"Say, Elm…saw a phony greencard today."

"Phony how?" He seemed mildly interested.

"Well, it really didn't belong to this person."

"If the holder's genotype doesn't match the card’s, and if those two don't jibe with CenDat, what good is it? Only a real jog would carry it around."

He wasn't getting my meaning.

"I'm talking about CenDat — the change was made there."

Elm shrugged. "It can be done. Not on a routine basis, of course, but if you know the right people and have the right amount of barter, changes can be made — criminal records erased, credit histories altered. Don't tell me that's news to you."

"No, that's not news. But have you ever heard of a clone being recategorized as Realpeople?"

At last a reaction from Elm: his eyebrows lifted.

"That might be difficult. The people in position to make such a change might refuse, no matter what price offered." He smiled that smile again. "They'd refuse on the grounds of 'principle,' I'm sure."

"But it could be done?"

"Of course — as long as you had a tissue sample to identify the genotype and your middleman was someone devious and roguey and subtly ingenious."

"Like you, for instance?"

He leaned back and steepled his Fingers. Elmero liked to think of himself as an extralegal mastermind.

"It is not outside the realm of my capabilities."

Now the big question: "Ever had occasion to arrange something like that?"

"No," he said with a slow shake of his head, "but I wouldn't be averse to the opportunity."