Juxtaposition

gain.'

'Yes, sir,' she agreed noncommittally.

'So there is no way I will make an assignation with Merle. If I do that with anyone in this frame, it will be you. Because you are my fianceе, and because there is no one in this frame I would rather do it with. So, in that sense, I am true to you. I wanted to be sure you understand.'

'I understand, sir. There is no need to review it.'

So he hadn't persuaded her. 'Yes, I needed to review it. Because now I have it in mind to do something extremely cynical. An act worthy of a true Citizen. And I need your help.'

'You have it, sir.'

'I want you to have your friends arrange a blind bet on the outcome of Merle's suit. An anonymous, coded bet amounting to my entire available net worth at the time of decision - that I will not complete that liaison. I will of course deny any intent to make that liaison, but I may at times seem to waver. You and I know the outcome, but other Citizens may wish to bet the other way. It would be a foolish bet for them - but they seem to like such foolishness.'

Sheen smiled. 'That is indeed cynical, sir. I shall see to it.'

'And it would not hurt if you permitted yourself some trifling show of jealousy, even if you feel none.'

She paused. 'You are devious, sir.'

'I have joined a devious society. Meanwhile, I shall remain on the fence with Merle, in all but words, as long as I can stimulate interest. See that Mellon is privately notified; he definitely has the need to know.'

The capsule arrived at the dome of the hearing. They emerged into a white-columned court, floored with marble, spacious and airy as a Greek ruin. Three Citizens sat behind an elevated desk. A fourth Citizen stood before the desk, evidently with another case; Stile's turn had not yet come.

The betting Citizens were arriving. A rotund man garbed like a Roman senator approached, hand extended. 'Greeting, Stile. I am Waldens, and I'm interested in your offer. What is its nature?'

'Thank you, Waldens. I am about to face a hearing on the validity of my designation of my fiancee, a humanoid robot, as my heir to Citizenship. I proffer a wager as to the panel's decision.'

'Most interesting!' Waldens agreed. 'I doubt they will approve the designation.'

'I am prepared to wager whatever my financial adviser will permit, that they will approve it,' Stile said. ''It is, after all, a Citizen's right to designate whom he pleases.'

'Ah, yes - but a robot is not a 'whom' but an 'it.' Only recognized people can inherit Citizenship.'

'Is there a law to that effect?'

'Why, I assume so. It is certainly custom.'

Now Mellon arrived. Stile quickly acquainted him with the situation. 'How much will you let me bet?' he asked, knowing that Mellon, as a self-willed machine in touch with the network of his kind, would have a clear notion of the legalistic background.

But the serf hesitated. 'Sir, this is an imponderable. The decision of the panel is advisory, without binding force. If there is a continuing challenge, a formal court will be convened-'

'Come off it, serf!' Waldens snapped. 'We're only betting on this particular decision. What the court does later will be grist for another wager. How much Protonite can Stile afford to risk?'

'He has limited me to one hundred grams,' Stile said, catching Sheen's covert affirmative signal. That meant the machines had researched the issue, and believed the odds were with Stile. He should win this bet. But he was going to play it carefully.

'A hundred grams!' Waldens laughed. 'I did not come all the way here in person for such minor action!'

'I regret that my estate is as yet minimal,' Stile said. 'But it is growing; I have won all bets made so far. I assure you that I have an appetite for larger bets - when I can afford them. I plan to increase my estate enormously.'

'All right, Stile. You're peanuts, but I like your spirit. Should be good entertainment here. I'll play along with a small bet now - but I'll expect a big one later, if you're in shape for it. Shall we compromise at half a kilo now?'

Mellon looked pained, but under Walden's glare he slowly acquiesced. 'Half a kilogram of Protonite,' Stile agreed, putting on a pale face himself. Five hundred grams was half the ransom of a Citizen, and more than half Stile's entire available amount for betting. His fortune stood at 1,219 grams , but he had to hold 250 for living expenses. What he was laying on the line now was enough to buy a hundred sophisticated robots like Sheen and Mellon, or to endow the tenure of five hundred serfs. All in a single bet - which his opponent considered to be a minor figure, a nuisance indulged in only for entertainment!

Meanwhile, other Citizens had arrived, intrigued by the issue. Novelty was a precious commodity among those who had everything. Two paired off, taking the two sides with matching half-kilo bets. Two more bet on whether there would be an immediate appeal of the panel's recommendation, whatever it was. Citizens certainly loved to gamble!

The prior case cleared, and it was Stile's turn before the panel. 'It has been brought to our attention that you propose to designate a humanoid robot as your heir to Citizenship,' the presiding Citizen said. 'Do you care to present your rationale?'

Stile knew this had to be good. These were not objective machines but subjective people, which was why there could be no certainty about the decision. The wrong words could foul it up. 'I am a very recent Citizen, whose life has been threatened by calamitous events; I am conscious of my mortality and wish to provide for the continuation of my estate. Therefore I have designated as my heir the person who is closest to me in Proton: my prospective wife, the Lady Sheen, here.' He indicated Sheen, who cast her eyes down demurely. 'She happens to be a lady robot. As you surely know, robots are sophisticated today; she is hardly distinguishable from a living person in ordinary interactions. She can eat and sleep and initiate complex sequences. She can even evince bad temper.'

'The typical woman,' the presiding Citizen agreed with a brief smile. 'Please come to the point.'

'Sheen has saved my life on more than one occasion, and she means more to me than any other person here. I have made her my chief of staff and am satisfied with the manner in which she is running my estate. I want to make our association more binding. Unless there is a regulation preventing the designation of one's wife as one's heir, I see no problem.'

The three panelists deliberated. 'There is no precedent,' the presiding Citizen said. 'No one has designated a robot before. Machines do well enough as staff members, concubines, stand-ins, and such, but seldom is one married and never have we had a nonhuman Citizen.'

'If an alien creature won the Tourney one year, would it be granted Citizenship?' Stile asked.

'Of course. Good point,' the Citizen said, nodding. 'But robots are not permitted to participate in the Game, so can not win the Tourney.'

'Do you mean to tell me that a frog-eyed, tentacular mass of slime from the farthest wash of the galaxy can be a Citizen - but this woman can not?' Stile demanded, again indicating Sheen.

The Citizens of the panel and of the group of bettors looked at Sheen, considering her as a person. She stood there bravely, smooth chin elevated, green eyes bright, her light brown hair flowing down her backside. Her face and figure were exquisitely female. There was even a slight flush at her throat. She had been created beautiful; in this moment she was splendid.

'But a robot has no human feeling,' another panelist said.

'How many Citizens do?' Stile asked.

The bettors laughed. 'Good shot!' Waldens muttered.

The panelists did not respond to the humor. 'A robot has no personal volition,' the presiding Citizen said. 'A robot is not alive.'

This was awkward territory. Stile had promised not to give away the nature of the self-willed machines, who did indeed have personal volition. But he saw a way through.

'Sheen is a very special robot, the top of her class of machine,' he said. 'Her brain is half digital, half analog, much as is the human brain, figuratively. Two hemispheres, with differing modes of operation. She approximates human consciousness and initiative as closely as a machine can. She has been programmed to resemble a living woman in all things, to think of herself as possessing the cares and concerns of life. She believes she has feeling and volition, because this is the nature of her program and her construction.' As he spoke, he remembered his first