She smiled again. "That's my story: A computer who longed to be a flesh-and-blood and who had loving friends who made is possible...and I've never regretted it; I love being flesh-and-blood-and want to love everybody." She looked at Justin Foote very soberly. "Lazarus spoke sooth; I have never been a guest wife; I am only three years old as a flesh-and-blood. Should you choose me, you may find me awkward and shy-but not reluctant. I owe you much."

"Minerva," said Lazarus, "back him into a corner some other time. You didn't tell Justin what he wanted to know; you left out the hanky-panky."

"Oh."

"And when you were philosophizing about awareness in computers, you left out the key point, it seems to me, one I know but you may not even though you've been a computer and I have not. Because this key point applies both to computers and to flesh-and-bloods. My dear-and Justin-and it won't hurt you two erratic geniuses to listen-all machinery is animistic-'humanistic,' I want to say, but that term has been preempted. Any machine is a concept of a human designer; it reflects the human brain, be it wheelbarrow or giant computer. So there is nothing mysterious in a machine designed by a human showing human self-awareness; the mystery lies in awareness itself, wherever it's found. I used to have a folding camp cot that liked to bite me. I don't say that it was aware-but I learned to approach it with caution.

"But, Minerva, darling, I've seen some big computers, almost as smart as you were, that never developed self-awareness. Can you tell us why?"

"I confess I can't, Lazarus. I'd like to ask Athene when we get home."

"She probably doesn't know either; she's never met any other major computer but Dora. Captain Lazuli, how far back do you remember? Once you-or your comrade in crime-claimed to remember nursing. Suckling, I mean."

"Of course we do! Doesn't everybody?"

"No. Me, for example. I was a bottle baby; I don't remember even that. Not worth remembering. In consequence I've been looking at tits and admiring them ever since. Tell me, one of you, when you remember nursing, can you recall which of your mothers was giving you suck?"

"Of course!" Lorelei said scornfully. "Mama Ishtar has big tits-"

"-and Mama Hamadryad has much smaller ones even when they're filled with milk-"

"But she gave just as much milk."

"Different flavor though. Made it nice to trade off each meal. Variety."

"But we liked both flavors! Tell him, Laz."

"Enough. You've made the point I wanted. Justin, these kids were self-aware and aware of other people-their mothers at least-at an age when a crèche baby is just a doughy blob, which says something about why crèches have never worked well. I want the counterpoint: Minerva, what do you remember of the time when you were an unawakened clone?"

"Why, nothing, Lazarus. Oh, some odd dreams when I was putting me-my selected memories-into my new me, this one. But I didn't start that until lshtar said the clone was big enough. That was not until shortly before I withdrew from my former me and Ishtar woke me. It could not be instantaneous, Justin; a protein brain won't take data at computer speeds, Ishtar had me be very slow and careful. Then for a short time-short human time-I was both places, computer and skull; then I surrendered the computer and let it become Pallas Athene, and Ishtar woke me. But, Lazarus, a clone in-vitro is not aware; it's like a fetus in utero. No stimuli. Correction: minimum stimuli and nothing that leaves a permanent memory track. Unless you count reports of regression under hypnosis."

"No need to count them," Lazarus replied. "True or false, such cases are irrelevant. The relevant counterpoint is 'minimum stimuli' Honey, those big computers with awareness potential but without self-awareness are that way because nobody bothered to love the poor things. That's all. Babies or big computers-they become aware through being given: lots of personal attention. 'Love' as it's usually called. Minerva, does that theory match up with your earliest years?"

Minerva looked soberly thoughtful. "That was about a century ago in human time-call it a million times that in computer time. I know from the records that I was assembled a few years before Ira took office. But the earliest personal memories I have-and those memories I saved and did not leave in Athene or in the computer in New Rome-the earliest I can remember of me is waiting eagerly and happily for the next time Ira would speak to me."

Lazarus said, "I need not belabor the point. With babies you breast-feed them and nibble their toes and talk to them and blow in their bellybuttons and make them laugh. Computers don't have bellybuttons, but attention works just as well on them. Justin, Minerva tells me that she left nothing of herself in the computer under the palace."

"That is correct. I left it intact as a computer and programmed for all its duties...but I dared not leave any personal memory, any part of the me, could not let it remember that it had once been Minerva; that wouldn't have been fair to it. Lazarus warned me, and I was most careful, checking all the billions of bits and wiping where necessary."

Justin Foote said, "I missed a turn somehow. You did this in New Rome...but you've been awake here only three years?"

"Three wonderful years! You see-"

"Let me interrupt, dear; I'll tell him the hanky-panky. But first-Justin, have you dealt with the executive computer in New Rome since we migrated? Of course you have-but have you been in the office of Madam Chairman Pro Tem when she was using it?"

"Why, yes, several times. Just yesterday-no, I mean the yesterday before I left; I keep forgetting that I missed transit time."

"What name does she use in speaking with it?"

"I don't think she uses a name. I'm fairly certain she does not."

"Oh, the poor thing!"

"No, Minerva," Lazarus said quietly. "You left it in good health; it simply won't wake up until it has a mistress, or master, who appreciates it. Which might not be 'long," he added grimly.

Justin Foote said, "Might be any time. Lazarus, that old, uh-cancel that. Arabelle loves the spotlight. Appears at public meetings, shows up in the Colosseum. Stands up and waves her scarf. Seems odd, after the quiet way Ira ran things."

"I see. A sitting duck. Seven to two she's assassinated in the next five years."

"No bet. I'm a statistician, Lazarus."

"So you are. All right- Hanky-panky. Lots of it. Ishtar set up an auxiliary Howard Clinic in the Palace. Her excuse: Me, the Senior. But a cover-up for a much more extensive bio facility. Minerva picked her parents; Ishtar stole the tissues and faked some records. Meanwhile, our skinny friend my daughter Minerva-"

"She is not! She's just right for her height and body type and bio age!"

"-and deliciously curved!"

"-had twinned her computer self in a hold of my yacht 'Dora,' placing the contract in my name and charging it to me, and nobody dared inquire why the Senior-some advantages to age, especially among Howards-wanted a huge computer in a yacht that already had one of the fanciest computers in the sky. While, back in my borrowed penthouse where nobody was allowed to go-other than a short list all as- dishonest as' I am-a clone was growing in a facility installed in a room I didn't need.

"Comes time to migrate, a very large case containing what was then a very small clone, goes to the skyport marked as part of my personal baggage-this baggage between us, of course-and is loaded into the 'Dora' without inspection, such being a prerogative of being Chairman...for as you may recall I didn't hand the gavel back to Arabelle until our transports had lifted and I was about to raise ship myself, with Ira and the rest of my personal party aboard.

"While I'm taking the clone aboard, Minerva withdraws herself from the executive computer and is safe and snug in a hold of the 'Dora'...with her gizzards packed with every bit of data in the Grand Library and the entire records of the Howard Clinic including secret and confidential stuff. A most satisfying caper, Justin, the most good, clean, illegal fun I've had since we stole the 'New Frontiers.' But I'm telling you this not to boast-or not much-but to ask if we were as slick as we thought we were. Any rumors? Did you suspect anything amiss? How about Arabelle?"