“So? Would you jeopardize our beneficial relationship on her account?”

Implicit was a threat. The hyperquality bodies I got free, plus gear for high-fi imprinting and replenishment, were matters of survival to a stranded soul. My unique copying talent still needed plenty of help, until realAlbert finally chose to let me climb back into the only organic brain on Earth that could accommodate me.

Would it work even then? I couldn’t help still regarding myself as Frankie — or Gumby — a rebellious green puppet who ran off one day, declaring independence while dreaming of becoming a real boy. Perhaps my Standing Wave and Albert’s strangely mutated soul were too far diverged ever to rejoin again.

I might be a ghost.

Well, if so, I was a ghost with full sensoria, loved by an exciting woman, with important work to do. One can imagine worse afterlives.

“Let’s talk about this triangle that you had going with the Maharals,” Clara urged our host. “You and Yosil and Beta and … I guess it was a square if you include Ritu herself … each one using the others, scheming and exploiting each other’s talents and resources, making and breaking deals—”

“No,” I interrupted.

When she gave me a questioning look, I added, “Later, please, Clara.” ditKaolin seemed relieved. “Yes. Later. Anyway, I forget myself. Please come this way. I ordered refreshments.”

A sure-enough paranoid bastard lives here. Good thing I’m one, too.

My chosen path upward is choked with prickly things — detectors and nanowires … toxin-mites and mini-caltrops. Ridiculous overkill!

I must switch routes. Try climbing the open wall instead, where the nasty stuff will all be weathered by sun and smog and rain. Anyway, who looks out for burglars climbing a flat wall in broad daylight?

Can’t answer that. Brain’s too small for memories. But I seem to know what’s possible.

Pixelated skin on my back mimics the reflectance of each bit of wall I pass over. Got the idea from a cool trick of Beta’s. Bought the tech-details off a UK techie for a Henchman Prize. Cheap! Other gimmicks are military — Clara has connections. But the cleverest come from hobbyists, unhappy with UK’s long refusal to share source code.

Take the special eye in the middle of my right paw. Press it against an opaque window as I pass by. It hijacks the room’s attention monitor and voilà! A narrow circle turns clear for a whole millisecond!

Long enough to verify, nobody’s in that room. Ah well. The next one seemed likelier for architectural reasons that I can’t remember now.

Just a little farther …

Following behind our host, Clara glanced back at the terracotta soldier of Sian, part of a legion modeled — some say imprinted — from real warriors who served the legendary First Emperor, duty-bound to come fiercely alive whenever called. Clara played much the same role in scores of replicas. Only now she had another job, helping investigate how things went so wrong in the Dodecahedron, where the halls were now resounding to a staccato thud of falling heads.

On a veranda we found food and drink — generous portions for Clara and nibble-bites that appeal to a high-class golem like me, with tastebuds but no stomach to speak of. Clara laughed, pointing at two figures across the tree-flecked meadow, one rolling in a wheelchair. The other broke pace to skip, like a small boy. ditKaolin jotted on a clipboard held by an ebony assistant. “More lawsuits,” he explained. “Now from Farshid Lum and those ditto liberation freaks! As if I dug their stupid tunnel into UK headquarters.”

“Perhaps they want to learn who set them up for blame in a case of industrial sabotage. I’m curious, too.”

Aeneas shrugged. “Beta, of course. No one was better at such ploys. He schemed with that Irene deviant, tricking an Albert into—”

“Into doing some quasilegal technology sniffing, they claimed. A prion bomb never featured, till someone else hijacked the plan.” ditKaolin groaned, sitting down to grab a glass of Golem-Cola. “Yes, I’m familiar with the popular theory. Beta and I were allies, but had a falling out. I took revenge by waging total war, furtively using the Albert Morris Detective Agency, among many weapons. Despite his brilliance, Beta had an Achilles heel when I found his secret point of origin. Soon I eliminated his copies and took over his operations. Right?”

“According to some popular theories.”

“But it gets better! Next, I manipulated Irene and Wammaker and Lum and everybody else … to sabotage my own factory!”

The words formed a lovely confession, ruined by Kaolin’s dripping sarcasm. “Can’t you see how foolish it all sounds? What motive could I have?”

I nodded in complete agreement.

“Yes. Motive is key.” ditKaolin stared at me, then went on, “True, I didn’t just sit there when Yosil and Beta turned on me, stealing from both UK and the government.” He nodded to Clara. “I won a few rounds. Still, I’m the victim!”

“It’s hard to tell. All the maneuvers—”

“—disguises and double-crosses,” Clara added, “even the belligerents needed a multidimensional diagram.”

“So? The Maharals were geniuses! Father and daughter, in all their manifestations. And crazy! What could I do but act in self-defense?”

I answered silently, You might have gone public. Called on the cleansing immune systems of an open society. That is, if you had no craziness of your own to hide.

Clara bore in. “So you admit you waged clandestine war against your former allies.”

“I’d be a fool to deny it after you arrested my ditto right there in Yosil’s lab, wearing a Beta disguise!” Kaolin smiled then. “I was getting pretty good, actually. I sure had you fooled, both in dittotown and in the scooter, didn’t I, Albert?”

Don’t call me Albert, I almost said. But what’s the point?

Then the mogul’s expression darkened. “I never expected you to follow, grabbing the Harley when I took off … and it’s a good thing. You thwarted a catastrophe — the whole city’s in your debt.

“As for those damned germ missiles, I swear, I never had any idea Yosil planned to take things so far.”

Third window on the second floor — it’s just the right position for a waiting-meeting room.

Carefully check for motion detectors and pressure-sensitive coatings. Okay, now press the paw with its clever gel-lens into one corner and -

Ha! Our best guess was right.

Within — a comfy salon. Plush chairs. Plenty to drink. Just the place for Kaolin to stash folks at an awkward moment. Like when Clara and Gumby drove up, hours earlier than expected, interrupting a secret meeting!

A convention of scoundrels.

That was crucial, as far as both the public and the law were concerned. Could Kaolin be pinned with crimes against real people?

Clear evidence blamed Yosil Maharal, driven by visions of transcendence, for trying to blow up Albert Morris in his home, then stealing war germs to aim at millions. Plenty of onus remained left over, to heap on the small group of Dodecs who chose to hide those bioweapons, instead of destroying them by treaty.

But what could Aeneas be accused of? Shooting at realRitu and realAlbert on a desert highway? The act was criminal — endangering organic citizens. But anyone would say Ritu and Al were just asking for trouble by traveling disguised as grays. Besides, they survived that attack. At most, Kaolin would pay triple golem-geld.

Likewise if it were proved that he participated in Beta’s old ditnapping empire — lawyers and accountants might stay busy for years, but that’s what they’re for.

Oh, the tally could add up, starting with a new car for Albert. Repairs to the Teller Building and Pal’s dittotown apartment. A free supply of high-sensitivity ivories for the maestra of Studio Neo. Settlements for Lum and Gadarene. So? Kaolin could buy his way out of all that with pocket change.