Time Enough For Love Part 3

"You can do it from here? I don't want you to interrupt your dinner."

"It's a very flexible machine, Lazarus; the total complex is the one I use to govern this planet-to the mild extent that I do govern it."

"In that case I feel sure you can hang an auxiliary printout in here, one triggered for the keying word. I might want to revise my sparkling gems of wisdom-meaning that extemporaneous remarks sound better when they aren't extemporaneous-or why politicians have ghost writers."

" 'Ghost writers'? My command of Cla.s.sic English is less than perfect; I don't recognize the idiom."

"Ira, don't tell me you write your own speeches."

"But, Lazarus, I don't make speeches. Never. I just give orders, and-very seldom-make written reports to the Trustees."

"Congratulations. You can bet that there are ghost writers on Felicity. Or soon will be."

"I'll have that printout installed at once, sir. Roman alphabet and twentieth-century spelling? If you intend to use the language we've been talking?"

"Unless it would place too much strain on a poor innocent machine. If so, I can read it in phonetics. I think."

"It is a very flexible machine, sir; it taught me to speak this language-and earlier, to read it."

"Good, do it that way. But tell it not to correct my grammar. Human editors are difficult enough; I won't accept such upstart behavior from a machine."

"Yes, sir. If you will excuse me one moment-" The Chairman Pro Tem raised his voice slightly and s.h.i.+fted to the New Rome variant of Lingua Galacta. Then he spoke in the same language to the taller technician.

The auxiliary printout was installed before the table served them coffee.

After it was switched on, it whirred briefly. "What's it doing?" asked Lazarus. "Checking its circuits?"

"No, sir-printing. I tried an experiment. The machine has considerable judgment within the limits of its programs and memoried experience. In adding the extra program I told it also to go back, review everything you have said to me, and attempt to select all statements that sounded like aphorisms. I'm not sure it can do this, as any definition of 'aphorism' it has in its permanents is certain to be quite abstract. But I have hopes. However, I told it firmly: No editing."

"Well. 'The astounding thing about a waltzing bear is not how gracefully it waltzes but that it waltzes at all.' Not me, some other bloke; I'm quoting. Let's see what it has."

Weatheral gestured; the shorter technician hurried to the machine, pulled a copy for each of them, fetched them back.

Lazarus looked his copy over. "Mmmm . . yes. That next one isn't true-just a wisecrack. Must reword the third one a little. Hey! It put a question mark after this one. What an impudent piece of junk; I checked that one out centuries before it was anything but unmined ore. Well, at least it didn't try to revise it. Don't recall saying that that, but it's true and I durned near got killed learning it."

Lazarus looked up from the printout copy. "Okay, Son. If you want this stuff on record, I don't mind. As long as I am allowed to check and revise it . . for I don't want my words to be taken as Gospel unless I have a chance to winnow out the casual nonsense. Which I am just as capable of voicing as the next man."

"Certainly, sir. Nothing will go into the records without your approval. Unless you choose to use that switch . . in which case any unedited remarks you have left behind I will have to try to edit myself. That's the best I can do."

"Trying to trap me, huh? Hmm-Ira, suppose I offer you a Scheherazade deal in reverse."

"I don't understand."

"Js Scheherazade lost at last? Did Sir Richard Burton live in vain?"

"Oh, no, sir! I have read The Thousand Nights and a Night The Thousand Nights and a Night in the Burton original . . and her stories have come down through the centuries, changed again and again to make them understandable to new generations-but with, I think, the flavor retained. I simply do not understand what you are proposing." in the Burton original . . and her stories have come down through the centuries, changed again and again to make them understandable to new generations-but with, I think, the flavor retained. I simply do not understand what you are proposing."

"I see. You told me that talking with me is the most important thing you have to do."

"It is."

"I wonder. If you mean that, then you will be here every day to keep me company-and chat. For I'm not going to bother babbling to your machine no matter how smart it is."

"Lazarus, I will be not only honored but much pleased to be allowed to keep you company as long as you will let me."

"We'll see. When a man makes a sweeping statement, he often has mental reservations. I mean every every day. Son, and day. Son, and all all day. And day. And you you-not a deputy. Show up two hours after breakfast, say, and stay till I send you home. But any day you miss-Well, if it's so urgent you just have to miss, phone your excuses and send over a pretty girl to visit me. One who speaks Cla.s.sic English but has sense enough to listen instead-as an old fool will often talk to a pretty girl who just bats her lashes at him and looks impressed. If she pleases me, I might let her stay. Or I might be so petulant that I would send her away and use that switch you promised to have reinstalled. But I won't suicide in the presence of a guest; that's rude. Understand me?"

"I think I do," Ira Weatheral answered slowly. "You'll be both Scheherazade and King Shahryar, and I'll be-no, that's not right; I I am the one who has to keep it going for a thousand nights-I mean 'days'-and if I miss-but I won't!-you are free to-" am the one who has to keep it going for a thousand nights-I mean 'days'-and if I miss-but I won't!-you are free to-"

"Don't push an a.n.a.logy too far," Lazarus advised. "I'm simply calling your bluff. If my maunderings are as all-fired important to you as you claim, then you'll show up and listen. You can skip once, or even twice, if the girl is pretty enough and knows how to tickle my vanity-of which I have plenty-just right. But if you skip too often, I'll know you're bored and the deal is off. I'm betting that your patience will wear out long before any thousand days and a day have pa.s.sed-whereas I do do know how to be patient, for year after year if necessary; that's a prime reason I'm still alive. But you're still a youngster; I'm betting I can outsit you." know how to be patient, for year after year if necessary; that's a prime reason I'm still alive. But you're still a youngster; I'm betting I can outsit you."

"I accept the bet. This girl-if I must must be away some day-would you object if I sent one of my daughters? She's very pretty." be away some day-would you object if I sent one of my daughters? She's very pretty."

"Hunh? You sound like an Iskandrian slave factor auctioning his mother. Why your daughter? I don't want to marry her, nor even to bed her; I simply want to be amused and flattered. Who told you she was pretty? If she really is your daughter, she probably looks like you."

"Come off it, Lazarus; you can't annoy me that easily. I admit to a father's prejudice but I've seen the effect she has on others. She is quite young, less than eighty, and has been contractually married only once. But you specified a pretty girl who speaks your milk language. Scarce. But this one of my daughters shares my talent for languages and is much excited by your presence here-wants to meet you. I can stall off emergencies long enough for her to become letter-perfect in your language." to meet you. I can stall off emergencies long enough for her to become letter-perfect in your language."

Lazarus grinned and shrugged. "Suit yourself. Tell her not to bother with a chast.i.ty girdle; I don't have the energy. But I'll still win the bet. Probably without laying eyes on her; it won't take you long to decide that I am an unbearable old bore. Which I am and have been almost as long as the Wandering Jew-a cras.h.i.+ng bore if I ever met one-did I tell you I had met him?"

"No. And I don't believe you have. He's a myth."

"A fat lot you know about it, Son. I have met him, he is authentic. Fought the Romans in 70 A.D. when Jerusalem was sacked. Fought in every Crusade-incited one of them. Redheaded of course; all of the natural long-lifers bear the mark of Gilgamesh. When I met him he was using the name Sandy Macdougal, that being a better handle for the time and place for his current trade, which was the long con, with a variant on the badger game.6 The latter involved-Look, Ira, if you don't believe my stories, why are you going to so much trouble to get them on record?" The latter involved-Look, Ira, if you don't believe my stories, why are you going to so much trouble to get them on record?"

"Lazarus, if you think you can bore me to death-correction: to your your death-why are you bothering to invent fictions to entertain me? Whatever your reasons, I'll listen as carefully-and as long-as King Shahryar. As may be, my master computer is recording whatever you choose to say-without editing; I guaranteed that-but it has incorporated into it a most subtle truth a.n.a.lyzer quite capable of earmarking any fictions you include. Not that I care about historicity as long as you will death-why are you bothering to invent fictions to entertain me? Whatever your reasons, I'll listen as carefully-and as long-as King Shahryar. As may be, my master computer is recording whatever you choose to say-without editing; I guaranteed that-but it has incorporated into it a most subtle truth a.n.a.lyzer quite capable of earmarking any fictions you include. Not that I care about historicity as long as you will talk . . . talk . . . as it is clear to me that you automatically include your evaluations-those 'gems of wisdom'-no matter what you say." as it is clear to me that you automatically include your evaluations-those 'gems of wisdom'-no matter what you say."

" 'Gems of wisdom.' Youngster, use that expression once more and you'll stay after school and clean the blackboards. That computer of yours-Better instruct it that my most outlandish tales are the ones most likely to be true-as that is the literal truth. No storyteller has ever been able to dream up anything as fantastically unlikely as what really does does happen in this mad Universe." happen in this mad Universe."

"It knows that. But I will caution it again. You were telling me about Sandy Macdougal, the Wandering Jew."

"Was I? If so and if he was using that name, that must have been late in the twentieth century and in Vancouver, as I recall. Vancouver was a part of the United States where the people were so clever that they never paid taxes to Was.h.i.+ngton-Sandy should have operated in New York, which was outstanding in stupidity even then. I won't give details of his swindles; it might corrupt your machine. Let it suffice that J.F. 45th J.F. 45th Sandy used the oldest principle for separating a fool from his money: Pick a sucker who likes the best of it.

"That's all it takes, Ira. If a man is greedy, you can cheat him every time. Trouble was, Sandy Macdougal was even greedier than his marks, and it led him into the folly of excess, and often forced him to leave town while it was dark, sometimes leaving the boodle behind. Ira, when you skin a man, you have to let him recuperate and grow more hide-or he gets nervous. If you respect this simple rule, a real mark can be skinned over and over again, and it just keeps him healthy and productive. But Sandy was too greedy for that; he lacked patience."

"Lazarus, you sound as if you had great experience in this art."

"Now, Ira-a little respect, please. I have never never swindled a man. At most I kept quiet and let him swindle himself. This does no harm, as a fool cannot be protected from his folly. If you attempt to do so, you will not only arouse his animosity but also you will be attempting to deprive him of whatever benefit he is capable of deriving from experience. Never attempt to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and annoys the pig. swindled a man. At most I kept quiet and let him swindle himself. This does no harm, as a fool cannot be protected from his folly. If you attempt to do so, you will not only arouse his animosity but also you will be attempting to deprive him of whatever benefit he is capable of deriving from experience. Never attempt to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and annoys the pig.

"But I do know a lot about swindles. I think that every major variation of every possible swindle has been tried on me, one time and another.

"Some of them worked, back when I was very young. Then I took Grampaw Johnson's advice and quit looking for the best of it; thereafter I could no longer be swindled. But I was not capable of benefiting from Gramp's advice until I was burned a few times. Ira, it's getting late."

The Chairman Pro Tem promptly stood up. "So it is, sir. May I ask two questions before I leave? Not for your memoirs, procedural questions only."

"Make it short and snappy."

"You'll have your termination-option switch tomorrow morning. But you spoke of not feeling well, and there is no need for that even if you choose to terminate in the near future. Shall we resume the rejuvenation procedures?"

"Hmmm. Second question?"

"I promised to do my best to find something brand-new to interest you. I promised also to spend every day here with you. I see conflict."

Lazarus grinned. "Don't kid your old Grampaw, Son; you'll delegate that research."

"Certainly. But I must plan how to start it, then review progress at intervals, and suggest new avenues to explore."

"Mmm . . if I consent to the full course, I'll be out of circulation a day or two every now and then."

"I believe current practice calls for one day of deep rest approximately each week, varied to suit the client's condition. My own experience is about a hundred years back; I understand there have been improvements. You've decided to take it, sir?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow-after that switch is installed. Ira, I don't make decisions in haste that don't call for haste. But if I consent, you'll have free time to use as you see fit. G'night, Ira."

"Good night, Lazarus. I hope you decide to accept it." Weatheral turned toward the door, stopped halfway there, and spoke to the technicians-who left the room at once. The dining table scurried after them. Once the door had shut down Weatheral turned and faced Lazarus Long. "Grandfather," he said softly, his voice somewhat choked. "Uh-may I?"

Lazarus had let his chair sink back into a reclining couch that held him, hammocklike, as tenderly as a mother's arms. At the younger man's words he raised his head. "Huh? What? Oh! All right, all right, come here-Grandson." He reached out one arm to Weatheral.

The Chairman Pro Tem hurried to him, took Lazarus' hand, dropped to his knees and kissed it.

Lazarus s.n.a.t.c.hed his hand back. "For Pete's sake! Don't kneel to me-don't ever do that. If you want to be my grandson, treat me as such. Not that way."

"Yes, Grandfather." Weatheral got to his feet, leaned over the old man, and kissed his mouth.

Lazarus patted his cheek. "You're a sentimentalist, Grandson. But a good boy. Trouble is, there never has been much demand for good boys. Now get that solemn expression off your face and go home and get a good night's rest."

"Yes, Grandfather. I will. Good night."

"Good night. Now beat it."

Weatheral left quickly. The technicians jumped aside as he came out, then went back into the suite. Weatheral continued on, ignoring people around him but with a softer, gentler expression on his face than was his wont. He went past a bank of transports to the Director's private transport; it opened to his voice, then conveyed him quickly into the bowels of the city and directly to the Executive Palace.

Lazarus looked up as his attendants came back in; he motioned the taller one to him. The technician's voice, filtered and distorted by the helmet, said carefully, "Bed . . . sir?"

"No, I want-" Lazarus paused, then spoke to the air. "Computer? Can you speak? If not, print it out."

"I hear you, Senior," a mellifluous, contralto voice answered.

"Tell this nurse that I want whatever they are allowed to give me for pain. I have work to do."

"Yes, Senior." The disembodied voice s.h.i.+fted to. Lingua Galacta, was answered in kind, then went on: "Master Chief Technician on duty wishes to know the nature and location of your pain, and adds that you should not work tonight."

Lazarus kept silent while he counted ten chimpanzees in his mind. Then he said softly, "d.a.m.n it, I hurt everywhere. everywhere. And I don't want advice from a child. I have loose ends to tidy up before I sleep . . because one never knows that one will wake up again. Forget the painkiller; it ain't all that important. Tell 'em to get out and stay out." And I don't want advice from a child. I have loose ends to tidy up before I sleep . . because one never knows that one will wake up again. Forget the painkiller; it ain't all that important. Tell 'em to get out and stay out."

Lazarus tried to ignore the ensuing exchange, as it annoyed him that he almost-not-quite understood it. He opened the envelope Ira Weatheral had returned to him, then opened out his will-a long bellows-fold of computer printout-and started reading it while whistling off key.

"Senior, Master Chief technician on duty states that you have given a null order, which is a true statement by the Clinic's regulations. A general a.n.a.lgesic is forthcoming."

"Forget it." Lazarus went on reading, and s.h.i.+fted to singing softly the tune he had been whistling: "There's a p.a.w.nshop On the corner Where I usually keep my overcoat.

"There's a bookie Behind the p.a.w.nshop Who handles my investments" 7 7 The taller technician appeared at his elbow, carrying a s.h.i.+ny disk with attached tubing. "For . . pain."

Lazarus made a brush-off gesture with his free hand. "Go'way, I'm busy."

J.F. 45th The shorter technician appeared on his other side. Lazarus looked that way and said, "What do you you want?" want?"

As he turned his head the taller technician moved quickly; Lazarus felt a sting in his forearm. He rubbed the spot and said, "Why, you rapscallion. Foxed me, didn't you? All right, beat it. Raus. Scat!" He dismissed the incident from his mind and returned to work. A moment later he said: "Computer!"

"Awaiting your orders, Senior."

"Record this for printout. I, Lazarus Long, sometimes known as the Senior and listed in the Howard Families' Genealogies as Woodrow Wilson Smith, born 1912, do declare this to be my last will and testament-Computer, go back through my talk with Ira and dig out what I said I wanted to do to help him lead a migration-got it?"

"Retrieved, Senior."

"Fix up the language and tack it onto my opening statement. And-let me see-add something like this: In the event Ira Weatheral fails to qualify for inheritance, then all my worldly wealth of which I die possessed shall go to, uh, to -to found a home for indigent and superannuated pickpockets, prost.i.tutes, panhandlers, piemen, priggers, and other unworthy poor starting with 'P.' Got it?"

"Recorded, Senior. Please be advised that this alternative has a high probability of being nullified if tested by the current rules of this planet."

Lazarus expressed a rhetorical and physiologically improbable wish. "All right, set it up for stray cats or some other useless but legally acceptable purpose. Search your permanents for such a purpose that will will get by the courts. Just be certain that the Trustees can't get their hands on it. Understand?" get by the courts. Just be certain that the Trustees can't get their hands on it. Understand?"

"There is no way to be certain of that, Senior, but it will be attempted."

"Look for a loophole. Print that out as fast as you can research it and put it together. Now stand by for a memorandum of my a.s.sets. Begin." Lazarus started to read the list, found that his eyes were blurring and would not focus. "d.a.m.nation! Those dummies slipped me a Mickey and it's taking hold. Blood! I must have a drop of my own blood to thumbprint it! Tell those dummies to help me and tell them why why-and warn them that I will bite my tongue to get it if they won't help me. Now print out my will with any feasible alternative-but hurry! hurry!"

"Printout starting," the computer answered quietly, then s.h.i.+fted to Galacta.

The "dummies" did not argue with the computer; they moved fast, one s.n.a.t.c.hing the new sheet out of the auxiliary printout the instant it stopped whirring, the other producing a sterile point out of nowhere and stabbing the ball of Lazarus' left little finger after giving Lazarus a split second to see what was being done.

Lazarus did not wait for blood to be taken by pipette. He squeezed the stabbed finger for a drop, rubbed his right thumb in it, then print-signed his will while the shorter technician held it for him.

Then he sank back. "It's done," he whispered. "Tell Ira." He was heavily asleep at once.

COUNTERPOINT.

I.

The chair gently transferred Lazarus to his bed while the technicians silently supervised. Then the shorter watched the readouts on respiration, heart action, brain rhythms, and other physicals while the taller placed the doc.u.ments, old will and new, in an impervolope, sealed it, chopped and thumb-printed the seal, marked it "Surrender only to the Senior and/or Mr. Chairman Pro Tem," then retained it until their reliefs arrived.

The relief chief technician listened to the record of the watch, glanced over the physicals, studied the sleeping client.

"Timed," he stated.

"Neolethe. Thirty-four hours."

He whistled. "Another crisis?"

"Less severe than the last. Pseudopain with irrational irascibility. Physicals within limits for this stage."