Free Time Enough for Love by Robert A. Heinlein

transports, on past the Director’s own, stopped at the smaller bank for executives.
    “Yes, but—I’ve never been assigned to anyone of your rank before.”
    That got a chuckle. “All the more reason to follow that rule with me—because the higher one is, the more one needs to forget it off duty. Here’s an empty car. In you go and sit down.”
    The shorter one went in but did not sit down until the Master Chief Technician was seated. The boss rejuvenator ignored it, set the controls, sprawled out, and sighed, as the car started to move. “I feel the strain myself. Coming off watch, I feel as old as he is.”
    “I know. I’m wondering if I can take it. Chief? Why won’t they let him terminate? He seems so tired.”
    The answer was slow and not responsive. “Don’t call me ‘Chief.’ We’re off duty.”
    “But I don’t know your name.”
    “Nor do you need to know it. Hmm—The situation is not quite as it appears to be; he has suicided four times already.”
    “ What? ”
    “Oh, he doesn’t remember it. If you think his memory is bad now, you should have seen him three months ago. Actually, it speeds up our work every time he does it. His switch—when he had it—was gimmicked; it simply made him unconscious, then we would go ahead with whatever stage was next while hypnoing more of his memory tapes into him. But we had to stop that—and remove the switch—a few days ago; he remembered who he is.”
    “But—That’s not by the Canons! ‘Death is every man’s privileges.’”
    The Master Chief Technician touched the emergency control; the car continued on, found a parking pocket, and stopped. “I did not say that it was covered by the Canons. But watch officers do not set policy.”
    “When I was accepted, I took the oath…and part of it was to ‘give life freely to those who wish it…and never refuse death to those who yearn for it.’”
    “Don’t you think I took the same oath? The Director is so angry that she has gone on leave—she may resign; I wouldn’t venture to guess. But the Chairman Pro Tem is not of our Vocation; he is not bound by our oath, and the motto up over the entrance means nothing to him. His motto is—or seems to be—‘Every rule has exceptions.’ Look, I knew I would have to have this talk with you and I’m pleased that you’ve given me an opportunity before our next watch. Now I must ask you—do you wish to opt out? It won’t affect your record; I’ll see to that. Don’t worry about a relief; the Senior will still be asleep when I next go on watch and any assistant will do for that watch—which leaves time for the Skills Board to select your replacement.”
    “Uh—I want to attend him. It’s a great privilege, one I never dreamed would come my way. But I’m torn. I don’t think he’s being treated fairly. And who is more entitled to fair treatment in this than the Senior?”
    “I’m torn by it, too. I was shocked silly the first time I realized that I was being ordered to keep alive a man who had terminated voluntarily. Or who had been allowed to think that he was terminating, rather. But, my dear colleague, the choice is not up to us. This job will be done no matter what we think. Once I realized that—well, I am not lacking in professional confidence—call it conceit. I think I am the best-qualified senior watch officer on the list. I decided that, if the Families’ Senior was going to have this done to him, I would not opt out and let it be done by colleagues less skilled than I am. Bonuses had nothing to do with it; I’ve assigned my bonuses to the Sanctuary for Defectives.”
    “I could do that, couldn’t I?”
    “Yes, but you would be a fool to do so; I draw far more than you do. But I must add this: I hope your body tolerates stimulants easily because I supervise every major procedure and expect my assistant to help, whether it falls during our regular watch or not.”
    “I don’t need stimulants; I use autohypnosis. When needed.