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in the coffin that would satisfy her few needs as her body slowed down to a crawl through the years until he awakened her.

She would awaken on a colony. But one of my choosing, Abner vowed. A kind one, where she might have a chance of making something of her life. And who knows? Maybe hating me will make it all easier for her to bear.

Easier for her. But what about me?

I will not, he decided, spend any more of myself on her. I will close her from my mind. I will-- I will forgetf?

Nonsense.

I will merely devote my life to fulfilling other, older, colder dreams.

BREAKING THE GAME

Surely the churning of milk bringeth forth butter, and the wringing of the nose bringeth forth blood: so the forcing of wrath bringeth forth strife.

-Proverbs 30:33

Herman Nuber's feet were asleep, and every time he shifted his weight they tingled unbearably.

"My feet are asleep," he complained to the sleeproom attendant.

"Happens all the time," answered the attendant, reassuringly.

"I was under for three years," Herman pointed out. "Was the circulation to my feet cut off all that time?"

"It's the somec, Mr. Nuber," said the attendant. "It makes your feet feel that way. But your circulation was never cut off."

Herman grunted and went back to reading the lists on the wall. His feet tingled a little less, and now he began to shift his weight back and forth. The newsheet was boring. Same list of victories for the Empire, victories that half the time left the enemy in possession of the star system with a few Empire ships able to limp home. The gossip sheets were almost as boring. All the big-name lifeloopers screwing their way to fame and fortune. One looper committed suicide-- a novelty, since people who wanted to take themselves out of circulation usually just signed up for the colonies.

The list he studied was, of course, the game sheet. He skimmed down to the International Games list, and there was the notice.

"Europe 1914d, now in G1979. Biggest news this week is that Herman 'Italy' Nuber is up on Thursday, so all non-Italy players, watch out!"

Very flattering, of course, to be named by the waking lists. But it was to be expected. The International Games had been around for years, dating back to well before somec. But there had never been a player like Herman Nuber.

He left the sleeproom, pausing, almost as an afterthought, to dress. This waking would be for only six months-- last time he had won more money than usual on the sidebets, which were strictly illegal but a very safe, pleasant investment. No one gave long odds against him-- when he placed bets on himself the rate of return was only 17 percent. But that was better than a savings bank or government bonds.

"Herman," said a quiet man, even shorter than Herman Nuber.

"Hi, Grey," Nuber said.

"Good waking?"

"Of course." Grey Glamorgan was a good business manager. He always remembered that even though he was something of a financial genius, with many good connections, he was not in business for himself. Trustworthy. A born underling. Herman liked to surround himself with men who were shorter than himself.

"Well?" asked Grey.

Herman looked unconcerned. "Buy Italy, of course."

And Grey nodded. It was a kind of ritual, but the game laws specified that a place in the game only be purchased when the player was awake-- there must always be a waking player at the computer.

Well, I'm awake, Herman said. And unless things had changed considerably, this was the waking when he'd make the grand play-- to end the game by conquering the world.

The computer wall was already warmed up when he got to his flat-- another thoughtful gesture from Grey. Herman tortured himself as he always did, ignoring the screen, refusing to look at it; pretending the computer wasn't waiting for him as he toured the flat, made sure all the arrangements were correct. Herman wasn't really rich; only mildly well-to-do. He couldn't afford to keep an empty flat while he was under. His belongings were stored, instead, or sold each time. Someday, though, I'll be rich enough, he thought. Someday I'll get to the really high somec levels, like five years under for three months up. And I'll own a flat, not just lease one for a waking.

It was everyone's dream, of course. Everyone's plan. And one out of every seven million people in the Empire made it. Horatio Alger is alive and well forever.

At last, orange juice drunk, bed bounced on, woman for