Archimedes’ coughing fits had been coming more often lately, and I was getting very concerned. Talking about ephemerals and funerals in the abstract was one thing; now, someone I’d known and loved for fifty years could be in his final days. Plans ran through my mind—sneaking a drone in and doing a SUDDAR scan; synthesizing medicine or even anesthetics. It was all wish fulfillment, of course. There was no operation to cure old age, even if I’d had the required skills.