Filename : D:\My Ebooks\Robert Silverberg - To Live Again.pdf Title : ToLiveAgain.pdf0193 Author : Dougherty Subject : ToLiveAgain.pdf0193 Keywords : Creator : Adobe PageMaker 6.5 Producer : Acrobat Distiller 3.0 for Power Macintosh Created Date : D:19990627191752 Modified Date: SavedBy : Encrypt : No Version : 1.1 Filesize : 735919 Page Count : 248 --------------------------------------- 1 --------------------------------------- 2 --------------------------------------- 3 To Live Again by Robert Silverberg --------------------------------------- 4 PULPLESS.PULPLESS.COMCOM, , INCINC.. 106736 Jefferson Blvd., Suite 775 Culver City, CA 90230-4969, USA Voice & Fax: (500) 367-7353 Home Page: http://www.pulpless.com/ Business inquiries to info@pulpless.com Editorial inquiries & submissions to editors@pulpless.com Copyright © 1969 by Robert Silverberg All rights reserved. Published by arrangement with the author. Printed in the United States of America. The rights to all previously published materials by Robert Silverberg are owned by the author, and are claimed both under existing copyright laws and natural logorights. All other materials taken from published sources without specific permission are either in the public domain or are quoted and/or excerpted under the Fair Use Doctrine. Except for attributed quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechani- cal, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. This novel is fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are prod- ucts of the authorÕs imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. First Pulpless.Comª, Inc. Edition May, 1999. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 98-83272 Trade Paperback ISBN: 1-58445-018-5 Acrobat/PDF Digital Edition ISBN: 1-58445-019-3 HTML Digital Edition ISBN: 1-58445-020-7 Book and Cover designed by CaliPer, Inc. Cover Illustration by Billy Tackett, Arcadia Studious © 1999 by Billy Tackett --------------------------------------- 5 --------------------------------------- 6 --------------------------------------- 7 For Damon and Kate Knight --------------------------------------- 8 --------------------------------------- 9 Table of Contents CHAPTER PAGE 1............................................................................... 11 2............................................................................... 23 3............................................................................... 39 4............................................................................... 49 5............................................................................... 67 6............................................................................... 85 7............................................................................. 101 8............................................................................. 119 9............................................................................. 137 10 ............................................................................ 151 11 ............................................................................ 169 12 ............................................................................ 183 13 ............................................................................ 203 14 ............................................................................ 223 15 ............................................................................ 237 --------------------------------------- 10 --------------------------------------- 11 There is therefore but one comfort left, that though it be in the power of the weakest arm to take away life, it is not in the strongest to deprive us of death: God would not exempt himself from that; the misery of immortality in the flesh he undertook not, that was in it immortal. Sir Thomas Browne: Religio Medici Chapter 1 The lamasery rose steeply from the top of the bluff on the Marin County side of the Golden Gate. Feeling a faint cramp in his left calf, John Roditis got out of the car near the toll plaza and, stretch- ing and kicking, looked across the water at the gleaming yellow building, windowless, sleek, ineffably holy as a fountainhead of good karma. It was an extraordinarily warm day. San Francisco had been gripped by an unaccustomed heat wave throughout the four days of RoditisÕ visit. Hot weather in the psychological sense did not trouble Roditis; he thrived on it, in fact. But when heat came to him not as a function of metaphor but as a blazing golden eye staring from above, he longed to switch on the air conditioner. There was no way for him to change the outdoor environment to that degree. At least, not yet. Given enough minds in one skull, though, who was to say what limits a man might have? Roditis gestured at the lamasery. ÒI hope itÕs cooler in there, eh?Ó ÒIt will be,Ó Charles Noyes said. ÒThe guru is cool.Ó Roditis scowled at his associateÕs pun. ÒStill infested with the antique slang?Ó ÒNot me. ItÕsÑKravchenko.Ó As he spoke the name of the per- sona who shared his body, NoyesÕ grin turned to a grimace, and he clung to the polished railing just before him. His long body sagged. His elbows trembled and beat against his ribs. ÒDamn him! Damn him!Ó Noyes grunted. ÒHave him erased,Ó Roditis suggested. --------------------------------------- 12 12 To Live Again ÒYou know I canÕt!Ó ÒWhen an unruly persona threatens the integrity of the host, he ought to be expelled,Ó said Roditis crisply. ÒIf Kozak made trouble for me IÕd throw him out in a minute, and he knows it. Or Walsh. Either of them. I canÕt afford to have a troublemaker in my head. Can you?Ó ÒStop it, John.Ó ÒIÕm just talking common sense.Ó ÒKravchenko doesnÕt like it. HeÕs giving me a hard time.Ó NoyesÕ arm came up from the railing in a fitful jerk. ÒHeÕs fighting me. HeÕs trying to speak.Ó ÒYou wonÕt be satisfied,Ó said Roditis, Òuntil he goes dybbuk on you. Throws you out of your own body.Ó ÒIÕd kill him and me both first!Ó Roditis scowled. ÒYouÕre becoming an unstable bastard, you realize it? If I werenÕt so fond of you IÕd let you go. Come on: into the car. MustnÕt keep the cool guru waiting, or heÕll get hot un- der the toga. Or whatever he wears.Ó Roditis, chuckling, opened the car door and pulled Noyes away from the railing. There was momentary confusion as Noyes struggled to regain full control of his limbs. Then Roditis thrust his companion into the car, got in beside him, and slammed the door. ÒFinish the route as programed,Ó Roditis said to the car. The generator thrummed and the car backed out of the plaza area, swung around, and headed for the tollbooths. The actu- arial sign over the row of booths announced the dayÕs vehicle toll: 83¢. As the car passed through a booth, a brief data inter- change took place between the bridge computer and the car, and RoditisÕ central bank account was automatically billed for that amount. Onward sped the car over the elderly bridge and toward the yellow shaft of the lamasery just beyond. Within the cool depths of the car, Roditis flecked perspiration from his corrugated brow and regarded the other man uneasily. --------------------------------------- 13 To Live Again 13 He was growing more and more worried about Noyes, who per- haps was becoming a risky liability. It would be a pity to have to let Noyes go, after a relationship that had lasted so long and worked so well. They had met in college, nineteen years before. Their roles had been reversed then: Noyes was the campus leader, tall and dashing, appropriately Anglo-Saxon, with the fair hair and blue eyes of the highest caste, and seven generations of respectable money behind him, while Roditis, the immigrant shoemakerÕs son who looked the part, was short, thick-bodied, dark, a schol- arship student, a nobody. But Noyes had a gift for dissipating his many assets, Roditis a gift for capitalizing on what little he had. It was an attraction of opposites, instant, permanent. Now Roditis controlled an em- pire, and Noyes was a cog in that vast wheel. Poor Noyes. He hadnÕt been able to handle his own wealth, couldnÕt deal with a fine wife, was even making a mess of his persona transplant. Roditis hated to patronize anyone, but he couldnÕt help a certain feeling of smugness as he contemplated his own position vis-ˆ- vis Noyes. Sad. Sad. The car purred to a halt in the gravelly parking oval adjoining the lamasery. The men got out. It seemed to be at least ten de- grees hotter on this side of the bridge. Reflected heat from the lamaseryÕs polished sides, Roditis wondered? He looked up, and felt Anton Kozak within him responding affirmatively to the chaste elegance of the architecture. Roditis had become infinitely more aware of esthetic matters since taking on KozakÕs persona. It had seemed odd to some that a businessman like Roditis would choose a sonic sculptor for his second transplant, but Roditis knew what he was going toward. He was assembling a portfolio of personae as another man might assemble a portfolio of com- mon stocks-for diversity, and for ultimate high profit. ÒFeeling better?Ó Roditis asked. ÒMuch,Ó said Noyes. --------------------------------------- 14 14 To Live Again ÒKravchenko is pushed way down?Ó ÒI think so. HeÕs had his exercise for the day.Ó ÒIf thereÕs more trouble while weÕre here, ask the guru to help you. HeÕll run a few simple exorcisms, IÕm sure.Ó Looking pale, Noyes said, ÒIt wonÕt be necessary, John,Ó and they approached the building. Sensors scanned them. They were expected; the tall Gothic doorway peeled open, admitting them. Within, all was dark, cool, reflective. Roditis caught glimpses of saffron-robed monks scut- tling to and fro in the rear arcades. A great deal of money had gone into the building of this lamasery; some of the best families had contributed to the fund. They said that the late Paul Kaufmann had donated over a million dollars fissionable. it was funny to imagine a rich Jew contributing that much money to a Buddhist monasteryÕs construction fund; but, Roditis reminded himself, Kaufmann had not been a terribly orthodox Jew, any more than these monks were terribly orthodox Buddhists. And what had a million dollars more or less mattered to Paul Kaufmann? The crafty old banker had had his motives. Roditis saw a kindred spirit in Kaufmann. He himself had reached wealth too late to aid in this placeÕs construction fund, but now he was here to make amends for that and for what he thought were much the same motives. Two shaven-headed monks emerged from inner rooms. They made appropriate pseudo-Buddhist gestures, tracing mandalas in the air, touching cardinal points of their bodies, murmuring gentle welcoming mantras. Roditis, unsmiling, flicked a glance at Noyes. The tall man seemed as awed as though he stood at the threshold of GodÕs throneroom. Once upon a time, Roditis would have envied Noyes his ability to don such a goddam sin- cere expression of respect, as contrasted to RoditisÕ own look of impassive, poker-faced piety. But now Roditis was not at all sure whether Noyes was faking anything. In these latter troubled years, old Chuck might well have turned into a believer. Stranger --------------------------------------- 15 To Live Again 15 things had happened. ÒThe guru will be with you shortly,Ó said one of the monks. ÒWill you remove your worldly coverings and join us in prayer?Ó He indicated a room where they might change. Within, Roditis stripped away his sweat-stained clothing and gratefully shucked his shoes. His body, at thirty-seven, was tight-muscled and solid, a compact bullet of flesh still traveling unswervingly on its de- signed trajectory. Noyes, who was no older, still gave the illu- sion of lanky grace, but it was only an illusion. Beneath his clothes the tall man was thickening at the paunch, going flabby at thigh and rump. Such weakness of the flesh struck Roditis as a symp- tom of the decay of the will. He judged men harshly in this re- spect. Arrayed now in loose, billowing robe and soft sandals, Roditis said, ÒItÕs certainly more comfortable this way. If men were saner theyÕd dress like this all the time.Ó ÒIt wouldnÕt be practicable.Ó ÒNo,Ó Roditis agreed. ÒIt leads to undue relaxation. A slacken- ing of striving. Are we supposed to wait here for them to come back and get us?Ó ÒI suppose,Ó said Noyes. The room was bare of furniture, but for the two saddle-backed benches on which they had left their worldly clothes. The walls were of some dark, highly reflective stone, slabs of black marble, perhaps, or possibly onyx. If onyx could be had in such quanti- ties, Roditis thought. There was an inscription in inlaid letters of gold leaf on each wall. The one facing Roditis said: If so far you have been deaf to the teaching, listen to it now! An overpowering craving will come over you for the sense-experiences which you remember having had in the past, and which through your lack of sense organs you cannot now have. Your desire for rebirth be- comes more and more urgent; it becomes a real torment to you. This desire now racks you; you do not, however, experience it for what it is, but feel it as a deep thirst which parches you as you wander along, harassed, among deserts of burning sands. Whenever you try to take --------------------------------------- 16 16 To Live Again some rest, monstrous forms rise up before you. Some have animal heads on human bodies, others are gigantic birds with huge wings and claws. Their howlings and their whips drive you on, and then a hurricane carries you along, with those demonic beings in hot pursuit. Greatly anxious, you will look for a safe place of refuge. They read it in silence. Roditis said, ÒThatÕs a lot of gold to waste on such nonsense. Recognize it?Ó ÒThe Bardo Thšdol, of course.Ó ÒYes. The good old Book of the Dead, eh? A hot line of revela- tion straight from the Himalayas?Õ Noyes pointed to the inscription on the rear wall. ÒWhat do you make of that one?Ó Roditis turned, narrowing his-eyes. It read: He who lacketh discrimination, whose mind is unsteady and whose heart is impure, never reacheth the goal, but is born again. But he who hath discrimination, whose mind is steady and whose heart is pure, reacheth the goal, and having reached it is born no more. A muscle twitched in RoditisÕ cheek. He said bleakly, ÒItÕs pure nirvana-propaganda. Subversion. I thought they didnÕt try to push that concept in the Western world.Ó ÒThey canÕt help allowing a little of the orthodox theory to sur- vive,Ó Noyes said, sounding apologetic. ÒWhy not? WeÕve adapted all that Oriental foolishness to our own purposes. And our own purposes donÕt include nirvana at all. To be swallowed up in the cosmic all? To be born no more? ThatÕs not our object at all. To live again, thatÕs what we want. Again and again and again. So why do they put that up?Ó ÒThey pose as the heirs to Eastern mysticism,Ó said Noyes. ÒCa- tering to Western pragmatism. In theory, rebirth is undesirable, freedom from the wheel of existence is the highest goal. Yes?Ó ÒYes. In theory. Not for me.Ó A monk entered. ÒThe guru now will see you,Ó he murmured. Roditis shuffled forward through clouds of incense, his san- dals sliding on the smooth stone floor. Over the arch of the door --------------------------------------- 17 To Live Again 17 he found another slogan in letters of gold: It is appointed unto man once to die. Yes, he thought. Once to die: IÕll grant that. But many times to be reborn. He felt the warm presence within him of Anton Kozak and Elio Walsh, who lived again because he had chosen their personae from the soul bank. Had they hungered for nirvanaÕs sweet oblivion? Of course not! They had bided their time in cold storage, and now they walked the world again, passengers in a busy, well-stocked, active mind. Roditis would leave nirvana to real Buddhists. He preferred the Westernized version of the creed. The guru looked like a salesman of motel appliances who had seen the light. Not even his shaven skull and saffron robes could conceal the blunt, earthily American features, the jutting jaw, the prominent lips, the glossy, somewhat hyperthyroid blue eyes, the domed vault of the forehead. He was squat of physique, even shorter and stockier than Roditis, and was perhaps sixty years old, though it was difficult to be certain of that. The only creases in the holy manÕs face were those of its youthful geography made deeper: the deep valleys alongside the strong nose. His skull, newly mown, was pink and smooth. It had a curious occipital bulge. Taking RoditisÕ hand with his left, NoyesÕ with his right, the guru offered a blessing and a wish for many lives for them both. Roditis was reassured. He had no interest in being fobbed off to nirvana while reincarnations were available. ÒTo my study?Ó the guru suggested. Hideous Tibetan scrolls defaced the walls. Roditis eyed them with displeasure; within him, Anton Kozak surged with delight, but Elia Walsh, the bluff old philistine, voiced distaste even stron- ger than RoditisÕ. There was a desk, and on it a very secular- looking telephone with vision and data-transmitting attachments. Beside the telephone lay a book expensively bound in full mo- rocco. The guru, smiling as he noticed RoditisÕ interest in the --------------------------------------- 18 18 To Live Again volume, handed it to him. ÒA priceless first edition,Ó said the holy man. ÒEvans-Wentz, the original translation of the Bardo, 1927. You wonÕt find many of these about.Ó Roditis caressed the book. Its cool binding held a sensual ap- peal for him. Opening it with care, as though he expected pages to spring free of their own will, he eyed the familiar text with its lengthy burden of prefaces, its endless table of contents. He turned to the first section, the Chikhai Bardo. ÒHEREIN LIETH THE SETTING-FACE-TO-FACE TO THE REALITY IN THE IN- TERMEDIATE STATE: THE GREAT DELIVERANCE BY HEAR- ING WHILE ON THE AFTER-DEATH PLANE, FROM THE PRO- FOUND DOCTRINE OF THE EMANCIPATING OF THE CON- SCIOUSNESS BY MEDITATION UPON THE PEACEFUL AND WRATHFUL DEITIES.Ó Nonsense, Roditis knew, and Elio Walsh echoed the sharp judg- ment while Kozak registered mild annoyance. On a different level of his mind Roditis admitted that it was useful nonsense, in its way. How mumbo-jumbo from the icy plateaus of the yak coun- try could be a guide to American man was a complex matter, but so it had befallen, and Roditis, comforted by his multiple per- sonality, was flexible enough to accept and reject in the same moment. ÒItÕs a beautiful volume,Ó he said. ÒA gift from Paul Kaufmann,Ó the guru replied. ÒOne of his many kindnesses to our establishment. His loss is truly a great one.Ó ÒLuckily, only temporary,Ó Roditis pointed out. ÒIt canÕt be long before a transplant of his persona will be awarded.Ó ÒQuite soon, now, I understand.Ó ÒOh?Ó Roditis lurched tensely forward. ÒWhat do you know about that?Ó The guru looked startled at RoditisÕ eagerness. ÒWhy, nothing official. But he has been dead several months now. The family --------------------------------------- 19 To Live Again 19 period of mourning is over. Surely they have processed the ap- plicants for KaufmannÕs persona by now, and a decision soon will come. So I assume. I have not been told anything.Ó Relaxing, Roditis saw NoyesÕ quick glower of disapproval. He knew he had acted in bad form, blurting like that. Too damned bad. Noyes had nicer manners; but Noyes wasnÕt hungry for Paul KaufmannÕs persona. Sometimes there was a strategic advan- tage to a seemingly accidental tipping of your hand. Let the guru know what he wanted. It couldnÕt hurt. Roditis said, ÒKaufmann was a great man and a great banker. I donÕt know which aspect of him I admire more.Ó ÒFor us his greatnesses were combined. He favored us with many donations and sometimes with his presence at our rites. Shall we pray?Ó A couple of sandaled monks had slipped into the room. Roditis heard the soft chanting of the great mantra: ÒOm mani padme hum.Ó Beside him NoyesÕ voice took it up. Roditis, too, unselfconsciously began to repeat the catch-phrase. They said it was the essence of all happiness, prosperity, and knowledge, and the great means of liberation. Om. The liberation they talked about was one Roditis did not seek: nirvana, oblivion. Mani. No one sought that, really, except possibly in places like India, where rebirth meant yet another breaking on the wheel of karma. Padme. Hum. Om. Who wanted liberation from existence? First a man wanted nourishment, and then strength, and then power, and then long life. And then rebirth so he could savor the cycle once more. Om mani padme hum. Roditis participated in the chant but not in any wish that the chant be fulfilled, and he sus- pected that of those about him only Noyes might seriously feel otherwise. Om. The religious interlude was over. It was time to talk business. His voice tougher, less ethereal now, the guru said, ÒIÕm glad you took the trouble to visit us, Mr. Roditis. Some men a whole --------------------------------------- 20 20 To Live Again lot less important than you canÕt be bothered to pay a personal call even on their own philanthropies.Ó Roditis shrugged. ÒIÕve been curious about this place for a long time. And since I had to be in San Francisco anywayÑÓ ÒWas it a successful trip?Ó ÒVery. We closed the contracts for the entire Telegraph Hill redevelopment. Five years from now thereÕll be a hundred-story tower on top of that hill, the biggest thing thatÕs been put up anywhere since Õ96. ItÕll be the Pacific headquarters of Roditis Securities.Ó ÒI look forward to blessing the site,Ó said the guru. ÒNaturally. Naturally.Ó ÒIn our humble way we have our own building program here, Mr. Roditis. Would you care to view our grounds?Ó They stepped through an irising gate of burnished beryllium steel and entered a broad spade-shaped garden several hundred yards deep. The rear was planted in blue flowers, delphinium, lupine, convolvulus, several others of varying heights, sur- mounted by a massive wistaria whose tentacles reached in all directions. Cascades of flowers dangled from the many limbs of the wistaria. Closer by were humbler flowers, and it dawned slowly on Roditis that the entire garden was laid out in the shape of some vast mandala, circles within circles, an esoteric signifi- cance of the highest degree of solemn phoniness. The thought came from Kozak; Roditis himself had not perceived the pattern. Beyond the garden lay rocky, uncleared land sloping down the hillside. ÒThere is to be our refectory,Ó said the guru. ÒHere, the library. On the far side, overlooking the bridge, we anticipate building a guidance center for the uninformed. ÒAnd just here to our left we will establish a soul bank.Ó ÒYour own soul bank?Ó ÒFor storing the personae of the chapter members. Obviously we canÕt allow our own peopleÕs personae to be thrown into the --------------------------------------- 21 To Live Again 21 general bank. We must remain in control of each incarnation. So we propose to establish a complete Scheffing-process instal- lation here and carry out every stage of rebirth.Ó ÒThatÕll cost you a fortune!Ó Roditis said. ÒExactly.Ó Noyes said, ÒWhen do you expect to build it?Ó ÒWithin the next several years. It depends on our receipt of funds, of course. We have the basic equipment for a pilot plant now. WeÕve already had a fine contribution from the estate of Paul Kaufmann. And I understand his young nephew Mark is planning to match it.Ó ÒMark. Yes.Ó Roditis sucked his belly in sharply at the painful mention of his enemy. ÒHe would. A very generous man, Mark Kaufmann.Ó ÒA generous family,Ó said the guru. ÒQuite. Quite. They all recognize the obligation of the wealthy to repay the society that has treated them so well. As do I,Ó Roditis said a moment later. ÒAs do I.Ó Noyes looked pained. Roditis kicked pebbles at his ankle. A rich man does not need to be subtle, he told himself, except where subtlety pays. They received the full tour. They were handed rare Tibetan manuscripts, prayer wheels, and associated sacred artifacts. They visited the young lamas in their chambers. They received samples of the lamaseryÕs publications, its painstaking theological sub- structure for the modern materialistic cult of rebirth. Noyes fidg- eted, but Roditis calmly followed the guru about, asking ques- tions, nodding in frequent response, showing utter concentra- tion and complete patience. The shadows lengthened. Twilight was creeping across the continent. The guru made no request for a contribution; Roditis offered none. At the end, they were back in the guruÕs own chamber for farewells. ÒMay you attain your heartÕs desire,Ó said the guru, Òwhatever it may be. IÕm right to assume that a man of your station has some unfulfilled desires, even now?Ó --------------------------------------- 22 22 To Live Again Roditis laughed. ÒMany.Ó ÒI have no doubt that some of them will be gratified shortly.Ó ÒThatÕs kind of you,Ó said Roditis. ÒIÕm grateful for your spar- ing us so much of your time today. The visit was fascinating.Ó ÒOur pleasure,Ó said the guru. A youthful lama with a bony face took them to the room where they had left their clothing. They dressed and departed from the lamasery in silence. Noyes seemed to have a powerful headache. Probably good old Jim Kravchenko was hammering on the in- side of NoyesÕ skull again. They got into the car. ÒIn the morning,Ó said Roditis, Òtransfer a million dollars fis- sionable to their account.Ó ÒThat much?Ó ÒKaufmann gave them a million and then some, didnÕt he? Can I afford to do less?Ó ÒYouÕre not Kaufmann,Ó Noyes pointed out. ÒNot yet,Ó said Roditis. --------------------------------------- 23 To Live Again 23 Chapter 2 Risa Kaufmann was sixteen years old: old enough for her first persona transplant. She had come of age, so far as the Scheffing process was concerned, three months earlier, in January. But that had been the time of old PaulÕs death, and it was bad taste for her to bring up the matter of the transplant just then. Now things were quieter. The black armbands had gone into the drawer; the rabbis had stopped bothering them; family life had reverted to normal. Talk of transplants was very much in the air. Everybody in the family was worried about who was going to get old Paul. They didnÕt speak about it much in front of her, be- cause they still assumed she was a child, but she knew what was up. Her father was sizzling with fear that John Roditis would get Paul. That would be a funny one, Risa thought It would serve everybody right for being so rude to the little Greek. But of course Risa knew that her father would fight like a demon to keep Paul KaufmannÕs persona from finding its way into RoditisÕ mind. She giggled at the thought. Touching a shoulder stud, she caused her gown to drop away, and, naked, she stepped out on the terrace of the apartment. A thousand feet below, traffic madly swirled and bustled. But up here on the ninety-fifth floor everything was serene. The April air was cool, fresh, pure. The slanting sunlight of midmorning glanced across her body. She stretched, extended her arms, sucked breath deep. The view down to the Street did not dizzy her even when she leaned far out. She wondered how some pass- erby would react if he stared up and saw the face and bare breasts of Risa Kaufmann hovering over the edge of a terrace. But no one ever did look up, and anyway they couldnÕt see anything from down there. Nor was there any other building in the area tall enough so that she was visible from it. She could stand out --------------------------------------- 24 24 To Live Again here nude as much as she liked, in perfect privacy. She half hoped someone would see her, though. A passing copter pilot, cruising low, doing a loop-the-loop as he spied the slinky naked girl on the balcony. Risa laughed. This building belonged to the Paul Kaufmann estate. Once they got the will straightened out, title would pass to her father, PaulÕs nephew and chief heir. And one day, Risa thought, this building will be mine. She let her unbound hair stream free in the morning breeze. She was a tall girl, close to six feet tall, with a slim, agile body, dark hair, dark, sparkling eyes, and what she liked to think of as a Semitic nose. It pleased her to pretend she was a Yemenite Jew, a lively daughter of the desert, a descendant in a straight line from the stock of Abraham and Sarah. Certainly she looked like some Bedouin princess; but the sad genetic truth was that the Kaufmann line could be traced back to twentieth-century London, to nineteenth-century Stuttgart, to eighteenth-century Kiev, and then became lost in nameless Russian peasantry. She clung to her tribal fantasy anyway. She began to touch her toes, rapidly, not bending her knees. Hup. Hup. Hup. She could do it a hundred times, if she had to. Her small breasts bobbled and jiggled as she moved down, up, down, up. Risa was profoundly glad she hadnÕt sprouted a pair of meaty udders, even though bosoms were becoming fashionable again lately. She went in a good deal for nudity in her costume, and small girlish breasts were more pleasing to the eye, she thought than full heavy ones. Of course, she might get bigger later on, but she didnÕt think so. She hadnÕt grown much, in height or bust or anything else, since she had turned fourteen. Hup. Hup. She lay down on the terrace, cool tile against her back and buttocks, and lashed her heels through the air. It might be interesting, she thought, to find out what it was like to be bosomy. To know what it is to carry all that meat below your clavicles. Risa made a mental note to request some top- --------------------------------------- 25 To Live Again 25 heavy breasty wench when she applied for her first persona trans- plant. By checking through the memories she inherited, sheÕd get a notion of what voluptuousness was like without the bother of gaining all that nasty weight. When will I get the transplant, though? That was the frustrating part. At sixteen she was medically old enough for the Scheffing process, but not legally competent to apply for it. She needed her fatherÕs consent. It had been simpler last year when Risa decided it was time for her to part with her virginity; she merely took the next rocket to Cannes, picked out a likely stud, and surrendered. But theyÕd throw her out of the soul bank, Kaufmann or not, if she walked in without the proper consent form. She looked over her shoulder and saw figures moving on the far side of the sliding glass door between the living room and the terrace. Risa got to her feet. Her father was coming toward her. His girl friend, the Italian bitch, Elena Volterra, was with him. Smiling, Risa lounged against the wall of the terrace and waited for them to come out to her. Her father was wearing some sort of sprayon business suit, very chic, very shiny. His long black hair was slicked down across his skull in a style that highlighted the savage cragginess of his features, the hard thrust of the cheekbones, the vulpine chin, the corvine nose. Somehow he managed to be handsome, Mark did, despite the collection of outcroppings and bladed planes that was his face. Risa was desperately in love with him, and they both knew it of course. And hid the fact, as they must. His eyes barely flickered over his daughterÕs angular nakedness. ÒLooking to visit the hospital?Ó he asked. ÒAprilÕs too early in the season for sunbathing in this latitude.Ó ÒItÕs warm enough out here, Mark,Ó she said sullenly. ÒPut something on.Ó ÒWhy should I if IÕm not cold?Ó ÒAll right,Ó Mark said. ÒDonÕt. But I donÕt have to talk to you, --------------------------------------- 26 26 To Live Again either. Not while youÕre bare.Ó ÒHow bourgeois of you. Mark. Since when have you enforced the nudity taboo?Ó ÒThis has nothing to do with taboos, Risa. Simply with your health. Now and then I have to take some sort of interest in your physical welfare, donÕt I? AndÑÒ ÒVery well,Ó Risa said. ÒWeÕll talk inside.Ó Defiantly naked, she sauntered past them, through the glass door, and slung herself down in the abstract webfoam cradle near the great screen-window, wrapping her hands about an upraised knee. Her eyes passed from her father to Elena, who was clearly annoyed by the interchange. Good. Let her stew. Elena had the sort of body Risa had been thinking about a short while back. Fleshy. Indeed. Full hips, solid thighs, high, bulky breasts. And always dressed to display her assets. Risa didnÕt envy her fatherÕs mistress her figure. Usually Elena kept herself cosseted with stays and braces so that the flesh made its intended effect; but it was easy for Risa to summon the memory of that beach party last year when they had all been swimming naked, and poor Elena had jiggled and bounced so dreadfully. A body like that was designed for the nakedness of the bed, or the semibareness of formal dress, but not for casual outdoor nudity. Risa asked herself if, should Elena die tomorrow, she would re- quest her persona on a transplant. She doubted it. It would be a pleasantly spiteful thing to do to Elena, but Risa didnÕt think she cared to have the woman in her mind, even as a temporary. Mark and Elena came in from the terrace. Risa chuckled. She had won that round by a dozen points. Her father had come up here with Elena because he knew it annoyed her to see the two of them together, but he had found her nude, which annoyed him because it awakened the nasty Electra thing in him and hu- miliated him before Elena, so he had made a fuss about her catch- ing pneumonia in the cold outdoors. Whereupon she had come obediently inside, but remained nude, compounding the effect --------------------------------------- 27 To Live Again 27 of rebellion and provocation. Mark was smiling too; he knew that heÕd been beaten by an expert, and he couldnÕt help being proud of her. His apartment was a floor below hers. She had left a message for him, asking that he come up and see her when he came home for lunch. She said, ÒI wanted this to be a private conference, Mark.Ó ÒYou can talk in front of Elena. SheÕs practically a member of the family.Ó ÒThatÕs odd. I didnÕt see her at Uncle PaulÕs funeral.Ó Mark winced. Risa chalked up another cluster of points. She was really sharp this morning. Elena was fuming! Huskily, Elena said, ÒIf this is a family conference and IÕm in- trudingÑÓ ÒIÕd just like to talk to my father a little while,Ó Risa said. ÒIf itÕs all right with the two of you. I hate to come between you, butÑÓ Mark shrugged a dismissal. Elena snorted in a way that made the pounds of flesh above her neckline ripple and dance. Wigwagging her hips, she stalked from the apartment. ÒNow will you put something on?Ó Mark asked. ÒDoes my body make you that uncomfortable, Mark?Ó ÒRisa, itÕs been a difficult morning, andÑÓ ÒYes. Yes, all rightÓ She knew when it was time to cash in her winnings. She picked up a robe, wrapped it about herself, and politely offered her father a tray of drinks. He chose one capsule and pressed it to his arm. Risa did not hesitate to select a golden liqueur herself, administering it expertly and shivering a little as the ultrasonic spray drove the delicious fluid into her blood- stream. She eyed her father carefully. He was tense, wary; this Roditis thing had him worried, no doubt. Or perhaps it was merely the complexity of unraveling Uncle PaulÕs will that keyed him up. She said, ÒI think you know what I want to ask you about?Õ ÒSummer vacation on Mars?Ó --------------------------------------- 28 28 To Live Again ÒNo.Ó ÒYou need money?Ó ÒOf course not.Ó ÒThenÑÓ ÒYou know.Ó He scowled. ÒYour transplant?Ó ÒMy transplant,Ó Risa agreed. ÒIÕm well past sixteen. Uncle PaulÕs funeral is out of the way. IÕd like to sign up. Can I have your consent?Ó ÒWhatÕs your hurry, Risa? YouÕve got a whole lifetime to add new personae.Ó ÒIÕd like to begin. How old were you when you got your first?Ó ÔTwenty,Ó Mark told her. ÒAnd it was a mistake. I had to have it erased. We were incompatible. Can you imagine it, Risa, despite all the testing and matching I took on the persona of an ardent anti-Semite? And of course he woke up and found himself in a circumcised body and nearly went berserk.Ó ÒHow did you pick him?Ó ÒHe was a man I had admired. An architect, one of the great builders. I wanted his planning skills. But I had to take his lu- nacy with his greatness, donÕt you see, and after three months of sheer hell for both of us I had him erased. It was several years before I dared apply for another transplant.Ó ÒThat must have been unfortunate for you,Ó Risa said. ÒBut itÕs getting off the subject. IÕm old enough for a transplant. ItÕs un- reasonable of you to deny your consent. It isnÕt as if we canÕt afford it, or as if IÕm unstable, or anything like that. You just donÕt want to let me, and I canÕt understand why.Ó ÒBecause youÕre so young! Look, Risa, sixteen is also the mini- mum legal age for getting mated, but if you came to me and said you wanted toÑÓ ÒBut I havenÕt. A transplant isnÕt a marriage.Ó ÒItÕs far more intimate than a marriage,Ó Mark said. ÒBelieve me. You wonÕt merely be sharing a bed. YouÕll be sharing your --------------------------------------- 29 To Live Again 29 brain, Risa, and you canÕt comprehend how intimate that is.Ó ÒI want to comprehend it,Ó she said. ÒThatÕs the whole point. IÕm hungry for it, Mark. ItÕs time I found out, time I shared my life a little, time I began to experience. And there you stand like Moses saying no.Ó ÒI honestly think youÕre too young.Ó Her eyes flashed. ÒIÕll translate that for you, dearest. You want me to stay too young, because that way you stay young too. So long as I remain a little girl in your estimation, your whole time scheme stays fixed. If IÕm eight years old, youÕre thirty-two, and youÕd like to be thirty-two. But IÕm past sixteen, Mark. And you wonÕt see forty again. I canÕt make you accept the second, but I wish youÕd stop denying the first.Ó ÒAll your cruelty is exposed today, Risa.Ó ÒI feel like going naked today. Physically and emotionally. I wonÕt hide anything.Ó Languidly Risa selected a second drink for herself; then, as an afterthought, she offered her father the tray. As she pressed the capsuleÕs snout to her pale skin she said, ÒWill you sign my consent form or wonÕt you?Ó ÒLetÕs put it off till July, shall we? The marketÕs so unsettled these daysÑÓ ÒThe market is always unsettled, and in any event it has noth- ing to do with my getting a transplant. Today is April 11. Unless you give in, IÕm going to bear an illegitimate child on or about next January 11.Ó Mark gasped. ÒYouÕre pregnant?Ó ÒNo. But I will be, three hours from now, unless you sign the form. If I canÕt experience a transplant, IÕll experience a preg- nancy. And a scandal.Ó ÒYou devil!Ó She was afraid she might have pushed her father too far. This was a raw threat, after all, and Mark didnÕt usually respond kindly to threats. But she had calculated all this quite nicely, figuring in a factor of his appreciation for her inherited ruthlessness. She --------------------------------------- 30 30 To Live Again saw a smile clawing at the edges of his mouth and knew she had won. Mark was silent a long moment. She waited, graciously allowing him to come to terms with his defeat. At length he said, ÒWhereÕs the form?Ó ÒBy an odd coincidenceÑÓ She handed it to him. He scanned the printed sheet without reading it and brusquely scrawled his signature at the bottom. ÒDonÕt have any babies just yet, Risa.Ó ÒI never intended to. Unless you called my bluff, of course. Then I would have had to go through with it. IÕd much rather have a transplant. Honestly.Ó ÒGet it, then. How did I raise such a witch?Ó ÒItÕs all in the genes, darling. I was bred for this.Ó She put the precious paper away, and they stood up. She went to him. Her arms slid round his neck; she pressed her smooth cheek to his. He was no more than an inch taller than she was. He embraced her, tensely, and she brushed her lips against his and felt him tremble with what she knew was suppressed desire. She released him. Softly she whispered her thanks. He went out. Risa laughed and clapped her hands. Her robe went whirling to the floor and she capered naked on the thick wine-red carpet. Pivoting, she came face to face with the portrait of Paul Kaufmann that hung over the mantel. Portraits of Uncle Paul were stan- dard items of furniture in any home inhabited by a Kaufmann; Risa had not objected to adding him to her dŽcor, because, natu- rally, she had loved the grand old fox nearly as deeply as she loved his nephew, her father. The portrait was a solido, done a couple of years back on the occasion of PaulÕs seventieth birth- day. His long, well-fleshed face looked down out of a rich, flow- ing background of green and bronze; Risa peered at the hooded gray eyes, the thin lips, the close-cropped hair rising to the widowÕs peak, the lengthy nose with its blunted tip. It was a Kaufmann face, a face of power. --------------------------------------- 31 To Live Again 31 She winked at Uncle Paul. It seemed to her that Uncle Paul winked back. Mark Kaufmann took the dropshaft one floor to his own apart- ment, emerged in the private vestibule, put his thumb to the doorseal, and entered. From the vestibule, the apartment spread out along three radial paths. To his left were the rooms in which he had installed his business equipment; to his right were his living quarters; straight ahead, directly below his daughterÕs smaller apartment, lay the spacious living room, dining room, and library in which he entertained. Kaufmann spent much of his time in his Manhattan apartment, though he had many homes elsewhere, at least one on each of the seven continents and sev- eral offplanet. At each, he could summon a facsimile of the com- forts he enjoyed here. But these twelve rooms on East 118th Street comprised the center of his organization, and often he did not leave the building for days at a time. He walked briskly into the library. Elena stood by the fireplace, beneath the brooding, malevolent portrait of the late Uncle Paul. She looked displeased. ÒIÕm sorry,Ó Kaufmann told her. ÒRisa was simply in a bitchy mood, and she took it out on you.Ó ÒWhy does she hate me so much?Ó ÒBecause youÕre not her mother, I suppose.Ó ÒDonÕt be a fool, Mark. SheÕd hate me even more if I were her mother. She hates me because IÕve come between herself and you, thatÕs all.Ó ÒDonÕt say that, Elena.Ó ÒItÕs true, though. That child is monstrous!Ó Kaufmann sighed. ÒNo. She isnÕt a child, as sheÕs just finished explaining to me in great detail. And sheÕs not even monstrous. SheÕs just an apt pupil of the family business techniques. In a way, IÕm terribly pleased with her.Ó Elena regarded him coldly. ÒWhat a terrible tragedy for you --------------------------------------- 32 32 To Live Again that sheÕs your own daughter, isnÕt it? SheÕd make a wonderful wife for you in a few years, when sheÕs ripe. Or a mistress. But incest is not one of the family business techniques.Ó ÒElenaÑÓ ÒI have a suggestion,Ó Elena purred. ÒHave Risa killed and transplant her persona to me. That way you can enjoy both of us in one body, quite lawfully, gaining the benefit of my physical advantages joined to the sharp personality you seem to find so endearing in her.Ó Kaufmann closed his eyes a moment. He often wondered how it had happened that he had surrounded himself with women who had such well-developed gifts of cruelty. Steadier for his pause, he ignored ElenaÕs thrust and said simply, ÒWill you ex- cuse me? I have some calls to make.Ó ÒWhere do we eat lunch? You talked yesterday about Florida House for clams and squid.Ó ÒWeÕll eat here,Ó said Kaufmann. ÒHave Florida House send over whatever youÕd like to have. I wonÕt be able to go out until later. Business.Ó ÒBusiness! Another ten millions to make before nightfall!Ó ÒExcuse me,Ó he said. He left Elena arrayed like a fashionable piece of sculpture in the library and made his way to his office. He touched the doorseal, full palm here, not merely thumb. The thick tawny oaken door, inset with twining filaments of security devices, yielded to him, an obedient wife that would surrender only to the right caress. Within, Kaufmann consulted the stock ticker the way an uneasy medieval might have searched for answers in the sortes of Virgil, or perhaps in a random stab into the Tal- mud. The market was off six points; the utilities averages were up, finance steady, interworld transport a little shaky. KaufmannÕs fingers tapped the console as he executed two swift trades for ritualistic purposes. He closed out at 94 a thousand shares of 3 Metropolitan Power purchased that morning at 89 Ú4, and an in- --------------------------------------- 33 To Live Again 33 stant later accepted a realized loss of half a point on a lot of eight hundred Kšnigin Mines. The net effect on his central credit bal- ance was inconsequential, but Kaufmann had learned the thera- peutic value of making small trades in times of stress from his uncle, long ago. Next he switched on the neutron flux scanner with which he monitored RisaÕs apartment. There was little of the voyeur in his psychological makeup; he merely regarded it as good sense to keep an eye on his increasingly more unruly daughter. Espe- cially when, as today, she had blackmailed him into giving his consent to a transplant by the elegantly simple method of threat- ening to get pregnant. Now that she had voiced the notion, he knew he had to guard against it. He was well aware of RisaÕs sexual adventures of the past year, and had no objections to them, but a pregnancy was beyond the scope of the acceptable. He watched her for a few moments. She was naked again, rushing about the apartment, getting ready to go out. No doubt to make the preliminary arrangements for her transplant. Kaufmann allowed himself the pleasure of admiring her coltish grace, her long-limbed sleekness. Then he switched the scanner over to record and let it run; it would moni- tor her apartment so long as he wished. Swinging around to his desk, he activated the telephone. ÒI want my daughter traced wherever she goes today,Ó he said. ÒI expect her to visit the soul bank, and donÕt interfere with that but tell me where she goes afterwards. Especially if she goes to any of her friends. Male friends. No, no interceptions; just sur- veillance.Ó He suspected he was being overcautious. Nevertheless, he would have her watched, at least today. If necessary, heÕd order surreptitious external contraceptive measures as an extra pre- caution. Risa could sleep around all she liked, but he had no intention of allowing her to get more than a few days into any premarital pregnancies just yet. --------------------------------------- 34 34 To Live Again Kaufmann said to the telephone, ÒGet me Francesco Santoliquido.Ó It took more than a minute. Even Mark Kaufmann had to be patient about getting a call through to Santoliquido, who was not merely an important man, as chief administrator of the soul bank, but also a very busy one. Whole light-years of secretarial barricades had to be penetrated before Santoliquido could dis- cover who was calling and was able to free himself long enough to respond. Then the amiable face blossomed on the screen. Santoliquido was about fifty, ruddy of skin, white-haired, with a large, com- manding oval face. He was a man of considerable wealth who had entered the bureaucracy out of a sense of mission. ÒYes, Mark?Ó ÒFrank, I wanted you to know that my daughter will soon be on her way down to your bank to pick out a persona.Ó ÒYou broke down, then!Ó ÒLetÕs say Risa broke me down.Ó Santoliquido shook with pleasant laughter. ÒWell, sheÕs a strong-willed girl. Strong enough to handle a transplant IÕd say. What shall I give her? A Mother Superior? A lady banker?Ó ÒOn the contrary,Ó said Kaufmann. ÒSomeone softly feminine, to balance all the aggression in her. Someone who died young, quite sadly, after a life of suffering for love. Preferably a girl of an opposite physical type, too, less athletic, less masculine of build. You follow?Ó ÒCertainly. And what if Risa isnÕt interested in a person of those specifications?Ó ÒI think she will be, Frank. But if she isnÕt, give her what she wants, I suppose. IÕll leave the final decisions up to the two of you.Ó ÒYouÕll have to,Ó said Santoliquido. His eyes regarded Kaufmann with some amusement. ÒYou know, Mark, you were supposed to come to the bank yourself this month. You havenÕt been recorded --------------------------------------- 35 To Live Again 35 in nearly a year.Ó ÒIÕve been so damned busy. PaulÕs death, and everythingÑÓ ÒYes, I know. But you shouldnÕt neglect the semiannual re- cording. A man of your statureÑyou owe it to the world, to the future inheritors of your persona, to keep yourself up to date, to etch all the new experiences into the recordÑÓ ÒAll right. You sound like a recruiter.Ó ÒI am, Mark. WeÕve been expecting you for weeks.Ó ÒWhat if I come tomorrow, then? I wouldnÕt want to be there today. If I ran into Risa, sheÕd think her horrible old father was spying on her.Ó ÒTrue. Tomorrow, then,Ó Santoliquido said. ÒIs there anything else, Mark?Ó ÒJust one thing.Ó Kaufmann hesitated. ÒThe question of PaulÕs persona.Ó ÒNo decisionÕs been taken yet. None. WeÕve had dozens of ap- plicants.Ó ÒRoditis among them?Ó ÒI couldnÕt say.Ó ÒYou could say. Maybe you wonÕt say, but thatÕs a different thing. I know Roditis is hungry to add Paul to his collection of trans- plants. IÕd merely like to emphasize that such a transplant would be distasteful and offensive not only to the immediate Kaufmann family, but toÑÓ SantoliquidoÕs ringed hand swept across the screen. ÒIÕm aware of your feelings,Ó he said gently. ÒHowever, family wishes can- not be binding upon us. The decisions of the soul bank are made strictly on an impersonal basis, taking into account the stability of the recipient and the merit of his application, and you know very well that we regard it as desirable to go outside the genetic group whenever possible.Ó ÒMeaning that you favor giving Paul to Roditis?Ó ÒI said nothing of the kind.Ó SantoliquidoÕs geniality began to ebb. ÒWeÕre still weighing all applicants.Ó --------------------------------------- 36 36 To Live Again ÒI wish I could take Uncle Paul myself, and keep him out of the skull of thatÑthat fishmonger!Ó ÒWhat about the consanguinity laws?Ó Santoliquido asked. ÒNot to mention your uncleÕs own will? HeÕll have to go outside the family, Mark. And I suspect we wonÕt be giving him to any Schiffs or Warburgs or Lehmans or Loebs, either. Can we drop the sub- ject, now?Ó ÒI suppose?Õ Santoliquido smiled again. ÒIÕll see you tomorrow. And then, Saturday, your party, Dominica.Ó ÒYes. Dominica on SaturdayÓ The screen went dark. Kaufmann felt cross; he had played his hand poorly, making that frontal attack on Santoliquido just now. Risa had upset him, clearly, shaking his tactical faculties. Or was it Roditis? Roditis. Roditis. For ten years, now, Kaufmann had watched that grasping little man accumulate first wealth, then power, and then some measure of social prestige. Now the au- dacious upstart wished to thrust himself deep into the core of a fine old family, making up for his own lack of ancestry by seiz- ing the available persona of the late Paul Kaufmann. Mark scowled. He was less of a snob than he had a right to he, consid- ering who and what he was, but nevertheless the thought of Roditis lying down on a pallet in the soul bank and emerging with Uncle Paul was intolerable to him. He had to be blocked. KaufmannÕs own three personae stirred and squirmed. Ordi- narily they were mild, passive, guiding him without making their presence known, but the tensions of this hideous morning were seeping into their place of repose. He put his hands to his fore- head. IÕm sorry, friends, he told the three captive souls beneath his scalp. WeÕll all relax on Saturday. IÕm genuinely sorry about this. Damn Roditis! Kaufmann turned back to the ticker. The market was rallying, but now the utilities were weak. He scanned the tape, made a --------------------------------------- 37 To Live Again 37 quick velocity projection of Pacific Coast Power, and went five thousand shares short at 43. Moments later it came across the 1 tape on high volume at 45 Ú2. Not my day, Kaufmann thought, and covered his sale for a rapid loss. Not my day at all. --------------------------------------- 38 38 To Live Again --------------------------------------- 39 To Live Again 39 Chapter 3 Charles Noyes awoke slowly, reluctantly, fighting the return to the waking world. He lay alone in a bed that was just barely long enough for his lanky body. His arms twitched; his eyelids fluttered. Morning was here. Time to rise, time to toil. He fought it. ÑCome on, you cowardly bastard, said James Kravchenko within his mind. Wake up! Noyes moaned. He jammed his eyelids together. ÒLet me alone.Ó ÑUp, up, up! Greet the morningÕs glow. ÒYou arenÕt supposed to talk to me, Kravchenko. YouÕre just supposed to be there.Ó ÑLook, I didnÕt ask to be pushed into your brain. Anytime youÕd like to let me out, you know where to go. ÒYou donÕt mean that. YouÕre only bluffing. You want to stay right where you are, Kravchenko. Until you can take me over entirely, and run me like a puppetÓ Kravchenko did not reply. Several minutes passed, and the per- sona remained silent. Once again Noyes considered getting out of bed, but waited, convinced that Kravchenko would nag him again, and willing to arise only when nagged. But in the contin- ued silence he knew the onus was on him to get their shared body up. He pushed back the covers and disconnected the night monitor. Beside his bed lay the deadly flask of carniphage. Noyes eyed it tenderly. His first thought upon arising, like his last at night, was of suicide. No. Duicide. When he went he would take Kravchenko with him. He picked up the flask and cradled it in his hand, stroking it with affection. Within the fragile container lay a lethal quantity of beta-13 --------------------------------------- 40 40 To Live Again viral DNA, a replicative molecule whose action it was to per- suade the cells of the body to release autolytic enzymes, certain acid hydrolases, from the lysosomes or Òsuicide bagsÓ within themselves. Moments after ingestion, the carniphage created such a cascading wave of autolysis that the body literally fell apart; cell death was general and consecutive, and as each cell in turn succumbed to the flow of fatality, the carniphage devoured it. It was a swift but unusually agonizing way to die, since the body turned to slime from the digestive tract outward, and as much as eight or ten minutes might pass before the nerve cen- ters were no longer able to register the pain of dissolution. But the splendor of the poison lay in its total irreversibility. There was no known antidote, nor even a conceivable one; neither could a stomach pump or any sort of similar device halt the process once it had begun to affect even a few cells. Let that cascade of destruction begin, and the victim was irrevocably doomed. Noyes sometimes thought of it as the Humpty Dumpty effect He set the carniphage down. ÑGo on, gulp it, why donÕt you! ÒVery funny, Kravchenko.Ó ÑI mean it. Do you think you frighten me, waving that suicide juice around? IÕll get a new body soon enough, once youÕre gone. Maybe youÕll be right in there with me, when IÕm transplanted the second time. Noyes reached for the flask. ÑJust put it to your lips and go crunch. ItÕs easy. ÒNo, damn you! IÕll do it when I want to. Not to amuse you!Ó It seemed to him that he heard KravchenkoÕs ghostly laughter. Putting the flask aside again, Noyes shed his nightclothes and began his morning rituals. Religious observance. He reached for the Bardo. Untold gen- erations of Episcopalian ancestors whirred like turbines in their New England tombs as the last and least scion of the Noyeses opened the barbarous Tibetan holy book. He turned, as usual, to --------------------------------------- 41 To Live Again 41 the Bardo of the dying, the early section, before the demons ap- pear, when nirvana is still within reach. In a low voice he read: O nobly-born, listen. Now thou art experiencing the Radiance of the Clear Light of Pure Reality. Recognize it. 0 nobly-born, thy present in- tellect, in real nature void, not formed into anything as regards charac- teristics or color, naturally void, is the very Reality, the All-Good. Thine own intellect, which is now voidness, yet not to be regarded as the void- ness of nothingness, but as being the intellect itself, unobstructed, shin- ing, thrilling, and blissful, is the very consciousness, the All-good Bud- dha. Cleanliness. He stood in the vibrator field for a minute. Nutrition. He programed an austere breakfast. Bodily hygiene. Grunting a bit, he performed the eleven stretchings and the seven bendings. He ate. He dressed. The time was ten in the morning. He had returned with Roditis from San Francisco the night before, and he was still living on Pacific Standard Time, which made his awakening even more difficult than it normally was. Activating the screen, Noyes saw that the outer world looked cheerful and sunny, and the sunlight was the yielding light of April, not the harsh winter light that had engulfed this part of the world so long. He lived in a small apartment in the Wallingford district of Greater Hartford, Connecticut, close enough both to Manhattan and to his ancestral Boston. He tried to keep away from Massa- chusetts, but old compulsions drew him there periodically. One, at least, was external: at RoditisÕ insistence, the two of them at- tended their Harvard class reunion each year. That was painful. Any window into the past was a source of pain. Anything that reminded him of a time when he had been young, with pros- pects before him: a legal career, a fruitful marriage, a fine home, the joys of tradition. He had flunked out of law school. Flunked out of marriage, too. Today he was a wealthy man, but only be- cause Roditis had picked him up from the junkheap and stuffed money in his pockets, as the price of his soul. NoyesÕ credit bal- --------------------------------------- 42 42 To Live Again ance was high, but he spent little and lived in a kind of genteel poverty, not out of miserliness but merely because he refused to believe that the largesse Roditis had showered upon him was real. ÒCharles! Charles, are you up yet?Ó ÑHis masterÕs voice, said Kravchenko slyly. ÒIÕm here, John,Ó Noyes called into the other room, while send- ing a subliminal shout of fury at his persona. ÒIÕm coming!Ó One entire wall of the sitting room bore a viewscreen that was hooked into RoditisÕ master communications circuit. No matter where Roditis was, at any station along the territory of his far- flung empire, he could activate that circuit and introduce him- self, life-size, three dimensions, into NoyesÕ apartment. Noyes presented himself before the screen and confronted the blocky figure of his friend and employer. The furniture surrounding Roditis was that of his office in Jersey City: stock tickers, com- puter banks, data filters, the huge green eye of an analysis ma- chine. Roditis looked wide awake. He said, ÒFeeling better?Ó ÒPassable, John.Ó ÒYou were in lousy shape when we got back last night I was worried about you.Ó ÒA nightÕs sleep, thatÕs all I needed.Ó ÒThe acknowledgment on the lamasery gift just came in. Want to see what the guruÕs got to say?Ó ÒI suppose.Ó Roditis gestured. His image shattered and vanished, and for a moment a cloudy blueness filled the screen; then came the sharp snap of a message flake being thrust into a holder, followed by the appearance in NoyesÕ sitting room of the holy man from San Francisco. Noyes had the illusion that he smelled incense. The guru, all smiles, poured forth a honeyed stream of praise and gratitude for RoditisÕ generous gift. Noyes sat through it impa- tiently, wondering why Roditis was bothering to inflict these few minutes of fatuity on him. Of course the guru was going to sound --------------------------------------- 43 To Live Again 43 grateful, after having been handed a million dollars; of course he was going to say that Roditis was blessed among men in wis- dom, and worthy of many rebirths. Noyes had the uneasy suspi- cion that Roditis genuinely believed what the guru was sayingÑ that he felt it was praise earned through merit, not merely bought for cash. It was something like a sonic sculptor who bribed the Times critic to give him a rave, then called up all his friends and proudly read them the glowing review. Not a day passed on which Noyes failed to rediscover the core of na•vetŽ that lay within John RoditisÕ energetic, shrewd, ruthless spirit. The guru reached his peroration and vanished from the screen. Roditis returned, beaming. ÒWhat did you think of that?Ó ÒFine, John. Wonderful.Ó ÒHe really sounded happy about the giftÓ ÒIÕm sure he was. It was very handsome.Ó ÒYes,Ó said Roditis. ÒIÕll give him some more, by and by. IÕll make them name a whole damn wing of that place after me. The John Roditis Soul Bank for Departed Lamas, or something. Onward and upward, yes? Om mani padme hum, fella.Ó Noyes said nothing. Kravchenko seemed to chuckle; Noyes felt it as a tickling in his frontal lobes. Then, as though experiencing some inner shifting of gears, Roditis lost his look of jovial self-satisfaction, and a glimmer of strain showed through his carefully abstract expression. He said, ÒMark Kaufmann is giving a party Saturday at his Dominica es- tate.Ó ÒHeÕs coming out of mourning, then?Ó ÒYes. This is the first social thing heÕs done since old Paul was gathered to repose. ItÕs going to be a big, noisy, expensive af- fair.Ó ÒAre you invited?Ó Noyes asked. Roditis looked scornful. ÒMe? The filthy little nouveau riche with delusions of grandeur? No, of course IÕm not invited! ItÕs --------------------------------------- 44 44 To Live Again mainly going to be a party for various Kaufmanns and their Jew- ish banking relatives.Ó ÒJohn, you know you shouldnÕt use that phrase.Ó ÒWhy? Does it make me seem a bigot? You know IÕve got noth- ing against Jews. Can I help it if the Kaufmanns are related to the other big Jewish bankers?Ó ÒWhen you say it, somehow, it comes out like a sneer,Ó Noyes dared to tell him. ÒWell, I donÕt mean it as a sneer. You donÕt sneer at a social and cultural elite. What you hear in my voice isnÕt anti-Semitism, Charles, itÕs simple envy without any neurotic irrational mani- festations attached. ThereÕll be a mess of Lehmans and Loebs at that party. There wonÕt be any John Roditis. Frank Santoliquido is going to be there, too.Ó ÒHeÕs not Jewish.Ó Roditis looked annoyed. ÒNo, dolt, he isnÕt! But heÕs important, and heÕs socially well-placed besides, and Mark Kaufmann is try- ing to buy his support in this business of the old manÕs persona. Santoliquido and his girl friend are flying down on MarkÕs own jet; thatÕs how tight things are getting. And you can bet that Mark is going to spend the whole day letting Santo know how impor- tant it is to keep Uncle Paul out of my clutches. ThatÕs got to be counteracted somehow. Which is why youÕre going to go to the party, too.Ó ÒMe? But IÕm not invited!Ó ÒGet yourself invited.Ó ÒImpossible, John. Kaufmann knows IÕm connected to your organization, and if youÕre on the dead list, you can bet that IÑÓ ÒYouÕre also connected to the Loebs, arenÕt you?Ó ÒWell, my sister married a Loeb, yes.Ó ÒDamn right, she did. WonÕt she be at the party?Ó ÒI suppose sheÕs been invited, at any rate.Ó ÒI know she has. IÕve got the complete guest list right here. Mr. and Mrs. David Loeb. ThatÕs your sister, right?Ó --------------------------------------- 45 To Live Again 45 ÒRight.Ó ÒFine. Now, what happens if she phones Kaufmann and says sheÕs in the air over Cuba, say, and sheÕll be landing in five min- utes, and sheÕs happened to bring her kid brother Charlie along for the party? Is Kaufmann going to say no, send the scoundrel home?Ó ÒHeÕll be furious, John.Ó ÒLet him be furious, then. HeÕll have to maintain decorum, though. ItÕs not the sort of formal party where one extra guest throws the whole thing out of balance, and he canÕt very well refuse you permission to attend with your sister. YouÕll be admit- ted. The worst thatÕll happen is youÕll get a few sour stares from Kaufmann. But socially youÕll be among your equals, and every- body else will be glad to see you, and thereÕll be no hard feel- ings.Ó NoyesÕ fingers began to tremble. Kravchenko scrabbled deri- sively against the walls of his cranium. Carefully, Noyes reached to his left, out of the range of the sensors relaying his image to Roditis, and scooped a drink capsule from a tray. He activated the capsule and let the fluid flow into his arm. That was better. But not good enough. He felt sick. The idea of muscling his way into a party like this, parlaying his own tattered status and his sisterÕs connections by marriage into RoditisÕ advantage, chilled and saddened him. He said, ÒAssuming I succeed in crashing the party, John, whatÕs the purpose of my going there?Ó ÒMainly to get next to Santoliquido and work on him.Ó ÒAbout the Paul Kaufmann persona?Õ ÒWhat else? You can be subtle. You can be indirect. HeÕs going to make up his mind about the transplant any day now. I want it so bad I can taste it, Charles. Do you realize what I could do with Paul Kaufmann inside my head? The doors that would open for me, the plans I could bring off? And itÕs all up to Santo. HeÕll be down there, relaxed, out in the sunshine, drinking too much. --------------------------------------- 46 46 To Live Again And you can work on him. Use the old charm. ThatÕs what I pay you for, the old Episcopalian Anglo-Saxon charm. Turn it on!Ó ÒAll right,Ó Noyes muttered. ÒAnd even if you donÕt get anywhere immediately with him, perhaps you can find a plan of action. Some vulnerable spot in his makeup. Some opening wedge that we can get leverage on.Ó Appalled, Noyes said, ÒAre you thinking of blackmailing Santoliquido into approving your request?Ó ÒNow, did I say that? What a terribly crude suggestion, Charles! I expect more finesse from you.Ó Roditis laughed heavily. ÒCall your sister. Get everything set up. OhÑ Charles? HowÕs Jimmy- boy?Ó ÒKravchenko? I think heÕs asleep.Ó ÒIÕm sure heÕll appreciate going to the party too. HeÕll see many of his old friends there. Call your sister, Charles.Ó The screen darkened. Noyes looked at the floor. He knelt and dug his fingers into the carpet, trying to steady himself. His head seemed to be splitting into segments. ÑCall your sister, Charles. DidnÕt you hear the man? ÒI wonÕt!Ó ÑYouÕd better. You donÕt dare defy him. ÒItÕs filthiness! To crash a party so he can use me to suck up to SantoliquidoÑÓ ÑHe wants the old Kaufmann persona, doesnÕt he? ItÕs his ticket to social respectability. Your job is to help him get what he wants. ÒNot at the cost of my integrity.Ó ÑYou got rid of that a long time ago. Come on, Chuck. HeÕs right: I want to go to that party. At least three of my wives ought to be there. IÕd love to see how theyÕre aging. ÒIÕll kill myself first!Ó ÑIf you had the guts, I suppose you would. Pick up the phone. Call your sister. Noyes heard mocking laughter in his skull. --------------------------------------- 47 To Live Again 47 He returned to the bedroom and eyed the carniphage flask. But, as ever, it was only a dramatic gesture, fooling neither him- self nor the demonic persona he harbored. Defeat dragged at his muscles. He seized the phone and jabbed out the numbers. Moments later, his sisterÕs privacy code appeared on the little gray screen. SheÕs taking her morning bath, Noyes thought. He said, ÒItÕs me, Gloria, just Charlie. Your wombmate.Ó The screen cleared, and the face and shoulders of Gloria Loeb appeared. She wore some sort of flimsy wrap, and her cheeks and forehead were glossy with whatever mystic preparation she favored to keep her complexion eternally young. She was three years older than Noyes, and looked at least a dozen years younger. They had never liked one another. Her marriage to David Loeb had been a stunning social event sixteen years ago, a grandiose blowout, as was appropriate for the union of old New England aristocracy with old Jewish aristocracy. That was the fashion- able sort of marriage these days, rapidly creating a tribe of Anglo- Saxon Hebrews whose formidable bloodlines linked them se- curely to Plantagenets on one hand, Solomon and David on the other, an unbeatable combination. Noyes had become very drunk at his sisterÕs wedding; in a way, his decline and fall had begun that evening, a few weeks after he had turned twenty-one. She said coolly, ÒHow good to hear from you again, Charles. You look well.Ó ÒThatÕs a polite lie. I look terrible, and you can feel free to let me know about it.Ó Her lips quirked impatiently. ÒIs something the matter? Are you all right?Ó Noyes took a deep breath and said, ÒI need a tiny favor, Gloria.Ó --------------------------------------- 48 48 To Live Again --------------------------------------- 49 To Live Again 49 Chapter 4 The building housing the soul bank rose in stunning tiers from a broad plaza three superblocks in area. The site had been cho- sen with an eye toward deliberate ostentation, at ManhattanÕs southern tip in an area thick with historic associations. Here, Peter Minuit had haggled with Indian braves and bought a world for a handful of beads; here, Pegleg Stuyvesant had tromped in choleric efficiency; Washington had walked these streets, as had J. P. Morgan, Jay Gould, Thomas Edison, Bet-a-Million Gates, Joseph P. Kennedy, Paul Kaufmann, and Helmut Scheffing, along with others. Few traces of that history remained. A block of eigh- teenth-century buildings had been preserved as a sort of mu- seum; the seventeenth-century New York was gone, as was the nineteenth, and all that survived of the twentieth in this neigh- borhood were a few scruffy, faded curtain-wall skyscrapers put up by the big banks during the boom of the midcentury, shortly before the panic. Serene, isolated, set apart from its neighbors by thousands of priceless square feet of pink noctilucent tile, rose the glowing shaft of the Scheffing Institute tower: eighty stories, then a setback and forty stories more, and a twenty-story cap tipped with black granite. The tower was easily visible from Brooklyn, from Queens, from Staten Island, from New Jersey, and especially from Jubilisle, the floating pleasure dome in New York harbor. One looked up from the sins and gaming tables of Jubilisle to see the reassuring bulk of the Scheffing Institute at the edge of land, offering the promise of rebirth beyond rebirth, and it was comforting. The architects had taken all that into ac- count when planning the building. To the Scheffing Institute that Friday morning came Mark Kaufmann to renew his lease on life. His small hopter landed as programed on the flight deck at the towerÕs first setback, and --------------------------------------- 50 50 To Live Again waiting guards hustled him inside to see Santoliquido. The morn- ing was cool; he had chosen a thick-fibered tunic that sparkled with dark brown and red highlights. Francesco SantoliquidoÕs office was deep, high, consciously impressive. In one corner stood a sonic sculpture, the work of Anton Kozak: a beautiful piece, all flowing lines and delicate rhythms, emitting a gentle white hiss that swiftly infiltrated it- self into oneÕs consciousness and became rooted there. KaufmannÕs pleasure in the lovely work was marred by his aware- ness that Anton Kozak, who had died nine years ago, had re- turned to the corporate form as one of the implanted personae of John Roditis. SantoliquidoÕs desk split obediently and the administrator came through the sections to greet Kaufmann. He was a bulky man, heavier than the fashion prescribed, but he carried himself well. His thick fingers glittered with the rings that betrayed SantoliquidoÕs innocent predisposition toward vanity. At his throat hung a cluster of small beady-eyed crustaceans, violet and green and azure, within a crystal container: products of the mutagenetic art, elaborate little baroques that moved through their prison in an unending stately dance. SantoliquidoÕs shirt was green, his epaulets vermilion. In the blaze of color his white, slicked-back hair took on a compelling vividness. The two men touched hands. Santoliquido returned to his desk, extended a tray of drinks, took part with Kaufmann in the mo- ment of pleasure. Shafts of sunlight danced across the room. The window, a vaulted arch, was wholly transparent. From where he stood Kaufmann enjoyed a superb view of the harbor, and peer- ing down into gay Jubilisle from this height was like staring into a prismatic image from some unimaginable protonic subuniverse. ÒWell,Ó said Santoliquido, Òwe had the pleasure of your lovely daughterÕs company here yesterday. She seems hard to please, though. We unrolled our best carpets for her, but there was no --------------------------------------- 51 To Live Again 51 deal.Ó ÒNot yet. SheÕll be back.Ó ÒYes, certainly. Next Tuesday. SheÕs choosing among three in- teresting alternatives.Ó ÒIÕd like to scan them,Ó said Kaufmann. ÒThat would be a little irregular.Ó ÒI know.Ó Santoliquido smiled elegantly. Kaufmann had always had a good working relationship with this man; they had participated in several joint ventures, most notably a power scheme in the Antarctic, and always Santoliquido had come out of them with his considerable fortunes considerably enhanced. Reciprocal favors were not impossible. The pitch of the Kozak piece altered perceptively, growing more definite, more passionate. Once Kaufmann had had sev- eral Kozaks. After Roditis had received the sculptorÕs persona, Kaufmann had found occasions to bestow the works on delighted friends. Kaufmann said, ÒNothing new on Uncle Paul since Wednes- day?Ó ÒNothing new. ÒIÕd like to see him, too.Ó ÒReally?Õ ÒYouÕll satisfy my curiosity, wonÕt you?Ó Kaufmann leaned for- ward at the waist and fingered an amber rubbing stone on SantoliquidoÕs desk. ÒThereÕs a therapeutic reason. I find it hard to believe that the old manÕs really dead. You know, he rose above the whole family like such a colossusÑ ÒSo that when you see him taped and carded, youÕll finally ac- cept that heÕs gone?Ó ÒYes.Ó ÒItÕs not the first time IÕve heard something like that Mark.Ó Santoliquido clasped his hands over his belly and laughed. ÒPaul was quite the titan, wasnÕt he? IÕll admit I ran his persona off --------------------------------------- 52 52 To Live Again myself, after the funeral, just to get some feel for the man. And I was awed. Let me tell you, Mark, I donÕt awe easily, but I was awed.Ó ÒToying with the idea of taking him on yourself?Ó Santoliquido looked displeased, and even the crustaceans at his throat rapidly changed hues, as if somehow attuned to the flavor of his thoughts. ÒI have no desire whatever to have that terrible old man mixing in my nervous system,Ó said Santoliquido firmly. ÒAnd in any event, considering the demand for his per- sona, it would be a grave breach of trust if I were to appropriate him for my own use. Yes?Ó ÒOf course. Of course.Ó The look of affability returned. ÒAnyone who wants your uncleÕs persona is welcome to it, so far as I care personally. What a pow- erhouse! HeÕd overwhelm nine out of ten who took him on.Ó ÒJust as he overwhelmed us all in life,Ó said Kaufmann. ÒHe reduced my father to a hollow shell, an errand-boy. Me he had a harder time with, but he gave me twenty years of hell before heÕd recognize me as a worthy heir. And the others! Of course, we all loved him. He was simply too dynamic to hate. But when he died, Frank, I felt as though a hand had been removed from my throat.Ó ÒI can understand that.Ó ÒOne more thing. None of us could accept the news, when he had the stroke. I mean, he was still a young man, hardly past seventy. We assumed heÕd be around at least fifty more years. But his own vitality must have burned him out.Ó ÒHeÕll be back among us all soon enough,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒAs a persona, yes. ThatÕs not quite the same as having Uncle Paul striding through the rooms booming out orders.Ó ÒTime will tell about that. ItÕll take a strong man to hold him down, Mark.Ó ÒYouÕre expecting Paul to take over his host?Ó ÒIÕm not expecting anything, officially. IÕm merely a bureau- --------------------------------------- 53 To Live Again 53 crat, and itÕs not my business to expect. Come. IÕll take you to see your uncle.Ó ÒAnd RisaÕs three possible personae,Ó Kaufmann reminded him. ÒThose too,Ó said Santoliquido. Kaufmann followed him from the office into a private dropshaft that moved so serenely he was unaware of motion; even the tug of gravity was absent. Here in this monstrous house of death and rebirth Kaufmann always felt ill at ease and badly orien- tated. He had no real notion of the contents of the infinity of offices on these hundred forty floors, nor did he even know how deep into bedrock the structure extended, what possible maze of stories lay out of sight. Within this too conspicuous edifice were filed the personae of the notable dead, some eighty million of them that had died since the introduction of the Scheffing pro- cess as a commercial fact. Yet the storage even of eighty million personae, Kaufmann knew, could be accomplished in modest space. There were many rooms in this building where persona recordings were made, and other rooms in which the transplants took place, but a great deal of the buildingÕs volume was unac- countable to him. He did not know where in the tower Santoliquido had taken him now, whether toward the soaring summit or deep into the bowels. He merely followed, through silent passageways agleam with living light. The Scheffing Institute was a quasipublic corporation, closely regulated by the Government, its administrators chosen by Con- gress, its board of directors containing a specified quota of Gov- ernment appointees. Its schedule of fees and services was sub- ject to Federal supervision. In effect, the Institute was a public utility of death and rebirth. No common stock was available for purchase; its frequently issued debt securities were offered only to municipal and institutional investors; its profits, which were great, went primarily into renewed research, once amortization payments were made. Important as the Institute was, its exist- --------------------------------------- 54 54 To Live Again ence impinged only marginally on the lives of most of EarthÕs nine billion people. Merely a minority could afford the costs of escaping oblivion. There was a stiff fee for registration; the fee payable each time one recorded oneÕs persona was not small; a registrant was expected, though not required, to make a new recording at least once every six months. The cost of receiving a persona transplant was formidableÑmore than the average man could hope to earn in a lifetime. In theory, anyone who had the money and was certifiably stable could receive a new persona each year of his adult life, superimposed above the earlier ones. But in practice most people were content with two or three trans- plants, if they could afford that many. No one, to KaufmannÕs knowledge, had ever taken more than nine. Though he could well afford any number of additional identities himself, he had not applied for a new one in more than a decade. He found three quite enoughÑnot counting the youthful indiscretion that had had to be erased. It was anything but cheap to erase a persona, also. The Insti- tute turned its profit at every stage of the process. Kaufmann followed Santoliquido into the vestibule of the main storage vault. It was a long, low-roofed tunnel whose far end was plugged by a security door almost comical in its paranoid massiveness. Through apertures in the glossy blank roof came colored lights of scanners: a blue ray, a green, a turquoise, a pale yellow. ÒWhat are they checking?Ó Kaufmann asked. ÒEverything imaginable. Your blood typeÕs going on tape, your retinal pattern, your DNA-RNA, and several other matters too intimate to mention. If you ever came through here bent on lar- ceny, youÕd be picked up within minutes after you left the build- ing.Ó ÒWhat if the scanners get through and find IÕm too disrepu- table to admit?Ó ÒItÕll be unpleasant.Ó --------------------------------------- 55 To Live Again 55 Kaufmann envisioned a cage of pressure tape springing from the ceiling and trapping him. Whirling blades slashing him into hamburger. A trapdoor opening to hurl him to limbo. But in fact the colored lights vanished, and with solemn ponderousness the great door began to open. Santoliquido nodded. They stepped out onto the grand concourse of the main storage vault. It was a room perhaps a thousand feet high and three hun- dred feet wide from wall to wall. At the very top, far above his head, Kaufmann saw banks of light-globes affixed to the fabric of the building; but only a fraction of that light made its way down to the midlevel on which they stood, and below him were levels of Stygian bleakness. Motes of dust hovered in the vast central cavity of the room. Along the walls were ladders, cat- walks, a spiderweb of metal pathways. Staring across the gulf, Kaufmann made out racks of shelves, paneled urns, shadows in the darkness. All this has been done for effect, he told himself. Surely the Institute could afford better lighting, if it wanted it. ÒCome,Ó said Santoliquido. They moved along the tier. Silent figures in white smocks tra- versed private paths on other levels, and robots with blunt heads rolled on soundless treads from tier to tier, inserting something here, withdrawing there. Santoliquido paused in front of a sealed bank of urns and dialed a computer code. The bank opened. Reaching in, he withdrew a shining coppery casket some six inches wide, four inches long, two inches high. ÒIn this,Ó he said, Òis the persona of Paul Kaufmann.Ó Kaufmann took it from him and examined it with more awe than he cared to reveal. ÒMay I open it?Ó ÒGo ahead.Ó ÒI donÕt see howÑah. There.Ó He pressed a projecting lever and the casketÕs top rose. Within lay a tightly coiled reel of black tape, smaller across than KaufmannÕs palm, and a stack of data flakes. ÒThis?Ó he said. ÒThis is Uncle Paul?Ó --------------------------------------- 56 56 To Live Again ÒHis memories. His experiences. His aggressions. His frailties. The women he loved, the men he hated. His business coups. His childhood ailments. The graduation speech; the cramped muscle; the wedding night. All there. This was recorded in December. It takes him from childhood to the edge of the grave.Ó ÒSuppose I reached over the balcony and hurled all this down there,Ó Kaufmann said. ÒThe flakes would scatter. The tape would he ruined. That would he the end of Uncle Paul, wouldnÕt it?Ó ÒWhy do you think so?Ó Santoliquido asked. ÒYour uncle was here every six months for more than thirty years. We have many replicas on file of what you hold in your hand.Ó Kaufmann gasped. ÒYou keep the old ones after a re-record- ing?Ó ÒNaturally. We have an extensive library of your uncleÕs per- sonae. You have the latest one, the most complete; but if any- thing happened to it, we could make use of the last but one, which would lack only six months of his life experience. And so on backward. Of course, we always use the most recent record- ing for transplant purposes. The rest are kept as emergencies, a redundancy control, so to speak.Ó ÒI never knew that!Ó ÒWe donÕt make a point of announcing it.Ó ÒSo you have sixty-odd recordings of Uncle Paul in this build- ing! And a couple of dozen of me! AndÑÓ ÒNot in this building, necessarily,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒWe have many storage vaults, Mark, well decentralized. We guard against calamities. We have to.Ó Kaufmann considered that. It had never occurred to him that such surrogate recordings existed, or even that there might be supplementary soul banks elsewhere, but both were logical enough. An implication struck him. ÒIf there are duplicates,Ó he said slowly, Òthen it should be pos- sible to transplant one manÕs persona into more than one recipi- ent at the same time, yes? You could give Uncle Paul to Roditis, --------------------------------------- 57 To Live Again 57 and Uncle Paul minus the last six months to someone else, and so on.Ó ÒTechnically possible. But wholly unethical and unlawful. We keep the reserves as reserves. TheyÕve never been used that way and never will.Ó Santoliquido looked agitated at the possibility. ÒNever.Ó Kaufmann nodded. The intensity of SantoliquidoÕs reply un- settled him. He closed the casket and handed it back. ÒNow do you believe heÕs dead?Ó Santoliquido asked. ÒWell, of course, IÕve got no evidence that the tape in this box has anything to do with Uncle Paul.Ó ÒWould you like to sample it?Ó ÒMe? Are you proposing a temporary transplant?Ó ÒIÕll give you thirty seconds of Uncle Paul,Ó Santoliquido of- fered. ÒJust as if you were shopping for a new persona. Then you can decide for yourself whether heÕs on that tape. Come along. In here.Ó They entered a cubicle with dark translucent walls. It con- tained a reclining seat, a console of equipment, a row of jeweled scanners. Santoliquido removed the tape from the box and clipped it into the grips of one of the scanners. He beckoned Kaufmann to the reclining seat. They were in a sampling booth now. This apparatus was used strictly for checking and testing. What Kaufmann would experi- ence was not in any way a transplant, not even a temporary; Santoliquido was just going to tune him in on the recorded thought waves of his late uncle and let him swim in them for half a minute. Kaufmann watched, chilled and apprehensive, as Santoliquido adjusted his scanners and placed cold electrodes against his fore- head. The plump man looked somber too; he had already tasted this experience, thought Kaufmann, and obviously it had been no pleasure for him. An amber warning light went on. Santoliquido tugged at a knife-switch. --------------------------------------- 58 58 To Live Again Mark Kaufmann winced as his uncle came flooding into his brain. It was a torrent, an avalanche, a cascade. Uncle Paul swept through his synapses with violent impact. A tide of raw sensual- ity came first; then a sudden stab of gastric pain; then a set of precise, instantaneous, all-encompassing calculations for the purchase, lease-back, and depreciation of a four-square-mile area in ShanghaiÕs northern suburbs. On top of that came an overlay of family scheming, a nest of intricate and poisonous interpretations of taut relationships. In the first ten seconds of contact with his uncleÕs soul, Kaufmann thought his mind would burn out. In the second ten seconds he struggled for equilib- rium like a man caught in rough surf and dashed again and again to the sand. In the third ten seconds he found that equilibrium, gaining purchase of sorts and discovering a strength within him- self that he had not suspected. He realized that he could meet his dead uncle as an equal. The old man had the advantage of greater age, but not really of greater force; the Kaufmann genes had traveled from uncle to nephew in a knightÕs move of inher- itance, and for all the unshackled power of PaulÕs furious mind, Mark knew that he could handle it indefinitely, if he had to. The contact broke. KaufmannÕs eyes opened. He slipped the electrodes free and put his hands to his temples. Phantom calculations danced through his skullÑthe old manÕs arbitrage schemes, realty en- terprises, testamentary codicils, percentage plans, all whirled together in a wild dance of dollars. ÒWell?Ó Santoliquido asked. ÒDo you know your uncle better now?Ó ÒThe ruthless old bastard!Ó Kaufmann said in admiration. ÒThe wonderful pirate! What a tragedy that heÕs gone!Ó ÒHeÕll be back.Ó ÒYes. Yes.Ó Kaufmann clutched the arms of the chair. ÒIÕd give anything to have him myself,Ó he said in a low voice. ÒIÕm the --------------------------------------- 59 To Live Again 59 one best qualified to have him. Paul and I were a superb team, these last few years. Think how much better weÕd be, working together in one mind!Ó ÒI hope youÕre joking, Mark.Ó ÒNot really. Paul and I belong together. I know, I know, itÕs against the law to transplant a persona to so close a relative.Ó ÒDonÕt forget that your uncle directly requested in his will that he not be transplanted to any member of his own family.Ó ÒAs though he didnÕt know about the law,Ó said Kaufmann. ÒOr as though he expected that someone like you would cir- cumvent it.Ó Kaufmann flushed. ÒBut what are you going to do with him? Give him to Roditis? Put those two together and theyÕll steal the universe!Ó ÒRoditis can handle your uncleÕs persona,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒHeÕs got the strong personality thatÕs necessary. What we must guard against is giving Paul to someone whoÕll be overwhelmed. The host must always remain in command. Roditis would.Ó ÒBut heÕs got no scruples. HeÕs nothing but an unprincipled buccaneer. And Paul was a principled buccaneer. Bring them into harmony andÑÓ ÒNo decision has been taken,Ó Santoliquido said brusquely. ÒDo you wish to inspect the three potential personae your daughter has selected?Ó ÒYes,Ó Kaufmann murmured. ÒI might as well.Ó Santoliquido opened an information line and uttered a request. Moments later three persona caskets clattered out of a delivery slot. Santoliquido inserted Paul KaufmannÕs casket in the same slot and sent it on its way back to storage. Then, turning, he said, ÒAll these three young women died violently before the age of thirty. All three were quite beautiful, I understand. Risa had cer- tain very specific anatomical and sexual qualifications, which of course we were able to meet, since the range of available perso- nae is so great. To preserve the privacy of the dead, IÕll call these --------------------------------------- 60 60 To Live Again three simply X, Y, and Z. Thirty seconds of each should be enough to gratify your curiosity. Have you ever sampled a female per- sona before, Mark?Ó ÒYou know IÕve never done anything like that.Ó ÒOf course. Of course. Well, itÕs an amusing novelty. I often think our prejudice against transsexual transplants is foolish. If a man could incorporate at least one female persona, or a woman at least one male one, thereÕd be far less anguish in this world. But I suppose weÕre not yet ready for that radical a step. And I suppose few people are really eager to allow their personae to come to life in a body of alien sex. Oh, theyÕd like to try it for a few days, but as for making it permanentÑÓ As he spoke, Santoliquido was deftly inserting one of RisaÕs choices into the scanning equipment. Once more the electrodes touched KaufmannÕs skull. He felt vaguely uncertain about doing this, but then he reflected that his exhibitionistic daughter would cer- tainly not mind his peeking into her personae, and also that he had already spied on his daughter in many matters nearly as intimate. The apparatus hummed. ÒThis is X,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒKilled last year in a power-ski accident at St. Moritz, age twenty-four.Ó In the thirty seconds that followed, Mark Kaufmann learned a great many surprising things. He discovered what it was like to have breasts; he sampled the sensations of the penetrated in- stead of those of the penetrator, he felt the ebb and flow of femi- nine biology impinge on him; he scented a new perfume of flesh; he experienced the texture of his own smooth female body. He also generated an instant and electric dislike for the personality of the unknown X. Giving him no pause for evaluation, Santoliquido said, ÒAnd now Y. Drowned off Macao last summer, age twenty-eight.Ó More of the same: the slow throb of the flesh, the lazy tremor of vaginality. In his brief contact with the mind of the dead girl, --------------------------------------- 61 To Live Again 61 Kaufmann ran imaginary hands over silken imaginary thighs, yawned, stretched, yearned for pleasure. This was a more re- laxed spirit than XÕs; in that first persona there had tingled some disturbing undercurrent, some sort of hunger for an unclear ven- geance, while in this girl was merely a generalized appetite for gratification, far less intense, far less vivid. Her recorded soul winked and glittered and was gone. ÒZ,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒTwenty-six years old. Pushed or jumped, eighty stories up.Ó Pushed, Kaufmann decided, after only an instant of contact with Z. This girl had not had the vitality to commit suicide. She was placid, passive, soft within and without. Now that the nov- elty of peering into female souls had worn off, Kaufmann found himself swiftly bored by this one. She was a void, a hollowness, and the thirty seconds dragged abysmally. ÒYou may find yourself slightly impotent tonight,Ó Santoliquido was saying. ÒI suppose I should have warned you. ThereÕs a kind of sexual confusion that sets in after youÕve done some trans- sexual sampling. But it wears off in a day or so. How did you find it, being female?Ó ÒInteresting. Not very appealing, though.Ó ÒWell, of course, these were young, shallow girls. I could find you female personae that would give you a real jolt of character. But the outward manifestations are unusual, arenÕt they? You never dreamed it was like that, so different, to belong to the other sex?Ó ÒIÕm glad to have had the opportunity. I canÕt say IÕm impressed by any of my daughterÕs choices.Ó ÒWhich would you prefer her to take? SheÕs going to pick one, you know.Ó Kaufmann nodded. ÒZ was nothing but a cow. Risa would be as bored with her company as I was. Y was neutral, good-na- tured, most likely fun in bed. And X was utterly hateful. Vicious, nasty, selfish, hardly human. Risa wouldnÕt want a bitch like that --------------------------------------- 62 62 To Live Again in her head. I suppose that Y is the least of the three evils.Ó ÒSheÕs going to pick X,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒDid she tell you that?Ó ÒShe didnÕt. But X is the obvious one. SheÕs got the right com- bination for RisaÑstrength of character and voluptuousness. Why did you hate her so?Ó ÒI donÕt know. I canÕt find any particular reason. Just an ab- sence of sympathy. Looking back, I canÕt pinpoint any single ugly thought from her, but yet I know I loathed her.Ó ÒA pity,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒFrom Tuesday on, sheÕll be living in Risa, unless I miss my guess. Do you want to withdraw your consent for the transplant?Ó Kaufmann thought it over. It was within his power to prevent Risa from taking this persona on; but he saw the futility of the attempt at once. If thwarted, Risa would merely apply more pres- sure, and she was an expert at getting her way. He knew he had to adjust to the changed Risa that would come forth, that it was idle to try to block and control her. He waved his hand. ÒLet her do as she likes. But I hope sheÕll take Y.Ó ÒYour hope will he disappointed,Ó said Santoliquido. He looked at his watch. ÒIÕm afraid I must leave you now, Mark. IÕll turn you over to a technician whoÕll see to it that your new persona recording gets made right away. That is why you came here to- day, IÕm sure you remember.Ó ÒYes,Ó Kaufmann said dryly. ÒAll this spying was only the ap- petizer. Now for the main course.Ó Santoliquido produced a young, earnest technician named Donahy, with black hair so dark it seemed to have purple high- lights, and startling, bushy eyebrows slashing across his too white forehead. Kaufmann bade Santoliquido farewell, thanked him for his favors, looked forward to his presence on Dominica the next day. ÒIf youÕll come this wayÑÓ said Donahy. --------------------------------------- 63 To Live Again 63 Shortly Kaufmann was out of the storage section of the build- ing and back on familiar ground, in the public area where per- sona recordings were made. Here there was none of the care- fully cultivated gloom of that great central vault. Everything was bright, glowing, radiant; the tiles gleamed, the air had a vibrant tingle. This was the place where one came to purchase oneÕs claim to immortality, and its gaiety mirrored the moods of those wealthy enough and determined enough to preserve their per- sonae for future transplants. He had been here many times. He had left a trail of recordings stretching back to the youthfully restless, ambitious Mark Kaufmann of twenty. And, he now knew, all those recordings still existed in some remote but accessible archive. A biogra- pher, given the right influence, could trace the unfolding of his development from youth to decisive manhood, stage by stage. Now the latest Mark Kaufmann would be added to the cache. Since he had been neglectful about reporting to be taped, nearly a full yearÕs experiences were to be incorporated in the file now. It had been a more eventful year than usual, marked by his uncleÕs death, by his own increasingly complex relationship with his daughter, by several turns of his dealings with Elena Volterra, and nowÑin the final hours of the recordÑby this quartet of new experiences, his moment of entry into his uncleÕs persona and the three samplings of female personae. Those most recent events had left their imprint on him most clearly, and they would now become the potential property of the future recipient of his persona. ÒWill you lie down here?Ó Donahy asked. Kaufmann reclined. The Scheffing process had two phases- record and transplantÑand the recording phase was the essence of simplicity. The sum of a human soulÑhopes and strivings, rebuffs, triumphs, pains, pleasuresÑ is nothing more than a se- ries of magnetic impulses, some shadowed by noise, others clear and easily accessible. The beautiful Scheffing process provided --------------------------------------- 64 64 To Live Again instant mechanical duplication of that web of magnetic impulses. A spark leaping across a gap, so to speak: the quick flight of a persona from mind to tape. A lifetimeÕs experience transformed into information that can be transcribed, billions of bits to the square millimeter, on magnetic tape; and then, to play safe and provide an extra dimension of realism, the same information translated and inscribed on data flakes as well. There was noth- ing to it. A transplant, involving the imprinting of all this mate- rial on a living human brain, was much more difficult, requiring special chemical preparation of the recipient. The telemetering devices went into position. Kaufmann looked up into a tangle of gleaming coils and struts. Sensors checked his physical well-being, monitored the flow of blood through the capillaries of his brain, peered through the irises of his eyes, noted his respiration, digestive processes, tactile responses, and vascular dilation. ÒYou havenÕt been with us for a while,Ó observed Donahy, mak- ing an entry in his dossier. ÒNo, I havenÕt. I suppose IÕve been too busy.Ó The technician shook his head. ÒToo busy to preserve your own persona! You must have really been busy, then. You know, you never would forgive yourself if you suddenly woke up as a transplant and found a year-long chunk of your life missing from your package of experience.Ó ÒAbsolutely right,Ó Kaufmann said. ÒItÕs unutterably stupid to neglect this obligation.Ó ÒWell, now, at least youÕll be up to date again. But we hope youÕll come to see us more regularly in the future. Here we go, nowÑlift your head a littleÑfine, fineÑÓ The helmet was in place. Kaufmann waited, seeking as al- ways to determine the precise moment at which his soul leaped from his brain, impressed a replica of itself on the tape, and hur- ried back into its proper house. But as ever, the moment was imperceptible. His concentration was broken by the voice of the --------------------------------------- 65 To Live Again 65 technician, saying, ÒThere we are, Mr. Kaufmann. Your central will be billed, as usual. Thank you for coming, and I hope we have the pleasure of recording you many more times in years to come.Ó Kaufmann left the building and entered his hopter. According to the ticker, the market had risen sharply; he had profited not a little while wandering within the maze of the Scheffing Insti- tute. And he had fulfilled his obligation to his future recipient by extending the unique and irreplaceable record of his life. Com- plete with a trifle of Uncle PaulÕs persona, and minute slices of the lives of three unknown girls. Within his mind his own resident personae made their pres- ence felt. They reminded him of other duties of this day, still undone. Planning for the party; a realty closing; a conference in Washington. Busy, busy, busy. But at least his conscience was clear for the moment. And tomorrow he could relax. --------------------------------------- 66 66 To Live Again --------------------------------------- 67 To Live Again 67 Chapter 5 The island of Dominica rises like a great many-humped green beast out of the blue Caribbean, well down the chain of the Antilles. Trade winds blow steadily; a tropic sun keeps watch; the lofty mountainous spine intercepts rainfall and keeps the island constantly moist. Here in this still unspoiled island the Kaufmanns had assembled a lordly estate. Industry had come to most of the neighboring isles of the West Indies, but the rain forests of Dominica remained as green and glistening as in pri- mordial times, and in its humid lowlands the banana planta- tions spread from stream to stream. The arrangement, a quasi- feudal one, did not greatly please the Dominicans, who hun- gered for the prosperity experienced by Martinique and St. Lucia and Barbados and the rest. But their island was safe from defile- ment, whether they willed it or not. The Kaufmann property lay in the northwest quadrant of the island, between Point Round and the thriving town of Portsmouth. There the family had purchased a series of waterfront tracts en- compassing not only a majestic crescent arc of white beach, but also a string of the humbler dark beaches of black volcanic sand. Their holdings ran inland, up the rising slope of Morne Diablotin, DominicaÕs highest mountain, and so they sampled the avail- able environments from the dry shoreline to the riverine inte- rior to the mysterious cloud forest of the mountain. It had taken three generations of haggling and title search to put the estate together, and no one could venture to guess what its true value might be in a world where such tracts no longer could be had at all. Risa liked to think of it as her own property, due to descend to her in time. In fact that was untrue; the estate belonged commu- nally to the Kaufmann family association. It was administered --------------------------------------- 68 68 To Live Again on behalf of the family by her father, but that did not put her in line to inherit it. Each of her many cousins and aunts and uncles and more distant relatives had a share in the property. But Risa thought of herself as belonging to the main line of the Kaufmanns, and since she was her fatherÕs only child, she saw herself as the point of convergence toward which all the family wealth flowed. It was midday, now: the most dangerous hour under the hos- tile sun. She stood nude in hip-deep water on the crescent beach, relaxing before more guests arrived. About a dozen were here already. Risa and her father had flown down from New York late the previous night to oversee the preparations for the party. Look- ing up and don the beach, she eyed the early arrivals. They were scattered like flotsam on the pink-white sand, sunning, dozing. Four Kaufmanns, a pair of Lehmans, and a trio of Kinsolvings. Some of them bare, others-not modest but aware of the esthetics of ungainliness-covering selected portions of their bodies. Not one was less than fifteen years her senior. Risa wished her cous- ins would arrive. Turning her back to the beach, she waded seaward. Her body glistened. She had oiled it to protect herself from the sun. Her eyes were lensed against the salt water. She dug her toes into the sandy bottom, kicked forward, and began to swim, cutting a lean swathe through the green, glass-clear water. She liked the touch of it against her breasts and belly. The sunlight made sparkling patterns on the ocean floor, five feet below her. Soon she was past the sandy zone and out above the coral reef that lay a hundred yards off shore. Gnarled, twisted coral heads jutted from the bottom. Fish of a thousand hues danced and played between the stony orange and green slabs. Malevolent black sea urchins twitched their spines hopefully at her. Risa sucked air, dived, plucked a sand dollar from the bottom. In time she lost interest in the reef. When she swam back to shore, she found that another dozen guests or more had arrived- among them, finally, someone of her own generation. Her cousin --------------------------------------- 69 To Live Again 69 Rod Loeb stood at the waterÕs edge: eighteen, brawny, tanned, vain. She knew him well and liked him. He wore only a taut red loinstrap. His eyes passed easily over her slender nakedness as she emerged from the water. ÒJust get here?Ó she asked. ÒHalf an hour ago. There was hopter trouble at the airport and we were delayed. YouÕre looking good. Risa.Ó ÒAnd you. LetÕs walk.Ó They strolled through the slapping surf toward a cluster of jagged, metallic-looking rocks piled at the north end of the beach. Risa felt the noon warmth probing her skin for some vulnerable place to singe and blister; but the molecule-thick coating of cream protected her. She reveled in her nudity. She broke into a trot, her small breasts barely swaying. If Elena tried to run like this, Risa thought, sheÕd hit herself in the face with all that swinging meat. They reached the rocks, neither of them short of breath. The white turrets of barnacles sprouted on the lower surfaces, licked by the waves. Rod said, ÒI hear youÕve had a transplant.Ó ÒNews travels fast if itÕs reached Majorca already.Ó ÒGossip moves at the speed of light in this family. Is it true?Ó ÒPartly. IÕve applied for one. Mark gave his consent a few days ago. I went to the soul bank and tried a few personae out, and on Tuesday IÕll have the transplant.Ó ÒWhoÕll it be?Õ ÒIÕm not sure yet. IÕm deciding between some different types. Whichever it is, itÕll be a girl who died young and sexy. Maybe even someone youÕve slept with.Ó Rod laughed. ÒIs that incest? If you pick up a persona with a memory of having been to bed with me, I mean?Õ ÒI donÕt know. I donÕt care- Is there anything so special about going to bed with you?Ó ÒTry me and see,Ó Rod said. ÒWithout filtering it through a trans- plant.Ó --------------------------------------- 70 70 To Live Again She eyed his loinstrap. ÒRight out here on the beach, or should we go to your cottage?Ó ÒWhy not right here?Ó he asked. ÒAll right,Ó said Risa. She stretched out on a flat palm of stone, flexed her knees, drew her legs apart. Anyone on the beach could see them from here. She propped her fist against her chin. ÒGo ahead,Ó she said. ÒIÕm waiting.Ó ÒI almost think youÕre serious,Ó Rod said. ÒI sin. And you are too, arenÕt you? That strap doesnÕt hide much. You want me. YouÕve been hinting about it long enough. So hereÕs your chance. Get on top of me.Ó His eyes sparkled maliciously. ÒI wouldnÕt take advantage of a child.Ó ÒMonster! IÕm past sixteen.Ó ÒChronologically. But only a child would want to put on a sick exhibition like that in front of everybody. ItÕs tasteless, Risa. If you really want to have sex with me, get up and weÕll go some- where private and IÕll oblige you. But just to show everyone that youÕre old enough to sin a littleÑÓ ÒWould I be the first to make love at one of these parties?Ó ÒStop it,Ó he said. He swung himself down beside her and lightly slapped the outside of her left thigh. ÒCan I change the subject? What do you know about Uncle PaulÕs transplant? WhoÕs going to get him?Ó Disgruntled by his casual disregard of her wanton mood, Risa closed her thighs and said, ÒHow should I know?Ó ÒThe story I hear is that heÕs going to go to John Roditis.Ó ÒNot if my father has anything to say about itÓ ÒThat would be a blow, wouldnÕt it?Ó Rod said. ÒRoditis is big enough as he is. With Uncle Paul, heÕd be a titan. HeÕd have the business mind of the century.Ó Risa yawned. She swiveled around, dipping her toes in the wa- ter. A gray ghostly crab scuffled along the sand and vanished, digging down with startling swiftness. Risa said, ÒMy father --------------------------------------- 71 To Live Again 71 doesnÕt want Roditis to have Uncle Paul. My fatherÕs a good friend of Santoliquido, and Santoliquido decides. See?Ó Rod nodded. ÒYou make it sound very open and shut.Ó ÒIt has to be. Why, if Roditis got Uncle Paul, heÕd be able to come to our family gatherings, heÕd have a wedge right into our whole group. WouldnÕt that be horrible? That nasty, aggressive little man sitting right there on the beach, sipping a drink, mak- ing us be polite to him for Uncle PaulÕs sake? But it wonÕt hap- pen.Ó ÒPerhaps. Perhaps not.Ó ÒIt wonÕt.Ó ÒIf it isnÕt going to happen,Ó Rod said, ÒwhatÕs RoditisÕ private secretary doing here?Ó ÒWhere?Ó ÒLook,Ó Rod said, pointing. Risa peered back and saw a group of new arrivals descending to the beach from the cabanas. Leading the way came Elena Volterra, wearing next to nothing, her oiled body agleam, fusion nodes glistening in her skin, her heavy breasts artfully cantile- vered into position by a wisp of sprayon support. Beside her, pink and fleshy, walked Francesco Santoliquido. A pace behind them came an attractive couple whom Risa recognized as David and Gloria Loeb, and on GloriaÕs right was a very tall, very thin, ex- tremely pale and fair-haired man who indeed closely resembled Charles Noyes, a well-known associate of John Roditis. His appearance on the beach was exciting comment from many quarters. Heads were turning; whispers buzzed. Noyes himself looked ill at ease. He was thickly lathered to protect his skin from the sun, but even so he continually wrinkled his back as if to make sure he was suffering no harm. ÒWhat could he be doing here?Ó Risa muttered. ÒMaybe Roditis is here too,Ó said Rod. ÒHaving a little discus- sion with your father in the main house.Ó ÒNo. No.Ó Risa looked for Mark Kaufmann and failed to see --------------------------------------- 72 72 To Live Again him. This was impossible, she told herself. Then she recalled: ÒNoyes is GloriaÕs brother. He must have just come along for the ride. This doesnÕt have a thing to do with Roditis.Ó ÒLetÕs hope youÕre right. But it seems odd, having a Roditis man right in our midst. Like Death at the feast.Ó ÒI want to go over and find out more?Õ ÒGo ahead,Ó Rod said. ÒIÕm going swimming. IÕll get all the gossip from you later.Ó He sprang from the rocks and hit the water in mid- stroke, heading outward toward the reef. Risa, disturbed, crossed di- agonally to the new little group standing on the sandy crest of the beach at the midpoint of the crescent. She greeted Elena curtly and took SantoliquidoÕs hand. She smiled at David Loeb, a tall, courtly-looking man of about forty-five to whom she was related in some incomprehensible way, and embraced his lean, leggy blonde wife Gloria. Risa had never known either of them very well. Gloria looked tense and somehow irritated; but she turned smoothly and said, ÒRisa, I donÕt think you know my brother. Charles Noyes. Risa Kaufmann. MarkÕs daughter.Ó ÒA pleasure,Ó Noyes said. It didnÕt sound to Risa as though he meant it. His large blue eyes raced in all directions, as if trying to avoid any direct confrontation of her girlish nakedness; then, with an obvious effort, he smiled at her. ÒIÕve heard so much about you from Gloria,Ó Risa lied sweetly. ÒIt must be so exciting to work with Mr. Roditis. Tell me, is he coming to our party too?Ó ÒNo, he-ahÑwonÕt be here,Ó Noyes said. ÒPity. IÕd love to meet him. Will you excuse me?Ó Risa grinned icily and went jogging across the hot sand, up onto the lawn and into the main house, where the servants were programing the buffet lunch. She looked for her father and found him, as she expected, in the bamboo- paneled study, on the telephone. She could not see the face in the screen. He hung up after a moment and looked at her. --------------------------------------- 73 To Live Again 73 ÒDo you know whoÕs here?Ó she asked. She could tell from his sour, hooded expression that he did. ÒYes. GloriaÕs little surprise package. She should have had better taste than that!Ó ÒWhyÕd you let him in?Ó ÒHeÕs her guest. I canÕt refuse him, even if he is RoditisÕ right hand. ItÕs permissible to bring oneÕs brother to a party like this.Ó ÒBut what does he want here? Spying for Roditis? Trying to soften us up?Ó Kaufmann relaxed and allowed himself to laugh. ÒWhy are you so worked up over it, Risa? ItÕs my problem. You go out in the sun and have a good time.Ó ÒIf IÕm a Kaufmann, itÕs my problem too. We have certain fam- ily standards to uphold!Ó ÒTheyÕll be upheld, love. IÕll deal with Mr. Noyes.Ó It was a dismissal. Mark still refused to accept her as an adult. He was patting her on the head and telling her to run off and play. RisaÕs nostrils flared, but she kept her anger unvoiced and quickly left the building, narrowly avoiding tripping over a ro- bot crawler that was polishing the patio floor. Hands on hips, she stood at the edge of the patio, looking down at the guests. Rod had emerged from the water and was talking to Noyes and the Loebs. Santoliquido and Elena, oddly, were off by themselves near the rocks where Risa had tried to seduce her cousin with so little success. Overhead, three huge brown peli- cans wheeled and folded their wings, plummeting into the wa- ter to snatch up fish; they had been treated with adrenergic drugs, Risa knew, so theyÕd stay hungry all afternoon and stage a good show for the guests. Suddenly furious, Risa whirled and ran to- ward the small cottage, one of thirty behind the main house, where she was staying on this visit. She flung herself down on the bed, sobbing sulkily. Minutes later the doorscreen announced a visitor. She looked up and saw RodÕs image. --------------------------------------- 74 74 To Live Again ÒCome in,Ó she called. The door slid open. He stepped in, sticking his feet into the vibrator to rid them of sand. ÒIÕve got the word on Noyes,Ó he said. ÒHeÕs not here on account of Roditis. He happened to drop in on Gloria and Dave just as they were leaving for the party, and they couldnÕt get rid of him, so Gloria had to say, sure, get in the hopter with us, and here he is. Your father must be burning.Ó ÒIÕm not concerned with my fatherÕs feelings just now,Ó Risa said thinly. ÒOr with Noyes. Or with Roditis. They can all go to hell.Ó ÒHeyÑÓ Tears ebbed from her eyes. ÒAnd you can go there with them!Ó ÒWhatÕs wrong? What did I do?Ó ÒItÕs what you didnÕt do,Ó Risa said. Rod stared at her strangely. His eyes traveled the length of her body as though he had never seen her before. Risa trembled expectantly. It was almost time for lunch. But firstÑ His eyes met hers. Her gaze was steady. He nodded. He stepped toward the bed. Noyes thought his brain would melt under that hellish sun. He recited mantras of self-possession and liberation, dug his toes into the scorching sand, watched the nude and near-nude Kaufmanns, their friends, and relatives, flit by, and wished fer- vently that he were almost anywhere else. It was bad enough that Roditis had pitchforked him into this gathering where he was so little wanted; he also had to tolerate tropical heat, and that was beyond the call of duty. Would the protective cream really protect him? Or would he be parboiled by nightfall? He felt KravchenkoÕs jeers. ÑTake it like a man, friend. ÒVery amusing. But you wonÕt feel the sunburn.Ó ÑThatÕs part of the business of being dead. You donÕt feel the pain, you donÕt feel the pleasure either. Say, say, say, whatÕs --------------------------------------- 75 To Live Again 75 Santoliquido up to? Noyes looked down the beach. He hadnÕt noticed it, but his persona had; Santoliquido was deep in conversation with Elena Volterra. And Elena was known to be Mark KaufmannÕs mistress. In the midst of his discomfort Noyes analyzed this situation in terms of RoditisÕ needs. Was Elena at this moment doing a hatchet job on Roditis, filling the soul bank administratorÕs receptive mind with reasons why the Paul Kaufmann persona should not go to him? Or, contrariwise, was Santoliquido attempting to bring Elena into his orbit while Mark was elsewhere? The first possi- bility held no promise of leverage, but the second did. Trying to seem casual about it, Noyes edged toward the dis- tant pair. That Elena was certainly a splendid woman, he thought: all that tawny flesh, so well tanned, so opulent, so nicely dis- played. He suspected that Elena might easily look sloppy with her breasts unbound, and that if she gained another five pounds her ampleness would turn to grossness. But as she was, she was quite attractive. And SantoliquidoÕs sensual tastes, Noyes real- ized, inclined toward women of ElenaÕs sort, Latin and statu- esque. It would be quite useful to RoditisÕ cause if Santo worked himself into some kind of compromising position with Elena this weekend. He got no closer than a hundred yardsÑstill beyond lip-read- ing range. Then a robot carrying trays of refreshments rolled across his path, and, as he turned to help himself, Noyes was intercepted by a short, gushing woman with golden eyes and an aggressively jutting chin. ÒCharles,Ó she said. ÒI havenÕt seen you in a thousand years. Come meet my new husband!Ó He sorted through foggy family memories. She was an Adams, yes, that was clear, and she had attended his sisterÕs wedding to David Loeb, and he remembered dimly that she had been mar- ried for a while to one of the Schiffs. He smiled uncertainly. ÒYou donÕt remember me?Ó she asked. ÒItÕs been a long timeÑDonna, Donna Adams, is it?Ó --------------------------------------- 76 76 To Live Again ÒDonnaÕs my sister. IÕm Rowena. How could you forget a name like that? You should take your memory drugs more often, Charles. I donÕt believe IÕll ever forget the way you carried on at GloriaÕs wedding! YouÑÓ ÒI didnÕt catch your mated name now,Ó Noyes cut in quickly. ÒOwens. Yes, you were going to meet my husband. Nathaniel Owens. HeÕs right over here. A most extraordinary man. Can you imagine it, Charles, he carries seven personae! Seven!Ó But he doesnÕt carry them very well, Noyes decided a moment later, when he had been introduced to Nathaniel Owens. Owens was burly and barrel-chested, flaunting a thick mat of body hair as though perversely proud of its ugly coarseness, and his square, harsh-planed face looked as though it had been constructed from random components. He was about sixty, Noyes guessed. His eyes were black and not quite focused, and when he spoke his voice soared confusingly through an octave or more before settling on its pitch. ÒMy wife been telling you a lot of nonsense about us?Ó Owens demanded truculently. ÒNot at all. She simply said youÕre carrying seven personae.Ó Owens blinked and twitched. ÒDamned right I am! You see anything wrong with that?Ó ÒIf you can handle the strainÑÓ ÒHe can handle anything, chum,Ó Owens said in a strangely altered voice, a basso growl. ÒHeÕs the original Ÿbermensch. You just have to ask and heÕll tell you.Ó Noyes was still attempting to understand why Owens had sud- denly spoken of himself in the third person when Owens blurted in a much higher voice, ÒShut your goddam mouth!Ó ÒItÕs your goddam mouth IÕm talking through,Ó came the deeper voice. ÒOur mouth, you sniveling idiot!Ó It was a third voice, bland, silky. ÒWeÕre all in this cage together!Ó Noyes realized, stunned, that OwensÕ personae had seized con- --------------------------------------- 77 To Live Again 77 trol of the man and were carrying on an argument through his vocal apparatus. Owens himself stood stupefied, long arms dan- gling at his sides, shoulders lifting and hitching in oddly auto- matic motions. His eyes rolled. His wife, seeing what had hap- pened, grabbed a drink from a roboservitorÕs tray and plunged it, dagger- fashion, against OwensÕ thick-muscled arm. His twist- ing facial muscles subsided. He looked abashed. ÒNathaniel hasnÕt had much sleep lately,Ó Rowena Owens ex- plained to the little group that had gathered. ÒSometimes he finds it difficult to exert the proper authority when heÕs tired. Feeling better now, darling?Ó ÒIÕm all right, yes,Ó Owens said. ÒIÕm in full command again.Ó His voice was neutral; he had ceased to twitch. Noyes stared, stricken with horror. It seemed to him that he saw his own fate mirrored in OwensÕ eyes. The manÕs personae had for the moment ejected him from control of his body and had transformed him into a prisoner in his own skull, assailed by dybbuks. Just as James Kravchenko ceaselessly attempted to do to him. Kravchenko had not yet succeeded even in grabbing the power of vocalization; when he spoke, it was still only an Inward murmur. But he was trying all the while. It did not soothe Noyes to reflect that he had merely the problem of keeping one persona under control, while Owens wrestled with a whole team of them. Owens took NoyesÕ shocked silence for disapproval, evidently. He said with belligerence, ÒWhatÕs the matter? DonÕt you believe in Scheffing transplant?Ó ÒWell, IÑÓ ÒI know. YouÕre one of the Erasure people. You feel itÕs all an evil, sinister manifestation of cultural decay, and you want all the personae rubbed out. Right? And here I stand with seven of them under my roof, and to you IÕm the embodiment of Satan. Right? Right?Ó ÒIt isnÕt that way at all,Ó Noyes murmured. --------------------------------------- 78 78 To Live Again ÒAs a matter of fact, my brother isnÕt part of the Erasure group in the least. Are you, Charles?Ó Gloria had appeared from some- where and now stood at OwensÕ elbow, looking fair and lovely, as much a willowy girl as she had been on her wedding day. ÒOf course not,Ó Noyes managed to say. ÒIÕve got a persona myself, you know. What gives you the idea IÕm against trans- plant?Ó Owens looked mollified. ÒI suppose I leaped to the conclusion. You know, there are so many of me that I tend to make snap judgments. We assess the evidence as a team, and sometimes we assess it too fast.Ó He thrust out his hand. ÒWho are you, any- way?Ó ÒCharles Noyes. IÕm with Roditis Securities.Ó ÒOh. Yes. Sure.Ó The hand enfolded his. Just as contact was made, Owens twitched again, and a kind of convulsion ran the length of his arm, forcing him to pull his hand back. Noyes watched uncomfortably as the spasm traveled down the entire right side of OwensÕ body. Gloria said quickly, ÒCharles is also an authority on Buddhist reincarnation theory. He and Mr. Roditis have just returned from a pilgrimage to the lamasery in San Francisco. HeÑÓ ÒYou believe in that crap?Ó Owens asked. Noyes faltered, astonished by the hairy manÕs capacity for start- ing trouble. Rowena Owens bit her lip. As quietly as he could, Noyes said, ÒI think the teachings form a valuable guide to exist- ence in a world where reincarnation is a practical fact. We must know the art of dying if weÕre to master the art of living.Ó ÒI say itÕs crap,Ó Owens repeated loudly. ÒItÕs an artificial move- ment grafted onto a materialistic society for reasons of guilt. Those of us who take part in the transplant program are set apart from ordinary humanity, from the clods, if you like, and because in effect weÕve become immortal we need to console ourselves with a new religion. So weÕve borrowed this prayer-wheel gar- bage from the Himalayas, only weÕve turned it upside down, since --------------------------------------- 79 To Live Again 79 in its original form itÕs inapplicable to our society. ItÑÓ ÒYou sound a little like Mr. Roditis now,Ó Noyes began. ÒHeÑÓ ÒLet me finish! The whole idea of the Buddhists is to break the chain of incarnations and go off to nirvana, isnÕt it? Born no more? And our whole idea is to grab as many incarnations as possible, down through the centuries. For us, good karma leads to re- birth. Is that Buddhism? ThatÕs a perversion of Buddhism! I know. IÕve got a guru right here inside me, one of the best, a real theo- logian. Murtaugh, from the Baltimore group. You know of him?Ó Awed, Noyes said, ÒWhy, of course. He wrote The Art of Right Dying.Ó ÒAnd he died right himself, and I got him! So you better not argue theology with me. IÕve got it straight from the source, Noyes. Om mani padme hum. And I know how cynical the entire move- ment is. IÕve got collective karma.Ó Owens twitched again. He was losing control once more. ÒI tell you, only a tired persona wants off the wheel of sangsara. The rest of us hunger to go round and round and round again. WeÑÓ A scabrous obscenity slipped from OwensÕ lips. He paused, astonished, and hammered his fist against his left cheekbone. He trembled. It was sickening to watch him being pulled apart this way. Recovering, Owens. said, ÒSometimes itÕs difficult to hang on to the reins.Ó ÒWhy did you set such a challenge for yourself?Ó Noyes asked. ÒSeven transplantsÑÓ ÒActually, only four transplants,Ó Owens said. ÒMurtaughÕs per- sona brought two transplants of his own along, and one of my others already had one. Three hitchhikers, four transplants. Quite a crowd. Quite. A. Crowd.Ó Noyes understood. Such hitchhikers were known as second- ary personae: those that existed as part of the recording of some- one subsequently transplanted to another person. The problem of the secondary personae was becoming acute, now that the Scheffing process was more than a generation old. Everyone who --------------------------------------- 80 80 To Live Again carried a persona in addition to his own now handed it on when he was recorded, and some of these crowded minds were being picked up by recipients. In another few years, virtually every transplant would bring the recipient two or three secondary per- sonae for each primary one. Then every transplant would cre- ate a babbling mob within the brain, even though the secondary personae were much less vivid than primaries. There were ways around it, Noyes knew. The simplest was to accept as a transplant only a persona with no secondaries at- tached, as he had done. Kravchenko had not gone in for the Scheffing process until quite recently, and the recording of him that had been on file at his death had been made before the trans- plant, so it included no trace of KravchenkoÕs inherited persona. But of course that method soon would be impossible, since ev- eryone took a transplant young these days, and incorporated the persona in his earliest records. Another way was to have any secondaries deleted from the persona before adopting it. The erased secondaries thus went back into the soul bank and could be rerecorded as primaries for new recipients. Noyes preferred that idea. However, perso- nae meant prestige, and multiple personae meant multiple pres- tige. People nowadays seemed to want to clutter their minds. When one took on a transplant, one desired to take that personaÕs whole package of secondaries, thus getting the full benefit of the transplanted soul in all its complexity. Which was fine if one could handle it, Noyes thought. But it would be instructive for each potential transplantee to spend five minutes with Nathaniel Owens and find out what it was like to be too greedy. ÒÑit might be better if none of this transplanting business had ever begun,Ó David Loeb was saying. ÒAnd no, I donÕt believe in erasure either. IÕve got my personae too. But stillÑÓ ÒItÕs our salvation. ItÕs our hope of immortality.Ó That was Owens, speaking in one of his milder voices. ÒIÕve recorded my- --------------------------------------- 81 To Live Again 81 self with this entire tribe of passengers, and I look forward to my next turn on the cycle, in another body, whenÑÓ ÒNat! Your arm!Ó Rowena yelped. As he spoke, his left arm had reached out in seeming indepen- dence of his body to seize Gloria LoebÕs thigh. Gloria winced as the stubby fingers dug in. Owens blurted something apologetic, but did not let go. David Loeb and Noyes went to the rescue simultaneously; Noyes grasped OwensÕ wrist, and his brother- in-law pried at OwensÕ fingers. The hand came away. Purpling blotches appeared on GloriaÕs pale flesh. Owens did not seem to comprehend what he had done. There was a long moment of silence while this group of well-bred people struggled to find a well-bred way of covering the gaffe. Owens solved the problem himself. He said hoarsely, ÒI think I better go swimming now. Work off this charge of energy and get everything in order.Ó He ran down toward the water, a lumbering, clumsily power- ful figure, stumbling once as some subsidiary persona fought him for control even while he ran. But he managed to hit the water in a smooth dive. Head down, arms pinwheeling, he swam like a torpedo out to the reef. Noyes closed his eyes. The sun suddenly seemed immense over his head, a great molten ball, dripping flame. Within him Kravchenko sounded his silent mocking laughter. ÑTake a good look, Charlie. ThatÕs what IÕm going to do to you one of these days. I donÕt need six pals to push you aside. IÕll do it myself. Noyes turned away from the others. In order to speak directly to Kravchenko he had to vocalize his words, and he did not want anyone aware that he was talking to himself. He murmured, ÒYou wonÕt get away with it. The instant you start trouble IÕll kill both of us, Kravchenko.Ó ÑAh. The carniphage threat again. WhereÕs the flask, Charlie? In your swimsuit? --------------------------------------- 82 82 To Live Again ÒLet me alone.Ó ÑWhy donÕt we go over and talk to Elena? ThereÕs a woman! YouÕre hungry for her, and IÕll sit back and watch. I knew her when I was carnate. She wasnÕt KaufmannÕs mistress then. Elena and I can reminisce. Put me in control, Charlie, and IÕll seduce her for you. ÒStop it!Ó ÑThat would be a good deal for both of us. IÕll make Elena, and your body will enjoy the fun. Noyes shivered. Instead of threatening, Kravchenko now sought to tempt; but the goal was the same. It might happen at any time: the persona winning command of the shared body, even a countererasure that would wipe Noyes out entirely and leave Kravchenko in undisputed possession, a dybbuk. That was the true rebirth: to take over your host, to have a body of your own again, to walk in the world, freely sampling the sensory intake. Noyes was determined not to have Kravchenko victimize him in that way. The sun was turning into a flask of carniphage. Reach up, Noyes thought. Grab it, bite on it. Show him a thing or two. Trails of sweat ran down his body. He felt his skin puckering and blistering, his bones beginning to melt into rubber. People looked at him worriedly as he swayed. Smiling, bowing, Noyes grinned at his sister, at Elena, at Rowena Owens. IÕm all right. Perfectly all right. Maybe a touch of the sun, but nothing seri- ous, quite all right, no need for fear. Someone screamed. Noyes thought at first that they were screaming about him, that in his weakened state he had collapsed or split apart or melted or seized the sun. But no, he was still on his feet, and no one was looking at him. They were all pointing toward the wa- ter. With colossal effort he swung himself around to see what the matter was. --------------------------------------- 83 To Live Again 83 ÒHeÕs out of control !Ó Rowena Owens cried. ÒHelp him, some- body, help him!Ó Noyes saw that Nathaniel Owens had reached the reef, swim- ming to that patch of brownish coral a hundred yards off shore that lay just beneath the surface and broke it to jut up in several places. And there, the warring, incompatible personae within him had rebelled. Now Owens thrashed and leaped about on the reef like a hooked tarpon, flying from the water, smashing down on the razor-keen coral, kicking his legs in the air, vanishing from sight for a moment,, then erupting again to crash into an- other part of the reef. Already long red gashes streaked his skin. Again and again he flung himself at the reef, now mounting one strip of it and doing a wild, frenzied dance along its upper rim. ÒHeÕll cut himself to bits,Ó David Loeb said. ÒAnd the blood in the water-thereÕll be sharks soon,Ó Santoliquido observed. Within Noyes, Kravchenko laughed. ÑSee? See? Just wait! ÒNo,Ó Noyes whispered. ÒYouÕll never do that to me!Ó Risa Kaufmann broke from the group. She had been standing silently by, visibly disturbed by OwensÕ irrational behavior, and now, a tanned nude streak, she ran lithely across the beach, en- tered the water, and sped toward the reef, swimming nearly sub- merged, now breaking the water with a kicking ankle, now with an upturned buttock, now a shoulderblade. She reached Owens. He stood upright in water only a few feet deep, readying himself for another lunatic dash against the reef. Deep-hued blood welled steadily through the coarse mat of hair on his body. Risa clam- bered up beside him, caught him, spun him around, gripped him tightly. The contact of her bell-like little breasts against his hairy fleshiness seemed revolting. But, with brisk efficiency, the girl propelled the dazed, bleeding man away from the coral knives of the reef and drew him into the clear green water closer to shore. He was safe. A cheer went up. --------------------------------------- 84 84 To Live Again In that same instant Noyes felt the heavens explode and the sun fall at his feet. He snatched it up and devoured it, and as the hallucination overwhelmed him he plunged to the ground, jerk- ing and yammering, seized by an uncontrollable attack. The world grew dark. His limbs lashed the ground. Kravchenko howled in pleasure. He felt warmth against him. Tender female flesh. ÒEasy, easy, easy. YouÕll be all right.Ó Elena Volterra was cradling him. He pillowed his head against the ripe, lush mounds of her breasts and sobbed. ÒGive him air,Ó a voice said. Noyes closed and opened his eyes several times. He clung to Elena desperately. ÒMy nameÕs Kravchenko,Ó he said. ÒJames Kravchenko.Ó ÒKravchenko is dead,Ó Elena told him. ÒYouÕre Charles Noyes.Ó ÒYes. Yes. Charles Noyes. KravchenkoÕs dead.Ó ÒRest now,Ó Elena whispered. ÒEasy, easy, easy.Ó ÒRest. I am Charles Noyes. Yes.Ó ÒYouÕll feel better in a little while.Ó A cool ultrasonic snout touched his arm. Not a drink but an anesthetic, Noyes realized. He saw the Buddha-Heruka, with three heads, six hands, and four feet firmly postured, the right face being white, the left red, the central dark-brown; the body emitting flames of radiance; the nine eyes widely opened; the eyebrows quivering like lightning; the protruding teeth glisten- ing and set over one another. ÒI am Charles Noyes,Ó Noyes said. ÑGive Elena a great big kiss for me. NoyesÕ eyes closed. He felt no more pain. --------------------------------------- 85 To Live Again 85 Chapter 6 It was Tuesday morning. Risa entered Francesco SantoliquidoÕs office and stood just within the door. He was busy, using a data machine with his left hand while tapping out computer instruc- tions with his right. At length he looked up and said, ÒThere she is. Our little hero- ine. Come in, come in, sit down.Ó ÒYou got a good tan this weekend,Ó Risa observed. ÒThereÕs nothing like the tropical sun. It was a splendid party, Risa. My congratulations to you and your father. Of course, there were some unusual eventsÑÓ ÒTheyÕve taken Owens to the therapy satellite. HeÕll be there a month, floating in nullgrav until heÕs healthy.Ó Santoliquido scowled. ÒSad, very sad. But nullgravÕs not the therapy for him. HeÕs a candidate for erasure.Ó ÒI didnÕt think you used that word here!Ó ÒIÕm not speaking in the political sense,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒStrictly the medical. That manÕs got more than he can handle under his skull.Ó ÒMuch more.Ó Risa was flattered that busy Santoliquido would take the time to discuss OwensÕ problems with her. It was a tacit recognition that she was now an adult. She said, ÒIs there any provision in the law for mandatory erasure?Ó ÒWell, yes, when the presence of the persona threatens the security and integrity of the host.Ó ÒCertainly thatÕs true here.Ó SantoliquidoÕs eyes twinkled. ÒBut Nat Owens has influence. IÕd hesitate to ship him off for erasure against his will. WeÕll see how he feels when he gets back from his float. Possibly we can get him to give up two or three of the least compatible personae, the ones at war with one another.Ó --------------------------------------- 86 86 To Live Again Solemnly Risa said, ÒThat would be best. It was scary, out on the reef. Big strips of skin hanging loose on him, and he didnÕt even seem to know what he was doing, just hurling himself against that sharp coral again and again.Ó ÒIt was brave of you to rescue him.Ó She giggled. ÒI didnÕt stop to think. Maybe if I had, I wouldnÕt have done anything. But it just seemed like the right thing to do. I mean, I knew I could get out there and pull him away from the reef, and so I went and did it, and then there was time to be nervous afterward. Especially when I came ashore and found the other man having a fit too, Charles NoyesÑÓ ÒIt was a wild moment,Ó Santoliquido agreed. ÒNoyes has been in stasis these last two days, hasnÕt he?Ó ÒI think they let him out. HeÕs calm again.Ó ÒTell me, Risa. Now that youÕve seen two men run wild at once, because they found their transplants too difficult to control, have you changed your mind at all about your own transplant?Ó ÒOf course not,Ó she said instantly. ÒOh, I admit IÕve been a little uneasy, but I wouldnÕt be here unless I meant to go through with it. What happened to them isnÕt any concern of mine. Owens was asking for trouble when he took on that mob of personae. And Noyes is an unstable character, they tell me. IÕm ready.Ó ÒGood girl.Ó Santoliquido pressed a buzzer. ÒWeÕll get going, then. YouÕve chosen the persona you want?Ó ÒYes.Ó ÒTandy Cushing?Ó ÒHow did you know that?Ó ÒI knew,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒAsk your father. I predicted the choice youÕd make.Ó He opened his desk, came through it, took her by the hand, and lifted her to her feet. ÒI wonÕt be seeing you again as you are now, Risa. YouÕll leave my office as Risa Kaufmann, but the next time we meet, youÕll be Risa plus Tandy. I hope you find it an enriching experience.Ó ÒI know I will,Ó she said. --------------------------------------- 87 To Live Again 87 Her lips brushed his. She liked him; he was so much like a jolly uncle to her. Though of course she knew it was a mistake to take a patronizing attitude toward a man as powerful as Francesco Santoliquido. He was so kind to her only because she was Mark KaufmannÕs daughter, and it was rash to forget it. A black-smocked technician appeared at the office door. ÒThis way, please, Miss Kaufmann.Ó She waved goodby to Santoliquido. Here we go, she thought. Hello, Tandy Cushing! She followed the technician toward the transplant room. It was a long trip, spanning many levels of the building, and tension grew within her as the moment drew near. She eased her fears by studying the technician. He was young, hardly any older than her cousin Rod, and he seemed plainly in awe of her. It was his job to deal with the rich and mighty, to pump new personae into their receptive brains, but Risa suspected that he himself left this palace of wonders each night to return to some dismal little hovel, full of cockroaches and squalling babies, where he waited tensely for the next dayÕs excursion into fantasy. How brutal it must be to live in the real world, she thought, earning perhaps a thousand dollars fissionable a month, never able to afford any- thing, and faced with the terrible knowledge that after death comes Énothing! ÒWe go in here,Ó said the technician. ÒWhatÕs your name?Ó Risa asked. ÒLeonards, Miss Kaufmann.Ó ÒIs that a first name or a last?Õ ÒLast.Ó Last. No doubt he had a first name too, but wasnÕt supposed to give it. He was merely a piece of walking equipment. Leonards. He was good-looking, in his own worried way, too pale, pinch lines already forming between his eyebrows, but tall and stur- dily built. Are you married yet, Leonards? Where do you live? What are your dreams and ambitions? IsnÕt it frustrating for you --------------------------------------- 88 88 To Live Again to work in the soul bank and never have any hope of receiving a transplant yourself, or of being recorded? WouldnÕt you like enough money so you could put your persona on file, Leonards? Suppose I had your account credited with half a million dollars fissionable. Would that be enough? IÕd never miss it. IÕd tell Mark I gave it to charity. Your life would be altogether different. Or how would you like to meet me when this is over, Leonards, and go to bed with me? Would that please you, sleeping with a Kaufmann? IÕm good, too. Ask Rod Loeb. Ask a lot of people. IÕm young, but I learn fast. Together they entered the booth. She kept her face rigid, masklike, hiding her thoughts from the young man. It would never do for him to know what she had been thinking. He might get upset and bungle the transplant somehow. Let him stay calm and cool at least until the work is done. Afterwards, maybe, IÕll have a little fun with him. The transplant room was a rectangular cubicle, perhaps nine feet by twelve, warm, well lit. It had windows along two walls, one facing the outer corridor, one looking into an inner access room that was part of the spine of the building. Risa saw a couch, a computer terminal, and a cluster of gleaming equipment. Opaquing the hall window, Leonards said, ÒPlease lie down. Make yourself comfortable.Ó ÒShall I remove my clothing?Ó Risa asked. Her hands went to the discard stud. LeonardsÕ facial muscles rippled in shock at the mere suggestion that she was willing to disrobe before him, and it was a moment before he recovered his poise and said, ÒThat wonÕt be necessary. Kick off your shoes, if you like.Ó She stretched out, shoeless. Leonards grasped a bronze knob and a mass of equipment swung free of the wall. He drew it to- ward her. ÒThis is a diagnostat,Ó he told her. ÒWe simply wish to check your physical condition before we proceed with the trans- plant. ItÕs important that your health and body tone be at the top --------------------------------------- 89 To Live Again 89 of their cycle. This part just takes a minuteÑthere.Ó The diagnostat hummed and clicked and was silent. Leonards pressed an eject stud. A copper-colored capsule dropped out, and he flipped it into a transfer hatch that would take it to some scan- ning instrument within the buildingÕs computer bank. He looked more nervous than she was. After a moment a light went on in the access room, and through a slot in the wall came a yellow slip. Risa craned her neck but could not see what it said. ÒYouÕre in fine shape,Ó Leonards reported. ÒWhere did you get those skin abrasions, though?Ó ÒIn the West Indies on Saturday. A man was in trouble on a coral reef and I pulled him free and got cut up a little. TheyÕre healing fast.Ó ÒIn any case, thereÕs no effect on your receptivity to the trans- plant. Now, I suppose youÕre familiar with the Scheffing process, but I know you want to keep up with me on each phase of the transplant, so IÕm likely to tell you a few things you already know. For example, the first step is the drug treatment, to enhance your memory receptivity. We inject a nucleic acid booster, coupled with one of the mnemonic drugs. A mnemonic drugÑÓ ÒAm I getting picrotoxin or one of the pentylenctetrazol de- rivatives?Ó Risa asked. Leonards looked shaken. ÒYouÕve been doing some home- work!Ó ÒWhich do I get?Ó ÒItÕll be the pentylene,Ó he said. ÒWe get better response curves on it with women under thirty. Picrotoxin blocks presynaptic in- hibition, and some of the others block postsynaptic inhibition, but pentylenetetrazol doesnÕt interfere with either. It excites the nervous system by decreasing neuronal recovery time, without reference to inhibitory pathways. Thus it prevents memory de- cay and significantly increases the response latencies. Still fol- lowing me?Ó ÒYes,Ó Risa lied. She was damned if sheÕd let his deliberately --------------------------------------- 90 90 To Live Again accelerated flow of gibberish upset her. ÒThe result is to make me more receptive to the imprint from the recording. All right. IÕm ready whenever you are.Ó He produced a thick, stubby, phallic-looking ultrasonic injec- tor. While he fumbled with the dial settings Risa casually disen- gaged her tunic, baring the lower part of her body to the groin. Leonards was slow to notice, but when he finally looked at her he was so rattled he nearly dropped the injector. Staring rigidly at her chin, he said, ÒWhy did you uncover your- self?Ó ÒI understood that the injection was given in the upper part of the thigh.Ó ÒNo.Ó ÒIn the backside, then?Ó She grinned kittenishly and rolled over. ÒThe arm will do.Ó She pouted. ÒWell, all right.Ó He was sweating and flushed. She figured she had paid him back well enough for that burst of postsynaptic inhibitions and response latencies. Chastely she covered herself again, not want- ing him to jab the injector into the wrong place while he was so shaken. He took a deep breath and put the snout to her arm. There was an ultrasonic whirr. ÒWe allow one hour for the nucleic acid booster to reach the brain. By then the mnemonic drug will have already taken ef- fect. IÕll leave you to relax until the next phase can begin. Per- haps youÕd like to look through this information leaflet.Ó He made his escape from the transplant room, looking visibly relieved. Risa sprawled on the couch and examined the booklet. SOME FACTS ABOUT THE SCHEFFING PROCESS, it was headed. She glanced through it without interest. It told her things she already knew: how her brain was prepared for the persona to come, how the recordings were made, how transplants were effected. Toward the back was some material of more direct im- --------------------------------------- 91 To Live Again 91 portance: tips on making the transition after your first transplant. You will have complete access to the memories and life experi- ences of your imprinted persona, the booklet told her. As with your own memories, some of the experiences you receive will be blurred or distorted and not immediately retrievable. During the period of adjustment you may feel occasional confusions of identity, par- ticularly if the new persona was noted for strength of character in its previous carnate existence. THIS SHOULD NOT BE CAUSE FOR ALARM. After a few days you will establish a satisfactory working relationship with the persona. Your new companion will enhance and support your responses to your environment. You will have the advantage of extra perspective and an additional set of life experiences on which to base your judgments. Think of the persona as a guest, a friend, a partner. It is the most intimate possible human relationship, and represents the finest accomplish- ment of our era. A few pages on, Risa found information on how to communi- cate directly with the persona. At any time, she could simply reach into the pool of experience and memory that was being transplanted to her brain, and haul out whatever was useful to her immediate situation. But if she-wanted to speak to the per- sona, to address her as an individual, she would have to talk out loud. At least at first, though the booklet said it was possible af- ter a while to talk to the persona via the interior neural chan- nels. Meanwhile the persona, having no other communication access, was able to key herself right into the brain and make her thoughts known. Did a persona have thoughts, Risa wondered? A persona was nothing but a set of memories. It didnÕt have real existence. You couldnÕt see a persona, any more than you could see an abstract concept. And the persona was dead, a closed account with all totals drawn. How could a transplanted per- sona think and react and have things to say? Judging by the behavior of adults she had observed, a persona --------------------------------------- 92 92 To Live Again was not dead at allÑmerely suspended from the time of record- ing to the time of transplant. Then, jacked into the nervous sys- tem of its host, it could perceive and respond as if literally rein- carnated. That was the whole point of the Scheffing process. It assured the participants everlasting life, with occasional inter- ruptions between transplants. At the same time it provided the living with the benefit of the experiences of the dead. Nothing was lost, except the souls of the poor fish like Leonards who never took part in the rebirth game at all. That was ninety per- cent of mankind, at present. But did they matter? As her final hour of independence ticked away, Risa inevitably began to wonder if she really wanted to go through with this enterprise. No doubt everyone wonders about that, waiting for it to begin, she told herself. At least the first time. And of course it would be eerie, carting about someone elseÕs soul in her head. Risa was accustomed to privacy when she wanted it. An only child, wealthy enough to isolate herself from the world, never called upon to share anything with anyone-and now sheÕd have to make room in her head for Tandy Cushing. Strange, strange, strange! Yet appealing, too. She had been alone so long. In a world where everyone she knew carried two or three personae, Risa felt pallid and childlike in her solitude. Now she would be like the others. In one bound sheÕd shed the last vestiges of immaturity. Merely sleeping around hadnÕt brought her far enough into the adult world, but this transplant would, especially with worldly, sophisticated Tandy Cushing like an older sister inside her mind. As the booklet pointed out, it was irrational to fear or mistrust the persona. The persona wasnÕt going to get any charge out of snooping on you, any more than you could snoop on yourself The persona would be you, and herself as well, a joined identity. RisaÕs mind whirled a little at that concept. She thought she un- derstood it, but of course she knew she did not, could not. No --------------------------------------- 93 To Live Again 93 one who did not have a persona already transplanted could re- ally comprehend what it was like. This was a new thing in the world, a fundamental break with the human condition. No longer were people walled up alone in their own skulls. They could have company. What if she didnÕt care for Tandy CushingÕs company? Cast her out like a demon. That could be done, for a price. Her own father had had a persona erased when he was young. Of course, a lot of people preferred to suffer along with their perso- nae even when incompatibility was obvious. Just the way, Risa thought, people will stick with a hopeless marriage, or fight to prevent the amputation of a diseased limb, purely because they canÕt bring themselves to give up anything that has been part of themselves, no matter how much harm itÕs doing them. Look at that Owens man, for example. Driven twitchy by all his personae, and yet he brags about them. Or Charles Noyes. Right there on the beach, he had almost been engulfed and ejected by his own persona. Why didnÕt he stop in for an erasure? Did he like to live dangerously, knowing that he might get kicked out of his mind at any moment? Suppose Tandy tries that with me? It happened, Risa knew. It was a bit improper to speak of it, but she was aware that powerful personae sometimes over- whelmed and destroyed weak hosts, and took possession of their bodies. Dybbuks, they were called, after some medieval myth. According to the law, a dybbuk who had completely vanquished his host was a murderer, and subject to mandatory erasure. But most of them were too clever to fall into that trap. They contin- ued to use the name of the dead host, keeping their dybbukhood a secret. Someone like James Kravchenko, if he finally succeeded in countererasing Charles Noyes, would probably go on calling himself Noyes for his own safety, and nobody might ever be the wiser. Risa shuddered. Tandy, will you try to be a dybbuk? --------------------------------------- 94 94 To Live Again Very strong individuals went in for such things. Waking up in a strangerÕs brain, they found it intolerable to be relegated to the status of a mere persona. So they pushed the host out and took over. Essentially, they lived again, body and soul, real rebirth, if they got away with it. Tandy was a strong individual, Risa knew. But so am I. So am I. If I were in TandyÕs place, IÕd try to take over. But IÕm in my place, and I wonÕt let her win if she tries anything like that. The door opened. Leonards returned, carrying the oblong metal box that contained the persona of Tandy Cushing. ÒHow do you feel?Ó he asked. ÒFine. Impatient.Ó ÒIÕm supposed to ask you if youÕd like to cancel at this point.Ó ÒDonÕt be silly.Ó ÒWell, then. Here we go. I want to check to see how well the drug has worked.Ó ÒI havenÕt felt anything,Ó Risa said. ÒYou shouldnÕt.Ó He wheeled the diagnostat over and ran a test on her. When the report came, he nodded and smiled en- couragingly. ÒYouÕre in maximum recept now.Ó ÒThat sounds dirty.Ó ÒDoes it?Ó he asked, embarrassed again. He leaned toward her and slipped a cool metal band around her forehead. ÒThis isnÕt for the transplant,Ó he said. ÒItÕs merely to let you sample the persona. We take every precaution against an error. YouÕve got to tell me that this persona is actually the one youÕve requested.Ó ÒGo ahead,Ó Risa said. This part was familiar. He activated the sampler and Risa found herself once more in contact with Tandy Cushing. The memo- ries were unchanged. After perhaps half a minute, Leonards dis- connected the sampler. ÒYes,Ó said Risa. ÒYouÕve got the right one.Ó ÒPlease sign this release, then.Ó --------------------------------------- 95 To Live Again 95 Risa grinned and thumbed the thermoplastic. Leonards dropped the sheet in the access hopper. ÒLie back,Ó he said. ÒRelax. Here we go on the actual trans- plant.Ó Panic seized her. Leonards was a step ahead of her, though, efficiently shackling her wrists and ankles to the couch, and tell- ing her in a low, soothing tone, ÒWe do this for your own safety, you understand. Some people find it a big impact and start thrash- ing around. YouÕll be all right.Ó She was stiff with fear, and that surprised her. Forcing a laugh, she looked down at her spreadeagled body and said, ÒHow do I know youÕre not going to torture me? Or rape me? This is a good position for a rape, isnÕt it, Leonards?Ó His laughter was even more forced than hers. He was in motion, never pausing, adjusting electrodes, ma- nipulating scanners, balancing switches. Risa thought about the booklet she had read. Odd: it had been completely secular. No mantras, none of the Tibetan stuff, not even a quotation from the Book of the Dead. Nothing about sangsara or nirvana, the cycle of karma, all the other fashionable words people tagged to the Scheffing process. She realized the fundamental truth of something Nathaniel Owens had said on the beach Saturday at Dominica: the whole religious part of the rebirth business was external. It came after the fact, a moral justification, a dodge, a blind. The work of the Scheffing Institute went on serenely in a spiritual vacuum, and the mumbo-jumbo of the rebirth religion had no place within this building. ÒLook up, please,Ó the technician said. ÒOpen your eyes wide.Ó Twin spears of white light stabbed at her pupils. She could not close her eyes. She was frozen, immobile, pen- etrated by those sharp beams of brightness. It seemed to her that she heard a voice intone, ÒNow thou art experiencing the Radiance of the Clear Light of Pure Reality. Recognize it. 0 no- bly-born, thy present intellect, in real nature void, not formed --------------------------------------- 96 96 To Live Again into anything as regards characteristics or color, naturally void, is the very Reality, the All-Good.Ó She had summoned out of memory the words to welcome the newly dead into death. Surrender to the Clear Light and attain nirvana. Yes. Yes. So her words were directed to the persona of Tandy Cushing, emerging from that spinning reel of tape, but what she offered Tandy was not oblivion but rebirth. Yes. Yes. Now and at the hour of our birth. Come on, Tandy. IÕm ready for you. If only the light wasnÕt in my eyes! Time ceased Eons passed between heartbeats. Risa could feel the blood creeping along her veins and arteries, impelled by the last spasm and not yet at its destination. She could not see. She could not hear. The tension broke, and she heard a strangerÕs voice whisper- ing in her skull. ÑWhere am I? What happened? ÒHello, Tandy. Welcome aboard.Ó ÑDid I die? ÒYes.Ó ÑWhen? How? Why? ÒI donÕt know. IÕm Risa Kaufmann. IÕm your host.Ó ÑI know who you are. I just want to know how I got here. How long have I been dead? ÒSince last August,Ó said Risa. ÒYou were killed in a power-ski accident at St. Moritz.Ó ÑThatÕs impossible! IÕm an expert skier. And I had every safety device! IÕm not dead! IÕm not! ÒSorry, Tandy. You must be.Ó ÑI canÕt remember anything past June. ÒThatÕs when you made your last recording. Two months be- fore you were killed.Ó ÑStop saying that! ÒIf youÕre not dead, what are you doing in my mind?Ó --------------------------------------- 97 To Live Again 97 ÑThereÕs been a mistake. They can transplant a persona even when the donorÕs still alive. Sometimes they slip up. ÒNo, Tandy. Get used to it.Ó ÑIt isnÕt easy. ÒIÕll bet it isnÕt. But youÕve got no choice.Ó ÑIf itÕs a mistake? ÒEven if it is, that doesnÕt affect you. Assuming Tandy Cushing is still walking around alive somewhere, youÕre still where you are. A persona in my skull. You arenÕt Tandy, youÕre just an iden- tity of TandyÕs memories up to the day she recorded you. Well, now youÕre off the shelf and in a body again. YouÕre lucky, IÕd say. And in any case Tandy is dead. YouÕre all thatÕs left of her.Ó There was silence within. The persona was digesting all that. Risa, too, made adjustments. She still lay shackled. The light had gone out, and she could not tell if Leonards was still in the room. Cautiously, gingerly, she made contact with the persona at a variety of points. She picked up a memory of her late body, tall, dark-haired, with high, firm, heavy breasts. A manÕs hand ran lightly over those breasts, hefting them, savoring their bulk. His fingertip flicked across her nipples. So that was what it was like, Risa thought. YouÕre less aware of them than I expected. Suddenly she darted back along TandyÕs timeline and was eleven years old, staring in a mirror at her budding little chest and frown- ing. And then, coming forward five years, Risa saw Tandy soar- ing on personnel jets eighty yards above the Sahara, a strong, dark-haired man beside her as they flew. I have never done that, Risa thought. Yet I know what itÕs like. I am Tandy! She did not go deeper. There was time to explore the depths of the persona later. For Risa the world was suddenly tinged with wonder, all objects taking on new hues, extra dimensions. She saw through four eyes, and she had never seen such colors be- fore, such greens and reds and yellows, nor had she tasted wine so sweet scented flowers so pungent. --------------------------------------- 98 98 To Live Again ÒTandy?Ó she said. ÒHow is it now?Ó ÑBetter. So youÕre a Kaufmann? ÒYes. Lucky you.Ó ÑWhy did you pick me? ÒYou seemed interesting.Ó ÑYouÕre very young for this. ÒIÕm past sixteen, you know.Ó ÑYes, I know. But I was twenty-four, and I hadnÕt had my first persona yet. ÒDonÕt you wish you had?Ó ÑI was waiting until I was twenty-five. ÒI never wait,Ó Risa said. ÒNot for anything.Ó ÑI see that. WeÕve got so much to talk about. ÒWeÕve got all the time in the world. YouÕll be with me forever, Tandy.Ó ÑForever? ÒOf course. The next time I record myself, your persona will be added to mine. Someday IÕll need rebirth, and youÕll be going along to the next carnate with me.Ó ÑPeople can get awfully bored with each other like that. ÒWe wonÕt,Ó Risa said. ÒI promise you, we wonÕt.Ó The shackles dropped away. Risa sat up, feeling a little shaky. Leonards was eyeing her hesitantly. ÒYouÕve made a good adjustment,Ó he said. ÒIs that so? Fine.Ó ÒHow does it go?Ó ÒIÕm very pleased,Ó said Risa. ÒWhat happens now?Ó ÒWe take you to a rest booth. You can lie down, relax. get to know your persona. After an hour you can leave the building.Ó ÒYouÕve been very kind, Leonards.Ó ÒThank you.Ó ÒMaybe we can get together after hours.Ó He looked smitten with confusion. ÒIÕm afraid-that is ÑI mean to sayÑÓ --------------------------------------- 99 To Live Again 99 ÒAll right. Take me to the rest booth.Ó She lay down on a comfortable webfoam cradle, closed her eyes, sent her mind roaming through the treasury of Tandy CushingÕs experiences. Risa felt faintly uncomfortable, seeing the older girl so nakedly exposed. But she told herself that she had every right to explore that material. At this very instant, wasnÕt Tandy peering into her own soul? By definition they now were one person. They would share everything. Risa felt no regrets. Her fears had evaporated. She felt only tremendous relief, for she had accepted a transplant and it was good. She smiled. She said softly to Tandy, ÒIÕll record the two of us in a week or two. Just to be on the safe side.Ó ÑGood. And then I want you to help me find out how I really died. --------------------------------------- 100 100 To Live Again --------------------------------------- 101 To Live Again 101 Chapter 7 ÒCome to Jubilisle!Ó the barker called. ÒGames, thrills, plea- sure! Three bucks fish, the round trip! Jubilisle, Jubilisle, Jubilisle!Ó And globes of living light drifted free over Battery Park, soft indigo bursts tipped with yellow, reinforcing the shouted message with subtler pleas, many- hued whispers, Jubilisle, Jubilisle, JubilisleÉ It was night. The hydrofoil ferry waited at the pier. Crowds shouldered past, hustling toward it, people in rough, low-caste clothes, some of them even waving cash in their fists. Watchful quaestors stood by, ready to make arrests if the mob got out of hand. Charles Noyes experienced a sudden dizzying spasm of resistance. Everything about this outing repelled him all at once: the shouts of the barker, the faces of the people rushing past him, the too sleek hull of the waiting ferry, the quaestors. He turned to the handsome woman at his side. ÒLetÕs not go,Ó he begged. ÒIÕll take you somewhere else, Elena.Ó ÒBut you promised!Ó ÒCanÕt I change my mind?Ó ÒIÕve wanted to go to Jubilisle for months. Mark wonÕt take me. And now youÑÓ Sweat rolled down his face. ÒIÕve only been out of stasis for a few days. The noise, the tumultÑitÕs upsetting me.Ó She looked at him, wounded. ÒBefore you say yes, now itÕs no. ThatÕs your name, isnÕt it? No-yes? DonÕt disappoint me like this, Charles!Ó ÑPull yourself together, man, came KravchenkoÕs voice. She wonÕt like it if you back out. ÒFerry leaving now for Jubilisle,Ó roared the barker. ÒHurry, hurry, hurry! Thrills! Gaines! Pleasure! Three bucks fish, thatÕs all it costs!Ó --------------------------------------- 102 102 To Live Again Elena silently pleaded. She looked radiantly beautiful, her opu- lent body sheathed in glittering scales of some dark green mate- rial that followed every contour of her majestic thighs and breasts and buttocks. Her black, glossy hair tumbled to her bare shoul- ders. In this crowd she stood out so vividly that even the jostling plebs stepped back in automatic deference. Noyes peered into the dark, large, soft eyes. He observed the small, flawless nose, the full, shining lips. Kravchenko obligingly sent one of his own choice memories bubbling up from the storehouse: Elena nude in KravchenkoÕs bachelor apartment in Rome, sprawled on a divan like a Venus by Titian, one hand coyly resting on the plump mons, the eyes beckoning, the breasts heaving, the dark-hued nipples erect, the firm flesh tense and taut with anticipation. ÑYouÕll never get anywhere with her if you let her down now, pal. ItÕs now or never, and she holds grudges. ÒAll right,Ó Noyes said. ÒI wonÕt go back on my word. Jubilisle for us, Elena!Ó ÒIÕm so glad, Charles.Ó He slid his arm around her waist. The scales of her gown pricked his skin. He felt the roll of meat at her hip. Sweeping her forward, he joined the flow of pleasure-seekers rushing aboard the ferry. A robot ticket-vendor held out a hand as though ex- pecting Noyes to put cash in it. Noyes shook his head and of- fered his thumb instead. The robot, adapting smoothly and with- out comment, rang up the credit transfer, billing NoyesÕ account for six dollars, and the barrier dropped, admitting them to the ferry. Minutes later they were speeding across New York Harbor toward the pleasure dome. Ahead lay the bright glow of Jubilisle; behind rose the majestic black-capped somberness of the Scheffing Institute tower, with the rest of the Lower Manhattan skyline behind it. Noyes looked from island to tower. Those who could not buy rebirth at one could purchase distraction at the other. --------------------------------------- 103 To Live Again 103 He and Elena found a place at the rail for the ten-minute jour- ney to the anchored artificial island. She stood close to him. The warmth of her body on this cool spring evening was welcome, and the fragrance of her perfume helped obliterate the rank stench of the mob all about them. She had been kind to him last week at Dominica, when he had had that awful convulsion at KaufmannÕs beach party; a touch of the sun, she said, deftly con- cealing the truth, which was that he had suffered a sudden and nearly successful rebellion by Kravchenko. She was kind, yes. Tender, almost motherly, though she was several years younger than he was. That vast bosom of hers, he thought. It makes her seem the mother of us all. But his interest in her was not at all filial. He had KravchenkoÕs testimony that Elena was seducible, and her own willingness to make herself available for this night on the town backed him up. Furthermore, she was KaufmannÕs mistress and probably SantoliquidoÕs as well, so that it enhanced NoyesÕ own sense of self to be out with her. Lastly, Roditis approved. In the final analy- sis, what mattered to Noyes was how well or how poorly each of his actions served the interests of John Roditis, and in squiring Elena Volterra to Jubilisle he was in a position to serve Roditis handsomely. Elena said, ÒI imagined you came here often. IsnÕt Jubilisle one of RoditisÕ properties?Ó ÒYes, of course. One of his most successful. But I donÕt think IÕve been here more than three times in the ten years itÕs been open.Ó ÒDonÕt you like amusement parks?Ó ÒThere are amusements and amusements,Ó Noyes said. He low- ered his voice. ÒIt happens that Jubilisle is designed mainly to please plebs. IÕm not being snobbish when I tell you that; itÕs the truth. ThatÕs why we put it here, right in the shadow of the Scheffing building, so these people could look up and see the tower and think deep thoughts about rebirth. Which, since they --------------------------------------- 104 104 To Live Again canÕt have it unless theyÕve got lots of money, will inspire them to gamble heavily here, making John Roditis a little wealthier.Ó ÒVery clever.Ó Elena glanced around. ÒNow that you mention it, I see that weÕre a trifle out of place here. Most of them were paying cash to get aboard.Ó ÒYou noticed that.Ó ÒIt fascinated me. I donÕt think IÕve ever touched cash myself, not even once. I wouldnÕt recognize a bill if I found it in the street. Why do they bother?Ó ÒThey like the feel of money,Ó Noyes said. ÒThe central com- puter balance is a little impersonal for them. HereÑI always carry a bill with me, just for luck. Would you like to see it?Ó He slipped his wallet out and found his hundred-dollar bill. It was a slender plastic card which bore the atom symbol, a serial number, the Arabic numeral 100 in black type, and the inscrip- tion, The Bank of the United States Government has on deposit One Hundred Dollars Fissionable Material as security for this note. Legal Tender. Elena studied the bill as though it might be a mounted butterfly from another planet. ÒFascinating,Ó she said at last, handing it back. ÒCan you get me one?Ó ÒOf course,Ó he said. He took her by the hand and led her across the deck to a re- freshment stand where an automatic servitor was dispensing soft drinks. When the scanner beam flashed in his direction Noyes said, ÒGive me a hundred-dollar bill.Ó He put his thumb to the charge plate. A bill popped through the slot and he handed it gravely to Elena, who examined it a moment grinned dazzlingly, and slipped the little card into the deep valley between her breasts. Onlookers gaped in astonishment. ÒThank you,Ó she said, as they returned to the rail. ÒIÕll trea- sure this little souvenir.Ó ÒYouÕll certainly keep it warm,Ó Noyes said, and they both laughed. The ferry was nearing JubilisleÕs approach slip, now. The great --------------------------------------- 105 To Live Again 105 arching dome of the pleasure island rose precipitously before them, topped with a layer of living light that pulsed from one end of the spectrum to the other. A hundred acres of area, six separate levels, the capacity to amuse half a million people at onceÑthat was Jubilisle, and Noyes could not deny it was an impressive sight. Even Elena looked moved. ÒRoditis owns it all?Ó she asked in a whisper. ÒThrough a nominee corporation, yes. I helped plan the fi- nancing soon after I joined his organization. It was his first great coup.Ó ÒIt must have cost billions!Ó ÒIt did. And of course Roditis didnÕt have that kind of money yet, so we had to juggle. He pledged everything as collateral. Paul Kaufmann was willing to put up a construction loan of two billion, but he wanted a fifty-percent equity. Roditis said no. Kaufmann was so astonished he lent the two billion anyway. At ten percent, but he lent it. And Roditis kept the full equity. He owns the place outright. The last debenture was paid off in Janu- ary. HeÕs thinking of arranging a mortgage, now. Say, about seven billion, from a consortium of banks, and using the money to fi- nance Jubilisle Canton and Jubilisle Rio. Eventually heÕll have a dozen of them on every continent. Am I boring you with all this money talk?Ó ÒNot at all,Ó Elena said. She did look genuinely enthralled. ÒIÕm very much interested. Roditis must be a terribly exciting man. IÕd love to meet him.Ó ÒYou never have?Ó ÒNever. We just havenÕt crossed paths. You know, I spend so much of my time with Mark, and Mark is so hostile to Roditis.Ó ÒYes. Yes, of course.Ó ÒBut I think one day I will happen to meet Roditis. And he and I will both find the meeting rewarding.Ó ÒPowerful men intrigue you, eh, Elena?Ó ÒWhy not?Ó --------------------------------------- 106 106 To Live Again ÒMark KaufmannÑSantoliquidoÑÓ She looked startled. ÒSanto and I are just good friends.Ó ÒIs that all?Ó He saw the color rising in her cheeks. Laughing, he said, ÒVery good friends, I imagine.Ó ÒWhat are you getting at?Ó ÒNothing. Nothing.Ó The ferry was at rest. The gangways extruded themselves and the crowd started ashore. Noyes and Elena let the flow carry them along. A brilliant directory board in at least six colors confronted them. Twenty feet high, thirty feet wide, the board provided a detailed map of JubilisleÕs offerings. Noyes paused to study it, but Elena tugged him along. ÒLetÕs just wander,Ó she said. ÒOne levelÕs as good as another.Ó ÒThatÕs not true. TheyÕre aimed for different sectors of the popu- lation.Ó ÒWhat does that matter? WeÕre slumming tonight!Ó He shrugged and yielded, and they stepped aboard the mov- ing ramp leading to Level D. Noyes was hazily familiar with the structure of Jubilisle from his past visits; he recalled that the island was cunningly laid out in a series of mazes and dead ends, so that the bemused visitor might roam for hours without arriv- ing at any clear knowledge of how much remained to be seen. The intention was to prod the clientele into realizing that it was impossible to see more than a small fraction of Jubilisle on any one visit, and thus one must return again and again. The island was devised to offer something to every economic stratum, from those who lived off government credit to those who could afford a dozen persona transplants. Generally, the pull of Jubilisle was stronger in the lower middle brackets, those people who could not afford to traffic in the Scheffing process but who had enough disposable income to part with some here. There was no admission charge at Jubilisle; Roditis made his --------------------------------------- 107 To Live Again 107 money, partly from the ferry ride, but mainly from the income of the booths and concessions. Noyes had seen the analysis: each visitor spent some fifteen dollars fissionable per trip, on which RoditisÕ net profit was about thirty-five percent. With half a mil- lion visitors at any one time, and perhaps three or four million on a busy Saturday night between sunset and dawn, it was easy to see the source of RoditisÕ affluence. Jubilisle had competitors now, of course, but it was the first of its kind, and the most suc- cessful. The powerful Kaufmann interests, having missed their chance to gain an equity investment in the original Jubilisle, had not deigned to open an imitation, much to RoditisÕ pleasure. Officially, it was because they had no desire to pander to the debauched tastes of the ignorant, but Noyes thought it was more likely the Kaufmanns stayed out of the pleasure-island business out of fear that they would not meet RoditisÕ level of success. The inner core of the island provided the highest-priced de- lights. Those who came specifically to gamble large sums, to purchase costly sexual experiences, or to indulge in the illicit sensory stimulations of forbidden drugs, generally proceeded by a direct route to that area of Jubilisle. But Noyes had come merely as a casual sightseer, as had Elena, and they moved without plan down the glowing halls and galleries and chambers. At a gambling pavilion, close to the perimeter of the island, the rhythms of exploding atoms determined the payoffs. A barker claimed that the process was completely random and so must be utterly honest. ÒEveryone stands an equal chance, folks. I donÕt mind telling you that some games favor the house, but not here, not here, not here! Step right up ÉÓ ÒCan that be so?Ó Elena asked. ÒA truly random game of chance?Ó ÒMaybe so,Ó Noyes told her. ÒNotice that itÕs on the outside of the island. If people win steadily here, theyÕre encouraged to try the games within. Which are not quite so impartial.Ó ÒBut Roditis must lose money on this, even so.Ó --------------------------------------- 108 108 To Live Again Noyes shook his head. ÒNot if itÕs truly random. HeÕll break even, and all heÕll lose is his overhead, which isnÕt consequen- tial. Call it a promotional loss. LetÕs try it?Ó ÒAll right.Ó They stepped up. You could pay cash, and most did, but of course Elena had no cash except the souvenir nestling between her breasts, and Noyes thumbed the plate to establish a gam- bling balance for her. The game was intricate; he scarcely un- derstood its workings himself, and those about him must be wholly baffled by it. In the center of the platform lay what pur- ported to be a block of polonium, flanked by a comically ornate gamma detector; an array of tubes and pipettes emerged from it, filled with scintillating colored fluids. A turquoise fluorescence paid off at 3 to 1; carmine yielded 8 to 1; a yellow streak in the ebony fluid produced a 10 to 1 payoff. The barker chanted rhyth- mically; the polonium atoms disgorged their component particles; the lights lit and went out. The crowd pressed close. A bell rang and a certificate dropped from a hopper. ÒYouÕve won ten dollars,Ó Noyes said. ÒGlorious! I want to play again!Ó ÒThereÕs much else to see,Ó he reminded her. They moved on. At a fortune-telling booth a spectral hooded figure predicted long life for them both, and numerous children. Then, looking Noyes over cunningly, the prophet added, ÒYou will have many rebirths.Ó Noyes tapped the plate and added a dollar to the soothsayerÕs credit balance. ÒHow did he know we were recorded?Ó Elena asked. ÒHe guessed. He saw how well-dressed we were and figured we were wealthy, and if we were wealthy we must be on file with the Scheffing people. In any case, itÕs flattery to wish us rebirths, even if weÕre not in the class that lives again.Ó ÒPerhaps he recognized us,Ó Elena suggested. ÒI doubt it.Ó ÒIÕd like a mask, in any case.Ó --------------------------------------- 109 To Live Again 109 ÒMany of the fairgoers were masked, particularly the women. Girls bare to the hips tripped along, cloaked only by striped domi- noes. At ElenaÕs insistence Noyes took her to a masking booth and purchased a concealment for her: a dark band of pseudoliving glass that took possession of her face in a kind of caress, slipping snakelike into place from ear to ear. They laughed. She pulled him close and kissed him fleetingly on the lips. ÒBuy a mask yourself,Ó she said. He did. Hidden now from the stares of the curious, they moved through the gallery, taking a dropshaft to the one below on a sudden whim. Noyes felt buoyant, relaxed. Within him Kravchenko was dormant for once, and Elena, warm and excit- ing on his arm, seemed to promise eventual ecstasies. The evening was going well after a poor start. The giddiness of Jubilisle had broken through his habitual melancholy. Yet there was always the memento mori not far below the surface; they paused in a closed arcade to embrace, and Noyes drew Elena so tightly against him that the soft mound of her left breast felt the impress of the flask of lethal carniphage that he carried always with him. When they separated, she touched the bruised place tenderly and said, ÒYou hurt me. Something in your pocketÑÓ ÒIÕm sorry. I didnÕt realize youÕd feel it.Ó ÒWhat do you have there, a gravity bomb?Ó ÒJust a flask of carniphage,Ó he told her pleasantly, ÒIn case a suicidal mood hits me.Ó Of course she did not believe that, and so she showered a sil- very cascade of laughter over him. A flamboyant sign declared: WELCOME TO THE HOUSE OF HALF-LIFE. ÒWhatÕs this?Ó she asked. ÒMore radioactive games?Ó ÒI have no idea. Shall we go in?Ó They entered. A fee of a dollar fissionable was extracted from each of them. Swiftly they discovered that the House of Half- Life, despite its name, did not traffic in neutrons and alpha par- --------------------------------------- 110 110 To Live Again ticles; the half-life offered here was biological, hybrid creatures raised from fused cell nuclei. Behind an electrified barrier stunted beings shuffled around, while a pre-programed speaker recited their identities. ÒHere we have mouse and cat, folks, one of the most popular hybrids. And this is dog and tiger, believe it if you can! Next you see snake and frog.Ó The hybrid animals bore little resemblance to any of their sup- posed ancestors. They tended to be neutral, unspecialized in form, evolutionary prototypes lacking in clear characteristics. Most were less than two feet in length, moving about on small uncertain legs. The dog-tiger had patches of gray fur. The snake- frog was squat and glistening, with pulsating pouches of flesh. ÒMan and mouse, ladies and gentlemen, man and mouse!Ó came the disembodied voice. ÒYou think the Scheffing people work miracles? What of this? Infect them with the Sendai virus, blend the nuclei in a centrifuge, toss in a dash of nucleic acid, yes, yes, man and mouse!Ó A dozen distorted things, neither mouse nor man, moved into the arena. Their eyes were pink and beady, their hands were claws, they could not walk erect. Elena stared in rigid attention. A shill sidled up to them, proffering a handful of explosive darts. He said silkily. ÒYou look like expensive folk out for a nightÕs fun. Would you like to kill some of the hybrids? A hundred bucks fish a dart.Ó ÒSorry,Ó Noyes said. ÒNo, thanks.Ó ÒTry your aim. Some folk your class come back often. WeÕve got a room in back, lots of hybrids to throw at. They arenÕt rare, really.Ó ÒShall we?Ó Elena asked him. Noyes looked at her in amazement. Her eyes were gleaming. Kravchenko awakened and offered a warning: ÑDonÕt refuse her anything if youÕre smart. Sighing, Noyes gave in. They went to the back room. He low- ered his credit balance by five hundred dollars fissionable and --------------------------------------- 111 To Live Again 111 Elena took a cluster of darts in her delicate hand. On a platform before them, half a dozen pitiful bluish things, half squirrel, half otter, moved in ragged circles. They were slow, awkward ani- mals with lengthy hairless tails and large flippered feet. Elena aimed and threw. Her breasts quivered beneath the cov- ering of green scales; her arm moved jerkily, a stiff throw from the elbow. To NoyesÕ relief, she missed, and missed also on the second and third casts, the darts landing and igniting in quick incandescent puffs. But on the fourth she struck one of the hap- less hybrids at the base of its twisted spine, and the odor of singed fur drifted toward them. When the smoke cleared Noyes saw the remnants of the creature. Elena looked exhilarated; a deep crim- son flush appeared beneath her dark, tawny skin, making her appear disturbingly more sensual than before. She handed him the remaining dart. He thrust it back at her. ÒGo on,Ó she cried. ÒThrow it! ItÕs fun!Ó ÒTo kill?Ó ÒThose things come out of test tubes. TheyÕre not really alive. TheyÕre better off dead.Ó She joggled his arm. The nearness of her perspiring flesh maddened him. ÒThrow it!Ó Desperately Noyes hurled the dart. It cleared the platform by ten feet and smashed harmlessly against the backdrop. Then he seized her by the hand and pulled her through a side exit lip ahead, a cocktail lounge could be seen, and they entered it. ÒDonÕt you care for hunting?Ó Elena asked him. ÒNot really. But hunting is sport. ThereÕs nothing sporting about throwing darts at mutated monstrosities.Ó She laughed. The tip of her tongue flicked out. ÒThere was a grand hunt in Italy six years ago. We chased partridges across the campana south of Rome. You must have a memory of it.Ó ÒI?Ó ÒJim Kravchenko was there. If heÕs truly your persona, you have the memory.Ó Kravchenko promptly thrust the memory up into view. A misty --------------------------------------- 112 112 To Live Again October morning; the shattered remains of a Roman aqueduct gaunt against the gray sky; handsomely dressed young men and women, riding power carts, pursuing the terrified birds across the rolling plain. Laughter, the occasional burst of needlefire, the squawk of the prey, the autumn fragrances. Elena beside him, looking a trifle slimmer, chastely garbed in hunting attire, wielding her needlegun to deadly effect and hissing with delight each time she registered a kill. Then, afterward, the tang of iced champagne, the pleasure of spicy foods imported from the outworlds, the easy flow of light conversation in a palazzo at the edge of the city. And Elena in his arms, still clad in her hunting clothes, the pleated skirt pulled up, the white thighs exposed, the hips thrusting, thrusting É ÒYes,Ó Noyes gasped. ÒI remember now.Ó ÒYou must have many interesting memories. Jim and I were quite fond of one another.Ó ÒI havenÕt done much checking,Ó said Noyes. ÒSomehow it seems unfair. It overbalances our relationship, Elena. I mean, I carry intimate recollections of you, so you have few secrets from me, but you have no such insight into me.Ó She looked startled. ÒWhy do we take on personae if not to gain advantage? I donÕt understand you, Charles. If in your mind you hold JimÕs memories of me, why not enjoy them?Ó ÑBecause youÕre a damned masochist, Kravchenko suggested. Noyes winced. To Elena he said, ÒYouÕre right. IÕm being fool- ish.Ó He searched the archive Kravchenko had brought with him into his mind. He was lying, in a way, for he had already done a good deal of peering at ElenaÕs relationship with Kravchenko. He knew that they had been lovers for about two years, on and off, nothing serious on either side. Kravchenko had many women, and, Noyes gathered. Elena rarely confined her attentions to one man at a time. Within his mind was ElenaÕs entire repertory of passion; he had merely to sort it out and study it. --------------------------------------- 113 To Live Again 113 Elena said, ÒI find it hard to believe that JimÕs really dead. He was such an exciting man. Do you and he get along well?Ó ÒNo.Ó ÒSo IÕve understood. Why is that? Why did you select him, if there were incompatibilities?Ó Noyes ordered drinks for them. ÒWe came from the same gen- eral background,Ó he explained. ÒI was playing it cautious when I picked a persona. I could have had a financier, a university professor, a starman. Instead I chose a rich playboy, because I was just a rich playboy myself, and I wanted more of the same. Well, I got it. He gives me no peace.Ó ÒYou donÕt have to keep a persona you donÕt like,Ó she said. ÒI know. Perhaps one day IÕll ask for erasure and start all over.Ó ÑThatÕll be the day, Charlie-boy. ÒIt might be best for both of you,Ó said Elena. ÒIt would give Jim a second chance too. Is he your only persona?Ó ÒYes. I didnÕt think I ought to risk another.Ó ÒPossibly a second one would have calmed him a little.Ó ÒPossibly. What about you, Elena? YouÕre such a mystery woman. How many personae are you carrying?Ó ÒFour,Ó she said coolly. He was dumbstruck. He had calculated her for one, or per- haps two personae, no more. Few women undertook four. But Noyes realized he had made the mistake of assuming that be- cause she was beautiful, she must also be of limited intellect. Evidently Elena could handle four personae, since she spoke clearly, with no signs of internal conflict. ÒOne secondary, three primaries,Ó she amplified. ÒItÕs an amus- ing group. We get along well. I took on the first ten years ago, the last only in November. I may add others. IÕve talked to Santoliquido about a possible new transplant.Ó ÒSomeone in particular?Ó ÒNo,Ó Elena said. ÒNot yet. That is, if I canÕt have Paul KaufmannÑÓ --------------------------------------- 114 114 To Live Again Noyes sputtered. ÒYou want him too?Ó ÒIÕm merely joking. They havenÕt legalized transsexual imprint- ing, have they? But I imagine it would be fun to have him. I know Mark would be astounded. Mark worshiped that terrible old man. Strong as he is, Mark never could withstand his uncleÕs wishes in anything. And if I walked into the house one day and opened my mouth and spoke to him with the Words of Paul KaufmannÑ Ó Elena giggled. ÒA delightful picture. It calls for another drink.Ó Noyes found it difficult to see the humor in it. He summoned the drinks; then, slowly, he said, ÒDo you have any idea whoÕs really going to get the Paul Kaufmann Persona?Ó ÒHow should I know?Ó ÒYou spent time with Santoliquido at MarkÕs party.Ó ÒI donÕt discuss SantoliquidoÕs administrative decisions at par- ties,Ó Elena said. ÒWhy do you ask? Are you thinking of apply- ing?Ó ÒFor Paul Kaufmann? HeÕd burn me out in ten minutes. But John Roditis is interested.Ó ÒInterested isnÕt the right word, from what I hear. Desperate is more appropriate.Ó ÒDesperate, then. ItÕs no secret. Roditis feels heÕs qualified to handle a potent persona like Paul Kaufmann, and he also be- lieves that the two of them acting together can have much to offer society. The two greatest business minds of the century, blended into a dynamic team. Honestly. I think so, too. I pro- foundly wish Roditis would be granted the persona.Ó ÒDo you know who else wants Paul?Ó Elena asked. ÒWho?Ó ÒHis nephew Mark.Ó ÒThatÕs impossible! A transplant within the familyÑÓ ÒIllegal, I know. Mark knows it too. He has no hope of actually getting the transplant. But he has business ambitions too, and theyÕd be well served if he had the use of his uncleÕs experi- ences. Besides, heÕs eager to keep the old man out of RoditisÕ --------------------------------------- 115 To Live Again 115 possession. ÒWhy does Mark hate Roditis so much?Ó ÒHe regards him as an upstart. ItÕs quite simple, Charles. The Kaufmanns are aristocrats by birth. They have ancestry. As do you. As do I. As does Santo. We have more than wealth; we have pedigrees back into the twentieth century, even to the earlier centuries. Roditis can tell you his fatherÕs name, but thatÕs all. Now, with a Kaufmann persona, heÕd have social access to our group, access that he canÕt buy with all his billions. Mark is de- termined not to let Roditis force his way in. He regards it as blas- phemy for a man like that to have his uncleÕs persona.Ó ÒWe were all upstarts once,Ó Noyes pointed out. ÒTake the Kaufmann line back far enough and you find peasants. Go back farther and you find apes.Ó ElenaÕs laughter tinkled across the lounge. ÒOf course, of course! But itÕs the distance between the peasant and the banker that marks the social prestige. Your Roditis is too close. Perhaps his great-grandchildren will rule society, but Mark wonÕt toler- ate it now.Ó ÒMark canÕt have his uncleÕs persona. HeÕd be wise to give in gracefully and let Roditis have it. Bury the hatchet, forge a mighty alliance of wealth.Ó ÒThatÕs not how Mark operates,Ó said Elena. ÒHe could. Elena, IÕd be grateful if youÕd suggest that to him. Point out the advantages of combining with Roditis instead of battling him.Ó ÒYou want me to serve as a go-between, passing RoditisÕ mes- sages?Ó He colored. ÒYou put it very bluntly.Ó ÒWe are on the island of truth, Charles. This is what you want from me, is it not? To push RoditisÕ case with Mark?Ó ÒYes.Ó ÒAnd perhaps even to talk to Santo?Ó ÒYes.Ó --------------------------------------- 116 116 To Live Again ÒIs there anything else you want from me, Charles?Ó He could barely look at her. The carniphage flask throbbed against his breastbone. He felt bitterly ashamed that she would humiliate him before Kravchenko this way. But he had asked for it. ÒThereÕs one more thing I want,Ó he said. ÒName it.Ó He touched the warmth of her shoulder. ÒAn hour with you in the bedchambers of the inner level.Ó ÒCertainly,Ó she said, as though he had asked her to tell him the correct time. They left the cocktail lounge and passed through a hail of gaudy nightmare fantasies, and crossed an arena in which the prod- ucts of teratogenetic surgery performed a grotesque dance, and rose on a circular ladder leading beyond a pool of slippery cepha- lopods engaged in a stately ballet, and at length they came to one of the blocs of bedchambers that were scattered at frequent intervals through the galleries of Jubilisle. For fifty dollars he rented an hourÕs use of a room. Within, Elena activated a device that cast a kaleidoscopic pat- tern on the ceiling above the circular bed. Then she disrobed. Beneath the scaly gown she wore only an elastic strip around her hips, and another that bound her breasts, thrusting them upward and close to each other. His hundred-dollar bill was wedged in that deep cleft. She snapped the elastic strips; her massive breasts tumbled free, and the banknote fluttered to the floor. Ignoring it, she faced him, displaying her nudity for his inspection, and without a word arranged herself on the bed. ÑYour big moment, Kravchenko told him. Furiously Noyes dug into the darkest corners of the persona to learn the secrets of unlocking ElenaÕs passion. The information was all there: the proper zones, the proper words, the timing. Kravchenko had most diligently done the research for him years ago. --------------------------------------- 117 To Live Again 117 Noyes joined Elena on the bed. Their bodies met. Their flesh touched and exchanged warmth. He made the rewarding discovery that she was easily aroused and that she was satisfying in her frenzy. At the climactic mo- ment she dug her heels into the backs of his legs and shivered in authentic ecstasy, but then, amid the stream of wordless syllables of joy that issued from her lips, it seemed to Noyes that he heard her saying, ÒJim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim!Ó --------------------------------------- 118 118 To Live Again --------------------------------------- 119 To Live Again 119 Chapter 8 John Roditis listened with flickering patience to all that Noyes had to tell him. They sat at the edge of a wide veranda overlook- ing RoditisÕ Arizona ranch; before them stretched an infinite acre- age of harsh brown turf, tufted here and there by grayish-purple islands of sage. Roditis had been in Arizona all week, supervis- ing the preliminary negotiations for a power project encompass- ing the region south of Tucson and well over the Mexican bor- der. He had had Noyes fly to him that morning, four days after NoyesÕ interlude with Elena Volterra. Noyes said, ÒElena will speak to Santoliquido on your behalf. Probably sheÕs spoken to him already.Ó ÒIs she his mistress?Ó ÒSheÕs everybodyÕs mistress, sooner or later. Mainly she lives with Mark Kaufmann. But she spends time with Santoliquido too. SheÕs quite intimate with him.Ó Roditis knotted his thick fingers together and peered past Noyes into the cloudless, harsh blue sky. ÒIs Kaufmann aware that Santoliquido is trifling with his woman?Ó ÒI imagine so,Ó Noyes said. ÒNeither of them bothered to con- ceal it much. And MarkÕs no fool.Ó ÒHas it occurred to you, then, that Kaufmann has deliberately winked at that relationship-so that by lending Santoliquido Elena, he can influence the destination of his uncleÕs persona?Ó ÒYou mean, making Elena the price for SantoliquidoÕs coop- eration in keeping Paul Kaufmann out of your clutches, John?Ó ÒSomething like thatÓ Noyes took a deep breath. ÒIÕve considered it, yes. But I donÕt think itÕs the case. WhatÕs going on between Elena and Santoliquido isnÕt happening at MarkÕs instigation, any more than Mark had anything to do with what took place between Elena --------------------------------------- 120 120 To Live Again and me. And I believe that Elena will serve your interests in deal- ing with Santoliquido.Ó ÒWhy should she?Ó ÒBecause I asked her to.Ó ÒHow much money did she want?Ó ÒElenaÕs not interested in money,Ó said Noyes. ÒAt least, not in any realistic sense. SheÕs got all she needs, and any time she wants more she can get it from Kaufmann just for the asking. What fascinates her is power. She likes to be close to strong men. She likes to be at the core of intrigue.Ó ÒSheÕs not unique in that,Ó Roditis remarked. ÒElena wants to meet you, John. I suspect that she wants to become your mistress. And she knows that the best way to make an impression on you is to help you get the one thing in the universe you most want and canÕt obtain by yourself, which is Paul KaufmannÕs persona. So sheÕll use her influence with Santoliquido to get it for you, and then sheÕll try to cash in by throwing herself into your bed.Ó ÒIt would infuriate Mark Kaufmann if I took away both his woman and his uncle, wouldnÕt it?Ó Roditis said quietly. ÒIt would madden him.Ó ÒIÕm not sure I want to madden him that much,Ó Roditis said thoughtfully. ÒYou want the persona, donÕt you?Ó ÒOf course.Ó ÒElena will help you gain it. What happens after that between the two of you is entirely up to you.Ó ÒWhy are you so confident that Elena will cooperate?Ó ÒIÕve explained,Ó Noyes said. Rising, he stepped off the veranda and scuffed at the desert sand beyond its margin. ÒThereÕs an- other reason that I havenÕt mentioned yet.Ó ÒGo on.Ó ÒElena knew Jim Kravchenko very well. They were lovers in Italy five or six years ago.Ó --------------------------------------- 121 To Live Again 121 ÒYes,Ó Roditis said. ÒSo?Ó ÒElena was very fond of Kravchenko. She wants to please him, now that sheÕs found him again inside me. She believes that by helping me win status with you, sheÕll be doing her old friend Kravchenko a good turn.Ó ÒThatÕs an intricate line of reasoning, Charles. KravchenkoÕs dead. If sheÕs reaching through you to him, she canÕt have a very high opinion of you.Ó ÒShe doesnÕt. She hates me. And this is how she shows it.Ó Roditis spat. ÒThere are times when I wonder why I work so hard to get involved with you society people. YouÕre nothing but beasts, really. You disembowel one another like ballet dancers with tusks, and you find the most complicated possible reasons for doing what you do.Ó ÒInbreeding, perhaps,Ó Noyes suggested. ÒYes, that. And more. Mere money doesnÕt interest you; your great-grandfathers have made enough for the whole tribe. Mere status is of no importance; you had that before you were old enough to be housebroken. You inherit power and rank. So you turn your lives into a kind of Byzantine intrigue to keep from going crazy with boredom. Rebirth makes it all the more inter- esting. You can switch back and forth across the generations, opening old wounds, keeping ancient feuds alive, scarring each other, using sex like a dagger.Ó RoditisÕ eyes glittered. ÒLet me tell you something, Charles. IÕm a real Byzantine. I donÕt prac- tice intrigue for intrigueÕs own sake. IÕm looking to put it to prac- tical ends. And so while the whole bunch of you go on backstabbing and clawing, IÕm going to move right in and take everything over. Just the way my ancestors moved in and took over Rome. By and by, the language of the Roman Empire was Greek, remember? ThatÕs how a Byzantine works. Watch me.Ó ÒIÕve never stopped watching you, John.Ó ÒGood. WeÕll see about ElenaÕs conference with Santoliquido in a little while. Come take exercise with me, now.Ó --------------------------------------- 122 122 To Live Again ÒIÕm a little tired, John. The flight from New YorkÑÓ ÒCome take exercise with me,Ó Roditis repeated. ÒIf you kept in shape, you wouldnÕt be worn out by a little thing like a flight from New York.Ó They entered the house, passing through corridors lined with smooth white stucco walls, and descended to the cool basement where Roditis had installed a gymnasium. Quietly he adjusted the gravity control to a boost of ten percent. That was unfair to Noyes, but no matter; Roditis had little desire to waste his exer- cise session by imposing an insufficient challenge on himself. Usually he boosted the pull by twenty percent or more. When things went badly, he had sometimes worked under double grav, straining every fiber, pushing heart and lungs and muscles to their limits for the sake of extending those limits another notch. Stripping, Roditis said, ÒWould you like to recite a mantra of exertion, Charles?Ó ÒIÕm not sure there is one. ÒGive us a pious phrase or two, at any rate. Then get out of your clothes.Ó Noyes said, ÒWhen, by the power of evil karma, misery is be- ing tasted, may the tutelary deities dissipate the misery. When the natural sound of Reality is reverberating like a thousand thun- ders, may they be transmuted into the sounds of the Six Syllables.Ó Roditis belched. ÒOm mani padme hum. Excuse me.Ó ÒItÕs all nonsense to you, isnÕt it, John?Ó ÒWestern Buddhism? Well, it has its place. IÕve studied the arts of right dying, you know. I mean to leave a well- prepared per- sona for my next carnate trip.Ó ÒHow will it feel, I wonder, being a passenger in someone elseÕs brain?Ó Roditis stared levelly at Noyes. ÒI wonÕt be a passenger for long, Charles. You must realize that, of course. I play the game to win, all the time. If I canÕt win trough to dybbuk, I donÕt deserve re- birth.Ó --------------------------------------- 123 To Live Again 123 ÒI pity the man who picks your persona.Ó ÒHeÕll live comfortably enough. He just wonÕt be supreme in his own body, is all.Ó Roditis laughed boomingly. ÒAll this is sixty, seventy years away, though. Right now weÕre here for exercise, not speculation on my discorporate existence. Om mani padme hum. Wake up, Charles!Ó Roditis activated the vertical trampolines. They were two flex- ible screens, mounted upright about fifteen feet apart and mov- ing in a flagellatory oscillation on their mountings. He stepped between them and jumped diagonally against the left-hand screen, keeping his ankles pressed close together. The screen batted him away, and he pivoted neatly in midair, directing his feet at the other screen, striking it squarely, rebounding, pivot- ing again. For twenty cycles he let himself be shuttled back and forth between the screens, never once touching the floor de- spite the enhanced pull of gravity. Then he resisted the elasticity of the screens by tensing his body, and dropped lithely to his feet at his staffing point. ÒYour turn,Ó he said to Noyes. ÒJohn, IÑÓ ÒCome on!Ó Noyes looked dubious. He stepped between the pulsating screens and leaped. His feet touched the center of the webwork to his left, and the screen hurled him away, slamming him shoul- der-first to the floor. He stood up, rubbing himself. ÒAgain,Ó said Roditis. ÒYouÕre growing fat, Charles. Sleek- headed, and you sleep oÕnights. Let me have men about me with a lean and hungry look.Ó Noyes leaped again, angrily. As he struck the screen, he flexed his knees, trying hard to achieve the correct propulsive effect that would send him arcing toward the opposite screen. But his feet came in contact with the screen a fraction of a second apart from one another, and he gathered no momentum. Instead he trickled to the floor, striking his cheekbone and the side of his --------------------------------------- 124 124 To Live Again lower lip. He was bruised and bleeding when he arose. ÒIÕm sorry, John. IÕm simply not in shape for this kind of thing, and by the time I get in shape itÕll probably kill me,Ó he said thinly. ÒIÕll make it easier for you.Ó Roditis seized the gravity control and cranked it to half level. Beneath the floorboards there was a rumbling sound as the straining magnetodynamic field made the adjustment, and shortly Roditis felt the pressure lift. ÒTry again,Ó he said. Noyes moved into position and jumped. In the suddenly lighter gravity, he hit the screen too high, but it made no difference; he was hurled across to the facing screen, landing belly first, bounced back, made another cycle, all the time floundering, kick- ing his long legs about, waving his arms desperately, like a giant Sancho Panza tossing on his blanket. Roditis watched for more than a minute as Noyes slammed back and forth through the air. Then, feeling irritated and amused all at once, he restored the gravity to normal plus ten, and Noyes dropped heavily to the floor. He was slow to get up this time. His face was reddened and his chest heaved. ÒEnough of that,Ó said Roditis mercifully. ÒShould I call an am- bulance, or will you try other exercise?Ó Noyes shrugged. Roditis picked up a medicine ball and gently tossed it to him, underarm. Noyes caught it and flipped it back, and for a few minutes they played catch, Roditis surreptitiously stepping up the force of his throws until the heavy ball traveled with considerable velocity. At last NoyesÕ trembling fingers failed to hold it, and the ball rocketed into the pit of his stomach, roll- ing away while he gagged and retched. Roditis did not smile. They played power-shuffleboard, which Noyes found more to his liking. They swam. They climbed ropes. Roditis took another turn on the trampolines. Then he relented, and they went up- stairs to dress. Lunch followed. --------------------------------------- 125 To Live Again 125 Roditis was in a restless, surging mood. His business enter- prises were going well; but the one thing that was of highest importance, the Paul Kaufmann project, seemed stalemated and stagnant. He wished he did not need to act through intermediar- ies in gaining SantoliquidoÕs favor. Especially intermediaries he did not even know, such as this woman Elena Volterra, famous for her beauty and for her promiscuity as well, an unlikely am- bassador indeed. He had sent Noyes off to Dominica to make contact with Santoliquido; instead, Noyes had reached this Elena. Perhaps she would serve him well, after all, if NoyesÕ tortuous reasoning had any merit to it. But Roditis itched to be handling the deal himself. The groundwork had been laid; now was the moment to fly to New York, corner Santoliquido in his den, and make full, formal, and final request for the transplant of the Kaufmann persona. Time was passing. It was unreasonable of Santoliquido to withhold his decision any longer, and Roditis did not know of any other qualified applicant. Possibly Mark Kaufmann had the capacity to handle the persona of his uncle, but Mark was barred by law and the old manÕs direct wish from taking it. Which leaves only me, thought Roditis. That afternoon he closed the power transaction with the Mexi- cans. His computer produced the final specifications for the trans- mission pylons; the Mexican computer produced the final esti- mates of allowable cost. There was brief negotiation between the computers, and by three oÕclock the contract was ready for signing. Roditis affixed his thumbprint, the chairman of the Mexi- can Power Authority delivered an eloquent speech in confused English, and substantial quantities of tequila were served. An hour later, Roditis was eighty thousand feet in the air, bound for New York. The world had become a strange and infinitely complex place for Risa Kaufmann in the eight days since she had acquired the persona of Tandy Cushing. At a single stroke, her stock of life --------------------------------------- 126 126 To Live Again experiences had been more than doubled; her perceptions of human relationships had become more intense; her attitude to- ward herself, her father, and the world in general had grown more tolerant. The presence of the persona had provided her with a sense of parallax. She had two viewpoints from which to observe events, and that made a vast difference. She felt a trifle guilty about her former selfÕs wanton bitchiness. Risa plus Tandy looked upon Risa alone as an insufferable little minx, obsessively self-indulgent, petty, exhibitionistic, with a wide streak of sadism in her makeup. Together, they understood what had created that constellation of undesirable character traits in her: her impatience to erupt into the adult world, which had seemed in no hurry to accept her. Now that she had made that passage safely, it ceased to be important for her to externalize her frustration by tormenting those about her. Tandy, too, had had her shortcomings. Risa clearly recognized the personaÕs flaws: laziness, shallowness, lack of discipline. Tandy came from a moneyed family, one of the old New England lines, but it was a family in which no one had done any work in at least five generations. To a Kaufmann such an attitude was abhorrent and almost incomprehensible. Kaufmanns worked. They might flit about the world to a dozen parties a week, they might go off to Venus for a month if the mood took them, they might spend a fortune on clothing or furnishings or illuminated portraits of Uncle Paul or additional personae. Their great wealth entitled them to any luxury they chose, save only the luxury of idleness. RisaÕs father devoted many hours of his day to business activities that could just as easily be run through hired manag- ers, or even left entirely to the computer services. Risa herself had a keen understanding of the uses of the business cycle, and had every intention of taking her place in the Kaufmann bank- ing hierarchy. But Tandy had no training, no interest in anything but sensuality, no marketable skills. If for some reason the Cushing estate had failed, she would have had no choice but to --------------------------------------- 127 To Live Again 127 go into prostitution. Risa disapproved of TandyÕs flightiness. Tandy disapproved of RisaÕs aggressiveness. They had much to offer one another, by way of countervailing forces. During their first few days of life together they spent long hours sorting through each otherÕs memory files. Risa withdrew to her apartment for what would have seemed to an outsider as pas- sive meditation, but which was in fact an exciting, vivid, and unending colloquy of the most intimate kind. All in a rush she entered TandyÕs backlog of events, the love affairs, the trips, the parties. It was like gaining eight extra years of past in a moment. Tandy, at twenty-four on the date of her final persona recording, had done everything that Risa in her first sixteen years had done, and had gone beyond those first tentative experiments to a full- blown erotic career. Risa had had a few affairs, impulsive, frag- mentary, hesitant, the fleeting curiosities of a girl on the edge of womanhood. Tandy had known love, or what she regarded as love, and the record of emotional storm and fervor, of sunrise and sunset, lay accessible to Risa. She knew now the sensations of lying naked to couple in the Antarctic snows. She tasted strange cocktails in a hotel on the slopes of Everest. She experienced orgasm in free fall. She quar- reled with lovers, raked their faces with clawed hands, kissed away the salty tricklings of blood. Risa sensed that it would not take her very long to exhaust TandyÕs stock of incident. Oh, there would always be interesting formative events to return to, yes, and there would always be the useful presence of a second mind within hers, but Risa knew that the present keen stimulation of having Tandy with her would wear off in a year or two, and their relationship would settle into coziness, a marriage that had consumed its passion. Tandy sim- ply did not have the complexity of personality that would permit indefinite mining of her experiences, colorful as those experi- ences had been. By the time Risa reached TandyÕs final age, she --------------------------------------- 128 128 To Live Again would be far beyond the point Tandy had reached at her death. Then it would be time to add another persona. An older woman, Risa thought. From Tandy she had acquired voluptuousness, a sense of physicality that her own lean body would never provide for her. From the next persona Risa wanted an advanced course in avarice and shrewdness. It would be useful to have the ben- efit of age to draw upon as she entered the larger world of con- flict and achievement. But that was for the future. For now, Risa had exactly what she wanted. ÒYouÕre satisfied?Ó her father asked her. Spring sunlight flooded RisaÕs apartment. She wore an airy gown that might have been made of woven cobwebs. ÒVery sat- isfied. ItÕs all I dreamed it would be.Ó ÒThe change in you is very pronounced.Ó ÒA change for the better?Ó ÒI think so,Ó Kaufmann said. ÒThen why did you fight me, Mark? Why couldnÕt you have given your consent when I asked for it the first time?Ó He looked sheepish, an expression she had never seen on his face before. ÒSometimes I miscalculate too, Risa. It seemed to me you werenÕt ready. I was wrong. I admit it. You and Tandy are good friends, eh?Ó ÒExtremely.Ó ÒWhatÕs she like?Ó ÒVery much like me, only eight years older, and much more relaxed about things. With one exception.Ó ÒAnd that is?Ó ÒThe manner of her death. TandyÕs obsessed with that. SheÕs convinced she was murdered.Ó ÒShe died in a power-ski accident last summer, didnÕt she?Ó ÒThatÕs the official verdict,Ó Risa said. ÒTandy tells me that it couldnÕt have happened that way. She was an expert skier, and her equipment had safety devices anyhow.Ó --------------------------------------- 129 To Live Again 129 ÒSafety devices fail. Does she have any recollection of her last moments?Ó ÒHow could she?Ó Risa laughed. ÒShe recorded her persona two months before she was killed! They donÕt take recordings of dying girls at the scenes of accidents!Ó Mark looked sheepish again. ÒStupid of me. But does she have any basis for thinking she was murdered, or is it simply an irra- tional obsession?Ó ÒSince sheÕs got no evidence, it has to be considered irratio- nal,Ó Risa said. ÒBut sheÕs asked me to do a little checking, and I will.Ó ÒChecking? What sort of checking?Ó ÒDetective work. Reconstructing her last day of life. Finding the man she was skiing with.Ó Frowning, Mark said, ÒYou could get yourself into trouble do- ing that, Risa. If you like, IÕll have a man assigned toÑÓ ÒNo. IÕll handle it, Mark. IÕm curious about it too.Ó It was time to get started on that project, Risa told herself. She had hesitated to make any outward moves, in this week of ori- entation; but now there was no further reason for waiting. She prodded Tandy for details of her final memories. ÒWho would you have gone to St. Moritz with?Ó ÑIÕm not sure. Perhaps Claude. Or maybe Stig. ÒThey were both power-skiers?Ó ÑYes. And I was seeing both of them last spring. You know that much already. ÒDid you have any plans for power-skiing with either of them at St. Moritz?Ó ÑHow would I know? Risa studied TandyÕs recollections of her two escorts. Claude Villefranche was a Monegasque, a citizen of that anomalous little Mediterranean principality that so stubbornly retained its sov- ereignty in a day when such notions were long obsolete. Fil- tered though TandyÕs eyes, he was tall, wide-shouldered, dark, --------------------------------------- 130 130 To Live Again moderately sinister-looking, with a tapering sharp nose and thin, easily scowling lips. He was about thirty, it seemed, athletic, wealthy, a man of strong tastes and a somber, brooding nature. As for Stig Hollenbeck, the Swede, he was ClaudeÕs comple- ment: sunny and open, a slender, lithe man in his late twenties, blond, fair, looking somewhat as Risa imagined Charles Noyes must have looked when younger, though not so tall and lanky. His family had shipbuilding money; Stig himself, like nearly ev- eryone in the late Tandy CushingÕs orbit, was a non-worker. Tandy had been sexually intimate with each of them on many occasions in the last two years of her life. Each had been aware of her interest in the other; neither had shown any flicker of jealousy. There was nothing in TandyÕs view of either one that led Risa to think they were capable of murder. Yet Tandy had a powerful conviction that one or the other of them had accompa- nied her to St. Moritz last August and had chosen to sabotage her equipment with intent to kill. ÒIÕll look them up and find out if they can tell me anything about your final two months,Ó Risa said. ÒWhich one should I begin with?Ó ÑStig. ÒWhy?Ó ÑBecause ClaudeÕs got such an ominous face. HeÕs the kind of man who looks like a murderer. So we ought to begin with the less obvious suspect. Risa was amused by that. But she humored Tandy; this entire enterprise struck Risa as frivolous, and so there was no point in trying to impose rational judgment on any segment of it. Murder was a rarity in the world Risa knew. Since everyone had a recent persona recording on file, and thus could be said always to be in transition from one carnate existence to the next, it was point- less to risk erasure by committing that crime. If you took life intentionally, your own recordings were destroyed and you were barred forever from participation in the rebirth program. Who --------------------------------------- 131 To Live Again 131 would risk such a dread punishment? Why jeopardize oneÕs own eternal life for the sake of bringing a temporary interruption to anotherÕs span? Yet Tandy was convinced she had been murdered, doubtless because she could not accept the notion that some clumsiness of her own had led to her early death in the snows of St. Moritz. Risa dialed the master directory and requested information on the whereabouts of Stig Hollenbeck. To her surprise and relief, it turned out that Stig was currently living on his family estate just outside Stockholm. She placed a call to him the following morning, when it was early evening in Sweden. His calm, appealing face smiled out of the screen at her, the eyes friendly, a little puzzled. He looked much like TandyÕs im- age of him, though younger and a trifle more lean. ÒYes?Ó ÒIÕm Risa Kaufmann. IÕd like to talk to you about Tandy Cushing, if I might.Ó He lowered his eyes. ÒTandy, yes. A great tragedy. Were you a friend of hers?Ó ÒIÕve obtained transplant of her persona.Ó HollenbeckÕs reaction was vivid: a sudden spasm of the muscles of the throat, a lifting of the eyes, a quick and involuntary turn- ing of the head several inches to the left Risa, watching closely, wondered whether this was the response of a guilty man taken by surprise, or whether, perhaps, he simply was startled by the knowledge that TandyÕs persona was at large in the world again and looking at him through RisaÕs eyes. At length he said, ÒI had not heard that she was back.Ó ÒQuite recently. Last week. She suggested I get in touch with you. There are questions IÕd like to ask.Ó ÒVery well. If I can be of any serviceÑÓ ÒNot by phone. May I visit you in Stockholm tomorrow?Ó ÒAs you wish. It would be a great pleasure for me to meetÑ ahÑTandyÕs new friend. Shall you be coming from America?Ó --------------------------------------- 132 132 To Live Again ÒFrom New York, yes.Ó As she spoke, Risa requested a time- table over her data line, and discovered there was space avail- able on a flight leaving at nine the following morning. ÒWe could have lunch together,Ó Risa said. They arranged to meet at the airport. When she stepped through the immigration scanners, he was there, looking pale and rather more fragile than she had imagined. They embraced in the courtly manner prescribed between strangers at their first meeting. As he held her, he peered into her eyes, and it seemed to her that his cold blue eyes were trying to stare through her at the Tandy lurking within. A muscle throbbed in his cheek. Risa doubted that this man had committed murder. ÑHeÕs changed, Tandy commented. He looks older, quieter. Almost shy. ÒI have reserved a lunch for us,Ó he said to Risa. ÒMy hopter is waiting.Ó Within minutes they were in a sumptuous building many hun- dreds of years old that stood at the edge of a lovely park in met- ropolitan Stockholm. He had arranged for their meal to be served in a private chamber, upstairs, at the inn. At face value, that might seem to be an invitation to a seduction; but Risa sensed that he had no physical interest in her. She was good at detecting the radiations of desire, and there were none forthcoming from him. Evidently he preferred the more robust, fleshy physique of a Tandy. She wondered if he knew Elena Volterra. A robot servitor brought them cold aquavit and tapering flasks of chilled golden beer. Then a table of delicacies was wheeled into their room, and she followed him about selecting bits of aromatic herring, snippets of smoked reindeer, lush strips of salmon. A huge window admitted a maximum of sunlight: a scarce commodity at this latitude, and so highly prized. Tandy fluttered and palpitated within her. It excited her terri- bly to be in the presence of her former lover. She seemed eager to go to bed with him once more, even vicariously. Without speak- --------------------------------------- 133 To Live Again 133 ing, Risa attempted to communicate to the persona StigÕs lack of yearning for her. As they ate, Stig said, ÒYou wish to ask questions about Tandy?Ó ÒYou were very close to her, werenÕt you?Ó He smiled. ÒSurely you must know that I was.Ó ÒYes. I do. IÕm sorry to have voiced the obvious. Can you tell me when you last saw her?Ó ÒLast summer,Ó he said. ÒSome time before her-death.Ó ÒHow long before?Ó ÒLet me think. In the spring we were together at Veracruz. April and part of May. Then she returned to Europe, to Monte Carlo and Claude. You know of Claude?Ó ÒOf course.Ó ÒWell, then. It must have been at the end of June that I saw her again.Ó ÑAfter I made my last recording, said Tandy. ÒWhere was this?Ó Risa asked. ÒWe met in Lisbon. We traveled together as far as Stockholm, where I had family obligations. She continued on into SuomiÑ into Finland. I joined her there in mid- July. We journeyed through the arctic regions together, down to Kiev again, and flew to Zurich. In Zurich I left her. Several weeks later she was dead.Ó ÒYou didnÕt see her at all after the end of last July?Ó ÒUnhappily, no.Ó He indicated RisaÕs empty plate. ÒShall we proceed to the warm food, or do you wish more fish?Ó ÒIÕd like to try some of the other kinds of herring.Ó ÒAs do I.Ó He grinned, the first sign of warmth she had had from him. They filled fresh plates. At a signal, the robot pro- duced more beer. Risa resisted more aquavit. ÒAbout TandyÑÓ ÒWhen she left me in Zurich, I understand she met Claude again. They went to St MoritzÓ His countenance darkened. ÒI did not hear of her death until October. I assumed she was still trav- eling with him.Ó --------------------------------------- 134 134 To Live Again ÒWhat can you tell me about her death?Ó ÒThis is a wintry subject for such a sunny day.Ó ÒPlease,Ó Risa said. ÒItÕs important for me to know. ForÑus to know. DonÕt you see, Tandy has no information about it. Her last recording was made in June. SheÕs trying to reconstruct her fi- nal eight weeks, and particularly the events of herÑof her death. Can you help?Ó ÒAs I say, my information is secondhand. IÕm told she was ski- ing with Claude. They were on the high slope, making a rapid descent, one of the long jumps. She was crossing a crevasse, one hundred meters in the air. Suddenly her equipment failed. The gravity repulsors failed to hold. She fell. I understand they did not recover her body until the following week.Ó Risa felt a quiver of shock. ÒI hope it was a swift death.Ó ÒOne can hope so, yes. They were silent. Risa saw Stig searching her face, and knew that he must still be seeking some way to speak through her, directly to Tandy. But of course it was a grievous breach of eti- quette to address someoneÕs resident persona. One spoke only to the living, not to the merely carnate. Stig could not possibly commit a blunder so gross; yet clearly he ached to seize RisaÕs arms and find himself embracing Tandy. ÒI loved her very deeply,Ó he said after a while. ÒI doubt that she realized it. We were always so elaborately casual, after the approved manner. I would have wanted to have a child by her. I would have wanted to share her life. But I never let her see any of that, and so all we shared was a bed. I regret that.Ó ÒWill you be offended if I tell you that Tandy was more aware of your feelings than you thought?Ó Risa asked. He smiled faintly. But he did not look convinced. They scarcely touched the rest of their meal. Afterward, they walked in the garden of the inn, both of them quiet. The indirect conversation between Stig and Tandy had left Risa drained and numb. She had, at least, settled one thing to the satisfaction of --------------------------------------- 135 To Live Again 135 herself and the persona within. If Tandy had indeed died through malevolence, Stig Hollenbeck had had nothing to do with it. At the airport, he said as she dismounted from his hopter, ÒI wish I could have been of more assistance to you.Ó ÒYou were extremely helpful. WeÕre both grateful.Ó ÒWhere will you go now?Ó ÒTo see Claude,Ó Risa said. ÒWe didnÕt know which one of you had been with Tandy at the end, you see. Things are much more clear now. Do you happen to know where IÕm likely to find him? By this time I suppose heÕs over the shock, and willing to talk about the accident.Ó Stig winced, reacting almost as sharply as he had when Risa had told him she possessed TandyÕs persona. ÒYou do not know?Ó he asked. ÒKnow what?Ó ÒClaude is dead too. He died in December, swimming at night on the Great Baffler Reef. He can tell you nothing. Nothing. Un- less you can get information from his persona, wherever it may be.Ó --------------------------------------- 136 136 To Live Again --------------------------------------- 137 To Live Again 137 Chapter 9 Francesco Santoliquido said with obviously forced heartiness, ÒItÕs good to see you again, John. IÕm always delighted when you drop in.Ó Roditis took the proffered hand. It was soft, warm, not pre- cisely a flabby hand but certainly the hand of a man who wel- comed all comforts. The door of SantoliquidoÕs office did not ar- gue that he had spartan tastes. ÒDrink?Ó ÒCertainly, Frank.Ó They touched ultrasonic snouts to their arms. Santoliquido beamed. ÒYouÕve kept well, John. Still a demon for exercise, are you?Ó ÒI get only one body to inhabit,Ó said Roditis. ÒI keep it with respect.Ó ÒNaturally.Ó A wary expression crept into SantoliquidoÕs eyes. Roditis suspected that the older man was afraid of him, and he liked that, for Santoliquido was very high in the system of the world, very high indeed. He wondered just what Elena had been saying to Santoliquido about him, and what the response had been. Roditis said, ÒThe statue looks as splendid as ever.Ó ÒThe Kozak? Yes. Yes, a masterpiece.Ó Santoliquido chuckled. ÒDonÕt think IÕve forgotten you have Anton Kozak sitting back of your eyes. Has he led you to take up sonic sculpture yet?Ó ÒHe tries,Ó said Roditis. ÒBut I know my limitations.Ó ÒA wise man.Ó ÒI lack the skills of Kozak. I would not defame him by plying his art. His mind cannot drive my muscles.Ó ÒOf course not,Ó conceded Santoliquido. ÒHe is glad to see that piece again. He tells me itÕs one of his --------------------------------------- 138 138 To Live Again favorites. A brilliant artist, Frank. I compliment myself many times for having chosen him. You know, a man like me, a man of dollars, I didnÕt get much chance to learn how to appreciate beauty. Kozak has taught me. Now I know what the balance of line means: what the harmony of form is. IÕm much richer.Ó ÒThatÕs the purpose of the Scheffing process,Ó Santoliquido said sententiously. ÒTo enhance, to enrich. Doubtless heÕs greatly wid- ened your horizons of perceptions. But tell me, John: how does Kozak find it, seeing the world through the eyes of a billionaire financier?Ó ÒHe enjoys it, I believe. He makes no complaints. His world is enriched too. He moved much too much in the company of es- thetes; now he sees a different facet of existence. IÕm sure that when he makes his next carnate trip heÕll try to express some of that new knowledge in art, if heÕs lucky enough to be acquired by someone with the right skills for practicing sonic sculpture.Ó ÒThatÕs far in the future,Ó said Santoliquido nervously. ÒYou look quite healthy, John, and thereÕll be no new carnate trip for you or your personae for a long time to come, IÕm sureÓ ÒI hope so.Ó ÒAnd Walsh? Old Elio? HeÕs thriving too?Ó ÒOh, yes,Ó Roditis said. ÒWeÕre kindred spirits. He built a net- work of power-transmission stations; IÕve built a network of a different sort of power. He finds his present place quite reward- ing. And I regard him as indispensable.Ó Roditis smiled, and held the smile just slightly too long, intentionally. Then he said, ÒIÕm sure you realize that I didnÕt ask for this appointment so I could discuss my existing personae.Ó ÒOf course.Ó ÒYou realize why IÕm here?Ó ÒNaturally.Ó ÒShall I name it or will you?Õ ÒPaul Kaufmann,Ó Santoliquido said. ÒYes?Ó ÒYes. The old manÕs been dead since the turn of the year. ItÕs --------------------------------------- 139 To Live Again 139 nearly May now. ThereÕs no reason for keeping him in storage any longer, is there?Ó ÒWeÕre nearing a decision, John.Ó ÒIÕve been hearing that phrase for weeks. IÕd like to know how long you plan to go on nearing that decisionÕ ÒIÕm approaching it rapidly,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒAnd asymptotically?Ó ÒJohn, you donÕt appreciate the complexity of whatÕs involved. HereÕs the persona of one of the worldÕs most powerful men, perhaps the most powerful of his age, a uniquely vigorous per- sonality, a man of colossal wealth, of the highest family connec- tions. It takes time to evaluate the applicants for his persona. The decision can have far-reaching consequences.Ó ÒHow many other applicants are there?Ó Roditis asked. ÒHundreds.Ó ÒAnd how many of them do you seriously think are qualified to handle a persona of such force?Ó ÒSeveral,Ó Santoliquido said. Instantly Roditis knew that he was lying. But he did not dare force the situation beyond this point. Obviously ElenaÕs minis- trations had clinched nothing yet. Santoliquido was still reluc- tant to surrender the Paul Kaufmann file. Roditis said, ÒItÕs not my intention to put pressure on you. I feel you owe it to the world to restore Paul Kaufmann to carnate existence, and IÕm offering myself as the vehicle for that. As time passes, you know, his persona gets out of touch with the flow of events. WeÕll forfeit his abilities to evaluate situations if we let the world become incomprehensible to him.Ó ÒBut do you think youÕre an adequate vehicle, John?Ó Surprised, Roditis answered, ÒHas anyone ever doubted that I am?Ó ÒThe Kaufmann persona is a powerful one.Ó ÒI realize that. IÕm prepared and capable. YouÕve tested my capacity.Ó --------------------------------------- 140 140 To Live Again ÒYes. Even so, I remain uneasy. A man like Paul Kaufmann could so easily break through to dybbukÑÓ ÒNo one,Ó said Roditis stiffly, Òis going to reach dybbuk at my expense. Not even Paul Kaufmann.Ó ÒThere are times,Ó Santoliquido murmured, Òwhen I feel it would be best to leave that old man in storage forever.Ó ÒThat would be a crime against his persona! You have no right!Ó ÒI didnÕt say I would. But itÕs a temptation. Otherwise we run the risk of loosing him on the world again. A buccaneer. A can- nibal. A marauder.Ó ÒHe was merely a shrewd and aggressive businessman,Ó Roditis said. ÒGive him to me and heÕll be under control every minute of the day. IÕll harness him.Ó ÒYouÕre very confident of yourself, John. Come with me.Ó ÒWhere?Ó ÒTo the main storage vault. IÕll give you a closer view of Kaufmann.Ó Roditis had been in the storage vault before. But yet it never failed to strike pangs of awe in him as he moved through the low-roofed vestibule with its assortment of wary scanners and into the huge gloomy cavern of canned souls. They reached a sampling booth. Santoliquido requisitioned one of the storage caskets and cradled it firmly under one arm. Looking about the colossal room, with its tier upon tier of racks and urns, Roditis said softly, ÒDo you know the eleventh book of the Odyssey? Odysseus goes to the Halls of Hades to seek advice of the soul of Teiresias.Ó His hand swept along the dully gleam- ing balcony. ÒHere we are. The Halls of Hades, the City of Per- petual Mist. We beach our boat and make our way along the banks of the River of Ocean. Odysseus draws his sword, digs a trench, pours libations to the dead. Honey and milk, wine, wa- ter. He sprinkles white barley. He cuts the throats of sheep. The dark blood pours into the trench, and now the souls of the dead come swarming up from below. He sees his unburied friend --------------------------------------- 141 To Live Again 141 Elpenor. He is approached by his mother, but waves her away to speak with Teiresias. Then he meets others. The mother of Oe- dipus. The wife of Amphitryon. Ariadne. Poseidon. These are the Halls of Hades, Santoliquido. We can summon up departed souls.Ó ÒYou know your Homer well,Ó Santoliquido said. ÒI am a Greek,Ó said Roditis calmly. ÒAre you surprised?Ó ÒYou donÕt usually seem so-literary, John.Ó ÒBut this is Hades, isnÕt it? Not a place of punishment, not DanteÕs Inferno, simply a storage vault. As Homer tells it. Stand- ing here looking into that darkness, Frank, donÕt you feel it?Ó ÒIÕve felt it many times. Though not in HomerÕs terms, exactly. We Romans have a poet of Hades too. Remember? ÒThe descent into Hell is easy. Night and day lie open the gates of deathÕs dark kingdom.ÕÓ ÒVirgil?Ó ÒYes. Aeneas also sees the dead. He plucks a golden bough and inquires after his comrades. A deep, dark cave, with fumes coming up from its throat; he follows a path, he takes the ferry across the river, he encounters the shade of his steersman Palinurus. He finds Dido, weeping. And his father, Anchises. IÕve often thought of it, John.Ó ÒOpen Hades for me, then. Show me Paul Kaufmann.Ó ÒCome inside the booth.Ó They entered. Roditis was in a dark mood now; he stared at the coppery casket containing the persona of Paul Kaufmann, and a terrible desire came over him to seize it from plump Santoliquido and run off. But that was foolishness. He waited while Santoliquido set up the equipment. ÒWhat are you going to do?Ó Roditis asked finally. ÒAllow you to have a thirty-second peek at Paul Kaufmann. ItÕs a standard scanning. Once it begins, IÕll let it continue no matter how you react, and afterward weÕll know how eager you really are to have him with you forever.Ó --------------------------------------- 142 142 To Live Again ÒYou donÕt frighten me.Ó ÒI donÕt mean to. But I want you to realize that there are risks.Ó ÒGo ahead,Ó said Roditis. He accepted the electrodes. Through slitted eyes he observed the final preparations. ÒNow,Ó Santoliquido said. Roditis jerked and quivered in the first impact of union with the persona of Paul Kaufmann. It was as if he had plunged into a boiling, sulfurous lake, dropping straight to the bottom, engulfed in it, fighting for breath. But he did not drown. Within moments he was rising, finding his level, learning the art of swimming in this medium. Incredible! Such strength, such vitality, such intensity that old man had had! Roditis examined strands of memory; not tangled knotted ones, but firm hawsers of recollection, stretching across the void of years. He acknowledged a formidable mind when he met one. Had old Kaufmann ever forgotten anything? Had he ever blun- dered? Roditis stared in delight at serried rows of archives, at a comprehensive and flawlessly arranged memory bank. Kaufmann must not have been human, but some sort of com- puter. But no, he was human enough: here were lust, rage, ava- rice, triumph, all the passions, throbbing chords of emotion slash- ing in bright primary hues across the purpled backdrop of that powerful mind. To and fro Roditis moved, examining everything, passing freely down the frozen canyons of that awesome per- sona, admiring stalactites and stalagmites of desire, glittering crystals of achievement, the ropy fabric of maturity. Kaufmann at seventy had been a phenomenon, but not a sudden one; rov- ing backward, Roditis saw the unity of the man, saw the same unbending purpose at forty, at twenty, even at ten. How could there be a man like this, all fire and ice at once? Having entered that realm of wonders, Roditis could not leave. He heard the sound of distant music, resonant, somber, a chromatic symphony --------------------------------------- 143 To Live Again 143 of great power. He saw towering Gothic arches receding to in- finity. In his nostrils was the scent of grandeur. Roditis planted his feet firmly on a broad plain beneath a black sky. He threw his head back and roared joyous laughter at the heavens. The images dissolved. He sat in a small room, electrodes on his forehead, Santoliquido studying him with interest ÒGive him to me,Ó Roditis said at once. ÒThe risksÑÓ ÒThere are no risks. I can handle him. He belongs to me! He must be mine!Ó ÒYouÕre shaking all over,Ó Santoliquido pointed out. Roditis discovered that it was so. He stared at his trembling fingers, his quaking knees. The harder he tried to regain mus- cular control, the more violent the tremors became. He said, ÒItÕs nothing but a reaction to tension. I donÕt pretend it was like noth- ing, scanning that mind. But I am well. I am strong. I have the right to receive that persona.Ó ÒHow do your own personae feel about it?Ó Roditis realized that he had lost contact with Kozak and Walsh. He had to grope uncertainly in the recesses of his own mind a moment before he located them. Walsh seemed dazed; Kozak, sullen, withdrawn, wounded. As he probed them they stirred gradually; as if thawing after a freezing bath. They had not en- joyed their brief exposure to Paul Kaufmann, it appeared. Roditis tried to cheer them. They would get used to their new neighbor in his mind. He said to Santoliquido, ÒWell, theyÕre a little shaken up, I sup- pose. He was a rough dose for them. But itÕll wear off.Ó ÒIÕm worried, John.Ó ÒAbout them?Ó ÒAbout you. If you took on Kaufmann, what the long-term ef- fects might be. YouÕre an important man nowadays, with plenty of responsibility. If you should cave in under the weight of this new persona you wantÑÓ --------------------------------------- 144 144 To Live Again ÒI wonÕt.Ó ÒIf,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒThere could be serious economic con- sequences.Ó ÒHow many different ways do I have to put it? IÕm capable of bearing up. Do you know, Frank, I feel such exultation now, hav- ing seen that manÕs mindÑsuch a sense of widening, after only half a minute. YouÕve got to give him to me!Ó SantoliquidoÕs tongue appeared and made a slow circuit of his lips.Ó After a momentÕs silence he rose and beckoned to Roditis. ÒLetÕs take a walk,Ó he suggested. ÒIf youÕve recovered from those tremors by now.Ó Roditis stood up with exaggerated agility. Santoliquido put the Kaufmann persona back in its casket and stuffed it in a hopper slot; it vanished from sight, to RoditisÕ sharp regret. They left the sampling booth. Santoliquido led him out on the catwalk that rimmed the circumference of the storage vault. ÒWeÕre going to take a tour of Hades,Ó he said. ÒI want to show you some possible alternate personae.Ó ÒI donÕtÑÓ ÒAt least consider them,Ó said Santoliquido. He tapped out digits on a data terminal. One of the sealed storage banks opened and he pulled out an urn, examined it, frowned, replaced it, removed the adjoining one. He held it up. ÒElliot Sakyamuni,Ó he said. ÒYou know him? An outstanding guru, one of the architects of the new religion, a truly powerful man. He died in March. WeÕve had him here, waiting for the right recipient. John, if you were to take him on, youÕd have the added spiritual depth, the extra dimension of wisdom, that only a fully trained guru of the high- est degree could offer. YouÕre the first person IÕve suggested giv- ing him to. Consider it.Ó ÒIn addition to Kaufmann?Ó ÒIn place of Kaufmann,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒI think the guru would be better for you.Ó ÒNo,Ó said Roditis. ÒI can get along without extra spiritual depth. --------------------------------------- 145 To Live Again 145 IÕve got Noyes to recite mantras for me. Put Sakyamuni back.Ó Santoliquido sighed and put the urn away. They climbed to another catwalk. Indicating a frosted glass panel, Santoliquido said, ÒThe world-famous mathematician Horst Schaffhausen. He has waited nearly two years now to return to carnate form. A mind like yours would be well- suitedÑÓ ÒStop it, Frank.Ó ÒYou oughtnÕt turn away from Schaffhausen that lightly. His unique powers would be of great value to you inÑÓ ÒIÕll take him three years from now,Ó said Roditis. ÒGive me a chance to digest Kaufmann first.Ó Beads of sweat burst out on SantoliquidoÕs forehead. Hoarsely he said, ÒWonÕt you get off that obsession, John? KaufmannÕs a burden for anyone. HeÕll weigh you down.Ó ÒI want him.Ó ÒYou and he are too much alike. In the Scheffing process we should seek for complements, not supplements. ThereÕll be war between you and Kaufmann over every business decision. HeÕll want to do it his way, youÕll want to do it yoursÑÓ ÒAnd IÕll win,Ó said Roditis. ÒIÕm alive, heÕll just be carnate. IÕll use his judgment, but I wonÕt let him call the tunes for me.Ó ÒIf he goes dybbukÑÓ ÒImpossible.Ó Santoliquido said, ÒI offer you your free choice of any persona we have here, but that one.Ó ÒAre you trying to torture me?Ó In a low voice Santoliquido said, ÒIt might even be possible to arrange something slightly irregular. Would a transsexual trans- plant interest you? What if I made available to you the persona of Katerina Andrabovna, say. An extraordinary combination of sensuality and intellect, a truly blazing womanÑÓ ÒIs it that bad?Ó Roditis asked. ÒAre you in such a mess, Frank, that you have to consider breaking the law? What hold do they have on you, anyway?Ó --------------------------------------- 146 146 To Live Again ÒWho?Ó ÒThe Kaufmanns!Ó ÒNo one has any hold on me whatever,Ó said Santoliquido with obvious strain. Roditis was amazed at the anguish visible on the plump face. ÒI make my own decisions.Ó ÒMark Kaufmann doesnÕt want me to get his uncleÕs persona. HeÕs fixed things so I wonÕt. YouÕre willing to offer me the whole vault, if I please, so long as I keep away from old Paul. YouÕve even offered me an abomination. So you must be really trapped. YouÕd like to make me happy, but youÕre afraid to offend Mark, and that leaves you ripping in half.Ó Roditis put his hand on SantoliquidoÕs shoulder. ÒI know what it must be like for you,Ó he said more gently. ÒBut all I ask is that you do your duty. IÕm the logical recipient of Paul Kaufmann. Mark would get recon- ciled to the idea after a while, once he finds out IÕm not a mon- ster.Ó ÒWe canÕt talk about such things out here.Ó ÒIn your office, then.Ó But even amid the Babylonian splendor of his office Santoliquido was ill at ease. He took several drinks in quick suc- cession, paced the floor, stood for a long moment before the Kozak sonic sculpture. Finally he said, ÒI need more time, John.Ó ÒYouÕre just stalling.Ó ÒMaybe so. But IÕm not ready to move. You know. IÕll have to live with my decision forever. Give me a few more weeks. By May 15 IÕll announce the disposal of the Kaufmann persona, all right?Ó ÒI have no way of holding you to that,Ó Roditis noted. ÒI pledge my word.Ó Roditis let his eyes linger on SantoliquidoÕs. He knew that such a pledge meant a great deal to a man like Santoliquido, who had centuries of ancestors peering down at him all the time. A Roditis, a condottiere, might break a solemnly given word when it suited his needs; but not a Santoliquido. Or so Roditis tried to persuade --------------------------------------- 147 To Live Again 147 himself. ÒVery well,Ó he said. ÒWeigh your decision carefully, Frank. DonÕt let Mark pressure you into doing something shortsighted.Ó Outside the building, Roditis gave way to an access of rage. He sat in his hopter a long while, burning with fury, while angry spasms of heat ripped through him. So much for ElenaÕs help! So much for all NoyesÕ scheming! The situation was right where it had been since Paul KaufmannÕs deathÉ a stalemate. Santoliquido still equivocated. The administrator was all facade; beneath, he quivered with fright at the possibility of offending someone mighty, and so took no action. When ten minutes had passed, and Roditis felt somewhat calmer, he ordered the hopter to lift and head out over the ocean, due east. The machine throbbed into the air. ÒIs there any specific destination?Ó the robopilot asked. ÒJust keep going east till I tell you to go somewhere else.Ó Roditis closed his eyes. Instantly there came flooding into his mind the renewed presence of Paul Kaufmann. Just that tiny tantalizing taste of KaufmannÕs persona had been enough to leave Roditis unalterably convinced that the old man must be his. It was more than mere desire now. It was destiny. What if Santoliquido should rule against him? That was hard to imagine. Roditis knew of no one else who could handle the high-voltage mind of Paul Kaufmann. Of course, Santoliquido could take the cowardÕs way out, and simply leave Kaufmann in the storage vault, as he had hinted he might do, as he seemed to be doing with that mathematician, Schaffhausen. But Santoliquido was a man of honor. He could not expose him- self that way to shame. He would have to allot Paul Kaufmann to someone. What if, at MarkÕs prodding, Santoliquido found some innocuity and impressed the persona on him? Roditis smiled. Instantly a dybbuk would be created. His in- vestigators would demand the penalty of the law. Erasure would --------------------------------------- 148 148 To Live Again be imposed. Kaufmann would go back into the soul bank, and Roditis could reapply. On the other hand, Roditis reflected, suppose Santoliquido dis- covered a person who was strong enough to cope with the Kaufmann persona? That would be awkward, but it could be handled. Roditis saw that in that event it would be necessary to arrange a discorporation. There would be an accidental death; Paul Kaufmann and his late host would both revert to the soul bank; Roditis could begin the quest anew. One way or another, he would obtain that persona. Having tasted it, he could not now relin- quish his need. He opened his eyes. The small hopter was far out over the Atlantic now. Though spring had formally arrived, the water far below was gray and ominous. High waves surged like mobile mountains, rising and crashing. Through the audio Roditis picked up the sound of that baleful sea. He ordered the hopter to dip low, skimming no more than three hundred feet above the wa- ter. The vehicle was meant for short-haul transport, and it was unsafe to have come out here, alone, in such a fragile craft, but Roditis felt soothed by the dangers. The fusion pack below his seat could power the hopter all the way to Europe, if he chose. On the face of the water the dull tubular bulk of a whale ap- peared suddenly. Roditis studied the fleshy mass, observing the gray-white spout of water that flumed abruptly from the broad forehead. There was strength! There was power! The tail came up; the flukes lashed the waves. The whale sounded and was gone. A Paul Kaufmann of the seas, Roditis thought. A watery titan. ÒReturn to New York,Ó he ordered the hopter. Stormy winds sped the craft landward. As he neared shore, Roditis put through a call to Noyes and found him, tense and knotted, in his apartment. ÒIt was no good,Ó Roditis said. ÒSantoliquido still hesitates.Ó --------------------------------------- 149 To Live Again 149 ÒBut Elena saidÑÓ ÒElena is a worthless slut. Santoliquido is terrified of Mark Kaufmann, and Mark still refuses to let me have the old man. WeÕre stuck. Santoliquido was willing to give me any persona in the place, except that one. Even a woman.Ó ÒYouÕre joking, John!Ó ÒI could have had Katerina Andrabovna. ThatÕs how panicky he is.Ó Noyes bowed his head. He muttered, ÒI was sure it was all fixed up. Elena was positive too.Ó ÒSantoliquido promised to make a decision by May 15,Ó said Roditis. ÒHe didnÕt promise that the decision would be favorable to me. If it goes some other wayÑÓ ÒIt wonÕt, John.Ó ÒIf it does, thereÕll be work for you to do. We canÕt let that per- sona slip away. Do you know, Charles, he let me sample the old man! I saw into that mind. I would do anything to have it now. Anything.Ó ÒPerhaps I should talk to Elena again,Ó Noyes ventured. ÒIt can do no harm. But probably little good, either.Ó ÒIÕll try. IÕm in this as deep as you are, John. IÕve got a lot staked on success. IÕll speak to her and get her to put the screws on Santo all over again.Ó Roditis nodded. He made a dismissing gesture. The screen went blank. Behind him an ocean storm was rising. He felt the winds buf- fet his hopter, and ordered the craft upward to safer altitudes. It was late in the afternoon when he landed. He went at once to his nearest office, mind churning with half-conceived ideas. The storm broke in full impact and, as he looked from his tower win- dow, it seemed to him that he saw the gigantic and powerful figure of Paul Kaufmann raging in the dark sky. --------------------------------------- 150 150 To Live Again --------------------------------------- 151 To Live Again 151 Chapter 10 ÒWhere is Risa today?Ó Elena asked. ÒChasing about Europe,Ó said Mark Kaufmann. ÒDoing some detective work on behalf of her persona. Last I heard of her, she was in Stockholm, but that was a few days ago.Ó ÒYou donÕt worry about her?Ó ÒShe can look after herself. Besides, I have her under surveil- lance.Ó Elena laughed. ÒHow typical of you! In one breath you tell me that sheÕs self-reliant, and that youÕre having her watched any- way. You never leave anything to chance.Ó ÒI have only one daughter,Ó Kaufmann said quietly. ÒMy dy- nastic urge wonÕt allow me to leave RisaÕs welfare to chance.Ó ÒWould you have wanted a son?Õ He shrugged. ÒThe name wonÕt die. Only my line of it. And IÕll be right there, watching the future unfold.Ó Kaufmann got easily to his feet. They were lying on the resilient tile beside his pri- vate swimming pool, a hundred feet beneath the Manhattan streets. Warm pinkish light filtered down. ÒShall we swim?Ó ÒIÕll watch you from here,Ó said Elena languidly. Leaping into the pool, he swam three lengths in some sudden furious haste, then, more calmly, let himself drift back and forth across the width. The pool had been designed for ElenaÕs tastes. The water contained a fluorescing compound, so that his body left vivid streaks of gold and green as he sliced through it. Be- low, sparkling globes of captive living light glowed on the poolÕs floor. The sides of the pool were studded along the waterline with silicaceous thermotectonic gems. The entire installation had run him into many thousands of dollars fissionable. Elena rarely used the pool her whims had created; she was content to lie na- ked beside it, soaking up warmth from the battery of overhead --------------------------------------- 152 152 To Live Again lamps. Kaufmann disliked the decorative effects, but he humored her. He surfaced. His hand came up over the margin of the pool and seized her thigh, inches from her groin. He began to draw her to the water. Elena shrieked. Her buttocks bounced and skid- ded over the tile, and her free leg poked futilely at him. ÒMark!Ó He tugged her in. She landed with a radiant fluorescing splash and came up sputtering and blinking, her ebony hair in disar- ray, her tanned skin shining. ÒBirbone,Ó she muttered. ÒScelerato!Ó ÒSticks and stones will break my bones.Ó He pulled her to him and kissed her, standing upright in the shallows of the pool. Her body resisted him stiffly for a moment, but only for a moment, and then she flowed against him, and her rigid nipples drew a tickling line across his chest When he released her, she was pout- ing with what he knew to be mock rage. He watched the spar- kling water stream from her skin as Elena hauled herself out of the pool and flounced to a vibrator to dry. She stood with her back to him, combing out her hair. His eyes followed the supple line of her spinal column downward from her long neck through the widening hips, the delightful dimples, the fleshy blossoming of her rump. ÒIÕll get even with you for that.Ó she told him. ÒIÕll make Santo give your uncleÕs persona to an Arab.Ó ÒBetter that than to Roditis,Ó Kaufmann said. Elena stared at him over her shoulder. ÒI almost believe you mean that. YouÕd have Paul saying prayers to Mecca before youÕd let him into Roditis.Ó ÒYes. Yes, IÕm sure of that.Ó She finished at the vibrator and sprawled on the tile again, well out of reach of his grasping hand. He remained at the edge of the pool. She said, ÒShall I do a three-dollar frood job on you, Mark? IÕll tell you why you hate Roditis so much.Ó --------------------------------------- 153 To Live Again 153 ÒWhy?Ó ÒBecause heÕs so much like you.Ó ÒWhat do you know about Roditis? Have you ever met the man?Ó ÒNot yet.Ó ÒI have,Ó Kaufmann said. ÒHeÕs a little thick coarse fellow with big muscles and no grace of soul. HeÕs a walking bank account. He dreams money day and night, and if heÕs got any other inter- ests they donÕt show.Ó ÒHe gave more than a million dollars to a lamasery in San Francisco a few weeks ago,Ó Elena pointed out. ÒThe same one your uncle used to give so much to.Ó ÒAnd for the same reasons, too. You think Paul was a Bud- dhist? You think Roditis gives a damn about karma? HeÕs looking for publicity, and maybe heÕd like the guru to lobby for him with Santoliquido. IÕm surprised youÕre taken in.Ó ÒAnd IÕm surprised that you underestimate him so much,Ó said Elena. ÒHeÕs not quite the ugly dollar-chaser you say he is. One of his personae is the sonic sculptor Kozak. Roditis is a connois- seur of the arts. He collects rare books. Do you know, heÕs got an entire building full of editions of Homer?Ó ÒHow do you know all this?Ó ÒIÕve been reading about him. I mean, heÕll be practically a member of the family soon, and so I thought IÕd betterÑÓ Kaufmann was out of the water instantly. He rushed toward her, knowing that he must look absurd in his angry dripping nakedness. He dropped don beside Elena and shouted, ÒWhatÕs that? A member of the family?Ó ÒAfter he gets your uncleÕs persona.Ó ÒThereÕs no chance of that!Ó Elena smiled sweetly She appeared to be enjoying his discom- fiture. She placed one hand flat on the tile at either side of her, leaned back, inflated her lungs to give her breasts maximum display. Coolly she said, ÒI talked to Santo about it. Santo expects to award the persona to Roditis any day now.Ó --------------------------------------- 154 154 To Live Again ÒNo,Ó Kaufmann said. ÒImpossible! IÕve talked to Santo also about this. He promisedÑÓ ÒWhat did he promise?Ó Kaufmann hesitated. ÒWell, perhaps not exactly a promise. But he indicated he didnÕt want to see Paul go to Roditis, any more than I did.Ó ÒThat was some time ago. Santo is discovering that thereÕs no other qualified recipient. Roditis is clamoring for the persona, and without a valid reason for denying it, Santo is going to have to give it to him. HeÕs holding back only because heÕs searching for some way to break the news to you.Ó ÒNo, no, no, no!Ó ÒYes, Mark!Ó ElenaÕs face was strangely animated. ÒYouÕre jeal- ous, arenÕt you? Roditis is going to get him, and you want him yourself! You canÕt bear to see anyone else have Paul KaufmannÕs persona.Ó ÒStop it,Ó he said. ÒI offered you the three-dollar frooding. Take the ten-dollar job instead. ItÕs as I said: you and Roditis are practically alike. The same drives, the same hungers. You have ancestry and he doesnÕt; thatÕs the only difference. He came out of the dirt and you were born to the Kaufmann billions. Now heÕs going to grab himself a Kaufmann, and everything will be even. You canÕt bear that thought.Ó Kaufmann slapped her across the face. She jumped back, the meaty mounds of her bare breasts leaping toward her chin. Trem- bling but not in tears, she glowered at him. ÒIÕm sorry,Ó he said after an endless moment. ÒYou pushed me too far.Ó ÒWas I wrong in what I said?Ó ÒI donÕt know. I donÕt know.Ó He crouched on the tile and pressed his forehead against his knees. Looking up, he said, ÒHow does it happen that youÕve been discussing all this with Santoliquido? And why are you suddenly so fascinated by Roditis?Ó --------------------------------------- 155 To Live Again 155 ÒStrong men have always interested me, Mark. I shouldnÕt need to tell you that. And IÕve neglected Roditis up till now. I should have paid more attention to him while he was on the way up. Now itÕs clear to me that heÕs the coming man.Ó ÒAnd so youÕre preparing to make the hop from my bed to his,Ó Kaufmann said. ÒEh?Ó ÒThatÕs an overstatement. But I mean to know him better. And I hope youÕll bring yourself to get over your hatred of him. The two of you, working together, could control the world. Particu- larly with your Uncle Paul guiding him.Ó ÒI should have Uncle Paul.Ó ÒBut you canÕt, Mark. So let him go to Roditis, and then make terms with them. Are you afraid youÕll be outnumbered? ArenÕt you a match for Roditis and Paul together?Ó ÒNo,Ó said Kaufmann. ÒNo man ever born could be a match for those two in one mind.Ó ÒAll the more reason for you to make peace,Ó Elena told him. ÒHeÕs going to get that persona, and if you havenÕt come to terms with him, heÕll try to break you. DonÕt be stubbornly proud, Mark. DonÕt let anger get in the way of common sense. As of now youÕre richer and stronger than Roditis, but not by much, and the bal- ance is going to tip.Ó ÒYou sound so sure of that, Elena. Exactly what did Santo tell you, anyway?Ó ÒYouÕve heard it already. ItÕs inevitable that Roditis will get your uncleÕs persona.Ó ÒIÕll block it.Ó ÒYou canÕt,Ó Elena said in exasperation. ÒIÕll speak to Santoliquido! IÕllÑÓ ÒSantoÕs been having a terrible enough time over this thing as it is, Mark. And youÕre the cause of all his trouble. Let him alone! ItÕs not proper for you to interfere this way. HeÕs trying to look at things objectively, and here you are in the background, throw- ing your weight around as a Kaufmann, threatening, cajolingÑ --------------------------------------- 156 156 To Live Again Ó ÒI canÕt let Roditis do this,Ó said Kaufmann stubbornly, feeling more and more like a blind, obstinate fool, but unable to let him- self turn back from his chosen course. Elena yawned prettily. ÒIÕm tired of this discussion. WeÕre at a dead end. YouÕre giving me a headache. Come swim with me.Ó ÒYou donÕt like to swim!Ó ÒWhat of it?Ó She sprinted past him, reached the rim of the pool, catapulted herself out into space. For an instant she seemed to hang there, for at her request Kaufmann had lowered the grav- ity of the room they were in, and he watched the heavy mounds of her breasts extend themselves into downward-pointing cones. Then she slipped sleekly into the water, leaving a bright streak that outlined her nudity in an appealingly sensuous way. He went diving after her. She eluded him for several moments as they crisscrossed the pool. At last he caught her, and she struggled playfully in his arms. He pulled her toward the shal- low end of the pool. His lips descended into the hollow between her cheek and her shoulder. Panting, she slipped away and sprang from the pool. She went only a few paces, turning, going to her knees, then reclining to await him. Tense and uneasy, Kaufmann came after her. She drew him down against the soft cushion of her flesh, and he entered her quickly, fiercely, and together they shuddered out their ecstasies. He was calmer afterward. He lay beside her, caressing her, apologizing for his loss of temper, for his shouted words, for the slap. His busy mind prepared new plans. He had no reason to doubt ElenaÕs statements. He knew that she had been spending time with Santoliquido lately, both at the beach party at Dominica and in New York. It was no secret to him that she had seen the Scheffing administrator on several occasions. He had not objected, partly because he was not pos- --------------------------------------- 157 To Live Again 157 sessive toward Elena. andÑhe admitted to himself nowÑpartly in the unconscious hope that Elena would influence Santoliquido in his favor. It appeared that Santoliquido inclined in the oppo- site direction. Kaufmann had sensed that, too, from the recent nervousness of Santoliquido in his presence. And he did have to concede that a rational, impartial verdict would award the dis- puted persona to Roditis. It was time to stop fighting the inevitable. There were other ways to keep abreast of RoditisÕ ambitions. He had tried subtle agitation, and it had failed. Now he would have to go beyond the law, or else he was lost. Risa spent three days in Monaco before she learned anything of the fate of Claude VillefrancheÕs persona. There were worse places to be hung up, she realized; but yet it was bothersome. Ancient traditions of secrecy interfered with her quest. She could not simply pick up a data line and demand the information she needed. She had to go through channels, and the channels were not always clear. In late April the weather here was mild, almost balmy, bring- ing an advance taste of summer. Purple bowers of bougainvillea blossomed on the ramparts of Monte Carlo. The sun was daz- zling against the white towers of the tiny principality. She stood in the princely cactus gardens and looked out across the blue Mediterranean, and it seemed to her that she could see Africa slumbering in the hazy horizon. Risa had never been here be- fore. Of course, Tandy had, many times, and she was RisaÕs guide. Little had changed in Monaco since the grand days of the nine- teenth century. The Hotel de Paris still dominated the water- front, with the baroque magnificence of the Casino alongside. Pavilions of feathery palm trees swayed in every breeze. Here were dandies and belles cast forward into time, as though this were some pocket of the preserved past. Some of these build- ings had been continuously inhabited for more than five hun- --------------------------------------- 158 158 To Live Again dred years. At the Hall of Records Risa learned quickly enough of ClaudeÕs death, confirming the story Stig had told. On December 18 last, he had been caught in a tidal surge on the Great Barrier Reef and swept out into the open sea. His body had not been recov- ered. Meat for the sharks, no doubt Who had received his persona? Nothing in the records about that. So far as the principality was concerned, the story of Claude Villefranehe had ended on December 18 through accidental discorporation. If his persona had moved on by now to a new carnate existence, it mattered not at all, officially; carnates paid no taxes, did not vote, held no passports. In the United States it was possible to obtain details of a personaÕs migration from body to body, but not here. ÒWhat will we do?Ó Risa asked Tandy. ÑCanÕt your family help you? ÒOf course. Of course, thatÕs the answer!Ó She hurried to the offices of Kaufmann et Cie, in a gilded building on the esplanade just below the Hotel de Paris. The bank was operated by the European branch of the family, and actually there were no Kaufmanns currently involved in its management; the directors now were entirely Loebs and Schiffs. Yet Mark KaufmannÕs only daughter was certain to get a hospitable welcome. Risa, dressed chastely and sweetly, presented herself to M. Pierre Schiff, her cousin by some intricate prank of genealogy, and explained her problem. The banker was fifty, portly, staid. He paid Risa the courtesy of addressing her in English; she felt obliged to speak to him in French, which made for an odd conversation. ÒI remember the incident,Ó he said. ÒLast winter, yes. I believe he was a client of ours.Ó ÒIÕve asked the soul bank in Paris for information on him. They wouldnÕt tell me a thing.Ó ÒYou gave your name?Ó --------------------------------------- 159 To Live Again 159 ÒYes. It didnÕt matter.Ó ÒLet me try,Ó said Pierre Schiff. He asked his telephone for a number, and did not bother with the vision element. Quickly be made contact. He spoke in rapid, slurred French, pitching his voice so low that Risa could not follow the words. The soft flesh of his face creased into deepening frowns; after a few moments he dropped the phone into his cradle. He said, ÒThe persona of Claude Villefranche was taken from storage in February and implanted.Ó ÒIn whom?Ó ÒThe name was not available. Even to me. Even to me.Ó He studied his pudgy palm as though it held the answer. ÒThey are quite secretive, those people. But of course there arc ways of dealing with them. They are in need of constant credit for the expansion of their services, and weÑÓ He smiled eloquently. ÒMy son will help you. Let me summon him.Ó An hour later, Risa found herself on a balcony overlooking the sea, lunching with Jacques Schiff, who was also her cousin, ap- parently, and far less portly than his father. She had changed from her chaste girlish clothes into something more likely to please Cousin Jacques: a scalloped shell of sprayon that lanced across her slender body to reveal a flawless shoulder, a small firm breast, and a rounded hip. Cousin Jacques was twenty-five, unmarried, tall, attractive. His eyes had a Gallic sparkle, brighter even than the sunlight dancing through the golden-yellow wine they drank with their oysters. ÒI knew this Villefranche, yes,Ó he said. ÒWas he a friend of yours?Ó ÒOf my persona,Ó Risa said. ÒAh! Yes, so. Do you think I knew her?Ó ÒYou didnÕt know her personally. If you did, sheÕs got no recol- lection of you, and I doubt that sheÕd have forgotten you, Jacques. Tandy Cushing.Ó ÒYes. So. I knew her by name. Claude described her to me. A --------------------------------------- 160 160 To Live Again beautiful, beautiful girl, he said. WithÑahÑÓ He laughed awk- wardly. ÒVery adequate body. She is dead?Ó ÒShe was discorporated at St. Moritz last summer. A skiing ac- cident. Claude was with her at the time. SheÕd like to know more about what happened.Ó ÒBut Claude himself has since been discorporated too,Ó Jacques mused. ÒIt is a sad world, even now. Dangers lie everywhere for the young, the strong, the rich. Only the poor live long lives.Ó ÒBut they live only once,Ó Risa pointed out. ÒTrue. True.Ó Jacques steepled his fingers. ÒAfter lunch,Ó he said, ÒI will trace ClaudeÕs persona for you.Ó They ate well. For her main course Risa had a mousse of sole, and vegetables of some unfamiliar sort braised in a sauce that was clearly Venusian in origin. Yet the wine that flowed so copi- ously throughout the luncheon was quite Terrestrial, a lively Cha- blis four years old. Elderly men passing beneath the veranda paused and looked up at them and made mental calculations, wondering who it was who might be lunching with Pierre SchiffÕs son, that pale girl in the revealing costume. Did any of them realize that it was not Pierre SchiffÕs son but Mark KaufmannÕs daughter who should concern them on that veranda? Risa en- joyed her anonymity here. After they had eaten, Jacques suggested that they go to his office while he made the necessary calls. Risa nodded toward the nearby hotel. ÒMy room is closer,Ó she said. He looked startled for a moment, but only for a moment. At his insistence, though, they entered the hotel through different door- ways. She left the door to her room unsealed, and he slipped through it a moment after she arrived. The large, cavernous room was dark. Jacques produced a portable cesium-powered MHD torch and set it on the ornate dresser. Then he settled in a chair before the old-fashioned telephone and punched out a number. ÒThis will take a while,Ó he said. --------------------------------------- 161 To Live Again 161 She went into the bathroom, removed her clothing, and stepped under the vibrator. When she felt thoroughly clean, she wrapped herself in a cloud of grayish mist and emerged. Jacques still sat at the telephone, taking notes. At length he grunted in satisfac- tion and hung up. ÒAny luck?Ó she asked. He turned to look at her. He frowned, and his eyes pierced the quasi-concealing mist to survey the essential points of her body. ÒYes,Ó he said absent-mindedly. ÒI have the details. His persona was awarded to Martin St. John, a resident of London, several months ago.Ó ÒWhoÕs he?Ó ÒThe third son of Lord Godwin. Here is his address. I have requisitioned his photograph, and it will be coming by slow trans- mission in a few moments.Ó ÒIÕm very grateful to you, Jacques. YouÕve done me a great ser- vice.Ó ÒSay nothing of it,Ó he replied. But he seemed willing enough to be rewarded for his activi- ties on her behalf. His body was supple, lean, and skilled. It was the first time Risa had made love since taking on Tandy CushingÕs persona, and when she slipped into JacquesÕ arms she felt a sud- den wild surge of embarrassment, for there was something enor- mously public about this lovemaking, with Tandy watching ev- erything through her eyes. Risa was not accustomed to feeling inhibited. After a moment she realized that it was not the lack of privacy that troubled her, but rather that she sensed the much more experienced Tandy sitting as a judge of her erotic perfor- mance. Tension gripped her. ÑLoosen up, Tandy said. Are you always like this? Risa felt a flood of encouragement coming from within. She ceased to think of Tandy as a critical observer; Tandy was a par- ticipant, a cooperative entity. That made it much more interest- ing for her. Risa wriggled prettily; she put her lips to JacquesÕ; --------------------------------------- 162 162 To Live Again she surrendered to him with that mixture of kittenish girlish- ness and precocious womanhood that she knew was the best weapon in her armory. Tandy guided her. Without her help, Risa might not have been so successful in meeting JacquesÕ sophisti- cated approach. When it was over, and Jacques had donned his bankers sol- emn garb and was gone, Risa lay sprawled pleasantly on the rumpled bed, recapitulating with Tandy what had taken place, enjoying an amiable post mortem on her responses. It was won- derful to be able to speak so frankly and to know that every thought was perfectly understood. ÒI feel so good having you with me,Ó Risa said. ÒTo know that IÕll never be alone again. I wish I could reach out and hug you, Tandy.Ó ÑWhy not? Risa laughed. She thrust her arms about herself and squeezed tight, twisting on the bed as though she were in anotherÕs em- brace. Then she relaxed. She waved her legs playfully about. ÑWe ought to get going, Risa. ÒWhere to?Ó ÑLondon. To find Martin St. John. ÒWhatÕs the hurry?Ó Risa asked. But Tandy insisted. And so Risa phoned for reservations on the next flight to London, due to leave at five that afternoon. She just barely made it to the airport in time. En route, she studied the photo of Martin St. John that had come from the data file. Though only a flat, it gave a fair likeness: a man in his early thirties, light-haired, pale-eyed, with a soft face of no particular character. Flabby chin, loose sensual lips, pasty cheeks. Tandy was shocked. She sent up an image of the late Claude Villefranche for comparison: the hard face, the cruel eyes, the fight skin, the thin, curved line of the lips, all were the direct contradiction of the physiognomy of Martin St. John. Could Claude be happy in such a slack, soft-bodied individual? --------------------------------------- 163 To Live Again 163 Moments after she landed at London, Risa put through a call to Martin St. John. It was gratifying to find him at home. Peering at the three-square-inch screen of the airport telephone, though, Risa was struck by his lack of resemblance to the man in the photo. This Martin St. John looked tougher, harder, leaner. HeÕs been sick lately, Risa guessed. HeÕs lost a lot of weight. That must be it. ÒYes?Ó he said. ÒIÕm Risa Kaufmann. You donÕt know me, but weÕve got a great deal in common.Ó ÒHow so?Ó ÒYou carry the persona of Claude Villefranche,Ó she said. ÒIÕm carrying the persona of Tandy Cushing.Ó Martin St. JohnÕs lips flickered, but he said nothing. Risa went on, ÒI know it isnÕt proper to talk persona-to-per- sona. But TandyÕs very eager to get some information from Claude. If we could meet, and transmit through ourselves the contact between them, it would make Tandy and me very happy.Ó ÒI donÕt know if we should do that.Ó ÒPlease,Ó Risa said meltingly. ÒIÕve chased all over Europe to find you. DonÕt refuse me now. Give me just half an hour of your timeÑ Ó ÒVery well.Ó ÒThis evening?Ó ÒIf you insist.Ó ÒItÕs very kind of you.Ó He gave her the address of a coffee shop in the Finchley Road. Risa caught a hopter and was there within the hour. The place was a dark, oblong room, decorated in an arty fake twentieth- century style, with lots of plastic flowers and other foolishness. He sat alone at a table just within the door. His appearance was unexpected. There was no trace of the flabbiness of feature and expression that characterized the pho- tograph. This man was brusque, taut, and dynamic, His eyes, --------------------------------------- 164 164 To Live Again though a washed-but light blue in tone, were fixed and gleam- ing, and burned with a feverish intensity. His lips were tense, with the muscles poised in a way that minimized their natural fullness. There was little excess flesh on his face, and appar- ently none on his body, but about his chin and eyelids there were indications that he had recently lost perhaps forty pounds, for the skin had not yet completely adopted its new outline. When he rose to greet her, his motions were swift and aggressive. He took her hand in the continental manner. His smile was the briefest of flickers, on and off. He said in a harsh voice, ÒClaude Villefranche sends greetings to Tandy Cushing.Ó Risa was taken aback by the unconventionality of that wel- come. ÒItÕs good to have located you finally. Mr. St. John. I wonÕt trouble you for long.Ó ÒWhat will you drink?Ó ÒWould you care to recommend something?Ó ÒThereÕs a filtered rum punch here. ItÕs excellent IÕll order two.Ó Risa said, ÒIÕd love it.Ó He turned to place the order. But there were no servitors in sight. Then one appeared, moving behind their table without appearing to notice him. St. John called out, and still was ig- nored. He rose from his seat, turning, and his motion was clumsy for a moment, but then he seemed to change gears inwardly; he uncoiled and nearly sprang at the servitor, his hand pouncing down at the robotÕs nearest limb to spin it about. ÒWill you give me some service?Ó he demanded. It was an amazing performance, a show of temper, agility, and impatience that was as impressive as it was unexpected. Tandy had remained silent thus far in RisaÕs meeting with Martin St. John, but now she reacted. Waves of sheer terror rose from the persona and washed through RisaÕs mind. ÒWhatÕs wrong?Ó Risa whispered. ÑCanÕt you see? ThereÕs nothing left of Martin St. John! --------------------------------------- 165 To Live Again 165 ClaudeÕs ejected him! ClaudeÕs gone dybbuk! It was only a guess, a quick flash of intuition. Yet Risa was convinced. Tandy seemed clearly to recognize the characteris- tic inflections and responses of Claude Villefranche, not veiled and distorted as they would be if Claude were only a persona reaching them indirectly through the mind of Martin St. John, but overt and definite, immediate, direct. Still, caution was advised. Risa could hardly sound an alarm and call in the quaestors this early to arrest and mindpick the alleged Martin St. John. Over filtered rum punches she said, ÒTandyÕs memory line ends in June of last year. She died in August. What she wishes to know is how she came about her discorporation.Ó ÒHer skis failed as she was crossing a ravine. It happened rap- idly and without warning.Ó ÒClaude was with her?Ó ÒThey started down the slope together. They were in the air together over the ravine. ThenÑsuddenlyÑshe was no longer with him. It was a terrible experience.Ó ÒIt must have been,Ó said Risa. ÒI can see that youÕre moved by it, and you werenÕt even there.Ó ÒMy persona was there, though,Ó St. John pointed out. Risa nodded. It seemed odd to her that the memories of TandyÕs death should lie so near the surface of St. JohnÕs mind. He did not give the appearance of reaching into a personaÕs crowded memory bank for the details, but rather of reading them right off his own backlog of experience, She said, ÒWhat happened after the accident?Ó ÒClaude saw that she had fallen. He turned upslope to find her. But she was gone from sight. It took a great deal of work to uncover her body. Claude was demoralized. He went off to Aus- tralia to forget what had happened. And there, as you perhaps know, he met discorporation last December.Ó ÒCan you tell me anything about TandyÕs last few weeks with --------------------------------------- 166 166 To Live Again Claude?Ó St. John shrugged. His eyes never wavered from RisaÕs, mak- ing her feel acutely uncomfortable. ÒThey met in Zurich at the end of July After ii week there, they went on to St. Moritz, for the summer skiing. They were both in high spirits. Occasionally they quarreled a bit, nothing serious, loversÕ tiffs.Ó ÒThey were in love?Ó ÒOh, yes. The second week in August Claude asked her to marry him.Ó ÑThatÕs a lie, came TandyÕs furious denial. Claude would never have married anyone! ÒDid she accept him?Ó Risa asked. ÒShe hesitated. She told him she would have to wait until later in the year to make up her mind. But of course there never was any later in the year for her.Ó ÒI wonder if they would have been happy together.Ó ÒIÕm sure of it,Ó said St. John. His nostrils widened with some inner tension. ÒInvestigate her earlier memories of him. YouÕll see how powerfully she was drawn to him.Ó That was true in its way, Risa knew. Certainly TandyÕs feelings toward Claude had been far more powerful than what she felt for the detached, cool Stig Hollenbeck. But she had feared Claude as well as loving him. ÒWhat about you?Ó Risa said. ÒDid you know Claude at all when he was alive?Ó ÒWe never met. It simply seemed to me his persona would be of interest to me. I needed someone more vigorous than myself, someone with athletic interests. It is always best to choose oneÕs complement, of course.Ó ÒHe seems to have had quite an effect on you.Ó ÒWhat do you mean?Ó Risa hesitated. ÒWellÑthat is, when I began to trace you, I re- ceived a photo of you. WithÑI donÕt mean offense Ña very dif- ferent appearance. You looked softer, more plump.Ó --------------------------------------- 167 To Live Again 167 ÒDo you have this photo? May I see it?Ó She produced it. He studied it intently, his forehead furrow- ing, his lips curling in a feral scowl. At length he said, ÒIt was taken about a year ago. IÕve lost a good deal of weight. IÕve been taking more exercise. ClaudeÕs helped me shed all that jelly.Ó St. John glanced up and smiled for the first time. ÒI feel IÕm the better man for having him aboard. Another rum punch?Õ ÒIÕd rather not.Ó ÒMust you be going?Ó ÒI have-family to visit,Ó Risa said lamely. ÒThey can wait. Let me show you London. WeÕll do the town tonight. After all, as you said, we have a great deal in common. Even though weÕre strangers, a bond of love unites us vicari- ously. We owe it to Claude and Tandy to come together.Ó Wavering, Risa felt herself captured. For all his ominous cold- ness and enigmatic intensity, this man had an undeniable ap- peal. She was always willing to have an adventure. And with TandyÕs lover lurking behind those pale blue eyesÑ St. John excused himself to pay the bill. ÑNowÕs your chance. Get out of here, said Tandy. ÒWhy?Ó ÑHeÕs dangerous. You donÕt want to fool with a dybbuk. Find a quaestor and have him mindpicked! ÒWeÕve got no proof.Ó ÑDonÕt you think I know Claude? His way of speaking, his movements, his facial expressions? He can fool the whole world, but he canÕt fool me. HeÕs done a countererasure on his host and taken over. First he murdered me, then he murdered Martin St. John. And if you give him a chance tonight, youÕll be taking a new carnate trip too. Get out of here! St. John was returning from the billing plate now. Abruptly, Risa scrambled to her feet. She rushed from the coffee shop. St. John came after her, call- ing her name. But he did not pursue her beyond the front of the --------------------------------------- 168 168 To Live Again building. A thin, acrid smell was in her nostrils: fear. Risa rushed to the corner, shouldering past pedestrians uncaringly. Time seemed to accelerate oddly for her, so that she was unaware of individual moments. In a blur of panic she came to a message box on the corner and opened the speaker hood. ÒQuaestor!Ó she blurted. ÒI want to report a dybbuk!Ó It took only an instant for the robots of the quaestorate to get a fix on the street. Two personnel hopters appeared, and gleam- ing figures dropped from them. Risa pointed tack toward the coffee shop. ÒMartin St. John,Ó she said. ÒThere he goes!Ó The robots surrounded him. Risa saw the man struggling in vain. ÑTheyÕve got him, Tandy cried. Come on! WeÕll have to tes- tify. ÒIÕd better call my father first. IÕm in this too deep.Ó ÑAll right. Get him to ship a lawyer over. WeÕll post the chal- lenge and demand a mindpick with me as theÑ injured party. And I want an autopsy report on my body, too. IÕm beginning to figure this business out, Risa. ÒWhat if weÕre wrong? What if itÕs all a mistake?Ó ÑThen heÕll sue you for false arrest and itÕll cost your father some money. ItÕs worth the risk. Do you want dybbuks walking around free? ÒOf course not,Ó Risa said softly. She began to walk like a fig- ure in a dream toward the middle of the block. ÒOf course not. IÕll call my father. HeÕll know what to do.Ó --------------------------------------- 169 To Live Again 169 Chapter 11 ÒSend in Donahy,Ó Mark Kaufmann said. The door of his inner office flickered open, and the Scheffing- process technician stumbled in. He looked awed to the point of collapse. His huge bushy eyebrows were thrust up to the top of his wide pale forehead, and his hands plucked tensely at the fringes of his tunic. Within the confines of the Scheffing Institute building, men like Donahy taped the personae of the rich and mighty with little deference, blandly relying on their array of intricate equipment to give them the upper hand. But here, on the home ground of so potent a person as Mark Kaufmann, Donahy was devoid of confidence, a cipher, a twitching pleb smitten with terror, wholly unable to imagine why he had been singled out and summoned here. Kaufmann said, ÒWeÕre all alone in here, Donahy. ThereÕs no one with us, no one watching us, no mini- viewers, no monitor of any kind. WhateverÕs said in here remains absolutely private, between the two of us. Sit down.Ó Donahy remained standing. He shifted his weight from leg to leg. ÒYou donÕt trust me?Ó Kaufmann asked. He opened a panel on his desk and unclipped a microspool monad. ÒDo you see this? ItÕs a spy detector. ItÕs programed to set off an alarm if any out- side entity taps into this room. So long as it quietly glows green like this, we can say what we please, we can plot to blow up the universe, and no one will know. So relax. Sit down and have a drink. I donÕt bite.Ó ÒI canÕt understand why youÕve asked me to come here.Ó ÒBecause I want you to do something for me, obviously,Ó Kaufmann said. He extended the tray of drinks as Donahy ner- vously lowered himself into the chair at last. Silently they went --------------------------------------- 170 170 To Live Again through the ritual of the drink. By every motion Donahy showed his fear and uncertainty. HeÕll be tugging at his forelock next, Kaufmann thought. On KaufmannÕs desk sat a small portrait of Uncle Paul, one of the many in his possession. He thrust it forward and let Donahy contemplate the patrician features, the sly, veiled eyes, the mag- nificent chin. ÒDo you know this man, Donahy?Ó A nod. ÒItÕs Paul Kaufmann, isnÕt it?Ó ÒYes. My late uncle. HeÕll soon be back in carnate form, I be- lieve.Ó ÒI donÕt know anything about that, sir.Ó ÒThe information I have is that Administrator Santoliquido in- tends shortly to approve the transplant of my uncleÕs persona to John Roditis.Ó Donahy looked blank. Kaufmann realized that he was speak- ing beyond the technicianÕs comprehension; Roditis and Santoliquido and old Paul were simply not part of DonahyÕs world except as friezes on some titanic facade far overhead. They were demigods, and Donahy did not concern himself with their wishes, conflicts, or plans. Kaufmann said, ÒHow would you like to be earning twenty thousand bucks fish a year, Donahy?Ó ÒSir?Õ ÒI need a favor. YouÕre in a position to grant it. I could have picked any one of a hundred technicians to handle the job for me, but IÕve dealt with you before and I know youÕre capable and trustworthy. And I assume you could always use more money. What do you get paid, anyway?Ó ÒSeven thousand, sir. With an annual increment of two hun- dred fifty.Ó ÒWhich means that if you stick to your job and donÕt make any conspicuous mistakes, youÕre likely to be making as much as ten thousand by the time youÕre middle-aged, right? And there --------------------------------------- 171 To Live Again 171 you stick until you retire and die. Well, IÕm offering you an extra twenty thousand, on a lifetime annuity. Out of that you should be able to put aside enough money to make the down payment on a Scheffing persona recording. Would you like to live again, Donahy?Ó The man looked utterly sick now. Rivulets of perspiration streamed down his face. He reached impulsively toward the tray of drinks, and then, as if deciding that it was impolite to serve himself without being asked, drew back, his fingers quivering. Kaufmann smiled. ÒGo on. Have another. Have two. If youÕre tense, why not?Õ Donahy jabbed the snout of a drink tube against his arm. When he spoke, he had difficulty framing his words. ÒCould-could you be more specific, Mr. Kaufmann?Õ ÒCertainly. IÕm sure you know that the Scheffing Institute re- tains all persona recordings it makes, storing them in various depots around the world. For example, John Roditis is shortly going to receive a transplant of my uncleÕs persona recorded last December, but thereÕs also a Paul Kaufmann persona that was recorded last spring, and one made the year before that, and so on over quite a span of time. And these previous record- ings remain in dead storage. Are you aware of that?Ó ÒYes.Ó ÒNow, then, suppose you were to locate the whereabouts of my uncleÕs last-but-one recording, which shouldnÕt be too diffi- cult for you to find, and remove it from storage. Then, suppose you were to bring this recording with you to a certain lamasery in San Francisco which is in the process of setting up its own soul bank. TheyÕve already installed enough equipment to do transplants and make recordings. What if you were to supervise the transplant of this borrowed persona at the lamasery? And then youÕd undergo a blanking that would wipe all this incrimi- nating evidence from your mind, so that no one could possibly prove that you had done any of these things. When you came to, --------------------------------------- 172 172 To Live Again you wouldnÕt know what you had been up to, but youÕd discover you had suddenly become the recipient of an annuity which au- tomatically transferred twenty thousand bucks fish into your credit balance each year. ThatÕs the equivalent of half a million dollars invested at four percent which is considerable capital. With that kind of stake, youÕd be able to buy yourself onto the wheel of rebirth. The risk is very small and the reward is infi- nite. What do you say, Donahy?Ó ÒIÕve always been a law-abiding man, Mr. Kaufmann.Ó ÒI know that. But would you give up your chance of eternal life for the sake of respecting the regulations? Look, Donahy, the rules about transplants arenÕt graven on tablets of stone. They donÕt represent basic moral commandments. If you kill a man, thatÕs evil, I agree. If you molest a child and warp its life, thatÕs evil. If you mutilate another human being for arbitrary amuse- ment, thatÕs evil. But the regulations governing the Scheffing Institute donÕt grow out of fundamental ethical constructs. TheyÕre just working rules set up to avoid confusion and pos- sible conflicts. I donÕt say that they ought to be disregarded lightly, but they mustnÕt be looked upon as immutable. When thereÕs a chance to have rebirth by winking at the rules for a moment itÕs suicidal to be a stickler for the letter of the law.Ó Donahy appeared to be impressed by that argument. But he was not altogether tempted. ÒHow can I be sure that this isnÕt some kind of trap?Õ he asked. ÒTrap?Ó Kaufmann exploded. ÒTrap? You mean that IÕve had you hauled over here for purposes of entrapment? That IÕve given you this much of my time simply for the sake of finding out whether your loyalty to the rules is unshakable? DonÕt be ab- surd.Ó ÒIÕve got to look at this thing from my own viewpoint. You donÕt know me at all, Mr. Kaufmann, except that IÕve worked on your recordings at the Institute. All of a sudden you send for me and offer me a fantastic reward if IÕll do something wrong. I canÕt --------------------------------------- 173 To Live Again 173 begin to understand any of this.Ó ÒLet me spell it out for you, then. IÕll give you some insight into my motives. The recipient of the transplant will be myself.Ó ÒYou?Ó ÒMe. IÕm determined not to let John Roditis gain advantage on me by taking on my uncleÕs persona. IÕll have a slightly earlier persona, slightly less complete, but good enough to match him anyway. ThatÕll nullify what he gains by getting Uncle Paul.Ó Donahy was drawn back in his chair as though gripped by total panic. His eyes bulged; a muscle in his cheek danced about. Clearly he had no wish to be privy to these secrets of the great. Kaufmann said, ÒNow you understand whatÕs at stake, Will you help me?Ó ÒWhat would happen to me if I refused?Ó ÒIÕd have you mindpicked and blanked to get all the details of this conversation out of your head. Then IÕd send you back to your apartment and have another Scheffing technician brought here, and IÕd make the same offer.Ó ÒI see.Ó ÒWhatÕs your answer, Donahy?Ó ÒCan I have a little time to think things over, sir?Ó ÒOf course.Ó Kaufmann looked at his watch. ÒTake sixty sec- onds, if you like.Ó ÒI meant several days, Mr. Kaufmann.Ó ÒYou canÕt have several days. YouÕve heard the terms of the offer. IÕll shield you from all consequences and give you an an- nuity that will make you a rich man. What do you say?Ó Donahy let nearly a full minute spill away before he replied. ÒYes,Ó he whispered. ÒYes. IÕll do it! But youÕve got to protect me!Ó ÒYou have my assurance,Ó said Kaufmann. He stood up. ÒOne of my associates will accompany you to your home. HeÕll remain with you overnight. In the morning youÕll arrange to get access to the archive of old persona recordings. At the close of your --------------------------------------- 174 174 To Live Again working day youÕll be picked up and taken to San Francisco with the recording. IÕll meet you there tomorrow evening and youÕll perform the transplant. When you report for work in New York the day after tomorrow, your part will be complete and youÕll be blanked to protect you against possible interrogation. Your an- nuity payments will begin to accrue to your account that day. Is it a deal?Õ Donahy nodded numbly. ÒYour hand,Ó Kaufmann said. He grasped the limp, cool fin- gers in his own. Then he buzzed for an aide to take the techni- cian away. Donahy would not be alone again until the work was finished. Moodily, Kaufmann let the tension ebb from his system. The interview had gone about as well as he could have expected. He disliked the shady nature of what he was doing; but at this stage he was compelled to take these protective steps. Above all else, a Kaufmann was bound by honor, yes. But if honor dictated that he preserve the familyÕs position no matter by what means, he could hardly afford to boggle at shady doings. Normal concepts of honor were not framed to include the existence of a Roditis. He flipped the retrofile, triggering it to see what calls might have come in while he spoke with Donahy. RisaÕs Image ap- peared. The file told him that she was waiting in London to speak with him. ÒPut her on,Ó he said, transferring the call to the large screen. A moment passed; then Risa appeared, life-size, on the screen. She looked frayed and weary. It was after midnight in London. No doubt this legal business involving her persona was taking a heavy toll of her energy. ÒWell?Ó he said. ÒHow does it go?Ó ÒItÕs moving very fast, Mark. The autopsy report on Tandy came in this morning.Ó ÒAnd?Ó ÒShe was almost four weeks pregnant at the time of her death. --------------------------------------- 175 To Live Again 175 That checks with the mindpick information they got out of Claude VillefrancheÕs dybbuk.Ó ÒI see,Ó Mark said. ÒShe went to Claude and told him she was pregnant and wanted him to marry her, and he refused, and they had a fight over it and he killed her.Ó Risa laughed. ÒOh, no! The way you tell it, itÕs straight out of one of the old melodramas. Tandy wouldnÕt have tried to use a pregnancy to blackmail a man into marrying her. Especially not a man like Claude.Ó ÒWhatÕs the story, then?Ó ÒThe gene tests show that she was pregnant by Stig The Swede, her other lover. Sometime between the time Tandy made her last persona recording in June and the time she died in August, she decided that it would be interesting to have a baby, I guess. So she stopped the pill and Stig filled her up. She knew that Stig would be willing to marry her. HeÕs a decent sort. Claude ex- cited her more, but she didnÕt trust him. Then she went off to Switzerland to have her last fling with Claude. At St. Moritz she broke the news to him that this was where he got off. He was furious and told her to have the fetus aborted, to forget about getting mated to Stig.Ó ÒBut you said that Claude wasnÕt interested in marrying her,Ó Mark said, puzzled. ÒHe wasnÕt. But he wasnÕt about to let Stig have her either. Or put a child in her. He saw that as an attack on his reputation for virility. He was wild with jealousy. So they had a fight, and fi- nally they went out on the ski slope and he took the feeder pin out of her gravity repulsor, and down she went. If he couldnÕt run her life, she had to die. ItÕs all there in the persona he last recorded. He made the recording two months after the killing.Ó ÒDidnÕt anyone think of examining her skis after the accident?Ó ÒThey were badly damaged, Mark. It was impossible to deter- mine anything.Ó ÒAnd there was no autopsy?Ó --------------------------------------- 176 176 To Live Again Risa shrugged. ÒWhen a girl is smashed up in a hundred- meter fall, thereÕs no real point in an autopsy, is there? No one sus- pected she might be pregnant.Ó ÒWhat happens to this dybbuk now?Õ ÒClaude? Well, theyÕve got him on a double murder charge. The mindpick evidence shows that he killed Tandy, and thereÕs also the little matter of what he did to his host. So the quaestorate has requested a complete erasure. TheyÕre going to blot him out entirely. HeÕs being shipped to New York tomorrow and the job will be done at the Scheffing Institute. TheyÕll clean him out of his hostÕs mind and also destroy all his existing persona records.Ó ÒYou must feel very proud of yourself, Risa, exposing this crimi- nal.Ó ÒWell, actually, I could never have done it without Tandy. She was the one who guessed sheÕd been murdered, and she put the finger on Claude as a dybbuk. After that it was just a matter of seeing what was in his mind.Ó ÒAnd in TandyÕs uterus,Ó Kaufmann observed. ÒYes, that too. Well, now itÕs over, anyway.Ó ÒIÕm glad. Risa, are you all through playing detective?Ó ÒI think so. Why?Ó ÒIt would be nice if youÕd stay closer to home for a while, with this business settled.Ó ÒIÕll be home in about a week,Ó she said. ÒIs that all right?Ó ÒFine,Ó said Kaufmann. ÒDo you have enough money?Ó ÒIÕm drawing on the general family balance. All right?Ó ÒHave mercy,Ó he told her. ÒI will. IÕll see you soon.Ó Out of her tired eyes there twinkled a look of warmth, love, kinship He smiled at her. She was a fine girl, he decided. A credit to their line. She had the promise of true greatness. He blew her a kiss, and the screen darkened. A pity she was a girl, he thought. Of course, they had had an option to fix that. But KaufmannÕs --------------------------------------- 177 To Live Again 177 wife was delicate, and he hadnÕt cared to dabble in uterine ad- justments. He had taken his chances, and had had a girl, and there had been no more children after that. Risa was masculine enough in her thinking, at any rate. A time would come when sheÕd enter the family enterprises as a full partner, and Kaufmann knew sheÕd do well. His only objection to her sex was an esthetic one: a woman in business was in some way an unattractive sight, no matter how beautiful she might be. That was archaic foolish- ness, he knew, but he could not escape the thought that it was somehow ugly to watch a woman at work in front of a data con- sole, making executive decisions involving millions of dollars. Women should be gentler creatures. But there was nothing gentle about Risa, female or not. It would be interesting to follow her progress down the generations as they leapfrogged from one carnate trip to the next. He turned back to his ticker. Three quick trades produced a handsome profit for him. A cheerful omen. By the end of this week heÕd have all the shrewdness of Paul Kaufmann to add to his own. At last. At last. Naturally, heÕd have to go warily, lest anyone find out that he carried an illegal per- sona. But Roditis would be perplexed when he discovered that each of his new strategic thrusts, inspired by PaulÕs persona, was being countered by strategies just as shrewd. Would he suspect that a second Paul Kaufmann was at work to thwart him? Would it occur to Roditis that such a thing was possibleÑa duplicated transplant? Few people were even aware that old recordings were preserved. Mark himself had not known it, despite his wide range of information, until Santoliquido had told him. So Roditis, though he was naturally suspicious, would have no inkling of the truth. He would just wonder how it was that his rival stayed abreast of him. Of course, after MarkÕs death the next possessor of MarkÕs persona would discover the secret when he unexpectedly found Paul in his skull as well. But he was not likely to make the news public. Revelation of the irregularity would most likely bring --------------------------------------- 178 178 To Live Again about the erasure of both Kaufmann personae; the lucky man who had received two Kaufmanns for the price of one would make every effort to hide the fact. Kaufmann laughed softly. His phone lit up. He keyed in, and the monitor said, ÒFrancesco Santoliquido is calling.Ó Surprised, Kaufmann accepted the call at once. ÒYes, Frank?Ó Santoliquido looked younger, more carefree than he had ap- peared for many weeks. The living jewelry at his throat, the cage of tiny crustaceans, seemed to be leaping about jauntily in re- flection of his changed mood. ÒIÕve reached a decision about your uncleÕs persona,Ó said Santoliquido briskly. Kaufmann remained calm. DonahyÕs assurance of co- opera- tion was his bulwark against any possibility. ÒYes?Õ he said eas- ily. ÒWhoÕs the lucky man? Roditis, as expected, eh?Ó ÒNo.Ó ÒNo?Ó ÒIÕve weighed this a million times, Mark. IÕve come around to your way of thinking: that Roditis has such power already that it would be a grave mistake to let him have Paul. That would set up an extraordinary concentration of ability in one individual, with unpredictable results.Ó ÒOf course.Ó ÒIÕve also taken into account the objections of the Kaufmann family, as voiced through you.Ó ÒKind of you, Frank. But what will you do with old Paul, then? There canÕt be many others around you could safely award him to. I suppose itÕs best simply to leave him in storage a few years, until heÕs so far out of touch with events that he can be let loose again as someoneÕs persona. IÑÓ ÒOh, heÕll be transplanted soon, though.Ó ÒTo whom?Ó Kaufmann asked, taken aback. ÒWe have a rare event scheduled to take place here shortly,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒThe erasure of a dybbuk whoÕs guilty not only of ejecting his host but of deliberately causing the discorporation --------------------------------------- 179 To Live Again 179 of a young woman.Ó ÒThe Tandy Cushing case. Yes, of course. RisaÕs given me all the details. But what does this have to do withÑÓ ÒOnce Claude Villefranche has been obliterated, Mark, weÕll be left with the empty but living body of Martin St. John, a young man of good family and decent health. Have you considered the status of a blanked-out body of that sort?Ó ÒWhy,Ó Kaufmann said, Òjust take out one of St. JohnÕs own recorded personae and imprint it on his own brain. IsnÕt that the logical solution?Ó ÒItÕs logical, but it wonÕt work. ThatÕs called an autoimprint, and autoimprints canÕt be made. The brain rejects its own ab- stracted persona. There are complex reasons for this, partly hav- ing to do with the technique of the process, partly with the physi- ology of the autonomic nervous system, partly with the psychol- ogy of the persona. I wonÕt trouble you with the details. But we canÕt put Martin St. JohnÕs persona back into Martin St. JohnÕs body. However, thereÕs nothing stopping us from installing some other persona in that vacant, healthy bodyÑÓ Mark Kaufmann saw where Santoliquido was leading. The im- pact of comprehension was swift and violent. ÒYouÕll put Paul in there?Ó ÒYes,Ó said Santoliquido smugly. ÒBut thatÕll create an instant dybbuk! ItÕll be Paul Kaufmann operating Martin St. JohnÕs body!Ó Kaufmann cried hoarsely. ÒTrue. However, thereÕs no specific regulation prohibiting such a transplant. We have blank bodies so infrequently that there are no precedents. Paul himself is something of a precedent- setter, too, since his mind is uniquely dynamic and overbearing, and heÕs almost certain to turn any host he gets into a dybbuk. With a few possible exceptions, such as Roditis. And yourself. But we have a moral obligation to return PaulÕs persona to carnate form. If we give him an orthodox transplant, and a dybbuk re- sults, the quaestors will insist on mandatory erasure again, If we --------------------------------------- 180 180 To Live Again put him into a wholly empty body, though, so that thereÕs no charge of an unethical takeover of another intelligence, he wonÕt be breaking any laws. In effect, your uncle will return to the world as an independent entity, truly reborn.Ó Kaufmann was staggered by the idea. He saw the complacence in SantoliquidoÕs face, and knew that the Scheffing administrator had engineered this most cunningly, as a way of immobilizing both Roditis and himself. Handing the disputed persona to a third party, a zero, a blank, neatly cut the ground from under both of them. Roditis could storm and rant, but unless he found some legal flaw in the transfer, he could not oppose it. And Mark, having put up a successful battle to keep Paul out of RoditisÕ mind, could not now very well presume to interfere with SantoliquidoÕs further freedom of action. It was ironic that Risa had provided Santoliquido with the so- lution to his dilemma. Very conveniently, she had helped to make a blank body available to him at the critical moment. Zip, zip, and Paul Kaufmann would walk the earth again, not merely as a silent persona, nor even as an unlawful dybbuk that had wrested control from a victimized host, but as a true rebirth, given a body of his own with the blessings of the Scheffing Institute! ÒWhat do you say, Mark?Ó Santoliquido asked coyly. Shaken, Kaufmann replied, ÒThis is very sudden. It brings up all kinds of complications. What, for example, would be the le- gal status of this carnate form? PaulÕs dead. His estate is going through probate.Ó ÒLegally, the new entity would assume the property and status of Martin St. John,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒIÕve already had a ruling on that. HeÕd be St. John, carrying the Paul Kaufmann persona. Of course, in effect heÕd simply be Paul in St. JohnÕs body, but that doesnÕt give him any title to Kaufmann status. I assume that youÕd accept him into your family circle as Paul and find room for him in your business enterprises, but thatÕs strictly up to you. You could just as easily let him try to make his way as St. John. --------------------------------------- 181 To Live Again 181 Knowing Paul, I think heÕd do all right.Ó ÒYes,Ó said Kaufmann hollowly. ÒI think he would.Ó ÒSo what do you say? IÕve saved you from the monstrous threat of a Roditis in your bosom! ThatÕs a relief, eh, Mark? IsnÕt it? You look a bit uncertain.Ó The initial shock was wearing off. Kaufmann had begun to see past his amazement at SantoliquidoÕs coup to the deeper im- plications. Paul would return to life, yes, as shrewd and as ener- getic as ever, and with the extra benefit of residing in the body of a young man. That posed something of a threat to MarkÕs own status as head of the Kaufmann clan. But no Kaufmann could really accept the reborn Paul as a true Kaufmann. The family would draw upon his reserve of experi- ence and wisdom, but could never accord him full status. At best heÕd be a secondary focus of power. I can handle him, Mark thought. After all, what Santoliquido doesnÕt know is that IÕll have PaulÕs persona myself. ThatÕll en- able me to cope, in case it comes to a show- down between Paul and me. And I should be able to count on PaulÕs support in the struggle against Roditis. Kaufmann envisioned the possibility of a three-cornered ri- valry: himself, the new Paul, and Roditis. But in such a conflict he would invariably emerge on top, since heÕd be Mark-plus- Paul, and thus at least one notch ahead of Paul alone, and two notches ahead of Roditis. He said, ÒYes. Very clever of you, Frank. I approve. Have you broken the news to Roditis yet?Ó ÒNo. I thought IÕd wait another day or two, until the transplant has actually been carried out. IÕd prefer to present it to him as a fait accompli.Ó ÒThatÕs probably best,Ó said Kaufmann. He chuckled. ÒI imag- ine Roditis is going to be surprised.Ó --------------------------------------- 182 182 To Live Again --------------------------------------- 183 To Live Again 183 Chapter 12 Charles Noyes said, ÒYou wonÕt like this, John. Elena says that theyÕve decided not to give Paul Kaufmann to you. TheyÕve got some dummy body that a dybbuk was removed from, and theyÕre putting the persona in that.Ó He waited fearfully for Roditis to react. They were in the midwestern office of Roditis Securities at Evansville, Indiana, on the top floor of a tower overlooking the river. From the broad windows it was possible to see deep into Kentucky. Noyes had flown, to Evansville that afternoon, after lunch with Elena. This was too important to convey to Roditis by phone. Roditis seemed strangely calm. He walked past Noyes to the window and peered out into the blaze of light that was the city across the river. Then, turning slowly, he went to the Anton Kozak sonic sculpture that dominated one wall of his office and care- fully recalibrated its pitch so that it produced a gentle hum at about fifty cycles. A horizontal component in the sculpture be- gan to oscillate at such a frequency that it blurred and became barely visible. Quietly Roditis said, ÒDid she learn this from Santoliquido?Ó ÒYes. She spent much of last night with him, and he told her. According to Elena, Santoliquido is quite proud of what heÕs ar- ranged, because it thwarts both you and Mark in one stroke.Ó ÒWhat did Mark want done with the persona?Ó ÒEither to be given to him or simply kept in cold storage. Since it obviously couldnÕt be given to him, Mark preferred that it go to nobody at all. SantoliquidoÕs manipulated things so that neither one of you gets what he wanted, and yet neither one of you has any recourse from the decision.Ó Roditis, still icily calm, fondled the shining rim of the sonic --------------------------------------- 184 184 To Live Again sculpture. Noyes could not understand his employerÕs coolness. The man should be raving and shouting. Was Roditis drugged in some way? Up to the eyebrows in pills? System flooded with a chemosterilant to damp down any response? ÒDoes Kaufmann know of the decision?Ó Roditis asked. ÒYes,Ó Noyes said. ÒSantoliquido phoned and told him about it two days ago.Ó ÒHow did he take it?Ó ÒAngrily. Very angrily. But then he gave his agreement. He had no real choice.Ó ÒAnd when is this transplant supposed to take place?Ó Noyes shifted his weight uncertainly from leg to leg. ÒIt was done this afternoon.Ó ÒPaul KaufmannÕs walking around in a body without a con- trolling mind?Ó Noyes nodded. ÒKaufmannÕs a dybbuk, then. Without even having to struggle for it.Ó ÒYes.Ó ÒDybbuks are illegal.Ó ÒNot this one,Ó said Noyes. ÒSantoliquido apparently found some sort of legal loophole. DonÕt you see, this was approved on the highest level, meaning Santoliquido. Therefore, by defini- tion, it canÕt be illegal. Paul KaufmannÕs back in the world, and heÕs got full command of a body.Ó ÒWhose body was it?Ó ÒAn Englishman named Martin St. John. One of the younger sons of some lord. He was pushed out of the body by a French- man who had earlier murdered a girl at a ski resort, then was killed himself and picked up by St. John as a persona. They tracked him down, erased him after getting a confession under mindpick, and Santoliquido had the bright idea of putting old Kaufmann into the empty body.Ó ÒVery clever of him.Ó --------------------------------------- 185 To Live Again 185 ÒYou arenÕt upset by all this, John?Ó ÒNot at all. I was expecting it, in a way. You can choose not to believe this, but I foresaw some such arrangement down to the actual details. I was braced for it. And I also have a plan of action ready to meet the situation.Ó ÒI knew you would, John. What do you have in mind?Ó Roditis smiled. ÒWhere is this St. John body now, do you know?Ó ÒProbably still in New York. ThatÕs where the transplant was performed. I doubt that heÕll do any traveling until heÕs achieved physical coordination in the new body.Ó ÒGood. Go to New York. Find St. John, Charles. Find him and kill him.Ó ÒYou want me to discorporateÑÓ ÒThatÕs right. Kill him. Destroy the St. John body.Ó Noyes sat down abruptly. His head whiled. Within, James Kravchenko gave a mighty leap, battering against NoyesÕ de- fenses. Noyes shivered at the persona assailed him. it was a moment before he could reassert his control over Kravchenko, and another moment before he was able to meet RoditisÕ level gaze. ÒI canÕt do that, John!Ó Noyes gasped. ÒYes, you can, and you will. Damn it, do you think IÕm going to let a dummy walk off with that persona? Look: Santoliquido doesnÕt have an infinite supply of empty bodies sitting around ready for Paul Kaufmann to go dybbuk in. Discorporate St. John and youÕre actually tossing Paul back into the soul bank, right? The master recording is still there, ready to be used again if some- thing happens to the old manÕs current carnate embodiment. Okay. Remove St. John. I reapply for the Kaufmann persona, which is again available. Only this time I put more pressure on Santo than before. I donÕt waltz around so diplomatically. I threaten a little. I pound the table. I make it clear to him that I wonÕt tolerate a second trick of that sort. HeÕll have to give in. IÕll get my way at last.Ó --------------------------------------- 186 186 To Live Again ÒBut I have to commit a discorporation,Ó Noyes said in a weak voice. ÒWhat if IÕm caught? What if I bungle it?Ó ÒYou wonÕt be caught, and you wonÕt bungle it. DonÕt worry, Charles. IÕll arrange everything. As soon as youÕve done it, weÕll whisk you back out here and have you blanked for the hours of the discorporation. WeÕll fill in false memories, an alibi that no- body can challenge. YouÕll be beyond the reach of mindpicking. Do you really think IÕd allow my oldest and closest friend to run any real risks?Ó ÒStill, canÕt you hire some thugÑprogram a robotÑÓ ÒI need someone I can trust. ThereÕs only one person in the world I can rely on for this, Charles. YouÕve been with me on every stage of the operation.Ó ÒBut ÒYouÕll do it, Charles.Ó Roditis came over, standing above NoyesÕ chair, and put his hands on NoyesÕ shoulders just alongside the clavicles. His thick, powerful fingers dug sharply into the flesh. His eyes, compelling, almost hypnotic, sought for NoyesÕ and locked on them. Noyes knew he was being coerced, but he had never been able to resist RoditisÕ pressures before, and he doubted that he would succeed this time. Earnestly Roditis said, ÒDo you have moral objections?Ó ÒWell, in a way. ÒLook at it this way. You arenÕt actually taking life. The real Martin St. John was discorporated long ago. The only intelligent thing in that body is the persona of Paul Kaufmann, which has no right to be there. KaufmannÕs had one life already, one body. ThatÕs all heÕs entitled to on an autonomous basis. Now heÕs sup- posed to be ridingÑas a passenger, as a persona. You dispose of the St. John body and Kaufmann reverts to his proper status, minus the illegal nonsense Santoliquido has invented out of cow- ardice. YouÕll actually be performing a pro-social act, Charles. YouÕll be canceling out an anomaly. Do you follow that?Ó ÒI think so. IÑÓ --------------------------------------- 187 To Live Again 187 ÒYou canÕt kill something thatÕs already dead. Both Martin St. John and Paul Kaufmann are already dead: one because his per- sona ejected him, one because his natural span was over. What youÕll be doing is disposing of some superfluous protoplasm. Nothing else. YouÕll do it for me, Charles. I know you will.Ó ÒHow will I do it?Ó Roditis straightened up, went to his desk, ran his fingers over the protruding green studs of a safety cache. The cache door sprang open and he thrust his hand inside, pulling out a lemon- colored box less than an inch in diameter. Roditis popped the box onto his palm and stuck his hand under NoyesÕ nose. A touch of his finger and the box fissioned along its vertical axis to re- veal a minute capsule containing a few drops of some turquoise fluid. ÒThis,Ó said Roditis, Òis cyclophosphamide-8. ItÕs an alkylating agent that has the effect of breaking down the bodyÕs fail-safe system for tolerating its on chemical components. Let a little of this get inside a man and he rejects his own organs, the way heÕd reject an organ graft from another person without proper chemical preparation.Ó ÒSome kind of carniphage?Ó Noyes asked uncertainly. ÒNot exactly, but close enough. Your true carniphage causes the cells of the body to destroy themselves through autolysis, through enzyme release. This stuff has the effect of turning the body into a conglomeration of alien components that canÕt func- tion homeostatically any more. Gland secretions become poi- sons; organ coordination ceases; antigens are poured forth to attack the very tissues they ought to be defending. The loveli- ness of it all is that nothing the medics can do can possibly save the patient The more they meddle, the more quickly the rate of destruction accelerates. Death comes in less than an hour usu- ally.Ó ÒCarniphage is quicker,Ó Noyes pointed out. ÒBut carniphage is too obvious. When a man turns to a puddle --------------------------------------- 188 188 To Live Again of slime inside of fifteen minutes, itÕs a clear case of carniphage dosing. But with cyclophosphamide-8, the cause of death remains in doubt. ItÕs an ambiguous finish.Ó ÒHow is the drug administered?Ó ÒIn the fine old Borgia fashion. Conceal the box in your palm, like so. Offer your victim a glass of water. Pass your hand over it, squeeze the muscles together. The box opens, the capsule drops in. It dissolves in a microsecond. The turquoise color is lost upon contact with any other fluid. No taste. No odor. ItÕs that simple.Ó Roditis closed the lemon-colored box. He presented it gravely to Noyes. ÒGet aboard the next flight to New York and find Martin St. John. IÕve never needed your help more, Charlie-lad.Ó Dazed, Noyes shortly found himself high above Indiana, east- ward bound. One of RoditisÕ secretaries had booked the flight for him; he himself seemed incapable of taking any positive ac- tion at the moment. He carried the capsule of poison in his lefthand breast pocket. In his righthand breast pocket there nestled, as always, the flask of carniphage with which he pro- posed to end his own miserable life just as soon as he found the courage to do it This would be an excellent moment, Noyes told himself mo- rosely. He did not want to be a catspaw for John Roditis any longer. He was tired of rushing around compromising himself for the sake of fulfilling the little entrepreneurÕs ambitions. Commit- ting murder now. True, true, Roditis had produced a pack of soph- istries to persuade him that slipping cyclophosphamide-8 into Martin St. JohnÕs drinking water was not murder in any valid sense, and so persuasive was RoditisÕ glibness that Noyes had been nearly taken in. Nearly. Yet he knew that the quaestors would take a harder line with him if he were caught before Roditis could blank the crime from his mind. TheyÕd accuse him of de- liberate discorporation, and there was no more serious crime. HeÕd be erased. A small loss, maybe, to the universe and even to --------------------------------------- 189 To Live Again 189 himself; but nevertheless humiliating. A man should destroy him- self, not allow others to destroy him. Gulp the carniphage now, he thought. YouÕll make a mess in the plane, and the stewardess will throw up, but at least youÕll die an honest death. His hand stole toward his righthand breast pocket. ÑGo on, Kravchenko urged. Why donÕt you do it and get it over with? IÕm so sick of being stuck in your lousy head, Noyes, you canÕt possibly imagine! The hand halted short of its goal. Some lingering Puritan sense of obligation assailed him. To kill himself now would be cowardly; heÕd be running out on RoditisÕ assignment. He had no right to do that. Roditis trusted him; Roditis relied on him. And Roditis had given him employ- ment and a purpose in the world for many years past. Sure, Roditis was overbearing, tyrannical, self-centered, and all the rest. Sure, Roditis had bullied him into compromise after compromise, un- til at the end he was even crashing parties on the manÕs behalf and sleeping with strange women to win a nugget of useful in- formation. Nevertheless, those were the conditions of his em- ployment. He had accepted them. He could not spurn them now. He owed it to Roditis to carry out this final assignment, this mean- ingless discorporation, this destruction of a body already dead and tenanted by a dead manÕs ghost. After that, if he wished, he could swallow his carniphage at last, with even more justifica- tion than now. Running out on unfinished business was surely not in the Noyes tradition. Noyes realized that he had just made use of his New England heritage to justify an act of murder. So be it, he told himself. So be it The decelerating rockets whined. They were landing in New York. Kravchenko, mocking as always, set up a clamor of deri- sion as Noyes moved his hand away from the carniphage. But Kravchenko, Noyes knew, could not have followed the complex --------------------------------------- 190 190 To Live Again inner processes of decision-making. The persona was simply trying to keep him off balance and unsettled. It was not really in KravchenkoÕs interest to goad him into actually drinking the carniphage; merely to get him so rattled that heÕd be vulnerable to the sudden swift strike of a counter-erasure, the violent ejec- tion by a triumphant dybbuk. He wondered how he was going to find Martin St. John. He could not simply look him up in the master directory. St. John was an Englishman and wouldnÕt be listed here. Of course, Santoliquido would know where St. John was staying. But Noyes wanted to avoid tipping his hand to Santoliquido. It was too ob- vious that Roditis had an interest in getting Paul Kaufmann out of his present carnate form, and if RoditisÕ known confederate Noyes were suddenly to begin making inquiries about St. John, any chance Noyes might have of gaining access to St. John would disappear. Noyes decided to ask Elena. Elena seemed to know everything about everyone. She was at the center of the nexus, tentacles reaching toward Mark Kaufmann on the one hand, toward Santoliquido on the other, toward Noyes on the third. And she still had a tentacle or two left to extend in RoditisÕ direction. SheÕd be a likely source of infor- mation. She had a small apartment registered in her on name in New Jersey. Noyes scarcely expected to find her there, but it was the logical place to begin. He called from the airport and was sur- prised to find her answering. Her privacy code appeared on the screen. Noyes identified him- self. The screen cleared, and Elena came into view. She was nude, but the scanner cut her off at the breasts, and in any case the tiny screen in the booth did not give him much of a view. ÒIÕve just come hack from a visit to Roditis,Ó he said. ÒIn Indi- ana.Ó ÒYou told him aboutÑÓ --------------------------------------- 191 To Live Again 191 ÒSt. John? Yes.Ó ÒHe must have been furious!Ó ÒActually, he was quite cool about it,Ó Noyes said. ÒHe seemed to be expecting some sort of fast shuffle of that kind, and he was braced. Listen, Elena, how soon can I get to see you?Õ ÒWhy not right now?Ó ÒYouÕre free this evening?Ó ÒVery much so. Would you like to take me to Jubilisle again?Ó ÒNo,Ó he said. ÒIÕd just like a quiet visit. There areÑ some ques- tions IÕd like to ask.Ó ÒQuestions, questions, questions! Very well. Come to my apart- ment. When should I expect you?Ó ÒHow about an hour from now?Ó ÒThat will do.Ó She tapped out the hopter program for reach- ing her house, fingers moving swiftly over the data keys. An in- stant later the program card came chuttering out of the data slot in NoyesÕ telephone booth. He seized it and blew her a kiss. Grab- bing his one suitcase, he rushed up the ramp and stepped into a travelerÕs-aid station, where he underwent a vibrator bath while his clothes were being pressed and refurbished. Freed of the grime of his journey from Indiana, Noyes proceeded toward the hopter zone, pausing on the way for a short snack. He chartered a hopter and slipped ElenaÕs house program into the receptor slot. The vehicle took off, found itself hung up momentarily in a delay pattern over the crowded airport, then discovered an exit vector and made its way toward New Jersey. He arrived at ElenaÕs place a little after nine that evening. Noyes had never been there before. His previous meetings with Elena had taken place at his apartment. He did not know what to expect: a place of palatial luxury, perhaps, or some steamy, overdecorated temple of amour. But in reality the apartment was nothing more than a pied-ˆ-terre, as simple and austere as his own little suite. Despite ElenaÕs known predilections for opu- lence, she did not seem to require it here, perhaps because it --------------------------------------- 192 192 To Live Again served only as a way station for her on those rare nights when she was not sleeping out. Greeting him in diaphanous, swirling pink robes that did very little to hide the exaggerated voluptuous- ness of her body. Elena seemed like some overblown tropical blossom blooming in a humble northern meadow. They embraced tentatively and distantly. Elena evidently was ready for any kind of overtures he cared to make, but Noyes was too tense, too bound up in his own situation, to do more than go through a kind of ritualistic contact. They broke away. She offered drinks. He settled into a chair; she chose a divan. Her robes parted to reveal tawny thighs. Noyes wondered if, as a matter of strategy, he should respond to her wanton unvoiced invitation. Or was she only teasing him? He was well aware that in all their relationships she regarded him only as a surrogate for other men. Sexually, she reached through him to make love to Jim Kravchenko. And when she passed se- cret information to him about the doings of Mark Kaufmann or Santoliquido, it was in the hope of winning favor with Roditis. He said, ÒI need your help, Elena. IÕm trying to find Martin St. John.Ó Her eyebrows rose. Her full lips drew apart. ÒRoditis is after him so soon?Ó Noyes made an effort to conceal his reaction. ÒIÕd simply like to talk to the man.Ó ÒAbout what?Ó ÒDoes it matter?Ó ÒIt might,Ó she said. Fidgeting, Noyes improvised. ÒAll right. Roditis is interested in working out a deal with Paul Kaufmann. As long as old KaufmannÕs back in circulation and Roditis canÕt have the per- sona himself, heÕd like to come to an understanding with him. You see, Roditis is worried that Paul and Mark will form a family alliance to crush him. So heÕd like to drive a wedge between them as rapidly as possible. Does that make sense to you?Õ --------------------------------------- 193 To Live Again 193 ÒA great deal of sense.Ó ÒSo IÕve been sent here to make contact with Kaufmann/St. John. Only I donÕt know where to find him.Ó ÒAnd you think I do?Õ ÒIf anyone does, you do. Certainly SantoliquidoÕs aware of St. JohnÕs location, and probably Mark as well. YouÕre close to both of them. SoÑÓ ÒYouÕre right,Ó said Elena. ÒI do know.Ó ÒWill you tell me?Ó She stirred idly. Her robes opened, probably not by accident, and for a brief dazzling moment her entire body was bare to him. Noyes let his eyes rest on the huge globes of her breasts. She had mounted a fusion node in the great valley between them, and its tireless sparkle lulled him. Just as casually, Elena cov- ered herself. Softly she said, ÒPerhaps I might tell you. But there would be a price, Charles.Ó ÒName it. Any amount.Ó She laughed. ÒNot money. A favor.Ó ÒWhat?Ó he asked uneasily. ÒYou carry the persona of a man who once meant a great deal to me,Ó Elena said. ÒYou stand between me and that man, Charles. If I lead you to Martin St. John, you will step aside and make that man available to me. Yes? I can take you to St. John tonight.Ó ÒYou mean I should have Kravchenko erased and let his per- sona be given to someone else?Ó ÒNot exactly,Ó she replied. ÒI mean that you should allow him to take you over. So that I may enjoy him directly in your body.Ó Noyes was thrown into such turmoil that Kravchenko nearly was able to eject him then and there. He struggled for control. Never had he experienced so direct a blow to his ego. Calmly, casually, Elena had invited him to commit suicide for her conve- nience! His lips worked incoherently. At length he said, ÒYou have no right to ask that of me. ItÕs insane to think that IÕd do any such --------------------------------------- 194 194 To Live Again thing!Ó ÒIs it? Why do you carry that flask of carniphage, then?Ó ÒWellÑÓ ÒYour suicidal tendencies are well-known. Very well, Charles: hereÕs your moment. Be of some use. Restore Jim Kravchenko to the world he loves, and remove yourself from the world you hate. While at the same time fulfilling your obligations to Roditis by speaking with St. John. Yes? It is perfect, you see.Ó In a stunned silence Noyes contemplated the symmetry of ElenaÕs proposal. True enough, he had already contracted with himself to swallow the carniphage once he had done this last deed for Roditis. Elena seemed to recognize, somehow, that he had declared himself superfluous. In the long run, what differ- ence did it make which exit he chose? To drink the carniphage would be a petty way of revenging himself on Kravchenko for many slights, but in short order KravchenkoÕs persona would be in a new body, and what then of his revenge? This way, at least, he could graciously step aside and deliver up his body to Kravchenko, not for KravchenkoÕs sake but for ElenaÕs. But yet it was so damned humiliatingÑto have a woman sug- gest that he voluntarily let his own persona go dybbuk. Did she really think he was as worthless as that? Yes. Yes, she did. He scowled. Perhaps, he thought, it was time for him to junk his old-line ideals and try a little craftiness. He could always prom- ise to do as Elena wished, and change his mind afterward. The important thing now was to get at St. John. He said heavily, ÒYou ask a stiff price.Ó ÒI know. But thereÕs logic to it. IsnÕt there?Ó ÒYes. Yes.Ó He paced about, clenching his fists. ÒAll right,Ó he said. ÒDamn you, yes! Have your Kravchenko!Ó ÒA deal, then?Ó ÒA deal. Where is Martin St. John?Ó ÒHe was taken to Mark KaufmannÕs Manhattan apartment.Ó Noyes gasped. ÒI should have known it. But I canÕt see him --------------------------------------- 195 To Live Again 195 there, Elena! I canÕt walk right into MarkÕs own house andÑÓ ÒMark went to California yesterday on business,Ó said Elena. ÒHe wonÕt be back until tomorrow. His daughterÕs still in Eu- rope. ThereÕs no one in his apartment but St. John and the ser- vants looking after him. IÕll take you there now.Ó ÒLetÕs go,Ó he said. She shed her robes with no trace of modesty while he watched, and selected light sprayon garments. They went out. The hopter journey to Manhattan was swift. Noyes felt as though trapped in a dream, with every event converging on a predestined climax with incredible rapidity and ease. At the door of KaufmannÕs apartment, Elena presented her thumb. The door did not open. She explained, ÒI donÕt have in- stant-access privileges. The scanner reports that IÕm here, and checks to see if thereÕs any order to bar me. In the absence of a specific order, I can come in.Ó ÒWhy all the precaution?Ó ÒMark sometimes has other women with him,Ó she said sim- ply, as the door opened. Noyes had never been in Mark KaufmannÕs home before. It was elegant and spacious, with wings of rooms stretching to the sides and straight ahead. A blank-faced, snub-headed robot ap- peared. Elena said, ÒWeÕre here to visit Mr. St. John.Ó The robot ushered them into a bedroom of huge size, dark, decked with brocaded draperies rising from projectors at the baseboards along the floor. Tones of green, cerise, and violet played across the ceiling. Sitting propped up in bed was a weary- looking, blue-eyed young man with light yellow hair, sallow skin, a rounded nose, a weak chin. Noyes paused at the doorway. He realized, numbed, that he was in the presence of Paul Kaufmann. There was an electric moment of confrontation. The unpre- possessing figure in the bed seemed to take on strength and in- tensity as though it were flowing to him from some inner re- --------------------------------------- 196 196 To Live Again serve. The eyes brightened; the head rose; the chin jutted. Above the bed was mounted a solido portrait of Paul Kaufmann in late middle age, an imperious eagle of a man. Despite the total dif- ference in physical appearance, the man in the bed suddenly had that same imperious look. ÒYes?Ó he said. ÒWho are you?Ó The voice was cracked and unfocused; Paul Kaufmann, only hours into his borrowed body, had not yet mastered it. ÒMy name is Charles Noyes. I believe you already know Elena Volterra.Ó ÒNoyes? Noyes of Roditis Securities?Ó ÒThatÕs right,Ó Noyes said. ÒYou know me?Ó ÒIt was my business to know the Roditis organization, yes. Well, what are you doing here? How did you get in? Roditis men donÕt belong here.Ó ÒI brought him,Ó said Elena. ÒHe asked to see you, and I owed him a favor.Ó ÒTake him away,Ó Kaufmann/St. John snapped. He waved his hand in what was meant as a gesture of dismissal; but his coor- dination was still poor, and his arm flapped in an awkward overswing that brought it slapping against the headboard. Elena looked stymied. She did not move. ÒAway,Ó came the petulant command. ÒOut of here. Out of here! I must rest. IÕve been through a great deal. If you knew what it was like to die, to awaken, to enter a strange body ÉÓ His words trickled away into incoherence. The Kaufmann dybbuk seemed exhausted by the effort of speaking. The brilliance and intensity vanished from the eyes as though a switch had been thrown; he was resting, regaining his powers. Elena said doubtfully, ÒIf he doesnÕt want to see youÑÓ ÒHeÕll give me five minutes,Ó Noyes told her. ÒLook, wait out- side for me, yes? I wonÕt be with him long.Ó She nodded and left the room. Noyes did not pretend to himself that Elena would fail to com- --------------------------------------- 197 To Live Again 197 prehend what he was about to do. But he doubted that she would expose him. He closed the door carefully behind her. Kaufmann/St. John looked harsh and arrogant again. ÒI order you to leave!Ó Approaching the bed, Noyes said quietly, ÒJust a few minutes. I want to talk. Do you find it very confusing, coming back to the world? You expected to have to fight through to dybbuk, didnÕt you? Not to have a body handed to you like this. You know, there was quite a dispute over who was going to be your carnate. Roditis was very anxious to get you. But Santoliquido flimflammed him by finding this empty body. DonÕt you agree it might have been more interesting to wake up in RoditisÕ skull?Ó As he spoke, Noyes steadily drew nearer the bed. Paul Kaufmann glowered at him. The flaccid muscles of his new face strained with the effort to rise and hurl the intruder from his room. But he could not do it. ÒIf you donÕt leave here at onceÑÓ ÒCanÕt we discuss things peacefully?Ó Noyes asked. His long fingers enfolded the container of the cyclophosphamide-8 cap- sule. ÒHere Have a drink of water. Let me tell you about a deal Roditis has in mind. A great profit opportunity.Ó He picked up a drinking glass in his left hand, filled it halfway with water, and began to bring the concealed capsule toward it. But it was no use. Those strange washed-out blue eyes moved twitchingly, taking in everything. Noyes realized he could not bring off the sleight-of-hand successfully. Kaufmann/St. John would guess what he was trying to do and would put up a fight, clumsily, perhaps, but effectively enough to spill the irreplace- able poison or to get the robot servitors into the room. Noyes could not afford to be subtle. He leaned toward the man in the bed. In a low voice he said. ÒYouÕll be better off in a different carnate form.Ó ÒWhat do youÑÓ As the lips parted, Noyes shot his hand forward, applied pres- --------------------------------------- 198 198 To Live Again sure to the lemon-colored box to open it, and sent the deadly capsule into his victimÕs mouth. At the same time he pressed two forked fingers of his other hand against Kaufmann/St. JohnÕs AdamÕs apple. The man gulped. The capsule went down. There was scathing fury in the blue eyes. Kaufmann/St. John flailed impotently at Noyes with weak, badly coordinated arms. His hands wobbled as if about to fly from their wrists. But the face was a study in malevolence; all the full vitality of Paul Kaufmann was harnessed and hurled forth in a crescendo of frustrated rage and vindictive hostility. Clus- ters of muscles churned and spasmed beneath the surface of his cheeks. Exposed to that blast of hatred, Noyes recoiled, singed by the fire of this incredible old man. But then, within the minute, the discorporation began. Noyes watched only the beginning of it. Backing away from the bed, he saw the fire go out, saw the look of puzzlement and anguish appear. Strange internal events were commencing. The floodgates of the ductless glands had opened all at once, pour- ing forth an impossible mixture of secretions that mingled and reacted violently. The synchrony of heart and lungs was de- stroyed. The brain itself scorned the messages of its sensory perceptors. Instant by instant, the body of Martin St. John pro- ceeded toward self-destruction. Noyes fled. Elena caught hold of him in the corridor outside. ÒWhere are you going? What happened?Ó ÒGet a doctor,Ó Noyes burst out. ÒHeÕs sickÑsome kind of stroke, I donÕt knowÑÓ ÒWhat did you do to him?Ó ÒWe were just talking. He got angry. And thenÑÓ A wild, screeching groan came from the bedroom, a sound ripped from tortured and disintegrating vocal cords. Elena went in. She emerged only moments later, looking appalled. ÒYou gave him a poison!Ó she cried. --------------------------------------- 199 To Live Again 199 ÒNo. I donÕt know what happened. While I was with him, sud- denlyÑÓ ÒDonÕt lie. Roditis sent you here to kill him. And you told me you just wanted to talk to him!Ó ÒElenaÑÓ With savage fury she pulled at him, tugging him out of the apartment. She seemed almost berserk with fear and shock. But in the fresh air she calmed; she had had a moment to digest the event, and her control had returned. ÒNow we go to my place,Ó she said. ÒYou tricked me once to- night, Charles, but not again. Now you keep your bargain.Ó Noyes was close to collapse. Drenched in sweat, trembling, terrified, he let her shepherd him across to her little apartment in New Jersey. He tumbled wearily onto a couch. Elena stood over him, eyes bright, features rigid with malevolence. ÒNow, Mr. Discorporator,Ó she said, ÒyouÕve done RoditisÕ filthy work and made me an accomplice. You owe me something for that. Out of that body now!Ó ÒNo,Ó Noyes said feebly. ÒNo? No! We have a deal! Come, now. Shall I give you a drink? To make it easier? No trickery, Charles!Ó Noyes felt Kravchenko hammering vehemently at the fabric of his mind, making a savage attempt to go dybbuk. Desperately Noyes resisted. I wonÕt do it, he told himself. This is one bargain I wonÕt keep. They canÕt make me destroy myself this way. IÕve got to get out of here, back to Roditis to get blanked, fast. ÑYou miserable cheater, Charles. You filthy pig! It was Kravchenko. Noyes was stunned to realize that he had spoken nothing aloud. Kravchenko had tapped right into his flow of interior monolog! That meant the persona had taken a deeper hold than ever before on him, and was now in direct contact with his mind. ÒLetÕs go, Charles,Ó Elena said. ÒOut!Ó ÒNo. No, pleaseÑÓ --------------------------------------- 200 200 To Live Again She seized him by the shoulders and shook him in a wild fury. He tried to push her away, but she was too strong for him; and now he could feel Kravchenko ripping at his brain, uprooting neural connections like saplings, drilling his way through the centers of control. Already it seemed to Noyes that whole sec- tors of his brain were cut off, that he was being thrust aside, pushed into a single lobe, isolated, underminedÑ Ejected. ÒNo!Ó he cried. ÒThe dealÕs off! I never meant toÑÓ ÒÑbut now IÕve changed his mind for him,Ó Kravchenko fin- ished. Elena rose in triumph. ÒJim? Jim, thatÕs you, yes?Ó ÒYes. Me. God, itÕs good to be free!Ó Kravchenko stretched lav- ishly. He took a few steps, stumbled, recovered. ÒThe coordina- tion takes a little while to come back, I guess. But to have a body again! To feel! To breathe!Ó ÒHeÕs really gone?Ó she asked. ÒIÕve rammed him down far out of sight. Nothing left of him but a few shreds, and IÕll hunt those down and pull them out. Free, Elena! After all those years penned up in that sniveling hulk of a man!Ó He reached for her. His fingers clutched at the taut cones of her breasts, missed aim, got her shoulders instead; with an effort he drew his arms downward. Softly he said, ÒIÕve got some other reflexes to test, Elena!Ó He found that coordination returned more swiftly than he ex- pected, although not altogether at a satisfactory level. It would take some time, he decided. Time and practice. As dawn came Elena said, ÒNow we head for Indiana.Ó ÒWhat for?Ó ÒSo that Roditis can blank you, stupid! As far as the world knows, youÕre Charles Noyes, right? And Charles Noyes has discorporated Martin St. John. The memory of that must be wiped from your mind. Come. Come.Ó Kravchenko nodded. ÒYouÕre right. IÕll have to go to RoditisÑ --------------------------------------- 201 To Live Again 201 bluff it through, let him blank me on the killing. Then IÕll quit him and weÕll go off together, eh?Ó ÒYes!Ó ÒBut why are you going to Indiana?Ó he asked. Elena gave him a slow, simmering smile. ÒDo you think IÕm going to be apart from you even for an hour, now that I have you again?Ó --------------------------------------- 202 202 To Live Again --------------------------------------- 203 To Live Again 203 Chapter 13 ÒDead?Ó Mark Kaufmann asked. ÒHow could he possibly be dead? The St. John body was in good health. I saw it myself be- fore I went to San Francisco.Ó The medic shook his head. ÒThere was a total breakdown of autoimmunity. A civil war inside him, so to speak. No hope what- ever of saving him.Ó ÑMurder, PaulÕs persona said. But it did not take any great shrewdness to see that. Mark said, ÒCan such a thing happen naturally?Ó ÒMost unlikely. You realize, Mr. Kaufmann, that itÕs statisti- cally possible for such a thing to occur, butÑÓ ÒNot very probable?Ó ÒNo. Not at all.Ó ÒWhat was it, then? Carniphage?Ó ÒThese are not the effects of a carniphage,Ó said the medic. ÒHowever, the poisoner today has an extremely wide choice of drugs. IÕve been running a data check, comparing effects with possible causes, and this is what IÕve come up with.Ó He handed Kaufmann a data sheet. It was headed: CYCLOPHOSPHAMIDE-8 Mark scanned it hastily. ÒIs this drug easily available?Ó ÒIÕd say it costs roughly a million dollars fissionable an ounce,Ó the medic replied. ÒThe lethal dose is perhaps a hundredth of an ounce, though.Ó ÒExpensive, but not prohibitive. Rare?Ó ÒIt can be had. The sources are difficult to reach, but they ex- ist. With enough moneyÑÓ ÒYes, with enough money,Ó Mark said. ÒHave you found any --------------------------------------- 204 204 To Live Again traces of thisÑthis cyclophosphamide in the body?Ó ÒIt leaves no traces. It metabolizes completely in use, and the only indication it leaves is in its effect.Ó ÒIn other words, proof of use has to be empirical, deduced from the ruin it makes out of the victim?Ó ÒEssentially, yes,Ó said the medic smoothly. ÒThe quaestorate is now conducting a second autopsy, and naturally will be mak- ing every effort to determine the actual cause of death. But I venture to predict that the ultimate verdict will be the same as mine: poisoning by cyclophosphamide-8.Ó ÒAll right. Thank you. Go.Ó ÑYou need to tighten your security net, Paul told him. A mur- der committed in your own apartment is shameful. ÒThere are finite limits to security,Ó Mark said. He moved about the apartment, scuffing at the carpet. This incident left him tense and baffled and angry. He did not mind at all that someone had discorporated Martin St. John. the dybbuk Paul Kaufmann, so speedily after the transplant. But it offended him that St. John could be discorporated right here, of all places. And he was troubled by the possibility that suspicion of the discorporation might come to rest on him. It was poor business. If the quaestorate hatched the idea that he was in any way connected with the murder, heÕd be hauled down on a mindpick warrant, and not all the money in the uni- verse could buy him out of that. Naturally, the mindpick would show that he had no complicity in the discorporation of Martin St. John, since in fact he had not been involved at all. But at the same time the mindpick would reveal the illegal presence in his mind of the persona of Paul Kaufmann. This had to be the work of Roditis, Mark thought. To take ad- vantage of his absence by sneaking an agent in here to kill St. John, thereby opening him to mindpick and disgraceÑno, no, Roditis could have no inkling of what he had been up to in San Francisco, and it was a mistake to attribute to the man more --------------------------------------- 205 To Live Again 205 deviousness than he actually possessedÑunless, that is, Roditis had his hooks into the lamasery too, and had instantly received word that Mark had come there to undergo a sub rosa persona transplantÉ Exhausted by the intricacy of his own hypotheses, Mark sank down on a couch to collect himself. ÑFool, youÕre panicking over this. ÒLet me think, Paul. Please.Ó ÑThink all you like. But think fast! An hour from now you may be under arrest. ÒNo, thereÕs more time than that. The quaestorate hasnÕt fin- ished the autopsy. And then theyÕll have to move through chan- nels, deciding if they dare to arrest me, swearing out the war- rant, arranging the mindpick. IÕve got at least twenty-four hours.Ó Paul did not reply. His head aching, Mark attempted to recon- struct the sequence of events. He had seen Donahy Tuesday afternoon. That same day Santoliquido had called to announce his intention of transplant- ing PaulÕs persona into the vacated St. John body. On Wednes- day, Mark had inspected the St. John body, then had flown to San Francisco. Also on Wednesday, Donahy had abstracted last yearÕs persona recording of Paul Kaufmann from the archives. Wednes- day night, in San Francisco, Donahy had transplanted the per- sona into Mark. Mark had remained out there on Thursday, rest- ing and adapting to the powerful new persona. Meanwhile, in New York on Thursday, the most recent Paul Kaufmann persona had been transplanted into the St. John body, and St. John had been taken to MarkÕs apartment for recuperation. Sometime late Thursday night St. John had been murdered. Now it was Friday afternoon, and Mark, back from San Fran- cisco, found himself in deep trouble. Just when everything had been going so well, too. He and Paul had adjusted to one another remarkably smoothly. There had been none of the tests of strength, none of the jockeying and --------------------------------------- 206 206 To Live Again probing that might have been anticipated when strong-willed old uncle entered strong-willed nephewÕs mind. Paul had been delighted at getting a new carnate trip, fascinated by the shady way Mark had obtained his persona, and absolutely overjoyed to learn that a second and later version of himself was also going to be at large in dybbuk form. He showed no resentment of the fact that the provision in his will barring transplant to a member of his family had been circumvented, possibly because that codicil had been added after this particular persona had been recorded. Recognizing Roditis as the real family enemy, Paul was willing to aid his nephew in every way, while at the same time helping to isolate and immobilize the dybbuk-Paul whom Santoliquido had spawned. Of course, Mark was prepared for conflict with his uncle sooner or later, possibly even a sneaky attempt to go dybbuk at his expense. But for now, at least, their mutual adap- tation was splendid, and Mark reveled at having the crusty, in- domitable old brigand finally safe in his mind. Then, to fly home and walk into thisÑ Well, there were certain obvious first steps to take. The most obvious of all was to check last nightÕs scanner records and see who had been in his apartment. He had a pretty good idea. There werenÕt many people who had even conditional access, and the only one with full access, Risa, was still in Europe, so far as he knew. The scanner file gave him the quick answer. Elena had been here. She had applied for admission just be- fore eleven last night, and the robots had let her in. Mark saw her on the tape, and there was nothing unusual about her ex- pression, as there might have been if she had come to commit a discorporation. But who was this who had come in with her? This tall, blond fellow with the taut, edgy look in his eyes? Noyes? Charles Noyes? Noyes of Roditis Securities? --------------------------------------- 207 To Live Again 207 Elena had brought him here? ÑThereÕs your killer, Paul said. He must be. ÒNot so fast,Ó Mark muttered. ÒNoyes is RoditisÕ man, sure, but Roditis doesnÕt do foolish things. If he wanted to kill St. John, he wouldnÕt send someone like Noyes here to do the job. ItÕs too transparent.Ó ÑWhat do you know about Noyes? I recall that heÕs not too stable. ÒNo, not very.Ó ÑThen perhaps Roditis picked a bungler. Run the tape a little further. Mark moved it along. The figures of Elena and Noyes appeared at the door again some ten minutes later. Noyes looked more tense than ever, almost close to collapse. And Elena, now, gave every impression of hysteria. Obviously something significant had happened in those ten minutesÑsuch as the murder of Mar- tin St. John. The two figures were exchanging hurried conver- sation at the door. Mark could not read their lips, nor was there any audio on the scanner tape, but he knew that a simple com- puter analysis of lip patterns would tell him what they were say- ing. He watched Noyes hurry from the apartment. Then Elena disappeared from the door. About twenty minutes later she left looking calmer. That concluded the Thursday night record. The file of outgoing calls showed none until one in the morning, when a robot had noticed St. John dead and had summoned the quaestors. ÒThatÕs it, then.Ó Mark said. ÒShe let him in, and he killed St. John.Ó ÑThereÕs no proof. ItÕs all circumstantial, Mark. WhereÕs the weapon? Where are the witnesses? St. John might have been killed by someone else before Noyes ever got here, for all your records show. A blowdart through a window, maybe. ÒItÕs enough to authorize a mindpick, Paul. And a mindpick will show NoyesÕ guilt. IÕve got to get him picked before anyone --------------------------------------- 208 208 To Live Again thinks of mindpicking me, or theyÕll find you.Ó ÑYou might try talking to Elena, Paul suggested. But Elena did not answer when he called her apartment. Cu- riously, she had not even left a forwarding number. Mark buzzed her inner number, thinking that perhaps she had posted a for- warding number for limited distribution to close friends, but that drew a blank too. Where was she? She never went anywhere without notifying him first. And she surely knew that he was due back in New York sometime today. He phoned Santoliquido next. As usual, it was a slow, bothersome job to get through to him. When Santoliquido appeared, his quizzical expression showed that he had heard the news. ÒWhere have you been, Mark?Ó ÒAway on business since late Wednesday. And when I got back- St. JohnÑÓ ÒI know. The quaestors notified me.Ó ÒWhat is this all about Frank?Ó ÒI havenÕt any idea. But of course I have my suspicions.Ó ÒSuch as?Ó ÒNever mind,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒTheyÕre unfounded at present. The important thing is that your uncle is discorporate again, and we have to start the whole process from the begin- ning.Ó Mark felt a secret pleasure at the knowledge that his uncle was far from discorporate. He heard the old manÕs silent, com- placent chuckle within him. To Santoliquido he said, ÒDo you expect Roditis to reapply?Ó ÒWhy shouldnÕt he? The personaÕs available again.Ó ÒAnd youÕve run out of ways to avoid giving it to him.Ó Santoliquido nodded. ÒFor the moment at leastÓ ÒListen to me, Frank, I want one last favor. Stall him off. If only for a few days. I canÕt explain now, but IÕve got reason to think youÕll be wasting everyoneÕs time if you give Paul to Roditis now. --------------------------------------- 209 To Live Again 209 Will you wait at least until the report of the quaestors is issued?Õ ÒIÕll do that, yes,Ó Santoliquido agreed. ÒGood.Ó Mark paused a moment. Then, in a carefully more relaxed tone, he said, ÒYou havenÕt seen Elena lately, have you?Ó With the same deliberate casualness Santoliquido replied, ÒLately? Well, letÕs see É I had lunch with her yesterday. Is that lately enough?Ó ÒI meant today.Ó ÒNo. The last I saw of her was one in the afternoon yesterday. YouÕve phoned her apartment?Ó ÒOf course,Ó Mark said. ÒI suppose sheÕs taken a little trip. I imagine IÕll be hearing from her soon.Ó Roditis said, ÒSo itÕs all done, and youÕre back here, and no oneÕs the wiser, Charles. Was that so bad?Ó Kravchenko attempted to keep his facial muscles fixed in the bland, idiotic expression of benignity that he imagined Charles Noyes customarily to have worn. He was on edge, here in RoditisÕ Indiana headquarters, for this was the first test of his dybbukhood. If he failed to fool Roditis, heÕd be on the scrapheap by nightfall. He said carefully, ÒWell, John, I donÕt deny I was uneasy about it But it went off more smoothly than I dared hope. ÒAnd now weÕll get you blanked, and splice in a set of phony memories for last night, and youÕll be safe. ÒYes, John.Ó ÒWant to take a little workout first? Get yourself back into shape?Ó ÒI think weÕd better tend to the blanking first,Ó said Kravchenko. ÒIÕve got a few things on my mind that IÕm better off without.Ó Roditis nodded. ÒRight. Come with me.Ó Kravchenko followed the stocky little financier through the maze of the building. He did not much like the idea of submit- ting to a blanking; he hated to surrender consciousness, hated to go under the machine. But so long as he still carried around --------------------------------------- 210 210 To Live Again memories of the discorporation of Martin St. John, he ran seri- ous risks. Noyes, whom he pretended to be, might well be under suspicion of that discorporation. It they picked him up, ran a routine mindpick on him, and found the evidence, all would be up not only for NoyesÑwhose personae would be destroyed be- cause of his crimeÑbut for Kravchenko as well, since the rou- tine mindpick would be followed by a deep pick that would re- veal who was actually running the Noyes body. Kravchenko thought he could conceal his dybbuk status if the pick merely went scraping around looking for a specific event, the discorporation episode. But he was finished for good if they sank the pick beyond the surface. His only hope of avoiding that was to blank out everything having to do with last night. Which Roditis now proposed to do. Technicians were readying the blanking apparatus. Kravchenko studied it warily. A blanking was something like getting a persona transplant-in reverse. Instead of having taped information poured into your receptive brain, you yielded infor- mation. Instead of being doped with mnemonic drugs to damp out memory decay, they washed your mind with a selective memory suppressant, carefully measured to obliterate a certain chronological segment of the memory bank Kravchenko dis- trusted all this fiddling with the brain. Yet he admitted the ne- cessity of it. ÒWill you lie down here?Ó a technician said. Kravchenko waited. They gave him injections. They strapped electrodes to his skull. They took EEG readings of NoyesÓ brain waves. Silently they bustled about while Roditis hovered som- berly in the background. ÒReady, now,Ó someone said. A helmet was lowered over his head. ÒDonÕt worry about a thing. Charles,Ó came RoditisÕ confident voice. ÒWeÕll clean you up in no time.Ó ÒNow,Ó said a technician. --------------------------------------- 211 To Live Again 211 Kravchenko went tense, imagining that switches were being thrown and contacts made. He could see nothing. His drugged mind grew foggy. Abruptly he heard what sounded like a colos- sal explosion, and in the same instant a burst of intolerably bright lightning shot through his brain. He felt as though his skull had split apart Chaos enfolded him. He was swept away by a terrible tideÑdown, down, down-out of control-helpless-and with his last conscious thought he asked himself how this could be happening, when a blanking was sup- posed to be such a trivial thing. Then he was swallowed up in darkness. This was her moment, Elena thought. Jim was downstairs un- dergoing his blanking; afterwards, heÕd be resting for a few hours. Now was her chance to add Roditis to her collection. She hadnÕt felt like telling Jim that one of her motives in ac- companying him to Evansville was to seduce John Roditis. Newly returned to corporate status by her scheming, Kravchenko would not understand that he was not going to be the only man in her life. She loved him passionately; but she wanted Roditis. Two hours ago, when she and Kravchenko had arrived here, Elena had met Roditis for the first time. They had exchanged perhaps ten words; Roditis had hardly seemed to take notice of her. He was too preoccupied with the maneuvers surrounding the St John discorporation, as was only natural. But she had taken notice of him. That muscular, powerful body held promise of physical delight; and the strength of the man was unmistakable. To Elena, a connoisseur of strong men, Roditis seemed an ideal mixture of raw power and intuitive intelligence. Santoliquido and Mark Kaufmann and the others had palled on her; Kravchenko, now that he was back, offered many pleasures, but he was shallow, a floater, a playboy; new adventures beckoned to her. With Roditis. She said, ÒIÕve always been curious about you. ItÕs strange we --------------------------------------- 212 212 To Live Again never had occasion to meet before.Ó ÒI donÕt move in your high-society circles.Ó Roditis seemed dis- tant even bored. ÒYou really should, you know. We arenÕt such ogres. A man of your vigor, your enterpriseÑyouÕd inject some new vitality into our group.Ó Surreptitiously she moved closer to him. Elena re- gretted that she was not dressed for her purpose; she had flown to Evansville in workaday travel clothes, and there had been no chance to change into something more clinging, something more revealing. In this drab garb she felt as though locked into armor. Yet it was a handicap she felt she could overcome. Roditis said, ÒI object to snobbery, Miss Volterra. I am a wealthy man, yes, but no playboy. My values are not those of your set. I have work to do every day.Ó ÒYou ought to let yourself enjoy the benefits of your work,Ó she purred. She stood beside him now, at his desk, examining the sonic sculpture. ÒHow beautiful,Ó she said. As she reached for- ward to caress the piece the soft hill of her breast pressed into RoditisÕ elbow. It was hardly a subtle gesture, but she did not regard Roditis as a subtle man. He moved smoothly away, breaking the contact. Elena nibbled her lip. She threw him a coquettish glance; she asked him about the sculpture, found that it had been made by one of his personae, praised it extravagantly; she adopted a pos- ture so sensual it might almost have been self-parody. Roditis seemed unmoved. WhatÕs the matter with the man, she won- dered? Her approach became even more direct. She flattered him; she told him how thrilled she was to have met him at last; she cornered him behind his own desk and filled his ears with praise. She could not have made it more obvious if she had stripped and sprawled out spread-legged on the carpet. And Roditis grew more brusque, more withdrawn, as she fought to reach him. It was a dismal moment. Elena sensed that she was being re- --------------------------------------- 213 To Live Again 213 fused, which had never happened to her before, and she could not imagine why. From what she knew of Roditis he was unmar- ried, heterosexual, promiscuous. Why, thenÑ? To hell with it, Elena told herself. She thrust herself into his arms. Her breasts crushed up against him. Panting, eager, she hunted for his lips, while her hands clawed the muscular ridges of his back. By now she was so angry that she felt only the counterfeit of desire; but she came on in seemingly uncontrollable passion, determined to sweep Roditis off his feet. He would have her on the floor, she resolved. A wild bestial coupling. SheÕd show him her abilities, and afterwards heÕd need less coaxing. His hands went to her breasts. Not to caress, though, but to shove. He pushed her back, disengaged himself, adjusted his clothing. He looked ruffled; his eyes were steely. In a frosty voice he said, ÒThis is no pleasure palace, Miss Volterra. This is a workingmanÕs office. IÕm not in the mood for a wrestling match now.Ó She cursed him eloquently in Italian. Then, inspired, she went on to roast him in Greek; but not even that got a rise out of him. Incredulously she stared as he summoned a robosecretary and instructed it to show Miss Volterra to her lodgings. ÒDog!Ó she cried. ÒEunuch!Ó Roditis glowered, slammed fist into palm, and switched up the vents to get the reek of her perfume out of the room. Damn her! He could hardly believe what had happenedÑthe coarseness of her, the grossness of her assault. He had known from the very first naturally, why she was here, hitchhiking along with Noyes to get an introduction to him. All that ogling and rump-wiggling when she had first showed up had not failed to get through to him. And now, in his office, the winks, the ever broader hints, the breast nuzzling against his arm, finally the desperate lunge and clutchÑhe had not expected the famed Elena Volterra to be quite so blunt. --------------------------------------- 214 214 To Live Again Unless, he thought she regarded him as the sort of man who was lured with such tactics. The episode had jangled his nerves. She was a handsome woman, yes, well up to advance word; no doubt it would have been an interesting hour or two in bed for him. But Roditis had enough handsome women to keep him busy for centuries. This was one he would not touch, though she had the beauty of Helen of Troy. He was unwilling to push Mark Kaufmann too far. He was about to get his uncleÕs persona; he would not try to take his woman too. Once the elder Kaufmann was safe in RoditisÕ brain, he planned to strike a truce with Mark; and it would be much harder to arrange that if Elena Volterra were in the picture too. Of course, Roditis conceded, he had just made an undying en- emy out of Elena. Hell hath no fury, etc. That could have its stra- tegic uses too, though. What was Elena, anyway? A bed-hopper, a gossip, a seeker of vicarious power, an animated bundle of desires and greedy ambitions, a fleshy construct of breasts and buttocks and thighs and loins. Mark Kaufmann, who controlled real power, had not been able to harm him; what damage could Elena do? She might succeed only in forging a Roditis-Kaufmann alli- ance. If she screamed loudly enough to Mark about the ÒinsultÓ visited upon her, it might just give Mark the idea that John Roditis didnÕt mean to grab everything within his reach. And that could be the beginning of the Kaufmann-Roditis dŽtente that Roditis saw as the key to major power expansion. So let her do her wont, Roditis thought. ThereÕs no way the slut can hurt me. None! Noyes, crouching in darkness, was amazed to find light lanc- ing through. Sudden brightness from above told him that the lid which had been crushing down on him was cracking. He stirred; he tested his strength and found that he could lift the lid. What was happening? Why was Kravchenko losing control? For an uncertain and perhaps infinite span of time Noyes had --------------------------------------- 215 To Live Again 215 lain huddled in a corner of his own mind, KravchenkoÕs pris- oner. No sensory inputs had reached him here. He was wholly cut off; and he had assumed that eventually Kravchenko would bear down and finish the job of destroying him. First came ejec- tion from motor control, and then loss of the voluntary brain centers, and finally the ripping away of all contacts, so that the dybbuk would be alone in the body they had formerly shared. Bleakly Noyes had awaited his fate. He could not comprehend the turn of events; but quite plainly KravchenkoÕs grasp had slipped. Noyes burst from confinement and flooded back into every lobe of his brain. He encountered Kravchenko. The persona seemed dazed and helpless, lost in a fog. It was an easy matter for Noyes to recap- ture motor and sensory power from him. He let his eyelids flutter open and took stock. He found him- self lying on a laboratory table, with apparatus strapped to his skull and chest, and technicians bustling about him. ÒHeÕs com- ing out of it,Ó one of them said. Noyes thought at first that he was in a soul bank, but then he recognized his surroundings: this was RoditisÕ place in Indiana. What had they been doing to his body at the moment of his unexpected return to control, though? A technician said, ÒYou look a little shaken up, Mr. Noyes. Ev- erything all right?Ó ÒIÑwell, more or less,Ó he said. He sat up. It was not difficult for him to operate his body, and that was encouraging; it told him that relatively little time had passed since Kravchenko had thrust him out. Tentatively he formed a theory that this was only the day after St. JohnÕs discorporation. According to the plan, he was supposed to have returned to Evansville to have all knowl- edge of the crime blanked. Presumably that was what had been taking place in this laboratory. But if IÕve been blanked, Noyes wondered, how is it that I still remember the discorporation? --------------------------------------- 216 216 To Live Again He realized that he would have to move warily until he could draw some clues from those about him. Something very strange had taken place, and he had to be careful not to tip his hand. Roditis entered the room, scowling, tense. He brightened as he saw Noyes, though, and said, ÒWell, Charles, how did it go?Ó ÒF-fine,Ó Noyes said. ÒMy ears are ringing just a little, maybe.Ó ÒThey say you sometimes have a hangover after something like that.Ó Roditis dismissed the technicians with an impatient wave of one hand. His face grew serious once more. In a low voice he said, ÒHave you heard the news, Charles? Martin St. John was discorporated last night in New York!Ó So this was a test of how well he had been blanked. Noyes said, ÒSt. John? St. John? IÕm not sure I place the name.Ó ÒAn Englishman. The persona of Paul Kaufmann had been transplanted to him. You remember, donÕt your ÒIÕm afraid IÕm a little hazy about all that. Discorporated, you say? Do the quaestors have any clues?Ó ÒI doubt it,Ó Roditis replied. ÒThe poor quaestors are always three jumps behind the criminals. ItÕs so hard to enforce the law properly when a murderer can have all sense of guilt blotted from his mind, By the way, Charles, whereÕd you spend the night?Ó He was caught off guard. Desperately improvising he said, ÒIf you have to know, John, I was with a woman. IÕll give you the details if you wish, but a gentleman really doesnÕtÑÓ Roditis chuckled. ÒNo, a gentleman doesnÕt. But sheÕs a hot one, isnÕt she? Elena, I mean.Ó He slapped Noyes heartily on the back. ÒSheÕs waiting here in town. IÕd like you to escort her back to New York right away, yes, Charles?Õ ÒWhatever you say?Õ ÒAnd now, if youÕll excuse me, itÕs exercise time.Ó Roditis went out. Noyes, relieved, paced around the room as he drew together the strands of the mystery. He had discorporated St. John, and then Elena and Kravchenko had teamed up to push him out of his mind. Noyes shuddered at the recollection. After- --------------------------------------- 217 To Live Again 217 wards, the dybbuk-Kravchenko and Elena had flown out here, with Kravchenko obviously masquerading as Noyes. That was how it must have been, Noyes decided. And, naturally, Roditis had wanted to blank the crime from NoyesÕ mind. But the blanking had gone awry. Noyes thought he understood why. A blanking was a simple thing, in its way, but only if no unknown factors fouled up the settings of the machine. Doubtless they had calibrated their di- als for the brainwaves of Charles Noyes Ñand then had tried to blank the Noyes brain, unaware that they were really working on the mind of Jim Kravchenko. The clashing of NoyesÕ brain waves with KravchenkoÕs consciousness had driven the dybbuk into shock, permitting Noyes to resume control. But Noyes had not been blanked after all, since he had been cut off, beyond the reach of the instruments. So I am a murderer and still unblanked, Noyes thought and I have won out over my own dybbuk, and Roditis is sending me back to New York with Elena. What do I do now? May all the Buddhas help me, what do I do now? Mark Kaufmann spent much of Friday afternoon patiently tracking down leads in the hope of solving the double mystery of St. JohnÕs discorporation and ElenaÕs disappearance. Through various channels he was able to gain access to a great deal of information normally available only to the investigators of the quaestorate. The world was full of scanners, monitors, and other data-recording devices that took down impartial, impersonal accounts of the comings and goings of individuals, and with luck and influence one could tap this ocean of data for oneÕs own needs. Not all the information received was immediately rel- evant, but Kaufmann sifted it searching out the patterns. He had a better-than-normal faculty for finding patterns in seemingly random data. And now he had the advantage of his uncleÕs judi- cious, practiced eye to aid him in his examination. --------------------------------------- 218 218 To Live Again He knew by now that Noyes had come in from Evansville and had made contact with Elena some hours before the discorporation of Martin St. John. Now both of them had van- ished, but this was not a world in which anyone could stay van- ished for long. Keying in to the data bats of the transport termi- nals, Kaufmann succeeded in learning that Noyes had flown to Evansville at one that afternoon. Closer examination of the pas- senger list of that flight showed that Elena had been with him. ÑHas she been keeping company with Roditis in the past? ÒNo, never,Ó Mark told his uncleÕs persona. ÒThey havenÕt even met.Ó ÑSure? ÒPositive. Noyes must have set this up for her.Ó He puzzled over the quid pro quo. He knew that Elena had developed a fascination for Roditis and was yearning to meet him. Very well. She had taken Noyes to the apartment where Martin St. John was being kept. St. John had met a mysterious death. Now Noyes had taken her to Evansville, and, presumably, to an assignation with Roditis. It looked very much like a sellout ÑPut tracers on Elena right away, Paul advised. Get men busy in Evansville. Pick her up and bring her back here for question- ing before she does any more damage. ÒIÕm already doing so,Ó said Mark. It took him a few minutes to arrange for the surveillance, not only of Elena, but of Noyes as well. Whenever they left Roditis, theyÕd be watched and followed, and at the proper moment theyÕd be taken into custody. Elena had never done anything overtly treacherous before, but Mark knew her capabilities. He visual- ized a conspiracy involving Noyes, Roditis, Elena, and perhaps even Santoliquido, by which PaulÕs persona was speedily liber- ated from the hapless St. John body, and just as speedily reincor- porated into John Roditis on second application. The phone chimed. --------------------------------------- 219 To Live Again 219 He switched it on and found that Risa was callingÑnot from Europe, surprisingly, but from the New York airport. ÒYou said you were coming back next week,Ó he told her. ÒItÕs a womanÕs privilege to change her mind. I got bored over there. And I missed you. ThereÕs a hopter waiting, and IÕll be home in a hurry.Ó ÒWonderful, Risa.Ó She looked at him strangely. ÒMark? Is there anything wrong?Õ ÒWhy?Ó ÒYouÕre very drawn. YouÕve got a peculiar expression on your face.Ó ÒItÕs been a hectic day, love. Too hectic for me even to begin explaining now. IÕll fill everything in when youÕre here.Ó They broke contact. Mark felt pleased at RisaÕs arrival. In this time of crisis, with unexpected things happening much too swiftly, it would be good to have her around. A man had to de- pend on family at a time like this. Paul within himÉ Risa beside himÉ He smiled. It was a tacit admission that Risa had crossed the borderline from childhood to womanhood these past few weeks. You didnÕt think of a child as a potential ally. But she had shown him her true strength, first in the matter of obtaining a persona for herself, then by her sleuthing to find TandyÕs killer. He would cease to delude himself into thinking she was a child, now. She was a woman, a Kaufmann woman, and he wanted her with him. She reached the apartment more quickly than he expected. Her European adventures seemed to have sobered and matured her; or was it the presence of an extra mind within her own? She was the same slim, boyish-bodied girl who had left so suddenly for Stockholm not long before, but the cast of her features was different now, the set of her lips, the glow of her eyes. Paul was astonished. ÑThis is Risa? he asked, as she entered. Your little girl? Mark, how long was I in storage? --------------------------------------- 220 220 To Live Again ÒYou havenÕt seen her for over a year, your time,Ó Mark told his uncle quietly. ÒItÕs been a big year for her.Ó ÑSheÕs impressive. She has the right bearing. ThereÕs no doubt sheÕs a Kaufmann, is there? Moving gracefully, almost sinuously, in a style she must cer- tainly have learned from Tandy Cushing, Risa crossed the room to her father, embraced him, brushed his lips with hers. Then she stepped back and eyed him searchingly. ÒYouÕve changed,Ó she said. ÒI was just about to say that to you.Ó ÒI know IÕve changed, Mark. I have Tandy with me now. But youÑyouÕre different toolÓ ÒIn what way?Ó ÒIÕm not sure,Ó she said. ÒYour eyesÑyour whole way of stand- ingÑÓ ÒI told you, Risa, itÕs been a frightful day. IÕm tired.Ó She shook her head. ÒItÕs not fatigue I see. Fatigue subtracts. YouÕve got something extra. YouÕre standing taller. You could al- most be Uncle Paul, you know, except that the face and hair are wrong. But you hold yourself the way he did.Ó Mark smiled feebly. ÒThe Kaufmann genes win out.Ó ÒIÕm serious. Mark, have you had some sort of persona trans- plant since I went overseas?Ó ÒSure,Ó he said. ÒI bribed Santoliquido and he gave me Uncle Paul.Ó Better to make a joke about it, he thought, and destroy the possibility that sheÕll sniff out the truth. ÒReally, Mark. You did get a transplant, didnÕt you? Maybe not Uncle Paul, but itÕs someone new. IÕm sure of it.Ó ÒSorry, sweet. I donÕt mean to shake your faith in your own womanly intuition, but it just isnÕt so. What you think you see in me is the nervous reaction of a bone-tired man.Ó The phone chimed. ÒExcuse me, will you?Õ As he turned away from her, Mark passed a mirror and peered into its oval depths. Yes, he thought. SheÕs right. There is a change. --------------------------------------- 221 To Live Again 221 I didnÕt notice it, but she, who was awayÑ The effect was an odd one: as though an overlay of PaulÕs fea- tures had been placed on his own. There was a tension about his facial muscles, perhaps resulting from some new disposition of his features. Mark felt a twinge of distress. If Paul had infiltrated him to this extent so fast, was an attempt at going dybbuk lying just ahead? Paul was, above all else, sly. This present mood of benign cooperation might simply be PaulÕs way of setting him up for the kill. And, also, he wasnÕt happy about the accuracy of RisaÕs guess. She was a smart girl, of course, but was it so obvious that he had taken possession of PaulÕs persona? If she saw it, would others? He was ruined unless he maintained the secret. He picked up the telephone on the fifth chime. ÒYes?Ó ÒMiss Volterra is on her way back to New York,Ó a flat, me- chanical voice reported. ÒShe left Evansville twenty minutes ago.Ó ÒIs she being tracked?Ó ÒYes, sir.Ó ÒAnd Noyes?Ó ÒHeÕs with her. They seem to have had a quarrel. He looks upset. And sheÕs the angriest-looking woman IÕve ever seen.Ó --------------------------------------- 222 222 To Live Again --------------------------------------- 223 To Live Again 223 Chapter 14 Risa went to her apartment a floor above her fathers, unpacked, changed, and returned to the lower apartment. She had never seen Mark in such a state before. Usually, no matter how severe the crisis might be, he remained at the center of the storm, calm, self-possessed. Something must be very seriously wrong now. His appearance puzzled her too. A man of forty didnÕt alter his whole facial makeup between one week and the next, not un- less something of impact had occurred, like taking on a new persona. He denied that he had. Why, then, did he have this new gleam in his eyes, that feral radiance that she associated with Uncle Paul? Jokingly he had told her of bribing Santoliquido and getting PaulÕs persona. Well, Santoliquido was beyond reach of bribery, no doubt, but such things could be arranged in other ways. Risa was aware of her fatherÕs tactics, more so, possibly, than he realized; she had seen him many times bluntly admit some outrageous act simply to make it look inconceivable that he had committed it. The more she mulled it, the more convinced she was that he had somehow obtained the illegal transplant. Only that could account for the alteration in his bearing. Risa knew quite well that a transplant could bring about such changes; she had seen it in herself since Tandy had come to her. Her look was softer, now, more feminine; she had shed the chip-on-the-shoulder tom- boyishness in favor of a more seductive approach, and she cred- ited that to Tandy. In her fatherÕs apartment Risa listened in astonishment to the story of the discorporation of Martin St. John. ÒYou helped to solve SantoliquidoÕs problem for him, you know,Ó Mark told her. His hand tapped his knee in a gesture --------------------------------------- 224 224 To Live Again uncomfortably reminiscent of the old manÕs. ÒBy hunting down that dybbuk, you handed Santo an empty body at just the right time, and he dumped Paul into it.Ó ÒCouldnÕt you have stopped him?Ó ÒI didnÕt really want to, Risa. Short of keeping Paul in cold stor- age forever, I had to let him go to someone. I figured it was bet- ter that he go to St. John than to Roditis.Ó ÒAgreed. But the discorporationÑÓ ÒIt happened last night. As I reconstruct it, Roditis sent his flunky Noyes to Elena. Elena not only told him where St. John was being kept, but brought him here. Noyes gave St. John a tricky poison. This morning, he and Elena flew out to one of RoditisÕ headquarters. Now theyÕre on their way back.Ó ÒI never trusted that bitch, Mark.Ó He laughed. ÒI know. I wrote it off to your monstrous Electra complex.Ó ÒWhich is genuine. But not so monstrous that it distorts every judgment I make. ElenaÕs worthless, and IÕve been trying to get you to see it all along. But at least she hasnÕt done you any real harm. You donÕt lose anything by St. JohnÕs discorporation.Ó ÒI do,Ó he said, Òif Roditis reapplies for Uncle Paul and gets him.Ó ÒBut if heÕs part of this discorporation conspiracy, heÕll be sent to erasure himself!Ó ÒIf anything can be proven.Ó ÒYou seem to have reconstructed everything,Ó Risa said. He nodded. ÒTo my own satisfaction. Not necessarily to that of the quaestorate. IÕve got to get Elena to admit she cooperated in the murder. ThatÕll allow the quaestors to demand a mindpick of Noyes. If Noyes is picked, heÕll incriminate Roditis, and weÕll have wonÑmaybe. But itÕs a tricky road.Ó ÒIf I were Roditis,Ó Risa said carefully, ÒIÕd get hold of both Elena and Noyes and give their minds a good blanking. ThatÕll cut the line of incrimination before it reaches him.Ó --------------------------------------- 225 To Live Again 225 ÒI suspect heÕs done just that. They spent the morning with him in Indiana, and now theyÕre on their way backÑ most likely with their minds swept clean of last nightÕs fun.Ó He clenched his fists and struck an attitude of anger and determination, in- credibly Paul-like. ÒNo matter what happens, Roditis wonÕt get Paul! Maybe heÕs won this round, maybe heÕs lost everythingÑ but the persona wonÕt go to him. Somehow. Somehow.Ó Risa was startled by the depths of her fatherÕs agitation. She couldnÕt see why he was so troubled over this discorporation, annoying and infuriating though it was. His reaction seemed all out of keeping with the event. Yes, Elena had betrayed him. Yes, Roditis had managed to make Uncle Paul available again, just when it seemed the troublesome persona was locked away in St. John for keeps. But that simply meant that the status was back to what it had been a few days ago. Why this frenzy of tension? He was so worked up that he had taken her fully into his confidence, something he had never done before. Risa was flattered by that. It wasnÕt so long agoÑonly at the beach partyÑthat he had coolly told her to run along and play, that these things did not concern her. The change in him was so dramatic that it was suspicious. Why was he worried? Was he afraid that the investigation of the St. John murder would turn on him? That he might be mindpicked by the quaestors? That they might discover something he wished very much to hideÑlike the presence in his mind of an illegal Paul Kaufmann persona? Everything seemed to be coming back to that, Risa observed. Her father excused himself to take another call. Risa wandered about the apartment, assessing the intricacies of the situation. It seemed imperative to discard the notion that her father was in possession of Uncle PaulÕs persona. The persona had gone to the empty Martin St. John, hadnÕt it? Then it couldnÕt simultaneously have been imprinted on Mark. They took strict precautions against a double transplant of that sort, Risa thought. Sealed the --------------------------------------- 226 226 To Live Again master recording away in a special vault, or something, until it was needed again, if ever it was. In this case, since St. John had been so quickly discorporated, the master would be needed again. But ordinarily, the Paul Kaufmann persona would be passed along as a secondary within its next carnate possessorÕs persona, and so thereÕd be no call for reverting to the old master. Yet that recording of Paul Kaufmann would still exist in the files, yes? And what about all the earlier recordings of him? Surely they werenÕt thrown away. Risa began to see vast scope for chicanery within the suppos- edly foolproof regulations of the Scheffing Institute. She began to see how plausible it was that her father might have obtained a bootlegged transplant of Uncle Paul. ÑGo easy, Tandy warned her. YouÕre getting all tied up in this thing. Risa tried to slip her leash of sudden tensions. She noticed a green-bound volume lying on a table and picked it up idly. It was the Bardo Thšdol she discovered with some surprise. The Tibetan Book of the Dead, the cult book of the new religion that was sweeping eastward from California. She hadnÕt known her father owned one. This copy looked brand-new. Risa touched the activator stud and flipped through the book, wondering how people could get so enmeshed in the silly stuff merely because rebirth had become a practicality. To dig up an obscure branch of decadent Buddhism, with absolutely no relevance to the Scheffing process, and to devote time and energy and money to its studyÑ ÒFrom the Eastern Realm of Pre-eminent Happiness,Ó she read, Òthe Buddha Vajra-Sattva, the Divine Father- Mother, with the attendant deities, will come to shine upon thee. From the South- ern Realm endowed with Glory, the Buddha Ratna-Sambhava, the Divine Father-Mother, with the attendant deities, will come to shine upon thee. From the Happy Western Realm of Heaped- up Lotuses, the Buddha Amitabha, the Divine Father-Mother, --------------------------------------- 227 To Live Again 227 along with the attendant deities, will come to shine upon thee. From the Northern Realm of Perfected Good Deeds, the Buddha Amogha-Siddhi, the Divine Father-Mother, along with the atten- dants will come, amidst a halo of rainbow light, to shine upon thee at this very moment.Ó Her father returned to the room. Risa held out the book and said, ÒMark, whatÕs this?Ó ÒI visited the big lamasery in San Francisco when I was on the Coast. They gave it to me as a souvenir.Ó He shrugged the book aside. ÒTheyÕve picked up Elena and Noyes at the airport. Elena claims she was on her way to see me anyway. SheÕll be here any minute.Ó ÒAnd Noyes?Ó ÒHeÕs being brought along separately, and not so willingly. I want to keep him apart from Elena until IÕve heard her story. IÕve arranged for him to be held upstairs in your apartment for a little while. All right?Ó ÒI suppose. But where am I going to stay?Ó ÒRight here with me,Ó Mark said. ÒIÕll need your assistance.Ó He tossed her a recording cube. ÒGet every word of the conver- sation onto this, and make sure Elena doesnÕt see you doing it. Also, get ready to jump her if she tries to attack. IÕll have her scanned for concealed weapons before sheÕs brought in, but sheÕll still have her fingernails.Ó Risa felt a tremor of delight at receiving these responsibilities from her father. She said, ÒDo you really think youÕll learn any- thing from Elena or Noyes, now that theyÕve been out where Roditis could blank them?Ó ÒI canÕt say. I doubt that heÕd be foolish enough to let them get away with their memories intact. But big men sometimes slip up in the details.Ó A signal flashed at the door. ÒElenaÕs here.Ó He had her sent inÑwithout any of the guards who had picked her up and accompanied her here. Risa was taken aback by the fury in her eyes; Elena seemed to be bubbling with wrath. She --------------------------------------- 228 228 To Live Again was dressed in what was for her a plain, even dowdy costume, and she strode into the room with a vigor far removed from her usual languid saunter. ÒMark! Oh, Mark, IÕve got so much to tell you!Ó she burst out. ÒI imagine you have,Ó Mark said. He shot a glance at Risa, who had quietly switched on the recording cube. Risa nodded. Elena looked at her too. ÒIn private,Ó she said. ÒYou can speak in front of Risa. SheÕs already aware of whatÕs happened. At least, she knows as much about it as I do. But you must know a lot more.Ó Color came to ElenaÕs cheeks. She looked clearly uncomfort- able about RisaÕs presence. There was an exchange of glares. Mark said, ÒI want to know what took place in this apartment on Thursday, Elena.Ó Elena paced the room in barely suppressed rage. ÒFor most of the day, I have no idea. Martin St. John was here, in the guest bedroom, watched over by a squad of robots.Ó ÒYes. Then?Ó ÒCharles Noyes came to me. He said he had important busi- ness to discuss with St. John. He begged me and begged me un- til I agreed to bring him here.Ó ÒThat was a grave mistake, Elena.Ó ÒI know, Mark. But I brought him. We went into St. JohnÕs bed- room together.Ó ÒYou saw St. John? What condition was he in?Ó ÒAlive,Ó said Elena. ÒFatigued, but doing well. Your uncle was working hard to get control over the body. Noyes asked me to leave him alone with St. John for a few minutes. I did. Very shortly Noyes came out of the room. St. John was screaming. He was having peculiar convulsions. Noyes left the apartment, and soon St. John was dead.Ó ÒWould you say he was murdered by Noyes?Ó ÒThatÕs reasonable to assume,Ó Elena admitted. ÒHow did Noyes explain what had happened?Ó --------------------------------------- 229 To Live Again 229 ÒHe said St. John had had a kind of stroke.Ó ÒDid you notify the quaestorate?Ó Mark asked. Elena shook her head. ÒI stayed here for a while after Noyes had left. Then I went home. I notified no one.Ó ÒNot even me.Ó ÒNot even you, Mark.Ó ÒYou helped Noyes discorporate St. John, then,Ó Mark said. ÒNo.Ó ElenaÕs nostrils flared in anger. ÒI had no idea he would do such a thing! I swear it, Mark! I was wrong to let him in here, to allow him to be alone with St. John, but I never suspected he meant to murder him!Ó ÒPerhaps,Ó said Mark. ÒBut in any case your actions are strange. First you let a known agent of Roditis into my house and give him carte blanche to murder my guest. Then you rush off with- out calling the authorities. And the following morning you fly away to see Roditis himself. You spent a couple of hours in Evans- ville today, didnÕt you? DidnÕt you, Elena?Ó ÒYes,Ó she said hoarsely. ÒBut I was never working for Roditis. I had no part in this murder, except through stupidity in giving Noyes access. IÕll take a mindpick to prove it. Let the quaestors pick all they want.Ó ÒI will,Ó he assured her. ÒIf Roditis had obtained any help in discorporating St. John, donÕt you think he would have blanked me while I was in Evans- ville?Ó Kaufmann conceded the point. Clearly Elena hadnÕt been blanked, which meant that Roditis had no knowledge of her sta- tus as an accessory. ÒBut what were you doing there, then?Ó ÒYou wonÕt like the answer, Mark.Ó ÒTell me anyway.Ó ÒNot in front of your daughter.Ó ÒRisa can hear it.Ó ÒWhat I have to say isÑnot complimentary to you,Ó Elena said. ÒYou would prefer not to have anyone but yourself hear it.Ó --------------------------------------- 230 230 To Live Again ÒIÕll take my chances.Ó ÒWell, then,Ó Elena said, ÒI went to Evansville to make love with Roditis. IÕve desired him for months. This was my opportu- nity. You were away. Noyes was with me, and he was flying to Evansville, and I asked him to take me along. While Noyes was being blanked by RoditisÕ men, I went to Roditis andÑÓ ÒNoyes was blanked?Ó Kaufmann said leadenly. ÒOf course. Roditis knew that heÕd probably be traced to St. John. Noyes had to be blanked so that the trail wouldnÕt lead back to Roditis. So I went to Roditis. He would not have anything to do with me. He refused me!Ó She was flushed, agitated, her breasts heaving wildly. ÒI went close to him, and he pushed me, like thisÑaway. So it was all for nothing. I humiliated myself to him and he pushed me.Ó There was a lengthy silence in the room. Risa feared that Elena might hear the throbbing of the recording cube, so silent did everything become. But Elena stood transfixed, hearing nothing but the thunder of her own indignation. ÑShe was turned down, Tandy said. No wonder sheÕs so mad now! SheÕs willing to tell your father anything, just to get even with Roditis. Risa agreed. She could not help feel a pang of pity for Elena in this moment of her defeat. To be spurned by Roditis, to have to come back here and reveal not only her promiscuity but her re- jectionÑhow that must sting! Mark said finally, ÒNoyes was definitely blanked, eh? YouÕre sure of that.Ó ÒPositive. He will be of no use to you as a witness. I am the only one who can testify,Ó Elena said. Mark shook his head. ÒYou didnÕt see the crime. WeÕve already got evidence that you and Noyes were at the apartment at the time of the discorporation, but the best we could hope for from that would be to get a mindpick on Noyes. Which will come up blank. We couldnÕt possibly get any court to grant a mindpick of --------------------------------------- 231 To Live Again 231 Roditis on your suspicions alone. WeÕre stopped, Elena.Ó ÒNo! No! Fight, Mark! We all know Roditis was behind this mur- der! Put your best lawyers to work!Ó Mark smiled coolly. ÒYouÕd love to see Roditis ruined, wouldnÕt you, Elena? But only because he turned you down. If he had slept with you, youÕd be selling me out right and left, wouldnÕt you?Õ ÒDonÕt deal in ifs, Mark. IÕve told you the truth. YouÕre free to hate me, free to throw me aside, but donÕt preach to me. All right?Ó ÒAll right, Elena. Will you go into that bedroom and wait there? I want to talk to Noyes now.Ó ÒHeÕs here?Ó ÒTheyÕre holding him upstairs. Please stay out of sight while IÕm questioning him.Ó ÒYou will get nothing from him. Nothing!Ó ÒPlease,Ó Mark said. Elena entered the bedroom and closed the door. RisaÕs eyes met her fatherÕs. Mark looked wearier than ever, but that strange Paul-like effect was even more pronounced. He appeared to be drawing on an inner reservoir of will. He picked up the phone and asked to have Charles Noyes brought in. Noyes edged into the room like a beast brought to bay by hounds. The strain was getting fearful. All the way back from Evansville he had pretended to Elena that he was Kravchenko, to keep her from turning on him again. And meanwhile Kravchenko had recovered from his shock and was awake again, fighting more strongly than ever to gain control, now that he had had a nightÕs taste of freedom. Kravchenko hammered at NoyesÕ forehead. NoyesÕ clothing was pasted to his skin by the sweat of fear. His knees were wa- tery. His eyes moved in quick birdlike flickers, nervously, warily. He knew he was caught, knew that all was over. Elena, in her --------------------------------------- 232 232 To Live Again fury with Roditis, was determined to spill everything. And he, unblanked, was caught in the middle, his mind full of unwanted knowledge that was sure to come out. Guilty of willful discorporation. Sentenced to erasure. Not so bad, perhaps. Peace at last. No more turns of the wheel of karma. Oblivion, nirvana. At-one-ment. Mark Kaufmann confronted him. The financier showed evi- dences of strain. His face was different, Noyes noticed immedi- ately. Well, no doubt mine is, too. WeÕve all been living on this anvil so long, taking blow after blow. And there on the couch the daughter sat. Risa, the sexy little minx. She also looked different, older, shrewder, more preda- tory. TheyÕll devour me alive. ElenaÕs told them everything. IÕve been betrayed by all of them. Why is she doing this? Did Roditis turn her down? Why couldnÕt he have bedded her? Why would he choose to antagonize her this way? DidnÕt he see that by scorn- ing her, he was inviting her to tell the story? I should have let him know that it was through Elena that I had gained access to St. John. But he hustled me off to be blanked while Kravchenko was still running me, and obviously Kravchenko didnÕt tell him. And afterward there was no way I could, because I wasnÕt sup- posed to know anything about the discorporation any more. Kaufmann said, ÒI believe youÕve been in this apartment be- fore, Mr. Noyes.Ó ÒWellÑÓ ÒRecently. Last night, in fact. IsnÕt that so?Ó ÒWho gave you that idea?Ó Noyes said with his last shred of bravado. ÒYou came here late last evening in the company of Miss Elena Volterra,Ó Kaufmann said. ÒAt your insistence she admitted you to the bedroom of Martin St. John. There, alone with him, you introduced a small but lethal quantity of a drug known as cyclo- phosphamide-8 into his metabolism, causing a speedy but hor- rible discorporÑÓ --------------------------------------- 233 To Live Again 233 ÒNo!Ó Noyes screamed. ÒI didnÕt do it! It isnÕt so!Ó ÒWe have mindpick evidence against you.Ó ÒYou donÕt! YouÕre bluffing!Ó Kaufmann said, ÒWe have conclusive mindpick evidence of your guilt, Noyes. Enough to persuade the quaestorate to con- duct a mindpick examination of your own memory bank, after which theyÕll certainly recommend erasure. Of course, if you agree to testify voluntarily, and explain on whose behalf it was that you committed this foul crime, you may receive better treat- ment from the law.Ó Noyes shook. Elena had told him everything, then. As he had expected her to do. He was trapped. ÑMight as well make a clean breast of it, Kravchenko advised. ÒWeÕre prepared to recommend every leniency,Ó said Kaufmann in a soothing voice. ÒWe understand that you were not acting as a free agent when you committed the discorporation of Martin St. John. If youÕll aid us in convicting the motivating force behind this crimeÑÓ Of course, thought Noyes. ThatÕs what youÕre after, to nail Roditis! It figures. You donÕt care about me any more than any- one else does. He swayed. Waves of disorientation swept his brain. The world was spinning, the center did not hold, everything was shatter- ing. Six Mark Kaufmanns faced him. Six Risas. His eyes would not focus. It seemed to him he heard KravchenkoÕs vicious laugh- ter, rising in volume, becoming a howl of triumph. The flask of carniphage in NoyesÕ breast pocket seemed to blaze against his skin. Take it, he told himself. YouÕve threatened to do it for so longÑ just self-dramatization, isnÕt it? But now, this is the right mo- ment. Pull it out, gulp it down. TheyÕve got you anyway. He talks of leniency, but heÕs lying. YouÕll be erased after youÕve been mindpicked. But at least you can save Roditis. ThereÕs no solid evidence against him. Roditis is a bastard, but you owe him your --------------------------------------- 234 234 To Live Again loyalty, you always have, and if you drink the carniphage before Kaufmann gets anything out of you itÕll take Roditis off the hook. ÑYouÕre a bigger fool than I think you are if you can worry about Roditis at a time like this, Kravchenko burst in. Once again the persona had tapped his thoughts. The last time that had happened, it had signaled imminent ejection. ÑCook RoditisÕ goose for him, Kravchenko urged. Tell Kaufmann everything you know. Why not? You donÕt owe any- thing to Roditis except credit for wrecking you. ÒNo,Ó said Noyes. ÒI wonÕt.Ó ÒYou wonÕt what?Ó asked Mark Kaufmann. ÒI think heÕs talking to his persona,Ó Risa said. ÒLook at his face! HeÕs cracking up!Ó Noyes made a heavy gargling sound. It was beginning again: Kravchenko rising from captivity, uncoiling, filling his mind, grasping the levers of control. ÒStop it!Ó Noyes shrieked. ÒLet me alone! I wonÕt let youÑget out of thereÑÓ He was silent. Kravchenko said coolly, ÒIf you donÕt mind, Kaufmann, weÕll call this inquisition to a halt right now. IÕd like to consult my lawyer. And IÕll answer the questions put to me by the quaestors, not by you. Is it understood?ÓÕ ÒItÕs a different voice,Ó said Kaufmann. ÒA different persona. CalmerÑthe eyesÑÓ ÒWill you excuse me, please?Ó Kravchenko asked. ÒYouÕve brought me here by abduction, and I intend to make you pay for it, but this kangaroo court is hereby adjourned. DonÕt try to pre- vent me from leaving.Ó He walked gracefully toward the door. Risa burst from her seat. ÒDybbuk!Ó she yelled. ÒDonÕt you see, the personaÕs gone dybbuk right in front of us!Ó The bedroom door opened. Elena appeared, pale, extending a quivering hand. She looked altogether confused. ÒJim?Ó she said. --------------------------------------- 235 To Live Again 235 ÒNoyes? Which are you? WhatÕs happening?Ó ÒQuiet Elena!Ó Kravchenko said. In that moment Charles Noyes launched a desperate and in- stantly successful counterattack. Erupting from the corner of his own mind in which Kravchenko had penned him, Noyes sped through the neural wreckage within his skull, taking Kravchenko off guard. They grappled. Kravchenko, not as thoroughly in con- trol as he had believed, was thrown from command, hurled down only moments after his brief triumph. Noyes sagged to the floor and crouched there. ÒListen to me,Ó he said, shaping the words with terrible effort. ÒThis is Noyes again. Noyes. See, the right voice? He didnÕt quite reach dybbuk. A good try, thatÕs all. Listen. Are you recording this, Kaufmann?Ó ÒEvery word.Ó ÒGood. IÕve been an idiot. IÕve let everyone use me. But no more. My mindÕs my own. Last nightÑRoditis sent me here. John Roditis of Roditis Securities. With orders to kill St. John. So that he could reapply for the Paul Kaufmann persona. I gave St. John a drugÑcycloÑ cyclophosphamide-8. I confess this of my ownÑ freeÑwill.Ó He could not sustain even the crouching position any longer. Now he lay on his left side, half his body limp. ÒI repeat: I killed St. John at RoditisÕ orders. Mindpick Roditis and youÕll see itÕs so. Two favors, please. DonÕt let Kravchenko have another carnate trip. You sawÑhe almost went dybbuk. Did go dybbuk, for a minute. And alsoÑfor meÑno more trips either. Just sleep. I want to get off the wheel.Ó I ought to utter a mantra now, Noyes thought. Go out with a flourish. Om mani padme hum. But why bother? His hand went into his breast pocket. He felt Kravchenko fighting him, furiously trying to seize their shared body again. But Noyes held him off. His coordination was almost destroyed, yet he was able to get his hands on the be- --------------------------------------- 236 236 To Live Again loved flask of carniphage, fondled so often, so sensually, his con- stant companion, his dearest friend. He brought it to his mouth. He bit down. The flask shattered and its contents spurted down his throat. Mark Kaufmann stared in shock at the writhing, deliquescing thing on the carpet. ÒCarniphage,Ó he said thickly. ÒRisaÑElenaÑdonÕt look!Ó Elena had fled. But Risa was watching the process of decay with somber fascination. Kaufmann did not try to cover her eyes. Surely Noyes must be dead. The inward rot was nearing the surface; his body was chaos. Yet still it moved, jerking and twitch- ing as it traveled its one-way road to destruction. Risa said, ÒWhy did he confess? He was trying to be defiant at first.Ó ÒHe was showing everyone. Roditis. Kravchenko. Right at the end, he finally found a little strength.Ó The limbs were flowing into shapelessness. The motions of the body were ceasing. ÒWill that confession be any good?Ó Risa asked. Mark nodded slowly. ÒThe voiceprints will show that it was really Noyes speaking. The recording will show that he was nearly ejected by a dybbuk, fought back, blurted his story, and killed himself. ItÕll be good enough to convince the quaestors that Roditis should be mindpicked.Ó ÒAnd then?Ó ÒTheyÕll erase him,Ó Kaufmann said. He felt little triumph, somehow. He took one more look at the ghastliness on the floor, and then went to put in a call to the quaestors. --------------------------------------- 237 To Live Again 237 Chapter 15 It was July now. A season of stißing weather had set in, be- yond the capacity of the weather controllers to handle, and many people had fled to cooler climes. Risa remained in New York. The trial of John Roditis had just ended, and now there was a great deal for her to do. Roditis had been found guilty, of course. NoyesÕ recorded tes- timony had induced the quaestorate to seek a mindpick against him, and the motion had been granted. RoditisÕ lawyers had un- dertaken a delaying action based on the ancient constitutional principle of freedom from self-incrimination; but the legality of the mindpick was firmly established, and Roditis was put to the test. His complicity in the deliberate discorporation of Martin St. John was undeniable after that. The defense tactics shifted. Now the lawyers asserted that, while Roditis and Noyes had undoubtedly conspired to destroy the St. John body, there was no injured party, since St. John was not his own bodyÕs tenant. The only occupant of the body, the persona of Paul Kaufmann, was legally dead and therefore not capable of suffering discorporation. It was a fine point, and gave the jurists of the quaestorate considerable exercise. It caused a good deal of embarrassment for Francesco Santoliquido, too, since he was responsible for creating the anomaly of the deliberate dybbuk. In the end, the decision went against Roditis, but the charge was reduced from murder to antisocial actions of the first degree. Which, when Roditis was found guilty, resulted in these sentences: ¥ Forfeiture of citizenship and Civic privileges. ¥ Mandatory destruction of any recorded Roditis personae on file with the Scheffing Institute. --------------------------------------- 238 238 To Live Again ¥ Erasure of all present personae carried by Roditis, and their return to the soul bank for redistribution to others. ¥ Five years of corrective therapy, including, if needed, a total reorientation of personality to remove aggressive impulses. ÒHeÕs finished now,Ó Mark Kaufmann said to his daughter as the verdicts were announced. ÒHeÕll come out of the therapy a broken manÑpolite, amiable, lacking in purpose and direction. A pleasant nobody. A nothing. A shell.Ó ÒIt seems like such a waste,Ó said Risa. ÒAll that driveÑall that energy thrown awayÑÓ ÒHe was too dangerous to remain as he was, Risa. He had a greatness, IÕll admit, but his ambitions werenÕt tempered by the moral sense. He was without a governor.Ó ÒAnd you? And Uncle Paul?Ó Kaufmann looked at her sharply. ÒWe have our family tradi- tions. We have our sense of what is honorable. Roditis was a wild beast. Now heÕll be tamed. ThereÕs no comparison between a Roditis and one of us, Risa. None.Ó Risa had private reservations about that. She had no wish to anger her father; but it seemed to her that the real difference between the shattered, defeated Roditis and the triumphant Mark Kaufmann was more a matter of luck and diplomacy than of breeding and honor. Roditis had overreached himself, and Mark had destroyed him. But MarkÕs methods, though they stopped short at murder, had hardly been gentle. Roditis disappeared behind the fortress walls of Belle Isle Sana- torium for corrective therapy. No one would ever again see the old John Roditis in public, that man seething with vitality and shrewdness. When Roditis emerged, several years hence, he would still be a wealthy man, but he would be an aimless, smil- ing ruin, cheerfully acquiescing in the decisions of the court- appointed trustees who managed his financial empire. A great waste of dynamism, Risa decided. Perhaps, she thought, such a squandering might be in some --------------------------------------- 239 To Live Again 239 way avoided. On the hottest day of that July heat wave, soon after the sen- tencing of John Roditis, Risa brought her hopter down in the employee lot of the Scheffing Institute building. She parked it deftly and crossed the sweltering strip of ferroconcrete in a hurry. It was three in the afternoon the first shift of technicians was about to leave. Within the building Risa picked up the first telephone she came to and requested to speak to a certain employee. Moments later, his face appeared on the screen. He looked baffled. ÒHello, Leonards. Remember me?Ó He was young, pale, good-looking, pinch lines forming between his eyebrows. He moistened his lips. ÒM-Miss Kaufmann?Ó ÒThatÕs right, Leonards. Go to the head of the class.Ó He forced an uneasy smile. ÒIs there something wrong? Can I be of service?Ó ÒNo, thereÕs nothing wrong, and yes, you can be of service. YouÕre finished working for the day, arenÕt you?Ó ÒGood. My hopterÕs parked in Employee Lot D. Meet me there right away and weÕll take a little trip.Ó ÒButÑÓ ÒIÕll be waiting, Leonards!Ó He did not disappoint her. He did not dare. Looking mystified, he entered the hopter, taking his seat be- side her as she indicated. The little craft lifted and headed north. Risa said, ÒYou did an excellent job with my transplant, Leonards. Tandy and I are very happy together.Ó ÒThatÕs good, Miss Kaufmann. Perhaps you could tell meÑÓ ÒWhere weÕre heading? Of course. WeÕre going uptown. To my apartment.Ó He scarcely seemed to believe any of this was happening to him. His posture was rigid; he looked straight ahead, never ven- turing a glance in her direction. He was terrified of her. --------------------------------------- 240 240 To Live Again She brought the hopter in for a smooth landing at her home lot. Minutes later, they entered her apartment. ÒTake a good look around,Ó she told him. ÒItÕs nice, isnÕt it? Ever been in a place like this before?Ó ÒN-no, Miss Kaufmann.Ó ÒCall me Risa. Why are you so frightened, Leonards? YouÕre a big, handsome young fellow, arenÕt you? A skilled technician, a man with a bright future? Are you married?Ó ÒYes, Miss Kaufmann.Ó ÒChildren?Ó ÒOne child. WeÕre going to have another after my next incre- ment comes through.Ó ÒFine, Leonards. IÕm sure youÕre a wonderful family man. And IÕm glad to know youÕre so virile.Ó She put her hand to her shoul- der, touched a stud. Her light summer clothing fell away in a rustling swirl. She stood before him incandescently nude, and, he gaped at the sudden sight. He backed away from her, shielding his eyes. ÒCome here, Leonards,Ó she said in a husky voice Tandy Cash- ing had taught her how to use. ÒYouÕre not really afraid. You want me, donÕt you? Admit it. IÕm yours for the taking. The experience of a lifetime. A Kaufmann in your arms. Why run away?Ó ÒPleaseÑI donÕt understandÑÓ She swept up against him. She took his hand and put it to her small breasts. Her own hand traveled expertly over his body. Leonards gasped. Leonards moaned. Leonards shook his head and tried to push her away, but the attempt was not a success. ÒI want you, Leonards! WhatÕs your first name?Ó ÒHarry.Ó ÒHarry! Harry! Harry! Love me, Harry!Ó She tugged at him and they toppled to the floor. Her lithe body entwined itself with his. Urgently she awakened his desires and banished his timidity. ÒHarry,Ó she whispered. ÒHarry!Ó --------------------------------------- 241 To Live Again 241 He made a sound that was half a protest, half an acceptance. And then, with sudden desperate willingness, he pulled her against him. He was not very good, Risa concluded. But he was appealingly earnest. When it was over, she slipped away from him and got nimbly to her feet. He lay still, rumpled and glassy-eyed. ÒYouÕve just committed an act of rape,Ó Risa told him. ÒYour helpless victim was a girl of the highest social position, less than seventeen years old. YouÕll get your mind blotted out for a crime like that.Ó Leonards came to a sitting position, and the color drained from his face a moment, then returned in a crimson rush. ÒWhat are you saying?Ó ÒIÕm explaining to you the nature of the trouble youÕre in. Forc- ibly entering my hopter while I was visiting the Scheffing Insti- tute, compelling me to bring you here, disrobing me, inducing me through superior strength to submit to sexual violationÑoh, itÕs bad, Leonards, itÕs very bad!Ó ÒI feel like IÕm in a dream,Ó he whispered. ÒItÕs real enough. IÕll have the quaestors here any minute.Ó ÒWhy are you doing this?Ó She crouched before him, her face close to his. ÒWould you like to avoid going to trial? Would you like me to forgive you for your audacity in perpetrating this hideous rape?Ó ÒWhat do you want from me?Ó ÒA favor,Ó she said harshly. ÒA small favor, and IÕll forget all about what happened here today, and leave you with your memo- ries of pleasure.Ó ÒWhat kind of favor?Ó ÒYouÕll have to break the rules of the Scheffing Institute,Ó she said. ÒBut thatÕs a much smaller crime than raping a girl my age, and if youÕre smart and lucky youÕll get away with it. ThereÕs a certain persona I want, Leonards. Get it for me from the files, --------------------------------------- 242 242 To Live Again just borrow it for a little while tomorrow. And transplant it to me. ThatÕs all I ask. IÕll come to the tower, and youÕll handle the transplant, and weÕll call it quits. But weÕll have to move swiftly, because this particular persona recording is due to be destroyed very soon. All right, Leonards? Do we have a deal?Ó ÒEverythingÕs settled, then,Ó Mark Kaufmann said. ÒMy uncleÕs persona remains in storage indefinitely.Ó ÒYes,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒWhich is to say, at least another year or two.Ó ÒLong enough for some of the voltage to bleed out of the dy- namo, at any rate. HeÕll be less formidable coming back then. If he comes back at all.Ó Santoliquido shrugged. ÒIÕll hold him in storage until a quali- fied recipient appears, Mark. And with Roditis permanently dis- qualified, it might be a long, long time. You donÕt need to worry about that.Ó ÒFine. See you at my party on Saturday?Ó ÒOf course,Ó said Santoliquido. ÒIÕll reach Dominica about noon, I suppose. ItÕll be a novelty, going south to the tropics to find cooler weather. My best to Elena, yes?Ó ÒOf course.Ó Kaufmann broke the contact. He smiled, leaned back, touched the tips of his fingers together. All was well at last. Roditis was neutralized, entirely out of the scene. Santoliquido, who had come out of this affair very poorly indeed, was helpless before his wishes. There would be no extra Uncle Paul at liberty to inter- fere now. Elena, a chastened woman, had settled into something very much like fidelity. Risa, taking on new depth and maturity day by day, had ripened into a fitting Kaufmann heiress, ready to assume new responsibilities in the family empire. And he him- self was home free with his uncleÕs potent persona well inte- grated into his awareness, unknown to the rest of the world. ÒHow do you like that, you old fox? IÕve handled things pretty --------------------------------------- 243 To Live Again 243 well, havenÕt I, eh?Ó ÑYouÕve done well for yourself, Paul replied. But donÕt get over- confident. Smugness was RoditisÕ undoing. ÒDonÕt worry about me,Ó Mark replied. ÒI try to calculate all the angles. And with you in there helping me, we shouldnÕt miss very many of them.Ó ÑThereÕs always the unpredictable. Be on guard for it. ÒMark?Ó It was RisaÕs voice, outside. ÒIÕm here, Mark.Ó ÒCome in,Ó he said. She entered his office. In her sketchy summer wrap she looked crisp and cool, and she carried herself with a no-nonsense self- possession that he admired greatly. Here was the one person in the world who mattered most to him; and also the one person to whom he might be vulnerable. He had an idea that Risa sus- pected what he had done with PaulÕs persona. She knew PaulÕs mannerisms, and of course she knew his own, and she seemed conscious that a fusion had taken place. But after the first day she had ceased to betray any suspicions. Mark had no way of telling what was going on behind the smooth mask of his daughterÕs face. Somehow, though, he felt certain that she knew the truth. ÒIÕm here for a business discussion,Ó Risa announced. ÒWhat kind of business?Ó ÒPreliminary business, really. IÕd like to get some idea of the family assets. What we have where, in whose name, what slice of equity in each.Ó Kaufmann nodded. ÒItÕs time we went over all that anyway, I suppose. I mean to bring you much more closely into our activi- ties. To groom you for the time when youÕre running the show. The world of business genuinely interests you, eh, Risa?Ó ÒYou know it does. And now that Roditis is through, we can begin to make a new move, Mark. IÕd like to close in on that Latin American electrical empire of his. IÕve been thinking, we could undercut the Roditis trustees by a takeover of the com- --------------------------------------- 244 244 To Live Again pany that makes the transmission pylons, and thenÑÓ ÒDo you have a cold, Risa?Ó ÒWhy?Ó ÒYour voice sounds odd. Deeper. Hoarser.Ó She shook her head. ÒThatÕs just TandyÕs influence, I guess. She must have had a very lush contralto, and sheÕs trying to pitch my voice down there too. You know how it is, the way a persona influences the host in little ways, certain mannerismsÑÓ ÒYes,Ó Kaufmann said. ÒI know.Ó ÒVery well, then. If we can get a grasp on the pylon company, weÕll have Roditis Securities caught between Scylla and Charybdis, andÑÓ ÒBetween who and whom?Ó ÒScylla and Charybdis,Ó she repeated impatiently. ÒThe mon- ster and the whirlpool. Book Twelve of The Odyssey. By Homer.Ó ÒYes. I know. I didnÕt realize you were a student of Homer, Risa.Ó ÒEvery civilized person should have a deep knowledge of Homer,Ó she said. ÒHas there ever been a greater poet? A man with a more vivid imagination? There are lessons we can learn from him even today.Ó Risa laughed self-consciously. ÒBack to the transmission pylons, though. HereÕs what I have in mindÑÓ Mark Kaufmann watched his daughter construct an elaborate holding-company scheme with quick scrawled stokes of stylus against pad. But he paid little attention to her financial theories just now. A sudden implausible notion sent a chill of disbelief through him. Homer? Holding companies? Transmission pylons? A deeper voice? No, he thought. No, it isnÕt possible. She wouldnÕtÑshe couldnÕtÑ From somewhere far away, Paul KaufmannÕs persona deliv- ered a silent booming laugh. ÑThereÕs always the unpredictable, Mark, --------------------------------------- 245 To Live Again 245 Quietly Mark agreed. He peered closely at Risa, seeking for signs, for proof, for confirmation of this strange and frightening fantasy of his. If it were true, a new, invincible force had entered their family, and all plans must be reconsidered. But it could not be true. It could not be true. It could not be true. ÒThere we are,Ó Risa finished. She shoved the pad toward her father. ÒWhat do you say, Mark? How does the plan look to you?Ó ÒIÕll have to think about it,Ó he said warily. ÒBut itÕs worth con- sidering. If we can use RoditisÕ own way of thinking to cut chunks out of his holdings, why not?Õ Risa grinned. She pointed to the somber, brooding portrait of Uncle Paul hanging behind her fatherÕs desk. ÒI think heÕd go for the idea. I think the old buccaneer would be very amused by it. Perhaps a little proud of me. Perhaps even a little jealous.Ó ÒHe is,Ó Mark Kaufmann said, and looked beyond his window to see the sky suddenly grow dark with the fury of a summer storm. --------------------------------------- 246 --------------------------------------- 247 --------------------------------------- 248 To Live Again Robert Silverberg is one of the most prolific authors in the his- tory of science fiction. HeÕs written over one hundred science fic- tion books, not to mention sixty non-fiction books and sixty an- thologies. He continues to produce major work with his uniquely sardonic style. In addition to being a one man industry in the fifties and early sixties, he was a significant player during the New Wave. This novel comes from that period. First published in 1969, To Live Again explores an idea that is truly Òfar out.Ó Imagine a future world where death is not exactly the end. You can record everything about you that ever made you a distinct human being and then be implanted in the mind of some- one living. Paul Kaufmann had been the richest and most powerful man on Earth. Imagine having his knowledge and insights integrated with your own persona. The tycoonÕs mind becomes the prize in a deadly game for those still living who want more out of life than they could ever achieve on their own. The great manÕs ÒsoulÓ is stored in the SchefÞng Institute, wait- ing for the time when someone hungry enough gives him back his appetite. Silverberg extrapolates as only he can from this intrigu- ing premise. To Live Again is about a future where the dead are slaves to the living Ñ until at last someone leads a rebellion. We Make BooksÑ Paper Optional