We eventually had dinner, with everybody "formal" but Maureen. She retained her "casual" clothing long after everyone else was in formal skin. But not until I got pix of the Four Disgraces. Libby and Deety wanted to go shower, too, when Jake and I decided that, having discarded uniforms, we should shower in fairness to Dora's airconditioning. I asked them and Laz-Lor please to wait until I staggered down (we had encountered a force-four sea, with white caps) to Gay for Jake's Polaroid.

Turned out not to be necessary; Dora could take color and 3-D, still or motion, any angle, and light as needed, just as she had lighted the posing (which she had photographed, too, I learned later).

Maureen and Jake directed while "Corporal Bronson" and I sprawled Nerostyle on lounges intended for Lib and Deety. Sharpie sat between us and dropped grapes into our mouths.

Jake tried to make the poses "artistic." Mama Maureen agreed with everything Jake said, then did it her way. The results may have been artistic. But I know that those pix would give a skeleton one last case of raging tumescence.

Meanwhile Dora was singing and playing, urging us to eat-tasty tidbits eaten with tongs; I was reminded of the best in Oriental cuisines-and plying us with fine wines. Dora seemed to have a vast repertoire, some of which (to my surprise) was familiar. When Judy Garland sings Over the Rainbow, who

can miss it?-Dora used Judy's voice. I recall, too, Enjoy Yourself; It's Later Than You Think. Most of them I did not know.

Dora announced Tomorrow's Song-I thought that was what she said. Lazarus and Maureen held hands all through it and it was not a song that would fit the title I thought I had heard. I got straightened out when the song ended to dead silence and Maureen said to Lazarus, "Theodcrre, Ishtar was going to rearrange the watch list but Tamara vetoed it. She did it for you, dear man, and for me-but Tamara is anxious to see you."

"Tamara always knows what she's doing," Lazarus answered.

"Yes, Tammy always knows what is best," agreed Mama Maureen. "Tell me, Theodore, do I still make you think of her?"

Lazarus looked upset. "Uh, I don't know. You don't look like her....ut you feel like her. And you look more like Nancy than you look like yourself."

"Yes, I know. None of our family was willing to wait; you've been away from home too long. Be patient, and when I look like me to your eyes, tell us, and Galahad will hold my cosmetic age at that. Are you going to do as you promised me, so long ago, take Tammy and me to bed together? Perhaps I should add, Theodore, I am now wife to your co-husbands. I don't ask that you marry me. Although I think Tammy will be shocked if you don't. But I shan't make it difficult, either way. I will hold to any pretence you wish. I did for Brian; I shall for you."

Maureen was neither shouting nor whispering; she was simply bringing him up to date on things he needed to know. Lazarus started to answer, his expression oddly mixed, when Elizabeth cut in: "Lazarus-"

"Eh? What, Lib?"

"Message to you from Ishtar. To be delivered when needed, and now is the time. Ish read both your charts with her computer set for maximum pessimism. She also had them read at New Rome without identification other than her own file numbers. She has this message for you....n answer to the answer you will make. She says to tell you that you are an uncivilized primitive, ignorant of science, especially genetics, oversentimental, almost pathologically stubborn, retarded, probably senile, superstitious, and provincial....nd that she loves you dearly but will not permit you to make decisions in her area of authority. In vitro or in utero, the cross will take place. Let me add that Maureen was not given a choice, either."

"So? You can tell the big-arsed bitch that I agree with every word she says, especially the part about 'senile,' and that I gave up all hope of arguing with her tyrannical ways fifty years ago and that I love her just as dearly-outside her clinic-and that Maureen will tell her how such things will be handled; I don't have a vote." He turned toward me, looking past Sharpie's pretty toes. "Zeb, here is the wisdom of the ages: Men rule but women decide."

"Elizabeth, do you think I am anything like Tamara?"

"Mmm- Never thought about it. Yes, you both have that all-mother feeling. Uh, would you mind taking off costume? It distracts me from looking at you."

"No trouble, Elizabeth. I don't like round garters except as advertising."

Mama Maureen kicked off her shoes, took off the garters, carefully rolled down her hose in a manner interuniversal-stood up and stood easily, not posing.

"Turn around slowly. Mmm- Maureen, you do look like Tammy... or vice versa; it's probably your genes in her. Am I descended from you? Does anyone here know? Lazarus?"

"You are, Lib. But not through me. Through my sister Carol. 'Santa Carolita' believe it or not-which would surprise Carol as she was no saint. But your descent through Carol was not proved until long after you were killed, when the Families' records were being revised through computer analysis and a deeper knowledge of genes. No saints in our family, are there, Mama?"

"None that I know of, Woodrow. Not me, certainly. You were a little hellion; I should have spanked you much oftener than I did. Mmm... your father was as close to being a saint as any in our family. Brian was wise and good-and tolerant." She smiled. "Do you recall why we separated?"

"I'm not sure I ever knew. Mama, my recollections of that era are much sharper for my trip there as 'Ted Bronson'-the other is a long time back."

"In my sixties I stopped having babies. About the same time your brother Richard was killed. War. His wife, Marian Justin of the Hardy family, was with us, with their children, and Brian was back in uniform, a recalled colonel, on a desk job in San Francisco. When Richard was killed in 1945 we all took it hard but it was easier in that so many of us were together-Brian, and my youngest children, and Marian, and her children-five; she was thirty-one."

Mama Maureen, free of stockings and shoes, sat in lotus across from Hilda and accepted a plate from Dora's helpers. "Woodrow, I encouraged Brian to console Marian the only way a widow can be helped; she needed it. When that war was over, Marian needed a visible husband; her waistband and the calendar could not be reconciled. When we moved from San Francisco later that year, it was easy for Marian Justin Smith to become Maureen J. Smith while I became, with the aid of hair dye, her widowed mother-no one knew us in Amarillo and females were not yet compelled to have I.D.'s. So Marian had the baby as "Maureen," and only with the Howard Families Trustees was the correct genealogy recorded." Maureen smiled. "We Howards were easy about such things as long as it was kept inside the Families-and I am happy that we are even easfer about it now.

"On our next move I moved out and became Maureen Johnson again, fifteen years younger since I did not look late seventies, and a Meen-ah-sotah Yonson, Woodrow, rather than a southern Missouri Johnson. A grass widow with round heels." Mama Maureen chuckled. "Howards married only to have babies. My production line had shut down but the equipment was there and the urge. By the time you darlings"-Maureen's eyes swept the wardroom-"rescued me, I had trimmed thirty-five years from my age and added thirty-five men to my memories. In fact, when you picked me up, I was on my way to a motel rendezvous, a widower of sixty who was willing to believe that I was sixty when in fact I expected to reach my Century Day in a fortnight."

I said, "What a dirty shame! I wish you had been coming back from the motel when we picked you up."

"Zebadiah, that's sweet of you but it's not a shame. We were getting bored with each other. I'm sure he read my obituary with as much relief as grief. I'm just glad you got me-and I'm told that you did most of it."