There was a short silence, then Steen continued. "Now you see why I didn't want to tell you, Joe—to raise false hopes. Only one man in the Galaxy was ever wealthy enough to buy his way into Manhattan. And he had to give up his entire fortune to do it. I'm afraid that you'll never make the grade, Joe."
Krieg stood stunned. Steen was aware that two quintillion credits was beyond Krieg's wildest dreams, for Steen knew that Joseph Krieg had come to Earth determined to purchase his burial lot and then retire from the business world.
Steen pulled lightly at Krieg's arm. "Now, come along, Joe. Let's go take a look at Hong Kong." The three men started off down the path, but before they had gone ten feet, a robot scurried out of the bushes and dashed over to the bench they had been sitting on. It clucked softly to itself, put forth several arms, and in a matter of seconds had completely washed and disinfected the bench.
Joseph Krieg, an empty and numb look on his face, stopped to watch the process. He stared for a few seconds, then asked hoarsely, "What's that?"
Consolator Steen smiled. "One of the Guardians, Joe. Superb—and completely incorruptible. Within minutes after we leave, every vestige of our visit will be gone—each piece of gravel we tread on will be scrubbed clean or replaced, each piece of grass we touch uprooted and destroyed, even the very air we breathe will be sterilized to remove our traces. We have our problem of vandals too, you know," Steen said, a wisp of a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "But these are vandals who want to get in and leave something, not like those of ancient times on Earth who broke into burial grounds to loot and destroy. Yes, Joe, we found long ago that the only safe method was to employ mechanical devices to guard against clandestine burials. So even the gardeners who keep this Park in blossom are mechanical. See, there's another one over there, hard at work."
Joseph Krieg turned and saw to one side, by a large bed of red flowers, another robot with dozens of visible appendages. It purred an almost silent tune as it clipped and pruned, dug and spaded, trimmed and cleaned the beds, occasionally sprinkling a rich fertilizer dust here and there.
"The Guardians of Valhalla, Joe. They were set into motion centuries ago, and not even the President knows how to change their orders. They can't be bribed, even if their human masters can be."