Time Enough For Love Part 49

"Let me say in preface that we are not going to ask Ishtar to thwart your wishes by using the sperm bank. But there are other possibilities to which you can hardly object. Consider how we were born. I could easily bear an implanted clone from my own tissue, and so could Lor-although we might swap clones . . for reasons purely sentimental since we have identical genes. Do you see anything wrong with that? Genetically, or emotionally? Or otherwise?"

"Mmm . . no. Unusual-but your business."

"Just as easy-since Ishtar still has living tissue of yours in vitro-is to clone you . . you . . and Lorelei and I would bear identical twins-both of them 'Lazarus Long' in every gene . . lacking only your long experience. Would you find that offensive?" and Lorelei and I would bear identical twins-both of them 'Lazarus Long' in every gene . . lacking only your long experience. Would you find that offensive?"

"Eh? Now wait a minute! Let me think."

"Let me add that we regard this as a last resort . . if you are dead. If you don't come back."

"Don't start sniffling again! Uh, if I'm dead, I don't have much vote in it, do I?"

"No, because if we we did not do it, then Ishtar would plant your clone in one of the others-or in herself, with Galahad's help. But if Lorelei Lee and I do it . . we would did not do it, then Ishtar would plant your clone in one of the others-or in herself, with Galahad's help. But if Lorelei Lee and I do it . . we would much much rather do it with your blessing." rather do it with your blessing."

"Mm . . stipulated that I'm dead-well, okay, okay, it's with my blessing. Just one thing-"

"What, Brother?"

"Crack down on the little beast. Or 'beasts.' I was a mean one. You two were handful enough for six-but I was ornery. ornery. If you don't establish who's boss right from the cradle-he-they- If you don't establish who's boss right from the cradle-he-they-I, d.a.m.n it-'I' will give you so much grief your lives won't be worth living."

"We'll try to cope with . . 'you,' Lazarus-and we have the advantage of knowing what a, uh, 'real whirling son of b.i.t.c.h' you can be."

"Ouch! Am I bleeding?"

"You led with your chin, Brother. The truth is, you spoiled us . . and we may find it hard not to spoil you you. But we'll bear in mind your advice. But we want to say this before we leave the subject of genetics. You've had how many children?"

"Uh . . too many, maybe."

"You know exactly how many and so do we . . and it's a number large enough to be inspected as a statistical universe. How many were defectives?"

"Uh . . none that I know of."

"Exactly none. Ishtar made it her business to know, and Justin confirms it from his study of the Archives. Brother, I don't know how uncommon this may have been in the twentieth Gregorian century . . but you have a clean gene chart-and so of course do we."

"Now wait a minute! I'm not really up to date in genetics, but-"

"-but Ishtar is. Do you want to argue it with her? We accept her a.s.surances; Lor and I aren't geneticists-as yet. But we have, recorded in Dora, Ishtar's formal report on your gene chart. If you want it. Not that we think it makes any difference; you are rejecting us for reasons having nothing to do with genetics."

"Now slow down! I am not not rejecting you." rejecting you."

"That's the way it feels to us. We are artificial constructs, and the soi-disant 'incest' mores of another time and utterly different circ.u.mstances don't apply to us and you know it; that's just an excuse to avoid something you don't want want to do. Coupling with us might be masturbation, but it to do. Coupling with us might be masturbation, but it can't can't be incest because we be incest because we arn arn't your sisters. We aren't your kin in your sisters. We aren't your kin in any any normal sense; we're normal sense; we're you you. Every gene of us comes from you you. If we love you-and we do-and if you love us-and you do, some, in your own chincby and cautious fas.h.i.+on-it's Narcissus loving himself. But this time, if you could only see it, that Narcissist love could be consummated." She stopped, and gulped. "That's all. Come on, Lor; let's go to bed."

"Hold it, girls! Laz, Ishtar says this is safe?"

"You heard me say so. But you don't want to do it-so the h.e.l.l h.e.l.l with it!" with it!"

"I never at any time said that I did not want want to. Why do you think I quit cuddling you two lively little monkeys when you started being grown up?" to. Why do you think I quit cuddling you two lively little monkeys when you started being grown up?"

"Oh, Buddy!" Buddy!"

"Because I must be Narcissus himself . . because I think my two identicals are the prettiest, s.e.xiest-and b.i.t.c.hiest-broads I've ever seen."

"Do you? Do you really really?"

"You heard me. Quit quivering your G.o.dd.a.m.n chins! So when you started getting broad, I started keeping my hands off you. But-if Ishtar says it's all right-"

"She does!"

"I suppose-this once-I could manage a couple of minutes for each of you."

Lorelei gasped. "Did you hear that, Laz?"

"I heard it. 'Two minutes.' "

"Rude, crude, and vulgar."

"Insulting."

Infuriating."

"But we accept-"

-right now!" now!"

DA CAPO.

I.

The Green Hills

The Star Yacht Dora Dora hovered two meters over the pasture, the lower hatch irised open. Lazarus gave Lazi and Lori a last quick squeeze and dropped to the ground-rolled with the impact, rolled to his feet, hurriedly got clear of the s.h.i.+p's field. He waved, and the s.h.i.+p lifted, straight up, a round black cloud against the stars. Then it was gone. hovered two meters over the pasture, the lower hatch irised open. Lazarus gave Lazi and Lori a last quick squeeze and dropped to the ground-rolled with the impact, rolled to his feet, hurriedly got clear of the s.h.i.+p's field. He waved, and the s.h.i.+p lifted, straight up, a round black cloud against the stars. Then it was gone.

He looked quickly around him-Dipper . . North Star . . okay, fence that way, road beyond, and-Caesar's Ghost!-a bull! bull!"

He cleared the fence with inches to spare, a few feet ahead of the bull.

Lazarus was moving so fast that his speed made necessary another rolling landing. He wound up in the middle of a rutted dirt road while reflecting that many more of that sort would not improve his appearance. He patted his pockets, especially an extra pocket concealed by the bib of his overalls, and decided that nothing was missing. He missed the comfort of a blaster on his hip-but knew that any sort of gun would be a mistake, for this time and place. A facsimile jackknife was all he carried.

His hat-The ditch? No. Ten feet inside the fence . . which might as well be ten miles; the bull was keeping an eye on him. A hat was not necessary, and if anyone found it and noticed that it was not quite right-well, there was nothing to connect it with him. Forget it.

North Star again-That town should be about five miles down this road, straight as the turtle flies. He set out.

Lazarus stood in front of the printshop of the Dade County Democrat, Democrat, looking at sheets posted inside the gla.s.s, but not reading. He was thinking. He had just had a shock, and the pretense of continuing to read posted newspapers let him do so in quiet. He had read a date and now needed to reconstruct some ancient history. August first, nineteen-sixteen-nineteen-six looking at sheets posted inside the gla.s.s, but not reading. He was thinking. He had just had a shock, and the pretense of continuing to read posted newspapers let him do so in quiet. He had read a date and now needed to reconstruct some ancient history. August first, nineteen-sixteen-nineteen-six teen teen?

He saw reflected in the gla.s.s a figure coming down the sidewalk-heavyset, middle-aged, wearing a gun belt almost concealed by belly overflowing it, a bolstered hogleg on his right thigh, star on his left breast, otherwise dressed much as Lazarus was dressed. Lazarus continued to stare at a posted front page of the Kansas City Journal Journal.

"Morning."

Lazarus turned. "Good morning . . Chief."

"Just the constable, Son. Stranger hereabouts?"

"Yes."

"Pa.s.sing through? Or staying with someone?"

"Pa.s.sing through. Unless I find work."

"That's a good answer. What trade do you follow?"

"I was raised on a farm. But I'm an all-around mechanic. Or anything, for an honest dollar."

"Well, I tell you. Not many farmers taking on hands right now. As for anything else, things are slow in the summertime. Mmm, you wouldn't be one of them IWW's, would you?"

" 'IW' what?"

"A Wobbly, son-don't you read the papers? This is a friendly community, always glad to have visitors. But not that sort." The local law raised one hand to wipe away sweat and gave a lodge recognition sign. Lazarus knew how to answer it -and decided not to. Where was his home lodge?-that's a good question, Officer, so let's not let it come up.

The constable went on, "Well, since you're not one, you're welcome to ask around and see if somebody needs help." He looked at the front page Lazarus had been pretending to read. "Terrible what those U-boats are doing, isn't it?"

Lazarus agreed that it was.

"Still," the officer added, "if people stayed home and minded their own business, it wouldn't happen. Live and let live, I always say. What church do you attend?"

"Well, my folks are Presbyterians."

"So? Meaning you haven't attended lately. Well, sometimes I miss myself, when the fish are biting. But-See that church up the street? The belfry through the elms. If you do do find work, why, come Sunday, ten o'clock, let me extend you the right hand of fellows.h.i.+p there. Methodist Episcopal, but there ain't all that much difference. This is a tolerant community." find work, why, come Sunday, ten o'clock, let me extend you the right hand of fellows.h.i.+p there. Methodist Episcopal, but there ain't all that much difference. This is a tolerant community."

Thank you, sir; I'll be there."

"Good. Very tolerant. Mostly Methodists and Baptists-but a few Jack Mormons on farms around here. Good neighbors, they always pay their bills. A few Cath-a-licks and n.o.body holds it against them. Why, we've even got a Jew."

"Sounds like a good town."

"It is. Local option and clean living. Just one thing-If you don't find work-About half a mile beyond the church you'll find a city-limits sign. If you're unemployed and have no local address, it's best to be on the other side of it come sundown."

"I see."

"Or I would have to run you in. No hard feelings; that's just the way it is. No tramps or n.i.g.g.e.rs after sundown. I don't make the rules, Son; I just enforce them-and that's how Judge Marstellar defines a tramp. Some of our good ladies have been pus.h.i.+ng him-things stolen off clotheslines and the like. So its ten dollars or ten days . . which isn't too bad, as the lockup is right in my house. The food's not fancy as I'm allowed only forty cents a day to board a prisoner-though for fifty cents more you can eat what we do. No intention of making things hard, you understand-it's just that the Judge and the Mayor aim to keep this a quiet, law-abiding place."

"I understand. Certainly no hard feelings . . because you won't have occasion to lock me up."

"Glad to hear it. Any way I can help you, Son, just let me know."

Thank you. Perhaps you can right now. Do you know of an outhouse a stranger might use? Or had I better try to hold it until I'm out of town and can find some bushes?"

The officer smiled. "Oh, I think we can be that hospitable. The courthouse has a real city-type flush toilet-but it's not working. Let me think. Blacksmith down this way sometimes accommodates automobilists pa.s.sing through. I'll walk down with you."

"That's mighty kind of you."

"Glad to. Better tell me your name."

"Ted Bronson."

[image]

The blacksmith was tr.i.m.m.i.n.g a hoof on a young gelding. He looked up. "Hi, Deacon."

"Howdy, Tom. This young friend of mine, Ted Bronson, has a case of Kansas quickstep. Could he use your privy?"

The blacksmith looked Lazarus over. "Help yourself, Ted. Try not to go clear back to the harness section."

Thank you, sir."

Lazarus followed the path behind the shop, was pleased to find that the privy had a door with no cracks and could be hooked from the inside. He got at the extra pocket hidden by the bib of his overalls, took out money.

Paper banknotes convincing in every detail; they were restored replications of originals in the Museum of Ancient History in New Rome-counterfeit" by definition but the restorations were so perfect that Lazarus would not hesitate to utter them in any bank-except for one thing: What dates did they carry?

He quickly shuffled the paper money into two packs: 1916 and earlier, and post-1916, then without hesitating or stopping to count, he shoved the usable banknotes into a pocket, tore a page from the Montgomery Ward catalog in the cob box, packaged the useless bills so that they would not be spotted as money, dropped the package into the cesspool. Then he got out coins still in that secret pocket, checked their dates.

He noted that most of them carried d.a.m.ning mint dates-these followed the paper money. He wasted a full second admiring a proof-perfect replica buffalo nickel-such a pretty thing! He gave sober thought, at least two seconds, to a ma.s.sive twenty-dollar gold piece. Gold was gold; its value would not be diminished if he melted it down or pounded it into a shapeless lump. But it was a hazard until he could deface it, as the next town clown might not be as friendly as this one. Down it went.

He felt lighthearted then. "Queer" money was a serious offense here, good for a number of years in prisons unpleasant and difficult to escape from. But lack of money was a correctable nuisance. Lazarus had considered arriving with no money at all, then had compromised by taking enough for a few days, to let him look around, reorient, get used to the customs and the lingo again, before having to scratch for a living-he had never considered trying to fetch enough to last ten years.

Never mind, this was more fun-and good practice for the much harder job of tackling an era he had never known. Elizabethan England-that would be a would be a real real challenge. challenge.

He counted what he had left: three dollars and eighty-seven cents. Not bad.

The blacksmith said, "Thought you'd fallen in. Feel better?"

"Much better. Thanks a lot."

"Don't mention it. Deacon Ames says you claim to be a mechanic."