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It even caught the eye of ditKaolin, who smiled slightly, then shook his head with an expression of poignant regret. “I should be the one flying kites. In fact, I’m pla

“You surprise me, sir,” Clara said.

“Why? Don’t I deserve a rest? Anyway, I’ve long felt uncomfortable with this world I helped create, where people blithely talk of ‘copying souls.’ Only now it’s grown far worse than mere effrontery of jargon. Before, only a few kooks blathered about soul-amplification. Now, inspired by Yosil, enthusiasts and mystics and techno-hobbyists have all started experimenting on their own, by the thousands, millions, chattering about using science to become gods.”

Clara mused. “Mormons have always believed that people have the potential to—” But she stopped when I shook my head. Our little spy-golem should be getting into position about now. We had spent enough time on chitchat.

“Vic Kaolin, please. We know your plans to retire have nothing to do with respect for religion. May I suggest another reason?”

The platinum golem blinked. “Go on.”

“It’s the world’s oldest story. The same obsession drove the ruler of that ancient terracotta army you admire. You shared it with Yosil Maharal, differing only in details.

“You don’t want to die, Vic Kaolin.

“You want to live forever.”

From the laboratory-hospital in the basement all the way to a rooftop sanctuary that no living outsider has seen in years, the mansion is a nested puzzle. If money and power could defend secrets against a modern age, this is the place.

My climb reaches a slate attic where I must angle a bit and change my skin reflectance. Stopping by a dormer window, I peer in at rows of cooler units built for holding ditto blanks. Most now stand empty, their ready lights turned off. Only a dozen look active, with contents ready to bake and release.

Yup, I thought, turning to resume my climb. Damn that distraction, wasting time by staring at the maestra! I’m ru

“Who does want to die?” asked the platinum copy of Aeneas Kaolin. “We all fight to live, at all costs.”

“Not all costs.”

“Okay. But what’s your point? That I seal myself away as an organic hermit, interacting with the world by telepresence and ditto? Are you comparing a fastidious lifestyle — which hurts no one — to Yosil’s willingness to sacrifice millions for some mystical transcendence?”

I shook my head. “No comparison. You’re more pragmatic and subtle. Though your plans suffered recent setbacks, they aren’t dashed. If your former allies proved erratic, you’ll replace them with others, less brilliant but more easily controlled.”

His expression was blank as a robot’s. “Go on.”

“Take that gray Albert who carried the bomb to Universal. He thought he was looking for hidden technologies. And there were! A whole series of breakthroughs from Project Zoroaster. First, golem-replenishment—”

“Which had worrying side effects, so I held back from a

“In fact, you use the process yourself.”

“It’s obvious? Well, maybe I’m just trying to get the most out of these expensive shiny dolls.” ditKaolin chuckled dryly. “Aren’t most rich hermits pe

“You’ve been reboosting this one for weeks.”

“It shows?” Kaolin feigned a vain look in a nearby mirror. “All right, my aim is to test the process.” He raised a jittering hand. “No doubt you’ve noticed the shaking.”

What I noticed — with growing respect — was his multilayered cover story. Peel one level back, and he slid easily to another.

“And memory lapses?”

“Another unpleasant side effect you should watch for, Morris. Call it one last sacrifice for my customers.”

“Admirable. And the explanation might stand, if replenishment were the only new technology. But there’s dit-to-dit imprinting—”





“You’re the pioneer in that area, Albert.”

“Am I? Your technicians hope to learn from my peculiar Standing Wave. But the machinery for high-fidelity transfer seems far advanced. Farshid Lum thinks we’re entering an era when long-lived dittos will pass their memories on to fresh blanks without needing a rig, creating their own sense of personhood—”

“And millions, maybe a majority, will resist that weird future!” ditKaolin shook his head sadly. “We’ll see a return to the social upheavals a generation ago.”

“No doubt. Then, to make things worse, there’s remote dittoing. Specialists like Gineen Wammaker see a golden chance to expand markets. Top experts in any field may dominate their professions worldwide, not just in the city where they live. Will that throw the rest of us on the purple wage?”

Clara sat on the edge of her chair, clearly wanting to poke holes in this argument, but she suppressed the impulse. Good girl. ditKaolin raised his shoulders.

“All right, Morris. I admit it. I saw these trends, over a year ago, and didn’t like where they’re taking us. So I dragged my feet in bringing them to market.”

“Frustrating the chief i

“—and thus maybe pushing toward mystical pursuits. Dammit. I should never have launched Project Zoroaster in the first place.”

His sigh was so dolorous and reflective … I hated to spoil such an artful pose.

“You express ambivalence, Vic Kaolin. Yet the R D workers at Universal got every support, almost to the very moment the technologies were ready. It was only then that you pulled back. And, coincidentally, someone hired an unsuspecting Albert gray to investigate rumors of squelched—”

“I see where you’re taking this,” he answered with a frown. “Beta and Wammaker and Irene all had reasons to want the new techniques. So did Lum’s Emancipation zealots. None of them had a motive to wreck the Research Division, any more than I did.”

“Less reason than you, sir.”

The frown deepened.

“You imply that I acted on my fears about the coming new age. That I arranged for the bombing as an act of conscience, to safeguard society from destabilizing and possibly immoral technologies?” ditKaolin paused, looking down. “Have you any idea how much I’d sacrifice? The friendships, wealth, position, and power?”

Clara nodded. “Yes. Though even your enemies would credit you with the valor of strong convictions …

“… if any of that were true.”

Here comes the tricky part. A rat’s nest of fibers entangles the roof, surrounding the reflective dome.

I must extend my claws, far longer than any natural beast, using them as stilts to step carefully over the detector filaments. My belly brushes them, gently as a local breeze.

The same breeze lofting Albert’s kite, a gorgeous eye-lure, high above the meadow …

Pay attention now! With my body arched high, the pixelated skin on my back can’t pull off the invisibility trick. Not in all directions at once.

I’m ru

Pal couldn’t do this. It’s not a matter of brains (not many in this skull), or guts (Pal has more than anyone), or even soul. Patience is what I bring from Albert.

Steady now … then quickly, to the silvery dome!

Across a hilly field, Pal and realAlbert maneuvered their gold and red kite, playing the exquisite toy against rolling white clouds. A pretty distraction.

My real concern? The little spy-golem we sent climbing the mansion wall was late checking in! This could all turn into a big bluff.

“Why are there so few of you?” I asked our host. “There used to be dozens of these platinums ru