The Caryatids
win her over. Vera had never seen anything in her harsh and dutiful life that was half so pretty as this.
    With a pang, Vera handed the biosphere back to Karen. Karen rolled it carelessly toward her distant cot. "Vera, no wonder bankers are court-ing you. I think the boss has decided to marry you."
    "I'd do that." Vera nodded. There was never any use in being coy with Karen.
    "Marrying the boss," said Karen, "is too easy a job for you. Herbert never gives you easy jobs." Vera laughed. Karen never seemed to think hard, but somehow Karen always said such true things.
    "Did you know that Herbert has filed a succession plan?"
    Vera nodded, bored. "Let's not talk local politics."
    Karen stuck a medical swab in her ear, rolled it around at her leisure, and examined the results. "Let me tell you my emotions about this suc-cession business. It's time that Herbert moved on. Herbert is a typical start-up guy. A start-up guy has got a million visionary ideas, but he never knows what they're good for. He doesn't know what real people in the real world will do with his big ideas." Vera scowled at such disloyalty. "You never used to talk that way about Herbert. You told me Herbert saved your life!"
    Karen looked cagey. This was a bad sign, for though Karen had deep emotional intelligence, she wasn't very bright.
    "That was then, and this is now. Our situation here is simple," said Karen mistakenly. "Herbert found some broken people to work very hard here, repairing this broken island. We heal ourselves with his neu-ral tech, and we heal the land with mediation at the same time. Inside heals outside. That's great. That's genius. I'm Acquis, I'm all for that. Sweat equity, fine! We get no pay, fine! We live in a crowded barracks, no privacy at all, no problem for me! Someday it'll snow on the North Pole again. Men as old as Herbert, they can remember when the North Pole had snow."
    Karen flexed her multijointed fingers. "But I'm not old like him, I'm young. I don't want to postpone my life until we bring the past back to the future! I have to live now! For me!" Clearly Vera's time had come to absorb a confession. She restrained a sigh. "Karen, tell me all about
    'now' and 'me.' "
    "When I first got to this island, yes, I was a wreck. I was hurt and scared, I was badly off. Neural tech is wonderful—now that I know what it's for! Let me have those helmets. I know what to do with them. I'll stick them on the head of every man in the world."
    Karen scowled in thought. "I have just one question for every man. 'Do you really love this girl, or are you just playing around?' That's what matters. Give me true love, and I'll give you a planet that's completely changed! Totally changed. I'll give you a brand-new world in six months! You wouldn't even recognize that world!"
    "Your soppy romance love story has no glory, Karen!"
    "Vera, you are being a geek. All right? You are. Because you live in-side your mediation and your sensorweb. You never listen to the people with real needs! I fell in love here. Okay? A lot. With every guy in this barracks, basically. Okay, not with all of them, but . . . I give and I give and I emotionally give, and where is my one true love? When do I get happy?"
    "Your scheme is irresponsible and it lacks any practical application."
    "No it isn't. No it doesn't. Anyway, things are bound to change here. Soon." Karen folded her arms.
    "I don't see why."
    "I'll tell you why. Because we will promote our next project manager from among the cadres, using an architecture of participation! That's the succession plan. And our next leader isn't going to be like old Her-bert. Our next big leader is bound to be one of us. "
    This scheme was new to Vera, so she was interested despite herself. In Mljet, it was always much more important to do the right thing with gusto than it was to nitpick about boring palace intrigues. And yet . . . there was politics here, every place had its politics.
    "Look," said Vera, "very clearly, we don't have

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