The simulant deployed to impersonate the absconded President was already failing. Guaranteed by its creators to function for three years, within three months it was visibly degrading. Confabulations, freeze-ups, nocturnal free-association ramblegrams—it became necessary to contemplate retrieving the original, despite the cost. The contingency plan was to tear up the moonshot program, cancelling landings, abandoning station construction, and redirecting the practice-flight vehicles into a dark side rendezvous with the ice-planetoid containing the vital remains of the fugitive. Those who had opposed allowing the corpsicle to flee into the far future unpursued were hardly comforted by vindication.

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