Trismon Sorel was speaking again. “One possibility remains. Anastasia, the woman that you knew, cannot be reanimated. That is quite impossible. However, many whole cells remain intact within her body. She could be cloned without difficulty. Her growth and education would begin anew. But it would, you must understand, be a new Anastasia. There is no hope of sufficient memory transfer from undamaged cells for any inkling of her former existence to pass to her new body. Your former relationship would of course be known to you, but it would be irrelevant to her. Should we proceed?”

The temptation was enormous. To see Ana once more standing before him, blooming and vibrant as he had once known her…

That was the selfish answer. There was a better one; Ana had the right to a healthy new life in this world, eight hundred years beyond their own time. He could not deny it to her.

She would live again. And yet…

It would not be the Ana that he knew and loved. It would be a quite different person. Could he bear to look on her, a woman who was Ana and yet not Ana, a woman who would not feel for him the overwhelming love that he felt for her?

Except that he had no choice. Ana deserved resurrection, and a new life.

Sorel had been waiting sympathetically. Drake nodded at last. “Proceed. Make a clone of Ana.”

Trismon Sorel also nodded, and smiled. Drake saw the relief on his face. Sorel knew, with the authority of eight hundred more years of science and technological progress, that the Ana whom Drake had known was gone forever.

But -

A tiny seed of doubt sprouted deep in Drake’s mind. But what would science say in another three hundred years? in a thousand, or ten thousand, or a hundred thousand? Science had come so far. Surely no one, least of all a scientist, would say that it was now at an end and could go no further.

Trismon Sorel was talking to him again, trying to catch his attention. He forced himself to listen.

“Ana cannot be revived and cured,” Sorel was saying, “not in the way that you hoped when you took her body from the cryowombs. But we can help you.”

“Me?”

“Certainly. We can cure you. There is evidence that a cure was attempted three hundred years ago, but it clearly failed. We have superior techniques now. They can end your obsession with Anastasia. It would, of course, be done only with your consent.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You have an infinite number of choices. The right to self-determination — even self-destruction, if you wish it — is basic.” Trismon Sorel leaned forward. “Now I would like to speak personally, for myself alone. I hope that you will agree to a cure, and enjoy your own new life. I have vast sympathy for you. I have searched the whole data bank as we have been speaking, and your suffering seems unique. No quest and sacrifice comparable to yours can be found, anywhere.”

“I have not suffered.” Drake had made up his mind. “I have not sacrificed. And I know what I would like.”

“State it.”

“I would like a cloned form for a new Ana, just as you offered.”

“We have agreed, that will be done. But for yourself?”

“I want to remain here just long enough to be sure that Ana’s cloning can proceed without problems. Then I wish to leave.”

“Leave?” Trismon Sorel was bewildered. “Go from here? Go where? The universe is open to you, but we can offer you everything that your heart might desire.”

“No, that is not true. You cannot offer me the Anastasia that I know and love. And that is what I want — all I want. Put me back into the cryowombs, with Ana’s body at my side. Let us travel together to the future.”

“But I told you, the real Ana, the Ana that you knew, is not in that body. Too many brain cells have been destroyed. Your Ana is gone.”

“She is gone. But gone where?”

“Drake Merlin, that is a meaningless question. It is like asking where the wind goes when it is no longer blowing, or where is the odor of a flower after the flower dies.”

“It seems a meaningless question today. But it may not always be meaningless. You told me that I have an infinite number of choices. My choice is simple, and I say it again: I want to be placed in the Pluto cryowombs. Do I have that right?”

“You do.” Trismon Sorel could not conceal his dismay and disappointment. “We cannot deny it to you. But I beg you to reconsider. You can return to cryosleep for as long as you choose, but when will you be awakened? In a century? In five?”

“I do not know. I want to leave this instruction with my freezing: Awaken me when new evidence comes into the data banks that seems relevant to the recreation of Anastasia’s original personality. And not until then.”

“It can be done. But I must be honest with you. I do not think such new evidence will ever appear. If you hope to sleep until your Ana can return, I believe that you will sleep forever.”

You have everything to lose. You’re healthy, you’re productive, you’re at the height of your career. And you are asking me to throw all that away, to help you take the chance that someday, God knows when, you might — -just might — be revived. Don’t you see, Drake, I can’t help you. Across a gulf of eight centuries, Tom Lambert’s words reverberated in Drake’s mind.

“I’ve heard that logic before,” Drake said, “and it proved wrong. I will take that risk. It is smaller than risks that I have taken in the past. Can we begin… now?”

“If you insist.” Trismon Sorel held up his hand. Drake was already rising from his seat. “But there is one thing more. While we have been speaking, a group-mind meeting has been in progress involving every human within easy signal range. A conclusion has been reached. Your request will be granted, but with one condition: You do not go alone. You will have a companion for your travel into the future, just as each of us has a companion, to share our fortunes and to stand by our side through good and bad.”

“I desire no woman in the cryowomb with me, other than my own Ana. And no man, either.”

“We would condemn neither living man nor living woman to such an uncertain future. Your companion will not reside in the cryowombs. It will be a Servitor, designed for on-demand operation, exactly like my own Servitor.” Trismon Sorel gestured to the little wheeled sphere with its metal whisk-broom head, waiting quietly at his side. “So long as you do not call upon its services, it will remain dormant and in communion with the data banks. When you need a companion or an assistant, it will be there to obey your commands.”

Sorel stood up. “Come with me now. The preparations are already beginning for the cloning of Ana.

While that is proceeding, I will explain to you the endless virtues of the Servitor class. And you can decide on the appearance and name of your own personal model, to travel with you into the undiscovered country of the future.”