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alpha scientists. After all, you may be able to help them in many ways, initially."

"And then . . . ?"

"Well, if the project is successful, if the embryo survives and grows, then the alpha scientists will probably take over completely. You see, Cordelia, the development of a live male embryo is not purely an abstract scientific experiment. There are certain important social ramifications. There have been no live males in the world for some five thousand years, and an experiment like this, if it succeeds, must be considered from very many angles. It moves from the field of science into that of politics."

Cordelia eyed her superior thoughtfully, striving to read beyond the glassy inscrutable surface of the other woman's expressionless eyes. There was no sense of psychic contact; never had there been between people for as long as she could remember, except when the parthenogenetic adaptation syndrome produced emotional affinity that resolved itself in physical eroticism. A new and unwelcome idea invaded her brain. We're robots, she and I, Cordelia thought. We're integers in some vast, impersonal social equation. We're not even individuals because we do not have the right of individual action any more. We are part of the mechanism, cells in the superior planetary body of integrated womankind, and our brain is an electronic brain and our conduct is controlled and predicted by a myriad electronic computing units.

The feeling came and went, phantomlike. The Mistress condensed into solid humanity again and her hard fleshy face became earthy and workaday. In a hundred years it would be a sallow, gleaming skull.

"Return to your laboratory," said the Mistress. "Meanwhile I shall confer with the Ministry. In the course of a few hours I shall communicate with you and give you detailed instructions."

"And my assistants—what shall I tell them?"