The Senior looked thoughtful but not impressed. "I could answer that your safety and convenience have to do with your self-interest. Not mine."

"True," I admitted. "But let me offer what bait I can. It's in my self-interest for you to live in the Palace. There I can visit you in perfect safety, even safer than I am here, and commuting becomes a matter of seconds, negligible. I can even ask you-there-to excuse me for a half hour if something urgent comes up. That defines my self-interest. As for yours sir-would you be interested in a bachelor's cottage, rather small-four rooms-and not especially modern or luxurious but set in a pleasant garden? Three hectares, but only the part close to the house is gardened, the rest has been allowed to grow wild."

"What's the catch, Ira? How modem is 'not especially'? I did say 'automated'-as I am not yet in shape to do for myself-nor am I patient with the vagaries of servants or the whimsical uncertainties of robots."

"Oh, this cottage is sufficiently automated; it simply does not have a lot of fancy extravagances. No servants needed if your tastes are simple. Would you permit the Clinic to continue to stand watches on you if the watchstanders are as pleasant, and as pleasantly unobtrusive, as these two?"

"Eh? These kids are all right, I like them. I realize that the Clinic wants to keep an eye on me; they probably feel that I'm more of a challenge than a client only three or four hundred years old. That's okay. But you pass the word that I expect to smell perfume, not germicides. Or reasonably fresh body odors; I'm not fussy. I repeat, what's the catch?"

"The hell you aren't fussy, Lazarus; you delight in thinking up impossible conditions. This cottage is rather cluttered with old-fashioned books; the last tenant was eccentric. Did I mention a little stream running through the grounds, one which opens out into a small pool near the house?-not much, but you can take a few strokes in it. Oh, I forgot to mention an old tomcat who thinks he owns the place. But you probably won't see him; he hates most people."

"I won't bother him if he wants to be left alone; cats make good neighbors. You still haven't answered me."

"The catch is this, Lazarus. I've been describing the penthouse I had built for my own use on the roof of the Palace, some ninety years back when I decided to keep this, job awhile. It can be reached only by vertical transport from my usual quarters a couple of stories below it. I've never had time to use it much; you are welcome to it." I stood up. "But if you won't take it, then you can consider that I've lost the Scheherazade bet, and you are free to use that termination switch whenever you please. For I'm damned if I'll be a sitting duck for assassination just to cater to your whims."

"Sit back down!'

"No, thank you. I've made a reasonable offer. If you won't take it, you can go to hell in your own way. I won't let you ride my shoulders like the Old Man of the Sea. I can be pushed just so far."

"So I see. How much of your ancestry am I?"

"About thirteen percent. Considerable convergence."

"Only that much? I would have guessed more. Some ways you sound like my Gramp. Does my suicide switch go along?"

"If you want it," I answered as indifferently as I could manage to sound. "Or you can jump off the edge. It's a long drop."

"I prefer the switch, Ira; I'd hate to change my mind on the way down. Will you fix me up with another transport so that I won't have to go through your apartment?"

"No."

"Eh? Is it all that difficult? Let's ask Minerva."

"It's not that I can't-I won't. It's an unreasonable request. It won't hurt you to change transports in my foyer. Didn't I make it clear that I am not catering to any more unreasonable whims?"

"Get your feathers down, Son. I accept. Tomorrow, say. Never mind moving that clutter of books; I like old-fashioned bound books; they have more flavor than speedireads, or projectos, or such. And I'm pleased to find that you're a rat and not a mouse. Please sit down."

I did so, pretending reluctance. I felt that I was beginning to gain some grasp of Lazarus. Despite the way he sneered at them the old scoundrel was an equalitarian at heart...and expressed it by attempting to dominate anyone with whom he came into contact-but was contemptuous of anyone who knuckled under to his bullying. So the only answer was to hit back at him, try to maintain a balance of power-and hope that in time it would reach the stability of mutual respect.

I never had cause to change my mind. He was capable of kindness and even affection toward one who accepted a subordinate role-if that person was a child or a female. But he preferred spunk even from them. A growl male who bent the knee he neither liked nor trusted.

I think this quirk in his character made him very lonely.

Presently the Senior said musingly, "Be nice to live in a house for a while. With a garden. Maybe with a spot where I can stretch a hammock."

"Several such spots."

"But I'm doing you out of your hideaway."

"Lazarus, there is enough room on that roof that I could have another cottage assembled out of your sight. If I wanted it. I don't. I haven't even been up there for a swim in weeks. It has been at least a year since I slept up there."

"Well- I hope you'll feel free to come up and swim. Any time. Or whatever."

"I expect to be up there every day and all day, for the next thousand days. Have you forgotten our bet?"

"Oh, that. Ira, you were bitching that my whimsical ways were wasting your valuable time. Do you want to be let off the hook? Not on the other, just on that."

I laughed at him. "Straighten your kilt, Lazarus, your self-interest is showing. Meaning you want to be let off the hook. No deal. I intend to get one thousand and one days of your memoirs on record. After that you can jump off the edge, or drown yourself in the pool, or whatever. But I won't let you welch by pretending to do me a favor. I'm beginning to understand you."

"You are? That's more than I've ever managed. When you get me figured out, tell me about me; I'll be interested. That search for something new, Ira- You said you had started it."

"I didn't say that, Lazarus."

"Well, perhaps you just implied it."

"Nor even that. Want to bet? We can ask Minerva for a full printout, then I'll accept your verdict."

"Let's not tempt a lady into fudging the record, Ira; she's loyal to you, not to me. Despite any super-duper-overrides."

"Chicken."

"At every opportunity, Ira; how do you think I've lived so long? I bet only when I'm certain to win or when losing serves my actual purpose. All right, when are you starting that research?"

"I've already started it."

"But you said- No, you didn't. Damn your impudence, boy. All right, what direction are you pushing it?"

"All directions."

"Impossible. You don't have that many people at your disposal, even assuming that all of them are capable-whereas the person capable of creative thought is less than one in a thousand."

"No argument. But what about the sort of person that you said was just like us-but magnified? Minerva is director of research on this, Lazarus. I talked it over with her; she's setting it up. All directions. A Zwicky investigation."

"Hmm. Well...yes. She could-I think she could. Whereas even Andy Libby might have found it difficult. How is she designing her morphological box?"

"I don't know. Shall we ask her?"

"Only if she's ready to be asked, Ira. People get annoyed when interrupted for progress reports. Even Andy Libby used to get irritable if anyone joggled his elbow."

"Even the great Libby probably didn't have the time-share capacity Minerva has. Most brains are merely linear, and I've never heard of any human genius who had more than three tracks."