I was wondering if you'd remember, thought Sebastian.

"I believe I understand, sir. You want me to arrange flowers, and maybe a commemoration in a news service, or a ceremony."

"That's not it, sebastian, and how come a Neuro-linked memory still can't remember that I don't want to be called 'sir'?"

"I apologize, Justin. The situation seemed formal, and I switched to a formal usage protocol. Our programs are improved by interaction, but as you can see, not perfected."

"Forgiven."

"So, then ..."

"I forgot. Jesus, sebastian, how could I forget?"

"Justin," offered sebastian, "human memory is not perfect, and easily distracted by more pressing matters. You have had a busy year, and today seems to be the culmination of that year. I hope I am using the following phrase correctly, but you should not 'beat yourself up' over this. I never knew your wife, and evidence is very sketchy concerning her, but I will assume she loved you."

"Yes, of course."

"From what I understand about love, the biggest component is the well-being of the other person. Am I in error?"

"In this case, no."

"Then you are observing this anniversary in a way your wife would most approve of. Have you not found love with another person? Would this not make your wife happy?"

"I have indeed found love with Neela, and yes, my wife would be very happy. Though she probably would have hit me upside the head for taking so long."

"Are you spending this anniversary helping people?" continued the avatar. "And are you not on your way toward reuniting with the woman you love?"

"Yes, sebastian, that is exactly what I'm doing," answered Justin, allowing himself a small grin. "And you're a lot smarter than you let on."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Justin. Is there any other way I can be of assistance?"

Justin remained silent, racking his brain for the right gesture. It only took a moment.

"Could it be arranged for a dozen roses to be left on the shoreline of the island of Fiji? Anywhere will do, but they must be left in such a way that they'll be caught by the incoming tide, and then be allowed to drift away."

"Certainly, Justin."

"Thank you, sebastian. Please arrange it ... and sebastian ..."

"Yes, Justin?"

"This helped."

"I'm glad. The flowers would please your wife. Most human females are pleased with flowers. Interesting that most human males are not."

Justin smirked but didn't answer. He spent the remainder of the short ride up to the launch pod remembering and thinking about a trip to Fiji his wife was always begging him to go on but for which he never seemed to have the time.

Hektor was troubled. For a man seemingly connected to every facet of his universe, being kept in the dark about one of them practically killed him. He knew The Chairman would call him when he was good and ready. He had utter faith in the man's ability to sway anyone-even as tough a nut as Justin Cord.

But why haven't I heard from him?

Forty-eight hours after the initial meeting, forty-eight of the longest hours of Hektor Sambianco's life, he finally got a message. Its very simplicity was almost, he noted with trenchant humor, diametrically opposite the amount of worry he'd put himself through. It read simply, "Meeting with Cord went well. In two weeks all will be in place. Do nothing without my OK."

It wasn't as if Hektor had nothing to do. The head of GCI Special Operations was always busy, and the recent economic strains had substantially added to his workload. And so, immersing himself in his day-to-day tasks, Hektor did almost nothing concerning Justin Cord. To be sure, he kept tabs on the man. He knew that Cord had rented the fastest ship he could find, and had blasted off for Ceres. It would be uncomfortable but, by Hektor's estimation, he'd make it in about three weeks. He wondered what a Damsah-forsaken outpost like Ceres could have to offer that would make someone want to experience that type of extended acceleration-nanoassisted g-force gel couch or not. The trip could be done far more comfortably in three months. Hektor also knew about the dozen roses Justin had left on a beach in Fiji. At first he thought it had to do with the man's wife. He'd noted that the day it was done had also been the day she'd died. But research showed that neither she nor Justin had ever been on Fiji. And so, Hektor had concluded that it had to be some signal to the Liberty Party, or perhaps even the Action Wing.

Per The Chairman's orders, Hektor would do nothing overt overt. He did, however, fill the island with operatives, supposedly on vacation. Unfortunately, the only thing they managed to come back with was really good tans.

It was therefore with some relief that he was finally invited to have an audience with The Chairman. The relief was short-lived; Hektor's nerves seemed to rise concomitantly with the lift as it moved swiftly up the beanstalk toward The Chairman's sanctum sanctorum. He'd never felt this way with his own parents, because they'd never warranted it. But The Chairman was different. He was everything Hektor had ever wanted to be, and his approval was important in ways that mere job performance could never account for.

He was quickly ushered into the antechamber, through the massive double doors, and finally into The Chairman's lair itself. The man, saw Hektor, was sitting amid his massive command center attending to affairs of state. The Chairman looked up suddenly, rose, and greeted Hektor warmly. It was only then that Hektor allowed himself to exhale.

"We got him," said The Chairman, emerging from the array of machines. "Cord will incorporate, and in no small measure because of you."

"That's wonderful, sir," answered Hektor, barely containing his joy. "How did you do it?"

"Not me, Hektor, you," his boss said flatly. "You called it from the beginning." He then motioned Hektor to have a seat as he grabbed a bottle of Champagne and two crystal flutes from behind a tiki bar.

"It was Neela Harper the whole time," he said, popping the cork and then filling both their glasses. "That was the key. And that's why the idiot's blasting off to the asteroid belt at gut-twisting acceleration-which I'm sure you're well aware of."

That he was headed to Ceres, yes, thought Hektor. That he was meeting Neela, no That he was meeting Neela, no.

Hektor nodded.

"He'll only finalize the deal," continued The Chairman, "when he's with Dr. Harper. In two days the paperwork for Justin Cord's incorporation will go through. He'll sign it on Ceres, and he and Dr. Harper will begin their engagement. Hektor, it is absolutely vital that the press work be in place to make this go smoothly."

Hektor nodded once again-almost afraid that speaking would allow the perfection of the moment to fade.

The Chairman continued to bark his orders. "I don't want any cries of perversion or manipulation to mar this. As far as the world is concerned, Dr. Harper is doing the human race a favor, and anyone who says otherwise is at best stupid or, more likely, an Action Wing terrorist."

The Chairman's pause broke Hektor's euphoric spell.

"Don't worry, sir. That won't be a hard sell. People want the Crises to end. If it's perceived that Dr. Harper helped put an end to it, then our only problem will be keeping her from being turned into a saint."

"Good, good," answered The Chairman. "I will leave all of that in your capable hands. Get me an outline of your propaganda campaign by tomorrow, so I can go over the main points. But I'm sure it'll be fine. Truth is, it's now a minor detail. With Justin Cord neutralized, the Crises will end, and GCI will be seen as the corporation that ended it."

"Exactly, sir. We'll be seen as the saviors."

"Which means," The Chairman said, speaking in a slow and purposeful manner, "we can begin the next phase."

"Sir?"

The Chairman studied Hektor carefully, as if deciding how much to confide.

"I do not intend to simply end the Crises," he continued. "The corporate world is weak and divided. Too many corporations competing is what allowed a maniac like the Unincorporated Man to emerge and cause so much trouble. What we really need is one one corporation to dominate and lead humanity in a productive and efficient manner. That corporation will be GCI." corporation to dominate and lead humanity in a productive and efficient manner. That corporation will be GCI."

If Hektor could have stood and clapped he would have, because the man sitting before him spoke to the very fiber of his being.

"I always suspected, sir, that you had more in mind than simply the running of GCI. I, too, believe that our system must culminate in the powerful ruling the pennies. And the one with the most power," he said, with a slow nod to The Chairman, "to rule us all. It makes perfect sense."

The Chairman's grandfatherly smile hid the disdain he felt within. If there had been any doubts at all about his plans for Hektor, there were now none whatsoever.

"Not just one, Hektor," answered The Chairman, purposely allowing for a longer pause. "For years I've been worried that if anything happened to me the plan would fall to pieces, and all the work of building up power would be in vain, fracturing into thousands of competing corporations. I turned myself into a recluse, terrified that, should I die too soon, no one could replace me. That's why I rarely left my chamber, and why I've had to take so many precautions."

Hektor nodded, unable to believe where the conversation was heading.

"I spent years looking for someone with my drive and my dream," continued The Chairman, "but all I got were Kirk Olmsteads and his ilk." The Chairman leaned across the small divide that separated Hektor and himself, and put his hand on his subordinate's shoulder. "Until now, son. If something happens to me I can rest assured that you'll guide GCI and humanity to its logical resting place." The Chairman then lifted his Champagne flute to Hektor. "I can finally relax." He then took a sip and motioned to Hektor.

Hektor, stunned into silence, barely managed to lift the flute to his lips. He readily sipped from the golden elixir, realizing too late that he'd forgotten to lift his glass in acceptance. The Chairman, he saw, thankfully ignored his faux pas.

"Sir," answered Hektor, when he finally managed to regain his composure, "are you actually saying ..."

The Chairman nodded. "We can't make it formal at first. But as soon as Cord and Harper are married, I'll take a vacation. You'll be left in day-to-day command of GCI. That should send the proper message, and let the system know that you're the heir apparent, without having to involve the press or the stockholders. After that I'll go on one or two more vacations or fact-finding trips to the outer system, each time with you assuming day-to-day control. Eventually we'll formalize the relationship, and no one of consequence will be able to interfere."

"Of course, sir," was all that Hektor could manage.

"But let me say, son," continued The Chairman, smiling amiably, "congratulations, and thank you. It may not seem like it, but you'll be doing me a far bigger favor than I'll be doing for you."

"No, sir. Thank you. Thank you, sir. I will not let you down."

"That's why you have the job, son. Oh, before I forget." The Chairman leaped up and went to the bar. He picked up a wrapped box and handed it to Hektor. "I can't stand the things myself, but I know you like them."

Hektor's eyes lit up as he removed the wrapping. It was a small wooden box with the words DAVIDOFF ANIVERSARIO inlaid on top. He opened the case and found three wooden cigar-shaped cylinders neatly lined up. They, too, bore the distinctive logo.

"Sir," gasped Hektor, "these are priceless artifacts. It will be an honor to display them in my office."

The Chairman was suddenly incredulous. "Display them? After all the money I spent to have them nanoreconstructed, you'd better damn well smoke them!"

Hektor was dismayed. "They're ... actually smokable."

"At 1.5 million credits each, they'd better be!" answered The Chairman, with a hearty laugh.

Hector sat stunned, overwhelmed at the connection implied by The Chairman's generosity.

"Take your time, son."

Hektor didn't take much. The thought of getting one of the cigars to his lips propelled him up and out of his seat. "That's alright, sir, I really should get going. There's a lot to do."

The Chairman nodded his agreement.

With perfunctory grace, Hektor left the grand room. As he entered the lift he felt, for the first time, that the opportunity of a lifetime had been bestowed on him. And what made it even better was who had bestowed it.

Hektor hurried into his office, ignoring the pleas and harangues of his assistants. You probably only get one day like this in your life, he'd reasoned, and I'll be damned if I'm not gonna enjoy at least one hour of it-the system can wait and I'll be damned if I'm not gonna enjoy at least one hour of it-the system can wait. He put the Aniversarios on his desk, sunk into his chair, and began to let the waves of joy rush over him. His future was assured and, with it, he'd convinced himself, the future of the world. He would have all the power and prestige that a human could have. It was, he mused, like the Roman emperors of old. The system worked best when the benevolent emperor chose his successor to rule the empire. Well, the corporate world's emperor had just chosen him, and in time he would choose his-thus assuring that Damsah's gift of incorporation would pass peacefully from one generation to the next. The harmony and conformity of the system would grow ever stronger, until it was unbreakable. Humanity would be safe and cared for, and he, Hektor Bandonillo Sambianco, would go down in human history as one of the great men who made it all possible. Hektor didn't mind that he'd probably never reach the same dizzying heights of fame as his boss, the man who'd started it all-and that was just fine. Hektor was more than content to be a part of his legend.

He called his indefatigable assistant, Mariko, into the office and told her to hold all his calls, and that, further, anyone short of The Chairman himself was not to interrupt.

Mariko, as usual, stood at sprite attention. "Good meeting then, boss?"

Like any good number two she'd learned to read Hektor's many moods, and either stay clear or revel. Today, she saw, revelry was very much on the agenda.

Hektor nodded.

"In that case," she continued, "I'll give you the pertinents and leave." Before Hektor could stop her, Mariko dutifully launched into her laundry list of data.

"The info on Ceres is downloaded to your secure file, and those hard copies are ready for you to print and ..." Mariko's voice faded as she registered the box of cigars on her boss's desk.

I should've locked those up immediately, was Hektor's first thought. But then he realized that Mariko would of course know what she was looking at. Hadn't he, after all, "brought her up" with his selfsame love of this sweetest of leaves?

"I ... I didn't think they still existed," she stammered. "Are they real?"

Hektor was delighted. "Yes, Mariko, real, nanoreconstructed, and ready to smoke."

"Well, boss," answered Mariko, still eyeing the smokes, "just knowing they exist has made my day." She then turned back to her list. "As I was saying, the Ceres info ..."

"Really?" interrupted Hektor, enjoying the banter. "How so?"

Mariko looked up from her DijAssist, smiling. "It means," she answered, "that I'll have a shot at maybe smoking one ... of my own, that is, someday."

Hektor laughed. "Not to put too fine a point on it, Mariko, but they're well out of your reach ... I dare say for many years to come."

"Maybe yes, maybe no," she said, rising to the challenge. "I mean, no offense, boss, but look at you."

Hektor thought about it for a minute, and laughed. He'd hired Mariko for her pluck, and today was yet more evidence of it. "Touche, my dear. Look at me, indeed. Well, what the hell then, kid, let's make it today."

Mariko gulped. "You can't be serious." She turned around to look at the closed door-knowing full well the scope of her responsibilities that lay on the other side. She then turned back to face her boss. "Are you serious?"

Part of Hektor was wondering the exact same thing. There was generosity, but this, he realized, was almost insane. He put the thought aside as petty. "Mariko, I've had a very good day. In fact, I've had what is possibly the best day most any human being has ever had. So good that those cigars are only a small part of it, and you've just made me realize that I'd like to share some of the good day I've been having. In fact, I'm positive I do."

"Well, then," his assistant said, thrill evident in her voice, "let's light those babies up before you change your mind and I have to wrestle you to the floor for 'em!"

Hektor grinned and proceeded to remove two of the invaluable cigars from the box. He handed one of the wood cylinders to Mariko, and took the other for himself.

The young woman handled the Davidoff with the appropriate care and appreciation. She slowly removed the cigar from its encasement, eyed it expertly, and then brought it up to her nose, inhaling deeply. She exhaled with such a pleasurable grin Hektor knew he'd made the right decision. Hektor sniffed the length of the cigar as well, which resulted in almost the same frothy expression as that of his underling. He produced a clipper from inside a pocket, snipped off the end, and invited Mariko to do the same. He then lit a match, and was about to light his own cigar, when he decided at the last moment to light the end of Mariko's. A gesture like that, he reasoned, would not only be perceived as magnanimous, but would also go a long way toward securing his legacy.

Mariko was once again surprised but didn't refuse. She dragged slowly on the three-hundred-year-old stick, twisting it ever so slightly in order to get a perfect, even burn at the end. She then slowly exhaled straight up into the air so as not to blow smoke directly into her boss's face. Though, thought Hektor, she needn't have bothered. Hektor was going to light his off the same match but at the last second decided it would be better to use a fresh one and light his cigar properly. He dug another match out, struck it, and was bringing the flame to the tip of his cigar when he saw that Mariko's face was distorted, and that she appeared to be choking. She looked confused, but when she tried to speak, a bright, crimson river of blood poured out of her mouth. Hektor, stupefied, let the match drop from his hand, and was about to leap forward to help, when the nanite alarms went off. Suddenly, and for the second time in as many months, the walls came crashing down.

Hektor reacted on instinct. He immediately tossed the cigar, jumped away from the pleading eyes of his assistant, and scrambled as far from the terrified girl as he could. The room started to fill with a diaphanous white mist, which Hektor knew to be the billions of defensive nanites attempting to smother the area. "Work, damn it," he managed to say, gritting his teeth, "work!"

But Hektor could see that Mariko was slumping forward, already on her knees, cigar still dangling awkwardly from her right hand. The blood was now pouring from every exposed orifice. He prayed that she was dead. All he could do now was hope that none of the microkillers had gotten to him. He opened his mouth and breathed in as much of the white mist as he could while simultaneously disrobing. He then threw every last article of clothing and jewelry he'd been wearing into the center of the room. Then, naked and turning in circles like a drug-addled shaman in a ritual dance, he let the mist of the defending nanites coat him completely. He even jumped up and down a few times to make sure the defenders touched the soles of his feet. He took deep breaths, even though it meant painful fits of coughing. The mist had thickened to the point that it was almost impossible for him to see his own hands clearly in front of his face. He continued to hack into them, checking for spatter. No blood. Good. No blood No blood. Good. No blood. Though the room had cooled significantly-the best environment for the defender nanites-Hektor was sweating from exertion and fear.

As suddenly as it began the alarm bells stopped; the air, and with it the white mist, was sucked out of the room through large vents in the ceiling and floor. The massive steel doors then slowly rose and disappeared back into the decor of the ceiling.