"That's impossible!"
"Perhaps."
Daddy-O's voice took on overtones of humor.
"I can assure you that it will definitely not be easy."
"If it could be done, you would have done it."
"That is demonstrably untrue. You are accustomed to working with me. Other regions are not. They would not accept a computer. They
could
accept
you."
"It's still impossible. One person, and all the regions to deal with—"
"You would not be working alone. You would begin with more friends than you realize."
Again, the screen filled, this time with a familiar and ugly black human face.
"Rasool Ilunga remembers you well; he knows that he did not fool you, and that was enough to impress him. He will be your ready ally. As will Fathom Lavengro and Kristen Waldemar"
—a smiling blonde and a serious-faced brunette were looking out at Mike—
"as well as Old-Billy Waters, who thinks you are the best thing that ever happened to the Great Republic. And I do not have to tell you that you have an ally, and more than an ally, in the ranks of the Chipponese."
"It's still totally crazy. What about the Unified Empire? Damn it, I
killed
one of their coordinators! You think they like me for that? I don't have a friend in the region, and they must hate me down there."
"You are wrong in both statements. You will have the full support of a man who will soon control much of the Unified Empire."
The screen cleared again and filled with the grinning image of Max Dalzell.
"But he's a traitor. He's—"
"Mike, even within the Traders things are not always what they seem. Max is familiar with everything that I am telling you. He is one of your strongest supporters. He went to the Unified Empire already prepared to work with you, and he is here now. He arrived last night."
"That's just one man—in a whole region."
"There are others. Thanks to the death of Dominic Mantilla, Benjy Caps survived the Counterpoint game. He is now a leader of the Cappy Universal Enhancement underground, and he believes that he owes his life and his restored self-awareness to you. You will deny that it is deserved, but you are a hero in the Unified Empire. Fifty thousand Cappies would lay down their lives for your sake if Benjy were to call for it.
They
are willing to make the sacrifice. Are you, Mike? Or will you go cheerfully off to space, knowing that Earth may be ruined?"
"You know damned well that's not a fair question. Of course I wouldn't be cheerful. But that's not the issue. There are a hundred Traders better equipped to help you than I am. What about Lyle Connery? What about Jack Lester? Come to that, what about Max Dalzell?"
"No."
"Max is a better Trader than I could ever be."
"Perhaps. Twenty years ago, Max Dalzell would have been my choice. Not today. The world changes."
"Then why wasn't the effort started twenty years ago—or thirty? The regions were less militant. The job would have been a lot easier."
"Ah."
Daddy-O sighed.
"For that failure, I take full responsibility. My projection of trends was inadequate, and I lacked confidence in my own analyses. But I cannot turn back the clock. We must go forward. Will you help us, Mike?"
Mike scowled at the camera and said nothing.
"Of course,"
Daddy-O continued,
"I did not expect an immediate concurrence. You need time to consider. Think about what you have seen and heard, and then we will talk again. Better still, you should discuss this with Max Dalzell. You can find him in his old quarters."
"I don't need time to think." Mike stood up, took a thick waterproof coat from a wall hook, and walked unsteadily to the door of the room. "And I don't want to talk to Max Dalzell. I can give you my answer now. It's no. I think you've gone crazy. I couldn't do the job you describe—nobody could. All I would do is ruin my own life. For nothing. You think Earth can be unified?" He opened the door. "Fine. Then do it
yourself
."
Mike slammed the door. The exit led out of the Rehab Center and onto the bare mountain slopes of the Trader training camp. It was a rainy spring evening, and the screes of gravel were dark and slippery. Daddy-O followed Mike's progress with the remote sensors, watching him slide and shuffle downhill toward the wooded lower slopes and the wind-chopped sea beyond.
When Mike reached the tree line, the computer switched the focus of its attention.
"Comments?"
Max Dalzell was sitting at his office desk, older-looking and twenty pounds thinner than when Mike had last seen him. In front of him stood the electronic board of the chess game he had been playing with Daddy-O. Max was up a knight and two pawns, and he knew he had Daddy-O in deep trouble.
He shook his head at Daddy-O's question. "You've lost him."
"Why?"
"The Chipponese woman. Before he met her I gave you an even chance. Now—" He gave a lopsided shrug of the thick shoulders. "That last mission was a mistake."
"It was absolutely essential. The final dimension. Mike had to learn to love. He was incomplete without it."
"I'll take your word for it. But he makes a lot of sense. You persuaded me, but maybe the job
is
impossible. And he's asking the same question I did: why didn't you attempt it
yourself
? You said that people would not trust you because you are a machine. But you know that's nonsense."
"I think not—and it is irrelevant. Max, it is not
permitted
for a machine to control the future of the human race."
"Who's going to stop you?" Max Dalzell raised dark eyebrows. "Not me, and not any of the other Traders that I know."
"I
would stop me."
Daddy-O produced a sigh.
"Max, I could not undertake such a program. My innermost circuits reject the idea. Desiree Hofstadt built into me certain prohibitions, what she jokingly referred to as the Frankenstein Safeguard. I can no more undertake the unification of the human race under a computer's control—
any
computer—than I can
fail
to seek unification under human control. That is the paradox of my position."
"Aren't you smart enough to think of a way out? There must be an escape clause."
"The old problem:
If you're so clever, how come you're not omnipotent?
No, Max, believe me, there is no escape clause."
"So what happens now? Mike won't take the job, and he was your only bet. Where do we go from here?"
"If he refuses, I will wait and try again with someone else."
"You heard him. He
has
refused."
"I heard him. But I have not given up hope. Why did Mike go outside into the rain, if not to think things over? He was heading down the hill in this direction when last I saw him. If he comes here to you, it will surely be because he has decided to accept the task."
Max Dalzell stirred in his chair and glanced at the heavy black door. "I'm sure he won't come. If he were going to, he'd be here by now."
"Max, we must wait and see. I say he will come."
"And I say he won't."
"Then we have the basis for a wager. Shall we say, with a pawn of this game as stakes?"
"All right. You're on. But if he's not here in ten minutes, you lose."
While they settled down to wait, Daddy-O moved computing resources to study a different problem. How could Li Xia, a Chipponese woman with no Trader experience or training, best be incorporated into the Trader community? And how could she help Mike on the unification program?
For of course, Daddy-O had cheated. The habits of fifty years were hard to break. The wager with Max had been won before it was made. The outside sensors had long since revealed Mike Asparian approaching along the curved corridor. By the time that the knock came on the door, Daddy-O had a possible answer to the problem with Li Xia and had removed one of Max's pawns.
* * *
THE END