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I’ll tell her.”
    “Fine. I’ll have my travel people get in touch with you. You won’t have to lift a finger. They’ll take care of everything.”
    Freiberg nodded, smiling broadly now.
    “I’ll get an employment contract off to you this afternoon,” Dan said.
    “We haven’t talked salary.”
    Waving an impatient hand in the air. Dan replied, “You fill in the salary number. If it’s too much, we can haggle over it.” Experience had shown Dan that most people, especially scientists, settled for far less than he was prepared to offer them.
    “That’s … very generous of you.”
    Time to bring him into the boat, Dan told himself. Hunching forward in his creaking leather chair, he said earnestly, “We need you, Zach. The exploration of the solar system needs you. Politics always snarls up the important things. But the exploration of the solar system is too important to let politics get in its way.”
    “You’re entirely right,” Freiberg said firmly.
    “Okay. I’m glad we had this chance to talk. You’ll get the contract form this afternoon. I’ll be looking forward to meeting you in the flesh. And your wife.”
    “Thanks, Dan.”
    “Thank you, Zach.”
    The holographic image froze, then faded. Dan swiveled his chair and touched the phone terminal’s OFF key. Then he grinned. “A pound of ego for every ounce of brains. And his wife’s a social worker! She thinks she’s worked with poor people. Wait‘11 she sees those shacks up on the hills. She’ll puke!”
    He glanced at the wide curve of windows to the right of his desk. The rain was still cascading down. If there are any shacks left after this deluge, he thought. But he knew that no matter how many were washed away, there would be new ones dotting the hillsides as soon as the sun came out again.
    The damned puddle was growing into a miniature lake. And sending arms out toward his desk. Angrily, Dan leaned on the phone’s ON pad.
    “Where the hell’s the maintenance man?” he growled.
    “Maintenance reported six minutes ago that a service person is on the way to your office, Mr. Randolph,” the phone said.
    Dan thought briefly about talking directly to the maintenance supervisor, or his own secretary, or somebody human, anybody, just as long as he or she reacted with normal living emotions. The phone was fast and-smart and efficient. But it was absolutely useless as far as emotional satisfaction went. You could not seduce it, or bully it, or even annoy it.
    “Anything else, sir?” asked the phone, misinterpreting his silence.
    Admitting defeat, Dan said more gently, “Yes. Transmit a standard employment contract to Dr. Zachary Freiberg. His number is on file. Term of contract should be six weeks, with a one-year automatic renewal clause. Copies to legal and personnel.”
    He thought a moment, then added, “When Freiberg sends the contract back and legal and personnel approve it, notify personnel to contact Dr. Freiberg and initiate procedures to move him and his household here to Caracas.”
    The phone replied, “Contract transmitted as specified, sir. Legal and personnel notified as specified, sir.”
    “Good.”
    “Anything else, sir?”
    “No.”
    “It is three forty-three, Mr. Randolph,” the phone reminded. “You are due at Seńor Hernandez’s reception at five
    P.M.”
    “Right. Thanks.”
    Hernandez’s reception. To meet the new chief of the Russian space program. That ought to be interesting. It might even be fun.
    A meek tapping at the door to the outer office caught his attention. His secretary did not wait for an answer, but opened the door a crack and announced timidly, “The maintenance man is here?” She was a strikingly lovely redhead, a stunning decoration for the office, but she made every sentence into a question, as though begging permission to exist. “To see about the leak?”
    Dan nodded. “About time. Send him right in. I was just leaving anyway.”
    “The Hernandez reception?” the secretary