But it wasn't my apartment house; this one was three stories and built around a court.

I had Gay bounce four times quickly. "Deety, do you want to look at Logan?"

"No, Zebadiah. I know Aunt Hilda's neighborhood well enough to be certain. Not her house, her pool was missing, and the parking lot where our Buick was destroyed is now a park with big trees. I assume that you know your former home as well or better."

"Shall we ground and add another World Almanac to our collection?"

"If you wish. Not for me."

"Hardly worth the trouble. Tell me-how does it feel to be erased? X-ed out? Blue-penciled? Written out of the plot?"

'~I don't feel it, because I'm not. I'm real, I am!"

I glanced behind us. Yes, Laz and Lor were there keeping quiet. "Gay B'gout!"

It certainly looked like our piece of"dead sea bottom." I couldn't see anything of the wreckage of Colonel Morinosky's ornithopter. Unless there had been a real gully washer-which I did not believe-something had come along and cleaned up every bit of burned junk.

An eraser?

I Bounced Gay and had her start a retreating search curve, thought I saw a gleam to the northeast, Bounced again. A city. It was only a few moments until I saw twin towers. We cruised toward them. "Deety, do you suppose that the other Dejah Thoris is at home?"

"Zebadiah, I have no wish to find out. But I would like to go close enough to be sure that those are the twin towers of Helium. Perhaps see a thoat. Or a green man. Something."

We let it go with one thoat, of the smaller sort. The description was exact. "Gay Parade Ground."

"Null program."

"Hmm- Gay, you have in your perms a map of Mars-ten showing the English and the Russian areas. Display."

"Null program."

"Gay Termite." Termite Terrace was still in place.

"Gay Deceiver. Maureen. Execute. Open your doors." Hamadryad had started to turn toward us as we closed the doors to leave; she was still turning as we opened them.

I unbuckled, saying: "You two all right back there?"

"Yes, Zeb and Deety, and we thank you both but-"

"-is this something we can tell or-"

"-should we keep it Top Cut-Our-Throats-First Secret?"

"Laz-Lor, I don't think it matters. You aren't likely to be believed." Mama Hamadryad stopped at my door, smiled at all of us, and said, "May I show you to your suite in your home? The suite Tamara picked; you may change it. With our new north wing we have loads of room. Girls, there will be a happy welcome tonight. Formal."

I found that I was not upset by "erasures." We were home.

L'Envoi

"Jubal, you are a bad influence."

"From you, Lafe, that is a compliment. But that puts me in mind of- Front! Will you excuse me a few minutes?"

"Our house is yours," answered Lazarus. He closed his eyes; his chair reclined him.

"Thank you, sir. Working title: 'Uncle Tobias.' Start: 'Uncle Tobias we kept in a bucket." Jubal Harshaw broke off. "Where are all those girls? FRONT!"

"I'm 'FronL," came a female voice from nowhere. "Talk fast; I'm three paragraphs ahead of you. You put those girls on vacation: Anne, Miriam, Dorcas-all off duty."

"I did not. I told Anne that I did not expect to work but-"

"-if an amanuensis is needed," Athene went on, in perfect mimicry of Harshaw's voice, "I hope that one will be within shouting distance.' I'm in shouting distance; I always am."

"If I'm in the house. I might not be."

Athene said, "Tell him, Pappy. Quit playing 'possum'; you're not asleep."

Lazarus opened one eye. "A gimmick Jake whipped up when we started having too many kids to muster easily. It's a beacon Athene can trigger. Dandy for kids and it turned out to be useful for house guests who might get lost. So ultramicrominjaturized you don't notice it."

"Lafe, are you telling me that there is a tracer on me?" Harshaw sounded shocked.

"In you, and you'll never notice it."

"Lafe, I'm surprised. I thought you had a high regard for privacy."

"A high regard for my own, somewhat less for that of others; snooping has saved my life a couple or nine times. In what way has your privacy been invaded? Define it; I'll correct it." --

"A spy ray! Don't you consider that an invasion of privacy?"

"Teena, remove immediately any spy ray on Doctor Harshaw."

"How can I when there is none? P.S.-Pappy, what is a spy ray?"

"A buzz word used by lazy writers. Jubal, there is a beacon planted in you by which Teena can focus audio on you precisely-she can whisper into your left ear or your right. Or you can activate the beacon from your end just by speaking her name. Or you can use the circuit as a telephone to and from any member of my household, or ask Teena to hook it into the public system. Privacy? In this mode this part of Teena does not record unless requested-in one ear and out the other, so to speak. She's wiped it utterly while it's slowly winding its way into your brain. Now... if you don't like this service, Teena will deactivate it at once... and sometime soon while you're asleep it will be removed; you won't know it and you will never find the scar. You will notice just two changes: No more secretarial service, no more effortless telephone service."

Lazarus closed his eye, apparently considered the subject closed. The computer said, "Better think twice, Doc, before telling me to deactivate, as he won't let me reactivate it later. He's bullheaded, bad-tempered, stubborn, and mean-"

Lazarus again opened one eye. "I heard that."

"Do you deny it?"

"Nope. Kindly focus the audio, both ends, so that I can sleep."

"Done. Doctor Harshaw, shall we return to 'Uncle Tobias' or shall I wipe these eight paragraphs? Better save them; between ourselves, I am a better writer than you are."

"I will not dispute it," Harshaw conceded. "I simply exude the stuff as, in the words of my colleague Sam, 'as the otter exudes the precious otter of roses.' I knew the day would come when machines would displace real writers; Hollywood has had their mad scientists at work on the project for years." He stared across the pooi in the Longs' north atrium and looked pained. "And now they have."

"Doctor," Athene answered, in stern warning, "retract that word or finish this piece of tripe yourself. I have spoken."

Jubal said hastily, "Miss Athene, I didn't use 'real' in that sense. I-"

"Sorry, Doc, I misled you. Of course you didn't, as the purpose of this powwow is to define the difference-if any-between 'real' and 'imaginary.' But I am not a machine. I am a solid-state person just as you are a protein person. I am Athene Long, your hostess while Tamara is busy. It is my pleasure to offer you all our home can offer. I promised Anne that I would give you secretarial service night and day. But I did not promise to write your stories. According to Doctor Rufo, a hostess is often expected to sleep with a guest-and that can be supplied, although not by me, not this pseudocentury-but he never mentioned creative narration as an aspect of hospitality. I thought of it myself; we Longs pride ourselves on complete hospitality. However- Shall I wipe these eleven paragraphs? Did I err?"

"Miss Athene-"

"Oh, call me 'Teena.' Let's be friends."

"Thank you. Teena, I didn't mean to offend. I wish I were going to live long enough to be here when you retire professionally and join us meat people. But in much less than a pseudocentury the worms will have eaten me."

"Doctor, if you weren't 'so sot in your ways, wrong-headed, stubborn, and prideful'-I quote one of your staff-"

"Miriam."