound up minus and no insurance to speak
of. So I supported my daughter Roberta until she died and kept her kids in
school until they flunked out, then continued to support them until each
married-one of their grievances against me is that I stopped their
allowances when they married. But I continued a credit watch on them, as I
did not want any descendant of mine to become a charge on the taxpayers.
Much the same with the other two girls except that Jim Darlington outlasted
my daughter Evelyn, and both girls-Johanna and June-married while their
parents were living. To put it briefly, unless one of them has come into
some windfall, all four could not scrape together enough money to tackle
any really expensive crime."
"I'm glad to hear it," said McCampbell. "Just the same, Jake, time is of the
essence in preserving evidence-and I want you to know that this court will
give you all possible legal help in protecting and perpetuating any evidence
you dig up. Uh, Alec and I plan to be away four days-but I'll leave my
emergency wavelength with Sperling and will bounce back here if you need
me."
"Thank you, sir."
"Wait a minute," said Alec Train. "There is money in this case. Mac, you
know how I am about fees."
"Yes. Larcenous."
"Ignore him, Brother Schmidt. I tailor my fees, all the way from zero up to
outrageous. In this case I did not want the job, so I demanded an
outrageous retainer against a, yes, larcenous per diem-and Parkinson paid
without a quiver. Through Mrs. Seward but there was no question as to who
called the tune. The question is: Will Parkinson go on paying . . . and is he
willing to hire his friendly, neighborhood safecracker to go after some
necessary link? I don't know-especially as it isn't his money, but his mother-
in-law's."
"I don't know," answered Jake, "but I always assume that my opponent
might cheat if I fail to cut the cards. I'm going after that evidence with all
possible speed. Sorry, Joan, I should have anticipated this-I'm getting old."
(He is not. Tell him so, Boss.)
Joan Eunice patted his hand. "Jake, you are not getting old and there was
no reason to anticipate this. Gentlemen, let me say again, I don't care a
whit if my granddaughters win. If they win, they lose-because if they prove
me legally dead, I have cut them off with that shilling. And, thanks to Eunice
Branca and Dr. Boyle and lake Salomon, I'm young and healthy and
enjoying life and not distressed at the idea of losing a fortune that has
become a burden to me."

                                       138
Alec Train said, "Brother Schmidt Joan Eunice honey, don't you realize that
it is unAmerican to talk that way about millions of dollars?"
She grinned at him. "Brother Alec, if I come out of this broke, I'll bet you a
million dollars that I can net a million dollars after taxes in the next five
years, starting from scratch. Jake, will you back my bet? Since it calls for
me starting broke?"
"Certainly."
"Wait a minute!" Train protested. "I'm just a poor but honest lawyer. Will you
make that bet fifty cents? Mac, will you lend me fifty cents?"
"Not without security. Joan Eunice, listen, please. I don't doubt that you are
willing to tackle the world broke. But I know in my heart that you are indeed
Brother Johann Schmidt. . . who okayed a loan to me when I really needed
it. Old Eata Bita Pi didn't let me down. . . and I'm not going to let Brother
Schmidt down."
"Thank you, Brother Mac."
Jake growled, "You f rat house aristocrats made me sick when I was in
college and I don't like it much better today. Judge, the only good reason for
giving Joan Eunice a hand is because it's the fair thing to do. Not because
she-he-Okayed a loan years ago to some snot-nose fraternity brother."
"Counselor, your point is well taken. I think I can truthfully say that I have
never allowed fraternal bonds-including Shriner, which you and I are-to
affect my behavior on the bench-"
"The hell it hasn't, old buddy mine; you rule against me just for the hell of it.
Ask anybody."
"Even when I've been forced to instruct this Irishman in the finer points of
the law. I would have helped in this matter in any case; both as a citizen
and as a ward of the Court Joan Eunice is entitled to any help a court can
offer in establishing her identity. But I confess that my emotions were
aroused by a circumstance that I did not dream existed. Not that Joan
Eunice is my fraternity brother-that is simply a pleasing coincidence-but that
she-he at that time-gave me a hand when it mattered. Uh"-he stared at his
glass-"no need to go into details. You know them, Joan Eunice?"
"Yes."
"You can tell Jake later. Let me list the things I think are necessary in this
case; both of you lawyers check me and I'm going to stick a fresh tape in
this thing so that we can all have copies." He turned to his clerk's recording
equipment. "That is I think I am going to. Damn! Excuse me, Joan Eunice. I
wonder if Sperling has gone home."
(Let's look at that thing, dear.) "I'm 'Brother Schmidt' any time you feel like
swearing, Judge. May I look at your recorder? It's a bit like one I have at
home."
"Go ahead. I sometimes wish we still used shorthand reporters."
                                      139
"Thank you." (How about, Eunice?) (It's Betsy's idiot baby sister, no huhu.
You whistle Yankee Doodle or think about Judgie Wudgie and don't bother
me.) (Om Mani Padme Hum. Om Mani Padme Hum. Om Mani Padme-)
(Got it, dearie.) "Recording with a fresh tape, Judge; set for three copies,
and erase memory."
McCampbell said, "I'm amazed every time I find someone who understands
machinery."
"I don't, really. But Eunice Branca taught me to run one somewhat like
yours." (Boss, you're learning how to lie-just tell the truth but not all of it.)
(Honey girl, I invented that way of lying way back when your great-
grandmother was a virgin.)
"First, Eunice Branca's death must be established. As it was murder, we will
assume extensive records with positive identification including fingerprints-
and since they are police records, we must also assume that they are
vulnerable to any determined and well-financed attempt to destroy or
replace them. Then Mrs. Branca's body must be followed into surgery and
positive identification of the body again established at that point. Johann
Schmidt's body must also be followed to that point and positively identified
just before surgery. Then we must be certain beyond any doubt that the
brain was removed from the Schmidt body-Joan Eunice, this must be
distressing to you. Would you like to retire to my washroom? There's a
couch in there."
"Please go ahead, sir; I've learned to live with it." (Makes me feel like
throwing up, Boss.) (Me, too, darling-but we aren't going to; we're going to
look solemnly serene. Om Mani Padme Hum.) (Om Mani Padme Hum.
Let's make a Lotus: this chair is big enough.) (Yes, darling. Om Mani
Padme Hum.)
"-and finally, in court, we will take Joan Eunice's fingerprints, have them
compared by experts with each earlier set, and thereby forge the final link.
Joan Eunice, do I simply switch this off now?"
(After the three copies pop out, it will shut itself off.) "When the three copies
pop out, it will erase and shut off. Jake, we're keeping these gentlemen
from their fishing."
"Those fish aren't restless," the Judge assured her. "Just a moment." He
stepped to his closed-circuit viewphone.
"Evelyn."
"Yes, Judge."
"How are things outside? Quiet?"
"Judge, how did you guess? I've got three men in the infirmary and the
building is buttoned up. You might take a look on three and four, and then
play back the sixteen o'clock spot news."
"How badly were your men hurt?"
                                      140
"Nothing serious. One with a lungful of sneeze gas when we had to clear
the main entrance and seal the riot doors, one with a flesh wound on a
cheekbone, and the third with cracked ribs. My guess is the newsies bought
'emselves a riot, as cameras were in position when the trouble started."
"I see. Are we going to need the Guard?"
"I wouldn't say so. The police have the streets around us pretty well
patrolled and our own people are either staying overnight or being taken off
the top by chopper. Message from Judge Anders-says there's no reason for
you not to go fishing and he'll assume that he's presiding judge pro tem.
He's staying in his chambers tonight."
"I'll call him and thank him. Off."
The Judge switched to view three, studied it. "Doesn't look too rough. Just
the same they ought to tear this building down and build a stronger one
farther from any Abandoned Area." He switched to view four. "Oh oh!"
The room filled with crowd roar, the screen showed a milling mob. Moving
slowly through the crowd were two police Merrimac tanks, their
loudspeakers monotonously repeating the warning-to-disperse. "Brother
Schmidt, does your house have a copter landing?"
Joan shook her head. "No, it's designed so that a copter can't land on it. It
seemed the safer choice when it was built."
"Well. . . I could put you into any, enclave by copter. Or you could stay here
overnight."
Jake said, "Judge, my car is a Rolls-Skoda. We'll be all right."
"I can't force you to stay. But let's get a playback on the news and see what
stirred up the lice." McCampbell punched the time in, then punched for
playback.
"Headline of the Hour! Brain Transplant Fraud! Our earlier flash has been
confirmed; the sensational brain transplant of Tycoon Johann Smith was a
hoax. The question is: Did he die a natural death? Or was he murdered?
The latter theory seems likely in view of today's bald-faced attempt to steal
his enormous fortune through claiming in open court that his alleged former
secretary, a woman of doubtful reputation going by the name of 'Blanca'-"
Salomon growled, "Judge, would you mind shutting off that damned rot?"
McCampbell switched it off. "Seems I started something. Can't say I'm
sorry. I will not let my courtroom be turned into a circus."
Joan Eunice said meekly, "I'm sorry, Judge."
"Eh? Joan Eunice, you are not at fault. You were forced into court
needlessly and against your will; you did nothing. As for me, I hold to the
old-fashioned ideal that a courtroom is where the Sovereign is present in
person, dispensing equity and justice to all . . . not bread-and-circuses for
the rabble. As long as I'm on the bench I'll run it that way, no matter how
many news snoops get sore or how many hilts want a livelier show."
                                     141
"I'm sorry your bailiffs were hurt."
"Well, so am I. But they aren't conscripts, they are career people who know
it is hazardous. And they are necessary-if that bill ever passes to disarm
bailiffs, that day I quit the bench, and the Law as well. Jake?"
"Yes, Mac?"
"You can risk your neck if you want to, but even a Rolls-Skoda is not a
Merrirnac. Enough people can tip it over, then they can build a bonfire
around it and roast you like chestnuts . . . and there are characters out
there who would do it just for kicks. No, not a word out of you; I'm not going
to let her leave this building in a ground car even if I have to reconvene
court for three seconds and make her a ward again. She leaves by copter.
The question is: Where does she go? You could sleep in my chambers,
Joan Eunice; there is a buttery in the bar and the washroom is a complete
bath and that couch opens into a bed. Lumpy, I'm afraid." (Ask Judgie
Wudgie if he goes with the bed!) (I didn't hear you-and pipe down.)
"I was going to say," Jake said mildly, "that I have a house in Safe Harbor.
Unstaffed and empty but it's a safe rendezvous. You could have your Chief
Bailiff tell my driver and Shotgun to wait until this quiets down, then pick us
up there-although I would bet on those boys to drive through any mob and
not let the car be tipped; they're mean."
"No doubt. And wind up with a hit-and-run, too; we'll do it the easy way.
Either of you want to use my washroom while I phone Evelyn and the roof?"
A few minutes later Jake and Joan were about to leave; the Judge's copter
was waiting for them, he having brushed aside remarks about fish. Joan
said, "Judge? I think you know I am grateful, but I would like to show my
thanks by doing something-money, I mean-for those men who were hurt."
"No."
"Why not? Oh, I know it was not my fault but nevertheless they were hurt
because of me. You know I can afford it."
"Because they are officers of the Court and I would have to treat it as
constructive bribery. Tell her, Jake."
"He's correct, Joan-although he's being stuffy about it."
"Not too stuffy. Joan Eunice, there is an enclave home for dependents of
police, bailiffs, firemen, and such, killed in line of duty. Jake can tell you
about it. I would rather not hear what you do about it."
"I see." Joan ignored the fact that Jake was waiting with her robe, stepped
closer to McCainpbell, turned her face up, and put her arms around his
neck. "Does this constitute bribery?"
"I think so," McCampbell answered, putting his arms around her. "But I
won't analyze it."
"Of course it's bribery! Get away from him, Brother Schmidt! I handle his
bribes."
                                      142
"Shut up, you noisy Mick."
Joan turned her face just as her lips were about to touch McCampbell's.
"You're next on my bribe list, Brother Alec."
"So get back into line! R.H.I.P." McCampbell stopped any further words
from her; she let her lips come softly open, did not hurry him. (Whee. . .
000! I thought so.)
(Don't let me faint, Eunice.)
Some seconds later she opened her eyes, looked up into the Judge's face.
"My goodness!" she said softly.
Alec Train tapped his shoulder. "Court's adjourned, Judge. Be elsewhere."
Joan gave the Judge a quick, possessive squeeze, untangled herself and
went into his former roommate's arms, turned up her face. She was careful
to make this kiss as long and as warm as the other. (Unh! What do you
think, Eunice?) (They are both oral as hell and they kiss almost as well as
lake and if Jake weren't here they would have us down on the rug this
instant-break it up, dear; you've kissed him as long as you did Judgie
Wudgie and Jake is getting edgy.) (All right. Spoilsport.) (Not at all-but you
don't -know how to handle men without upsetting them. Break!)
A moment later Jake silently helped her into her street robe. She thanked
him, clicked the magnostrip, arranged the shoulder drape, let the Judge
hand her into his lift. They said good-bye, the lift closed. Alec Train turned
to his friend: "Mac, kissing Brother Schmidt is more emphatic than
spreading most gals."
"Amen!"
"What would it be like to be married to her? And why is it that when the
parade goes by I'm always out for a short beer?"
"The O.B. damaged your head with his forceps. That's why they had to
make a lawyer out of you."
"How about yourself?"
"Oh, me, too-stipulated. I wasn't bright enough to be a lawyer; I had to
wangle an appointment to the bench. Christ, what a chick!"
"Passed by acclamation. Mac, having kissed her, do you really think she
can be old 'Sell 'em Johann,' the terrible-tempered tycoon?"
"Well...everything fits-and she did have the Grip."
"And the password; I checked. But, Mac, any of our brothers, even ones
whose bias hardly extends to girls, would sell our secrets-what am I
saying?-would give them to that one. If she kissed him."
"Stipulating that you are correct in your estimate of our brothers-and I
agree-Joan Eunice can't have had much chance to subvert one of them.
Jake has practically had her under house arrest, at my suggestion. And
Jake himself-well, he sounded like a Barb, but you can check it in that
bookcase, in 'Who's Who in Law.'
                                      143
"I don't think I can walk that far. But let's assume that old Johann was a
brother-easy to check-and she did know all about the Distress Fund and the
fact that you needed a loan our senior year."
"Yes. That's the convincer."
"No, it4s not. I mean that Johann would have been just as susceptible. She
was his secretary; it might have amused him to spill fraternal secrets to her-
grip, password, even details about the fund."
"Oh, crap, you honkie bastard. Joan Eunice is just what she purports to be-
an utterly delicious girl who has Johann's brain in her skull. Alec, I concede
that Joan Eunice doesn't seem much like Johann Smith. But even you
might be socially acceptable if that sponge between your ears were placed
in the brainpan of a creature as delectable as she is." The Judge shook his
head. "She's enough to make a queen switch from A.C. to D.C."
"Man, she really got to you, didn't she?"
"And you, my friend. Who said we needed a vacation from women? You, as
I recall. But you drooled over her. You would give up boys for life if she
were to phone and ask for you. Don't try to fool your roomie; I know you
better than Ruth does."
"I won't argue. But you're at least as far down the Street as I am, Mac. . .
and she affected you the same way. Uh, does Norma know how little fishing
we plan to do?"
"Sure she suspects. But she's always been tolerant. Alec, how disappointed
would you be if I called off our trip? Jake may need a friendly judge in a
hurry. Especially if those vultures find a shyster unscrupulous enough to
buy some direct action. I'd hate to be missing if Brother Schmidt needed
me."
"My God, a soul with a soul. Oddly enough I was thinking the same thing.
Can't let Brother Schmidt down. Mac, could it prejudice anything if I
volunteered my services-free-to Jake? If this gets sticky, he's going to need
to be several places at once. I could share the load."
"And share the wealth. It would give you an excuse to see Brother Schmidt
again."
"Any law against taking a profit? But Jake does need help."
"And you're familiar with the case. Alec old dear, it's a noble thought. While
you did represent the Petitioners, not only have they fired you, but this was
never an adversary situation; theoretically those creeps are as anxious to
arrive at the truth for the benefit of their beloved grandfather as Jake is.
They don't dare admit that they are trying to grab his gelt."
"I wonder if lake has a phone in that empty house he mentioned? If not, I
can leave word at the Gibraltar Club-he has rooms there-and at Johann
Smith's town house. And with lake's answering service."

                                     144
"Yes. But let the call be from me; it might speed the service. We'll stay and
wait for it. Ruth's not expecting you, Norma is not expecting me; I'll have
dinner sent up from the basement."
"Clear thinking. So fix fresh drinks while I put in those calls. Hey! You can
reach them in your copter."
"Only via the piloting circuit. Not private. Better we keep this tight. Alec, it is
unlikely that Jake will have anything for you to do before morning. But he
might-a trip to the coast or such. You could stay on call by spending the
night here."
"Well!" Alec Train stopped with his hand near the phone. "Roomie, I thought
that Brother Schmidt had driven all other thoughts out of your mind. Or did I
misunderstand?"
"Let's phrase it this way: It would be pleasant to discuss Brother Schmidt in
intimate detail with some sympathetic person who appreciates her as much
as 1 do."
"In that case, mix those drinks and start a lukewarm shower. I'll join you as
fast as I can."


14


Jake Salomon handed Joan Eunice into the Judge's copter, got in beside
her and locked the door. Quickly they were airborne. The passenger
compartment was separate from the pilot's space and well soundproofed;
conversation was possible. But he said nothing and tended to keep his eyes
away from her.
Joan let it go on only a short time. "Jake dear? Are you angry?"
"Eh? Heavens, no. What made you think so?"
"You seemed quite distant. I thought you might be annoyed with me for
having kissed Judge McCampbell and dear Mr. Train."
"Your business."
"Oh, Jake. Please don't scold me even by your manner. I've had a difficult
day, especially the time I had to spend with my goddam granddaughters. It
hurts, lake, to- be hated. To know that someone wants you dead. Yet I had
to try to appear serene and ladylike. Be a credit to Eunice. Jake, it isn't easy
to he a lady-after almost a century of being male. Do you know how I
manage it at all? I say to myself, 'What would Eunice do?'-then I try to do it.
Kissing those sweet and helpful men- lake, Fm not used to kissing men.
You could have trained me but you won't give me more than a good-night
peck. I said to myself, 'I must thank them-and what would Eunice do?' I

                                       145
decided that she would kiss them the best she knew how. So I tried, even
though I don't know how. Well? Is that what Eunice would have done?"
"Well...yes, Eunice would have kissed them." (He knows darn well I would
have, dear.) (I know. He's being difficult.) (So keep punching. Tell him how
wonderful he is. Joan, men always -believe it when you tell them they are
wonderful.)
"Then I don't see why you are being cold with me, Jake. I thought you were
truly wonderful all day long, the way you handled things and protected me. I
wanted to kiss you for being so wonderful-and would have, and will!-if only
you would let me. Was it because I didn't stop to put my robe on before I
kissed them?"
"Well...it would have been more ladylike."
(Punch hard on this one, dearie-for Jake knows darn well that I spread skin
on him the very first time I kissed him. . . and later I kissed him bare naked
the first time it was safe to. He didn't fight-he was eager.) (I'll try.)
Miss Smith looked worried, which did not suit her features. "I suppose so.
But I don't know how to be a lady, Jake; the rules have changed so much.
Eunice often startled me by what she did and how she dressed-yet I am
certain that she was always a perfect lady. Tell me this, Jake, honestly and
candidly, and I'll treat your answer as Gospel and use it as a yardstick for
future behavior-because I do want to be a credit to Eunice; I want 'Joan
Eunice' to be the perfect lady that Eunice was. Under those exact
circumstances and being just as anxious to show appreciation to two sweet
and wonderfully helpful gentlemen. . . would Eunice have put this street
robe on first? Or would she have spread her sweet skin on them and let
them cuddle her a bit if they wanted to-and they wanted to, I'm sure you
noticed. Think about it, Jake. You knew Eunice better than I did; we know
that-so give me a straight answer, because I'm going to use it as a guide in
trying to be Eunice. Would she have played safe? Or would she have given
herself?"
Jake Salomon gave a sigh that was almost a groan. "Hell, you did exactly
what Eunice would have done. That's what upset me."
Joan sighed. "Thank you, Jake, I feel better." She loosened her seat belt,
moved closer to him, ran her thumb down the magnostrip of her robe.
"Can't get this pesky thing off in here. Kiss me, Jake, kiss me better than
they did. Kiss me and cuddle me and tell me that Eunice would be proud of
me."
"Joan!"
"Don't shame me, lake. I'm a girl now and I need to be kissed so hard we'll
forget I kissed those other two. Call me 'Eunice,' dear; please do, it's my
name and I want to hear you call me by it and tell me I'm a good girl."
He groaned. "Eunice!"
                                     146
She turned her face up. "Kiss me, darling."
Trembling, he gave in.
The kiss went on and on. It took Joan only seconds to turn it from tender to
rugged, nor did he hold back. (Eunice? I'm going to faint.) (I'm not going to
let you, sweetheart; I've waited a long time for this!)
Eventually Jake broke, but she stayed close and he continued to hold her.
She sighed and touched her hand to his face. "Thank you, Jake dear-for
this, and for everything."
"Thank you. . . Eunice. Joan Eunice."
"Let mc be 'Eunice' a while longer. Am I a good girl? Do I do credit to her?"
"Uh. . . yes!"
"I tried. Jake dear, do you believe in ghosts? I think Eunice must have been
here with us. I couldn't have done that well without her help. It often seems
so."
"Uh, it's an interesting thought." (Hmmph! We ought to tickle him for that.
Joan, if you tickle him under his short ribs, he comes unstuck. Helpless.) (I'll
remember. But not today.) "In any case, she would have been proud of you.
You're a sweet girl."
"I mean to be. To you. I love you, lake."
He hesitated only a heartbeat. "I love you-Eunice. And Joan Eunice."
"I'm glad you made it both of us. Jake dearest, you're going to have to
marry me. You know that, don't you?"
"What? Oh, heavens, dear, don't be silly. I love you-but there's too much
age difference."
"What? Oh, fiddlesticks! I know I'm almost a quarter of a century older than
you are. But it no longer shows. And you understand me and no other man
possibly could."
"Huh! I mean I am too much older than you."
(Joan, don't let him talk that way! Tell him men and liquor improve with age.
Or some such. Anyhow, he was feeling quite young a few minutes ago-I
noticed. Did you?) (Yes. Now quiet, please.)
"Jake, you are not old. Goodness, I know what 'old' is! You're a classic,
Jake-and classics improve with age. And...just minutes ago, you were
feeling quite young. I noticed."
"Uh. . . possibly. But none of your sass-youngster."
She chuckled. "Jake, it's nice to be a girl to you. I won't argue, I'll wait. In
time you will realize that you need me and I need you, and that no one else
will do for either of us. Then you can make an honest woman of me."
"Harrumph! That might be more than I could manage, even with a marriage
license."
"Rude darling. I can wait. You can't escape me, Jake. Eunice won't let you."

                                      147
"Well...I'm durned if I'll argue; it would just make you stubborn. In either of
your personae. My old friend Johann was as stubborn a man as I've ever
met-and Eunice was just as stubborn in her own sweet way. And, dear, I
never know which one you are. Sometimes I think you've acquired that split
personality your doctors were afraid of."
(Get him off this subject!) (I will, dear-but not by being jumpy about it. Aren't
we ever going to tell him?) (Yes, of course. But not soon, Joan. Not, till
we're in the clear. Remember those straps.) "Jake darling, I'm not surprised
that you feel that way about me-because I do myself. Oh, nothing
psychopathic, just the odd situation I am in. You've known me how long? A
quarter of a century."
"Twenty-six -years, pushing twenty-seven."
"Yes. And while I was never given to copping feels from female employees-
would you say that 'horny old bastard' was an honest description of me?"
"I've never known your behavior toward women to be other than
gentlemanly."
"Oh, come now, Jake! You're talking to Johann at the moment. Level with
me."
Salomon grinned. "Johann, I think you were a horny old bastard right up to
the day we took you in for surgery."
"That's better. Years after I was benched in the matter first for social
reasons, the fact that an old man looks a fool if he behaves like a young
stud, and later through illness and physical incapacity-years after I was
benched my interest in a pretty face or a pretty leg was unflagging. Then I
acquired Eunice's healthy young body. Female. Look at me Jake. Female."
"I've noticed!"
"Not the way 1 have! Even though you've kissed me-a real kiss and I loved
it, dear-you can't have noticed the way 1 have been forced to. I'm cyclic
now, Jake, ruled by the Moon; I've menstruated twice. Do you know what
that means?"
"Eh? Natural phenomenon. Healthy."
"It means that the body controls the brain as much as the brain controls the
body. I'm tempery and inclined to tears just before my period. My feelings,
my emotions, even my thoughts are female-yet I have almost a century of
male emotions and attitudes. Take my pretty little nurse-companion,
Winnie-and would you like to take her?"
"Uh . . . damn you, Johann! She's a nice girl. Fifth Amendment."
"She is indeed a nice girl. But because I'm Eunice as well as Johann I know
how she feels. She's as female as a cat in heat-and you're an old bull, Jake,
and dominant, and if you wanted to take Winnie, she wouldn't put up more
than token resistance."

                                      148
"Joan Eunice, don't talk nonsense. I'm three times her age." (Boss, what
are you getting at?) (I'm not sure but I'm getting there.) (Well, don't get
Winnie knocked up on the way. I thought we were saving Jake for us.)
(Don't be a pig, little piglet. Winnie's a nurse; she sees to her contras as
carefully as she cleans her teeth.) "Jake dear, I'm not much older than
Winnie in my body. . . and you've known and loved this body, even though I
have no memory of it. We know that Eunice was always a lady-so how did
you ever manage to get started with her? Did you rape her?" (Hell, no, I
raped him-but he was a pushover.)
"That's a most unfair question!"
"It's a very female question. Knowing you from many years of association-
and knowing Eunice both from some years of association but most
importantly from now having her body and glands and hormones and
deepest emotions-I suspect that you were far too proud to make a pass at
her so she found some way to make clear that you were welcome. Once
you were certain that Eunice was not trying to make a fool of you-that
settled it. Well? Am I right?" (If he says No, he's lying. It took five minutes,
sister-and would have been all over in ten but we were interrupted. Had to
wait till next day. Remember the mermaid getup? Had to scrub it off before I
went home; Jake and I ruined it-and I had to tell Joe a sincere fib.) (Did he
believe you?) (I think so. He was painting which means he hardly notices
anything else.)
"Jake, are you going to answer? Or let me draw my own conclusions-
possibly mistaken?"
"I could answer that it's none of your business!"
"And you would be right and Johann apologizes. But not Eunice. Jake,
that's what Eunice's body tells me must have happened. But I can't he
certain and I do want to be like her and if that is not what she would have
done because it is not what she did-then tell me. I'm not asking for intimate
details." (Aw, get the juicy parts, dearie-! want to know how it seemed to
him, every sweaty detail. I already know how it seemed to me-and I'll tell
you.) (Don't be so right-now, darling-I'm trying to gentle him.)
"Joan Eunice-no, 'Eunice!' You always have had the damnedest way of
getting your own way."
"Is that an answer, Jake? I don't have Eunice's memory." (Says who? Boss,
I've figured out something-and it's not flatworms. Everyone has erasable
memory and non-erasable memory, just like Betsy-and that non-erasable
part is the me that's still here now that I'm dead. 'Soul' maybe. Names don't
matter; it's that part that's not just glands and plumbing.) (Save the
philosophy until we're alone in bed tonight, Eunice; I'm trying to cope with a
man-and it's heavy going.) (Do you think we're going to. be alone in bed
tonight? Want to bet?) (I don't know-and I'm scared.) (Don't be scared.
                                      149
When it happens, you recite the Money Hum and I'll drive. Once around the
course and you'll be ready to solo. Except that I'll always be with you. Know
sumpin, Boss- honey? It's even nicer to be you than it was to be your
secretary. Or will be, once we're back on ground rations.) (Huh?) (Soul talk,
dear-means sex. I had it for fourteen years-and I'm hungry.) (I had it over
five times that long-I'm at least five times as hungry.) (Could be-you're a
horny bitch, Boss.)
Jake finally answered, "Joan, I don't think it's fair to Eunice's memory for me
to tell tales about her-but I'll concede your point, assuming that you want to
learn, for your own guidance, as much as possible about how she behaved.
Eunice was honest and straightforward"-(I'm devious as a snake-but that's
what 1 wanted Jake to believe.)-"and she apparently decided that she liked
me that much. . . and made it easy for me. It was neither rape nor
seduction." (It was both, but I did not want him to think so. He's a darling
Joan. When he's gentled enough-slip the bit into his mouth. But let him
think he asked for it.) (I'll try. Meantime I'm still doing this emotional strip-
down-and you listen instead of interrupting; you might learn something
about me.) (I'll be good, Boss. Mostly.)
"I felt certain that it must have been that way, Jake-knowing you, knowing
her. But that's only one side of me as I am now-the 'Eunice' side. The other
side is Johann, with almost a century of male orientation I told you I now
understand Winnie, as a girl-because now I am a girl. But there Is still
Johann, alone with Winnie every day-and it's all I can manage to keep my
hands off her." (Hmmph! You don't keep your hands off her.) (I said, Shut
up! I haven't let it get past heavy cuddle. If you and I ever stroll Gay Street,
you shameless mermaid, it will be dessert, not the pièce de résistance.)
(That piece won't resist!) (Hush up!) "Do you understand, Jake? Old
Johann-me!-thinks that Winnie is quite some dish."
"Well. . . I understand it-in Johann."
"I wonder if you would understand it in Eunice? Jake, how do you feel about
homosexuality?"
"I don't feel anything about it. Never been interested."
"Not even curious? Jake, I'm a full generation older than you are. When I
was a kid, homosexuality or 'perversion' as it was called, was hardly even a
myth; I never heard of it until long after I was centered on girls. Oh, I don't
mean there wasn't any; I know now that there was, lots of it. But it was
spoken of seldom and kept under cover. When I was fifteen, a man made a
pass at me-and I didn't know what he was after; he just scared me.
"Would a fifteen-year-old boy today be that innocent? You know he wouldn't
be; there are books and magazines and pictures-and other boys-to make
certain that he understands even if he doesn't join in. The Government just
misses endorsing it as a way to hold down our outlandish overpopulation-
                                      150
would endorse it openly, I feel sure, if it were not that a large percentage
disapprove of it publicly while practicing it in private. It reminds me of that
weird period in my youth when people voted dry and drank wet and the
bootlegger was more sought after than the black-market butcher is today.
How long has it been since the last 'sex offense' was prosecuted?"
"Rape by violence is still prosecuted; I can't recall any others in the last
twenty years. Blue laws about sex are dead letters; Supreme Court
decisions have made them impossible to prosecute. Correction: Unlicensed
pregnancy is a Federal offense under the General Welfare' clause...but I've
often wondered what would happen if a case were ever allowed to reach
the Supreme Court."
"That's the only 'sex crime' which was not a crime when I was a kid, Jake.
But I was talking about the 'crime against nature' which is no longer a crime;
it isn't even a peccadillo, it arouses less disapproval than smoking.
However, by the time homosexuality was socially acceptable, my attitudes
were long frozen. But I wonder what Eunice thought about it? Did you ever
discuss it with her?"
Jake snorted. "Believe me, Johann-sorry, Joan Eunice-that was not a
subject we had time for!"
"I suppose not. Nor did she discuss it with me." (Fibber!) "But she gave me
a gentle reprimand about it once."
"So? How?"
"Oh, one day before I was bedfast, a messenger delivered something to my
office. He was a real nancy-pants-lots of makeup, false eyelashes, curled
hair, and waved his hips. A high, girlish lisp and oh so graceful in his
gestures. After he was gone I made some intolerant remark and Eunice told
me gently that, while she didn't find such one-way boys attractive, she didn't
see anything wrong in a man loving man, or a woman loving a woman."
(Hey! I don't remember any such conversation.) (So I'm a liar. But you could
have said it-and I'm making a point.)
"Yes, that sounds like Eunice. She was tolerant of people's frailties."
"My point is that, Eunice being the age she was, she was certain to be
indifferent to-perhaps I should say 'understanding about'-what Johann
thought of as 'perversities.' But here's what I'm getting at, Jake; I find
Winnie sexually attractive. I also find Alec Train and Judge McCampbell
sexually attractive. Startled me. And you-which did not startle me. But today
was the first time I have been thoroughly kissed by very male men. And I
liked it. Shook me." (How about dear Doctor?) (None of your lip, sweet lips-
we don't tell Jake that one.)
Joan Eunice went on, "There is my dilemma. Which tune am I being
homosexual? With Winnie? Or with you three very male bulls?"
"Joan, you ask the damnedest questions."
                                     151
"Because I'm in the damnedest situation a man ever found himself in. I'm
not the ordinary sex change of a homo who gets surgery and hormone
shots to tailor his male body into fake female. I'm not even a mixed-up XXY
or an XYY. This body is a normal female XX. But the brain in it has had a
man's canalization and many years of enthusiastic male sex experience. So
tell me, Jake, which time am I being normal, and which time perverse?"
"Uh . . . I'm forced to say that your female body controls."
"But does it? Psychologists claim that sexual desire and orgasm take place
in the brain-not in the genitals. My brain is XY."
"I think you are trying to confuse the witness."
"No, Jake, I'm the one who is confused. But possibly not as confused as the
young people today. You know they claim to have six sexes."
"Heard of it. Nonsense."
"Not entirely. I've been doing lots of reading during my de-facto house
arrest, trying to find out who I am, what I am, how I should behave. They
label these so-called sexes both by behavior and physiology, with a new
school of psychology-when wasn't there a new one?-to account for them.
The six are ortho-male, ortho-female, ambi-male, ambi-female, homo-male,
homo-female-and some list a seventh, the solos or narcissists. Even an
eighth, the non-sex, the neuters, both physical and psychological."
"And I say it's nonsense."
"I do, too, but not for the same reason. From my unique experience,
embracing both physiological sexes directly and not by hearsay, I say there
is just one sex. Sex. SEX! Some people have so little sexual drive that they
might as well be neuters no matter whether they are concave or convex.
Some people have very strong sexual natures-and again the shape of the
body doesn't figure. Such as my former self, horny long after sex had
abandoned me. Such as you, darling-taking a lovely young married woman
less than half your age as your mistress. Such as Eunice-happily married at
home, I think-"
"Yes, she was. I felt guilty about it."
"But not too guilty to share her riches. Jake, I wouldn't speak to you if you
had scorned her. I was about to name Eunice as my third example of a
person strongly sexed. Enough sexual drive in her body-I know!-for
anything. Enough love in her heart-I feel certain-for any number.
I know she loved me, even though she was- too warmly empathic to mock
me by offering me what I could not accept-and did give me, lavishly, the
only thing I could accept-her beauty, for my eyes. Jake, I think Eunice was
limited in her love only by time. She kept you happy-"
"She certainly did!"
"I'm just as certain she did so without depriving her husband. Jake, do you
have reason to believe that she limited herself to you-and her husband?"
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"Uh- Damn you, Johann! I don't know. But I don't think she had time. Uh, I
used up all the sneak-out time she could manage."
(Look, Boss, I'll tell you about every time I struck a blow for equal rights.
Don't pester Jake.) (You're missing the point, Eunice. I'm forcing Jake to
move Saint Eunice off her pedestal-that's the only way we'll ever get him.)
"How do you know? Can you be sure she didn't tell you the same sort of
little white lies she told her husband? For that matter, Jake, Joe may have
been as proud of his antlers as an old buck deer-the percentage of
husbands who are pleased by their wives' adulteries has been climbing
steadily in this country at least since nineteen-fifty-see any of the kinseys.
That he loved her we both are certain. That does not prove he tried to keep
her in a cage. Or wanted to."
"Joan, I would just as lief you didn't run down Eunice to me."
"Jake darling! I am not running her down. I am trying to find out what you
know about her, so that I can model myself more closely after her. I loved
her-and love her still more today. But if you told me that you knew she was
mistress to six other men, a whore on the side, and playing girl games in
her spare time-I-well, I've never known you to lie to me, Jake, so I would try
to go and do likewise. You haven't told me much but what you have told me
confirms what I believed-that Eunice was a perfect lady, with enough love in
her heart to love three men at once and give each of them exactly what he
needed to make him happy." (Thank you, Boss. Shall I bow?) (Quiet, little
darling.) "But not a wanton, never a slut, and-while she wasn't prudish-I
doubt if Winnie would have interested her." (Now wait one frimping minute!)
(I'm telling him what he wants to bear, dear-if you want Winnie, we'll keep it
out of Jake's sight.) (Who wants Winnie? You dirty old man!) (We both do-
but it may be smart never to let it hatch. Dearest, Winnie wouldn't look at us
with a man around.) (Want to bet?)
Joan sighed. "Jake, with my unique double inheritance it would be easy for
me to turn ambi-female. I'm not going to, because I don't think Eunice
would. With the deep. female drive this body has-bloodstream brimming
with hormones and gonads the size of gourds is the way it feels-I could
easily become 'No-Pants Smith, the Girl Most Likely To.' Very easily-as
Johann Smith was an old vulgarian who regretted only the temptations he
had been forced to pass up. But I'm not going to do that, either, as Eunice
did not behave that way. But if I don't get married fairly soon, I'm going to
find it hard to stay off the tiles."
"Joan, I love you-but I am not going to marry you. It's out of the question."
"Then you had better help my granddaughters to swindle me."
"Eh? Why?"
"You know why. A multimillionaire who is young and female stands as much
chance of getting a good husband as that well-known tissue-paper dog had
                                     153
of chasing that asbestos cat through Hell. Lots of them in our country-and
all they ever got were Georgian princes, riding masters, and other gigolos. I
don't want one, won't have one. I'd rather be broke, like Winnie, and take
what love I can find. Jake, besides the fact that you understand me and no
one else can, you'd still be in my top ten because my money does not
impress you. Quite aside from wonderful fact that I love you and you love
me, any marriage broker would call us a perfect match."
"Hardly. There's still the matter of age-body ages. Joan, a man who marries
at my age isn't taking a wife, he's indenturing a nurse."
"Oh, frog hair, lake! You don't need one and I'll lay even money that you'll
stay strong and virile right through my breeding period. But when you do
need one I'll nurse you. In the meantime we'll sing. 'September Song'-you
lead, I'll harmonize."
"I sing bass. And I won't sing 'September Song.'"
"Jake? We could buy you a new body. When you need it."
"No, Joan. I've had a long run and a good one, most of it happy, all of it
interesting. When my time comes, I'll go quietly. I won't make the mistake
you did, I won't let myself fall into the hands of the medics, with their
artificial kidneys and their dials and their plumbing. I'll die as my ancestors
died."
She sighed. "And you called me stubborn. I've taken you up on a high
mountain and shown you the kingdoms of the earth-and you tell me it's Los
Angeles. All right, I'll quit pestering you-and humbly accept any love you
can spare. Jake, will you take me out on the town and introduce me to
eligible young men? You can spot a fortune hunter-I think Eunice may be
too naive, too inclined to think the best of people." (Rats, Boss, I bought me
a gigolo with my eyes open...and, since I wasn't kidding myself, I bought top
quality.) (I know you did, darling-but the Joe Brancas in this world are as
scarce as the Jake Salomons.)
"Joan Eunice, if you want me to escort you, I'll be honored. . . and I'll try to
keep pascoodnyaks away from you."
"I'll hold you to that, you not-so-very-old darling, lake, I asked if you
believed in ghosts. Do you have any religion?"
"Eh? None. My parents were Orthodox, I think you know. My Bar Mitzvah
speech was so praised that I had to fight to study law instead of being
trained as a rabbi. But I shook off all that before I entered college."
"Parallels me, somewhat. My grandparents came from the south of
Germany, Catholic. So the priests had a crack at me first. Then we moved
to the Middle West before I started school, and Papa, who was never
devout, decided it would be better-better for business, maybe-to be a
Baptist. So I got the Bible-Belt routine, with hellfire and damnation and my
sins washed away with full immersion.
                                      154
It was the Bible-Belt indoctrination that stuck, particularly the unconscious
attitudes.
"But, consciously and intellectually, I shucked off all of it when I was
fourteen-probably the only real intellectual feat of my life. I became an
aggressive atheist-except at home-and scorned to believe in anything I
could not bite. Then I backed away from that-atheism is as fanatic as any
religion and it's not my nature to be fanatic-and became a relaxed agnostic,
unsure of final answers but more patient. I stayed that way three-quarters of
a century; I left religion to the shamans and ignored it."
"My own policy."
"Yes. But let me tell you something that happened while I was dead."
"What? You were never dead, Joan-Johann, damn it!-you were merely
unconscious."
"I wasn't, eh? With no body, and my brain cut off from the world and me not
even aware of myself? If that is not death, Jake, it is an unreasonable
facsimile. I told you that I thought Eunice's spirit has often given me a
hand."
'1 heard you. I ignored it''
"You stiff-necked old bastard. I haven't taken up seances and such. But
here is what happens. When I am in a quandary-often, these days-I ask
myself, 'What would Eunice do!' That's all it takes, Jake; I know at once. No
ectoplasm or voices from a medium-just instant knowledge not based on
my own experience. Such as this afternoon when I decided in a split second
to kiss Alec and Mac. No hesitation-you saw! That's not the way old Johann
would behave . . . and yet you tell me I haven't missed behaving like Eunice
even once. That's why it feels as if her sweet spirit were guiding me. Any
comment?"
"Mmm ... No. You do behave like her . . . other than when you tell me flatly
that you're speaking as Johann. But I don't believe in ghosts. Johann, if I
thought I had to go on being Jake Salomon throughout all eternity, I'd-well, I
would register a complaint at the Main Office."
"Let me tell you what happened to me at the Main Office."
"Huh?"
"While I was dead, Jake. I was in this-place. There was a very old Man with
a long white beard. He had a big book. He looked at me, then consulted His
book, then looked back at me. He said, 'Son, you've been a bad boy. But
not too bad, so I'm going to give you another chance. Do your best and
don't worry; you'll have help.' What do you think, Jake?" (What is this,
Boss? Did it happen to you, too?) (Eunice, if it happened to you, it
happened to me; it's the same thing. And you are my help, beloved. My
guardian angel.) (Oh, frimp you! I'm no angel, I'm me.) (A very earthy angel,
beloved darling-just what I need.) (Love you, too, you dirty old man.)
                                     155
Salomon answered slowly, "Anthropomorphism. Right out of your Bible-Belt
Sunday school."
"Oh, certainly. It had to be in symbols I could understand. If I had been a
creature from around Proxima Centauri, the old Man and the beard might
have been a Thing with eight tentacles and faceted eyes. Cliché symbols
are nothing against it; I've never thought it was a physical experience. Men
live by symbols, Jake. That-symbolic--experience was as real to me as any
physical experience. And allow me to point out that I do have a second
chance and I have, and am having, lots of help-from you especially, from
Mac and Alec, from doctors and nurses . . . and also from something inside
that tells me instantly, in any difficult situation, exactly how Eunice would
handle it. I don't say it's Eunice . . . but it's not Johann; he wouldn't know
how. Well?"
Salomon sighed. "Of the inventing of gods there is no end. And almost
always anthropomorphic. Joan, if you are going in for that sort of self-
delusion, why not go whole hog and join a nunnery?"
"Because Eunice would not. Although she might enjoy revamping a
monastery."
Jake chuckled. "She might, at that."
"Maybe I should try it-since you are so damn chinchy about making me an
honest woman. More likely I'll change my name again and disappear and
wind up in a crib in Bombay. Will you come visit me, Jake?"
"No. Too hot."
"Chinchy. Mean old Jake. You wouldn't refuse to go see Eunice because of
heat."
"Eunice would never wind up in a crib."
"No, she wouldn't. So I have to go on being a lady even though it's quite a
strain on old Johann."
"Poor you. All you have is youth, beauty, and half as much money as the
I.R.S."
"And you, Jake. I could lose the rest and still be rich." (I was wondering if
you would see that opening. Sister, you don't need my advice; I think I'll
take a vacation.) (You promised to stay!) (Yes, Boss darling. I can't leave;
we're Siamese twins. But even if I could, I'd stay because I want to.)
(Eunice beloved, I have never been happier in my life.) Joan Eunice moved
closer to Jake. "Jake dear, I have never been happier in my life."
A brassy voice from the cockpit said, "I am about to swing for landing.
Please secure seat belts."
Salomon answered, "Seat belts fastened and now being tightened. Proceed
with landing." To Joan he said, "Straighten up, Eunice-and do snap up that
magno."
Joan Eunice pouted her lip and obeyed.
                                     156
15


Security check took little time; Salomon was known to the enclave guards
and the copter was expected. It was a short walk from the landing to
Salomon's house but, as in all upper-class enclaves, inhabitants in sight
outdoors pretended not to see them. The door opened to Jake's voice and
again they were private.
Joan Eunice took off her street robe and handed it to Jake, saying, "May I
look around? Jake, it's been years since I've been here; you've made
changes."
"Some. Moved my personal gear to the Gib or to your house, not much left
but furniture which I'll sell with the house. Oh, I keep some clothing and
toilet articles here, and I can find us a drink and a tin of biscuits. Perhaps
smoked oysters or caviar; we have to kill an hour or two. Or I could send
out for dinner."
"Let me see what there is in your kitchen; I would enjoy playing housewife.
And I do want to look around."
"Look all you like, but tell me what you want to drink. Joan, have you ever
been in a kitchen?"
"None of your lip, lad; I'm a good cook. Mama taught me to make
Apfelstrudel-dough you could read print through and so light it melted in
your mouth-before you were born. Sherry, or a Dubonnet highball-no
Schnaps, I'm not risking it yet."
"I'll stack my kosher cooking against your Bavarian messes any day, girl.
The Goyim can't cook the way the Chosen People can."
"Oh, pooh, you fake Jew. You haven't tasted my pot roast with noodles. I
bached between wives-and cooks-and mistresses, and I always cooked.
Jake, wouldn't it be fun to cook for each other and swap recipes? We could
do it here. I don't dare enter my own kitchen; Della would faint."
"Might be fun. We can eat my cooking when your boasts don't pan out.
Excuse me; I'll see what liquor there is."
Joan Eunice headed straight for the master bedroom. (Eunice, is this one of
the places?) (Of course. See that sag in the bed? Boss, this is the only
place we managed an all-night. Heavenly!) ('All night?' Then his mobiles do
more than suspect; they know.) (Oh, they may suspect but it doesn't matter.
Charlie isn't interested in women, and Rockford-well, he's on my team. He
approves of anything immoral, illegal, or dishonest-and my conduct was all
three, by his standards. He's an atavism. But the all-night-I doubt if they
suspected. We used more fan-dancing to keep it out of their sight than
                                     157
Joe's sight-things involving two hired Brink's cars and a non-existent errand
for you.) (How did you fan-dance it for Joe?) (Didn't. I thought up a story
and told Jake I would use it-then told Joe that I had met a man I wanted to
speed a night with... did he mind if I was away Friday night?)
(As simple as that?) (Yes, Boss. We both were free but we were careful
never to hurt each other. Only a second-class contract-since I was licensed
for children and Joe was not. Either of us could have registered a
dissolution on three days' notice.)
(But what did Joe say?) (Nodded and went on painting. He kissed me good-
bye and told me to have fun; Joe was always sweet. But he may not have
missed me. He was painting from a new model, a beautiful boy who was a
frimp type. Joe may have been changing his luck; he sometimes did.)
(And you didn't mind?)
(That beautiful boy? Boss, you've got to move into the twenty-first century,
now that you're me. What possible harm? I've told you and told you that Joe
and I were always careful of each other's happiness; what more could I
ask? Besides, I don't know that Joe had his eye on him other than as a
model but-well, if they had invited me to move to Troy with them, I wouldn't
have minded, for a night or two. I've always preferred older men-but the boy
was pretty as a Palomino and clean as a sterilized cup; I wouldn't have
found it boring. Plus the fact that a woman is flattered if two males like her
enough to let her watch what they do.)
(Eunice my love, you continue to startle me. That angle I would never have
thought of. Yes, I guess it would be a compliment, in a way. I think that
men-even men today-are shyer about such things than women are.)
(Men are horribly shy, Boss-whereas women usually are not. We just
pretend to be, when it's expected of us. Look, a woman is a belly with a
time bomb inside, and women know it and can never get away from it. They
either quit being shy-no matter how they behave to please men-or they go
crazy; it's the choice we have to make. And high time you made that choice,
dear. Accept your femaleness and live with it. Be happy.) (I think 1 have.)
(You're coming along. But sometimes it feels like the bravado of a little boy
who says, 1 am not either scared!' when he's ready to wet his pants, he's
so frightened.) (Well, maybe. But I've got you holding my hand.) (Yes,
dearest. Mama will take care of you.)
Joan went into Jake's bathroom, primarily to snoop. She had just found
something she half expected to find-when she heard Jake's voice. "Hey!
Where are you? Oh! Coming, or going? Fixed you Chablis over ice, best I
could do."
"That'll do fine. Jake. Was this hers?" She held up a luxurious negligee-two
ounces of cobweb.
Jake gulped. "Yes. Sorry."
                                     158
"I'm not sorry." Suddenly Joan stripped off the ClingOns, shoved down her
frill-skirt panties and stepped out of them, leaving her bare from sandals to
eyebrows, put on the negligee. "Do I wear it the way she would? Wups, I
wrapped it man-style." She rewrapped the lap-over to the left. "Do I do her
justice?"
"Eunice! Eunice?'
She folded it back, let it slither to the floor, went into his arms, let him sob
against her face: "That's enough, darling, Eunice doesn't want you to cry.
Eunice wants you to be happy. Both Eunice and Joan Eunice. Hold me
tight, Jake. We're lost and lonely-and all we have is each other." While she
cuddled him and soothed him, she opened the zipdown of his shirt. (Eunice,
I'm scared!) (Easy does it, dear. Chant the Money Hum to yourself; I've
taken over. Om Mani Padme Hum.) (Om Mani Padme Hum. Om Mani-)
Joan was jerked out of it by the telephone signal. She pulled her mouth
from Jake's and started to cry. "Oh, damn!"
Jake said huskily, "Ignore it. It's a mistake, no one knows I'm here."
"Uh-If we don't answer, they'll try again and interrupt us again. I'll take care
of it, dear. Where is the pesky thing?
Living room?"
"Yes, but there's an extension over there."
"Keep thinking nice thoughts." Joan hurried over, high heels tapping, stood
close to the pickup so that only her face would be seen, flipped the switch-
said in Eunice's most crisp secretarial voice: "Mr. Salomon's residence.
Who is calling?"
The screen stayed blank. "Recorded. Urgent call for Counselor Salomon,
third attempt."
"Urgency noted. Proceed. Who is calling?"
Another voice came on, screen still blank. "This is Mr. Salomon's answering
service. Judge McCampbell has placed an urgent call. I told the Judge that
the Counselor was more likely to be at his club or at the Johann Smith
residence, but he insisted that I keep trying this code, too. Is he there?"
"One moment." Joan glanced back, noted with annoyance that Jake had
closed his shirt and picked up her clothes. "I have Mr. Salomon. Can you
reach Judge McCampbell? I will hold."
"Thank you. One moment."
Joan stepped still closer and tilted the pickup to make certain that it caught
only her face. Jake stepped up by her, handed her her clothes. She
accepted them, did not, put them on.
The screen lighted. "Jake, we- Hey! Brother Schmidt!"
"Alec! How nice!"
"Step back so I can see you, dear. Mac, don't shove,"

                                      159
Train added as the Judge's face appeared by his in the screen. "Is Jake
there?"
"Right beside me, boys."
"All I can see is his shirt. Stand on a box, honey, so that you're both on
screen; this must be a four-way conference. Or back away."
"Here he is." Joan tilted the pickup higher, reluctantly pressed the cups to
her breasts, stepped into her frill-skirt, wiggled it into place. Then she
backed off. "Can you see me now?"
"Not well enough," the Judge's resonant baritone answered. "Jake, back off
a little. Joan, you need a stool.
Better yet, Jake, hold her up in your arms-you lucky man."
"What's the message, gentlemen? And, thank you Judge, for your flitter. We
were delivered quickly and safely."
"De nada, compadre. Jake, my old roomie got a brilliant idea-no doubt
through long association with me." The Judge explained what each was
willing to do in order to speed confirmation of Joan's identity. "This can be
our comm center. I am going to live in my chambers a few days-ready to
issue a warrant, phone a judge in another jurisdiction or whatever. Then
we'll rush it through my court and crowd them into an appeal-get this nailed
down tight. Meanwhile Alec is your man Friday. Want him to go anywhere in
a hurry? He's stupid but healthy, and losing a night's sleep to time-zone
changes is good for him."
"Probably not before morning. But I'm relieved, gentlemen; I've been
wondering how I could be everywhere 1 need to be. Since I'm retired from
everything but Joan's personal affairs, I'm without staff-and I've been
cudgeling my brain trying to think whom I could get who would be reliable
and competent. As we all know, this is touchy."
"We know!" agreed Alec. "And we're going to fix those harpies-aren't we,
Mac?"
"Yes-but legally and so that it cannot be reversed. Jake, you can reach us
here-and don't hesitate to wake us if you decide you want Alec to catch a
midnight liner. Where will you be? Your house?"
"Until my car arrives; then we'll be at Joan's. Or on our way. My answering
service can flip you into my car's wavelength. It's a longish drive."
"We'll be in touch. Don't worry, Jake, and don't let Joan worry. We'll have
her baptized before you can say 'missing heir.'
"I'm not worried," said Joan, "but I feel like crying. Boys-Brothers-how can 1
thank you?"
"Shall we tell her, Mac? Would she blush? Thank me, that is, Brother
Schmidt; don't thank Brother Mac; he's just doing his duty, what the
taxpayers reluctantly pay him for. But you can thank me-I'm a volunteer."
"I'll thank you both, in whatever way you wish," Joan said, simply.
                                     160
"You heard that, Mac? Brother Schmidt committed herself-and you can't
break a promise between Brothers, that's the old Bita Pi law. Brother
Schmidt Joan Eunice honey, back off and let us see all of you. Jake, get out
of pickup; you ruin the composition. Go have a beer. Take a nap."
"Ignore him, he1s drunk." advised his former roommate.
"So's Mac, we've been working on it. But I'm not too drunk to hop a guided
missile, Jake, if you say to."
"Jake," said the. Judge, "this is getting out of hand. Not that I disagree with
this low forehead's enthusiasm. Good night, sir. Good night, Joan. Off."
Joan Eunice flipped the switch, made certain that the screen was dead,
started undressing.
"Joan. Stop that."
She went on removing her saucy, scanty clothing, heeled off her sandals,
then stood facing him. "Jake, I refuse to be treated like a porcelain doll. You
hid me expecting to be treated as a woman."
He sighed. "I know. But the golden moment passed."
"Well. . . I'm not going to dress. You've seen this body many times, we both
know-and I want us both to get easy about it. Actually I'm shy, Jake; I'm
only weeks old, as a woman, and not used to it. But I want to get used to it.
With you."
"Well- As you wish, dear; you know how beautiful I think you are. What shall
we do? Read aloud to each other till my car arrives? Watch video?"
"Beast. If you were a gentleman you would at least take your clothes off.
Instead you are a difficult, stubborn beast and I don't know why I love you.
Except that Eunice loved you-loves you, wherever she is-so I have to love
you. Jake, if you won't take me to bed, at least sit down in that big chair and
let me crawl up into your lap. We can talk. We'll talk about Eunice."
He sighed. "Girl, you'll give me a heart attack yet. All right, come curl up in
my lap. On one condition."
"Jake, I'm not sure I'll agree to any conditions. I'm in a very unstable state."
"You certainly are, dear. But it's my lap. No ticky, no washee."
"I should go back to the courthouse; I don't think Mac and Alec would insist
on conditions. .Might as well relax, Jake; I'm climbing into your lap with no
more yatter. There! That's better. Arms around me, please."
"First the condition. That you not try to rape me in a chair-"
"Don't think I could."
"You'd be surprised what can be done in a chair, Joan."
"Would not, I've done 'em all. As Johann. But they require cooperation."
"Mmm, so they do-and that, as soon as my car arrives, you dress at once
and no nonsense, and we go home."
"All right-since you made that 'we.' I was afraid you were feeling ornery
enough to send me home alone. In which case I was going to have
                                      161
Rockford and Charlie take me straight back to Alec and Mac. Aren't they
delightful wolves, Jake? Hold me tight. The only way you can protect me
from them is you-know-what."
"Hmm. Joan, can you keep a chuckle to yourself?"
"Well...I promise never to tell anyone but Eunice."
"Eh? Okay, I don't think you would break a promise made that way. But, let
me add that if you did tell, it would hurt Alec and Mac both-and Eunice
would not like that."
"No, Eunice certainly would not like that. Jake, you're going to be able to
hogtie me with that phrase the rest of my life." (Don't fret, Boss honey. Any
time Jake is wrong, I'll give you the ammo to change his tune.) "All right, I'll
tell no one but Eunice-and the old Man with the long white beard next time I
see Him."
"Safe enough. Okay, here's the chuckle. Your two charming wolves-and
they are charming-are as gay as Julius Caesar."
"What? Jake, I have trouble believing that."
"I won't offer proof but I assure you that I know it beyond any reasonable
doubt."
"But- Look, dear, I've kissed them. I may be an ersatz female . . . but not
where it matters, and I know those kisses weren't phony. They were hot
over me. Shucks, darling, I could tell it by Braille. Besides, they are
married."
"I said, 'As gay as Julius Caesar,' dear-not Governor Arkham."
"Oh. Ambi gay, you mean. I still have trouble believing it. Doesn't it show at
all? Even in a kiss?" (I spotted it, Joan, the potential at least. But they're still
wolves . . . and we may be back there someday. To thank them.) (Eunice, is
that the only way a female can thank a man?) (That's the only convincing
way, twin. This is news?) (No, beloved-but it was possible that your
generation had learned something mine had not. They haven't. Not in
anything you've told me. Just more open about it.)
"Joan, there is no way to spot it, if an ambi does not want it known. Either
ambi, or clear over the line and no return. Look, when you were Johann,
could you spot a virgin?"
"Jake, I'm not sure I ever met a virgin. But you have."
"You must mean someone we both know."
"Of course."
"Who? Winnie? Wouldn't have thought so. But she does blush easily."
"Not Winnie. If she is one, I didn't have her in mind." (You crawled out of
that one!) (Winnie can tell her own secrets. Honey girl? Does Jake know
about your baby?) (No, and we're not going to tell him!) (Didn't intend to,
darling-just didn't want to be caught foolish.)
"Well, I can't guess. Who is this paragon?"
                                        162
"Me."
"Uh- But-" Jake Salomon shut up.
"Sure, sure, dear-Johann was not, and Eunice was married. Not to mention
an old wolf who tripped her." (I tripped him.) "But none of that applies to this
new female in your lap. I'm a virgin. But would not have been, by now-I
think-if that goddam phone hadn't sounded. Don Ameche should never
have invented it;"
"Who's he? Some Russian? Alexander Graham Bell invented the
telephone."
"An obsolete joke, Jake-sorry. Ameche played Bell in a movie, oh, about
the time you were three or four years old. But let's not talk about long-dead
actors, nor my virginity that I can't get rid of; let's discuss Eunice." (My
favorite subject!) "That overhead light is in my eyes; where can I squeeze it
down? And will you keep your lap warm while I trot and do it?"
"I can do it from here. Is that better?"
"Oh, much! I want to see you, darling-but floor lights are enough. Now tell
me about Eunice. I not only want to be like her in other ways . . . but I would
like to learn to make love-the way she did. As much as you'll tell me."
"Joan, you know I can't tell such things about a lady."
"But I am Eunice, Jake. I just don't have her memory. So I need help.
Eunice loved you, and still loves you, I feel certain-and Joan Eunice loves
you-with a love not at all like the fierce affection Johann always had for his
one friend-Joan Eunice loves you with a love that comes also from Eunice's
sweet body that I wear so proudly. So tell me about her. Was she as eager
as I am?"
"Uh-" (Slide your hand inside his shirt, twin. Be careful not to tickle.) "Joan,
Eunice was eager. 1 had trouble believing it at first-me an old wreck and
she so young and beautiful. But she managed to make me believe it."
"But you are no: an old wreck, darling. You are in better shape than I was at
your age. Oh, your face has character lines; it has a granite majesty that
impresses everyone. But your body is as firm and trim as a man half your
age. Muscley. And your skin is smooth and elastic, not that distressing
crepelike texture I remember too well. Darling even if you divorce me later,
will you marry me soon enough to let me have your baby?" (Hon, you're
knocking him out of the ring! That's one I never dared use.)
"Eunice! Joan Eunice."
"Oh, I don't mean soon enough for you-I mean soon enough for me. I may
have fifteen more fertile years-but the sooner the better; a woman ought not
to have her first baby at past forty. But you will be making babies as long as
you live. How many children do you have, Jake beloved?"
"Three. You met two of them once. And four grandchildren."

                                      163
"I don't mean those, I mean others. I'll bet you have at least a dozen more,
here and there. You've been rich a long time; you could afford it. How many
that you haven't mentioned?"
"Joan Eunice, that's snoopy."
"Yes, and no one has to answer, that sort of question. But didn't Eunice
ever ask?" (I did and I think he fibbed. I want to hear what he says this
time.)
"Uh-"
"I won't tell anybody but Eunice. Not even the old Man with the book."
"You insidious little cuddle puppy. I think I have four more. Plus one by a
married lady who may have been kidding me. Three I supported until they
were on their own; the fourth-and that possible fifth-I couldn't even offer to.
But they were never in want."
"How was it handled, dear? Three maiden ladies who moved elsewhere
and became overnight widows?"
"Uh. . . only in one case. I offered to marry her-I was a grass widower then-
but she elected not to, and did marry later and her husband adopted the
child and I made a cash settlement. The other similar case I was married
but the settlement was just as amicable. The other two were married. Some
grief about one-she was a compulsive confesser, from which the good Lord
deliver me!-and her husband had to be soothed with mucho dinero. The
last-well, her husband was sterile-mumps-and together they picked a father.
Me. Startled the hell out of me. But he offered to put it in writing and did. I
tore it up and settled it with a handshake." (This is all news to me, Joan. But
I couldn't believe that such a virile and charming man had left no by-blows.
Keep him talking.)
Jake grinned and caressed her sweet body. "That is the only one I'm certain
about, as I have never insisted on blood tests if a lady accused me and I
could have been the man. But in that case I am certain, as we took a
holiday together, by sailboat, with her husband as nominal chaperonage.
So that time it was I, at the right time and place. Then-" He paused. "Joan
Eunice, I don't know whether Johann would have approved of the sequel, or
not but I don't want to shock the sweet girl you are now." (Honey, don't let
him stop there!)
"Johann can't be shocked, Jake. If it's rough, I won't tell Eunice. But don't let
me crowd you."
"Well . . . it wasn't rough, it was sweet. They didn't use me and drop me. I
was welcome in their home thereafter and in their bed."
"Three in a bed?"
"Uh. . . don't be, nosy! Sometimes."
"But no more babies?"

                                      164
"They were licensed for four and had them. But I think they picked a
different father for each. I simply know that, in the several times I stayed in
their home over about ten years, I never slept alone. I still get Christmas
cards from them, each with a photograph of the family-and my daughter
looks like her mother, not like me, thanks be to God. Joan, they were and
are a respectable married couple, devout, and devoted to each other and to
their children, and old-fashioned . . . except that, when they were faced with
the need for a donor, they elected to pick donors themselves, then use the
old-fashioned way rather than syringes and a clinical atmosphere."
"Uh.. . was she sweet in bed?"
"Quite. But unsophisticated. Not a patch on Eunice, if you were thinking
about her."
"I was." (1 was!)
"Eunice-Eunice was the most glorious thing that could happen to a man.
Sweet as an angel, and as skilled-and as uninhibited!-as the most famous
courtesan in history." (I'm purring!)
"Jake. I prefer the old-fashioned way, too."
"Yes?"
"You were sweet to all those ladies and you got two unmarried ones
pregnant and I'm rich enough to get away with it and right now you are
feeling young-I know you are! Will you pick me up and carry me over there?
Or shall I walk?"
"Eunice."
"Let's both walk. But hurry."
"Yes. Yes, darling."
She jumped up, took his hand...as the house intercom sounded with: "Mr.
Salomon! Rockford here. Your car is waiting."
Joan said, "Oh, my God!" and started to cry.
Jake put his arm around her and petted her. "I'm sorry, darling."
"Jake. Tell them to go get dinner. Tell them to be back in, uh, two hours."
"No, dear."
She stomped her bare foot. "Jake, I won't, I won't! This is unbearable."
He said quietly, "You promised. Look, darling, I'm not nineteen years old
and able to perform in back seats of cars or on back, porches with a party
going on in the house. I have to have quiet and peace." (Don't believe him,
dear! Though he might be scared off for a first time.) Joan bawled and
shook her head. He spoke loudly:
"Rockford!"
"Yes, sir?"
"We'll be out in a moment or two. Keep the reactor warm."
He stepped to the wall and squeezed down the intercom to zero, then said
gently, "Get dressed, dear."
                                      165
"I won't! If we leave now, you'll have to stuff me into the car bare naked."
He sighed and picked her up; she stopped crying and looked suddenly
happy.
The expression did not last. He turned her in his arms as he sat down on a
straight chair, got a firm grip on her, and walloped her right buttock. She
yelped. And struggled.
He got her more firmly, placing his right leg over both of hers, and applied
his hand smartly to her left cheek. Then he alternated sides, stopping with
ten. He set her on her feet and said, "Get dressed, dear. Quickly."
She stopped rubbing the punished area. "Yes, Jake."
Neither said another word until he had handed her into the car, climbed in
after her, and they had been locked in. Then she said timidly, "Jake? Will
you hold me?"
"Certainly, darling."
"May I take my robe off, please? Will you take it off me?"
With the robe out of the way she sighed and snuggled in. After a bit she
whispered, "Jake darling? Why did you spank me?"
It was his turn to sigh. "You were being difficult. . . and it is the only thing I
know of which will do a woman any good when a man can't do for her what
she needs. And right then-I couldn't."
"I see. I think I do."
She remained quiet a while, enjoying his arms around her and breathing
against his chest. Then she said, "Dear? Did you ever spank Eunice?"
"Once."
"For the same reason?"
"Not quite. Well, somewhat. She teased me into it." (I tickled him, dear. And
got the surprise of my life.)
"Then I'm glad you spanked me, too. But I'll try not to tease you-though I'll
never be the angel she was." (Fallen angel, Boss. And enjoyed it all, clear
down to the Pit.)
"Jake?"
"Yes, Eunice?"
"I didn't really mind being spanked by you. Even when I was crying. But-
Well, I'm padded now- Built to take a spanking. And when you are spanking
me, you aren't ignoring me-and any attention is better than none. And
besides-" She hesitated.
"Besides what, Eunice?"
"Well, I don't know-but I think it happened."
"What happened?"
"Female orgasm. Well, maybe. I don't know what one is supposed to feel
like. But while I was crying and hurting; you have a heavy hand, sir-
suddenly I felt very warm inside and something seemed to grow and
                                       166
explode-that's the best I can describe it. And I was ecstatically happy and
didn't mind the last few wallops, hardly noticed them. Was that a female
orgasm?"
"How would I know, dearest? Perhaps you'll be able to tell me. Later."
"Later tonight?"
"Uh, I think not, Eunice. It's late and we have had nothing to eat and I'm
tired even if you aren't-"
"I am, rather. But happy."
"So tonight we'll rest. When it does happen-and I'm no longer fighting it-let's
make the first time absolutely private and quiet. No phones and no servants
and no distractions. After that-well, it might be target-of-opportunity. But I'm
not a kid. You know what I mean, darling; you've been old, too."
"Yes, dearest, much older than you are. Eunice can wait. Jake? What was
this teasing Eunice did that was so bad it got her spanked?"
He suddenly grinned. "The little imp tickled me until I nearly went out of my
mind. So I spanked her. But we were alone, and that ended satisfactorily.
Quite."
"How?"
"How do you think? I excelled my usual mediocre performance, and Eunice-
there aren't words for it, but she excelled her utter perfection, impossible as
that sounds." (He darn near split me like a melon, twin-and I wanted him
to!)
"So? Someday I will tickle you-and get spanked for it. So take your
vitamins, dear. Jake, you enjoyed spanking me. Didn't you?"
He was silent several moments. "I enjoyed it so much that I spanked you
neither as hard nor as long as I wanted to. And started feeling 'young' as
you put it-but knew that, if I didn't get you out of the house right then, you
probably wouldn't leave at all. And I don't care to advertise it to servants."
"You had better marry me. So we can ignore servants."
"You had better shut up. You're still learning to be a girl, and I'm still
learning how to handle you. You're Eunice-but you aren't Eunice. And we
must clear up legal matters before we talk about such things."
"Old mean. Girl beater. Sadist. Hold me tight."


16


Jake escorted Joan Eunice to her boudoir. Winnie was waiting there-to
Joan's annoyance as she thought it possible that Jake's stern character
might slip if the upper house was quiet. But she did not show it. "Hi,
Winnie!"
                                      167
"Miss Joan! Are you all right? I've been so worried!"
"Of course I'm all right; Mr. Salomon was taking care of me. Why were you
worried, dear?"
"Why, the dreadful things they've been saying about you in the news and
there was a riot at the Hall of Justice; I saw it. And-"
"Winnie, Winnie! The idiot box is for idiots; why do you look at it? I was
never in danger."
"But she has had a trying day, so you take good care of her, Winnie."
"Oh, I will, sir!"
"And I am tired, too, so I'll say good-night and go to bed. After I find a
sandwich, perhaps."
"Hubert put a tray in your suite, sir."
"Hubert gets another merit badge. Though to tell the truth, Winnie, I've had
a worrisome day myself, and it's left me with little appetite and jangled
nerves. I may dine on a sleeping pill."
"Jake dear-"
"Yes, Eunice?"
"Don't take a pill. And do eat."
"But-"
"I know, I'm a bundle of nerves myself. But I know what to do about it-and
Winnie and I can soothe your nerves and restore your appetite and make
you sleep like a baby."
He cocked one eyebrow, looked at Eunice, then at Winnie. "I think either of
you could. But both?"
"Jake, you're a dirty-minded old man; you'll have Winnie blushing. But we
can-can't we, Winnie? The Money Hum."
"Oh. Yes, we can, Mr. Salomon."
"Harrumph! Does it involve blood? Or broken bones?"
"Oh, no, sir! It's restful. Relaxing."
"I'll try anything once."
Joan said, "But you have to strip for it to-"
"I thought there was a catch."
"Oh, Jake. We'll let you sissy; you can wear shorts. We strip for it; the
spiritual effect is better. It's the way we warm up for our exercises. Go
undress; then put on shorts and a robe. We'll join you in the Green Suite.
Right after it you're going to have a bite to eat and a tepid tub and straight
to bed and right to sleep."
"Maybe I'd better bathe first. A day in court leaves me smelling like a
skunk."
"You smell all right. Anyhow, Winnie and I have such control by now that we
can decide not to be able to smell-or to hear a distracting noise, or
anything-if we choose to."
                                     168
"That's true, Mr. Salomon."
"Okay. Winnie, if she beats me, you protect me. Adios, dears."
"Five minutes, Jake."
As soon as they were alone Winifred said, "You're going to make me strip
down bare? Again?"
"I didn't 'make' you strip the first time. And dear Doctor certainly did notice
that you are a girl. Looked to me as if the kiss he gave you was better than
the one he gave me. Stop blushing. Winnie, you can sissy, too, if you want
to-but I do need you -present. Or Jake will think I'm trying to make him."
"Oh, Mi. Salomon would never think that about you."
"He's male. He's as male as dear Doctor. I need chaperonage, as all I'm
after is to help him sleep without pills. The poor dear has had a dreadful
day. Winnie, he was wonderful in court; I'll tell you about it. Later. Let's get
these duds off and grab negligees. Modest ones." Joan Eunice stopped
suddenly. "Perhaps I've goofed. Winsome? Do you have a date?"
Miss Gersten blushed again. "Uh. . . not until later."
"Paul working late? Sorry-erase and correct. None of my business."
The little redhead continued to blush but she answered steadily, "My
business is always your business, Miss Joan. Uh, I'm supposed to take
care of you-and I do try! But you feel like a big sister to me."
"Thank you, sweet Winsome. But big sisters should not snoop."
"I've been meaning to tell you. Paul and I have split."
"Oh, I'm sorry"
"I'm not. I don't think Paul ever meant to get a dissolution; he was stringing
me. But-well, Bob isn't married. Not yet."
"'Not yet.' Planning on getting married, dear?"
"Well. . . I don't think getting married is something one plans. It just
happens. Like thunderstorms."
"You could be right. Sweet, whether it's getting married, or fun and
happiness, I hope it's perfect for you. And 'Bob' is such a common name
that I can't be tempted to guess. If I don't see him."
"You probably won't. He comes up the service lift and into my rooms from
the back corridor-nobody sees him but the guard on duty. And they don't
gossip."
"If any guard ever gossips about anything in this house, and I find it out,
he'll be on Welfare so fast he'll be dizzy. Winnie, the rest of the staff can be
human about it. But a guard is in a specially trusted position and must keep
his mouth shut. Winnie, if you ever want to see Bob-or anyone-somewhere
else, I'll have my mobile guards deliver you and pick you up, and even I
won't know where."


                                      169
"Uh.. . thank you. But this is the safest place for us-so few places are safe
today. The most that can happen here is that Bob might be embarrassed. I
wouldn't be embarrassed at all, I'm proud of him!"
"That's the way to feel, dear. As an ex-man I know that's the attitude a man
values most in a woman. 'Proud of him.' But let's hurry; we're keeping Jake
waiting. If you're going to wear pants, better find some with stretch in them.
And thank you for lending me this outfit-turned out that, without the apron
and cap, it was still most effective. I had the robe off a while. Tell you later."
In moments the girls were hurrying down the corridor to the Green Suite,
each just in a negligee and barefooted. At the last instant Winifred had
decided that, if her mistress was going to practice meditation in the correct
uniform, she would also.
They found the counselor in a bathrobe, looking sheepish. Joan said, "I
hope we haven't kept you waiting. Is your tub ready? If not, I'm willing to
draw it before we start. Then into it and out, don't risk falling asleep. Then-"
"I cheated. I took a quick tub-tepid, as you specified-and ate a little, too."
"Good. Then we'll pop you straight into bed after this and kiss you good-
night and you'll be asleep before we're -out the door. Jake, this is the
simplest of yoga, not exercise, just meditation. Controlled breathing, but the
easiest sort. Inhale through one repetition of the prayer, hold it through one
more. Exhale through one, hold through one, and repeat. All of us together,
in a triangle. Can you sit in Lotus? Probably not unless you've practiced."
"Eunice-"
"Yes, Jake?"
"My father was a tailor. I was sitting in tailor's seat before I was eight. Will
that do?"
"Certainly if you are comfortable. If not, any position that lets you relax. For
you have to forget your body."
"Squatted in a tailor's position I can fall asleep. But what's this prayer?"
Joan Eunice slipped off her negligee, melted down onto the rug into
meditation pose, soles upward on her thighs, palms upward in her lap. "It
goes like this. Om Mani Padme Hum." (Om Math Padme Hum. I should
have taught Jake this long ago.)
"I know the phrase. 'The Jewel in the Lotus.' But what does it mean to you,
Joan Eunice?"
Winifred had followed Joan's example as quickly as she set it, was bare
and in Lotus-and not blushing. She answered, "It means everything and
nothing, Mr. Salomon. It is all the good things you know of-bravery and
beauty and gentleness and not wanting what you can't have and being
happy with what you do have and trees swaying in the wind and fat little
babies gurgling when you tickle their feet and anything that makes life good.
Love. It always means love. But you don't think about it, you don't think at
                                       170
all, you don't even try not to think. You chant the prayer and just be-until
you find yourself floating, all warm and good and relaxed."
"Okay, I'll try." He took off his bathrobe, had under it boxer's shorts. "Joan
Eunice, when did you take up yoga? Winnie teach you?"
"Oh, no!" said Winifred. "Miss Joan taught me-she's much farther along the
Path than I am."
(Watch it, Boss!) (No huhu, Lulu.) "One learns many things, Jake-and loses
them for lack of time. I used to play chess, yet I haven't set up a board for
fifty years. But for longer than that I could no longer even attempt a Lotus
seat...until Eunice gave me this wonderful young body which can do
anything."(Which shell is the pea under, Eunice?) (It'll be under you if you
relax too much; you should have emptied our bladder.) (Never fear, dear. I
shan't go under, must watch Jake.) "Join us, lake. You lead, Winnie; start
as soon as Jake is in position."
Salomon started to sit on the floor, suddenly stopped and got out of his
shorts. Joan was delighted, taking it as a sign that he had decided to give in
to it all the way. But she did not let her serene expression change nor move
her eyes. Winifred was staring at her navel; if she noticed it, she did not
show it.
"Inhale," Winifred said softly. "Om Mani Padme Hum. Hold. Om Mani
Padme Hum. Breath out. Om Mani Padme Hum. Hold."
(Out Mani Padme Hum. Dig that clamdigger, dearie?) (Shut up! You'll ruin
the mood. Om Moni Padme Hum.)
"Om Moni Padme Hum!" said Salomon in a voice that would have graced a
cathedral. "Om Moni Padme Hum!"

"Winnie darling" Joan said softly. "Let it fade and wake up wide. We're
going to have to wake Jake."
The redhead's eyes fluttered, she whispered one more prayer and waited.
"Jake darling," Joan said softly, "Eunice is calling. Wake just enough to let
us help you into bed. Eunice is calling you back. Jake dearest."
"I hear you, Eunice."
"How do you feel?"
"Eli? Relaxed. Wonderful. Much rested but ready to sleep. Say, it does
work. But it's just autohypnosis."
"Did I even hint that it was anything else? Jake, I don't expect to find God
by staring into my belly button. But it does work...and it's better than forcing
your body with drugs. Now let Winnie and me help you into bed."
"I can manage."
"Of course you can but I don't want the relaxation to wear off. Indulge me,
Jake, let us baby you. Please."

                                      171
He smiled and let them-slid onto the opened bed, let them cover him,
smiled again when Joan Eunice gave him a motherly good-night kiss,
seemed unsurprised when Winifred followed her mistress's example-turned
on his side and was asleep as the girls left the room.
"Don't bother," Joan said as Winifred started to put on her negligee, "It's my
house and no one comes upstairs after dinner unless sent for. Except
Hubert and I assume that Jake sent him to bed, knowing that he was to be
called on by two tarts in three quarter time and not much else." She slid an
arm around the redhead's slender waist. "Winnie, much as I like to dress
up-isn't it nice to wear just skin?"
"I like it. Indoors. Not outdoors, I sunburn so badly."
"What about at night? When I was a boy, ages and ages ago, it got
unbearably hot in July and August where we lived-the sidewalks used to
burn my bare feet. Houses were bake ovens even at night-no air-
conditioning. An electric fan was a luxury most people did not have. Nights
when I couldn't sleep because of heat I used to sneak quiet as a mouse
and bare as a frog out the back door, being oh so careful not to let my
parents hear, and walk naked in the dark, with grass cool on my feet and
the soft night breeze velvet on my skin. Heavenly!"
"It sounds heavenly. But I would be terrified of getting mugged."
"The word 'mug' hadn't been invented, much less any fear of it. I was a
middle-aged man before I became wary of the dark." They turned into the
master bedroom. "Kiss me good-night, Winsome, and go keep your date.
Sleep late in the morning; I'm going to."
"Uh, my date isn't until after midnight. Aren't you going to tell me what
happened today?"
"Why, of course, dear. Thought you might be in a hurry. Come take a bath
with me?"
"If you want me to. I bathed after dinner."
"And you have your face on for your date. I bathed this morning but it
seems a week ago. Sniff me and tell me how badly I stink."
"You smell all right. Luscious."
"Then I'll let it go with toothbrush and bidet and a swipe at my armpits; I'd
rather go to bed."
"You haven't had dinner."
"Not all that hungry. Just happy. Is there milk in my bedroom fridge? Milk
and crackers is all I want. Want to join me with a glass for yourself and get
crumbs in bed and talk girl talk? Things I can't mention to dear Jake now
that I'm a girl and not mean, old, cantankerous Johann."
"Joanie, I don't believe you ever were cantankerous."
"Oh, yes, I was, hon. I hurt most of the time and was depressed all of the
time and wasn't fit to live with. But Joan Eunice is never depressed; her
                                     172
bowels are too regular. Scrounge us two glasses of milk and a box of
crackers while I take a pretend bath. Don't go downstairs; there will be
something over there in the iron rations. Fig newtons, maybe, or vanilla
wafers."
Soon they were sitting, munching, in the big bed while Joan Eunice gave an
edited account of the day: "-so we visited in Judge Mac's chambers and let
the car go ahead, as Judge Mac the sweet darling wouldn't hear of my
leaving through the streets. Even though the phony riot was over. Then we
switched from copter to car at Safe Harbor and came home." (Protecting
her 'innocence,' twin?) (Not bloody likely. Protecting Jake's reputation.)
"But the best part of the day was when I took off that street robe and let 'em
look at the Acapulco outfit you dressed me in. Made 'em go ape, dear."
"'Ape?'"
"Out-of-date slang. They dropped one wing and ran in circles, like a rooster
about to tread a strange hen."
"It wasn't the outfit, it was you."
"Both. Eunice Branca had a heavenly body and I'm doing my best to justify
it. With your help. As may be, both those darling men kissed me the nearest
thing to rape I've encountered."
"Better than Dr. Garcia?"
"I don't think Dr. Garcia gave me his all out best. I think he was inhibited by
surprise and by the presence of a redheaded nurse I could name. But these
two weren't inhibited and had a couple of drinks in them and each was
going his damedest to do better than the other one. Whew! Winnie, I do not
exaggerate-if Jake hadn't been there, I think they would have had me down
on the rug for a gang bang in two seconds."
"Uh . . . would you have struggled?" (Going to be truthful, tart?) (Who taught
me to be a tart? Any reason not to tell her, Eunice?) (None. Except that
she's likely to rape you herself.) (Oh, pooh, she's just killing time till her
date.) (Don't say I didn't warn you.)
"Winnie, if I were a real lady, I would be horrified. But I won't pretend with
my chum. I don't know much about being female but I seem to have strong
instincts. Cross my heart, if either of those sweet men had given me a
gentle shove, I would have landed on that rug with my legs open and eyes
closed. Gang bang? By then I felt ready to take on a regiment."
Winifred said thoughtfully, "It happened to me once."
"A regiment?"
"No. A gang bang."
"Well, let's shoe the crumbs out of bed and squeeze down the lights and
snuggle and you tell big sister. Were they mean to you?"
"Not really. Oh, dear, I'm blushing already. Turn off everything but one floor
light and let me tell it against your neck."
                                     173
"That better?"
"Yes."
"Now tell Mama."
"Uh, it was the night I graduated from training. I wasn't a virgin-I'm not sure
there was a virgin in my class. But this was something else. Some interns
gave a party for some of us. That was fine and I expected one of them to
get me alone. Interns are the horniest people and a girl didn't accept a date
with one unless she meant business. But the party was loads of
champagne and no food. Joan, I had never had champagne before."
"Oho! I can write the ending."
"Well. . . champagne doesn't taste strong. I sopped up a lot of it.
"Then I was in bed and it was happening. Wasn't surprised and tried to
cooperate. But things were vague. I noticed that he wasn't dark-haired after
all; he had hair as red as mine. When I had been certain that he was dark-
haired and had a mustache. When I noticed later that he was almost bald, I
realized that something odd was going on. Joan, there were seven interns
at that party. I think all of them had me before morning. I don't know how
many times. I knew what was happening after thick, curly red hair was
replaced by mostly bald. But I didn't try to stop it. Uh. . . I didn't want it to
stop. A nympho, huh?"
"I don't know, dear, but that's the way I felt this afternoon. Wanted it to
happen at last, wanted it to go on happening-and I don't even know what it
feels like. Go on."
"Well, it did go on. I got up once and went to the bathroom and noticed in
the mirror that I didn't have a stitch on and couldn't remember having
undressed. Didn't seem to matter. I went back to bed, and found that I was
feeling lonely; the party seemed to have stopped.
"Only it hadn't. A man came in and I managed to focus my eyes and said,
'Oh, Ted! Come here'. And he did and we did, and it was worse than ever.
"I woke up about noon with a dreadful hangover. Managed to sit up and
here were my clothes, neatly folded on a chair, and on the bedside table a
tray with a thermos of coffee and some Danish pastry and a glass with a
note by it. It read: 'Drink this before you eat. You'll need it. Chubby.' Chubby
was the one who was almost bald."
"A gentleman. Aside from his taste for mass rape."
"Chubby was always nice. But if anybody had told me that I would ever be
in bed with Chubby, I would have laughed in her face."
"Were you ever again?"
"Oh, yes. I really did appreciate the thoughtful little breakfast and especially
the hangover cure. It put me back together. Not good enough to go on
watch but good enough to get dressed and back to my room."
"Were you all right? I mean, uh, not caught or anything?"
                                       174
"Not even sore. Not anything. Wasn't my time, even if I hadn't been
protected with an implant, which I was. And one nice thing about going to
bed with interns, almost no chance of picking up an infection. No, I was
lucky all the way, Joan. Oh, no doubt the story went the rounds, but I wasn't
the only graduate getting it that night, and that wasn't the only party.
Nobody teased me about it. But it was a gang bang, and I didn't make the
slightest move to stop it." She added thoughtfully, "The thing that worries
me is that I might do it again. I know I would. So I don't drink at all anymore.
I know I can't handle it."
"Why, Winnie, you've had a drink with me, more than once."
"That's not the same thing. Uh, if you wanted me to get drunk with you-I
would. I'd be safe." (Safe? Little does she know.) (Eunice, we haven't done
more than snuggle and you know it.) (She's asking you to step up the
pace.) (Well, I won't! Not much, anyhow.)

"Winnie! Winnie dear! Look at the time."
"Uh? Oh, my heavens! Ten minutes after midnight. I-"
The little redhead seemed about to cry.
"Are you late? He'll wait. Oh. I'm sure he will-for Winnie."
"Not late yet. He's off duty at midnight and it takes a while to get here. But-
Oh, dear, I don't want to leave you. Not when we were-I was, anyhow-so
happy."
"Me, too, darling," Joan agreed, gently, untangling herself from Winifred's
arms. "But big sister is always here. Don't keep your man waiting. Check
your lipstick and hair and such in my bath if there. is any chance that he
may already be in your room."
"Well. All right. Miss Joan, you're good to me."
"Don't you dare call me 'Miss' at a time like this or swelp me, I'll make you
miss your date. Rush, rush, hon; go get beautiful. Kiss me good-night; I'll be
asleep before you are out of the bath. And, Winsome-no exercises
tomorrow."
"But-"
"Smile, I didn't break your dolly. I want to sleep late and I want you to sleep
late so that I won't wake up from knowing you are fidgeting. You'll get all the
classic postures you need in bed tonight. Stop blushing. Give him
something special from me, only don't tell him. Or do, I don't give a darn.
Kiss me quick and let me go to sleep."
Her maid-chum-nurse kissed her not too quickly and left hurriedly. Joan
Eunice pretended to be asleep when Winifred walked silently from the bath
through the room, on into her own room, and the door sealed behind her.
(Well, twin, you lucked through again, didn't you?) (Eunice, I've told you
time and again that I am not going to stroll Gay Street while I'm a virgin.
                                      175
Might be habit forming.) (Could be, with our cuddly little pet who enjoys a
gang bang. But I didn't mean her. I meant at Safe Harbor.)
(You, call that luck? I call it the most frustrating thing that ever happened to
me. Eunice, I needed the Money Hum as badly as Jake did.) (I call it luck.
Boss darling, I may be dead but I can still read a calendar. I was steady on
twenty-eight-and-a-half days for more than ten years-and we've still been
on it since we amalgamated. We're fertile as a turtle, Myrtle, this minute-
and will be, for two or three days. Jake has promised you that the next time
won't be frustrating. . . and you'll be as carefree as a cheerleader I told you
about. Scan me, Fanny? So run don't walk and get that implant-about ten
o'clock tomorrow morning. Unless you plan to get us benched right away.
Do you?)
(Eunice, you're talking non- No, you're not. I will do something about it.
Tomorrow. But 'benched right away' is an exaggeration. I'm new at this
while you've been through one pregnancy. But your aunt probably watched
you like a hawk-) (She did. Elsie Dinsmore had a livelier time.) (-but I've sat
through three, as a husband. 'Benched' is just a short time, at the end. And
pregnancy doesn't kill a woman's interest. My angelic first wife, Agnes,
would have tried it on the way to the hospital if I hadn't had more sense
about it than she had. Just the same, I'll be good. I'll be careful, rather.)
(Joan, I wasn't trying to talk you out of it. I just didn't want us knocked up by
accident. Say through a playful romp with Judgie Wudgie. Or Alec. But if
you want to, that's fine. Marry Jake and get pregnant at once. Or get
pregnant by him and then marry him; he might be more tractable.)
(Eunice, I'm not planning on getting married in any hurry if at all.) (So? I've
heard you propose to Jake at least four times.)
(Yes, yes! If Jake agreed, I would; I wouldn't let him down. But he won't, if
ever, until these legal finagles are cleared up. Which might take years. Do
you remember how long it took to get the courts to okay the Sky Trails stock
conversions? That was clear-cut compared with this and did not involve as
much money. Eunice, 1 propose to Jake for his morale; I don't care whether
he makes an 'honest woman' of me or not, I just want him to take us to bed.
Marriage doesn't figure.)
(Twin, your naivete surprises me. Didn't you hear Winnie? Marriage isn't
planned, it just happens. No girl is more likely to wind up in a hotel room,
married to a man she didn't even know at sundown the night before, than a
chick who isn't going to get married 'any time soon.' Boss, you marry Jake.
Marry him as soon as he will agree to it-for you were talking sense when
you pointed out that no other man could both understand you and not be
dazzled by your money. In the meantime, it's smart to go contra.)
(All right. What are the girls using today?) (Oh, most of them use implants.
Some use pills, both the daily ones and the monthly ones. But if you miss
                                      176
with either sort, you are on a very short fuse. I never liked monkeying with
my body's economy; I'm not convinced that anything that changes a
woman's femaleness that much is a good idea. Not superstition, Boss, I did
some careful reading alter the time I got caught. There are hazards to all
chemical methods. My body worked fine the way it was; I didn't want to
tamper with a successful organization-I'm quoting you, only you were
talking about business.) (I see your point, Eunice, even though we're talking
about monkey business. A body is far more complex than a corporation,
and the one you turned over to me is a jewel; I don't want to tamper with it,
either. But what did you use? Self restraint?)
(Never had any in stock, dearie. Oh, there are lots of other loving things you
can do without getting pregnant-if you can shake off your early training and
be twenty-first century-) (Look, infant, 1 knew about-and used-every one of
those other things in high school. I keep telling you: You kids did not invent
sex.) (You didn't let me finish, Boss. Those are emergency measures. A girl
who depends on them alone is going to add to the population explosion.
Joan, I looked into it carefully, when I turned eighteen and was licensed and
settled on one of the oldest methods. A diaphragm. They are still available;
any physician will fit them. I wore one six days every month, even at the
office-because, as the doctor who fitted me pointed out, most diaphragm
failures result from leaving them at home while you run out for a pound of
sugar, be right back.)
(I suspect he's right, Eunice.) (I'm sure of it, Joan. I never liked them-I never
liked any contraception; I seemed to have a deep instinct that told me to get
pregnant. Boss. . . the thing-the only thing-that I really mind about being
dead . . . is that I always wanted to have a baby by you. And that's silly, as
you were already too old-or maybe almost too old-when I first met you. But I
would have tried, if you had offered.)
(Darling, darling!)
(Oh, I'm happy with what I have. Om Mani Padme Hum. I'm not kicking
about my karma. I'm not just content, I'm happy. . . to be half of Joan
Eunice.)
(Eunice, would you still be willing to have a baby by me?)
(What? Boss, don't joke about it. Don't mock me.)
(I'm not joking, beloved.)

(But, Boss, the necessary part of you is gone. Pickled in alcohol, or
something.)
(They use formalin, I think. Or deep freeze. I'm not talking about that old
wreck we discarded. We can go down and get an implant.)
(Huh? I don't understand.)

                                      177
(Do you remember a tax-deductible called the Johanna Mueller Schmidt
Memorial Eugenics Foundation?)
(Of course. I wrote a check for it every quarter.)
(Eunice, despite the purposes set out in its charter, the only real purpose
does not appear in the fine print. When my son was killed I was already
fairly old. But I was still virile-potent-and tests showed that I was fertile. So I
got married-I think I told you-to have another son. Didn't work. But I had my
bet hedged and never told anyone. Sperm bank deposit. In the cryogenic
vault of the Foundation is a little piece of Johann. Hundreds of millions of
extremely little pieces, that is. Presumably they are not dead, just asleep.
That's what. I meant by an implant. With a syringe. Or however they do it.
(Eunice? Are you still there?) (I'm crying, Boss. Can't a girl cry happy? Yes!)
(Tomorrow morning, then. You can change your mind up till the last
minute.)
(I'll never change my mind. I hope you won't.)
(Beloved.)


17


Next morning Joan found that Jake had left the house before she woke;
there was a note on her tray:

"Dear Joan Eunice,
"I slept like a baby and feel ready to fight wildcats-thanks to you and
Winnie. Please extend my thanks to her and say (to both of you) that I will
most gratefully join your prayer meetings any time 1 am invited-especially if
I've had a tiring day.
"1 will not be back until late-treasure hunting, locating links of evidence.
Alec is off to Washington for one link. If you need me, call my answering
service or Judge McCampbell's chambers.
"I've instructed Jefferson Billings to let you draw against your petty
expenditures account-about four hundred thousand in it, 1 believe-on your
old signature and new thumb print. He'll pay drafts and hold them and I'll
countersign until you make out a new signature & thumbprint card-he says
he knew Eunice Branca by sight, no problem. If you wish, he will call on you
with a new sigprint card-we assume that your signature is now somewhat
changed."
(Boss, I guess Jake doesn't know that I sign your signature better than you
do.) (I don't think anyone knows, dearest. I don't know how that would figure
in court-for us, or against us?)
                                       178
"If you need more pocket money, let me make you a personal loan rather
than have it show in my conservator's report. Your 'Brother Mac' is most
helpful, but the financial end of this nonsense should appear
ultraconservative until such time as he can, with full justification, relieve me
as your conservator. Caesar's wife, you know.
"Speaking of Caesar's wife, I told you a chuckle about two of our friends.
This morning I phoned one of them and the other answered and, after the
usual query as to sight & security, they seemed unworried about what I saw
or heard or might infer. I was flattered. Little imp, if you must misbehave,
you can trust them-for they have your welfare at heart. Sorry I was stuffy
yesterday."

(I'm glad to learn that, Boss.) (Eunice, I can't see that it's our business what
Alec and Mac do in their spare time. Jake shouldn't gossip about them,
even to us.) (No, no, Boss! Jake is telling you that he was being a cube
yesterday-and he's sorry-and now he's granting you absolution in advance.
We had best marry Jake-nevertheless I've fretted that Jake might be
jealous. Possessive. His age, his background. Could be doom, twin-as you
are a tart at heart and we both know it.)
(Oh, nonsense, Eunice! I would never rub Jake's nose in it-and anyhow
you're wrong. A smart man-which Jake is-doesn't get excited over a go on
the tiles; what worries him is fear of losing a wife he values. If Jake marries
us, I will never let him worry about losing us.) (I hope you can make that
stick, Boss honey.) (With your help I'm sure I can. Let's finish his letter-)

"Don't count on me for dinner, as what I must do today is urgent-more
urgent than something that seemed dreadfully urgent yesterday. And was.
And will be, I hope.
"This was meant to be a love letter but I've had to mention other matters-
and other people, so I must urge you to tear it up and flush it down the W.C.
It is no accident that 1 am thumbprinting the seal and will hand it to
Cunningham with a promise to have his head on a platter if it leaves his
person before it reaches you. I've learned to like Cunningham; he's an
'honest thief.'
"My love to you, dearest, and the biggest kiss possible-so big that you can
break off a piece and deliver it to Winnie when you thank her for me. She's
a charming girl, and I'm pleased that she's mothering you so well.
"J"


(Why, the horny old bastard. Joan, Jake has his eye on Winnie's pretty tail
while he's patting ours.) (She'll have to stand in line!) (Jealous, twin?) (No.
                                      179
But I repeat-I'm going to scalp him first. Darn it, Eunice, I had him all set
yesterday-and it's been a long struggle. Not the WhimWham-Thankee-
Ma'am you managed with him. And all it got me was a spanking. I do hope
he comes home tonight.)
(Three hurdles even if he does, twin.) (Three?) (Hubert... and Winnie. . .
and that 'implant.' Boss darling? You're not going to do me out of having
your baby by letting Jake get at you first-are you?) (Of course not, little
stupid. I was coping with intrigues without getting shot long before your
grandmother was born. Mmm-I'll need cash.)
(Jake told you how to get all the cash you want.) (Oh sure-on my signature
and his countersignature. Like a cat covering up on linoleum. Eunice my
love, I'll bet you never paid a bribe in your life.) (Well. . . not with money.)
(Don't tell me, let me guess. Hon, what we're sitting on might be worth a
million-but today I need used bills in medium denominations from no
recorded source. Come along, little snoopy, and I'll show you something
that even my secretary-a sweetly deceitful girl named Eunice, remember
her?-didn't know about.)
(Do you mean that safe hidden in your bath, Boss?) (Huh? How the hell did
you know about that?) (I'm snoopy.) (Do you know the combo?) (I ought to
take the Fifth.) (Why bother? You'll know it in two minutes. Or can you pick
it out of my mind?) (Boss darling, you know by now that 1 don't know
anything in your memory until you think about it. . . and you don't know
anything in mine until 1 think about it. But-Well, if I had to open the safe, I
think I would start with the numbers that mean your mother's birthday.)
Joan sighed. (A girl doesn't have any privacy these days. All right, let's see
if we've been robbed.)
She went into her bath, sealed the door, bolted it by hand, removed a stack
of towels from a lower cabinet, fiddled with the ceiling of the cabinet; the
back panel slid aside, disclosing a safe. (You think my mother's birth date
will open it?) (I'd switch on the sun lamps over the massage table first, then
run the cold water in the hand basin.) (No privacy at all! Honey, did you
really pay a bribe with your pretty tail once?) (Not exactly. I just improved
the situation. Let's see if we've been robbed.)
Joan opened the safe. Inside was money enough to interest a bank auditor.
But the packets had not been packaged in a bank; they were not that neatly
jogged and the total for each was hand-printed. (Plenty of moola, dear-and
either nobody found this safe, or they never figured out the additional bolts.
Either way, it settles one thing. We won't put lake's sweet note down the
hopper.) (Let him think we did, huh?) (If he asks.) (Then cry on him later
and admit that we couldn't bear to part with it.) (Eunice, you have a mind
like a pretzel.) (That's why it fits so well into yours, twin.) (Could be.)

                                      180
Joan put the letter inside, took out two packets, put them into a purse in the
dressing room end-closed the safe, shut off the sun lamps, shut off the
water, spun the dial, slid the panel back, replaced the towels, closed the
cabinet. Then she stepped to the bath's intercom, pressed a touchplatc.
"Chief O' Neil."
"Yes, Miss Smith?"
"I want my car, one driver, and both Shotguns in thirty minutes."
There was a short silence. "Uh, Miss Smith, Mr. Salomon apparently forgot
to mention that you would be leaving the house."
"For excellent reason. He did not know it. Did he mention that I am no
longer a ward of the Court? If not, have you learned it from some other
source?"
"Miss, I haven't learned it from an official source."
"I see. Then you are learning it from me. Officially."
"Yes, Miss."
"You don't sound happy, O'Neil.. You could check by phoning Judge
McCampbell."
"Why, yes, of course."
"Are you going to, O'Neil?"
"Perhaps I misunderstood, Miss. Weren't you telling me to?"
"Are you recording?"
"Certainly, Miss. I always do, with orders."
"I suggest that you play it back and answer your own question. I'll hold. But
first-how long have you been with me, O'Neil?"
"Seventeen years, Miss. The last nine as your Chief."
"Seventeen years, two months, and some days. Not enough for maximum
retirement but it has been long, faithful, and unquestioning service. You can
retire this morning on full pay for life, if you wish, O'Neil; faithful service
should be appreciated. Now please play back while
I hold." She waited.
"Be switched, Miss-I must need a hearing aid. You didn't tell me to call the
Judge. You just said I could."
"That is correct. I pointed out that you could check on what I told you-
officially-by making such a call. You still can."
"Uh, Miss, I don't see what you are driving at."
"I'm sure you can figure it out. Do you wish to retire today? If so, send up
Mentone; I want to interview him."
"Miss, I've no wish to retire at all."
"Really? You gave the impression that you were looking for another job.
Perhaps with Mr. Salomon. If so, I do not want to stand in your way.
Retirement at full pay is available to you, O'Neil."
"Miss, I like it here."
                                      181
"I'm pleased to hear it. I hope you will stay for many years. O'Neil, have you
ever discussed my comings and goings with anyone?"
"Only when you've told me to, Miss. In which case I always have your order
on tape."
"Fine. Wipe this tape and I'll hold while you do so."
Shortly he said, "Wiped, Miss Smith."
"Good. Let's start over. Chief O'Neil, this is Miss Johann Sebastian Bach
Smith speaking. I want my car, one driver, and both Shotguns in thirty
minutes."
"They will be ready, Miss Smith."
"Thank you. I'll be shopping. Is there anything I can pick up for Mrs.
O'Neil?"
"That's most kind of you, Miss. I don't think so. Shall I ask her?"
"If you do, it is only necessary to say that my car is going out. If she has a
list, I'll be happy to have Fred or Shorty take care of it. Off."
(Boss, you scared the pee out of him. Was that nice?)
(Running a feudal enclave in the midst of a nominal democracy isn't easy,
Eunice. When Johann said 'Frog,' everybody hopped-my security boss
especially. O'Neil has got to know-they've all got to know-that Johann is still
here . . . and that no one, not even darling Jake, reviews or vetoes what I
say. Unless he marries us, in which case I'll go female and let him decide
everything.)
(That'll be the day!) (I might, dear one. Tell me, did you obey Joe?) (Well. . .
I never bucked him. I suppose you could say I obeyed him. Except that I
fibbed, or sometimes kept my mouth shut.) (I'd do just about the same. I
think a perfect arrangement would be to do exactly what a man tells me to
do . . . but wangle it so that he tells me to do what I've already decided to
do.)
Joan felt, rather than heard, her chuckle. (Boss, that sounds like a recipe for
a perfect marriage.)
(I find I like being female. But it's different. Now what shall we wear?)
Joan settled on a bandeau, a knee skirt, an opaque cloak with hood and
yashmak, plus low-heeled sandals, all in subdued colors. She was ready in
less than thirty minutes.
(How's our face, Eunice?) (Okay for - a 'shopping' trip. No need to call
Winnie; the little baggage probably hasn't bad much sleep.) (Nor do I want
to call her; she might want to come along. Let's go, sweet-we're out to
break a two-thousand-year record with no help from the Holy Ghost.) (Boss,
that's not a nice way to talk!) (Well, I'll be frimped! Eunice, I thought you
weren't a Christian? Zen. Or Hinduist. Or some such.)
(I'm not any of those things, Boss. I simply know some useful spiritual
disciplines. But it is rude to joke about anything someone else holds holy.)
                                      182
(Even, in my mind? Are you telling me what I must not think? If I could
reach you, I'd spank you.) (Oh, you can say anything to me, Boss-just don't
say such things out loud.) (I didn't and don't and never have. Quit nagging
me.) (Sorry, Boss. Love you.) (Love you, little nag. Let's go get knocked
up.) (Yes!)
She took the front lift to the basement; O'Neil met her and saluted. "Car is
ready, Miss-and both drivers and both Shotguns."
"Why both drivers?"
"Well, Finchley should be on call. But Dabrowski is bucking my authority a
touch. Claims he's senior to Finchley. Do you wish to settle it?"
"Of course not; you must. But perhaps I can smooth some feathers."
"Yes, Miss."
He conducted her to her car; both teams were lined up by it, they saluted in
unison. She smiled at them. "Good morning, friends. I'm glad to see you all
looking so well. It's been a long time."
Dabrowski answered for them, "It has indeed, Miss Smith-and we are glad
to see you looking so well."
"Thank you." Her eyes traveled across them. "There is one thing no one
has told me. . . about the tragedy that started this strange sequence of
events. Which team was driving the night Mrs. Branca was killed?"
For a long moment no one spoke. Then O'Neil answered, "Finchley and
Shorty had the duty that night, Miss Smith."
"Then I must thank them-for Mrs. Branca and for myself. Although I know
that Dabrowski and Fred would have acted as bravely, as promptly." She
looked at Finchley, then at Shorty, her face unsmiling but serene.
"Which one of you avenged Eunice? Or was it both of you?"
Finchley answered. "Shorty got him, Mrs.-Miss Smith. Bare hands, one
chop. Broke his neck."
She turned to Shorty-six feet six of smooth-black soul, two hundred ninety
pounds of sudden death-and a preacher in his time off. She looked up at
him and said gently, "Shorty, from the bottom of my heart-for Eunice
Branca-I thank you." (I do thank him, Boss! This is news to me. I was dead
before that lift opened.) "If she were here, she would thank you-not just for
herself but for other girls that killer will never kill. I'm glad you killed him in
the act. If he had gone to trial, he might be out by now. Doing it again."
Shorty had said nothing up to then. "Miss-Finch got 'im, too. Zapped him.
Couldn't rightly say which one got him first."
"Nor does it matter. Any of you four would have protected Mrs. Branca with
your life. She knew it-and knows it, wherever she is. I know it, and Chief
O'Neil knows it." Joan felt tears start, let them flow. "I-all of us!-just wish to
Heaven she had waited indoors until you two arrived. I know that each of
you would rather see me dead than her. I ask you to do me the honor of
                                        183
believing that I feel the same way. Shorty, will you say a prayer for her
tonight? For me? I don't know much about praying.". (Damn it, Boss, you've
got me crying.) (Then say a Money Hum. For Shorty. He's still blaming
himself for the unavoidable.)
"I will, Miss. I have every night. Although-Mrs. Branca-doesn't need it. She
went straight to Heaven." (So I did, Boss. Though not the way Shorty
thinks.) (And we shan't tell him. Have I said enough?) (I think so.)
Joan said, "Thank you, Shorty. For me, not for Eunice. As you say, Eunice
doesn't really need prayers." She turned to O'Neil. "Chief, I want to go to
Gimbel's Compound."
"Certainly, Miss. Uh, Finchley, man the car. Both Shotguns." O'Neil helped
her in, locked her in; she locked herself in. The armor door lifted and the big
car rolled out into the street. (Joan, what in the world are you going to buy
at Gimbel's?) (A gag. For you. I'll change that order in a moment. Eunice,
where did you buy clothes? You were the most smartly dressed gal in town-
even when you were the nakedest.)
(Pooh, I was never naked; Joe's designs made all the difference. Joan,
where I shopped you should never shop.)
(Can't see why not.) (Johann might but you can't; it wouldn't do. Mmm. . .
while I could not afford the stylish places, I know of them. Come to think of
it, two of them lease space inside Gimbel's Compound.) (So that's where
we'll go-second. I'll tell Finchley the change. . . and tell him to have Fred
escort me; I think Fred feels left out.)
(Wups! Fred can read.) (So? Oh! Well, Fred can guard me later.) She
thumbed the order switch.
"Finchley."
"Yes, Miss?"
"I got so preoccupied that I forgot one other stop. Please drop Shorty and
me at the unloading zone where State passes over Main."
"State and Main, Miss."
"Please have Shorty hang the radio link on his belt; there's no parking
around there. Or was not the last time I was downtown. How long has that
been? Over two years."
"Two years and seven months, Miss. Sure you don't want both Shotguns
with you?"
"No, they can take turns staying with the car. If you have to get out, I want
you covered."
"Oh, I'll be all right, Miss."
"Don't argue with me. You wouldn't have argued when I was old Johann
Smith; I assure you that Miss Johann Smith still has his poison fangs. Pass
the word along." She heard him chuckle. "I'll do that, Miss Smith." When the
car stopped, Joan hooked up her yashmak, concealing her identity-either or
                                      184
both of them-from the curious, Shorty unlocked her and handed her out. On
the crowded pedestrian walk of Main Street Joan felt suddenly vulnerable . .
. except for the tower of strength beside her. "Shorty, the building I'm
looking for is in the thirteen hundred block-thirteen-oh-seven. Can you find
it?" The question was to make him feel useful; she knew where the Roberts
Building was, she owned it.
"Oh, sure, Miss-I read numbers real good. Letters, too-just words bother
me."
"Let's go then. Shorty, how do you manage in your real profession? Not
being able to read the Bible, I mean."
"No trouble, I use talking books and as for the Book, I got every precious
word memorized."
"A remarkable memory. I wish I could say the same."
"Just takes patience. I had the Book down pat while I was still in prison." He
added thoughtfully, "Sometimes I think I ought to learn to read...but I can't
seem to find time." (The poor dear probably never had a teacher who could
teach, Boss.) (Never tamper with a successful organization, Eunice; he's
found his niche.)
"This must be it, Miss. 'One, three, oh, seven.'"
"Thank you, Shorty." She was not asked for her I.D. at the building
entrance, nor did she offer it, for she had none, either as Johann Smith or
Eunice Branca. The guard noted the "Licensed & Deputized" shield (which
matched his own) on Shorty's uniform, released the cage turnstile, and
waved them on through. Joan Eunice smiled at him with her eyes-and
made note that security at the Roberts Building should be tightened; the
guard should have photographed Shorty's I.D. and logged his shield
number.
(Boss, he can't handle so many people that way; he has to use his
judgment.) (Look who's talking! If that apartment house you used to live in
had had fight security, you would never have been mugged. If we can't stop
violence outdoors, we must try to keep it from coming indoors.) (I won't
argue, Boss darling-I'm excited!) (Me too; this veil is a help.)
On the twelfth floor they went to the suite occupied by the Johanna Mueller
Schmidt Memorial Eugenics Foundation, H. S. Olsen, M.D., Sc. D.,
Director, Please Ring and Wait. The guard let them in, went back to his
picture magazine. Joan noted with approval that there was a goodly number
of women and couples in the waiting room. She (Johann) had jacked up
Olsen about the (public) purpose of the Foundation-to offer superior
anonymous donors to licensed and qualified females-in her last letter
accompanying a quarterly check; apparently it had had good effect.
"Wait here, Shorty; there's video over there."

                                     185
She went to the barrier desk separating the waiting room from the outer
clerical office, avoided the sign "Applications" and got the reluctant attention
of the only male back of the barrier, motioned him to her. "What is it,
Ma'am? If it's an application, go to the far end, present your I.D. and fill out
the questionnaire, then wait. You'll be called."
"I want to see the Director. Dr. Olsen."
"Dr. Olsen never sees anyone without an appointment. Give me your name
and state your business and possibly his secretary will see you."
She leaned closer, spoke softly. "I must see him. Tell him that my husband
has found out."
The office manager looked startled. "Your name?"
"Don't be silly. Just tell him that."
"Uh.. . wait here." He disappeared through a rear door. She waited. After a
remarkably short time he appeared at a side door of the waiting room,
motioned her to him, then conducted her down a passage toward a door
marked "Director-Keep Out" and to a door near it marked "Secretary to the
Director, Ring & Wait." There he left her with a woman who reminded Joan
of Johann's third-grade teacher, both in appearance and authoritarian
manner. The woman said frostily, "What is this nonsense? You may start by
showing me your I.D." (Three fingers stiff into her solar plexus, Boss, and
say she fainted!) (Maybe. We'll try my way first.)
Joan answered in still more frozen tones, "Not likely, Miss Perkins. Why do
you think I'm veiled? Will you announce me? Or do I call the police and the
news snoops?"
Miss Perkins looked startled, left her stenodesk, and entered the private
office behind it. She came out shortly and said angrily, "You may go in."
Olsen did not get up as Joan entered. He said, "Madam, you have chosen
an unusual way of getting my attention. Now what is it? Come to the point."
"Doctor, don't you offer chairs to ladies?"
"Certainly. If they are ladies. A point you have gone to some trouble to
render dubious. Speak up, my good woman, or I shall have you removed."
(Boss, did you see him glance at the mike? That old bat in the next room is
taking down every word.) (So I assumed, Eunice. So we won't talk yet.)
Joan stepped close to the Doctor's desk, unhooked her yashmak, let it fall
to her left shoulder.
The Doctor's expression changed from annoyance to startled recognition.
Joan Eunice leaned across his desk, flipped off the dictation microphone.
Then she said quietly, "Anything else still recording? Is this room
soundproof? How about that door?"
"Miss-"
"'Miss' is enough. Are you ready to ask me to sit down? Or shall I leave-and
return with my lawyer?"
                                      186
"Do please sit down-Miss."
"Thank you." Joan waited until he got up and moved a chair to a correct
"honored-guest" position near his own. She sat down. "Now answer the
rest. Are we truly private? If we are not-and you tell me that we are-I will
eventually know it.. . and will take such steps as I deem appropriate."
"Uh, we're private. But just a moment." He got up, went to his secretary's
door, bolted it manually. "Now, Miss, please tell me what this is about."
"I shall. First, I've been supplementing my original endowment with
quarterly checks. Have you been receiving these during my incapacitation?"
"Eh . . . one check failed to arrive. I waited six weeks, then wrote to Mr.
Salomon and explained what your custom had been. It seems he checked
the facts, for soon after we received two quarterly payments at once, with a
letter saying that he would continue to authorize payments in accordance
with your custom. Is there some difficulty?"
"No, Doctor. The Foundation will continue to receive my support. Let me
add that the trustees are-on the whole-satisfied with your management."
"That's pleasing to hear. Is that why you came today? To tell me that?"
"No, Doctor. Now we get to the purpose. Are you quite certain that our
privacy cannot be breached? Let me add that the answer is far more
important to you than it is to me."
"Miss, uh-Miss, I am certain."
"Good. I want you to go into the cold vault, obtain donation 551-20-0052-I
will go with you and check the number-and then I want you to impregnate
me with it. At once."
The Doctor's face broke in astonishment. Then he regained his professional
aplomb and said, "Miss-that is impossible."
"Why? The purpose of our institution, as defined in its charter-which I wrote-
is, to supply qualified females with donor sperm-on request, without fee,
and without publicity. That's exactly what I want. If you wish to give me a
physical examination, I'm ready. If you want to know whether or not this
body is licensed for child-bearing, I assure you that it is-although you know
that, in this case, a fine for unlicensed pregnancy means less than nothing.
What's the trouble? Does it take too long to prepare the sperm to do it all in
one day?"
"Oh, no, we can have it warmed and viable in thirty minutes."
"Then impregnate me thirty minutes from now."
"But, Miss-do you realize the trouble I could get into?"
"What trouble?"
"Well . . . I do follow the news. Or I would not have recognized you. I
understand that there is a question of identity-"
"Oh, that." Joan dismissed it. "Doctor, do you bet on the races?"
"Eh? I've been known to. Why?"
                                     187
"If we are truly private, you can't possibly get into trouble. But there comes
a time in every man's life when he must bet. You are at such a crisis. You
can bet on a certain horse-on the nose, you can't hedge your bet. And win.
Or lose. As you know, the other trustees of this corporation are my
dummies; I am the Foundation. Let me predict what will come to pass.
Presently this identity nonsense will be over and the real Johann Sebastian
Bach Smith will stand up. At that time the endowment of this institution will
be doubled. At that same time the salary of the Director will be doubled. If
you bet on the right horse, you will be the Director. If not-you'll be out of a
job."
"You're threatening me!"
"No. Prophesying. Old Johann Sebastian Bach Smith was a seventh son of
a seventh son, born under a caul; he had the gift of prophecy. No matter
which way you bet, the endowment will be doubled. But only you and I will
ever know what is done today."
"Mmnm. . . there are procedures to satisfy. I do have authority to permit any
adult female to receive a sperm donation if I am satisfied that she qualifies-
and let's say that I am. Nevertheless there are routines to go through,
records that must be kept."
(He's ready to geek, Boss. So sing him a Money Hum, with a different
tune.) (Eunice, a cash bribe is to push him over if he won't fall. Let's see if
he'll sell it to himself.)
Joan shook her head. "No records. Just do it to me and I'll hook my veil
over my face and leave."
"But, Miss-I don't do these things myself. A staff doctor carries out the
donation procedure, assisted by a nurse. They would think it strange if no
records were kept. Very."
"No nurses. No assistants. You alone, Doctor. You are an M.D. and a
specialist in genetics and eugenics. Either you can do this...or you don't
know enough to head this institution-which the trustees would regretfully
notice. Besides that, I go with you and check the number on that donation .
. . and stick at your elbow until you place it inside me. Do we understand
each other?"
The Doctor sighed. "I once thought a general practice was hard work! We
can't be sure that a placed donation will result in impregnation."
"If not, I'll be back in twenty-eight and a half days. Doctor, quit stalling. Or
bet on the other horse and I'll leave. No harsh words, now or later. Just that
prophecy." She stood up. (Well, Eunice? Will the frog hop?) (Can't guess,
dear. He's seen so many female tails he's bored with them. I can't figure
him.)
Olsen suddenly stood up. "You'll need a cold suit."
"All right."
                                      188
"Plus the advantage that a cold suit covers so thoroughly that a man would
not recognize his own wife in one. I have a spare here, for V.I.P.s"
"I think you could class me as a V.I.P." Joan said dryly. Forty minutes later
Dr. Olsen said, "Hold still a moment longer. I am placing a Dutch cap, a
latex occlusive cervical pessary, over the donation."
"Why, Doctor? I thought those things were for contraception."
"Usually. And it will serve that purpose, too-mean to say, some of our
clients wish to be protected at once from any possibility of impregnation
from any other source. But in your case my purpose in installing this
temporary barrier is to make certain that the donation does impregnate you.
To give those wigglers a chance to reach target and to keep them from
swimming downstream instead-follow me? Leave it in place until sometime
tomorrow-or later, it doesn't matter. Do you know how to remove it?"
"If I can't get it out, I'll call you."
"If you wish. If you fail to skip your next menses, we can try again in four
weeks." Dr. Olsen lowered the knee supports, offered his hand. She
stepped down and her skirt fell into place. She felt flushed and happy.
(Eunice, it's done!) (Yes, Boss! Beloved Boss.)
Dr. Olsen picked up her cloak, held it ready to lay around her shoulders.
She said, "Doctor-don't worry about the horse race."
He barely smiled. "I have not been worrying about it. May I say why?"
"Please."
"Urn. If you recall, I have met Johann Smith-Mister Johann Smith-on other
occasions."
"Eleven occasions, I believe, sir, including a private interview when Dr.
Andrews nominated you to succeed him."
"Yes, Miss Smith. I'll never forget that interview. Miss, there may be some
legal point to clear up concerning your identity. But not in my mind! I do not
think that any young woman of your present physiological age could
simulate Mr. Johann Smith's top-sergeant manner-and make it stick."
"Oh, dear!"
"Pardon me?"
"Dr. Olsen. this sex change I've undergone is not easy to handle. It is
fortunate-for both of us-that you were able to spot Johann Smith behind the
face I now wear. But-darn it, sir!-I've got to acquire manners to match what I
am now. Will you call on me-oh, say three weeks from now when I hope to
have cheerful news-and let me show you that I can simulate a lady when I
try? Come for tea. We can discuss how the Foundation's work can be
expanded under a doubled endowment."
"Miss Smith, I will be honored to call on you whenever you wish. For any
reason. Or none." (Wups! Hey, Eunice, I thought you said he was bored
with female tails?) (So I did. But we have an unusually pretty one, Joan,
                                     189
even from that angle. Gonna kiss him?) (Eunice, can't you treat just one
man impersonally?) (I don't know; I've never tried. Aw, don't be chinchy;
he's been a perfect lamb.) (Now you be a lamb, too-let's get out of here.)
Joan let the doctor lay her cloak around her shoulders; it brought his head
close to hers. She turned her face toward; that side, wet her lips and smiled
at him.
She could see him decide to risk it. She did not dodge as his lips met hers-
but did not put her arms around him and; let herself be slightly clumsy,
stiffened a little before giving in to it. (Twin! Don't' let him put us back on
that table-make him use the couch in his office.) (Neither one, Eunice. Pipe
down!)
Joan broke from it, trembling. "Thank you, Doctor. And you see I can be a
girl if I try. How do I get back to the waiting room without passing your Miss
Perkins?" She hooked her yashmak.


18


A few minutes later Shorty handed her into her car, locked her in, and
mounted into the forward compartment.
"Gimbel's Compound, Miss Smith?"
"Please, Finchley."
Once inside the compound Joan had Fred escort her to Madame
Pompadour's. The fact that she had a private bodyguard got her immediate
attention from the manager, who was not Madame Pompadour even though
he wore his hair in the style made famous by the notorious Marquise and
had manners and gestures to match. (Eunice, are you sure we are in the
right place?) (Certainly, Boss-wait till you see their prices.) "How may I
serve Madame?"
"Do you have a private viewing room?"
"But of course, Madame. Uh, there is a waiting room where-"
"My guard stays with me."
The manager looked hurt. "As Madame wishes. If you will walk this way-"
(Eunice, shall we walk that way?)
(Don't try, twin-just follow him. Or her, as the case may be.)
Shortly Joan was seated facing a low model's walk; Fred stood at parade
rest behind her. The room was warm; she unfrogged her cloak and pushed
back its hood but left the yashmak over her features. Then she dug into her
purse, got out a memorandum. "Do you have a model who comes close to
these measurements?"

                                      190
The manager studied the list-height, weight, shoulders, bust, waist, leg.
"This is Madame?"
"Yes. But here is another specs list even if you can't match me. A friend for
whom I wish to buy something pretty and exotic. She's a redhead with pale
skin to match and green eyes." Joan had copied Winifred's measurements
from the exercise records the two had been keeping.
"I see no problems, Madame, but in your own case permit me to suggest
that our great creative artist, Chariot, will be happy to check these
measurements or even to design directly on-"
"Never mind. I am buying items already made up. If I buy."
"Madame's pleasure. May I ask one question? Will Madame be wearing her
own hair?"
"If I wear a wig, it will be the same color as my hair, so assume that."
(Eunice, should I buy a wig?) (Be patient and let it grow out, dear. Wigs are
hard to keep clean. And they never smell clean.) (Then we'll never wear
one.) (Smart Boss. Soap and water is the world's greatest aphrodisiac.)
(I've always thought so. Though a girl should smell like a girl.) (You do,
dearie, you do-you can't help it.)
"Madame's hair is a beautiful shade. And now, since Madame indicated that
her time is short, perhaps it would suit her convenience to let our
accounting department record her credit card while I alert the two models?"
(Watch it, Boss!) (I wasn't a-hint the door, dearie.) "I use credit cards with
several names. Such as McKinley, Franklin, and Grant. Or Cleveland."
Joan reached into her purse, fanned a sheaf of bills. "The poor man's credit
card."
The manager repressed a shudder. "Oh, goodness, we don't expect our
clients to pay cash."
"I'm old-fashioned."
The manager looked pained. "Oh, but it's unnecessary. If Madame prefers
not to use her general credit account-her privilege!-she can Set up a private
account with Pompadour in only moments. If she will permit me to have her
I.D.-"
"Just a moment. Can you read fine print?" Joan pointed at a notice near a
portrait of President McKinley. "'This note is legal tender for all debts, public
and private.' I shan't get tangled up in a computer. I pay cash."
"But, Madame-we aren't set up for cash! I'm not certain we could make
change."
"Well, I don't want to put you to any inconvenience. Fred."
"Yes, Miss?"
"Take me to La Boutique."


                                      191
The manager looked horrified. "Please, Madame! I'm sure something can
be arranged. One moment while I speak to our accountant." He hurried
away without waiting for an answer.
(Why the fuss, Boss honey? I've bought endless things for you, against
your personal expenditures account. Jake said we could use it.) (Eunice,
I've despised those moronic machines since the first time I was trapped by
a book club. But I'm not just being balky. Today is not a day to admit who
we are. Later-after we're out of court-we'll set up a "Susan Jones" account
for shopping in person. If we ever do again. I can see it's a bloody
nuisance.) (Oh, no, it's fun! You'll see, twin. But, remember-I hold a veto
until you learn something about clothes) (Sho', sho', little nag.) (Who are
you calling a nag, you knocked-up bag?) (Happy about it, beloved?)
(Wonderfully happy, Boss. Are you?) (Wonderfully. Even if it wasn't
romantic.) (Oh, but it was! We're going to have your baby!) (Quit sniffling.)
(I'm not sniffling; you are.) (Maybe we both are. Now shut up, here he
comes.)
The manager beamed. "Madame! Our accountant says that it is perfectly all
right to accept cash!"
"The Supreme Court will be pleased to hear it."
"What? Oh! Madame is jesting. Of course there is a service surcharge of
ten percent for-"
"Fred. La Boutique."
"Please, Madame! I pointed out to him how unfair that is and found the
most wonderful solution!"
"Really?"
"Truly, Madame. Anything you choose to buy, I'll simply charge against my
personal account-and you can pay me cash. No trouble, I'll be happy to. My
bank doesn't make the least fuss over accepting cash deposits. Really."
(Watch it, Boss; he'll expect a fat tip.) (If he can show us something we
want, he may get it. Cost is no huhu, Eunice; we can't get rid of the stuff.)
(It's the principle of the thing, Boss.) (Forget it and help me spend money.)
(All right. But we don't buy unless we like it.)
For the next two hours Joan spent money-and was dazed to discover how
expensive women's clothes could be. But she suppressed her early
upbringing and paid attention only to an inner voice: (Not that one, twin-it's
smart but a man wouldn't like it.) (How about this one, Eunice?) (Maybe.
Have her walk it around again, then have her sit down. Show some leg.)
(Here comes 'Winnie' again. Is that girl a real redhead, Eunice?) (Probably
a wig but doesn't matter; she's almost exactly Winnie's size. That would be
cute on our Winsome. Twin, see what they have in fancy gee-strings--
green, for a redhead. Winnie ought to have at least one outfit intended to be
seen by no one but her new boy friend.) (Okay, we'll give 'Bob' a treat. Who
                                     192
do you think he is, beloved?) (Haven't the faintest-and we don't want to
guess. Do we? I just hope he's nicer to her than Paul was.)
"Mr. duValle? Do you have something exotic in a minimum-gee for a
redhead? Green, I suppose. And matching cups would be interesting, too.
Something nice-an intimate present for a bride." (Bride?) (Well, it might help
Winnie become a bride, Eunice-and it steers him away from thinking I'm
buying it for my sweetheart.) (Who cares what he thinks?)
"Jeweled perhaps? Emeralds?"
"I wouldn't want a bride to be mugged over a wedding present. Nor do I
wish to buy her something more expensive than her bridegroom can afford.
Bad taste, I think."
"Ah, but these are synthetic emeralds. Just as lovely but quite reasonable.
Yola dear-come with me."
Several thousand dollars later Joan quit. She was getting hungry and knew,
from long experience, that being hungry made her unwilling to spend
money. Her subconscious equated "hungry" with "poor" in a canalization it
had acquired in the 1930's.
She sent Fred to fetch Shorty to help carry while her purchases were being
packaged and while she paid the startling sum. (Eunice, where shall we
eat?) (There are restaurants inside this compound, Boss.) (Uh, darn it-no,
damn it!-I can't eat through a yashmak. You know what will happen.
Somebody who watched video yesterday will recognize us. Then the news
snoops will be on us before you can say 'medium rare.') (Well...how about a
picnic?) (Wonderful! Eunice, you win another Brownie point. But-where can
we go?-a picnic with grass and trees and ants in the potato salad-but
private so I can take off this veil . . . and yet close enough that we won't
starve on the way?)
(I don't know, Boss, but I'll bet Finchley does.)
Finchley did know. Shorty was appointed to buy the lunch at The Hungry
Man inside the compound-"Get enough for six, Shorty, and don't look at the
prices. Be lavish. But there must be potato salad. And a couple of bottles of
wine."
"One is enough, Miss. I don't drink, wine is a mocker, and Finchley never
drinks when he is on call to drive."
"Oh1 think big, Shorty; I may drink a whole bottle myself-you can save my
soul tomorrow. Today is special-my first day of freedom!" (Very special,
beloved.) (Very, very special, Boss!)
Down into the crosstown chute, up onto Express Route South, out to the
unlimited zone, then fifty miles at three hundred feet per second-a speed
that Finchley did not use until Joan was protected by full harness plus
collision net.

                                     193
The fifty miles melted away in fifteen minutes and Finchley eased it down
and over, ready to exit. They were not shot at, even where Route South
skirts the Crater.
"Finchley? Can I get out of this pesky cocoon now?"
"Yes, Miss. But I'd feel easier if you would wear the Swedish belt. Some of
these drivers are cowboys."
"All right. But tell me the instant I can take it off." (Eunice, the engineer if-
that's-the-word who designed if-that's-the-word these goddam straps did
not have women in mind!) (You've got it rigged for a man, Boss-of course
you're pinching a tit. Move the bottom half closer in and shift the upper
anchor point after we stop; that's the way they rigged it for me. Some man
has used it since the last time I did.) (Jake, probably, sometime when his
own car was laid up. Sweetheart, how many things do I have to learn about
being a woman before I can avoid tripping over my feet?) (Thousands. But
you're doing all right, Boss-and I'm always here to catch you.) (Beloved.
Say, this doesn't look like picnic country. I wonder if Finchley is lost.)
They were passing through solid masses of "bedroom" areas-walled
enclaves, apartment houses, a few private homes. The trees looked tired
and grass scarce, while the car's air-conditioning system still fought smog.
But not for long-Finchley turned into a secondary freight route and shortly
they had farms on each side. Joan noticed that one belonged to her-to a
subsidiary of Smith Enterprises, she corrected, and reminded herself that
she no longer held control.
Nevertheless she noted that the guard at a corner watchtower seemed alert
and the steel fence was stout and tall and capped with barbed wire and an
alarm stand, all in good maintenance. But they were past without her seeing
what was being cropped-no matter; Johann had never tried to manage that
slice of conglom, he had known his limitations. (Eunice, what are we raising
back there?)
(Joan, I can't see if you don't look-and you never looked.) (Sorry, dearest.
Speak up if you don't like the service.) (I Will. I think it was a rotation crop.
This soil has been farmed so hard and long that it has to be handled
carefully.)
(What happens when the soil no longer responds to management?) (We
starve, of course. What do you expect? But before that they'll build on it.)
(Eunice, it's got to stop, somewhere. When I was a boy I was a city kid but I
could walk in less than an hour to green fields and uncut woods...woods so
private I could play Tarzan in my skin. I wasn't 'just lucky'-even in New York
City a boy with five cents could ride to farms woods in less time than it took
me to walk it.)
(Doesn't seem possible, Boss.) (I know. It's taken a fast car and a
professional driver to do what I used to do on bare feet-yet this isn't real
                                      194
farm country; these are open-air food factories with foremen and time
clocks and shop stewards and payroll deductions and house-organ
magazines and you name it. A dug well and a tin dipper would cause a
strike-and they'd be justified; those open wells and tin dippers spread
diseased Just the same, the tin-dipper era was a good time in this
country...and this one isn't. Where do we go from here?)
The inner voice failed to answer. Joan waited. (Eunice?)
(Boss, I don't know!)
(Sorry, just sounding off. Eunice, all my life I did the best I knew how with
what I had. I didn't waste-shucks, even that white-elephant house keeps a
lot of people off Welfare. But every year things got worse. I used to get sour
consolation from knowing that I wasn't going to be around when things fell
to pieces. Now it looks like I will be. That's why I say: 'Where do we go from
here?" I don't know the answer, either.)
(Boss?)
(Yes, dearest?)
(I could see it, too. Moving from an Iowa farm to a big city made me see it.
And I did have plans, sort of. I knew you were going to die, I couldn't help
but know, and I figured that Joe would get tired of me someday-no kids and
no prospect of any, and me someday no longer with a fine job that took
care of everything Joe needed. I underrated Joe; nevertheless I never
forgot that he could hand me a pink slip anytime. So I had plans, and saved
my money. The Moon.)
(The Moon! Hey, that's a fine idea! Take one of Pan Am's package tours-
deluxe with private courier and all the trimmings. Do it before we bulge so
big we can't climb through a hatch. What do you say, little imp?)
(If you want to.)
(You don't sound enthusiastic.) (I'm not against it, Boss. But I wasn't saving
money for a tourist trip. I meant to put my name on the list-and take the
selection exams...and be able to pay the difference, since I didn't have one
of the subsidized skills. Out-migrate. Permanently.)
(I'll be durned! You had this in mind-and never said a word?) (Why talk
about if and when? I didn't plan to do it as long as you or Joe needed me.
But I did have reason to be serious. I told you I was licensed for three kids.)
(Yes, surely. I've known it since your first security check.) (Well, three is a
high quota, Boss-more than half a child over replacement. A woman can be
proud of a three-baby license. But I wanted more.)
(So? You can, now. Fines are no problem, even though they've upped them
again and made them progressive. Eunice, if you want babies, this one is
just a starter.)


                                      195
(Dear Boss. Let's see how we do with this one first. I knew I could not afford
fines . . . but Luna has no restrictions against babies. They want babies, I
think we're there.)
Finchley turned in at a gate-Agroproducts, Inc., Joan noticed-a competitor.
He parked so as not to lock the gate, then got out and went to the guard
post. He had parked at such an angle that Joan could not see what was
going on, the armor between her and the control compartment cut off her
view.
Finchley returned, the car rolled through the gate. "Miss Smith, I was told to
hold it under twenty miles per hour, so no safety belts is okay now."
"Thank you, Finchley. How much was the bribe?"
"Oh, nothing to mutter, Miss."
"So? I expect to see it on O'Neil's Friday Report. If it is not there, I will have
to ask you again."
"It'll be there, Miss," the driver answered promptly. "But I don't know yet
what the total will be. Have to stop at their Administration Building and get
us cleared through a back gate. To where you picnic."


(start here)


"To where we picnic." Joan stopped to think. It irked her to pay a bribe
when her status as a major competitor (retired, conceded) entitled her by
protocol to red-carpet treatment. But she had not sent word ahead, a
minimum courtesy in visiting a competitor's plant, to allow him time to
sweep dirt under the rug or to divert the visitor away from things. Industrial
espionage could not with propriety be conducted at top level. "Finchley, did
you tell the gate guard whom you were driving?"
"Oh, no, Miss!" Finchley sounded shocked. "But he checked the license
even though I tell him it's your car-best to tell; he has a list of all private
armoreds in the state, just like I have. What I tell him was, I'm driving guests
of Mr. Salomon. . . and let him think it was a couple of Vips from the Coast
with a yen to picnic in a safe spot. Didn't tell him anything really, except Mr.
Salomon's name. That okay?"
"Just fine, Finchley." (Eunice, I feel like an interloper, being inside without
giving my name. Rude.) (Look at it this way, Boss. You know who you are.
But the public doesn't-not after that silly carnival yesterday. I think it's best
to be Jake's guest . . . which is true, in a way.) (I still feel that I should tell
Finchley to give my name to the Chief Agronomist. But would the word get
out? Or, rather, how soon?) (Thirty minutes. Long enough for some clerk to

                                       196
phone in and a news copter to fly out. Then some snoop will try to interview
you by loudspeaker because the boys won't let him land.)
(Some picnic!)
(If he does land, Shorty and Fred will be elbowing each other for a crack at
him. Eager. Too eager. Boss, maybe you haven't noticed, but, while they
call you 'Miss Smith,' they treat you exactly as they treated me. In their
heads they know you are you...but in their guts they feel you are me.)
(That's not far wrong, Eunice. In my head I am me. . . but in my guts-your
pretty belly- I am you.)
(Boss, I like that. We're the only one-headed Siamese twins in history. But
not everything in our belly is me. There's one wiggler swimming faster than
the rest-and he is 'Johann,' not Joan, not Eunice-and if he makes it to the
finish line, he's more important than both of us put together.)
(My love, you're a sentimentalist.) (I'm a slob, Boss. And so are you.) (Nolo
contendere. When I think about Johann and Eunice-both dead, really-
getting together in Joan to make a baby, I come unstuck and want to cry.)
(Better not, Joan; the car is stopping. Boss? How long does it take a wiggler
to get there? I know a spermatozoon has to move several inches to reach
the ovum-but how fast does he swim?) (Durned if I know, dear. Let's leave
that cork in place at least a couple of days. Give the little bastard every
possible chance.) (Good!) (Do you know how to take it out? Or do we have
to see Dr. O'Neil? We don't want to let Winnie in on this.) (Boss, I've seated
them and taken them out so many times I can do it in my sleep. No fret,
Annette. I've worn out more rubber baby bumpers than most girls have
shoes.)
(Bragging.. Boasting.) (Only a trifle, Boss dearest. I told you I had always
been an ever-ready. For years and years, any day I missed was not my
idea. I knew my purpose in life clear back when I was a Girl Scout, no
breasts, and still a virgin.)
Finchley returned to the car, spoke after he had buttoned in. "Miss?"
"Yes, Finchley."
"Farm boss sends greetings and says guests of Counselor Salomon are
honored guests of Agroproducts. No bribe. But he asked if the main gate
guard had put the squeeze; I told him No. Correct?"
"Of course, Finchley. We don't rat on other people's employees."
"Don't think he believed me but he didn't push it. He invited you both-
assumed there was two and I didn't correct it-to stop for a drink or coffee on
the way out. I let him think you might, or might not."
"Thank you, Finchley."
They continued through the farm, came to another high gate; Fred got out
and pressed a button, spoke to the security office. The gate rolled back,

                                     197
closed after them. Shortly the car stopped; Finchley unloaded the
passenger compartment, offered his hand to Joan Eunice.
She looked around. "Oh, this is lovely! I didn't know there were such places
left."
The spot was beautiful in a simple fashion. A little stream, clear and
apparently unpolluted, meandered between low tanks. On and near its
banks were several sorts of trees and bushes, but they were not dense and
there was a carpet of grass filling the open spaces. From its lawnlike texture
it had apparently been grazed. The sky was blue and scattered fair-weather
cumulus and the sunshine was golden warm without being too hot. (Eunice,
isn't it grand?) (Uh huh. 'Minds me of Iowa before the summer turns hot.)
Joan Eunice stripped off her sandals, tossed them into the car on top of her
cloak. She wiggled her toes. "Oh, delicious! I haven't felt grass under my
bare feet for more than twenty years. Finchley, Shorty, Fred-all of you! If
you've got the sense God promised a doorknob, you'll take off your shoes
and socks and give your feet a treat."
Shotguns looked impassive; Finchley looked thoughtful. Then he grinned.
"Miss Smith, you don't have to tell me twice!" He reached down and
unclicked his boots. Joan Eunice smiled, turned away, and wandered down
toward the stream, judging that Shorty would be less shy about it if she did
not stare.
(Eunice, is Iowa this beautiful? Still?) (Parts of it, hon. But it's filling up fast.
Take where we lived, between Des Moines and Grinnell. Nothing but farms
when I was a baby. But by the time I left home we had more commuter
neighbors than farm neighbors. They were beginning to build enclaves,
too.) (Dreadful. Eunice, this country is breeding itself to death.) (For a
freshly knocked-up broad you have an odd attitude toward reproduction,
twin. See that grassy spot where the stream turns?) (Yes, Why?) (It takes
me back . . . it looks like a stream bank in Iowa where I surrendered my
alleged innocence.) (Well! Nice place for it. Did you struggle?) (Twin, are
you pulling my leg? I cooperated.) (Hurt?) (Not enough to slow me down.
No reason for it to. Boss darling, I know how it was in your day. But there is
no longer any issue over tissue. Girls with smart mothers have it removed
surgically when they reach menarche. And some just lose it gradually and
never know where it went. But the girl who yells bloody murder and bleeds
like a stuck pig is rare bird today.) (Infant, I must again set you straight.
Things haven't changed much. Except that people are more open about it
now. Do you suppose that water is warm enough to swim in?)
(Warm enough, Boss. But how do we know it's clean? No telling what's
upstream.)
(Eunice, you're a sissy. If you don't bet, you can't win.)

                                        198
(That was true yesterday . . . but today we're an expectant mother. A
babbling brook can be loaded with nineteen sorts of horribles.)
"Uh. . . oh, hell! If it's polluted, it'd be posted.) (Back here where you can't
reach it without being passed through two electric gates? Ask Finchley; he
may know.) (And if he says it's polluted?) (Then we go swimming anyhow.
Boss, as you pointed out, if you don't bet, you can't win.) (Mmmm . . . if he
knows it's polluted, I'm chicken. As you pointed out, beloved, we now have
responsibilities. Let's go eat, I'm hungry.) (You're hungry? I was beginning
to think you had given up the habit.) (So let's eat while we can. How soon
does morning sickness start?) (Who dat, Boss? The other time the only
effect it had was to make me hungry morning, noon, and night. Let's eat!)
Joan Eunice trotted back toward the car, stopped dead when she saw that
Shorty was laying the car's folding table-with one place setting. "What's
that?"
"Your lunch, Miss."
"A picnic? On a table? Do you want to starve the ants? It should be on the
ground."
Shorty looked unhappy. "If you say, Miss." (Joan! You're not wearing
panties. If you loll on the ground, you'll shock Shorty-and interest the
others.) (Spoilsport. Oh, all right.)
"Since it's set up, Shorty, leave it that way. But set three more places."
"Oh, we eat in the car, Miss-we often do."
She stomped her foot. "Shorty, if you make me eat alone, I'll make you walk
home. Whose idea was this? Finchley's? Finchley! Come here!"
A few moments later all four sat down at the table. It was crowded as Joan
had insisted that everything be placed on it at once-"Just reach," she
explained. "Or starve. Is there a strong man here who can open that wine
bottle?"
The dexterity with which Shorty opened it caused her to suspect that he had
not always been a teetotaler. She filled her glass and Fred's, then reached
for Finchley's. He said, "Please, Miss Smith-I'm driving," and put his hand
over it.
"Give it to me," she answered, "for four drops. For a toast. And four drops
for you, Shorty, for the same purpose." She put about a quarter of an inch
in each of their glasses. "But first-Shorty, will you say grace?"
The big man looked startled, at once regained his composure. "Miss Smith,
I'd be pleased." He bowed his head; (Boss! What's eating you?) (Pipe
down! Om Mani Padme Hum.) (Oh! Om Mani Padme Hum.) (Om Mani
Padme Hum.) (Om Mani Padme Hum )
"Amen."
"Amen!"
(Om Mani Padme Hum. Amen.)
                                      199
"Amen. Thank you, Shorty. Now for a toast-which is a sort of a prayer, too.
We'll all drink it, so it must be to someone who isn't here . . . but should be."
(Boss! You must stop this-it's morbid.) (Mind your own business!)
"Will one of you propose it?"
Finchley and Shorty looked at each other-looked away. Joan caught Fred's
eye. "Fred?"
"Uh-Miss, I don't know how!" He seemed upset.
"You stand up"-Joan stood, the others followed-"and say whatever you like
about someone who isn't here but would be welcome. Anyone we all like.
You name the person to be honored." She raised her glass, realized her
tears were starting. (Eunice! Are you crying? Or am I? I never used to cry!)
(Then don't get me started, Boss-I told you I was a sentimental slob.)
Fred said uncertainly, "A toast to . . . someone we all like . . . and who
should be here. And still is!" He suddenly looked frightened.
"Amen," Shorty said in sonorous baritone. " 'And still is.' Because Heaven is
as close as you'll let it be. That's what I tell my people, Fred. . . and in your
heart you know I'm right." He poured down, solemnly and carefully, the
symbolic teaspoonful of wine in his glass; they all drank.
Joan said quietly, "Thank you, Fred. She heard you. She heard you too,
Shorty. She hears me now." (Boss! You've got them upset-and yourself,
too. Tell them to sit down. And eat. Tell 'em I said to! You've ruined a
perfectly good picnic.) (No, I haven't.) "Finchley. You knew her well.
Probably better than I did. . . for I was a cranky old man and she catered to
my illness. What would she want us to do now?"
"What would. . . Mrs. Branca?...want us to do?"
"Yes. Did you call her 'Mrs. Branca'? Or 'Eunice'?"
(They called me 'Eunice,' Boss-and after the first week I kissed them hello
and good-bye and thanked them for taking care of me. Even if Jake could
see. He just pretended not to notice.) (Busybody. You're a sweet girl,
beloved. Anything more than kiss them?) (Heavens, Boss! Even getting
them to accept a kiss in place of the tips they wouldn't take took doing.) (I'll
bet!-on you, that is-sister tart.) (Knocked-up broad.)
"Uh, I called her 'Mrs. Branca' at first. Then she called me 'Tom' and I called
her 'Eunice.'
"All right, Tom, what does Eunice want us to do? Stand here crying? I see
tears in your eyes; I'm not the only one crying. Would Eunice have us spoil
a picnic?"
"Uh-She'd say, 'Sit down and eat.'
"That she would!" Shorty agreed. "Eunice would say, 'Don't let hot things
get cold and cold things get hot-eat!"


                                       200
"Yes," agreed Joan Eunice, sitting down, "as Eunice was never a spoilsport
in all her short and beautiful life and wouldn't let anyone else be. Especially
me, when I was cranky. Reach me a drumstick, Fred-no, don't pass it."
Joan took a bite of chicken. (Twin, what Shorty said sounded like a
quotation.) (It was, Boss.) (Then you've eaten with him before.) (With all of
them. When a team drove me late at night, I always invited them in for a
bite. Joe never minded, he liked them all. Shorty he was especially glad to
see; he wanted Shorty to model for him. At first Shorty thought Joe was
making fun of him-didn't know that Joe rarely joked and never about
painting. They never got to it, though, as Shorty is shy-wasn't sure it was all
right to pose naked and scared that I might show up while he was posing.
Not that I would have.) (Not even once, little imp? Shorty is a beautiful
tower of ebony.) (Boss, I keep telling you-) (-that nudity doesn't mean
anything to your generation. Depends on the skin, doesn't it? I would enjoy
seeing our black giant-and that goes for Johann as well as for Joan.) (Well-)
(Take your time thinking up a fib; I've got to make conversation.) "Tom, do
you have those mustard pickles staked out, or may I have some? Shorty,
you sounded as if you had sampled Eunice's cooking. Could she cook?"
Finchley answered, "You bet she could!"
"Real cooking? Anybody can flash a prepack-and that's what kids
nowadays seem to think is cooking." (Boss, I'll spit in your soup!) "But what
could she have done faced with flour and lard and baking powder and
such?"
"Eunice would have done just fine," Shorty said quietly. "True, she mostly
never had time for real cooking-but when she did-or whatever she done,
anyways-she done just perfect."
(My fan! Boss-give him a raise.) (No.) (Stingy.) (No, Eunice. Shorty killed
the vermin who killed you. I want to do something for him. But it can't be
money; he would not accept it.)
"She was an artist," agreed Fred.
"You mean 'artist' in the general sense. Her husband was, I recall, an artist
in the usual sense. A painter. Is he a good one? I've never seen any of his
work. Do any of you know?"
Finchley said, "I guess that's, a matter of opinion, Miss Smith. I like Joe
Branca's paintings-but I don't know anything about art; I just know what I
like. But-" He grinned. "Can I tell on you, Shorty?"
"Aw, Tom!"
"You were flattered, you know you were. Miss Smith, Joe Branca wanted to
paint that big ape on your right."
(Bingo.') (Trouble, Eunice?) "And did he, Shorty?"
"Well, no. But he did ask me. He did." (Don't you see, Boss? This is that
clincher. A fact you first learned from me and nowhere else . . . and then
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had confirmed to the hilt. Now you know I'm me.) (Oh, piffle, darling.) (But
Boss-) (I've known you were you all along, beloved. But this isn't proof.
Once I knew that Joe and Shorty had met, it was a logical necessity that
Joe would want him to model-any artist would want to paint him.)
(Boss, you make sick! It's proof. I'm me.) (Beloved darling without whom life
would not be worth living even in this beautiful body, I know you are you.
But flatworms don't matter, coincidences don't matter, no mundane proof
matters: There is no proof that some cocksure psychiatrist could not explain
away as coincidence, or déjà vu, or self-delusion. If we let them set the
rules, we're lost. But we shan't. What does matter is that you have me, and
I have you. Now shut up; I want to get them all so easy with me that they'll
call me Eunice. You say they used to kiss you?)
(Oh, sure. Friendly kisses. Well, Dabrowski used to put zing in it but you
know how Poles are.) (I'm afraid I don't.) (Put it this way, Boss. With a Pole
don't advertise unless you mean to deliver-because his intentions are as
honest as a loaded gun. With Dabrowski I was very careful not to let it go
critical.)
(I'll remember. Just as well he isn't here. Because the situation is like that
with Jake, only milder. Little baggage, you caused all my mobile guards to
fall in love with you. So now I've got to get them to accept that you are dead
while feeling that you are still alive, equally. If they call me 'Eunice,' I'm
halfway there. If they kiss me-) (What? Boss! Don't try it!)
(Now see here, Eunice! If you hadn't played 'My Last Duchess' to half the
county, I wouldn't be having to repair the damage.) ('Damage,' huh? You're
complaining?)
(No, no, my darling! Never. I was the prime beneficiary of your
benevolence. But to lose something of value is a damage, and that is the
damage I must repair.) (Well. . . I won't argue, dearest. But in this case you
can let it be; I never let it warm up that much.) (And I say you don't know
what you are talking about. Cool you may have meant to keep it. Unsexy-or
as unsexy as you could manage which isn't very. But all four of my mobiles
were willing to die for you-correct?) (Uh-) (Let's have no silly talk. Do you
think the fact that I paid them had anything to do with their willingness?
Careful how you answer.)
(Uh. . . I don't have to answer! Boss, what's the use of stirring them up over
my death?) (Because, my darling, from now on they will be guarding me-as
I now am, inside your lovely body-just as they guarded you. They've got to
want to guard me, or they'll never be happy in this weird situation. It's either
that, or fire them or retire them-) (Oh, no!) (Of course not. To paraphrase
Sherlock Holmes; when you have eliminated what you can't do, what
remains is what you must do. Besides, dearest and only, this is stern

                                      202
practice for the much harder case we still face.) (Jake? But Jake is-) (Little
stupid! Jake has already accepted the impossible. I mean Joe.)
(But, Boss! You must never see Joe.)
(God knows I wish I could avoid it. Never mind, beloved; we won't see him
until you know-as I do-that we must. Now either shut up, or coach me in
how to handle these brave men.)
(Well. . . I'll help all I can. But you'll never get them as easy, as they were
with me.-'kissing-friends' easy, I mean. 1 was an employee. You are the
Boss.)
(If that argument were valid, queens would never get pregnant. Sure it
makes it harder. But you've given me a lot to work with. Want to bet?)
(Oh, sure, I'll bet you a billion dollars you can't kiss even one of them. Don't
be silly, Boss; we can never make a real bet, there is no way to pay off.)
(You don't have much practice being an angel, do you. little imp? You still
think in earthy terms. Certainly we can make a bet and pay off to the
winner. This baby in us-) (Huh! Now wait a moment-) (You wait a moment,
Eunice. If I win this bet, I name our baby. If I lose, you have, the privilege;
Fair bet?)
(Oh. All right, it's a bet. But you'll lose.)
(We'll see.)
(Oh, yes, you will, Boss. You'll lose even if you win. Want to know why?)
(Planning on cheating?) (Not necessary, Boss darling; you're going to find
that you want to name the baby whatever name I want it to have. Because
you're a sucker for a pretty girl, Boss, always have been and still are.) (Now
wait a moment. I used to be, but now I am that 'pretty girl' and-) (You'll find
out. Do you want coaching? I'll help you win if it can be done. It can't.) (Yes,
but tuck your advice in edgeways; I've been chewing this bone too long.)
"Fred, I'll trade you one of these Danish sandwiches for more wine. Then
keep our glasses filled; Shorty doesn't drink and Tom won't and I want
company in getting tiddly, this is my freedom celebration."
(Fred might be easiest if you can get him over seeing ghosts when he looks
at you.) "I don't mind another glass, Miss, but I mustn't get tiddly, I'm on
duty."
"Pish and tush. Tom and Shorty will get us home even if they have to drag
us. Right, Shorty?" (Shorty is your impossible case. I managed it only by
being 'little girl' to him-which you can't be, Boss.)
"We'll certainly try, Miss Smith."
"Do I have to be 'Miss Smith' on a picnic? You called Mrs. Branca 'Eunice,'
did you not? Did she call you 'Shorty?'
"Miss, she called me by my name. Hugo."
"Do you prefer that to your nickname?"
"It's the name my mother gave me, Miss."
                                      203
"That answers me, Hugo;-I will remember. But it brings to mind a problem.
Anybody want to fight me for the 'last black olive? Come on, put up your
dukes. But that's not the problem. I said I didn't want to be called 'Miss
Smith' under these circumstances. But I don't want to be called
'Johann' either; that's a man's name. Hugo, you have christened babies?"
"Many times, Miss-uh, Miss-"
Joan cut in fast. "That's right, you don't know what to call me. Hugo, having
named so many babies you must have opinions about names. Do you think
'Joan' pronounced as two syllables would be a good name for a girl who
used to be a man named 'Johann?'"
"Yes. I do."
"Tom? What do you think?" (Tom would kiss you at the drop of a hint if you
weren't his employer. I don't think he ever did give up hoping to catch me
alone. . . so I was as careful not to let that chance come up as I was with
Dabrowski. All it took with Tom was to say, 'Tom, if you're going to be stuffy
about letting me pay for extra service'-it was an after-midnight run, Boss; a
rare-blood call-'at least you can kiss me good-night.' So he did, quite well.
After which Hugo was too polite not to lean way down and give me a
fatherly little peck. But what worked for Eunice can't work for 'Miss Smith.')
(So watch me switch decks on them, young 'un.)
"It sounds like a good name to me," the driver-guard agreed.
"Fred? Do I look like 'Joan' to you?" She sat up straight and lifted her chest.
(You look like you're going to break that bandeau, if you aren't careful.)
(Pfui, little hussy; it can't break. I want him to realize that I'm female.) (He
realizes it. Winnie ought to be here to take his pulse.)
"I don't see why anybody should get a vote but you. But, sure, I like it."
"Good! I still have to sign papers with my former name-but I'm 'Joan' in my
mind. But, friends, this country must have a thousand 'Joan Smiths' in it; I
need a middle name. But I want one for a much better reason." She looked
with solemn seriousness at the giant black. "Hugo, you are a man of God.
Would it be presumptuous of me to call myself . . . 'Joan Eunice?'"
(Boss, if you make my friend Hugo cry, I'll-I'll-I won't speak to you the rest of
the day!) (Oh, quit nagging! Hugo won't cry. He's the only one of the three
who believes you're here. He has faith.)
"I think that would be beautiful," the Reverend Hugo White answered
solemnly and sniffed back tears.
"Hugo, Eunice would not want you to be sad about it."
She looked away from him, her own eyes bright with unshed tears. "That
settles it. My new name will be-is!-Joan Eunice. I don't want anyone ever to
forget Eunice. Most especially I want you, her friends, to know this. Now
that I am a woman, Eunice is my model, the ideal I must live up to, every

                                       204
hour, every minute, of my new life. Will you help me? Will you treat me as
Eunice?
Yes, yes, I'm your employer; somehow I must be both, and it's not easy. But
the most difficult part for me is to learn to behave and think and feel as
Eunice...when I've had so many weary years as a cranky, self-centered old
man. You are her friends.-will you help me?" (Boss, did you ever sell real
estate in Florida?) (Damn it, if you can't help, keep quiet!) (Sorry, Boss.
That was applause. As Hugo would say, 'You done perfect.')
Tom Finchley said quietly, "We'll help, that goes for Dabrowski too. By the
way, she called him 'Anton' First she called him 'Ski' like the rest of us.
Then she learned his first name and called him by it."
"Then I will call him 'Anton.' Will you all call me 'Eunice'? Or at least 'Joan
Eunice'? To help me? Oh, call me 'Miss Smith' when others are around; I
know you won't feel easy otherwise. You probably called her 'Mrs. Branca' if
other people were-"
"We did."
"So call me 'Miss Smith' when it would be natural for you to call her 'Mrs.
Branca.' But when you called her 'Eunice,' call me 'Joan Eunice' and-dear
and trusted friends! -any time you feel that I have earned it, please call me
'Eunice.' It will be the highest compliment you can pay me, so don't use it
lightly. Leave off the 'Joan' and call me 'Eunice.' Will you?"
Fmchley looked at her, unsmiling. "Yes. . . Eunice."
"Tom, I haven't earned it yet."
Finchley did not answer. Fred said, "Let me get this straight. 'Joan Eunice'
is for everyday . . . but 'Eunice' means we think you've done and said just
what Mrs. Branca would have."
"That's right, that's what I said."
"Then I know what Tom meant. Uh, this has been a touchy day-worse for
you, I'd say, but not easy for any of us. Shorty-Hugo, I mean-said she was
an angel. Or meant it, anyhow. I can't argue; Shorty is a preacher and
knows more about angels and suchlike than I do. But if she was-is, I mean-
still, she had a lot of salt and pepper in her, too. You remember an hour
back when you snapped at Shorty and yelled for Tom?"
She sighed. "Yes, I remember. I lost my temper. I've got a long way to go. I
know it."
"Rut that's just what I'm saying...Eunice. She had a lot of spunk. It we had
tried to make her eat by herself, she would have kicked the gong. Right,
Shorty?-I mean 'Hugo.'
"Amen! Eunice."
Finchley said, "Fred read my mind close enough Eunice. But I was thinking
of other things, too. I never thought of her as an angel, particularly. She just
treated us like people."
                                      205
"Tom-"
"Yeah, Shorty? Hugo."
"My name's Shorty to you-and to you, Fred. Don't put on any fancies. Hugo
was Mama's name for me. And hers. Yours, Eunice. But I near forgot what I
had to say. Tom, that's all anybody wants. To be treated 'like people.' She
done it that way-Eunice. And now you do, too. 'Like people.' Mr. Smith
didn't quite manage it. But he was old and sick, and we made allowances."
"Oh, dear! I feel like crying again. Hugo-when I was Mr. Smith, I never
meant to be anything but people. Truly I didn't."
"Sick people can't help being cranky. My Daddy got so mean before he
passed on, I run away from home. Worst mistake I ever made. But I don't
fault him for it. We do what we do, then we live with it. Eunice-the first
Eunice-is an angel now, my heart tells me and my head knows. But she had
her little human ways; same as everybody. The dear Lord don't fault us for
that."
"Hugo? If it had been me and not her, would I have made it? To Heaven?"
(Om Mam Padme Hum! Watch it, Boss! He'll drag you over to that creek
and wash your sins away.) (If he wants to, I'll let him. Shut up!)
"I don't rightly know," the preacher said softly. "I never knew Mr. Smith that
well. But the Lord do move in mysterious ways. Looks like He give you a
second chance. He always knows what He's doing." (Oh, all right, twin. Try
not to get water up our nose.)
"Thank you, Hugo. I think He did, too-and I'm trying to justify it." She sighed.
"But it's not easy. I try to do what Eunice would do. At least justify the
second chance she gave me. I think I know what she Would do now. But
I'm not certain." (I'd knock off all this talk, that's what I'd do.) (Pipe down and
give me a chance.) She looked around. "I don't know how well you knew
her and I keep learning things about her. I think you 'three-you four; I
include Anton-must have been her closest friends, at least in my household.
Certainly you knew her better than I had thought. Tom?"
"Yes, Eunice?"
"Did you ever kiss her?"
Her driver looked startled. "Yes. . . Joan Eunice."
"Meaning Eunice would never ask such a question, she would just do what
her heart told her to. I wanted to, Tom-but I was scared. Not yet used to
being a girl." She jumped up, stood by his chair, took his hands, pulled.
Slowly he got to his feet. She put her arms around his shoulders, put up her
face-waited.
He sighed and almost scowled, then took her in his arms and kissed her.
(Twin, he can do lots better.) (He will. The poor dear is scared.) Joan let
him go without forcing it beyond his willingness, whispered, "Thank you,
Tom," and quickly left his arms-went on to Fred, took his hands. Again Fred
                                       206
looked frightened but he got up promptly. (What about Fred, Eunice? Sexy
or sisterly?) (Too late, twin!) Fred embraced her with unexpected force, met
her mouth so quickly that Joan was caught with her lips open and he at
once answered it, savagely. But briefly. He broke from it and both were
trembling.
(Eunice! What is this? You didn't warn me.) (So I goofed. Later, dear. Slow
march now and say three Money Hums and be darn sure to be an innocent
child with Father Hugo.)
Joan went slowly around the table the long way, stopped by Hugo, waited.
He got up from his chair, looked down at her. She moved closer, put her
hands on his chest, looked up, face solemn, lips closed, eyes open.
Gently he put his arms around her. (My God, Eunice, if he really hugged us,
he 'ud break us in two!) (He never will, twin; he's the gentlest man alive.)
Hugo's lips met hers in soft benediction, unhurried but quickly over. She
stayed in his arms a moment. "Hugo?
When you pray for her tonight, will you add a prayer for me? I may not
deserve it. But I need it."
"I will, Eunice." He seated her with gallant grace, then sat down again.
(High, low, jack, and game, twin-what are you going to name him?)
('Eunice,' of course!) (Even if he's a boy?) (If he's a boy, he'll be named
Jacob E.-for 'Eunice'-Smith.) ('Johann E Smith' is better.) (I won the bet, so
shut up. I won't wish 'Johann' on a boy. Now what's this about Fred?) (You
won't believe it.) (By now I believe anything. All right, later.) "Fred, is there
any wine in that bottle? Hugo, will you open the second bottle? I need it, I'm
shaky."
"Certainly, Eunice. Hand me the bottle, Fred."
"I'm going to eat some more, too, and I hope all of you will. Tom, am I still
'Eunice'? Or am I a hussy who doesn't understand how a lady behaves?"
"Yes, Eunice. I mean 'No, Eunice.' I-Oh, hell!"
She patted his hand. "That's the nicest compliment I've had yet, Tom. You
would never have said 'Oh, hell' to Miss Smith . . . but you know that Eunice
and Joan Eunice-is human." She looked around the table. "Do you know
how good it is to be touched? Have you ever watched kittens snuggling?
For over a quarter of a century no one kissed me. Except for an occasional
handshake I don't think anyone ever touched me. Until nurses and doctors
started handling me. Friends-dear friends-you have taken me back into the
human race, with your lips. I am so very grateful to Eunice-to Eunice
Branca-that she kissed you before I did, and won your friendship-your love?
I think so. For it meant that you let me in-treated me as 'people'! Uh, tell me
this, I must know-even if it makes you, Tom, call me 'Joan Eunice' again.
Did Eunice kiss Anton, too?" (Boss, I'm not going to tell you anything until
we're alone!) (Didn't ask you, dear.)
                                       207
"Won't anyone tell me? Well, I suppose it's an unfair question."
Finchley said suddenly, "Teams shift around. I drive with Fred, and Shorty
with Ski, and so forth. Been times when 1 rode Shotgun for Ski. Eunice, she
treated us all alike. But don't never think anything bad about it-"
"I don't!"
"-because there wasn't any such. She was so warm and friendly-and good-
that she could kiss a man friend just for, uh-"
"For lovingkindness," Shorty supplied,.
"'For lovingkindness.' Kissed us thank-you and good-night as quick with her
husband there as any other time. Always did, if we stopped for a late bit o'
supper with them." (All right, twin. Fred and Anton. Not Tom and Hugo.
Happened only once. Oh, Tom would have, but no chance, so I kept it cool.
Hugo-nobody gets past Hugo's guard and I never tried. He has moral
character-something you and I don't know anything about.)
"Thank you for telling me, Tom. I'll never let Anton guess. But he'll find me
easy to kiss if he wishes to. . . now that I know that she shared
lovingkindness with him.
Abrupt change of subject: Tom, is that pretty little stream polluted? It looks
so clean."
"It's clean. Clean as a creek can be, I mean. I know because I found out
about this place through the company lending it to our guild for a picnic.
Some of us went swimming after the farm super told us it was okay."
"Oh, wonderful! Because I want to swim. I last went swimming in natural
water-old swimming hole style, I mean-let me see. . . goodness! More than
three-quarters of a century ago."
"Eunice, I don't think you should."
"Why?"
"Because it can be polluted another way. Dropouts. Not all the dropouts are
in the A.A.s; any wild countryside attracts them. Like this. I didn't make a
fuss but when you walked down to the bank by yourself, Fred had you
flanked one side and me the other."
"Well, heavens, if you can keep me safe on the bank, you can keep me
safe in the water."
"It ain't quite the same, truly it ain't. I was a few seconds late once, I won't
be again. Some dropouts are real nasty weirdos, not just harmless nuts."
"Tom, why argue? I want to get into that water, feel it all over me. I intend
to."
"I wish you wouldn't. . . Joan Eunice."
She jerked her head around at the last two words. Then she grinned and
pouted her lower lip. "Okay, Tom. Darn it, I've handed you three a leash you
can lead me by any time you see fit. And yet I'm supposed to be boss. It's
comical."
                                      208
"It's like the Secret Service," Finchley answered soberly. "The President is
the top boss of any. . . but he gives in when his guards tell him not to do
something."
"Oh, I wasn't complaining; I was wryly amused. But don't jerk that leash too
much, Tom; I don't think Eunice would stand for it and neither will I."
"I'm hoping you won't pull on the leash as much as she did. If she, uh-well,
things coulda been different."
Fred said, "Tom, don't cry over spilt milk."
Joan said quickly, "I'm sorry. Boys, I think the picnic is over. Maybe
someday we pan all have that swim somewhere safe and just as beautiful."
(Eunice, can you swim?) (Red Cross lifesaver-you knew that, it was in my
snoopsheet. Never went out for the team, though; cheerleader was more
fun.) (I could make a comment.) (Look who's talking! No-Pants Smith.)
(Who taught me?)
(You didn't need teaching; you have the instincts.)


19


A short time later they were again in the car. Finchley said, "Home, Miss
Smith?"
"Tom, I can't hear you."
"I asked did you want to go home, Miss?"
"I understood that part but this intercom must be out of order. I heard
something that sounded like 'Miss Smith.'"
There was a silence. "Eunice, do you want to go home?"
"Not until dinnertime, Tom; I want all of this lovely day I can have."
"Okay, Eunice. Do I cruise? Or go somewhere?"
"Uh . . . I have one more item on my list, and there's time enough for
anything you three may want to pick up, too, so check around."
"Will do. Where do we take you for what you want, Eunice?"
"I don't know. I lost touch with such matters years ago. Tom, I want to buy a
present for Mr. Salomon, something nice but unnecessary-presents should
be unnecessary, a luxury a person might not buy himself. So it probably
would be a men's shop that stocks luxurious unnecessaries. Abercromhie &
Fitch used to he that sort-but I'm not certain they are still in business."
"They are. But let me ask Fred and Shorty."
Shortly Finchley reported: "There are a dozen places that would do. But we
think The Twenty-First Century Stud has the fastest stock."
"Roz. Let's giddyap and get there."
"That is, if you don't mind their prices. 'Twigs and leaves.'
                                     209
"I don't mind; I've met thieves before. Tom-all of you. I came out of this
operation with more money than I had last year . . . and it's a nuisance. I've
played the money game and I'm bored with it. Any time any of you can think
of a good way to help me get rid of some-a good way, I said; I won't be
played for a sucker-you'd be doing me a favor to tell me. Hugo, are there
any poor people in your church?"
His answer was slow. "Lots of them, Eunice. But not hurtin' poor, just
Welfare poor. I'd like to think about it... because it don't do a man no good
to plain give him what he ought to root for. So the Book says, in different
words."
"That's the trouble, Hugo. I've given away money many times, and usually
did harm when I meant to do good. But the Book also says something about
the eye of the needle. All right, think about it. Now let's go see those
thieves. I'll need a man to help me. Which one of you dresses the most far-
out when you aren't in uniform?"
She heard Fred laugh. "Eunice, it's no race. You should see the getups
Tom wears. A Christmas tree. A light show."
Finchley growled, then said, "Don't listen to him, Eunice."
"He's probably jealous, Tom. All right, if there is parking inside or near this
shop, you come help me."
As they passed through the second gate Finchley said, "Crash belts,
Eunice?"
"I'm wearing the Swedish-and it's comfortable now that Hugo has adjusted
it. Could we get along with just it and the collision net if we didn't go so fast?
Or does that make me 'Joan Eunice' again?"
"Uh-Will you wear the forehead strap?"
"All right. It's just that I don't like to be tied down all over. It reminds me-well,
it reminds me of the way the doctors kept me strapped down after the
operation. Necessary, but I hated it." She did not mention that a forehead
strap was what she disliked the most.
"We heard about that-musta been horrid. But you need the forehead strap.
Say I'm doing only a hundred, a slam stop could break your neck. If you
don't wear it."
"So I wear it."
"I don't see the light on the board."
"Because I haven't put it on yet. There. Did the light go on?"
"Yes. Thank you. . . Eunice."
"Thank you, Tom. For taking care of me. Let's mush. I wasn't pulling on the
leash, truly I wasn't." (Says you. Boss, you're mendacious, untruthful, and a
fibber.) (Where did I learn it, dearie? They're sweet boys, Eunice-but we've
got to work out a way to live so that we don't have to clear everything with
forty other people. Good servants are priceless-but you work for them as
                                        210
much as they work for you. Life should be simpler. Honey, how would you
like to go to India and be a guru and sit on a mountain top and never have
any plans? Just sit and wait for your grateful chelas to gather around?)
(Might be a long wait. Why not sit at the bottom of the mountain and wait for
the boys to gather around?) (One track mind!) (Yes. Yours, you dirty old
man.) (Conceded. But I try to act like a lady.) (Not too hard, you don't). (As
hard as you ever did, little trollop. I was called 'Joan Eunice' once. . . and
the issue had nothing to do with sex.) (You'd be surprised how much sex
had to do with it, Joan.) (Well...from that point of view, yes. But as long as
they call me 'Eunice' I'll go on believing that I've 'done just perfect.' Honestly
though, good servants can be smothering. Take Winnie. She's a darling-but
she's underfoot every minute. Eunice, how the devil can we manage that
'actively female' life you want-sorry, we want-with so much chaperonage?)
(Take a tip from Winnie.)
(How dear?)
(Let her in on your plans. Then she'll keep your secrets and never ask a
question, just as you do for her. Try it.)
(I may have to. I'm sure she won't talk . . . and will happily listen to anything
I need to spill. But, Eunice, if I go outside the house, it's going to be hard to
keep Tom and Hugo, or Anton and Fred, from guessing. You saw the
elaborate maneuver I had to use today.)
(You didn't have to, Boss; they won't talk.)
(Perhaps they won't, but I don't want them even to think. They're beginning
to think I'm an angel-named Eunice-and I'd rather keep it that way.)
(Boss, they know darned well that Eunice is no angel. Even Hugo knows it .
. . because Hugo is the smartest of the four, even if he is an illit. Knows
people. Understands them from having been there himself. Forgives them
their transgressions and loves them anyhow. Boss dear, they loved me the
way I was, feet of clay and all-and they'll love you the same way.)
(Maybe, I hope so. I know I love you more, knowing more about you and
things I never suspected, than I did before we consolidated, immoral little
wench. What's this about you and Fred and Anton? Did you really?)
(Wondered when you'd get around to that. Those good-night kisses did
start out just friendly. Brotherly. Fatherly in Hugo's case. Never got past that
with Tom, as we were always either under Hugo's eye, or Jake's, or both-I
just knew darn well a man was kissing me. But Fred and Anton weren't
much chaperonage for each other and they were both charged up over me.
So, when a chance turned up, I thought 'Why not?')
(Pure charity, eh?)
(Was that sarcasm, Boss? Anyhow, they took me home late one night. Not
a blood donation call, just working late with Jake when we were very rushed

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getting things arranged for you. The 'warm body' project. I invited them in
for a Coke and a snack, as usual. Only it turned out Joe wasn't home.)
(So human nature won-again.)
(You seem to have a low opinion of human nature, Boss darling.)
(I have a high opinion of human nature. I think it will prevail in spite of all
efforts of wowsers to suppress it. But that's all it took? Two men? Cold
sober? And a chance that your husband might walk in? Lovely fallen angel,
your story not only has holes; it is inconsistent. I do know something about
men, having been one. What they'll risk, what they won't. Plenty, that is, for
a woman. But two men tend to be wary of each other, and still more so
when a husband might show up. Darling, you've left out something-this
does not sound like a first time.)
(Boss, cross our heart, it was a first time...and the only time, for I was killed
soon after. All right, I'll fill in the holes. Joe wasn't likely to walk in and they
knew it. Couldn't, as our door was hand-bolted from the inside whenever
either of us was there. Joe was even more careful about it than I was, as he
had always been a city boy. But they knew also that Joe was not due home
until midnight and they brought me home about twenty-one thirty. No hurry,
no worry, no flurry. While Joe can't read, he can tell time-you know those
little dummy clocks some one-man shops use? Back at such-and-such a
time, and mark the time by setting the hands?
(We had one of those, to tell the other one when he would be back. That
night the door opened to my voice, so I looked for the dummy clock and
found it set for midnight-and told Anton and Fred that I was sorry but Joe
wasn't going to be home soon enough for a visit.)
(Called attention to it, minx. Sounds like a setup.)
(Well, I knew what was ready for, once I knew we had the place to
ourselves. Oh, shucks, Boss, I'm still trying to be your 'nice girl.' I had had
my ear cocked for a late arrival with that team for over a month. When Jake
asked me to work after dinner, I phoned Joe, just as usual. And set it up
under Jake's nose. Short-talked it--almost another language if spoken by a
husband and wife. What Jake heard was me telling Joe that I wouldn't be
home until twenty-one thirty. What Jake didn't hear, or would not
understand, was that I was asking Joe if he minded being elsewhere, in
family short-talk code we used if we wanted that favor. It was all right, Boss
darling; I made myself scarce for Joe's sake oftener than I asked it of him.
The only question was: Was he painting? Turned out he was not, so I was
home free.
(Joe asked if I wanted him to be away all night. What be said was: 'Roz.
Punch or phone?' Not that Joe ever punched me to wake me, but I
answered, 'Judy,' meaning that it was up to him but I hoped he would punch

                                        212
me, and added, 'Blackbirds,' and gave him a phone kiss and signed off. All
set, no sweat-knew what I would find at home.)
('Blackbirds?')
('Four and twenty blackbirds, baked in a pie'-set midnight on the clock even
if you stay out all night, Joe darling. 'Oh, it could have been 'pumpkin' or
'Christmas Eve' or 'Reach' or 'solid gold.' But what I used was 'Blackbirds.')
(Did you kids ever talk English?)
(Of course we did, Boss. Joe speaks good English when he needs to. But
short-talk settled it in a dozen words. Without giving Jake any hint that I was
late-dating him. If I had had Betsy at hand, I would have used hush and
spoken standard English. But we weren't actually working late, not that late.
I was using the phone you used yesterday, with Jake only feet away from
me. Had to be short-talked.)
(Let me get this straight. Joe set the dummy clock, saying he would not be
home until midnight. Did he come home then?)
(About ten minutes after midnight. Joe wouldn't embarrass a guest by being
too prompt. Joe is a natural gentleman, never had to learn; he just is. It was
the first thing that attracted me to him, and the quality that caused me to
ask him to marry me. An illit, certainly-but I'll take an illit gentleman over an
Ivy-League squeak any year.)
(I agree, beloved. The more I hear about Mr. José Branca the better I like
him. And respect him. And regret his tragic loss-meaning you, beloved little
strumpet. I was just trying to get the schedule straight for what must have
been a busy night. Okay, Joe got home shortly after midnight. But early that
evening you phoned him and set things up for this date with Anton and
Fred. Then you got back into bed with Jake-)
(Oh, dear! Boss, I've shocked you again.)
(No, my darling. Surprised, not shocked. I find your memoirs fascinating.)
(Shocked. That schedule sounds like a whore on payday. But it wasn't that
at all, Boss. It was love-love and respect for Jake, love and affection for
Anton and Fred, love and devotion and understanding and mutual trust and
respect with Joe. If my husband didn't disapprove, what right have you-or
anybody!-to look down your nose at me?)
(Darling, darling! I was not shocked, I have never been shocked by you.
Damn it, it's that Generation Gap. You can't believe that I packed far more
offbeat behavior into my long years of lechery than you possibly could have
crowded into the fourteen years you claim. You've been a busy body, that's
clear-but I had more than five times as many years at it and quite as much
enthusiasm. Probably not as frequent opportunities, but beautiful girls get
asked oftener than do homely boys. But it was never for lack of trying on my
part, nor do I have any complaints, as I received more cooperation than I
had any reason to expect.)
                                      213
(I think you were shocked.)
(No, little innocent. Sheer admiration-plus surprise at your endurance. You
must have been half dead the next day.)
(On the contrary I felt grand. Glowing. Happy. You remarked on it. You may
even recall it. . . it was the day Joe painted me with tiger stripes and a cat's
face makeup.)
(Be darned if I don't! You were bouncy as a kitten-and I said you looked like
the cat who ate the canary. Darling girl, I was hurting that day; you cheered
me up.)
(I'm glad.)
(How much sleep did you get?)
(Oh, plenty. Six hours. Five at least. Plus a nap stretched out on my tummy
while Joe did most of the stripes. Joan, a well-loved woman doesn't need
as much sleep as a lonely one-you'll find out. As for it being too much for
me-Boss, who told me just last week that nothing encourages sex the way
sex does? You, that's who.)
(Yes. But I was speaking from a. man's viewpoint-)
(Works the same for a woman, twin. You'll see.)
(I hope so. I know that most people-in my day-assumed the opposite. But
it's not true. Sex, whatever else it is-much else!-is an athletic skill. The more
you practice, the more you can, the more you want to, the more you enjoy
it, the less it tires you. I'm glad to hear-very personally glad-that it works
that way for a woman, too. But you aren't the first girl to tell me so. Uh first
time I heard a girl say that, or roughly that, was when Harding was
President. Not a girl, a very sweet young married woman who had more in
common with you than you are likely to believe. Almost certainly dead now,
God rest her soul; she would be over a hundred years old)
(What was her name?)
(Does it matter? Little busybody, you were telling me about Fred and Anton.
I still don't understand how you swung it. The setup, yes-but how did you
gentle them to it? Did you split the time and take them into your apartment
separately?)
(Oh, heavens, no! That would be rude. And embarrassing for everyone. It
would have turned me off utterly. It was a Troy.)
(Well?)
(Boss, can you imagine how excited two men can get while kissing-
fondling-the same girl? If she's willing? If they trust each other? Which they
did, they were driver and Shotgun together.)
(Yes, that's true but I can't visualize-wups! I just remembered something
that happened so many years ago I had almost forgotten it.)
(Tell me.)

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(No, no, you go on. Just that history repeats itself-as it always does. Go
on.).
(Well, they do, Boss. Excite each other even if they don't touch each other
at all. Just her. 'Heterodyning' is the term I learned for it in secretronics; I
don't know what the kinseys call it. But I had been kissing them good-night
almost every other night for weeks, and kissing them when they picked me
up in the mornings. And the kisses got warmer and it's never been my
nature to discourage a man if I like him-which I did; I felt affectionate toward
both of them; they're nice people.
(Presently we were stopping for a necking session-could no longer call it a
good-night kiss-in the basement parking before they would take me up the
lift. I had to slow that down by saying, 'Watch it, boys. You're not only
getting body paint on your uniforms, you're getting me so mussed up I'll
have trouble getting neat enough that Joe won't notice it.' Which did slow
them down, more on my account than any fret about uniforms; they liked
Joe-everybody likes Joe-and did not want to cause me worry at home.
Didn't tell them that Joe wasn't fooled; his artist's eye sees much more than
most people see.
(But we settled it that night, Boss. I told them that I was not a tease and that
I was as eager as they were. . . but that I was not going to be spread in a
basement. But that I would find a chance. They are both nice boys-oh, men,
sure; Anton is forty and Fred is as old as I am. Was. So they waited, and
didn't do more than kiss me and grab a friendly feel. Then twice we almost
had it made but Joe was busy painting, which I would not interrupt to take
the President to bed.
(Then we hit the jackpot. Almost missed at the last minute; Jake was going
to send me home in his car. He told me to cancel the call I had put in for my
car. Yours, I mean. I surprised Jake by being balky-told him that I didn't feel
safe with Charlie unless he, Jake, was along. True, as far as it went; Charlie
is a bad one, not like our four.
(So dear old Jake was going to get dressed and ride with me-I said that was
silly, that Finchley and Shorty-I never referred to them as Tom and Hugo
and wouldn't advise you to-)
(I'm not stupid, dearest. When I'm 'Miss Smith,' they are 'Finchley' and
'Shorty.')
(Sorry, Boss darling, I know you're not stupid. But I have more experience
in being a woman than you have.)
(So you have, and you keep me straight, darling. But what's this about Tom
and Hugo?)
(Misdirection. I knew who was on call that night. So Fred and Anton picked
me up and I was tempted to tell them-getting excited all the time, myself.
Couldn't. Would have spoiled it some for them, since men enjoy so much
                                      215
spreading a married woman without her husband knowing it-even sweet old
Jake relished me more for that naughty reason. I always went along with
this quirk because it gave me more control over a situation not easy to
control once a man has had you. Gives you a lever. You might remember
that, Joan.)
(I will. But I'll need a husband to make use of it.)
(You'll get us a husband, never fear, dear-I still think we ought to marry
Jake. He'll come around. But don't hold out on him, Joan; Jake is not a man
you can pressure that way.)
(Eunice, I won't hold out on Jake one-half second. I've never had any
respect for that female tactic and won't use it now that I am female.)
(I have never used it, Boss, I've used almost every other female deception-
but not that one. That one is whoring but not honest whoring. 'Minds me.
How do you feel about whores, Boss?)
(Me? Why, the way I feel about any professional who performs a personal
service. Say a dentist, or a lawyer, or a nurse. If he's honest, I respect him.
If he is competent as well, my respect is limited only by his degree of
competence. Why?)
(Have you ever patronized whores? Hired their services, I mean, not
'patronize' in the snooty sense.)
(If I give that a simple affirmative will you get on with your story? We're
already downtown, damn it.)
(Yes, sir. I mean, 'Yes, twin sister you knocked-up virgin.' Got home, went
up the lift with them, was 'surprised' to find Joe not at home, found the
dummy clock propped on the sink, hands set at midnight, and told them
what it meant. That did it. Finis.)
(Hey!)
(What is there to tell? You already know what we did.)
Joan sighed. (That is the skimpiest account of a gang bang I ever heard in
my long and evil life.)
(What? But it wasn't a gang bang, Boss! Quit dragging your feet and come
on into this century. A Troy is not a gang bang. Nor is it a frimp session, or
needn't be and this was not. A Troy is friendly and loving. They are both
married and they treated me as sweetly as they would treat their wives-and
I loved the way they treated me and loved both of them, quite a lot and still
do, long before the evening was over . . . when up to then it had been just
affectionate, sex-charged friendship. Boss, one of the regrets I have about
being killed is that I was never able to offer them the second chance at me
they had earned-and I had promised. Mmm...do you think you might make it
up to them?)
(Huh? As you pointed out, I'm their boss; it wouldn't be easy. And besides. .
. well, hell, I'm scared. Two men?)
                                      216
(You didn't seem scared of Mac and Alec.)
(Not quite the same thing.)
(Nothing ever is, Boss-especially about sex. But I want to tell you this. A
Troy-if it works right, and it can't unless there is trust and respect all the way
around-if it works, it is the nicest thing that can happen to a woman. Not just
twice as nice because she gets twice as much of what she wants so badly.
That's not it; she might even get less than some rutty young stud, could
manage alone. It's the warm and friendly and loving and trusting aspect that
makes it so good. Four times better, at least. Maybe eight. Oh, arithmetic
can't measure it. But, Joan darling-listen to me-until you have been in bed
between two sweet and loving men, men who love each other almost as
much or even more than they love you . . . with your head pillowed on both
their arms and surrounded by their love-until that's happened to you, you
still have one virginity to go, and an important one. Darling, I was crying
most of the time they were with me . . . cried again when I kissed them
good-night...was still crying happy after they left. . . then jumped out of bed
and rushed to unbolt the door when Joe got home a few minutes later-and
blubbered all over him and took him straight to bed and told him all about it
while he was being especially sweet to me.)
(Did he want to hear about it?)
(Wouldn't you want to?)
(Yes, but no two men are alike and some husbands get headaches from
horns.)
(Some do. Maybe most of them, Joan. I was always careful of Joe's
feelings. Sometimes I strayed and carefully kept it from him-I never told him
about Jake.)
(Why not? I would think that Joe would approve of Jake for you if he
approved of anyone. Jake respects Joe very highly-you know it, too; you
heard him.)
(Yes. But Jake is rich and Joe is dirt poor. Perhaps Joe could have
accepted Jake-I now think he could have. But I wasn't sure, so I didn't risk
hurting him. But Anton and Fred-well, they are just mobile guards; Joe
treated them as friends and equals, and secretly-I think-felt a little superior
to them, since he is an artist and they are just stiffs. I knew they wouldn't
trouble Joe's mind . . . and I was right; he was delighted for me. Happy that
I was happy. Can't explain it, Joan; you get an instinct for it. But a man's
pride is a fragile thing and it is all the armor he has; they are far more
vulnerable than we are. You have to be oh so careful in handling them. Or
they droop.)
(I know, Eunice. Literally droop in some cases. Did I tell you that my second
wife made me psychically impotent for almost a year?)
(Oh, you poor darling!)
                                       217
(Got over it. Not through a shrink. Through the warm and generous help of
a lady who didn't assume that it was my fault. And I was never troubled
again until I was too feeble for any sort of proper physical functioning.)
(I'm glad you found her; I wish I could thank her. Joan I wasn't born knowing
this about men; I found out the hard way. Twin, I made some bad mistakes
in. high school. Look-males are so much bigger and more muscular than we
are, I didn't dream that they could be so fragile. Until I hurt one boy's pride
so badly he dropped out of school, and I've tried never to hurt any boy, or
man, since. I was stupid, Boss. But I did learn.)
(Eunice, how long has it been since I last told you I love you?)
(Oh, at least twenty minutes.)
(Too long. I love you.)
Finchley's voice interrupted her reverie. "We're about to park, Miss Eunice."
"What's this 'Miss Eunice' nonsense? We're not in public."
"Seemed like a good compromise."
"It does, huh? Why just dabble your toes? Why not go whole hawg and call
me 'Miss Smith?' and I won't kiss you good-night."
"Very well-Miss."
"Oh, Tom, don't tease me. It's been a perfect day; don't remind me that I
must be 'Miss Smith' again. You know I'll kiss you good-night if you'll let me
. . . or the real Eunice wouldn't speak to me. Hugo, make him behave!"
"I'll fix his clock, Eunice. Tom, you call her 'Eunice,' real nice."
"I'm sorry, Eunice."
"That makes me feel better, Tom. Are you going to be able to park this
wagon close enough that you can come with me?"
"Sure thing, Eunice-but keep quiet right now, please; I've got to work close
with the traffic computer to get us in."


20


"Good evening, Chief." Joan rested her hand on O'Neil's forearm, stepped
lightly down.
"Good evening, Miss. Message from Mr. Salomon. His respects to you and
regrets he will not be back for dinner. Twenty-one o'clock, he hopes."
"I'm sorry to hear it. Then I shan't dine downstairs; please tell Cunningham
or Della that I want trays in my lounge for Winnie and me. No service."
"Two trays and no service, Miss-right."
"And tell Dabrowski that I want him to drive me tomorrow."
"He's gone home, Miss. But he knows he has the duty. He'll be ready."

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"Perhaps you didn't understand what I said, Chief. I want to tell him, now,
that I want him to drive me tomorrow. Ten, possibly-not earlier. So after you
phone the pantry, call Dabrowski and give him that message from me.
Leave the call in until you reach him. And phone me at once when Mr.
Salomon's car returns, no matter what hour. Don't consult him; do it. Before
Rockford unbuttons."
"Yes, Miss. Phone the pantry. Phone Dabrowski immediately thereafter.
Phone you instantly when Mr. Salomon's car returns, before he is out of his
car. If I may say so, Miss, it feels good to have your firm hand back at the
controls."
"You may say so, to me. But not to Mr. Salomon. For his firm hand has
been invaluable. As you and I know."
"As we both know. He's a fine gentleman, Miss; I respect him. Shall I tell
Cunningham to send down for your packages?"
"No, Finchley and his guns can handle them-though I did go on quite a
shopping spree." Joan gave her security boss Eunice's best happy-little-girl
grin. "I was drunk with excitement, bad as a kid on Christmas, and tried to
buy out the town. Finchley. Split those packages three ways and you three
come up with me. Yes, I know it's not your work, so don't report me to your
guild."
Packages, three men, and one woman almost filled the front lift. Joan
waited until Finchley had punched for her floor and the lift had started, then
she quickly punched the "Stop" touchplate, held them between floors. "Put
those packages down."
She went first to Shorty, took his face between her hands. "Thank you,
Hugo. Thank you most of all, as your gentle wisdom got us all straightened
out." She pulled his face down, kissed him softly and unhurriedly, lips
closed. "Good night."
She turned to Fred. "Thank you, Fred. I thank you-and Eunice thanks you."
As his arms closed she let her lips come open. (See what. I mean, twin?
That's a sample.) (I see-I shall be very careful not to get him alone unless I
expect more than a sample.) "Good night, Fred."
"Tom, it's been the best day of my life. I hope you enjoyed it half as much
as I did. Thank you." Joan went straight into the kiss without waiting for
Finchley to answer, her face up, eyes closed-and with her back to Shorty in
case her driver decided to take advantage of it-which he did. (Goodness!
Eunice, are you sure you never laid him?) (Quite sure, darn it! Are you
going to?) (I don't know, I don't know!)
Breathless she broke from him, turning her back to all of them to punch
again for her floor and trying to regain her composure.
The car stopped and she said, "Put everything in my bedroom, boys.
Winnie! Wait till you see!"
                                     219
The little redhead had been waiting at the lift. "Miss Joan! You've been
gone all day!"
"And why not? Put them anywhere, on the floor, on the bed. Winnie, have
you had dinner? That's all, thanks. Good night and thank you all."
"Good night, Miss Smith."
As soon as the door sealed, Joan hugged her maid, lifting her off her feet.
"You didn't answer. Did you eat with the staff? Or did you wait?"
"Couldn't eat. Oh, Joan, I've been so worried. You ran away and didn't tell
anybody where you were going. Bad girl-to worry me so."
"Pooh. I had guards with me; you knew I was safe."
"But guards aren't nurses. I'm supposed to watch you, for Dr. Garcia."
"And pooh all over dear Doctor, too. Winsome, I'm no longer a patient, I'm
no longer a ward; I'm a free woman and healthy as a horse and you can't
mother me every minute like a broody hen. All right, we've got supper
coming up and they'll leave it in the lounge and we'll eat when we feel like
it."
"I know, I was backstairs when the order came in-so I hurried up the service
lift and thought I had missed you as the indicator was stopped. Then it
started again."
"Something wrong with that lift, it stalled. But we kept punching buttons until
the Yehudi woke up. Too many gadgets in this house." (Eunice, I thought a
stalled elevator was a safe as a grave. Is there no privacy anywhere?)
('Fraid not, Boss honey. But I never worried much about such things; I just
worried about hurting people.) (I stand corrected. Ever been caught with
your legs up, hussy?) (Only once when it was embarrassing-and that's all it
was. It's nothing to worry about.)
"Shall I tell maintenance about the lift?"
"No, Finchley will report it. Winsome, maintenance is no part of your duties;
you're here to giggle with me and to give me a shoulder to cry on and to cry
on mine-and to keep dear Doctor from fussing." Joan started undressing.
"Get your clothes off; we're going to model clothes, I've been shopping.
Boy, oh boy, did I shop! Gave, the economy a shot in the arm, I did. Get
those duds off-have you had your bath, you dirty girl? Or are you going to
bathe with me? Come here and let me smell you."
"Had a bath when I got up."
"You smell all right, I fear me I'm well marinated; it's been a busy day. Okay,
we'll dunk together and get stinking good later. Before giving dear Jake
another lesson in how to relax. But now we model. Give us a kiss first."
(Eunice, will that rubber dingus stay in place in the tub?) (It'll stay seated
anywhere-or I would have left a dozen orphans behind me. You can even
use the fountain-and you had better.)

                                     220
"Joan, since you were going shopping, why didn't you take me along?
Meanie."
"Complaints, complaints, complaints. I thought you needed sleep, dear. Or
didn't Bob show up?"
Winifred blushed clear down her breasts but she answered happily, "Oh,
yes, he did! But I would have been up at once if you had called me-love to
shop."
"What time did you wake up?"
The blush renewed. "Not till almost thirteen. Long past noon."
"The defense rests. Winsome baby, I didn't take you along because I
bought things for you, too. . . and if I had had you along, you would have
fussed every time I spent a dollar on you. And to set precedent, too. I'm not
a prisoner any longer. I'm free to come and go just as you are. If I don't take
you along, you mustn't ask why and I may not tell you where, or what."
The younger girl looked crushed. "Yes, Miss Joan. I'll remember." So Joan
Eunice again took her in her arms. "There, there, pet; don't quiver your up.
I'll take you with me, mostly. And if I don't, I'll tell you about it, mostly. But I
might tell you a fib instead. I might have a date with some horny interns and
would not want to shock my Winsome."
"You're teasing me."
"Not mean teasing. I'm at least half serious. Winnie, if you want to see your
Bob, no one in this house cares but me and my interest is friendly. But me?
There are forty-odd people staring down my neck. If I ever have a man in
my bed, the whole household will know it, and it's at least fifty-fifty that
some member of my ever-loyal staff would sell the fact to a news snoop
and it would be on the morning gossip program-phrased so that I can't sue
without making it worse. Not?"
"Uh...sounds horrible. But I guess it could happen."
"You know it could. Every gossip column, every gossip program, proves it.
Hon, if a person is too rich, or too prominent, all the public lets him wear is
the Emperor's New Clothes-and what they like best is bad news, good
news is too bland. Back when I was running it, Smith Enterprises spend
many thousands of dollars every quarter to give me a totally false 'public
image'-poisonous phrase!-for business reasons. But that's done with and
now I'm fair game. Still more interesting fair game now that I'm miraculously
young and female and pretty. No, 'beautiful'-let's be fair to Eunice Branca.
You saw what they did yesterday; you watched the babble box. What would
they do if they could prove something on me?"
"Uh, something nasty, I guess."
"I know they would, I'm not guessing; I've had too many years of trying to
avoid the spotlight. The old Romans knew what they were doing when they
tossed living victims to the lions; most people are fairly decent-but
                                        221
collectively they love blood. I'm going to do something about getting out of
the spotlight but in the meantime, I'm vulnerable. Winnie, what would you
do if I woke you some night and asked you to let me slide a man into your
bed-so that you could be caught, not me. Be certain to be caught, I mean,
public as a show window. So caught that Bob would know, too."
The little girl took a deep breath. "I'd do it! Bob would understand."
"Ah, but if I begged you not to explain it to Bob? Just take the rap for me?"
"I'd still do it."
Joan kissed her. "I know you would. But you won't have to, sweet Winsome.
If-no, when-I slip, I won't load it onto my chum. But I may ask you to tell lies
for me someday-jigger for me-help me cover up. Would you?"
"Of course I would!"
"And I knew it and didn't need to ask. It might be soon, I'm feeling more
female every day. Now let's play Christmas-I think that round, flubsy box is
for Winnie."
Shortly Winifred was parading in front of mirrors with an awed look on her
face. "Oh, Joan, you shouldn't have!"
"That's why I made you stay home. It's a maid's uniform, dear-an allowable
deduction for me by terms of the Cooks, Domestics, and Hotel Workers
approved contract."
'Maid's uniform' indeed! It's a Stagnaro Original straight from Rome; I read
the label."
"As may be, I'll tell my accountant to list it as a deduction just to annoy the
I.R.S. Take it off, dear, and let's see what else we find. Hey, here's one for
me." Joan quickly got dressed. "What do you think? Of course with this I
ought to have my body painted."
"I wouldn't use paint, if I were you. You look yummy and that off-white sets
off your skin. It's a delicious design even though kind o' wicked. Joan, how
do you know so much about buying women's clothes? I mean, 'uh-"
"You mean, 'How does an old man who hasn't picked out a dress for a
woman in at least half a century manage it?' Genius, dear, sheer genius.
You ought to hear my bird imitations." (Hey! Don't 1 get any credit?) (Not
unless you want to break your cover, Mata Hari. The men in the white coats
are just outside that door.) (Pee on you, twin. Maybe someday we can tell
Winnie.) (I hope so, darling-I not only love you, I'm proud of you.) (Kiss!)
They worked down to two boxes which Joan had held back. When Winifred
saw the synthetic emerald set-gee patch and two half-moon cups shaped
for bare nipples-she gasped. "Oh, goodness! Put it on, Joan, and let me
find your highest heels!"
"You find your highest heels, darling-those green rhinestone stilts you were
wearing earlier. They didn't have stilts to match this outfit in your size. I've
ordered them."
                                      222
"This is for me? Oh, no!"
"Then put it down the trash chute; gee-strings can't be exchanged.
Winsome, that dress was designed for a redhead-and the cups are-too
small for me. Put it on. That envelope contains a floorlength transparent
skirt, silk with a hint of matching green. With this skirt it's just right for
formal-dinner parties. You could wear one emerald on your forehead. Not
any other jewelry. Nor paint."
"But, Joan, I never go to that sort of party-I've never ever been invited to
one."
"Perhaps it's time I gave one; the banquet bali hasn't been used in ten
years. You would look beautiful-junior hostess at the other end of the long
table. But, dear, besides an ultra-formal party, it's intended-without the skirt-
for most informal occasions. Would you enjoy wearing it for Bob-and would
he enjoy taking it off?"
Winifred caught her breath. "I can't wait."
"Got a date tonight, hon?"
"No, that's why I said 'I can't wait.' Because I can't resist it-want Bob to see
me in it...want him to take it off me, Joan, I shouldn't accept it, it's much too
expensive. But I will, I do. Goodness, you make me feel like a kept woman."
"You are one, dear; I'm keeping you. And enjoying it very much."
The little nurse stopped smiling. Then she faced her mistress, looked up
directly into her eyes. "Joan, maybe I shouldn't say this, maybe it'll spoil
everything. But I think I must. Uh-" She stopped and took a deep breath.
"Two or three times it's seemed to me you almost made a pass at me."
(There's the pitch, twin! Too late for me to help.) "It's been more than three
times, Winifred."
"Well. . . yes. But why did you stop?"
Joan sighed. "Because I was scared."
"Of me?"
"Of me. Winsome darling-I've done many hard things in my life. Such as
waiting in a landing boat, bobbing around and seasick and stinking with fear
. . . then dropping off into four feet of water with machine guns raking us
and killing my buddies on both sides. But this is the hardest thing I've ever
tried. Being a woman. I have to think about it every instant-do consciously
the things you do automatically. Goodness, today I came within a split
second of walking into a men's toilet instead of the ladies' powder room.
And now you. Darling, can you guess what a temptation you are to me?
Can you realize that old Johann is looking at your winsome loveliness out of
Joan's eyes?
Winnie, there hasn't been a moment but what I've wanted to touch you.
Hold you in my lap. Kiss you. Make love-to you. If I were a man . . . I'd be
trying my damnedest to crowd Bob out. Or at least make room for me."
                                      223
"Joan."
"Yes, dear?"
"There's room for you."
Joan found that she was trembling. "Darling! Please! Can't we wait? You
have Bob...and I have still to learn to be a woman." She started to cry.
And found Winifred's arms around tier. "Stop it, dear. Please stop. I didn't
mean to upset you. I'll help, of course I'll help. We'll wait. Years if you need
that long. Until you're calmed down and sure of yourself-and want me. But
Winnie isn't trying to seduce her Joanie. Oh, it can be sweet, truly it can.
But you're right and I do have Bob and my nerves aren't frayed the way
yours must be. Someday you'll fall in love with a man, and may forget all
about me. Wanting to touch me, I mean-and that's all right, as long as I can
love you and be your friend."
Joan dashed away a tear, and sniffed. "Thank you, Winnie. I've made a fool
of myself again."
"No, you haven't. I just have trouble remembering, sometimes. Do you want
a tranquilizer?"
"No. I'm all right now."
"Would you rather I didn't touch you?"
"No. I want you to kiss me, Winnie. Hard. Best you ever have. Then put on
the green gee-string dress and let us look at it. Then we'll eat. And then
grab some soapsuds and make me smell better for our prayer meeting with
Jake-I need those prayers tonight; they're the right tranquilizer. Put it on,
dear. But kiss me first."
Winnie kissed her-started to hold back, then flared like a prairie fire and did
make it "best she ever had."
(Break, twin, before the house burns down. That's the fanciest tap dancing
since Bojangles died.) (What do you
know about Bojangles? You can't know about him.) (Ever hear of classic
films, Boss? Now see to it that Bob marries her; you owe her that, for the
hurdles you mike her jump.)
(How can I when I don't know who he is?) (You can find out. Cheat. O'Neil
knows. After you know who he is, find out what he wants; he'll geek. Men!
Boss, I love you, but sometimes I'm not sure why.)
After Winnie modeled the emerald dress, she fetched in their trays from
Joan's upstairs lounge while Joan opened the last package. It contained her
present for Jake. "Winnie, tell me what you think of this."
It was a necklace rich and simple-a heavy gold chain with tripled linkage,
supporting a large gold ankh, a crux ansata. Winifred took it in her hands.
"It's lovely," she said slowly. "But it's not a woman's necklace, you know. Or
did you?"
"It's a man's necklace. A present for Jake."
                                      224
Winifred frowned slightly. "Joan, you do want me to help you learn how to
behave as a woman."
"You know I do."
"Yes, I know. When I see that you are about to make a mistake, I must tell
you."
"You don't think Jake will like this?"
"I don't know. He may not know what it means. And you may not know. This
cross with a loop is called an 'ankh'-and it's what my grandaddy would have
called a 'heathen symbol.' It means-well, it means most of the things our
meditation prayer means, life and goodness and love and so forth. But
specifically it means sex, it's an ancient Egyptian symbol for the generative
forces, both male and female. It's no accident that the loop looks something
like a vulva and that the rest of the design could be interpreted as a male
symbol. The way it's used now-among people my age, people the, age you
have become-is...well, a wife could give it to her husband, or a husband
could give a smaller one to his wife. Or they might not be married-but it
always means sexual love-flatly and no nonsense about it. If that's not what
you mean, Joan, if you just want to give him a nice necklace, take it back
and exchange it for another that isn't so specific in its symbolism. Any
necklace means love-but perhaps you want one that a daughter could give
her father."
Joan shook her head. "No, Winnie. I've known what the ankh means since
a course in comparative religion, oh, three-quarters of a century ago. I
assume that Jake knows, too; he has solid classical training. I hadn't been
sure you kids knew its ancient meaning-I see I was mistaken. Winnie, this
present is no accident; I've asked Jake to marry me several times. He
won't. Because of age."
"Well...I can see why he might feel that way."
"It's ridiculous. Sure, I'm a quarter of century older than he is-but it no
longer shows and I'm healthy enough for marriage. Even though dear
Doctor thinks I may drop dead."
"But Dr. Garcia doesn't really think you'll drop dead. And I didn't mean you
were too old, I meant he-oh, dear!"
"Yes, yes, I know. He's being 'noble,' damn him! But he doesn't have to
marry me, Winnie. I'll accept any crumb I'm offered. This present is
intended to say so."
Winifred looked solemn, suddenly kissed the ankh and handed it back.
"You and me both, Joan-any crumb we're offered. Well, I wish you luck.
With all my heart."
"Good Winnie. Let's sop up some calories; it's getting latish and Jake will be
home-I hope-by twenty-one. I want to be clean as a kitten and just as pretty
and smelling even prettier when the stubborn darling gets here. Help me?"
                                     225
"Love to. And look, Joanie, we douse you in 'Harem Breeze,' both the
cologne and the perfume-and the powder. And I won't wear any scent. I'll
scrub off what I'm wearing."
"No, we'll renew the bait on you, too. Maybe we'll heterodyne."
'Heterodyne'?"
"Term that used to be used a lot in radio. In this case it means that if one
girl isn't enough, two might do the trick. Last night Jake was polite about not
staring...except that he was noticing my Winsome with both eyes all the
time he was pretending not to. I'm not trying to crowd you into a Troy-but I
have no scruples about staking you out as bait."
They were out of the tub and working on the finishing touches when the
house phone sounded. "Miss Smith. Mr. Salomon's car just rolled in."
"Thank you, O'Neil."
A few minutes later Joan phoned the Green Suite. "Jake dear? This is your
resident guru. If you wish to share a prayer meeting, guru and chela will call
on you whenever you say."
"That's welcome news; I'm tired-and last night was the best sleep I've had
in years, Guru."
"I'm glad. Have you had dinner?"
"At the Gib, hours ago. Ready for bed now. If you'll let me have, oh, twenty
minutes, for a tub."
"Shall we be there in exactly twenty minutes? I don't want to run into
Hubert."
"1 sent him to bed. Nobody here but just us chickens."
"Twenty minutes, dear. Off."
Again two girls went barefoot down the hallway. Joan was wearing, under a
negligee, the ankh necklace. The door opened for them and Jake came
toward them. He was wearing a bathrobe and had a book in hand with a
finger marking his place. "Hello, my dears. You both look charming. Joan, I
took the liberty of stopping in your downstairs library and borrowing this
book."
"It's not a liberty and you know it. What is it, Jake?"
He handed it to her. "Vishnudevananda's Yoga text. Thought there might be
some of the simpler postures I could try. But I'm afraid I must stick to
meditation."
Joan looked puzzled. "This was downstairs?" She glanced at the endpaper,
saw her bookplate: "Ex Libris- J S B Smith." "I had forgotten I owned it."
"You're a pack rat, dear. This house must have ten thousand books in it."
"More, I think. There were that many the last time I had them catalogued.
Well, after you're done with it Winnie and I will look through it. We might find
exercises we haven't tried." She handed it back; he put it aside. "Ready for
autohypnosis?"
                                      226
"Ready for prayers and I'm sorry I sounded disparaging last night."
"I can't see what difference. a name makes, Jake. But first-" Joan opened
her robe, lifted the necklace from her neck. "A present for you, Jake. Bend
your head down."
He did so. She placed it around his neck with the ceremonial kiss. He lifted
the ankh, looked at it. "Thank you, Eunice. It's a beautiful present. Am I to
wear it now?"
"As you wish. Or wear it in your mind-I know you've never been one for
much jewelry. Ready, Winnie?" Joan Eunice dropped her robe, melted into
Lotus; Winnie followed her. Jake got out of his bathrobe, leaving the
necklace on, joined them.
"Jake, will you lead us tonight? No need to say 'hold' or 'breathe,' we'll stay
in step. Just like last night, a prayer for each of the four parts. Keep the
tempo slow."
"I'll try. Om Mani Padme Hum!"
(Om Mani Padme Hum.)

Jake Salomon appeared to fall asleep instantly once they put him to bed.
The girls quietly left the darkened room. Joan stopped a few feet down the
hail. "Winnie, will you do something for me?"
"Anything, dear."
"What time do people start stirring in the morning?"
"I don't know what time Cook gets up. About six, maybe. Mostly seven or
near it, for the others; staff breakfast is at seven-thirty."
"Della doesn't matter, she never comes upstairs. I mean this floor."
"Well, cleaning starts at nine. But no one cleans near your room until you
phone down for your tray. Have you been disturbed?"
"No. And I don't mean to be. I guess Hubert is the only one who worries me.
I'm going back and sleep with Jake."
"Oh!"
"I'm not going this instant, I want to be sure he's sound asleep. If he sleeps
all night, I shan't wake him; the poor dear needs his rest. But sleep with him
I will! I don't want Hubert barging in. Can you think of a way to divert him?"
"Oh, I see. I'm pretty sure Hubert never goes to Mr. Salomon's room until
Mr. Salomon sends foe breakfast and Hubert takes it up. Some mornings
I've eaten downstairs and seen Hubert sit and drink coffee and watch the
news, oh, quite a long time. Waiting for Mr. Salomon to phone."
"That's a relief. It's not likely that anyone but you will know it, then. Not that I
mind for myself, but I would hate to be the cause of Jake being dragged into
a gossip item. All right, will you do three things for me? Read or sleep in my
bed a while, muss it up. Stay all night if you like but muss yours, too. And
will you set your alarm for eight and if I'm not in my own bed by then, phone
                                        227
the Green Suite? I'm sure Jake would rather know that you knew than have
us caught by someone else. Then one other thing. Would you fetch me
lounging pajamas and slippers? Then, if anything slips, I'll put a bold face
on it-I'll be dressed and to hell with snoops. While you get them I'm going to
put my robe down here and say a few more Money Hums. My mind is made
up but I'm a touch nervy. Afraid Jake will scold me, I guess.. (Afraid Jake
won't scold you, I guess.) (Don't you want us to, Eunice?) (Yes! Quit
yattering and get on with it.)
"Right away, Joan. Oh, I'm excited myself! Uh, I think I'll sleep in your bed.
If you don't mind."
"You know I don't. But I may come back and wake you, most any time."
"Don't mind. If you need a shoulder to cry on, I want to be there. Or maybe
just for snuggle."
"Or I might have something to tell you. You don't fool me a bit, Winsome.
Never mind, I would like to find you there when I return, no matter when or
why."
A few minutes later Joan slipped silently into the bedroom of the Green
Suite, dropped her clothing without lighting a light, found her way to the bed
by Jake's soft snores. Cautiously she got into bed, felt the radiant warmth of
his body close to hers, sighed happily, and went to sleep.
Some indefinite time later Joan felt a hand on her in the dark, came
instantly awake. (What?) (General Quarters twin! It's now.) (I'm scared!)
(I've taken over, dearest-the body remembers. Say a Money Hum)
Without a word Jake firmly took possession of her. (Oh, God, Eunice! Why
didn't you tell me?) (Tell you what?) (That for a woman it's so much better!)
(Is it?) (Ten limes, a hundred limes-I don't know; I'm fainting.) (How could I
guess that it's better? Kiss him as you faint.)


21


The occupation of the Oklahama State House by the People's Agrarian
Emergency Government continued. The Martian Manned Field Laboratory
reported finding artifacts (age 1.4 X 10^6 plus/minus 14% years) indicating
extinct human-equivalent intelligence. A second report signed by the
Chinese members of the expedition denied that the exhibits were artifacts
but were simply automatic and instinctive by-products (analogous to coral
rings, or to honeycombs) of sub-intelligent life closely related to the
anaerobic life now present on Mars. The International Flat Earth Society in
annual convention in Surrey, England, passed its usual sanctions on any
national government wasting taxpayers' money on alleged "space travel."
                                     228
The suicide rate was up for the nineteenth successive year, as were also
rates for death by accident and by violence. World population appreciation
passed 300,000 persons per day and continued up, with six babies born
every second vs. 2.5 persons dying each second, for a net gain of seven
people every two seconds.
A hen in Izard County, Arkansas, laid an egg with the Sign of the Cross on
it. A spokesman for the Treasury Department, speaking off the record,
announced that the Administration would not push the Administration bill for
total abolition of paper currency in favor of universal credit cards and
computer accounting. "We must face the fact," he told the Washington
Press Club, "that black market transactions, bribes, and other quasi-legal
exchanges are as much part of our economy as is interest on the National
Debt, and that to create conditions which would make these voluntary
exchanges impractical would bring on a depression the country could not
stand. To put it poetically, gentlemen, the small amount of physical currency
still in circulation-only a few billions-is our lubricant for the gears of
progress. You have my assurance that the President recognizes this truth."
The First Satanist Church, Inc., (forty-four branches in California, five in
other states) brought suit in Federal Court for relief from "discriminatory
taxation." The First Disciple stated: "If other churches aren't badgered and
taxed and investigated concerning their sacred objects, a Glory Hand
should enjoy the same protection-that's American as apple pie!" Reno again
repealed its ordinance for licensed prostitution. The City Manager stated
that the fees weren't sufficient to pay the inspectors . . . and besides, there
wasn't all that much commercial prostitution anyhow since the closing of the
Federal Youth Training Center.
The Rally for Human Beings gained speed in its drive to fold, spindle, and
mutilate computer cards and drop them into the nearest mail box-despite
arrests by Postal Inspectors there was almost no cooperation by local
police and no jury had brought in a verdict of guilty no matter how
compelling the evidence. The Post Office's Chief Inspector stated that the
mutilated cards were almost always bills and that, so far, no mutilated
checks or money orders had been reported-and that the government bad
no great interest in the matter but he was getting damn sick and tired of the
country's mailboxes being used as trash baskets.
The chairman of the Rally for Human Beings answered that the country's
mailboxes had been trash baskets for years and both the Postmaster
General and Congress knew why. The traffic computer for downtown
Houston went into spastic breakdown during the evening rush hour, leaving
thousands of people stranded on the streets overnight; the estimated
deaths exceeded seven thousand, including heart stoppage, smog
poisoning, and mugging, but excluding suicide. The Southern States
                                     229
Automobile Assurance Companies Trade Association repudiated all claims
based on the incident on the theory that deaths or injuries in stationary
vehicles were not covered by the (fine print).
The Lunar Colonies dedicated two more superlarge "balanced-aquarium"
Food Caves, the George Washington Carver and the Gregor Mendel, and
the Commission again announced an increase in subsidized out-migration
quota but again with no relaxation in standards (the injunction against the
Commission issued by Mr. Justice Handy of the United States Supreme
Court was quietly ignored on the grounds of no jurisdiction). The common
stock of Las-Vegas-in-the-Sky continued to move up against the downward
trend of the Market: most investment advice peddlers remained bullish
basing their expectations on past correlations between weather, the Market,
and women's styles. The Interstellar Advisory Subcommittee to the Lunar
Commission settled on Tau Ceti rather than Alpha Centauri for the first
attempt. Jodrell Bank lost touch with the Manned Pluto Probe. The (official)
casualties in Ukraina dropped below the (official) casualties in Matto
Grosso-and in both places the dead did not argue

"-whereas 'id' is not a scientific concept; it is merely the first syllable of
'idiot!' . . . as my esteemed colleague should know best" "-will be order in
the courtroom."
"-let me cite the incontestable conclusions of that great scientist-" "garbage
in, garbage out! Any graduate assistant can draw pretty graph~ and make
half-bright conclusions from irrelevant data." "may I ask my esteemed
colleague to repeat that slur outside the courtroom?" "-Bailiff is directed to
keep order during-"
("Jake, with any luck we'll get this so fouled up that nobody can play left
field.")
"-with those bright lights. Don't shine them in my eyes, or KPOX will lack
your services a few days." "-inquire of the Court whether esteemed Counsel
has any serious purpose in subjecting the Court and these spectators to the
offensive sight of this grisly carcass?" ("-can't stand it myself, Jake; did I
really look that bad? I still think we should take a dive on this." "Hush, dear,
Mac knows what be is doing and so do I.") "-respectfully suggest that the
witness himself should be conclusively identified before his testimony can
be used to identify another person." "-State and County. This set of prints I
am now projecting on the screen you have just seen me take from the
cadaver marked exhibit MM. I will now compare them with prints supplied
by Veterans Administration Archives and previously marked as exhibit JJ,
using jump-stereo superposition-" "-personally take those photographs
which you now hold and which have been tentatively marked as exhibit SS,
numbers one through one hundred twenty-seven?"
                                      230
"-will not be cleared. This will be a public hearing. But the Court will take
time to sentence for contempt as needed, and Evelyn, you can start by
putting that spectator, that one, the woman with the glasses and the fright
wig, on ice for ten days. Get her name, give it to the Clerk, take her away.
Any more morons who can't keep quiet? You back there, eating a candy
bar; stuff it into your pocket, this is not a lunchroom."
"Is Counsel for the challenged party suggesting that this is not José
Branca?" "Goodness, no, I'll help identify him if you need me. I'm simply
urging that you lay a proper foundation." ("Jake, Joe looks ghastly. I must
go see him as soon as this nonsense is over." "Do you think that is wise?" "I
don't know, Jake. But I know that I must.")
"Look around you, Mr. Branca. Tell the Court-tell the Judge, that is--whether
or not your wife is in this room?" "Not here!" "Mr. Branca, look where I am
pointing." "Not here, I told you!" "Your Honor, we are faced with a reluctant
witness. It becomes necessary to lead him." "Very well. But Counsel is
reminded that he cannot impeach his own witness." "Thank you, Your
Honor. Mr. Branca, I am pointing at this young woman, look at her closely. I
have my hand on her shoulder-" "Keep your hands to yourself! Judge, if he
puts a hand on me again, I'll bite it!" "Order. Counsel, it is not necessary to
touch the challenged party, and you will not do so again. Your witness
knows which young woman you mean." "Very well, Your Honor-and if I
have given offense to this young lady, I am sorry. Mr. Branca, I put it to you
that this is your wife, Eunice Branca née Evans."
"Not Eunice. She dead. Judge, do I gotta take this kark? That lyin' fixer
knows t' score, he talk to me two, three hours. Sure, that's Eunice' body.
But she's dead. Everybody knows what happen."
"Sorry, Your Honor. Mr. Branca, please confine yourself to answering my
questions. You say your wife is dead ...but did you ever see your wife
Eunice Branca dead?"
"Huh? No. This Operation-"
"Just answer the question. You never at any time saw her dead. I put it to
you that you were paid one million dollars to testify that this woman is not
your wife Eunice Branca." ("Jake, can they do this to Joe? Look at him."
"I'm sorry, darling. I didn't call him.")
"Judge, this karky bastard's lyin'! They got this club, see? Rare Blood. I got
this funny blood, see? Eunice, too.
Save lives. Sure, they offer money, thousand, million, I I don' know, don'
care. You think I'm a pimp, maybe? For Eunice? I tell 'em shove it. I-"
"Your Honor, I pray your help in bringing this witness to order."
"I think he's making a responsive answer to your question. Go on, Mr.
Branca. They offered you money. For what?"

                                     231
"Oh. Eunice got a boss, see? Mr. Smith. Johann Smith. So rich he karks in
gold pot. But poor old muck is dying, sec?Only the medicares don' let him
die. Pitiful. But he's got this same funny blood, see? Like me, like Eunice. I
tell 'em, sure, he can have Eunice' body, she don' need it no. more-but not
for money. So we rig a swindle-me and his fixer over there, Mr. Jake
Salomon. He knows how I feel, he helps. 'Eunice Evans Branca Memoria'
Fund for Free Rare Blood'-all paid to t' Rare Blood Club. Ask Mr. Jake
Salomon, he knows. I. . . don'...touch...one...God damn' frimpin' dime!"
("Jake-he won't even look at me."
"Put your veil up, dear, and cry under it.")
"Does Counsel for Petitioners have any more questions to ask this
witness?"
"No, Your Honor. Counsel may inquire."
"No cross-examination, Your Honor."
"Does either counsel wish to question this witness at a later time? This is
not a trial, and the Court intends to allow the widest latitude for inquiry even
at the cost of permitting irrelevancies to creep into the record. Counsel?"
"Petitioners have no further use for this witness~"
"No questions now or later, Your Honor,"
"Very well. Court will reconvene at ten tomorrow morning. Bailiff is directed
to provide this witness with transportation home or wherever he wishes to
go, and to protect him from annoyance in so doing. Off the top, Evelyn, he's
been harried enough."
"Judge? Can I say sump'n?"
"If you wish, Mr. Branca."
"That karky fixer-not Mr. Salomon, other one. Gets dark every night. Some
night he winds up in Bird's Nest turf."
"Order. Mr. Branca, you must not make threats in court."
"Wasn't no threat, Judge. Was prophesying. 1 wouldn't hurt anybody. But
Eunice had lots and lots and lots of friends."
"Very well. You're excused, Mr. Branca; you won't have to come back. Clerk
will take charge of exhibits. Bailiff will provide heel-and-toe guards.
Recessed."

"All rise!" "-greatest possible respect for the scholarly qualifications of my
distinguished colleague, nevertheless the opinions he has expressed are
the most arrant nonsense, as proved by that great scientist in his paper of
1976 from which I know quote: 'The very concept of "personality" is but a
shadow of a figment of a fantasy of a pre-scientific speculation. All life
phenomena are fully explained by the laws of biochemistry as exemplified-'"
"-even an existential phenomenology requires a teleological foundation and
I so concede, but a close study of dialectical materialism proves to any but
                                      232
the hopelessly biased that-" "Who's in charge here?" "An unborn child is not
person; it is merely an inchoate protoplasmic structure with a potentiality to
become from its environment-" "-mathematical laws of genetic inheritance
account for every possible event misnamed-" "-in words familiar to the
Court and to everyone: 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they
do.'"
"-shocked to discover that the learned judge presiding over this trial is in
fact a fraternity brother of Johann S. B. Smith. This clandestine relationship
may be verified in records open to the public and I ask that this Court today,
and any later courts seeing this record, take judicial notice, and I demand
that opposing Counsel stipulate the fact."
"Stipulated." ("Jake, how did they find out?" "We leaked it. Through Alec,
last night. Time to get it into the record, rather than in an appeal.")
"Aha! This damning fact having been stipulated, Petitioners are now forced
to demand that the Judge presiding disqualify himself and declare this a
mistrial." ("Jake, seems to me they've got us on the hip. Much as I like Mac
and Alec, I have to admit that this has the flavor of finding a strawberry
mark on a missing heir." "No, my dear. In the course of a long life a
prominent man acquires direct linkage to every other prominent man. If it
hadn't turned out that you and Mac were in the same fraternity, it would
have been some other link as close or closer. How many members of the
Supreme Court do you know?" "Uh, I think it's five." "There's your answer.
At the top of the pyramid everybody knows everybody else.") (And sleeps
with them.) (Shut up, Eunice!)
"Counsel, I find this interesting. First let me set you straight on a point of
law. Twice you have used the word 'trial' and now you speak of a 'mistrial.'
This is, as you know, not a trial, it is not even an adversary situation; it is
merely an inquiry for the purpose of determining the identity of the young
woman there who calls herself 'Miss Smith.' She is charged with no crime,
no civil suit against her is before this court; it is simply that her claimed
identity has been challenged by petitioners who assert an interest. So this
court is assisting in a friendly investigation-helping like a good neighbor in
attempting to straighten out a mixup. Not a trial."
"I stand corrected, Your Honor."
"Please be careful in your use of technical language. If there is no trial,
there can be no mistrial. Do you agree?"
"Perhaps I should use other language, Your Honor. Petitioners feel that,
under these disclosed circumstances, you are not the judge who should
preside over this, uh, friendly investigation."
"That is possible. But the matter has reached me in the course of due
process and it will continue to remain before me unless compelling reasons
are shown why I should step aside. Again on the matter of language, you
                                      233
used the word 'clandestine.' The Court will not at this moment consider
whether or not Counsel's choice of this word implies contempt-"
"Your Honor, I assure you-"
"Order. I am speaking. Nor will you discuss that aspect at this time. We will
now consider only the meaning of this word. Clandestine' means 'hidden,
secret, concealed' with a flavor or connotation of surreptitious, or
underhanded, or illicit. Tell me-this alleged relationship: Could it be verified
in Who's Who'?"
"Oh, certainly, Your Honor! That's where I found it."
"I know that my own fraternity is noted there; I assume that if appropriate it
would be listed in the case of Johann Sebastian Bach Smith. Since you tell
me that you have checked it, the Court takes judicial notice for whatever it
is worth and requires no further substantiation. . . other than to comment
that we could hardly have been members of the same chapter at the same
time since we differ by almost half a century in age. Did your investigations
show, that Johann Smith and I were jointly members of other
organizations? For example Johann Smith was a founding member of the
Gibraltar Club-and I am a member, and Miss Smith's counsel, Mr. Salomon,
is a member . . . and you are a member. In what other organizations do I
share membership with Johann Smith? Now or in the past."
"Uh. . . Petitioners have not investigated."
"Oh, come now, I feel sure that you could turn up others. The Red Cross,
for example. Probably the Chamber of Commerce at some time. I seem to
recall that when I was a Scout Commissioner Johann Smith was one also.
Possibly we're both in other fraternal bodies. Almost certainly we have
served as trustees, or such, for the same charitable or service groups,
either simultaneously or successively. I note that you are a Shriner, so am I.
Care to comment on the fact?"
"No comment, Your Honor."
"But you and I almost certainly share several fraternal bonds. The Court
takes notice of the wry fact that, since lawyers are not permitted to
advertise, as a class they tend to join more organizations-fraternal, social,
service, and religious-then do laymen as a class. Since you choose not to
comment on the ones that you and I share in common, the Court will on its
own motion investigate and place the results in the record. Now as to my
alleged obligation to disqualify myself, do you wish to clarify your
reasoning? Think it over while we take a recess, as your answer will go into
the record. Ten minutes."

"Order. Counsel for the Petitioners? You have had time to think."
"Petitioners move that all remarks concerning fraternal associations and like
matters be struck from the record."
                                      234
"Motion denied. Nothing will be struck from this record. Come now,
Counselor, you must have had some theory. State it."
"Your Honor, at the time I raised the point it seemed important. I now no
longer think so."
"But you must have had a theory or you would not have raised it. Please
speak freely, I want to know."
"Well...if Your Honor will indulge me, the disclosed fact seemed to admit of
the possibility of prejudice on the part of the Court. No contempt is
intended."
"And the Court will assume that none exists. But your answer is less than
complete. Prejudice in favor of whom? The Petitioners? Because of my
fraternal relationship with their grandparent?"
"What? Oh, no, Your Honor-prejudice in favor of, uh, of Miss-the challenged
party."
"You are stipulating that she is indeed Johann. Sebastian Bach Smith?"
("My God, Jake, Mac's got him biting his own tail." "Yes. Who has got whom
on whose hip?")
"No, no Your Honor, we are not stipulating that. That is the very matter we
are challenging."
"But Counsel cannot have it both ways. If this young woman is not Johann
'Sebastian Bach Smith-as
Petitioners allege-then she is not of my college fraternity. Conversely, under
your own theory, she is Johann Sebastian Bach Smith. Which way will you
have it?"
"I'm afraid 1 have been guilty of faulty reasoning. I pray the court's
indulgence."
"We all reason faultily at times. Are you quite finished? Shall we go on with
examination of witnesses?"
"Quite finished, Your Honor."

"But, Dr. Boyle, do you know that you removed the brain from this body-this
cadaver, and transplanted it into the body of that woman?"
"Don't be an ass, old chap. You heard my answer."
"Your Honor, Petitioners feel that this is proper cross-examination and ask
for the Court's assistance."
"The Court orders the witness to answer the questions as stated."
"Judge, you don't scare me, y' know. I am here as a voluntary witness-and I
am not and never was a citizen of your quaint country. I am now a citizen of
China. Your State Department promised our Foreign Affairs Minister that I
would have full immunity during my entire stay if only I would appear. So
don't bother to throw your weight around; it won't go. Care to see my
passport? Diplomatic immunity."
                                     235
"Dr. Boyle, this court is aware of your immunity. However, you have been
induced to come here-at considerable expense I would assume and clearly
at some inconvenience to you-to give evidence that only you can give. The
Court requests you to answer all questions put to you, as fully, explicitly,
and clearly as possible, in terms a layman can comprehend, even if it
means repeating yourself. We want to find out exactly what you did and
what you know of your own knowledge, which might directly or indirectly
assist this court in determining the identity of this woman."
"Oh, certainly, my dear fellow-put that way. Well, let's go back and run it
through again, from A to Zed. A year ago, more or less, I was approached
by that old bugger over there-sorry, I mean 'barrister'-Mr. Jacob
Salomon-to do what the Sunday sheets call a 'brain transplant.' I accepted
the commission. After this and. that-you can get the trivia from him-I did it.
Moved a brain and some ancillary parts from one human skull to another.
That brain was alive in its new digs when I left.
"Now as to whom. The brain donor was a very elderly male, the body donor
was a young mature female. And that is about the size of it-they are
covered, y' know, sterile sheeting and such, before the surgeon in charge
comes in. Prepped. I can add only these hints: The male was in bad shape,
kept alive by major supportive means. The female was in worse shape, she
was dead-massive trauma to skull and cortex about here-head bashed in, I
mean to say, and the yolk spattered. Dead as Queen Anne save that her
body had been kept alive by extreme support measures.
"Now that unsightly hunk of pickled meat over there has had its brain et
cetera removed in a fashion consistent with my own-unique-surgical
techniques; I doubt if there is another surgeon alive who can do it my way. I
have examined that cadaver carefully; I conclude that it is my work-and, by
elimination, I conclude that it must be the body Salomon hired me to carve
on; there is no conflicting evidence and the cadaver is not from any other
case of mine.
"Identifying the young female is another matter. If her head were shaved I
might look for scar tissue. If her skull were X-rayed I might look for
prosthesis; teflon vitae does not throw the same shadow on a plate as does
natural bone. But such tests would be only indicative; scar tissue is easily
come by, and other trephining could produce similar X-ray shadow without
disturbing the central nervous system."
"Dr. Boyle, let us 'stipulate momentarily that you removed a living brain from
exhibit JJ, the cadaver-"
"'Stipulate?' I did do so, you heard me say so."
"I am not contradicting you, I am simply using appropriate language. Very
well, you have so testified and you have also testified that you transplanted

                                     236
that brain into a young female body. Look about and see if you can identify
that female body."
"Oh, you're being an ass again. I am neither a witch doctor nor a beauty
contest judge; I am a surgeon. No, thank you. If that young woman-that
composite human, female body, male brain-survived and is alive today-a
point on which I have no opinion of my own knowledge and I assure you
that I have had strong reason to acquaint myself both with relevant forensic
medicine and medical jurisprudence; you are not about to trip me into being
the ass you are-I would not today be able to single her out with certainty
from ten thousand other young women of approximately the same size,
weight, build, skin shade, and such. Counsel, have you ever seen a human
body hooked up for extreme life support and prepared for such surgery? I'm
sure you have not or you would not ask such silly questions. But I assure
you that you would not recognize your own wife under such circumstances.
If you want me to perjure myself, you've come to the wrong shop."
"Your Honor, Petitioners seem unable to get a responsive answer on this
key point."
"The Court finds it responsive. Witness states that he can and does identify
the male body but is unable to identify the female body. Doctor, I confess
that I am puzzled on one point-perhaps through not being a medical man
myself; nevertheless I am puzzled. Are we to understand that you would
perform such an operation without being certain of the identity of the
bodies?"
"Judge, I've never been one to fret about trivia. Mr. Salomon assured me, in
legalistic language, that 'the fix was on' if I have your American idiom
correct. His assurances meant to me that the paper work was done, the
legal requirements met, et cetera, and that I was free to operate. I believed
him and did so. Was I mistaken? Should I expect an attempt to extradite me
after I return home? I think it would be difficult; I have at last found a country
where my work is respected."
"I am not aware that anyone has any intention of trying to extradite you. I
was curious, that's all. What Counsel was getting at is this: There is present
in this room a woman who claims to be that composite from your surgery.
You can't point her out?"
"Oh, certainly I can. Though not as a sworn witness. It's that young lady
seated by Jake Salomon. How are you, my dear? Felling chipper?"
"Very much so, Doctor."
"Sorry if I've disappointed you. Oh, I could make positive identification . . .
by sawing off the top of your skull, then digging out your brain and looking
for certain indications. But-heh heh!-you would not be much use to yourself
afterwards. I prefer seeing you alive, a monument to my skill."

                                       237
"I prefer it, too, Doctor-and truly, I'm not disappointed. I'm eternally grateful
to you."
"Your Honor, this is hardly proper!"
"Counsel, I will be the judge of that. Under these most unusual
circumstances I will permit a few human amenities in court."
"Miss Smith, I'd like' to examine you before I go home. For my journal, you
know."
"Certainly, Doctor! Anything-short of sawing off my skull."
"Oh, just chest-thumping and such. The usual rituals. Shall we say
tomorrow morning, ten o'clockish?"
"My car will be waiting for you at nine thirty, Doctor. Or earlier, if you will do
me the honor of having breakfast with me."
"The Court finds it necessary to interrupt. I'm sorry to say that both of you
will be here at ten o'clock. The hour of recessing is almost on us and-"
"No, Judge."
"What, Dr. Boyle?"
"I said, 'No.' I will not be here tomorrow morning. I speak this evening at
twenty o'clock at a dinner of one of your chop-'em-up societies. The
American College of Surgeons. Until shortly before that time I am at your
disposal. I suppose you can require the presence of Miss Smith tomorrow
morning, but not mine. I'm off to merry old China as quickly as possible. No
shortage of opportunities for research there-you would be amazed what
condemned prisoners will agree to. So I shan't waste another day on silly-
ass questions. But I am willing to tolerate them now."
"Mmm-I'm afraid that the Court must concede that this is a case of
Mahomet and the Mountain. Very well, we will not recess at the usual hour."

"Witness will stand down. Do Petitioners offer more witnesses?"
"No, Your Honor."
"Counsel?"
"Miss Johann Smith offers no further evidence."
"Mr. Salomon, is it your intention to present an argument or summary?"
"No, Your Honor. The facts speak for themselves."
"Petitioners?"
"Your Honor, is it your intention to bring this to a terminus today?"
"That's what I am trying to find out. We've been at this for many weary days
and I find myself in sympathy with Dr. Boyle's attitude: Let's sweep up the
mess and go home. Both sides agree that there are no more witnesses, no
more questions, no more exhibits. Counsel for Miss Smith states that he will
not offer an argument. If Petitioners' counsel, wishes to argue, he may do
so-in which case Miss Smith, in person or through counsel or both, is
privileged to rebut. What I had in mind, Counsel, was a recess . . . then, if
                                       238
you have your thoughts in order, you can say what you wish. If you can't,
we can let it go over till tomorrow morning. You may at that time argue for a
postponement, but I warn you that a lengthy postponement will not be
tolerated; the Court has become impatient with delaying tactics and red
herrings, not to mention language and attitudes flavored with contempt.
What is your wish?"
"May it please the Court, if we continue 'this evening, how long a recess
does the Court contemplate?"

"-and rebuttal having been concluded, we are ready to rule. But first a
statement by the Court. Inasmuch as a novel point in Constitutional Law is
involved in this matter, if an appeal is made, the Court will, under the
Declaratory Relief Act of 1984, on its own motion send the matter directly to
Federal Appellate Court with recommendation that it be referred at once to
the Supreme Court. We cannot say that this will happen but there are
aspects which lead us to believe that it could happen; this matter is not
trivial.

"We have heard the petition, we have heard witnesses and seen exhibits. It
is possible to rule in one of four ways:
"That both Johann Sebastian Bach Smith and Eunice Evans Branca are
alive;
"That Eunice is alive and Johann is dead;
"That Eunice is dead and Johann is alive;
"That both Eunice and Johann are dead.
"The Court rules-please stand up, Miss Smith-that this person before us is a
physiological composite of the body of Eunice Evans Branca and the brain
of Johann Sebastian Bach Smith and that in accordance with the equitable
principle set forth in 'Estate of Henry M. Parsons v. Rhode Island' this
female person is Johann Sebastian Bach Smith."


22


"-take it that you are offering me your lovely body. Sorry, m'dear. I have no
interest in women. Nor in men. Nor in rubber garments or high heels or
other toys. I'm a sadist, Miss Smith. A genius sadist who realized quite
young that he must become a surgeon to stay out of the clutches of Jack
Ketch. Sublimation, y'know. Thanks just the same. A pity, you do have a
magnificent body." (Well, Boss, you got turned down. It's a lesson every
woman must learn. So you brush your hair and start all over again.)
                                     239
(Eunice, I'm relieved. But he was entitled to the lagniappe if he wanted it.)
"I'm your Galatea, Dr. Boyle; I owe you anything you care to name-short of
sawing off my skull. The debt remains on the books. All I was offering was
symbolic down-payment. But you don't respond like a typical Australian-nor
sound like one, either."
"Oh, that. I'm a fake, dear. From the Sydney slums into a sadists' finishing
school-a stylish British boarding school, a 'public' school right out of the
second drawer. Then on to the University of London and the best surgeons
in the world. Put your pretty robe on and I'll be going. I say, would you mind
having that extraordinary slow-motion somersault filmed in stereocinema for
my archives?"
"Where shall I send it, Doctor?"
"Jake Salomon knows. Keep your pecker up, m'dear, and try to live a long
time; you're my masterpiece."
"I'll certainly try."
"Do. Ta ta!"
An unidentified flying object roughly disc-shaped was reported to have
landed in Pernambuco and its humanoid crew to have visited with local
yokels; the report was denied officially almost faster than it reached the
news services. The number of licensed private police in the United States
reached triple the number of 'public peace officers. Miss Joan née Johann
Smith received over two thousand proposals of marriage, more than that
number of less formal proposals, one hundred eighty-seven death threats,
an undisclosed number of extortion notes, and four bombs-not any of which
she received in person as they were diverted to Mercury Private Courier
Service under procedures set up years earlier. The waldoes of one
package-opening bunker had to be replaced; the other bombs were
disarmed.
The Postmaster General died from an overdose of barbiturates; the career
Assistant Postmaster General declined an interim appointment and put in
for retirement. A woman in Albany gave birth to a "fàun" which was
baptized, dead, and cremated in eighty-seven minutes. No flowers. No
photographs. No interviews-but the priest wrote a letter to his seminary
roommate. The F.B.I. reported that recidivism was up to 71%, while the
same rate figured only on major felonies-armed robbery, rape, assault with
a deadly weapon, murder, and attempted murder-had climbed to 84%. The
paralysis at Harvard University continued.

"Jake, the last time you refused to marry me, you did promise me a night on
the town if we won."


                                     240
Mr. Salomon put down his cup. "A delightful lunch, my dear. As I recall, you
told me at the time that a nightclub check was no substitute for a marriage
license."
"Nor is it. But I haven't nagged you about marrying me since you accorded
me the honor of first concubine. Uh... erase 'first.' I have no idea what you
do with your time when you're not here. Well, I don't have to be 'first.'"
(Twin, never crowd a man about sex. He'll lie.) (Pussy cat, 'I'm not crowding
Jake about sex; I'm confusing the issue. He's going to take us nightclubbing
and we're going to wear that lush blue-and-gold job-it's meant to be seen,
not just modeled for Winnie and put away.)
"Eunice, surely you don't think I have anyone else?"
"It would be presumptuous of me to have an opinion, sir. Jake, I've stayed
close to home all during this hearing-a little shopping, mostly with Winnie
along. But now we've won and I see no reason to be a prisoner. Look, dear,
we can make it a party of four-a girl for you and a boy for me-and you can
come home early and not lose any sleep you don't want to."
"You surely don't think that I would go home and leave you at a nightclub?"
"I surely think I can stay up all night and celebrate if I want to. I'm free, over
twenty-one-my God, am I over twenty-one!-and can afford a licensed
escort. But there is no reason to keep you up all night. We'll call Gold Seal
Bonded Escorts and fill out our party. Winnie's been teaching me what the
kids call dancing-and I've been teaching her real dancing. Say, maybe
you'd rather escort Winnie than some dollikin picked out of a catalog?
Winnie thinks you're wonderful."
"Eunice, are you seriously proposing to hire a gigolo?"
"Jake, I'm not going to marry him, I'm not even going to sleep with him. I
expect him to dance with me, smile, and make polite conversation-at about
what a plumber charges. This is doom?"
"I won't have it."
"If you won't-and Heaven knows I would rather be on your arm than that of
a paid escort-will you take a nap? I'll get a nap, too. Do you need help to
get to sleep? Money Hums, I mean, not horizontal calisthenics. Although we
have that in stock, too."
"1 don't recall saying that we were going out. Nor is there anything to
celebrate, Eunice. We haven't won until the Supreme Court rules on it."
"We have plenty to celebrate. I'm legally me-thanks to you, darling-and you
no longer have to report as my conservator; my granddaughters have lost
on all points. If we hold off celebrating until the Supreme Court maunders
over it, we might both be dead."
"Oh, nonsense! You know I'm about to leave for Washington; I expect to be
able to arrange for an early spot on the calendar. Be patient."

                                       241
"Patient' is what I'm not, dear. Surely, you'll arrange it; you always do
arrange things-and the Administration owes me that and will expect more
from me. But, Jake, your jet might crash-"
"That doesn't sway me, it's my death-of-choice. Since my genetic
background doesn't permit me to hope for heart failure, I've been counting
on cancer. But a crash is still better. Anything but a long, slow, helpless
dying."
"You're rubbing my nose in the mistake I made, sir. Will you let me finish?
You once pointed out that you had only ten or twelve years, based on the
actuarials-whereas I had at least half a century. Not true, Jake. My life
expectancy is null."
"Eunice, what the devil are you talking about?"
"The truth. Truth you have conveniently forgotten-but which I am aware of
every golden second. I'm a transplant, Jake. A unique transplant. No
statistics apply to me. Nobody knows, no one can guess. So I live each
wonderful day as all eternity. Jake my beloved master, I'm not being
morbid-I'm being happy. When I was a little boy there was a prayer Mama
taught me. It goes- "Now I lay me down to sleep;
"I pray the Lord my soul to keep. "If I should die before I wake, "I pray the
Lord my soul to take.
"It's like that, Jake. I had not used that prayer in almost ninety years. But
now I use it. . . and go happily to sleep, unworried about tomorrow." (Twin!
You lying little bitch! All you ever say is a Money Hum.) (It's the same thing,
Puss. A prayer means what you want it to mean.)
"Joan Eunice, you once told me that you had no religion. So why do you
say this child's prayer?"
"As I recall, what I told you was that I had been a 'relaxed agnostic'-until I
was dead for a while. I'm still an agnostic-meaning that I don't have any
answers-but I am now a happy agnostic, one who feels sure deep in her
heart that the world has meaning, is somehow good, and that my being
here has purpose, even if I don't know what it is. As for that prayer, a prayer
means whatever you make it mean; it's an inner ritual. What this one means
to me is a good intention-to live every moment as Eunice would live it, did
live-serenely, happily, and unworried by any later moment including death.
Jake, you said you were still worried about Parkinson."
"Somewhat. As a lawyer, I don't see how he can get his hands on it again.
But as a shyster at heart-don't quote me!-who has taken part in many a
back-room deal, I know that even the Supreme Court is made up of men,
not angels met in judgment. Eunice, there are five honest men on that
court. . . and four from whom I would never buy a used car. But of the
honest ones, one is senile. We'll see what we shall see."

                                     242
"So we will, Jake. But don't give Parky a thought. The worst he can do is to
strip me of money. Which I wouldn't mind; I've discovered that more money
than is needed for current bills is a burden. Jake, I've got enough tucked
away that even you don't know about that I'll never miss any meals. Parky
can't touch it. As for Parky himself, I've erased him from my universe, and
suggest that you do likewise. He's damned by his own I.Q.-leave him to
nature."
Salomon grinned. "Okay, I'll try."
"And now' you go do whatever it is you have to do and forget that I tried to
inveigle you into a pub crawl." (Twin, you're giving up too easily.) (Who is
giving up?)
"Eunice, if you really want to-"
"No, no, Jake! Your heart's not in it. While you are in Washington I may
sample the fleshpots of this decadent village but I promise you that I will be
closely guarded. Shorty, probably; he frightens people just with his size. Nor
will I go alone; Alec told me that he and Mac didn't have much trouble
slipp4ng the leash, and Winnie can make a fourth."
"Eunice."
"Yes, dear?'
"1 am like hell going to step aside for those two wolves."
"Why, Jake, you sound jealous!"
"No. God save me from falling prey to that masochistic vice. But if you want
to see the seamy side of this anthill, I'll find out where the action is and take
you there. Dress for it, girl-I'm going to shake the moths off my drinkin'
clothes. Formal I mean."
"Bare breasts?" (Could you have done better, Pussy Cat?) (Pick up the
pup, twin. I concede.)
"'Much too good for the common people.' Unless you intend to paint
heavily, plus a lot of that sparkly glitter stuff."
"I'll try to do you proud, dear. But you will take a nap? Please."
"A long nap at once and a dinner tray in my room. H-hour is twenty-two
hundred. Be ready or we jump off without you."
"I'm scared. Want help to get to sleep? Me? Or Winnie? Or both?"
"No, I've learned how to do it by myself. Perfectly. Though I admit it's more
fun with two pretty little girls chanting with me. You get a nap. I may keep
you up all night."
"Yes, sir."
"And now, if I may be excused." Mr. Salomon stood up, bent over her hand
and kissed it. "Adios."
"Come back here and kiss me right!"
He glanced over his shoulder. "Later, my dear. I don't believe in letting
women be notional." He left.
                                      243
(Who won that round, Boss?) (He thinks he did, Eunice-and you tell me
that's how it ought to be.) (You're learning, twin, you're learning.)
They had been lunching in her lounge. She went into her boudoir, sat down
at her stenodesk to phone-picking it; rather than the viewphone because its
phone was not a viewphone. She used it with hush, and with ear plugs.
Shortly she was answered: "Dr. Garcia's office."
"This is Mrs. McIntyre's secretary. Is the Doctor in and, if so, can he spare a
moment to speak to Mrs. McIntyre?"
"Please hold. I will inquire."
Joan passed the time reciting her meditation prayer, was calm when he
answered, "Dr. Garcia speaking."
"Mrs. McIntyre's secretary, Doctor-hush and secure?"
"Of course, Eunice."
"Roberto dear, do you have news for me?"
"'The Greeks have captured Athens.'"
"Oh! You're 'certain?"
"No possible doubt, Eunice. But don't panic. You can have a D. and C. at
once with no chance of your privacy being breached. I'll get Dr. Kystra, the
best possible man and utterly trustworthy. I'll assist, there won't even be a
nurse present."
"Oh, Roberto, no, no, no! You don't understand, dear-I'm going to have this
baby if it's the last thing I ever do. You've made me terribly happy." (Now
we've really got something to celebrate, Boss darling. But don't tell Jake,
huh?) (Nobody, just yet. How soon does our belly bulge?) (Not for weeks, if
you don't eat like a pig.) (I want pickles and ice cream this instant.) (So
don't.)
The Doctor answered slowly, "I misunderstood the situation. But you
seemed quite nervous when I took the specimen."
"Certainly I was, dear; I was scared silly that I might not have caught."
"Uh . . . Eunice, I can't help feeling personally responsible: I know you're
wealthy-but a marriage contract can exclude any 'fortune hunter' possibility
and-well, I'm available."
"Roberto, I think that's the sweetest-and bluntest-proposal a knocked-up
broad ever got. Thank you, dear; I do appreciate it. But, as you pointed out,
I am wealthy- and I do not care what the neighbors think."
"Eunice, I am not simply accepting my responsibility... I want you to know
that I do not regard marrying you as a chore."
"Roberto darling, it is not your responsibility. For all you know I've been
sweetheart to the regiment." (We've tried, haven't we, twin!) (Don't joggle
my elbow, dear; he wants to be noble.) "It's my baby. Who helped me is my
business."
''Sorry."
                                      244
"I meant that you mustn't feel any responsibility. If you did help me, I'm
grateful. I'm grateful even if you didn't. Roberto? Instead of trying to make
an honest woman out of me-difficult-why don't you remove that implant from
Winnie's pretty thigh, then place another sort of implant where it will do the
most good. . . then make an honest woman out of her. Much easier, she
leans that way."
"It's a thought. Truthfully it's a thought I've considered quite a lot lately. But
she doesn't want to leave you."
"She need not. Oh, she could stop pretending to be my maid, but this is a
big old barn, several spare suites. If you get her pregnant, she and I could
chum and giggle about it and have our babies almost together. I'll shut up
and stop trying to run your life. Two questions-I had planned to go out on
the town tonight, to celebrate the good news I expected to hear from you.
Must I stick to soft drinks now?"
"Not at all. Shortly we'll put you on a diet and limit your drinking. But tonight
you could get stinking drunk and the only effect would be a hangover. You
don't lose a baby that easily. . . as millions of women have learned."
"May not get stinking but I may soak up several glasses of bubbly. Last
question- if you're able to sign off, would it suit you to lose a night's sleep
helping me celebrate?
Officially it's to celebrate our court victory. That 'the Greeks have captured
Athens' will stay secret a while longer."
"Uh-"
"You sound fretted, dear."
"Well, to tell the truth I have a date with Winnie."
"Oh! I expressed myself badly. 1 have a date with Jake; I hope that you and
Winnie can make it a four. I wasn't asking you to spend a night with me in
that sense-although I certainly would not be averse if it could be managed
some other time without hurting our Winsome. The moments you and I
have been able to steal have been too short, dear. I think you are a man it
would be sweet to be leisurely with."
"I know that you are such a woman, Eunice."
"Go along with you, you tell that to all your female patients. Doctor, you are
a delightful wolf. Will you wait ten minutes before phoning Winnie? I have a
favor I want to ask of her."
"Ten minutes."
"Thank you, Roberto. Off."
Joan switched to the house intercom. "Winnie? Are you busy, dear?"
"Just reading. Be right in."
Joan met her at their connecting door. "Nothing much, hon. I want you to
call O'Neil and tell him that I wish to speak to Finchley. In my lounge. Sure,
I could phone O'Neil myself, sweet, but I want it to look more formal."
                                       245
"Sure, Joanie. Do I stay and chaperon?"
"Winsome, you know darn well that all I ever want is fake chaperonage-and
sometimes a jigger. This time I don't need a jigger-but I do want to ask
Finchley something privately and he will speak more freely if you aren't
around. So let him into my lounge, come tell me he has arrived, and don't
come back in. Go on into your own room and close the door. Then stay
there-you are going to receive a phone call in about eight minutes."
"I am?"
"Yes, and a nice one. You and I and Jake and Dr. Garcia are going
nightclubbing tonight."
"Oh!"
"And when we get home just keep him here the rest of the night and I'll see
to it that Jake doesn't twig. Or does he know who 'Bob' is?"
"Uh . . . yes, he does. I told him."
"It may still suit dear Doctor to cover up; men are shy. Now skedaddle,
dear, and phone O'Neil."
Four minutes later Winnie announced Finchley, and left the lounge. He
said, "You sent for me, Miss?"
"Tom Cat, these doors are soundproof; you can stop being formal."
He relaxed a little. "Okay, Pussy Cat."
"So give us a kiss and sit down. That hall door locks itself. Winnie is the
only one who could walk in and she won't."
"Pussy Cat, sometimes you make me nervous."
"Oh, piffle." She moved into his arms. "I do have a question to ask you-
advice that I want. You can discuss it with O'Neil and get his advice, and
any of the guards. But it is your advice I want; the rest is cover-up."
"Woman, quit talking and shove me some mouth."
Joan did so, a long thorough kiss. Presently he said hoarsely, "You don't
have much on under this."
"I don't have anything on under it. But don't get me distracted, Thomas
Cattus; let me get my question in. I'm going nightclubbing tonight-Jake and
me, Winnie and Dr. Garcia. They're going to want to take us to cubes. I
want to see rough places. I figure you know where they are."
"Mmm...Eunice, the up-high places are all in bad turf."
"Well, are they safe once we're inside? And can one get inside safely?"
"Uh. . . there's one, has its own inside parking and as good armor as the
doors you have. Look, I'll bring up a list, addresses and so forth, and
everybody's suggestions. But I'll star my own."
"Good. Thank you, Tom Cat."
"God, but you feel good. Do we have time? Can I lock that other door?"
"If I'm not worried about Winnie, why should you be? Grab a pillow and put
me on the floor."
                                    246
The party made rendezvous in Joan's lounge. Jake Salomon had elected to
dress with ultra old-fashioned formality: maroon tuxedo jacket and trousers,
with white turtleneck. The silky knit made a splendid background for his
gold ankh necklace. Dr. Garcia was just as formal in modern mode: scarlet
tights boldly padded, stretch-fit white mess jacket with jabot of pearls and
black lace. Little Winifred wore her new emerald dress with floor-length
skirt-no body paint as Joan had advised but blushes caused her skin to
change again arid again from extremely fair to rosy glow. On her forehead
in caste-mark position was a single emerald.
Jake looked at her. "Little one, what holds that solitaire in place?
Insurance?"
She blushed again but answered saucily, "It's on' a corkscrew, sir. Shall I
unscrew it and show you?"
"No, I'm afraid you might be telling the truth."
"Never in mixed company, sir. Actually it's the adhesive we use on
bandages. Won't come loose even with soap and water but alcohol takes it
right off."
"Then be careful not to spill your drinks that high."
"Oh, I don't drink, Counselor; I learned my lesson long ago. I'll be drinking
Cuba Libre without the 'libre' and screwdrivers with no drive to them."
"Doctor, let's leave her at home; she's just a chaperon."
"Would you make me stay home, Counselor? Just for not drinking?"
"Just for calling me 'Counselor' if you do it again. And for calling me 'sir'.
Winifred, men my age do not care to be reminded of it by pretty little girls.
After sundown my name is Jake."
"Yes, Counselor," Winifred answered meekly.
Jake sighed. "Doctor, someday I hope to win an argument with a woman."
"If you do, tell Dr. Rosenthal. Rosy is writing a book on the difference in
mental processes between male and female."
"A dreamer. Eunice, does that thing cover you any better when you stand
up? And what is it?"
"It's a hula skirt, "Jake. And it does." Joan Eunice was wearing a floor-
length skirt, with her torso covered with a myriad glittering stars. They faded
out gradually at neck and shoulders. The skirt was 'thousands of gold nylon
threads overlying more thousand~ of deep blue threads.
As she was seated, the mass of threads fell away from her graceful legs.
Now she stood up; the threads fell back into a solid curtain. "See, Jake? A
plain gold skirt. But when I move"-she walked-"the blue underneath keeps
flashing through."
"Yes, and you, too. Panties?"

                                      247
"A rude question. The Polynesians never heard of pants until the
missionaries corrupted them."
"That's not a responsive answer-"
"Wasn't meant to be."
"-but as long as you are standing, let's get rolling."
"Yes, dear." Joan Eunice put on a matching opaque yashmak, let Jake lay
an evening cloak around her shoulders. Jake hooked on a maroon domino
which covered his distinctive aquiline nose-he had been too often on video
lately and felt that there was no point on concealing Miss J. S. B. Smith's
face if his own face broke her cover. The Doctor donned a small white
domino-having been asked to help keep the party in character-and Winifred
wore a filmy green harem veil that was only a symbol, being of the same
material as her skirt.
As they entered the lift Joan Eunice said, "Where are we going, Jake?"
"Woman, you aren't supposed to ask. The Gaslight Club, as a starter."
"It sounds like fun," Joan agreed. "A piano player with sleeve garters and
such?"
"And derby hat and fake cigar-he can sing and play anything written a
hundred years back. Or fake it."
"I want to hear him. But, Jake, since this is to celebrate my uhuru, would
you indulge me a little?"
"Probably. Show your openers."
"There's a club I've heard about...and while you were napping, I reserved a
table for four for twenty-two thirty.
I'd like to try it."
"Winnie, you haven't been coaching her enough. Eunice, you're not
supposed to be capable of making such a decision-less than the dust
beneath my chariot wheels and all that. All right, where is this dive? What's
its name? We'll try the Gaslight later-there is a waitress there alleged to
have the most pinchable bottom in the state."
"Probably foam rubber; Winnie has that distinction. It's the Pompeii-Now,
Jake-I have the address in my purse."
Mr. Salomon's eyebrows appeared over his domino.
"We won't need it, Eunice. That box is in an Abandoned Area."
"Does that matter? They have inside parking and assured me that they are
armored against anything short of a nuke bomb."
"We would still have to get there and back."
"Oh, I have confidence in Finchley and Shorty. Don't you?" (Twin, that's a
crotch chop. Not nice.) (Big sister, do you want to go to the Gaslight and
listen to bad piano and watch Jake pinch bottoms? If so, say so.) (I just said
it wasn't nice.) (So you phrase the next answer. Jake's a tough case.)

                                     248
"Joan Eunice, when I take a lady out for the evening, we go in my car. Not
hers."
"Whatever you say, Jake; I was trying to be helpful. I asked Finchley and he
said there was a route in that the-what do they call it?-the Organization-
keeps open. No doubt Finchley can tell Rockford."
"I call it the, Mafia. If there is an acceptably safe route, Rockford knows it;
he's the most expert driver in town-more experienced than your boys, he
drives more."
"Jake, you don't want to go there. So let's go to the Gaslight. I want to try
sticking a pin in that rubber fanny."
They went to the Pompeii-Now.
There was no trouble getting inside and the club had a card lounge for its
patrons' mobile guards. The maitre d'hôtel led them to a ringside table
across from the orchestra, swept a "Reserved" sign from it. "Will this be
suitable, Mr. 'Jones'?"
"Yes, thank you," agreed Salomon. Two silver-bucket stands with
champagne appeared as they sat down; the maître d'hôtel took a magnum
from the sommelier and displayed it to Salomon, who said, "That's a poor
year for Pol Roger. No Dom Perignon ninety-five?"
"At once, sir." The sommelier hurried away. The maître d'hôtel asked, "Is
there anything else not to your liking, sir?"
Joan Eunice leaned toward Jake. "Please tell him that I don't like this chair.
It was designed by Torquemada."
The floor manager looked upset. "I'm sorry Madame feels that way about
our chairs. They were supplied by the number-one hotel and restaurant
supply company."
"As may be," Joan answered, "but if you think I'm going to spend an
evening perched on a shooting stick and pretend that it's fun, you are
mistaken. Jake, we should have gone to the Gaslight."
"Perhaps, but we're here now. Just a moment, dear. Maître d'hôtel-"
"Yes, sir."
"You have an office here, no doubt."
"Why, yes, sir."
"With a desk and a chair. Probably a padded swivel chair with arms and an
adjustable back. A man who is on his feet as much as you are wants a
comfortable chair when he does sit down."
"I do have such a chair, sir, and-while it's hardly suitable for a dining room-
Madame is welcome to it if it pleases her. I'll send for it."
"One moment. In a club with so many activities-you have a gaming room,
do you not, and other things?-I feel sure that it is possible to round up four
such chairs."

                                      249
"Uh, I'll try, sir. Although our other patrons might find it odd if we supply one
table with special chairs."
Mr. Salomon looked around. The place was less than half filled. "Oh, I
imagine that if you explained to anyone who asked just how expensive such
special service is, he might not want it. Or you might find it possible to
accommodate him, too, if he is willing to pay. I think those guards
pretending to be waiters standing around the edge of the room can handle
anyone who is unreasonable."
"All our staff are guards, sir-in a crunch. Very well, sir, if you will be patient
a few moments your party will all have desk chairs." Quickly he distributed
wine cards and drug lists, and left.
Roberto and Winifred were already dancing. Joan leaned toward Jake
again and said, "Jake, will you buy this place for me?"
"Does it attract you that much?"
"No, I want to make a bonfire out of these chairs. I had forgotten what
indignities nightclubs expect their customers to put up with."
"You're spoiled."
"I intend to be. Jake, much of what is wrong with this world would be righted
if the customer screamed every time he feels cheated. But I'm not out to
reform the world tonight; I simply want a comfortable chair. The cover
charge-I checked it when I made reservations for 'Mr. Jones'-is high enough
to buy a decent chair. What are these other activities'? A whorehouse
upstairs, maybe?"
"Eunice, see those three tables of beautiful people over in the corner?
Attractive men and women, all young, all smiles, no frowns, and each with a
champagne glass that may hold ginger ale? It's high odds that, if the
Greeks had a word for it, they have a price for it."
"Why, one of those girls doesn't look more than twelve."
"She may not be that old. Who's going to check on her age, in an
Abandoned Area? I thought you weren't going to reform the world tonight,
my dear?"
"I'm not. If the government can't police these areas, I certainly cannot. But I
hate to see children exploited." (Twin, that pretty child may have an I.Q. of
eighty and no other possible profession-she may think she's lucky. Proud of
her job. And seeing where she is, she's either got an implant or cut tubes-
not like that cheerleader I told you about.) (Eunice, doesn't it bother you?)
(Some, chum, but only some. People usually are what they are because it
suits them-I learned that from Joe. The girl's mother may be one of the
other pretties there-two gets you seven. Want to rescue them both?) (Oh,
shut up, darling; let's have fun.) (I'm willing.)


                                       250
A waitress came past, refilled their glasses. She was pretty and was
dressed in sandals, cosmetics, and careful depilation. She smiled and
moved on. "Jake, is she one?"
"Couldn't say, I don't know the house rules. Shocked, Eunice? I told you not
to come here."
"Shocked at skin? Jake dear, you forget that my generation thinks nothing
of nudity."
"Hrrmph! One more remark like that and I'll call you 'Johann' the rest of the
evening."
"I'll be good. Mostly. Darling, our waitress suddenly reminded me of the
Chesterfield Club. Kansas City in the
palmiest days of the Pendergast machine. Nineteen-thirty-four."
"In nineteen-thirty-four I was barely out of diapers, Eunice. It was something
like this?"
"Not as much fake swank and lower prices even allowing for inflation. But
otherwise much the same. It specialized in complete nudity even at high
noon at the 'Businessman's Lunch.' Just up the street from the Federal
Reserve Bank. Jake, she's headed back. Find out for me."
"How? I don't even have a hat to tip."
"Simply ask her, dear, ask her if she's available. Slip her ten dollars as you
do; she won't be insulted."
The waitress came back, smiled, and said, "Have you looked over our drug
list? All illegal drugs at the controlled international prices plus twenty-five
percent. Guaranteed pure, we obtain them from government sources."
"Not for me, thank you, dear. Eunice? Want a trip?"
"Me? I don't even take aspirin. But I want a steady supply of champagne.
And I could use a sandwich, or something. Chiquita, is there a kitchen?"
"There is always a gourmet chef on duty, Ma'am; it says so at the bottom of
your wine card. Anything from snacks to Maine lobster. Would you like to
see a menu?"
"No, thank you. Maybe a big platter of little sandwiches for all of us, Jake.
And don't forget that other matter."
Joan Eunice saw Jake get out a ten-dollar bill. It disappeared and Joan
decided that the girl must have folded it with one hand and palmed it. Jake
spoke to her in a voice lower than the music.
She smiled and answered clearly. "No, sir, I'm not even allowed to dance
with customers-and I'm not in that branch of the business; I'm married. But I
can arrange it." The waitress glanced toward the 'beautiful people' and
looked back. "For you sir? Or for both of you?"
"No," Jake answered. "It was just curiosity."
"My curiosity," Joan put in. "I'm sorry, dear; 'I shouldn't have made him ask
you."
                                      251
"Ma'am, a high roller can be as inquisitive as be wishes. Baby needs
shoes." She smiled. "Twins. Boys. Two years old. I was licensed for two
and now I'm arguing with the Board as to whether twins use up my license.
Since twins are okay under a one-baby license. I'd like to have a little girl,
too."
"Jake, be a high roller again; I want to ask" -Joan leaned forward, read the
girl's name written or tattooed above her left breast-"Marie another
question."
"He's paid for more than one question, really, Ma'am." But a second note
disappeared as quickly as the first.
"Marie, do you live inside the turf? With kids?"
"Oh, goodness, no! My husband would never permit that. An armed bus
picks me up after supper and delivers me home around breakfast time.
Most of us use it. Except-" She indicated the exception by inclining her
head toward the corner. "My husband is on night shift at Timken-we match
up pretty well."
"Who takes care of your twins at night? Nursery?"
"Oh, no, Mama lives with us. No huhu. Actually, Ma'am, this is a good job.
I've been a waitress where I had to wear uniforms-and the work was hard
and the tips were small. Here the work is easy and the tips are usually high.
Oh, sometimes a customer gets drunk and gropy, but I don't bruise all that
easily-and drunks are often the highest tippers. Never any trouble; the
guards watch everything." She smiled at Joan. "You could get a job here in
two seconds, Ma'am. All it takes is a friendly manner and a good figure-and
you've got both."
"Thank you, Marie."
"I'd better go, the maitre d' is bringing a party to another of my tables.
'Scuse, please-sandwiches will be right in." The girl left. Joan said, "Jake,
would you say that she has found her niche?"
"Seems so. As long as she keeps her figure and saves her money. She
doesn't pile up Social Security points here; this doesn't count as a job under
the rules, it's off the map."
"She doesn't pay income tax?"
"Oh, certainly! The fact that her income doesn't exist, legally, means
nothing to revenooers. Though she may hold out a good portion-I would. My
dear, do you want to try this music?"
"Jake, I thought you didn't dance?"
"I don't dance this modern stuff. But I can try, if you want to. I wonder if that
combo can play Rock? This new stuff has so little beat I don't see why they
call it dance music."


                                      252
Joan chuckled. "Fm so much older that I despised Rock instead of lilting it.
Swing was my' era, Jake, and on back clear to the Bunny Hug-though I
didn't learn to dance until the fox-trot crowded out the rest."
"I can fox-trot, I'm not all that young. But I doubt if that bunch of
disappointed harpists can play one. Eunice, can you tango?"
"Try me, just try me! Learned it when Irene Castle was alive-and with this
new body I'm eight times as good as I was then. Been teaching it to Winnie.
Do you have a firm lead?"
"Firm enough for you, wench. I'm going to flag the maitre d'-it's possible that
they can play one. It's the only tempo that has stayed evergreen through all
the passing fads."
"Of course, Jake. Because the tango, danced correctly, is so sexy that you
ought to get married afterwards. See if they can play one."
But they were interrupted by busboys arriving with four swivel chairs and
Joan decided that it would be polite to sit in hers a while, since she had
made a fuss over chairs. Then sandwiches arrived and more champagne
and she found she wanted both-bubbly to make her tiddly and sandwiches
to soak it up so that she wouldn't get tiddly too fast. Roberto and Winifred,
returned to the table; Winnie said, "Oh, food! Good-bye, waistline! Bob, will
you love me when I'm fat?"
"Who knows? Let's operate and find out," he answered, reaching for a
sandwich with one hand and champagne with the other.
"Winsome, pour that Coke into the wine bucket and have champagne."
"Joanie, you know I mustn't. My Nemesis."
"But this time there's food to go with it. . . and not the other hazards."
Winifred blushed. "I'll get drunk. I'll get silly."
"Roberto, will you promise this poor child that, if she passes out, you'll get
her home safely?" (What's safe about home, twin? You ought to hang out a
red light.) (Nonsense, Eunice! Our man won't marry us-so what do you want
me to do? I don't give myself to men I don't respect-and I've got years to
make up for. I'm nearly ninety-five years old-and knocked up-and healthy-
and can't hurt anyone physically and won't hurt anyone socially . . . a man's
pride or anything else. Why shouldn't I be 'No-Pants' Smith'?)' ('Methinks
the lady doth protest too much.' Boss, your Bible-Belt background is chafing
you again. Certainly sex is no sin-but you don't really believe it.) (I do so!
Always have. I've been almost enough of a busybody to keep you happy.
Why do you needle me?) (Beloved Boss. You've shown amazing talent for
juggling eggs and I've enjoyed every second of it and I hope you have, too.)
(You know I have. So much I'm scared of losing my judgment. My caution,
rather, Eunice, I never dreamed how much more it is, to be a woman. It's
our whole body.)

                                     253
The cabaret was crowded now; the lights changed and the floor show
began-two comics. Joan listened, tried to look amused, and tried to amuse
herself by trying to remember how long ago she had heard each "new" gag.
She could see only one improvement in the routines: The "dirty" story of her
(his) youth had disappeared. Being based on shock of breaking taboo, the
dirty story had bled to death when there were no more taboos. There was
sex humor-the comics used plenty of it; sex remained forever the most
comical thing on a weary globe. But it was harder to work out real comedy
than it once had been simply to shock. But she applauded the comics as
they left. There was a black-out and the dance floor changed instantly into a
farmyard scene-she found herself more intrigued by trying to guess the
mechanics of that "magic" than she had been by the comics.
The farmyard set was used for one of the oldest (possibly the oldest, she
decided) of all sex stories, and it was done in stylized, very old symbols in
both costume and props: the Farmer, the Farmer's Daughter, and the City
Slicker with his Hundred-Dollar Bills. It was pantomime, with theme music
from the orchestra.
She whispered to Jake, "If she's a farm girl, I'm Adolf Hitler."
"What do you know about farms, my dear?"
"Plenty, for a city boy. On one nearly every summer when I was a kid.
Followed the harvest in high school and college-good money, plus
occasionally a farm girl. Always was a peasant at heart-wanted the biggest
manure pile in the valley...and got it, save that it was cash. Jake? Couldn't
we buy an abandoned farm? A simple little place, with drawbridge and
moat, and our own plant and water supply? Get out of this dying city?"
"If you say to, dear. Getting bored with this? Want to move on?"
"Not during their act, dear." (I'm curious to see how he fakes it.) (Me, too!)
To her surprise the entertainers did not fake it. Money caused the "farm girl"
to go from offended, to coy, to consent, to active cooperation, with a
haystack as locale of consummation-and actor and actress made certain
that the audience could see that it was in no way faked. Winifred blushed to
her waist and never took her eyes off it.
The ending had a variation that Joan-Johann conceded was new to her-
him. As motions grew vigorous and the orchestra kept time to loud squeals
and grunts, the "Farmer" showed up (as. expected) with pitchfork. But the
hay caught fire, apparently from the action, and the "Farmer" dropped his
pitchfork and grabbed a seltzer bottle conveniently at hand on an empty
table and doused his "Daughter" and the "City Slicker" in putting out the
fire-aiming first at the apparent source of the fire.
Joan decided that it rated applause. Winifred hesitantly joined in, then
clapped hard when Roberto did. Jake joined in but was interrupted. "What
is it, Rockford?"
                                     254
Joan turned her head, surprised. Jake's driver-guard was looking very
upset. "Mr. Salomon-I've got to speak with you."
"You are. Speak up."
"Uh-" Rockford tried to make it just to his employer but Joan watched his
lips. "That crazy fool Charlie has gone got hisself killed."
"Oh, for God's sake! Where? How?"
"Just now. In the guards' lounge. Not drunk. This is a tight joint, they won't
let a guard drink. We were playing stud and Charlie kept needling this
Polack. No excuse and I told him to knock it off. But he didn't. Polack got
sore, but tried to avoid a showdown. Charlie kept crowding him and-oh,
what's the use; the Polack broke his neck. Before I could get around to that
side of the table." Rockford said, "Boss? Seeing where we are, I could
dump him. Best, maybe?"
"Of course not. I have to report it, the body has to go to the morgue. Damn
it, Rocky, I'm his parole officer."
"Yeah, but maybe you don't know about it? He skipped. Dropped out."
"Shut up." Salomon turned to Joan. "My dear, I'm terribly sorry."
"Jake, I should never have asked you to take me into an A.A."
"That has nothing to do with it. Charlie was a congenital killer. Rockford, get
the maitre d'. No, take me to the manager. Friends-Bob, Winnie-stay here
please, I've got to take tare of something."
Garcia said, "I caught most of it. Take me with you, Jake. I can certify
death-and it's smart to get that done at once."
"Uh. . . who's going to stay with the girls?"
Joan put her hand on Jake's arm. "Jake, Winnie and I are safe-lots of
guards. I think we'll go to the powder room. I need to, Winnie probably
does, too. Coming, Winnie?"
The party was over but it was two hours before they were home; too many
details-tedious ones rather than legal complications, as Dr. Garcia certified
death, and he, the manager, Mr. Salomon, and Rockford endorsed the
certificate that death had occurred in an Abandoned Area at the hands of a
party or parties unknown-in fact unknown, as the cardroom was empty save
for the body.
There was no point in inquiries; it had happened in an Abandoned Area and
was not a crime de facto nor in any practical sense de jure. Nor did anyone
weep; even Rockford did not like his driving partner, he simply respected
him as a fast gun in a crunch. To Garcia Jake groused that he should have
known better than to try to rehabilitate a congenital-and got no sympathy,
as Garcia believed that such creatures should be exterminated as soon as
identified.
Both tried to keep the grisly aspects from the ladies.

                                      255
Winifred and Joan Eunice spent an hour alone at the table, fiddling with
champagne and trying to look amused, while the men tidied up the mess.
But Joan helped on one point: The body had to be sent to the morgue and
Jake was unwilling to leave it to the management, he was certain they
would dump it. Nor was he willing to send Rockford without someone to ride
shotgun. So a phone was brought to Joan and she called O'Neil-was
answered instantly and she wondered if her Chief ever slept.
Finchley and Shorty were on duty; O'Neil said they would be rolling at once.
But Joan ordered him to 'have them first pick up Fred, to ride shotgun for
Rockford. As an afterthought she told O'Neil to have the night pantryman
place a cold supper and a case of chilled champagne in her lounge-the
"night on the town" had turned out a dismal flop; she was darned if she
would let it stay that way. Charlie was better dead and his death did not rate
one crocodile tear. Ten thousand human beings had died around the globe
in the hour since his death-why weep over a worthless one? (Eunice, what
happens to a kark like Charlie after he's dead?) (I'm no authority, Boss.
Maybe the bad ones die dead-like a potter destroying damaged work. Ask
the Front Office.)
(I don't know its wavelength, sweetheart. Maybe you can tell me this-How
can I get this party rolling again?
Look at Winnie-drinking champagne but not smiling.)
(Boss darling, I recommend more champagne and Money Hums, mixed
fifty-fifty.) (Eunice, I thought you didn't approve of liquor?) (Never said that,
Boss. I didn't drink because I didn't need it. But nothing is good or bad in
itself, just in its effects. Try it. Can't hurt, might help.) So when at last the
four reached the big, ugly fortress, Eunice insisted that they go to her
lounge for a nightcap and a snack. "Who knows? We might feel like
dancing yet. Roberto, has Winnie introduced you to our relaxing routine?
The Money Hum?"
"I've tried to teach it to him, Joanie. But Bob is a dreadful cynic."
"Jake, let's uncynic Robert. I've thought of a new way to recite it. Sit in a
circle and pass around a loving cup. Three recite while one drinks, and
pass the cup to the next one."
"I vote Yea," Jake answered. "Doctor, if you want to be cynical, go do so by
yourself-you can have the guest bed in my suite. We'll form a triangle
instead."
"I had better stay to keep the party orderly."
"Very well, sir. But one unseemly word while we are at our devotions-and
you will be severely punished."
"How?"
Joan Eunice answered, "By having to down the loving cup unassisted, of
course, and then start it again."
                                      256
Joan Eunice woke up feeling rested but very thirsty. She glanced at the
ceiling, saw that it was after ten and thought idly of turning on floor lights as
a gentle preliminary to stronger light.
Then she realized that she was not alone. Should she wake Jake-gently-for
a pleasant good morning? Or slide out softly and sneak back to her room
and hope not to be seen? Or did it matter? Was she already a topic of
gossip in her own house?
Better not wake Jake in any case; the poor darling planned to go to
Washington tonight. She started to slide out of bed.
The man by her reached out and pulled her to him. She at once gave in,
went soft and boneless. "Didn't know you were awake, dear. I meant to-
Roberto!"
"You were expecting Santa Claus?"
"How did you get here?"
"You invited me."
"I did? Well, yes, I did. I mean I told you that you were welcome in my bed,
quite a while back. But where's Jake? Did he go to sleep on us? And what
about Winnie?" She thumbed on the floor lights, saw that she was, as she
was beginning to suspect, in her own bed.
"Winnie's next door. In her bed. With Jake."
"Good God, Roberto-I've finally spent a night with you. And don't remember
it." (I do! Whee.') (Well, I don't, Eunice, Not in detail. Confused.) (You're a
drunken little bitch, Boss. But we had fun.) (I'm sure we did. I wish I
remembered it.)
Dr. Garcia sighed. "Ah, well. I should not complain."
"It's coming back to me," she lied. "Just disoriented as I woke up. You were
especially sweet to me."
"You didn't think so when I wouldn't let you go to bed with your makeup on."
Joan allowed enough general illumination to come on to let her see herself,
noted that the star sequins were gone as well as body paint they had
adhered to. She had not scrubbed it off herself; ergo, someone else had.
Not Winnie-Winnie had been potted as a palm. "That's part of what I meant
by 'especially sweet', Roberto. Not many men would take such good care of
a drunken wench. Was I hard to handle?"
"Not really. But you were pretty tight."
"Too tight?"
"Not too tight. Just pleasantly so."
"I'm not sure I understand that and don't think I want to. Roberto darling,
even if I did fuss over it, thank you for washing me. Only a slut leaves paint
on when she goes to bed. I'm a tart but I don't want to be a slut." (Hi, slut!)

                                       257
"And thank you most of all for a wonderfully sweet night. I hope I wasn't too
drunk to make it sweet for you, too."
"Eunice, you would be more woman passed out cold than most can
manage at their best."
"I'm glad you said 'would be' rather than 'are.' But, Roberto, I'm uneasy. Not
about you and me, dear, but about Winnie. Does this affect that thought
you've been considering? About Winnie, I mean."
"On the contrary, Eunice, it was Winnie's idea-her notion of how to
celebrate our engagement-"
"Wait a moment! Am I engaged to you?"
"Eh? No, no-I'm engaged to Winnie."
"Oh. Roberto, I would happily marry you, you would make a numero-uno
espöso. But I don't need one, and Winnie does. Did I know this last night?
About you two?"
"You seemed to. You said that was why you wouldn't wait to scrub off your
sparklers-you wore right-now about it."
"Roz. I remember being terribly eager but I seem to have drawn a blank as
to why. Roberto? Did I spill the news about the 'Greeks capturing Athens'?"
"I don't think so, Eunice. Not when I was around. I'm fairly sure Winnie
doesn't know it."
"I'll tell Winnie; it's Jake I want to keep in the dark."
"Eunice? Did Jake do it? Capture Athens and the Parthenon as well."
"Watch that Hippocratic Oath, dear. Parthenogenesis might be the answer.
Let me keep this up in the air a while longer. You say this was Winnie's
idea? After you told her you would marry her?"
"Yes."
"How did she ever get up her courage to propose? I've been urging her to
but she's so damn' shy. Dutch courage?"
"Yes. But my own. Sure, she's shy-but under her blushes Winnie is as
rugged as a nurse has to be. She said All right-if I would let her tie it down
tight that she is no angel. I told her I had no use for angels, in bed or out.
She said she hoped I meant that, because she was about to ask Jake to
sleep with her."
"Roberto, I missed a lot of this. How much champagne did I drink?"
"Who counts? Jake kept opening bottles and we kept passing the loving
cup around. While reciting that amphigory. You got your share. We all did."
"Uh. . . am I engaged to Jake?"
"Not that I know of."
"That's good. Because when Jake finds out I'm knocked up, he's going to
be noble. Just as you were, dear, but Jake will be much more difficult. And
I've discovered that I don't need a husband; I just want loving friends. You.
Jake. Winnie. Some others. People who'll love me as I am, clay feet and all-
                                     258
not because of a contract. Did Jake make any fuss over the sleeping
arrangements?"
"Uh, truthfully I don't think anyone was displeased with Winnie's suggestion.
Jake picked Winnie up under one arm and announced that he was
reenacting the Rape of the Sabines."
"The faithless old darling."
"So I picked you up and carried you in and scrubbed you and you squealed
and protested and told me that was a hell of a way to run a rape."
"Mmm, I think I was right. 'In vino veritas."
"So now I'm going to put a pillow over your fac4 so that you can't squeal
and protest."
"You won't need a pillow; just put your hand over my mouth if I'm noisy. But
all these doors are soundproof."
"You think I don't know it? When I lived here for most of a year? Miss
Johann Smith, I know more about your house than you do."
"Oh, you bastard! Call me 'Eunice.' Or put a pillow over my face so I can't
hear you, Roberto-I'm so happy that you're going to marry our Winsome."
"So am I, Eunice. Now shut up."
"Yes, sir." (Unh! Eunice, nobody ever tells me anything.) (Shut up, twin, and
pay attention to what you're doing!)

Joan Eunice reached for the intercom by her bed, tapped it for
Cunningham, then reached for Roberto's hand.
"Yes, Miss?"
"Cunningham, I want breakfast for four, served in my lounge."
"Yes, Miss."
"Placed in my lounge, rather, with warmers and coolers. No service. I have
no idea when Mr. Salomon and Dr. Garcia will wake up, but I want to be
hostessish and ready to serve them myself when they do. But Winnie and I
want to eat." She winked at the doctor, squeezed his hand.
"Certainly, Miss."
"They need their sleep. Tell me, Cunningham-you've known me a long time.
Have you ever pinned one on?"
"Pardon me, Miss?"
"Go on a luau, get so fried you can't find the floor with both feet. Drunk and
disorderly."
"I have sometimes-in the past-come down with that ailment."
"Then you know what a delicate condition we are in-Winnie and myself at
least and I have reason to believe that the gentlemen will not be in much
better shape. But there was excellent excuse."
"I heard about the trouble, Miss. Too bad."

                                     259
"Cunningham, I did not mean Charlie. This may be callous of me. . . but he
was a bully who picked a fight, and lost."
"Oh. If I may say so, Miss, he was not liked belowstairs. Uh, we really did
not like having him in the house."
"I know. I would have put a stop to it long ago except that he worked for Mr.
Salomon, not me-and I owe Mr. Salomon a great deal. No, the 'excellent
excuse' was something else. We were celebrating an engagement."
Cunningham said cautiously, "Should I offer congratulations, Miss?"
"Yes, but not to me. Dr. Garcia is marrying Winifred."
"Oh! That's fine, Miss. But we'll miss her."
"I am hoping that we will not have to miss her. This is a big house,
Cunningham, much too large for one person. Or for two whenever Mr.
Salomon can be persuaded to honor us. Not often enough, that is to say-
but the Counselor is afraid that he will cause gossip about me."
"Uh, may I speak plainly, Miss?'
"Any time you don't, Cunningham, I shall be offended."
"Mr. Salomon is a fine gentleman. But if he worries about that-well, it's silly,
that's all I can say. The staff do not gossip about his presence. They
respect him."
"Perhaps you can tell him, he won't listen to me. But today I'm simply
concerned that he sleep as late as possible. He must go to Washington
tonight; you know. When you bring up breakfast, don't go past his door; go
around the other way. You can't disturb me or Winnie; we are awake. And
be certain that Hubert doesn't come fussing around until Mr. Salomon
sends for him."
"He won't, Miss; he never does."
"He used to, sometimes, when he was tending me-be a touch noisy when
he thought I should be up. So keep him off this floor. Keep everyone off this
floor until I call you-that includes all cleaning, everything. Except, of course,
that I want you to bring up breakfast-with whatever help you need-
promptly."
"Yes, Miss. Perhaps coffee and juice at once?"
"No, we don't want to be disturbed twice; my ears might fall off. You'll find
evidence of the debacle in my lounge-a case lot of empty magnums.
Remove them-quietly-for Heaven's sake don't bang one against another; I
can hear an ant stomp this morning. Pencil ready? We need a simple,
nourishing breakfast. At least four cups of coffee each, double orders of
orange juice, half grapefruits, either pinks or the big Arizonas, scrambled
eggs, poached eggs, some link sausages and breakfast steaks. Better
include cold cuts and sliced cheeses. Oh, toast and muffins and jam and
such. Flatbread. And a big pitcher of ice-cold milk for cereal, I think this is a
cereal morning. Some decent, quiet, well brought-up cereal that doesn't
                                       260
snap, crackle, or pop. That's all. Unless you know a remedy for a
hangover."
"Well, Miss, when I was tending Mr. Armbrust before I went to work for you,
I used to mix something that he thought well of."
"Yes?"
"Silver fizz, Miss, using vodka rather than gin."
"Cunningham, you're a genius. One each, plus largish dividends, in thermos
glasses. How soon will breakfast be ready?"
"Can't be sooner than twenty minutes, Miss, even though Della has started
the sausages. But I could still fetch up coffee and juice."
"One trip only. Then steal quietly away on stocking feet. This is a hospital
zone, Cunningham. Winnie and I need at least twenty minutes to put our
eyeballs back in, they're bleeding. I'll expect you not sooner than twenty
minutes, not later than twenty-five. Off."
She put down the bedside intercom, said, "Doctor, did I handle that?"
"Eunice, sometimes I think you're not truthful."
"And sometime I'm going to be a hermit and not have to dodge servants.
Where are your clothes, Roberto? In the lounge?"
"Yes. I had better get into them."
"Better think again. We've got twenty minutes of privacy, we'll use it."
"Oh, Eunice!"
"Courage, comrade; I'm not a black widow spider. We'll use it to gather up
all clothes in the lounge, toss feminine items in here, fast-then take your
clothes and Jake's down to his suite-where I'll grab a robe and pajamas and
slippers for Jake, and a second set of his for you. If you're a sissy, you'll
stay there and put them on. If you're not, you'll stay in skin and come back
here with me, and dress when you feel like it. Then I'll switch on a light that
tells Winnie I'm awake-better than phoning the love bugs, they might be
love-bugging, and even a bug hates to be disturbed at such times. Come
on, you bony, hairy, wonderful man. Sixteen minutes-we can do it in twelve,
I'll bet."
"Pussy Cat, sometimes you make me nervous."
"Oh, piffle, I own this house. Although I may sell it and buy a nudist resort in
California-then run it just for me and my friends. Roberto, I like skin-when
it's the wonderful skin I have now. It's meant to be seen and touched-not
hidden away in clothes. Did you like our waitress last night?"
"A healthy young woman, apparently."
"Oh, piffle twice. I'll bet you were thinking about her when you took me to
bed last night. I know men, darling-I was one, much longer than you've
been alive.
Fifteen minutes. Let's move."

                                      261
23


Dabrowski handed her out and Fred locked the car. They escorted her to
and into the lift. Joan Eunice looked around. "This must be where it
happened."
Her driver said, "Eunice, I wish you would change your mind."
"Anton, Tom and Hugo should have driven me today, but I was afraid the
poor dears would get upset when they saw the inside of this lift. I thought
you and Fred could stand it. Fred, are you nervous?"
"You know damn well I am, Eunice."
"Over what? She entered this lift alone. I've got the two with me."
"Well. . . you're a stubborn one. I don't know what Ski is going to do but I
am going to wait outside the door until you come out." (Eunice, what do you
do with stubborn men?) (It's hard, twin, especially when they love you. You
had best use female jujitsu-let them have their own way until it turns out it's
your way.) (I'll try.)
"Fred, Eunice lived here for years. Utterly safe, except for one mistake. I
have the radio link and I promise you both, solemnly, that I won't stir outside
Joe's door until I know you're waiting for me."
"We'll be waiting, all right-all the time. Right, Ski?"
"Right! Eunice, you don't even know Joe Branca still lives here."
"But I do. It's just that he didn't pay his phone bill, so they cut him off. Joe's
still there, or was at sixteen o'clock yesterday. Look, how does this sound?
First, you know that Joe wouldn't hurt me, don't you? Anton?"
"Oh, sure. Joe might not want to see you-but Joe Branca would put a fly
outdoors before he would swat it."
"Then I'm safe as long as I'm inside with Joe. But you're right, he may not
want to see me. He may not let me in. Or I may be inside only minutes. So
wait an hour, then go home. I'll call you when I want you to take me home."
"Two hours?" suggested Fred.
"All right, two hours. But if I don't come home tonight, you are not to come
back and buzz Joe's door. You can come back tomorrow at noon and wait
an hour, or even two, if that will make you feel better. And again the next
day. But I'll stay in Joe Branca's studio a full week if it takes that to make his
mind easy. Or a month, damn it! Or anything. Boys, I've got to do this; don't
make it harder."
Anton said glumly, "All right. We'll do it your way."
"Am I 'Eunice' now? Or 'Joan Eunice'?"
He grudged a smile. "You're Eunice. She would do it."

                                       262
"That's why I must. Look, darlings"-she put an arm around each of them-last
night was wonderful, and I'll find a way to manage it again. Perhaps next
time Mr. Salomon is away-you know he fusses over me like a mother hen.
But you two do also-and you must not except when you're guarding me.
Right now I must try to find a way to soothe Joe's soul. But I'll be your
playmate another day. Be darlings and kiss me; the lift is about to stop."
They did so; she hooked up her veil. They left the lift and headed toward
the Branca studio-Joan found she knew the way, as long as she didn't stop
to think.
She stopped at the door. "She always kissed you goodbye? Here, with Joe
watching?"
"Yes."
"If he lets me in, kiss me good-bye the same way. Just don't stretch it out;
he might close the door. Oh, I'm shaky!" (Steady down, Boss. Om Mani
Padme Hum. Don't use the button; try our voice on the lock. 'Open up!' Like
that.)
"Open up!" Joan said. She unhooked her veil, faced the door.
The lock started clicking but the door remained closed. A transparency
flashed on the wall: PLEASE WAIT. Joan stood in front of the door peep,
wondered if Joe was scanning her. (Eunice, will he let us in?) (I don't know,
Boss. You shouldn't have come. But you wouldn't listen to Jake . . . nor to
me.) (But I am here. Don't scold me-help me.) (I'll try, Boss. But I don't
know.)
Through the door, not as soundproof as her own doors, Joan heard a high
voice: "Joe! Joe!" (Who's that!) (Could be anybody, Joe has lots of friends.)
The door opened, she saw Joe Branca standing in it. He was dressed in
much-worn shorts which had been used repeatedly for wiping paint
brushes. His face showed nothing. A girl, a wrapper pulled sketchily around
her, looked out from behind him. "See? It's her!"
"Gigi-get back. Hello, Ski. Hi, Fred."
"Hi, Joe."
Joan tried to keep her voice steady. "Joe, may I come in?"
He finally looked at her. "You want to, sure. Come in, Ski. Fred." Joe stood
aside.
Dabrowski answered for them. "Uh, not this time, Joe. Thanks."
"Roz. Other time, any. Welcome. Too, Fred."
"Thanks, Joe. See you." The guards turned to leave as Joan started to
enter-she checked herself, remembering that she must do something.
"Boys!"
Fred kissed her quickly, nervously. Dabrowski did not kiss her; instead he
held his mouth to hers and said almost soundlessly, "Eunice, you be good
to him. Or, damn, I'll spank you."
                                     263
"Yes, Anton. Let me go." Quickly she turned, went inside past Joe, waited.
Slowly he refastened the hand bolts, taking an unnecessarily long time. He
turned and glanced at her, glanced away. "Sit?"
"Thank you, Joe." She looked around at the studio clutter, saw two straight
chairs at a small table. They seemed to be the only chairs; she went to one
of them, waited for him to remove her cloak-realized that he was not going
to do so, then took it off and dropped it, sat down.
He frowned at her, seemed uncertain, then said, "Coffee? Gigi! Java f' Miss
Smith."
The girl had been watching from the far end of the room. She tightened her
wrapper and went silently to a kitchen unit beyond the table, poured a cup
of coffee, and prepared to flash it. Joe Branca went back to an easel near
the middle of the room, started making tiny strokes on it; Joan saw that it
was an almost finished painting of the young woman addressed as "Gigi."
(That's a cheat pie, Boss.) (A what?) (Project a photo onto sensitized
canvas, then paint over it. Joe does them if someone wants cheesecake, or
a cheap portrait, or a pet's picture--but claims they aren't art.)
(Can't see why, Eunice; it's still an original oil painting.) (I can't, either-but it
matters to an artist. Boss, this place is filthy, I'm ashamed, of it. That bitch
Gigi.) (She lives here, you think?) (I don't know, Boss. Could be Joe's
sloppy housekeeping. He likes things clean-but won't stop to do it. Only two
things interest Joe. Painting...and tail.) (Well, he has both, looks like. I see
he's kept your Gadabout.) (I'll bet it won't run by now. Joe can't drive.)
Gigi fetched coffee, placed it on the table. "Sugar? Isn't any cream." She
leaned closer, added in a fierce whisper, "You don't belong here!"
Joan answered quietly, "Black is fine. Thank you, Gigi."
"Gigi!"
"Yes, Joe?"
"Throne."
The girl turned and faced him. "In front of her?"
"Now. Need you."
Slowly Gigi obeyed, untying her wrapper as she moved, dropped it as she
stepped up onto the throne, fell into pose. Joan did not look, understanding
her reluctance-not modesty but unwillingness to be naked to an enemy.
(But I'm not her enemy, Eunice.) (Told you this would be rhino, Boss.)
Joan tried the coffee, found it too hot-and too bitter, after the delicately
fragrant-and expensive-high-altitude brew Della prepared. But she resolved
to drink it, once it had cooled.
She wondered if Joe recognized what she was wearing. La Boutique had
reconstructed, at great expense, a costume Eunice Branca had once worn,
one in last year's "Half & Half" style, scarlet and jet, with a tiny ruffle skirt
joining a left-leg tight to a right-side half sweater. Joan had hired the most
                                         264
expensive body-paint artist in the city and had rigidly controlled him in
reconstructing the design Eunice Branca had worn with it, as nearly as
memory and her inner voice could manage.
(Eunice, was Joe too upset to notice how we dressed?) (Boss, Joe sees
everything.) (Then he's gone back to painting not to notice us.) (Maybe. But
Joe wouldn't stop painting for an H-bomb. That he let us in at all is a blue
moon-in the middle of a painting.)
(How long will he paint? All night?) (Not likely. He does that only for a real
inspiration. This one's easy.) It did not look easy to Joan. She could see
that the artist was working from an exact cartoon, one that looked like a dim
photograph of Gigi as she was posed-but he was working also from his
model, yet he was not following either model or photograph. He was
enhancing, exaggerating, simplifying, making flesh tones warmer, turning
flat canvas almost into stereo, realistic as life, warmer than life, sensuous
and appealing.
Perhaps it was not "art"-but it was more than a photograph. It reminded
Joan of a long-dead artist Johann had liked. What was his name?-used to
paint Tahitian girls on black velvet. Leeteg? (Eunice, what do we do now?
Walk out? Joe doesn't seem to care either way.) (Boss, Joe cares
dreadfully. See that tic on his neck?) (Then what do I do?)
(Boss, all I can tell you is what I would do.) (Wasn't that what I said?) (Not
quite. Any time I came home and found Joe working from another model, I
kept quiet and let him work. First I would get out of my working clothes, then
shower and get off every speck of paint and makeup. Then tidy things-just
tidy, heavy cleaning had to wait for weekends. Then I would get things
ready to feed them, because Joe and his model were going to be hungry
once they stopped. They always did stop; Joe won't overwork a model. Oh,
he sometimes painted me all night but he knew I would ask to stop if I got
shaky.).
(Are you telling me to strip down? Won't that upset him still more?) (Boss,
I'm not telling you to do anything. This visit wasn't my idea. But he's seen
our body thousands of times-and you ought to know by now that nakedness
isn't upsetting, it's relaxing. I felt that it was rude to stay dressed when a
model was nude-unless I was certain she was easy with me. But I'm not
telling you to do this. You can go look out the peep and see if Anton and
Fred are still there-they will be-and unbolt the door and leave. Admit you
can't put Humpty-Dumpty together again.)
(I suppose I should.) Joan sighed, stood up-kicked her sandals off, peeled
the half-sweater down, shoved the ruffle skirt down, and got out of the tight.
Joe could not see her, but Gigi could-Joan saw surprise in her eyes but she
did not break her pose.

                                     265
Joan looked at her and put a finger to her lips, then picked up dress and
cloak and sandals, headed for the bath unit while avoiding (she thought)
Joe's angle of vision-hung her clothes on a rack outside the bath and went
in.
It took only minutes of soap and shower to rid her body of jet and scarlet.
(Face makeup off, too?) (Forget it, you don't wear as much as I used to.
Towels in the cabinet under the sink. Or should be.)
Joan found one clean bath towel, three face towels, decided that it wasn't
fair to grab the last bath towel, and managed to get dry with a face towel,
looked at herself in the mirror, decided that she was passable-and felt
refreshed and relaxed by the shower. (Where do I start?) (Here of course.
Then make the bed but see it if needs changing. Sheets in the box with bed
lamp on it.)
The tiny bath took little time as scouring powder and plastic sponge were
where they almost had to be. The toilet bowl she was forced to give up on-
she got it clean but stains left by flushing water did not respond to
scrubbing.
Joan wondered why a civilization that could build mighty spaceships could
not cope with plumbing? Or was it a civilization?
She washed her hands and went out. The bed seemed to have been slept
in no more than a couple of nights; she decided it would be presumptuous
to change sheets. As she was straightening the bed she noticed lipstick on
one pillow-turned it over, (Gigi?) (Might be, Boss, it's her shade. Proves
nothing.)
(Now what?) (Work around the edges-don't ever touch Joe's stuff. You can
pick up a tube of paint and dust under it. . , but only if you put it down
exactly where you found it.)
The edges kept her busy for a time. It seemed likely that Joe must have
noticed her-but he gave no sign. The painting seemed finished but he was
still working on it.
The sink was loaded; she found soap powder and got busy.
Once she had dishes washed, dried, and put away, and the sink was
sparkling as the dishes, she looked over the larder. (Eunice, did you keep
house with so few staples?) (Boss, I didn't keep many perishables on hand-
but this is skimpier than I ever kept it. Joe doesn't think about such things. I
never let him shop-because he would come back with some new hungry
friend, having forgotten the bread and bacon and milk I had sent him for.
Try the freezer compartment)
Joan found some Reddypax in freeze-dinners, a carton of vanilla ice cream
almost full, spaghetti, pizza of several sorts. There were more of the last, so
she decided she could not go wrong offering them pizza. What else? No
fresh vegetables- Fruit? Yes, a small can of fruit salad, hardly enough but
                                      266
she could put it over scoops of ice cream, plus wafers if she could find any.
Yes, lemon snaps. Not much of a meal but she didn't have much to work
with. She started getting things ready.
Set the table for three? Well, she was either going to be accepted-or sent
home; she set it for three. (Eunice, there are only two chairs.) (The kitchen
stool adjusts in height, Boss.) (I'm stupid.) (Wouldn't have bet you could find
your way around a kitchen at all.) (Maybe I wouldn't have learned if Mama
had had a daughter. I'll bet I've cooked more meals than you have,
sweetheart-not that this is cooking.)
Just as Joan had everything laid out she heard Joe says "Rest, Gigi."
She turned around. "Joe, will you two have supper now? It's ready to flash."
Joe Branca turned at her voice, looked at her-started to speak, and with
pitiful suddenness went to pieces.
His features broke, he started to sob, his body slowly collapsed. Joan
hurried toward him-and stopped abruptly. (Boss! Don't touch him!) (Oh,
God, Eunice!) (Don't make it worse. Gigi has him. Down on the floor, fast!
Out Mani Padme Hum.)
Joan dropped into Lotus seat "Om Mani Padme Hum." Gigi had given him a
shoulder, eased him down. He sat on the floor with his head against his
knees, sobbing, while Gigi knelt by him, her face showing the ages-old
concern of a mother for a hurt child. "Om Mani Padme Hum." (Om Mani
Padme Hum.) (Can't I help her, Eunice?) "Om Mani Padme Hum." (No,
Boss. Ask Gigi to help you.) (How?) "Om Mani Padme Hum." (Ask for a
Circle. Om Mani Padme Hum.)
"Gigi! Help me form a Circle. Please!"
The girl looked up, looked very startled as if seeing Joan for the first time.
"Om Mani Padme Hum. Help me, Gigi-help us both."
Gigi slid into Lotus seat by her, knee to knee, reached for Joan's left hand,
took Joe's right hand. "Joe! Joe, you must listen! Close the Circle with us.
Now!" She started chanting with Joan.
Joe Branca stopped sobbing, looked up, seemed not to believe what he
saw. Then slowly he straightened his legs, moved until he filled the third
side of the triangle and tried to assume the Padmasana. His paint-smeared
shorts were too confining; they got in the way. He looked down, seemed
puzzled, then started unfastening them. Gigi let go his hand and Joan's,
helped him get them off. Then he settled easily into Lotus, reached for their
hands. "Om Mani Padme Hum!"
As the Circle closed Joan felt a shock through her body, somewhat like
electricity. She had felt it before, with three, with four, but never so strongly.
Then it eased off to a sweet feeling of warmth. "Om Mani Padme Hum."


                                       267
The prayer rolled around the Circle, rolled back, and was chanted in unison.
They were still softly whispering when Joan stopped feeling or hearing
anything-other than utter peace.

"Wake. Wake up. Come back."
Joan fluttered her eyelids, felt her eyeballs roll down. "Yes, Winnie? I'm
awake."
"You said you had supper ready to flash. Want to do it? Or shall I?"
"Oh." She became aware that the Circle was still closed. "I'll do it. If I may."
Joe looked inquiringly into her face, his own face serene. "You okay? Good
vibes?"
"She's okay," Gigi answered. "Go take a pee and we'll get supper on. Wash
your hands; I left turpentine in the medicine cabinet."
"Okay." He got up, gave a hand to each of the girls, pulled them to their feet
together, turned to do as he was told.
Joan followed Gigi to the kitchen unit, noticed the clock of the flash oven.
"Gigi, is that clock right?"
"Near enough. Do you have to leave? I hope not"
"Oh, no, I can stay. But how long did we hold the Circle?"
"An hour, hour and half, maybe longer. Long enough. Does it matter?"
"No." Joan put her arms around the other girl. "Thank you, Gigi."
Gigi put her arms over Joan's, hugged her. "Thank you. This is the first time
I've seen Joe truly at one with the All, accepting his karma, at peace with it,
since, uh, since-"
"Since Eunice was killed?"
"Yes. He's kept coming back to the crazy notion that, if he hadn't gone to
Philly to see his Maw, it wouldn't have happened. He knows that's not so-
but now he knows it in his belly, I can tell." (Boss? Say hello to Gigi for me.)
(Break cover?) (Oh, hell, we'd better not. I don't think she'd tell Joe-but we
can't risk it. And things are okay the way they are.)
"Gigi, I think Eunice would want to thank you. If she could. Things look okay
the way they are, now."
"Looks like. Say, what do I call you? I can't say, 'Hey, you!' But 'Johann
Sebastian Bach Smith' seems like a hell of a name for a girl."
"My name is Joan, now. Uh, my full name is 'Joan Eunice Smith.' But my
middle name is, well, sort of a memorial. Rozzer?"
"Roz. That's nice, I think that's perfect-Joan. Eunice." (I think you're perfect,
Boss. You did it! You know why I didn't want to come here? I was scared for
Joe...but twice as scared for me.) (I knew, sweetheart. We both were
scared. And so was Joe.)
"Gigi, better not use my middle name. Joe might be upset. Bad vibes."

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Gigi shook her head. "I don't think so. If I'm wrong, if he needs to soak in
the Circle some longer, tonight we've got the right Circle. Might not have, if
he found out later."
"All right, Gigi, I'll tell him."
"Yes, but wait until after we eat. A Circle is fine and I can stay in one all
day, if needed. But I'm starved. Sandwich about five hours back and I don't
eat much breakfast." Gigi pulled her closer, kissed her. "So let's eat."
"Somebody say 'eat'?"
"In a minute, Joe; we got to talking. And we need a crack at the plumbing,
too. First dime is yours, hon; I'll flash the packs."
"Go ahead, Gigi."
"Oh, come along. Joe, you flash the packs."
"-like your 'Eunice Evans Branca Memorial,' Joe. Because I don't want
anyone ever to forget Eunice. Especially me."
Joe Branca nodded soberly. "Is good. Eunice 'd like."
Suddenly he smiled. "You okay, Joan Eunice." He put down his cup, started
stacking dishes, and added, "Getup you had on, same like one Eunice
had."
"It was one I had seen her in, Joe, so I had one made like it."
"Good job. Dress, not skin paint. Sign painter, maybe?
"Joe, I didn't have anyone of your skill to do that; I had to use whom I could
find. Uh, is it possible that you might paint me-body paint, I mean-
sometimes? Professional job, professional fees, no obligations."
He smiled and shook his head. "Not cosmetics man, Joan Eunice. Sure,
paint body for Eunice, she liked. Gigi, too, when she wants. Paint you, sure.
But no fee."
"Joe, I won't take up professional time of an artist without paying. But I see
your point. Cosmetic painting for your wife is one thing-but it isn't your real
work."
"But fun," he answered. "Maybe do jet-and-scarlet job right before you go
home, huh?"
"That would be sweet of you, Joe, but don't bother; I wouldn't be showing it,
I'll go straight home. But let me ask one question, please, about body paint.
Do you remember that you once painted Eunice as a mermaid, and she
wore it to work?"
"Sure."
"Well-Gigi, this was when I was Johann Smith and very old and very ill. I
hurt all the time but couldn't stand heavy dosage of painkillers. Had to tough
it. But here was Eunice, lovely as a flower and cute as a kitten, painted to
look like a mermaid, and-Joe, this is the silly part. I don't think I noticed any
pain all day long, I was so busy trying to figure something out. And never
could. Was that a real brassiere Eunice had on? Or paint?"
                                      269
Joe looked smugly pleased. "Paint. Fool-the-eye." (Boss, I bid you that.)
(Yes, little imp-and sometimes you fib, too.)
"You certainly fooled my eye. I could see those big sea shells, I could
almost feel their rough texture. Then Eunice would turn in profile-and I
wouldn't be sure. I spent that whole day staring while trying to seem not to.
Joe, you're a great artist. It's a shame you prefer canvas to skin."
"Not quite right Like to paint skin on canvas. Fool-the-eye forever. Not just
one day."
"I stand corrected. Like that one." Joan nodded at the easel. "Gigi, let me do
the dishes, please. I want to."
"Pile in sink," Joe ordered. "Inspiration. Two-figure compo."
"Okay, Joe," Gigi answered. "Joan Eunice, do you feel up to posing late?
Joe said 'Two-figure' so he means you, too. But I warn you, when Joe says
'Inspiration,' you don't get much sleep."
"No," Joe denied. "Can short it. Cheat some. Get pose right, shoot eight,
nine, ten shots. Then-" He suddenly looked distressed, turned to Joan.
"Maybe not here tomorrow? Or could be, not want to pose. Damn, I forget!
Think you sleep here. Crazy. Damn!"
Joan said, "I don't have to be anywhere at any time, Joe, and I would be
greatly honored to pose for you. But-" She turned to Gigi. "May I stay
tonight? Is it all right?"
"Oh, sure!"
"I wonder. Since you showed me your wedding ring I've been wondering
how much I am butting in."
Gigi giggled. "Hon, if you think that's a ring in Joe's nose-well, I'd better
never think so. Joan, I left Sam a good month before I let Joe give me that
ring and marry me. Cubical and comical, couldn't believe he meant it. I can't
think of another couple we know who are married. It's nice-but I still get the
giggles. Sure you stay if you want to. We got a cot to set up-not much but
we'll put Joe on it."
(Watch it, Boss! This is dynamite-ten to one Joe won't be on that cot.) (Of
course not. I will be. Think I'm a fool?) (Sadly, I do, Boss. You're lovable-but
you just barely have sense enough to stay out of lifts. Not out of beds.) (Joe
wants me to pose, I pose! If he wants anything else, he can have that, too!
Anything.)
(That's what I thought.) (Eunice, Joe doesn't want me. Gigi is his woman
now.) (Okay, twin. But when did I last hear you say that marriage isn't a
form of death?)
Joe Branca appeared to regard the matter as settled; housekeeping details
seemed of no interest to him.- He said,
"You oil after shower?" and reached out and fingered Joan's left ribs. "No.
Gigi."
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"Chop chop, Joe." Gigi ducked into the bath, returned with a bottle of olive
oil. She said to Joan, "Lanolin is as good, but I'd rather smell like a salad
than a Sheep. Joe, get her ribs; I'll do her leg. Then we give you a quick
oiling all over, hon, and wipe you down. Get all off that your skin doesn't
absorb. Mmm, some red paint back here where you can't see, but olive oil
cuts it. Joan, I've had twice as good a complexion since Joe has been
making me take care of my skin."
"You have a perfect skin, Gigi."
"Joe's a tyrant about it. Now for a wipe down."
"Not too much wipe," Joe warned. "Need highlights in cheat shots."
"Easy on the wipe down. Some oil on me, Joe?"
"Da."
"Okay, Maestro. Joan, we'll polish each other bone dry before we go to bed.
If we're not too tired to care-no importa, disposable sheets. Joe, are you
going to tell your slaves what this pic is?"
"Sure, need acting. Gut acting. Lez pic."
"Hunh? Joe, you can't put Joan in such a pic. You can't."
"Wait, Mate. I don' draw comic books. You know. Pic so square can hang in
church. But symbols so gut-loaded old butch pays top money. But-Joan
Eunice, can change face if you say?" He looked anxious.
"Joe, paint the way you want to. If somebody recognizes me in. one of your
paintings, I'll be proud."
"Okay." Rapidly Joe Branca built a low platform of boards on boxes, heaped
floor cushions on top, covered it all with a ragged heavy cloth. "Throne, Gigi
first. Gigi butch, Joan Eunice sweetheart." He moved them like lay figures,
shoving them into position like a butcher handling meat, so that Gigi was
supported by cushions while she held Joan in her arms and looked into
Joan's eyes. Joan's position figleafed Gigi; Joe raised Joan's left knee so
that she figleafed herself. Then he placed Gigi's right hand under Joan's left
breast, not cupping it but touching-stepped back and scowled.
-stepped forward, changed the composition slightly, moving them so little
that Joan could not guess what difference it made. Apparently satisfied, he
shoved cushions in more tightly so that each could hold the pose without
strain.
He placed a platter just below them, slanted with careful casualness. "Is
Greek lyre," he said. "Title, 'Bilitis Sings.' Song just pau, action not yet.
Golden moment between." He looked at them carefully, still scowling. "Joan
Eunice, you knocked up?"
Joan was very startled. "Does it show? I haven't gained an ounce." (Erase
and correct-nineteen ounces.) (Yes, but not enough to show. Aside from
pizza just now, I've stuck to Roberto's diet. You know I have.)
Joe shook his head. "Figure not show. You happy, Joan Eunice?"
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"Joe, I'm dreadfully happy about it. But I haven't told anyone yet."
"Be easy, Louisie; Gigi don' yatter." He smiled in benison and Joan saw for
the first time how beautiful he could be. "What counts, you happy. Happy
mama, happy baby. Knocked-up broads look different. Better. Skin glows,
muscles firm, folds under eyes fill out. Whole body better tone. Eye can see
but most can't see what they see. Lucky I got you for model right now. But
solves problem been eatin' me."
"What, Joe? How?" (Eunice, is this all right?) (Sure, twin. Joe approves of
babies as long as he doesn't have to bother with them. He's pleased that
you are happy-and doesn't think about how it happened or what you'll do
about it. But not callous. If you were broke, he would take you in and try to
support your baby and still not ask where you got it. He doesn't find the
world complex, dear-so it isn't . . . to him.)
"Puzzle problem. You look like Eunice, how else? But look better.
Impossible. Know why now. Any broad looks best doin' her thing."
"Joe, do you think pregnant women are beautiful later? Say eight, or nearly
nine mouths gone?"
"Sure!" Joe seemed surprised that she would ask. "More beautiful. Healthy,
happy woman ready to drop-how not? Top symbol of The All. Shut up now.
Work."
"Please, Joe, one more question. Will you paint me when I'm big as a
house? Between eight and nine months? Could be a cheat job. Might have
to be, I might not be able to pose very long when I'm heaviest."
He smiled in delight. "You bet, Annette! Artist don' get that chance much.
Most broads silly about it. But now shut up. Must look gutsy, so think gutsy.
Don' act-be. Sweaty, eager. Joan Eunice, Gigi's got you set up, eager. But
scared. Virgin. Gigi, you just eager. Maybe gloating, but think, don't do. Not
even face. Just think."
He stopped to reposition lights, scowled at his models, changed his lights a
little, brushed an oily rag on Gigi's right shoulder and breast. "Is right!
Nipples up? Joan Eunice, can't you get 'em tight? Try thinking about men,
not Gigi."
"I'll fix it," Gigi assured him. "Listen, darling." She started whispering, telling
Joan in blunt detail what this ancient Grecian Lesbian was about to do to
the virgin helpless in her arms.
Joan found that her breasts tightened so hard that they hurt. She wet her
lips and looked back at Gigi, hardly noticed that they were being
photographed.
"Break," announced Joe. "Off throne, pau tonight. Got good shots."
Joan straightened up, peered across the room at the clock. "My goodness!
Blackbirds already?"
"So bed," he agreed. "Pose tomorrow."
                                        272
Gigi said, "I'm still going to do those dishes, Joe. You set up the cot."
"I'll do them, Gigi."
"I'll wash, you can wipe."
By the time they finished, Joe was in the cot and apparently asleep. Gigi
said, "Which side do you like, hon?"
"Either one."
"Crawl in."


24


Joan woke with her head on Gigi's shoulder. Gigi was looking at her, which
helped Joan to remember where she was. She yawned and said, "Good
morning, darling. Is it morning? Where's Joe?"
"Joe's getting breakfast. Had enough sleep, dear?"
"Guess so. What time is it?"
"I don't know. The question is, are you rested? If not, go back to sleep."
"I'm rested, I feel grand. Let's get up."
"All right. But I charge one kiss to get past me."
"Outrageous," Joan said happily, and paid toll. But Joe was not at the
kitchen unit; he was projecting the photographs he had taken the night
before. Gigi said, "Look at that, Joan. Forgotten all about offering to get
breakfast."
"It's no matter," Joan said softly.
"Don't bother to keep your voice down, Joe can't hear when he's working.
Unless you shout. Well, let's scrounge, then we'll try to get him to eat.
Hmmm . . . not much to offer a guest."
"I don't need a big breakfast. Juice and toast. Coffee."
"No juice." Gigi poked around futilely. "I could give you a Reddypak.
Spaghetti or something. I've got a grocery shop. Send Joe out for groceries
and he comes home with a new picture book and some paint, happy as a
kid. No use scolding him."
Joan Eunice caught an undertone in Gigi's voice, said softly, "Gigi, are you
broke?"
Gigi did not answer. She kept her face turned away, got out half a loaf of
bread, prepared to make toast. Joan persisted, still speaking quietly, "Gigi,
I'm rich, I suppose you know. But Joe won't take a dime from me. You don't
have to be that stubborn."
Gigi measured out powder for six cups of coffee. Then she said almost as
softly, "Joan, I was a whore when Big Sam and I were together. Somebody
had to pay the rent and half his pupils never paid what they promised, and
                                     273
the rest paid so little it hardly made up for the coffee and doughnuts they
ate. Hell, some of them came to class just to eat. So somebody had to
work. I never hustled men much-Sam didn't like it if I made it with another
man-unless it was a swing scene that he had set up. But an old butch is
often generous. When we had to have money I would go sit in one of the
Lez coffee shops and bring some money home-Sam didn't mind that.
"I finally got wise that I was being used, not just supporting him. Those
swing scenes-a guru needs a young chela for openers or it won't get off the
ground. Joan, a woman will do anything for a man-but she hates to think it's
a one-way street. Now take Joe. Doesn't sell many paintings and we
usually have to split fifty-fifty to get them hung. But Joe doesn't use a
woman no matter how thin things are." She looked around at Joan.
"When I first posed for Joe he paid me guild rates, none of this kark about a
fin now and another fin when he sells the picture. He had some money from
Eunice. Insurance, I suppose. But Joe is a soft slob and everybody
borrowed it and everybody spent it and nobody paid it back and it was gone
before I shacked in with him and started minding his money. Somebody's
paying the rent and utilities on this studio. You, maybe?"
"No."
"You know about it?"
"Yes. A man who greatly admired Eunice took care of it. Joe can live here
the rest of his life if it suits him. And I can drop a hint and the phone will be
turned back on. The phone was an oversight when the rent and power and
water and such were arranged for."
"We don't need a phone. I think half the people on this level used Joe's
phone as a free public phone-some still try and get sore when I tell 'em
there's no phone here, please go away; Joe is working. Uh, that man who
admired Eunice-named 'Johann' maybe?"
"No, not 'Johann' and his name isn't 'Joan' now. Gigi, I can't tell you without
his permission and I don't have it. Has Joe ever said anything about the
rent?"
"Truthfully I don't think he's thought about it. He's a child, some ways, Joan.
Art and sex-doesn't notice other things until he bangs his nose into them."
"Then maybe he wouldn't notice this. I've got my car radio link in my purse, I
can call for it. If you tell Joe you've got to grocery-shop, he'll let you go,
won't he?"
"Oh, sure. Won't even fuss-even though he has his heart set on painting us
all day today."
"So you tell him you must and I offer to take you in my car. We can pick up
a big load, with a car and two guards to carry for us. Maybe Joe won't
suspect that I've paid for it. Or maybe you can tell him that a picture sold."

                                      274
Gigi looked thoughtful. Then she sighed. "You tempt me, you cuddlesome
little broad. But I had better hold off and eat pizza till we sell another
painting. And we will. Best not to monkey with a setup that works, I think."
(She's right, Boss. Leave it alone.) (But, Eunice, there's not a thing for
breakfast but coffee and dry toast. That's no matter but there are only four
Reddypax in there and three pizzas-we ate three last night. A few other
items, not much. I can't leave it alone.) (You've got to leave it alone. You
trying to cut off his balls? Or split him up with Gigi? Gigi's good for him,
she'll find a way. Do I, or do I not, know more about Joe than you do?) (You
do, Eunice-but people have to eat.) (Yes, Boss, but it doesn't hurt to miss a
couple of meals.) (Damn it, girl, what do you know about being hungry? I
went through the thirties.) (Okay, Boss, louse it up. I'll keep quiet.) (Eunice-
please! You said I did fine last night.) (So I did, and you certainly did. Now
keep up the good work by leaving them alone or by finding some way to let
Gigi-come by groceries honestly. . . but don't give them anything.) (All right,
sweetheart, I'll try.)
"Gigi, here in the fudge-bacon grease in this can?"
"Yes, I save it. Can be useful."
"Can indeed! And I see two eggs."
"Well, yes. But two eggs split three ways is sort of feeble. But I'll fry one for
you and one for Joe."
"Go soak your head, cuddle baby; I'm going to teach you Depression
cooking I learned in the nineteen-thirties."
Gigi Branca suddenly looked upset. "Joan, you gave me goose bumps. I
can't realize how old you are-but you're not, really-are you?"
"Depends on which rubber ruler you use, dear. I remember the Great
Depression of the thirties; I was about as old as you are now. By that scale
I'm ninety-five. Looked at another way, I'm only weeks old and not able to
crawl without help. Always making mistakes. But by still a third way to
measure it I'm the age of this body-Eunice's body-and that's how I like to be
treated. Don't let rue be a ghost, dear-hug me and tell me I'm not." (What
you got against ghosts, Boss?) (Nothing at all, some of my best friends are
ghosts-but I wouldn't want my sister to marry one.) (Very funny, Boss-who
writes your gags? We did marry a ghost-in Dr. Olsen's examining room.)
(Ouch! Sorry about it, Eunice?) (No, Boss darling, you're just the old goat-
old ghost, pardon me!-I want for our little bastard.) (Love you, too.
Busybody.)
Gigi hugged her.
"First we melt the bacon grease and make sure it's not rancid-or not too
rancid. Then we soak the bread in it and fry it. We scramble the eggs and
since we don't have cream to stretch them, we use what we find. I'll settle
for powdered milk, or flour, or cornstarch. Even dry gelatin. We don't salt
                                       275
the eggs, the grease may be salty enough-salt to taste, afterwards. But if
you have Worcestershire sauce, or A-l, or anything like that, we add a little
before we scramble. Then we spoon this goop onto six slices of fried bread,
two to a customer, and garnish with paprika, or dried parsley, or chopped
most anything, to make it look fancy.
This is creative cookery a la W.P.A. We set the table the best we can
manage-fancy cloth and real napkins, if you have them. A flower, even an
artificial one. Or a candle.
Anything to swank it up. Now-do I fry the bread while you stretch the eggs?
Or vice versa?"

Joe reluctantly came to the table, absentmindedly took a bite-looked
surprised. "Who cooked?"
"We both did," Joan answered.
"So? Tasty."
"Joan showed me how and we'll have it again sometime, Joe," Gigi
amended.
"Soon."
"All right. Joan, you can read, can't you?"
"Why, yes."
"Thought you could. There's a letter from Joe's mother, been here three
days. I've been meaning to find somebody to read it, but Joe's kept me
busy posing and Joe is particular who reads his mother's letters."
"Gigi, Joan's company. Not polite."
"Joe, am I company? If I am, I won't finish breakfast and I won't pose-I'll call
Anton and Fred and go home!"
('That's telling him, Fat Lady!') (That's a vulgar joke, Eunice.) (I'm vulgar,
Boss. Come to think about it, you're about as vulgar as they come yourself,
though I wasn't sure of it till I woke up inside your head.) (I give up. But Joe
can't make us 'company.') (Of course not. Quiver your chin and make him
kiss you-he's never kissed you with the lights on.)
Joe said soberly, "Sorry, Joan Eunice."
Joan pouted her lip. "You ought to be. You ought to kiss me and tell me I'm
family. Not 'company.'"
"She's right," agreed Gigi. "You've got to kiss and make up."
"Oh, hell." Joe stood up, came around to Joan Eunice's chair, took her face,
tilted it up and kissed her. "Family.
Not company. Now eat!"
"Yes, Joe. Thank you." (He can do better.) (So we both know.) "But, Joe, I
won't read your letter unless you want me to. Gigi, you startled me when
you indicated you could not read. I thought I could tell by the way a person
talks. Is it your eyesight?"
                                      276
"Eyes are okay. Oh, I'm a real Talking Woman. Had some coaching, done
some little theater. Probably should have learned to read-though I can't say
I've missed it. Computer fouled up my pre-school test records and I was in
sixth grade before anybody caught it. Then it was sort o' late to change
tracks and I stayed on the 'practical'. There was talk of putting me through a
remedial but the principal put his foot down. Said there wasn't enough
budget to handle the ones that could benefit from it." She shrugged.
"Maybe the fact that he was a third had something to do with it. Anyhow I
don't miss it. Joe, shall I find the letter?"
"Sure. Joan Eunice is family."
Joan found Mother Branca's handwriting difficult, so she read the letter to
herself to be sure she could read it aloud-and ran into trouble. (Eunice! How
do I handle this.) (Twin, never tell a man anything he doesn't need to know.
I censored as necessary. Even some of your mail, when you were sickest.)
(Know you did, baggage, as I reread some you had read aloud.) (Boss,
some went straight into the shredder. And this one should have gone there-
so censor it.) (You were married to him, sweetheart, but I'm not. I have no
right to censor his mail.) (Twin, between being 'right' and being kind, I know
which way 1 vote.) (Oh, shut up, I won't consider Joe's mail!)
"Takes a while to get used to strange handwriting," Joan Eunice said
apologetically. "All right, here it is:
"'Darling Baby Boy,
"'Mama don't feel so-'"
"Don't read all," Joe interrupted. "Just tell."
"That's right." agreed Gigi. "Joe's mother puts in a lot of kark about noisy
neighbors and their pets and people Joe never heard of. All he wants is
news. If any."
(You see, twin?) (Eunice, I'm still not going to censor. Oh, I can leave out
trivial gossip. Uh, maybe edit the wording.) (You damn well better, Boss,
and you know it.)
"All right. Your mother says her stomach is troubling her-"
("Mama dont feel so good and cant seem to get no relief nohow. The
medicare man says it's not stomach cancer but what does he know? Sign
says he's an internist and everybody knows an internist is a student, not a
real doctor. What do we pay taxes for when just a student can half kill me
like I was a dog or a cat or something they're always cutting up behind
locked doors like they say on teevee?")
"Joe, she says that her stomach has been bothering her but she's been
getting tests from an internal medicine man-that's a doctor who specializes
in such ailments, they are very learned-and he has assured her that it isn't
cancer or anything of that sort."

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("The new priest aint no help. He's a young snot that thinks he knows it all.
Wont listen. Claims I get just as good treatment as anybody when he knows
it aint true. You got to be a nigger to get anything around here. We white
people that built this country and paid for it are just so much dirt. When l go
to medicare clinic, they make your Mama wait while Mexican women go in
first. How about that?")
"She says that there is a new priest in your parish, a younger one than the
last, and that he has investigated and has reassured her that she is getting
the proper treatment. But she says that she sometimes has to wait a long
time at the clinic."
"Why not?" said Joe. "Got nothin' but kill time. Don' work."
("Annamaria is going to have a baby. That Snot priest says she ought to go
to a Home. You know what terrible places those Homes are and its
Unamerican to bust up families. They don't do that in the Old Country and
that's what I told the Visitor. Youd think the way they throw away money on
people that dont deserve it they could spend a little on a decent family that
just wants to be left alone and not bothered. The other Johnson twin-not the
one that dropped out, the one 1 told you was out on parole again-got
busted again and about time! There's a family the Visitor could look into-but
oh No, he just told me to mind my own business.")
"Someone named Annamaria is pregnant."
Gigi said, "Which one is that, Joe?"
"Baby sister. Twelve. Maybe thirteen." Joe shrugged.
"Well, your parish priest thinks she ought to go into a home for expectant
mothers but your mother feels that she would be better off at home. There
is something about a neighbor family named Johnson."
"Skip."
("Baby Boy, Mama dont hardly never get a letter from you since Eunice
died. Aint there no letterwriter in your block? You dont know how a mother
worries when she dont hear from her little boy. I watch the-mailbox every
day be sure nobody swipes it fore 1 get it. But no letter from my little Josie-
just ads and once a month the Check.")
"She says she hasn't heard from you in a long time, Joe. I'd be glad to write
one for you before I go, anything you dictate-and send it by Mercury to be
sure she gets it."
"Maybe. Thanks." Joe did not seem enthusiastic. "See later. Paint first. Any
more? Just tell."
(Eunice, here comes the tough part.) (So skip it!) (I can't!)
("I seen you in the teevee and almost dropped dead when you said you
gave away a thousand million dollars you had every right to. Dont your own
mother mean nothing to you? I didnt raise you and love you and take care
of you when you busted your collarbone to be treated like that. You go
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straight to that Miss Yohan Bassing Bock Smith and tell her she can just
wipe that nasty sneer of / her face because l want my rightful share of
whats coming to me and I'm going to get it. I already been to a lawyer and
he said hed take my side for fifty-fifty as soon as I paid him a thousand
dollars for expenses. I told him he was a thief. But you just tell that stuckup
Miss Smith to pay up or my lawyer will put her in jail!!!!
"Sometimes l think the best thing is just pack up everybody and go visit you
till she pays up. Maybe just stay. Would be hard to leave all our old friends
here in Philly but you need somebody to keep house now that you havent
got no wife to do for you. It wont be the first time lye made sacrifices for my
darling boy.
"Your Loving -Mother."
"Joe, apparently your mother watched my identity hearing on video and
heard your testimony. She seems disappointed to learn that you gave
money to establish a memorial to Eunice, when you could have kept it."
Joe made no comment.
Joan went on: "She says she may pack up all the family and pay you a visit
but the way it's phrased I don't think she will. That's all except she sends
you her love. Joe, I can see how your mother could be disappointed in what
you did about-"
"My business. Not hers."
"May I finish, Joe? From this letter I think she must be poor and I have been
poor myself and know how it feels. Joe, I think that your memorial to Eunice
was a wonderful thing, the most gallant tribute of a husband to the memory
of his wife I've ever heard of. I heartily approve and I think Eunice must feel
honored by it." (I do, Boss. But maybe he overdid it, huh? Jake could have
set up a little annuity for Joe-eating money, I mean-with part of it. But Joe
never did know how to do anything part way-whole hawg, or nothing; that's
Joe.) (Maybe we can fix it, dear.)
"Joe, if I paid your mother an allowance-you know I can afford it!-it wouldn't
be you accepting money from Eunice's death."
"No."
"But I would like to! She's your mother, it would be sort of an additional
memorial to Eunice. Say enough to-"
"No," he repeated flatly.
Joan Eunice sighed. "I should have kept quiet and arranged it through Jake
Salomon." She memorized the return address, intending to do it anyhow.
"Joe, you are a lovable man and I can see why Eunice was devoted to you-
I've fallen in love with you myself and I think you both know it-without any
intention of crowding you out, Gigi; I love you just as much. But, Joe, sweet
and gallant as you are. . you are a bit stiff-necked, too." (Sure he is, Boss

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darllng, but it's no use trying to change people. So drop it. You didn't need
to sneak that address; I could have told you.)
"Joan."
"Yes, Gigi?"
"Hate to say this, hon-but Joe's right and you're wrong."
"But-"
"Tell you later, we'll talk while we pose. Grab the bathroom if you need to
while I put dishes to soak; Joe wants to start."

Joan was surprised to learn that she could visit with Gigi while they posed.
But Joe assured her that he had the expressions he wanted from the
photographs; he simply wanted them to hold still. He took even more pains
to get them arranged than he had for the camera. Talk did not bother him
as long as it was not to him. Nevertheless Joan tended to whisper while
Gigi used the normal tones of a face-to-face conversation.
"Now I'll tell you why you must not send money to Joe's mother. But wait a
sec-he's done it again. Joe! Joe! Put on your shorts and quit wiping pigment
on your skin." Joe did not answer but did so. "Joan, if you've got money to
throw away, flush it down the pot but don't send it to Joe's mother. She's a
wino."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Joe knows it, her Welfare Visitor knows it; they don't let her have her
family allowance in cash-she gets one of the pink checks, not a green one.
Just the same she'll take groceries around the corner and trade 'em for
muscatel. That stomach trouble-forget it. Unless you want to help her drink
herself to death. No loss if you did. The kids might be better off."
Joan sighed. "I never will learn. Gigi, all my life I've given money away.
Can't say I did any good with it and I know I've done lots of harm. Me and
my big mouth!"
"Your big heart, dear. This is one time not to give it away. I know, I've had a
lot of her letters read to me. You trimmed that one, didn't you?"
"Did it show?"
"To me it did-because I know what they sound like. I learned from the first
one never again to have somebody just read them aloud to Joe; he gets
upset. So I listen-I'm a quick study, used to learn my sides and cues just
from two readings aloud when I was finding, out I wasn't an actress-and
then I trim it to what Joe needs to hear. Figured you were smart enough to
do it without being told and I was right-except that you could have trimmed
it still more and Joe would have been satisfied."
"Gigi, how did such a nice person as Joe-and so talented-come from such a
family?"

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"How does any of us happen to be what we are? It just happens. But-look,
it's never polite to play the dozens, is it?"
"I shouldn't have asked."
"I meant it isn't polite for me to. But I'm going to. I've often wondered if Joe
was any relation to his mother. He doesn't look like her; Joe has a picture
taken when she was about the age he is nose. No resemblance."
"Maybe he takes after his father."
"Well, maybe. But Paw Branca I'm not sure about; he left her years back. If
Paw Branca is his Pop. If she has any idea who his father is."
"I guess that's often the case. Look at me-pregnant and not married; I can't
criticize."
"You don't know who did it, dear?"
"Well.. . yes, I do. But I'm never, never, never going to tell. It suits me to
keep it to myself and I can afford to do it that way."
"Well-none of my business and you seem happy. But about Joe-I think he's
an orphan. Somebody's little bastard who wound up with this bitch though I
can't guess how. Joe doesn't say so. Although he never talks much-unless
he has to explain things to a model. But his mother has had one good
influence on him. Guess."
"I can't."
"Joe won't drink. Oh, we keep beer for friends, when we can, but Joe never
drinks it. He won't touch pot. He won't join a Circle if it calls for a high. You
know how it is with drugs-all of them against the law but as easy to buy as
chewing gum. I could show you three connections in this one complex
where you can buy you-name-it. But Joe won't touch any of it." Gigi looked
sheepish. "I thought he was some kind o( a freak. Oh, I was never hooked
but I couldn't see any harm in an occasional trip with friends.
"Then I shacked with him and he was broke and I was, too, and groceries
were our only luxury and-well, I haven't touched anything since he married
me. And don't want to; I feel grand. New woman."
"You certainly look happy and healthy. Uh, this 'Big Sam,' did he have a
habit?"
"Not a habit. But Sam would eat, drink, or smoke anything somebody else
paid for. Oh, he didn't mainline-doesn't fit the image for a guru and needle
marks show-and he was proud of his body."
"What did you do before you were his chela?"
"His meal ticket, you mean. Same thing-model and whore. What else is
there to do? Babysat. Served drinks in my skin for a while but they let me
go when they found a girl who could write-discrimination and I could have
fought it as I never got my orders mixed up; my memory is better than
people who have to write things down. But, hell, no use trying to hang on

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when they don't want you. Joan, you said you'd been giving money away all
your life."
"I exaggerated, Gigi. Never had much until after World War Two. I just
meant I wasn't stingy even as a kid, when every nickel came the hard way."
"'Nickel'?"
"A five-cent piece. They used to be minted from a nickel alloy and were
called that. Dimes and even dollars used to be silver. We actually had gold
money when I was a kid. Then during the Great Depression I was flat broke
for about six months-and other people helped me-and then later I helped
some, sometimes the same people. But giving money away on a large
scale I didn't start until I had more money than I could spend or wanted to
invest, and the tax laws at that time fixed it so that you could do more giving
it away than by keeping it."
"Seems a funny way to run things. But of course I've never paid taxes."
"You just think you haven't. You started the day you were born. We may
eliminate death someday but I doubt if we'll ever eliminate taxes."
"Well. . . I won't argue it, Joan, you must know more about it than I do. How
much money have you given away?"
"Oh, it didn't amount to more than a few thousand until after War Two and
most of that was loans I knew I would never collect. Kept records for years-
then one day I burned the record book and felt easier. Since then-I'd have
to consult my accountant. Several millions."
"Several millions! Dollars?"
"Look, cuddly, don't be impressed. After a certain point money isn't money,
it's just bookkeeping figures or magnetized dots in a computer."
"I wasn't exactly impressed. Confused. Joan, I don't have any feeling of any
sort for that much money. A
hundred dollars I understand. Even a thousand. But that much is like the
National Debt; it doesn't mean anything to me."
"Nor does it to me, Gigi; it's like a chess game-a game played just for itself,
and one I'm tired of. Look, you wouldn't let me buy groceries even though I
am helping to eat them. Would you accept a million dollars from me?"
"Uh. . . no! It would scare me."
"That's an even wiser decision than the one you made before breakfast. But
page Diogenes!"
"Who's he?"
"Greek philosopher who went around searching for an honest man. Never
found him."
Gigi looked thoughtful. "I'm not very honest, Joan. But I think I've found an
honest man. Joe."
"I think so, too. But, Gigi, may I say why I think you were smart to say No?
Oh, it was a gag, sort of, but if you had said Yes, I would not have welched.
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But I would hate to do it to you. May I tell you why?-what's wrong with being
rich?"
"I thought being rich was supposed to be fun."
"It's fun, some ways. When you're really wealthy-and I am-money is power.
I'm not saying that power isn't worth having. Take me, if I hadn't had that
much raw power, I wouldn't be here chatting with you; I'd be dead. And I
like it here, with your arms around me and Joe painting a picture of us
because he thinks we're beautiful-and we are. But power works both ways;
the man-or woman-who has it can't escape it. Gigi, when you're rich, you
don't have friends; you just have endless acquaintances."
"Ten minutes," said Joe.
"Rest time," said Gigi.
"Huh? But we've been resting."
"So get up and stretch, it'll be a long day. If Joe says we've posed fifty
minutes, we have; he uses a timer. And have a cup of coffee; I'm going to
have one. Coffee, Joe?"
"Yes."
"Can we look?"
"No. Lunch break, maybe."
"Must be going well, Joan, or Joe wouldn't even make a guess. Joe, Joan
tells me that a rich person can't have friends."
"Hey, wait, I didn't finish. Gigi, a rich person can have friends. But it has to
be someone who isn't interested in his money. Like you. Like Joe. Even that
doesn't mean he's a friend. First you have to find him. Then you have to
know this about him, which may be-is!-hard to find out. There aren't many
such people; even other rich people aren't likely to qualify. Then you have
to win his friendship, and that's harder for a rich man than it is for other
people.
A rich man gets suspicious and puts on a false face to strangers-and that's
no way to win friends. So in general, it's true-if you're rich, you don't have
friends. Just acquaintances, kept at arm's length because you've been hurt
before."
Gigi suddenly turned around from the kitchen unit.
"Joan. We're your friends."
"I hope so." Joan looked soberly from Gigi to her husband. "I felt your love
in our Circle. But it won't be easy, Gigi. Joe looks at me and can't help
remembering Eunice-and you look at me and can't help wondering what
effect it has on Joe."
"We don't! Tell her, Joe."
"Gigi's right," Joe said gently. "Eunice dead. She wanted you to have what
you got. Me-over my gut ache, all done in t' Circle." (Boss, do you mind if I
get out for a moment and trot around in my bones? A girl likes to be missed
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a little.) (Eunice, we must not hurt him. It was all we could manage to heal
him.) (I know. But the next time he kisses us I'm going to be tempted to
speak up and tell him I'm here.) (Om Mani Padme Hum.) (Om Mani Padme
Hum-and kark on you and Diogenes both. Let's go home and phone
Roberto.) (Sweetheart, we'll stay here until we've cracked the bone and
eaten the marrow.) (Okay, okay. That Gigi is as cuddly as Winsome, isn't
she?)
"Joe, I want us three to be friends and never break our Circle in our hearts.
But I'm not going to put too much strain on it. Not fair to you, not fair to Gigi-
not even fair to me. Gigi, I wasn't saying I didn't have any friends. I do have.
You two. A doctor who took care of me and honestly doesn't give a damn
about money. The nurse he is about to marry who is the nearest thing to a
sister I've ever had. My four driving guards-I've tried very hard with those
four, Joe, because I knew they were your friends and Eunice's. But that's an
odd situation; I'm more their baby they take care of than I am either
employer or friend. And one, just one, friend left over from the days when I
was Johann Smith-rich and powerful and mostly hated."
Joe Branca said softly, "Eunice loved you."
"I know she did, Joe. God knows why. Except that Eunice had so much love
in her that it spilled over onto anyone around her. If I had been a stray
kitten, Eunice would have picked me up and loved me." (More than that,
Boss.) (Sweetheart.) "And Joe, you know, or at least have met, my one
friend who carried over. Jake Salomon."
Joe nodded. "Jake okay!"
"You got to know Jake?"
"Close. Good aura."
Gigi said, "Joe, is he the one you told me about? The fixer?"
"Same." Joe looked back at Joan Eunice. "Ask Jake. Throne now."
"Come on, Joan. He bites if you don't pose the instant rest period is over."
Joe fussed over getting them back into position, then moved both of Joan's
legs and one of Gigi's into positions somewhat different from the original
pose-stepped back and scowled at the change. . turned to his easel and
started scraping part of the canvas with a palette knife. Gigi said quietly,
"Now we won't get to look at lunch break."
"Why not?"
"God only knows. I'm not sure Joe knows why he makes a change. But
something was wrong and now he's abandoned the cartoon and is working
directly from us. So it won't be far enough along that he'll be willing to let us
look at it that soon. So freeze, darling. Don't sneeze, don't get an itch, don't
even breathe deeply."
"Not talk?"
"Talk all we like as long as we don't move."
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"I won't move. Gigi, I was so pleased to learn that Joe and Jake got to know
each other well. Did you know Jake, too?"
"I've met him. Just in passing. Me leaving and Mr. Salomon arriving, it was
while I was a hired model before I moved out on Big Sam." (Twin, she's
being vague about this-and Jake has never mentioned laying eyes on Joe
after clearing up business matters a long time ago.) (Eunice, what are you
getting at? It was probably while Jake was straightening out your bank
account, and the lease, and things.) ('-and things,' you are so right. Look,
Boss, don't be naïve. They were crying over the same girl-me-and Joe is
ambi as an oyster when it suits him.) (Eunice, you have a dirty mind! (Coo!
This from 'No-Pants Smith.' I know whereof I speak, twin; I lived with Joe for
years. Don't be so darned twentieth century.) (Eunice, of course you know
Joe better than I do and I would never criticize Joe no matter what. I meant
Jake.) (What makes you think you know Jake better than I do? And take a
look at Joe-purty, ain't he? Jake has eyes. Boss, what are we fussing
about? Find out what Gigi knows.)
"I suppose," Joan said carefully, "that Jake had to come here on business.
Eunice died without a will and I know Jake arranged it so that Joe could
draw against her bank account. There may have been insurance to clear
up, too; I'm not sure."
"Joan, I don't know. Why don't you ask lake, as Joe suggested?" (Because
Jake will lie about it, Boss. Forget it, men lie about such things, far more
than women do. Who cares where a man has lunch as long as he gets
home in time for dinner? Not me. You give my 'dirty mind' quite enough to
keep it busy. But, Boss, you're a devious little slut-you can't be truthful even
to yourself.) (Wench, if I could get my hands on you, I'd spank you!) (And if
you could, I'd let you. Kind o' fun to be spanked, isn't it, dear? Gets the
action moving like a rocket.) (Oh, stuff it!) (Where, twin? What? And how big
is it?)
- "I have no need to ask Jake, Gigi. I know they met through business
matters, I know that Jake admires Joe's integrity. I simply hadn't realized
that Jake thought of Joe as a close friend. If he does."
Gigi Branca looked thoughtful. "I couldn't say. I was working Guild hours
then, as Joe was paying me. Mr. Salomon-Jake, you call him-showed up
one evening as we were quitting, and Joe introduced him to me as his
former wife's fixer-lawyer, he said; Joe doesn't use jive when he doesn't
want to. Saw him a couple more times, I think, about the same way. But he
hasn't been here since we got married." (Double talk, Boss. All it means is
that she won't spill other people's secrets. Well, that's nice to know-
considering.)
"No importa. Gigi, how did Joe get his art education? Or is it native genius
with no instruction?"
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"Both, Joan. Let me tell it bang as it would take you forever to get it out of
Joe. Joe says that all an artist can teach is technique. He says creativity
can't be taught and that each artist has his own sort. If he has any-Joe
thinks that most people who call themselves 'artists' haven't any. He calls
'em 'sign painters' and adds that he would rather be a good sign painter
than a fraud who calls himself an artist.
"You've seen what Joe has. That one of me he did yesterday and others
around the studio. You'd see lots more if you prowled the coffee shops and
bookstores and art shops at this end of town. Nudes that look better than
life-you wouldn't need to look for his pinxit. Most of them kind o' square
except that they grab. Oh, Joe can do sex pix, I've seen him prove it, then
scrape off the paint-because I asked him why he didn't do sex pix since
they sell so well. He shrugged and said those weren't his symbols.
"Joe knows he's not Goya or Picasso or Rembrandt or any of the masters-
and doesn't want to be; he just wants to paint his symbols, his way, and sell
enough for us to eat. Oh, sometimes I get so mad, knowing that if he would
paint just one frimp scene as grabby as he so easily can, it would keep us
eating for months. But I've given up suggesting it because Joe just shrugs
and says, 'Don' paint comic books, you know that, Gigi.' Joe is Joe and
doesn't give a damn what any other artist does or whether his own work
makes him famous or a lot of money or anything. He cares so little-well,
many of our friends are artists or call themselves artists but Joe isn't
interested in what they paint and won't talk shop. If they're good people,
warm people, good vibes, Joe likes to go see them or have them here... but
Joe wouldn't waste a floor cushion on Rembrandt if Joe didn't like the way
he behaved. Joe just wants to paint-his way. And not have to sleep alone."
Joan said thoughtfully, "I don't suppose Joe has had to sleep alone very
often."
"Probably not. But Joe wouldn't sleep with Helen of Troy if he didn't like her
attitude. You mentioned your Brink's boys-the two who brought you here,
and there are two more, aren't there? One a big soul? Hugo?"
"You know Hugo?" Joan asked in delight.
"Never met him. He sounds like an African myth. I know just two things
about him. Joe wants to paint him. . . and Joe loves him.
"Spiritual love, I mean-although I'm sure Joe would sack in with Hugo if
Hugo wanted to." (He'll have to stand in line! I saw Hugo first.) (Shut up,
you bang-tail.) "Can never happen, I gather-and Joe never makes a pass.
Never made one at me, I never made one at him; we just sacked in our first
time without a word and combined as naturally as ham and eggs." (Hmm!
Some girls have all the luck. 1 had to trip him.) (You're the eager type,
sweetheart; Gigi isn't.)
(You'll pay for that crack, Boss.)
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"I'm sure Joe never crowded Hugo about posing; he would rather have
Hugo's friendship than have him as a model-though Joe told me he has two
pix in mind. One would show Hugo on an auction block. Historical
background and honkie ladies in the crowd-close shot, full figure, Hugo
looking patient and weary, and just heads and shoulders of the honks . . .
and the honk females just barely not slobbering.
"But Joe says he can't paint that one; it would stir up old trouble. The
second he really aches to paint-just Hugo, big as a mountain and no sex
symbols at all-except that a big stud can't help being sexy, I think-just Hugo,
strong and wise and solemn dignity-and loving. Joe's words, pieced
together by me. Joe wants to paint it and call it 'Jehovah.'"
"Gigi! Maybe I can help."
"Huh? You can't just tell Hugo to pose for Joe; Joe wouldn't like that.
Wouldn't hold still for it."
"Dear, I'm not foolish. But maybe I can make Hugo see that it's all right to
pose for Joe. Can't hurt to try." (Boss, let Hugo know that you have been
posing naked for Joe. Then let it soak.) (Of course, Eunice, but that's just
the gambit.) (Twin! You're not thinking of trying to seduce Hugo, are you?
Damn it, I won't stand for it! You leave Father Hugo alone.) (Eunice, I'm not
that much of a fool. Hugo can have anything I've got; he killed the creep
who killed you. But I would never offer what he won't accept. If I did, I think
he'd quit-and then pray for me. I vote with Joe; I'll take Hugo as he is, never
try to twist his arm.) (You couldn't. His arms are bigger than our thighs.) (I
meant 'psychologically,' twin, and you know it.)
"Just one thing, Gigi- Joe would have to give up that title for the pic."
"You don't know Joe, Joan. He won't change the title."
"Then he'll have to carry it just in his mind. Hugo is as firm in his rules as
Joe is in his. He won't let a picture of himself be titled 'Jehovah.' It would be
sacrilege in his eyes.
But if Joe is willing to keep the title a secret, I think I can deliver the body.
You talk to Joe. But you never did tell me where Joe got his training."
"Oh. Joe could always draw; I'm sure he could have learned to read, he
remembers what he sees. When he was about fourteen, he was being held
overnight with some other boys in the precinct lockup and the desk
sergeant got a look at some sketches Joe had done while he was killing
time, waiting to be taken up in front of the judge and warned. One was of
the desk sergeant-and Joe had seen him only a few minutes.
"That was Joe's break. The desk sergeant turned him over to the priest and
got him off the blotter and both of them took him to a local artist, and
showed him the kid's sketches.
"This artist was a mixture, fine art and commercial-I mean he made money.
He was another sort of mixture, too. An oyster. He may not have been
                                      287
impressed by Joe's sketches but he made a deal with him. Modeling. Joe
could hang around his studio and use his materials and sketch from his
models-if Joe would pose when he needed him. They both won on the deal;
you know how Joe looks now; at fourteen I'd bet he was more beautiful than
any girl-and no doubt that oyster thought so.
"So Joe did and soon he was eating and sleeping there and got away from
his mother entirely, best thing that ever happened to him. Joan, it was a
one-bed studio like this one."
"You mean Joe was his sweetheart? Gigi, I decline to be shocked. Even
though I'm ninety-five, I try to think modern."
"Joan, I never can believe that's your age; it isn't real, like that million
dollars. I said 'oyster' not 'homo.' The artist was married, or shacked, with
his number-one model. Possible she got Joe's cherry. Either way, she
taught him plenty and mothered him and was good to him, and it was a
happy Troy.
"But the artist-Mr. Tony, as Joe speaks of him-while he gave Joe the use of
his studio and table and bed and wife-was nevertheless a strict master. He
wouldn't let Joe paint with a palette knife or a wide broom or do distortions
or abstracts or psychedelics-he made him learn to draw. Anatomy.
Composition. Brush techniques. Color values. The whole endless drill of
academic art, and wash brushes and sweep out the studio. Joe says that if
it hadn't been for Mr. Tony, he would still be sketching sausage skins. Joe
found out what he could do, what he wanted to do, and learned to do it. But,
so he told me, not what his master did-but in both cases founded on old-
fashioned academic training. The hard way. Oh, Joe's learned short cuts.
But he can paint directly on canvas-he's been doing it since our last break-
and make it as close to a photograph as he cares to. Or as different."

"-never said that poor is better than rich, Gigi; it is not. But both 'rich' and
'poor' have shortcomings-somewhere between is probably best, if you could
get off the treadmill at that point. But- Look, does Joe guard you when you
go grocery-shopping?"
"Huh? Of course not. Oh, sometimes he comes along and helps carry-but
not to guard. Well, he does ride down the lift with me if it's a time of day
when it might be empty-I mean, he's no fool and neither am I and I don't go
looking for a mugging. Same coming back up and if I'm later than I said I
would be, he's always there waiting. But I move around by myself, always
have; I'm just not foolish about where and when."
"Gigi, I'm sure you're not foolish, I doubt if you ever go into a park-"
"Not even at high noon! I've been raped once and didn't like it. I'm not
looking for a gang bang where they take turns holding you down. They
ought to bulldoze every park in the city."
                                      288
"Bulldozing the whole city might be better. But, Gigi, you move around
rather freely. I can't. I don't dare appear even with guards around me
without being veiled, I can't risk being recognized. I have to be wary all the
time. Sure, you bolt your door-but my house has to be strong enough to
take a bomb tossed against it-that's happened several times since I built it. I
have to watch for everything from kidnappers and assassins to mere
nuisances who want to touch me.
"I'm talking both about the way I am now and the man 'Johann' I used to be-
too much money attracts crackpots and criminals and there is nothing I can
do about it but keep guards around me day and night, and live in a house
that's a fort, and try to avoid being recognized at any time, and never, never
try to live what is called a 'normal life.' Besides that-Gigi, can you imagine
what a treat it is to me to be allowed to wash dishes?"
Gigi looked startled. "Huh? Joan, you've lost me. Oh, I know how
complicated it is to be rich; I've watched video. But washing dishes isn't a
treat; it's a horrid bore. Too often I've left them in the sink, then had to face
them before breakfast. By the time breakfast is ready, I don't want any."
"Let me give you a tip, Gigi. I did know something about Joe's mother;
Eunice was my secretary for years." (I never mentioned her, Boss!) (Will
you let me tell this lie my own way?) "She was-and is-a pig and lives like
one. This place isn't big; if you'll keep it spotless, Joe won't care when you
get wrinkles-and we all do, someday. But a dirty toilet bowl or dishes in the
sink reminds him of his mother."
Gigi said, "Joan, I try. But I can't clean house and pose at the same time."
"Do your best, hon. If necessary, lose sleep. Joe is a man worth making
extra effort to keep. But I was talking about doing dishes-it's a nuisance to
you but a luxury to me. Washing dishes means 'freedom' to me. Look, here
we are, three of us, no servants-and presently I'll be gone and you'll be
alone with your husband and the world shut out. I can't shut it out. Uh. . . let
me think- Four mobile guards, a security chief, twelve in-house watchmen
under him, three always on duty and the others on call, which means the
married ones-which is most of them-have their families under my roof-a
personal maid, a valet who used to tend me and now takes care of guests-
couldn't fire him; I never fire anyone without cause-a butler, a head chef,
three-oh, I don't remember; there were about sixty adults in my house the
last time I asked."
"My God, Joan!"
"Yes, 'My God!' To take care of one person. Yet not one could I let go
without replacing him. I planned that house and kept tabs on the design,
intending to keep staff down to a minimum. So it's loaded with gadgets.
Things like robofootmen, and a trick bed that was designed to let me get
along without a nurse a few more years as I got older. Do you know what
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that means? I lost. I have to have a building superintendent and
maintenance mechanics-or the gadgets don't work. All this complication-
and never any real privacy-just to take care of one person who doesn't want
it that way."
"Joan, why don't you get rid of it? Move-and start over."
"Move where, dear? Oh, I've thought about it, believe me. But it's not
actually to take care of one-person-it's to take care of too much money,
money that is fastened to me so that I can't risk kidnappers or anything
else. I can't even cash it and flush it down the pot; that's not the way big
money works. And even if I could and did-nobody would believe I had. I
would just have taken off my armor and probably would not stay alive two
days. Besides- Do you like cats?"
"Love 'em! Got a kitten promised now."
"Good. Now tell inc-how do you get rid of a cat you've raised?"
"Huh? Why, you don't. Not if you're decent."
"I agree, Gigi. I've lived with many cats. You keep them. If you are forced to
it, you have a cat humanely destroyed-or if you have the guts, you kill it
yourself so that it won't be bungled. But you don't give away a grown cat; it
is almost impossible. But, Gigi, you can't kill people."
"I don't understand, Joan."
"What would I do with Hugo? He's been with me many years; he's doing the
only thing he knows how to do-except preach, which doesn't really pay;
Gigi, loyal servants are 'Chinese obligations' just like a cat. Sure, they can
get other jobs. But what would you do if Joe told you, 'Get lost. We're
finished.'"
"Cry."
"I don't think my servants would cry-but I would."
"But I'd get along!"
Joan sighed. "And that platoon I have around me would get along, I think;
they're able or I wouldn't have them-and I've got money enough to make
sure that ones like Hugo are taken care of; that's one of the good things
about being rich-if money is all it takes to remedy something, you can. Gigi,
there is some solution to this silly fix I'm in and I'm going to find it-I was just
trying to show you that it isn't as simple as it looks on video. The solution
may be something as easy as changing my name again and changing my
face with plastic surgery and going somewhere else."
"Oh, no, you mustn't change your face."
"No, you're right; I must not change this face. It's Eunice's; I'm only its
custodian. If I changed it, Joe would not like it-nor several other people.
(Starting with me, Boss.) (I won't change your lovely face, sweetheart. I'll
cherish it.) "I'll keep it as it is-but I have to keep it veiled. It's been on video

                                        290
too much, photographed and printed too many million times. But there's
some way to tackle it."

Joan Eunice looked at the nearly finished painting almost with awe. She
knew what a beautiful body she had inherited; she knew that Gigi was a
beauty of another sort; she could see that these "Grecian damsels" were
herself and Gigi and she could not see any detail in which the painting was
not a perfect likeness of each.
Yet Joe Branca's "realism" was fantasy. These two nymphs in a glade were
voluptuous, sensuous, enticing in a way that she knew that she and Gigi
had not been-sprawled on a platform of boards and gossiping about
everything from an alcoholic to dirty dishes.
"What do you think?" Gigi asked. "Say what you like; Joe doesn't give a
hoot about any opinion but his own."
Joan took a deep breath, sighed. "How does he do it? Here I am With my
nipples tight just from looking at it-and yet it's you and me, and we lay there
talking for hours and never got in a sweat about it. Discussed everything but
Topic 'A'-wasn't even a cuddle because we had to hold still. Yet this paint-
and-canvas reaches out and grabs you by the gonads and squeezes. I'm
certain it would have just as much effect on a man."
From behind them Joe said, "Fool-the-eye."
Joan answered, "Fool-the-eye, hell, Joe. My eyes are not fooled, I'm
enchanted. I want to buy it!"
"No."
"Huh? Oh, kark. You planned to sell it to some old butch. God knows
ninety-five is old-and I feel butch enough to qualify when I look at the
painting."
"Yours."
"Huh? Joe, you can't do this to me. You intended to sell it, you said so. Gigi,
back me up."
Gigi chose not to answer. Joe said stubbornly, "Yours, Joan. You want it,
you take it."
"Joe, you are the most stubborn man I've ever met and I don't see how Gigi
puts up with you. If you give me that painting, I'm going to destroy it at
once-"
Gigi gasped. "Oh, no!"
Joe shrugged. "Your ache. Not mine."
"-but if you'll sell it to me at your going rates, I'll take it with me and give it to
Jake Salomon to hang at the end of his bed so he'll wake up happy each
morning." (You bombed him, twill! Now swing back and strafe the
survivors.) "That's the choice, Joe. Give it to me and I'll chop it into shreds.
But sell it to me-and Jake Salomon gets it. Oh, you could welch, then hang
                                         291
it for sale-and put me to the trouble of hiring detectives to follow it to where
you hang it so that I can buy it through an agent. What I do with it then, I
won't tell. Or you could even keep it for your own jollies; it's quite a job."
Gigi said, "Quit being stubborn, Joe; you know you'd like Jake to have it."
"Gigi, what does Joe charge for a painting like that?"
"Oh, I set the prices. Mostly I sell them by the yard. By size."
"So? How much is this size?"
"Well, I try to get two hundred and fifty for that size."
"Ridiculous!"
"Really, Joan, considering that it took both my time and Joe's all yesterday
evening and today-not to mention your time, but you're buying it, so I didn't
add on for the second figure in it-considering all that and the commission
we pay, it's not very much-"
"Darling, I meant 'ridiculously' low. I haven't bought much art the last twenty
years but I do know that is not less than a thousand-dollar picture-then up
like a kite to whatever the traffic will bear. I can tell you this: When Jake
dies and that painting is auctioned off, it won't go for as little as a
thousand...and it might be much higher because I'm certain to be at, that
auction and in no mood to let it get out of the family. But I'm not raising the
price now; I never do that. You named a price of two-fifty; I accept. It's a
sale."
"Joan, you never did let me finish."
"Oh. Sorry, hon."
"I try to get two hundred and fifty for that size when I hang it in a shop. But
half of that goes to the owner of the shop; that's the only way I can get
space. So the price to you is a hundred and twenty-five."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Just 'No' the way Joe said it to me. As good business practice you should
never undercut your retailer. I think he's robbing you; the commission
should be twenty-five percent, no more. But don't undercut the price you
want him to ask-that's no way to stay in business. I don't know much about
art. . . but I know one hell of a lot about business. Cash, or check?"
"Cash is fine. If you have that much with you. Or pay when you feel like it."
"I want to pay now and get a receipt so that it will be legally mine-before
your stubborn husband can thwart me again. Shall I write the receipt for
you, Gigi girl?"
"Oh, I've got Woolworth's printed forms for that, and I can write numbers
and sign my chop. No huhu."
"Good. But I want something else."
"What, Joan?"

                                      292
"I want to be kissed. I've been a good girl and posed all day and haven't
even been kissed for it. So I want Joe to kiss me for being so stinky difficult-
and I want to kiss you for helping me with him. Joe, will you kiss me?"
"Yes."
"That's better. Joe, will you escort two nice girls-me and Gigi, I mean, and
no smart cracks-down to the
supermarket? If Gigi will buy us a steak to celebrate, I want to prove I can
broil it. Will you buy us a steak, Gigi?"
"Sure! Beef, or horse?~'
"Uh...hon, I'm forced to admit that I haven't shopped for groceries in years.
What do you think?"
"Well. . . it had better be horse."
"Whatever you say. As long as they don't sell us the harness."


25


In the United Nations the Burmese delegation charged that the so-called
Lunar Colonies were a cover-up for a conspiracy by China and the United
States to build military bases on the Moon. The Secretary of Conservation
and Pollution Control denied a report that deer in Yosemite National Park
were "dying in hordes from polluted water and emphysema." He stated that
a healthy ecological rebalancing was taking place-no need for alarm-and
the new herd would be stronger than ever.
The Reverend Dr. Montgomery Chang, D.D., Most Humble Supreme
Leader of The Way, Inc., testified before the Subcommittee on Unwritten
Law of the Senate Judiciary Committee in support of the pending bill to
require Federal licensing of teachers of Zen Buddhism and related
disciplines as "therapists de facto et de jure:" "These bootleg gurus are
giving rational mysticism a bad name. A man should no more be allowed to
teach meditation, asanas, or transcendental philosophy without strict control
by a licensing board than he should be allowed to ski, or to surf, or to frame
a picture without passing an examination. The idea that this bill would
abridge the sacred guarantees of the First Amendment is the sheerest
nonsense; it protects and frees them." Under questioning he stated that he
would be humbly willing to serve as chairman of such a board if such
sacrifice were asked of him. Survivors of Hurricane Hilda were still being
rescued and the known death toll now stood at 1908.
The Department of Internal Defense placed a temporary exception on
interstate transmittal of intelligence concerning public disorders involving
more than three persons, then placed a second exception with strict
                                      293
penalties on the publicizing of the first censorship order. The Secretary
reported to the President that news services and video nets were
cooperating voluntarily in the interests of the general welfare. In re the
matter of identity of Conglom Tycoon Johann S. B. Smith the Supreme
Court, in a declaratory relief opinion made notable only by Mr. Justice
Handy waking up in the middle of its reading, slapping the desk and roaring,
"Divorce granted!" then going back to sleep, ruled seven to two to sustain a
lower court in expanding and clarifying the principle originally set forth in
Estate of Henry M. Parsons v. Rhode Island. Four of the majority and one
dissenting justice ruled also that a legal sex change was involved in the
matter; two justices thought otherwise; one justice (Mr. Handy) used twenty
pages to prove that such a composite of sexes was contrary to public
interest and to the laws of God and that both Johann Smith and Eunice
Branca were legally dead and that the resultant monster had no legal
existence of any sort; the ninth justice, in a one-sentence separate assent,
opined that sex was irrelevant in the entire matter; one of the majority, in
another separate assenting opinion, stated that the donor body should have
been sterilized surgically in the public interest and that the Congress would
do well to make such sterilization mandatory in any future similar situation.
No mention was made by any justice of thirteen amici-curiae brief s and one
petition filed with the Court. In an opinion issued the same day (Illinois v.
Sam J. Roberts) conviction was set aside on the grounds that the
householder (deceased) had not advised Roberts of his rights before
attempting to place him under citizen's arrest.

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On the basis of evidence submitted by the Chinese delegation the
U.N.A.E.C. eased the tolerance levels for strontium-90 for whole milk. The
Reverend Thomas Barker of Long Beach, California, in an Equal-Time-for-
God videosermonette declared that the World had ended at midnight
December 31st 1999 PCI, and that all since that time was "illusion of the
Devil, without forth, substance, or reality."

Miss Smith greeted O'Neil and asked him to have Dabrowski and Fred fetch
upstairs with her two big flat packages, one so large that it had to be tilted
to get it through the door of the lift. When packages, mobile guards, and
she herself- were fitted inside, she locked -the door and pressed the "Hold"
                                     294
touchplate without signaling a floor, then dropped her cape. "Let me kiss
you thank-you-goodbye, boys, but for Heaven's sake don't get paint on you
or muss it. Better just hold my face in your hands-but no need to hurry."
Shortly thereafter she looked at herself in the lift's mirror, decided that
makeup and hairdo had suffered only minor wear and tear, let Dabrowski
lay her cape around her, then punched for her floor and fastened all the
cape's frogs so that she was again fully covered. When the lift stopped she
hooked up her veil.
"These go in your boudoir, Miss? Or your lounge?"
"First let's see if Mr. Salomon is receiving." They followed her down the long
hail to the Green Suite. Joan noted that the please-don't-disturb ruby light
was not burning over the door of Jake's lounge, so she touched the door
signal.
The speaker above it bellowed, "Come in!" The door opened; she went in.
"Put them inside and that will be all."
"Very good, Miss."
As they left and the door closed Jake came out of his bedroom, looking
tousled. He stopped abruptly. "Well!'
Where the hell have you been?"
"Out."
"Hrrrmph! Five days. Five whole days!"
"So? Chickens fed? Hogs slopped? Cows milked?"
"That's not the point. I-"
"That is the point, Jake. Nothing has been neglected through my being
away. You won't marry me, so I am not answerable to you when I come and
go. Though as a courtesy I did leave a note with Cunningham telling you
where I had gone. Did you receive it?
"Yes, but-"
"Then you knew 1 was safe-and in emergency could have sent me a
message. Or joined me; you would have been welcome. You know Joe
would have made you welcome-and Gigi is friendly as a puppy."
"'Gigi'?"
"You know her. You've met her, I mean. Mrs. Joe Branca."
"What?"
"Why the Surprise, Jake? People do remarry-especially if an earlier
marriage was happy. Joe's was, and now he has, and I'm happy for him-
and certain that Eunice is happy for him, too." (Sure I am, Boss. But let's
not be too 'noble.' Being 'noble' is a male prerogative. So they think.)
"I can't believe it."
"What's odd about a widower remarrying?"
"I can't imagine anyone who had been married to Eunice ever marrying
some other woman." (My fan! Twin, we're going to be especially nice to
                                     295
Jake tonight.) (If he doesn't start being nice to me, he's going to sleep alone
tonight! But 1 shan't. I wonder if Anton and Fred have left the house?)
(Calm down, Boss. And get Jake calmed down.) (Not yet, I won't! He's
wrong and I'm right.) (Twin honey, how long is it going to take you to learn
that being 'right' has nothing to do with getting along with a man? Men
aren't logical, their minds don't work that way. But it's 'the only game in
town,' so when a man is wrong and you are right, it's time to apologize. Tell
him you're sorry-and mean it. Om Mani Padme Hum.)
(Om Mani Padme Hum-sometimes I find being a woman just too frimping
difficult. If it weren't so darned much fun. Okay, sweetheart, watch me take
him.) "Jake dearest, I'm sorry it upsets you that Joe has remarried-but why
not wait before deciding that he has made a mistake? Joe needs a wife-
even if she's not Eunice. And I'm terribly sorry that I worried you by not
being here when you got home...and sorry on my own account; I expected
to welcome you-with open arms and a happy smile. But I didn't expect you
to be away less than a week and I had an impression that you expected it to
take longer-possibly much longer."
"Well, yes, I did think I might have to sit it out quite a while. But I got in to
see the Chief Justice the second day and he assured me that he would put
it at the top of the calendar . . . and that he had seen-unofficially-an
advance transcript of the record. And that was that."
"Hm! Campaign contributions are sometimes worthwhile."
"Joan Eunice, don't ever talk that way. Especially in reference to the Chief
Justice of the United States. Yes, this is your house. Nevertheless it might
be bugged."
"I'm sorry, Jake. It was a thoughtless remark. My appreciation really goes
where it belongs. To you."
"To Mac more than to me, my dear; that boy has been on the ball. How he
got an advance copy to, uh, the right man so quickly is something I don't
want to inquire into."
"I appreciate Mac's efforts, I appreciate Alec's efforts-but mostly I
appreciate my darling, always dependable, utterly wonderful Jake." (Is that
too thick, Eunice?) (Boss, I keep telling you: it's impossible for a woman to
lay it on too thick with a man. If you tell a man he's eight feet tall and say it
often enough, with your eyes wide and a throb in your voice, he'll start
stooping to go through seven-foot doors.)
Jake looked pleased, so Joan went on: "I suppose it will all be settled soon,
then?"
"Little one, don't you ever listen to the news?"
"Not if I can avoid it."
"Well, you should. It is over. You've won, finally and completely."

                                      296
"Really? I never doubted that we would win, Jake, the wonderful way you've
handled everything. My surprise is solely that it has happened so fast. Yes,
I suppose I should follow the news. But I haven't been able to, these last
few days. Had this difficult job to do-Joe, I mean-and while you were away
seemed the best time. . . so I gritted my teeth and tackled it."
"Joan Eunice, I told you never to go near Joe. I told you. If this new
marriage of his ever stood a chance-yes, intellectually I know that a man
should remarry-if it ever did stand a chance, you must have put a horrible
strain on it. Too much strain, probably. Uh. . . how did he take it? Badly?"
"Jake, I stayed five days. If it had gone badly, would I have been there even
one day? I accomplished the mission; everything is all right."
Jake looked surprised, then thoughtful. "Hmmm! That's a one-room studio. .
. and if I follow your meaning, you stayed right there the whole five days. My
dear, just how did you 'accomplish your mission'? Or have I no right to
ask?"
She looked up at him and spoke seriously. "Jake, I owe you so much that
you will always have the right to ask me anything. Including my comings
and goings and I should not have given you a snippy answer." (Didn't quite
tell him he had a right to a truthful answer, did you, Boss honey? Devious
little bitch.) (Eunice, I don't lie to Jake-) (Oh, what a whopper!) (-more than
is necessary to his happiness.)
"Jake, I accomplished my mission-I set Joe's mind at rest about Eunice-
through a 'prayer meeting.' With Gigi's utterly necessary help, which is only
part of why I feel sure that she's good for him. But if you mean I offered him
a zombie-his dead wife's reanimated body-I knew that was not the way to
do it. Joe hasn't touched me. Oh, he does touch me now, easily and without
strain, the way he might touch his sister." (Any incest in Joe's family, twin?
I've never been sure.) (Oh, shut up!) "He even kisses me the same way.
But, Jake-"
"Eh? What, dear?"
"If Joe wanted this body I'm wearing, of course he could have it; I owe him
anything I can give him. You see that, don't you? You agree? Or am I
wrong?"
"Uh.. . yes, I agree. But I think it's well that Joe does not want to. It could be
disaster for him...and a terrible strain for you."
"I know it would be a strain for me. But I would do my best to smile and
never let him guess. As it is, I am honored-and relieved-and deeply grateful
that Joe has given me his loving friendship instead." (Okay, Eunice?)
(Okay. Now get him off that subject.)
"I'm glad, Eunice."


                                       297
"Jake, do we have to stand here, me still in street clothes? I have presents
for you-welcome-home presents." She smiled her best happy-little-girl
smile. "Want to see them?"
"Of course I want to see them! And where are my manners, letting you
stand? Here, let me seat you and take your cloak. Sherry?"
"Later. Or champagne, to welcome you home. 'To welcome us both home."
She turned and let him take her cape. He turned to lay it aside and turned
back just as she did so, too.
"Holy Cowl"
"Didn't know you were a Hindu, Jake." She posed, in graceful and
calculated display.
"You wore that all the way across the city? Just paint?"
"Why not, dear? It's your first present-from Joe to you, sent with his love. I
had my cape over it before I left Joe and Gigi's studio, and then kept it on
when I got home-until you unwrapped your 'present.' Didn't want my
mobiles to see it, of course." (Oh, of course, twin-except that Joe let them
watch every brush stroke, once Gigi was sure you didn't mind. Say, Joan,
Gigi would go for a Texas Star with Anton and Fred, I feel certain. And Joe
would go along; he likes them. What do you think? Easy way to keep your
promise to them, huh?)
(Eunice, we've got this man on our hands now.) (Oh, poor you. Best way in
the world to work up steam with one man is to let your mind rove about
other men. You've still got some Puritan in you, girl.) (Which Puritan?
When? And why didn't I notice? You can't mean Jake; he's Jewish.
Speaking of Jake, has he noticed that slight omission in this getup? And
why haven't we been raped?) (I doubt it, his eyeballs are spinning. As for
the latter, I have-hopes.)
"Joan Eunice, do you.. realize that that is a reproduction-exact, I think-of a
body-paint design Eunice once wore?"
"Of course I realize it; she wore it here...and I wasn't so near dead that I
didn't stare. Could never make up my mind whether these were sea shells
or paint. Now I know. Joe wanted to be sure that you had seen it that first
time, when Eunice wore it. I told him that I was almost certain that you had
been here that day."
"Well, yes, I was. Briefly. That's why I recognized it."
"So? It had seemed to me that I recalled that as one of the days you took
Eunice home. Hmmm?"
"Joan, are you trying to be snoopy?"
"Yes."
"Woman, I will not satisfy your prurient curiosity."
"How do you feel about satisfying prurience itself? Mine, I mean."
"That's another matter."
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 "I was wondering. So far you haven't even kissed me. Shall I take a shower
first? Or let me put it this way: Did Eunice take time to get the paint off
first?"
"Let me put it this way: Shut up and keep quiet and pipe down and not
another damn word out of you until I give permission."
"Yes, sir."
She obeyed in essence for a reasonable time.
"May I talk now?"
"Yes, as long as you limit yourself to polite words of endearment. Some of
your spontaneous remarks were quite unladylike."
"That's because I'm quite unladylike, Jake my only darling. I'm a failure as a
lady. But I'll go on doing my best to simulate one in public-be a credit to
Eunice."
"Joan Eunice-"
"Sir?"
"That's the way Eunice herself did it. A perfect lady in public. . . utterly
uninhibited in private. It was a major part of her-great charm. Some of her
spontaneous expressions at such times were far more 'unladylike' than any
I've heard you use."
"Really, Jake? Did she know any that I don't? And do you like them?"
"Hmm, I don't think she knew any that you don't know; she was just easier
about it once she trusted me. Yes, I do like them. Used spontaneously."
"Jake, I trust you without limit-and I'll try not to inhibit any future spontaneity.
Haven't meant to. Still learning."
"Darling girl, you do just fine when you get your rest. I mean 'my rest.' Now
that I've got you helpless-and seeing that you trust me 'without limit'-what
did, happen at Joe's."
"Sir, the fact that I trust you-and I do!-does not mean that I'm going to
satisfy your prurient curiosity." -
"Hmm- Neither did Eunice, ever."
"Instead, you tell me what happened to you-at Joe's."
"We seem to have reached a stalemate. Let's wash off this paint. I wish I
had taken a photograph of our mermaid before I smeared it."
"No huhu, Jake my beloved; Joe took several and I have them in my purse.
For you. And I have two of Eunice in the same getup-one for you, and one
for me. And besides that Joe gave me a four-by-five Kodachrome of a most
incredible trompe-l'oeil painting he did of Eunice as a mermaid diving . . .
plus a smaller transparency which shows how he did it. Same getup minus
sea shells."
"Would it surprise you to learn that I've seen them both? Just didn't have
the crust to promote Joe for them."

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"No, not surprised, I guess. But I did not pressure him, Jake; he said he had
a present for me-and these photos turned out to be the present. I should
refuse? God forbid. But I'm going to put snoops to work and trace down
who bought that painting. I intend to own it. Price no-object."
"Your money won't help you, Miss Smith. Would it surprise you to know that
I own that original Branca? It's at the Gib."
"I'll be-dipped! Jake, you're a dirty old holdout. I take back ten percent of
any compliments I've handed you."
"That's okay; I didn't believe more than ninety percent. But if you're a good
girl I'll give you that painting."
"I accept! But-well, it's hardly worthwhile opening those packages. They'll
be disappointments."
"Would you like a spanking?"
"Yes."
"I'm too tired. Let's open packages."
"Well...we might open the smaller one. Let you see what Gigi looks like, if
you don't remember. She's worth looking at."
"We'll open both of them."
"Scrub first?"
"I suppose we should."
"Well...let's give it a lick and promise, not turn it into a social event."
Joan Eunice insisted on opening 'Bilitis Sings' first.
"Well, Jake?"
He gave a respectful wolf whistle. "The boy's a genius."
"Yes. I hadn't suspected. But you already knew it."
"Well, yes. His decision to use strong sunlight on your two contrasting skin
colors was inspired."
"Especially as he had no sunlight-just smog-filtered north light, soft as old
linen. Those highlights come from photographing us under floods the night
before. Then he painted from us the next day. Changed the pose, though-
and I don't know how he corrected the highlights. But I'm no genius."
"What's in the big package?"
"Open it."
It was 'The Three Graces'-and all three were Joan Eunice. "Joe calls this a
'cheat pic,' Jake-he photographed me three times-erase and correct-more
nearly thirty-three times, against a neutral background, then combined three
photos for his cartoon. Had Gigi pose with me each time to get arms-
around-waist and so forth, then she would slither out like a snake without
disturbing my pose. If be hadn't used 'cheat' the painting would have taken
far longer. Aren't those dimples in my behind cute?"
"Woman, you are conceited enough."

                                     300
"I'm not conceited, Jake; I wasn't handsome even when I was young. I
know whose beautiful bottom that is. Well dear? I had intended 'Bilitis' for
me and the 'Graces' for you-but you can have your choice."
"What a choice to have to make!"
"The one you let me keep will be no farther away than down the hall. If you
had married me when you so obviously should have, you lecherous old
rapist, you wouldn't have to make a choice; both would be yours. Jake,
what does it cost to buy a job lot of art critics?"
"Well, the present crop ought not to fetch more than ten cents a dozen but
everything is higher these days. I take it you have Joe Branca in mind?"
"Of course. He's selling his paintings at ridiculously low prices and paying
an outrageous commission-and sells so few that the kids hardly get enough
to eat. While freaks and frauds and sign painters are all the rage. I thought-"
"You can stop thinking; I see the swindle. We'll get him a good agent, we'll
buy up what he has on the market, using dummies-and keep them
ourselves; they're a surefire investment. . . and we'll buy art critics here,
then elsewhere as he becomes better known. The question is: How much of
a success must he be? Do 1 have to get him into the Metropolitan?"
"Jake, I don't think Joe wants to be famous. And 1 don't want it to be so
conspicuous that he might smell a rat. Or that Gigi might; she's a little more
sophisticated. Not very, that is. I just want his pictures to sell regularly
enough that Gigi can buy groceries without worrying and can have enough
disposable sheets that she can change them every day if it suits her. The
kid is trying to keep house on scraped icebox and boiled dishrag soup. I
tried that in the Depression and it's not funny-and I see no reason why Gigi
should have to do it when she's married to an honest-to-God artist who can
paint-and works at it. One who doesn't spend his time sopping up sauce or
blowing weed, and talking about the painting he's going to do. Joe paints.
He's a craftsman as well as an artist. Well, maybe I don't know what an
artist is but I know what a craftsman is and I respect craftsmen. Too few of
them in this decadent world."
"No argument. We'll do it. Even if we have to go as high as fifteen cents a
dozen."
"Even two-bits. Let's finish getting paint off-I must send down for olive oil-
and you could be a darling and get Winnie to fetch me a heavy robe or get it
yourself, pretty please, if she isn't home-no, I can get back to my room in
my street cape, no problem, and-"
"Hrrmph."
"Did I goof again?"
"My dear, I have an announcement. Dr. and Mrs. Roberto Carlos Garcia y
Ibanez are on their honeymoon."

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"What? Why, the dirty little rat! Didn't wait for big sister to hold her hand.
Good for them! Jake, that's wonderful-I think I'll cry."
"Go ahead, you cry while I shower."
"Hell, no, I'll cry when Winnie is back. I'll take that shower with you and you
can scrub me. My back, where I can't see the paint; not my front, I'm tired,
too. When was it and do you know when they will be home? And,
goodness, I must pick out a suite for them; Roberto won't want to be next to
mine with a connecting door. And I need to think of a wedding present. I
may give them the painting you don't pick; Roberto won't let me give them
anything expensive, he's a stubborn man." (Boss, is there another sort?)
"I can't see why Bob wouldn't want to have a connecting door into your
bedroom."
"I think that was meant to be an insult. Perhaps he would like it, dear-I
would like it. But it would not look right to the servants." (Frimp the
servants!) (All of them, Eunice? I'm kept busy as it is.)
 "Eunice, I took the liberty of telling Cunningham to have the Gold Suite set
up for the Garcias-"
"Perfect! I'll have a door cut from my lounge into theirs and there already is
a lock-off that we can unlock between its foyer and the upstairs library we
joined to your suite-and then we can quit this unseemly ducking back and
forth through the hall."
"The newlyweds might prefer to be left alone."
"Hadn't thought of- that. Oh, well, 'I have some friends of my own,' as the
old gal said."
"In any case they'll be back too soon for carpentry. I have it from a usually
dependable source that a reliably dishonest member of your staff agreed to
phone Mrs. Garcia the instant you returned. I assume that the call was
made. I assume that they will be back by, oh, nightfall."
"I wonder whom I should fire? That's a hell of a way to run a honeymoon."
"I understand the good Doctor was in on it-the idea being to keep you safe
from harm, since between them they constitute your medical staff."
"What nonsense. I'm the Pioneer-Mother type. Rugged. If I had crossed
with the prairie- schooners, they would have yoked me in with the oxen. But
I'm glad they're coming home. I want to kiss them and cry on them."
"Johann, sometimes I can't make up my mind whether you are a silly young
girl-or senile."
"The last time you called me 'Johann' you acquired some scar tissue. Dear,
has it occurred to you that I might be both? A senile silly young girl?"
"Interesting. A possible working hypothesis."
"If so, I'm a well-adjusted one-Jake, I'm as happy as a cat left alone with the
Christmas turkey. With Joe squared away and the Supreme Court being

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sensible for a change my last fret is gone. Life is one long giddy delight. I'm
not even morning sick."
"Can't see why you should be-huh?" (Boss, I thought you weren't going to
tell him?) (Eunice, he was bound to know soon . . . and I couldn't just let
him find out, can't do that to Jake. This is the perfect time-he's officially 'first
to know.')
"I said I wasn't bothered by morning sickness, Jake. I'm healthy as a horse
and the only change I've noticed is that I'm hungry as a horse, too."
"You wish me to believe that you are pregnant?"
"Don't give me that stern-father look, Jake. I'm knocked up and happier
than Happy Hooligan. I could have kept it to myself a while longer but I
wanted to tell you before anyone else could notice. But be a dear and treat
it as privileged-because the instant Winnie finds out she'll start mothering
me and worrying. Which is not what a bride should be doing. With luck I can
keep it from Winnie until she's pregnant, too." (Boss, what makes you think
Winnie intends to get pregnant'?) (Use your head, Eunice-five to one she's
got a Band-aid over the spot where that implant used to be this very
minute.) (I don't have a head, Boss-just yours and it doesn't work too well.)
(Complaints, huh? Talk that way and I won't marry you, either.) (We are
married, Boss.) (I know it, beloved. Now be quiet; I've got to juggle eggs.)
"Eunice-are you sure?"
"Yes. Test positive."
"Did Bob make the test? Or some quack?"
"A patient's relations with a doctor are confo. But it was not a quack. Don't
pursue this line of inquiry, Counselor."
"We'll get married at once."
"The hell we will!"
"Eunice, let's have no nonsense!"
"Sir, I asked you to marry me quite some time back. You emphatically
refused. I asked you at a later time. Again I was turned down. I decided not
to renew my request, and I do not do so now. I will not marry you. But I will
be honored and delighted to continue as your mistress until I am benched
by biology-and more than pleased to be allowed again to be your concubine
when I am back in commission. I love you, sir. But I will not marry you."
"I ought to spank you."
"I don't think it would do me any damage, darling. But I don't think you could
bring yourself to strike a pregnant woman." (Now kick him in the other shin,
Boss. You little hellcat.) (Eunice, stay out of this row. I'm not only a woman
scorned; I'm also old Johann Smith who never could be pushed too far.
Jake can have us any time, sure. But I'm damned if I'll let him be 'noble'
about it when I'm knocked up.) (Boss, aren't we ever going to marry him?
This is a mistake, dear; he needs us.) (And we need him, Eunice. Sure,
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we'll marry him-after we've whelped. After.) (Boss, you're making a big
mistake.) (If so, I'm making it. I never make little mistakes-just big ones.)
"I didn't say I was going to spank you, Eunice-I said I 'ought' to. What
happened? I distinctly remember you telling me that you had taken care of
contraception."
"Your memory is good, sir. The exact phrasing, as I phrased it most
carefully. I have 'taken care' of such matters in whatever fashion I wished.
Every time. With you. With others. Each time I have taken such care as
suited me-at that time and with that man."
"Hmmm! That's as unresponsive an answer as I've ever heard. Let me put it
more plainly. Eunice, did I get you pregnant?"
"I won't answer. You know that at least one other man has slept with me-
and I may have been the bride of the regiment. Jake, you would not marry
me when I was a virgin; you still would not marry me when you made me
your mistress. So where I got this child in me is not your business and you
have no right to quiz me and-much as I love you!-I will not tolerate one
more question along this line. Not now nor in the future! Whom I chose to
father my child is my business. But you may be certain that I selected him
with care, eyes open and wits about me. You've been acting as if you were
a father dealing with a wayward daughter, or a Welfare Visitor trying to
establish responsibility for an unlicensed pregnancy. You know that is not
the situation. I am ninety-five years old-much older than you are-able to
afford a dozen bastards if it suits me-and it may-and wealthy enough to tell
the world to go pee up a rope. Jake, I was sharing happy news with you.
You elect to treat it as bad news and take me to task about it. I won't accept
that, sir. I made a mistake in telling you. Will you please treat the matter as
privileged-and never mention it again?"
"Eunice."
"Yes, Jake?"
"I love you."
"I love you, Jake."
"Had I been twenty years younger-even ten years!-I would have married
you long before now. Since you won't tell me-and since I have no right to
quiz you; you are correct-will you forgive an old man's pride if I choose to
believe that 1 am the man you picked? I promise that I will not discuss that
belief with anyone."
"Jacob, if you choose to believe that, I am honored. But I ask no promises.
If you chose to proclaim such a belief, I would never shame my oldest and
closest and most beloved friend by denying it. I would smile proudly and let
my manner confirm it. But, Jacob my beloved, to you I neither affirm nor
deny it-and never will. I did this on my own. I alone am parent to this child."
(Watch your words, Boss! You almost spelled it out.) (He'll take it as
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rhetoric. Or if he does suspect, investigation will prove that he's wrong.
Hank Olsen knows which side of his bed is buttered. Mine, that is.) (And the
dates are going to check out so that Jake will be certain it's his. Hmm-) (Still
think I'm a fool, Eunice?) (No, Boss-just reckless. You scare the hell out of
me at times.)
"Well, Eunice, from the restrictions you have put on me that seems to be all
we can say about it."
"That was my intention, Jake."
"I understood. What would you like to do the rest of today-at least until our
newlyweds return? Play cribbage?"
"If you wish, Jake, certainly."
"I have a better idea, if you want to join me in it. Could be fun, I think."
"Will be fun, lake. Anything is always fun shared with you. Even if it's just
cribbage."
"This is a better two-handed game if it's played right. Let's phone Mac, ask
him to have his clerk start the ball rolling-and get married. With luck we can
be legal by twenty-one or -two-and still get in a couple of boards of cribbage
before bedtime."
"Oh, Jake! 'Cribbage'!"
"Answer me, woman. A simple 'Yes' or 'No'. I won't argue it. . . and I won't
ask you again. And blow your nose and wipe your eyes-you're a mess."
"Damn you, Jake! Yes! Let me go and I'll blow my nose.
I think you've cracked my ribs, you big brute. That's a hell of a way to treat
an expectant mother."
"I'll do worse than crack your ribs if I have any more nonsense out of you.
Now to call Mac-I'll have to think up a plausible lie so that he'll be justified in
authorizing the County Clerk to issue a special license."
"Why does it have to be fancy, Jacob? I thought you were going to tell Mac
that you had knocked me up?"
"Eunice, is that what you want me to say?"
"Jacob, I'm going to marry you as quickly as possible, I don't care how. I
hope Winnie and Roberto show up in time, but I'm not going to wait; you
might come to your senses. I thought you preferred to claim that you had
done me in and I know I agreed to confirm it. So tell Mac so. Tell anybody."
"Doesn't fret you?"
"Jake dearest, maybe that's the best way to handle it... because, presently,
God and everybody is going to know about the Silent Witness. Jake? Do
you recall my first day of freedom? The day after Mac conditionally
confirmed my identity and discharged me as a ward of the court?"
"My dear, I am not likely to forget that day."
"Nor I. Count two hundred sixty-seven days. That is when the Silent
Witness should show up."
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"You're telling me that I am the father of your child."
"Not at all, sir. I was in heat and had slipped the leash and you may assume
if you wish that I spent the day bouncing in and out of beds, going from one
man to another." She smiled beatifically. (Boss, that's awfully close to the
truth-but it sounds like a whopper.) (It is the truth, Eunice; I worded it most
carefully. That is the second best way to tell a lie-tell the truth so that it
sounds like a whopper.) (And I thought 1 knew how to lie.) (I've had years
more practice, Beloved-and as a kid had more reason to lie than you ever
had. Lying is a fine art; it is learned only through long practice.)
"Knock off the nonsense, Eunice, or I'll start married life by giving you a fat
lip. Okay, we'll tell Mac that; the truth is often the simplest solution. But we
have to have health certificates; Mac can get us out of the waiting time but
not out of that requirement. My doctor will phony one for me without
stopping to take a blood sample and make tests, but how about that quack
you mentioned? Will he cooperate?"
"Jake, I don't recall mentioning a quack. If Roberto gets here in time, I think
he would take a chance. Or Rosy would, I think. I don't think I'm harboring
even a cold bug unless I picked up something from Joe and Gigi. Most
unlikely. But how about you, darling? Washington, D.C., has the highest.
V.D. rate in the country. Did you fetch anything home?"
"Oh, nothing but big and little casino."
"A nice girl like me can't be expected to understand such terms."
"You impudent little baggage, I slept alone in Washington. Can you make
the same claim? For the past
five days?"
"Of course not, dear; I've never been interested in sleeping alone-and Gigi
is very snuggly. I commend her to your attention-take a look at that
painting."
"I'm sure she is. Just Gigi, eh? Not Joe?"
"Is Joe snuggly, Jake? Tell me more!"
"Woman, you may get that fat lip before I marry you."
"The groom's present to the bride? Sir, if you want to give me a fat lip, I'll
hold still, smile happily, and take it. Oh, Jake darling, it's going to be such
fun to be married to you!"
"I think so, too, you dizzy bitch. Mmm, my doctor will phony a certificate for
you, too, if I explain the circumstances. But he'll need your blood type."
"Jake, the whole country knows that my blood type is AB-negative. Had you
forgotten it?"
"Momentarily, yes. That's all I need. Except- Wedding here? Or in Mac's
chambers?"
"Here, if possible. I want our servants for 'family' if Winnie and Roberto don't
show up. Jacob, do I dare send a car with a message and ask Joe and Gigi
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to allow themselves to be fetched here for this purpose? I do want them
present. Gigi is no problem; she will do as Joe wishes-but I think you know
Joe better than I do. I don't even know that he has clothes he would be
willing to wear here-all I saw him wear were denim shorts so caked with
paint they could stand alone."
"Mmm, I agree that Eunice's former husband is entitled to be invited to Joan
Eunice's wedding, though there has never been a protocol established,
that's certain. Dear, the clothes Joe wore in court would be okay for a home
wedding. How about yourself, Eunice? Going to be married in white?"
"I think I've been insulted again. Wear white so that somebody can sneak a
picture and sell it? 'Ninety-FiveYear-Old Sex-Change Bride Wears White.'
Dear, if I wear white, let's ask Life to send a photographer and cut out the
middleman. Jake, I'll wear white if you tell me to. If you don't, I'll pick
something but it won't be white. Something."
"'Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.'
"Erase and correct, Jake. Here is the twenty-first century version:
"The bride is old,
"The license new,
"The body borrowed,
"The groom is blue."
"I am like hell blue, I simply need a shave. Get out now and let me be. Beat
it. Go take a bath. Try to smell like a bride."
"Instead of payday at Tillie's? I can take a hint. But you take a bath, too."
"Who notices the groom?"

Cunningham had a busy six hours. But so did everyone in the ugly old
mansion. To the old-tradition strains of Mendelssohn's "Processional" the
bride walked slowly in hesitation-step through the rotunda. (Twin, 'Here
Comes the Bride' always sounds to me like a cat sneaking up on a bird.
Pum . . . pum.. . . tee-pum! Appropriate, hmm?) (Eunice, behave!) (Oh, I'll
behave. But I prefer 'John Jacob Jingleheimer Smith-his name is my name,
too!') (You can't know that one. It's eighty years old and long forgotten.)
(Why wouldn't I know it when you were singing it in your head every second
they were dressing us?)
She walked steadily down the center of a long white velvet carpet; through
the arch and into the banquet hall, now transformed with flowers and
candles and organ into a chapel. (Boss, there's Curt! I'm so glad he made it!
That must be Mrs. Hedrick with him. Don't look at them, twin; I'll giggle.) (I'm
not looking at them and you stop trying to-I must look straight ahead.) (You
do that, Boss darling, and I'll count the house. There's Mrs. Mac-Norma-and
Alec's Ruth, with Roberto. Where's Rosy? -oh, there he is beyond Mrs.
Mac. My, isn't Della dressed fit to kill?-makes us look shabby.)
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The bride wore a severely simple dress of powder blue, opaque, with high
neck, matching veil, long sleeves, matching gloves, skirt hem brushing the
velvet runner and long train sweeping behind. She carried a bouquet of
white cattleya dyed blue to match. (Twin? Why that last-minute decision for
panties? They make a line that shows.) (Not through this gown; it's not skin-
tight. The 'bride's knot,' Beloved-for symbolic defloration.) (Coo! Don't make
me laugh, Boss.) (Eunice, if you louse up this wedding, I'll-I'll-I won't speak
to you for three days!) (Joan twin, I won't spoil it-Jake wants symbols, he
shall have them.) (And I want symbols, too!) (And so do I, twin, so do I. It's
just that I have never been able to see life as anything but a vast
complicated practical joke, and it's better to laugh than cry.)
(Yes, darling-but let's not do either right now. I'm having trouble with tears.)
(I thought they were my tears.
Doesn't Thomas Cattus look handsome? I heard you order the 'Lohengrin
recessional'; that one is even funnier than the Mendelssohn-to an Iowa farm
girl it sounds exactly like the triumphant cackle of a hen after she lays an
egg. I'll laugh then, I know I will.)
(All right to laugh and cry both then, Eunice-and to hang on tight to Jacob's
arm. Look, dearest, this is an old-fashioned wedding with all the clichés
because Jake and I are old fossils and that's the way it should be.)
(Oh, I approve. Cunningham looks worried-can't see why; he's done a
beautiful job. Boss, those panties struck me so darn funny because you
ordered the 'Billtis' and the 'Graces' to be placed on easels in the drawing
room where everyone at the reception can stare at them. Riddle me that.)
(Eunice, there is no inconsistency. A bride is supposed to be covered; those
paintings are meant to be looked at. With Joe and Gigi here I darn well want
them to be looked at!) (They'll be looked at. Stared at. Some wives may
look at them with intense interest. Maybe.) (Maybe. Eunice, you know I've
never asked a husband not to tell his wife anything; it's not right to ask one
member of a married couple to keep secrets from the other. Besides, he will
or he won't, no matter what you ask-and he should; he knows her better
than we do. But those pix are as harmless as the fruit punch we have for
those who turn down the champagne. It's irrelevant that I posed for them, I
simply want Joe's genius to be appreciated. Enjoyed.)
Joe Branca had used no small part of his genius in making up the bride.
Starting with a bare, clean canvas-fresh out of her tub-he had worked long
and hard to make up Joan Eunice from head to toe with such restraint that
even close inspection could not detect any trace of his efforts. As in "The
Three Graces" it was simply Eunice's own beauty, invisibly enhanced-
strongly enhanced, better than life, more natural than nature. He turned
down the use of a hair fall and simply fluffed her own hair (still far shorter

                                      308
than Eunice's hair had been) and sprayed it slightly to keep it unmussed
under her veil.
The bride's matron of honor was made up with much less restraint. Having
seen the miracle wrought on Joan Eunice, Winnie had timidly asked Joan if
she thought it would be all right to ask Mr. Branca to improve her a little?
Since she was part of the wedding party?-and Joan and Gigi had
enthusiastically pushed the idea. Joe had studied Mrs. Garcia, then said,
"Forty minutes, Joan Eunice-is time? Okay, Winnie, wash face." The result
exploited Winifred's red hair, made visible her transparent eyebrows and
lashes, livened her too-white skin-yet looked more natural than the stylized
face Winnie usually wore.
The matron of honor wore pastel-green tabard and tights and carried a
smaller bouquet of green and brown
cymbidia. She kept in step to the hesitation march thirty paces ahead of the
bride, preceded her into the banquet hail toward the improvised altar.
Chief of Security O'Neil was the last one in, then posted himself in the
archway at parade-rest and managed to watch events at the far end of the
room while giving his attention to his rear. His features were serene but he
was uneasy, alert. The big house was empty save for seventy-five to eighty
people in this one room; all armor was up, every door, every real window
was locked, hand-bolted, and dogged, and the night net of alarms switched
on, and O'Neil had personally made sure of all this before releasing his
guards to attend the wedding. But be trusted no gadgets and few people;
he did not release himself from duty.

The bride approached the far end. Jake Salomon waited there, with Alec
Train at his side. Facing down the aisle were the Reverend Hugo White and
Judge McCampbell, matching in dignity. Shorty was wearing a black frock
coat, white shirt, string tie, and carried his Book; the Judge was in judicial
robes.
(Boss, doesn't Jake look beautiful? But what is that getup?) (It's a cutaway,
dearest.) (It's a museum piece.) (I suppose so. Jake probably hasn't worn it
in thirty, forty years-or perhaps rented it from a theatrical costumer. I feel
certain Alec bad to rent his. Doesn't Father Hugo look grand!) (Must be his
preachin' clothes, Boss. Joe ought to paint him in this, even, if he never
gets the pix he wants.) (Good idea, Eunice; we'll plant it with Gigi-and one
thing may lead to another. I have hopes that seeing 'The Three Graces' will
gentle him, too. As Hugo wants to pose... if he can convince himself that it's
not sinful. Eunice, my knees are shaking. I'm not sure I can do it!) (Om Mani
Padme Hum, baby sister. We had one hell of time getting him off the dime;
don't go chicken now.) (Om Mani Padme Hum, Eunice-hold my hand,
darling-don't let me faint.)
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Joan Eunice stopped in front of judge and preacher, Winifred took her
bouquet from her, stepped back to one side. Alec Train moved Jake into
place beside Joan Eunice, placed himself to balance Winifred. The music
stopped. Hugo lifted his eyes and said, "Let us pray." (Om Mani Padme
Hum. You okay, twin?) (I'm all right now. Om Mani Padme Hum.)

When Hugo said, "Amen," Joe Branca slid in from the side, shot his first
picture. Thereafter he moved around like a Chinese stagehand, disturbing
no one and never moving at a crucial moment-but getting his shots.
Hugo opened his Book, did not look at it. "We read today from the Book of
Psalms. It says here:
"'The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
"'He restoreth my soul;
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
"'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no
evil........

He closed his Book. "Brothers and Sisters, the Lord saw that Adam was
lonely in the Garden of Eden and He said it is not good for man to live
alone. So He created Eve to live with Adam. And He said to Adam, My son,
you take care of this woman, you hear Me? You treat her right all the time,
just like I was watching you every minute. Because I am watching you,
every minute and every second. You cherish her and protect her like I tell
you and you'll be too busy to get into anything wrongful, and she'll be a
comfort to you all the days of your life."
He turned to Salomon. "Jacob Moshe, are you going to do that?"
"I will!"
The Reverend looked at the bride. "And the Lord said to Eve, My daughter,
you got to cook for this man and wash his clothes and bring up his babies
and not go running around when you should be home, and love him even
when he's tired and bad-tempered and not fit to speak to, because men are
like that and you must take the bad with the good-you hear Me, Eve?
"Joan Eunice, are you going to do that?"
"Yes, Father Hugo."
"Judge-"
"Jacob Moshe, does there exist any impediment under our laws and
customs to you marrying this woman?"
"None."
"Joan Eunice, is there any reason in law or in your heart why you cannot
marry this man?"
                                     310
"There is none, Your Honor."
McCampbell spoke more loudly. "If any witness knows of any cause which
would forbid me to bind these two in marriage, I command him to speak."
(Eunice, if anyone even clears his throat, I'll-I'll-) (You'll keep quiet, Boss
darling; that's what you'll do. Nobody here but our loving friends. Om Mani
Padme Hum.) (Om Mani Padme Hum...)
"Jacob Moshe, will you love, honor, and cherish her?"
"I will."
"Joan Eunice, will you love, honor, and cherish him?"
"I will love, honor and obey him." (Huh? Boss you demon, you haven't the
slightest intention of obeying!)
Salomon said, "Wait a moment! Judge, she switched the words! I don't
expect that and I won't let her promise-"
"Order. YOU keep quiet, Jake; I'm not addressing you. Joan Eunice, is that
what you wish to promise?"
"Yes, Your Honor." (Eunice, stay out of this. I know what I'm doing.)
"I must advise you that such a promise is not legally binding under the civil
marriage contract of this State but I must warn you, too, that it is not a
promise which should be lightly made in these circumstances."
"I know it, Your Honor." (Boss, you're out of your mind!) (Quite possibly. But
it's all right, sweetheart. Jake is going to give us exactly the orders we will
be humbly pleased to obey. Haven't I been right so far?) (Yes, but you keep
scaring me. Suppose he tells us to keep our legs crossed? I've never been
any good at that.) (He never will. Instead he'll be magnanimously pleased to
humor our little follies-since we've promised to obey him. Relax,
sweetheart-this is precisely the way my darling Agnes handled me...when I
was not anything like as wise and tolerant as Jake is.)
"Let me hear you state your intention again."
"I, Joan Eunice, do solemnly promise to love, honor, and obey Jacob
Moshe-and I will, Your Honor, even if he backs out and won't marry me. He
doesn't have to marry me. I'd be perfectly happy just to-"
"Quiet, Joan Eunice. That's enough. Reverend, this is getting out of hand;
I'm going to wrap it up with the bare legalities and you can plaster them with
anything else they need in your closing prayer. All right?"
"Yes, Judge. They don't need much prayer; they're ready."
"I hope you're right. Jake, you heard this stubborn little, uh, lady. Are you
willing to marry her anyhow?"
"Yes."
"Jacob Moshe, do you take Joan Eunice to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do!"
"Joan Eunice, do you take Jacob Moshe to be your lawfully wedded
husband?"
                                     311
"I do."
"Uh, where's the ring? Alec. Jake, take her left hand in your left. Now."
"'With this ring I thee wed.'"
"Under authority vested in me I pronounce you man and wife. Kiss her,
Jake. Take it, Reverend." (And you told me not to louse it up!) (I got us
there, didn't I? He's ours. I mean, we're his. Same thing.)
"Let us pray!"


26


On Luna, Kennedy Tunnel B, parelleling Kennedy Tunnel A between Luna
City and the Apollo Industrial Complex, was completed and both tunnels
were then made one-way, thereby quadrupling the potential traffic. The five-
and ten-year projections caused the Commission to decide to go ahead at
once with tunnels C and D. On the Hong Kong and New York Stock
Exchanges Vacuum Industries, Ltd., Selenterprises, Pan Am, and Diana
Transport all took sudden jumps against a generally sagging market.
Mercury Newsletter (subsid of MercServ) sent destructaped messages by
special couriers to their 7-star clients. Nine percent of these couriers failed
to report back, which caused the managing director of MercServ to decide
that a vacation at Las-Vegas-in-the-Sky would be good for his health even
though there was no proof that Internal Defense agents had detained the
couriers or solved the "destruct" combo. A source close to the President
denied that there was anything more than seasonal unrest in any city in the
country and denounced "irresponsible rumormongers." CBS's "Today's Day
with Dave Daly" was replaced by a motion picture with an explanation of
technical difficulties. "Today's Day" resumed the next day without Daly, who
was-it was announced-on sick leave to recover from extreme fatigue. Miss
Molly Maguire, the hottest sensie star of the private film industry, claimed
the title of first woman in history to give birth to a child during a sky dive.
The babe was safely landed exactly as planned by the midwife team diving
with her, the event was filmed in stereosound and color from several
angles, and the only casualty was a sprained ankle for Miss Maguire-she
was able to hold a press conference thirty minutes after she landed.
Since plane flight had originated in, and sky dive had started over, Mexican
soil, whereas the entire party except the plane had landed in Arizona, it was
not clear what laws had been violated or whose, or what nationality the
child was-as Miss Maguire's citizenship was Pakistani, with Legal
permanent residence in the States. The party surrendered voluntarily to the
nearest U.S. immigration officer and Miss Maguire apologized most prettily
                                     312
on videocast for having reentered the country of her choice so informally
through an inadvertent error in navigation by her pilot, plus a sudden gust of
wind. They were released with a warning but the films were impounded-
uselessly, as they seemed to show that the child was born, about fifty-fifty,
in both countries, but factors of angle and parallax and identification of
ground markings-in those film sequences in which the ground showed at
all-make it impossible to be certain. Grove Press bought an option on the
films, then entered suit to have them released, in the interest of justice.
A notorious sex-change case married her attorney but the newsworthy
couple managed to leave for their honeymoon before issuance of their
license was noted-a famous scoop snoop chased them to Canada, only to
find that the couple he had traced down were a Dr. & Mrs. Garcia, members
of the wedding but themselves of no news value. Mrs. Garcia smiled and let
herself be photographed (she was quite photogenic) and was interviewed
about the wedding; then the Garcias returned home.
Senator James "Jumping Joe" Jones of Arkansas charged that the drive to
repeal the XXXIst Amendment permitting prayer in public schools was a
plot by the Devil inspired Pope of Rome and his servile followers. The
rebuilding of the Oklahoma State House was halted by labor trouble
drummed up (it was alleged) by the underground "Equal Rights for Whites"
Action Committee.
The contractor's construction foreman said, "Any honk thinks he's
discriminated, he can take it to the hiring board and get a fair hearing.
Trouble is these people they don't want to work."

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                                     313
"Mr. and Mrs. MacKenzie" (Liberian passports) had the penthouse floor to
themselves-three baths, four bedrooms, kitchen, dining room, bar-lounge,
drawing room, lanai, garden, swimming pool, waterfall, fountain, garden
bar-pantry, foyer, private lift, magnificent view of the yacht harbor, beaches,
estuary, town, and mountains beyond.
But they were eccentric. Their rent included full hotel service but none of
the hotel's staff had been on that level since their arrival. They were not
seen at the casinos, nor on the beaches, nor were they known to make use
of other attractions of the resort. They sometimes had room-service meals,
but the table cart went only as far as the lift; their servants took it up.
It was rumored among the hotel staff that Mrs. MacKenzie liked to do her
own cooking, but no one really knew-no one had seen her (save possibly
from a copter) and few knew him by sight. Their servants had three suites
on a lower floor. . . but were willing to discuss anything but their employers.
She came from the garden into the lounge. He looked up from his book.
"Yes, dear? Too much sun? Or did that copter come back?"
"Neither. Copters don't worry me; I just turn over on my tummy so that they
can't photograph my face. Jake darling, I want you to see something pretty."
"Drag it in here, I'm lazy."
"I can't dearest; it's down on the water. A boat of some odd sort, with the
gayest, most colorful sails. You were in the Navy; you know about such
things."
 "I was in the Navy one hitch fifty years back, so I'm an expert already."
"Jacob, you always know everything. And it is pretty, and quite odd. Please,
sir?"
"Your slightest wish, Madame." He got up and offered her his arm.
They stopped at the seaward rail. "Now which one? All those boats have
colored sails. I haven't seen a suit of white sails since we got here-you'd
think there was a law against it."
"That one. Oh, dear, they're putting down its sails. And it was so pretty a
minute ago."
"'Dowsing her sails,' Eunice. If I'm going to be your resident expert, let me
expert. When you lower sails suddenly, you 'dowse' them. Which this laddie
is doing because he's standing in to anchor about-yes! There goes the
hook. And a vessel is always 'she,' never 'it.' Boats and ships are female
because they are beautiful, lovable, expensive-and unpredictable."
"Jake, you've always been able to predict what I'm going to do even before
I know myself." (Twin, why tell a whopper like that? He knows better.) (He
won't argue it, hon.) "But what is it?"
"Oh. It's a trimaran, a yacht with a triple hull. Can't say that I agree that
she's pretty. A sloop with a triangular mains'l is my notion of beauty."

                                     314
"Does look sort of squarish now. But swooping in with all its-sorry!- 'her'
sails up, she was lovely." (Twin, ask Jake if he thinks there is any way we
could go on it?) (On 'her,' Eunice-not 'it.' Are you a sailor, hon?) (Never
been on a boat in my life, Boss. But I'm getting an idea, maybe.)
(Maybe I have the same idea. Are you thinking about that talk with Jake
when he pointed out a farm would mean even more staff and less safety
than our house?) (I don't care who thought d it first, Boss-just make sure
that Jake thinks of it first.) (I shall, dear-do you think I have to be told that a
ship is 'she'? Or can't recognize a trimaran? The real question is: Do you
get seasick? I used to-and it's miserable. But the fact that we haven't had
the tiniest bit of morning sickness makes me think you might be immune to
motion sickness.) (So 'let's operate and find out,' as Roberto says.)
"Oh, trimarans have their points, Eunice. You get a lot of boat for your
money. Roomy. And they are almost impossible to turn over-safer than
most small vessels. I just wouldn't award one a beauty prize."
"Jake, do you think you could get us invited aboard that one? She looks
interesting."
"Oh, there's some way to swing it. I might start by talking with the manager.
But, Eunice, you can't go aboard a private vessel with your features veiled;
it would be rude. Your granddaughters did you no favor when they made
you as recognizable as a video star."
"Jacob, a veil doesn't enter into it because I never want to meet anyone as
'Mrs. MacKenzie.' I'm Mrs. Jacob Moshe Salomon and proud of it-and that's
the way I must always be introduced. Jake, I doubt if our marriage is news
any longer; it can't matter much if I'm spotted."
"I suppose not. The copters might swarm a mite closer for a while and
some would have pixsnoops aboard with telescopic lenses. But. I doubt if
even your granddaughters are anxious to take a shot at you. If the snoops
fret you, wear pants to sunbathe, and in the pool."
"The hell I will, it's our pool, Jacob. Anyhow, briefies can't conceal the fact
that I'm pregnant, and the sooner that's in the news the less it will interest
anyone later. Let them sneak a pic, then you have Doctor Bob confirm it-
and it stops being news. No huhu, dear; I learned years ago that you can't
'get away from it all'-you just have to cope. Is it possible, on a boat of that
sort, to have a swimming pool?"
"Not one that size. But I've seen trimarans much bigger than that one.
Could be done, I suppose, since a trimaran can have so much deck space
for its tonnage-I'd have to ask a naval architect. Why the interest, Lively
Legs? Do you want me to buy you a yacht?"
"I don't know. But boats look like fun. Jake, I never had much fun in my life-
my other life. I'm not sure how one goes about having fun-except that every
day is a joy to me now. All that I'm sure of is that I want to do something
                                        315
utterly different this time. Not be a Hetty Green. And not the gay, mad whirl
of 'society'-kark! I'd rather turn whore. Would you like a yacht, lake? Take
me around the world and show me all those places you've seen and I never
had time for?"
"You mean you didn't take time."
"Maybe it's the same thing. I do know that, if a man acquires too much
money, presently it owns him instead of his owning it. Jake, I've been to
Europe at least fifty times-yet I've never been inside the Louvre, never seen
them change the Guard at Buckingham Palace. All I saw were hotels and
boardrooms-and those are the same all over the globe. Would you care to
repair my education, dearest? Show me Rio?-you say it's the most beautiful
city in the world. The Parthenon by moonlight? The Taj at dawn?"
Jake said thoughtfully. "The trimaran is the favorite craft of the dropout."
"Excuse me? I missed something. 'Dropout'?"
"I don't mean the barefooted bums in the Abandoned Areas, Eunice, nor the
ones skulking around the hills. It takes money to drop out by water. But
people do. Millions have. Nobody knows how many because it has been
subject to an 'exception' for years-the government does not want attention
called to it; But take those yachts below us: I'll bet that at least one out of
ten has registration papers for some 'flag of convenience' and the owner's
passport is as phony as that of 'Mr. and Mrs. MacKenzie.' He has to be
registered somewhere and carry some sort of passport, or the Coast Guard
wherever he goes will give him a bad time, even impound his craft. But if he
takes care of that minimum, he can dodge almost everything else-no
income tax, no local taxes except when he buys something, nobody tries to
force his kids into public schools, no real estate taxes, no politics-no
violence in the streets. That last is the best part, with the cycle of riots
swinging up again?'
"Then it is possible to 'get away from it all.'"
"Mmm, not quite. No matter how much fish he eats, he has to touch land
occasionally. He can't play Vanderdecken; only a ghost ship can stay at sea
forever, real ones have to be put up on the ways at intervals." Jake
Salomon looked thoughtful. "But it's closer to that antithetical combination of
'peace' and 'freedom' than is possible on land. If it suits one. But, Eunice, I
know what I would do-if I were young."
"What, Jake?"
"Look up there."
"Where, dear? I don't see anything."
"There."
"The Moon?"


                                     316
"Right! Eunice, that's the only place with plenty of room and not too many
people. Our last frontier-but an endless one. Anyone under the cut-off age
should at least try to out-migrate."
"Are you serious, Jacob? Certainly space travel is scientifically interesting
but I've never seen much use in it.
Oh, some 'fallout.' Videosatellites and so forth. New materials. But the
Moon itself?-why, it doesn't even pay its own way."
"Eunice, what use is that baby in your belly?"
"I trust that you are joking, sir. I hope you are."
"Simmer down, Bulgy. Darling, a newborn baby is as useless a thing as one
can imagine. It isn't even pretty-except to its doting parents. It does not pay
its own way and it's unreasonably expensive. It takes twenty to thirty years
for the investment to begin to pay off and in many-no, most-cases it never
does pay off. Because it is much easier to support a child than it is to bring
one up to amount to anything."
"Our baby will amount to something!"
"I feel sure that it will. But look around you; my generalization stands. But,
Eunice, despite these shortcomings, a baby has a unique virtue. It is always
the hope of our race. Its only h6pe."
She smiled. "Jacob, you're an exasperating man."
"I try to be, dear; it's good for your metabolism. Now look back up at the
sky. That's a newborn baby, too. The best hope of our race; if that baby
lives, the human race lives. If we let it die-and it is vulnerable for a few more
years-the race dies, too. Oh, I don't mean H-bombs. We're faced with far
greater dangers than H-bombs. We've reached an impasse; we can't go on
the way we're headed-and we can't go back-and we're dying in our own
poisons. That's why that little Lunar colony has got to survive. Because we
can't. It isn't the threat of war, or crime in the streets, or corruption in high
places, or pesticides, or smog, or 'education' that doesn't teach; those
things are just symptoms of the underlying cancer. It's too many people.
Not too many souls, or honks, or thirds-just. . . too many. Seven billion
people, sitting in each other's laps, trying to take in each other's washing,
pick each other's pockets. Too many. Nothing wrong with the individual in
most cases-but collectively we're the Kilkenny Cats, unable to do anything
but starve and fight and eat each other. Too many. So anyone who can
ought to go to the Moon as fast as he can manage it."
"Jacob, in all the years I've known you I've never heard you talk this way."
"Why talk about a dream that has passed one by?
Eunice-Eunice-Johann, I mean-I was born twenty-five years later than you
were. I grew up believing in space travel. Perhaps you did not?"
"No, I didn't, lake. When it came along, it struck me as interesting-but
slightly presposterous."
                                      317
"Whereas I was born enough later that it seemed as natural to me as
automobiles. The big rockets were no surprise to my generation; we cut our
teeth on Buck Rogers. Nevertheless I was born too soon. When Armstrong
and Aldrin landed on Luna, I was pushing forty. When out-migration started,
with a cut-off age of forty, I was too old; when they eased it to forty-five,
again I was too old-and when they raised it to fifty, I was much too old. I'm
not kicking, dear; on a frontier every man-jack must pull his weight, and
there is little use for an elderly lawyer."
He smiled down at her, and went on: "But, darling, if you wanted to out-
migrate, I wouldn't try to dissuade you; I'd cheer you on."
"Jake!" (He can't get away from us that easily!) (You're darn tootin' he can't!
I'll fix him.) "Jake my own and only, you can't get away from me that easily."
"Eunice, I am serious. I could die happy if I knew our baby was to be born
on the Moon."
She sighed. "Jacob, I promised to obey you and I happily do so. But I can't
go to the Moon-as an out-migrant. Because I'm even farther past the cut-off
age than you are-the Supreme Court says so."
"That could be fixed."
"And raise an issue over my identity again? Jacob darling, I don't want to
leave you. But"-she patted her belly and smiled-"if he wants to go to the
Moon, we'll help, at the earliest age they'll take him. All right?"
He smiled and gently patted her slight bulge. "More than all right. Because I
don't want his beautiful mother to go away for any reason. But a father
should never stand in the way of his son."
"You don't. You aren't. You won't. You never would. Jacob Junior goes to
the Moon when he's ready, but not this week. Let's talk about trimarans and
this week. Jake, you know I want to close up our house-I'd sell it but nobody
would buy it other than as land; it's a white elephant: But two things have
bothered me. It has to be left garrisoned, or the Free People will break in
despite all armor, and squat-then someday some judge grants them title on
adverse possession."
Jake said, "Certainly. Historically, that's where all Land titles come from.
Somebody standing on it, defending it, and saying, 'This is mine!' And lately
the courts have been cutting down the period of adverse possession.
Especially in city cores close to Abandoned Areas-and your house is both."
"I know, dear-but I don't want to surrender it to squatters. Darn it, that house
cost me more than nine million, not counting taxes and upkeep. The other
worry is what to do about our in-house staff. I'm sick of being a feudal lord-
erase and correct; lady, now." (Erase and correct.-'tart' now.) (Certainly,
Eunice, but I haven't been too tartish since we got married.) (Not much
opportunity, twin-but you're getting restless. Huh?) (Who is getting restless?
Never mind, twin sister, the day will come. But we won't rub darling Jake's
                                      318
nose in it.) "I can't just let them go; some have been with me twenty-odd
years. But if we buy a yacht-and live in it-I think I have a solution to both
problems."
"So?"
"I think so. It's an idea I got during our wedding. Thinking about that farm."
"Well! Wench, you were supposed to be thinking about me."
"I was, dear. But I seem to be able to think about several things at once,
since my rejuvenation. Better blood supply, possibly." (My help, you mean,
Boss.) (Yes, dear. Same thing.) "Our banquet hall, dressed as a chapel,
looked more like a church than it has ever looked like a place to eat. So
here's my notion. Give our house to Shorty. Give it to his church in a trust
setup, with Alec, maybe, as a trustee, and also Judge Mac if he'll do it.
Arrange the trust for perpetual maintenance, with ample funds and a good
salary for Hugo as pastor. Is this practical?"
"No difficulty, Eunice, if you really want to unload the house-"
"I do. If you consent."
"It's your house, dear, and I decided a long time ago that being a
householder in a big city was more headache than pleasure. We could still
keep my little house in Safe Harbor-no fear of squatters-if you want a pied-
a-terre. We won't do it quite as you described it but you can give your
house to Shorty if you wish to. I'll get Alec to work out a plan. But I wonder if
Shorty can cope with it? Squatters might still move in on him-or rioters
break in and wreck the place."
"Oh. That fits in with the other half-of my idea: What to do about our too-
faithful retainers. Offer any with twenty years or close to it retirement at full
pay. Encourage the in-house guards and maintenance men to work for the
trust, same pay-because you're right; if we hand an illit a place like that,
with no one to keep him straight, he'll soon have a shell, not a church.
Father Hugo is the best bodyguard I've ever seen. . . but he's a child of God
and unsophisticated about management. He needs a practical, cynical man
as his in-house steward. Cunningham. Or O'Neil. Or Mentone.
Alec can work it out. Jake, I want to hand over to Shorty a complete plant,
subsidized and maintained, so that he can put his mind solely on preaching
and praying and soul-saving. I think you know why." (I think I know why,
Boss-but any of the four would have killed that mugger.)
(We've managed to thank the other three, beloved-and will go on thanking
them. Father Hugo is a special case.)
"Eunice, do you really think Hugo saves souls?"
"I haven't the slightest idea, Jacob; I don't know Who is in charge of this
world. Even if what Hugo does has no more real meaning than our 'prayer
meetings,' it's still worthwhile. Darling, this is a screwed-up world. Back in
the days of the Model-T Ford the United States was a fine country,
                                      319
brimming with hope. But today the best thing most young people can do is
stay home, sit still, not get involved, and chant Om Mani Padme Hum-and it
is the best thing most of them are capable of doing, the world being what it
is now; it's far better than dropping out or turning on with drugs. When
meditation and a meaningless prayer are better than most action open to
them, then what Hugo has to offer is good in the same way. Even if his
theology is a hundred percent wrong. But I don't think Father Hugo is any
more mistaken than the most learned theologian and he might be closer to
the truth. Jacob, I don't think anyone knows Who's in charge."
"Just wondered, my dear. Sometimes pregnant women get taken with
fancies."
"I'm pregnant down here, dearest; up here is still old Johann. Protects me
somewhat, I think." (Oh, you think so, huh? Boss, if you didn't have me to
keep you straight, you'd be as filled with vapors as a cat trying to have
kittens in a wastebasket! Remember, I've been through this before.) (I know
you have, darling, and that's why I'm not afraid-otherwise I'd be scared
silly.) (No worse than having a tooth drilled, Boss; we're built for this.
Roomy.) "Jake, did I ever tell you about the time I went into politics?"
"Didn't know you ever had and can't imagine it, Eunice."
"Imagine it for 'Johann,' not for 'Eunice.' Forty years back I let them
persuade me that it was my 'duty.' I was easy to persuade-but I realize now
that my attraction to the Party was that I could pay for my campaign in a
district they were going to lose anyhow. But I learned things, Jake. Learned
that being a businessman has nothing to do with being a politician and even
less to do with being a statesman. They clobbered me, Jake!-and I've never
been tempted to save the world since. Maybe someone can save this
addled planet but I don't know how and now I know that I don't know. That's
something even if it isn't much. Jake, I could worry about Smith Enterprises
when I was running it I can worry now about sixty-odd people and make
sure they're each all right insofar as money can insure it. But no one can
solve things for seven billion people; they won't let you. You go nutty with
frustration if you try. Nor can you do much for three hundred million, not
when the real problem-as you pointed out-is the very fact that there are
three hundred million of them. I can't see any solution short of compulsory
sterilization-and the solution strikes me as worse than the disease.
Licensing without sterilization hasn't solved it."
Her husband shook his head. "And won't, Eunice. Licensing is a joke; it has
more loopholes than the tax laws. Compulsory methods inevitably involve
political tests-no, thanks, I prefer the Four Horsemen. And the only effect
that voluntary contraception has ever had has been to change the ratio,
unfavorably, between the productive and the parasites; the population
climbs anyhow. If we were as hard-boiled about weeding the culls as China
                                    320
is, it might not work that way. But we aren't, we never have been-and I'm
not sure I'd like it if we were."
"Then there isn't any solution."
"Oh, there is, I mentioned it. The Four Horsemen. They never sleep, they're
never off duty. And there." He pointed at the Moon. "Eunice, I suspect that
our race's tragedy has been played endless times. It may be that an
intelligent race has to expand right up to its disaster point to achieve what is
needed to break out of its planet and reach for the stars. It may always-or
almost always-be a photo finish, with the outcome uncertain to the last
moment, just as it is with us. It may take endless wars and unbearable
population pressure to force-feed a technology to the point where it can
cope with space. In the universe, space travel may be the normal birth
pangs of an otherwise dying race. A test. Some races pass, some fail."
She shivered. "Gruesome."
"Yes. And no way to talk to a gal in what used to be called a 'delicate
condition.' Sorry, darling."
"A gruesome thought at any time, Jake. I'm not in a 'delicate condition.' I'm
doing what this body is designed for. Building a baby. Feels good. Fm
enjoying it."
"So it appears and that makes me happy. But, Eunice, before you shut
down your house and move into a yacht, I must mention one thing. I think
you must put it off until you've had this baby."
"Why, Jake? No morning sickness. I doubt if seasickness will be a
problem."
"Because you are in a delicate condition, no matter how good it feels. I'd
feel happier if you were never more than five minutes from medical
attention. You'd be okay at home; Bob and Winnie are there. You're okay
here-a hotel resident physician and a good one-believe me, I checked on
him-and a modern hospital over there, in sight. But at sea? Suppose you
had a seven-month preemie? We'd lose the baby and probably you, too.
No, Eunice."
"Oh." (Eunice, any point in telling him that you carried your first one full term
and no trouble?) (No, twin. How are you going to prove it? If you mention
me now, you're just a female with pregnancy delusions. Boss, this is one
argument you're going to lose. So concede it at once. Fall back and find
another route.) "Jacob, I can't argue. I lost my first wife with her first baby; I
know it can happen. But what would you think of this? Could you persuade
Roberto and Winnie to come with us? Then not go very far to sea. If we
were anchored where that trimaran is, that hospital could be just as close...
and Roberto would be aboard. This hotel physician must be all right as you
have checked on him but I would rather have Roberto. He knows me inside
and out. And never mind wisecracks; I mean as my physician. Or does the
                                       321
fact that you know that Roberto has slept with me make him unacceptable
to you as my O.B. man?" (Whew! Twin, that was a foul blow.) (Oh, pooh,
Eunice, I'm just confusing the issue.)
Jake Salomon cocked one eyebrow and grinned down at her. "Little one,
you can't embarrass me that easily. If Bob is the baby-cotcher you want, I'll
do my best to persuade him. . . as long as you don't mind Bob's wife being
around."
"Pooh to you, sir. If you and Winnie want to stroll down memory's lane, I'll
tuck you in and kiss you good-night. She's certain to console you while I'm
benched-and you'll need it."
"Thereby giving you carte blanche later. A woman almost always falls in
love with the doctor who delivers her
first baby."
"Pooh again. I've loved Roberto a long time and you know it. Are you
jealous, Jacob?"
"No. Just curious. I suppose that injunction you laid on me on our wedding
day still applies? It occurs to me that, with respect to the day you
mentioned, Bob had opportunity before, during, and after."
"Is that all it takes, dear? Just opportunity?" (Just about, twin!) She grinned
at him and wrinkled her nose. "Sweetheart, all I will admit is the possibility
that Roberto's name might be in the hat. But it could have been Finchley.
Or Hubert. Or dear Judge Mac. You and Alec were awfully busy that day-
but I think you'll find that Mac adjourned court at his usual hour...and I
wasn't home until much later."
"Is that a confession?"
"Well, there might be a confession in there somewhere."
"Quit pulling my leg, my love. There are only two sorts of wives. Those who
cheat, and those who have their husbands' friendly cooperation, in which
case-"
"Isn't there a third sort?"
"Eh? Oh, you mean faithful wives. Oh, certainly. So I've heard. But in my
twenty years of general practice, much of it divorce cases, I encountered so
few of that sort-none I felt certain about-that I cannot venture an opinion.
Wives technically faithful form so small a part of the sample that I can't
evaluate them. People being what they are, a rational man should be
satisfied if his meals are on time and his dignity not affronted. What I was
trying to say is, that if you ever want my friendly cooperation, don't assault
my credibility with a wet firecracker such as Hubert. Judge Mac I could
believe. Tom Finchley is a very masculine person too, and one who bathes
regularly-even though he sometimes abuses the sacred English tongue in a
manner which causes me to flinch. Bob Garcia shows your good taste. But,
please, darling, don't expect me to believe that Hubert's name could be in
                                      322
the hat." (Twin, Jake knows us too well. Better not try to fool him too much.)
(Ever hear of a 'red herring,' love?)
"Very well, sir; I'll take Hubert's name out of the hat. That still leaves
endless possibilities, does it not? And I will try always to respect your
dignity. But, speaking of meals on time, I had better get busy or your dinner
will be late."
"Why not just cold cuts and such when we feel like it and heat a tin of soup?
I was thinking of a nap."
"Shall I join you, sir?"
"I said 'nap,' sweetheart. Sleep. A nap with you is not restful. Old Señor
Jacob needs-a Siesta."
"Yes, sir. May 1 finish quickly what I was saying? We can take care of
anyone who wants to retire, or wants another job, or wishes to stay on with
Hugo. But I am hoping that some of them might come with us as crew in our
trimaran or whatever. Especially if they've been to sea before and know
something about it."
"Finchley does. He was sent up for smuggling or some such."
"I was hoping that all of my mobiles except Hugo-and Rockford, if you want
him-might decide to sail with us. They are all strong and able, and not much
family problem. Fred's wife split some months back, Dabrowski has no
children at home, and Olga might be willing to be a chambermaid-
stewardess, I should say-if she likes to sail; she's insisted on doing most of
the cleaning and such here even though she doesn't have to. As for the
Finchleys, Tom is just what we need-It wasn't smuggling drugs; they were
running arms into Central America as I recall, and he was first mate-and
Hester Finchley is a good cook. Eve is no problem, she already knows how
to read and write and do arithmetic-and if they tell her about this, she'll be
teasing her parents to take the job; all kids want to travel. Dear? If you are
going in, would you see who's on guard at the lift, and ask him to dig out
Finchley? He may know something about trimarans."
"I think he has the watch now. Shall I chuck you a robe?"
"Am I getting too much sun? Doesn't feel so; I've been using the lotion. Oh!
You mean for Thomas the Tom Cat? But, dear, we've been swimming with
him and his family every day. As well as with Fred and the Dabrowskis."
"I don't give a hoot, dear, but I thought you were anxious to preserve
appearances."
"Seems silly when I swim and sunbathe with all of them. As for
appearances, didn't I see you patting Hester's bottom in the pool
yesterday? Or was it Wednesday?"
"It was Tuesday and it wasn't Hester, it was her daughter Eve. Just
practicing to be a sex maniac, Beautiful-nothing serious. So don't be
jealous."
                                     323
"Beloved, the day I'm jealous of a little girl I want you to beat me. Not spank
me. Beat some sense into me, woodshed style. But it was Hester, not her
daughter. My gallant, wonderful Jacob would never bother a little- girl."
"Perhaps not but that little girl bothers the hell out of me. Furthermore she
does it on purpose."
"Poor Jake. Even thirteen-year-olds won't leave him alone. I'm not
surprised; I didn't leave him alone, either."
"In this case, she's thirteen-going-on-twenty-one. I'll make you a deal,
dearest. I'll carefully avoid chaperoning you with her father if you will be
very careful always to chaperon me with his daughter."
"Yes, sir. To hear is to obey, my lord-though I am chagrined that you think I
might need chaperoning-or not chaperoning, as the case may be-with one
of our servants. But how about Hester? Must I always be sure to be in sight
when she's around?"
"Mind your own business, wench. Uh, no need to be fanatical about it. I
want them all to feel easy when they come up here to swim as I don't want
any of our household ever to swim in that sewage down there. You know
the coliform count in that beautiful surf. That was the deal we offered-stay
off the beaches entirely and they could swim in our pool at any time. So we
sacrifice a little privacy but don't have one of them picking up amebiasis or
such and spreading it through our whole family. It evens out-and they are all
nice people...even our precocious Eve who's doing her best to see if she
can upset me."
"I haven't minded, Jacob; it is not good to be too much alone. But we were
speaking of Hester's bottom. Shapely, huh?"
"Hon, you're as bad as Eve. I'm going to go and say ten Money Hums and
catch that siesta. I'll send out Tom. Don't let me sleep more than an hour.
Kiss."
She turned her face up. As he left she dived in, swam a couple of lengths
and climbed out, was waiting, staring down at the yacht harbor when
Finchley arrived. "You sent for me, Ma'am?"
She smiled. "Thomas Cattus, that's not my name when we're alone."
He glanced over his shoulder, said almost soundlessly, "Pussy Cat, the
Boss is awake."
"So he is. But he's gone to his room and closed the door. Siesta. He'll be
asleep in almost no time. But I don't mean to scare you, Thomas Cattus
dear. Come here to the rail, want to show you something. Have you done
any sailing? Or has it all been power?"
"Sailing? Oh, sure, I grew up on Chesapeake Bay. Cat boats and such."
"Ever sail a trimaran?"
"Never skippered one. Crewed in one when I was sixteen."
"What do you think of them?"
                                      324
"Depends on what for. Okay if you want something more like a houseboat
than a racer. But I wouldn't have one without an auxiliary engine. In tight
waters they can be as awkward as two people in a bathtub."
"Ever try it in a bathtub, Thomas Cattus?'
"Sure, who hasn't? Okay for a giggle with a few drinks aboard. But a bed is
better. Or a floor."
"How about a sunbathing mat?"
"Pussy Cat, you enjoy scaring me. You gonna get us caught, yet."
"Rhetorical question, dear; I wasn't twisting your arm. Tell me, do you think
Hester and Jake have ever made it?"
"Practically certain they never." He grinned at her. "But I can tell you
something."
"Then do. Pretty please. Pretty Tom Cat with the muscles."
"Not Hester's fault they haven't. I know. She told me bang, one night, while
we were at it. Said the Boss could have it any time he reached for it. Hester
thinks the Boss is God's right hand."
"Well, so do I. But it doesn't keep me from appreciating my Thomas Cat.
How would you feel about it? Jake and Hester."
"Me?" He looked astonished. "Look, Pussy Cat, you 'know if anybody does I
don't see no sense in putting a fence around a broad. Just makes her want
to jump it. I'd ruther hold open the gate for her, she wants to."
"I said, 'How would you feel about it, dear?'"
"Oh." Her driver-guard looked thoughtful. "Wouldn't get my nose out of joint.
The Boss is numero uno, da kine. Rozzer?"
"Roz."
"He knocked up a broad, he'd pay. No huhu. But no huhu anyhow; we were
only licensed for one and Hester had herself fixed, right after she had Eve.
Good broad I married-didn't split when I dropped one, took me back when I
was paroled. Oh, she shacked, sure-but just with her boss, she worked.
Didn't peddle it. Or kept it to herself, didn't tell me. Hester and the Boss?
Sure, if they want to. Told her so, bang. Have fun, I told her."
"Mmm...Thomas Cattus, let's give them a chance. Or six chances. Might be
insurance for us, later."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Smart thinking, Pussy Cat. But how? And would
he? The Boss?"
"I feel sure he would if he knew it was safe. Private, I mean; Jake has
courage under fire, just as you have, dear.
Main problem is to get Eve out from underfoot. Mmm... you could take me
shopping or such and I could ask Hester to get Mr. Salomon's lunch. . . then
as an afterthought I could invite Eve to come with me. Hmm?"
"With either Fred or Ski up here? No good, Pussy Cat."

                                     325
"All it needs is a time when you have the guard. Jake won't send for your
relief; at most he'll lock open the lift door. He doesn't worry about him, he
worries about guarding me."
"Mmm. . . roz. Could work if he wants it. You're filling out, Pussy Cat. Tits
prettier than ever."
"Joe says a woman gets prettier as she bigs out. But I don't think many men
think so."
"Hester looked awful cute, clear up to the last minute. And on you it looks
good, too. Uh. . . you're sure the Boss is asleep?"
"Certain enough that I'm willing to risk it. But I don't mean to scare you,
dear. Want to wait and see how our plans for Jake and Hester work out?"
"Uh...oh, hell, we might all be dead by then."
"Right here?"
"Uh, copter might cruise by."
"Let's go into the lanai."


27


Harvard University Corporation voted to withhold all funds until the Student
Government selected a new university president. Both of the rival student
governments and the faculty senate sought court relief from this "reckless
and irresponsible action." CONS BEST COPS SEZ FUZZ PREZ-the
General Secretary of the Private Police, Guards, and Security Drivers (AFL)
at its annual banquet congratulated Milwaukee on joining the growing list of
municipalities that had abolished the "clean record" rule in hiring peace
officers. "The outstanding success of parolees and probationers as licensed
private security officers is finally teaching the politicians to 'hunt ducks
where the ducks are.' The Bible says 'To catch a thief you set a thief,' don't
it? Who knows more about hoods than a hood? Give a man incentives to
keep his nose clean and put him on work he understands and you can
count on him in the crunch. My Mom kept telling me that when I was just a
punk knockin' over candy stores. Besides, like the Sec'etary of the Treasury
told us earlier tonight, 'Look what it's done for the economy!' In this great
republic-"
"Today's Day" newscast interviewed a midwife who claimed to have
delivered Miss Molly Maguire of child ten days before her sensational two-
nation sky dive. The sensie star promptly sued newcaster, station, and
videonet.

EQUAL RIGHTS FOR WOMEN!!!
                                     326
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The Lunar Commission made permanent its trial policy of screening out-
migration solely on physical and mental examination with no percentage
points either plus or minus from past record. The Director said: "In a new
world a man must start with a clean slate. No other policy is practical."
Under sharp questioning he admitted that contributions for unsubsidized
vocations remained unchanged but insisted that this was a fiscal matter
controlled by the condominium governments and in no way affected the
basic principle.
HOT WORDS IN CAP-PUN DEBATE: "'-does not deter!' So he tells us. Is
the Senator from the great State of Puerto Rico aware that our major
problem is recidivism? Can the Senator cite one case in which a killer
committed still another murder after he was executed?"

"Whee! Joe, see how she runs before the wind!"
"Swell."
"Gets me clear down in my gizzard," Joan Eunice said happily. "Let's go aft.
Winnie's got the wheel and be sure to be impressed; she's proud as can be
that Tom has let her go on the watch list. She's a natural sailor, salt water in
her veins. Gigi, what's the matter, dear? You aren't smiling. Feeling
queasy?"
"A little, maybe."
"I must admit that the 'Pussy Cat' does have a rocking-horse motion when
she's running free. Love it myself but some don't. Never mind, dear; Doctor
Roberto has a surefire pill for tipsy tummy. I'll fetch you one and in five
minutes the motion won't bother you and you'll be hungry as a horse."
"I don't take pills, Joan. I'm all right."
 "You aren't all right and when we go below you won't want lunch and
Hester told me she was fixing something special in your honor. Look,
darling, Roberto feeds these pills to Winnie-one before breakfast every day
and he had her on them for morning sickness before they came aboard.
He's a careful doctor, hon; he wouldn't give them to his own wife if they
could hurt. Nobody ever gets a pill of any sort in the 'Pussy Cat' unless our
ship's surgeon dispenses it. Pretty please? Huh?"
"Gigi."
"Yes, Joe."
"Take pill."
                                      327
"Yes, Joe. Thanks, Joan, I do feel fluttery. I guess you think I'm silly but I've
seen so many kids hooked on pills I'm scared of 'em."
"I don't like pills but I take 'em when Doctor Roberto says to. He's got me on
supplements right now for this little monster inside me. You stay up here in
the breeze, dear, while I find Roberto."

"'Sailing, sailing, over the bounding main!' "Mr. Jacob Salomon bellowed, as
he swung up into the control console.
"Morning. Ski."
"Good morning, Captain. On port tack with basic course one five-"
"I see what it is. Beat it down below and get your breakfast." Salomon slid
into the saddle and glanced at the compass as he took the wheel. "We
didn't leave you anything but you can scrounge ship's biscuit out of the
lifeboat."
"Hester won't let me starve, sir."
"Nor Olga. Now beat it." Jake eyed his sails, decided he could point a touch
higher, reached out with his right hand to the running rigging controls, kept
tapping a switch to shorten his main sheet, his eye on her mainsail, while
he handled the wheel by touch till he had her settled down on a lighter tack.
Then he adjusted his jibe and relaxed.
"Good morning, Captain."
"Tom, save that for witnesses. It's all very well for Mrs. Salomon to want me
dubbed with an honorary title but we all know who's the sailing master by
our ship's papers. You're skipper and have the responsibility; I'm just the
owner and unlicensed first mate. Eunice ought not to do it-but we have to
cater to the little darlings. Speaking of little darlings, how are your two this
fine morning? Didn't see Eve at breakfast."
"She ate before you got up, sir. Seen her and told her she's goin' to have to
wear pants from now on, except in the pool or near it."
"Don't see why she should, the other gals don't unless it happens to suit
them. I just don't want her swarming into my lap, naked as an eel and twice
as lively. Gives me delusions of youth."
"I'll clamp down on her, sir."
"Tom, I don't want the child 'clamped down on.' I want everybody to enjoy
this cruise-one big happy family. Ask Hester to tell her quietly that old Uncle
Jake loves her but doesn't like to be pawed. A lie, that last, but an official
lie. Speaking of the pool, how's the filter?"
"Filter's okay, was just a clog in makeup feed line. Kelp. No huhu."
"Has the surgeon tested the water?"
"Safe."
"That's good. Tom, when I was a kid, striking for quartermaster third, we
used to swim off the boat booms and thought nothing of it. But today even
                                      328
the Pacific Ocean can't soak up all the crud they dump into it. You can put
swimming call on the bull horn and take the Skull-and-Crossbones sign off
the pool."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Half a second while I make eight bells." Jake reached out with his left
hand, picked the last touchplate of a row of eight; the quadruple double
Bong! marking the beginning of the forenoon watch rang through the
vessel. He then picked still another touchplate and sounded swimming call
himself. "Tom, if a man didn't have to eat or sleep, he could sail this wagon
around the world by himself. Three men could do it easily. Even two."
"Maybe."
"You sound doubtful, Tom."
"Even one man could, sir-if nothin' never went wrong. Something always
does."
"I stand corrected. And with two pregnant women aboard-three if you don't
keep a close eye on Eve-"
"Oh, Dr. Garcia got her on the junior pill. I don't take no chances, sir."
"So? Tom, my respect for you-high-has just increased. She's safe from her
Uncle Jacob. . . but I make no promises about any other male in this
bucket. There is something in salt air that hikes up the metabolism. And
there is much truth in the old saw about 'when they're big enough, they're
old enough and nothing can be done about it.' Better to roll with the punch."
"She is and she has and we did-I had this here talk with the Doc. Hester
and me don't expect no more from Eve different than we did ourselves.
Anybody knows when a broad starts getting broad she's goin' to land on her
back."
"Yes, everybody knows it-yet most parents don't believe it when it comes to
their own kids. I know, I had a family law practice for years. Tom, you're
such an all-around sensible man I'm surprised that you ever got in trouble."
His sailing master shrugged. "Comes o' believing what I was told, sir. 'M
chief officer of this rust bucket and Captain says keep my lip tight and see
nothin' and we make ten times as much on one voyage. All fixed. Only he
got smart and hung onto the bribe money hisself. Thought he could run it in
the dark. You'da thought he'd never heard of radar. Wham. Coast Guard."
Finchley shrugged again. "No complaints, sir, I was a fool. But two years
and four months and I get this much better job driving for Mr. Smith-as-was.
Smellin' like a rose. Not so trusting now, is all. Don't trust too much, you
don't get your ass burned."
"Yet you don't seem cynical. Tom, I think the major problem in growing up is
to become sophisticated without becoming cynical."
"That's over my head, Counselor. I just think people are okay, mostly-even
that silly skipper-if you don't strain 'em more than they're built for. Like that
                                      329
piece of standing rigging there. Rated three tons. Pro'ly take five and no
trouble. Don't put six tons on it."
"We've said the same thing, I think, but your illustration is vivid. Beat it,
Tom. If there's no work to be done, grab sack time. Or pool time."
"Yes, sir. I want to inspect the starboard hull; it's making extra water. Pump
can handle it but I want to know why." He touched his cap and swung down
off the platform.
Jake cocked his own cap against the sun, relaxed and started to sing:
"'A sailor's wife a sailor's star shall be!
"'Yo ho, we go, across the sea!
"'A sailor's wife a sailor's star shall be,
 "'A sailor's wife his star. . . shall be!"
His wife climbed up behind him and kissed the back of his neck. "Is that for
me, dear? Or for 'Nancy Lee'?"
"Always for you, my darling. Besides, I can't remember the part with 'Nancy
Lee' in it."
"I wonder if you ever remember a girl's name. You call all of us 'darling.'
"Merely because it's true. But you are the only one I call 'my darling.' And I
do remember your name-it's 'Salomon.'"
"Jacob, you must have been a prime menace when you were a bluejacket.
With that Hebrew blarney you could talk your way into anything. Then out of
it, with no trouble."
"No, Ma'am, I was a sweet, innocent lad. I simply followed the ancient code
of the sea: 'When the hook's up, all bills are paid.'
"Leaving little Jewish bastards behind in every port...and thereby improving
the breed. How about Gigi? Going to improve the breed there?" She dug
her thumb into a spot over his hip where his slight pot bulged out from
sitting. "Some dish, eh, keed?"
"Madam," he said haughtily, "I do not know what you are talking about."
"'Tell that to the Marines, the old sailors won't believe you.' Jacob my love, I
feel certain that you know the second Mrs. Branca almost as well as you
knew the first. But I have no wish to prove it; I simply offer my
congratulations. Gigi is a darling, I love her to pieces. I was not throwing
asparagas." (Tell him she squeals, twin.) (I will not!)
"Woman, you get your exercise jumping at conclusions."
(Then tell him it happened where Troy Avenue crosses Gay Street, near the
Square-a neighborhood you know well, twin.) (Eunice, I want Jacob to feel
easy about such things-I am not trying to harpoon him.) (You aren't
equipped to, Joan; Jake is the original Captain Ahab.) (Eunice, you have a
dirty mind.) (Whose mind? I don't have one. Don't need one.)
Mrs. Salomon dropped the subject, opened her sextant case, took it out.
"Will you give me a time tick, darling?"
                                      330
"Are you going to shoot the defenseless Sun?"
"I'm going to do better than a Sun sight, dearest. The Sun, the upper limb of
the Moon, and-if I'm lucky and can spot it again-Venus, for a three-star fix.
Want to bet on how small a triangle I get?"
"Even money on fifty miles for the short side."
"Beast. Brute. Cad. And me an expectant mother. I was more than ten
times that close yesterday evening; I'm getting the hang of it. I could cheat-I
could get a point fix by querying Point Loma, then fudge it on the chart."
"Eunice, why this passion to emulate Bowditch? One would think that radio
and satellites and the like had never been invented."
"It's fun, darling. I'm going to hit that nay exam for a flat four-oh and get my
limited license. After I've unloaded this pup in the hopper and we no longer
have to stick to coastal water, I'm going to do a 'Day's Work' every day all
the way to Hawaii. Betcha I make landfall at Hilo under three miles. Oh, it's
not necessary, dear-but what if it turned out to be? Suppose war broke out
and everything went silent? Might help to have a celestial navigator aboard.
Tom admits that he's hardly taken a sight since he got his mate's ticket."
"If he ever took one. Yes, it could be useful, my darling because if war
broke out in earnest and we were at sea, we would not go on to Hilo. We
would make a sharp left turn and go south and get lost. The Marquesas. Or
farther south, the farther the better. That way our kid might live through it.
Easter lsland if you think you can hit it."
"Jacob, by then I'll split it right down the middle. Or any island you pick.
Sweetheart, I wasn't playing games when I asked for the whole old-
fashioned works-all the charts, all the pilots, three key-wind chronometers
and a hack, this lovely sextant and a twin like it in case I drop this one . .and
please note that I always put the lanyard around my neck. All the H.O.s and
the Almanac. I'm no use as a deckhand now-so I decided to beconie a real
navigator. Just in case, just in case."
"Minm. My darling, I hope we never have to run for it, but have you noticed
that I keep this vessel fully stocked at all times even though we anchor
almost every night and can shop for supplies any time we wish?"
"I've noticed, sir."
"Nor is it an accident that I gave Doctor Bob an unlimited budget and saw to
it that he equipped for any conceivable obstetrical problem."
"I did not notice that, quite."
"You weren't meant to, nor was Winnie-no need to give you gals something
to worry about. But since you have been doing the same sort of planning
ahead, I decided to tell you. Bob used the time the 'Pussy Cat' was being
refitted in taking a refresher in O.B. And he spent twenty times more money
on our sick bay than one would expect for a seagoing yacht."

                                      331
"I'm pleased to hear it, sir. With such foresight, money can do almost
anything. Except turn back the clock."
"It even did that in your case, beloved."
"No, Jacob. It gave me added years . . . and a wonderful body. . . and you.
But it did not turn back the clock. I'm still almost a century old. I can never
feel young the way I once did-because I'm not. Not the way Winnie is
young. Or Gigi. Jacob, I have learned that I don't want be young."
"Eh? Are you unhappy, dear?"
"Not at all! I have the best of two worlds. A youthful, vital body that makes
every breath a sensuous joy...a century of rich experience, with the
wisdom-if that is the right word-that age brings. The calmness. The long
perspective. Winnie and Gigi still suffer the storms of youth, which I don't
have and don't want. I've forgotten the last time I had a tranquilizer but I
think it was the day they unstrapped me. Jacob, I'm a better wife for you
than either of those two lovely girls could be; I'm older than you are, I've
been where you are now and understand it. I'm not boasting, dear; it's
simply true. Nor would I be happy married to a young man-I'd have to
spend my time trying desperately not to upset his delicate, youthful,
unstable balance. We're good for each other, Jacob."
"I know that you are good for me, my darling."
"I know I am. But sometimes you have trouble remembering that I am not
truly 'Eunice,' but 'Johann.'" (Hey! What is this, Boss? We're both.) (Yes,
beloved, always-but Jake needs to be reminded of Johann- because all he
ever sees is Eunice.) "For example, Jacob, a while ago you thought I was
twitting you about Gigi."
"'Thought,' hell-you were."
"No, dear. Close your eyes and forget that I have Eunice's voice. Think
back at least ten years when I was still in passable health. If your older
friend Johann had twigged that you had kicked the feet out from under
some young and pretty woman, would he have twitted you?"
"Huh? Hell, yes. Johann would have slipped me the needle and broken it
off."
"Would I have, Jacob? Did I ever?"
"You never caught me."
"So? I might have congratulated you, Jacob, just as I did today-had I felt
that I could do so without offending you. But I would not have twitted 'you.
Do you recall a young woman whose first name was-or is-Marian? Last
name had the initial 'H'-your pet name for her, 'Maid Marian.'"
"How in the hell?"
"Steady, darling-you let your helm fall off. That was sixteen years ago, just
before I asked you to spend all your time on my affairs. So I ordered a fresh
snoopsheet on you before I put the deal up to you. May I say that the fact
                                      332
that you had dealt so carefully with her reputation was a strong factor in my
deciding that I could trust you with anything, too?-including my power of
attorney, which you have held ever since and never abused. May I add, too,
that I wanted to congratulate you on both your good taste and your success
as a Lothario?-for of course I then had to have her snooped, too, and her
husband as welt, before I could entrust my grisly secrets to you. But-also of
course-I could not say a word."
"1 didn't think any part of that ever showed."
"Please, Jacob. Do you recall that you once told Eunice that you could hire
a man to photograph her in her own bath-and she would never know it? As
we've noted, money can do almost anything that is physically possible. Part
of that snoop report was a photograph of you and Marian in what you
lawyers call a 'compromising position.'
"Good God! What did you do with it?"
"Burned it. Hated to; it was a good picture and Marian looked awfully pretty-
and you looked all right yourself, you lovable old goat. Then I sent for the
head of the snoop firm and told him I wanted the negative and all prints now
and no nonsense-and if it ever turned out that even one print had escaped
me, I would break him. Get his license, bankrupt him, put him in jail. Were
you or Marian ever embarrassed by such a picture? Blackmail, or
anything?"
"No. Not me-and I'm morally certain she wasn't, either."
"I guess he believed me. Jacob, do you still think I was twitting you about
Gigi? Or was I congratulating you?"
"Uh . . . maybe neither. Maybe trying to wring a confession out of me. It's no
go, wench."
"Please, Jacob. Stipulating that I was mistaken but sincere-which was it?
Now that you know how I behaved about Marian."
"Eunice-Johann! You should have been a lawyer. Subject to that stipulation,
I concede that it must have been a sincere congratulation. But one I can't
accept, I haven't earned it. Now, damn it, tell me how you came by this
delusion."
"Yes, dear. But not this minute; there comes Gigi herself." Joan put her
sextant back into its box. "Sights will have to wait anyhow; this reach has
taken us in so close I've lost my horizon for the Sun. Hi, Gigi, you pretty,
pretty thing! Give us a kiss. Just me, Jake is on watch;"
 "I'm not all that busy. Eunice, hold the wheel." He accepted a kiss while still
seated, then took the helm back from his wife.
Joan said, "Been swimming, dear?"
"Uh, yes. Joan Eunice, could I see you a minute? Mr. Salomon, would you
excuse us?"
"Not by that moniker I won't; you'll have to call me 'Jake.'
                                      333
"Stuff it, dear," his wife said cheerfully. "She wants a hen conference. Come
along, dear. Captain, try to keep us afloat."
They found a spot in the lee of the lifeboat. "Got troubles, dear?" (Eunice,
are we about to have a beef over Jake? Surely not!) (Can't be, twin. That
affair started over two weeks ago . . . and both Gigi and Joe were relaxed
about it from scratch. Which means just what we thought: It actually is a
return engagement-and Jake lied to protect a lady's reputation.
Predictable.)
"Well, sort of," admitted Mrs. Branca. "Uh, might as well say it bang. Next
time you anchor and send a boat in
Joe and I want off."
"Oh, dear! What's wrong, Gigi? I did so hope you would stay at least the
month we talked about-then as much longer as you wished."
"Well . . . we did expect to. But I got this seasickness problem and Joe-well,
he has done some painting but... the light's not right; it's too bright and. . ."
She trailed off. (Twin, those are excuses.) (Jake?) (Can't be, I tell you.
You've got to make her come clean.)
"Gigi."
"Yes, Joan?"
"Look at me. You haven't missed a meal since Roberto put you on the
seasick pill. If Joe prefers floodlights to sunlight, we'll clear out the dining
saloon and it can be his studio. Put your arms around me and tell me what's
really wrong."
"Uh-Joan, the ocean's just too darn big!" Gigi blinked tears and said, "I
guess you think I'm a baby."
"No. It's big. Biggest ocean in the world. Some people don't like oceans. I
do. That doesn't mean you have to."
"Well, I thought I would like it. I mean, you hear about it. What a wonderful
thing it is to make an ocean trip. But it scares me. Uh, it scares Joe, too; he
just doesn't say so. Joan Eunice, you've been awful good to us-but this isn't
our scene. Joe and I, we aren't fish-we're alley cats. Always lived in cities.
It's too quiet here. Especially at night. At night the quiet is so loud it wakes
me up."
Joan kissed her. "All right, darling. I knew you weren't having quite the
happy time I wanted you to have. Didn't know why. I'll have to visit you at
your place-where it's nice for all of us. I don't like the city, it scares me. But I
like it, loads, in your studio-as long as 1 don't have to go outside. But is that
all that's wrong? Has anyone upset you? Or Joe?"
"Oh, no! Everybody's been swell."
"You called Jake 'Mr. Salomon.'"
"That was because I was upset-knowing I had to tell you."

                                        334
"Then you both feel easy with Jake? I know he's impressive, he even
impresses me. Nothing uptight there?"
"Oh, not a bit! Uh; knowing we were walking out on Jake upset us as much
as knowing we were walking out on you."
"Then may Jake and I both come visit you? Stay a few days?" (Will she
duck this, Eunice?) (Why ask me, Boss? You just asked her.)
Mrs. Branca dropped her eyes, then looked up and said bluntly, "You mean
a Quartet? All the way?"
"All the way."
"Well, we would, I guess you know that. But how about Jake?"
"Well? How about Jake, Gigi? You tell me."
"Uh, Jake is relaxed with us. But he's a little uptight when you're around,
seems like. Joan Eunice, you caught on. Didn't you? Or you wouldn't have
braced me for a Quartet."
"I caught on, dear. It's all right. No huhu."
"I told Jake I thought you had. He said, Oh, no, impossible, you slept like a
log."
"I do except that I've reached the point in pregnancy where I sometimes get
up to pee. But that wasn't it-Jake could be most anywhere if he's not in bed
and I never check on him. What I spotted wasn't proof. Just that a man has
a way of looking at a woman he's sure of. And vice versa. Nothing anybody
could object to. Just 'not uptight' describes it as well as any. I'm not even
mildly jealous of Jake, it simply pleased me. Knowing how sweet you can
be for a man-remember, I used to be a man-"
"I know. But I don't really believe it."
"I have to believe it and can't ever forget it. Knowing you, I felt smugly
pleased for my husband. Tell me, have you made a Three Circle with Jake?
Money Hum?"
"Oh, yes, always!"
"Next time-at your studio-it will be a Four Circle. Then our Quartet will
harmonize perfectly and no one will ever be uptight again."
"Yes. Yes!"
"In the meantime you're not going to have to put up with this great big scary
ocean even one more night. We won't anchor, I'll have Tom call for a
copter-say for right after lunch. It'll put you down at La Jolla International
and you'll jet straight home-copter pilot will see to things for you and Tom
will have your reservations-and you'll be home and flashing a pack in your
own studio before you can say 'Time Zone.' Feel better?"
"Uh, I feel like a heel but-yes, I do. Oh, golly, Joan, I'm so homesick!"
"You'll be home today. I'm going to find Tom and have him get things
rolling. Then I'll go tell Jake-and tell him why, he'll understand-and relieve
him at the wheel, and tell him he can find you in your stateroom. If you have
                                     335
the nerve of a mouse, little alley cat from the big city, you'll bolt the door
and tell him good-bye properly. Uh-Troy? Or twosome?"
"Oh. Troy. Of course."
"Then find Joe and tell him. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen. But Gigi-that
painting of Eve. I must buy it."
"No, we'll give it to you."
"We settled that long ago. Joe can give me anything else, but not paintings.
I must pay for it because I want it to be a present from me to my husband.
Now kiss me and run, dear."

The Pussy Cat with her sails dowsed rocked gently on a light sea. Fifty feet
above her tallest stick a copter hovered while again lowering a passenger-
freight basket. Tom Finchley stood far aft and coached the copter pilot with
hand signals. Mr. and Mrs. Branca had already disappeared into the copter
cabin, having gone up on the first trip, but their baggage was on the
weather deck, waiting to be loaded.
There was quite a pile. Joan had urged them to fetch along "everything you
could possibly need for a month or longer-for painting especially, as there
will be lots of bodies around-and any of them will model. . . or I'll have them
lashed to a grating and flogged, then make them walk the plank. Joe
darling, you can do big romantic pix if you wish-pirate scenes with lush
victims and leering scoundrels. Fun?"
She had sent the invitation by MercServ with tickets and an air-freight order
and instructions to MercServ to supply a reader for the message. Joe had
taken her literally; he seemed to have cleared out his studio--flood lamps,
spots, easels, a heavy roll of canvas, stretchers, cameras, photo equipment
and supplies, assorted impedimenta-and one bag each for clothes and
personal articles. Seeing what Joe had fetched, Joan was glad that she had
ordered a Brink's to get them to the jetport and was careful today to have
one meet them at the far end.
The basket took up a load of baggage, came back for the last. Fred and
Della's sixteen-year-old, Hank, an eager but untrained deck-hand, were
loading taking turns keeping the basket from spinning while the other
placed items in it.
Soon they had it alt in but one large case, when a gust of wind disturbed the
uneasy balance between copter and surface craft. The basket swung wildly;
Fred let go and danced aside while Hank went fiat to the deck to keep from
being hit by it.
Fred recovered and again braced the basket, now ten feet farther forward.
Joan Eunice grabbed the handle of the last case, then used both hands.
"Whew! I think Joe packed the anchor in this one."

                                     336
Jake yelled, "Eunice! Don't lift that! You want to miscarry?" He grabbed it
from her, started for the basket.
Hank was on his feet again. "Here, Captain, I'll get that!"
"Out of my way, son." Jake trudged to the basket, found it too high, got the
case into his arms, then up onto one shoulder, placed it carefully inside-and
collapsed. Joan rushed to him.
Back aft, Tom Finchley noted when the last item went in, looked up at the
copter's pilot and signaled "Hoist away!" and added the hand signal for
"That's all-on your way!"
Then he looked down-and started to run.
Joan sat down on the deck, took Jake's head and shoulders to her.
"Jake, Jake darling!" (Eunice! Help me!)
Fred said, "I'll get the Doc!" and rushed for a companionway. The boy stood
helplessly by. Salomon gave a long bubbling sigh and all his sphincters
relaxed. (Eunice! Where is he?) (Boss, 1 can't find him!) (You've got to find
him! He can't be far.) (What in hell?) (Here he is, here he is! Jake!) (Eunice,
what happened? Somebody slammed me in the side of the head with a
brick.) (Does it hurt, darling?) (Of course it doesn't hurt, Boss, not now. It
can't. Welcome aboard, Melancholy Jacques you lovin' old bastard! Oh,
boy, am I glad to see you!) (Yes, welcome home, darling. My darling. Our
darling.) (Eunice?) (No, I'm Eunice, Jock. Old cocky Jock. That's Joan. Or
Johann. Or Boss. No, Joan is 'Boss' only to me; you'd better call her 'Joan.'
Look,
shipmates, let's get this Troy straight before we get tangled up in our feet.
Joan, you call our husband 'Jake' same as always-while I'll call him 'Jock'
as I used to. Jock, you call Boss either 'Joan' or 'Johann' as suits you- and
she's I either 'Joan' or 'Boss' to me. And I'm always-'Eunice' to either of you.
Got it straight?)
(I'm confused.) (No huhu, Jock beloved, never any huhu again. You'll get
used to it, I did. Joan has to drive while we'll sit back and neck and give
advice. Tell him, Joan.) (Yes, Jake. You have us both now. Forever.) (Om
Mani Padme Hum'.) (Om Mani Padme Hum. Join us, Jake. A
Thanksgiving.) (Om Mani Padme Hum!) "Om Mani Padme Hum."
"Joan. Let me have him, dear." Dr. Garcia was bending over her.
She shook her head. "I'll hold him, Roberto." (Boss! Knock off the female
kark and let dear Doctor work.) (Yes, Eunice. Hang on tight to Jake.) (Never
fear, dear; I shall. Jock, can you see now? Out of Joan's eyes. We're going
to move.) (Of course I can see. Who's that ugly old wreck? Me.!) (Of course
not; that's just something we don't need any longer. Look away, Joan;
you're upsetting Jock.)
"Fred, take her below. Hank, help him. Tom, I need Winnie. Get her."

                                      337
Dr. Garcia found Joan in the saloon. She was lying down, a wet cloth over
her forehead, with Olga Dabrowski seated I by her. Tom Finchley followed
the doctor in, his face solemn. The Doctor said nothing, took Joan's wrist,
glanced at his watch.
Then he said, "It's bad news, Joan."
"I know, Roberto. He was gone before I came down here. (He's not gone,
Boss. Don't put it that way. Jock is dead, as dead as I am. But not gone.
Right, Jock?) (I think you're splitting hairs Lively Legs-) ('Lively Legs!' You
haven't called me that in a long tune.) (How about last night?) (You called
Joan that; you didn't call me that, not last night.) (Will you two keep quiet?
Or at least whisper? I've got to cope.)
(Sorry, Boss. Jock darling, whisper to me very quietly. Is Joan better at it
than I am?) (Eunice, I can still hear you-and you have your tenses mixed.)
(Boss darling, there are no tenses in the eternal Now. I asked Jock a
question-and he's too chicken to answer.) (I certainly am!) (Oh, well. With
my equipment and my coaching. Joan is probably adequate by now. Plus a
good start-you won't believe this, Jock, but Boss has the dirtiest mind. That
lady-lady act is just an act.) (Twin, quit trying to get my goat. I'm busy,
Roberto is worried about us.) (Sorry, twin. I'll be good.)
 "Eunice, I want to make one thing clear. It would not have made any
difference if it had happened ashore with all possible life-support at hand.
Even with Dr. Hedrick at hand. Oh, we could have kept him alive-as a
vegetable. Nothing else."
"Jake never wanted that, Robert; I've heard him say so, emphatically. He
never approved of the way I was kept alive."
"The two cases are a hundred and eighty degrees apart, Joan. Your body
was worn out but your brain was in good-shape. In Jake's case-well, I gave
him that physical before we put to sea; his body was in fine shape, for his
age. But I know what the autopsy will show: a massive rupture of a large
blood vessel in his brain; he died at once. A cerebral 'accident' we call it,
because it's unpredictable. If it's any consolation, he didn't suffer."
('Didn't suffer,' eh? Try it, Bob-it felt like a kick in the head by a mule. But
you're right, it was just one blow. Not even a headache, afterward.) (About
the same for me, Jock darling, when I got it. Boss had a much rougher time,
for years.) (What if I had? It's over now. Darlings, please keep quiet-we'll
talk when they let us alone.)
"Doctor, there will be no autopsy."
"Joan, there should be an autopsy for your peace of mind."
"It won't bring Jake back and he wouldn't like it. As for my 'peace of mind,' I
have just one question. Was it. . . too much honeymoon?"
"Oh. No, just too many years. Joan, it wasn't even from lifting that heavy
load. Let me explain this sort of
                                      338
'accident.' It's like a weak spot in an old-fashioned pneumatic tire, worn
almost through and ready to blow out-then anything can trigger it. Jake
could simply have stood up, and keeled over-today, tomorrow, last week.
Oh, it can happen during intercourse, you often hear men say they want to
die 'while tearing off one last load.' But it's a horrible experience for the
woman involved-and probably isn't a last orgasm anyhow, more likely he's
chopped down just before it.
"Far better the way Jake got it, still virile-I assume-" (You know darn well
Jock was 'still virile.' Ask your wife. Ask Gigi. Hell, ask anybody.) (Eunice,
was my behavior that blatant?) (Not blatant at all, Jock you lovin' old goat.
But news gets around.)
"-or I should say 'I know' as I was his physician. Jake was happy and strong
and virile-and then he was through, like snipping a film. Don't worry about
'too much honeymoon.' Getting married may have saved Jake years of
hopeless senility. Or it may have chopped two weeks off his life as a small
price for much happiness. But more likely it extended his life; a happy man
functions better. Forget it, dear. When my time comes I hope I get it the way
Jake got it-quickly, and happy to the end."
"Then there is no point in an autopsy, Roberto. Will you sign a death
certificate?"
"Well . . . when death takes place not in a hospital and not under medical
care, it is customary to notify the authorities and-"
"Roberto!"
"Yes, Joan?"
"You're not going to do that to Jake. Notify whom? Somebody in
Washington? We're in Federal waters, and the coroner of San Diego
County has no proper interest in this death. But he'd be likely to try to milk it
for publicity, once he finds out who Jake is, who I am-and I shan't let that be
done with Jake's death. Jake was under medical care-yours! You're our
ship's surgeon. It might be that you saw him die. Think about it." (Joan,
don't ask Bob to lie. It doesn't matter if some coroner has his M.E. chop me
up.) (I shan't permit it! Besides, Jake, I'm pregnant. Do you want me to have
to go through that? Crowds and questions and pulling and hauling and
sleepless nights?) (Mmm. . . tell him to make it an airtight lie, dear.) (Boss is
a stubborn bitch, Jock-but she's usually right.)
"Hmm-" Dr. Garcia took off his stethoscope, put it aside. "Now that you
mention it, there was still some heart action after I reached him. Lacking
means to determine the instant of brain failure, I am forced to take
cessation of heart action as the moment of death." (That boy would make a
good witness, girls-come to think about it, he did make a good witness at
the identity hearings.)

                                      339
"In that case, Doctor, it seems to me that the circumstances are not open to
question-and you may be sure that I will spend any amount of money to
keep anyone from turning Jake's death into a circus at any later time. I
would like you to certify death and the circumstances and mail a copy to
whatever Federal authority should be notified-when next we touch shore.
No copy elsewhere, we have no permanent residence other than this
vessel. Oh, mail a copy to Alec Train; he has Jake's will, he'll need one for
probate. And be sure to supply Captain Finchley with a duplicate original for
the log."
"All right, Joan, since that's the way you want it. And I agree: Here we have
a natural death and there is no point in letting bureaucrats poke around in it.
But-right now I want to give you something to make you sleep. Nothing
much, just a heavy dose of tranquilizer."
"Roberto, what was my pulse?"
"That's none of a patient's business, Joan."
"It was seventy-two, dead on normal-I counted my heart beats during that
thirty seconds from your first glance at your watch until you let go my wrist. I
need no tranquilizers."
"Joan, your heart action should be higher than normal-under the
circumstances."
"Then possibly I need a stimulant, not a tranquilizer. Roberto, you
sometimes forget-even though you have been through the whole thing with
me-that I am not a normal patient. Not a young bride subject to hysteria.
Underneath I am a very old man, almost three times your age, dear, and
I've seen everything and no shock can truly be a shock to me. Death is an
old friend; I know him well. I lived with him, ate with him, slept with him; to
meet him again does not frighten me-death is as necessary as birth, as
happy in its own way."
She smiled. "My pulse is normal because I'm happy-happy that my beloved
Jake met death so easily and happily. Oh, I'll go to my cabin and lie down; I
usually nap during the heat of the afternoon. But how about Eve?"
"Eh?"
"Have you done anything about her? She's young, she's probably never
seen death before. She almost certainly needs a tranquilizer-not I."
"Uh. . . Joan, I've been busy. But- Olga. Will you find Winnie and tell her I
said that Eve was to have a minimum dose of 'Tranquille'?"
"Yes, Doctor." Mrs. Dabrowski left.
"Now, young lady, I'll take you to the cabin."
"Just a moment, Doctor. Captain, will you get way on with both sails and
auxiliary, and make course for the nearest point of the seventy-five-mile
limit? I want us to be in international waters before sundown."

                                      340
"Aye aye, Ma'am. That would be about west by south, maybe basic course
two-six-oh. I'll plot it."
"Good. Then pass the word, quietly, that burial services will be at sundown."
"Joan!"
"Roberto, do you think I would turn Jake over to an undertaker?
Taxidermists! He wanted to die like his ancestors; I shall bury him like his
ancestors-his dear body untouched and returned home before the sun
sets."

"'To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the
heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die-'
Joan paused in her reading. The Sun was an orange-red circle almost
touching the horizon. On a grating at the rail, steadied by Fred and the
Doctor, Jake's body waited, sewed into canvas, with ballast weights at the
feet. (A primitive rite, Johann.) (Jake, if you don't like it, I'll stop.) (Jock, you
should be respectful; this is a funeral.) (It's my funeral, isn't it? Do I have to
pull a long face for my own funeral? Johann, I do like it. I respect symbols,
primitive symbols especially. Thank you for doing this-and thank you most
of all for not letting my carcass fall into the hands of licensed ghouls.) (Just
wanted to be sure, Jake. I'd better go on; I've marked several more
passages.)
(Go on, Johann. Just don't try to pray me into Heaven.) (I shan't, Jake
beloved. We three will face whatever comes, together.) (Right, Boss. Jock
knows it.)
"'All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again. Who
knoweth the spirit of man...?'
"'Two are better than one. . . . For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow:
but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help
him up. Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be
warm alone?'" (Boss, that reminds me. Do we have to sleep alone tonight?)
(Danm it, Eunice, don't you ever think of anything else?) (Come off it, Boss.
What else is worth thinking about? Stocks, bonds, and other securities? I've
been telling Jock about your discovery-that sex is more intense for a
woman than for a man. He doesn't believe it. But he's eager to find out.)
(Jake, are you that eager? I intended to show respect for your memory.) (I
appreciate the thought, Johann. But you needn't carry it to extremes. I can't
see why you should mourn me when I'm still here. Uh, tell me-is it really
better?) (Let him judge for himself, Boss-whether it's better to spread
Eunice . . or to be Eunice. A more scientific comparison than you have been
able to make.) (Quit talking like a kinsey, Eunice. All right, partners; I'll think
over the changes. But I'll be damned if I'll make a disgraceful spectacle out
of us tonight. Not this night. It's got to be discreet-or no game.)
                                        341
"And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a three-fold
cord is not quickly broken.'"
(Boss, I like that. This makes up for the funeral I never had. Not even a
memorial service.) (But you did have a memorial service, Lively Legs) (I
did? Who was there?)
(Just me, dear. I hired a little chapel and an organist. I read a couple of
poems you used to like. Some flowers. Nothing much.) (Jock, I'm dreadfully
touched. Boss! He really does love me. Doesn't he?) (He does, darling-we
both do.) (I wish I'd been there, Jock.) (I didn't know where you were,
dearest. Maybe just as well, you're not very well behaved at funerals.) (Oh,
pooh all over you, you dirty old ghost-nobody can hear me.) (Careful whom
you call a 'ghost', Lively Legs; it might slop over onto you. Let Joan get
through with this and splash it.)
"'Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might-'
'-for thy days are few and they are numbered-'
'-man goeth to his long home.'
'The silver cord is loosed, the golden bowl is broken.'
From the deep we came, let the body of our brother Jacob now be returned
to the deep."
Joan closed the Book; Fred and Dr. Garcia lifted the end of the grating; the
body fell into the water, disappeared.
She turned away, handed the Book to Mrs. Dabrowski. "Here, Olga. Thank
you."
"Joan, that was beautiful. I don't see how you did it."
"Wipe your eyes, Olga; farewells must never be sad-and Jake was ready to
go. I knew my husband well, Olga; I knew what he wanted, it was not hard."
She pressed Olga's hand and turned away. "Winnie! Stop that. Stop it at
once. Jake does not want you to cry." (What makes you think so, Johann? I
feel flattered by having a lovely little creature like Winifred weep over me.)
(Oh, pipe down, Jake. You were the star of the show, now stop taking
bows. Talk to Eunice.) Joan took the smaller woman in her arms. "You
mustn't, Winnie. Really you mustn't. Think of your baby."
Winnie bawled against her shoulder. "Joan, don't you miss him at all?"
"But, darling, how can I miss Jake when he has never left me? The Jewel is
still in the Lotus, and always will be. Eternal Now."
"I guess so-but I just can't stand it!"
Dear Doctor, maybe? He'll be giving Winnie a sleeping pill, surest thing.)
(Not Roberto, Eunice. Under his aggressive atheism he's got a touch of
what he was brought up on, he'd be shocked. Some other night.) "Roberto,
you had better take care of Winnie."
"I will-but are you all right?"
"You know I am. I have a prescription for you, however."
                                     342
"All right. It won't hurt you to take a real knocker-outer tonight. Say
phenobarb."
"Let's not say 'phenobarb.' My prescription is for Winnie. Get her to eat
something. Then sit with her and recite the Money Hum for at least a half
hour. Then take her to bed and hold her in your arms and let her sleep. And
you sleep, sir; you've had a rough day, too."
"All right. Do you want to join us in saying them? We could come to the
cabin-then you could go straight to bed. I've learned that it's better than
barbiturates."
"Doctor, if you wish, you may come to my cabin at nine o'clock tomorrow
morning-and kick me out of bed if I'm not up. But I will be. Don't go there
any sooner than that. Tonight I shall recite that hypnotic prayer. With Jake.
He'll be able to hear me...whether you think so or not."
"Joan, I have no wish to attack anyone's faith."
"You haven't, dear. I appreciate your solicitude. When I need it, I will draw
on it-freely. But now you take care of Winnie." (Boss, how about Fred? No
one to dodge. Jock, you'll be right in the middle. Lucky Adolf. But Fred won't
know it.) (Eunice, you're out of your pointy little head. We almost scared
Fred to death once before, just by being us. Before we got him gentled.
Look at him, he's worse off than Winnie. With nobody to console him. But
we can't console him, not this night.)
"Captain."
"Yes, Ma'am?"
"Let's bust up this wake. People should not stand around moping. Meal
hours have become disorganized; can Hester throw together some cold
supper quickly? Perhaps with volunteer help? I'd volunteer but I have
something to do." (Oho! The Tom Cat. Jock, this is going to be fun.) (Lively
Legs, is there a man in this vessel you gals haven't spread for?) (Oh, sure,
Jock honey. Hank. He's got his eye on Eve and thinks we're an old hag.
And now that her Uncle Jock has left her, Eve might trip him.) (Now that I'm
dead, I regret having resisted that delicious little jailbait. Wouldn't have cost
me more than a million to buy my way out of trouble-and I had a rich wife.)
(If you two lechers will shut up a moment, I'll set you straight about
something. Not Thomas Cattus. Certainly not before the midwatch and
could be later with this wind against us. Captain Tom Finchley is going to be
busy skippering.) "Captain, I want you to get way on and set basic course
for San Clemente Island anchorage."
"Yes, Ma'am." He trailed after her, and added softly, "I better start calling
you 'Captain' now. Set an example."
She stopped. They were sufficiently alone that she could speak privately by
lowering her voice. "Tom Cat."
"Yes?"
                                      343
"Don't call me 'Captain'-you are Captain until I've passed my tests. Then
we'll see. And don't call me 'Ma'am.' I'm either 'Mrs. Salomon' or 'Joan,'
depending on the company, just as before. But in private I'm still your
'Pussy Cat'. I hope I am."
"Well...okay."
"Let's hear you say it."
"Pussy Cat. Brave little Pussy Cat. Puss, you surprise me more, longer I
know you."
"That's better. Torn Cat, Jake knew all along about your tomcatting with
me." (Oh, what a lie! Eunice, she never told me-and I suspected only once
and decided I was mistaken.) (I know, Jock. Boss is a deceitful one and not
at; all truthful and besides she tells fibs even to me.)
"He did?"
"Yes, Thomas Cattus. But Jake Salomon was a true gentleman and saw
only what he was expected to see. He never teased me about my little
follies. Simply indulged me. But he didn't tell on himself, either. Do you
know if he ever made it with Hester?" (Now see here, Johann-) (Pipe~
down, Jock; I've wondered, too.)
"Uh. . . hell, Pussy, all men are alike, all after the same thing."
"And all women are alike, we've all got it. Well?"
"Hester spread for him first chance we gave 'em. But she didn't tell me.
Ashamed. Had to catch 'em at it, then twist her arm."
"Surely you didn't hurt her?"
"No, no, Puss, I don't rough a broad, never. Didn't catch 'em, not to hurt,
neither. Backed out fast-then asked later. Told her I knew for certain, so
how about coming clean, was all. She did. She hadn't told me-because of
you."
"Oh. I trust you then told her about me?"
Her sailing master looked horrified. "Pussy, you think I'm out o' my frimpin'
head? Look, I like what you got, just fine. But I ain't foolish. I don't rat on
broads. If I did, you'd be last on the list. Believe."
"Tell Hester if you wish, dear; it can't matter now. Then at some later time,
she would not be surprised if she found me doing what widows so often
do." ('They don't tell, they don't yell, they rarely swell-and they're grateful as
hell.') (Jock, you're a dirty old ghost.) "Well, let's set our course. What ETA,
Tom Cat? If it's later than midnight, I'll relieve you for the midwatch."
"You will like hell, Ma'am-Pussy Cat. You sack in a full night, you need it. I'll
put Fred on the wheel now and Hank on lookout-and I'll drag a corking mat
back near the helm and catch some sack drill till we get close in. Pussy Cat,
you've got to promise me you'll stay in your cabin. Not go wandering
around, I'll think you're meaning to jump overboard."
"Is that an order, Captain?"
                                       344
"Uh-yes, damn it, that's an order!"
"Aye aye, sir. It won't be necessary to check on me; I'll be in my cabin, door
locked, and I will be asleep. I promise not to jump overboard earlier than
tomorrow night."
"Pussy Cat, you wouldn't jump? Would you?"
"With Jake's baby inside me? Captain, I do have a concept of duty. Until I
have this baby, my life is not my own. I not only must not suicide-I would not
in any case-but I must also keep calm and happy and healthy and not risk
so much as a dirty drinking glass. So don't worry about me. Good night,
Tom." She headed for the cabin.
(Nothing doing at that shop tonight, partners-we're faced with nobility. I
think Anton is our best bet.) (The Passionate Pole! Jock darling, I'm not
sure your heart can stand it.) (Fortunately, my dears, my old pump no
longer has to stand anything-and the one you turned over to Joan, Eunice,
is a Swiss watch among tickers. Doesn't race even when she is racing. But
you know that.) (Quit chattering, you two. Either of you have any idea how
to get Olga out of the way?)
(Push her overboard?) (Eunice!) (Can't I joke, Boss? I like Olga, she's a
nice girl.) (Too nice, that's the problem. Not a tart like you, or me-or Hester.)
(Hrrrmph!) (Jake, you're not in court, dear. The subject is tail. Mine. Ours, I
mean.) (Johann, I simply wanted to say that, if you took our problem directly
to Mrs. Dabrowski, you might find her sympathetic. I always found her so.)
(Jake! Are you implying that you've had Olga? I don't believe it.) (I don't
either, Jock. If you had said 'Eve' I would have boggled-but would have
believed you. But Olga? Hell, she wears a panty even in the pool.) (Which
comes off very easily-in private.)
(Eunice, I think he means it. Well, I'll be damned! You and I are pikers. 'Me'
at's off 'to the Duke.' All right, Jake-tell us how to go about it.) (About what?
Getting her out of the way? Just ask her, she's very sympathetic-and felt my
death more than you wenches have.) (Jock, that's not fair. We felt it...but
we're overjoyed that you decided to stay anyhow.)
(Thank you, my dears. Conversely, if you would like to invite her in-) (Do
you mean a Troy?) (I understand that such is the current argot, Eunice; in
my youth we called it something else. But wouldn't it be more of a
Pentagon? Five?)
(The word is 'Star' today, Jock. But let me give you the first rule of happy
ghosting. You must never, never, never admit that you are here, nor tease
Joan to admit it. Because she might get groused and do so. Whereupon
Joan would wind up in a shrink factory-with us along-and there go our
happy games. Look, you've been married to Joan quite a while now and
jumping her even longer-did you ever suspect that I was present, too?) (Not
once.) (You see? Don't admit it and they leave us alone.)
                                      345
(Eunice, Jake would never let on. But now about Olga-Jake, did you ever
teach her Om Mani?) (No.) (Boss, I begin to see. We've taught it to Anton,
Jock. Is Olga limber enough to sit in Lotus?) (Lively Legs, Mrs. Dabrowski is
limber enough for anything.) (That does it, Joan. Olga will join in, even if
she thinks it's heathen-tonight she will. For you. And there is no easier way
to get a party peeled down and rolling than by forming a Circle. You've
done it again and again.) (As I recall, dears, Joan even used it on me.
When it was hardly necessary. Okay, let's find the Dabrowskis.)


28


APPOINTMENTS OPEN-FEDERAL GS-l9 Assistant Welfare Field
Operative (Learner-Visitor) Literacy requirement C. Brown Belt or higher
gives 10% preference. Veteran's preference, parolee's preference, relevant-
experience preference all semi-cumulative. Sec local Civil Service or
Welfare office for pre-examinations and salary formulas. Latter based on
standard scale plus field cost-of-living factor and hazardous area rating,
cumulative.
In a compromise vote today the Society for Rational Astrology accepted a
"grandfather clause" in the licensing bill before the Nebraska Legislature.
The Committee on Agriculture & Mechanical Arts then voted the amended
bill "Do Pass" by 7 to 2-tantamount to passage in the state's unicameral
legislature. The Protective Association of Intuitive Astrologers called it "the
greatest setback for science since Galileo." The Lunar Commission
announced that the Colonies are now 102% self-sufficient in foodstuffs but
added that the ten-year-plan would continue in order to increase out-
migration potential. MAY-DECEMBER ROMANCE LOSES. . . at sea in their
honeymoon yacht. The young widow remained in seclusion....


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                                     346
"-door for processing. Pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Garcia; good luck,
Doctor. Next applicant! Step lively, sit down over there-your husband not
with you? Or is it 'Miss'?"
"I am a widow, Mr. Barnes."
"So? We don't get many widows, nor does the Commission encourage
them. Out-migration is not an escape for emotional problems. Such as
bereavement. Nor do we accept applicants so advanced in pregnancy
unless there are overriding advantages to the Commission, not the
applicant. Take the couple who went through just before you. She's
pregnant-but he is a medical doctor, one of the top categories for
subsidized out-migration. So I passed her. Might have passed her on her
own; she's a nurse. But unless you have such a special qualification-"
"I know, sir. Dr. Garcia is my personal physician."
"Eh? Even if I accept you, that is no guarantee that he would still be your
physician on the Moon. Unlikely, in fact, unless, by coincidence-"
"Mr. Barnes, you have my out-migration proposal in front of you. It has been
prepared with great care by my attorney. It might save time to glance
through it."
"All in good time. You would be surprised at how many people come in here
without having the slightest idea of what they are up against. They seem to
assume that the Commission is anxious to have them. Nothing could be
farther from the truth. Nineteen out of twenty who sit down in that chair I do
not permit to go on through the processing door. I make it a practice to get
rid of the more obvious time-wasters quickly. Uh, Salomon, Eunice.' Mrs.
Salomon, I want to know first-Mrs. 'Salomon'?"
'Mrs. Jacob Moshe Salomon,' maiden name 'Joan Eunice Smith.'"
"Your face did look somewhat familiar but your features, uh-"
"-are chubby now. Yes. I've gained twenty-six pounds-which Dr. Garcia
finds satisfactory for my height, build, and date of impregnation."
"That brings up other problems. A woman is often mistaken as to the date-
and first babies are notoriously in a hurry to arrive. Our Lunar transports
aren't planned for new infants, nor for childbirth. I want you to realize the
hazards."
"I know them. Need we go into this?"
"I must be the judge of that."
"Mr. Barnes, my doctor is satisfied that I know the exact date of
impregnation and- Is all of this confo?"
"Mmm. I'll put it this way. None of it is privileged. I am a lawyer but not your
lawyer. I hear more intimate details from applicants than you can imagine
but I haven't time to waste on gossip."
"I am glad to hear that, Mr. Barnes...as l would be much displeased if what I
am about to tell you were to become a matter of gossip."
                                      347
"Hmmph. I think I felt a chill breeze. Are you trying to impress me with your
importance? Don't bother; applicants are all the same size once they come
in here. Your money doesn't mean a thing."
"Was my manner unfriendly? I'm sorry."
"Well- Let's stick to the business at hand. A lawyer in the Lunar
Commission's Civil Service-a job with no squeeze, believe me-doesn't often
find himself dealing with rich people. But it makes no difference; if you don't
want to be frank with the Commission, that's your problem. But I won't
approve an applicant's proposal until I am satisfied about it. All about it.
Now you implied that you had something pertinent to tell me which you
class as 'confo.' I don't accept your restriction, Now...do you talk? Or shall
we terminate this interview?"
"You leave me no option, sir. This is not a first baby I am carrying, so no
'first baby' hazard exits. If the 'Goddard' lifts on schedule, I have every
reason to expect to have my baby on the Moon. Dr. Garcia is not worried
about the timing and neither am I."
"So? This brings up other problems. This earlier child-does he, or she,
affect your estate?"
"No. That is why this must be treated as confo. I did not have that earlier
baby."
"Eh? You lost me. Better clarify that."
"Please, Mr. Barnes. I am a sex-change and a brain transplant. Surely you
know it-good heavens, the whole world knows it. The first baby this body
gave birth to was before that time. It is the reputation of my donor I wish to
protect, not mine. The child was illegitimate, and common as that is these
days-no longer a legal concept m most states and the very word almost
obsolete-so great is my gratitude to the sweet and gracious lady who
formerly lived in this body, I would be most unhappy were I to be the cause
of any tarnish on her memory."
(Boss, you know I don't give a kark.) (Let her handle it, Eunice; this petty
bureaucrat can gum up the works if Joan does not divert him just so. Are
we kibitzing Joan?-or are we going to the Moon?) (Hell, yes, we're going to
the Moon! My 'Yes' vote, plus your 'Yes' vote, plus half of Joan's vote-a
natural fence-straddler she is, legs always open-which works out to a five-
to-one majority for out-migrating. A landslide!) (So let her alone while she
handles him.) (If she didn't have that big belly, she could handle him a lot
better. And faster.)
(Hrrmph. Eunice, you claim you were there. . . so why don't you tell poor old
melancholy Jacques the straight on that? It was me, wasn't it? It was I?)
(Jock old ghost, I love you dearly--but if you think I'll split on my twin, you
don't know me.) (Oh, well. A baby is a baby is a baby. I just hope it doesn't
have two heads.) (Two heads would be stretching a good thing too far.
                                      348
Jock, I'll settle for two balls.) (Thinking about incest, Lively Legs?) (And why
shouldn't I think about it? We've tried everything else.)
(Jake, Eunice-will you two please go back to sleep? Squire Pecksniff here
is searching for flyspecks on Alec's masterpiece. Trying to think up more
objections-which I'll have to answer.)
"Mrs. Salomon, I find myself quite disturbed by one aspect concerning this
alleged earlier child-the great likelihood that some future action may be
brought challenging your disposition of your estate when this child, or some
person claiming to be this child, turns up. The fifty percent of estate
required-as a minimum-from any out-migrant not of a subsidized-vocation
category is a source of capital to the colonies; the Commission is not willing
to part with a dime of it once the Commission carries out its half of the
bargain. Yet such a 'missing heir' could lay claim to all of your estate."
"Most unlikely, Mr. Barnes, but if you will look at 'Appendix G,' you will see
how my lawyer handled it. A small trust to buy tip any such claim, with a
fifty-year conversion of any remainder to a named charity."
"Uh, let me find it. Mmm, Mrs. Salomon, do you call ten million dollars
'small'?"
"Yes."
"Mmm. Perhaps I had better look closely at the other financial provisions.
Have you been advised that, even though the Commission claims only half
of your fortune, the other half cannot be used to buy you anything on the
Moon? In other words, poor or rich, on the Moon out-migrants start off
equal."
"I know that, Mr. Barnes. Believe me, my attorney, Mr. Train, is most
careful. He searched the law and made certain that I knew the
consequences of my acts-because he did not approve of them. To put it
briefly Alec Train said that anyone who goes to the Moon to live must be out
of his head. So he tried to talk me out of what he regards as my folly. You'll
find four other possible heirs in 'Appendix F'-my granddaughters. It is to
their advantage to accept what is offered there. . . as they are told bluntly
how much worse off they will be if they wait for me to die. A poor bet for
them in any case; I am now physiologically younger than they are; I'll
probably outlive all of them."
"That could be true. Especially on the Moon, one could add. I wish I could
out-migrate myself. But I can't afford to pay for it the way you can and
lawyers are not in demand there. Well, your Mr. Train seems to have
thought of most aspects. Let's look at your balance sheet."
"One moment, sir. I have asked for one small measure of special
treatment."
"Eh? All out-migrants are treated alike. Must be."

                                      349
"A very small thing, Mr. Barnes. My baby will be born not long after I arrive
on Luna. I've asked to have Dr.
Garcia continue to attend me through that time."
"I can't promise that, Madam. Sorry. Policy."
She started slowly to get up. "Then I'm not going through with it."
"Uh-good God! Is this really your net worth?"
She shrugged. "What is the worth of one pregnant woman, sir? I suppose it
depends on your values."
"I didn't mean that. This balance sheet- If it's correct, you're not just
wealthy-I knew that-you're a billionaire!"
"Possibly. I haven't added it. That summary was prepared through Chase
Manhattan with the assistance of accountancy firms listed there. I suppose
it's correct, unless some computer got the hiccups. But give it back to
me...since the Commission can't promise me Dr. Garcia to deliver my
baby."
"Please, Madam. I have certain latitude in these matters. I simply don't
exercise it-ordinarily. Policy."
"Whose policy, Mr. Barnes? The Commission's? Or yours?"
"Eh? Why, mine. I said so."
"Then quit wasting my time, you damned idiot!"
('That's telling him, Fat Lady!') (Eunice, this is one fat lady who isn't going to
take any more nonsense. My back aches.)
The blast almost caused Mr. Barnes to fall out of his swivel chair. He
recovered his balance, said: "Please, Madam Salomon!"
"Young man, let's have no more nonsense! I'm far gone in pregnancy, as
you cart see. You've lectured me about the dangers of childbirth-and you
aren't a doctor. You've pried into personal matters with the gall of a kinsey.
You've tried to tell me I can't have my own doctor when he is going in the
same ship-and now it turns out that it was not a Commission regulation but
merely petty tyranny on your part. Bullying. All through this nonsense-
although I've appeared with a complete and carefully prepared proposal-
you've kept me sitting on a hard uncomfortable chair. My back aches. On
how many poor helpless applicants have you fattened your ego? But I am
neither 'poor' nor 'helpless'. You spoke of a 'chill breeze.' It's an icy blast
now. I bloody well mean to have your job!"
"Please, Madam! I said you could have your own doctor. And I am required
to review each applicant's proposal."
"Then get your lazy arse out of that comfortable chair and give it to me! You
come sit in this ducking stool."
"Very well, Ma'am." They exchanged chairs. Shortly he said, "I see that you
are putting almost all of the other fifty percent of your fortune into starship
research and development."
                                       350
"It's none of your business what I do with it."
"I didn't say it was. It just struck me as...unusual."
"Why? My child may want to go in a starship. I want that research to move.
Mr. Barnes, you've had time to look at that proposal; if you hadn't talked so
much, you could have it memorized by now. Do whatever it is you do. Mark
your X, or stamp your chop. Or hand it back and let me out of here. Now!
Not five minutes from now-but now. My back still hurts. You're a pain in the
back, Mr. Barnes, you and your petty 'policy' and your worthless talk."
He signed it. "Through that door, Madam Salomon."
"Thank you." She started toward it.
"You're barely welcome-you ancient bitch!"
Joan Eunice stopped, turned back, and smiled her best golden-sunrise
smile. "Why, thank you, dear! That's the best thing you've said to me.
Because it is utterly honest. Of course I'm not welcome, the way I've
stormed at you-and answered your bullying with worse bullying. And I am
indeed both a bitch and ancient."
"I shouldn't have said that."
"Oh, but you should have. I richly deserved it, but I would never have tried
to get your job-truly, I'm not that petty. That was just backache bad temper
talking. I admire your spunk in telling me off. What is your first name?"
"Uh, 'Matthew.'"
"A good name, Matthew. A strong name." Joan Eunice came back, stood
close to him. "Matthew, I'm going to the Moon. I'll never be back this way
again. Will you forgive this ancient bitch and let us part friends? Will you
kiss me good-bye? I've no one to see me off, Matthew-will you kiss me
good-bye as I leave for the Moon?"
"Uh-"
"Please, Matthew. Uh, mind the big belly; turn me a little sideways-that's
better." She wet her lips, lifted her face, and closed her eyes.
Presently she sighed and nestled closer. "Matthew? Will you let me love
you? Oh, I don't mean seduce you, it's too late for that, I'm about benched.
Just tell me that I may think of you with love as I go to the Moon. It's a long
way off and I'm a little scared-and I lived too long without love and want to
love everyone who will let me. . . any who will love me back even a little.
Will you, dear? Or is this bitch too ancient?"
"Uh, Madam Salomon-"
"'Eunice,' Matthew."
"Eunice. Eunice, you're a sparky little bitch, you really are. But I kept you
sitting there-even before I realized who you are--because I like looking at
you. Hell, honey, my wife says I can love any woman I want to-ten percent
of what I love her."

                                      351
"Ten percent is a good return on any investment, Matthew. All right, please
love me that ten percent-and I'll love you ten percent of what I loved-still
love!- my darling husband. Is there enough love in that ten percent for a
second kiss? It's a long way to the Moon-they must keep me warm all the
way." She closed her eyes and waited.
(Hey, twin, lover boy is doing better this time.) (Don't bother me now, I'm
busy!)
Presently Mr. Barnes murmured, "Lovely."
"All swollen and fat now, that's why I wear styles that cover them. But you
should have seen Eunice-the first Eunice, my benefactrix-at her lovely best.
. . in styles to show it."
"I still say they're lovely. I guess we had better stop this, I've got a roomful
of people waiting out there. And you have almost four hours of processing
before you go on to quarantine. If you want to go to Andes Port with your
own doctor, you had better go now."
"Yes, Matthew. I love you-ten percent-and I'll still be loving you on the
Moon. At compound interest. Through that door?"
"Through there and follow the signs. Good-bye, Eunice. Take care of
yourself."
(Boss, that's either a new high or a new low. Was he kissing us? Or a billion
dollars?) (It seemed to me-though I'm still learning compared with you two
trollops-that the young man started out kissing a billion dollars . . . and
wound up kissing Joan. Us. Quite well, too. Dears, I find that my animal
nature has been considerably stirred-I'm looking forward to us being back in
circulation again.) (Hell, yes, Jock darling, we all are. It occurs to me, Joan,
that there must be lots of homesick out-migrants who will appreciate a
simple country girl who learned clear back in junior high to kiss with her
eyes closed and her lips open.) (Eunice, that's what I'm counting on. Seven
billion people makes Earth a terribly lonely place...but there are only a few
thousand on Luna and, if we try, we can get to know all of them and love
most of them. What do you think, Jake?) (Johann, we can try. We will.
Wups, here's our first stop. 'Physical.' Goose bumps and indignities. But
what the hell?-somebody kissed us good-bye.)


29


As re-reported in the Christian Science Monitor, Izvestia condemned the
announcement (Daily Selenite, year 35, day 69) of the Lunar Commission's
call for proposal studies for terraforming Ganymede as "one more
provocative example of the insatiable territorial aggressions of the mad-dog
                                      352
alliance of the two major imperialist, counterrevolutionary, genocidal
powers, the United States of America and the so-called People's
Democratic Republic of China and demanded that the UN Security Council
take action before it was too late. In Sequoia National Park three families
(or possibly one extended family) were discovered living two hundred feet
up in a giant redwood. The group (seven adults, five children-two less than
a year old) claimed to have been up the tree more than three years;
extensive arrangements for their unique style of living lent substance to the
claim. They were booked on a variety of charges but the U.S. district
attorney declined to prosecute: "I ain't about to waste my time and
taxpayers' money on a bunch of monkeys. Let's chase 'em back up the
tree!"
The Iowa State Annual Picnic in Long Beach, California, suffered 243 cases
of acute food poisoning (botulism-D), 17 muggings, 3 rapes, and was rained
out. "-from the great State of New York knows that slum clearance is no
answer. Must we hear the death rattle before we admit that any organism,
be it man, or city, or civilization, in time grows old and dies?" In a letter in
Nature (UK) it was claimed that scientists in Novosibirsk had solved both
the problem of twinning replication and of extrauterine fetal development in
vitro and must now be reckoned as back in the Great Powers race with a
potentially unlimited supply of workers, soldiers, and peasants. An editorial
in the same issue urged the Nobel letter-writer to give up writing science-
fiction or at least change his brand of hashish. Debate on proposed
legislation for control of neo-psychedelics continued: "Has the gentleman
on the other side of the aisle ever given thought to the potentially disastrous
effect on our economy of actually enforcing the narcotics laws we already
have? Or is he talking for the video audience?" Experienced observers
predicted no vote this session.

In Luna City Mrs. Salomon, as with everywoman, reached the end of her
nine lunar months. Her lovely navel had long since extruded, her belly was
an arching dome of life pushing up the sheet. She waited in the Community
Hospital eight levels down. The nurse seated near her was pregnant also
but not nearly so far along.
"Winnie?"
"Yes, dear?"
"If it's a boy it must be Jacob Eunice. . . a girl must be Eunice Jacob.
Promise me."
"I did promise, dear; I wrote it down as you asked me to. And I promised to
take care of your baby-and that is all done, too, already recorded-I take
care of yours, you take care of mine. Only we won't need to, dear; both of
us are going to be all right-we'll raise them together."
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"Promise me, it's important." (Johann, don't name that baby 'Jake.' Call him
'Johann-'Johann Eunice.') (Jake, I will not load down a boy with, 'Johann'-it
forced me to learn to fight too young) (Jock, don't argue with Boss. She's
always right, you know that.) (Then call him 'John!') (His name is 'Jacob,'
Jake-I won't have it any other way.) (Joan, you're the most stubborn old
bastard in the entire Solar System-and turning you into a woman didn't
change you. All right already!) (I love you, my husband.) (We both love you,
Boss-and Jake is as proud about the names as am.)
"I do promise you, Joan. Cross my heart."
"My sweet Winsome. We've come a long way together, you and I and
Roberto."
"Yes, we have, dear."
"I'm ill. Am I not?"
"Joan, you're not ill. A woman never feels good just before she has a baby-I
know, I've seen hundreds of them. I told you that tube was just for glucose."
"What tube? Winnie, come close and listen. This is important. My baby's
name must be..."

"-rejection syndrome, Doctor. Atypical but unmistakable."
"Dr. Garcia, why do you say 'atypical'?"
"Mmm. Sometimes, when she's irrational, she speaks in three different
voices and-well, two of them are dead. Split personality."
"So? I'm not a psychiatrist, Dr. Garcia; 'split personality' means little to me.
But I don't see that it necessarily affects pregnancy. I've delivered some
fine, healthy babies from women who were quite irrational."
"Nor am I a psychiatrist, sir. Let it stand that she is irrational much of the
time. . . and that I see this as part of the total clinical picture, which-in my
opinion-gives a prognosis of transplant rejection."
"Dr. Garcia, you know more about transplants than I do; I've never
managed a transplant case in my life. But this patient seems in fair shape to
me. Right here in this hospital I have seen women who appeared to be in
much worse shape. . . who had their babies and were up and working in
three days. With our low gravity they recover quickly. Did you think this
patient was hurt on the trip up from Earth?"
"Oh, no! Those flotation, acceleration cells are wonderful. Mrs. Salomon
rode in one, so did my wife. I monitored them; Joan took it even better than
Winnie did. I envied them, as I found the ride in a standard chair pretty
rough. No, I see no connection; rejection symptoms did not show until this
week." Garcia frowned. "She doesn't know that her mind isn't clear-she's
lucid off and on. But motor control is decaying. That strong young body
sustains her metabolism-but truthfully, Doctor, I can't guess how long." He

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frowned again. "It could let go any moment-damn it, I wish I had proper
support equipment!"
The older doctor shook his head. "This is a frontier, son. I'm not running
down your specialty-but this is not the place for it. Here we set bones and
take out appendixes and try to keep contagious diseases from racing
through the colony. But when it comes time to die, we die-you, me,
anybody-and get out of the way of the living. Now suppose we had all of
Johns Hopkins here with Jefferson Medical thrown in-could you stop it?
Reverse it? Possibility of spontaneous remission if you had your fancy
support equipment?"
"No. The best we could do would be to extend the time."
"So the literature says, but I wanted to hear you say it. Well, Doctor? Your
patient"
"We take the baby."
"Let's get busy."

Joan Eunice came awake as they were wheeling her down the corridor.
"Roberto?"
"Right here, dear."
"Where are they taking me? Am I going in for surgery again?"
"Yes, Joan."
"Why, dear?"
"Because you haven't gone into labor when you should have. So now we do
it the easy way-Caesarean section."
He added, "There's nothing to worry about. It's as routine as taking out an
appendix."
"Roberto, you know I never worry. You're doing it?"
"No, the chief of surgery. He's far more skilled than I am. Dr. Frankel. You
met him, he examined you this morning."
"Did he? It's slipped my mind. Roberto, I must tell Winnie something very
important. It's about the name of my baby."
"She knows, dear, she wrote it down. 'Jacob Eunice, or Eunice Jacob.'"
"Oh, good! Then everything's all right. But tell them to make it quick,
Roberto; I never liked waiting around at a beachhead."
"It'll be quick, you'll never notice it. Spinal and a wagonload of barbiturate,
Joan."
"That's funny, you called me 'Joan.' My name's 'Johann,' Doctor. Agnes is
going to be all right-she is, isn't she?"
"Yes, Johann. Agnes-is going to be all right."
"I told her she would be all right. Doctor, I feel dreamy. If I fall asleep, will
you wake me when Agnes goes in to have her baby?"
"Yes, Johann."
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"Thank. . you. . Mrs. . . Wicklund. I didn't. . know.. could be so . . wonderful."

"Roberto? Where are you? I can't see you."
"Right here, dear."
"Touch me. Touch my face, I can't feel anything lower down. Roberto, what
I bought was a wonderful year-and I have no regrets. Have they started?"
"Not quite. Do you want to go to sleep, dear?"
"Must I? I'd rather not. I feel sleepy-dreamy and good but I'd rather not go to
sleep just yet. It's on the knees of the gods now, isn't it? Time to bite the
bullet and chin up and all that. But I don't need that, I'm happy. Come close,
dear, I must tell you why. Closer, can't talk. . very loud."
"Clamp! Damn it, Nurse, stay out of my way!"
"Everything always hurts, Roberto-everything. Always. But some things are
worth all the hurts. 'Tie me kangeroo down, mite, tie me kangeroo down!'
That . . wasn't. . what I meant to say; that's Jake, he's singing again. Always
sings when he's happy. Lean very close . . so I can tell you before-I sleep.
Thank you, Roberto, for letting me welcome you into my body. It is good to
touch-to fuck-be fucked. It's-not good-to be-too much alone. You have
blessed me. . with your body, dear. Now I'll sleep a while if I may. . but first I
had to tell you that. Om Mani Padme Hum. Now I lay me down to sleep-"
"Surgeon, she's failing."
A baby cried, a world began.
"Heart action dropping!"
(Jake? Eunice?) (Here, Boss! Grab on! There! We've got you.) (Is it a boy
or a girl?) (Who cares, Johann-it's a baby! 'One for all and all for one!')
An old world vanished and then there was none.




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