The room was dark, apart from the light shed by a table lamp. At a desk sat a woman in her thirties, writing and listening to gentle big-band music. Her clothes appeared to be from another time, my mother’s, perhaps, though I could see her hair and teeth were not. If there was something palpably strange about her, I’d have said she resembled an actress in a period film whose contemporary health and look belied the period she appeared to be representing.

Matte went to her. They spoke, and she continued her work.

He stood beside me at the door and whispered, “That woman is a child psychologist, a genius in her field. Years ago, as a man, she looked after one of my children who was seriously disturbed. She knows almost everything about human beings. When he was ill, not long ago, I paid for him to become a Newbody. He had arthritis and was bent double. He needed to finish his book and to continue to help others, as a woman. Don’t you think that’s a pretty charitable thing?” He gave me a look that was supposed to shame me. “She’s not sweeping the floor somewhere and chasing sex.” He shut the door. “What would you ask her?”

“How to die, I guess.”

“Death is dead.”

“Oh, no, everyone’ll miss it so, and there would be other psychologists,” I said, “to build on his or her work.”

“She can do that herself. Life renewing itself.”

“How’s her book?”

“Looks like she’ll need several lifetimes. She’s … thorough.”

“Read it?”

“A boxful of notes? Most of the time she lies on deck, ‘thinking.’ She has too much sex for my liking. I’ll accept one of your points: she’d go faster if she thought she was going to snuff it. Wish she’d update her taste, too. She insists on listening to that old-time music, which reminds me of days I want to forget.”

“I guess you can’t force anyone to like speed garage,” I said. “Do your kids know you now?”

“They don’t know where I am. They’re not speaking to me. When they get older, if they behave themselves, I’ll get them new bodies as birthday presents.”

“They’ll want that?”

“Those crazy kids’ll totally love it. They’ve been in bands and clinics and stuff. They get exhausted—you know, the lifestyle. This way they can carry on. I’m holding off telling them because I know they’re gonna want to get off to a new start right away.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“If they haven’t suffered enough, they’re not gonna appreciate it. This isn’t for everybody.”