Cain shrugged. “I suppose we’ll find out in good time. I don’t imagine Black Orpheus will be able to resist putting it into his stupid song.”

“What’s your objection to our friend Orpheus?” asked the Swagman.

“He’s your friend, not mine.”

“He’s made you famous,” noted the Swagman. “A century from now, that song is the only way people will know you and Schussler and I even existed. Consider it a form of immortality.”

“Immortality is a greatly overrated virtue,” interjected Schussler, the beautiful melodic tones of his voice ringing with bitterness.

“Most of the people I’ve known would disagree with that statement,” said the Swagman.

“Most of the people you’ve known have spent their whole lives one step ahead of the hangman,” replied the cyborg.

“Most of the people he’s known have already met the hangman,” commented Cain.

“Some of them have met less formal executioners,” retorted the Swagman. “I’m still annoyed with you over that little affair on Declan Four.”

“You had some use for Socrates?” asked Cain.

“Socrates?” snorted the Swagman contemptuously. “Of course not. There are twelve million Men on Declan Four, all of them interchangeable and infinitely replaceable.” He paused. “But you destroyed a Robelian bowl that I’d been after for three years.”

“It was just a bowl,” said Cain. “I was there for something more important.”

“Just a bowl?” repeated the Swagman, morally outraged. “My good man, it was one of only six such bowls in existence!”

“I’ve seen lots like it.”

For just a moment the Swagman looked interested. Then he sighed. “I suppose one bowl looks just like another to you.”

“Pretty much so,” said Cain, sliding the barrel of his pistol into place and turning it gently until he felt a discernible click. “Just the way people all look alike to you.”

“And it means nothing to you that there are almost a trillion people spread across the Democracy, and only six Robelian bowls of that shape and design?”

“It means you’ll run out of work before I do.”

“It means,” the Swagman retorted, “that you have destroyed an irreplaceable work of art.”

“I also destroyed a man who was in serious need of destruction,” replied Cain. “On the whole, I’d say the ledger came out on the plus side.”

“There wasn’t even any paper on Socrates.”

“Then view killing him as a service to humanity.”

“I wasn’t aware that you were in the philanthropy business,” said the Swagman.

“There are more important things than money,” said Cain.

“True—but all of them cost money.” The Swagman raised his arms above his head, emitted a loud grunt as he stretched, and then turned to Schussler’s panel. “I’m getting hungry. What have you got in your galley?”

“I have a full complement of soya products,” answered the cyborg.

“Don’t you have any meat?”