Doon looked distant. "You don't know the answer?"
"Oh," Herman said, laughing, "I was once quite mad, you know, and thought you were out to wreck the Empire. They cured me."
Doon nodded, looking sad.
"But I'm quite better now, and I want to know. Just want to know."
"I tore-- I attacked your empire, Grandfather, because it was too beautiful to finish. If you had finished it, won the game, the game would have ended, and then what would have happened? It wouldn't have been remembered for very long. But now-- it's remembered forever."
"Funny, isn't it," Herman said, losing the thread of the conversation before Doon finished speaking, "that the greatest builder and the greatest wrecker should both come from the same-- should be grandfather and grandson. Funny, isn't it?"
"It's all in the family, isn't it?" Doon said with a smile.
"I'm proud of you, Doon," Herman said, and meant it for the time being. "I'm glad that if someone was strong enough to beat me, it was blood of my blood. Flesh of my--"
"Flesh," Doon interrupted. "So you're religious after all."
"I don't remember," Herman said. "Something happened to my memory, Abner Doon, and I'm not sure of everything. Was I religious? Or was it someone else?"
Doon's eyes filled with sorrow and he reached out to the old man sitting on a soft chair. Doon knelt and embraced him. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I didn't know what it would cost you. I truly didn't."
Herman only laughed. "Oh, I didn't have any bets out that waking. It didn't cost me a dime."
Doon only held him tighter and said, again, "I'm sorry, Grandfather, "
"Oh, well, I don't mind losing," Herman answered. "In the long run, it was only a game, wasn't it?"
LIFELOOP
Jellicle Cats are black and white, Jellicle Cats are rather small; Jellicle Cats are merry and bright, And pleasant to hear when they caterwaul.
-- T. S. Eliot, The Song of the Jellicles
Arran lay on her bed, weeping. The sound of the door slamming still rang through her flat. Finally she rolled over, looked at the ceiling, wiped tears away delicately with her fingers, and then said, "What the hell."
Dramatic pause. And then, at last (at long last) a loud buzzer sounded. "All clear, Arran," said the voice from the concealed speaker, and Arran groaned, swung around to sit on the bed, unstrapped the loop recorder from her naked leg, and threw it tiredly against the wall. It smashed.
"Do you have any idea how much that equipment costs?" Triuff asked, reproachfully.
"I pay you to know," Arran said, putting on a robe. Triuff found the tie and handed it to her. As Arran threaded it through the loops, Triuff exulted. "The best ever. A hundred billion Arran Handully fans are aching to pay their seven chops to get in to watch. And you gave it to them."
"Seventeen days," Arran said, glaring at the other woman. "Seventeen stinking days. And three of them with that bastard Courtney."
"He's paid to be a bastard. It's his persona."
"He's pretty damned convincing. If you get me even three minutes with him next time, I'll sack you."
Arran strode out of her flat, barefoot and clad only in the robe. Triuff followed, her high-heeled shoes making a clicking rhythm that, to Arran anyway, always seemed to be saying, "Money, money, money." Except when it was saying, "Screw your mother, screw your mother." Good manager. Billions in the bank.
"Arran," Triuff said. "I know you're very tired."
"Ha," Arran said.
"But while you were recording I had time to do a little business--"
"While I was recording you had time to manufacture a planet!" Arran snarled. "Seventeen days! I'm an actress, I'm not going for the guiness. I'm the highest paid actress in history, I think you said in your latest press releases. So why do I work my tail off for seventeen days when I'm only awake for twenty-one? Four lousy days of peace, and then the marathon."
"A little business," Triuff went on, unperturbed. "A little business that will let you retire."
"Retire?" And without thinking, Arran slowed down her pace.
"Retire. Imagine-- awake for three weeks, and only guest appearances in other poor slobs' loops. Getting paid for having fun."
"Nights to myself?"
"We'll turn off the recorder."
Arran scowled. Triuff amended: "You can even take the thing off!"
"And what do I have to do to earn so much? Have an affair with a gorilla?"
"It's been done," Triuff said, "and it's beneath you. No, this time we give them total reality. Total!"
"What do we give them now? Sure, you want me crap in a glass toilet!"
"I've made arrangements," Triuff said, "to have a loop recorder in the Sleeproom."
Arran Handully gasped and stared at her manager. "In the Sleeproom! Is nothing sacred!" And then Arran laughed. "You must have spent a fortune! An absolute fortune!"
"Actually, only one bribe was necessary."
"Who'd you bribe, Mother?"
"Very close. Better, in fact, since Mother hasn't got the power to pick her nose without the consent of the Cabinet. It's Farl Baak."
"Baak! And here I thought he was a decent man."
"It wasn't a bribe. At least, not for money."
Arran squinted at Triuff. "Triuff," she said, "I told you that I was willing to act out twenty-four-hour-a-day love affairs. But I choose my own lovers off-camera."
"You'll be able to retire."
"I'm not a whore!"
"And he said he wouldn't even sleep with you, if you didn't want. He just asked for twenty-four hours with you two wakings from now. To talk. To become friends."
Arran leaned against the wall of the corridor. "It'll really make that much money?"
"You forget, Arran. All your fans are in love with you. But no one has ever done what you're going to do. From a half-hour before waking to a half-hour after you've been put to sleep."
"Before waking and after the somec." Arran smiled. "There's nobody in the Empire who's seen that, except the Sleeproom attendants."
"And we can advertise utter reality. No illusion: you'll see everything that happens to Arran Hanto daily for three weeks of waking!"
Arran thoughtfully considered for a moment.
"It'll be hell," she said.
"You can retire afterward," Triuff reminded her.
"All right," Arran agreed. "I'll do it. But I warn you. No Courtneys. No bores. And no little boys!"
Triuff looked hurt. "Arran-- the little boy was five loops ago!"
"I remember every moment of it," Arran said. "He came without an instruction booklet. What the hell do I do with a seven-year-old boy?"
"And it was your best acting up to then. Arran, I can't help it-- I have to spring surprises on you. That's when you're at your best-- dealing with difficulty. That's why you're an artist. That's why you're a legend."
"That's why you're rich," Arran pointed out, and then she walked quickly away, heading for the Sleeproom. Her eligibility began in a half-hour, and every waking moment beyond that was a moment less of life.
Triuff followed her as far as she could, giving last-minute instructions on what to do when she woke, what to expect in the Sleeproom, how the instructions would be given to her in a way that she couldn't miss, but that the audience watching the holos wouldn't notice, and finally Arran made it through the door into the tape and tap, and Triuff had to stay behind.