"I thought fast and got it right; Gramp had a heavy hand. 'Never take anybody's word about whether a gun is loaded.'

"'Correct,' he agreed. 'Remember that all your life-and follow it!-or you won't live long.' *( This anecdote is too obscure to be elaborated here. See Howard Encyclopaedia: Ancient weapons, chemical-explosives firearms.)

"Ira. I did remember that all my life-plus its application to analogous situations after such firearms went out of style and it has indeed kept me alive several times.

"Then he had me load it myself, then said, 'Woodie, I'll bet you half a dollar-do you have half a dollar?' I had considerably more, but I had bet with him before, so I admitted to only a quarter. 'Okay,' he said, 'Make it two-bits; I never let 'a man bet on credit. Two-bits says you can't hit the target, much less stay in the black.'

"Then he pocketed my two-bits and showed me what was wrong with what I had done. By the time he was ready to knock off I had the basics of how to make a gun do what I wanted it to do, and wanted to bet him again. He laughed at me and told me to be thankful the lesson was so cheap. Pass the salt, please."

Weatheral did so. "Lazarus, if I could find a way to entice you into reminiscing about your grandfather-or about anything-I'm certain we could extract from such record endless things you have learned, important things-whether you choose to call them wisdom or not. In the last ten minutes you have stated half a dozen basic truths, or rules for living-call them what you will-apparently without trying."

"Such as?"

"Oh, for example, that most people learn only by experience-"

"Correction. Most people won't learn even by experience, Ira. Never underestimate the power of human stupidity."

"There's another one. And you 'made a couple of comments on the fine art of lying-three, really, as you also mentioned that a lie should never be too complicated. You said also that belief gets in the way of learning, and something about knowing a situation was the essential first step in coping with it."

"I didn't say that-although I could have said it."

"I generalized something you did say. You said also that you never 'argued with the weather...which I would generalize to mean: Don't indulge in wishful thinking. Or as 'Face up to the facts and act accordingly.' Though I prefer the way you put it; it has more flavor. And 'Always cut the cards.' I haven't played card games in many years, but I took that to mean: Never, neglect any available means of maximizing one's chances in a situation controlled by random events."

"Hmm. Gramp would have said, 'Stow the fancy talk, Sonny.'"

"So we'll put it back into his words: 'Always cut the cards...and smile when you lose.' If indeed that is not your own phrasing and simply attributed to him."

"Oh, his all right. Well, I think it is. Damn it, Ira, after a long time it is hard to tell a real memory from a memory of a memory of a memory of a real memory. That's what happens when you think about the past: You edit it and rearrange it, make it more tolerable-"

"That's another one!"

"Oh, hush up. Son, I don't want to reminisce about the past; it's a sure sign of old age. Babies and young children live in the present, the 'now.' Mature adults tend to live in the future. Only the senile live in the past...and that was the sign that made me realize that I had lived long enough, when I found I was spending more and more time thinking about the past...less of it thinking about now-and not at all about the future."

The old man sighed. "So I knew I had had it. The way to live a long time-oh, a thousand years or more-is something between the way a child does it and the way a mature man does it. Give the future enough thought to be ready for it-but don't worry about it. Live each day as if you were to die next sunrise. Then face each sunrise as a fresh creation and live for it, joyously. And never think about the past. No regrets, ever." Lazarus Long looked sad, then suddenly smiled and repeated, "'No regrets.' More wine, Ira?"

"Half a glass, thank you. Lazarus, if you are determined to die soon-your privilege, certainly!-what harm could there be in remembering the past now...and getting those memories on record for the benefit of your descendants? It would be a much greater legacy than leaving your wealth to us.

Lazarus' eyebrows shot up. "Son, you are beginning to bore me."

"Your pardon, sire. May I have permission to leave?"

"Oh, shut up and sit down. Finish your dinner. You remind me of- Well, there was this man on Novo Brasil who complied with the local custom of serial bigamy but was always careful to see that one of his wives was as utterly homely as the other was startlingly beautiful, so that-Ira, that dingus you have listening to us: Can it be keyed to pick out particular statements and arrange them as a separate memorandum?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Good. There's no point in telling how Ranch Master Silva?-yes, I think 'Silva' was his name, Dom Pedro Silva-how he coped with it when he found himself stuck with two beautiful wives at once, except to note that when a computer makes a mistake, it is even more stupidly stubborn about correcting it than a man is. But if I thought long and hard, I might be able to dig out those 'gems of wisdom' you think I have. Paste diamonds, that is. Then we wouldn't have to load up the machine with dull stories about Dom Pedro and the like. A key word?"

" 'Wisdom'?"

"Go wash out your mouth with soap."

"I will not. You stuck your chin into that one, Senior.

'Common sense'?"

"Son, that phrase is self-contradictory. 'Sense' is never 'common.' Make the keying word 'Notebook'-that's all I have in mind, just a notebook to jot down things I've noticed and which might be important enough to place on record."

"Fine! Shall I amend the programming now?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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