"I thought of that," Lucy said, "and it can be done, because it must. Frank, for heaven's sake, use your wits! You're a newsgatherer. You know all sorts of people everywhere."
"I don't know any machines. And it's machines that handle the records."
"Machines under the supervision of humans."
"Sure," I said sarcastically. "I just go to my ex-newsgatherer pal who feeds the records to Io or Ceres and say, 'Look, old fellow, do me a favor, will you? My wife wants to adopt a baby from your colony, so just make up the names of two people and give them a life-check, invent their ancestors back to the time Central Cybernetics was established, and then slip in cards for their marriage, and the birth of their child—I'll let you know later whether to make it a boy or a girl—and then their deaths; and then my wife and I can adopt that made-up baby.'
"What kind of blackmailing hold do you think I have on any record official," I asked angrily, "to make him do a thing like that and keep his mouth shut about it? I could be eliminated for treason for even making such a suggestion."
"Frank, think! Surely there must be some way!"
And then it struck me. "Wait! I just got an idea. When I said 'treason,' just now—It might barely be possible—"
"Oh, what?"
"It would have to be Mars, the North Polar Cap colony. The K-Alph Conspiracy messed things up there badly."