"Just a side remark to my husband, Dora. What are New-Rome high styles today?"

"Today' I must construe as meaning the latest I have in stock. Styles follow the stock market. In evening dress, men are wearing their skirts floor length with a slight train. Bodices are off one or both shoulders. Bare feet or sandals are acceptable. Colors are bright and may be mixed in discordants. Weapons are required-may be symbolic but must be displayed. Ladies, of course, follow the cycle out of phase. Skirts are hardly more than ruffles this season, worn quite low. If tops are worn-not required this season and some ladies prefer cosmetics in flat colors-if worn, the teat windows may be either open or transparent. Transparents having quarter-lambda iridescence are popular this cycle, especially if one teat is bare without cosmetics while the other sports a changing-iridescent transparency." The computer's voice changed from a well-modulated adult female voice to that of an eager little girl:

"I hope somebody picks that; I like to look at it! How about Doctor Deety and Doctor Lib, one shiny on her left teat, the other shiny on her right, and place them side by side. Neat, huh!"

"It would be spectacular," I agreed. (And they would look like clowns! Still, Deety might go along. The child likes to please people, even a computer. Perhaps especially a computer.)

"You old goat, would you like a skirt with a slight train?"

"Hilda!"

"Dora, do you have formal washables in my husband's size? What measurements do you need?"

"I have the Professor's measurements, Ma'am. I will fetch an assortment to your quarters sometime after noon when you are not sleeping or otherwise engaged. An equivalent assortment for you, I assume?"

"If you wish, Dora. I may not wear that style."

"Captain Hilda is an excellent composition herself. I'm an expert engineer; I know good design when I see it. That's not flattery; Laz-Lor tell me that I should learn to flatter. I'm not sure I have the circuitry for it. Perhaps I can learn it from Gay."

"You sure can, Dorable; I've been flattering my four charges seems like forever."

"Gay, have you been listening?"

"Mad at me, Aunt Hilda?"

"Never angry with our Gay Deceiver. But it's polite to let people know you're present."

"But- Dora has eyes and she lets me look."

"Captain Hilda, Gay is with me all the time now. Do you forbid that? We didn't know." Dora had slipped into her little-girl voice and sounded stricken.

Time to intervene- "Gay, Dora-Hilda and I don't mind. I'll tell Deety and Zeb; they won't mind."

"Jake, you're my pal!"

"Gay, you've saved our lives many times; we owe you any fun we can offer. But, Gay, with Dora's eyes and ears you'll see and hear things not seen by your radars, not heard unless we switched you on. Do either of you have the word 'discretion' in your perms?"

"No, Jake. What does it mean?"

"I'll explain it," Dora said eagerly. "It means we see and hear but pretend not to. Like last night when-"

"Later, Dora. Over your private circuits. What ship's time is it and are we late for breakfast? I don't see a clock."

"I'm the clock. It is ship's time nine-oh-three. You are not last for breakfast. Commander Laz is sleeping late; she didn't go to bed right after the mutiny. Captain Long-that's Lor-ate on the bridge-a crude insult to my watchstanding but she's good company. The Commodore always eats breakfast in the flag cabin. The Doctors Deety and Zeb and Lib are just starting."

"How are they dressed?" asked my Hilda.

"In serviettes. Doctor Lib is wearing 'Jungle Flower' in cologne and powder and perfume; she likes strong ones. Doctor Zeb seems to have forgotten to use any but his own scent is rather pleasant. I can't place what Doctor Deety is Wearing but it has both musk and sandalwood. Shall I formularize it by symbols?"

"It's 'Blue Hour' and I'm startled; my stepdaughter doesn't need a scent. Neither does Lib, darn it. Jacob, are you ready?"

I answered at once. I had taken care of this and that while the computers chattered, including trying a depilatory tricky until I learned how to block it

off-my sideburns were missing. Zeb dressed in a serviette- Libby Long the only one not of our family-and Lib used to be male. A good time to rub blue mud in my belly button- "I'm ready."

Hilda noticed my decision by not noticing it. The blue "Tinker-Bell" light appeared, led us to a small dining room, where we encountered a Long-Family custom-did not realize it because it matched a ceremony of our own: Lib saw us, came over, kissed Hilda, kissed me-briefly but with time-stop. Then my daughter was kissing me good-morning while Zeb kissed my wife. We swapped as usual; Deety kissed Hilda-and Zeb took my shoulders, hissed into my ear, "Stand still"-and gave me the double Latin kiss, each cheek.

Did my blood brother think I would let him down in the presence of one not of our family? Our custom had started after our double elopement. While Zeb and I usually used the Latin symbol, four rapid pecks, once at Snug Harbor we had missed the fast timing, hit each other mouth to mouth-didn't pull back but didn't stretch it out. We declined to make anything of it-although I was aware of the break in taboo and he was, too.

Two mornings later I was last in; Zeb was seated with his back to me. He leaned back and turned his head to speak to me; I leaned down, kissed him on the mouth firmly but briefly, moved on and kissed my daughter not as briefly, moved on and kissed my wife thoroughly, sat down and demanded, "What's for breakfast?"

After that the only invariant was: "What's for breakfast?" Zeb and I used either Latin pecks or busses on the mouth-brief, dry, symbolic, initiated by either of us. It meant that we were closer than a handshake; it held no sexual significance.

SO I was disgrunted that Zeb thought it was necessary to warn me. Let me add: Women are my orientation and Hilda my necessity. But I tried the other way with my high school chum our graduation week. We were experimenting to find out what the shooting was all about-planned but date subject to opportunity-which turned up that last week of school. A two-hour examination, no other school that day; a half hour of tennis, sudden realization that we were free and that his parents' flat was empty and would remain so until late afternoon. Der Tag!

We gave it a fair trial. We bathed first and thoroughly. We were not shy or afraid of each other. We were not afraid of getting caught-doors locked and bolted, chains on, S.O.P. by his parents' rules. We liked each other and wanted it to work. Total failure- Got up, had peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches with milk, discussed it as

we ate. Neither of us upset, not disgusted, no bad breath or similar hazards- but no results.

Brushed our teeth again, washed each other-gave it a second try. So much calisthenics. No "morals" about it, willing and eager to add it on. Not for us- so we killed all evidence and got in three more sets of tennis.

That's how it is with Zeb and me. I love him dearly-but I love him for what

he is-while fully empathizing that my daughter thinks he is the greatest lover since- Well, the greatest.

But if Zeb ever makes a pass at me, I will do my amateur-acting best to make him feel that this is what I have been waiting for all my life.

I've been trying to say why I was miffed. Never mind, I shall make it clear to Zeb that I will never let him down.

About that Long-Family custom- "Long" is not the name of a Howard Family; it is a group of Howards who live together and who added "Long" (the pseudonym most used by Lazarus) to their regular names. It's a commune, an extended family, a serial family, a god-knows-what. There is probably no word for it in any language and at least two computers are full members. They come and go and raise children and only the family geneticist (Doctor Ishtar) is sure of parentage and who cares? I suspect that they are all ambi in sex but no outsider could guess-and I am an outsider.