To Live Again

“Do you know this man, Donahy?” A nod. “It’s Paul Kaufma

“Yes. My late uncle. He’ll soon be back in carnate form, I believe.”

“I don’t know anything about that, sir.”

“The information I have is that Administrator Santoliquido intends shortly to approve the transplant of my uncle’s persona to John Roditis.”

Donahy looked blank. Kaufma

Kaufma

“Sir?”

“I need a favor. You’re in a position to grant it. I could have picked any one of a hundred technicians to handle the job for me, but I’ve dealt with you before and I know you’re capable and trustworthy. And I assume you could always use more money. What do you get paid, anyway?”

“Seven thousand, sir. With an a

“Which means that if you stick to your job and don’t make any conspicuous mistakes, you’re likely to be making as much as ten thousand by the time you’re middle-aged, right? And there you stick until you retire and die. Well, I’m offering you an extra twenty thousand, on a lifetime a

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.

Kaufma

Donahy jabbed the snout of a drink tube against his arm. When he spoke, he had difficulty framing his words.

“Could-could you be more specific, Mr. Kaufma

“Certainly. I’m sure you know that the Scheffing Institute retains 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 uncle’s persona recorded last December, but there’s also a Paul Kaufma

“Yes.”

“Now, then, suppose you were to locate the whereabouts of my uncle’s last-but-one recording, which shouldn’t be too difficult 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. They’ve 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 you’d undergo a blanking that would wipe all this incriminating evidence from your mind, so that no one could possibly prove that you had done any of these things. When you came to, you wouldn’t know what you had been up to, but you’d discover you had suddenly become the recipient of an a

“I’ve always been a law-abiding man, Mr. Kaufma

“I 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 aren’t graven on tablets of stone. They don’t represent basic moral commandments. If you kill a man, that’s evil, I agree. If you molest a child and warp its life, that’s evil. If you mutilate another human being for arbitrary amusement, that’s evil. But the regulations governing the Scheffing Institute don’t grow out of fundamental ethical constructs. They’re just working rules set up to avoid confusion and possible conflicts. I don’t say that they ought to be disregarded lightly, but they mustn’t be looked upon as immutable. When there’s a chance to have rebirth by winking at the rules for a moment it’s suicidal to be a stickler for the letter of the law.”

Donahy appeared to be impressed by that argument. But he was not altogether tempted.

“How can I be sure that this isn’t some kind of trap?” he asked.

“Trap?” Kaufma

“I’ve got to look at this thing from my own viewpoint. You don’t know me at all, Mr. Kaufma

“Let me spell it out for you, then. I’ll give you some insight into my motives. The recipient of the transplant will be myself.”

“You?”

“Me. I’m determined not to let John Roditis gain advantage on me by taking on my uncle’s persona. I’ll have a slightly earlier persona, slightly less complete, but good enough to match him anyway. That’ll nullify what he gains by getting Uncle Paul.”

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.

Kaufma

“What would happen to me if I refused?”

“I’d have you mindpicked and blanked to get all the details of this conversation out of your head. Then I’d send you back to your apartment and have another Scheffing technician brought here, and I’d make the same offer.”

“I see.”

“What’s your answer, Donahy?”

“Can I have a little time to think things over, sir?”

“Of course.” Kaufma

“I meant several days, Mr. Kaufma

“You can’t have several days. You’ve heard the terms of the offer. I’ll shield you from all consequences and give you an a

Donahy let nearly a full minute spill away before he replied. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes. I’ll do it! But you’ve got to protect me!”

“You have my assurance,” said Kaufma

Donahy nodded numbly. “Your hand,” Kaufma

Moodily, Kaufma