Stan had too much on his mind to be tolerant of Heechee ditherings. "So mention the hell away," he snapped.
The Heechee's belly muscles were rippling wildly under his tunic. "Is not really a matter of any large significance entirely," he said. "Happens self with female Salt recently did significant discussing of future planning. That is, joint future is meant here."
That got Stan's attention. "What do you mean, joint'? I thought you said marriage was a—"
"Was foolish ancient custom your people, yes. What is purpose to mention this word 'marriage.' You have not heard me say word 'marriage.' Is quite not in contemplation at all."
"What then?" Stan demanded.
Achiever spread his bony fingers. "Other thing entirely. Propose repeated alternation of dwellings occupied by I and she, this time both in one, that time both in other. Will now be one-on-one cohabitation."
"And the difference is?"
"Very large difference indeed! Joint habitation purely as temporary convenience. To continue no longer than, let us say, time necessary for child to grow and become adult. You have understanding of aforesaid statements?"
"I guess so. It'll be temporary, just for twenty years or so."
"Exactly correct. Now here is place for you."
The place was quite nice—lush balcony with its scented ferns and flowering mosses—and someone was waiting for him at one of the little tables. "I thought I'd keep you company, Stan," Sigfrid von Shrink said. "I know what it's like."
Stan forebore to ask the AI how he would know that, his mind still trying to get used to the fact that Salt and Achiever were actually setting up housekeeping. He abandoned both questions and said just, "Thanks," as he sank into one of the physically real chairs.
Sigfrid said, "You're welcome," and stopped himself there, regarding Stan.
That was new. It was not possible that Sigfrid was having trouble, in real time, in deciding what to do, so, Stan decided, it had to be something he was waiting for Stan to do. He took a stab at, "Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"
Sigfrid still seemed hesitant. "I understand Rowena McClune spoke to you," he offered.
Stan was tempted to grin. "You bet she did. Look what came of it."
"Anything else?"
"Oh," Stan said, relieved. "Sure. She thinks I ought to go back to school."
Sigfrid nodded. "And what do you think about that, Stan?"
That had not been one of the questions uppermost in Stan's mind. He shrugged without much interest. "I guess, maybe. I mean sure I should sometime or other. But right now I've got other things on my mind, and anyway I wouldn't know what to study."
"I see," Sigfrid said, stroking his chin as though considering the matter—more of his theatrics, Stan knew. "Well, you might just study everything, Stan. Everything you need to be a well-informed human being. History. Political science—well, that's kind of a misnomer, because there isn't much that's scientific about it. Like economics and social studies and all those, it's basically about how human beings behave, so, really, they're all branches of psychology.... Oh, sorry," he said, noting Stan's expression. "I didn't mean to make it so, well, forbidding. You look like you have a question."
"I certainly do. The question is, 'why?'"
Sigfrid looked pained. "I'm not sure which 'why' you're asking about, Stan. If it's why learn, the answer is because you can. You've got a good mind, but there's not a whole lot of knowledge in it to prepare you for the kind of life you should think of living. If the question is why I mention these particular subjects"—the look on his face had suddenly become grave—"it's because they all bear on the art, I won't say the science, of governance."
Stan was beginning to feel alarmed. "You mean so I'll know, like, how to vote? If we ever have anything like elections, I mean?"
"Or be voted for, Stan," Sigfrid said gently. He raised a hand to forestall Stan's objections. "If not you, who else? It has to be somebody. The millions of human beings in the Core need some kind of government."
Stan looked dubious, and was. "Isn't that what the Stored Minds do?"
"They do that for the Heechee, yes. They are of course wise and just and all those things. They aren't human, though. They don't think the same way we do. The Stored Minds are well aware of that; I'm confident that they would refuse to govern humans, even if asked."
Stan thought it over for a moment, then brightened. "But we already have a government we can get to help us, don't we? All those other planets in the outside galaxy have to have some sort of governing body—"
Sigfrid was shaking his head. "They don't, Stan. They never did, really; there were always disputes that no one could settle and, anyway, what little they did have has long since vanished. Do you know that there are more organic human beings in the Core than in the whole outside galaxy?"
Stan didn't answer. Didn't have to; the expression on his face was answer enough. "It's because of machine storage, Stan," Sigfrid told him. "It began with the Here After facilities. First people were stored when they died. Then, when people began to realize what machine-stored existence could be like, they stopped waiting for death. They got stored whenever they chose to do it, and then they could have anything they wanted. Could create any surround. Could invent other people for themselves, or interact with those other stored ones. And then—"
He paused, shaking his head. "You remember all those discoveries and inventions that were coming from Outside? Have you noticed that they've pretty much dried up? Machine-stored people don't do much inventing. They don't do research, either. Why would they, when there isn't any need for them to do anything that requires work, or anything at all but enjoy all the pleasures they can imagine? They're the lotus-eaters, Stan. The people who need nothing, and thus do nothing useful at all!"
He gazed for a long moment at Stan, who had no idea what lotus-eaters were. He decided to nod wisely. Sigfrid returned the nod. "So we can't rely on anybody else, you see. There has to be something to deal with problems—call it a government—something like a Core-wide congress. The members will be elected, as soon as somebody can figure out how to go about it. I think you should run."
It took Stan a moment to get his breath. "Wha—What about my getting an education?"
"The two things aren't mutually exclusive, Stan. Anyway, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. You don't have to say anything now. Think it over. Talk to Estrella." And then, smiling, "Whom I'm told you can see now, along with your new daughter."
VII
It had been a long time since Stan had seen a human baby, not since one of the girls in Mr. Ozden's brothel had got herself pregnant. That sort of thing was an economic hardship for Mr. Ozden when it happened. To deal with the problem he kept a neighborhood abortionist on permanent retainer. Not this time, though. The baby's father, or at least the customer considered to have been the likeliest to be the baby's father, was a man high up in Istanbul's city government. When the father indicated he would prefer it, the girl had been allowed to keep the child, and even to show it off to such neighbors as young Stan.
As far as Stan could remember, this baby looked pretty much the same as that long-ago one: eyes screwed tightly shut, mouth closed except for the occasional little whimpering cry, scalp bald, fingers made into tiny fists.