"Theodore...I'm confused."
"I'm sorry, darling. Time travel is confusing."
"You speak of a computer, and I'm not sure what you mean...and you said 'she' conns-whatever that means-a ship that will pick you up...in 1926? And I don't understand any of it."
Lazarus sighed. "That's why I never intended to tell anyone. But I had to tell you-so that you could stop worrying. My ship is a spaceship-like Jules Verne, only more so. A starship, I live on a planet a long way off. But it is a timeship, too; she travels in both space and time and it's too complicated to explain. The computer is the ship's brain-a machine, a very complex machine. My ship is named 'Dora' and the machine, the computer, that conns it-runs it-steers it-is called Dora, too; that's the name she answers to when I speak to her. She's a very intelligent machine and can talk. Oh, there is a crew, two of my sisters-so of course they are descended from you, too, and they look like you. A crew is necessary- can't let a ship go running around by itself-except automatic freighters on precalculated runs-but Dora does the hard work, and Laz and Lor-Lapis Lazuli Long and Lorelei Lee Long-tell Dora what to do and let her do it." He squeezed Mrs. Smith's thigh and grinned. "If that air blast bad kept your skirts up two seconds longer, I would know more about how closely they resemble you-as they usually run around naked. They look like you in the face. Bodies, too, from that too-short glimpse of your lovely legs. Except that Laz and Lor are freckled all over as solidly as Marie is on her face."
"I'd be that freckled if I didn't stay out of the sun. When I was Marie's age Father called me 'Turkey Egg.' But all over? They don't wear any clothes?"
"Oh, they enjoy fancy dress for parties. Or the weather might be cold-but it rarely is; we live in a climate like southern Italy. They don't wear anything very often." Lazarus smiled and caressed her thigh. "They don't need to leave their bloomers home to be ready for lovemaking; they don't own any bloomers. They aren't a bit shy. They would be delighted to trip your father; they like older men-they're much younger than I am."
"Lazarus...how old are you?"
Lazarus hesitated. "Maureen, I don't want to answer that. I'm older than I look; Ira Howard's experiment was successful. Instead let me tell you about my family. Your family, too; we all are descended from you by one line or another. Two of my wives and one of my co-husbands are descended both from Nancy and from Woodie."
"'Wives? Co-husband?'"
"Sweetheart, marriage takes many forms. Where I live you don't need a divorce or a death to gather in someone you love. I have four wives and three co-husbands-and my sisters, Laz and Lor...and they may marry out of the family or they may stay-and don't look startled; you said you didn't fret when you thought I was your half brother-and don't worry about harm to babies; they know far more about such things at that when-&-where-than they do in the here-&-now. We don't risk harm to babies.
"Of which we have plenty. And cats and dogs and anything a child can pet and take care of. It's a real family in a house to fit a big family.
"I can't tell you about each one; we've got to get our stowaway home. But I want to tell you about one-because you've been insisting that you don't look eighteen-merely because you've been using your breasts to feed babies. Tamara. Descended from you through Nancy and her Jonathan- Want to hear about Nancy's umpty-ump granddaughter? Tamara is about two hundred and fifty years old, I think-"
"Two hundred and fifty!"
"Yes. One of my co-husbands, Ira Weatheral, also from Nancy and Jonathan but from Woodie, too-and named for your father, not for Ira Howard-is over four hundred years old. Maureen, Ira Howard's experiment worked; we have longer life-spans-inherited from you and all our Howard ancestors-but also in that when-&-where they know how to rejuvenate a person. Tamara has had two rejuvenations-one recently and looks as young as you do. Real rejuvenation- Tamara was pregnant when I left.
"But how she looks is not important; Tamara is a healer- and I suspect she gets it from you."
"Theodore-Lazarus-again I don't understand. A healer? Like a faith healer?"
"No. If Tamara has a religious faith, she has never mentioned it. Tamara is calm and happy and serene, and anyone around her feels it so strongly-just as with you, darling!- that he or she is happy, too. If people are ill, they get well faster if Tamara touches them, or talks to them, or sleeps with them.
"But Tamara was not young when I met her. She was quite old and thinking about letting it go at that, dying of old age. But I was ill, very ill, sick in my soul-and Ishtar, later my wife and the topnotch rejuvenator in all the Milky Way, went out and fetched Tamara. Tamara. Little round potbelly, breasts that were really baggy, sags under her eyes, and her chin, all the old-age things.
"Tamara healed the sickness in my soul, just by being with me...and somehow this renewed her own interest in life, and she took another rejuvenation and is young again and has already added another baby to the Maureen-Nancy line and is pregnant still again. You and Tamara are so much alike, Maureen; she's just love with some skin around it- and so are you. But-" Lazarus paused and frowned.
"Maureen, I don't know how to convince you that I'm telling the truth. You'll know it when Woodie's sixth birthday comes around and they blow every whistle and ring every bell and the newsboys shout: 'Extra! Extra! Germany surrenders!' But that'll be too late to help you. I want to stop your worries now!"
"I've stopped worrying, dear one. It sounds wonderful and impossible...and I believe you."
"Do you? I've offered no proof; I've told you a tale impossible on the face of it."
"Nevertheless, I believe it. When Woodrow is six on the seventh of November-"
"No, the eleventh!"
"Yes, Lazarus. But how did you know that his birthday is the eleventh?"
"Why, you told me yourself."
"Dear, I said be was born in November; I did not say what day. Then I deliberately misstated it-and you corrected me at once."
"Well, maybe Ira told me. Or one of the children. Most likely Woodie himself."
"Woodrow does not know the date of his birthday. Wake him and ask him."
"I'd rather not wake him until we get home."
"What is my birthday, dear one?"
"The Fourth of July, 1882."
"What is Marie's birthday?"
"I think she is nine. I don't know the date."
"The other children?"
"I'm not sure."
"My father's birthday?"
"Maureen, is there some point to this? August second, 1852."
"Beloved Lazarus who calls himself 'Theodore,' I have a firm rule with my children. I keep each one from knowing the date of his birth as long as possible so that he won't advertise it and thereby blackmail people for presents. When one is old -enough for school and needs to know the date, he is old enough to be told why, and I make it bluntly plain that if he drops hints ahead of time-no birthday cake, no birthday party. I haven't had to use that penalty; they are all intelligent.
"Last year Woodrow was too young for it to be a problem; his birthday came as a surprise to him. He still does not know the exact date-so I strongly believe. Lazarus, you know the birthdays of your direct ancestors...because you looked them up in the Foundation records. Since you can't tell me the birthdays of my other children, I assume that I've found that proof."