Executive by Piers Anthony

prospects for service in the new administration; Spirit had largely prepared that beforehand and needed only my concurrence. It was complicated because there were so many necessary offices and so many people; matching the two together was a headache. We knew we had to get at least a patchwork government organized promptly, so that anarchy would not erupt.
    Suddenly Hopie was there, lifting the sleeping baby from my shoulder; I had hardly been aware of the passage of that time. My daughter did know her business; she set up shop in a corner of the room (because Robertico felt comfortable with me but not apart from me) and saw to a feeding and another change of diaper. Coral brought in another shirt for me; evidently Shelia's order had arrived.
    We continued, calling the people on our list, asking their participation, accepting their excuses, stressing that there was no coercion here: we wanted only those who would be committed to the welfare of Jupiter without reservation. Some were belligerent and some were afraid, but when they learned that it truly was voluntary, a number of these softened and did accept the positions. Some who turned down the offer later called back with a change of heart, and we accepted them. Slowly but satisfyingly the new framework was being erected.
    I don't pretend that this was any genius of mine. Spirit had done the groundwork and now prompted me on the execution. I was like a duffer who assembles a complex device by following the simplistic step-by-step instructions provided. I was the figurehead to Spirit's strategy. That was nothing new; my genius is reading (and making an impression on) other people, while Spirit's is organizational. We have always been a team, and there is no shame in that. While it is true that I would be a sorry figure of a politician without Spirit, it is also true that she would be unable to perform without me.
    Then Coral approached me. “Sir, it is time for you to rest,” she said firmly.
    “But there is so much to do!” I protested.
    “You have been working without pause for ten hours,” she informed me. “The others are dead on their feet, but they will not stop until you do.”
    I glanced around and saw that it was true. Spirit was drawn, and Shelia's eyes were red-rimmed. Hopie was asleep on the pillows with Robertico. Still, I demurred. “Just a little more work, and the list will be complete—”
    “That list will never be complete,” she asserted. “I am charged with the preservation of your body, and that charge I shall honor, preserving it from all threats—including that of your will. You must rest now, at least for a while.” She took my arm and drew me firmly along.
    The others did not protest, and I suffered myself to be conducted to the master bedroom. “Strip, wash, change,” Coral ordered, and I obeyed. It did not bother me that she watched; she had seen me in dishabille many times before, for she was always close. Once there had been a trap set for me in a urinal, so now she accompanied me to the bathroom too. One might suppose that a man would be nervous about having an attractive woman with him on such an occasion, but Coral was really part of my nuclear family.
    In pajamas, I lay down on the huge empty bed, now feeling my own fatigue. Then another thought occurred. I sat up. “I just remembered another appointment to—”
    “Down, sir,” Coral said.
    “But it will only take a moment to—”
    She moved to me, put her arms about me, and bore me down on the bed. She had changed herself, to some kind of feminine robe that I know concealed some unfeminine hardware; Coral was never without armament, ready for any emergency. She put what is called the Scarf-hold on me, her right arm circling my neck, and, gripping my right shoulder, her left hand hauling on my right sleeve, her legs spread and braced against the surface of the bed. I think I could have broken that hold, had I wished to make sufficient effort, for my strength was greater