Leo Frankowski

didn’t want—Liebchen, I can’t explain it to you.”
    “My lady, you
have mated before, haven’t you?” Liebchen persisted.
    “Uh… Yes. Of course. I’m
twenty-nine, Liebchen.”
    “Were the others
as intelligent as my Lord Guibedo?”
    “Goodness, no!
I’ve never met anyone with a brain like his. Why, he broke the genetic code
singlehanded.”
    “Were the
others as warm and generous as my Lord Guibedo?”
    “They were
nice, but so is Dr. Guibedo.”
    “My lady, if Lord Guibedo is superior
to your earlier mates, why did you accept
them and reject him?”
    “Liebchen, I
know I won’t explain it right, but there are other things a girl looks for in a man.
I mean, Dr. Guibedo’s nice, but he’s so old and, uh, portly.”
    “And your programming requires that
your mates have certain physical
characteristics?”
    “Programming! Liebchen, I wasn’t
programmed! I was raised naturally.”
    “All beings are
programmed, my lady. We engineered life forms are programmed rationally.
Natural life forms are
programmed in a somewhat random manner. But they
are programmed nonetheless.”
    “I don’t want to
argue with you, Liebchen.” Patricia decided to change the subject.
“This breakfast is delicious.”
    “Thank you, my
lady. I thought that it would be what was desired by one of your… background.
You must try this.” Liebchen handed Patricia a glass. “I made it specially for you.”
    The liquid looked
like a mixture of milk and pink grapefruit juice, but it was hard to say no
to someone as eager as Liebchen. Patricia took a polite sip.
    “Thank you. It is good.” She took a larger drink. “In fact, it’s great!” Patricia finished the glass. “What do you call it?”
    “It doesn’t
have a name yet, my lady.”
    “Then what is
it?” Patricia felt suddenly sleepy, and slumped onto the table,
unconscious.
    When Patricia was
completely unconscious, Liebchen said, “It is a light dose of a behavioral
modification compound that will change your perceptions and programming somewhat, my
lady. It will increase the happiness of all concerned.” Liebchen was programmed
to always give a human a complete answer.
     
    When Guibedo came
in, unshaven and looking at the floor, Patricia was up and smiling.
    “Good morning.
I’m glad you’re still here, Patty. I’ve got to apologize for last night. Maybe I
drank too much, but I was way out of line.”
    Patricia got up and
put her arms around Guibedo, her fingertips not quite touching each other
behind him. She kissed him full on the mouth. “There’s nothing to apologize for,
handsome.”
    These girls, thought Guibedo. As soon as you’ve got them
figured out, you’re wrong!
    Liebchen smiled and
wiggled her hoofs happily on the carpet.

Chapter Seven
    MARCH 20, 2003
     
    U NCLE M ARTIN’S tree houses will
totally alter the world’s economic structure. In fact, economics in the ordinary sense of the
word will cease to exist. Our present political and social structure, with
all their ineq uities, are completely dependent on economics. Without it they will fall.
    It would be criminal to destroy those
structures with out having something better
to take their place. Most of my
animals are designed to replace existing governmental services.
    The LDUs can perform a variety of
functions, such as being a police force, a
medical corps, dog catchers, and what
have you. The fauns should be able to handle at least primary education.
The TRACs will do most con struction and
transportation. And the Central Coordina tion Unit can take care of communications.
    But setting up a
rational, decent social structure is going to require more than bioengineering.
    Eventually every human being will have an
equal and high standard of living.
Historically, certain groups have enjoyed this position: the Czarist
aristocracy; the Roman nobility; the present-day idle rich. But I don’t
like any of these cultures. Maybe we can try
for something better. The only thing
that I know for certain is that a peaceful culture needs a peaceful environment to grow in. If I must lie to
maintain the illusion of tranquility, so be it.
    —Heinrich Copemick
    From his log tape
     
    “I’m glad that you volunteered for
this mission, Jack. If you hadn’t, I’d have
to order you to go,” General Hastings
said.
    “I had that
feeling, General.”
    “It’s just that
you’re the best field agent I have.”
    “The best that
you have left, you mean.”
    “Breckenridge and
Thompson were