“Don’t lecture me.”

“I would not presume to. I merely remind you that when I say there is time enough to cope, that should be sufficient to reassure you.”

It would, Oristano thought, if not for that succession of “I don’t knows.”

He called out to his right. “Another cup, please.”

“Bavarian mocha?” the subunit inquired.

“No, not this time. Turkish, as strong and caffeine-heavy as you can make it.”

“Yes sir.”

“This threat," said the Colligatarch, “appears devious beyond imagining and clever beyond conception. I am not sure that its perpetrators are conscious of just how clever they’ve been. This may be intentional on their part, an attempt to confuse us.”

“There’s more than one person behind it, then.”

“Considerably more, I should say. The complexity is formidable. They have designed a threat so subtle its parameters may not be obvious to its creators. There is a certain elegant logic to it. If they themselves cannot predict for certain how the threat will make itself known, neither can I or any of the security organizations which shield me.”

“It seems to me that if you can assume that much, you ought to have some specifics.”

“I wish simple deductive reasoning were enough to pull the mask from the face of the threat, Martin, but in this instance, such is not the case.”

Oristano rubbed a forefinger across his lips, his mind working overtime. If the nature of the threat was too complex, or too obscure, for the Colligatarch to see through it as yet, there was no point in trying to force the issue.

He felt quite helpless. Deprivation of information always made him feel that way. He wondered if the Colligatarch felt the same way. Emotions had been programmed into it in order to enable it to better understand the humans it served, but he couldn’t remember if anxiety was among them.

“What would you have me do?”

“Exercise the patience for which you are famed among your colleagues, Martin. Be patient, and wait. Meanwhile, there is other work we must attend to. People depend on us every day for food, for health, for peace. Not only must we give the appearance of everything’s being normal, we must make everything normal.”

“Which is why you don’t want me to call a meeting of the staff?”

“One reason, yes. They are a brilliant group, one or two in their way more brilliant even than yourself, though without your administrative abilities. And none are as comfortable with me as you are, Martin.”

He nodded, wondering who the “more brilliant” ones on the staff might be. MacReady? No, surely not him. Novotski? Perhaps.

His thoughts were wandering, and that wasn’t good. “You have to understand that it’s hard for me to go on as if everything is normal, given the statement you’ve just made.”

“I know that, but we must. Rest assured, Martin, that I will keep you apprised of any developments in the matter.’

“All right. What special security measures do you want implemented?”

“None. Insofar as I have been able to surmise, this assault will not be made on my … person.” The Colligatarch had been programmed with more than a rudimentary sense of humor.

“None?”

“None. To do so might alarm those who intend us harm. They might take care to conceal their intentions even more thoroughly. That could be fatal."

“I understand. It’s going to be hard for me to come and go normally knowing what you’ve told me.”

“It’s nearly winter,” said the machine. “I could predict severe early storms for central Europe. That would give you an excuse to move into your winter quarters here early, at least until the threat has been eliminated.”

Oristano couldn’t repress a slight smile. “But you’ve already predicted a milder than usual winter for this portion of the continent.”

“True. I am better at truths than prevarications. That is a human speciality. It will be up to you, then, to create a suitable excuse.”

“I’ll think of something.” Martha would be disappointed if he missed the dinner with the Italian ambassador. A shame. That, and an evening with the ambassador’s pretty wife, would have to wait.

“I’ll see to it. Given the seriousness of the threat, I agree that it would be better if I were available here round the clock.”

“That will be comforting,” said the machine, though whether it did so to please him or relax him Oristano could not say. As a daily practitioner of international diplomacy, the Colligatarch had become a superb flatterer.

“We will wait and I will pursue the problem. We will give no hint that anything out of the ordinary is occurring. Not until it is time to take action.”

“You won’t hold off until the proverbial last minute, I hope?”

“I do not plan to, Martin. Self-preservation is strongly programmed. I am here to insure the collective wellbeing of mankind, and I take that work with the utmost seriousness. I assure you I will take whatever steps are necessary to preserve my ability to carry out my assignments. It is my life’s work.”

Oristano smiled at that, nodded.

“I note your empathy, Martir It is what makes you so special, this ability to get along with me as well as your own kind. We will not come to harm, you or I or, insofar as I can manage it, any human being.

“But I must tell you, Martin, that I cannot promise the latter, since this danger is unlike any I have encountered previously.”

Oristano sat quietly until the brewer announced that his coffee was ready. As he picked up the mug, he was startled to find that his fingers were shaking. That was extraordinary. As Chief of Operations his nerves had to be as steady as those of brain surgeons, soccer goalies, and Tibetan lamas.

The Colligatarch did not remark on it, and in seconds Oristano had stopped the shaking.

But only in his fingers.

II

Eric Abbott contemplated his hamburger and wondered how much Jupiter was in it. Ever since the World Space Authority had started mining Titan for organic compounds to supplement the shortfall in terrestrial proteins, there had been rumors that the real organics were puffed up with artificials made from methane derivatives. A few opto wags had begun calling the result air burgers, sometimes non-air burgers.

Exactly how much of the thick, juicy patty that rested between the twin buns was meat, how much soy protein, how much plankton, how much methane, and how much Titan organics, only a competent chemist could say for sure. It gave a man pause.

He was sitting with Charlie, Adrienne, and Gabriella. They’d taken off work a few minutes early. Gabriella had mastered the trick of using the mirror in her compact to fool the laser recog eye on the time clock. When she reflected the laser back toward the source, they could feed false time-signals to the clock computer and punch out early. It would insist they’d left their offices on schedule. She kept the trick to herself. If all the girls in the office started doing it, before long the whole company would be letting out five minutes early. It wouldn’t take internal security very long to track down the original culprit.

So she employed it only once in a while. It enabled them to get a good table at El Palacio.

Across the room, past the bar, an opto filled one wall. Someone had turned it to the local news channel. Anchor Maryann Marshall was smilingly running through the list of the day’s disasters. No one paid much attention and the channel was soon shifted. Thursday Night Football would be on soon.

Eric idly reached for his beer, hastily pulled his fingers away. He’d accidentally touched the superchilled metallic glass. He picked it up by the special handle, sipped.

His friends were deep into a discussion of the East African situation. While he found the chatter interesting, he didn’t jump in. Eric rarely spoke unless he had something to say. His inability to make small talk had always bothered him. Despite that, he was no introvert. He simply found it hard to manufacture words without purpose.

They had the best table in El Palacio, and he let his gaze wander to the sweeping, curved window. Off to the west, the sun was dipping into California, frying the hills above the distant sliver of silver that was the Colorado. The restaurant sat on the 104th floor of the Selvem Building and the view was spectacular. Unless you were a desert hater, in which case it was merely monotonous.