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Nor knew that his Imperative Was horse’s laughter up a sleeve.
If Cleo’s nose had been too short? If Papa Pharaoh’d named her Mort?
Would then have risen Caesar’s bone? Or did it have a will its own?
It swelled, we know, at sight of Brutus. He’d shove his horn up all to toot us.
Imperator, he’d screw the world. The hole’s the thing, if boyed or girled.
Some say that love is Cupid’s arrow. For this defense, call Clarence Darrow.
Envoi
Our Lady of Our Love’s Afflatus, Unveil the All, and please don’t freight us Sans paddle up the amorous creek, Unknowing if by will or freak Of circumstances our loves’ll mate us. All flappers think they’ve picked their sheik With perfect freedom in their choice. In this have they as little voice As chickens swallowed by a geek

“That’s just a list of question-beggers,” she said. “Bruga was like you, a man driven by his peculiar complex of genes to look for answers that didn’t exist.”

“Maybe,” Simon said. “So how do you explain how you, a nonfree-will robot, got away from your master?”

“It was an accident. Zappo struck me on the head with a vase during a fit of rage. The blow knocked me out, but when I woke up, I found that I was able to disobey him. The blow had knocked the master circuit out of commission. Of course, I didn’t let him know that. When I got the chance, I stole a spaceship. The Zelpstians quit space travel a long time ago, but there were still some ships gathering dust in museums nobody visited anymore. I wandered around for a while and then I came across this planet. There weren’t any human beings here, or so I thought. I was going to stay here forever. But I did get lonely. I’m glad you came along.”

“And so am I,” Simon said. “So you got your freedom because of a malfunctioning circuit?”

“I suppose so. And that worries me. What if another accident makes the circuit function again?”

“It’s not likely.”

“Of course,” she said, “I’m by no means entirely unprogrammed. But then who, robot or human, is? I have certain tastes in food and drink, I loathe birds…”

“Why do you hate birds?”

“Zappo was frightened by one when he was a child. And so he had all his robots programmed to hate birds. He didn’t want us to be superior to him in any respect.”

“You can’t really blame him for that,” Simon said. “Well, how about it, Chworktap? Would you like to come with me?”

“Where are you going?”

“Everywhere until I find the answer to my primal question.”

“What’s that?”

“Why are we born only to suffer and die?”

“What you’re saying is this,” she said. “Nothing else matters if we have immortality.”

“Without immortality, the universe is meaningless,” he said. “Ethics, morality, society as a whole are just means to get through life with the least pain. They can all be reduced to one term: economy.”

“An economy that is nowhere more than thirty percent efficient,” she said.

“You don’t know that. You haven’t been everywhere.”

“But you’re going everywhere?”

“If possible. I’ve already eliminated my galaxy, though. I know from what I’ve read that the answer is not there. But what about you, Chworktap? What about your genes? Most of them are artificial. So you shouldn’t have any gene pattern to predetermine your reactions to philosophical problems.”

“I’m a crazy quilt of chromosomes,” she said. “All my genes are based on those which once existed. Each is copied after a certain person’s, though each is an improved model. But I have the genes of many individuals. You might say I have a thousand parents, a hundred thousand grandparents.”

They were interrupted at this point by a loud crash outside the ship. They hurried out to see, a quarter of a mile away, a female and a male Giffardian lying in ruins. The male had burst into flame, and both were burning away under a strong wind.

This wasn’t the first crash of this type, nor was it likely to be the last. The females’ insistence that they be given rides was causing many accidents, usually fatal. The weight of the female at the nose-end made the male upend. To sustain altitude, he had to jet his drive-gas through his fore opening at full speed. The two would go straight up, and then the male would get exhausted. And down they would come.

“And all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put them together again,” Simon murmured.

“Why don’t they just quit that?” Chworktap said.

“Their genes drive them to their actions,” Simon said maliciously.

“If they keep this up, they’ll become extinct,” she said. “Even if there weren’t any crashes, they’ll die out. The air-time keeps the females from browsing, and so the young aren’t getting enough food. Look how thin they’ve become!”

What the Giffardians did was none of Simon’s business, but that didn’t keep him from interfering. At dusk, when the males had come down, and males and young were locked into the females, he went into the meadow. And there he proposed that they should settle their conflict. Let them choose him as an objective judge and abide by his decision.

He was, of course, rejected. But a few days later, after three couples had fallen to their death, a female and a male approached him. The former he called Amelia and the latter Ferdinand. Graf and Gräfin, the leader and his wife, had been smashed to bits only the day before. Amelia and Ferdinand, as next in line in the pecking order, had become the chiefs. A funeral had been held, at which Simon had brought flowers. The preacher of the flock had given a eulogy. Graf was praised for his outstanding leadership, though everyone knew he had been a lazy bully who had delegated most of his administrative work to underlings. He was praised for his faithfulness as a mate, though everyone knew he was always luring females to the other side of the forest and half of the herd could call him father. The preacher spoke of what an exemplary family man he was, although everyone knew that he had not spoken to his children unless they were irritating him and then it was to blow them end over end with a mighty fart.

Gräfin was praised as a patient hard-working wife and mother. She had certainly been hard-working, but her loudmouthed bitchings about her husband and her backbiting gossip were well known.

Simon didn’t find anything strange in this. He had attended many such.

At the end of the funeral, Amelia and Ferdinand had asked to see Simon the next day. And so here they were.

What they wanted was simple but not easy. Simon was to decide whether or not the sky-rides should continue. The females still wanted to go up, and the males were still dead-set against it.

Simon said that he would accept the appointment, but it might be a few days before he could come to a decision.

After two days and nights, Simon retreated into the Hwang Ho. The females had sidled up to him on their hundred legs and offered all they had if he’d judge in their favor. Simon didn’t think their offers were very attractive even if he had been corruptible. If he had tried sexual intercourse with them, he would have fallen down their huge apex-hole into their stomachs. Nor did he like the idea of eating regurgitated food from their apex-organs.