'"Mille tre,"' Harvey said sourly, quoting Da Ponte's libretto. 'But with you, you old craknit, it's – however you say a billion and three in Italian. I hope when I'm your age—'

'You won't ever be my age,' Virgil chortled, his eyes dancing and flaming up with the vitality of enjoyment. 'Forget it, Harv. Forget it and go back to your fiscal records, you walking, droning-on abacus. They won't find you dead in bed with a woman; they'll find you dead with a—' Virgil searched his mind. 'With an, ahem, inkwell.'

'Please,' Phyllis said drily, turning to look out at the stars and the black sky of 'tween space.

Eric said to Virgil, 'I'd like to ask you something. About a pack of Lucky Strike green. About three months ago—'

'Your wife loves me,' Virgil said. 'Yes, it was for me, doctor; a gift without strings. So ease your feverish mind; Kathy's not interested. Anyhow, it would cause trouble. Women, I can get; artiforg surgeons – well.. .' He reflected. 'Yes. When you think about it I can get that, too.'

'Just as I told Eric earlier today,' Jonas said. He winked at Eric, who stoically did not show any response.

'But I like Eric,' Virgil continued. 'He's a calm type. Look at him right now. Sublimely reasonable, always the cerebral type, cool in every crisis; I've watched him work many times, Jonas; I ought to know. And willing to get up at any hour of the night....nd that sort you don't see much.'

'You pay him,' Phyllis said shortly. She was, as always, taciturn and withdrawn; Virgil's attractive great-grandniece, who sat on the corporation's board of directors, had a piercing, raptorlike quality – much like the old man's, but without his sly sense of the peculiar. To Phyllis, everything was business or dross. Eric reflected that had she come onto Himmel there would be no more little carts wheeling about; in Phyllis' world there was no room for the harmless. She reminded him a little of Kathy. And, like Kathy, she was reasonably sexy; she wore her hair in one long braided pigtail dyed a fashionable ultramarine, set off by autonomic rotating earrings and (this he did not especially enjoy) a nose ring, sign of nubility with the higher bourgeois circles.