"Then Lollabrigida's saboteurs exploded an atomic bomb in the heart of Moscow. After that it was pretty easy sledding." "Astounding how a nation seems to fall apart when its capitol and its leaders are gone," Ilaria remarked. "Everybody and everything folds," Jay said. "Morale dies. "After the demolition of Moscow and other parts of the USSR, Italy stood at the top. General of the Armies Julius Lollabrigida marched back into Italy and into Rome and into the capitol and up on a pedestal. He stood as Italy's utter ruler. His last name was lost and replaced by 'Caesar II.' He was named Dictator. "From mighty Rome, Caesar sent out linguists and anthropologists and ethnologists and psychologists and military men and others. In twenty years, twenty peaceful years, Italian had become the language of the world. A few minor uprisings in America and in Japan were smashed. Julius Caesar II was World Dictator of the Republic of Earth. Someone in America denied him and was torn to pieces by the people. Someone in Italy spread literature of dissension and was hunted down and liquidated by Caesar's personal police, the Pretoriani. And so it went. "Caesar adopted a prominent Air Force Colonel who became Caesar III on Lollabrigida's death. Each year on his birthday men were silent. No business was transacted. No one left his home. Except blue-and-silver clad soldiers, wearing PR armbands. Caesar's Pretorians. No one _dared_ venture out. "During the reign of Caesar III, every person in the world changed his last name to an Italian one. The Ali bens and the Chicos and the Andres and the Fritzes and the Johns became Marianos and Roccos and Caldinis and Campisanos and diManos." There was silence for a moment. "The thing I can't understand," Jay mused, "is why in all these years there hasn't been a 'bad' Caesar, or an uprising." "What do you mean by 'bad' Caesar?" Jay shrugged. "In the first Pax Romana there was Caligula, who was insane. Nero, who preferred artistic diversions to politics. There was Galba, who didn't know what was going on. And so on. And on and on. Your three dictators so far seem to have done excellent jobs. They seem to be damned conscientious leaders." "When you re-create something," Ilaria told him, "you try to eliminate its faults." "Of course. But what if Caesar's son or a Caesar's adopted son goes bad?" Jay elucidated. "So far we haven't had that problem to deal with. But we're ready. Each time a new Dictator comes to power, one thousand top military men draw folded pieces of plastipaper from a 'bowl.' On twenty of these are X's. The others contain O's. The twenty X's are a secret organization, sworn to kill the Dictator if it should become necessary. When Caesar, as you say, 'goes bad'." "Brilliant!" Jay breathed. "And he--Caesar--never knows who they are?" "_No_ one ever knows," Ilaria said. "Not even the members. They remain in contact, but none ever knows who the others are."