"Of course not. I'm waiting till afterward, so that if anything goes wrong, you will all have deniability."

"Or anything to take to the authorities?"

The chairman frowned. "Why do you goad me so much?"

The ghost shrugged. The indistinct form made the gesture seem liquid, like the slap of water against a wall.

"It's best," said the ghost, "that we never forget the nature of what we're doing."

"We're putting a stop to a bad idea," the chairman said. "Risks are necessary to do so. Speaking of which, you-" he pointed to the right-hand ghost "-are taking the greatest risk."

"So?"

"Any second thoughts?"

"All the time. But it's necessary."

The chairman nodded. "Then we won't speak again."

"True." The ghost sighed, a papery sound that seemed ancient. "Flesh, not steel?"

"Flesh, not steel," the other two repeated.

"Good-bye."

The ghost faded out, leaving only two.

"Will he go through with it?" the left-hand ghost asked.

"The beauty of this is that once the reception at Union Station begins, he won't have any choice," the chairman replied. "But I think we should make absolutely sure he doesn't suffer a crisis of conscience. Before or after."

"My people will keep a watch on him. As for after…"

"See to it."

"Done." The ghost paused. "You asked why I goad you so much."

"A rhetorical question. I actually enjoy it, in a way."

"Good. But I don't do it for your pleasure, Ky. We've known each other for a long time. I've always found in you the desire to act on passion alone. You never do, but you want to. I worry sometimes that one day you'll ditch your practicality and turn zealot."

The chairman raised an eyebrow. "How do you know I haven't?"

"You pay attention to costs too closely."

The chairman laughed. When he finished, he gazed at the wavering, masked form across from him. "As a matter of fact, I do believe positronic robots represent a real threat, beyond the fiscal. When you study history-"

"I know about the riots."

"We all do-we're endlessly told about them, by commentators and in our dramas. Riots don't frighten me, though."

"You're not worried that a reintroduction of positronic robots would bring them back?"

"No. I'm worried that this time they won't. And then it's allover for us."

The two shimmery figures sat together in silence for a time, the space around them growing thick with contemplation.

"Well," the ghost said at last, "I have details to chase down and kill."

"So do I. I think we're as prepared as we're going to be."

"I agree. Till afterward then?"

"Flesh, not steel?"

The ghost chuckled. "If you insist."

The form faded out, leaving the chairman alone in his generated conference chamber. After a time, he reached in his pocket again and squeezed the square.

"Recording complete?" he asked.

"Recording complete," answered a flat, genderless voice. "Decoding routines in place, descrambler active. Bubble memory established under file 'Zealots, Inc. ' Minutes retrieved, stored, coded to password release."

The chairman felt a wry aversion to that label, but it fit. He did not feel like a zealot, not in the sense of an irrational fanatic single-mindedly devoted to a cause. Rather, he felt supremely rational, a practical man in an impractical universe, presented with an opportunity to make a small adjustment and guarantee the sanity of a small part of history.

A zealot? No. Ambitious, perhaps, and, he admitted, even a little vain.

But it was necessary.

"Very good. End routine."

The room faded away, leaving nothing.