Cleev, Aramy's grandfather, without mentioning Aramy's own matchless compassion. The dictator had said nothing publicly, of course, and had in fact even praised Demery's perspicacity. But anyone who knew Aramy Cleev understood the failure to note his kindness would not have gone down well. The general destruction had come six days after those unfortunate remarks and had been spread over several hundred kilometers in all directions. Houses, villas, and manors had been leveled. There'd been no survivors anywhere. Nicorps, it was assumed by many, was closing its books on people who had incurred the Bandahr's displeasure. We were looking at the ruins, on a cold afternoon, while a wet wind blew in off the sea. We had an autoguide with us.
'What did he do for a living?' I asked. 'Demery?'
'Was he a native of this area?'
Alex stared at the ruins. 'Did Demery leave an avatar?'
'By whose authority?'
'It would,' I said, 'have had to come from high up.' Alex nodded. Of course it would.
Edward Demery had not only lost his life. He had undergone an electronic subtraction as well. And not only the avatar. You went looking for data on him, and there was enough to prove he existed. You could find a birth certificate, you could find brief accounts of his impending wedding, and there was real-estate information. Demery buys office building in New Samarkand. You could find an account of his acquiring controlling interest in Blackmoor Financial, and his contributions to the Aquarius Fund, which was striving to rejuvenate oceans hampered by the absence of a moon. There was an award from the Ballinger Historical Society. But of his personal life, what he thought, what he believed in, what he cared about, that was all gone. Orrin Batavian was a banker who liked to be thought of as an historian. We sought him out because he'd organized a speaking engagement for Vicki and because he'd been a close friend of Demery's. We found him at his home, a large, landscaped property on the edge of town. 'Ed and I shared a fascination for ancient history,' he told us. 'For the early years.' Because of that friendship, he said, he'd held his breath for several days after the explosion, wondering whether they'd come after him, too. 'You never knew what might irritate Nicorps,' he said. 'It was the way they operated.' We were seated in his office in downtown Moreska. 'Somebody got in trouble, everybody he knew got swept up with him. I had my fingers crossed.' The walls were filled with framed certificates of outstanding accomplishments by Batavian's bank and pictures of the man himself with various people whose postures suggested they were VIPs. 'Why did he get in trouble?' Alex asked. 'Do you have any idea?' Batavian shook his head. 'I honestly don't know. He didn't like the regime. But nobody did.' His chair squeaked. 'Almost nobody. Some people saw no problem with Cleev. You did what you were told and didn't make trouble, then you had nothing to worry about.' 'But you do think Cleev was behind the attack.' 'Well, Nicorps was. I doubt it was anything big enough to draw the Bandahr's attention. You have to understand that it was the guys further down the food chain who caused most of the trouble. They had thugs and psychopaths running everything. And the way they looked good to their bosses was to be able to show a body count every month. 'Those were bad times. So people didn't make an electronic record of themselves. Ed was an exception. People still don't do it, for that matter. Not the older ones. Call it force of habit, but there's always a
sense that the Bandahr might come back. So you don't put anything up. Especially not an avatar who's going to tell the government what you really think.' Batavian had an aristocratic demeanor. His family had prospered under the dictatorship, and the word around town was that he'd survived when Demery went down because he had connections. 'It might be true,' he admitted. 'I was never a collaborator, but my father was. And my sister.' Alex's eyes narrowed. 'Do you have any idea why they would have purged the Demery record?' 'They did that routinely. They didn't have to have a reason. You got in trouble, you became invisible. Look, I don't know whether he just said the wrong thing to the wrong person. Or whether there was something they were actually afraid of. Demery didn't like the Bandahriate. But he never did anything more than talk. And he tried to be circumspect about the people he spoke to. He was like me. We both had a decent life under the sons of bitches, if you played by the rules and didn't mind keeping your mouth shut. So we played by the rules. Lived with it as best we could. I don't know. Maybe they took him out because somebody just wanted to run up the numbers. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he had some old fertilizer in the basement. I just don't know.' 'All right,' said Alex, 'let's try a different subject: Vicki Greene.' 'Ah, yes. I knew that was coming.' 'She did a program here. With you as moderator.' He smiled. 'She spoke to the Martian Society. By closed circuit. It was members only. And a few guests.' 'The Martian Society is-?' '-A group of people who pretend we've been taken over by aliens. Who keep out of sight.' 'The original aliens, apparently.' He laughed. 'We have a pretty good time. It's strictly a social operation. Nobody takes it seriously.' 'What did she talk about?' 'Her books, of course.' 'That's all? Anything else come up?' 'Well, it was a fairly wide-ranging conversation.' 'Did she mention the explosions?' He stuck his tongue in his cheek while he thought about it. 'No,' he said finally. 'Not that I can recall.' 'How about Demery?' 'No. There was no reason to. But she
'No. The Bandahr claimed ownership of the asteroids, and Cleev took a cut of the proceeds. The current government probably wouldn't have changed things, but we went through a Save-the-Asteroids period. People didn't think markers should be put on them. Or that the government or anyone else
