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The answer was obvious. As a Dasheen bull he depended on milk manufactured by the female for deficiencies in his own system. How long had it been since he'd had some of the chemical substitute? A day? Two? More?

He was about to order some made up for him by Obie when he stopped.

Do I still want to be a Dasheen? he asked himself.

He liked the culture, he felt comfortable as one; it was practical on the Well World. He'd run enough through Obie to know that control of the Well of Souls computer was impossible unless a machine far greater than Obie was built, and that much was beyond him—at least now. Nor did he dare tinker too much by giving the Well new instructions; the Well was the stabilizing device not only for the Well World but for literally all living things in the universe. Give it improper instructions and one could wipe out civilizations, even oneself. At best summon that Markovian, Brazil—a being who could operate the Well, even cancel out Ben Yulin, New Pompeii, and anything else it wished. He had no desire to run into that character; still, Brazil was also subject to the Well. Handled carefully, he should never know.

But handle what? This was the new problem. To go out in space, looking into new civilizations? Perhaps, one day—but not now. Obie represented unlimited opportunity coupled to virtual immortality.

What he needed were people to do the hard stuff, people he could trust as he could trust his Dasheen cows back home.

There was only one source for such people that he knew of, and that was in the human sector of the Milky Way galaxy, now so far away. One world at a time, if need be, carefully, nicely, normally adjusted so precisely that nobody else would even realize things had been changed. Not Brazil, not the Council.

That meant being human again.

But what kind of human?

He thought it out carefully, sighed, and flipped open the channel to Obie.

"Yes, Ben?"

He punched several buttons on his keyboard. "Unnumbered transaction, file in aux storage under my key only."

The computer was amazed every time he did this, and opened the section otherwise closed to him. Yulin and Obie always went through a complex exchange on it, which Yulin suffered through again.

"Now, Obie, I want you to listen carefully," Yulin said slowly. "You will carry out my instructions to the letter, neither adding nor subtracting anything on your own. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ben."

"Recall subject Ben Yulin as first recorded physiologically."

"I have it, Ben," the computer responded.

"All right. That model shall be the subject, as modified according to the following criteria. First, subject shall be two meters tall and proportioned accordingly, with total muscular development. Got that?"

"Yes, Ben. You want to look like a body-builder," Obie replied in his sarcastic way. Yulin ignored it.

"Obie, do you have Mavra Chang's original encoding?" he asked.

"Up front."

When he'd first escaped from New Pompeii, Yulin used Obie to turn himself into Mavra Chang. At that time he'd discovered that Chang had surgically implanted tiny sacs and needles under her fingernails that could inject powerful hypnotic drugs. He'd had the opportunity to use them once in self-defense and he'd never forgotten them.

"Give subject Ben Yulin the hypnotic injector system found in the Chang encoding below the fingernails. Make it natural, self-refilling, and harmless in all ways to the subject, who shall himself be immune. Got that?"

"I've got it, Ben," Obie said. "It will take some work, but not much."

He nodded. So far so good. "Further modifications to subject. The best ocular vision system possible, including infrared and ultraviolet perception, full day-night capability with good color and excellent resolution even at great distances. Okay?"

"I have such a system design," the computer replied.

"Further modifications to subject Ben Yulin: the best hearing in all ranges you can design, wavelength selectable by the subject."

"Go on," the computer