"I'm an early riser, Lazarus. Is it true that you have decided on the full course? She seems to think so."

Lazarus looked pained. "It's probably the simplest answer-but how do I know I'll get my own balls back?"

"Gonads from your clone are your own, Lazarus; that's basic to the theory."

"Well...we'll see. Early rising is a vice, Ira; it'll stunt your growth and' shorten your days. Speaking of such-" Lazarus glanced up at the wall. "Thanks for having that switch reinstalled. I don't feel tempted by it this fine morning, but a man does like to have a choice. Galahad, coffee for the Chairman and fetch me that plastic envelope." Grandfather Lazarus supplemented his order with gestures, but I think the tech understood his words. Or was somewhat telepathic; rejuvenators are quite empathic-need to be. The man moved at once to comply.

He handed Lazarus an impervolope and poured coffee for me-which I did not want but will drink anything protocol requires. Lazarus went on, "Here's my new will, Ira. Read it and file it somewhere and tell your computer. I've already approved the way she worded it and read it back into her and told her to place it in her permanents with a 'bind' on it-it 'ud take a Philadelphia lawyer to diddle you out of your inheritance now-though no doubt one could."

He waved the male tech aside. "No more coffee, lad- thanks. Go sit down. You go sit, too, dear. Ishtar. Ira, what are these young people? Nurses? Orderlies? Servants? Or what? They hover over me like a hen with one chick. I've never cared for more service than I need. Just sociability. Human company."

I could not answer without inquiring. Not only is it unnecessary for me to know how the Rejuvenation Clinic is organized, but also it is private enterprise, not under the Trustees-and my intervention in the case of the Senior was much resented by its Director. So I interfered as little as possible-as long as my orders were carried out.

I spoke to the female tech, in Galacta: "What is your professional designation, ma'am? The Senior wants to know. He says that you have been behaving like a servant."

She answered quietly, "It is our pleasure to serve him in any way we can, sir"-then hesitated and went on: "I am Administrator Master Chief Rejuvenation Technician Ishtar Hardy, Deputy Director for Rejuvenation Procedures, and my assistant watch officer is Associate Technician Galahad Jones."

Having been rejuvenated twice and used to the idea all my life, it does not surprise me when cosmetic age does not match calendar age. But I admit to surprise at learning that this young woman was not just a technician but boss of her department- probably number three in the entire Clinic. Or possibly number two while the Director was away sulking in her tent- damn her duty-struck stiff neck. Or even Director Pro Tem with her deputy, or some department head, bucked into minding the store." "So?" I answered. "May I ask your calendar age, Madam Administrator?"

"Mr. Chairman Pro Tem may ask anything. I am only one hundred forty-seven years old-but I am qualified; this has been my only career since first maturity."

"I did not imply doubt of your qualifications, madam, but I am astonished to see you standing a watch rather than sitting at a desk. Although I confess I don't know how the Clinic is-organized."

She smiled slightly. "Sir, I could express a similar feeling at your own personal interest in this case...were it not that I think I understand it. I am here because I choose not to delegate the responsibility; he is the Senior. I have screened all watch officers assigned to him-the best we have to offer."

I should have known it. "We understand each other." I added, "I am pleased. But may I make a suggestion? Our Senior is independent by temperament and highly individualistic. He wants a minimum of personal service-only that which he must have."

"Have we been annoying him, sir? Too solicitous? I can watch and listen from outside the door and still be here instantly if he wants something."

"Possibly too solicitous. But stay in sight. He does want human companionship."

"What's all this yack-yack?" demanded Lazarus.

"I had to ask questions, Grandfather, as I don't know the organization of the Clinic. Ishtar is not a servant; she is a rejuvenator and a highly skilled one-and so is her assistant. But they are happy to supply any service you want."

"I don't need flunkies; I'm feeling pretty good today. If I want anything, I'll shout; they don't need to hang over me, hand and foot." Then he grinned. "But she's a cute little trick, in the large, economy size; it's a pleasure to have her around. Moves like a cat-no bones, just flows. She does indeed remind me of Ariel-did I tell you why Ariel tried to kill me?"

"No. I would like to hear if you want to tell me."

"Mmm- Ask me when Ishtar isn't around-I think she knows more English than she lets on. But I did promise to talk if you showed up to listen. What would you like to hear?"

"Anything, Lazarus. Scheherazade picked her own subjects."

"So she did. But I don't have one on tap."

"Well...you said as I came in that 'early rising is a vice.' Did you mean that seriously?"

"Maybe. Gramp Johnson claimed it was. He used to tell a story about a man who was condemned to be shot at sunrise- but overslept and missed it. His sentence was commuted that day, and he lived another forty, fifty years. Said it proved his point."

"Do you think that's a true story?"

"As true as any of Scheherazade's. I took it to mean 'Sleep whenever you can; you may have to stay awake a long time.' Early rising may not be a vice, Ira, but it is certainly no virtue. The old saw about the early bird just goes to show that the worm should have stayed in bed. I can't stand people who are smug about how early they get up."

"I didn't mean to sound smug, Grandfather. I get up early from long habit-the habit of work. But I don't say it's a virtue."

"Which? Work? Or early rising? Neither is a virtue. But getting up early does not get more work done...any more than you can make a piece of string longer by cutting off one end and tying it onto the other. You get less work done if you persist in getting up yawning and still tired. You aren't sharp and make mistakes and have to do it over. That sort of busy-busy is wasteful. As well as unpleasant. And annoying to those who would sleep late if their neighbors weren't so noisily active at some ungodly cow-milking hour. Ira, progress doesn't come from early risers-progress is made by lazy men looking for easier ways to do things."

"You make me feel that I've wasted four centuries."

"Perhaps you have, Son, if you've spent it getting up early and working hard. But it's not too late to change your ways. Don't fret about it; I've wasted most of my long life-though perhaps more pleasantly. Would you like to hear a story about a man who made 'laziness a fine art? His life exemplified the Principle of Least Effort. A true story."

"Certainly. But I don't insist on its being true."

"Oh, I won't let truth hamper me, Ira; I'm a solipsist at heart. Hear then, O Mighty King,