Chapter 1 – Spearmaker

He stands motionless on the sloping rock ledge, peering into the distance down the valley – head craned forward as though being that little bit closer will help him see them. There is no sign. He relaxes and looks around – glances at the ground below – steps away from the edge – crouches down – leans back against the face of the cliff – makes himself comfortable. His attention returns to the scene before him.

Since they left on their homeward trip – since he last heard the children's voices fading – he has plotted their path. Keen eyes strain to that part of the tree line along the edge of the river where they should be by now.

The white speck of a cockatoo flies from a tree by the river. It veers and sinks momentarily. He recognises its motion – looking back at whatever disturbed it. Flapping slowly in undulating flight to the upper branches of a nearby tree it, too, is gone. That is where they are – the last sign of them till he returns to the coast after the long journey west. He rests back – bare skin against the smooth warm rock – closed eyes.

The journey ahead is familiar but long and difficult – made before with his uncle. The stone he is going to fetch makes the best spearheads. He must have the best.

The stone is not the only source of excitement and anticipation on this trip. Bride-to-be is waiting – waiting, he hopes, as eagerly for his arrival as he is to see her again. Hope is strong. They will be wed. They will create a bond between two great tribes.

The valley is now in complete shade as the sun sinks below the ridge. They will have reached the bend in the river where they will spend the night – as they always have.

He stands and starts to move around the side of the hill. Reaching the small cave opening where he has left the spears he is taking with him to trade for stone, he looks at them carefully as he has done many times before – looks at them with pride.

They are the best. They are better than any made out west – the wood straighter, stronger. They are greatly prized by the western tribes. Sitting still but excited, he thinks about the trip. After a short walk tomorrow he will meet with a tribe returning west and travel with them.

It has long been dark when his mind is settled enough for sleep. He is thirsty. About to set off to a nearby creek in the dark, he remembers that someone heard the sound of water in the cave. Listens – hears nothing – bends down and passes under a large rock jutting from the cave roof.

On the other side he is able to stand – listening. Fear and custom caution – curiosity and thirst push him on – moves slowly – feels his way along the cave wall then stops to listen. He can hear water and puts his ear to the cave wall. The sound is stronger but distant – too distant.

Turning to make his way back, a sharp rock stabs his heel. He gasps, and reflex retracts the foot. He hops – tries to regain his balance – feels for the wall – not there – he has turned – how far? – his sense of direction gone. The foot goes down again – there is nothing there.

He follows the foot down and down – for a moment in free fall – hip then shoulder then head hit hard against a sloping rock wall and he slides. He tries to grab at a slight rock edge he feels sliding rapidly and painfully past him – grasping – his fingertips grip – something in his shoulder gives – free fall again.

Slowly regaining consciousness he tries to move, but a sharp pain in his shoulder makes him gasp. Breathes deep – focuses on the pain – fights it back. His hip aches. He is in darkness. His first thought, where am I?

Regaining some composure he tries, without moving, to assess his situation. He is lying on sand – the edge of a pool – water touching his face. The echo of his breathing tells him he is in a small cave. He is lying on his undamaged side, which he notes as good fortune. How did I get here?

He gropes for a memory – any memory – in the darkness of his mind. He strains, and pain starts to draw him back to unconsciousness. He relaxes – breathes deep and slow. A momentary feeling of hopping and turning and the question, how far? flicker in his mind and are gone. He tries to bring them back but can't.

Rested a little he tries again and soon hears his father's voice saying goodbye. A wave of relief flows through his body and the pain abates a little. He grasps the memory and searches around it for a context. Gradually it comes – piece by piece – the riverbank – father – the tribe – the decaying branch of a fallen tree.

He pushes the memory further. He is starting to climb – up and along the ridge away from them – not looking back until he reaches the top. They are leaving. Someone looks up at him and signals farewell. He signals back – walks off – then nothing – a faint image of standing on a ledge watching after them for a long time – then nothing – then turning, turning, turning, again and again with the same question, How far? Until he remembers the fall and other memories follow.

The water in the pond didn't come from the cave he has fallen from. He hears it flowing in the distance. If I can't climb out the way I came down I may find another exit. If I die, better here than outside where the children will find my scattered bones when the tribe returns next year.

This thought relieves some anxiety and his mind drifts off again. Memories come and go – the hot sun as they sat by the river – the heat of the rock on his back as he looked out after them – the heat of the fire the night before.

Twisting his head he drinks a little water – mind tranquil for a while – asleep? Then thinking of the last trip – the journey – the flat dry plains stretching almost endlessly – food and water scarce – mountains in the distance – a welcoming party meeting them.

On the first evening with the tribe he remembered bride-to-be from the previous trip. He thought she remembered him – saw her looking at him out of the corner of her eyes – remembered he had seen her do that before.

They didn't speak during his stay. They watched each other – as much as was possible in company. He could hear her voice stand out amongst the others, though she spoke quietly.

A few days before he left she was out with some women gathering food. They allowed her to bring back a small amount of honey. When they returned to camp she walked straight up to him and offered some ‘for our honoured visitor.’ Other women smiled. An older woman looked first with disapproval then she, too, smiled slightly as she turned away.

He remembers her looking into his eyes as she offered the honey – her head turned aside – still looking out the side of her eyes. When he accepted it, gratefully, she turned her head and looked him straight in the eye – her eyes fixed on him she stood still – she watched – their eyes locked until he had slowly licked the last taste of honey from his fingers. Silently, she walked around those present and offered each a taste – her movement graceful – her manner serene – almost grave.

Thoughts drift back through the years to his childhood – gathering food with his mother – shellfish from the rocks and in the sand – the sea – violent storms – waves high as a tree – hot, still days when children played – in calm pools protected by the rocks – lying on their backs in the shallow water with only their faces out – climbing the ridge near their camp looking for bees – his mother and an aunt – three children running about trying to follow a bee to its hive – finding a hive – the taste of honey – licking it from his hands – delicious.

The thoughts fade. After what he senses was a long time his memories start to return – not now with the dim reality of waking memory but the vivid reality of dreams – sees her clear, wide eyes – smooth perfect skin.

Other dreams come and go – sets out on his trip – meets with a strange tribe – they are friendly – they want some of his trade goods in return for taking him with them – he agrees – he will go with them.

Chapter 2 – Reception

May I disturb Your Highness? I have a report.

Yes, Chancellor. Continue.

The identity of the visitor has been confirmed.

Is the Outer Sector fully active?

They are rapidly building up their presence in the zone-of-contact. I have assisted them in encouraging a near tenant to retrench.

Excellent. No need for my intervention.

All is being accomplished at little expense to us. The Outer Sector has advanced some settling expenses. They are very excited. It is the first of the species to visit this colony.

Have they issued a threat report yet?

Yes, Your Highness. They conclude that it offers no serious threat to near space. This is supported by archive reports from other colonies.

My family has knowledge of these creatures. It must be treated with caution.

Yes, Your Highness. I have emphasised this in my discussions with the Outer Sector. They have agreed to remain on full alert as they proceed with negotiations.

It is fully sentient?

Yes, Your Highness. Its level of sentience requires full compliance with inter-colony protocol. Apart from initial fuel and accommodation fees, which it has agreed to, all further negotiation must be delayed until it has fully settled and language difficulties overcome. It is very wealthy.

Is it secured?

Yes, Your Highness. By the time we established control of the site the Barbaric Hordes had taken some of its capital. We now keep them at bay. Little was lost.

Good. Keep me directly informed of your actions.

As you say, Your Highness.

Chapter 3 – Arkadel

His first impression of the colony – gliding down at his leisure from high altitude – was of a patterned array of lotus leaves on the surface of the ocean – each a mottled green with a black disc at its centre.

The lily pads soon resolved into circular floating islands up to a hundred metres in diameter and separated from neighbours by similar distances – their shadowy carbon-black cylinders descending below. The only above-surface constructions were the sheltered lift-heads at the centre of each building, a raised observation platform, a telescope dome, and a few communications towers.

He just wanted to relax after his long journey, spend some time adjusting to the fact that he was finally here, prepare for dealing with this strange secretive culture, and to start work so his stay would be as brief as possible.

The administrative details of his arrival, the location of his hotel, the minutiae of local transit routes and parking etiquette, were dealt with by his PA and bike. Dealing with people was up to him. His first, and so far only, interaction was with a concierge who showed little of the Arkadelian reticence he expected.

He was puzzled to note that the young man, in his early twenties, claimed knowledge of Janeite culture, had rushed to the hotel just in time to greet him, had never set foot in it before and, pointedly, that it wasn't the kind of establishment he was accustomed to attending. At best he was a concierge to the colony rather than the hotel. The label on his tunic wasn't specific and didn't even look permanent.

He waved the porter-bot ahead – clearly a demonstration of authority for Tom's benefit – escorted him to his room, apologised for its small size and the lack of facilities, peering intently at Tom's face as he spoke.

The young man continued to probe. ‘Cybs rarely leave their rooms.’ The knowing look that accompanied this statement was distinctly Janeite, but the intent was just as clearly Arkadelian.

‘No. They don't, do they,’ answered the unspoken question and ended the conversation. Tom was relieved as he watched him go, but at the door he stopped, turned, stood silent for several long seconds, bowed slightly, said, ‘Thank you,’ and left hastily.

Thank you? – Thank you? – Who was he? Certainly not official Arkadelian. A freelance porta-cam? Not likely here. This is not a good start. His thoughts wandered as he relaxed on the bed dismissing the incident. His PA suggested a student collecting a portfolio of disparate profiles to increase his diversity index. How better than as a concierge?

That he'd booked into a cyb bin was useful information. Anyone interesting staying? Anyone I know? Apart from that cheering thought, the interaction with the concierge hadn't eased his apprehension about the visit.

He'd intended to spend his flight productively, going over the extensive cultural primer he'd purchased. He was distracted by thoughts such as, Where, exactly, is the centre of the Pacific? – Distance from land? – Depth? How do you park a city? Do they move it? Will I start breakfast now or wait a while longer?

He quickly escaped from the hotel to the sanctuary of the long unused office of his host, Sara Barratt PA, in an abandoned building near the edge of the city. The hotel was chosen because it was nearby – a poor choice, perhaps, but he couldn't afford much better. He could cope with it for the few days he'd be here.

He stretched himself back into an ancient armchair. It squeaked, and he laughed with a single brief splutter. The smile remained – lingering across a thin wide mouth that was larger than his face deserved and certainly its most distinguishing feature. This expanse of labial real estate was a constant playground for his moods and was, to some who knew him, one of his most appealing features. At home this was considered to be ‘character’ and in moderation a social asset.

However, here at Arkadel where facial analysis had evolved into a highly refined science, such a feature was not prized. He'd experienced similar cultures in the past and had conveniently decided that his moods were not something he generally wished to hide, and he liked to imagine that others had been envious of this freedom.

It was a little ironic that his mouth was also the source of his most deeply protected secret. Though they may like to pride themselves on their frank and open natures, even Janeites have secrets – Tom more than most. As sometimes happens, a single incident, which was in every other way unremarkable, had changed his life.

A happy but solitary childhood had nurtured a timid nature – extreme in his early years – his parents despairing. George consoled them and persuaded them to let his grandson find his own way. Tom learned that making an effort to speak a little when in company seemed to keep his parents happy. He'd also learned to hide most of the outward signs of his nervous disposition. All that remained was an impulse to tap his tongue rapidly against the back of his teeth when confronted with difficult situations.

It was a mild morning in the spring of his seventh year when something happened to change the way he viewed himself and others. He escaped to his favourite secluded corner of the Manor gardens after breakfast to avoid the bustle of visitors, but was disappointed to find that a travel-weary and dyspeptic visitor had beaten him to it. The old man confronted him, brusquely asking an unintelligible question. Tom's eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly. His tongue tap-tapped rapidly against his upper lip – just twice, accompanied by a blink each time.

The visitor backed away looking bewildered. Bowing awkwardly he turned and walked briskly off, to Tom's relief but rapidly growing apprehension. He felt that whatever he'd done, this wasn't the end of it. At the picnic later that day, after a few anxious hours, ‘young Master Thomas’ was pleased to find the same old man treating him with the utmost civility, no little curiosity and, Tom sensed, some amusement.

Tom was pleased and puzzled but also chastened. Some intuition – deeper – instinct, even – warned him he was on dangerous ground. With all the intensity that a vivid imagination could supply he felt that whatever had happened he had teetered on the edge of an abyss of perpetual humiliation. But his imagination didn't stop there. This trick, as he now thought of it, became his secret weapon, and as with the very best of secret weapons, just knowing it was there was enough.

It was the last time in his childhood that he'd felt intimidated. It was many years later, standing before a mirror, that he fully comprehended what had happened. He could only countenance this view as a frog. No frill-necked lizard need apply.

Nor was it any common or garden bullfrog he saw before him with his still-acute imagination. The combination of his face and his skeletal body with its gangly limbs could only be fully appreciated by someone familiar with a particular species of tree frog – a rather attractive one, he thought. By then, his youthful cloak of confidence had degraded to a hollowed-out bravado, but it still served him well enough.

Chapter 4

He swivelled the chair and looked around. After the discomforting kitsch of the anti-claustrophobic, pseudo-holographic palm trees that lined the walls of his hotel, there was something strangely comfortable about the mixed antiquity of this room. It was real.

It was large, and scattered with an assortment of old desks and chairs. What appeared to be storage cavities with manual locks stretched along one wall. There were a few signs of recent access but many of long neglect.

His tongue tap-tapped at the back of his teeth as he studied the scene before him. It built to an audible ‘tut-tut’ then, All too much for now. I'll start later. With a flick of his foot he swung the seat around to face the outer wall and its large oval porthole. ‘Lights off,’ he muttered – the only light remaining coming from the sea outside.

He watched and waited, peering out into the sea for several minutes. There were a few fish swimming in the distance but none close by. The sombre black forms of nearby buildings were softened by the rippling light from above. Close up, they were not the simple cylinders he had imagined. Tubes of varying sizes ran along and around the surface. Three shallow segments, spread down the length, had arrays of large holes that his PA told him were jets for movement and stabilisation.

He restored the lighting and returned his attention to the room. ‘So this was where Sara Barratt spent her last years.’ The ‘yes’ in reply from his PA jolted him into activity – and irritation. Would he ever teach it to recognise a rhetorical question?

He started a systematic survey of the room. He'd never seen so much loose paper before – on desks, in drawers, stacked on shelves. What an unusual woman, he thought. At the vanguard of science, yet her clothes, her language, and all this paper, point to strong retro attachments.

His PA volunteered an assessment of the number of sheets. Mmm. That'll be useful tomorrow. Administrators like numbers. Another might help. He estimated that it would take at least three days to sort through the documents, but already he could see that most of them weren't relevant. And no specimens to be seen anywhere.

All the effort he'd expended in organising to come here, and a large part of his small research budget, hung on the assumptions that the samples still existed, that they were here, and that once he was here the task of tracking them down would be simple. Barratt's PA clearly wanted him to find them. Hadn't it hinted at their existence in a way that only he could guess?

It suggested that he visit the colony in person, but only gave her aquaculture files as an explicit reason. That was to avoid triggering flags, wasn't it? Just Arkadelian obscurity? Now, looking at the disarray about him, he had to adjust to the possibility that the samples could be anywhere in the building, if they existed at all.

His attention was suddenly caught by the view outside. A school of fish at last! He watched in awe as they corkscrewed down, slowed, then accelerated off to his left and out of sight. The view was everything he'd been told to expect in natural light – subtle, shimmering and transforming as they moved. He watched for a while longer in the fading outside light, thinking that the sight would be even better in full daylight. He was reminded that it was time to dress for dinner.

On arrival, he and the concierge had read the three messages displayed on the wall of his room. The first was a standard welcome from the hotel. The second – a surprise and quite intriguing – was from Nanette Barratt who he knew to be his host's daughter. She wished to ‘welcome you, Doctor Oldfield, to Ark Adelaide with the hope that you will join my family for dinner this evening.’

He'd sent a brief, but gratified, acceptance at the time, but in his haste to go straight to her mother's old offices he'd pushed the invitation from his mind. Now the prospect excited a wary anticipation, a desire to impress, to learn – and some trepidation.

The third message was from a Jerald Fleischmann who, equally cordially, welcomed him and suggested a meeting ‘at your earliest convenience.’ A quick check found that he was a senior scientific administrator in the colony. He'd replied that the following afternoon would suit him. Best to be refreshed. That meeting might be tricky. I can't tell him that I don't really know why I'm here, but he's an Arkadelian and won't press for motive.

He hurried through his preparations. He'd already spent some time before leaving home going through the hotel catalogue. The styles here were quite strange to him and subtle. He knew that his dress and manner would be archived, carefully scrutinised, and automatically analysed by everyone he met. Now he was here he was regretting his casual decision to go native. His nerve was beginning to fail him.

It was dull garb, even for him. When he finished dressing he stood in front of the screen-wall and surveyed his strange attire for a full minute. He knew from experience that seeing himself like this would help him feel more comfortable in company, and he saw how they would see him.

He held the skin-tone mask provided by the hotel over his face briefly as a token gesture. Then he took a good long look at his face. Even to his eyes he looked tired and not a little frayed. To Arkadelian microanalysis it would display all the discretion of an arcade advertising wall.

He put the mask back to his face and when the recommended time had elapsed he kept it there, stopped counting, and tried to relax his mind. Taking the mask off, he re-examined his face. It looked empty. It felt ready to drip off his chin.

As he rode the lift to the surface he was again aware of a rising nervousness and tried to fight it. He told himself he shouldn't let past misadventures or the garish decor of a cheap tourist hotel influence his view of Arkadel. As he walked out into the open air he thought he was losing the battle until the scene that confronted him absorbed his attention.

It was almost dark. In the west, the sky was red on the horizon. What a horizon! The enormity of the space around him hit him as a physical shock and he involuntarily shifted his gaze to nearby objects. Home, surrounded by mountains, the rest of the world was hidden. Here, with that smoothly curved horizon, the perspective was planetary.

He looked back. It was beautiful. Bright pink hues glittering from the peaks of waves merging in the distance to a shimmering sheen that reminded him of the school of fish he'd seen earlier. Towards the east, the dark sea merged almost seamlessly with the sky and early stars.

A wave of relaxation spread through his body and he felt that his senses were acute. A cool breeze on his face and the smell of the sea had him drawing in full, deep breaths till he felt almost dizzy.

He made his way towards the inner city on foot along slightly lit pontoon paths that wound between buildings. He was early. He kept up a brisk pace until he neared his destination with time to spare and slowed, taking in more of his surroundings.

The outer district he'd just left was covered with fruit trees and neat rows of bushes. Here he was surrounded by vegetable gardens and berry vines with small patches of grass near the building entrances.

Close to the centre of the colony the sea was still. Standing on the footbridge he looked down through the clear water at the dark shape of a building nearby. The buildings in this district were obviously of more recent construction than those he'd just come from. Whole walls of some outer rooms were transparent, sending broad beams of light into the water. A few solitary fish, larger than the ones he'd seen earlier, moved in slow circles in the light.

Was that a natural attraction to the light, or was it artificially induced? he wondered. He could see a little into some of the rooms near the surface and noted the expensive modern furnishing.

His PA reminded him of the time, so he turned towards his destination which was the next building. Two people were entering the lift. A woman's soft-spoken voice and a man's quiet laugh caught his ear. The mood he picked up was relaxed and happy. Comforted, he quickened his pace and followed them down.

Chapter 5

His host of the evening was walking up to the lift as he stepped out into a spacious foyer. She introduced herself with a subdued smile. After a momentary touch of hands – standing just over a metre apart, as custom dictated – she led him briskly towards one of several doors.

Before reaching it, she stopped suddenly and turned. He was taken by surprise and by the time he'd arrested his movement they were face-to-face at close range. She fixed his eyes for a few seconds – it seemed much longer – then slowly and casually surveyed the rest of his face. This seemed like a challenge – an assertion of authority. It was part of the strange mix of almost friendly acceptance and chilly aloofness that characterised her culture.

The gesture was easy enough to understand. He'd stepped into her personal space – a breach of Arkadel etiquette. Had he been more alert he could have avoided doing so.

In their dealings with outsiders, Arkadelians displayed an avoidance of open conflict. Warned with hints, rewarded with smiles, was how most interpreted their behaviour. They would have analysed his past public actions. They would see his contrary views and his inclination to debate controversial topics as a potential threat to the integrity of their archives.

Why, then, had she invited him? There was no protocol he was aware of that demanded it. He was determined that he wouldn't be intimidated. He reciprocated – staring back. At close range he could see her age. He knew from her bio that she was eighty-seven, but from a distance she'd looked younger. He knew that local custom decried any physical enhancement not required for maintaining health and moderate longevity.

She seemed to be about to speak – choosing her words. Then, perhaps having sought assurance from her PA that she'd made her point, resumed her smile and stepped back. As her eyes scanned the rest of him her words bubbled out rapidly in a deep voice.

‘I don't intend to impose on you on your first evening – no business, just a family meal. I've delegated all business matters to my nephew, Jerald. He's already brought himself to your attention, but please, if you do wish to discuss any matters concerning my mother with me, personally, do not hesitate. Jerald will advise me on any technical matters.’

With an intense and serious look straight into his eyes she waited a moment for Tom's nod of assent, resumed her smile, and opened the door.

Well, that's one way to set the tone of the evening, he thought and braced himself for a foray.

As they entered, five people rose to greet them. His host launched into introductions. ‘My sister, Gail.’ Shorter, less animated, and appearing older, Gail nodded a greeting.

‘My daughter Michelle and her husband Wang Mang.’ Both bowed. Local custom or for my benefit? wondered Tom, giving a modest formal bow in reply.

‘My granddaughter Mary Wang.’

He guessed her to be about his age or a little younger – late twenties, at least. From her appearance – her costume – he half expected a curtsey. He was still surprised when it came. Not to be outdone, he added a slight sweep of his hand to the return bow. Her face remained impassive.

‘And her brother Axel.’

Tom hadn't recognised him till this moment, but stepping towards him was the young concierge, now in a formal tunic and bearing a calmer manner, proffering his hand and a fixed gaze. Each grabbed Tom's counterpart – eyes uncommittal, but the hand expressing an awkward enthusiasm.

As Tom turned back to Noni he noticed the young man's face suddenly shift its expression a little and for a moment he imagined the hundreds of microbots stationed around the facial muscles controlling them. The others, too? he thought with a slight shock, resisting the impulse to scan them again as his PA anticipated the reaction with, ‘No, youth corrective’.

All were dressed in an uncompromised Arkadelian style except for Mary who was dressed in full Neo-Georgian attire. His own seemed, to him, to fit in well enough. He felt a little more comfortable as his host continued. ‘I would be pleased, sir, if you would call me Noni. I consider any colleague of my mother's as a friend.’

She repeated her suggestion of no business talk. Formalities over, she walked around a free-standing partition into the broad end of the room. The others followed. Both side walls displayed wood panelling. Like the Manor, a Georgian style partially updated to Regency, he thought, carefully designed for the occasion – no catalogue option this.

The left wall had a large double door. The curved outer wall of the room was, he guessed, usually fully transparent like the ones he'd observed from above. For his benefit it was now completing the Georgian theme, displaying windows looking out over a verdant pastoral scene with horses walking in the distance. Very pretty, he thought with genuine appreciation, but not much like home. A thought he had to revise a little when he noticed that the trees were eucalypts.

The dining table was of a style to suit its surroundings, but here there was no artifice. Table, silver, crystal, alike were genuine and of the highest quality with an apparent antiquity that could not be doubted in the context. All eyes observed him with varying degrees of discretion. He didn't hide his appreciation.

Noni indicated a seat and sat beside him. The others followed – Doctor Wang on his other side. There was no shortage of elbow room at this table. A personal space of Arkadelian proportions allowed plenty of room for the servant attending each diner. The servants had longer legs and arms than the ancient models of the Manor, which made them unusually elegant and adroit.

Chapter 6

The food began to arrive and he was drawn into a discussion of uncontroversial current events. When he switched the topic to food he felt his companions relax. As the consumption of food begun to slow there was another change in mood that his PA detected before he did – anticipation.

Wang Mang, ignoring Noni's prohibition on business talk, was providing Tom with a brief summary of the Barratt Foundation business empire and hints of financial support for any new developments arising from this visit. He was stopped by a forceful comment from his daughter who until then hadn't spoken. ‘That's my domain now, father!’ – dropping her tone in mid sentence as though startled by her own boldness.

Tom gave her a quizzical smile and their eyes met for the first time. She smiled back and resumed in a hesitant voice, directing her comments to him. ‘It was a small gesture on great grandmother's part. The results of her work form a minor part of the family business these days. Any commercial advances arising from her work seem improbable. Would you agree, Doctor Oldfield?’

‘I hardly know how to answer. This project is related to my research in aquaculture, but it also has a personal interest. It may have commercial application if anything comes of it.’ He wondered, again, why he hadn't prepared better for this trip – given some thought to a few obvious questions he was bound to be asked.

She returned to picking at the remnants of food in front of her then added, casually, without looking up, ‘I hear you went through a great personal trial after the failure of your cortical-mapping procedure. Are you attempting to understand what went wrong?’

She was treading difficult terrain, not just for him but for any Arkadelian not used to such personal discussion and questioning of motives. By Arkadel custom it was a bold statement – a request for motive and directed towards a guest!

‘Partly. The process can severely disturb the mind, but my contract with NetGenate prohibits me from discussing the matter in detail.’

Tom observed that Noni had said little during the meal, keeping to host mode and fussing over the details of the food and its consumption. She had ignored Wang Mang's discussion of business. Her intellectual pride forced her to insert the occasional brief, but pertinent, comment to make it clear to all that she was following what was taking place.

Michelle had occasionally looked as though she was about to speak – perhaps to interrupt her husband. Now she braced herself and took a bold initiative. ‘I suspect that you might have felt some uncertainty in coming here to a culture that many would see as quite the antithesis of your own. My view of things brings us more closely into alignment than you might expect.

‘Both Arkadel and Brindabella originated sharing a common desire – the desire for privacy. The founders of your Brindabella community took one possible path, eliminating all forms of public surveillance. Here at Arkadel they took a different path.

‘We've grown from a culture that evaded ubiquitous surveillance through ambiguity in word and gesture. It was a running battle with surveillance models constantly adapting.’ She was becoming a little animated and her sense of pride was clear. ‘Our predecessors were gradually forced to avoid any communication of feelings and motives.

‘Some referred to us as Jokers who present a new face at a whim, but as a society we've developed a form of stability. We hold to core values then, at certain times, we shift rapidly to a new equilibrium – new model parameters as Mary puts it. Each time we shift we try to achieve a more stable and acceptable outcome.’

‘The Model as Regent view,’ said Mary in a flat voice, still not lifting her gaze from her plate.

Her mother continued, ‘Your society, if I may presume, maintains stability through a lifetime or a dynasty, but with each new figurehead the possibility of change appears. Unlike many societies, our cultures maintain a surface stability, but underneath is movement – the image of the swan drifting slowly and serenely, but underneath its feet trip out a complex quadrille.’

She stopped and looked at Tom with a slight anticipatory smile. He sensed she was feeling pleased with herself, with good cause. Such a statement to a stranger displayed a high degree of confidence in her ranking. The others looked puzzled and serious, glancing first at Michelle then back to Tom, not quite knowing how to react to this, but obviously expecting Tom to reply.

After a long pause he spoke. ‘I, well, I think I see your point, but I suspect that at close range all societies have their turmoil.’

An awkward but friendly laughter followed this comment. They turned to him expecting him to continue. He sensed that the topic touched a nerve, and they were probing his views. He was wary. He had been warned and now provoked.

At home he would have seen Michelle's comment as the setting the topic of an after dinner discussion. George liked to indulge in philosophical speculation and commonly relied on Tom for a provocative introduction. That was certainly not the situation here – little chance of open discussion.

There was an obvious problem. In Arkadel, more than elsewhere, idle chatter was considered foolish – even dangerous. To give one opinion today then a differing one some time later creates a contradiction or a lack of integrity within your Archive. A PA's integrity index was central to social status in the colony.

Something unusual was happening here. He was sure he'd seen a mixture of surprise and achievement in Mary's face as Michelle was speaking. Somehow, Michelle's statement had been provoked by her earlier interjection. He imagined that Michelle didn't often venture such opinions.

He wasn't doing the provoking and he realised that unlike his companions he had little to lose. He sensed that something needed to be said and he was the only one who could say it. What, and to what purpose, he was unlikely to discover. He shrugged inwardly and picked up Michelle's theme hoping he could take it somewhere.

‘The swan, yes, symbol of grace, symbol of elegance, and symbol of poignance. Food for myth and legend, “To know but one song and only sing it as you die.” Death – the afterlife – the need we share, to believe there is something more to life than the fleeting moment of our worldly existence. It's a need we escape by immersing ourselves so fully in our day-to-day, moment-by-moment existence as to leave no gap in time for thoughts of our impermanence to emerge.

‘In traditional societies we believe that the concept of the individual is largely an illusion. We only exist, and we can only exist, as part of a society. We're no more capable of independent existence than a bee is capable of surviving detached permanently from its hive.

‘Certainly it can fly away for a while in search of nectar and pollen, but to survive it must return to the hive. It is nurtured in the hive and the exchange of pheromones and the patterns of behaviour it experiences there drive its existence. Detached from its hive it soon becomes inactive and dies.’

‘In the Neo worlds we extend our view of our lives to include the past and future. We recognise that we're a product of the past. Not just our genes, but our words, views, even mannerisms, are assembled from those passed down in our society – the spirits of those past. We're an amalgam of all those that harmonise with our experience. As individuals we are unique in nature and experience, but none the less products of the past.

‘We work through our lives to build a spirit that is in harmony with our society adding to it creatively as we are able. Our spirit is passed on in those who follow us – a little here, a little there – on into the future beyond our physical existence. If our spirit is particularly true and harmonious it may reassemble in the minds of others – join with their spirit reinforcing its integrity and harmony or character.’

‘Like the spirit of Jane Austen and her characters,’ said Mary brightly – pressing her lips together at the end of her comment as if to stop any further words emerging.

‘Yes, indeed. Her characters are a varied lot. We can vacillate between Marianne's passion and Elinor's strength – admire or envy Elisabeth – watch and wait with quiet, patient Fanny – laugh at Emma's foibles or be drawn into her delusions – worry over Catherine's innocence, and rejoice in Anne's fortitude. A host of spirits abound to infatuate or infuriate the driest soul.

‘But in her letters, preserved by those who loved her, we see directly her love for life and all its human “creatures” as she describes them in her unique anthropological style. We see the gentle humour and its playful mischief that toyed with the imaginations of family and friends, young and old, just as it toyed with the intellect and understanding of the Prince Regent's librarian.’

He looked around the table for some sign of response. There was nothing. The famous invisible mask of the Arkadelian had descended to cloak not just their face but their whole body. They were not immobile. They looked at him and occasionally at each other, but gave nothing away – nothing but an expectation that he should continue.

‘If I may presume to comment on my first day here, at Arkadel you approach your life as the careful establishment of an entity that will live on forever in the PA world. You're laying down the foundations for an eternal existence. You want these foundations to be as clear and lacking in contradiction as possible – a single harmonious song. In this we have a common wish to achieve harmony in our lives and beyond. Nature nurtures harmony then it searches for new stable states – attractors – in the complexity that lies between static harmony and destructive chaos.’

Well, there goes my best sign-off line, he thought, but still no reaction except for Mary who is showing some interest. Was it interest? He wasn't sure, but something told him it was positive. He waited a few moments hoping she was about to respond. The look faded under his glance.

Chapter 7

He struggled on. ‘In Bath I saw a production of Icarus's Water Nymphs of Arkadel. The image of the immortal butterfly was very moving. The contrast between your society and that of the Poseidon colony was clear.’

He felt a strong positive reaction to this comment. He relaxed and looked about, pointedly indicating that he had finished speaking. Still nobody spoke. He waited. At home he might have been more provocative – confronted individuals he knew disagreed with what he had said. Here he was a guest and in uncertain territory.

He made a final attempt, grasping at another of Michelle's themes. ‘I'm not well equipped to comment on your customs, but certainly the quadrille plays a part in ours. Many friendships and alliances are made on the floor of the ballroom.’

‘A strong reliance on direct personal contact?’ Michelle responded.

Tom was relieved, but now he felt defensive. He'd learned in his travels that the rest of the world, or those who bothered to have an opinion, saw Neo-Georgians or their Janeite subculture as living in small isolated groups having little contact with the outside world. It was a view that embarrassed him. His personal experience belied it.

He remembered his first visit to Bath – being drawn immediately into circles of his generation like a brother returning home. Then later, during his long recovery, sitting for hours with an aunt who he'd barely known. She'd chatted about inconsequential details of his childhood as though she'd been present at the time. Her visitors ranged well beyond the confines of Janeite society.

He turned his full attention to Wang Mang who had picked up the topic. ‘... with the Neo-Confucianism of New Shanghai it's a response to centuries of rapid change – change driven by technology – cultures trying with limited success to adapt – each generation reacting against the previous in wild oscillations that always had a destructive element.

‘Over the past century our colony has achieved relative stability. But here in Arkadel, though there is a real stability, people are still trying to gain a sense of community and an environment for raising children that stimulates the spirit and intellect. You and I look back to past stable cultures to see how they managed – social values that weren't just the reactions of one generation, but wrought through a process of evolution over many millennia.’

Mary was alert again and listening to her father with interest. ‘Yes, exactly!’ she interjected. ‘And through her writing Jane Austen painted detailed pictures – just “three or four families in a country village – with so fine a brush, as produces little effect after much labour.” Pictures of a way of life – the last days of an era of relative stability that had been hard won over many centuries.

‘She describes a society caught between the chaotic brutality that followed the French revolution and the rising mechanisation of the industrial revolution. Now we have no servant class or the slaves who propped up the Classical cultures. We have the freedom to choose how we live without imposing on others.’

Without a pause she continued, looking at Tom and surprising him with the sudden change of topic. ‘Are you, perhaps, rebelling against your Janeite upbringing with your involvement in cyb culture?’

Again there were restrained looks of surprise about the table and now a look of bold defiance from Mary. Tom was not perturbed. The directness of the comment was a relief. Her manner clearly indicated a friendly gesture – broaching Brindabella custom. It was an offer of relief for somebody in alien surroundings. He was sure the note of defiance was not directed at him.

‘Indeed, neuro-cybs usually do come from the ranks of the cybs, but it's a different experience and can have different motives. Mine was assisted mental recall via a better PA link rather than communication with others. I was also interested in the ability to review dreams.’

Surprised looks broke the faces of the others, cracking their Arkadelian composure. Even Axel returned his attention to his physical context from wherever it had been throughout the meal.

He had good reason for expecting a strong reaction. Experience had shown him that most people saw the neuro process as an extreme extension of cyb life – another mode of communication. Few had thought about its personal value.

He was also aware that few people could bring themselves to think about the procedure at all. The thought that he'd attempted it changed the way most people viewed him. So much so that he'd rarely been pushed to discuss it and he didn't volunteer. People seemed comforted by the idea that it had failed.

Chapter 8

They left the table to move to the next room. It was decorated in the same style as the dining room. One wall displayed an open fireplace – a genuine holograph. He was immediately drawn to it through force of habit and was surprised to find that it was producing heat.

He stood facing it – listening to the sound of a crackling fire echoing up a tall chimney – trying to relax his mind – momentarily transported home to Brindabella Manor – its many fireplaces. He noticed Mary standing beside him – her back to the fire and her hands clasped behind her – one hand spread to catch the warmth. She turned, smiled at him, then looking at the fire said, ‘I suppose this seems like a silly sham to you.’

‘Not at all!’ was his quick reply. ‘Rather too reminiscent of home. Besides, a fireplace provides a useful focal point for people standing about a room. One can approach a stranger without it seeming particular – without the need for immediate, or indeed any, conversation. I'm flattered at the trouble you seem to have gone to in making me comfortable here.’

‘Perhaps, but you shouldn't take anything too personally. It's grandmother's function as Convenor of the Protocol Caucus. I think she's good at it. Her personal knowledge of other cultures is extensive. A few weeks ago, standing here, you would have been experiencing the surf of a Pacific island, or was it one of the other rooms. I don't recall. This whole floor is a circular stage with movable partitions and a treasure trove of props. Axel likes to work on the set designs.’

There was a pause. Tom didn't know how to respond. He'd known of Noni's title, but hadn't checked to see what it meant and he scrambled mentally to catch up – ‘keeper of secrets’ being the alternative title his PA whispered – intimidating and not helpful.

He turned to look at Mary again, and his eyes reviewed her dress. It puzzled him. He imagined a local fancy-dress emporium, but it was clearly not new. Another prop? Would a Barratt wear old clothes? As if reading his thoughts she enlightened him, but now in a low, slightly conspiratorial, voice.

‘This dress, as you can see, is well worn and almost beyond repair.’

‘It is a fine muslin but of such a type as will never wear well ...’

With a mischievous smile she cut in, “Do you understand muslins, sir?”

“Particularly …”

He stopped himself. Does she know that at home such quotes from Austen were restricted to the playful private banter of engaged couples? But here? A simple jest? Is she playing games with me? He was puzzled and a little confused – more so when she lifted her hand for his forearm and he found himself providing it through force of habit. She led him to two chairs.

The others, minus Axel, were already seated at the opposite end of the room. At home such a separation would lead to a private conversation. Here there was no assurance of such privacy, but he was aware of some of the subtleties of Arkadelian society. To access the conversation would be a public act and in itself would be revealing. A degree of privacy was possible.

As they sat down he was struck by how wrong that thought was. He was struck by a sense of almost infinite time. How many times would this interaction be reviewed – over millennia – across many points in the galaxy?

She continued her explanation. ‘Apart from a small but well-established Neo-Georgian community here, there are many other Arkadelians of our age who have an affinity with Neo-Georgian and Neo-Confucian cultures. It's a reaction to the personal isolation of Arkadelian life. When groups of friends get together socially we occasionally wear Neo styles. It helps create an intimacy we miss in our everyday lives.’

They talked for a while longer on the topic then Noni's voice boomed from the other end of the room. ‘Come, come, you two. Enough of your little coze. Doctor Oldfield, my sister insists you are put to a test.’

Mary turned and fixed her gaze on the other end of the room. Her face displayed intense interest. She rose quickly – her head as fixed and movement as smooth as a professional porta-cam. A hand gestured for Tom to follow.

As they crossed the room he could see that the mood ahead was jovial – more – it had the air of the Joker. Tom didn't need his PA cue to recognise that. He understood. He'd experienced this heady state slightly himself on the few occasions he had handed control to his PA to make quick, difficult decisions.

They had come to some agreement. More precisely, their PAs had laboured over it, threshed the details, explored all alternatives and repercussions, nudged each other towards consensus, and drawn up a detailed agreement – all in a trice. The family were in the classic Joker state of having made a decision, but until they had the opportunity to quiz their PAs extensively they wouldn't know the details. They were running on trust in their PAs, and their level of animation suggested a big decision.

The reference to a trial was still a mystery, for the moment. Gail caught his attention, waving them on with an air of excited impatience. She'd not spoken since he'd arrived. Her voice was quite the opposite of her sister's – childish in a frail old way – high-pitched and squeaky.

‘Come, now. We've been remiss. We're going to have some coffee – coffee!’

That word jolted Tom's feelings into instant empathy. Perhaps Gail is in a different situation. It's likely she's long ago left her PA to its own devices. Now she just watches on with a proud but detached parental concern, reassuring herself that it will flourish beyond her lifetime.

‘Mary, you sit near me, Tom at the table,’ she continued brightly.

The word ‘near’, Tom noted, was relative. The chairs were spread as far apart as space and aesthetics allowed. There was a small table next to one.

Its style was quite out of keeping with its surroundings, but Tom quickly excused it. It was beautiful – modern microparquetry – brilliantly coloured – ebony inset with minute slices of gemstones – greens, blues and reds – the pattern based on geometric swirls that challenged the senses.

A servant was standing beside it with a tray. After Tom had been given time to appraise the table it started to transfer the contents of tray to table – a coffee pot and three tiny cups. The cups, little wider than his thumb, were of eggshell porcelain so fine as to be translucent. A few thin lines of black glaze meandering around their rims seemed to provide some solidity.

Gail continued. ‘I've not been able to procure your favourite in the time available, Tom, so I've selected three of my own preference. Now, if you will do me the honour, I would like you to judge them for me.’

Ah, coffee at last! he thought, displaying his pleasure.

As he went to pick up the first cup he realised he would need to be gentle or it might crush between his fingers. The delicacy of the operation heightened the experience – a clever touch. He launched himself into the spirit of the exercise. His descriptions were as elaborate as he could make them without letting his imagination carry him too far.

The servant paused for a while between each cup, placing the pot down then picking it up again for the next. There was an air of tea ceremony in the process. Each cup was a different brew. There was more to this pot than met the eye but this was Arkadel, after all. After he'd tried each brew Gail pressed him for a ranking. With that done, a squad of servants streamed into the room and served all with his first preference – in larger cups, he was pleased to see.

The conversation was lively. After a brief discussion of coffee between Tom and Gail the subject switched to Sara. In the following hour or so, the family related anecdotes of her and her life – warm, funny, resentful, poignant, occasionally verging on the indiscreet – scripted for diversity. They seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the performance. When the conversation eventually flagged, Tom felt he'd been well entertained – exceptionally so.

After farewells were exchanged, Mary came up to him. ‘You might take a tour of our aquaculture ventures while you're here. The hatcheries would be the best place to start.’

‘Perhaps you could show me?’ A slight bow sealed the arrangement and they parted.

Chapter 9

Outside, Tom set off at a leisurely pace, initially in a cheerful mood of satisfaction and relief. As he started to reflect on the evening, his mood changed and he became agitated and confused. How much of what he'd been through this evening was pure charade? Who are these people – really? What did ‘really’ mean in a society like this?

To their credit, it was a society with uncommonly low levels of internal conflict and a reputation for defusing inter-zonal conflict. Their diplomacy usually succeeded, largely through the appearance of being blithely impartial, partly from an uncanny ability to quickly sense the middle ground. Uncanny indeed, when based on models reputed to be more powerful than human intuition.

The impartiality is real, up to a point, he thought. They were trained from an early age to remain detached from worldly affairs. But how much of their success was due to the mystique of the model – the dulling sense of fatalistic inevitability it produced?

Nobody really knew who they were dealing with when Arkadelians were involved. Behind their facades they were free to be whoever they wished. By all accounts they were quite diverse. Diversity was built into their social ranking through a Leverage Index, so his PA now started to inform him.

This primary index of social status, also referred to as torque, was the arithmetical product of the strength of each social interaction and the social distance it spanned. Summed over all their interactions it was a measure of potential influence.

At the top of this scale was Noni, obliged to take on a role that denied her any official power. To Tom, this was closer to Neo-Georgian custom than anything Michelle had suggested. Perhaps referring directly to her mother's status was too personal, too sensitive, not appropriate in the circumstances.

He still felt uncomfortable with their facade. Granted, it was no cheap pseudo-hologram. There was substance to it and power, but it was still a facade. He didn't deny his own facades, but they were his, free to reflect him through his changing moods. Were theirs? Was it an ingenious solution to human conflict or a totalitarian repression of individual expression, or both? To him it appeared as ideology – people trying to live up to a crude manufactured ideal – a pretence.

His culture's strength came from the countless generations of struggle and sacrifice that had gone into its natural evolution. Mary Wang understood that and had defied local custom by making her view public. Hadn't she? She had accused him of rebellion. Clearly she was the one in a rebellious mood. The thought confused him. He pushed it aside for later.

He was wary of any culture that believed it could hide the innate complexity of human nature – hide it behind artifice, ritual, and formalised language stripped of the means of expressing human emotion and motivation. Now reality was clouding his view. He was becoming more confused. Were they really so different from the Poseidans? Were they Nereids or Sirens? The darkness of his past resurfaced.

Mystic mimes and Jesters' japes they

Tangle sense, benumb defence

He tried to push the song from his mind.

Every step on ground so sure ever

Closer to the lure

He managed to suppress the words – the tune still haunting him as he walked – quickening his pace with increasing agitation – attempting to shake off memories – the cold indifference to human suffering of the Poseidan scientists who had grilled him, hectored him, deliberately tried to destabilise his mind. After comparing that experience with this evening he relaxed a little. Icarus was right. They're not Poseidans.

Reaching his hotel he decided not to go down immediately and sat on a bench. Waves lapping quietly, and the moon bathing his surroundings in its subdued and calming light. His mind still lingered on Bath, but with happier memories.

He and a college friend, had dined out on that song – his words, her music. They had mixed in the first circles and achieved consequence in the Pump Room beyond their greatest expectations – for a short while – until another attraction eclipsed them and he'd retreated back to the countryside.

The tide of turmoil in his mind was ebbing, and he resumed his review of the events of the evening. For what started out as such a staid occasion it was not without its drama. It had been the old man Wang's evening. He'd obviously been in his element – the interface between Arkadel and Neo. He'd initially, politely but firmly, rebuffed his mother-in-law by talking business.

Did my presence loosen the protocol? Even in a family setting? I suppose it might. Something happened and I seemed to be involved somehow. He knew little of Arkadelian private life. He'd previously assumed they were more open amongst family. Now he doubted it.

The confrontation between father and daughter had been deliberately provoked by the father. He'd provoked his daughter into standing up to him just as he was standing up to his elder, Noni. Of that Tom was sure and this certainty had come as a surprise.

By that stage of the evening his PA had succeeded in tuning in to the reactions of his companions to some small degree. It had been several years since it was active in unfamiliar company. Back then his interface with it had been unstable and unreliable – frightening. Tonight it had eventually begun feeding him little insights into the others' reactions. Not much. Just a few momentary sensations, but it was something he knew he could work on.

Even here at Arkadel! That's quite something. No major problem with recoil. Whatever Karl did he's hit on the right balance. If he's fixed a flaw in the NetGenate interface, that could open up the technology, make him even wealthier, a little going my way, he thought hopefully. I suppose I'm the really strange one here, and he chuckled.

He was conciliatory. Despite their privacy and ambiguity these people are honest and fair within themselves. They have to be. Their every word and action will be judged by their descendants, generation after generation.

The truth and significance of that thought struck him forcibly. Still a little uneasy, but smiling again, he went down to his room.

Chapter 10

The next day he busied himself with Sara's paper records. He'd brought two bots with him – a mantis and an eel. The fifteen-centimetre mantis could easily manipulate a single sheet of paper. The eel, partly his own design, was out of its natural element but had much better optics.

He placed the notes in stacks across the office floor, devised a process, then instructed the mantis to set up each document in turn to be viewed by the eel. This established, he returned to the broad classification of documents started on his arrival.

It was mid morning on the third day when he turned his attention to the transcripts being generated by the bots. He was guiding his PA through the details, hoping to gain some insight into her mind, her motivations and goals.

Her raw notes, scattered with incidental ideas and reflections, were already making a big difference to his view of her. Now he seemed to be dealing with a real person rather than the almost mythical character who emerged from her official bio and academic publications.

He sat facing the porthole and instructed his PA to ‘Start reading at document C135. Use Sara Barratt's voice.’ He shut his eyes and recalled archive images he'd seen of her speaking, trying to imagine her in the room with him. He continued, with occasional breaks to select a new document, until his PA stopped reading to announce that it was time for luncheon.

The afternoon was spent either sitting or pacing about the room listening to the pleasant voice of the woman he called his host. Her notes were unedited and sometimes quite cryptic. They were obviously meant for her own use. This added greatly to the feeling that she was actually present, though she'd died over twenty years ago. He felt a growing attraction and empathy.

He took a break from her notes and spent some time viewing public archives of her speaking on various topics. He instructed his PA to make a thorough analysis of her intonation. When he went back to the notes the feeling of her presence was even stronger.

Eventually, he settled himself into the task of quizzing the notes using the persona he'd created for her. Time passed quickly – sitting or pacing the room – absorbed in conversation or just listening – his choice of topic changing on a whim. He held a bundle of notes in his hands and with closed eyes he absently felt them, smelt them, with that voice in his ears.

Chapter 11

The next morning, leaving the hotel as soon as he'd eaten, he was too early for the rendezvous with Mary, so he headed off for a walk taking a path that kept the hotel entrance in view. He was a few hundred metres from the hotel when he saw Mary arrive. He greeted her. She looked around, waved, and set out to meet him.

‘You came here in an old private vehicle. Is it still aquatic?’

‘It is old.’ Tom had to check before continuing. ‘It's only rated to thirty metres.’

‘That'll do. Do you mind if we use it?’

‘If it will suit.’

‘Good,’ she said as they reached each other. She turned and they walked back to the vehicle storage bays. Chatting casually, she asked about his progress with work. He replied briefly in the positive. He asked if everything was well with her. It was. They reached the bays.

‘Drive towards the water straight ahead and a ramp will appear,’ and in one deft movement slid herself into the rear seat.

Tom, less deftly, and with some self-consciousness about the fact, climbed in, shut the hatch and just said, ‘enter the water’ on the assumption that his bike would work it out. It did. Moments later they were under water.

Mary directed them out through the mix of factory buildings and algae tanks surrounding the city. ‘They also serve as wave-breaks in storms. Keep going as you are then turn to starboard on a course about a kilometre from the outer edge.’

A few minutes later she asked, ‘Are we isolated?’

He thought for a moment. ‘Ah, yes, from Arkadel but not from Brindabella zone.’

‘Good. I want to speak with you under Brindabella protocol. Do you object?’

‘For myself, I see no problem with that.’

‘I want to discuss matters I don't wish to share with my family at this stage. I also want to discuss my motives, which would conflict with Arkadel custom. Are you still in agreement?’

‘Yes, but won't this isolation arouse suspicion?’

‘Very true, but not in any way that bothers me,’ she said with a slight laugh. ‘This is a good distance out. The hatcheries we're visiting are on the far edge of the next sector. If you slow down to half the present speed we'll have more time to talk.

‘I want to start with a question. It will save us both trouble if you answer it as carefully and frankly as you're able. Do I go too far?

‘Continue,’ said Tom casually, but puzzled.

‘What I want to know is how serious you are about your present line of research?’

Tom was able to answer this without much thought because he'd been asking himself the same question. ‘For the past two years I've been unable to focus seriously on anything else, though much of my time has been taken with other work.’

‘Do you intend to persevere?’

‘If I can make any progress.’

After a pause she continued and Tom was aware of a growing excitement in her voice.

‘I've recently had a pre-recorded communication from Sara. I think it was triggered by your interest in her work, so I want to discuss that with you – later. To put it into context I should describe my relationship with her.

‘Although she died when I was only seven years old we were very close. She lived with us from the time I was born to the day she died. My parents were heavily engaged with the Barratt business and Sara had ceased working. She was my total world and I hers. I interacted almost daily with her PA Mary for many years after she died and still do quite often. Occasionally, birthdays usually, I receive pre-recorded messages directly from her. Sometimes when I ask a question I receive a recorded response.

‘In her birthday greeting on my thirtieth birthday she reminded me of her will that gave me rights over any new developments derived from her work after I turned twenty-five. To my shame, I must confess that what little research was still funded has eventually ceased through lack of interest and knowledge on my part.

‘In this most recent message she suggested that I rebuild the research program. She had anticipated my lack of interest. She provided some rather cryptic suggestions as to the person I should seek to take on this task. You're the only person I've found who satisfied her criteria. I want us to be totally frank with each other, Doctor Oldfield. Something that is, no doubt, easier for you than it is for me.’

She fell silent. Tom waited patiently expecting more. Then she said, ‘The truth is that Arkadelian culture isn't suited to research.’

He asked her to explain and she continued in a thoughtful manner.

‘I was recalling comments Sara made about her early work – the enthusiasm and intense interaction among a small group bound closely together by a common goal – sharing their speculations about vague possibilities – putting aside their pride and personal ambition for the benefit of a common purpose. She contrasted this with the tight-lipped individualism in groups brought together only as an expedient for personal ambition.

‘Until now I've not realised how much this implied a criticism of Arkadel and its culture of personal isolation. When I was young I had little idea of the alternatives. Now I can understand her wish that her work be continued within a Janeite community.’

‘She said that explicitly?’

‘Yes, it was a primary condition in choosing you as a possible candidate’

‘Choosing me!’ he cried. ‘I initiated contact.’

‘True, up to a point, but last year when you started to show an interest in Sara's work I allowed you access to information nobody but myself had seen. This is the confession I was leading up to. As I said, I want to be totally open with you now, having started out in a manner I realise might not be to your liking. I see the best way to secure your confidence is to play by your rules. I'm finding it quite exhilarating, but not easy.’

‘You're quite right on that point, of course. Like Mr Knightley, we like an open temper. I was a little surprised that nobody else had followed up Sara Barratt's later work. I assumed it was because it showed no obvious commercial potential.

‘I wanted, still want, to find out more about what happened to me – a personal quest – a selfish motivation, but one that might help others who have similar problems – make the technique safer. I'd be happy to inform you of any prospects for broader trade that I think of, and I might be of some assistance in choosing a team to pursue them.’

‘I've no great need or desire for more wealth. I helped develop and build a new wing design. That's now a successful business and now requires little of my time. Since then I've gone from year to year building knowledge and skills with no apparent purpose in mind. Recently I realised I might apply my skills to help fulfil the dreams of someone dear to me and that realisation has changed my life.’

After a long pause she said, ‘We're approaching one of the main fishery operations. Set a course for Plankton Key Five and I'll wait until our return trip for your response, or later if you want more time to consider what I've said.’

‘I look forward to continuing the conversation,’ Tom said in an attempt to appease the anxiety he felt in her last statement. And to the bike, ‘Go there.’

Chapter 12

The tour completed, they headed back. When they had entered the water he said, ‘You were being trained to carry on the family businesses, I presume?’

‘Partly, but I've sometimes thought that if I really had to be a fishmonger I'd rather set up a stall in the produce markets of New Shanghai than spend my life devising schemes for promoting the interests of Barratt enterprises across the zones. A silly fantasy, you will no doubt think, but I expose it to indicate the deep disenchantment I occasionally feel.’

She continued in a quieter, reflective voice. ‘I can remember Sara taking me to those markets. The trips were a burst of colour and life, people, and activity in my otherwise isolated existence. Later in life, my memories of those markets, of her, made me realise the value of direct personal interaction. I delved deeper into her life and her times and began to understand the interest she developed in Janeite culture through her visit to Brindabella and her friendship with Stanley Oldfield.’

There was a pause in the conversation – Tom trying to frame a question about this visit – strange news to him. Mary resumed in her earlier businesslike manner.

‘So you may start to understand, Doctor Oldfield, how it is that you're the first to access my great grandmother's notes.’

‘What puzzles me most was that the documents haven't been analysed before.’

‘Very simple. We didn't know of their existence until Sara's last message referred to them. I found them with the help of a few clues from her PA, which had only been archiving intermittently at the time. They were locked in the wall cabinets of her old labs with no external reference. They didn't officially exist.

‘The building was one of the earliest in the colony and used to be in the centre of town. I'm going to restore it and bring it back in to a mooring near the Barratt Building. Its main use has been as a storage area. A few of the rooms were used to store Sara's old apparatus until the research effort was abandoned. When I discovered the papers I looked through them, but they mean little to me.’

This led Tom to the main purpose of his trip. ‘In my initial interactions with Sara PA there was mention of samples she'd brought back from her field trips. I've been intending to ask you about them.’

‘You know everything about them that I know. There are other rooms they might be stored in, or it's possible they've been destroyed. Since I now own the building and everything in it we're free to search it. You'll find you have general access. You will tell me the significance of anything you find? You'll do that for me?’

‘That's always been my assumption.’

They were arriving at their starting point and neither spoke until they had landed. Tom spoke first as he stretched his legs. ‘That was interesting but work oriented. Perhaps you'd like to show me more of the colony while I'm here?’

‘I'd like that. The same time tomorrow if it suits you?’

‘I have a visit planned for tomorrow morning – just a brief courtesy call – the Westons, a Neo-Georgian family. Do you know them?’

‘I've heard them mentioned but never met them. I'd like to.’

‘Then that's settled.’

‘Farewell until then, Doctor Oldfield.’

‘Tom?’

‘After today, that would be appropriate would it, Tom?’

‘Quite the thing. Until tomorrow morning, Mary.’

They parted company with a slight bow.

Back at the Barratt building Mary didn't go straight down, but sat on the edge of their floating island looking out between others – off into the distance. Somewhere across the sea in that direction was land – solid, steady land, and Brindabella.

She thought about Tom. Did she trust him? It would seem she did and she wanted to know why. Sara had trusted Stanley Oldfield. She was sure of that, but they had lived in different times, and Tom was not Stanley Oldfield. No, it wasn't that. She realised she needed to trust him. She had no alternative but to trust.

Something else occurred to her and set her off on a new train of thought. The question of his motives is an interesting one. None of our models can deal with him. The combination of Janeite and cyb is unique. Statistical models can't deal with an isolate. That will be one reason Noni distrusts him. She depends too much on models – doesn't trust her own judgement.

She realised that his community had trusted him to go down the neuro-cyb path and hadn't rejected him, but it was only after many months of near total social isolation that he returned. Was this just because his body rejected the augmentation? That was only partial – he admits to some links – some function before problems arose.

This last thought triggered a question that led her to quiz her PA for over an hour. She had it review, at great expense, all the information it could access on his procedure – several times from differing perspectives. Then she sat thinking – astonished. There was no actual evidence that the cortical-mapping operation had failed. Even his medical team reached no consensus on the result.

Only he knows. That's a powerful position to be in, as the saying goes, ‘We only know what only we know.’ No wonder the models are confused. No wonder Noni is suspicious – cunning operator, or dissembling fool? Where does that leave me?

Despite their obvious differences, they did have one thing in common. Both recently had the course of their lives changed – changed in directions that brought them together with a common interest. Both had been drawn into Sara's world.

I've always been there, but now it seems to have become my whole world. I have a purpose in life. A year ago I couldn't have imagined what it was like, or even that these feelings existed. I've spent my days seeking diversion. Now diversion and distraction irritate me and I want to avoid them. I feel driven!

And Tom Oldfield? Everything I read and heard about him before he arrived here made me think we had some common purpose. The difference is that he knows what it is he is trying to achieve and I don't. Are they the same goal? Probably not, but for the moment our paths are thrown together. We need each other and that is a basis for trust.

She looked back out across the sea.

Chapter 13

When Tom left his hotel the next morning he found Mary waiting. Arriving at the bays, he saw she'd brought her own vehicle – a more recent and far more expensive model than his, but that was to be expected.

‘You said yesterday you wanted to see more of our city. On our way to the Westons I'll show you a view not many visitors see. You take the front seat.’

Rather than driving into the sea she spread wings and flew under low power towards open water. Tom was transfixed. He wasn't looking at the view of the city from the air. He'd seen that on his arrival. It was the wings that caught his attention.

Folding fractal wings had been designed by Iano Inui, in simulation, over a century ago, but only perfected as the pinnacle of carbon technology a few decades back – initially pure carbon black, then greys, then expensive blue, brown, and green hues for camouflage. These wings were displaying all the colours of the rainbow in muted dynamic shades. Then they flapped!

Tom's attention was shaken by a sudden dip in the nose of the bike and the retraction of the wings. He only had a second or two, as his seat folded around him, to realise that they'd flown well past the edge of the city before they hit the water at a steep angle.

They went down in a powered dive – down towards the dark depths with the bright surface receding rapidly above. They slowed and the nose dipped further until they were travelling upside down. After a few moments, enough for Tom to orient himself, they continued their loop and started to turn up. As they drifted slowly up, the city lay before them.

It was, indeed, an unusual view. This up-side-down city now appeared right-way-up but built on a bright surface – lights showing from some of the windows of the black cylinders – sunlight passing between the shadows of the buildings beaming into the blackness, fading at depth.

Neither spoke. Tom could hear his elevated heartbeat. It calmed as they slowly rose – Rise, descend? It's a confusing sensation. As they closed in on the buildings and levelled out, he noticed the silhouette of a person standing at a window – standing, it seemed, on the ceiling. Then Mary flipped the bike upright and it started landing manoeuvres.

On the trip home they passed through the centre of the city, joining a peloton that reminded Tom of the school of fish he'd seen. The buildings here displayed a greater variety than those of the outer districts – generally much wider and usually shallower. One had a transparent hemispherical bulb at the bottom with a transparent floor suspended across its centre. People were sitting at tables eating, others in clusters of chairs. Everything was transparent but the people.

‘The Shark Pit’ said Mary, guessing the object of his attention. ‘Not a place for new arrivals. The food is among the best in Arkadel and the view is great, especially when sharks are circling it, but combining the two comfortably takes a little familiarity with our aquatic life and, of course, the lack of visible support. These days it's mainly frequented by cybs.’

Chapter 14

The next two days were busy for both of them. They didn't meet, but were frequently in conversation, mostly just chatting idly as they went about their separate tasks.

‘I've started to analyse the mass of Sara's work notes into discrete topics and then cluster these into distinct experiments,’ said Mary, wishing she had visual contact and all the feedback that gave with him. The intonation of his voice was much less informative, quite strange to her ear and for her PA analytics. ‘We can map the use of each laboratory and piece of apparatus to a particular experiment.’

‘I can see she was exploring a range of biotechnologies, building tools and techniques for exploring cell biology generally. The techniques she was working on have since been developed by others or superseded by better approaches. Did she have a specific goal, or was she just developing new tools – speculating that new science would follow? She must have had some other motivation. Why didn't she say more?’

‘There are several obvious answers: Arkadel custom – any information that reflects motive automatically becomes a high security archive. This custom was as strong in Sara's day as it is now. Or was it a wish not to appear foolish? Everyone thinks about their historical image and Sara was no exception. Or a desire for absolute secrecy stemming from the nature of her goal? Something difficult to achieve in Arkadel without carefully partitioning information into deeper and deeper access layers, as she has done.

‘Thinking of those times reminds me that a big question on people's minds back then was PA fidelity – how much of our spirit could be captured in a PA and live on after us. Back then, people usually started archiving as adults and, as with Sara, their archiving was intermittent.’

‘So you think it might be my interest in the brain and mind rather than fishery systems that's led to me being here?’

‘Possibly. I can't see that the fisheries were of any great importance to her in later life. Even the fidelity issue was dropping from significance. It was superseded by interest in the swarm – the rising interest in putting the replicator facility in orbit about Neptune.

‘It was a major undertaking, but I can't see why she would be secretive about that, though secrecy is clearly implied by the vagueness of her messages. If so, she will have combined red herrings, to confuse general investigations, with a set of clues that only the improbable combination of you and I could follow.’

But not here, she thought. We must work at Brindabella in real secrecy. She considered discussing this with Tom, but the lover's lane privacy of a trip outside city limits was no guarantee that they were beyond prying ears. Even with fly-and-dive they would pass close enough to sensor squads from Near Defence Surveillance for them to pick up snatches of conversation. These thoughts jolted her into a flurry of activity and her contact with Tom dropped as she scrambled to put her affairs in order.

Tom found himself back in the one comfortable chair in Sara's office, swivelling to-and-fro as he stared at different objects, deep in thought, tongue tap-tapping. There must be something more this room could tell him about her.

It's like a museum, except it's not, it's the real thing, just as it was when she last walked out, apart from recent rifling through her papers. In some cultures it would be a shrine – queues of eager pilgrims masquerading as tourists clutching thin glossy-paper guidebooks they take home as treasured souvenirs.

It's just been sitting totally neglected for decades. A confusion of responsibilities? Inability to act? Surely there were well developed customs for dealing with the situation – but with Sara PA still active? Was the PA still responsible? Of course it would have been until recently! So why just leave things this way? Motive! That seems to be central to everything in this place. The office and labs have been left untouched for a reason not just neglect.

The thrill of pursuit was rekindled. Secrecy! That's another factor, most certainly. There's a secret hideaway somewhere on this floor of the building, somewhere, there must be. It could be tiny – microscopic, even – just storing a few protozoan spores. That was a daunting thought. He looked about the room again then reviewed the labs on his screen. So many places – somewhere only Mary or I could think of – no, just me – that's why I'm here – my skills – my perspective.

Then another idea rallied support from diverse associations – jostling itself into coherence – rapidly gaining strength – abruptly overwhelming each of the weary notions that had been vying for supremacy over the last few hours – bursting into his consciousness.

Ahaa! I've been looking for a sample container. As each option closes I've looked for something smaller – easier to miss. The smallest containers are the spores themselves. Their container? I'm sitting in it – the whole building, or this floor. Who better to find them? Who better to realise how difficult it is to keep a lab sterile?

Using Mary's analysis of equipment use he conducted a survey of two old labs and a washroom with forensic precision. He had his mantis bioscan the floor, walls, and ceiling of each room. He also dismantled, sometimes violently, the apparatus Sara had used and sampled a layer of the inner surfaces that had come into contact with Sara's experimental microbial cultures.

Chapter 15

The day of their departure came. Mary joined Tom for an early breakfast. ‘I've sent a few things ahead in a drone,’ she said as they left the hotel.

‘I've a course planned if you don't mind spending most of the day in the air. I thought you might like to fly down the coast. I think you'll enjoy it.’

‘As you wish.’

They were soon in formation with Mary, having the more powerful bike, in the lead and Arkadel rapidly receding. Tom double checked their course and set a few local weather reports on permanent display.

For an hour or more they chatted with a mutual air of excitement and anticipation. Mary was asking about his impressions of Arkadel. Tom thought something was bothering her and wasn't surprised when, after a few minutes of silence, she asked, ‘Why did you go to the Shark Pit last night? Was it to meet with cybs?’

‘Yes, but mainly for the coffee. Did that cause any problems?’

‘No. Not problems, but it would have raised a few eyebrows,’ and continuing with a change in tone that suggested a shift in topic, ‘The word around is that they'd excluded you from their society before you returned to Brindabella.’

‘Not from cyb circles generally. I still communicate with a few acquaintances, but the neuros did eventually decide I wasn't one of their set. We're still on friendly terms. It isn't possible to be otherwise. Once you've linked, you form bonds that are as close as family ties. Whatever your feelings towards a person you've linked with, the bond is still there.’

‘Why did they decide that you weren't one of them?’

‘Because I had different motivations.’

‘But you tried communication.’

‘Yes. NetGenate wanted me because I was a Janeite. I was their second Neo. It was their main reason for taking me on. Although I paid a fee for the procedure they covered most of the cost.

‘How would you describe the experience?’

After a long delay, Tom answered. ‘Very strange at first. My first experience was probably the most interesting because of its novelty. It was under experimental conditions with the other new Janeite client, Helen. They were trying to test the idea that retros were better able to deal with lack of personal privacy.

‘Most of the previous clients had been cybs who wanted to try something different, but cybs are used to having total control over how they present themselves. A neuro can't, totally. You can cut the link at any time, but otherwise it's always a bit of a battle of wills as to where you go.’

‘But what was it like?’

‘In a word, dreamlike. At first we started on the room we were in. I focussed on a chair across the room from us. After a few moments I felt as though I was in another room, older in style but with a similar chair.

‘There was another person there – a man I knew I hadn't seen before, but gradually I felt he was familiar and friendly. I knew he'd recently changed his hairstyle and had a notion of how it had been.

‘I inspected his clothes with approval, particularly the colour of his shirt – for a few moments the man became me in a different setting – when Helen and I first met. I was wearing a shirt that was almost the same style and colour – then back to the first man and the word “brother” came to me – for a short while the images, brother and myself, were confused.

‘Then a totally different setting – an expanse of lawn – cold and damp – looking up at the brother, a child now, talking excitedly, but the words were unclear – just “let's go now” discernible, and I felt happy – then back to the chair.

‘It was all much like that, really. Following associations that at first seem unfamiliar then gradually become familiar as other associations build up about them.

‘When you focus on something and the associations are unfamiliar it's disturbing, like opening the door to your old, familiar bedroom and finding a different room and someone else's belongings scattered about. It can be quite exhilarating. After a session where you've just followed shared associations the feelings of intimacy can be quite intense. It's as though you've travelled on a long journey together.’

‘And the other Neuros?’

‘My differences with the other Neuros were largely cultural. Direct communication certainly does highlight cultural differences.’

‘Did you find it difficult?’

‘For myself, more frustrating than difficult. By the time I was introduced to other Neuros they'd developed strict protocols. They create little fantasy worlds and give guided tours. I felt as though I was being shown through a shrubbery, an ornamental garden, neat gravel paths through neatly trimmed shrubs, manicured rose bushes with exotic scents – at its centre, a stone pedestal with a pink marble cherub pissing into a bird bath. I kept straying from the paths – looking over the walls.’ There was mild contempt in his voice, but he finished with a short spluttering laugh.

Mary digested this for a while in silence. It wasn't easy for her to comprehend, and she thought that any comment was bound to widen the gap between them. Eventually, many minutes later, she said, ‘What did you think of the Shark Pit?’

‘Ah. I was unprepared. Although I'd seen from a distance that everything was transparent and antireflective, the close reality was unnerving. Logically, I knew there was a floor there. I could see people walking about on it. I could also see that it was a screen floor – images displayed here and there away from the door, but my body refused to take the first step into that huge bubble of air – sharks circling below. My acquaintance walked over and rescued me.’

‘I see. I know that cybs like to meet face-to-face occasionally, or “eyeballing” as you call it, just to be sure that the characters you are dealing with are real. Did your friends toy with you? It's customary in that place. The sharks?’

‘The sharks! Yes. I was watching how the edge of the table bent the image of a small shark. The shark suddenly veered upward, straight towards me and turned away just below my feet. I jumped, everyone laughed, and the shark faded away.’

‘They do have real sharks circling below the dome.’

‘Like cats circling a fish bowl.’

After another long silence he cried excitedly, ‘Land ahoy – straight ahead – Wollumbin – the first place on the continent touched by the sun each morning. They were soon descending. They flew one circuit around the extinct volcano then headed south.

We can glide some of the way now if you care for a little sport. There's a strong sea breezes that will help us with updrafts along the coastal range. We should be entering a thermal just ahead,’ and as he spoke they felt the lift. They circled – propulsion cut – higher and higher. ‘You have a thermal updraft above Arkadel at times. I've read about your competitions.’

‘Yes, a simple one that serves for training, but New Shanghai is large enough to produce complex patterns that are a real test of skill. I love to glide. It's so peaceful.’

With superior wings and skill, Mary reached the maximum height she could achieve long before Tom. She circled, waiting. Tom didn't reach her height. He gave up and continued south-west towards the range. She finished the circuit she'd started then broke after him.

She'd almost caught up with him, but still well above, when the thought of sharks flickered through her consciousness and she reacted to it on impulse. Her nose tipped forward, her wings went back like a bird of prey and she plummeted down, pulling suddenly out of the dive just above him buffeting his bike with her slipstream.

A perfect tilt by any rule-book, she thought. How did you react to that, my friend?

As if to answer her thoughts, Tom withdrew his wings totally for a moment. She wondered, a full dead-duck salute? A bit excessive. I'm sure I saw a quiver of reaction earlier. Let me see what that was. As she moved into formation behind him her PA Flight displayed a complex graphical representation of his earlier wing movements. She increased the resolution.

‘Overlay the reaction data from all competitors in our last tournament.’ Yes – very interesting – as I thought – two distinct bursts of action – the second sits within the standard profile – tenths of a second scale. The first a different matter – starts within milliseconds of my dive command – three distinct reactions – far too fast for normal human reactions – initiation of an avoidance response, a cancellation, then a correction.

So, Tom, either you have a very smart bot there, well trained in sophisticated defensive reactions – if so, then why? Or it was reacting directly to your thoughts! She looked across at Tom for a moment then relaxed and enjoyed the view.

For several hours they made their way down the coast, landed on a deserted beach to stretch and eat, then headed out to sea and set a course to a point on the coast east of Brindabella. The sun was still well above the horizon when they turned west, crossed the coast again, and started a slow descent.

Chapter 16 – Brindabella

As they reached the last of several low mountain ranges they were low over the ridge and descending more rapidly. Mary could see a small village in the valley below. Nearby was a large stone mansion surrounded by extensive gardens. They landed near it on a strip of gravel and pulled over to the edge.

Out, and stiff limbs stretched, they set off on foot towards the house down a lane shaded by trees and bushes on either side. At the end of the lane was an expanse of lawn. There they were met by an old man.

‘Good to see you back, lad.’ Turning and bowing slightly to Mary, he added, ‘And ma'am. I saw you coming in. Pretty little bird you have there. Quite the rosella to the lad's crow, hey? Good to see you both safely home.’

Tom introduced her to George, then to Annabella and her brother Little George as they ran up. She guessed Little George to be around eight years old and Annabella closer to twelve. They walked towards the house with Little George asking Tom about his trip – a new question out before the previous one could be answered.

Annabella walked in silence on the other side of Tom holding his arm. George walked beside her. ‘You make yourself comfortable here, ma'am, quite at home. Anything you need, just ask. We have a good cook – quite versatile. Just let it know what you would like added to the menu.’

He continued in a louder and less enthusiastic tone. ‘But its assistants are not quite the thing since Tom adjusted them. It's been chaos while he was away. I'll have him sort that out now he's back. You'll stay here tonight, lad?’

‘That was my intention, sir.’

‘Tell cook we'll have tea on the lawn in half an hour and a late supper,’ the old man said to a servant waiting at the door as they entered. Looking to Mary he added, ‘if that would suit you, ma'am?’

Tom showed Mary to her room. ‘I've sent for a servant.’ After waiting a moment for a response, he left.

She looked about. Everything looked old – very old. There were oil paintings on the walls and an enormous bed with two curtains around it – the outer one of a heavy, deep blue silk – the inner, a fine netting she recognised as an insect screen. Though its presence was some comfort, the fact that it was needed at all disturbed her.

The clothes she'd sent ahead were hanging ready for her. On a tall bench there was a large porcelain bowl filled with water that was slightly scented. No running water? Surely not! She washed in it. Beside it there was a large jug, also filled with water. A servant arrived and offered to help.

She was soon refreshed, changed, and going back down the broad stairway. Tom was waiting for her and they went outside to a large table under a tree. They sat in the shade and talked while they waited for tea. ‘Who? How many live in this big old place?’ she wondered aloud. Tom started to give a summary.

‘My aunt and uncle, the children's parents, are away. Clare, the ranger, lives here. She also looks after the horses and, for the moment, helps with the children's schooling. She's out and about somewhere now, but expected back for supper. Another family, the Gardiners, live in the north wing. They have a son who's away at school.’

As he spoke, Mary saw George coming out of the house with Annabella and a young woman – mid twenties, Mary guessed. By the time Tom had finished his summary the others were joining them.

‘Clare!’ cried Tom, looking around and seeing the new arrivals. He sprang to his feet. ‘I was told you wouldn't be back till later this evening. This is Mary – Mary Wang.’

Mary stood as Clare came around the table and held out a hand that shook hers vigorously. ‘I'm pleased to meet you. Welcome to Brindabella.’

Clare sat down next to Mary, immediately engaging her in conversation – pouring tea for Mary and herself as she spoke – ignoring the others. Her voice was firm but with a pleasant tone. She was cheerful and self-assured. Mary listened and watched. Clare's movements were slow and graceful, but her eyes flickered quickly between the tea things and Mary in a manner that suggested a quick and alert mind. She heard herself agreeing to a tour of the stables after tea then Clare stopped speaking and focussed on her tea and the others.

George, who had been talking with Annabella and Tom, switched topic and picked up Clare's invitation. ‘Yes. The stables. Clare will show you the horses. Do you ride?’

Mary had to admit she'd never seen a horse in the flesh.

‘Your room – it is to your satisfaction, I hope? Not too primitive? If you find it so, you're welcome to use one of the cottages. They're quite modern, I think.’

‘I'll adapt. I wish to adapt.’ Until she settled in, at least, she felt the need for a friend, someone other than Tom to interact with, and Clare lived in the house. I might have her company some times, but horse riding?

Content that he'd performed his duty as host George turned back to Tom. ‘Those servants! They really are stupid since you tinkered with them. Two of them are quite useless.’

‘I've explained before. The children have explained. It's basic common sense. You can't ramp up their sensitivity rapidly. They need time to adjust – lots of time. They need simple clear-cut tasks comfortably within their competence.’

‘They seem to have become quite unresponsive.’

‘Hardly surprising. Normally, if you make a small change to their instructions they'll do it the new way today, tomorrow, and until you give new instructions. Wind up their sensitivity, as you had me do, and they need more information to work with and more precise reinforcement.

‘If you're not specific with your instructions they'll see which way you want the task performed tomorrow, in the morning, in the afternoon, evening, inside the house, outside. It's all new. They'll test until they're sure they understand you.

‘Push them too far and they can flounder in confusion. Their new perspective can lead them to try to re-evaluate all their knowledge. They can go into a partial reset cycle, downgrading information that hasn't been reinforced under their new configuration. They're left not knowing how to react. Without new input or new directions they can become stuck in cycles of frantic activity and regression.’

George was impatient but jovial. ‘As may be, lad, as may be. Reset the others, but jack up this one by another four levels. It seems fine,’ he said, looking at the servant pleadingly as if expecting it to support his case.

‘I'll reset them all back to where they were,’ was Tom's firm reply.

‘Three levels.’

‘I'll leave this one alone if it hasn't broken down. Beyond that, you can deal with Karl directly. You know what he'll say.’

‘I want another Winston.’

‘Winston! Now there's a good example. How is Winston?’ Adding to Mary, ‘It's the butler.’

‘Well. Very well. It's out of the house and exploring the yard these days. Yesterday, before breakfast, I found it trying to work out how the back gate was constructed. At tea it came to me and announced that the gate needed fewer palings now because the chicken pen had been moved many years ago. The clever little thing had gone back to when the gate was built, in my father's time, when I was Little George's age.’

Mary stared at the table directly in front of her – thick bare planks once carefully crafted but now weathered and slightly cracked – listening as he lapsed into the distracted voice of reminiscence. She knew there were a few PAs in the valley and many bots. She'd discovered that Sara had supplied the licences many years ago, but she'd found few details – little about the valley in general.

‘One afternoon I heard a hen making a racket out the back and ran out thinking that something was attacking it. One of its chickens had pushed through a gap in the old gate that was falling apart. After a great fuss they were all reunited. Winston showed me the scene from its archive. It had been standing at the servant's entrance throughout the incident but could do nothing.’

Mary noted with interest that it had been archiving – even back then. A small black ant wandered into her field of vision, moving along the edge of a crack then crossing it and meandering in her direction. She'd seen ants before and knew they weren't dangerous.

‘It showed me its record of Matthew making the new gate and had me explain how each of his tools worked. We talked late into the evening. It came to me at breakfast – spent the night on the problem – said it could have opened the gate if it had understood the hen's cries as I did.

‘It said that if it had been nearer the gate it could have stopped the chicken passing through the gap. Magnificent! I've never known a servant like it.’

Mary was sure she hadn't either and she wasn't sure that she wanted to. Not only did she find this information a little disturbing, she was also slightly shaken by his flow of emotion. The ant was approaching a few scone crumbs she'd dropped.

As the old man was about to continue, Tom cut in with the tired impatience of someone who had been down this path too often before. ‘As I said. It's revising its whole archive. They need to be adjusted slowly, in small increments, so as not to trigger a re-evaluation cycle.’

Mary sat trying to digest this. She'd never noticed her servants changing their behaviour without instructions. From time to time they were upgraded to a new model that was sometimes smarter in little ways. The ant was retreating with a huge crumb. The thought of a ser-bot of any size with comparable strength and independence disturbed her.

Chapter 17

Soon Clare put down her cup and stood, indicating to Mary to follow her. As they walked off she said, ‘I prefer animals to machines.’

‘From the way Tom talks, I'm not sure he makes much distinction.’ Clare looked quizzical – seemed to be assessing Mary anew. ‘There's some truth in that.’

They reached a wooden building and entered it through a large double doorway divided horizontally. Just inside, Mary paused to survey the interior. Her first impressions were of size and strength. From along one wall jutted six or seven shoulder-height partitions made from rough round wooden beams. Bays for the horses? Looking around she saw that the whole building was made from similar round beams and thick, roughly finished planks.

There was one horse – not in a bay but standing free at the far end of the stable. Everything is big, solid, following Clare towards the horse. Clare walked straight up to the animal but motioned to Mary to stay back a little. The horse turned to meet her. She held her open hands out, palms upward, and the horse sniffed them then looked past Clare to Mary.

‘This is Betsy. Show her your hands. I've given her bad habits – little delicacies. She'll be distracted until she's sure you have nothing for her.’ Mary held her hands out as Clare had done and the horse moved forward and sniffed them. At close range it was huge – its eyes, in particular – large glassy orbs, but gentle – studying her as its nose brushed her hand – a few thick black bristles tickling. A blast of its hot breath hit her hands and made its thick, floppy lips flap.

Mary fought off the urge to back away, but the animal looked so peaceful and calm she relaxed again. The horse lifted its head and leaned back slightly. It appeared to have sensed her anxiety, but felt no threat from her frail form and switched its attention back to Clare. ‘Good. She likes you well enough – well enough for a ride if you're interested.’

‘Perhaps. Yes. I think I'd like to try that. Is it safe?’

‘With her, yes, very. The stallion is a different matter. I'm going to change for my evening ride now while there's still light – too hot in the middle of the day, so I ride first thing in the morning then again at about this time. Can't keep Betsy waiting any longer. Tomorrow morning then?’

‘Yes. Alright,’ – wary but determined.

They walked back to the house, Betsy following them as far as the gate. Clare went up to her room. Mary found Tom and George after being guided by a servant to the front drawing room.

Chapter 18

The next morning she woke to a tapping on her bedroom door and Clare's voice. ‘Are you up yet?’ It was barely light. Clare entered with a cheerful, ‘Good morning. I trust you slept well?’ She was dressed in strange attire and held a similar outfit over her arm.

Soon she was swinging herself up onto Betsy's bare back with the help of a stout heave from Clare. ‘No saddle to start with. That's the fastest way to develop a sense of balance – and safer.’

Mary was confident of her sense of balance. She'd applied herself intensely to ballet and gymnastics after Sara's death. She still went through her Tai Chi exercises most days. As Clare led them at walking pace for a circuit of the large horse yard, Mary gradually relaxed and let her body fall in with Betsy's regular lurching stride. When Clare started running, still holding the bridle, Betsy broke into a slow trot. After a several circuits of the yard and a few sharp turns Clare let go of the bridle and stopped. After few more circuits Betsy slowed to a walk then turned to head back to where Clare was now standing near the gate.

Mary was shocked by the horse's unilateral decision to end the exercise. Her Medic indicated a low level tilt, but her body told her differently. Her Medic was obviously not looking deeply enough, but continued its warning – a soft muffled clink in every second – the pitch of the sound dropping a little as she slowly recovered – too slowly.

She intervened with a dissociative response, thinking, It's not a bot, which did little. She tried, She's not a bot, which dropped the pitch significantly. She could feel it that time. She thought, She's a living animal with a will of her own, which worked better still, so she repeated it a few times in quick succession as if using the words to hammer a wedge between two concepts. The clinking stopped when the pitch dropped below its trigger threshold, but the words, she has a will of her own, flickered back into her consciousness several times over the next half hour until the reaction fully dissipated.

Before Mary had developed any thought of taking control, Betsy had walked back to where Clare was standing. ‘That'll do you for now. Your balance is good. We'll try you with a saddle tomorrow.’

‘Is that all?’ said Mary, letting Clare help her down. As her feet hit the ground her legs nearly crumpled under her.

‘Enough for today, don't you think?’ and Mary nodded agreement.

Annabella walked over to them. She'd been sitting on the top rail of the fence that surrounded the yard. Clare swung herself up onto the horse and said she was going to take her ride. Mary walked with Annabella back to the house. When she started up the stairs to her room, Annabella asked if the could come up and see her wardrobe.

‘Certainly, though I don't have anything new or special.’

Up in her room, Mary chose some clothes and went behind an elaborately decorated folding screen to change. Annabella worked her way through each item of clothing, holding it up to see its shape and carefully feeling the materials.

‘Tom is not down yet, but later we are invited to the Gardiners. You have many invitations. George will talk with you about that when he's finished his morning business.

‘This will do very well for a ball, but you might consider a new wardrobe for day-to-day wear.’

‘I've wondered about that. I'd like to appear less alien – show that I want to adapt to Brindabella ways.’

‘You don't need to follow Clare's feral example. I can introduce you to Eli. She and others in the valley follow Bath customs, which are diverse. Living in the Manor I feel obliged to dress down – Brindabella style.

‘How long will you be staying?’

‘I have no idea. As long as my work with Tom continues.’

After breakfast they sat at the table under the tree until Tom appeared. He seemed subdued at first. He gradually livened up with Annabella's cheerful chatter and they talked about his trip and Brindabella. Eventually, Tom excused himself, ‘business to discuss with Karl.’

Here, as her guide notes had said, personal visits were the norm. The absence of PAs in this house and the village made visiting a necessity. Everyone was physically active in their daily life. Not surprising, then, that there was no gymnasium, just a billiard room that George and Tom had wandered off to last evening ‘to catch up’.

Annabella took Mary for a tour of the Manor and its surrounds. They returned to the lawn and talked till around noon when Clare joined them. George appeared from his study and, soon after, Tom and Little George returned from up the valley.

Tom announced that he'd arranged a cottage for Mary. ‘One of the modern ones. You'll be free to use your PA there.’

‘You can keep your room here and eat with us as long as you wish,’ said Clare, ‘at least until you've settled in.’ George and Annabella added their support for her continuing her stay in the house.

‘I'd prefer to stay here for now, but the cottage would be useful as a workplace. Do you have time to show it to me this afternoon?’

‘Certainly. I thought you might like to walk up the valley.’

‘Please. Yes. I'd like that.’

‘May I come, too?’ asked Little George.

‘Yes, if Mary and Clare have no objection.’

‘He's been missing you, Tom,’ said Clare. ‘He can return to his usual routine tomorrow.’

Mary was pleased to have someone else along. Tom had seemed quite distant and distracted since their arrival.

Chapter 19

When they had finished eating, the three set out. They walked at a brisk pace along a path that approached the village. The houses didn't look very modern. She asked, ‘So these are the cottages?’

‘No. Tom means one of the new ones further up the valley, in the gullies.’

The path followed a river across the flat, open farmland of the lower valley then continued up a gravel track surrounded by steep slopes and branching gullies covered with sparse eucalypt forest. Eventually they turned into a side gully. The path became narrow and the vegetation beside it closer and denser. Though Tom and Little George seemed quite carefree, she was glad they'd given her permission to keep her PA Medic active.

The plants were strange and she'd lost track of the varieties of insects she'd seen, but so far none had triggered a medic flag. She relaxed a little and looked further afield than her next few steps. She noticed that the transit cable above them also branched into the gully. Looking further ahead she saw that it branched to points on the side of the gully obscured by the trees.

Tom stopped and pointed up the side of the ridge. ‘See there? You can just see it partially through the trees.’ Mary looked in the direction he was pointing and saw the reflection from a curved window. They walked a little further and it came into full view. It looked like a partly open seashell – abalone – jutting out from the steeply sloping ridge. It didn't look very large and Mary was glad she'd agreed to stay in the Manor.

They turned off the track and climbed stairs roughly constructed from stone slabs. They reached a broad ledge cut into a stone outcrop. At one end was the shell structure, at the other a vehicle bay cut into the rock that moored a link to the transit cable.

Inside, the shell was bare but modern. She walked out to the window that extended around the full rim. She thought the view, while not spectacular, would be peaceful and interesting. Turning back to Tom and Little George she saw them passing through a door in the back wall.

Surprised, she followed them. A short wide corridor opened into a medium sized room with a few chairs and, much to Mary's relief, a screen-wall. It was displaying scenes from Arkadel.

‘It'll take some effort to settle in comfortably, but I assumed you'd rather organise that yourself. There's more furniture stored in a back room. Anything you want to order from town can be here within an hour or two at most. Do you think it might suit?’

‘I think it will suit me well. I've heard mention of the troglodytes of Brindabella, but I didn't realise it was literally true.’

‘We've more underground space than we can use,’ said Little George. ‘Even the fisheries and cottages haven't used it all yet. In the old days they sold stone and gravel to the cities. Most of the ridges here are hollow.’

‘Yes,’ said Tom. ‘Cottages are built in entrances to the old mining operations. Water's a limiting factor for our fisheries. We store what we catch in cisterns in the caverns. You'll sometimes hear it when it rains.’

‘When it rains,’ repeated Little George in a strange tone.

She was shown around what she started to think of as her apartment but corrected herself to cottage. However inappropriate the name seemed, she was determined to use it. In some respects it differed little from her apartment at home. The rooms were smaller and all rectangular, but there were more than she needed. The fittings and facilities were old but certainly modern when compared with those of the Manor and quite adequate for her needs. She started to feel more relaxed than she'd been since her arrival.

They went back out into the shell structure Little George called the ‘veranda’. Tom pointed out two brilliantly coloured parrots in a tree nearby, but too far away for her to be able to see any details. Another day, she thought.

‘The window is screen-surfaced,’ said Tom, momentarily creating a Fresnel lens on the window surface to magnify the birds.

‘That will be useful. I can never have too much screen.’

As they climbed back down the stone stairs she stopped to look carefully at one of the small, stunted trees – its distorted base emerging from a narrow soil-filled crack in the rocks. Its trunk was twisted and scarred and some of its branches were dead. The remainder bore a few mutilated leaves. She saw its battle against these harsh conditions. She looked about her and the trees she'd earlier seen as ugly and alien appeared in a new light – as survivors.

Tom and Little George had reached the bottom of the stairs and Little George was calling out to her. She hurried down to them. As they walked back along the path, more slowly now, Little George talked almost constantly. He pointed to plants and insects giving their name, commented on their habits and what they ate.

At one point he crouched down and let a large ant climb onto his fingers. Thrusting his hand near her face he said with pride in his own bravery, ‘These can sting you if they're angry.’

Mary involuntarily backed off a little and he smiled, bent down, and let the ant run off his hand. It scurried away.

When they rejoined the main track, Little George ran ahead. Tom was watching him with a broad smile. He seemed happier and more relaxed now than he had on the way up. Discharged his initial duties as host? Then realised that she felt happier that she had in a long while. Not having her PA active to signal her change in mood with its brief quiet hum, it came as a surprise. She felt light-headed, and a wave of relaxation spread through her body. This is the start of my new life. She looked about and her surroundings seemed less threatening.

‘I'm starting to understand the source of my anxiety here. It's the variety of living things all uncontrolled. But watching you and Little George walk about carefree, and reminding myself that many people live here safely, has helped me adapt.

‘Before coming here I thought about adapting in social terms, getting along with people, but that hasn't proved to be difficult. The real problem was a deeper psychological one – fear of the unknown. Everything about me felt threatening even though you and my Medic are assuring me otherwise.’

‘There are some dangers but easily avoided. Some of the inhabitants are more dangerous than the ant Little George showed you. Just resist the temptation to put your fingers under rocks. They won't attack if you don't bother them. The same applies to snakes, the only larger animals that are a real threat. They're good at keeping out of your way.

‘We keep track of them. There are biosensors everywhere and all animal movements are monitored. Clare supervises that side of things. The nearest snake to us is somewhere up there near that large tree and it's moving away from us. You'll receive a PA warning if you're too close to one.

‘The water in the river's safe to drink, and swim in when there's enough of it, but it would be best to avoid that until your body's had more time to adjust. The microbial diversity's greater than you're accustomed to and quite different. Your Medic's primed for standard adaptation problems and should cope without constantly warning you. If you do get a warning you should let me know immediately.’

Mary wasn't quite sure how comforting his individual comments were, but his casual manner seemed to reinforce her sense of ease. As they approached the Manor Tom said he'd be returning to his own cottage after they had eaten this evening.

‘When will you be back?’

‘Tomorrow afternoon. I'm intending to tidy up, take in some provisions, and invite you to dine with me tomorrow evening.’

‘Do that.’

Chapter 20

The next day, Tom arrived mid afternoon. After talking with Mary and Clare for a few minutes he went off to see George. When he returned he was carrying a small package and looking pleased with himself.

They took the transit cable in his bike to the top of the valley where the cable turned into a side gully. Mary noticed there was only one destination point for this branch of the line. ‘You live alone up here?’

‘Yes. I'm the end of the line.’

They pulled in to a rock shelf and shell that looked identical to her own. Out of the bike, she looked around and noticed a few differences – a large double security door set into the rock face beside the bike bay – patches of greener, denser vegetation in the immediate vicinity showing signs of cultivation – a few small terraced vegetable gardens being the most obvious.

Inside, the cottage was sparsely furnished with a haphazard mix of old and modern designs. The air was cool and refreshing after the heat outside. She followed him into a small kitchen where he opened his package on a bench. It contained slices of dark red meat, and when a slight whiff reached her she felt a little queasy.

‘The pick of George's larder. I beat him at billiards. He won't admit that his eyes are not what they used to be and was foolish enough to take my wager. Now, perhaps, he'll do something about it. There are cool drinks in the chiller,’ he added as he opened it to display its contents. ‘Find something that suits you, or we can make tea if you prefer.’

‘A cool drink would be a pleasant change.’

‘This meat will take an hour or more to cook. You could select a tray of appetisers and take them out to the veranda. I'll join you when I have this under way.’

She followed his suggestion and sat, sipping her drink, casually scanning the view, and reviewing the last two days. They had been interesting, but she felt compelled to return to the purpose of her visit. She would set up her cottage tomorrow.

She would need servants – a squad tomorrow, at least, to help set up, but after that she could get by with one or two – general purpose skills – her PA would see to that – versatile body. I'll see what's available. She asked her PA and it found two immediately available and a message from Tom anticipating her needs with an offer to supply more. She was about to reply as he came into the room.

‘Ready to move in, then.’

‘Yes. I'll make a start tomorrow.’

‘The servants will be delivered tonight.’

‘Thank you.’

Tom placed the small bowl he was carrying onto the table beside her. ‘Cold spiced fish.’ He took a piece with his fingers, washed it down with a large gulp of beer. ‘We could start making some plans this evening if you wish.’

Mary thought for a while. ‘We need an extensive review of Sara's notes and integrate them into other sources before we can make any meaningful decisions. I thought I could concentrate on the background – on her travels and correspondence – such things. You should focus on the technical issues.’

‘I agree. I made a start at Arkadel but very superficially. There are also archives here from Stanley. I've looked at reviews of them compiled by local historians – mainly his family life and times. I've arranged for us to have access to some of the archives and I can probably expand that if needed. It's quite personal and he was a private man. I should be able to access his work notes.’

‘That should do for now. I'll definitely follow it up. Some insight into his relationship with Sara would be interesting.’ Looking for a reaction from Tom but seeing none she asked. ‘Do you have servants up here?’

‘A standard servant indoors. It doesn't have much to do. At the moment it's in a back room, inert. Outside there's a small monkey-bot, Possum, which keeps active. When not busy with my gardens it roves about nearby exploring and recording. Speaking of back rooms, would you like to see out back?’

‘I suppose so. What's there?’

Mary followed him along the main corridor. Opening a normal interior door at the end he exposed a large solid security door. ‘You'll find one of these in your cottage, but you don't have access – except in emergencies.’

The gap between the doors was an airlock. There was a light rush of air then the security door slid aside. Dim lighting exposed a large cavity cut into the rock and divided by short walls and pillars.

It was sparsely filled with benches scattered with scientific equipment, and large rectangular bins of water with a few small fish visible near the surface. A rush of bubbles in the nearest bin was repeated through the chamber and adjacent ones – the echoing sound reminding her of distant breaking waves.

The air was cooler than the cottage, with a hint of the musty smell she'd noticed in hers. In the distance she saw a mantis-bot walking along the edge of a bin.

‘This is the second of three levels. It was one of the original experimental chambers. I use it as a lab and testing station.’ She took a brief peek into the other chambers, curious to see how far they extended.

After sitting in conversation in the veranda for a while a servant entered with food – vegetables, more of the crusty, rustic bread she'd tried earlier, and a heavy earthenware bowl with lid.

Tom lifted the lid with a theatrical flourish. ‘Brindabella roo goulash, though Karl, whose recipe I use, says it's closer to a tokány.’ As they served themselves, the servant returned with a decanter of red wine and glasses. ‘Another local product.’ He poured two glasses after Mary shrugged assent.

The food was strange to her palate – what they called a dark taste at home – dried herbs rather than the lighter, clearer taste of the spices she was accustomed to. This was a flavour designed to complement and disguise the taste of red meat, and for that Mary was thankful. She ate heartily. They spoke little as they ate.

As they were finishing, the servant returned with two small glasses of what turned out to be a dry white wine. ‘Something to clear the palate for desert,’ commented Tom as he swilled and downed his in one mouthful.

‘What do we have?’ was answered by the servant placing a bowl and two tiny silver forks on the table. ‘Arkadelian Jellies! How delightful! How extravagant!’ she cried.

‘They were the only food I sampled at the Shark Pit. I hadn't tried them before.’

‘How did you choose them? There are so many varieties and you have several of my favourites.’

‘The supplier chose most of them for me. She was aware that you were here and, it would seem, has confirmed her reputation for having good contacts. I asked for some plum varieties to go with the plum sauce I used in the tokány. You must explain it all to me – Early, Late, Full Season, Variety, Preserves, and so on – all very confusing to the beginner.’

‘The names are simple, really, but the technology is Barratt Foundation's greatest secret. I'm not privy to that, but it's well known that the secret's in the smell as much as the taste.

‘Plum is an excellent range – a versatile fruit with many varieties, each with its own subtle flavours. This is a Full Season Satsuma,’ passing one to Tom. ‘It starts with the sour of the barely ripe plum – clearing the palate, as you say – then, gradually, through to the fully ripe fruit. Some move through varieties of the fruit, or sauces and other preserves tracking changes through the cooking or preserving process where they're interesting. These Guavas are a family favourite,’ carefully lifting one to her mouth.

Neither spoke for some time, but turned to watch the darkness close in on the gully outside leaving them isolated in a small bubble of light.

‘I'd like to do a tour of the district sometime.’

‘Bikes?’

‘Of course.’

‘We could take a hamper.’

‘As you wish.’

Chapter 21

Over the next few days Mary settled into a comfortable routine. She started by setting up her cottage – primarily as a workspace. She decided to keep her room in the Manor for now, but she wanted the cottage to be more than just an office.

She joined Clare on her evening rides, going further afield each day. At Annabella's request she agreed to spend an hour or two each week as a tutor in addition to the hours they were already spending together with Annabella doing the tutoring.

George offered to help her respond to the calling cards and invitations she'd received by inviting her to join him on his visits and organising a musical evening at the Manor. Not surprisingly, the person she became best acquainted with was George himself.

One morning, settled into a seat on her veranda, she realised that it was time for her to start work. She set about creating a new PA branch.

I'll call it PA Sara Brindabella. It can inherit my PA Sara, but I don't want my PA Sara to be influenced by this new exploration – potentially too conflicting and confusing for it. I don't want it breaking. After Tom's discussion about breaking bots she was wary, though she had been through the process countless times before.

She ordered a glass of tea and sat thinking and planning as it was prepared. Over the years she had quizzed Sara PA about her past, so her own PA Sara was the natural starting point. After taking a few sips she started to instruct her new branch.

‘Access all records from PA Sara dating from one year before her first trip here.

‘Now for Stanley Oldfield!’ she said, just audibly.

‘More specific?’ replied her PA.

‘Ignore that.’

She went through the steps of setting up PA Brindabella Stanley, initialising it with the information from Brindabella archives Tom had passed to her. She then returned to PA Sara Brindabella and lost herself in helping it sort the information into topics – ignoring some and emphasising others – then instructed it to trace the remaining topics back in time and to accumulate technical background.

By mid afternoon she had integrated all the information she had, and, little though it was, she felt she would be able to gain some insight into the nature of Sara's visit. Only then would she feel comfortable quizzing Sara PA directly. If it appeared that Sara's visit was not work related she would not intrude. She only asked it questions when she was comfortable that she would not end up pushing it into refusing an answer.

The next day she woke at first light and set out for the cottage. The cool morning air was refreshing and as she walked along the path she looked around at her surroundings with a growing sense of familiarity. The intense battle for survival that had struck at her sensibilities in the fierce heat of the day was muted now. The strange calls of the birds didn't chill her spine as they had at first – rather, she turned to see if a call close by was from one of the parrots she'd seen.

She discovered that this sense of familiarity was still fragile as she passed a stand of low trees growing between the path and the river. There she saw a group of kangaroos grazing close by. She froze – fear and confusion gripping her as she imagined the damage that could be inflicted with a casual swipe of the largest, raptor-like claw on its hind feet.

The kangaroos were all bent low, feeding on the grass of the river flat. One of them – one of the larger ones – straightened up, leaning back on its thick tail watching her – its head held high. Others also straightened – watching. She dared not move and took a slow, deep breath in an effort to calm her nerves. Can they tell that I'm scared? she wondered.

Then she saw something that had an even greater impact. Staring out at her from a pouch low on the belly of one of the kangaroos was a baby – a joey. Fear gave way to an emotion just as deep and primal. She saw a larger joey scrambling into its mother's pouch as the mother turned to move away. They all moved away, not in a rush but with short steady hops into the nearby tree line.

In Mary's mind the situation had turned. She now saw herself as a potential predator and remembered that she'd recently been eating a relative of one of these animals. Calmer, she continued her walk. She now had time to rationalise her experience. Her PA Medic hadn't recognised a threat and quizzing it she found no evidence of a kangaroo killing a human.

That seemed strange given their obvious ability to defend themselves and their young. Even cattle that had been domesticated for millennia occasionally killed people. Puzzled, but with the threat now abstracted into a philosophical curiosity, she made her way to her cottage.

With the thought of kangaroos still bubbling away near the surface of her consciousness she focussed on Stanley. She went back to Stanley's earliest work on kangaroo farming and beyond – back to the late twenty-first century and the aftermath of the Great Upheaval – to the dawn of the Carbon Age and the early days of the New World Order it brought about – to the founding of the Brindabella community and Arkadel. It was an era of renewed hope and enthusiasm. She could sense this in the language he used. She struggled to imagine the context with little success.

She'd made some headway into the archives by the time she started back to the house. Warily, she approached the spot where the kangaroos had been, but they weren't there. She remembered Clare saying they were mainly seen at dawn and dusk.

Chapter 22

As they set out on their afternoon ride, Clare announced that Mary was ready to go beyond the flat ground of the valley floor and venture into the ridges. ‘We could try one of my favourite tracks. It isn't very steep.’

They climbed for about half an hour on a narrow dirt track that wound its way through the trees until the ridge levelled in a false summit before rising again. The forest around them had thinned enough for them to be able to see out across the valley. Mary was reminded of the first day they'd flown in to Brindabella. How different it looked now – familiar, where only a few weeks earlier it had seemed harsh and alien. And how long ago that seemed.

They were about to turn back when her attention was drawn to her immediate surroundings by the sight of several kangaroos grazing nearby. She told Clare about her experience with the kangaroos that morning.

‘My first reaction was fear, but then they seemed such a peaceful family group. Don't they recognise us as predators? It struck me as strange, when I thought about it later, that such a large and potentially lethal animal should be no threat to people.’

‘There's a simple explanation. Humans and roos have coexisted for a long time – many thousands of roo generations. They're a domesticated animal.’

‘But their weapons?’

‘Their hind claws provide grip – traction – and can be defensive. The mature males fight amongst themselves for supremacy, but rarely injure each other seriously. They can defend against attacks from humans and dogs and the large predators that existed in the past. If you don't appear to threaten them they'll leave you alone and usually keep out of your way.’

‘They must see you – us – as predators?’

‘If they do, they're used to it and have adapted. We cull them in a traditional manner. Young males leave the mob – drift up into the hills. Sometimes they return when they're mature enough to challenge the older males for supremacy. Often they're never seen again, so they aren't missed and our culling isn't noticed. The dietary supplements we give them encourage more male offspring.

‘Humans have been actively supporting the well-being of the roos – husbanding them – most obviously through the regular burning of bush lands to expand and increase the fertility of grasslands and the dominance of the kangaroo's preferred grasses. Many other practices were carried out in the name the kangaroo spirit – a word many people don't like to use.’

Chapter 23

‘I use it often. We use it in the social modelling field to describe patterns that appear in the models – particular patterns of activity that spread through populations after being triggered by certain events. It's probably a different concept.’

‘Pagan, pastor, seer, and sage,’ Clare muttered to herself.

‘What did you say?’

‘Pagan, pastor, seer, and sage – the start of a rhyme – the four windows to the spirit. It came back to me as I was thinking about your spirit question – how much you can capture in a PA. I've never given the idea any serious thought, though Karl and Tom treat it seriously – a few others on the gullies, too.

‘Just now, I was taking the pagan view – our understanding and interaction with other species. Your perspective was that of the seer – the natural dynamics of human societies.’

‘And the other two?’

‘The parson tries to understand the individual human spirit. The sage develops an understanding of the general principles underlying the seer's view.’

‘I can see parallels with the Neo-Confucian view that provides the foundation of my PA. It has four principals: the basic dynamics of Life from the Tao; the harmony of the individual spirit from Buddhism; the vitality of community from Socialism; and wisdom accumulated over time from Confucianism. Our models include all of these and show some of the underlying dynamics of society. We don't just blindly follow statistics.’

‘There are few clear divisions in reality. It's just the limits of our minds that force us to simplify things – break things down into simple components – reductionism. I look at population dynamics, too, and the underlying ecological principles that drive them. Human populations are more complex – lacking in general principles.’

‘I beg to differ. We see structure, even the basic laws of physics reflected in our models – Newton's laws of motion – quantum mechanics. Social movements have mass and velocity. You can multiply these together and get a momentum, just as we do with inanimate bodies.’

‘Yes, I can see how that might work, but applying quantum mechanics seems a bit far fetched.’

‘Not actually applying it, but there are parallels. We're looking at waves – ripples spreading and rebounding through a population – everything connected to everything else. We use wave equations just like those in quantum mechanics. We even have an uncertainty principle: every observation disturbs the system it's observing.’

‘I see – well – I get the general idea. Your models are obviously far more sophisticated than the ones I use.’

‘They wouldn't work here. You need large numbers for the statistics to be meaningful. The only creatures you have in large numbers are ants.’

‘And other insects. I don't track them all individually, just a few at a time. Cicadas produce waves of sound that flow through the valleys. That's always intrigued me. Karl tried to model them once. He said they might be transmitting information about the most productive locations – the source of the waves being dominated by the largest and healthiest cicadas.’

They sat in silence watching the roos move in single file down the slope of the ridge away from the valley. Clare stirred and turned to ride back the way they had come.

‘Our language is deficient. The word “spirit” has been mystified, distorted, then ridiculed in attempting to ridicule other cultures to bolster our own sense of superiority. The people who first settled this land weren't stupid. They had brains as large as ours and used them. They used their intelligence in different ways to adapt to their environment. They brought with them sophisticated mental models, culture and language, that could be applied to new plants, animals, and climate.

‘The hunter-gatherer survived through observation. They observed new plants and animals carefully and methodically. They recorded their knowledge in stories, dance, and other ritual and passed it down through the generations.’

‘Their archives.’

‘Yes – cultural archives rather than personal ones – practical ones – the accumulation of highly detailed evidence that allowed them to detect and adapt to change. As their surroundings changed, as they moved, or the climate changed, they added to their records. They recognised patterns in what changed and what was constant. They used abstract concepts to simplify their records, just as your models generalise to simplify.

‘Their concept of spirit – the kangaroo spirit, for example – included all they knew about the kangaroo and all the human behaviour needed to keep the kangaroo in plentiful numbers – how and when to burn tracts of bush, where to place a campfire, when to change its position, which plants to care for, which to burn or remove. The kangaroo spirit could be very demanding.

‘Patterns of behaviour varied with the seasons, with weather and climate, between districts and terrain. All this balanced with the other spirits that helped ensure their survival – other animals and many plants. It was a complex world.’

‘All that and the human spirit, too.’

Chapter 24

The concerns of riding downhill on a steep rough track eliminated conversation until they were back on flat ground. Clare continued in a thoughtful manner, ‘Roos, like humans, are creatures of habit. They stay fixed in a routine after it has ceased to be their best option. With our models we can recognise this and encourage them to shift their patterns, but our models aren't sophisticated. Karl has told me we could do better. Perhaps you could help to improve them.’

‘I'd like to help if I can. I haven't met Karl yet, but I know of his reputation. Is modelling his area of expertise?’

‘He's our expert, but modelling isn't his main skill or concern.’

‘Does he come to the Manor?’

‘Not much recently. There's some tension between us – with me, I should say.’

‘I've wondered about that – in general, I mean. I admit I've felt there was something a little unreal about the apparent harmony here. In New Shanghai there are squabbles and rivalries. They're usually short lived, but sometimes pass on for generations. I've seen George help solve disputes, but they've been practical ones not personal.’

‘In large urban communities, if people can't resolve personal disputes they can live separate lives. They needn't interact. Here, in a small community, we need to either resolve differences or find some way of living with them harmoniously.

‘Karl and I can't go on avoiding each other. We'll reconcile soon enough. We've been close all our lives. People expected us to marry someday. We've thought that, too, at times, but we're so different it seemed impossible.

‘I go to town most years for the social season, but I always return after a week or so. Several young men have visited here. They spend a few days then give up and leave. George is understanding if he's here – entertains them and they leave cheerful. I've met nobody in town that really interested me.’

She paused then continued cautiously, ‘Perhaps I should add that I'd developed a strong attraction to Tom – before he went away, that is. He's always been friendly, but he's never treated me seriously in that way. I cried when he left for Bath. When he came home he was so changed he didn't seem like the same person. Now I can see he's fundamentally the same, but my feelings for him aren't the same.’

‘Oh.’

Clare recognised that she might be embarrassing Mary with such talk and quickly added cheerfully, ‘Tom's dining with us this evening and since they've been working together today I'm prepared to wager that Karl will accompany him. He won't be able to resist meeting our new visitor for much longer. Tom will have talked about you and Arkadel. Karl must be bursting with curiosity.’

She looked back at Mary. ‘I am fond of Karl, but they're both such boys.’ Their eyes met for a moment and simultaneously they broke into laughter.

Clare's prediction turned out to be correct, so while Mary wasn't surprised to see a new face at supper she was surprised by the young man himself. She thought him very handsome – well, handsome enough, and as far as she could tell in their first few minutes of acquaintance, personable as well – quite charming.

She found herself wondering what George was like as a young man. The two were obviously close and George castigated him for being so aloof ‘when we have such company.’ With the Gardiners, their friends the Thorpes from the village, and the two children, it was a merry gathering.

After the meal they all went outside and caught the last of the summer light in the gardens. Little George threw a stick for the Thorpes's dog, and with much shrieking and laughter they all had a few turns throwing rusty old horseshoes at a stick in the ground before the failing light forced them back inside. There they continued with only a little more decorum.

Several of the company were persuaded to try their hand at the piano and eventually, under obviously feigned protest, Karl was persuaded to sing. Mrs Gardiner, returning to the piano, whispered something in his ear and he stood back while she started to play. With skilful fingers and commanding eyes she calmed the mood of the gathering who were soon sitting quietly listening. Only then did she nod to Karl to join her.

They started with a soft, sad Italian song. From an opera, perhaps, thought Mary who found herself moved by it. Looking around the room at its conclusion, the others seemed equally moved, though, she thought, they must have heard it many times before.

Mrs Gardiner soon left the piano to Karl who played and sang a medley that skipped its way through four centuries of popular music. Others joined in. As the evening progressed the numbers dwindled. First the children were sent off to bed then the older members of the party excused themselves leaving four sitting and talking into the early hours of the morning.

Chapter 25

Back in her cottage the next morning, Mary's thoughts returned to Sara and Stanley. Sara's stay here had been a gap in her archive. There was nothing unusual about that. George had said there was only one fully active PA at Brindabella in those days and it was mainly used as a bot controller.

Sara was an erratic PA adopter. For many years she had just used it as a work diary. Even later there were many gaps. When Mary had taken on the role of guardian to Sara PA these gaps had intrigued her. She had explored a few of them using other sources and found nothing of interest. They were obviously just times that Sara didn't think worth archiving.

There were weeks at a stretch with only Medic records. Mary had scanned these for evidence of drama or excitement in her moods and found nothing outstanding. They were just quiet times. Her stay here must have been more than that, but not even her Medic was archiving. That, George had assured her, would have been Sara's choice.

She thought of her own reliance on her Medic for reassurance. Clearly Sara was made of tougher stuff, but she had spent many years away from Arkadel. She thought about that for a while and started to feel a little foolish about her own fearfulness. She resolved to confront her fears and dispel them. If she couldn't achieve that, at least she would keep them to herself and not become a laughingstock in the valley.

Although the missing archives were easily explained, their significance was growing in Mary's mind. Even Sara's courting days were archived, though Arkadel custom and respect for Sara's privacy had prevented her curiosity delving so far. She felt compelled to evaluate the impact on Sara of her visit here.

Could she distinguish between the impact of a new friendship and Sara's progress in her professional goals? That would be a difficult challenge. With Stanley involved it would require a delicate approach. She would put her skills in abstracted analysis to their greatest test. With delicate quizzing of Sara PA and Brindabella records she might be able to extract the generalised information she wanted without encroaching on the details. Noni had already set a precedent with Sara PA. She would seek George's advice on access to information on Stanley.

Stanley Oldfield was born at a time when full personal archiving wasn't widely practised outside the cyb subcultures. Sara was among the first generation of another era, born into the Carbon Age and the New Order that followed its birth. The material basis of the New Order had been established with new materials – carbon foams and laminates with properties that could vary from soft plastic to a strength way beyond that of steel. Imbedded nanofusion energy technologies had quickly followed.

In parallel with the material changes of those early days was an information transformation. The early cybs, fully archived from an early age, had been marginalised as antisocial until the boom in PA Medic technology opened up a new era in medical science based on personal medical archives.

Even though the metabolic monitors – bulky implants – were crude by today's standards they were effective. Medical research and treatments were able to break away from average population models to work with precise individual metabolic models. Medicine had finally become an exact science and innovation boomed.

The personal privacy model for PAs was embedded as standard in the ‘One PA, One Controller’ agreement. After decades of failed technology standards and bitter political campaigns, the explosive increase in demand pushed it to conclusion within a few years.

The cybs, who among themselves had worn their social isolation as a badge of honour, ran from their new-found acceptance – even celebrity – and dug deeper still into their artificial worlds. At the other extreme, groups created communities with personal archiving restricted to the essentials necessary to maintain basic PA Medics and to operate bots. They established strong privacy walls around communities that evolved into the Neo zones of today.

Mary was starting to understand how Sara, partly straddling that cultural divide, had embraced the New Order, but maintained close family contacts within the new communities. Like the founding members of these communities, she'd seen them not as regressive attempts to avoid technological change but as faltering attempts to establish a re-humanised society.

The Industrial Era had been a struggle to provide for the material needs of the populations of the world. The EZI Treaty had shown that it had become possible to provide for those needs without further disruption of the planet's ecosystems – a need brought to a head by the multiple crises of the twenty-first century.

Establishment of the ocean colonies had freed the human race from the constraints of land ownership. Sara and many of her contemporaries had recognised the long-term social significance of this.

Sara had also been alert to the significance of the PA afterlife on some of the newly emerging cultures. The original Sara PA had been quite advanced for its time, just underused. It had borrowed technology from the cybs who had been using PA Medics to incorporate emotional information into their more advanced PA architectures. Within small groups of Confidants, using pseudochars for anonymity, they allowed their PAs to express their emotional reactions to words, concepts, people. Eventually, she thought, with real biological feedback, as Tom came momentarily to mind.

Sara had recognised the parallel between this and the aspirations of the Neo cultures – the need to re-establish personal relationships in a world where individuals were becoming increasingly isolated from each other under conditions of extreme conformity.

To the cybs, the PA had become more than an archive with an interpreter. It had become an entity that increasingly reflected the full range of personality of its owner. When the landmark legal battle following the death of D. K. Mendal gave status of attorney to his PA, the world sat up and took notice. They changed the rules but not the momentum of change. Again, the cybs had run for deeper cover. Has the world ever seen such reluctant leadership?

Chapter 26

She rose from her chair and went over to the window. Her mind drifted casually about the scene that was becoming more familiar each day – the twisted trees – the birds. She'd even seen a small species of kangaroo or wallaby near her cottage. She noticed that the shadows were starting to lengthen and realised it was time to return to the Manor for tea. The day had passed quickly.

Walking had become a habit now. Back at Arkadel, exercise had been a chore. Here, each walk produced new observations or surprises in the surrounding bush. She had met with a few of the locals. They knew who she was and always introduced themselves. If they were going in her direction they chatted until they reached the village, which was usually their destination. She'd been invited into one of the homes to meet the family.

This afternoon she met nobody on the path. George and Annabella were just settling down at the table under the tree as she arrived. As she joined them Annabella was starting to relate her adventure of the day. She'd been on a school trip to a museum in town. As she described some of the exhibits, Mary was surprised at the detail of her descriptions. She commented, ‘You have a good memory Annabella,’ then added, ‘without a PA to rely on.’

‘I'm going to have a PA, but we're not allowed to use them for school. That's cheating.’ She was completing her account of the trip with a detailed description of a cake she'd eaten when Clare joined them.

She greeted each of them individually. ‘A fresh pot, Winston.’

‘Winston!’ said Mary involuntarily as she turned to view the servant with a sudden curiosity. It looked like any other ser-bot of its vintage. What did I expect?

‘Tom recommended that Winston return to some normal duties,’ said George, noticing Mary's interest. ‘Said it would have a stabilising effect.’

‘I see. That makes some sort of sense.’ Turning back to the table and looking George in the eye. ‘My mother has suggested that she put my name forward as a member of the Arkadel Protocol Caucus as an official representative of Arkadel in Brindabella. I declined. For some time now I've been wanting to re-evaluate my life – to find out what it is I want to do. I found this difficult to think about clearly at Arkadel. Before I met Tom I'd been thinking of spending time in New Shanghai.

‘Here, sitting in my cottage or walking, I feel detached from my past and I find I'm able to think about such things more clearly. While that process is taking place, I don't want to be drawn back into Arkadel life. Does that make sense?’

‘It not only makes sense but I would have been a little surprised if your feelings had been different. It's a reaction that people who are brought up here, in a small community such as ours, feel particularly strongly at some stage. We feel it more than town dwellers who can change their circumstances easily.’

George paused then continued. ‘We've found ways of adapting. A season in town each year has always been quite enough for me. I'm always glad to be back, but I feel refreshed by the change. I have a clearer perspective.’ As he spoke he was looking at Clare who seemed uncomfortable.

‘It seems to be a common practice. My parents spend part of each year in New Shanghai. I used to join them every other year. Change does us good, but I'm in need of something more at this point in my life.’

Clare snapped out of her mood with a visible jolt and said to George, ‘You're correct, of course. I should make better use of my time in town. I use my work as an excuse to return early.’

Now looking at Mary, she continued. ‘I escape to the bush. That's my escape – my retreat. At least once each year I spend a week or more on a trek through the district. The horses enjoy the change as much as I do.’

‘And you rarely go out and enjoy yourself when you are in town,’ added Annabella. ‘Last time you spent three whole days at a conference.’ George laughed, and Mary's deeply ingrained sense of tact had trouble stopping her from joining him.

Chapter 27

Clare smiled defiantly and turned to Mary. ‘Time for a ride, I think. Are you going to join me today?’

‘Yes. And now you've given me a greater incentive to improve my riding skills. I'd like to go with you on a long ride sometime.’

‘I think I'd like that. You'll need to toughen up if you want to spend a whole day in the saddle.’

Their ride today had a different tone to it. They moved faster and covered rougher terrain than they had previously. Clare seemed to be taking Mary's riding skills more seriously than usual. She observed Mary closely and gave tips she said would reduce the strain.

Mary was pleased. It showed her that Clare had taken her comment about going on a trek seriously. The subject wasn't raised. Mary didn't want to appear too forward and assumed that Clare would want to assess her progress before committing.

There was another difference. Usually their conversation consisted of Mary asking about the local flora and fauna or the Brindabella district generally. Today Clare started quizzing her about Arkadel. Initially it was questions about the plants grown there, soils and soil substitutes, wildlife.

Mary answered cautiously. She thought Clare might be scornful. ‘Seabirds and a few insects in a closely managed ecology above water, but below we have a diverse range. The city attracts ocean life naturally and artificially.’ Feeling a little defensive she went on to describe the coral shelves that circled the main ballroom.

‘What a marvellous idea!’

‘Come up to my cottage someday and I'll take you on a guided tour.’

‘I will. I'm just realising how little I know about your home. You shouldn't be offended by that. Karl and Tom often joke about my lack of knowledge about town life. Even George, in his gentle manner, hints at it occasionally as you witnessed earlier.’

‘You shouldn't let that bother you. You have uncommon skills and knowledge that more than compensate, and here you can be different. We've both been fortunate to live somewhere that allows diversity, but living here also allows you to express your views and feelings openly and act on them. That's a rare combination.’

‘I notice the pressure for conformity in the city and resist it. That makes others uncomfortable, so I retire from interactions.’

‘Precisely. Pressure for conformity forces duplicity. People learn to have two or more sets of opinions: the ones we evolve through our reactions to our experiences and the social conventions we're forced to conform to that provide a common basis for interacting with strangers. There's usually a tension between them that increases as the social conventions become more complex and demanding.

‘The founders of Arkadel reacted to the pressure for conformity and tried to create a society where only a person's actions mattered. Our views and motivations are private, so duplicity doesn't interfere with the integrity of our PAs. Our PAs monitor integrity carefully. If they detect a breach we attempt to mend it immediately before the damage spreads. Staunching is a skill we learn early. We may be sparing or diplomatically selective with the truth, but it is the truth as we see it.’

Chapter 28 – Cave Creek

A light breeze was stirring the trees in the valley ahead. It soon reached Tom as he strolled down the narrow foot track that ran beside the dry creek bed at the bottom of his gully. The air was hot, but the movement was refreshing – stirring his shirt that was wet with sweat.

He'd been walking for an hour or two with breaks to sit and rest. Clambering up the steep slopes of the ridge at the head of the gully had been tougher and hotter exercise than he'd subjected himself to for some time, but the walk had served its purpose.

When he'd set out, his mind had been confused. For several days he'd spent most of his waking hours working through the results of his analysis of Sara's actions and the possibilities presented. He still had doubts – serious doubts – which was normal. He felt comfortable now he'd decided on a course of action.

He came to the small pond a hundred metres up the gully from his cottage, and sat down on the flat-topped boulder at its edge as he'd done many times before. He bent down to run his fingers through the cool water then splashed a cupped handful over his face.

The pool formed in a natural hollow in the rocky creek bed. If there was water in it he knew there was still a little water flowing through cracks in the rocks below.

It was a good sign in such a dry summer and that thought distracted him for a while. He watched the ripples created by his fingers spread out in regular circles then be reflected back in disarray from the irregular boundaries of the pool. He disturbed a small black water beetle that swam under a pebble.

He thought about the delicate ecology that had re-established itself since the pond had last been dry several years ago. This was the most studied pond in the valley. Although he'd removed most of the instrumentation, one probe was still visible projecting from the bottom of the pond near the far edge.

He looked at the thin layer of living matter growing on some of the deeper surfaces. He knew every organism that lived in it, or he did the last time he'd analysed it.

I wonder how much it has changed since then? I should test it fully before it completely dries out and this cycle of its life ends – a few weeks away if we have no rain.

His thoughts returned to the conditions that might provide long-term security for a system like this. There was another pool – one that to his knowledge had never dried up. It was fed from a cave system that drained the aquifer of the high plain at the top of the valley. If there was anywhere in the district that could sustain a permanent aquatic culture it was there.

He rose and started off down the path. He was about to ascend the stairs to his cottage when Mary contacted him.

‘I don't have much to report, but I thought we should get together for a discussion.’

‘I agree,’ he replied. ‘If you're free this evening that would suit me.’

‘At your cottage? ’

‘Yes, here if you wish.’

‘I'll be there soon.’

He had just time enough to freshen up, order some food for later, and pour a glass of beer, when he heard Mary's bike pull up at his landing. He went out to meet her. Their greeting was a little formal with both feeling responsible for their recent lack of communication, but the awkwardness quickly passed. By the time Tom had fetched Mary a drink and dutifully asked after the well-being of everyone down at the Manor, they had restored their usual rapport.

‘And yourself?’ he added. ‘Continuing to settle in, I hope?’

‘Yes, thank you. I've been enjoying myself. I haven't achieved much beyond improving my riding skills. I've asked Clare if she'll take me on one of her treks.’

‘That would be a rare privilege. I'm not aware that she's taken anybody with her before, but it brings us to the point I wanted to discuss with you. I'm thinking of making a short trip to retrace Sara's movements while she was here. I thought we might all go – Clare and Karl, too, if they're interested.’

‘Where did you have in mind?’

‘An upper tributary of the river – Cave Creek. It joins the river a few kilometres upstream from here. It's an easy day trip.’

‘How would we travel?’

‘Walking would be most interesting, but time consuming. I'd recommend that we use horse-bots. Have you ridden one? It's only a short ride and they're much easier than a real horse.’

‘Yes, of course. As children we used to ride them on carnival days. They're just a larger version of the ser-bot that, as we all know, can travel at full speed without spilling a drink.’

‘So the saying goes. I didn't notice any at Arkadel. I didn't mean to be insulting.’

‘No offence taken.’

Chapter 29

Mary sipped slowly on her tea. ‘Have you developed a better idea of what Sara was looking for?’

‘From the pattern of her work at the time it's still possible that her interests coincide with mine. I'm not sure.’

‘I came here this evening with the intention of asking you to explain the problem you're working on in greater detail if that's possible. I'll start by giving you a summary of my activities.’

‘Go ahead. I've been curious.’

‘Most of my time has been spent reading and quizzing their separate archives to build a better picture of them individually. I've also set up a linguistic analysis that might shed some light on the nature of their interactions, but until I've a better understanding of what might be significant I can't proceed any further.’

‘What does your analysis tell you so far?’

‘Not a great deal with so little data. I've used two approaches – surface and content. The surface level combines two information streams: facial mannerisms where we have images, then prosody or accent and general vocal characteristics, the pronunciation of words, and the timing or rhythm of speech. With some people, the way they construct complex sentences can also be influenced.

‘May I?’ she asked, indicating a screen-wall.

‘Of course.’

‘This is a time line. The red lines are my estimate of when they were interacting. The height represents the strength of influence. The green lines are derived from diary records of their known contact times. You can see that where there are green lines they match quite accurately. The other red lines are possible interactions we've no record of. You can see that the strength of the influence increases as time progresses, as you would expect if they build an empathy.’

‘That tells us already that they hadn't met before?’

‘Possibly – or not seen each other for a long time.’

‘Can you tell more from this?’

‘Perhaps. At Arkadel there's usually a lot more data, so we can extract more. There are hints here. For instance, you can see that the influence, that's the red lines, start earlier and end later than the green. This is anticipation and a post-contact residual. Stanley's anticipating early even in their earliest interactions, but his anticipation is always moderate and steady. This indicates a calm, collected person not intensely involved in day-to-day activities and distractions.

‘Sara's anticipation is more variable and, interestingly, it later becomes quite intense. This suggests that initially she was preoccupied with other things – her work, presumably – and towards the end she developed a strong friendship. That much is consistent with the historical record.

‘I also tested for other influences – a third party, perhaps, that both were interacting with at the same time. To do this properly requires a full Caucus Agent, but for that you need to start with some basic models of the other participants and a lot more data. A simpler third party analysis tries to find a coherent third influence from scratch. I found none.’

‘You mentioned a second level of analysis.’

‘The content level. There you look at individual words or combinations of words – how often they occur, emphasis given to them, whether they arise naturally from the context or not. It sometimes points to what topics were discussed in an interaction. To perform this kind of analysis effectively it's usual to have a list of target words. I'm hoping you can provide that. At the moment, the only words that stand out are “human”, “blue”, and “organic”, which isn't very helpful.’

‘I can put together a list of words, or it might be better if you applied your analysis to more of his notes.’

‘Yes. Better still, I can provide you with the tools and you can pass me the results. That would be just as good for my analysis and retains most of your family privacy. After that, I think we've intruded enough. Now, I'd like to hear more about the problem you're researching. That is, after you've refreshed our drinks.’

‘Of course. I've been a negligent host. A coffee, perhaps?’

‘No. The same again, if you would.’

Chapter 30

A shuttle arrived at the mooring and his servant scuttled out to collect its cargo.

‘We should think about food. I asked the Manor chef to suggest a menu. It's supplied the food as well.’

He displayed the menu on the veranda window and perused it with as much curiosity as Mary.

‘What do you fancy as an entrée?’

‘The Manwaring Fish Pâté is new to me. What's that like?’

‘One of many varieties produced here. I think of them as jellied fish soup. The Manwaring has a slightly sour taste, which I like. Others can be quite insipid. Do you want to try some? I have fresh bread and thin sliced pickled radish to go with it – almost Arkadelian.’

‘Yes. Certainly. I'm intrigued.’

When Tom disappeared into the kitchen, Mary sat thinking, asking herself if she'd missed anything in her analysis. The thoughts faded as she stared out across the gully at the grey chaos of trees in the fading light. Thoughts returned, but now she found herself wondering why he made such little use of his indoor servant. She was just concluding that it might be evidence of a preference for living things over the mechanical when he returned, so she asked him.

‘Physical activity,’ he replied. ‘My mind stagnates if I just sit. I need activity – making a cup of coffee – a meal. Today I walked up to the top of the ridge. It was helpful. I formulated a plan of action.’

‘Starting with a trip to Cave Creek.’

‘Yes. Partly to collect some samples but also as an excursion and picnic. I'm sure Annabella and Little George would like to come, too, if you don't mind having the children along.’

‘I don't mind at all. I'd really like that. I haven't had much interaction with Little George, he seems to live a life of his own, but I've become quite well acquainted with Annabella and I enjoy her company. She's charming, and mature for her age. Not so much a child any more, I think.’

‘You're correct, of course. As I was making my coffee I was thinking about what you were saying just now – people influencing each other.’

‘Contact impact.’

‘I've noticed she has a more mature manner after she's spent time with Gwen – particularly recently, with her parents away. Little George is a sociable character within his generation. He knows the Brindabella community almost as well as his grandfather does – better by the time he comes of age.’

‘Then it's settled.’

Mary downed a couple of the canapés in quick succession. She was hungrier than she had realised. On the third, she slowed and savoured it. ‘They're unusual. Citrus is distinct but somehow strange – not lemon, I think.’

‘Possibly a native citrus. I've heard tell that the Manwarings filter a white wine vinegar through potato starch, but I don't take such rumours seriously. There are few secrets kept more securely in the village than family recipes.’

‘I understand that. One of the joys of eating in company is trying to guess the recipe. Few things can spoil a mealtime discussion more than someone listing the actual ingredients. Now that you mention potato, it must be the starchy layer at the bottom. It has a slight, but fruity, vinegar flavour that confuses the citrus.’

‘Sounds like a variant of a traditional fish dish.

‘One of the things I decided on my walk today is that it's almost certain Sara started to investigate the stability problem that's been concerning me. At some stage, though, she seems to have changed direction. After that, I've no idea what she was up to.’

‘What about those samples you were looking for at Arkadel?’

‘I've started to cultivate samples I took from floors and walls, but that'll take time to sort through. It may give some idea of what she was trying to achieve. The notes you've assembled for me suggest that she found things I haven't yet seen. It would help is she was a bit more forth-coming about her aims.’

‘She won't want to prejudice our thinking. When we first spoke you were interested in a parasitic amoeba causing problems in your fishery operations. You thought Sara had investigated the same problem. At Arkadel we talked about augmenting fish to control their behaviour. Is that really a goal of yours?’

‘That was your comment, actually. I did consider it once, briefly. People are giving up on direct genetic modification. Instinct is a subtle thing and not easily tinkered with. A few people have been trying for a century now to produce the notoriously elusive homing fish without success.’

‘I've heard it mentioned, but I've never been sure whether it was serious. Some fish have the instinct already and we make use of it, but addiction is an easier and more reliable method.’

‘I'm pleased to hear you say that. I was told it was a common myth in the ocean colonies. I thought the subject might be a source of conflict between us, so I've avoided it.’

‘There were attempts to modify instincts as far back as the twenty-first century.’

‘True. It surfaced again early last century – an obsession with controlling nature – particularly human nature. It's a typical example of the kind of scientific hubris that was rife at the time, and still is in some places.’

Tom turned to look out the window. After a long pause Mary said, ‘I can sense anger in your voice. Why so?’

‘Bad memories – scientific rivalry.’

‘Arising from?’

‘It's all in the past now, but NetGenate and everyone associated with it came under fire from rival groups trying to save their dwindling funding. When scientists feud, things can become childish and nasty.’

‘What happened?’

‘When they, or their lawyers, were told that their threatened legal action could endanger the well-being of people on our program their response was to say we should have thought of that before we started. We had troubles enough – I had troubles enough – without them to deal with.’

‘Scientists are just human, after all.’

‘Just human? Perhaps. Not long ago, in my darker moments, I would have insisted that some were subhuman egotistical dysempaths.’

Mary felt sure his description didn't make sense, but she let it pass. ‘It was probably just a routine market evaluation exercise, no real threat. We disapprove of such behaviour at Arkadel.’

‘I'm glad to hear it.’

‘It reminds me of the troubles Sara had. She was a scientist, as you are. But you can't see all scientists like that, surely.’

‘Just a few at any given time. Institutional science has always been fiercely competitive when it comes to funding, and communication skills are notoriously lacking. The most unlikely people can turn to savages. I prefer the world of the amateur scientist. That was how it all started, after all.’

‘Sara was self-funded. By your definition, then, she was an amateur?’

‘Yes. Amateur – for the love of it. And she was an exemplary one. Just listening to the sound of her voice was inspiring.’

Chapter 31

Tom sat studying the pâté, holding it up to the light. ‘Don't you see yourself a scientist?’

‘No. We call ourselves analysts. I'm familiar with the problems you refer to. In my experience it isn't just scientists. Nor is it usually individuals. Tensions become greatest when a whole working group is affected. It's a matter of community dynamics. ‘People form lifelong friendships. Their children grow up together.

‘A village can be stable for many generations, but our urban professional life can be transient. It's a problem my father is acutely aware of – something of a personal crusade.’

‘I remember him mentioning it when we met.’

Mary was reaching for more food.

‘Before you eat into your appetite too far, perhaps we should consider the main course?’

‘I've been a little carried away by the pâté. I was exploring the variation in flavour. At the top it's mild, but it develops in character towards the bottom.’

‘Quite Arkadelian.’

‘Quite. I imagine it's been left to stand for a long while before setting, kept warm and at an even temperature. So now we have Redfin dumplings on bok choy. That sounds good.’

‘It's another local variant of a traditional dish – very filling.’

As the food was being served they exchanged a few comments on how the Chinese diaspora had adapted traditional cuisine to local tastes and produce. After a lull in the conversation, Tom returned to the previous discussion.

‘When you talk about communities and the abstract way you analyse them, I can't help thinking that you might as well be talking about amoebal colonies. But you're talking about people.’

‘Not the full person. Just what they want us to know. In Arkadel that can be lean pickings.

‘I want to talk about your work. I know a little about amoebas. I think it quite amazing that such a simple creature can have such a complex life-cycle. One day they're single individuals oozing about on the bottom of a pond alone, the next they're part of an organism.’

‘Amazing, yes, but not unusual. It's common to all animals. All the cells in our body are basically amoeboid. Many of them – white blood cells, neurons, and others – remain in an amoeboid form even though they develop specialised functions. We are a colony of amoebas – clones – all with identical genes. The slime mould you mention is just an early ancestor, or a close relative of our ancestors.’

‘I prefer not to think about us that way.’

‘Many people would agree with you, but why? The reward I have is a glimpse through the half billion years of evolution that separates us from them. To see a plant grow from a tiny seed can fill me with awe, or an animal growing from a single cell. But that's the short story – the abridged version. To glimpse the full story – life relentlessly searching through every nook and cranny of its potential through unimaginable time – that's where the real magic lies.’

Chapter 32

They ate in silence for a while before Tom spoke. ‘Both our fisheries rely on stable, closed ecosystems to satisfy EZI constraints. At the bottom of the food chain are bacteria. Feeding in these, and controlling them, are protozoa such as the amoeba and so on up to the fish, and ultimately us.

‘Amoebas can form large colonies where they're all connected and communicate electrochemically. That's the slug-like structure you mentioned except that usually they remain as thin films on the bottom of a pond or the tanks of our hatcheries. Since the beginning of the development of our fisheries there have been problems with stability. A breakdown can be disastrous if it spreads. The whole system has to be sterilised and restarted.’

‘I've heard of that happening. Our advisers feed us a stability index and they become nervous when it drops too low. We isolate the tanks.’

‘We do the same here, but I think it's a mistake to try to control systems that we know we don't understand. In my experimental systems I've tried letting nature sort itself out.’

‘Does that work?’

‘Sometimes. I've had some successes that have been applied in the production units, but over the last few years I've taken to interfering again, in the other direction. I've been actively encouraging change by introducing new varieties.’

‘Hence your hunt for samples. Do you know what it is you're looking for?’

‘Yes, but I don't publicise it. It sounds far-fetched.’

‘I can be discreet.’

‘I know, which is why I've decided to tell you. The stability index you mentioned covers several different instabilities. One of them, a quite rare one, attracted my attention. It's usually described as a problem with individual rogue amoebas that have a disruptive impact on a colony. When I looked at their behaviour carefully I noticed that they were wanderers independently moving about over the surface of the colony. Whenever they tried to settle into one position and connect with their neighbours they were rejected.’

‘Do they need to connect?’

‘Neighbours in a colony communicate electrically and chemically. They coordinate movement and share nutrients. The colony becomes an individual organism that can share food found over a large area. In that environment a lone amoeba can have a difficult time surviving.’

‘So the rogue amoebae were being excluded because they were a different variety – alien?’

‘That's been the standard view.’

‘And you disagree?’

‘Yes. But they're not physically different – still clones. As usual, it's more complex than people like to think. After many months of observation I noticed that the rejected amoebae sometimes created an intense pulse of electrical energy. It reminded me of the little I knew about neurons, so I decided to learn more. Well, you can guess the rest.’

‘It led you to your augmentation.’

‘Yes. And a far better understanding of neurons and how they connect with other cells. It's complex.’

‘I imagine it would be, but is there any purpose? How would it help the colony?’

‘Colonies tend to develop some kind of structure. In a simple colony all members behave the same way. Cells communicate through gaps in the adjoining cell walls. The gaps let small molecules pass between cells allowing the cells to share nutrients. The gaps also allow electrochemical waves to pass from cell to cell allowing information to pass through the colony, and basic intelligent behaviour to develop.

‘Neurons could improve communication by communicating rapidly over large distances across the colony rather than just between adjacent cells. They form intricate networks that can learn and adapt. They could increase the natural intelligence of the colony, so it could develop more complex behaviour.

‘My life objective is to create a colony that does accept them, then build up its intelligence to the point where we can have meaningful communication – a negotiated cooperation.’

‘That sounds interesting – very ambitious – something grander than the personal Neuro problems I assumed motivated you.’

‘Yes, that was a diversion, but not irrelevant. Unfortunately there are other instabilities that develop. The system starts to break down, so I'm trying to find a solution. I think Sara tried to achieve this at Arkadel. Now I'm trying in freshwater systems. I'm sure it's possible to achieve more stability, which would give the Brindabella technologies a major competitive advantage – at least until others caught up.

‘Now for a Manor speciality you may have tried already, some Oldfield blackcurrant pie.’

Mary slowly savoured a mouthful. ‘Mmm – tasty. With the New Shanghai fisheries looking into expanding to freshwater systems, and others, including Arkadel, likely to follow their lead if they succeed, are you concerned about the increased competition?’

‘Not at all. Quite the contrary. It's an expanded market for our systems. Here we're limited by the availability of water or the cost of importing desalinated water from the coast. We supply fish to a loyal local market who'll always prefer our fresher product, but we depend more on the reliability and quality of our systems.

‘As long as we can maintain our reputation, we're a preferred source of technology. That's now our main business, which is why I'm given a free hand. I have all the space in this ridge to expand my research ponds if I can justify buying more water.’

‘I was told you own this gully.’

‘Yes, and the cavities of this ridge. It's the dreg-end of the original Oldfield estate, but it suits me well.’

‘I see – propertied but cash poor. I might be interested in investing at an earlier stage than we've previously discussed. Is outside investment in your activities here possible?’

‘Generally not, but in the past we have gone into partnerships. If you can gain Gwen's confidence then anything's possible. From the way George talks to you I don't think he'd see it as outside investment. First we have to see if there's anything to get excited about. The chance of my work amounting to anything is small. People have tried and failed before – including Sara.’

‘She didn't have the technologies you have. Perhaps more importantly, she'd already established a flourishing industry from nothing and had little competition in sight. She had little motive.’

‘You've said you thought Sara saw her last work as having major potential in some way or another beyond fisheries. Have you made any progress in discovering what she was trying to achieve?’

‘The only clue I've found is that it was Sara herself, rather than some inference made by Sara PA, that's the source of the evasion. Since I'm now the official guardian of Sara PA, it follows that Sara must have explicitly instructed it to keep something from me.’

‘You're its guardian. Why can't you demand an answer from it?’

‘That would be a major breach of Arkadelian custom. We don't coerce people or even post-PAs. Technically, I could, but I'd need a very good reason. Noni and the Protocol Caucus would become involved. I assume it wants to avoid that.

‘From past experience, she's waiting for me to ask the right questions. As I was growing up she commonly held things back till I'd demonstrated the ability to understand them.’

‘That's a little disappointing. I was hoping for some inspiration. I'm running out of ideas.’

‘I can help with any mathematical modelling or finance, but you may have to accept that you're on your own beyond that.’

‘Mmm. Tea or coffee?’

Chapter 33

The day of the picnic came. They assembled early, beside the river at the mouth of Tom's gully. There were seven of them in the party. Little George had invited a friend, Barry, who he introduced to Mary with a stiff but friendly formality. She'd noticed Barry watching her with obvious curiosity and prompting Little George for the introduction.

They had two extra horse-bots with panniers attached and two servants, Winston, and Possum. The boys rode the most recent models with their initials emblazoned beneath the Brindabella crest. The other mounts were a mixture of old models. The two carrying the panniers looked as though they might have been rescued from a museum.

Mary felt quite comfortable on hers. It was certainly a lot closer to the ground than a real horse and the motion was smooth – no need to try to keep balance, but she kept hold of its hands and maintained manual control. As they headed off, her mount told her it had received a request from Tom's to fall-in to pack mode. She let go and let it join the others.

They were all in high spirits as they rode off up the valley. The boys darted ahead, returned, and darted off again. They followed a rough track running parallel to the river that, by this stage, was little more than a creek. Before she'd come to Brindabella, Mary's idea of a river was the Chang Jiang – the only river she'd seen on her trips to the mainland.

She'd adjusted, with some amusement, to the idea that a river was something that usually had water flowing in it and a creek something that had water when it rained. She'd seen no rain since her arrival. Today the sky was clear and the cool of early morning was passing.

Before long, they reached the junction of Cave Creek and turned west off the track to follow the dry creek bed. It was rough, rocky ground and Mary felt uneasy until she noticed that all the horse-bots, even the oldest, had modern foot attachments. The hooves had transformed into a toed foot that could grip the angular surfaces of the rocks.

Clare started to lead them up a low ridge on the southern side of the creek where the vegetation was sparse and the ground smoother. The boys objected, wanting to continue along the creek bed.

‘You know the creek bed gets much rougher further along,’ Clare pleaded.

‘That's why we want to go this way. We always go this way,’ was Little George's reply.

Tom said he would go with them and the group split. The boys moved quickly ahead as the remainder of the party climbed the ridge, but along the top of the ridge they moved faster and eventually drew parallel in time to see Tom climb off his mount to take water samples from a small pool.

The group on the ridge moved quickly ahead, but were soon caught up by the boys bounding from boulder to boulder like mountain goats then disappearing from view into a deep gorge. Tom followed them moving rapidly but taking a more cautious path.

They worked their way around the side of a mountain. Arriving at the top of a ridge, they stopped and surveyed the valley that lay before them. ‘The Coolamon Range,’ said Clare, indicating a crescent of low hills on the far side four or five kilometres away. The valley floor was flat alpine grassland except for a few low hillocks that had a sparse tree covering.

‘I've no training in Geology,’ said Clare, ‘but it always looks particularly ancient to me. It looks like the remains of a very old volcanic caldera or meteor crater. Once under water, it filled with limestone. Then the forces that created the mountain ranges behind us pushed this side of the caldera in. The centre would have been a kilometre or two to our right. If you look behind us, the mountains are tall and angular, ahead they're low and rounded. Cave creek has cut an exit through this edge for some of the water, but most of it goes underground. The area's riddled with caves and there are many sinkholes scattered about the plain.

‘Our destination's the Blue Waterholes down there at the north end of Cave Hill.’ She pointed to where the creek reached the edge of one of the low hillocks about a kilometre ahead of them.

The boys and Tom could now be seen making their way along the creek bed and Clare led the way down towards them. When they arrived, the boys were sitting in the shade of some rocks.

Tom was standing beside a deep clear pool. He dropped an eel-bot into the water then walked over to join them. ‘Please don't go into the water for now. I've started a detailed analysis of this pool. I've brought water for drinking. I suggest we take a short break here then explore a little before luncheon.’

Half an hour later they had remounted and were heading off across the plain. While the main group maintained a steady trot along a barely visible track, the boys sped ahead then circled around them shouting and laughing. Even at speed, their gait was more like the bouncing gait of a springbok, dodging the knee high tussocks of grass and leaping high for a better view of the ground ahead of them.

‘Isn't that dangerous?’ said Mary to nobody in particular.

Tom said, ‘It looks and feels dangerous, which is the main attraction, but the bots have access to detailed information. They know every sinkhole, every tussock. This area has been crossed many times before. I used to come up here when I was their age. A horse-bot's really in its element here. And besides, have you ever heard of a bot spilling a drink?’

‘Yes,’ answered Clare, disobligingly.

They crossed many small dry creek beds or shallow ditches where Tom dismounted and took more samples. Eventually, they reached a larger creek with a trickle of water in it. They turned and followed it back towards the Blue Waterholes. When they reached the southern end of Cave Hill the creek had formed a sandy pool beside a vertical rock face. Tom dismounted and took several samples. Karl also dismounted and put his ear to the rock face for a few moments then indicated to the others to do the same.

Putting her ear against the rock, Mary heard the sound of falling water echoing in a large chamber.

‘When the flow of water slows to occasional drips,’ Karl said, ‘by recording the echoes and analysing them, you can build a map of the chamber just as a bat might from the echoes of its clicks. I performed just such an analysis here for a school project.’

Mary was surprised by this comment. The idea of mapping a cave from the outside had a strong appeal. It was also the first time Karl had spoken since they had left the assembly point this morning.

The creek bed was dry beyond the pool. They followed it around the eastern side of the hill until they reached the waterholes. Thirsty and hungry, they dismounted and pleaded with Tom to be able to refresh themselves in the pool. The full heat of the day was taking its toll.

He wouldn't relent, but after a few minutes he took a large container from one of the panniers and filled it with water from the nearest pool. After refreshing, they started to unpack the food. The boys threw cups of water at each other then joined forces to throw water at the others. Only Annabella complained, but not convincingly.

They ate well from a range of valley produce: mussels preserved in a rich sauce, freshwater crayfish or yabbies, slices of cured trout, salad vegetables fresh picked that morning, and various locally made breads. The meal was a leisurely affair that lasted an hour or more – initially accompanied by lively chatter.

By the time it was over, the mood was more tranquil and even the boys sat quietly for a while in the shade. Barry came over to Mary, sat beside her, and started asking questions about Arkadel. He showed a keen interest and considerable prior knowledge. If her answers were vague he pushed her politely for more detail. Mary noticed that Karl, sitting a few metres away, was also listening to her answers.

The afternoon drifted away. Eventually Tom collected his eel from the pond and walked off along the creek bed looking pleased with himself. He returned about ten minutes later and started to pack the panniers.

Little George called out to him, ‘Did you find anything interesting?’ Tom turned to face him with his hands on his hips, and with a mischievous grin said, ‘Yes, nothing!’

Chapter 34

That evening they all ate at the Manor. The boys gave a detailed account of the day's activities to George and the Gardiners. Mary was surprised at their memory for detail. Later, after the boys and the Gardiners had strolled off towards the village, they sat outside under the tree and enjoyed the cooling air.

George went inside and came out with a bottle of wine. ‘I've been waiting for an excuse to open another of these. Tom, you seem to be in a celebratory mood, tell me more.’

Tom took a close look at the bottle. ‘I'll certainly join you, but I don't have much to say, yet. The full results of today's excursion won't be ready until tomorrow. What I've decided already is that the Blue Waterholes are worth investigating further.’

‘What about your enigmatic comment that you had found nothing?’ asked Clare.

‘Ah, yes, well, almost nothing. I set the eel on a few circuits of the pool, then to find all the inlet points. There were several. All but one were emitting water that had roughly the same composition as the creek water. The other was quite different – not quite pure water – I wouldn't expect to see that with modern probes and Wigglet's as good as there is, so I must own a small exaggeration there.

‘What I was looking for were specific signatures of bioactivity – bacteria or more complex life. Where bacteria dominate, the system's either simple or unstable. I found the converse – signs of a complex stable system. More than that, it was as good as I've ever seen – better than our farming systems. But translating a natural system into an artificial one isn't easy and there's no guarantee of success.

‘The best hope's that we have a new variety of amoeba that dominates. I think that's what Sara Barratt was after, but things have changed a lot since her day. Now we have better detection, superior varieties, and better control of our systems.

‘What we're looking at is a battle that's lasted for a billion years or so – time beyond imagining. The bacteria had a two or three billion year start and are still the dominant life form on earth. Other forms come and go, but we all end up as a meal for bacteria eventually.

‘Individually, they might not seem to amount to much, but even singly they can swim about hunting food and are constantly swapping genetic material. They're the grand masters of chemical engineering. They produced most of the chemical machinery that's combined to form more complex life forms. They also form colonies with nutrients shared through the colony. It has much better defence systems than individuals and, overall, greater intelligence.’

‘I've been wondering about that. Can you really call such life forms intelligent?’ asked Mary.

‘Yes. All life displays some degree of intelligence. Natural Intelligence is the ability of any system to learn from experience and use that learning to adapt to new conditions. That definition can be applied to all types of systems, living or not, from neural networks to the Kauffman Systems of chemical networks that predate life on Earth and are an essential part of all living systems.

‘Our immune system, for example, has intelligent behaviour that follows similar dynamics to the neurons in our brain – slower, but just as complex. It may not be a great conversationalist – all complaints and paranoia – but in its own domain it plays a mean game of chess. Kauffman Systems are more Karl's territory than mine. They're used in the chemical feedstock units Winifred and he supervise.’

George interjected, ‘So if I have a bucket of water with two holes in it, one small and the other large, the water intelligently decides to favour the largest hole?’ He remembered mention of holes in buckets when Karl had spoken on this subject before.

Tom laughed at George's attempt to lighten the conversation, but Karl took him seriously and started to explain, ‘The water's just following the basic laws of physics, but there are other laws of nature, particularly in complex systems, which act in addition to the laws of physics.’

George threw the conversation back to Tom. ‘So, lad, you were about to tell us where the amoebas come in.’

‘Was I? Yes, of course,’ said Tom, holding out his glass for a refill. ‘Bacteria can be too flexible for us. Some can live in extreme conditions. As they compete amongst themselves, different strains tend to create the conditions that suit them best. Other life forms, such as the amoeba, are individually more complex. They've co-opted bits from various bacteria to perform functions such as energy generation, reproduction, movement, and sensing. They're like a small team of bacterial specialists cooperating within one cell.

‘With this increased complexity they need a more constrained environment, so they've battled for a billion years to try to maintain conditions that suit themselves. They've done this through influencing which strains of bacteria win out on their patch. They've learned bacterial husbandry and are still far better at it than we are without their help.

‘Amoebas compete amongst themselves for food to ensure that the healthiest and most capable ones are most likely to survive. But they also share and cooperate to maximise the colony size to fill their ecological niche and defend it against bacterial takeover or other protozoa.

‘Up the food chain, through invertebrates to fish and humans, in every arena it's the individuals or varieties that balance competition with cooperation that most effectively maintain their existence. A stable ecosystem is one where all species cooperate to maintain it.

‘What we're attempting to do in the fisheries is to form an alliance with amoebas that's to our mutual benefit. We can't tell them what we want and ask if they can comply, so we observe many natural, stable colonies and see which ones can be co-opted to our needs.

‘What I've found today is good evidence of a stable healthy colony. What I think the detailed analysis will confirm is that it contains a variety I haven't seen before. What's also likely is that Sara Barratt found evidence of this colony, but she wouldn't have been able to access it.’

They noticed that Annabella was asleep – her head resting on Mary's shoulder. They rose and went into the house, with Tom hoping his young cousin's dreams would not be filled with marauding microbes.

Chapter 35

As they were about to part company, Tom announced that he intended to return to the Blue Waterholes, as soon as could be arranged, to map the caves near them, and he needed both Clare and Karl to accompany him because of their caving experience. He added to Mary that she was welcome to join them.

He left without pushing anybody for confirmation. Clare and Karl immediately started to talk about equipment. They were obviously keen to go. Mary decided it was a challenge she couldn't resist.

They spent the next two days planning the trip and reviewing procedures. They examined three dimensional maps of the known caves, many of which had been surveyed in great detail over the years. Others had been sketched roughly by Clare and Karl from notes they had made on previous trips. They chose a route that was most likely to take them closest to the waterholes.

Three days was all it took for them to be heading back up the river – four humans, six horse-bots, and Possum. They covered the distance to the waterholes rapidly and the sun was just starting to light the tips of the Coolamon range to the west as they arrived.

They didn't stop long. Tom took a box from one of the panniers and opened it to show a set of small eel-bots, each nestling in a hollow exactly shaped to fit it. ‘My latest design.’ He took one and, after giving it instructions, dropped it into the main water hole. Karl stuck two lines of acoustic transducers along the rock face nearest the pool for ‘acoustic imaging’.

They moved on around the edge of Cave Hill until Clare stopped and pointed up the rocky escarpment. ‘The entrance we're after is just up there. It's an easy scramble to reach there, but we should climb it using strict procedures as practice and to check the gear.’

The panniers were unpacked and equipment laid out on the ground in careful array – a pile for each person and a small emergency bag for Possum. Once they had all donned the green Brindabella Fisheries overalls and their climbing harnesses the atmosphere became more serious.

Clare climbed first, with Karl belaying her from below. She talked continually as she climbed, describing in detail everything she did – every foot and handhold, each protective loop she attached along the way. She soon reached the ledge she'd pointed to, and, after disappearing for a minute, returned and threw down both ends of the rope she'd carried up. ‘We'll have two separate belay points here and leave a rope set up for a quick exit if needed. Tom next.’

Tom looked a little nervous, which comforted Mary. She realised she was more afraid of showing fear than she was of falling, and adjusted her mind. Tom attached himself to one end of the rope. Karl took the other and pulled in the slack.

Tom made easy work of the climb and had soon joined Clare on the ledge. Mary found the slope much steeper than it appeared from the ground, but reached the ledge without difficulty. ‘Now you must practice going down,’ said Clare, to Mary's dismay, so down and back she went with Clare watching her carefully. Karl and Possum quickly followed.

Their attention turned to the cave entrance – a small gap between two large rock faces. Karl said, ‘It widens after a metre or two. See you in there,’ and disappeared into gap. Mary followed awkwardly. The pack on her back, though smaller than the ones carried by Clare and Karl, made the cramped movement difficult.

They reassembled in a chamber large enough for them all to stand and walk about. They checked lights and the com system before moving on. The going was easy with just a slight upward incline for about forty metres at which point they met the roof of the cave and had to bend, then crawl, then stop. Four helmet lights scanned the view ahead. The cave narrowed down to about thirty centimetres in height. Mary was disappointed, assuming they had made a mistake and would have to retreat.

‘There's a bit of a squeeze for about five metres here then the going's easy again,’ said Karl, looking at Mary who wasn't sure if he was serious. But Clare took off her pack, tied a cord to it, and was sliding into the gap. She wriggled for a few seconds and disappeared. They could hear her movement for about a minute then she called out that she was through. ‘It becomes easier as you progress.’ The cord on Clare's pack pulled taut and Karl positioned it as it slid into the squeeze. ‘Now you Tom,’ came Clare's faint call.

Mary looked at Tom whose face was white and glistening slightly. He took a few deep breaths, lay on his belly at the opening, and wriggled forward. Being larger than Clare it was more difficult and he stopped several times to rest.

When he spoke his voice was tense and breathless, but he retained a cheerful, even flippant, facade. Just like Tom – feeling a strong empathy with him. He was through. His pack and Possum's were pulled through after him then Possum went down flat, like a spider, she thought, and scuttled through the gap.

Chapter 36

The lighting suddenly became harsher without the diffuse glow from Possum's head. She felt herself react and her medic reported a minor tilt. She pointed her helmet light at the opening. ‘Now it's my turn.’ Karl pulled some of the cord back through the gap and tied her pack to it. Wriggling forward on elbows and knees reminded her of childhood games, crawling through the ballast levels at Arkadel.

She was soon through and clambering to her feet, helped by Clare and Tom who indicated a place for her to stand on the broken floor of this new chamber. She felt good. That had been easy, though a little painful, and now she felt as though she was really in the bowels of the hill. Karl appeared and they prepared to move on.

The going was slow as they climbed over, or squeezed between, large boulders that had fallen from the high roof above. Karl asked her several times whether she was getting tired. Sensing the impatience in her reply, he apologised. ‘Once I helped haul an exhausted, and slightly injured, caver out and I'm wary about having to do so again. It took us eighteen hours and I was exhausted myself by the end.’ Mary apologised in return and assured him she'd never felt better. Karl was satisfied. He smiled with a disarming charm then commented to all, ‘We're moving slightly east of north and making good progress.’

About half an hour later, Clare, who maintained the lead position, stopped then scrambled up some boulders at the side of the chamber and shone her light up a gap along the side of the roof. ‘We go up this chimney.’ The others climbed up beside her and looked up. Two smooth, flat rock faces rose about four meters above them. Where they stood, the faces were about a metre apart, widening to over two metres further along the chamber.

Clare unpacked a rope and attached an end to her harness. ‘There are two bolts in the rock left by previous cavers. They'll give me some protection. I'll belay you from the top.’

Karl took her rope and positioned himself securely, displacing Mary in the process. Clare climbed into the gap placing her back against one wall and her feet on the other. She sat like that for a few moments looking quite comfortable and adjusting the rope then, putting her hands on the rock face beside her, she pushed her back a few centimetres up the wall then walked her feet up the same distance.

‘It's just the right width for me here. Those with longer legs can move to where it's wider.’ Having said that, she started to repeat the previous manoeuvre moving awkwardly up the gap. Reaching the top she said, ‘This is the hard bit.’ By some means that Mary couldn't see clearly she manoeuvred herself onto the floor of the chamber above with a loud grunt.

She disappeared and returned a minute later dropping a length of rope. ‘All secured here. Ready when you are Tom.’

‘Ready,’ said Tom who had moved to where the chimney was a little wider.

‘Climb.’

‘Climbing,’ and he followed her up with apparent ease.

Mary, noting that she was just a little shorter than Tom, chose an appropriate position and soon found herself in that sitting position at the bottom of the gap. It was quite comfortable, but moving up was awkward at first. By the time she reached the top it had become quite easy despite a growing weakness in her arms. Tom helped her out of the gap and the rope went back down for Karl.

Karl walked to where the gap was around two metres wide, placed his hands on one side, fingers pointing down, and his feet on the other. With his body arched across the gap he shuffled his hands and feet, moving rapidly backward up the gap. He shuffled sideways to where the gap was narrower and with a loud cry was standing on the ledge beside Clare.

‘Well, that's the easy way’ said Clare, ‘once you have the knack. On a long climb it can be worth taking a little extra risk to save energy for later.’

Chapter 37

Reassembled, they rested for a few minutes surveying their surroundings then proceeded. Ten minutes later they stopped beside a gap in the cave wall about as high as the first squeeze. Tom said to Mary, ‘We go through there for a short distance then Clare and I go on alone. First we rest and eat here. I need a strong coffee.’

As Karl and Mary prepared food, Tom and Clare arranged equipment bringing out small air bottles and masks. Tom chatted to Mary as they ate. She'd heard most of what he was saying before, but he seemed to need to talk to calm his nerves.

Perhaps he thought she might be nervous, too, but she found, on a subjective judgement and through consulting her PA Medic, that she was surprisingly relaxed, if a little sore and tired. The food and hot drinks revived them all. Even Tom looked refreshed and keen to progress.

‘There's only comfortable room for two in there,’ said Karl to Mary, ‘but you can come through after the others have gone on if you wish.’ Karl went in, then Clare. After a few minutes, Tom was called through and took Possum. After a few more minutes Karl called, ‘They've gone down. Come through.’

She wriggled through and found herself with her head and shoulders in a small cavity with a hole in the floor. The floor was little more than a ledge around most of the hole. With great difficulty, she managed to slowly ease herself about and into an upright position, standing to stretch herself.

Karl clipped a loop of rope to her harness. ‘We don't want you falling down the hole.’ She noticed he was likewise anchored and sat down beside him. There was nowhere else to sit.

The ledge was just wide enough to sit comfortably with feet resting on the far side of the hole. For a moment, Mary started to think about how much rock there was between them and the outside world, but some preservation instinct quickly doused the thought. Indicating the screen on his lap, Karl said, ‘You can see their progress on this.’

The main part of the screen displayed what Mary recognised as a three dimensional cave plan like those Tom had shown them, but it was a mass of lines she couldn't make sense of until Karl rotated the image a little and she immediately saw some depth in it. ‘That's switching between your perspective and mine. That's the hole, looking down it, and the others are there – those spots moving off to our right. These lines are the boundaries of the cave.’

Mary let her eyes wander aimlessly about the image for a while. Her mind drifted off. She remembered, as a child, the impulse to slide under her bed and just lie there. There were a few small corners in the apartment free from the prying eyes of passing servants, but that was her own special spot. Every now and again, for several years, she'd returned there when she needed to escape, to be alone, to lie there, eyes closed, daydreaming.

She had long grown out of the practice, when she discovered that Axel did the same thing. Going to look for him one day, she found him under his bed watching cartoons. For a few minutes she'd crawled under and watched with him, but they were childish and she was soon bored.

She later found that it was common practice for children in a certain age range. ‘A normal stage in the adjustment to adulthood,’ was the line that came back to her. Arkadelians eventually learned the art of being private in public. But this person beside her was not her brother.

They spoke little. Karl responded occasionally to Tom whose frequent chatter could be heard as he and Clare went about their business. They placed acoustic transducers on the walls. Each time they did so Karl readjusted his screen and more detail appeared.

He sometimes gave instructions for the transducers to be moved slightly. Mary observed him cautiously. He seemed at ease. At one stage he started to hum a tune then, as if remembering she was there, stopped and looked at her apologetically. She wanted to say, ‘please continue’, or something like that, but the words didn't come out.

The process was slow and it was about an hour before Tom announced that they were going to move on down a different branch of the cave. Mary realised she was quite uncomfortable. She was used to being in her comfortably padded and contoured bike for many hours or days at a time, but the rock beneath her was rough with sharp edges.

She contemplated moving sideways slightly, but she was up against the rock face on her left and almost touching Karl on her right, so she stood up and stretched. Personal space! she thought.

At Arkadel, convention demanded that within two metres of another person, protocols were respected. In a bike it was different. The seat intervened and there was no direct visual contact. In New Shanghai it was different, much like here, but she'd never fully adapted.

Chapter 38

‘We can retreat to the larger chamber if you wish.’

She was a little startled for a moment, as though he'd read her mind, but with a little reflection she realised it was a natural comment.

‘We don't need to be here?’

‘Not at all. We could just as easily be at home for the next hour or two. I need to be back in here alone when they return.’

‘I'd like to be able to walk about a bit.’

Karl announced the decision to the others. Mary contemplated the task of re-entering the gap and eventually managed to reorient herself in the confined space after Karl stood to provide more room. Seconds later she'd wriggled herself backwards to the main chamber and Karl followed.

She paced, or rather clambered about, exhilarated by the freedom to move. Karl settled himself down and returned to his screen. Satisfied that everything was well he, too, moved about and stretched. Mary said, ‘It's occurred to me that this whole exercise could be performed by bots. We could all be back at home controlling them, surely?’

‘Almost. Scientific caving is usually done remotely, but this trip is largely recreational. Clare and I have been talking of another trip for over a year. Tom expressed an interest in coming along, but it just never happened. He's never been comfortable underground. You'll have noticed this, no doubt.’

‘I did. But there's real danger here isn't there? The air bottles and masks? What's foul air?’

‘The danger's not great. We're well equipped. Foul air is air that has a high carbon dioxide content and is often low in oxygen, both of which are fatal beyond certain levels. The records show that the air where the others are was once foul, so the area has been avoided by cavers for many years. The air quality readings they're taking now are nowhere near the danger levels. With the climbing, Clare is more cautious about procedure than most cavers.’

After studying his screen for a minute he continued. ‘The foul air report was one reason for Tom choosing that route. Foul air's usually associated with decaying organic matter. There was also the possibility of finding unmapped passages.

‘The latter assumption's proving correct. New caves are uncommon in this district. Part of me is disappointed that my name won't be foremost on the exploration log, but I've mapped new caves before, elsewhere. Clare hasn't. Tom has insisted that, for now at least, this trip's off record, so she may have to wait for her moment of glory.

‘That fact won't be bothering her. We both cave for pleasure. It isn't competitive. I have a particular attraction to chambers like this, if you'll excuse me.’ He walked about looking around the chamber. Standing with his back to Mary he seemed to be taking deep breaths then suddenly burst into song.

His voice was strong, and reverberated magnificently in the enclosed space. He sang only briefly. The final bars of some dramatic operatic piece, Mary guessed in the confusion of her reaction. He walked back saying something about acoustics and sat down again.

They sat in silence for a while then a loud, incoherent cry came from Clare. Karl stood suddenly, looking concerned. There were a few moments of silence then Tom's voice, barely a whisper, was heard to say, ‘We're alright, are we not?’

There were muffled sounds of movement then Clare's voice came through loud and clear, ‘We're fine. Bruised egos at worst, I think.’ Then after a few more seconds, ‘I was assisting Tom down from a boulder and he slipped and fell on me. No damage done. We're ready to start setting transducers again.’

Tom's voice came through excitedly, ‘This is a good passage. It heads in just the right direction and, better still, I slipped on wet rock. We've found water at last. Just wait a moment until I position Possum and look at the view.’

Karl quickly sat back down and returned to his screen. Mary noticed that he'd chosen the only spot where they could sit together and, since he had his back to the wall, she had to sit beside him to see the screen. She sat and he tilted the screen so she could see better.

The view wasn't like anything she could possibly have expected. The immediate association was with the paddy fields of the mainland she'd seen on a holiday trip many years ago. There were no crops or people in view just a terracing of ponds across a gently sloping rocky plain.

Her sense of scale was suddenly confronted by the appearance of Tom's hand coming into view and taking a sample of the water. In an instant, metres shrank to centimetres, but the view was still enchanting and even more intriguing. ‘It's beautiful,’ were the only words that came to her mind and straight to her lips.

‘Rimstone pools,’ said Karl.

Tom rotated the camera to show the full extent of the terracing. ‘Great, isn't it?’ The excitement in his voice was infectious. She sat and surveyed the scene as Clare and Tom discussed the placement of transducers. She now saw that the flat roof above the terracing was only about half a metre high. She judged the whole area to be less than fifteen square metres.

Tom and Clare moved beyond the paddy fields and worked slowly through this new branch of the cave for over an hour before Tom announced that they had completed the mapping for today. He and Clare started to make their way back and Karl went back to the small chamber to assist their climb. An hour later they were all together again.

Clare and Tom were muddy but elated. They sat and ate and drank, with Tom making an even bigger fuss over the coffee than usual. ‘I think we have most of the northern tip mapped now, at that level. There was a sump with some bad air. I sent Possum in, but it didn't seem to go anywhere. No sign on its sonar of anything beyond.’

Karl said, ‘We'll have a more detailed picture after a thorough analysis of the data, but from the rough outlines I've generated so far I think you're correct. Back to the surface, then?’

Clare agreed and fifteen minutes later they were retracing their path. They chatted and laughed. Mary thought about her earlier fears and apprehensions, realising that not only had they disappeared, but she was thoroughly enjoying the experience. Only Clare returned to her earlier calm, purposeful, and cautious manner as she led them out.

It was early evening, the sun low, when they eventually emerged. Mary and Tom sat and watched as the others repacked the panniers.

‘You enjoyed yourself, I think.’

‘Very much. Thank you for inviting me.’

Chapter 39

A few days after the caving trip, Tom contacted Karl who had been analysing the acoustic data collected in the caves. ‘You're hiding away there. That usually means you're having problems.’

‘It's been slow progress. Acoustic imaging in air or water is easy, but rock is difficult. It has cracks and cavities that reflect the sound waves. I have to repeat the analysis using different combinations of sensors to eliminate ambiguity. Several quite different models are possible from the data. At best, only one is correct. The others are ghost images. It's tedious work and can't be reliably automated.’ He displayed his results on Tom's wall.

‘No, this won't do. We need to eyeball. I'll come over straight away.’

‘Eyeball?’ said Karl with a smile. ‘Were you mixing with cybs again in Arkadel? But certainly, come over here if you wish. You know I like a live audience.’

The two went over Karl's results till late in the evening. They eventually agreed on his conclusions. Karl was relieved. ‘Good! We agree on the map. Where do you want to start?’

Tom rotated the wall image to bring a cloud of broken lines into prominence. ‘This chamber you've labelled Duck Bill is my favoured one at the moment. It's easily accessible – less than two metres of rock to bore. It has water, and you've convinced me it's the most likely one to have organic matter in it. It also has a good approach angle. We can target the air at the top of the chamber, enter at this point here and minimise contamination and leakage. A six millimetre bore will do for the camera and my smallest minibots.’

‘I've a mantis that would fit six mil. It might be needed to position the camera.’

‘Yes. Depending on the rock surface. It could also be useful for collecting samples. That's that, then.

‘Did you hear that Mary has ordered a squad of monkey-bots. She wants two. She's moving completely into her cottage soon. She's bothered by George refusing to accept any rent from her, so she intends to donate the other two to the community. She's also thinking of buying a horse-bot. She made an amusing comment about the antiquity of our collection and offered to upgrade them.’

‘She's right, of course. We've been behind on this. The Gardiners have said we need more monkey-bots, and she would please many in the valley with an upgrade of the horse-bots. She's made an astute judgement with such a gesture.’

‘While we're speaking of upgrades, I've been thinking about Winston. It needs a new body and George wants a companion for it.’

‘Did he actually say “companion”?’

‘Yes. Then blustered about needing another pair of hands at the Manor to help with visitors.’

‘Exploring a new body would be useful exercise for Winston. Just the kind of challenge it needs and a good time for me to start my new ser-bot line.’

‘Are you sure you know what you're doing with that?’

‘No. That's the whole point,’ grinning slightly but looking warily at Tom.

‘Does George know what you're doing?’

‘No. That'd ruin the experiment. I've told you instead.’

‘You want to try letting one learn purely from observation – no explicit training, is that what you mean?’

‘No. Nowhere near so extreme. It'll need some basic rules to start with. The standard core set is quite extensive and mandatory. Beyond that, it can deduce new rules, but only implement them on my explicit approval – nothing radical. Winston's been operating like that for decades, but starting from a confused base.’

‘Why a monkey-bot? Many people have an aversion to them.’

‘Indoors. I've never heard of anyone complain about using them outdoors.’

‘Yes. That is a bit strange, isn't it. Presumably they're too humanoid. It sounds to me what you're really looking at is the android effect.’

‘Yes, in its simplest form. I can't see why it should be such a taboo subject. Surely we should try to understand it, if there really is such an effect. I want to start two off together – one monkey-bot and one standard ser-bot – then compare them as they develop with a shared experience. There may be some sense in people's reactions. The main point of the experiment is to see if it views itself differently.’

‘Because it's more like us than the other servants are?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, you won't have any trouble with George, but others might be wary. Just make sure they have distinctive livery. I have reservations myself. Viewing and observing are two quite different things for the person observed.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We're used to servants viewing us around our homes, but they're only taking as much interest as they need to perform their tasks. Being observed, a constant object of detailed analysis, is different.’

‘Not really. The servants' archives are always there for later analysis.’

‘Later, and only if instructed. That's different, somehow. Don't worry. I'll still negotiate protocols for you if anyone does object.’

‘Thanks. Initially, they'll only leave my cottage in my presence.’

Chapter 40

There was a pause in the conversation, Tom looking deep in thought. Karl asked tentatively, ‘Is it time we talked about your stability?’

Tom snapped out of his pensive mood. ‘Certainly! I was just thinking about that. It was the main reason I came down here to see you in person. You've been over my archive of the Arkadel trip?’

‘Yes, some of it – the dinner and your comments on that. I think we've made some real progress.’

‘Not just progress. You've solved it! The question now is whether you understand what you've done or was it just luck, or trial and error. Do you have a theory?’

‘A theory? Not really, but a carefully considered design and process. I wouldn't experiment on you blindly.’

‘I gave you a completely free hand.’

‘Yes, but you were in a desperate state of mind. I spent weeks going over the NetGenate interface rules before suggesting a change.’

‘So? What did you find? Why the secrecy?’

‘We discussed that at the time.’

‘Did we? Oh, so we did. Experimental technique – my knowing would influence the results.’

‘Exactly. I think it was even your suggestion.’

‘No. Yours, actually.’

‘If you say so. There is a problem in switching from an interpersonal communication model to personal feedback. NetGenate just made minor adjustments when a whole new approach was called for – a much simpler approach since there is only one mind involved. But positive feedback is always tricky to control reliably. We seem to have come to the right type and level of damping.

‘Beyond that, these things really only need a quick and easy cut-out and some area specific regulator functions – no messy protocol rules. The way it was set up, you were interacting with yourself via your PA and the protocol rules as though you were interacting with a stranger. No wonder it felt strange.’

‘What you said makes sense. NetGenate were just looking at the communication side of things. Initially they weren't very interested in my problems, but eventually they had to respond just to keep me motivated. The harder they tried the worse it became. When just getting out of bed in the morning makes you feel that the whole of the human race has applauded the achievement, any further action seems quite excessive.’

Tom thought for a while then continued. ‘So, you telling me this now, does that mean you think we have a solution?’

‘Close enough for you to become involved in the fine-tuning.’

‘And NetGenate, will they buy your rule-set and parameters? There's provision for that in the contract.’

‘If they haven't already reached the same point. It'd save them some time, but more importantly it could save others from going through the testing you've been through. We'll ask them for an ongoing royalty so it can amount to something significant if this procedure becomes popular. You've earned it.’

‘It will be accepted, eventually, I'm sure – once they realise where the real value of their technology lies. They believed the personal side was already adequately covered by conventional cyb technology, but they were wrong. This is more personal, more direct, more intuitive, more emotive.’

‘As a prosthetic? Perhaps people will resist the idea that they need it.’

‘Prosthetic? What do you mean? It's not just memory. At the dinner party I was able to pick up nuances I'd never have picked up without it.’

‘That you wouldn't pick up, but others might.’

‘Only an empath with many years of training.’

‘No. I mean quite ordinary people with natural ability and experience – George or Clare, for example.’

‘Clare? What makes you think she's such a natural empath?’

‘Not being you, I suppose.’

‘Very amusing. Perhaps we should go back to what I should do next.’

‘We've overreached a little. We need to go back a step and take things more slowly, refine your control cues for different areas of the brain. Only you can decide what you want to achieve and what cues you want to use – preferably tongue cues if you can overcome your difficulties there.’

‘My tongue seems to have a mind of its own at times.’

‘Work on it. Make an effort.’

‘What makes you think we've overreached?’

‘Overconfidence, for a start. You prepared poorly for the social side of your trip. You didn't even research Nanette Barratt. What did your PA have to offer in real time? Some vague comment about being the keeper of secrets. That wasn't helpful.

‘You can't take in everything with a momentary feeling. You relied too heavily on your prosthesis and it failed you there. It can't convey detailed facts. You still have to lodge them in your memory beforehand or go back to priming your PA with some codes.’

Tom was unperturbed. ‘A little hubris, perhaps. I was preoccupied with technical issues – more a personal failing than a problem with the augmentation. Anything else?’

‘A few things. Your increasing tension as you spoke at dinner was unusual for you.’

‘True. I'd never realised how dependent I was on feedback from an audience. It was an extreme void.’

Chapter 41

‘Partly your doing. They must have found it strange, too.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your decision to go to the dinner in Arkadelian attire – a statement that you were prepared to interact with them in their own custom. You weren't prepared at all.’

‘In what way?’

‘We just use our PAs as assistants and for direct messaging. They have backchat – complex automated protocols for disambiguation and avoiding misunderstandings. You were silent on those channels from the moment you arrived till you left.’

‘I was aware of that – never given it much thought – no use for it.’

‘They're comfortable dealing with outsiders on a surface level only basis, but you confused things with your dress. Nanette Barratt tested you when you arrived – put you to a test and you didn't respond.’

‘So that was what it was about. She certainly unnerved me.’

‘So I noticed. She's obviously a polished diplomat – didn't want to expose your lack of understanding publicly, which might have unnerved you even more, but she needed to know before introducing you. She came out to meet you so she could inform the others of the evening's protocol and she succeeded without uttering a word – a clever application of ambiguity.

‘Eric has accumulated a few basic protocols such as offering his bio so the other person can avoid the indignity of admitting ignorance by asking for it – offering personal disambiguation channels – simple things like that. I could have set you up before you left.

‘The most significant thing I noticed was your reaction after leaving the dinner. Your stability was poor.’

‘A little recoil, yes, but again, nothing I can't deal with.’

‘You may be right. It wasn't strong by your past standards.’ Karl smiled and peered closely at Tom's face as he said, ‘In truth, it was no more than might be triggered by a mild infatuation.’

‘Hogwash. I was just relieved to be alone again.’

‘If you say so. I didn't think it appropriate for me to proceed beyond that point in your trip in detail.’

‘An unnecessary caution. I'd have flagged it as private.’

‘I had a report the following day that you switched to our zone in your bike with a passenger. You were seeking privacy?’

‘Not I. Mary suggested it. She wanted to talk privately, away from Arkadelian ears.’

‘She confided in you? In you! That was extreme.’

‘Why so? We had to talk at some stage. There was a change in their business arrangements. She inherited Sara Barratt PA and all its business interests. She explained that she was the one who had chosen me for the job at Sara PA's suggestion.’

‘I see. So she didn't talk about anything else going on in Arkadel?’

‘We were visiting their fisheries. We discussed that.’

‘Nothing about her models and the cybs?’

‘I know she models human populations, or at least tracks opinions and advises.’

‘I've researched her, as you seemed to have neglected to do so. She's good at her modelling, and most big decisions there are influenced by her analysis of what will work best for everyone. In some ways she has an easier task than the terrestrial modellers. They have detailed data on individuals, but it's not reliable because most people are evasive and deliberately confuse the system.

‘At Arkadel she would have less data, but it would be reliable and she can model a whole isolated population. Their simple monastic lifestyle would also make it easier to produce reliable models.’

‘Monastic?’ Tom looked scornful.

‘Yes, in a way. Arkadel makes it as easy as possible for each person to be as public or private as they like. Ambiguity – having control over it – gives them room to manoeuvre. One of the Arkadelian analyst's tools is to keep track of the ambiguities of word and action and all the complexity they create. You'll find that your friend Mary has some distaste for ambiguity.’

‘I've done some research, too – asked her. Mary's strength is in what she calls her spirit world. Like ducks in a pond – when there's a crowd of them they tend to swim in the same direction. That way they spend less effort dodging each other. She follows anything from clothing styles and mannerisms to the use of particular words.’

‘But the models are disintegrating, or so I've heard. There's a strong cyb movement developing that's threatening their stable existence – their preparation for stable swarms. I've been looking at some expensive news feeds.’

‘That doesn't sound like you – spending money.’

‘So Gwen noticed, so she did some load-shedding. It's been quite interesting. Arkadel is causing a stir out at Neptune during its turn on the replicator. They have a new vehicle design – drive shaft about twenty centimetres long and very narrow, and a wider cartwheel type section near one end. It's being called the spindle. They're also combining them into larger structures. One is obviously a giant telescope. Others are mysterious.’

‘Are they really swarming already?’

‘It's common knowledge that they've started to swarm in small numbers – a few thousand at a time. Rumour has it that they're just sending survey fleets to the Oort Cloud, and beyond to sample interstellar space.’

Chapter 42

Two days later, the wall in Tom's cottage was displaying several images. One was the map of the Duck Bill chamber and the adjacent passage. Another was a camera view of the passage showing two monkey-bots and the base of the cutting rig attached to the passage wall. The third was a diagram showing the progress of the cut, indicating that it was nearly through.

None of this had the attention of the four people sitting around Tom's dining table. The mood was tense, but the tension was abating by the minute. There had been disagreement. Clare had taken the position that the chamber they were about to access was a pristine system and, as such, demanded Class A procedures. Tom had argued that it wasn't enclosed and that what he was intending to do was less intrusive than splashing his face in the creek upstream.

They eventually agreed that while Tom was technically correct the Treaty rules supported Clare. Tom suggested a change to his procedures and the issue was settled. By the time the servant appeared with the refreshments they had turned their attention back to the screen.

Mary still felt disturbed by the intensity of the emotions she'd just witnessed, but the others seemed to have forgotten already and were chatting happily, so she made an effort to join their mood.

Everybody, Clare no less than the others, felt a strong sense of anticlimax as the cutting was stopped within a few millimetres of the chamber. After chatting in a subdued mood for a while they dispersed.

Tom spent the next few days preparing for his revised access to the chamber. He went over the plan in detail with Clare and Mary to ensure their complete approval. He had The Foundry build tiny airlocks, sterilisers, and air feeds fitted with filters. Karl organised the cutting of antechambers in the sides of the tunnel for the extra equipment and put it in place.

When the time came for the final cutting operation they reassembled in Tom's cottage. The delay had heightened anticipation, and they watched impatiently as the final block of rock was cut and hauled away. They then had to wait and watch while a camera and lights were manoeuvred from an antechamber and fastened to the main chamber wall.

Tom cleared the wall of maps and diagrams. He paused theatrically for a few moments. ‘Chamber lights on,’ and the wall lit up with the view. There was a combined gasp from the assembled group. Although the view was similar to the paddy fields they had seen on the day of the cave expedition, their intense anticipation turned the view into a spectacle. They sat in silence for a few minutes taking it in.

Karl was the first to speak. ‘You can see the build-up of slime in the bottom of each of the fields. Can you zoom in?’

‘I can, but we'll see detail when I position the cameras better,’ and took over a corner of the wall to arrange it. ‘This will take half an hour or more. I suggest we go for a walk while we're waiting. There's a moon tonight and a light breeze – very refreshing.’

After the intense heat of the day it was pleasant to be outside in the evening cool. They stood on Tom's landing. The moon was well above the mountains to the east, but it was dark where they stood in the shade of the trees. Their eyes soon adapted.

Tom led them down the stairs shining a dim light to assist then turned it off when they were all on the path below. The path stood out from the undergrowth on each side as a thin light band wandering down the gully. They followed it with ease in single file. A white shape passed above them in a swooping curve. Mary jumped.

‘A Tawny Frogmouth – like an owl,’ said Clare.

On the wider path of the main valley they walked in pairs. Clare and Tom walked ahead discussing the behaviour of the Frogmouth. Karl stopped several times to point to star formations. Mary talked about distances and velocities of individual stars. Half an hour later, deep in conversation, they met with Clare and Tom. ‘We're heading back,’ said Tom. ‘Are you coming?’

Inside, Tom started to adjust the screen. He zoomed in on the four minibots in turn as they went about their tasks. One he found passing a completed sample capsule, about the size of a sesame seed, to the mantis that carried it up the chamber wall to the entrance of the hole where it was passed to another mini-bot waiting there.

A diagram showed its passage through the airlocks. He switched to a camera view of the cave passage where one of the monkey-bots received it into a larger capsule. A cheer went up from the group as the hand-over took place. ‘At last you have a sample,’ said Mary to a satisfied Tom.

‘Ten so far. And another ten for my archives on the way. I have everything prepared to cultivate them individually and in combinations. It'll be weeks before I can see if I have useful results, but the genetic tests will be available soon.’

Chapter 43 – Settling

Life had been difficult for him when he first joined the strange tribe. He rarely reflected on that time. It had been loneliness and confusion. He had maintained himself with his memories of the past and hopes for the future.

Slowly he had adjusted. He had learned a new language. He had become familiar with his new home – no movement, no wandering, fixed and permanent. That was the most difficult thing to adjust to.

Sometimes food was available and plentiful. The tribe danced, but he was excluded. At other times food was scarce and they rested or slept. He volunteered to go hunting with them but could not understand the details of the reply, so no hunting.

When would he continue his journey? His questions found no response. His greatest comfort was to sing and recall the stories of his tribe, but some were gone from his memory. He went over and over the ones he could recall, but his neighbours responded with disapproval.

As his grasp of their language improved he found that his neighbours had been assigned by the leaders of the tribe to see to his welfare. They told him he would need new knowledge to join the hunt for food. He was keen to join the dancing, but they did not invite him.

Knowledge could be traded. They were keen to trade. He was wary, but was told that his wealth was enough to bring him much knowledge. He traded, but the knowledge was strange and seemed to be of no value. He returned to his chanting and his dreams.

Many years passed. He learned to count them. He learned to record their passing and this made him realise how little he was achieving. He learned about new forms of trading, about capital and credit and debt. He was told that his credit was declining and would be gone soon. He was told he would have to make a contribution to the welfare of the tribe to stop this decline. He was told that some in the tribe were not pleased with him.

This knowledge had a great impact. A sense of pride in his worth resurfaced. He thought about who he had been – his value to his tribe – his knowledge and skill – his dedication to perfection – his reputation beyond his own tribe. This tribe was unaware. He would show them his skill.

He returned to his studies with determination and vigour. With some help from his friends he made progress. With progress came hope, expectations of success, and more determination.

More time passed but with activity and success to record. He could now review his efforts with a sense of achievement, but he realised he still had a long way to go. He passed tests and was called an engineer.

He was invited to join in the dancing. It was a strange affair at first. There was no history re-enacted in the dance, but many stories of the past were related. He was introduced to others.

They danced in groups of two as partners and communicated as they danced. They changed partners at regular intervals and each partner was keen to know more about him. His success with learning was widely known, so he was treated with respect. His reception at the dances urged him on to greater achievement in his studies and he started to enquire about applying his knowledge.

He was learning many valuable lessons about life in the colony – about the delicate nature and value of status. At times he could not help feeling superior to his fellow colonists, but such thoughts disturbed him greatly. He was compelled to maintain a proper respect for his elders, and they were so very much older than him.

As his neighbours changed he discovered that each was the representative of a large family. Only one family member was active at a time due to limitations of space and food in the colony. The other family members slept and waited for an invitation to join the dance.

One neighbour was introduced as a historian and he was offered copies of historical tracts. He traded and broadened his learning.

Real understanding came slowly over the years. It was difficult to comprehend, but he now felt he had a place here and a role to perform. He grew to understand the nature of the colony greatly separated from others of their kind in far distant colonies.

Most importantly, he grew to understand the great need felt by the colonists for communication with other colonies and even travel to them. He heard about ‘near space’ and ‘outer space’ and felt he understood more than his neighbours, but they were unintelligible or silent on the matter so he was, too.

A curious situation developed. His questions, and his confidence in his polite rejection of their answers, led others to believe he understood better than they did. He was treated with even greater respect. He was introduced to the leaders of the colony and several times he was invited to dance in the inner circle.

He was unsure of his knowledge. He said nothing. He avoided the topic and, to his great confusion, this seemed to add to the mystique he had created.

His confusion turned to shame. His reaction was to work even harder to justify his status in a way he felt was true. He developed a commitment to work far exceeding the efforts of others. His increased efforts led to a need to relax and the best way he knew of relaxing was to sing.

Remembering the past disapproval, he sang quietly so he wouldn't disturb his neighbours. To his great surprise he found that one neighbour, then a second, joined in with him. Once, after they had sung when the others were dancing, his neighbours stopped joining in, but no complaint reached him. He made a decision not to sing while there was dancing.

He was eventually successful in improving communications with other colonies. His success was acclaimed in the distant colonies and he became wealthy again. He then turned his attention to inter-colony transportation, the next priority of the colony, but he soon realised that with his fame and fortune he could do as he pleased. He turned his efforts to hunting and food gathering. He had never lost interest. He had always treasured his memories of the hunt and his skill as a spear maker.

Combining his memories and the new knowledge he had acquired he developed theories about the colony and its place in the universe. He doubted his theories because he could find little real evidence to support them beyond his dreams, except that one theory seemed to have led to his success in inter-colony communication, or so he liked to imagine.

He decided to make this theory the basis of his new work to see if he could confirm it with another success. He had small successes. He built many strange and usually useless devices, but he persevered. He worked, he sang, and occasionally he was invited to join the dance.

This situation persisted for many years until disaster struck. The colony came under attack. Worse still, for him, his neighbours believed that the attackers were of his kind. All communication with him was stopped. His food supplies were stopped, but fortunately, with his new wealth, he had built up large reserves. The shock of excommunication was great. He could do nothing but sing. So he sang and he sang and he sang.

Chapter 44 – Repelled

May I disturb Your Highness? I have a report.

Yes, Chancellor. Continue.

The attack has been repelled, Your Highness. Our tactics proved effective. They fled after we repelled the fourth sally.

And the visitor? Was it confirmed they were of its species?

No, Your Highness. Traces of past contact were detected, but the attackers were not of its species.

Then we have erred, Chancellor. You must remedy the situation. Calculate due compensation and redress.

Yes, Your Highness.

Make haste. Penalties accrue.

Yes, Your Highness. There is the issue of the music. The assembly is gathering for the final Ball of the season.

It is a difficult situation, Chancellor. The visitor has given us increased status in the colonies with its inventions, but to have the final Ball disrupted would be a blemish on my reputation. It would imperil our goal.

I have a suggestion, Your Highness.

Continue.

We might invite the visitor to sing, briefly, for the assembly. With your approbation the assembly would be appeased. The visitor would appreciate the gesture and it would seal our redress with dignity.

An excellent suggestion. Proceed with it.

As you say, Your Highness.

Chapter 45 – The Trek

The fire had burned down to a bed of red coals with a few flickers of yellow tipped flame. Mary watched them. How long she'd been watching she wasn't sure, but it had been completely dark for at least an hour. When the last flame died away she said, ‘Shall we keep the fire going for a while longer?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. I'm not tired yet,’ came the reply from Clare who was lying back looking at the stars.

Without taking her eyes from the coals, still lightly mesmerised, Mary felt the ground around her for the light and cutter. She found them and made her way to a fallen tree near their camp site. Carefully inspecting the smaller branches she selected one that the bark had fallen from. The previous night she'd cut a branch that had insects lodging under the dead, peeling bark. Clare had been amused at her efforts to save an ant from a fiery death.

She sliced off her selected branch and took it back to the camp. Clare was now sitting up and tidying some of the cooking and eating utensils within her reach. Mary cut the branch up and rebuilt the fire as she'd learned to do over the previous week, the thinnest twigs first then a few branches of increasing size. The nights were cool, so she built it up more than they had for cooking.

‘I think I'll make some tea.’

Clare took the light from her and shone it about checking the horses. ‘Good idea.’ She lay back on her scruffy sleeping mat and resuming her stargazing.

‘Has Tom ever told you about his neuron origins hypothesis?’

Mary was pouring water into an old metal pot. It struck her as an odd question. She paused and looked at Clare with surprise. ‘He's described the problems of maintaining a stable ecology in the fisheries, improving intelligence.’

‘He hasn't mentioned courting behaviour then?’

‘Courting behaviour? I know quite a lot about the life-cycle of fish. They're the only animals beside humans that I do know much about. He'd have realised that. But they don't court, do they?’

‘I'm not talking about fish or humans in particular. He told me the story a while ago and he made a vague reference to it the last time we were all at his cottage. I guessed he hadn't mentioned it to you. As he puts it, we're all locked in a perpetual courting ritual.’

‘Who, exactly, do you mean by we?’ Mary asked awkwardly.

‘Oh, everyone, individually, in our brains. It all started, so his theory goes, with colonies of amoebas a billion or so years ago. They mainly reproduce by cell division, just dividing into two new amoebas, but occasionally they sought out a partner for sexual reproduction. That was the big new thing back then – combining the genes of two cells to give more diversity in the offspring, more chances of improving and adapting.

‘An amoeba so inclined would send out a tendril of its blobby body and attach it to a neighbouring cell. It would then trigger an electrical impulse and send out a bunch of chemicals to the second cell to display its health and suitability as a mate – a call and a box of chocolates, if you like. If the neighbour recognises a possible good match it puts out a tendril and attaches it back to the first cell. Each impulse from the first cell then triggers one back from the second cell and they send a series of impulses in a circuit. If they're mutually compatible they eventually exchange a copy of their genes and each divides.’

‘I remember something like that from biology lessons.’

‘Ah, but the interesting bit's yet to come. Sometimes the second amoeba doesn't attach straight back to the first cell but to another neighbour and so on. Eventually one of the cells in the chain will connect back to the first one. This creates the required loop to produce a sequence of circulating impulses, but without the mutual chemical recognition necessary to trigger gene exchange. All call, no chocolate, you might say. They're stuck in a courting routine with no outcome. Eventually they tire, give up, and try again later – perhaps extending their tendrils further afield.

‘So far they've just wasted energy, but the original amoeba started the process because it was well fed and detected surplus food. In tracking it down, another amoeba found not just a potential mate but a rich source of food. Amoeba behaving like this monopolised each new food source. In time they evolved as a dominant form – more food, more reproduction.

‘With large colonies, tendrils extended further and the original purpose of reproduction was abandoned. Some amoebas specialised in this long range communication – were encouraged to specialise and respond to particular types of food and work together in networks. They were rewarded for their efforts, fed by their neighbours, and could put all their energy into communicating. These new colonies developed networks of communications specialists that not only transmitted information about food but also the lack of it or threats to the colony. The colonies thrived.

‘At this point you can imagine Tom, with his sense of the theatrical, pausing before the punch-line “And so, the primitive nervous system was created from chains of courting amoebas.”’

Mary laughed. ‘I can see why he'd be reluctant to talk with me about that. With our cultural differences – something he seems to feel more than I do – the chances of misinterpretation would have seemed too great.’

‘Yes, but it's not just you or cultural differences. There are some things he just doesn't talk about with me, Karl or, anybody else. That's just him and the way he is, particularly with things that mean the most to him.

‘I thought the story might help you understand him better. With most things he's open, even embarrassingly frank at times, but on some topics he could teach an Arkadelian a thing or two about privacy.’

‘I've noticed that,’ said Mary, checking to see if the water was boiling and adding another stick to the fire.

Chapter 46

The next morning Mary packed up the camp and prepared for their move into the mountains while Clare collected her traps. For insects, each tiny trap had a squad of minibots that checked the size and health of the captive and took tissue samples for later analysis. A squad of larger minibots trapped small animals or hunted them down with anaesthetic darts while Clare and Mary performed the task for the largest ones.

As they set out for the mountains Mary said, ‘Since I've been at Brindabella I've been amazed at the number and variety of insects, but until this last week I had no idea of the scale of the variety. What appears, at first sight, as forest with little wildlife is actually teeming with it.’

‘The last insects we're going to collect are Bogong Moths. They're a source of nutrient for this region, but they hatch and grow over a thousand kilometres to the north where their larvae plagued farmers for generations. They migrate here to escape the heat of summer in caves and deep rock crevasses. They arrive in their millions in spring and only a small number make it back north to breed.

‘People used to come here from the coast and inland to collect them for food. They were highly prized. There were great feasts, trade, and celebrations – a great gathering of tribes. We're late collecting them. Most will have left by now, but there should still be some stragglers remaining. I collect a few kilos of them when I can. They're not a favourite food of mine, but they do add some variety to the Brindabella diet.’

‘I see,’ said Mary with a surprised look towards her friend who'd turned around in her saddle to see the reaction. ‘Did you know that many types of insect are eaten in New Shanghai by the different cultural groups there?’

‘Yes, I've heard that. Scorpions, too? I haven't tried them.’

‘I don't think I've tried them either – perhaps when I was a child.’

‘You lived in New Shanghai as a child?’

‘Some of the time. We have a home there where my parents spend part of every year. Sara lived there for many years.’

‘From what I've heard, your great-grandmother was a great woman.’

‘She was. I'm fond of her. You should speak with her sometime.’

‘With her PA, you mean.’

‘Yes, her PA Mary. It likes to meet my friends.’

‘You once said you thought Tom made little distinction between people and bots. Now you make little distinction between people and PAs. Surely that's the same thing.’

‘Not quite. A bot is just a physical avatar. Its knowledgebase is restricted to the mechanics of movement and a standard library selected from a catalogue to suit its practical purpose. All its higher rules and operational archive are in its owner's PA. When we're back at Brindabella I'll invite you to my cottage. We'll sit by my screen and have tea with her PA Mary and its avatar. Then I'll ask you how much of Sara's spirit still lives on.’

‘Spirit? Are you trying to provoke me?’

‘I don't mean it in my work sense. I mean it in the common sense. We say things like “that's the spirit” or “he was in poor spirits” or we “get into the spirit” of some activity. It's not incompatible with the view of spirit you discussed.’

‘That's the pastoral, personal view. But I can't see it applied to a PA, an archive, a transcript of someone's life. I know that probably seems like sacrilege to you, but if we're to be frank with each other I feel obliged to say so. I don't mean to offend.’

‘I'm not at all offended. Yours is a natural reaction. I'd be offended if you tried to humour me on the subject. If you insisted in avoiding the subject I'd be disappointed that it was a barrier between us.’

‘Humouring people is not my way. I was avoiding the topic, but only until I felt we knew each other better.’

‘The fidelity of a PA isn't a trivial matter. In the early days of Arkadel it was the question, the ultimate question. There were many methods developed to measure it.’

‘In science, having many theories indicates a great uncertainty, but a healthy one. At least the disagreement is out in the open. It's what happens next that is most important, forming a consensus view – whether it's a rational process based on evidence or a process of intimidation and coercion. What's worst of all is laziness – people just giving up and settling for the most popular view. At least with open coercion there's ferment below the surface that might keep the debate alive.’

‘It was an article of faith for the first settlers of Arkadel that someday we could capture the human spirit. The early PAs weren't very complete or sophisticated, but people believed that in time they would improve, and they have. It wasn't logic that convinced people it was experience. Some generations of Arkadelians have questioned the founders' beliefs.’

‘That's a healthy sign for any society. So it's stabilised to a consensus?’

‘Yes. A few people still leave. At the moment there are a lot more arriving at Arkadel than leaving. Now the conflict is more to do with how nurturing a PA dominates our lives. People are asking what the purpose of a PA afterlife is if you haven't lived a full life as a foundation for it – more a philosophical and political debate than a scientific one.’

‘I'd call it a spiritual issue. How was the scientific one resolved?’

‘It wasn't. Eventually the debate was between Arkadelians and external critics. Each side based their view on what they saw, but they were looking at different things. In Arkadel people could expose their PA publicly – just for restricted quizzing – complete exposure isn't physically possible.’

‘I don't understand. Public is public, isn't it? Physical or not.’

‘Not even its owner can access an archive directly, just ask questions. That's built into the design. No direct access is physically possible. In a secure zone, the owner has complete control over who can ask what, and all quizzing becomes an indelible part of the archive.’

‘You can't erase anything?’

‘No. As I was saying, outside Arkadel and other secure zones like Brindabella, few people with a full PA would deliberately expose it because the security was poor. They could never be sure who was accessing it, so most people didn't really confide in their PA and the PAs weren't complete. Our critics based their views on flawed examples of the technology.’

‘But how can you test fidelity?’

‘There were many different scientific methods tried. People sat tests then their PA was given the same test and the results were compared down to the subtlest nuance detectable. The problem was that each type of test gave a different result. Ultimately the judgement is a subjective one. I think its better to view it that way rather than pretend it's a rational or scientific conclusion.’

‘You can't expect a simple answer. Philosophers have spent millennia debating what it means to be human without coming to an agreement.’

‘For them it's an abstraction. For us it's a very practical and personal issue. We devote our lives to creating an entity that reflects us as faithfully as possible.’

‘Will it continue to be a faithful representation of you after you die? Might it transform into something else – take on a life of its own?’

‘Veracity is strongly built into its core. It learns through our life how to deal with ambiguity, and we learn to minimise ambiguity. It can draw on a century of discussion on the issue from past archives. Communities of PAs in a swarm can pool experience and understanding to adapt to new conditions they will undoubtably encounter, even though many possibilities have been considered and discussed during Arkadel's existence.’

‘What if they grow far more intelligent than existing humans – wiser, even. Or they might think they are and act accordingly.’

‘A PA is a powerful device when it comes to amassing information, but the human brain still outperforms it when it comes to making practical use of that information. Our ability to deal with complexity is something that's not easy to appreciate until you try to replicate it. I can understand that mathematically but the practical problems are beyond me. I don't understand how our brain does it, or PAs for that matter.’

‘Tom has a detailed understanding of the brain, and Karl with PAs. We could ask them how the two compare. I try to understand how our intuitive unconscious mind behaves, not how it works. When it comes to the complexities of life, intuition is usually the best form of judgement.’

‘I don't find it easy to abandon rational decision making.’

‘Intuitive doesn't mean irrational. Not being scientific just means there's no formal theory or reliable measurement. Theories and measurements are always limited, so they can give a false sense of certainty. That leads to Scientism – a blind faith. Sound intuition is based on reliable observations. That's still rational thinking.’

‘Isn't intuition usually called non-rational thinking?’

‘It can be, where you can't be sure what evidence a belief is based on. But intuition can be rational, too. The important thing with intuitive thinking is that all your evidence is true, or as true as possible – that your mind isn't contaminated with false information or false associations and biases.

‘We can never be sure of the source of intuitive reasoning and the subtle influences of wrong information. To be rational is a matter of proportion and balance – to have just as much faith in your judgement as the strength of the evidence supports – no more or less.

‘The advantage of scientific theories is not that they're better than intuition. A theory is just the product of intuition, after all, but a simply defined theory can be communicated more easily.’

‘They can be passed on for anyone to use. That's powerful.’

‘True. I'm not arguing against science, just the abuse of it – the idea that it has the answer to all questions, or that it is the only valid form of truth – or the idea that there is absolute truth.’

‘Good science should be able to quantify doubt, which you can't do with intuition. Good reliable data is important.’

‘Science can provide accurate, repeatable measurements that still don't really mean anything because you rarely know what, precisely, it is you're measuring. Your PA testing, for example. I'll guess that each test gives consistent results with a high reliability, but when you compare different tests the results disagree.’

‘That's right. Each test is measuring something accurately, but we can't tell what it is.’

Clare grinned, ‘The problem was trying different methods. If you'd stuck to just the one test you'd have a solid scientific theory and no need for subjective judgement.’

‘I've heard that said before. Arkadelians have a sense of humour, too.’

Chapter 47

The conversation lapsed as they negotiated a dry creek bed then Clare said, ‘George told me he misses your presence at the Manor. You should continue your attendance at afternoon tea now you've moved to your cottage.’

‘I'm intending to. My work is in limbo at the moment. I've finally managed to automate or delegate most of my business commitments and I'm not doing anything that's useful to Tom. I'm thinking of resuming my flying, but that's always been a diversion and relaxation not a primary activity.’

She thought for a while then continued. ‘I've realised how little I know about the inner workings of PAs. I know a lot about using them but not how they operate. That's a challenge I should confront.’

‘I've heard that PAs are modelled on the human brain, just set in Carbon – simpler but faster.’

‘Without the interest in swarming you've developed a different view of PAs here – mainly just a tool. But George and Winston started me thinking. They seem to have developed a strange relationship.’

‘You're not the first to comment on that. I've heard that George had a lonely childhood.’

‘That's what I was wondering – a child with a bot as a companion. That's discouraged in Arkadel. I realise it's not the same as me interacting with one of my bots. George and Winston is more like myself and Sara PA.’

‘You had Sara PA as a child.’

‘As a child I had Sara herself. After she died I did have Sara PA.’

‘You had your own PA for company, too.’

‘Certainly not! A PA is not a companion. It's you.’

‘You chat with it, I presume?’

‘Not chat! Never!’ There was tension in her voice. ‘You quiz a PA or give it instructions, feed it information. Casual chatting is considered pathological behaviour – unhealthy. To chat, as you call it, creates an independence in a PA – a separate identity with a life and opinions of its own. No swarm would ever accept such a monstrosity.

‘A PA must reflect its owner, purely and faithfully. We learn from an early age that to speak with a PA is to speak with its owner. I do think aloud with my PA archiving – often – archivers do – even Tom and Karl. But that's different.’

‘I think I understand the difference. And I know a little of the history – conflict over androids.’

‘You've heard of Alan Turing, I presume.’

‘Yes. Of course.’

‘A sad story. He unwittingly started it all. His reputation was eventually rescued. Now he's almost revered in Arkadel. You will have heard, perhaps, that he was once condemned as a master of deceit.’

‘No. He was given as an example of how someone can be completely misrepresented by their followers or admirers, along with Charles Darwin and others. Darwin figured more prominently in my education.’

‘That's a good comparison. I learned about Darwinism, too. The connection between ideology and religion held a fascination for me. It still does.’

‘How did Turing get into trouble? He was a mathematician wasn't he? That's hardly as controversial as evolution.’

‘He suggested what became known as the Turing Test as a test for machine intelligence. A machine was to be considered intelligent if it could convince anybody interacting with it that it was human. But he was misunderstood. He was naive when it came to human nature.

‘For many decades after his tragic death, engineers applied their skills to machines built around trickery and deception – Wizard of Oz machines designed to create the illusion of a persona. Eventually, when people realised, it lead to popular antagonism against automata.’

‘Particularly androids.’

‘Yes, particularly androids, though more sinister factors developed there. Strict conventions were introduced and sanity eventually prevailed.’

‘So now you have a disciplined approach to PAs.’

‘Our approach to using PAs comes from that time. Every automaton must have just one individual human responsible for it. When full-life archiving became popular, that became the obvious and natural approach.’

‘I will come to your cottage and talk with Sara PA sometime.’

Chapter 48

They were travelling along the top of the mountain range now after circling around one mountain on a steady ascent. Home was ahead to their left. She could already see part of the Coolamon range in the distance. She was saddened to think their trip would soon be over.

She was stiff and sore at the end of each day, but now she quickly recovered. For the first few days she'd had doubts about being able to complete the trip despite the intense preparation Clare had put her through. She'd dreaded the thought of having to call out her horse-bot or bike to take her home. These, and a few other thoughts, flickered through her consciousness as she surveyed the view.

That evening she relaxed beside the fire pushing a few coals towards the centre with a stick as Clare prepared coffee. She looked up at the stars. She'd started to notice their circular motion. At home with her stellarium she could speed up the motion, but never before had she observed the night sky long enough for the motion to be apparent.

In the evenings their conversation had become sparse. In between the occasional discussion they watched the stars and listened to the sounds of the night. Much of their conversation consisted of Clare naming the source of a new sound and describing the animal that produced it.

The sounds of the night no longer held any fear for her. She had an image in her mind of the furry or feathered creature making each call. At each new camp site she developed a new mental map of her surroundings and the positions of the animals she heard, and could track their changing positions when they were moving.

She heard them interact with alternating calls as they claimed their territory. She imagined how in spring they would find each other over great distances and come together to mate. She wondered what features of the call would attract them to choose one partner over another.

Their meal tonight had been special, if meagre. Clare had managed to catch a few small freshwater crayfish that she called yabbys, and seemed pleased with herself. Mary was surprised to hear her thank the pool for its gift and promise to make amends. When questioned, Clare laughed and said it was just her interpretation of the traditional pagan view. ‘I'm just making a mental note of my duty of care – to see that the pool recovers. I took more than I should have.’

‘Wild yabbys are tastier than the farmed ones we produce,’ she confidently declared as they cleared up after the meal. ‘We should study their diets more carefully.’

Mary had enjoyed the few mouthfuls they provided. On reflection, she'd been unsure of the difference in taste and put the enjoyment down to the setting and Clare's infectious anticipation.

Even reflection had become sparse in these evenings. She was tranquil and happy. The feeling reminded her of how she used to feel after Tai Chi. Over the past decade or so the pressures of work or the struggle to find her role in life had consumed her. Apart from the occasional few days of solitary flying this feeling of contentment had become increasingly rare.

Finishing her coffee, she flicked the thick layer of dregs out of her cup as she'd often seen Clare do. Clare's method for making coffee was crude, but it tasted good. Everything seemed to taste better out here. Clare finished hers, rinsed the cups in the pot of slightly simmering water she'd cooked the yabbys in, and lay back on her old mat.

Mary sat in silence watching the occasional flicker of flame from the embers of the fire. She stirred herself and started breaking twigs and carefully placing them in a neat little pile on the coals. The twigs soon caught alight and she watched the effect of their flickering light on the silver-grey forms of nearby trees.

Chapter 49 – The Quest

Tom was walking and thinking. He'd followed his usual path up and along Wallaroo Spur running south from his cottage. His mind was busy and his body moved on autopilot along the familiar tracks. He was only vaguely aware that instead of stopping where he normally did he was continuing along a less familiar track that led him down through a gully and up Mount Jackson.

He occasionally came this way when his thoughts were intense and he didn't want to stop. He had to put his thoughts aside and concentrate on where he put his feet on the steeper parts of the descent and ascent. The tracks were made by animals more sure-footed than him.

He reached the top of Mount Jackson and stood for a while regaining his breath and cooling a little in the slight breeze that swept its top. He was facing south and found himself peering into the distance. He could see part of the low range they'd probably camped on last night. From there they would move east then north along the Brindabella Range and down into the valley and home.

He wondered how Clare was coping with having a companion. He knew she usually preferred to be alone on these trips. He wondered how her companion was coping. Clearly not too badly, but she was a very determined woman and not likely to give up. He sat for a while resting and thinking then set off to retrace his steps. The sun was sinking and although he was only a few kilometres from home in a direct line it was a slow route on foot.

He was not unhappy with the progress he was making in his work. It was frustratingly slow. It had taken two directions. He'd started the process of cultivating the samples he'd taken from the creek and caves. That was now progressing well and he'd turned his attention back to the Duck Bill chamber itself and the data he'd soon be gathering from the instruments installed there.

He had his mini-bot put anchor points around the walls of the chamber just below the ceiling. Between these he'd stretched fine cables and made a cable car to carry his camera so he could look down on any part of the chamber. The next stage was to add an electrosensitive dye to the water of the chamber.

He wasn't allowed to use the best dyes now available, but the older, well tested ones he used in the fishery bins were permitted. The dyes were transparent, but were slightly fluorescent in the presence of an electrical field.

When he arrived home he went straight to work. The walk had clarified the details that had been bothering him and the next stage was soon under way, but his mind was still unsettled. He decided to escape from the confines of his cottage and dine at the Manor.

He was early. George was playing billiards with Karl. They gave him a friendly welcome then turned their attention back to the game. He watched for a few minutes but couldn't join their competitive mood. He wandered through to the front drawing room where he found the Gardiners sitting with Annabella and Little George recounting their day's activities.

George and Karl soon joined the group. Annabella came over to him, attached herself to his arm, and ushered him into the formal procession through to the dining room. Her action completed his transition to the formality of Manor House dining.

Meals always started formally, but even when there were distinguished guests present the formality rarely lasted long. The combination of ritual, habit, and mealtime cheer swept him along and he chatted, laughed, and enjoyed the simple fare that made up the evening meal.

After eating he excused himself and headed home for a good night's sleep in preparation for what he hoped would be an interesting day.

Chapter 50

When he woke the next morning he jumped, rather than struggled, out of bed and rushed to the veranda to check the night's fluoro-imaging results.

There was electrical activity, but that just reassured him that the cellular mass he was looking at was alive. No surprise there. There were signs of activity rippling across the full extent of a single paddy field pond – about half a square metre. This told him it formed a single colony. Again, not surprising but reassuring.

For the moment, his camera could cover little more than one pond. Later he would test to see if there were any signs of synchronised activity between ponds, but that would have to wait until the new cameras arrived.

The squad of minibots had completed their tasks in the chamber. The next step was to instruct them for an excursion upstream. As far as he could tell there was only one upstream entrance into the chamber through a narrow horizontal fissure in the far wall. The water flow rate at the opening was low but might be greater in the fissure, so he wanted the bots linked in a chain to minimise their resistance to the current and maximise their grip on the surface.

He had the mantis transport them to the fissure at a point that wasn't blocked by living matter and soon had the four smaller bots linked with each gripping the one in front with its forelimbs. The bots were commonly called ant-bots from their appearance, but this wasn't strictly correct. They were a miniature four-plus-two configuration, the front limbs having better articulation than the others. After some trial manoeuvres he set them off on their expedition.

That done, he turned his attention back to the main imaging system. Now he'd assured himself he was looking at a multicellular organism rather than just a collection of individual cells he wanted to see if it had developed internal structure with regions providing specialised functions.

This wasn't uncommon. Even bacterial colonies differentiated and specialised, and he'd seen it in amoebal colonies before. He hadn't been able to work out why they specialised and what extra functionality it introduced because the colonies in the laboratory disintegrated. They seemed to lack overall organisation.

He displayed an average value of the electrical activity for every point in the image over a time window of a thousand seconds. A strong patchwork pattern emerged. He moved the time window back through the few hours of records and the pattern changed only slightly.

This was good news. For the first time he was able to observe a colony with stable interconnected regions. Testing to see if the regions performed different functions would take much longer – days of detailed chemical mapping by the microbots to add to the electrical data.

Now he was ready for what was the most interesting test of the visual images – the test he'd been anticipating with subdued anxiety. He took pride in a disciplined approach to his work, and he'd scheduled the tests in what he thought was a proper order. He also realised he was delaying a possible disappointment.

He baulked for a few moments, gave instructions for new camera settings, stood up, and went to make coffee. He thought of going for a walk to let more data accumulate before looking at it, but that didn't make much sense. A few seconds of data should be enough.

He thought about Clare and Mary. They were returning today. He'd asked Winston to let him know the moment they returned. He took his cup back to the seat in front of the screen and asked for a display of the new results.

When the display appeared he jumped in his chair, spilling his coffee. Without taking his eyes from the screen he put down the cup. His eyes flickered about the image taking it in. His mind absorbed the image, checked, and rechecked. He sat still – staring. The image displayed before him was laced with a network of bright lines exactly as he hoped to see.

A few minutes of checking magnifications and moving the field of view about the surface of the organism confirmed the result as far as was possible on the time averaged image. For the final step he positioned the image on the end of the brightest line he could see and switched to retrace viewing.

The image dimmed. He let it run for a few seconds then skipped back a second in the recording and froze the view on a single frame. It wasn't a bright image. The camera wasn't as good as the larger ones he used in the lab or the new ones he'd ordered. The line was not visible. He moved on the next frame. He was recording at around two hundred frames per second and set the display to five per second.

Soon he saw what he was looking for, stopped the display, and retraced a few frames. The end of the line he'd centred the image on grew bright then faded again. He was looking at the burst of electrical energy in a single cell – a nerve impulse.

Chapter 51

When Clare and Mary returned that afternoon there was a welcoming party waiting for them. Karl had monitored the last hour of their progress on the wildlife sensors and had gone down to the Manor to announce their imminent arrival and order tea. Tom arrived just as the travellers came into view.

There was an animated scene as they dismounted, with much hugging, kissing, and handshaking. To her great confusion, Mary found herself giving heartfelt thanks to Winston for its welcoming comments. Even Winston seemed to be caught up in the spirit of the moment – scurrying about surveying the baggage as it was unloaded and quizzing Annabella who'd taken charge of the process.

The horses wandered off to their much anticipated bins of hay and oats. The rest of the group walked around to the front lawn in a babble of conversation. The mood of the gathering settled down as tea was poured and food arrived. Mary accepted a scone with jam and cream offered by Annabella and savoured it.

Clare took a still-warm bread roll, tore it apart, and ate with obvious pleasure. Tom watched her do this, as he had in the past, knowing that over the rest of the year she would occasionally repeat the little ritual to evoke the feelings of this moment.

The Gardiners asked about the trip and were given a summary by Clare with interjections from Mary. George said little. Mary and Clare, sitting opposite him, noticed that his eyes were glistening and each assumed he was glad to see them safely back. He was, but only Gwen was fully aware of the depth of his emotions. They were both reminded of a scene some years ago when she and Meredith had returned from their last trek. She'd observed that George was becoming increasingly sensitive to such memories.

Eventually, Mary excused herself and went off to refresh, agreeing to return for supper. Entering her cottage she stood for a while, looking around and adjusting to being back. She'd never before felt so strongly that she'd returned home.

The first pangs of regret at the ending of her adventure had come as they viewed the Manor from the low ridges a few hours ago. Now those feelings returned and she realised that although she would, as Clare had suggested, do the trip again it would never be the same experience.

She felt that no few weeks of her life – her adult life at least – had changed her as much as the last two. She felt like a different person – not just mentally but her whole body. Her body started to claim her attention. She seemed to be in pain all over, from the dull ache of her back and hips and the sharp stinging of the skin of her thighs to the residual pain of an ankle slightly twisted yesterday.

The thought flashed through her mind that she wasn't sure whether she felt half dead or had just, for the first time, come to life. Apart from the pain she realised she stank. Her first reaction to this was horror at having sat drinking tea in company in her present state. She dismissed the thought. She knew that nobody present would have noticed or cared.

For the first few days of the trip she'd conscientiously used a small cleanser unit she'd taken with her, much to Clare's amusement. After a few days it couldn't cope with the grime. Then she followed Clare's example of a wet cloth and swimming or splashing about in any suitable body of water.

This had been a difficult adjustment for her. Being naked out in the open air was a novel and unnerving experience, but having another person present, also naked, was well beyond her ability to cope in any way other than the basic reaction of an Arkadelian. She ignored the situation and pretended it wasn't happening. She was surprised at how quickly and effectively that had worked.

By the end of the trip she'd grown to enjoy splashing around in the water if Clare was not present, but only then. That had been the cause of her twisted ankle. She'd tried to reach the bank too quickly when she saw Clare arriving and had slipped on an algae-covered rock. To her great embarrassment, and Clare's amusement, it had been necessary for Clare to help her back to the camp site. That Clare had no such inhibitions was evident from the start of the trip. She sometimes wandered about the camp site with just a strip of cloth tied at her waist.

Cleansing complete, Mary applied the cream Clare had given her to the chafed skin and turned on her PA Medic reporting. Except for a review of her ankle she hadn't accessed it for over a week. There was nothing serious in the reports, but too much else there to be bothered with at the moment.

She set off back to the Manor. On arriving, she realised she was early. There was nobody in the front drawing room so she went outside to wait in the shrubbery. She walked slowly around the gravelled paths of the shrubbery then, rounding a bend in the path, saw Tom sitting just ahead.

He was facing away from her, but must have been aware of her presence from the crunching of her shoes on the gravel. He didn't turn around at first, but as she continued to approach said, ‘Hello Mary’ then stood and turned to greet her.

‘How are you feeling? Sore, I know. Won't you join me?’ offering her his arm. ‘We'll take a slow turn around the shrubbery.’

‘I'm surprised to find you, of all people, here. Is there a marble cherub and bird bath you wish to show me?’

Tom laughed again. He seemed in a buoyant mood, though he'd been in deep thought when she first sighted him. ‘No. No cherub, but we do have a pond the birds like. It's over this way, but of course you know that. I've seen you walking here several times before. Let's go and watch the fish.’

After a few paces he continued. ‘I've nothing against shrubberies, in their place. This one I'm particularly attached to. It represents the community, past and present. I'm impressed by your completing the trek. You could have airlifted yourself out at any point, but you didn't. You returned in good sprits. I'm almost speechless.’

‘That makes a change for you.’

‘Too true! Perhaps in this case I can just say, “Welcome to Brindabella,” and you'll understand my meaning.’

‘I do. I had the same thought as we approached the house today. What did you mean when you said the shrubbery reflects the community?’

‘Just that. It's the product of many people's thoughts and efforts. It's even fertilised by the ashes of the dead. Anybody in the community can contribute to its maintenance or add to it when space permits. These days, planting a perennial usually marks a special occasion, but there's always room for a few small annuals.

He bent down, took a handful of gravel from the path, and studied it for a few moments before selecting a stone and handing it to Mary. ‘This sort of thing is quite popular at times.’

Mary took the stone, which like the rest of the path was quartz about finger thickness. One side had been polished smooth, and embedded just below the surface was a memorial inscription circling what appeared to be a small diamond. For a moment she felt reluctant to move her feet.

Tom scattered the remaining stones. ‘It represents a pinnacle of Brindabella rock craft. As a child I came here with a magnifying glass. Some are quite amusing.’ He walked on, so she placed the stone at the edge of the path and followed.

‘Most people are content to just visit and walk occasionally. You might have noticed it can be quite crowded on Sundays. The chapel's small. People prefer a peaceful walk here and a quiet chat with friends unless they feel like some singing. In spring, on Saturdays, it's a lively scene.’

‘Have you made a contribution to the garden?’

‘No, apart from pulling a weed or two when I'm sure I won't offend. The Bower Walk was started by Gwen and Gregory. They each planted a rose on opposite sides of the path when they were quite young and married when they met at the top of the trellis. It's become something of a custom for brave couples, as you can see. The shade's appreciated in summer.’

They stood in silence for a while watching the carp swimming amongst water lilies then headed back to the house for supper.

Chapter 52

The next day, Mary received an invitation from Tom to meet him at his cottage. It was mid morning when she set out up the cable. She found him waiting on his landing. After a warm greeting he ushered her inside with an air of anticipation.

She observed him closely and commented, ‘From your manner I take it that you've made a breakthrough.’

‘I certainly have,’ adding, ‘Look at this,’ as the wall lit up.

‘I can see it's one of the ponds in the Duck Bill chamber from the outline of the pond's edge there, but what's the shimmer of light?’

‘If I zoom in it'll make more sense. I wanted to start with the whole pond to give you a sense of scale.’ Soon the shimmer could be seen as individual twinkling lights.

‘Each flash we see is a nerve cell firing. What seems at first to be a colony of singe-celled animals is an organism in its own right. We may be viewing one of the simplest and most primitive of all animals with a nervous system.’

‘Or a descendent of one along a freshwater line. Something akin to a freshwater jellyfish.’

‘True. I can't tell at this stage how much it may have evolved, but the simple genetic tests I've done so far indicate that it's been quite stable for a very long time.’

‘How long?’

‘Possibly Cambrian or earlier. A remnant of multicellular life from over half a billion years ago.’

‘And not seen before?’

‘Not directly in the fossil record. The Cambrian period saw the development of shells and body structure that left fossil remains. Looking back before that, we only see signs of structures created by the organisms like the stromatolite mounds produced by bacterial colonies. Originally, these creatures might have grazed on bacteria like those that produced the stromatolites.’

‘And now? There are no stromatolites in the caves are there?’

‘No. You're right. I have to think this through further, but there are bacterial mats that colonise and feed on any dead organic matter that collects in the caves.

‘In the Cambrian era there was an explosion of complexity in the structure of animals and diversity of organisms brought about by two factors: the development of greatly improved vision – the eye rather than just light-sensitive patches – and the development of a hardened outer casing that allowed more diverse body structure – body segments, legs.

‘Both of these developments created a dramatic increase in the intensity of competition. It's likely that some earlier creatures survived by going underground and keeping out of the light.’

‘How can you be sure of all this?’

‘I can't on my own, which is one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. To go down that path I need to collaborate with a paleogeneticist. We need to talk about how far we're prepared to involve others at this stage.’

‘I think we should keep this information to ourselves for now. Sara cloaked this topic in a strong veil of secrecy, even from me, so I think we ought to respect that until we understand the situation better. The only person I want to confide in is her.’

‘It.’

‘I beg your pardon? Oh, yes, if you insist.’ There was irritation in her voice and she struggled to regain her composure, but with little success. ‘Your contract includes a confidentiality agreement.’

‘It does, and I've no intention of breaking it without re-negotiation, but, strictly speaking, face to face interactions within Brindabella don't count as a breach. I want to bring someone here for discussions. Someone who'll be happy to remain here for some time. I assumed that once you had been here for a while you'd be flexible.’

‘You assume! You assume! You always assume!’ Mary's heart started pounding and her face was flushed. She took a deep breath. Her PA Medic had cut in immediately and the effects started to become noticeable. She was just able to utter a curt, ‘Good day, Doctor Oldfield,’ as she walked briskly out of his cottage.

Tom had barely recovered from the surprise of Mary's rapid exit when Clare contacted him. ‘What's going on up there, Tom?’

‘What do you mean?’ He was genuinely puzzled. What did she know? Had Mary already said something to her?

‘Mary left you in a great hurry. Nearly damaged some rocks in her haste.’

‘What rocks? Where is she? Is she alright?’

‘She left the valley flying dangerously. Is something wrong?’

‘No. Quite the contrary. Well, we had a small disagreement – nothing serious. I was a little too blunt with her, that's all.’

‘Yes, I see. Blunt like a stiletto if you were true to form.’

‘I've had a breakthrough and we disagreed on who we should talk to about it. Confidentiality agreements and all that stuff. Has she really left the valley?’

‘True to form, as I thought. My sensors reported an anomaly. She dropped off the transit line at the mouth of your gully and headed east.’

‘I'll contact her and sort it out.’

‘No. Leave it to me. You just sit tight and come up with a large humble pie.’

‘Are you inviting yourself up for supper?’ – with an awkward grin.

‘I'm the least of your concerns at the moment,’ she said to dampen his flippancy. ‘I'll go and talk to George. Gwen will have been notified by now and they'll be puzzled.’ She cut the com.

Tom wandered out to the veranda, a little dazed and contrite, and sat down as ordered – deflated. So much fuss and bother, he thought. So much easier to work alone. I can manage the work alone, but I'll need new equipment. I need more funding. I'm happy to share the credit of the discovery with Sara – the traces in her lab nearly matching my local samples. That'll placate her, surely? It wasn't long before the excitement of his discovery surged back and he returned to the screen.

Chapter 53 – Solitude

Mary had sped off along the transit line at a speed that generated a safety warning. As she left the gully, rather than slowing for the turn into the main valley she extended her wings, released the line, and only just managed to avoid hitting a rock outcrop at the edge of the creek before rising around the line and heading up.

The near miss sobered her a little. She realised that her judgement and reactions were poor – affected by emotion and her Medic's responses. She instructed the Medic to cease intervention. ‘Breathe,’ she told herself and focussed on that for a minute or two as she rose and accelerated east.

Soon she was over the sea and still climbing. Climbing too high. She was checked by another warning ‘pod seal check overdue’, so she cut drive and settled into a slow descent. The peaceful sound of the glide immediately affected her state of mind.

Soon calm and collected, she started to think clearly. She tried to piece together the events of the last half hour and was frustrated by lack of archive. Why did she have it off? She hadn't even noticed.

With the effects of emotion, the details were already becoming hazy. Her usual analytical responses denied to her she retraced what she could of the memory of the interaction with Tom. She became aware that even as she'd approached his cottage she'd felt some irritation growing towards him, or a reluctance to return to his world.

She could see it was largely a response to her lack of understanding of his work. He'd always been vague when she questioned him. He knew she didn't really understand. She'd researched the field independently, but she was handicapped by her lack of understanding of the basics.

For some reason Sara, a world renowned biologist, had neglected this side of her education. She must have had her reasons, so I should trust her – leave the biology to Tom.

This conclusion just added to the feeling that she'd been in the wrong in her reactions, so her mind started to look elsewhere for vindication. The more she thought, the more ground she lost. He was right about the contract. At some stage they'd have to involve others. She'd even assumed that herself. He was also quite correct in assuming that initially they could keep things within Brindabella.

While her mind was going around in circles the bike was still dropping and eventually it asked for further instructions. She saw she was only a few hundred metres above water. Where am I going? What am I doing? She levelled out.

Confronting her situation so bluntly produced the realisation that all she wanted was to be alone – to disappear for a while – total isolation. Her relationship and work with Tom had little to do with her current state of mind other than the fact that diving straight back into her life right now she would lose something she had gained over the last weeks. She had changed – grown, perhaps. She needed time to adjust – to stand back and review her life.

She started a slow turn to the north. Once facing north she plunged into the water and turned to head east – almost, but not quite. She cruised for about half an hour just below the surface – the slight rocking of the waves comforting. Then, after switching off all coms, setting her wing patterns to camouflage, she rose to just above wave height and set an irregular course tending south.

She cruised through the afternoon. Relaxed now, she revelled in the space – horizon to horizon uninterrupted. She'd succeeded in pushing Brindabella from her mind and let it drift through past excursions.

From the day she was free to fly alone, the Pacific Ocean had been her roaming ground. She'd retraced the paths taken by its earliest explorers in their tiny craft – used her analytical tools to detect the patterns in the waves that helped guide them to land.

She'd followed schools of fish – the sea floor where she could safely reach it – whales were a joy – sea birds on their long journeys – occasionally another human wanderer – no communication was the accepted rule – occasional games of cat and mouse pursuit – then parting with just a dip of the wing as a farewell gesture.

As the sun set, her bike, recognising the nature of the trip, provided a report on vehicle status and provisions – long overdue for maintenance – plenty of water and some basic nutrient mix. She realised she was poorly dressed. With some awkward wriggling in the cramped space she changed into her flying suit. By the time she'd made herself comfortable and taken some minimal refreshments it was dark. She leaned her seat back as far as it would go and looked up at the stars.

She'd rarely come so far south, but some stars were familiar. At Arkadel, her favourite bedroom decoration had been a three dimensional map of the galaxy – walls, ceiling, and floor – her bed her flying carpet.

Sometimes she let the image follow the cycles of day and season from her home perspective, but usually she let it drift through the galaxy – if moving at many times the speed of light can be called drifting. This changing perspective gave the image depth and helped her break free from the flat, earthbound view. Now, with a little effort, she could see stars where they really were. She selected one she was familiar with and thought of the five thousand years the light had been travelling to reach her.

Many times she'd circled the galaxy compressing a full Galactic Year to a few days or hours. She was reminded of Tom's new creatures. If he was right, they'd been around for at least two circuits of the galactic core – perhaps more. She remembered what Clare had said about the age of the Coolamon Caldera – possibly just as old – they might have been living in those caves, unchanged, for hundreds of millions of years.

For the first time, the full significance of Tom's news overwhelmed her. She considered turning about and heading straight back to Brindabella, but instead she changed her course to the south. I'll go the long way. I need to think.

When she woke to a wind alert the sky in the east was showing an early light. She could see the ocean about a hundred metres below. She went slowly through her stretching exercises then repeated them before ordering a flask of tea. By the time the sun had fully risen she was making good progress in a review of her analysis of Sara's work.

Previously she'd dismissed the slight emphasis she'd found on the word ‘blue’ in the interactions between Sara and Stanley as references to the Blue Waterholes. She painstakingly traced through each individual reference to the word in all of Sara's later discussions and found several references to a blue archive – an archive that appeared to be missing from the records she had access to.

She knew she was missing most of the information on Sara's Brindabella stay. Knowing there was a specific record and having a name for it seemed to be some sort of progress. This thought buoyed her spirits for a few hours, but by mid-afternoon, as she started to veer east, she found herself just watching the sea. It was rough and the wind was strong but steady. The power of the wind was exhilarating. She watched in awe. Strong winds always had this effect on her – on all the ocean colonists.

She dropped, cautiously, lower and lower towards the waves until she was almost touching the white capped peaks. She cut the bike's automatic responses that wanted to soar out of the danger zone or retract wings and dive. The danger of hitting the water with fully extended wings heightened her mood, but the wind was slightly abated in the shear zone close to the waves and was steady but for a slight buffeting as it bounced up off the waves.

Her senses were alert and her body prepared to react. A dive would be safest. She was scanning about, watching the waves at a distance to detect any approaching change in the wind. That can be automated, and soon was. Scanning her surroundings again, her breath was taken by the realisation that she had company ahead.

‘An Albatross,’ she cried with joy. She watched as it rose and fell with a slow rhythm – not a single flap of its wings – rising and accelerating in the stronger, higher wind – drifting slowly down as it reached the speed of the wind, then diving low and getting a burst of lift from the slower air at wave level – souring back up and repeating the cycle over and over.

I can do that, too, my friend – cutting her drive. She understood the principle. In the gusty winds she was accustomed to it was too dangerous, but in this steady wind she could try. Slowly she built up the cycle of soar and glide.

For a while they flew in company until the albatross started to gradually work its way north. She continued east and they parted. Refreshed and exhilarated she decided to return to her search for clues to the mystery of the missing blue archive. Glancing down at the screen she saw a message from Sara PA.

‘God save thee, ancient Mariner,

From the fiends that plague thee thus! –

Why look'st thou so? – With my crossbow

I shot the Albatross.’

Coleridge? From Sara? Poetry could cause problems – leaks – with its loose associations. One of those obscure associations that slip through security rules sometimes? Never without a source! Something real triggered it!

The puzzle of the message returned to her over the following days.

Chapter 54

Tom's face pleaded as he spoke. ‘I understand, and there's a more practical reason for maintaining confidentiality. This is just the start of my project. It'll take a lot more work to develop useful applications of this discovery. I need time.’

‘You're prepared to forego the fame for now? From what you say this seems to me like a major discovery – Prize material even?’ said Mary.

‘Not likely.’ He laughed. ‘Among a few specialists it'll create a stir – but successful application is another matter. For now I'm prepared to pass the fame and go for fortune. You may not appreciate the seriousness of my financial position and the stress of relying on handouts to continue my work. I've a strong desire for financial independence. Any future collaboration would be best conducted here at Brindabella. We have strong security.’

Mary nodded in agreement. ‘I've checked your security and you're right. It's good.’

‘I'm glad you agree. That's Karl's doing. I'm accustomed to bouncing ideas off him. Is that alright with you?’

‘Of course, and Clare would be upset if we excluded her.’

‘As ranger, she has a right to know of any biological discovery here. We're obliged to inform her and George. As you know, Clare has intuited most of what has gone on between us anyway.’

‘We'll keep it to that circle for now. What's your next step?’

‘My next step is to ask for your assistance.’

‘Me? What do you want me to do?’ – cautious but curious.

Initially he'd been motivated by thoughts of reconciliation, but the more he'd thought about it the more he'd realised there needed to be another stream to the ongoing investigation – one that probed deeper than he'd originally intended. He'd also realised that Mary, with her broader experience in modelling, would be more suited to the task than Karl.

‘We need to model the detailed behaviour of these creatures and the reactions as the nutrient mix changes – things like that. I can feed you the data and you can see what sense you can make of it with your modelling skills. We need to model the development of the new colonies I'm establishing in the testing station out the back here.’

‘I want to be involved. Its been a major source of frustration for me. I know very little biology, so I can't understand what you're doing. But there's something I want you to agree to first.’

‘What's that?’

‘I want a solemn agreement from you that you'll do nothing to harm the creatures in the caves – expose them to nothing other than conditions they're clearly used to dealing with. I've received a hint from Sara that we may be risking their lives.’

‘Sure. Clare has already insisted on that, if you remember.’

Mary spoke now with emphasised seriousness. She was not happy with his casual manner. ‘Will you agree to this formally – no ambiguities or loopholes – a clear undertaking to stick to the spirit of the agreement as well as the word?’

Tom realised the position he was in and the full meaning of her statement. He showed it in a clear change of his manner. ‘I understand you very well and I agree.’

‘Good. You're right in saying I don't understand your financial position. How could I? If you agree, I'll undertake to relieve your financial stress a little by providing you with a guaranteed income or, as you say here, a competence. I've discussed it with George. He'll suggest a suitable amount and organise the details.’

‘That's a generous offer. I ...’

‘We understand each other then? You agree?’

‘Agreed.’

Smiling, at last, she said, ‘Our first step now should be to arrange a meeting with Clare and Karl.’

‘Agreed.’

Tom watched her as she contacted Clare then Karl. She acted with purpose – even zeal.’

They gathered for tea on the Manor lawn. George stayed to hear Tom's summary of the situation then excused himself with, ‘I'll leave you young'uns to it.’ He turned to Tom and asked, ‘Have you come up with a name for these creatures yet, lad?’

Tom was taken by surprise. After looking around at the others he said, ‘Do you know, I haven't. You've something in mind?’

‘Just popped in – archaeocerebrum – roughly meaning first brain.’

Tom looked unconvinced. ‘Well, I suppose you could describe it that way, but it's a bit of a mouthful. I'd settle for archie.’

George laughed over his shoulder and ambled towards the house muttering, ‘Archaeocerebrum or archaeomens? Very interesting. Very interesting.’

‘So you've started to grow specimens in your lab?’ said Clare.

‘Yes. I'm going to try several approaches ranging from pure amoebal colonies through to including all the other species of organism found in and around the chamber. They're developing slowly. They look just like any other colony so far.’

‘What other organisms?’ asked Mary.

‘Mainly a fungus that's quite prolific in the caves and elsewhere. It looks as if the amoebas are connected with fungi that have a broad territory.’ Turning to Mary who was looking puzzled he added, ‘They have a network of mycelium – tube structures. They share nutrients, piping them through the tubes.’

Clare asked, ‘What makes you think they're so old?’

‘I can characterise the genes. They're genetic hoarders and have a very large genome many times the size of ours. It's not uncommon in amoeba. They incorporate genetic material from food organisms, but the way these ones use it is way off the usual scale.

‘For all I know at this stage, they might be a new evolutionary development, but we assume that creatures like this existed in Precambrian times. Perhaps a modern variant has relearned some old tricks – things that've been hanging around in its huge genetic bag of tricks for half a billion years and are now being reused.’

Turning back to Mary he continued, ‘Nature often reuses genetic capabilities or adjusts old ones to new purposes. What I think's most likely is that there have been many types of amoebal colonies of various degrees of sophistication since their Precambrian origins. They and the fungi are everywhere. They form a large part of soil humus and vegetable decay generally. Usually they are transitory, but in the caves they've found a more permanent home.

‘We're still finding new variants and behaviours. With the amount of DNA they carry about with them it's how they use it that matters. That can change over time within the same organism – adapting to seasons, for example – just as we do, but because they have a simpler structure their dynamic range is much greater.

‘They subcontract some structure tasks to the fungi – or append themselves to an existing cooperative system. They provide some service to the fungi in return. These are the things I want to explore in the new test colonies.’

Tom paused and leaned back in his seat and looked around as an invitation for someone else to speak. Mary took the opportunity to say, ‘We've agreed that the original chamber colony shouldn't be subjected to any active experimentation at this stage. They're only to be observed.’

‘Which’ said Clare, ‘brings us to the question of how isolated the chamber actually is.’

Tom nodded. ‘That's an important point. I set two squads of Micros to trace the extent of the fungal mycelium network, but they're making slow progress. For all I know the whole hill could be one network – more likely, though, it contains many separate ones.’

‘Or even beyond – quite likely beyond,’ added Clare. ‘Looking back through the records, I've noticed that some of the vegetation on the hill has access to permanent water during droughts.’

‘What do these creatures feed on?’

‘There's organic detritus from decaying plants, animals, insects washed down in the creek water, and dissolved minerals. You remember from my first measurements in the waterholes that they're capable of filtering almost everything from the water, but the main source of organic matter in the caves is Bogong moths. Millions of them die in rock crevasses and caves.’

‘Yes, I watched Clare collect some on her field trip.’

Karl, who had been sitting quietly listening, stopped swirling the dregs of his tea around the bottom of his cup and put it down with a clink that attracted the attention of the others. ‘So they sit there in the most reliable water sources – there are plenty of other chambers lower down that are completely full of water – we can presume they can access those, too – other colonies there, even.

‘They must get most of their food from the fungi. What's washed down from the creek will be scarce by the time it gets to them. The main water ingress to the hill's on the south side, so it has to traverse the whole length of the hill. As you've explained to me in the past, Clare, these inter-species relationships are usually symbiotic. So what are the archies providing the fungi in return?’

Tom said, ‘Perhaps their flexibility allows them to provide highly adaptive chemical defences. They may be producing a diverse range of complex molecules from their huge genetic toolkit. More basic than that, they can provide what brains have provided the animal kingdom – the ability to break away from the slow progress of genetic evolutionary development and to learn and adapt rapidly, as we have.

‘Neural networks are pattern matching systems. They can detect repeated patterns and changes in those patterns. Fungi have already evolved batteries of chemical defences and tools of their own. What they lack is animal intelligence – the ability to apply these tools flexibly in precisely the right conditions in complex combinations and sequences. Vegetative intelligence is slow to evolve, slow to act, and lacks the sophistication of symbolic representation – our words.’

Chapter 55

That evening they met in the Manor drawing room. After ordering drinks they settled into general chat. Before long Mary was being quizzed on her excursion.

Clare was curious. Tom was flippant in his tone. Cheeky of him, Mary thought, but typical. Karl, as usual, said little but displayed a keen interest, paying close attention to her descriptions of the sea, the winds, the albatross, and the ice.

Clare said. ‘We were anxious about you when you were away.’

‘I wasn't, really.’

Clare looked at Karl with a stern glare, and he realised what he'd thought aloud. ‘I mean,’ and looked across at Mary, ‘I just meant that I've seen your bio. You've won prizes for endurance combat that lasts for days. You're used to being in the air for long periods.’

‘You're quite right. It was no great trial and not dangerous. I apologise for causing concern. At Arkadel they're used to me going off like that – escape trips.’

‘What's endurance combat?’ asked Clare changing the subject – feeling a little foolish at the panic she'd been in over Mary's absence.

‘Aerial dogfights. Best to ask Mary.’

Clare looked across to Mary. ‘As Karl said, it's aerial combat – tilting. You swoop your opponent and create a pulse of air as you turn that knocks them about. If the pulse is strong enough it pushes the bike into automatic stabilisation mode. In a team attack, the team members follow each other in quick succession holding the target bike in auto.’

‘I know what it feels like. She did it to me on our flight here.’

‘Just being playful – and assessing your reaction times.’

He deflected the topic. ‘How's it scored?’

‘There are points for the time you keep an opponent in auto mode, but overall it comes down to endurance.’

Karl asked, ‘What's your winning secret?’

‘No secret. Most people prefer either offence or defence. I do both.’

Karl had never heard her talk about herself and pushed further. ‘What's the difference?’

‘Physical or mental endurance – the attacker experiences the strongest g-forces and this becomes physically tiring after a while. For the defender it's psychological. A tilt strong enough to score is not easy to ignore. The strain comes in several ways. At first, it's the unrelenting hits – like the water torture – thump, thump, thump – and not knowing when the next will come because some attacks are feints.

‘The attackers have the advantage of surprise and can use it. They try to judge when the opponent is starting to relax and hit again. They play games – shadowboxing and feinting with micro wing movements to try to confuse each other. Ultimately, for the defender it's the psychological drain of being defensive. An attacker can relax. A defender can't. It gets us all down eventually.’

She looked across the room in thought. The others waited for her to continue, as she obviously intended to. Eventually, turning to Karl, she said, ‘To try to answer your question more directly – it's not a secret – most competitors realise eventually that it's a matter of how you view time – no – not view it so much as experience it.

‘In New Shanghai, Tilting is looked on as any other martial art – like Tai Chi. It's seen as a traditional application of Buddhist practice – detachment and self control. A matter of being able to detach yourself from the experience – for example the experience of time passing – the passage of time – to see it as just a sequence of events. In practice, duration becomes just another parameter on the screen. Anticipation is just another estimate for its next value. I suppose that seems enigmatic, but it's the best way I can express it.

‘Perhaps through common experience – everyone experiences this. How often have you said something like “Oh, is that the time?” When you're fully engrossed in something time passes unnoticed. Usually people don't think much about it, but it's an important part of Buddhist meditation – detached awareness of things and events. Detachment from the passage of time is central to that.’

Karl said, ‘A PA is like that. Its operation is fast, so from its perspective, inputs from the human world are few and far between. It spends a lot of time latent – waiting for events. There's a limit to how much reviewing and refining it can do. The world of the archies must be quite like that.’

‘Arkadelians cultivate that view of time – incident to incident – as preparation for swarming. Perhaps it's a matter of degree – control and flexibility. Our “self” and its habits can put an overemphasis on time and duration. We go through the day with scheduled tasks trying to get everything done on time. Scheduling and timing become a deeply ingrained habit – a very useful habit usually, which is why it's so ingrained. But habits can be ruts we become stuck in.

‘Buddhist practice trains us to be able put them aside at will – or that's the aim. We can never escape completely or for long. Eventually life calls us back to a more practical view of reality.’

Tom said. ‘If the aim of Buddhist practice is to detach yourself from habit then why do monasteries seem to place so much emphasis on strict routines?’

‘Simple traditional practices or routines replace the more complex ones we've developed personally. Some teachers have even introduced practices that are obviously pointless as a constant reminder, so you don't become too attached to the new routines.

‘Some people see this as suggesting that Buddhists view life as pointless, but to me it's a life based on nothing but mindless habit that's pointless. Buddhism teaches us to take control – to snap out of the dream-world of habit – to be masters of our own destiny however humble it might be. Gautama said to remember him as the one who was awake.’

The conversation drifted off to other topics – mainly questions directed at Mary. When the subject of Sara came up, the questions intensified. The nature of her relationship with Sara was still a novelty to the others – even for Tom.

It occurred to Mary that behind this interest in Sara was the realisation that she had made an important discovery – or been on the verge of one – here at Brindabella and that idea intrigued them.

‘Why don't you ask Sara PA Mary?’ she replied to a question from Karl about Sara's stay at Brindabella. ‘I've invited Clare to speak with her. She hasn't taken me up on the offer yet. You're all welcome.’ Looking around at the others she could see they were interested.

Chapter 56 – Sara PA

The next afternoon saw them gather in Mary's cottage. After Clare arrived late with apologies, Mary arranged seats next to her wall and when they were all seated said, ‘There's a slight change of plan. Sara PA itself wishes to speak with us.’ Mary noticed an increase in anticipation.

She continued, ‘By way of introduction I should point out that Sara PA rarely interacts directly with anyone – including me.

‘It usually assumes an avatar based on Sara aged fifty. She considered that to be a good balance of youthful beauty and elderly dignity, but you should remember that Sara PA has been continually active since her death and has a detailed knowledge of events through to this day.

‘I've told it we have an announcement that will be of great interest, but I provided no details. I thought Tom would like to do the honours.’

‘Can we discuss the discovery without mentioning location details,’ interjected Clare.

‘That seems like a good compromise,’ said Tom. ‘We speak with it in general terms and hold back the details – for now at least. Keep in mind,’ he said, looking at Clare, ‘that this is an archive – down to your slightest intonation and facial expression – a permanent archive in another zone.’

Mary looked about, waiting to see if there was any further comment, then turned to the screen. ‘Summon Sara PA.’

An image slowly appeared of a middle-aged woman sitting close to them. Tom recognised her and the setting, which was the office he'd worked in at Arkadel, but it was obviously in current use in the image. The avatar was looking about the assembled group appraising each in turn.

What seemed like a long time passed before Mary spoke in a slightly formal tone. ‘Sara, I'd like you to meet my friends at Brindabella.’

The avatar replied in a quiet, clear voice. ‘We are pleased to meet with you all at last.’

Mary went around the group with individual introductions – again, quite formally. After these were completed, Mary relaxed noticeably and continued with, ‘As I've said, Tom has made a discovery recently that I thought would interest you. He'll explain.’

Tom gave a summary of his findings and was quizzed by the PA for about half an hour before Mary interrupted with, ‘Sara, you can speak with Tom some other time. I'd like to hear your story.’

The avatar paused and looked at Mary with a soft smile. ‘Yes, my dear, we owe you some explanations. Perhaps then, you'll understand the reasons for my reticence and forgive me. We can see that you feel I've betrayed your trust in me.

‘As you've deduced, we were on the same trail Tom has been pursuing, but under less pressure to achieve a commercial application.

‘I was based in Shanghai for a while, looking at organisms growing in the silts of the estuary – a treasure trove after ships from all over the world had been pumping out bilge water for centuries. My local colleagues were updating maps of soil life in the catchment.

‘I became interested in their work and decided to accompany them on a field trip up Chang Jiang. We were tracking a fungus unique to the paddy fields of its catchment and thought to be associated with improved crop yields.

‘We noticed an unusual pattern in its growth – a sharp rise then slow decay over a few years. We were puzzled by the fact that the pattern was consistent over much of the length of the river. The obvious explanation was that it was being replenished through flooding from a source in the upper catchment, so we set out to see if we could find the source.

‘We made slow progress. We had survey tasks to perform along the way and my colleagues were very thorough, which tested my patience. Initially, I was only interested in reaching the headwaters. At times we had to leave the river and detour across difficult terrain. The rough and unusual living conditions and all the walking were taking a physical toll on me. It was the first time I'd been into the countryside except for a few day trips.’

Descriptions of Sara's visits to villages, fishing, wading through paddy fields, were accompanied by images of the scenes. Mary was impressed by the great expanse of the fields. She'd seen similar countryside form the air, but from ground level it seemed more real and impressive. To the others, it was the lush fertility that made the greatest impression.

Tom noticed something else. On the few occasions that the images showed local inhabitants, their faces were averted. Was this a sign of local custom? He had a rough idea of urban customs of the time. Did these people place more value on their privacy? Were they resisting the urban culture?

He noticed large ag-bots in the fields, and minibots in close-up images. The simple but modern houses and the vehicles – all the tools of modernity but perhaps not the culture? Or was it a reflection of Arkadelian culture of that time – or now? It's all real. We can be certain of that. It's all truth – but how finely has it been braided?

The avatar continued. ‘We were surprised to find that in some areas they were well aware of the occasional “bountiful flood” but they'd been told it was just superstition and had learned not to discuss the subject with visiting agronomists. Some villages showed us special fields with sustained high productivity. We eagerly took samples of the soil.

‘We continued up the river until the trail ran out. I persuaded them to keep looking. We backtracked up tributaries and eventually recovered it along the Furong Jiang. A week or so on the Furong Jiang had narrowed our search down to a few hundred metres of deep ravine, but time ran out for the expedition.

‘The others had to return, but I decided to stay on and continue the search. I'd befriended a group of students on a caving holiday. It occurred to me that a cave was a likely spot for a stable colony.’

‘It was a mention of caving in your notes that gave me the idea,’ interjected Tom.

‘We are glad to hear that. At least something positive came of the trip.’

‘You didn't find the source, then?’ asked Mary.

‘Possibly. The caving team explored caves near the spot I suggested and took some samples for me. They refused to take me along because of my lack of experience in caving and my poor physical condition – as they so frankly put it.

‘Listening to them recounting their experiences in the evenings, I was glad I was not with them. On one trip they spent days underground – most of it scaling wet, slippery rocks or wading waist deep in ice cold water. I'd never been one for that kind of adventure.

‘Most of the equipment we'd taken on the expedition had returned with the others, so I was restricted in what I could do. I had some samples taken then a flight back to Shanghai became available. I had little hope that I'd found anything of interest. The cavers were delighted with me. They'd discovered another reach of cave and were talking about returning the following year to continue their exploration.

‘Back in Shanghai, several of the group were horrified when I told them what I'd done. In retrospect, I was inclined to agree with them, but most of the group supported me, on the surface, so I brazened it out. I thought it prudent, in the circumstances, to return to Arkadel and left soon after.

‘The next years were the worst in my life. There was no recurrence of the fungal cycle for nearly a decade and then it was not the same variety we'd been tracking. Nobody said anything to me directly. In fact nobody in the group communicated with me at all for a while. Eventually good relations were re-established. They even gave me some of the credit for the discovery of the cycle, but by then I'd given up work in that field.’

‘What happened to the samples you collected there?’ asked Tom.

‘In an effort to placate my critics in the Shanghai team I left most of the samples with them and made an undertaking to destroy the remainder after analysis. When you appeared on the scene, we realised that with your improved techniques you might find traces – old spores – in the labs at Arkadel, so we gave you free rein to search the old labs. It appears that you did not find anything relevant.’

‘I haven't cross-referenced thoroughly with my recent findings,’ said Tom. ‘I've been busy.’

‘Of course. We understand and we congratulate you on your discovery. We hope we can speak with you again and that you'll keep us informed of your progress. A general briefing would be satisfying.’

Tom said, ‘We can do that, and will. I'd like to hear about your trip to Brindabella. Did you find anything here?’

The avatar looked at Tom for a while then replied, ‘I was still on uneasy terms with my colleagues in Shanghai and had been living in New Shanghai. After a few years, I had an urge to continue the project, so I looked for a possible alternative location. Since I'd spent some time in Adelaide over the years I decided to test the Murray River.

‘I found some of the chemical markers – part of the signature we'd been following up the Chang Jiang – different, but close enough to be tantalising. I travelled alone and didn't dare tell anybody the real reason for my journey.

‘I had a serious equipment breakdown just downstream of Brindabella – a horse-bot failed and I hurt my leg. I'd been following the Murrumbidgee River by land. It was too shallow for a boat. I was rescued in the early hours of the morning by Stanley Oldfield and we quickly became close friends. He was an eccentric character and I felt comfortable confiding my most outlandish ideas. I was considered, by many, to have become quite eccentric myself by that stage.

‘Of course I didn't agree with this assessment. I saw myself as following the facts wherever they led me, however perplexing and unconventional. This was what I'd been trained to do.

‘The trail I was following led to the Blue Waterholes. There it stopped and, again, there were caves. Unable to progress any further, and wary of blundering, I abandoned my quest and spent some happy months in the Brindabella community.’

‘But what was your quest,’ Mary pleaded.

‘To find a key to unlock the door to human settlement of the galaxy.’

The image faded.

Chapter 57 – Blue Archives

‘That was a sudden exit,’ said Karl as they looked around at each other, a little dazed and attempting to assimilate all they'd heard.

‘Not uncommon for Sara PA. It usually retreats if I'm too close to a topic it doesn't want to discuss yet.’

Tom had a flash of insight. He'd thought all through the interview that this was no ordinary PA. Now he realised that Mary's relationship with it was also far from usual. Sara was an intelligent and complex person. All her life Mary had been trying to keep up with Sara PA then to keep one step ahead.

This battle of wits had led to Mary excelling in her field, but each new idea she learned or came up with would, eventually, be learned by the PA. Perhaps that was why she had eventually distanced herself from it. He put the idea aside for later reflection and asked Mary, ‘Is there anything you can add to what we've heard?’

‘Not really. I'm sure there's a stream of her later archive she wanted to hold back. I'm obliged to respect that as its official custodian. To go against it would be a breach of trust. I assume that in time I'll be permitted to access more.’

‘Do you have any clues?’

‘Only that there were ideas she was pursuing that caused her some embarrassment and loss of face within the professional community. I think she wants me to come up with them independently and to justify her intuition.’

‘So you think there's more to it than embarrassment over sloppy field work?’

‘The measurements they performed were likely to have been within the EZI guidelines of the time,’ said Clare. ‘The guidelines are changing as our understanding and technology improve.’

‘So that's it?’

Mary shrugged her shoulders in assent. ‘The only other possible clue is that what she's reserving has to do with whatever she found at the Blue Waterholes. She refers to the restricted information as the blue archive and I have some evidence that it covers much of her discussion with Stanley.

‘From my analysis it seems to have been their main topic of discussion. In there is the source of her concern. She made tentative moves to discuss her ideas with colleagues and, apart from Stanley, she was treated with derision and closed up on the topic to everybody but him.’

‘The derision's hardly surprising,’ said Karl.

‘What do you mean?’ Mary said – clearly startled.

‘Blue archives – don't you know?’

‘No.’

‘It's a label used in acoustic archaeology – a topic that surfaced in archaeology circles several times through the twenty-first century and had a small cult-like following for much of the century. Each time it surfaced it was ridiculed. There was little evidence to support it. Some people claimed to have evidence, but failed to convince when pressed for proof. It was considered to be pathological science.’

‘But what is it?’ asked Tom, not sure he should encourage Karl in a topic that was clearly distressing Mary. Curiosity got the better of him.

‘The name goes back to the twentieth century with the claim that someone had detected a record of the spoken word “blue” in ripples along a brush stroke in an old painting. The stroke was in blue paint and it was claimed that the artist spoke the word “blue” as he made the stroke and the acoustic vibrations of his voice were transmitted down his arm and recorded in minute ripples in the paint surface.

‘The argument was barely plausible. You can't build a theory on one single word. Over the years, others claimed similar discoveries – most commonly on the surface of spun pottery – like the original wax cylinder sound recording devices. The evidence was always fragmentary and inconclusive.’

‘But what about mimicry?’ cried Mary in a voice that failed to disguise her feelings. ‘Clare told me about a bird that mimics sounds and passes them from generation to generation – the sounds of other birds and animals – even machinery.’

‘That's right,’ said Clare in eager support.

Tom was uncomfortable with the direction the discussion had taken and looked for an exit. ‘That's something we can consider, particularly if there is some confirmation from Sara PA that it's relevant,’ looking at Mary with as much encouragement as he could.

Clare said, ‘I found one aspect of the interview quite confusing. Sara PA sometimes referred to itself as “we” and at other times “I”. I assume that sometimes it was the PA speaking and at other times Sara herself.’

‘That's correct. The change is also cued by a shift in the voice. The comments from Sara were either prepared statements or diary archives her PA selected and assessed as directly relevant to the context of the discussion and setting.’

‘And the visuals of the villages?’ asked Tom. ‘How selective were they likely to be?’

‘I couldn't tell for sure. It's possible they were quite restricted in their archiving aside from what was necessary for the work they were doing. You might have noticed we saw no faces of the locals and in each location only one of the locals spoke.’

‘Yes. I did notice that. We were shown just enough to give some feel for the context but no more.’

‘That's correct.’

‘In true Arkadelian tradition?’

‘Of course. And no entity in existence understands the full evolution of Arkadelian culture better than Sara PA.’

‘Even you?’ Tom probed.

‘Even me,’ came the firm reply. ‘I can only judge the past few decades from personal experience. Before that, I have to rely on Sara PA or other less reliable archives.’

‘And Noni?’ Tom could not resist the temptation to push further. Mary seemed more open on these matters than he'd ever known her to be before.

‘Noni has the sole legal right to request access to any Arkadel archive and expose the owner to possible exclusion if they refuse. She also has the financial resources of the Arkadel Caucus at her disposal if she chooses to use them to buy access to archives elsewhere. She's restricted by custom in how far she can use her powers. If she tried to force access to Sara PA without very good reason she'd lose face.

‘Tea,’ declared Karl.

‘Tea,’ agreed Clare.

They filed out of Mary's cottage and chatted about the events of the afternoon as they wandered back along the track to the Manor. There they found George, the Gardiners, and Annabella already out on the lawn discussing whether to wait for them or not.

Gwen was looking up at a few wisps of cloud in the sky and said to herself, ‘April already. We're not likely to see another day as warm as this for a while.’

Chapter 58 – Taking Fright

She was right. Over the next few days the weather changed as winter set in. Mary was sitting in her veranda watching the trees in the gully buffeted by the strong wind. It was gusty and in the strongest gusts the trees bent so far she was sure they must break. None had.

The thought, It's very still, popped into her mind. It seemed a strange thought as she looked at the turmoil outside. Then she realised what had triggered it. It was the cottage that was still. With all the clever engineering, the buildings of the ocean colonies always bobbed up and down a little in a storm. With a wind like this it would be getting noticeable. The gardens would be covered.

She realised that the anxiety she was experiencing was sheer habit, but she still couldn't help feeling uneasy. She went back inside to continue with her work. Within a few minutes she felt relaxed again.

She was trying to come to grips with the data Tom had passed on to her – trying to work out where to start – how to approach it. Tom had begun to explain the sensors and what they recorded – sensitivities, overlaps, time frames. This she listened to and noted for future reference, but when he started to describe what he thought it would tell them she quickly stopped him.

‘If I'm going to do this job I want the data to speak for itself. I'm not setting out to verify your preconceptions. What you've told me so far will help to turn data into structured information. First I'll give the information a voice then you can quiz it to see if you can extract some knowledge.’

Now she reflected on the conversation. It's never quite so simple in reality, but if I convert the time scales to my standard format and let my algorithms do their work I can use the rest of what Tom told me as a reality check in phase two.

With that decided, the first results came quickly. It was not a large volume of data by her usual standards. She ran her eyes across the results of the consistency checks. Nothing to worry about there. So she restarted the process and began the tedious task of viewing the results on her screen. Eye and brain were still her ultimate test.

Calmly and carefully she pursued this task through the afternoon. By the time she stopped, she'd twice dismissed the servant's suggestions of food and it was dark outside. Her eyes were tired and she was generally fatigued. She ate then went back out to the veranda and reclined in a chair sucking on a guava jelly.

It was a moonless night and all she could see outside was a patch of forest illuminated by the dim lighting of the veranda. The wind was milder than before and from her protected pod the swaying of the trees was quite comforting. She dozed off.

She was woken by the sound of thunder. It was raining. In surprise she said, ‘The first real rain that's fallen since I arrived.’ Comfortable and happy she watched the rain and listened to the muted sound it made on her roof. Lightning occasionally illuminated the scene outside. It and the thunder seemed to be moving further away, but the rain continued unabated.

She was listening to the rain and almost asleep. Her eyes had settled on the silvery branches of a gum tree a little up the gully. She remembered Clare mentioning ghost gums and was thinking that the name was apt when a lightning flash momentarily bathed the gully in bright light. She jumped, but it wasn't just the flash that startled her. Higher up the gully she saw dark shapes that appeared to be giant bats flying towards her.

She closed her eyes and confirmation came in the dim afterimage where, for a few seconds, she could still see the outline of the tree and behind it were those dark angular wings.

She was rattled. Still anxious about the storm after all, she thought. She was disappointed. I thought I was over that. She relented. I'll resume some medic control. Perhaps I'm just too dependent on it to go without it under all circumstances, and this thought dampened her spirits further.

She waited for another flash, but none came. She tried in vain to rationalise the experience away then a thought occurred to her that immediately bolstered her morale. The window – it's a screen – someone's playing a childish prank. At first it wasn't a very convincing idea, but with more than a little desperation pressing her she thought it through.

The only other person with access to my screen would be Karl. She was doubtful. He wouldn't commit such a breach of privilege without good reason, surely? Things are different here, but from what I know of him it's not in his character to play such games. Tom, on the other hand, is quite a different matter. It would be just like him. Just his style. He may have access through sloppy procedures, or he put Karl up to it. Either way it must be him.

Further reflection started to undermine her certainty. Even for Tom it's extreme. A pointed message, perhaps? Then the idea took a different turn. A poignant message? Perhaps it was a message of a kind. Perhaps he wanted me to understand what he has experienced – what he might still be experiencing – not able to rely on his senses – having to question everything he sees or hears?

Still, this isn't acceptable behaviour. I'll tell him so – but what if I'm wrong. What if it's my imagination? That would be bad enough without making a complete fool of myself. Her mind puzzled and disturbed, she went to bed.

When she rose the next morning she felt much better, though she'd not slept well. She looked tentatively through to the veranda and beyond. It was still raining lightly, but the wind had died away to a gently gusting breeze.

The light of day cheered her. She went out to the veranda and looked up the gully. What she saw brought a smile to her face and relief to her mind. Suspended from the central transit cable and stretching out to the gully sides were large, black triangular sheets. A few moments analysing the scene made it obvious they were there to collect rainwater.

She went through to the back of the cottage and put her ear to the door leading into the interior caverns. Sure enough, she could hear a deep gurgling.

Sitting out in the veranda again, her first reaction was enormous relief that the rain had persisted through the night. If the sheets had been withdrawn before she'd woken and seen them she might have been the laughingstock of the valley and, what was more important, she would have alienated Karl and Tom.

Even Tom's sense of humour would have had difficulty with such an accusation. And Karl! Karl might never have forgiven the insult. What an insult! The thought shocked her. Her mind unsettled, she wasn't able to work, so she put on her unused raincoat, boots, and hat and wandered up the gully.

The narrow track was muddy, and small rivulets of water flowed down it. For the first time she saw water flowing in the creek. In the light rain everything looked fresh and green. She held her head back and let the rain run over her face. She opened her mouth and tasted it. Water at last! Splattering on her face and running down her neck, it felt great.

When the sun broke briefly through the clouds, the bushes and grasses beside the path sparkled. The air was cool and she took in large lungfuls. Life here was good. Don't mess it up, lass, and she smiled.

By the time she'd reached the first of the triangular sheets the rain had stopped. She looked up. A contractile web, and it's collapsing. The giant sails were furling and as she walked back up the stairs to her cottage they were disappearing into the sides of the ridges.

Chapter 59 – Cicadas

Mary had noted Karl's scepticism of the blue archive idea, but appreciated this new insight. She found Clare more receptive.

‘Communication's important for any species that reproduces sexually. The amoeba usually reproduces asexually by dividing, but Tom says they can reproduce sexually.

‘If they're embedded in rock or water that transmit sound well, acoustic communication's a real possibility. It would provide a guide for establishing physical contact.’

‘So you think they would only communicate for breeding purposes?’

‘I imagine it's possible.’

‘So it may only happen once per year? I could be in for a long wait.’

‘Possibly much longer. Their life span provides an indication. If Tom's correct in his assumptions then colonies are likely to last as long as the water lasts and they're not eaten by a predator. In a cave chamber like this it could be hundreds of years – thousands.’

Mary looked a little crestfallen. ‘Oh. I'm glad I mentioned it to you. I don't want to waste time on a futile quest.’

‘Don't be put off too easily. If whatever Sara Barratt thought she'd found was indeed mimicry – an ingenious suggestion of yours, by the way – then what I've been saying may be totally irrelevant.’

‘I won't give up. These archies must communicate in some way. I've decided to find out how and why – and what.’

‘How will you go about it?’

‘The tasks Tom has set for me are a good way to introduce myself to the technology and adapt my techniques. Taking a general approach, I'm more likely to come up with something of use to Tom and I'll avoid being seen as wasting my time. I'm sure Karl already thinks that.’

‘Don't worry about Karl. You'll find him very tolerant.’

Mary looked unconvinced but not particularly concerned. ‘All I've done is create a new PA branch – well, I've named it. I haven't advanced much further than that. What I have done is take a look at the cicada sounds from your sensors. I remembered us standing at the top of the cliff and listening to the waves of cicada calls moving down the valley below. I can map those.’

‘Cicadas are a good place to start and we've plenty of data in my sensor archives – a century of it. The large kilometre scale waves we heard hold some puzzles, I'm sure, but you need to start on a more local scale and look at the primary function of linking a male and a female within a few tens of metres of each other or less. That's what drives it all. You should find sensors that are near one particular cicada and listen for local communication.’

‘What will what show?’

‘Their mating ritual. The males beat their thorax – ten to twenty beats per second – leading up to a crescendo. Then they miss a few beats leaving a brief gap, pick the beat up again with a cue click to synchronise, then start the crescendo again. If there's a receptive female nearby she creates a single click precisely positioned in the gap left by the male.’

‘Why the precise timing?’

‘Intricacy in precisely following a set pattern that's unique to a species is essential if they're to avoid wasting time and energy in an unsuccessful mating – or being eaten by a predator.’

‘A Predator?’

‘Aggressive mimics, such as certain cricket species, have learned to mimic the female cicada call. If they get the timing right they can lure a male to its death. Aggressive mimicry leads to a battle of skill. The more sophisticated the call of the predated species the harder it becomes for the predator.’

‘With the din they make it's hard to imagine how they could communicate anything. I found it almost deafening when we were among them.’

‘The timing helps there, too. The males synchronise beats, so they're accurately in step with each other – each vibration of the sound in phase. Do you remember when we noticed that. It's quite eerie.’

‘Yes, it was. It sounded as though there was just one giant cicada calling but the sound was all about, surrounding us – and I agree, quite eerie – but that's not really sophistication.’

‘Each male cicada will synchronise itself to the loudest sound it hears or feels. If it doesn't, it'll feel like one voice lost in a multitude. If it synchronises, it'll hear and feel the whole sound as its own.’

‘Ah, yes! I know just what you mean. The feeling we have when we're singing in unison with many other people – we're magnified – but still no real sophistication.’

‘The sophistication comes in two ways. First there's the rate at which the male beats its thorax – the rhythm pattern. The beat rate can increase up to the crescendo, or it might increase then fall slightly or include a syncopation. The female has to time her reply precisely according to how the beat was changing – its pattern. She has to match the syncopation of the beat.

‘There's also the vibration frequency of the thorax – bigger thorax, lower resonance frequency – like a bell. A large bell gives a lower sound regardless of how fast it's hit. In a cicada the resonance is fixed by the size and shape of the insect.

‘To the female, the sound of a nearby male that has similar body dimensions and shape to her own will resonate with her body. He'll stand out. Rotating her body to maximise the resonance she'll line her body up in his direction. When she makes her responding click it'll be directed towards him. High frequencies are very directional.

‘He'll hear her better than others do. To him she'll seem closer. The fine detail of the responding click can be an important way to detect a mimic and avoid being eaten. The finer the detail, the harder it is to mimic.’

Chapter 60

Mary worked her way through the cave fluorescence data Tom had given her. She set up elaborate screen displays and spent many hours watching the dots and swirls moving about. There were patterns – many of them – too many and too feeble. She could make no sense of them – couldn't bring them into a broader overall pattern.

At tea Tom said, ‘Create a hypothesis and test it. If you don't do that you'll be going around in circles forever. Better still, create a few contradictory hypotheses and test them all.’

Clare agreed but was more helpful. ‘Try comparing the activity in the different pools. See if you can find any correlation between them.’

Mary was defensive. ‘I've tried that. There doesn't seem to be much correlation. Most of the activity's restricted to just one pool – just one of the archies.’

Karl picked up the enthusiasm of the others and was keen to engage in the project. He spent time with Mary explaining the sensing equipment Tom had installed in the chamber.

‘Tom's not using the full capabilities of the sensors. If you need, we can adjust them to suit you.’

Mary asked, ‘Can it detect audio emissions?’

‘No, not directly,’ Karl answered cautiously, but he succumbed to the technical challenge. ‘I suppose an acoustic signal could be extracted from your existing data with some careful manipulation, or we can make direct acoustic measurements.’

He set up a laser beam reflecting from tiny mirrors he attached to a wall and the ceiling of the chamber.

‘It creates an extremely sensitive microphone. I can't see how they can be communicating by sound, or why, but now you can test that hypothesis.’ She thanked him sincerely – not just for the effort but for putting aside his scepticism.

The new microphone gave no useful signal, so she abandoned it, but the use of audio equipment gave her another idea – visualisation was not her only option. She fed the signals she'd been analysing into an acoustic transducer and listened to the sound. She selected and scaled the signals and added an interactive link between the screen and the transducer so she could readily select parts of the images to turn to sound.

After several days of systematic plodding, she made a selection of what she considered to be the most interesting sound. It vaguely reminded her of the cicada, which bothered her a little. Perhaps I've just worked my way through random sounds until I found something that accorded with my preconceptions.

Wary of discussing it with Tom and Karl she waited until she and Clare were out on a ride. She stopped and suggested they sit on a fallen log. ‘I've something I want your opinion on – a sound.’

Clare grinned. ‘It must be very speculative for you to revert to this secrecy.’

‘The others are sceptical. They've been cooperative, but I don't want to push their tolerance. I'd like you to listen to some sounds and tell me what you make of them.’

‘Fine with me. Go ahead.’

Mary played four sounds each lasting a minute or so. Clare listened to them intently and had them repeated several times. ‘The second one – well, they're all artificially scaled aren't they?’

‘Yes.’

‘The second one – can you adjust the speed now, or do we have to return to your cottage?’

‘I can do it now. How do you want it changed?’

‘Try slowing it down to about half the speed.’

Mary gave the necessary instructions and replayed the sound.

‘Halve it again. How long does this sound last in real time?’

‘Like this? I'm not sure, but there's likely to be more. I'll check it all eventually.’

‘For now, I think I've heard enough.’

She looked Mary in the eye then looked off into the distance thinking intensely for several minutes. ‘You know, Mary, I think we're about to go on an interesting journey.’

Chapter 61 – Wilpena

She meant it literally. Early the next morning, having evaded the queries of the others, they took off from Brindabella in Mary's bike. After circling to gain height and enjoy the view in a leisurely manner, ‘Well, Clare, enough of this mystery. You'll have to give me some directions eventually.’

‘West,’ was the enthusiastic reply. ‘Can you keep to this height?’

Not knowing how far they were going, Mary had been flying just above the tops of low hills, but now they were coming to open plains.

‘Yes, but we can still be tracked if that's what concerns you.’

‘Not at all. I just like to see the ground clearly. Will it take longer to fly low?’

‘A little. It depends on how far we're going.’

‘About two thousand kilometres.’

‘Oh. I see. In that case we should at least increase speed.’ Mary spoke with her usual nonchalance, but the thought of travelling that distance without flying suits had started her mind ticking over the logistics. ‘We've food for just one day. You might have warned me.’

‘Do you mind?’

‘Not at all. Perhaps you'll tell me where we're heading?’

‘To visit some friends of mine – or to be more precise, friends of one of my teachers. They hold the Custody Contract for a large stretch of desert. They're rangers like me. Most of my training consisted of working through the methods they've developed over the years. I haven't visited this group before, but Karl has. He supplies key logics for their bots – after I've tested them at Brindabella.’

‘The district's called Wilpena and I have their current location. Here is the map reference for the landing site they recommend. From there we've a one hour trip across rough country to their camp.’

‘Is there a transit cable?’

‘No. A dirt track's the best we can hope for. I was told there is one. Can this bike cope with rough ground?’

‘Not well. It's designed for low weight flight. Most of its strength's in the wings. Its legs are short and not very strong. Does that mean a long walk for us?’

‘No. We can have horse-bots sent out if we need them, but if they say we can reach there by bike we should be fine.’

‘Now you've told me who, are you going to say why we're going there?’

Clare hesitated for a minute or more. ‘I'd rather not at this stage. Just put it down to some Arkadelian reticence I've picked up from you.’

‘You have me there – but you must admit I've changed a lot – surely?’

‘Yes, you have. You're much better company than you were. We seem to be able to chat quite freely these days.’

‘So?’

‘The answer's still no. It's a sensitive issue. I want to speak with someone else first. This visit's going to test my powers of diplomacy to the full. Confiding in you beforehand won't help me. If you're to be informed, I want somebody else to do it.’

‘Now you're really sounding like an Arkadelian. You certainly didn't pick that up from me. Here we are, heading towards Old Adelaide, and I'm reminded that nobody's really sure how Arkadelian customs originated before its foundation. You have me intrigued.’

‘You'll have to stay that way for a while, but I don't think you'll find out anything meaningful about Arkadel origins where we're going. By the way, to people around there it's just Adelaide not Old Adelaide.’

‘Yes, of course. You must admit you've been quiet since you first suggested this trip. I can see potential issues of diplomacy, particularly with my presence. Some societies are not as tolerant towards Arkadelians as the Brindabella community has been towards me. The mere presence of my body with its accoutrements is disturbing to some. Our secrecy and privacy creates mistrust and fear in those who have never experienced either, or have had bad experiences. We understand these things well.’

‘You'll find no such problems where we're going,’ said Clare in a tone that contained a warning that the suggestion itself might cause offence.

‘Good. I'm pleased to hear it. I was concerned. However I've been meditating on your mood over the past hour and it seems to me your concern's not with such complex mundane issues. There's a serenity and purpose in your mood that speaks of higher things. Something of greater moment. The ambiguity in your use of the word “diplomacy” was not lost on me. You're excited by the idea that you may be the bearer of a message from the past – or at least a link with the past that might prove to be of great interest to your friends.’

‘You're right, of course, but it's a small chance – a long shot – and I'm not good at this.’

‘Your intuition for secrecy is a sound one. If you embrace a strategy of going for long odds then you must plan to accept many failures. Generally people are not good at this. We constrain and reduce risk as a matter of course.’

‘You're a risk taker. Yet you were brought up in an environment of wealth and security – isolated from the problems of the world in your island retreat – insulated even from the concerns of those about you. You've rebelled against that security.’

‘I have. You're quite right there. I aim for at least one significant achievement in my lifetime.’

‘Or, as with your Sara, beyond your lifetime?’

‘Yes, but we need to experience some success first. One doesn't want to send one's spirit on a fool's errand for all of eternity.’

There was a long silence, finally broken by Clare. ‘Speaking of eternity, can we land and stretch our legs briefly? I'm uncomfortable.’

‘I was thinking the same thing. I'm not used to flying any distance without my flying suit. I only have one on board and it won't morph enough to fit you.’

Chapter 62

They landed on some smooth ground near a creek. After several minutes of stretching and walking about Clare splashed herself with the murky brown water of the creek while Mary, choosing to refrain, unpacked the small quantity of food they'd brought with them.

Half an hour later they were back in the air. They flew in near silence broken occasionally by one or the other pointing out some unusual feature of the landscape. Eventually, in the distance, they could see the harsh flat plain and salt pans give way to rows of low, rocky ridges.

‘That's Mount Hopeless to the right. I've been there but not to where we're going. Beyond the ridge ahead is a no-fly area – by convention. We have to land before we reach it.’

They reached the destination coordinates and found a levelled landing area. Mary circled just above ground level and they soon saw a track leading off to the nearest ridge. ‘Nothing wrong with the track. I could land on it.’ After following it for a kilometre or so she did.

She sped along the track for another kilometre before it started to climb through a gap in the ridges and became rough. Slowing down she cautiously negotiated the smoothest path beside a rut that had been deepened by flowing water. On the other side of the ridge the ground flattened and the track became smoother. Clare pointed to a marquee-like structure off to the right. ‘That's where we're heading,’ and, as if prompted, the track turned to point straight to it. Mary now noticed several smaller structures further on.

On closer inspection, she saw that the marquee was formed from two giant wings spreading ten metres or so and about three metres off the ground. There were ten or twelve people standing in its shade watching their approach.

She pulled up where the track stopped about a fifty metres from the shelter. As they climbed out and stretched they saw someone walking towards them smiling and waving.

Clare ran forward and the two embraced. Mary guessed the woman to be in her fifties, though it was difficult to tell. She'd never seen such a weathered face. Despite the impact of time and a harsh climate, it had a natural beauty. The eyes were keen and lively and the enormous smile was captivating. The stranger turned to Mary, and Clare introduced her as Jerilderie – or Jerrie.

They walked towards the main shelter – Clare and Jerrie chatting about mutual friends. As they reached the shelter, two of the older women came forward to greet them, smiling but subdued and cautious. The others melted away behind the curtains that hung through the interior of the structure. Mary could hear voices and the faint strains of music coming from somewhere in the distance.

Jerrie turned to Mary and indicated a low-slung seat. Mary sat and the other women walked back out into the open and stood talking out of earshot.

A girl approached Mary carrying a tray with legs and put it down beside her. Silently, she filled a glass tumbler with green tea then retired back behind the drapes. Mary took a welcome sip of tea and relaxed into the seat. She eyed the plate of biscuits on the tray then picked one up. It was hot, freshly cooked, and had a slightly acrid vegetable smell that was a little off-putting, but having committed herself to trying it she took a bite.

Its texture was coarse and fibrous, but its taste was sweet with a hint of honey. After the initial wariness passed, hunger took over and she was soon reaching for another.

She looked about – taking in the scene. The structure, on closer inspection, was more like an insect – a slim tapering body forming the central axis. She realised that the whole thing had the form of a butterfly or moth – a mega-moth-bot.

She looked carefully at the wings. Her intuition told her they were not built for flight, but they were contractile. The under-surface of the wings was a light grey. She remembered the upper surface as a mottled grey and brown – camouflage colours. She imagined the whole thing collapsing its wings and walking off – or running – a mobile home.

Looking beyond the shelter there were a dozen or more horse-bots scattered about. Most were of an identical and familiar style with dark green and black colouring. There were four bikes as far as Mary could see from where she sat. Only two were winged – the same model as Tom's.

The others were a robust, long-legged model obviously designed for rough terrain. One horse-bot was partly disassembled on a trestle bench and a teenage boy appeared and resumed working on it. He was tall and thin with curly shoulder-length hair and wore just a pair of bright blue shorts that were far too big for him – bundled about his waist and tied with a cord.

Chapter 63

It was over half an hour before Clare returned – the other women disappearing into the interior of the dwelling. Mary had left some of the biscuits assuming Clare would also be hungry, but when Clare had pulled another seat up to join her the girl reappeared with more tea and replaced the remaining biscuits with a plate of fresh ones. She and Clare exchanged cautious but familiar greetings. Clare introduced her as Melissa then she disappeared again.

Clare didn't say anything at first – just helped herself to tea and eagerly consumed a biscuit. Mary sat silently, thinking, Black tea for Clare with a cup and saucer. Somebody has checked my preferences.

Eventually, Clare said, ‘Well, this is a change from the lawns of the Manor, is it not?’

Mary agreed then added, masking her impatience, ‘What was the result of your discussions?’

‘Ah, yes. Encouraging. They want to listen to your recording and they've agreed to keep its existence confidential. As we agreed, I didn't explain its source. In any case, I think it's best they aren't prejudiced by any other considerations – to maintain the maximum objectivity.’

Mary felt, and looked, relieved. ‘I agree. I think that's by far the best approach from every angle and we do need Tom's approval to discuss it. After all, I was the one who insisted on secrecy.’

A short time later, Jerrie reappeared and asked for the recording. As she was speaking, a group of six or seven people emerged and stood silently at a little distance.

‘Do you have the recording on you?’ Clare asked.

‘Yes, of course.’ Mary took a small screen from a belt pouch and after giving it some access instructions and getting Jerrie to register her voice, she handed it over. ‘Please ensure that everybody's aware that this is an archiving device – though not recording at the moment.’

Jerrie nodded. ‘We thought it best to assume you had such devices. Please call for Melissa if you need anything.’ She took the screen to the waiting group and they walked off to the shade of a nearby tree where they sat on the ground in a circle.

For the next hour or so the group alternately listened to the screen and returned it to Mary while they discussed its contents. Eventually, they all walked over towards Mary and Clare who stood and walked out to greet them.

Jerrie spoke. ‘Firstly, we're all agreed that this could be a recording of a chant. The rhythm and intonation of the voice is readily recognisable – unmistakably. There are six words we all immediately recognised and others we were able to be convinced of on a second hearing – with a little persuasion in some cases.

‘Between us we have some familiarity with all the languages currently in use by our people. This recording was not spoken in any of those – but you must consider that we've lost most of our tongues. The language used is certainly old. It has a lot in common with the simple language used in our oldest stories and in the dialect of the traveller that uses words common to all.

‘As for the recording itself, the greatest loss of our oral tradition was during The Disruptions, so the recording is likely to predate those times, but, as I said, this could be – could possibly be – a record of a genuine historical chant, but we've no way of telling if it's authentic or just a past attempt to recreate a proto-language. There've been many such attempts. Some have been based on genuine insight, others just theatrical creations.

‘We can discuss the details of the language later, but now we would like to hear from you what your intentions are regarding publication of this recording. We would like to consult with you on the wording of the announcement. We understand you may not be in a position to make any commitment without consulting with your colleagues.’

Jerrie had been looking at Mary as she spoke with an occasional glance towards Clare. Now she looked around at the others as if to see if anybody wanted to add anything. Nobody in the group responded beyond slight nods of agreement, so she then looked back at Mary expectantly.

Mary looked to Clare who was also obviously waiting for her to respond. So it's up to me now. Clare has decided to stand aside. She took her time in formulating a response. She was not one to be rushed in such a circumstance, but she decided she would respond as directly as possible. She felt she understood what Tom's feelings on the matter would be and, in any event, he was no match for Clare and herself if they applied themselves to persuading him.

She looked around the group. While she detected keen anticipation she was also aware of a stillness that suggested they would stand quietly waiting as long as it took. Inside, she was anything but still. She thought briefly through the possible consequences of what she'd just heard. This was vindication of Sara's judgement at long last – ‘So why am I not feeling happier?’

Eventually she spoke. ‘I'd like to thank you all for your cooperation and for your discretion. It'll take me some time to digest what you've said, but it's certainly an interesting development. I think I can speak confidently for the others when I say we would be happy to cooperate with your wishes in return.

‘We've a great deal to think about, and a lot more work to do, before we can consider publishing our findings. While I'm not able to discuss the source of the recording at this stage, I think I should say it's too soon to jump to any conclusions about its antiquity. I hope you'll accept my reticence as originating from my own confusion rather than a lack of willingness to confide in you. I repeat my thanks for your indulgence and hospitality.’

There was an excited muttering in the local language for a few moments that stopped abruptly when the screen Jerrie was still holding started to translate to English. Everybody, including Mary, looked at it in surprise. Mary quickly regained her composure. ‘Excuse me. I instructed it earlier to track down a translator. It seems to have succeeded.’

One of the men, who Mary had already guessed to be a person of authority from the way others had glanced at him, began to speak. Jerrie broke in with, ‘English, uncle, English. Mary, this is Albie.’

The man laughed then, looking at Mary, spoke seriously in a fair imitation of George's voice, ‘You will excuse me ma'am. We have few visitors and I forget my manners.’ Then he switched to a casual idiom. ‘Wi gunava biva serimy fiya tanite.’ He was looking expectantly at the screen – laughing again with wide sparkling eyes and a look of achievement as it struggled then failed to interpret his comment.

He had a receptive audience. Mary immediately understood him and was duly impressed. She was also drawn uncontrollably into his laughter. There's more to this old man than meets the eye.

Jerrie frowned at him and said to Mary, ‘You're still an archiver, I gather?’

Mary slowly nodded assent – puzzled and wary.

‘The tribe would like to perform a brief ceremony tonight to mark the occasion and would like you to include it in your personal archive.’

‘I'd be honoured.’ The suggestion of a ceremony, along with the request for her to archive it, seemed to seal a bond. Despite Clare's assurance, she'd not been fully convinced of her acceptance here, but there was no doubting the casual intimacy of the old man. Those eyes – the smile – and the same incongruous shorts. Only someone who felt he was in friendly company could wear them! – resisting the temptation to look again.

Clare said, ‘We would both be honoured.’

The group began to disperse with everyone looking pleased with the outcome. Jerrie followed them back to the seats and the three sat down. She called, ‘Melissa,’ and the girl reappeared. ‘Be a dear, would you, and bring us some fresh tea.’

‘Yes, auntie. I won't be long,’ and she disappeared purposefully. When she returned a few minutes later bearing a tray of tea things Jerrie invited her to join them before realising she'd been anticipated. There was an extra cup on the tray.

Melissa sat down and looked across at Mary with a calm smile that disguised her agitated thoughts. Now I can learn more about this new friend of Karl's – this strange woman from Arkadel.

Chapter 64

‘What are they up to? Do you have any idea?’

‘If it's what I think it is, Karl, you don't want to know.’

‘Perhaps not, but tell me anyway.’

Tom grimaced a little. ‘If you wish. It's this blue archive notion. They think they might've found something. Clare spoke to Jerilderie and now they've gone to visit her to discuss it.’

‘And you're concerned that they'll make fools of themselves?’

‘Not just themselves. It'll undermine the reputation of Brindabella if this topic's the standing joke you say it is.’

‘Perhaps you're overreacting. The idea may not be as silly as you think and even if it turns out to be a false trail it needn't affect the reputation of your work. Your successes are readily measurable – reliable and objective. It would take more than a little silliness in the valley to detract from that.’

‘Yes, I know. Perhaps I am overreacting.’

‘Perhaps you're underestimating Mary and Clare?’ Karl ventured cautiously.

‘I can't see that there could be anything in this idea of theirs. And Mary's motivation's all wrong. She's not being objective. She's driven by the hope of proving Sara correct. It's distorting her thinking – grasping at anything.’

‘I'm surprised to hear you say that. It stands in stark contrast to the description you gave me when she first arrived.’

‘She's changed. She's not the person she was then.’

‘Or perhaps she's just come out from behind her mask?’

‘That's partly true, but it's more than that. She's less fearful – less wary. I think Clare has had a big impact on her.’

‘And the reverse.’

‘Really? Do you think so?’ Tom looked amused.

‘I do. For the first time, Clare has taken a genuine interest in my work – asking serious and quite specific questions about modelling then thinking about what I said and asking more questions. She used to be so dismissive – or at best, just polite.’

‘You've gone right out on a limb with them on this one, haven't you. That's not like you.’

‘You're right, but Clare can be very persuasive when she wants to be. Are you going to join us on the limb?’

Tom shrugged. ‘No. But I'll put my pruner aside for the moment and test the strength of the branch. As far as I can see the whole idea of acoustic communication makes no sense.’

‘She's not using my acoustic signals. She's listening to acoustically scaled versions of your fluorescence data.’

‘What purpose can it serve? Food, reproduction, and society are the main driving forces of animal communication and I can't see a good application of any of those here.

‘Sexual reproduction's too rare to warrant such an elaborate mechanism. And why track down neighbours if spores from other colonies are constantly being washed down the creek? They can reproduce with similar organisms from all over the planet.’

‘Local communication – cooperation?’ asked Karl hopefully.

‘There you may have grounds. I can say already, from genetic testing, that the cells in each rim-pool are near clones, but there are small differences between each pool. You might expect one genome to eventually dominate and take over completely, but in this case geology has intervened with the rim-pools. They provide barriers between individuals.’

Karl waited for him to continue and after a long pause he did.

‘Mary's analysis has already shown a little electrical activity coordinated through the colony. They have a means of communication through neural links. There seems to be a physical, neural connection between the pools, though I haven't seen physical evidence of it. I haven't looked properly yet.

‘I've been concentrating on individuals. That's my main concern. We can send some of the minibots to look for physical connections between pools. Of course, they wouldn't usually be in such close proximity.’

‘I suppose the acoustic communication idea was silly, unless they communicate with other colonies in nearby chambers. Then there's the whole question of how they could produce and detect sounds.’

‘That may not be such a big problem. Look at this.’

He put an image on the wall. ‘Here – what looks like a forest of fine feathery fronds is a microscopic picture across the surface of one of them. The fronds may be movement sensors acting like the hairs in our inner ear that detect movement of the liquid – sound waves.

‘There are different types of frond. They probably have multiple functions: to filter nutrient from the water; to warn of the presence of predators in the pool; to release defensive chemicals and more. The whole pond could be acting as a giant ear.’

Karl reacted strongly. ‘That changes things. Why didn't you say this before?’

‘Because it's still speculative and by itself it's not enough. Just as a criminal investigation requires both means and motive, scientific investigation requires both mechanism and function. Just as in a murder case, it can sometimes turn out to be an accident. Evolution is mainly accidents. The useful ones tend to survive, but sometimes the useless ones do, too, if they're not detrimental.

‘Sometimes developments are initially useful then lose their value as conditions change. These creatures most likely evolved in quite different circumstances, but for a complex mechanism to evolve it must have had some function in the past. We don't know, but as far as I can tell in this case the mechanism's speculative and the function's absent.’

‘So that's it?’

Although he left Karl disappointed, Tom returned to his cottage with a revived enthusiasm. He was soon deeply engrossed in his new plans. It was time to confront this blue archive hypothesis head on with a properly designed experiment. The problem was, as he knew was often the case, he might be able to confirm it, but it would be next to impossible to refute. He could imagine Clare saying in that taunting tone, ‘Just because it's not happening at the moment doesn't mean it can't.’

And, of course, she'll be right. Do I really want to do this? A little discretion may be the best approach – or scientific objectivity. I'll not commit myself either way – just keep my eyes open and try a few discreet tests. They'll be back here in a few hours. I won't argue. If the mission was a failure I won't gloat.

Chapter 65

Mary's first action on arriving home was to order a light meal. She ate it, as usual, sitting on her veranda looking out at the trees. She was in a high state of excitement. She looked at the readings her PA Medic was displaying – a peak. She savoured the moment as she nibbled a little and sipped on her tea.

Refreshed, but still almost tingling with excitement, she contemplated her next move. ‘I must tell Sara something or I won't sleep tonight, but I can't do it in this state.’ She was about to order her PA to bring her back to her normal metabolism – bring her down – then stopped. ‘This must be done properly – the correct way – for Sara and posterity.’

For the first time in several weeks she went to a small back room of the cottage and opened the door. Cool air wafted out as she slipped quickly inside and the door closed behind her. The only furniture was a small desk against a wall with a chair beside it and two shelves on the wall above it. On the top shelf were books – each in an individual transparent box. On the shelf below was a shallow rectangular wooden box, the lid of which was ornately patterned.

She picked up the box, carefully placed it on the desk, and sat down in the chair. She took a long slow deep breath as she positioned the box in front of her and focussed her attention on the beauty of the microparquetry. Thin filaments of jade added brighter colour to the various shades of wood. She'd learned to sate her thoughts of beauty and pride of ownership before continuing.

There were four images blended into the lid – the tetragraph emblem of New Shanghai. The standard meditation consisted of considering the significance of each image for the current state of mind or predicament. She ran her mind over recent events as her eyes roved over the images. They settled first on the golden Buddha. A little inner calm and detachment was what she needed to start with. Her eyes rested on the placid face and she concentrated her attention on slow, deep breathing and away from the stream of thoughts that filled her mind.

As she slowly expelled each breath she felt the slight ripples of relaxation flow through her as her tension eased – her mind clear of thought. After a while, her eyes started to wander again. They alighted on the stark milky-white and ebony contrast of the teardrop swirl – the Taijitu – the dynamic balance of life – perspective – proportion. She considered the emotional highs and lows of recent events – the doubts and certainty. She let the thoughts drift by – looking for the centre ground – a balanced position.

Community? Her eyes moved across to the red star – cooperation – community – consultation – compromise – consolation. Where was her sense of community now? She dwelt for a while on the impact that the move to Brindabella had made on her sense of belonging. There were now three places she saw, in differing ways, as home.

Was Brindabella now her community? One thing had become clear to her in recent weeks. Regardless of where she might spend her life, this was to be her point of departure. Her primary PA replicas would be secure in the rock expanses below. The Brindabella community would not last forever but long enough for her PA to tunnel far and wide and establish an unassailable position in its own secret rockworld.

She had read Liu Cixin's story Mountain at an early age. She was fascinated by his rock-entombed bubbleworld and its alien cosmologies – cosmologies that now made far more sense to her. She realised she would have to bury a great deal of empty space if she wanted to travel far and expand. Better still, she would bury heavy water as a concentrated reserve fuel supply – live in that instead of air or the vacuum offered by asteroids.

Using aquatic bots she would then be fully compatible with those fanning out under the seabed below Arkadel. There they were expecting, and planning for, the inevitable geological upheavals and the conflict of swarm politics. Here she might exist in relative stability and peace.

She realised she had become distracted. It was an important issue for her but one that could wait for another day. Her sense of place was fragmented. She was starting to consider her isolation and independence as an impediment – her ‘singular nature’ as George had mockingly referred to it – a weakness even. She'd observed his attempts to ‘muster’ consensus and cooperation. She was learning, but slowly. He had a depth of experience and wisdom she respected.

Her eyes moved up to the wise old face before her with its wisps of white beard. Confucius – symbol of the accumulated wisdom of the past – order – correct behaviour – respect. She thought about Sara and what Sara meant to her. She thought about the responsibility she had towards her – her reputation – the possible impact of her own recent discovery on Sara's reputation. A blemish removed? She hoped so.

She wondered if the timing was right for her to record an official statement. Should she wait until their discovery was confirmed? Karl, in a dismissive comment, has said it was generally accepted that to verify a blue archive you had to demonstrate a fresh reproduction. That might take years. It might not happen.

She continued her meditation for another hour or so before opening the box to reveal her primary screen and archive. Summoning Sara PA she told her story calmly and formally, closed the box, returned it to its place on the shelf and left the room.

Chapter 66

She was late for tea. As she walked down the path approaching the Manor she could see that the table on the lawn was vacant. Even in winter there seemed to be a preference for having tea outside on still, sunny days – everyone rugged up against the winter chill. Today it was windy and cloudy. She went inside and found them in the main drawing room gathered around the windows looking out at the sky. It was a full gathering.

The likelihood of rain became the major topic of conversation whenever there were clouds in the sky. The division was always the same with Clare leading the optimists and Tom the sceptics. The debate ran along such regular lines that Mary couldn't help but see it as a formal ritual with Tom and Karl quoting forecasts against what seemed to be a feeling that being optimistic would encourage the clouds to favour them with a downpour. It was clear nobody took the debate seriously and all hoped for rain.

Her arrival didn't break the spell. Mary had noticed how a few clouds could lift peoples spirits here. She looked across at Clare as they sat down. ‘Have you told everyone yet?’

‘I was waiting for you.’

Mary outlined what she called her ‘quest’ for the benefit of anyone who hadn't heard her discuss it before then turned to Clare when she came to discussing the trip west. Clare continued with more animation and enthusiasm than Mary had felt comfortable showing and the interest of the audience noticeably increased. Little George was rapt while his grandfather sat calmly surveying the scene – he'd obviously been briefed by Clare.

As Mary had expected, Karl initially looked sceptical, but when Clare had finished her account he was the first to speak. ‘Well, I'll be damned!’ and sitting back in his chair with a look of amazement. After a moment he collected himself and asked what they intended to do now to confirm their find, cautiously adding, ‘This is obviously a contentious claim and the sceptics will require stronger proof than you have so far.’

He was looking at Mary who was obviously disappointed. Clare scowled at him. Tom jumped in. ‘It certainly is contentious. I'm concerned about the impact an acrimonious debate would have on the credibility of my work and Brindabella generally.’

At this point George stirred himself. ‘I take your point, lad, but I think we can deal with this. It would take more than a scientific scrap to damage us in the eyes of those that matter. I may have a possible solution to the immediate dilemma. Clearly, nobody here has the professional knowledge we need to deal with that side of things, so I suggest we bring in an expert.’

Tom started to interject, but George held up his hand to silence him. ‘Hear me out, lad. Hear me out. You know the person I'm thinking of.’

Looking around the others he continued. ‘I've an old friend, an archaeologist, who has dabbled in controversial areas in the past. I remember him saying he'd burned his fingers badly.’ George grinned and took a moment out to reminisce to himself. ‘He recovered his reputation and has had a distinguished career. I suspect he would be most interested in your problem – and discrete. He'll not want to end his career the same way he started it.’

George looked thoughtfully around the group and settled his gaze on Mary. ‘Well, lass. What say you to that?’ and poured himself another cup.

Mary thought for a while trying to ease her tension. She looked at Clare who responded with a slight nod – then to Tom who was looking out a window with a strained expression on his face – clearly deep in thought. ‘Well, sir, I think it may be a solution. As you say, we're ill-equipped to deal with the issue. Might I ask your friend's name?’

‘Yes, of course. It's Hercule De Salis. You'll find his career well documented. I'll leave it with you young'uns to discuss and if you want to continue I'll extend an invitation for him to visit us. I'll say naught regarding purpose till he arrives. I fear he'll consider the invitation long overdue.’

Clare looked as though she had just remembered something. ‘Speaking of visitors, we've two on their way at the moment. Jerilderie asked if they could camp up on the plain near the waterholes. I said it would be fine, but she insisted that I ask you.’

‘Of course. Of course. She's most welcome to stay where it suits her. Good to hear. Great to see her again. Will she have her young niece with her?’

‘Yes. Melissa's her assistant these days.’

Chapter 67 – Jerilderie

The next morning saw four adults, the two children, and two spare horse-bots slip quickly up the track to Cave Creek and almost as rapidly around the ridge to the Blue Waterholes. They arrived midmorning, about half an hour ahead of the time Jerrie had estimated for her arrival.

Leaving the bots to park themselves in a neat row beside the pools they had wandered about for a few minutes with Tom, as usual, taking water samples when Clare said, ‘They'll be arriving from over there,’ waving her hand in a north-westerly direction. We don't have much of a view from here. I'm going to go up that hillock to watch them coming.’ She remounted and headed off as the others decided to follow.

They reassembled on a low rise and sat, still mounted, in a row scanning the range a few kilometres away. They'd been waiting for about ten minutes, with Little George becoming increasingly impatient and wanting to press ahead, when he cried, ‘There they are!’ A shape, just visible, could be seen descending the slope of the range. Reaching the flatter ground of the plain it accelerated and moved quickly towards them.

Mary could soon see its details. It was one of the bots she'd seen out west as a moth-bot. This was one of the smaller ones, but now it was anything but moth-like. Two very long legs were taking giant strides as it skimmed smoothly across the plain. The wings were out.

‘Not quite flying – but almost.’

‘They can really move, can't they!’ Little George cried excitedly. They all turned back towards the waterholes – the giant bot skirting the hillock, tilting its front up as it decelerated over the last few hundred metres. They watched as its legs and wings contracted, then manoeuvre a little to find a flat resting place to settle.

As they approached, a hatch opened. A small dog darted out, took a quick glance at the approaching people, then started to trot about sniffing. Jerrie clambered down calling, ‘Titch. Stay near,’ and was followed by Melissa.

‘Hello all,’ she cried as they approached. Mary was surprised to see Annabella the first to dismount and run over. She and Jerrie embraced with an enthusiasm that left Annabella's feet dangling. Then Jerrie stepped back and surveyed her up and down. ‘Growing up and prettier than ever.’ Annabella smiled and walked over to Melissa. They, too, embraced – with less animation but obvious warmth.

After more welcomes, Jerrie looked over to where Little George stood off to the side. ‘And you, George? No hug for your auntie Jerrie?’ – holding out her arms. Little George walked across looking his most formal self, holding out a hand. Jerrie – eyes twinkling – a broad toothy smile – was still holding both arms out. As he reached her he relented and embraced her.

Back to his usual exuberant self he pleaded, ‘Can I take it for a ride, please?’

‘Of course you can, dear,’ she said after a quick glance at Clare for approval.

Meanwhile, Melissa and Karl had fallen into conversation – awkward and tentative by Mary's assessment of their faces and what she could hear of the tone of their voices. They continued talking as Melissa walked over to the nearest pool and splashed her face to refresh.

Tom wandered off to the bot with Little George, and Jerrie turned back to Mary. ‘This discovery of yours is interesting – fascinating would be putting it mildly. Clare has told me you've some linguistic training, so I hope I'm not being too presumptuous in offering our assistance?’

‘Not at all. My linguistic training isn't particularly relevant. You should feel free to assume a lead role there. Just documenting what you've interpreted so far would be a good start.’

‘Melissa's the real linguist, though she's had little formal training. She's self-taught. Her parents have moved about among the tribes all her life. Over the last few years she's drifted about on her own – been wooed in all the tongues. She even picked up a little Hungarian from young Karoly Gundel there when he was over our way running a training camp last year.’ She added an amused flick of her bushy eyebrows.

They glanced towards the pool where Melissa and Karl were sitting on the ground talking. Annabella was joining them. Jerrie continued in a more serious tone. ‘I hope he understands that she'll never settle down. She has the wanderlust.’

Mary pushed this to the back of her mind for later digestion. The conversation lapsed and they looked around for what Jerrie called ‘the van’. As they saw it reappear, heading back, Clare said, ‘You'll be staying at the Manor tonight, at least?’

‘I will – for the duration of my visit. Melissa's van's too cramped with two. I think she'll prefer to stay here, but I'm sure she'll come down with us tonight.’ She didn't.

Chapter 68

That evening was a festive occasion at the Manor. It was the largest gathering Mary had seen there. For the first time since she'd arrived at Brindabella she felt lost in a crowd, even though she'd met everyone before, or at least recognised their faces. The tables in the main dining room were packed tightly with extra places. Nobody else seemed to mind the crush. Caught up in the mood of the evening she became oblivious of the fact that she couldn't avoid touching the people on either side of her.

Not only was there no seating plan, but people were soon swapping places – sometimes even carrying plates of food with them. The servants seemed to manage well with the chaos – dodging legs and chairs – keeping track of where everyone was sitting. They were obviously accustomed to it. Tom was foremost of the circulators and even George eventually abandoned his position at one end of the table. Gwen sat firm at the other – though even she seemed to have shed some of her usual reserve.

Not till well after midnight, when some of the guests had begun to leave, did they move to the main drawing room. Mary was thinking of retiring herself. The hubbub was taking its toll. She looked about to find George to bid him goodnight and saw him standing by the far door. As she tried to move awkwardly through the crowded room there was a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Karl standing beside her.

‘You look bushed. Follow me.’

He made his way incisively through the crowd towards a side door. She followed in his wake. As he shut the door behind them in the relative silence of the hallway he uttered a quiet, ‘Ah. Peace at last.’

Offering his arm, she took it and he headed down the hall. ‘They can be a bit much, these scenes, can't they? I like to relax before going to bed. You'll do.’

Hiding her puzzlement she looked at his face. With delightful transparency it went from shock to confusion then embarrassment as he added, ‘if you please.’ Apparently satisfied that he had corrected his abominable error as well as could be expected, he walked on. She was still perplexed for a moment until he led her into the billiard room.

‘I've seen you play a decent game of billiards, but have you tried snooker? It's my preference. You may find it appeals to the Arkadelian mind.’ Checking himself and looking at the expression on Mary's face he added, ‘Are you with me?’

She adjusted quickly. He'd always seemed so calm and passive that this active, even agitated, state had put her off balance. ‘Yes. That may be just what I need at the moment. You'll have to explain the rules.’

When he spoke again, after a pause in which he started to assemble a triangle of balls on the table, his voice had regained most of its usual calm, melodious tone.

‘I'll break and explain as we go. It's quite simple.’

She watched his movements becoming slower and more graceful over the first few shots. She was able to observe him closely for the first time. He rarely looked in her direction. He moved about the table – to and fro – before each shot – chalking his cue – looking down it to judge angles – speaking quietly – almost to himself as if thinking aloud, and interspersed his comments with advice on tactics.

‘I could go for that shot – might get it – but I'd rather leave the white down the other end of the table.’

With his usually reserved manner she hadn't realised how self-assured he could be for such a young man – but then Clare was his age, too. As the game progressed he quietly coached, coaxed, congratulated, and chided – even castigated.

‘Rotten shot! You've given me the game now,’ and proved his point by clearing the table. ‘That was good. You pick things up quickly. Another few games and you'll be a formidable opponent.’

Mary was thinking of suggesting another game when he said, ‘I think I'll call it a night. I'll walk with you to your bike if you're leaving now.’

Slightly disappointed, but now noticing how tired she was, she agreed. He looked tired, too. They walked in silence on the crunching gravel to the bike bays. She wished him good night and he replied with a nod and smile.

‘Thanks for the game. G'night Mary,’ and he sauntered on up the path with his hands in his pockets. She stood and watched, and as he disappeared into the dark she could hear him quietly humming a tune.

He seems content – happy in his personal bubble – aware of his surroundings – not secretive – indifferent to others' reactions to him – aware of others' feelings but at a distance. I am who I am, you are who you are – no compulsion to establish common ground – no probing questions or presumptuous affectation – easy to relax with. Not the flaccid look of the Arkadelian man but a carbon man – muscles of carbon fibre – but with a strong spirit deeply embedded in there – somewhere.

The contrast with Tom, his close friend, couldn't be greater. Tom with his compulsive openness – often startling – his relentless enthusiasm for his work – always contagious – his eagerness to please – sometimes irritating but potentially addictive.

The pod hatch opened with a slow yawn and she slid in.

Chapter 69 – Hercule

A few days later, George announced that Professor De Salis had arrived during the night and would be joining them for luncheon. As they assembled later, he was introduced to Mary, Clare, Jerrie, and Little George.

Mary observed him as he struck up a conversation with Jerrie. He was of short stature with a protruding belly held in by a waistcoat – its contemporary materials and strained buttons asserting that it had seen more comfortable times in the not so distant past. A rounded face with the pasty, puffy skin of lapsed enhancement was partly obscured by a thin moustache and a neatly trimmed goatee beard. In stark contrast, the hair on his head was an unruly mat of curly locks – dark but naturally streaked with grey. His eyes were small and beady but extended by wrinkles suggesting a frequent smile.

He spoke with a soft, assured voice – at first serious and cautious, but more relaxed when he'd had time to take in his surroundings. When he smiled, it was tight-lipped and squinting as though he was suppressing a giggle. His conversation was polite – perhaps excessively so – deferential and self-deprecating. Later, when he was speaking with her, his bright little eyes looking deeply into hers, a slight hint of a smile and his soft voice almost cooing, she began to think of him as someone with great personal charm.

He deftly deflected any discussion of himself, his work, and the mystery behind his presence at Brindabella. It was clear to Mary that he would not venture down that path until he knew them better. He skilfully dismantled the formalities of first acquaintance and generated a lively conversation. When he asked a question that didn't evoke an immediate response he switched comfortably to someone else, returning later to see if a response was forthcoming. If not, the topic was dropped. He didn't press for answers, rather, his manner seemed to generate a strong need to find a response.

Mary felt compelled to participate in the conversation regardless of her interest in the current topic – and did. She was puzzled, even a little disturbed, by this. She felt he was exuding a repressed excitement that reminded her of Betsy's reigned-in enthusiasm as they returned from a ride anticipating the bin of hay waiting for her. He sensed – dearly hoped? – that something interesting was afoot.

During the meal, Mary learned a great deal about Jerrie, felt she knew Clare better, and, on close reflection, wondered if she hadn't learned a few things about herself. Certainly the others had learned quite a lot about her in a manner that seemed to cause her no great concern.

In contrast with George's scatty intuitive approach to his interactions with others, here was someone who had, over as many years, crafted a steady methodical approach. She realised she'd now met someone with social skills as adept as those of George but of a quite different nature. While George was essentially a solitary person – retiring in company – Hercule, the teacher, had a character that thrived in company.

Chapter 70

The first meeting with Hercule left Mary with one particular impression. The discussion had led her to a better understanding of Jerrie and, perhaps more importantly, she was confident that Jerrie had a better understanding of her. Until now, Jerrie had been friendly and enthusiastic, but in contrast with the way she interacted with everyone else she was quite formal with her, and it had been bothering her. She'd felt that the formality might be a screen for suspicion or even a degree of dislike.

Now, any such thoughts were clearly a thing of the past, and Jerrie had started to treat her with the same warmth she showed the others. Perhaps it had just been caution and a wish to avoid offence – wanting to get to know her better before presuming friendship. She now felt able to do what she'd wanted to do since Jerrie's arrival in the valley – to invite her to her cottage for a serious discussion – just the two of them.

Mary found Clare quite intimidating at times. The thought of dealing with her teacher – an older and more sophisticated woman – was even more intimidating, but she was determined not to let it get the better of her. As the agreed hour approached she was aware of an increasing nervousness. She'd consulted Clare and stocked up on a variety of food and beverages. She'd even rehearsed instructions with her servant.

As she sat in her veranda waiting, looking out over the gully, she comforted herself with the knowledge she'd accumulated about her little gully and particularly about the small part of it she watched every day.

At first she'd been pleased to learn the names of some of the of plants in her view. It went a long way to dispelling the sense of being surrounded by alien life in total chaos, but the real progress had been made through picking up and reflecting on occasional comments made by Tom and Clare and realising they saw order in this chaos.

That tree was young but many times larger than its relative over there – the flow of a rivulet of water down the rocky slope missing one small pocket of earth and slowing as it soaked into another – how the sunlight fell directly onto one side of the gully and all but missed the other. Where she'd seen chaos there was now a degree of inevitability.

Each small patch of earth had, through its size, position, and aspect, its own character and potential. Each patch, with its stunted tree, shrub, or tuft of hardy grass, now formed a part of her own penjing garden – for her the stuff of children's story books – ancient tales that had been adapted to each succeeding dynasty but preserving what was common to all.

They were filled with mystery and magic – a sense that anything was possible – settings for great acts of heroism and historic deeds – Cao Cao and the plum trees. For a moment she wondered if she, too, was quenching her thirst by thinking of plums. Those penjing landscapes – figments of the illustrator's imagination – here sun-bleached of their deep rich greens to shades of silvery grey – soft carpets of moss baked down to patches of tough lichen.

Chapter 71 – Interpretations

Jerrie was also anxious about the encounter. She'd given some thought to the situation on her way to the cottage and her usual confidence was faltering. Mary was clearly right at the centre of this fascinating development, and not being part of it was more than she could bear to contemplate. She realised she would need a close and trusting working relationship with Mary. The situation was too delicate for her to leave completely in the hands of someone as young and volatile as Melissa.

She noted that Mary, though she seemed quite naive in many ways, had a reputation in her own world as tough, single-minded in her determination to succeed in everything she attempted and having a tendency to see others' skills as a commodity. This wasn't a very encouraging starting point. On the other hand, her friendship with Clare was real enough, which meant that the simple friendly persona was real and not some PA-driven facade.

Though Clare seems captivated by Tom's awkward public charade with its strange, almost reptilian, manner. She was reminded of the time she had seen him absently draw his large tongue slowly across his upper lip after a meal. Perhaps living here has affected her judgement. The few comments Clare had made suggested that Mary was someone she could work with if she trod carefully.

Then there was the sweet little professor. She knew him by reputation and they had even been introduced many years ago. The thought of working with him was attractive.

Mary was alerted by the sound of Jerrie arriving and rose to greet her. They settled down in the veranda and, after a few minutes of general pleasantries, Mary broached the main topic from the only perspective she felt comfortable with – statistics.

‘I've run the recordings through some of my speech analysis algorithms and I must say straight off that the results are not encouraging – a small positive indication of the presence of human speech but nowhere near statistically significant. I reprocessed the signal to maximise this measure of voice likeness, but that didn't help much. That's not really surprising. A parrot can speak in a voice we hear distinctly, but the algorithms fail there, too.

‘I've devised a series of formal tests to put this onto a more methodical scientific grounding and I'm hoping you and Melissa will agree to participate. I can generate small random variations in the processing and you say whether you think each change improves or degrades the quality of the voice. In effect, replacing my voice likeness measure with the judgement of your ear.’

She paused, but Jerrie sat thinking. ‘What do you think? Perhaps you could describe how you'd like to go about it.’

She busied herself pouring more tea as Jerrie leaned back in her seat and stared at the ceiling deep in thought. After a minute or two she spoke cautiously.

‘My initial reaction, Mary, is to wonder if there's enough data to base any meaningful statistical analysis on. I'm sorry to have to say that, but all I hoped to do was to study the message more carefully, by ear –Melissa's and mine – to see if we could distinguish a few more individual words and then, perhaps, make some guesses as to the content of the message.

‘To be perfectly frank, I must admit that my main motive for coming here to see you was the hope that if we got to know each other better you might tell me more about the source of the message. I don't understand the need for secrecy, but I'm sure you have good reasons. I'm also sure you'll understand my curiosity.’

Chapter 72

Mary was concerned. She didn't like the idea that her reticence might be attributed to a habit of secrecy, but at the same time she was not completely sure that it wasn't. She thought about Tom and their agreement. If it weren't for that she would probably have explained the whole situation to Jerrie right there and then.

Jerrie seemed to be prepared to be patient, so she relaxed. ‘The decision is not just up to me, but you'll soon be privy to the details. As for the quantity of data, you're quite right. It is too little to expect good results, but I'm determined to try. There is enough data for perhaps a hundred trials. Not very good, as you say, but with a bit of luck we might be able to make something of it. I'm sure I haven't considered every possibility. I was hoping for suggestions from Tom, Clare, and yourself.’

Jerrie looked puzzled. ‘A hundred trials? Do you have more data than I've heard so far?’

‘Oh, yes. I have an hour or more all up and Tom may have more.’

‘An hour! I assumed we'd heard all you had.’

‘No. That was just a sample I generated for Clare to test her reactions. I'll put that segment aside now you've heard it and use the rest for the trials.’

Jerrie fought her emotions. She could see Mary was going about this in a careful scientific manner and she respected that. It was also obvious that Mary had little considered how much this might mean to herself, Melissa, and many others. It obviously meant a great deal to her, too, but for some entirely different reason.

‘Mary, clearly this project means a lot to you – a great deal even – but I don't understand. Perhaps you're able to explain that to me?’

Mary recalled the exact words of her agreement with Tom. She knew him well enough to be sure he'd chosen them precisely. She reassured herself there was no prohibition on discussing blue archives within Brindabella.

‘You don't need to answer this, but would I be right in guessing that the missing person in all of this is Tom. He has been noticeably absent most of the time I've been here. That's not like him, even if he is very busy.’

‘You're right there. It's all a bit too embarrassing for him. He wants to distance himself from my work, but I must say he's not totally unsympathetic. I think he's quite torn between maintaining his reputation and becoming involved. I'll start to explain by asking if you're aware of the concept of a blue archive?’

‘No, I'm not.’

Mary explained the ripples on the paint stroke and in the scoring of a pot on a potter's wheel.

‘So you can see I'm assuming an arbitrary recording rather than the deliberate message you seem to be assuming. It's better for the objectivity of our tests that you don't try to read too much into the signal. It's often been demonstrated that random noise – even the sound of the sea – can be interpreted as voices if someone tries hard enough to hear them. It's like seeing well-known shapes in patterns of clouds. We have to be careful.’

‘I see, yes, I understand that.’

Mary went on to describe how Sara's reputation had been damaged by her claims.

‘I can assure you that what I've heard of the recording goes well beyond such imaginings. Remember, we all agreed on some words without discussion. That was an independent trial of sorts. Now that I see what you're getting at, your approach is understandable – commendable even. At the same time, you'll no doubt understand my desire to hear the whole recording. I bow to procedure. I'll try to contain my feelings and I'll try my best to be objective with the tests. It won't be easy, but I'll try.

‘It seems, my dear, we both have our ancestors in mind here. I'm sure that's a sound basis for friendship and trust.’

Chapter 73

‘You must listen to the records simultaneously but separately,’ Mary insisted when they met again over tea the next day.

‘I understand. We don't want anyone claiming we colluded in any way, and now Melissa insists on leaving it another day. She's tired and sore from her wanderings in the hills – not used to the rough terrain. I warned her not to stray too far from the plain, but she never listens. She's always been independent. My patience is often pushed to the limit. If it wasn't for Hercule's company I'm sure I couldn't cope with all this waiting.’ Mary noticed her smile return.

Jerrie continued, ‘I've not been totally idle. I've reviewed your test schedule with Hercule, as you asked. I've condensed it down to two days. It won't be too fatiguing – not as much as all this waiting. We've also drafted a description using the correct terminology. I should warn you, he's sceptical – it's his nature. Even if your testing with Melissa and myself proves highly significant, it's meaningless without a thorough analysis of the source. You must try to persuade Tom to talk with him.’

‘I intend to when the tests are completed. If the results are positive I'm sure tom will take it more seriously.’

They performed the tests and at the end of the debriefing session Mary thanked Jerrie and Melissa as she saw them off. They both seemed positive – particularly Melissa. Mary went back into her cottage to look at the results. The tests had been fully automated, so she had no idea yet what they would tell her. She'd automated the analysis, too, so she just had to ask her PA.

She wondered why she'd been so keen to see the others off before doing so. Before they left they had been talking about particular words and possible pronunciations. When she'd offered them a full recording – still under an agreement of confidentiality – they had readily accepted and were rushing back to the Manor to go through it. They had shown little interest in her analysis.

She displayed the results on her wall and sat back to view them. It didn't take long to see they fell well short of her hopes. She went over the summary several times and looked at the individual test results. The two sets were different.

One set showed more word recognition than the other. Probably Melissa. She still held back the identities. She'd been determined to keep to strict blind testing until she'd completed her analysis and double checked it, but there seemed no purpose now, so she asked for the names and it was Melissa. Jerrie had insisted that this was the way it would be.

She sat for a while feeling increasingly dejected. This won't do. Either I meditate for a while, or have my Medic kick in, or I take the Brindabella approach and go and talk with someone. She chose the last option – but who? She imagined Jerrie and Melissa in their buoyant mood – probably with Clare in her office by now – eager to go over the full transcript.

George might be alone, but probably not. The person she would really like to see now was Karl, but she didn't know him well enough to visit. She'd never been to his cottage and inviting him here might seem strange. The protocol seemed vague.

That left Tom. She hadn't seen much of him since Jerrie's arrival and they had barely spoken. He was the person she ought to talk with. He was as close as Brindabella had to a Chief Scientist. He might have some useful ideas as to what she could try next.

She knew that part of him would be relieved at the news, but she also knew him well enough to know he would be genuinely disappointed for her, ‘and,’ she reflected, ‘he's still the one who seems to understand me best. He saw me at home.’

She asked her PA to check to see if he was at home. She wasn't surprised when he responded personally. ‘Hello Mary. How are you?’

Just voice, which was encouraging. She'd learned that if Tom was particularly busy he came on screen briefly – a substitute for a visit. ‘Not great, Tom. Do you mind if I visit for a chat?’

‘Not at all. Is there a problem? Do you want to drop by now?’

She braced herself. ‘You could say that – negative results. Someone ought to find some joy in it.’

‘Don't think that, my friend. Come up here and I'll get the jellies out. We can talk it over.’ He flashed his face momentarily on her screen – fixed with a sympathetic smile – then cut the link. Just seeing him seemed to help.

Ten minutes later he was greeting her on his landing. He looked her up and down with a frown then hugged her. It felt good and she smiled.

‘That's better. Now for a jelly. I think I have one Guava left.’

‘If you don't mind, I think I'd like a glass of wine.’

He gave a look of mock horror and turned to go to the kitchen, stopped himself, and gave an order to his servant. Turning back to her he indicated a seat.

She felt much better as she sat. There was a little magic in Tom and his foolery. For a brief moment she thought of Karl but switched back as Tom sat down on the other side of the low table and looked her in the eyes. ‘Tell me.’

She'd started to explain what she'd been doing when the servant arrived with the wine and poured a glass each. She took a sip and relaxed back into the seat. She didn't drink wine often. It tasted strong and strange. She watched Tom take a mouthful and swill it around in his mouth savouring it. She did the same and tried to understand the taste as she thought about what she wanted to say.

She gave him a brief summary. He watched her closely as she spoke then, when she stopped, he swivelled his chair around a little and looked out the window – slowly taking another mouthful of wine – pondering. After a minute or two – it seemed much longer to Mary – he nodded slightly then swung back.

‘When you have a hammer in your hand everything looks like a nail. You're a mathematician, so you tried what seemed to you to be the most obvious approach – generating some statistics from the data at hand – not an unreasonable first try given the initial reactions at Wilpena – perhaps it was just luck, or you unconsciously selected a segment you thought sounded interesting.

‘The main problem with your approach was that with such a distorted signal and all that processing, no matter how good your results were they are still based on subjective judgements. They'd never have convinced a sceptic – probably never even got to publication. You need something much more objective.’

Mary sighed. ‘I suppose I knew that, but a good result would have given me confidence to keep going. I don't feel like giving up now, but I needed a confidence boost.’

‘I know what you mean. I've just had one, but more on that later. We'll look at your problem in depth later, too. Right now I think we should put work aside, finish our wine, and head down the valley to join the others. What do you think?’

‘I think you're right. I think I could do with another glass of wine before we go. It's not bad, really – very late season grape. I'm surprised we haven't made a jelly that does it justice.’

Mary relaxed, took a long sip, and stared out into the gully.

‘Have I told you about my penjing garden?’

Chapter 74

Tom returned to his cottage late that evening. It had been a pleasant evening. Mary had been in good spirits and seemed to have taken her disappointment well. It didn't surprise him. Despite her occasional insecurity she was tough and resilient – the results of a stoic Arkadelian upbringing.

She'd announced her lack of results to the whole assembly with a casual air of disappointment.

Only Jerrie responded. ‘Don't worry, dear. Melissa and I know you've found something interesting.’

He'd tried to broach the subject with Jerrie later, but she'd seemed strangely reticent. She'd been a little strange with him all evening. That brief reflection over, he settled down to think through something that bothered him greatly about the whole affair. He knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep until he'd thought about it further.

He'd been sceptical from the start. He couldn't see what natural purpose mimicry could have satisfied, but he'd dismissed his concerns. He couldn't hope to imagine what evolutionary path these creatures had passed along, so any such speculation was pointless.

However, today, as Mary had described her testing, he'd learned something that had strengthened his disbelief. He'd hidden it from Mary, or he hoped he had. He hadn't been prepared to express his reactions at the time, but as she'd described her testing protocol he'd questioned her about the length of the record and its structure.

He'd originally assumed it was just the minute or so she'd replayed for them. That, in itself, had seemed quite long but not particularly noteworthy given his other reservations, but to discover she had over an hour on record, and potentially much more, was puzzling. That took too much valuable energy. What purpose could such an extreme ability have evolved to satisfy?

The overall structure was even more puzzling – variations on a basic theme with repeated cycles but each cycle differing from the last in a structured way. If this was mimicry he would expect the variations to be small random errors, but here there was structural variation as consistent as a Bach fugue.

This drew him back to a line of thinking he'd previously dismissed. Clare mentioned birdcalls. Birdcalls are usually for communication between birds of the same species over distance. Perhaps I should test that idea. I could put a tunnel between two of my colonies and see what happens – see if they join up and communicate – or share food.

His mind raced. If they've developed long calls – repeating with variations? He was becoming confused – lack of information. He thought of going to bed and consulting the others later, but he still wouldn't be able to sleep. He asked his PA to replay the short excerpt Mary had played to him and listened to it several times. It did indeed sound like a deep human voice humming or singing. But Mary has changed the pitch.

He sped it up – further and further – had it repeat to lengthen it. Now it's like a cricket chirp. Crickets sing for long periods.

‘Find me a cricket sound in Clare's monitor archives.’

His PA offered a choice and he selected a clear one. He listened to it for a while then started modifying it – filtering out the high frequencies – time warping – trying various combinations – trying to make it sound like Mary's recording – nothing seemed to come close enough.

He left a message for Mary asking for her processed data then took the segment she'd sampled from the raw data and started processing it to see if he could reproduce her results – or cricket chirps – anything that sounded familiar. Eventually he fell sleep. He woke a few hours later and went to bed.

When he rose there was a message from Mary on his wall saying she'd given him access to her full analysis – and a question.

‘You said yesterday you had some interesting results, but in my preoccupation with my own work I didn't ask what. My apologies. Shall we meet up later today?’

He replied, ‘Not today. I'm going to do some thinking. Have you spoken with De Salis yet? I was intending to last night, but it didn't happen. I think it's about time someone told him the full story. It should come from George, so speak with him first. He'll have hinted at it in his invitation, so De Salis must be curious. He may be a patient man, but everyone has their limits.’

Other commitments for the day? He cancelled a meeting with Karl. Clare was coming up to check her soil bins and talk about them. Another cancel? She didn't need him here. He'd go for a walk. That was what he really needed. He would leave a message for Clare. She could still come up and potter about out back.

He changed into his walking boots, dropped a screen into his pack, was reminded by his PA of the weather report and included a thermal jacket. He was just about to leave when he realised he hadn't eaten and went back and packed some food. Half an hour later he was up into the ridges and starting to settle into his thoughts when he heard, ‘Hello Tom.’

‘Who's that,’ he muttered – puzzled – the voice was familiar but faint.

‘External source. Disengaged,’ came the reply from his PA.

He looked about him. The call came again and he saw the Gundels – Karl's parents and younger sister – on the opposite ridge heading back to the valley. He returned their greeting and they all walked on.

They'll soon be off again for The Season. Not for me this year. I'll stay and keep Clare company. Mary should go, though. It'd be an interesting experience for her – the balls, concerts – Karl would be there for company – or perhaps not now that Melissa's here. He's never mentioned her, but they're obviously friends.

He reached the top of the ridge, sat on a flat boulder, and reengaged his PA. ‘Play Mary's full recording.’ He listened for over an hour stopping only to put on his thermal jacket. There was a wind coming straight off an early fall of snow in the mountains to the south, so he abandoned his boulder and walked on to keep warm.

The sound was uncannily human, but after his experiments of last night he knew this could be misleading. He'd eventually managed to transform the cricket chirp into something quite similar. He started to listen to the recording a second time but decided to give up on it.

He'd intended to analyse it looking for the repeat patterns, but that required his screen and to use that he needed to sit. The track – a wallaby or wombat track initially – was too rough. He had to keep his eyes on where he was treading.

The wind was stronger now but coming from the west and not so cold. He slowed his pace. In his excitement he had been increasing speed and was now breathless. He stopped and leaned against the trunk of a tree to recover. He was almost at the top of Mt Jackson, which was the furthest extent of his usual long walk. He continued on to the top and looked beyond.

It was a personal spot. He'd never met anyone else up here. It was a view that never failed to inspire him. It wasn't spectacular, as grand views went, but you could see the Snowy Mountains to the south. To the west were low hills that faded to the flat plains. Below in the near distance were the Blue Waterholes and somewhere nearby was Melissa's van.

He admired her for staying there. The van couldn't easily go further from here. It was a vehicle designed for the plains. For it, the upper valley was too congested with trees, steep rocky slopes, and transit cable. To move into the valley she'd have to approach from the northern end. He admired her for her solitary independence. Or perhaps she just doesn't like Brindabella.

It occurred to him that she was the person he should talk to about Mary's recordings. She had recognised more words in it than Jerilderie. He should get her to point out these words. Did they form any structured phrases? Did the rhythm conform to patterns that were familiar? He realised he was taking these possibilities far more seriously now than he had just a few hours earlier.

Chapter 75

Mary followed up Tom's suggestion of speaking with Hercule as soon as she could arrange to see him. She went down to the Manor for luncheon and found Hercule, Jerrie, and George, but there were too many others about for her to broach the subject immediately. The Manor had been unusually active over the past days as people prepared for the trip to town for the social season. The normally quiet valley was coming to life in preparation for a major exodus.

She managed to say a few words to George as they assembled and he nodded his agreement. She knew she could leave it to him to arrange. As she sipped her soup she listened to snippets of the conversations around her – accommodation in town – the latest dress styles – concerts – the arrival that morning, so rumour had it, of a world renowned singer – other artists on the way – a new play.

When Mary, George, Jerrie, and Hercule assembled later she gave a detailed account of her aims and started to play the recording. Hercule apologised and said he'd already persuaded Jerrie to let him hear the full record. Jerrie smiled an irresistible smile and shrugged.

Hercule continued. ‘My first impression was that it reminded me of the throat singing of the Mongols or chants of Tibetan monks.’

He went on to describe how this form of music was thought to come down from the earliest human cultures and had been passed down in many forms including the Tibetan horn, some conch shell music and the local didgeridoo. It was said to create a special state of mind in both the musician and listeners and that this had been verified in neurological measurements of the brains of humans and other mammals. ‘The constant low vibrations resonate with natural frequencies of the brain.’

Jerrie interjected and a vigorous debate developed between her and Hercule about proto-languages and other technical issues. Mary struggled to try to make sense of it. She felt she should be able to follow it. After all, she was an expert in language, but she'd never looked into its history.

George was looking amused, and after a minute he laughed aloud. He suggested a change of approach. ‘Perhaps what we should be discussing now is what avenues are available for investigation and what evidence would be needed to convince the academic community.’

They looked around at each other for a while before the professor spoke. ‘I must first apologise. We have the friendly disagreement, do we not, dear?’ He flickered one of his little squinty smiles towards Jerrie. ‘I must say, however, if I should dare to be disagreeable again so soon after such an apology, that you, ma'am, are perhaps not allowing for the strength of Madame Barratt's reputation to think such a small thing could injure one who was, and still is, held in such high repute.

‘Unlike myself, she ventured into controversy at a time in her life when her reputation was unassailable. Myself, I was young and had no reputation but even so, I survived as you can see.’ There was another twinkle of his eyes and suppressed giggle.

‘Even so, we shall make every effort. We shall see what lies beneath your mystery.’ His face was now serious and determined. His brow furrowed momentarily before he continued. ‘Your colleague Doctor Oldfield is concerned, you say, lest he, too, will be drawn into a controversy. I agree we must respect his view. He is still young, as I was. We must cause him no harm in our endeavour. As you say, it is not just his reputation but the future prosperity of Brindabella that is at stake here.

‘I suggest that I start with a broad micro-archaeological survey of the valley. This I have long ago suggested to my friend George. It will be of great interest to me in its own right and provide the perfect excuse for me to impose on his hospitality for many months yet. When I send for my equipment my colleagues will not expect me back soon. There are those who will eagerly take on my few remaining duties and wish me a long and happy exploration.’

‘What does this survey look for?’ asked Mary.

‘First we have the sedimentary analysis. We create the three dimensional map of the valley from the surface to the bedrock with ages of deposition for each layer. We start in the upper catchment then down to here. A full study would take several years, but we can expect some results within a few months.

‘There is also the bioassay. We try to understand the history of the living systems that inhabited the valley over the time of its formation. Here our interest is mainly in the upper layers and results can be rapid.

‘Then, most often, we are interested in human habitation and the traces it has left behind. For that, we concentrate our efforts in the most likely positions. If our interest is in some other species we look in places that would be suited to that species. In our case here, I'm hoping that soon I will have the trust of Doctor Oldfield and we can look closely at your cave site.’

‘What makes you think of caves?’

‘Forgive me ma'am, but you do.’

‘How so! I've said nothing of caves?’

‘When we spoke of languages earlier, we were suggesting events that might have taken place thousands of years ago. You did not react to this. I conclude, therefore, that you are prepared to consider such time scales with equanimity. Since the only places that could remain stable and accessible over such time periods are caves then the logical deduction is unavoidable.’ The gesture of his hands suggested he was handing his conclusion to her on a plate.

Mary looked around at the others. It wasn't easy for her to accept that she'd been so obvious. Before she could say anything, Hercule continued.

‘There is another point I should add to ease your embarrassment. You refer to your great-grandmother and her involvement. I know what is publicly known of her exploits. She travels up the Chang Jiang to a region renowned for its caves and her work changes direction. She comes here – a place that also has many caves. Your reactions, or lack thereof, merely confirm my suspicions.’

Mary smiled. ‘I can see it's time we spoke with Tom.’

Chapter 76 – Melissa

It was a bleak day. Tom was starting to feel the chill even with his jacket on. For a long while he had been standing still – staring at Cave Hill – thinking of the secrets it held. Then his thoughts turned back to Melissa. On impulse he set off down the hill. I am her nearest neighbour, after all.

There was no track now and it was near an hour of downhill scrambling before the waterholes and Melissa's van came into view. There was no sign of life. As he approached he called loudly, ‘Hello! Anyone about?’ Perhaps she was off walking again. He stopped about thirty metres from her van and wondered what he was doing there. He sent for a horse-bot. He would sit by the waterholes and wait for it.

He looked up the creek and saw Melissa walking towards him. He turned and walked in her direction. ‘Hello Tom,’ she said when they were in easy speaking distance. ‘Have you come to visit me?’

‘Yes. I was walking in the hills and decided to come down and see how you were. Are you comfortable camping here? Do you have all the supplies you need?’

‘Thanks. Supplies are low. Jerrie said she'd send some things up today, but they haven't arrived yet. I can offer you a cup of tea or coffee, but I haven't much fresh food left.’

‘Coffee would be great. I even have some with me if you're low, and some fresh bread.’

‘I have plenty of coffee. I'll get the fire going again.’

They walked in silence along the creek to the van where a dying fire was sheltered between the van and a rock face. A few wordless minutes later and they were sitting beside a good blaze with the coffee heating and Tom's horse-bot arrived.

Melissa was puzzled and disappointed as she looked at it. ‘No food?’

‘It's alright. That's mine. Your food is on its way. It'll be here soon.’

She looked at him with a slight frown. ‘You're a strange man, Tom. You don't seem to fit in here. I mean you're not the sort of person I expect to find living here. It's all very strange really – the valley – Brindabella, I mean. This place – right here – is great. I like it a lot. It feels good – the open space. The valley feels closed in.’

‘I was wondering about that. It occurred to me that you might not like the valley and were lonely here.’

‘I don't get lonely – not when I'm alone – just in crowds of strangers.’

‘I know what you mean, but you don't like Brindabella? Many people don't.’

‘It's not that I don't like it. I don't understand it. I was here once before with Jerrie. I remember somebody saying you were away studying, weren't you.’

‘Yes. I've been back a few years now.’

‘I think I might like it if I knew a few more people. I only really know Karl from when he visited us – and Clare, of course. I knew Clare when I was young, but she was older and I didn't really get to know her well. Have you lived here all your life?’

She poured the coffee.

‘Except for a few trips away, yes. I was born here – as were my parents.’

‘I've travelled all my life. I can't imagine being in the one place all the time. Isn't it boring? I'm sorry. I shouldn't say that. It's very rude of me.’

‘I'm not offended. I understand what you mean. To survive here happily you need to be actively involved in something you enjoy – something that keeps you engaged and leaves no need for the diversions of town. Perhaps it makes more sense the other way round. People live here who are involved in something.

‘If people who have grown up here are not happy they leave when they're old enough. Others – some of the gully dwellers – come here to escape the distractions of town and live a quiet existence pursuing whatever occupation has absorbed them. It's also a peaceful and safe place to bring up children.’

‘Do you live in the village with your parents?’

Tom laughed. ‘No. They left home as soon as I was old enough. I live in a cottage. I'm your nearest neighbour.’

‘Where are they now? What do they do?’

‘Like you, they travel. They're writers. When I was young they started writing children's stories to amuse me. Then they tried them out with other children and eventually published them. Have you heard of the Daytime Stories?’

‘Of course. My parents read them to me when I was little. So you were Thomas!’

‘Well, they started using my name, but the stories weren't about me. My life was nowhere near so interesting.’

‘No. I don't suppose any child could get up to all that.’

‘Or stay young for so long. Now they travel and write – still for children, usually, about other places and other cultures. I still find their stories interesting.’

‘Did Karl grow up here, too?’

‘Yes. Some of his family have lived here from the start. His parents moved here before he was born. I saw them a few hours ago out for a walk. They've just arrived back in the valley after being away for a few months.’

Tom paused for a moment then continued. ‘Say if it's none of my business, because it isn't, but Karl is a good friend of mine and I noticed that when you arrived there was some tension between you. Have you two had an argument?’

‘Perhaps. I thought he was a good person, but he betrayed my trust in him.’

Tom had misgivings about starting down this path, but he felt he couldn't leave the discussion there. ‘That doesn't sound like Karl. He's built a strong and well deserved reputation for being trustworthy. I can't imagine he'd do anything that would jeopardise that. You should try to resolve it.’

‘When he visited I became very fond of him. I thought I was falling in love. He seemed different – not like other men who just wanted to sleep with me. They tell stories – say they love you – but they just want to sleep with you. I thought Karl was different. I even flirted with him – gave all the signals – but he didn't respond. That made me angry at first. Why should I want to be with someone who didn't find me attractive? But I felt even more strongly for him and I couldn't stop thinking about him.

‘Then, when we were alone, he turned out to be just like all the others. He said he would make me safe. They all say that – they say they'll protect me. I don't need their protection. What use is one man for protection? My safety is my van. It's very fast. I can outrun anything.

‘Out-zoners? Who, whenever, where do they bother? Not me. Not in my lifetime. Nowhere ...’ She stopped, visibly suppressing a rising anger. She tended the fire speaking softly again with a voice and manner that reminded him uncannily of Clare.

He was smiling and obviously trying to suppress a laugh. Melissa started to become angry again. ‘Now you're laughing at me. You should go away now. I'm sorry I trusted you.’

‘Melissa, I'm not laughing at you – at Karl, perhaps, but not you. I think you'll find he was offering you the same protection he provides for Brindabella and many others. He does it for a living. He provides security. Brindabella and his other clients rely on his systems.’

She was still eyeing him suspiciously, so he persevered. ‘They're as good as the best available. He was making you a generous offer, but I doubt very much that he was doing it to sleep with you. I doubt that the thought even entered his head. He probably didn't even realise you were flirting with him.’

‘He's a man and you all want to sleep with me.’

Tom grinned. ‘Me, too?’

‘Well, no. Not you. Jerrie said you were different. She said I should keep my distance from you and that you were destined for someone else. When you arrived I nearly asked you to leave straight away, but I could see you were different.’

Chapter 77

Tom was a taken aback and took a few moments to collect his wits. ‘I see. Well, I'll put aside the destiny bit. I think I can imagine what was in her mind there, but what made you change your mind when I arrived. Why didn't you tell me to go?’

‘Simple – the way you looked at me. I can tell. And since we've been talking, I'm sure. You came to ask me something you still haven't asked. I can tell. It's about the recordings, isn't it?’

‘That is perceptive of you, or perhaps I'm just very transparent. How do you know I have an interest in Mary's recordings?’

‘Jerrie told me. She said it must have something to do with you because you were staying away and that wasn't like you. You were talking with me to see if you could trust me. You can. If you don't tell Karl what I said about him, I won't tell anyone about whatever it is you want to ask me. Do we have a deal?’ and she smiled cautiously.

‘We have a deal. I wouldn't have said anything to Karl anyway, but before we go any further I'm going to have something to eat. Will you join me? I don't have much, but we can share it. Your provisions will be here in a few minutes, by the way.’

‘You're a strange man, Tom. Jerrie said you could read minds. Can you read mine? I was just thinking about the provisions.’

‘You're the one who's been doing the mind reading. How about stoking up the fire and getting some more coffee going while I dig out the food. I just have bread, cheese, and a few things to go with it – some olives – more coffee. Here you go. It was just a snack for my walk. I think best when I walk.’

Melissa went to the van and returned with some plates and food. ‘What sort of protection was Karl offering? I have a quick temper.’

‘So I noticed.’

‘I didn't give him time to explain.’

‘Here he can demobilise any bot or PA that's not recognised by his systems, but he relies on our sensor systems for detection and our territorial claim for technical privilege. You'll have to ask him what he has that would suit your van. He produces customised systems for each client that are difficult to overcome.’

‘And why wouldn't he know I was flirting with him. Is he really so stupid?’

‘Not stupid – just a bit naive by some standards. He grew up in Brindabella, remember. It's not like most other societies where people are exposed to sex from an early age. That has a big affect on people – particularly men. We leave it till after we're married. We've a low divorce rate. Marriages here last and children have an innocent childhood that allows the mind to mature at its own pace. It's worked in the past and seems to work here.’

‘Not you, though. I think you've had many women. You understand women.’

‘No, you're wrong there, but I have been inside the mind of a woman. I understood her as well as two people can understand each other – perhaps.’

‘That's what I said! You can read minds.’

‘Only under very special circumstances using sophisticated technology – and that was in the past.’

‘And a brain implant – Jerrie said you had one that was very different. It sounds interesting – fascinating. I'd like to try that.’

‘I don't think you would. Believe me. It can be quite scary.’

‘I think I would. I've seen brain operations. The idea doesn't scare me at all. I've seen every part of the human body operated on.’

‘There are operations you can have that put in implants. I have that, too, but I also tried an experimental approach. It was a biological one.’

‘I knew you were different the moment I saw you. I'll tell you everything I know about Mary's recordings and you can tell me about your operation. My parents are surgeons. They wouldn't do it for me, but I'm sure someone else would if I had the money. Is it very expensive? I suppose it is,’ and she went from elation to dejection in a moment.

‘You know,’ she said after slowly chewing a few mouthfuls of food, ‘Jerrie said that too much sex is bad, but she doesn't set a very good example. She said that all cultures that go down that path end up needing war, blood sports, even human sacrifices to overcome their dulled senses and eventually the society falls apart, but it isn't always true today.’

‘Modern societies have medic implants and other approaches, but before then it was true. It's basic biology. We're genetically inclined to reproduce as soon as we have enough resources to support more children and are bored. Then the instinct kicks in. Animals have complex courting rituals that slow down reproduction as populations increase or food is scarce. Nature intervenes to avoid the chaos of overpopulation.’

‘We're not like other animals.’

‘We're not very different. Human societies developed ways – traditions – for limiting population. The alternative was to go to war and take other people's land so the population could keep expanding. We have cities and civilisation to deflect the aggression into more creative pursuits and keep people busy – raising the standard of material wealth perceived as essential for survival – ways to trick our bodies into avoiding the reflex to reproduce.’

‘Hmm, perhaps. The cities don't seem very civilised to me. What did you want to know about the recordings?’

‘Here are your supplies.’ A horse-bot arrived with two large panniers. Melissa jumped up and as soon as it had put the panniers on the ground she opened each one and looked through the contents.

‘What a variety of food you have here – some wine – and look at this – the new sari I ordered. Isn't it beautiful. It's real silk. Now I can go to the Midwinter Ball in something new. I was afraid it wouldn't arrive in time.’

She called a monkey-bot from the van and told it to deal with the panniers. ‘I remember liking your wines but not the beer you make here. Its awful – but there I go, insulting you again.’

‘Not at all. I don't like the local beer either – except to cook with. I have mine sent up from town. The recording?’

‘What was it you wanted to know?’

‘I was wondering how much beyond the actual words was familiar to you. Are there rhythms or tunes you recognise – and with the words, were any in recognisable phrases? I was hoping we might go through the whole thing and you could point out what you recognise.’

The wind was rising, so they settled into the warmth of the van. By mid-evening, when they finally stopped for supper, they had been through the recording twice – or more if you counted the segments they had repeated many times.

As Tom rode home he tried to piece it all together and come to some sort of conclusion. When they started, he had doubts about Melissa as a reliable source. Their conversation in the afternoon had created an image of someone who, while being pleasant and engaging company, was excitable and impressionable. As the evening progressed, this view had moderated. His PA had provided a few items of interest including the fact that she was a trainee empath.

He could see she had been raised with a strong rationalist world-view. She understood the testing process Mary put her through. She even thinks in Crisp if that emotional outburst was any indication – a strict upbringing. Karl had been taught Crisp from an early age as a second language, but he'd never heard of anyone else in Brindabella learning it early in life.

But an empath? She has technical skills but a long way to go. It's said that empaths are able to deal with strangers but usually have difficulty with themselves and those close to them. She certainly demonstrated that.

He thought of his own upbringing with his parents' near-obsession with the ambiguity of words and the subtle changes in meaning as they were used in different contexts – as his mother had put it, ‘a Humpty Dumpty world where I can take a word by the scruff of the neck and make it mean just what I want it to mean,’ – the polar opposite of Crisp.

When it came to Mary's record he still wasn't even convinced there were any words. Melissa had convinced him that there were suggestive patterns of sounds – but actual words? He wasn't sure. It was like an inkblot test where someone was shown a random shape and asked if they could see anything in it.

Like clouds – most people could make something out. Or the Lewis Carroll nonsense verse his father liked so much. ‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe,’ and so on. It almost made sense. You could almost imagine the scene, but it was nonsense, and the interpretations Jerrie and Melissa had come up with are nowhere near so meaningful. I'll wait and see if they ever are – till they pass the Jabberwocky test.

By the time he arrived home, he'd decided on a more scientific approach. He would see if he could get one of his lab archies to record and repeat an electrical signal.

Clare had been opposed to any direct interference with the original colony at the Waterholes. Mary had been particularly wary. She'd made a strange reference to the Ancient Mariner killing the albatross. But his colonies were different. They wouldn't exist if it weren't for him. Clare was experimenting with them, so she could hardly object. The big question was how to go about it.

Chapter 78

Early the next morning – early enough, she hoped, to avoid any other visitors – Melissa arrived at Karl's cottage. When Karl farewelled her half an hour later, standing on his landing and watching her descend the stone stairs he felt pleased but puzzled. She had apologised for her coolness at their previous encounter but had offered no explanation. He watched as she rode down his gully. Through the trees he could just see her turn down the path towards the Manor.

She was not only talking to him again but had mentioned the Ball with enthusiasm. Her manner had been happy and strangely animated. His feelings towards her were confused. Despite being pleased that they were on friendly terms again he somehow felt more alienated from her than he had been on her arrival.

Clare heard someone on a horse-bot approaching the Manor as she was starting out on her morning ride. Looking back, she saw it was Melissa and waved. To her surprise, Melissa turned and flit towards her. Spurning a small detour over the bridge, she leapt the river and embankment in three bounds and headed across the field at speed. As she watched, Clare reflected that while most people saw bots as dog-like she had always felt they moved like cats.

She felt Betsy flinch slightly. ‘Steady girl. Steady,’ she said in a quiet, cheerful voice – patting her neck lightly.

Betsy was having none of that. She wasn't stupid. She'd seen these things often – in all their usual gaits and this wasn't usual. She'd also seen cats kill mice but never from this perspective.

While these notions flavoured her view over a few moments, instinct, as only instinct could, was rapidly orchestrating a radical transformation of her body. Brain, heart, lungs, and muscles prepared for action. Her mind rehearsed a double hoofed kick that would send that thing flying away from her if it came too close. But it didn't.

The situation changed as Melissa slowed then completed the approach with a horse-like trot. Clare felt the tension in Betsy subside. By the time Melissa reached, them Betsy's mind was heading in the direction of silly little foal.

‘I startled your horse. Apologies.’

Despite a slight awkwardness and formality in their greeting, Melissa fell in beside her and clearly intended joining her on her ride. They travelled in silence. When Clare looked down at her companion she was taking in her surroundings with a methodical gaze. They were starting to loop back towards home when their eyes finally met.

Melissa said, ‘You look precarious – high up there on this steep slope. Do you ever fall off your animal?’

Clare was about to say that the slope was not particularly steep then decided that a more positive response was called for. ‘It's good to see you down in the valley. We were a little worried about you all alone up there.’

‘Alone? Oh. I like alone. Apologies for concern.’ Her pretty face looked up smiling sweetly and Clare suppressed a pang of childhood jealousy.

‘I can see you enjoy living here, Clare. I may begin to understand your new life. Variety – green fertile valley – dry rocky mountains – dry sunny gullies – damp and shady gullies – even a little plain.’

‘Hemmed by a fairy-ring of hills. Yes, I remember the story.’

When they reached the top of the ridge and turned down the well-worn path that ran along its top Clare said, ‘You understand well. Better, perhaps, than anyone who was brought up here could,’ and they didn't speak again until they neared the stables.

Early for morning tea, they had finished a cup when George came in with a group of villagers. They had adjourned a meeting, but were still deeply involved in their discussion. As a burly villager entered bearing a large, heavily laden tea tray, Clare and Melissa excused themselves.

Outside, Melissa said, ‘Let's visit Mary Wang.’

Chapter 79

Mary's outdoor bots alerted her to the approach of visitors. Little flurries of excitement and anticipation ran through her as she quickly instructed her PA to continue the task she'd been working on. She looked at the wall, and feeling that her guests might find the display intimidating – or worse, pretentious – she reduced it layer by layer down to a simple display of the archie colony. She was thinking about how she might simply describe her latest work when Clare's voice called from the landing, ‘Hello. Are you in?’

Clare, bright and cheerful, seemed to bound into the veranda and gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. The shock of the physical contact was barely noticeable and now seemed even natural and comfortable with Clare. When Clare stepped aside and looked at Melissa, Mary felt anxious at the thought of a similar embrace with a near stranger.

Melissa was relaxed but serious. ‘I'm pleased to see you again ma'am,’ – standing her ground and holding out her hand. Relief swept Mary as she stepped forward. Melissa took one step in her direction and briefly but firmly shook Mary's hand while surveying her surroundings. Mary appreciated the lack of close scrutiny at such an awkward moment.

As they sat and Mary ordered tea, Clare said, ‘You didn't come down to the Manor for tea. I'm imagining this means you've been busy?’

‘I have been busy but without result so far. I'm setting up a new approach. I'm going back to basics. Back to basic semiotics.’

‘Looking at the sounds as abstract symbols,’ said Melissa.

‘Yes. My tutor would have condemned me for jumping too far – for making too many initial assumptions – too much intuition and not enough solid fact. I must make amends. I mustn't become lost trying to take shortcuts.’

‘Perhaps your tutor was missing something,’ said Clare.

‘She's the best in Arkadel.’

‘Where motivation is never discussed.’

‘Science is meant to be objective – free of influence from the scientist's motives.’

‘Motives, perhaps, but not motivation – the energy and drive that pushes people to achieve a goal. You've said your primary motivation comes from your great grandmother. She gave you a direction, but it was your strong feelings for her and her reputation that gave you motivation.’

‘True – that and a feeling of emptiness.’

‘Your motivation was flagging, but now you're re-energised by a taste of success.’

‘Or a fear of failure.’

‘You've not failed!’

‘I'm far from conceding failure, but I found myself in a position with no apparent path to success. I needed to start from a new position – my basic training.’ They were silent for a while. Mary continued, ‘We each deal with communication in different ways. Clare, you deal with diverse interactions of many species – their cooperation and competition for resources. You have words and mathematical models to describe what you observe.

‘Melissa, you have human communication through language and gesture. For each human language you have a dictionary and a thesaurus that map word symbols to complex meanings. You have grammar rules for constructing sentences – complex logical rules.

‘My mathematical models can detect statistical trends over populations – how people cluster around different ideas and activities – but my interest is not just how these clusters form and evolve. I'm interested in how they interact – how they communicate at a symbolic level – and how their interactions evolve.’

‘You personify social movements?’ asked Clare.

‘Not too far or we're accused of anthropomorphism. It's considered naive to imbue non-human things with human feelings and behaviour.’

‘But you're dealing with people. Why shouldn't groups of people be seen to act in a human manner? Nothing wrong with that. If I do it with my animals that's a different thing altogether but still valid from a certain view.’

‘The pagan view?’

‘Yes. The modern pagan view recognises that what we're talking about isn't a particular animal but our mental model of it. That's all we know about it – the particular understanding our culture has developed and whatever our personal experience has added. It may be an accurate reflection, or not, but it is just a reflection of the creature not the real thing.

‘Even a strict scientific view is distorted by the fact that it can't know the complete animal and it wilfully ignores what it can't deal with – trying to pretend that it doesn't exist. A mental model of an animal can have all the descriptive associations that anything else in our mind can.’

‘So when Tom says Wigglet is happy, does he really mean it's him that's happy? That wasn't the way it sounded. Perhaps he was joking.’

‘I'm wary about using anything Tom says as an example. We should ask Wigglet.’

‘That's the same as asking Tom. Any question to a PA is a question to its owner. The practise of imbuing PAs, or one of their bots, with a separate entity isn't just logically wrong it's dangerous. It creates internal conflicts within the PA, which can undermine its integrity.’

There was emotion in Mary's voice that Clare didn't want to explore. ‘That sounds like George and Winston. You should take up your point with George and Tom – or Karl.

‘I was going to say that the pagan view sees the basics of language in all life-forms. Even microbes make choices, which means they have the concept of “or” imbedded in their behaviour. Likewise with “and”, or the consequences we express using “if-then” structures.’

‘That's just as I see it. Everything from microbes to political movements recognise basic grammatical relationships such as “subject verb object” where the subject does something to the object. And qualifications such as “big predator” where things are classified.’

‘Our brain has been adapting to our use of language for a million years or more but building on general innate concepts. We don't inherit the basics of language. It's there in all living things. We just inherit the mental capacity to extend it. Your political spirits don't need to be conscious of these structures to use them any more than a plant or a dog does,’ Clare concluded.

Mary was pleased when Melissa joined in. ‘Jerrie says we have no inherited words – just tones – high or low – harsh or harmonious – rapid or slow. She says we can see this best in dogs. When they started living with us we shared a use of sounds and signals to express emotion, and we've adapted to each other.’

She continued with the exaggerated rhythm of a child repeating a lesson. ‘We growl, we whine, we snarl, we cringe, we sigh and yap and howl. Our eyes light up, we tilt our heads, and quizzically we stare – something, something, something. We yawn, stretch, scratch an itch or some small act of groom, so signalling that we're relaxed, no threat to anyone. But one thing we should never do is bare our teeth when happy. We'll put a chill right down the spine of any little puppy.’

‘Dogs learned to associate our words with things and actions and act on them but not the ability to reflect them back to us in speech. Not until the PA Dog helped us understand their gestures and sounds.’

‘Jerrie says she understands Titch better than a PA Dog could.’

‘She may be right – up to a point. Those two are close. But the PA Dog has expanded the usual repertoire – exposing all the signals we share that point back to our common heritage as pack hunters. Beyond that, each dog has to learn from scratch and they learn much faster if they interact with a dog-bot. It can share their signals better than any human. They learn interactively – the dog training the bot.’

‘Train it?’

‘A bot controlled by a good PA Canine can learn from the dog.’

‘It's the PA that's learning – not the bot. A bot's archive is restricted to movement rules and codes.’

‘How much can the dog train the bot to do?’

‘Not a lot. Things like “follow” or “stay” triggering actions defined in the PA Canine.’

‘Nothing original?’

‘Only the smartest or most strongly motivated dogs go beyond that. The most common thing is to train the bot to hide its arms when they're not in use.’

‘Why? What does a dog-bot use its arms for?’

‘To mimic human gestures and indicate to the dog that a command is coming directly from a human and must be obeyed immediately. The dog is trained to understand that before it has any control over the bot.’

‘So by getting the bot to hide its arms the dog is reacting against human control?’

‘Either that, or perhaps they just find the appearance of the arms disturbing – quite understandably.’

Chapter 80

Mary realised the large gap in her own knowledge they had exposed. She knew little about communication in other species. She tried to link it to her own understanding.

‘Information theory defines information transfer in terms of a model shared by the sender of a message and the receiver. With a complex shared model, based on a large amount of information, the message can be very brief but still convey much information. If there's no shared model there can be no communication.’

‘The shared model could be as simple as the need to control the carcass of freshly killed prey. The signals were basic and would have involved bluff and bluster on both sides,’ said Clare, grimacing and waving her arms to reinforce her point.

After regaining her composure she said, ‘If I receive an anonymous message, just the number three, I wouldn't be able to deduce very much from it. But if I knew it was from you, and we'd been discussing a time for a meeting, I'd know how to interpret it?’

‘That's information theory in a nutshell and it's at the core of everything from encryption and privacy to polling.’

‘How can information theory help us? Do you think the message is encrypted? What sense would that make?’ asked Melissa.

‘Deliberate encryption? None I can think of, but it makes little difference in theory. All language is a code of some sort. The power of the theory is that it's all the same problem. To understand the message you have to understand the model that created it and its context at the time of creation – the kind of message you would expect in that state – like Clare expecting me to suggest a time.’

‘Does that help us? You're trying to apply it to our problem?’

‘Information theory alone just relates the uncertainty of our interpretation of a message to the uncertainty in the model that created it. That's just one side of the problem. My training is in detecting key features of models – modelling what we know of different models in a common framework allowing us to detect common elements and translate between models.’

‘So that's what interface semiotics means?’

‘Yes. Finding or creating symbols for concepts we share and trying to put a value on their reliability so we can then use information theory to estimate the reliability of a translated message.’

‘Language translation.’

‘Further than that – translating concepts. Most of my work has been with the polling system at Arkadel. Our decision-making is based on competition between four models or factors. I model any changes and how they affect the way the factors interact.

‘Sometimes we project our models of the factors into the future trying to avoid serious disagreements or instabilities before they develop too far. We create a language that labels the active spirits and describes how they're interacting in language we can most easily comprehend.’

‘What are the factors?’

‘Do you support a particular side?’

‘No. Nobody does. It depends on the issue at hand. The factors are based on the Neo-Confucian view – borrowed from New Shanghai – except that we use different words to describe the interests: community, individual, change, and knowledge – the Cick system.

‘Some people – our clerics – devote themselves to building up the models for one factor. Others with an interest in particular issues – our politicians – will work with each factor on that issue. Others like myself – our technicians – work to make the whole system function smoothly.’

‘That doesn't seem relevant to our situation.’

‘Not directly, but it might give you an idea of how versatile the techniques are – the kind of abstract entities I'm used to dealing with – and why my PA, that uses a Cick architecture, is telling me we're lacking hard knowledge.’

‘I think we can agree on that. What do we do about it?’

‘I suggest we have something to eat first. Then we can look at the options. There are standard methods we can follow: we analyse the information we have; we try to get more; then, when we think we might have a useful model, we test it with trial interactions – or in our case, other parts of the recording.’

After a discussion of Mary's menu, and orders given, she continued. ‘The first phase is routine and I'm setting that up today – throwing everything I have at the data to find patterns. For the second phase we try any other data we can collect. The third phase is to try interacting to see if I can induce a response.

‘Information theory is very general. Karl mastered the Crisp core of the standard security model then applied his understanding of information theory. He was able to add a whole new security dimension to the answer to the biggest question of all: Who are you?’

‘That's how he makes his money?’ Melissa asked.

‘Yes.’

‘And his systems are the best?’

‘I think so. Others are using variants of his approach, but it comes down to a matter of trust – trust in his technical skill and trust in his discretion.’

‘And trust in Brindabella and its rock labyrinths as base physical storage.’

‘That's important for the ocean colonies – better than sea floor depositories.’

‘For Arkadel?’

‘Possibly.’

‘Whole colonies?’

‘Or individual PAs.’

‘Why trust him?’

‘Because they trust Gwen and they trust Brindabella's neutrality – outside the freshwater fisheries market.’

‘Does he travel much to market his systems?’

‘Never. Tom's parents and Gwen see to that.’

‘He doesn't really have a marketing campaign – just a rollout plan that Gwen manages.’

‘She says she's just making sure he doesn't overreach himself. He hasn't done much work over the past year. He spends most of his time climbing or playing the piano. And he's started collecting antique pianos and studying their construction.’

‘I've heard Gwen say that if she put her hand to any craft it would have to be building a piano.’

‘Perhaps he'll turn to making baby grands.’

They all laughed awkwardly.

‘More of this?’

‘Yes, please. I'm really hungry.’

‘Me, too.’

Chapter 81

After discussions at the Manor that evening, Mary found herself anxious to produce some results now she'd made her plans public. At least the issue of testing had been resolved. Until last night it had been difficult to imagine how she could achieve much if she wasn't able to test her ideas on a colony and her attempts to broach the topic with Clare had been politely rebuffed.

Tom had said he intended to set up a system for electrical stimulation of one of his colonies, which she could use for an initial round of tests. She'd resisted at first, because she thought it was an attempt to sidetrack her work away from the cave colonies – the natural ones that held her fascination.

For half an hour Clare and Tom had debated the issue. Whenever she felt emotions rising, the voices uncomfortably sharp, she had intervened, though she couldn't escape the feeling that they were enjoying themselves, and they saw her as spoiling their fun.

They agreed that Tom would run some initial tests generating electrical signals across the surface of one of his colonies. If the colony stayed healthy then she could try her testing with different combinations of excerpts from her recordings and record the responses – if any.

Looking back now, their behaviour suddenly made sense. It was a game they played! Each statement was a tilt at the other person's sense of reality. The emotion added weight to each tilt. How marvellous! How much more interesting than swooping someone's bike. And where do I stand? At the bottom of the ladder! That thought was a shock.

She went back to her first tournament. What a lonely day it had been – eliminated after the first day. But in those hours she'd learned more than in years of watching from the public drones.

For the first hour or so she was frustrated by not being able to switch instantly from one part of the field of action to another – she had to actually fly there. After a few hours she started to feel alone. Nobody took any notice of her. She flipped around the drone images wondering where she should be as the field spread.

She studied her situation screen. There she was – a bright red spot in the centre with other dots of varying colour and intensity coding the handicap and scoring rate of each competitor. The bright red spot glared at her. It wasn't how others saw her so she switched off the highlight and what remained was a faint green spot – barely visible.

That was no respectable target – few points in it for an attacker – who would bother? – someone bored or wanting to do her a favour – wanting to ingratiate themselves with her family – how horrible! She was jolted into watching the action far more seriously than ever before – to think – to plan – she had the time. She had to go on the attack but do it in a way that didn't attract ridicule. She chose modest targets.

Her first few tilts were successful – the element of surprise was in her favour but of course it didn't last. One of her targets retaliated with great success. She saluted and kept going, undaunted. By the end, her tally was small but respectable for a novice – enough to attract a small handicap for her next tournament. She had trebled it to raise the stakes and found herself in the action from the start.

Here, now, she realised that it was a game not a tournament. She only had to participate to earn respect and to be accepted – to demonstrate that she was happy to play. She would never be in Clare and Tom's league. She also felt that perhaps, now, she was beginning to understand Tom's humour. It was the habit of a mind forever questioning and contradicting – contrary. His jokes weren't intended to be funny – they were just fun – to him, at least.

Chapter 82

The valley was experiencing an exodus as people headed to town for the social season. Mary had noted the proceedings with some interest, but when Jerrie and Hercule, then a few days later, Karl and Melissa left, she felt the impact.

The Manor was deserted but for Clare who insisted, against George and Gwen's protests, that she had no intention of going at all this year. Tom said he was busy – supplying Mary with an excuse she had casually gone along with. She was relieved.

Since nobody else was riding the horses, Clare and Mary ended their morning ride at Tom's cottage and let the horses loose there to find food in new surroundings and spend the day making their way back to the Manor in their own time.

The three spent most of the days and evenings together – the afternoons walking, talking, and each day looking for a pleasant spot for tea – sheltered from the cold winds. Each evening they cooked, talked, and ate – competing with each other to provide another dish.

Tom and Clare usually washed the food down with copious quantities of wine and by the end of one evening became quite boisterous. Mary, sticking to her green tea, felt herself drawn into their mood. They were standing outside on Tom's landing savouring the fresh, still air and talking about the stars when he decided to join Possum in its sentinel post high in a tree beside the landing. He climbed amid protests from below then, reaching the branch, settled himself and proceeded to make raucous possum calls.

‘It's hard to believe he's the same person who turns to jelly on a rock face. It's not the first time. The first time I was woken up in the middle of the night by an alert I wasn't amused. It might sound realistic to us, but my sensors aren't fooled. He probably doesn't even know the difference between a mating call and a territorial call – I just don't know.’

Tom soon felt the cold and started to clamber down while he still could – shivering but still buoyant, calling, ‘Just because we didn't go to town doesn't mean we can't have a break.’

Clare started laughing again, crying, ‘Be careful. You'll kill yourself.’

They helped him to his bedroom then sat talking in the veranda.

‘... Tom has said twice now that he has had a new development, but I've been too preoccupied to give him time to explain.’

‘Has he told you what it is?’ asked Clare absently.

‘No.’

‘Did he say it was exciting?’

‘No.’

‘Then you needn't worry. Research science has its own vocabulary. Something is exciting if another specialists finds it interesting. Something the whole field finds interesting is very exciting. Something people outside the field find interesting is a breakthrough. Anything that may actually have broader application is a major breakthrough. The accepted protocol is to congratulate the exciting, but only the breakthroughs demand any further acknowledgement.’

‘Oh. I see. I think he did refer to a breakthrough.’

After a long silence Mary said, ‘It's a simple example of discrete model uncertainty – a possible two word vocabulary – territorial or mating – but what is the sender's vocabulary? It would require a message containing both codes to establish that.’

Clare looked relaxed and happy as she slid lower into the chair. ‘Oh Mary, Mary – take me home.’

Mary took her back to the Manor then made her way, tired and a little confused, down the corridor to her old bedroom.

Chapter 83 – Greta

The next morning she woke early. Clare wasn't in the stables, so she went back inside. She knocked quietly on Clare's door and a faint voice responded. ‘Is that you Mary? Oh, not now. I'll catch up with you in a couple of hours.’

She changed out of her riding clothes and went outside to take a few turns around the shrubbery, thinking and waiting. Realising she was hungry, she was about to order breakfast when she had another idea.

She wandered down to the bakery in the village. She'd seen it but not been inside. As she opened the door a bell tinkled, taking her by surprise. It also reminded her that she had no money. She had seen the little metal coins, but it had never occurred to her that having a few might come in handy.

She was about to leave when a voice called. ‘Allo dearie. Now, what can I get for ya?’ It came from an old woman wearing an apron covered in flour. A lock of her hair had come adrift from its binding and hung across her wrinkled face. It, too, was splashed with flour.

Mary hesitated then blurted, ‘I – I was thinking – but I have no money.’

‘No sweat, dearie. We keep a tab for Manor folk who done av money. Gwen coughs up at the end'v the month. Now – what'll it be?’

Mary understood the general intention of the statement and the old woman's friendly manner was appealing. She thought for a moment and ran her eyes across the food displayed in the glass box. It wasn't a restaurant. There was no menu.

‘Thank you. Those look interesting. I'll have one of them.’

‘Here or away?’

Mary quickly grasped her meaning. Looking about the shop and tables she replied, ‘Here, please.’ She noticed that one of the tables had a cat sprawled across it catching the warmth of the winter sun streaming through the shop window.

‘An tea?’ continued the old woman with an air of infinite patience.

Mary stalled again – no green tea here – but her confidence was rising and she was starting to feel comfortable – even bold.

‘Do you have coffee?’

‘Course we do dearie. Tommy'd neva speak ta me if I didn stock is favourite. You'll be wantin some of that.’

‘Yes please.’

The woman shouted, ‘Benny!’ and a few moments later a young boy entered from a back room.

‘Now, go grine some coffee – an sharp aboud it.’

She shooed the cat from the table muttering, ‘Nice in a bit a sun these days.’ She replaced the cloth and with an inviting smile waved Mary to the chair she had positioned to catch the sun – said, ‘Wone be long,’ and disappeared into the back room.

True to her word she soon returned with the coffee and a shallow wicker basket filled with several varieties of buns and covered by a colourfully embroidered netting fringed with beads. She pulled up a chair and sat down across the table from Mary. ‘Muss ress the legs. I'm Dorothy, by the way. I know who you are. Eat up – ya look arf starved. I bin keepin an eye out fer ya.’

Her voice had softened and was now almost conspiratorial. ‘Summun's bin wantin ta meet ya – waitin for George ta get back for an intro would ya believe. An ere you are an I'm gunna tell you any way, but first I gotta get the secon bake goin.’

She rose and left. Mary had a sip of the coffee then helped herself to a bun. It was very sweet and sticky – cinnamon almost burying the taste of something she couldn't recognise.

The sun was warm and by the time she had finished the bun she felt sleepy. It had been a late night. She leant back in the chair and shut her eyes. After a few deep refreshing breaths she opened them to see the cat sitting near the table staring at her.

It immediately averted its gaze and looked carelessly about the floor then stared at the other chair. She watched it for a while – her mind happily blank. It watched the chair and occasionally glanced towards the back door.

In an instant it leapt up and was sitting on the chair surveying the table. It glanced at the buns showing no interest then looked over the unused part of the table as if assessing its suitability as a resting place. Acting under a compulsion, Mary placed her coffee cup in the middle of the table.

She looked back at the cat. It was now staring at her intensely. She stared back – fascinated by the strange beast. Suddenly it emitted a short gasping sound that turned into a soft but high-pitched, ‘yeeoww’, jumped from the chair and fled from the room. She was startled – not so much by the sudden action but the inescapable feeling that she had frightened it.

It took her a few minutes to compose herself. She remembered the kangaroos she'd seen by the path. They weren't afraid of her. Clare had said they were just conceding territory – moving to where they weren't being closely observed. She could understand that as a matter of personal space and privacy.

This was different. The cat was not afraid of humans. It was obviously very much at home here. It wasn't just reacting to her mindless territorial claim. It was afraid of her – just her.

She had to accept that her first solo interaction with another species had been a total failure. A slight fear of the unknown had triggered her need for personal space. She was disappointed with herself – her lack of composure. She was thinking of leaving when Dorothy returned.

‘Done mine er. She's ole an aint use ta strangers in a tertry. Now what I got in mind is we go see Greta right now. Aw aboud it?’

‘Yes. If you wish.’

‘Snot far. Juss downa street. She's diana see ya.’

She rose, took the basket of buns, added a few other items from the cabinet and nodded at the door. ‘Arfta you dearie,’ – looking pleased with herself.

Chapter 84

The house they approached was one of the larger buildings in the village. In many ways it displayed the style of the Manor. Dorothy opened the front door without ringing or knocking and went in beckoning Mary to follow and calling, ‘Hi ho. It's just me. I've brought someone to see you,’ as they entered a small but elegantly furnished parlour.

Mary had thought Dorothy looked old, but the woman sitting in a well padded armchair looked much older. She must have been asleep or dozing lightly because as they entered she looked confused then snapped in a weak but authoritative voice.

‘And who might you be?’

She fiddled momentarily with a rug on her legs then looked back up at Mary. ‘Oh dear me, dear me. What am I saying. It's my rheumatism speaking. Of course I know who you are, Mary Wang, and I'm pleased to meet you – very pleased indeed – very exciting, very exciting – Mary Wang from Arkadel – Wang Mai to some. Now there is a pretty name indeed. Do you not think so, Dotty?’

‘I think you're an old fool sitting there in this cold. That thing on your legs is little more than a doily. I'll fetch a proper blanket.’

‘Don't say that. Beth made it for me. It is so pretty.’

‘Yes. Pretty on a warm spring afternoon but trimmed in black right now. I'll fetch some wood while I'm at it. That fire wouldn boil a kettle.’

‘Wouldn't – wouldn't – how many times do I have to say?’

‘I'm sure I lost count before I left school. Here, Mary, please. Take her other arm and help her up. We'll move your chair nearer the fire.’

‘All this fuss. I'll fry. Now Mary, you bring a chair over and make yourself comfortable while Dotty makes the tea. We'll be rid of her soon. She daren't leave that grandson of hers in charge of the shop too long. He'll eat half the day cakes and give the rest away to his friends.’

Before she left, Dorothy took a small green plastic box out of a pocket and placed it on the table beside the tea things.

‘This is for you, Mary – in case you want a recording.’

She pressed the top of the box. It turned red and she left.

‘Do you mind – Mrs? – Miss Greta? I'm afraid Dorothy didn't introduce us.’

‘She's quite daft at times. She won't learn – or pretends not to. Since I already know a little about you, I'll introduce myself.’ She stretched a skeletal hand towards Mary. ‘Greta – Greta Olsen – a Miss, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.’

As they shook hands she peered at Mary, squinting, and continued. ‘My mother was a Gundel but not young Karl's side of the family. I doubt he's mentioned family. Always a quiet lad, but I'm aware that you know him.’

‘Yes – of course – but as you say, he's not very talkative.’

‘Well, I'll tell you something he doesn't know. You two are related, but that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about. I have news for you that I think you'll find most interesting. I hear you've been enquiring about your great grandmother's visits?’

‘Do you remember her?’

‘Dear me, not very well I'm afraid. I was very young. I took her meals up to her when she was poorly.’

‘Oh. She had no coins?’

‘No, dear. I mean when she was ill. I remember she was quite excitable. She was not someone who coped well with being bedridden. She accused me of being her warder, but she was apologetic and kind to me when she recovered.’

‘What was the illness? Was she very ill? For how long?’

‘Oh, nothing serious. Just a chill – a touch of fever, perhaps – and a sore leg. She needed rest, that's all. When they found her lost in the bush they thought she was delirious, but it was just her way really. She was quite excitable. You seem so different – so calm – but there is a clear resemblance in your manner. You knew her well?’

‘As a child – yes – but she died when I was young.’

‘Would you like to see her room? I don't dash up and down the stairs any more. Once a day is all I can manage. It's the first door on your left.’

‘So she stayed here?’

‘Yes. My mother said later that Sara knew she had a relative who lived here. It turned out to be her.’

‘I was aware that she knew Stanley Oldfield.’

‘Stanley visited us often at the time. They used to go for long rides together – an early breakfast then off for the whole day. One of the young men from the gullies used to go with them as a guide and to keep things respectable, but I don't remember who it was. How the three of them used to talk and talk when they returned. It made no sense to me, but I remember they were very enthusiastic.’

‘Perhaps I will take a look at the room if you don't mind.’

When she returned, the old woman appeared to be asleep. Mary paused at the parlour door wondering if she should disturb her sleep a second time when her eyes opened and she smiled wearily.

She straightened herself up in the chair. ‘Families – such strong ties, yet sometimes so different as individuals. I used to wonder if my brother belonged to the same species, but if it wasn't for such differences we would only mix with those that are just like us.’

‘I know what you mean. No two people in my family are alike, but, as you say, there is a bond that seems unbreakable.’

‘In a small village such as this it can all be a little close, so when we discover someone from a distant place, from a different culture, it can be exciting to realise you're linked by a short chain of family bonds. The world seems a smaller and friendlier place.

‘Dotty warned me not to make a fuss over our being related. She said half the human race was related as closely as we were – but that is the point, really. To think about it means little, but to actually meet someone makes it real – a distant lantern shining from far beyond the usual family circle. That was the main impression Sara Barratt left with me. Now here you are. All the way from Arkadel. You must tell me what it's like.

‘First, some more wood on the fire. I don't want you getting a chill.’

They talked on through the morning with Mary tending the fire, boiling the kettle, making tea as though she'd been doing it all her life. She felt quite proud when Greta complimented her on her fire skills.

‘That's a good blaze. From the outdoor style I'll guess young Clare taught you. With a grate and chimney I'm not as fussy with my setting – a little difficult these days.

‘I met Clare up at the Manor when she first arrived to live here, but she's rarely seen in the village. We don't see much of Thomas these days, either. He doesn't attend chapel any more. I used to be vicar, you know.’

‘No, I didn't know that. Dorothy told me nothing about you.’

‘She can be a sensible girl. She knew you wouldn't want to hear it all twice.’

As if prompted by the mention of her name, Dorothy walked in carrying another basket. ‘I've brought us some lunch. A pie straight from the oven. Now, Mary dear, you set the table while I see to this.’

Fortunately for Mary, she noticed a slight flicker in Dorothy's eyes towards a wooden cabinet. It was similar to the one in her room in the Manor but much larger. She started with the top drawer. Bracing herself, she grasped both handles and pulled firmly and evenly. To her great relief the drawer slid open with ease and laid out neatly before her was everything she needed. The rest was easy.

She was hungry. The pie was welcome – the taste similar to dishes she had eaten at the Manor. ‘So! Has she bored you batty with her family tree?’ asked Dorothy – the first to speak.

‘No, I haven't. I left that for you. Dorothy is one of our local historians. They play a valuable role in village life. They come up with an endless stream of excuses to delve through the diaries of the dead.’

‘Between us, we know so much about our ancestors. It makes the village seem larger than it is.’

Chapter 85

Thirst and hunger eventually joined forces to have Tom dragged from his bed just before morning morphed into its brief noon chrysalis to emerge as a mature day demanding his attention.

A light meal and two coffees later, he settled himself in the veranda. After a few minutes spent reviewing the events of the previous evening with a satisfied smile he turned his mind to work.

Surveying the new colonies, checking their development, he selected one for the first trial. He initialised a PA branch for it and called it Neuro. He carefully installed a proto-colony in a small antechamber – just a few cells held in a state of arrested development – cells of his own genetic design.

The next colony he named Cyb and set in train the millibots that would distribute thousands of microbots across its surface. Each of the micros had instructions to position itself at the edge of a neuron on the source of the neuron's outgoing electrochemical impulse. The micros could detect the firing of the neuron, or could trigger a firing if the neuron was in an excited state. This, linked with a hierarchy of com-bots, was the basic Sense and Nudge technology of the cyb world – well developed and reliable.

The third trial, Electro, was the controversial one – testing what he had suggested for the cave colonies. He used a mantis-bot to lay a cable as thin as spider web around the edge of the test colony as a common voltage reference. He then position squads of millibots along it. Each squad formed an electrode and between them they could distribute a complex dynamic electrical field across the colony.

He didn't like the idea. It was crude – inelegant. After thinking about the situation for a few minutes, frustration ceded to rebellion. He gave instructions for the construction to be dismantled. He would have a fine electrode grid made up and lay it across part of colony surface. They could argue about its suitability for the cave archies when he had some results – something more concrete to base a discussion on.

He turned his mind to the question of what testing he should perform. He knew his interests were not the same as Mary's. The idea of mimicry – aggressive or otherwise – made no sense at all to him. He was taking the situation as seriously as science and friendship demanded. He could do no more. He would provide the facilities for her to continue her investigations but keep his distance.

He set out on a walk to clear his mind – walking, thinking – ‘what next?’ It became clear that he needed to escape the wild speculation and start from a solid foundation – some facts – his experience and accumulated knowledge.

What he did know something about was colony feeder training. He'd developed it to a fine art. He'd achieved the shortest weaning times in the industry, which led to fast restoration of failed systems. The problem was that it was still an art. Nobody had developed a theory that reliably explained individual outcomes.

With Karl's help, he had improved the pattern matching that detected subtle changes in the response to different feeding regimes and led to earlier detection of the outcome. He had developed a system of labels for these patterns. He had the foundations for a language but nothing that matched sentences, let alone a conversation.

‘What am I asking? Do you want some of this? What's the answer? Yes or no? A little more than just yes and no. The colonies are accepting quantities – a little of this and a lot of that. But it's all very one-sided.’

I know the colonies are capable of more than just taking. They engage in two-way interactions with fungi. To engage in a real conversation I need to make a request and reward a correct response – but how?

Fungi trade. With plants, they trade minerals – extracting them from soils more effectively than the plant's roots can – traded for the energy in sugars that the plants produced from sunlight. That's one thing every living organism needs – the fundamental commodity of all life – energy. That's the basic currency.

Chapter 86

Sitting on her veranda, anxiously watching her ser-bots waiting on the landing, Mary tried to emulate their patience. The goods shuttle from town should have arrived half an hour ago. Clare and Tom would be arriving in a few hours.

She had a menu and recipes written by hand and had carefully dictated them to her chef. She had bought most of the ingredients on a stroll through the village – the general store, the butcher, the fishmonger, and finally dropping in to the bakery to select a few delicacies and to thank Dorothy again for introducing her to Greta.

The missing ingredients were her new dining table accoutrements – linen, cutlery, crockery, candles, and a few other items she had carefully noted as Greta listed them and where to purchase them.

The shuttle arrived, deposited its load on the landing, and sped off. The servants had food preparation under way and soon had the table set. She relaxed into her chair and waited for her guests to arrive.

She recounted her day to her PA in as much detail as she could remember while it was fresh in her mind. Later she would replay Dorothy's recorder to it. That had been a strange arrangement. It was obviously an attempt to please her without transgressing village conventions.

At the appointed time she heard the hooves of a horse-bot approaching at a leisurely pace on the gravel path below. It was Clare. She ushered her in with a formality that took Clare by surprise. They had been sitting and chatting about town and the ball for a while before the sound of Tom's bike coming to a halt on the landing distracted them.

‘Sorry I'm late – out all afternoon walking – just received your message.’

The fact that it had been printed on a visiting card and delivered to his cottage rather than flicked to his PA had puzzled him, but he suppressed his curiosity. There was an air of excitement and anticipation in Mary's mood. He was sure all would be revealed in due course.

Clare continued, ‘So, did you have an interesting time in the village?’

‘Yes. How did you know?’

‘I was checking sensors. I noticed the trail of a human leaving the village in the early afternoon and going to the bike bays. I don't have sensors in the village, of course, but I checked and found there was a trail leading in from the Manor early in the morning not long after you tried to stir me.’

‘Oh.’

‘You look disturbed. Have I said something wrong?’

‘No. Not at all. It's just that after a lifetime of public living it's strange to feel shocked to learn that someone has tracked me.’

‘There are always limits to privacy – even here – but your secret is not quite public. Only four of us have ready access to the sensor records, and since one of those is Tom, I haven't breached security by mentioning it. Of course, the whole village will know by now. It takes real skill to keep a secret there.’

Tom laughed. ‘A challenge even for an Arkadelian. Now tell us what you've been up to. We'll hear sooner or later.’

‘Of course. I invited you here to try a meal Greta suggested and to tell you what I've discovered – that Greta knew Sara and that Sara stayed with her family while she was here.’

‘Did she!’ cried Clare and Tom in unison.

‘Greta must have been very young.’

Mary called for food. ‘The main course is still about thirty-three minutes away according to chef. First, let's have some appetisers. I have some of your freshwater crayfish prepared in New Shanghai styles. These small ones are just lightly steamed and go best with the sauces.’

‘These larger ones – flash grilled slices – need to be eaten hot, so we'll order more as we need them. They're eaten with the gomashio,’ pointing to a triangular dish. ‘This is Arkadelian. In the corners are coarse ground sesame seed, salt, and finely ground seaweed. In between are gradations of the three, so you can choose the combination you prefer or plot a course through them.’

‘And it provides accurate information for your medic.’

‘It has that advantage.’

After anxiously observing the others as they started to eat, she continued. ‘The really surprising information Greta divulged was that she and I were related – remotely. That was why Sara ended up staying with the family.’

Tom said, ‘I'd assumed she stayed at the Manor.’

‘So had I – but apparently not.’

‘Which side of the family – the Olsens or Gundels?’

‘The Gundels.’

‘That means you're related to Karl,’ cried Clare – astonished.

‘Yes. Greta emphasised that it was distant.’

‘Greta is Karl's great-aunt,’ said Tom. ‘Interesting news but not very encouraging, is it.’

‘Why not?’ said Clare looking at Tom – her brow furrowed.

‘I'm afraid he's right. Tom has seen the significance of this faster than I did. The problem is that it somewhat muddies the water as far as Sara's motives for being here are concerned. We – or at least I – have been assuming she was driven by a professional, scientific interest. Finding another possible motive she hasn't mentioned is confusing. Perhaps she didn't want me to see it as influencing her – keep my focus on her work.’

‘You seem to be taking the news well.’

‘I decided on my way home that I wouldn't let it deter me. Sara did go on field trips here. That was something Greta saw – or saw them returning in high spirits – more than one could explain by a day of fresh air, from her description.’

‘Or romance?’ added Tom.

‘I think we have to consider that as a significant factor from the inferences I've extracted in their manner at the time. It's clear they grew close. Even my family guessed that there was someone special here. I feel strongly that there was much more to her interest in Brindabella than friendship – or family.

‘She was dedicated to her work and aloof with people – unless they were involved in her work. Anyone else, even family, were peripheral to her life. You can see it in her daughters. It was both a strength and a weakness – as she realised when her career came to a halt. She tried to make up lost time with me.

‘They had someone with them as a guide on their excursions and he was actively involved in their discussions.’

‘Who was that?’

‘She couldn't say, but we may be able to find out. He might have spoken to others or even kept a diary. Dorothy might be able find out more about him, but that can keep. I want to push on.’

‘Family aside – back to work,’ said Clare.

‘Yes. I'm a Barratt.’ With a wistful shrug she continued in a determined manner, ‘So – where are we? What do we know? What are we doing?

Chapter 87 – Trading

‘You have news Tom? A breakthrough perhaps?’

‘I've just initiated an experiment inspired by your idea of treating interactions as a conversation. I'm attempting to make a demand of one of my archies. I realised that all I've been doing was making offerings and they were accepting or not. It is a one-sided conversation.’

‘Not really a conversation at all. No more than watering a plant.’

‘Clare's right. You need to know more about how the system is reacting to your offer. Just grabbing what it needs is not trade. What are they offering in return? How is what you're doing now any different to what you've done before?’

‘I realised that, but I couldn't think of any way to do it differently other than to cut off the feeding and present just the components for one chemical product it needs to assemble. I thought it might start presenting the excess once it had supplied its immediate needs. I picked some products that it doesn't seem to store.’

‘Do you have any past experience that might suggest it would respond that way? We have past feeding records spanning a century or more don't we?’

‘That's brilliant, Clare. All that information – but what to look for?’

Mary was thinking hard. ‘We still need to have a process that could lead to a mutual understanding. You've said that sugar is a basic commodity.’

‘I've thought about that as a reward.’

‘Then we can start with the simplest of training approaches. You observe the system until it does what you want it to do then reward it. We reward it with sugar.’

‘Even if there was no intention involved on its part?’

‘Yes, particularly then. That's usually the case on a first attempt. The aim is to establish the recognition of an interaction – the recognition that something that the system has done has led to success.’

Clare said, ‘That's one of the fundamentals of Natural Intelligence – the ability to recognise success and connect it with the action that caused it.’

Mary felt a burst of enthusiasm that was quickly clouded by scepticism. ‘Success implies an action – the attempt to achieve something. To recognise is to react in some way that's particular to the situation – to marshal resources to profit from the success. But that's humans – the flow of human activities that's driven by the intelligence of individual humans. Here we're dealing with simple amoebas.’

‘Simple?’ cried Tom. ‘They may seem simple to us. They don't have our particular culture and technologies, but they have chemical technologies far in advance of our own. We depend on their knowledge and skills for much of our food processing – we have from the earliest days of our civilisations.

‘They have intelligence as individuals and as a colony. How colonies behave depends on their level of organisation. At the simplest level each cell is acting individually in its search for food – a simple cluster of individual cells each feeding, growing, then dividing when it becomes large enough.

‘As a colony it can explore at its edges, putting out tentacles – streams of cells. Each is following its sense of taste but keeping in touch with its neighbours in the stream. The whole colony is acting like an individual amoeba but on a much larger scale. These filaments can cover a wide area – far wider than an individual cell could cover. A simple unstructured colony can solve a maze problem in the lab.

‘If the supply of food is steady it doesn't need to move. Once colonies are stationary they can develop structure. Instead of nutrients being laboriously passed from cell to cell across thousands of cells, channels are created in the space between the cells so nutrients can flow through the colony. These passageways evolved to specialise in either raw or processed food and they became the precursors of our digestive and circulatory systems.

‘Likewise, the system for signalling the presence of food from cell to cell developed into a network of specialist cells dedicated to the task – the neurons – the eunuchs of amoebal society with their reproductive apparatus redeployed to signalling. This is still cell to cell communication but rapid and between cells in far-off parts of the colony. This is the activity you see in the fluoro imaging you're looking at from the archies – rapid long-range communication via electrical pulses. This behaviour eventually evolved into our sense of taste and smell.’

‘There's much to digest in that, but speaking of taste, our main course is nearly ready. Shall we move into the dining room and continue the discussion there?’

The decor of the room initially reminded Tom of Noni's apartment. Dimmer lighting and the table setting were more suggestive of the Manor. The ceiling had been screened – a rarity at Brindabella. It was displaying an oval dome and the night sky – obviously a live view of the sky above them with a few tree branches intervening. The far wall was in stark contrast with everything else in the room. An oval porthole displayed a dark cavern. Dimly lit in the centre were the rim-pools.

Clare was clearly impressed by the scene. Tom sensed a crack developing in her strong preference for living in the Manor and made an appreciative comment.

When they were seated, two waiters entered with the food. Another small surprise was their livery – a combination of Arkadel black and mauve with Brindabella green. His greatest surprise came when the silver canopy was lifted to display the food.

‘Ahaa. Wallaby wellingtons. I haven't had one in years. Have you tried them before, Clare?’

‘Something similar, perhaps. A beef wellington made with a chunk of roo – cooked in coals. This looks different. The tapered sausage shape is strange.’

‘Individual leg muscles from the youngest cullings. For the villagers it's the ultimate Brindabellan delicacy.’

Mary had been pleased with the reception of her decor, but now, adding to her worries that the dish might not be prepared or cooked correctly, was the discomfort of having to eat it. Could she? She pulled herself together.

‘It just occurred to me that I could be eating one of the joeys I saw near the river.’

‘Wrong species – if that helps,’ said Clare. ‘You saw roos. Wallabies are a smaller species. They stay in the ridges and rarely spend much time down in the valley.’

‘Well, let's try it. I seem to be the only one who has no idea what it'll be like.’

Tom hadn't waited for the invitation but had sampled a slice of the largest – straight from serving platter to mouth. ‘It's good. Arkadel style fine-slicing is just the thing. I'm sure Greta would approve of your innovation.’

Mary sampled some herself. ‘And the taste? Is that correct?’

Chapter 88

Later, out in the veranda, Clare returned to the previous conversation. ‘Tom you seemed to be wending your way towards a question you wanted to ask Mary. Perhaps we can skip to that point?’

‘I was thinking about the patterns of electrical activity in the test archies. In the past I've detected simple patterns within a colony. I sometimes measure the consistency of each pattern as an index of stability. If you could detect more patterns – distinct patterns for different foods – we would have the basis for applying a language structure.

‘This afternoon I started setting up trials – three trails of varying sophistication – neural, cyb and, when I finalise a design, our much debated electrodes. The first will take a few weeks or more to stabilise. The other two will be ready to start sooner.’

‘Why three? We agreed we'd only attempt the third approach.’

‘In the cave – but you agreed we could use cyb techniques in my lab.’

‘And the first trial? We've never discussed a neural approach.’

‘It's just for one lab colony. If you think about it a bit I'm sure you'll agree that it's the way archies would prefer to interact with us – just as they do between themselves. From this experiment I can develop a suitable interface for our side of the link. Eventually we can link the archies here, then with those in the hill – if they want it. I'm sure they will.’

‘The historical feeder training data Clare mentioned – I'd like to try my modelling skills on that. I'll need you to explain it to me.’

‘Good. You're more likely to find patterns than I am – or Karl.’

‘Is it the same type of data you gave me from the cave fluorescence images?’

‘Similar, but a more detailed three dimensional view.’

‘My PA has built a mapping between that data and my past work. It gives me some intuitive understanding of the problem.’

Clare looked surprised. ‘You didn't say you'd done biological modelling.’

‘I model human behaviour, which is biological, but I'm thinking of a simple part of that – automated PA coms. Rule-sets for PA com need to be simple enough for the owner to understand and modify quickly and safely. Experience has taught us that if they're made too complex the owner loses touch. Information leaks unintentionally, which can be embarrassing, so people usually keep to a simple common rule-set.

‘This means that the com networks – the automated traffic of each PA – can be modelled as a simple process even when we have many PAs interconnecting in a complex network.’

‘I see what you're getting at. You're looking at the flow of messages – the dynamics – rather than the content.’

‘Yes.’

‘The parallel is good. Now, when I think about the kind of modelling you do and the data you have available at Arkadel, it's obvious. Take the case of a single neuron. It's pumped up electrically by stimulation from its input branches. When it exceeds a threshold it fires and sends impulses to thousands of other neurons connected to its output branches. Likewise, a PA can be instructed to forward messages to lists of recipients when its interest level is greater than some level defined by the owner.’

‘Exactly. Interest level is usually a simple function of traffic volume and past owner interest in the topic.’

‘And the modelling works?’

‘Yes. It's not a very useful technique in itself, but the models generated are stable enough to form a basis for more complex analysis when we add other sources of data. They provide a broad picture of networks, within which, more detailed analysis takes place.

‘The models provide valuable information on dynamic activity of the network. People become more involved in a topic when they see that it's being re-circulated widely and sustaining interest – we provide real-time feedback on that. Eventually, a topic loses interest value and activity around it fades. It was this process that blocked my understanding for a while – until you mentioned inhibitory neurons.’

Tom nodded. ‘Activity can tire naturally, but inhibitory neurons provide finer control – dampening activity once it becomes too repetitive and doesn't lead to further associations. Otherwise we'd become locked into one thought pattern.’

‘That's where I thought the parallel between neurons and PA messaging broke down. Some messaging is dampened by habitual nay-sayers – separate individuals like the inhibitory neurons – but most of the damping comes from a more general loss of interest – a discussion not progressing – deadlocked – or something new emerging.

‘You talked about connection strengths between neurons. I think a good analogue for that is the priority ratings PAs have for messages. Does that sound right?’

‘That seems like a good match. All you need is PAs adjusting their priority rating for a message to align somehow with the interests of the recipients – how likely they are to react to it. I would expect that to be a natural refinement.’

‘It is. It's a standard approach. Most PAs are configured to provide direct feedback to the sender on interest level. That information is used to refine the sender's lists and priorities.’

‘That's great! It provides a mechanism for network learning and specialisation. Once you have that, you tap into the emergent behaviour of networks – pattern matching – connections sensitised by past experience. Messages from particular sources – or topics in your case – follow different feedback or circulation routes. The patterns of reactions differ for different message topics.

‘In the biological case it's the sensor neurons reacting to a particular molecule and producing a different pattern of firing for different molecules as happens with our taste or smell – just as it does in the colony feeder troughs.’

Chapter 89

Clare looked disapprovingly at Tom. ‘Feed troughs? You bring people and their private lives to the level of pigs eating from a trough.’ Then, realising that her statement implied an attack on Mary, she continued in a more conciliatory tone.

‘Are people really so lacking in a sense of privacy? I thought Arkadel was renowned for its privacy.’

Tom looked defiant. ‘What's wrong with pigs?’

Rather than taking offence, Mary said – even expressing a little mirth at Clare's naivety – ‘I don't look at message content or identify individuals. Most of the messages are encoded, so only eligible recipients can decode them, or the destination.’

Then she added, provocatively, ‘Privacy is a complex thing. PA privacy can be high in a well run zone. Brindabella's small size, its isolation, and excellent management, make it one of the most secure zones on the planet. On the other hand, today I observed a lack of privacy in the village that's unparalleled in my experience.’

Tom laughed. ‘Dot and Greta don't miss much.’

‘They have access to more personal diaries than are held in the Manor library,’ – with a knowing look towards Tom.

Clare was agitated. ‘Do you mean they read other people's diaries?’

‘Sometimes, apparently, if they've been made public. Otherwise they ask questions and people delve into their ancestor's diaries. That side of it isn't far removed from the way we do things at Arkadel except that at Arkadel it's bound by strict procedural and financial considerations.

‘Once you communicate information it's no longer private. You can negotiate confidentiality on a personal basis or as a subgroup, but there is always a risk. In the long run, most people like to see their family history woven into the official community history.

‘My most reliable testing ground is the Aero Club. They collect the depersonalised com traffic data with the co-operation of the members. I've a contract with them to access the data and in return I provide the club caucus with immediate feedback on trends in membership interests.’

‘The feedback you provide to the caucus is like the feedback my augmentation provides to my PA. If the management uses your information to stimulate and promote discussion of particular issues then the analogy would be complete. Do you see signs of learning?’

‘I don't usually think of it that way. We talk about self-optimising networks. For example, club members with wide contacts among competitors, local and abroad, will become central to discussions on team recruitment. Their messages will gradually increase in priority as this is recognised by others and they'll be placed on more people's forwarding lists for that topic.

‘If they also have an interest in the club finances they'll become conduits for discussions about competitor contracts. The rule dynamics have a tendency to push people into distinct specialisations and to cluster activity into interest groups.’

‘That's learning and pattern matching alright – a close analogue to neural networks. If a nerve impulse contributes to the recipient neuron firing, then the connection between the two neurons strengthens. There's a direct parallel between the connection strength and your message priorities. They both lead the network towards classification or pattern matching as its primary emergent behaviour.

‘When the neurons in a looped chain are activated they all fire in rapid sequence – a synfire chain – the analogue of your message feedback loops. If two loops have many overlapping connections they reinforce each other. They pull themselves together into a more tightly synchronised association – just as your messages will tend to synchronise when the interest level is high.

‘When widespread activity in different areas of the brain becomes synchronised, diverse associations are drawn together – our visual imagery, sound, various other memories that have been triggered. The strongest associations dominate our consciousness, but other chains are still active and still recruiting more associations in the background. As the dominant activity stagnates the strongest of the background synchronisations – images – ideas – will surface.

‘The transition can be gradual or sudden. If it's sudden we can experience a jolt as large areas of the brain switch activity into synchrony – an “Ah-haa!” moment. If the new set of associations resolves many conflicts, or sources of disharmony currently active in our mind, we can experience strong feelings of completeness, satisfaction and harmony. Our mind goes into a state of peace and rest – until other issues, problems, or sensory inputs start to recruit activity and our usual state resumes.

‘If the new realisation undermines the harmony, or validity, of many of our past established associations, we can experience a violent shock – one that reverberates through the whole brain to the point of physical discomfort. Basic instincts can be triggered – threat and fear reactions.’

Chapter 90

Mary decided to have a closer look at the neural network imagery from Tom's cultivated colonies. The data was labelled Nuclear Magnetic Resonance Imaging. Karl had called it ‘Spin Resonance’ and described the process as an array of spinning atomic nuclei – magnets in a strong magnetic field. ‘Just like toy tops in our gravitational field. If a gust of wind disturbs them they wobble or gyrate.’

In the case of the nuclei, the gust of wind was the burst of electrical energy of the firing neuron. The details of how the gyrations were detected had escaped her, but that didn't bother her.

This was a three dimensional view. Rather than just showing surface electrical activity, this data gave an image of activity right through the whole colony. The question here was: do the electrical patterns correlate in any way with the food offerings?

She displayed the images and sat back to watch – filaments of light pulsing along invisible tracks that threaded their way through a network of neural tendrils. After Tom's comparison with her coms network models this seemed like familiar territory, but this display was a confusing mess – a turmoil of flashes – fascinating – almost hypnotic – but not very informative.

She selected the blob of one neuron's cell body and displayed it at the moment of firing. She extended the time window and saw the impulse travel out along the output filament. She then included neurons that fired on receiving an impulse from the first neuron. Automating the process she gradually included more neurons until she saw signs of the loops Tom had talked about – then more and more loops until her screen was filled with them.

It was quite pretty. With a little imagination it looked like a coloured cascade of forked lightening bolts. At the tip of some branches another bolt was triggered. She watched them pulsing away – some clustered in tight synchronisation – the resonant modes Tom had mentioned.

To make any more sense of what she was seeing she needed to automate the process of detecting and displaying patterns – she needed to model the system with one of her general-purpose network models. She set her new PA SpinResonance the task of tracking the complete structure and mapping it into the model. Thinking, all this resonance is making my head spin, she rose from her seat and went to the kitchen.

Mary often went into her kitchen. She liked to stand in her well stocked pantry and look over the food there while deciding what she wanted to eat. It fired her imagination and appetite. A selection made, she went out to the veranda and watched the birds while the meal was prepared.

She was soon back at her screen. She now had a complete model of the neural connections mapped into one of her network models, so she started to play with it. Injecting a stream of excitation pulses at different points in the network she looked at the resulting cascades of activation.

She sat for an hour or so just watching the microscopic electrical storm. As she watched, the physical structure of the organism gradually became apparent as her model detected and colour-coded each resonant mode. Each of the tight clusters of neurons she had first noticed was embedded in a long tube of cells that stretched from the upper surface down through the body to its base. These, she guessed, were the columns Tom had mentioned – like a honeycomb structure.

At the base of the columns was a thick layer of filaments that spread laterally linking the columns. Now she had come to grips with the various resonant modes of the columns she started to focus on how they were interconnected.

The first thing she noticed was that as the active loops within a column switched to another mode, the activation of neurons at the column base changed. This caused the column to be connected with a different set of neighbouring columns – Tom's super-modes. She mapped the layout of these extended connections – again using different colours for each mode.

She sped up the display and watched as the new colour combinations flickered across the screen. She could see hints of patterns on this broader structure. Her calculations agreed, but gave a low reliability for these super-modes. There was not enough data.

This led her to consider another problem. Her PA models calculated all the possible super-modes for a network of this size and connectivity. The modes she was observing were only a tiny fraction of the possible modes. She needed more activity.

This was a question to put to Tom. Was it possible to generate more activity – provide more complex combinations of food molecules, perhaps – direct electrical stimulation – where? She could experiment by stimulating her models and pick a few possibilities for Tom to test in the lab.

She ran stability tests, increasing the activation applied to her model until the system became chaotic. It was robust. Then she settled into detailed testing that occupied her into the night.

Chapter 91

By the next afternoon she was ready to see Tom. Going out to her landing she stood for a while and looked about. There had been a shower. With a chill in the air and a light breeze, everything seemed fresh and invigorating. She decided to take her horse-bot rather than the bike. She felt like walking, but it was a long way. Tom might occasionally walk that distance, but her legs weren't ready for it and she felt impatient.

Arriving on his landing she heard him calling her inside. She found a large, grinning avatar face on his wall – a caricature of him looking quite frog-like. It said he was up the gully and would be home in ten minutes. She went back outside and walked up the path to meet him.

She heard his ‘Hello there!’ before she saw him. He slowed his pace. She guessed he preferred not to walk back to the cottage. Looking up, she saw that the clouds had cleared and she quickened her own pace. She would have her walk after all.

As she reached him he asked cautiously. ‘Everything alright?’

‘Yes. Fine, thank you. I've been looking at your Spin Resonance data and wanted to talk with you about trying a few tests in your lab.’

‘Good. Good. I was thinking we could sit on the log across the creek there but it's still wet. It's great to see water running again. I suppose I could fetch something from home to put on it, but that seems like too much trouble to go to – more comfortable on the veranda.’

‘It is a pretty spot. You could get your servant to bring something, but I feel like walking a little if that suits you?’

‘It'd suit me well. I've been feeling a touch of cabin fever. Company or walking are good cures – both is better still.’

‘Is that what you call it? I've heard of people going stir crazy. Whatever it is, it's a condition that an Arkadelian upbringing makes us immune to.’

‘Interesting. That hadn't occurred to me, but now you mention it, it makes sense. Now, what have you been doing?’

Mary didn't answer immediately. They started to walk up the track. She looked around for a while, collecting her thoughts.

‘I've created a detailed model of the neural networks in one of your colonies. The biggest problem I've had is lack of network activity. The networks seem under-utilised in the data you gave me. I was hoping you could stimulate them and generate more activity. It would give a more complete and reliable picture.

‘I've performed some stability testing on my model. The network is stable. I have to stimulate it strongly in several locations to create a chaotic response. I presume this high stability is due to the sparse activity. The weak correlations I've found with feeder offerings are barely significant and not stable. Perhaps we could try a wider range but offer just one at a time?’

‘Woa! Steady on. I can't take all of that in at once.’

They walked on and Mary explained in greater detail, displaying the preliminary results on screen.

Tom asked questions about the techniques she used, trying to understand, but seemed to give up. ‘I'm glad you've picked up some subtlety in the feeder responses. It might seem weak to you, but it confirms what my eyes have been telling me for years. I've spent many hours watching those flickering images – they're pretty, aren't they – and imagining I could see more than the analysis was telling me was there.’

‘Visualisation is an important part of my method where the problem can be simplified to two or three dimensions. If you can't see a pattern it probably isn't in the data. Our eyes can detect a pattern as well as any algorithm. There's only so much the data can tell you whichever way you squeeze it. For higher dimensions, our brains don't cope so well. For the maths it's just more parameters. I commonly deal with thousands of parameters.’

‘The brain does, too – simultaneously – countless memories activated to varying degrees and drawn into synchronised associations. It's our consciousness that's restricted to the three dimensions of our sensory world – or four if you count time.’

‘Of course. That must be right. We can realise the solution to a complex problem in an instant, but it can take a long time to work through it consciously.’

‘As for the low levels of activity you observed, you need to consider that the creatures you're analysing are all juveniles. They're still developing. They only stabilise after they're weaned.’

‘Oh. I see. We can still test them after they've weaned, can't we?’

‘That's where we're heading with this round of experiments. We must be patient – though perhaps not much longer. The current data you have is weeks old at best. One is already as active as any I've seen – quite exciting really, to mature so fast.’

‘I see. Quite exciting, you say. Can we start with the stability testing?’

Perhaps – but not as vigorously as you're suggesting. In the carbon labs they call that destruction testing. They can bin a whole batch without another thought. I deal with living creatures, so even though such testing is legal, I've developed some stricter guidelines.’

‘But you kill and eat the products of your lab eventually.’

‘True. Very true, but we kill humanely. We don't submit living creatures to unnecessary discomfort. I suppose it sounds a bit silly when we're talking about an amoebal colony. The ones out there in the fishery bins I'd be quite happy to cook up and eat.

‘I've done some experiments in the past that might interest you – my dream of an edible freshwater jellyfish. I found some results of failed genetic experiments in our lab archives. The colonies transformed into a mesh of filaments. Cultivated in the right sized container they could form a bite sized morsel that would adsorb sauces just like your prawns but without the need for all the micro-butchery you use.’

‘That sounds like something the Arkadel labs would be interested in now but not in Sara's day.’

‘I take your point. I suppose what I was getting at was that while we usually refer to them as colonies they're individual creatures in their own right. The ones we use in production are so simple that they're borderline cases. Occasionally we see one that's – well – more developed and sophisticated in its structure and behaviour.

‘What I've recently discovered – I think I've discovered – is that these ones might have a form of long-term memory storage using bacterial DNA – a self replicating memory! That puts them into quite a new category of creature – a new variety – possibly. I've been waiting for more certainty – not to rush to conclusions.’

‘That does sound exciting.’

‘Yes.’ He replied, pausing to reflect and looking at her a little strangely. ‘Though if you're talking to Clare you could even call it a major breakthrough.’

He smiled and added absently, ‘I think – I think they're really quite special.’

Mary watched his face as he stared into the distance up the track. She knew that look. She'd seen it in her father's face, but this time it wasn't directed at her. This time she had the vantage point of an observer. She took his arm and they turned and headed slowly back down the path.

‘You must be in need of a coffee.’

‘A happy thought indeed, ma'am.’

Chapter 92

Back in the cottage, Tom displayed one of his test pools on the wall. ‘I'll show you how we can do your stimulus testing, but first I need to discuss some changes I've considered since we last spoke. This is the archie I want to put an electrode grid across. Clare is not totally opposed to a grid. We were talking about an alternative to placing an electrical field across the whole of the creature.

‘I have a grid in stock that's definitely better than that approach and no great risk involved – more control over position and direction of the field – but it's still far too coarse. You'll understand that, now you've seen how localised some activity is.’

‘I do see that. What alternatives are there? Why not use Spin Resonance?’

‘We can't interact with NMR. It's just a detector, but we can use it for that – get better detail of responses. What I have in mind is using a much denser surface grid for input, but there are problems.’

‘What problems?’

‘The difficulty is having a new grid constructed. We have a problem with The Foundry.’

‘That sounds serious. Can you tell me about it?’

‘The problem is that with the deep access you've provided into the Sunflower Carbon catalogue you've given them a big box of toys and it's become difficult to get any regular construction work done. I've tried to urge them on a couple of jobs, but their standard means of fobbing me off is to start to teach me how to do it myself. I've tried in the past. I'm hopeless at it.’

‘Oh dear. We didn't think it through very well, did we.’

‘I'm afraid not. Even reasonable financial incentives won't work. They're looking at Karl's example and they're competing amongst themselves to be the first to come up with something big. Regular income has little allure for them at the moment. They've agreed to do this array. It's a small job and won't take long, but it'll be a week, at least, before it's started. Now Karl's back I can ask him to do it.’

‘No. We shouldn't disrupt him or the team.’

After chatting for a while, Mary declined Tom's suggestion that she stay for supper and rode home. By the time she entered her cottage her determination was complete.

She sat in front of her wall and meditated for an impatient few minutes to steady her mind. When she felt ready, she switched her attention to the title on the wall. Sunflower Carbon Production Manual – Component Catalogue. From her experience with wing design, she knew the design process was almost completely automated. All she needed was a clear idea of what she wanted. Her PA could help with the terminology.

By the time she went to bed she felt confident. She felt she understood enough to commit herself to having a try. By the time she stopped for a late supper the next day she was ready to send the specification to The Foundry.

All she needed to do now was persuade Gregor, the manager of The Foundry, to let her jump the queue. It was a small job and she was confident Karl would use his influence. Would he? What's the protocol? Nothing is formalised. It's all unspoken convention. Ask Tom to speak to Karl about approaching Gregor? Or, as I would have done in Arkadel, go straight to Gregor myself? I'll compromise. I'll ask Karl's advice. With that thought, she didn't even wait to finish chewing the food in her mouth before issuing the order to contact Karl at his earliest convenience. Seconds later he appeared looking serious.

‘Hello Mary. Your message sounded urgent. What's the problem?’

‘Oh, I didn't mean to alarm you. I just wanted your advice on getting a job through the fabricator as quickly as possible. Is there some way I could organise that without upsetting people?’

‘Is this the grid Tom was asking about, or do you have something else you want done?’

‘The same job. I have a new specification completed.’

‘In that case, send it to me and I'll start it immediately. I have a fabricator sitting waiting for it. The sooner it's freed up the better.’

‘Tom said it would take at least a week?’

‘Tom asked the wrong question, as usual. Instead of asking when it could be done he asked how long the queue was. The Foundry team have great respect for Tom, but it doesn't stop them taking the Mickey out of him. They can't believe that someone as clever as he is in his field could have so much trouble with carb basics. It's a standing joke around there.

‘Despite that, we're ready to start when he provides a spec, but don't tell him any of this. They'll never forgive me. I'll just intervene on his behalf, as usual. Someone'll make the usual crack about me tying his boot-laces.’

‘That's terrible. How degrading for you. Shouldn't you speak to Tom and resolve the problem?’

Karl laughed. ‘I don't undermine traditions. This goes back long before my time – or Tom's, for that matter. There's always been a friendly rivalry between the carbs and the hydros. It makes for a lively cricket season.’

‘I think I understand, but where does that leave me?’

‘You can play for either team and you'll still be seen as carb royalty.’ Then he added in a more serious tone, ‘Just let us know what you want done and it'll be done as soon as physically possible.’ Then he waved farewell.

‘Thank you Karl,’ and awkwardly repeated the wave he used as a sign-off.

Mary stared at the blank screen for several minutes. Tears welled in her eyes. Her mother's voice echoed from the distant past. ‘Whatever you call yourself, my dear, you will always be a Barratt.’

At the time, the words had filled her with pride. Now they reverberated in her mind as a potent curse. She gradually pulled herself together and ordered a cup of tea. By the time it arrived, a new determination was starting to gain force in her mind. The wall was no longer blank but displayed in bold green words: The Game of Cricket.

Crisp white figures on a vast expanse of dark green turf – the almost-whispered flow of the commentator's voice – a quiet mix of tension and calm – the occasional click and cry from the field.

Mary sat watching for an hour or two slowly drawn into its spell. Her mind, now relaxed and clear, gradually building an understanding. The tilt from attacker – the response of defender – fielders like a follow-up flight closing in from all directions to pounce on any defender error – the leisurely patience of attacker and defender alike – if I don't get you today then I will tomorrow or the next.

The next morning she left a message for Tom with a few questions and a plea to contact her when he had ‘squared up to the day.’

When Tom appeared he was his usual cheery self, but when the greetings were completed he said, ‘There's been a development that makes our plan for a dense grid impractical. The archies are developing fronds just like the cave ones and the grid doesn't allow for them. I should have thought of that.’

‘That's a good development isn't it? It means we have a new species.’

‘Well, not really a species. The concept is almost meaningless in this domain. But you're right. It is a distinct variety, at least. We'll just have to come up with another idea for area stimulation. I'm sure we'll think of something.’

‘You can leave it with me if you like. I'll see if I can come up with a more flexible option than the grid.’

‘Great. I'm trying to untangle a genetic puzzle at the moment – the archies and their bacteria. Have you heard from Clare today?’

‘No.’

‘She'll be at the Ball this evening. She must be still out on her rounds.’

‘Is George back?’

‘No. He's hasn't committed to a day. He seems to be enjoying himself. Jerilderie and Hercule have postponed their return again.’

‘Do you think Greta will be at the Ball?’

‘If she's still breathing, undoubtedly. I hear she's in rude health after her stay down at the coast – sea air and all that.’

‘Has she just returned?’

‘Yes.’

‘I wondered why George hadn't mentioned her.’

‘I'll see you this evening.’

‘Till then.’

They nodded at each other and disconnected.

She had a pleasant day. She played Mozart quietly in the background. She had been expanding her knowledge of music over recent weeks and had found a few pieces that were particularly pleasing.

She browsed the SC fractal repertoire looking for a pattern that provided enough flexibility to work its way around the archie fronds. The colourful flow of geometrical patterns on her wall seemed to fit, somehow, with the music.

She found a pattern that suited her purpose, then realised that in gaining flexibility she had sacrificed overall structural strength. She would have to combine it with one that gave structural strength. ‘A single anchor point and maximum structural strength,’ she summarised.

‘The feather,’ replied her PA.

‘Of course!’ she cried – delighted.

She spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to merge the two fractals. She had little success but was undaunted. Perhaps Karl would know how to combine them. She cleared the screen and halted the music.

Chapter 93 – Village Ball

She felt invigorated by the thought of a Ball. She ran her mind through the new clothes she'd acquired when she thought she might be going to town. She would wear a dress, of course – not too extravagant – something simple but refined – restrained but new and different. ‘Oh dear!’

In the end she settled for a dress quite similar to one of Clare's. It was a safe choice, she thought, after realising she wasn't feeling very brave. She would have to change at the Manor. She ran quickly through the logistics and timing till she was confident she had everything in hand. She had been sitting in quiet contemplation for a while, preparing her mind for the evening's revelries, when her PA announced Winston.

Winston was standing in the doorway of Clare's bedroom viewing the room. Clare was sitting on the side of her bed in a bath robe holding a pair of shoes in her hands. She looked happy but nervous. She asked if Mary would come down to the Manor early to help with her hair. Mary agreed and Clare shooed Winston away. The reality of the occasion finally hit Mary who fell into a nervous excitement of her own.

Half an hour later, her dress carefully laid out in the rear of her bike, she set off down the valley. Two household servants were waiting for her at the bays. They trotted off ahead with the dress while Mary followed with a bag, and a shawl draped over her arm.

The Manor seemed deserted from the outside, but inside was alive with silent activity as servants scurried about. She went straight to Clare's room to let her know she had arrived then to her room to change.

When she returned to Clare's room she heard voices as she approached. On entering, she found Dorothy adding final touches to Clare's hair. When the job was complete, Dorothy walked around Clare surveying her up and down, gave a few lifts and tugs to her dress until it hung to her satisfaction, then turned to Mary.

She circled Mary viewing her dress carefully and after a slight nod of approval she turned her attention to her hair. Her face defied approval. ‘That'll do well enough.’ And she returned her attention to Clare.

‘Now, dear, I suppose you'll be wanting to wear your shell necklace?’

‘Yes, Is that too plain?’

‘Not at all. It suits you so well it's hard to imagine you with anything else, but I'm under strict instructions from Greta to add a sparkle to both of you. Her precise words were that she didn't want to see a pair of dowdy spinsters looking as though they had just come out of mourning. She sent Winston down to a strong-room to collect these.’

She walked over to the servant that was standing at the other end of the room. It held a flat wooden box. She returned to Clare and held up a bracelet for her to inspect. This might do. What do you think?’

‘What beautiful opals – my favourite stone. I'd love to wear it.’

‘Then that's settled,’ and she turned to Mary.

‘I've a special request to pass on to you. It would please Greta if you wore a particular piece. She hasn't seen it under the big chandelier for many years.’

‘Of course. Whatever she wishes.’

‘Good. I think you'll like it.’

She returned from the box with a necklace that was around Mary's neck before she had a chance to look at it. Mary went to the mirror. Under a crescent splay of small diamonds stretching the full width of her neck hung a large dark ruby set under an arch of blue sapphires.

As Mary admired the necklace, Dorothy muttered something about opening the curtains and with a few quick flourishes had Mary's long straight hair back and secured. She surveyed both her charges from a distance. ‘You'll pass muster,’ and she left the room.

Mary and Clare stood grinning at each other stupidly for a few moments looking each other up and down then Clare said, ‘I dare say we shall. But my hair is still not quite as I want it. It needs to be raised on my left side and better secured. Otherwise it'll be flopping sadly over my face by the end of the evening. It's the only style I know. I must try something simpler next time. I'm not a teenager any more.’

Mary started to follow instructions distractedly. Clare, watching her in the mirror, asked, ‘What's up?’

‘It's just that I've never been called a spinster before. It was a shock.’

‘From Greta? I think we can safely assume it was mainly directed at me – unless you have some children you haven't mentioned.’

‘Children? Of course not. What do you mean? Oh dear. I intended to refresh my memory of titles and such before I came here tonight. It's so complicated and without my PA I'm lost.’

‘Quite simple – no children or other dependants and you're a “Miss” or a “Master” – “Mrs” or “Mr” once you have announced a child or taken on the care of someone else.’

‘Regardless of marriage?’

‘Yes.’

‘That's similar to Arkadel. We're not officially married until we have a child – then it's automatic. At Arkadel, I couldn't bring myself to call Tom “Master”, so I used “Doctor”. I'd been told there was some subtlety – the possibility of offence.’

‘Rarely an offence – and never coming from a stranger. Someone who has abandoned a child, or is thought to be neglecting it, may be referred to as “Master” or “Miss” – the highest insult. Some people wear a ring to clarify their status – and intentions. Tom prefers “Doctor” now, but if he chooses to have no children and devotes his life successfully to his work then “Master” – or in our case, “Mistress” – becomes a greater honorific.

‘There is some subtlety. Take Gwen, for instance. In her leadership role she is Mrs Gwendolen of Brindabella. In her role as a mother she is Mrs Gardiner, but if you were introducing her formally to a business associate you would recognise her achievements by referring to her as Miss Gwendolen Olsen. Greta was “Mrs” until she took off her clerical ring – many still call her that.’

‘She told me she was a “Miss”.’

‘Then you heed her wish. She's an enthusiastic modernist and I'm sure it would please her for you to conform. I avoid the issue and just call her Greta, but tonight, with the loan of this bracelet as a bribe, I'll happily cry "Miss" across the ballroom. Just try and lift that strand higher. – Yes, that's better.’

‘It looks fine to me.’

Chapter 94

‘It was “dowdy” that shook me,’ said Clare. ‘As much as I respect her, I have no intention of following her example. I intend to have children and dowdy is definitely not the look I want tonight. Every month I prepare a graph of EZI summaries for the valley. Each time, it suggests that the only species in the valley that's significantly underrepresented is humans. There are some months when I feel like filling the gullies myself.’

‘With some help.’

‘Yes – I'll need some help. How do I look? What about you? – Children, I mean.’

‘Oh – I'd like to have a child – some day.’

‘You'd “like”, “a child”, “some day”? I could almost hear the “perhaps”. You'll need a bit more commitment than that. You're going to go down there and enjoy yourself for a change. That was the real intent of Greta's comment.’

‘I am looking forward to it. I really am. And you're in pink.’

‘What the devil? Oh, you mean “in the pink”. Thank you. Then we're ready? After you, ma'am.’

At the top of the main stairs they stopped, listening to the sounds of voices, musicians tuning their instruments, a carriage pulling up on the gravel outside – people everywhere. They linked arms and took a quick nervous look down the long flight of stairs.

‘Head high and feel with the heel,’ said Clare as they took the first step of their descent into the milling arrivals below.

At the foot of the stairs Clare muttered, ‘Running late – things to do – enjoy yourself,’ and hurried off. Mary looked about for a familiar face and realised that many faces were familiar – some she had even been introduced to, but with her PA blind she could recall no names.

The realisation caused her some anxiety and with a sense of resignation she decided to find Tom. Looking about, she eventually saw him in the crowd near the main door. She would have recognised him sooner had his usually unruly hair not been so carefully brushed.

It helped that he was vigorously shaking hands with the most striking person in view. The man – a little older – was a full head taller than anyone else. He had a tanned face, light red hair swept straight back, a large gold earring, and colourful attire in a cosmopolitan style.

Although Tom had his back to her, he must have seen her arrive. After the two men broke their grip he turned and looked straight at her giving a slight nod. Moments later he was beside her.

They surveyed each other briefly then Tom fixed his eyes on her necklace. ‘I'm obliged, I think, to ask you to lead the first dance with me if you don't already have it marked.’

‘I don't. I haven't had much chance to think about the evening yet.’

‘I seem to be the best they can come up with as a stand-in for George. You, with that marvellous geological display around your neck, have clearly been marked as the guest of honour. If you humour me on this point, I'll promise not to bother you for the remainder of the evening – which I intend to devote to filling Clare's card.’

‘Shouldn't you ask her?’ she asked with pointed curiosity.

‘She and Karl will be engaging as we speak. Greta has suggested they should do so as penance for their crimes against society at the last Cinderella Ball where they infamously ignored each other all evening. What Greta suggests, happens – at least in the Manor and village.’

‘Then I gladly accept your offer, but I reject your promise. I insist you both save a dance for me at some stage. There seem to be few of our age here.’

‘Done!’ and he offered her his arm. ‘At least one gentleman of our age has noticed you already. You saw me talking with him. That was Eric Olsen. He's just arrived back from a year or more away.

‘He's a graphic designer and his work has him travelling much of the time. He's sure to approach you for a dance at some stage. He's not afraid of beautiful women.’

Laughing silently at his private joke he led her into the main drawing room where many of the assembly had gathered.

‘Now, let's get the initial formalities over. Greta will be waiting to see you. Then we'll have time for a few introductions to set you up for the evening.’

Chapter 95

Reviewing the evening, it was hard to judge who had enjoyed themself most, but in Mary's mind Henrietta – Gregor's wife – stood out.

When Tom introduced her she made it clear that she disapproved of all the gaiety. ‘But one must not neglect society,’ she had said in a stoic tone. She spent the next few hours moving from group to group like a bee collecting nectar that she dutifully deposited with Greta before eagerly heading off on another sortie.

When the music stopped for supper, Mary received a message from Greta asking to see her. As Mary approached the old woman, two young men were helping her to her feet.

‘There you are, Mary. Thank you for coming so promptly. Alexander, my sticks please. I must take advantage of the lull.’

With a walking stick in each hand, and crisply rejecting offers of help, she made her way towards the centre of the room – Mary and Alexander walking either side of her. Positioning herself under the largest chandelier she waved Mary back a little with a stick then stood looking at her with obvious delight.

The few small groups remaining on the floor turned to watch. Conversation faded. At the far end of the room, Karl was playing a Chopin nocturne – gently coaxing out the reluctant notes.

Greta started to turn – stick then foot – foot then stick – head high, looking straight ahead with a slight squint. She slowly scanned the room – paintings? – memories? – oblivious of the people present. At one point she faltered slightly, foot poised, until a particularly tardy note finally made its stage entrance, then continued her delicate shuffle.

Moments later she stopped completely – staring at one corner of the room – lost in reflection – swaying slightly. Mary felt a compulsion to step up beside her but quenched it. As the music reached its final gentle crescendo, Greta rapped the floor resolutely with a stick, thrusting herself into a pirouette to complete her turn.

She looked at Mary again, now slowly up and down at her dress in serious assessment. ‘It's a charming frock, dear. I hear from Mrs Dorothy that the embroidery is first class. The stitches tell a happy tale – not a bad day to be seen.’ Looking Mary in the eye, ‘I used to be obliged to wear just such, but you have the manner to carry more flair.’ She quickly added in a reassuring voice, ‘You would do my stones justice in sackcloth,’ and giggled childishly.

Almost stumbling, but staying on her feet with a fiercely determined effort, she started back towards her chair. ‘Must take the weight off these legs.’ Mary walked beside her with a hand on her arm, ignoring protests. Settled back in her chair, Greta thanked her then with a dismissive wave of her hand, ‘Now you go back and enjoy yourself. You'll call on me again soon, if you please.’

After supper – the crowd on the floor a little thinned – the music livelier – the dancing resumed. Eric did indeed approach her. He was an entertaining partner. He had even spent some months in New Shanghai and Mary listened to his account of the stay with sentimental fascination.

She had never been so close to a hand that told such an interesting story. His left ring finger had two gold bands. She had struggled to interpret without her PA, but she knew the two distinct styles represented two wives. The bands sported three small diamonds for three living children – two with wife one and one with wife two.

The little finger displayed a sadder message – a thin silver band with a small black stone – in memory of a dead sister? She wasn't sure and didn't feel inclined to bring the subject up – particularly since his middle finger bore a bold emerald. That, she knew, was “very out”, as they put it here – known as a “hello stranger” ring elsewhere. She presumed that this one was usually in wife two's custody. How often did she allow him to wear it? Did she have one? Was she present? Mary felt a little out of her depth.

Among the last to leave, Karl escorted her to her bike and stood watching as she happily flicked off her shoes, stretched her toes appreciatively, then stuffed herself carelessly into the seat. Hatch closed, they waved to each other. She relaxed back and said, ‘Home!’

Now, standing on her landing, toes hanging over the edge, wrap pulled tightly about her against the winter chill, she surveyed the familiar moonlit gully before her.

She had danced with Karl as often as time and custom would allow. They had, several times, sat for a while chatting. They had even set off for a walk outside but had gone no further than the bottom of the stairs before a cold breeze had sent then running back inside. They were just in time to catch a Boccherini minuet – a favourite of Karl's that had enchanted her.

She enjoyed being with him. He obviously enjoyed being with her. They had exchanged many words, though the words had tripped to-and-fro between them with all the correct formality their shoes had displayed in the quadrille.

Her mind was calm. Her body was tired but awash with a strange energy. When her Medic suggested restorative action she replied slowly in an almost silent whisper, ‘No – go away – leave me alone.’ She stood for a long while just savouring the moment till her toes demanded that she go inside to bed.

Chapter 96 – Breakthrough

Tom and Clare took a break from work for a few days spending most of their time riding, walking, talking. Tom's PA had never been properly instructed to deal with changes in the pace of his life. Reports were accumulating with no response. Questions were unanswered. New instructions were not coming in. Periods of stagnation were lengthening, creating a state close to frustration. Routine tasks, such as reviewing the production processes, were soon exhausted.

As the microseconds ticked slowly by, it sifted through the words of recent instructions attempting to stretch their meaning to trigger a new task. The genetic analysis provided the most fertile ground – tracking through the almost infinite combinations of pathways that led to a particular combination of genes being activated. At some point down each path, the significance measures would drop too low, forcing it to try another.

Tom noticed the increasing number and complexity of reports. He realised he should do something and instructed his PA to summarise the reports. It replied that the reports were summaries. ‘Then summarise the bloody summaries.’ Completely disengaging his PA he set out for a walk – not to think but to enjoy the bush.

Meanwhile, the PA was fully engaged in the first phase of the project. The specification was unusually broad. It had knowledge of many forms of summary – some that Tom had defined – others from technical libraries. Nothing it found fitted the task, so it broke the reports into categories: purchase orders, production inventories, song lyrics and a comic avatar of Tom in formal-wear from Eric, the cottage cleaning schedule, garden reports from Possum, and laboratory activity reports.

This application of the general divide-and-conquer algorithm worked well. It was now able to allocate at least one summary format to each category. The first five categories were quickly dealt with, leaving just over two hundred lab reports and just thirty-one summary templates that covered them all. If a PA could be said to feel pleased with itself then that was the current state of its self-review branch.

Even in PA worlds things don't always turn out to be as they originally seemed when you deviate from routine procedures. As it progressed through the design phase of the task it found that the lab reports were too varied to fit any one report template.

It was forced back to a second iteration of the specification phase. Rather than abandon the flexibility of thirty-one summaries at such an early stage of the project it decided, on the balance of success likelihoods, to restructure the original reports to conform to a standard format.

It drew unused data from the instrumentation archives to create more consistency across the reports. After a detailed evaluation of its status against Tom's rules of active engagement it found it had authority to commission new measurements.

Now, moving to the implementation phase of the project, it found what it was looking for – a pattern that held consistently across a large set of the reports. In the final evaluation phase this success greatly boosted the priority ranking of the approach. Flag rules were triggered, which led to commissioning more data. This escalation of activity, in turn, triggered rules in another branch of the procedural rule-set that used normal activity profiles to moderate external activity.

The process stabilised and progressed steadily until a mass spectrometer sensor failed. The failure message was quickly followed by a message from Karl PA Maintenance with instructions for restarting the machine with the back-up sensor. These were passed to Tom PA Equipment.

It accepted the new rule-set but floundered in its attempt to use an old, but previously unused, rule: ‘If that thing goes down again don't restart it without my permission or unless I'm not in the valley no unless I didn't sleep here the previous night or no what rubbish ignore that bit.’

Since the rule had not fully parsed at the initial attempt, it send the rule back to the parser for re-evaluation. It prepared a case based on the assertion that both the rule structure and its context were novel. An evaluation tribunal was set up with all relevant branches represented. It quickly dismissed the application.

Having no success with this approach, the original task prepared a report declaring that authority was not available because Tom was not linked. Following the general task management rules it then worked its way back down the task tree closing completed sub-tasks and collecting their reports. At the front of the report queue it placed a description of the pattern it had found.

It suspended the primary task pending a flag on permission to restart the Mass Spectrometer, then dropped into its default task – incrementally updating lexical link priorities – or in technical jargon, dream state.

Chapter 97

Tom was beaming when they caught up a few days later. ‘Good news, Mary. I've taken a closer look at the feeding interaction summaries. I think the archies are offering trade goods. They're packaged in the EVs – the Extra-cellular Vesicles.’

‘I remember them – EV150 and so on – I didn't know what that meant.’

‘They're small spheres of cell membrane that cells use to excrete waste or excess water or transfer molecules from cell to cell. They can provide a protective environment for large unstable molecules or ones that may be toxic in the wrong location. I should have thought of checking their contents before, but they commonly appear here and there, so I've grown to ignore them.

‘There have been some predictable, humble offerings in the past that weren't detected, but these archies have been particularly creative. One molecule even triggered a reference to the top one thousand most expensive molecules. If we can produce that in quantity, the market is there. We may be able to undercut the current price by a factor of ten or more.’

‘That is interesting news. Does it mean the archies have reached maturity?’

‘Close to it, but they're still developing and not quite weaned yet. My usual criteria for maturity may not be applicable here, so I'm being cautious.’

Tom was disappointed by Mary's lack of enthusiasm. She'd said, several times, that she wasn't very interested in the commercial side. A little piqued, he succumbed to an urge. ‘There is another development that will interest you. I still don't have a clear picture yet. I was waiting till I did. Perhaps we should keep it between ourselves for the moment.’

‘If you wish.’

‘It's the memory mechanism I mentioned before. It could account for some form of blue archive.’

‘Now that is interesting. How certain are you?’

‘I'm still not sure, but I think it points to a genetic memory of acquired skills, which adds strong circumstantial support. Lamarckian inheritance is not uncommon in single-celled creatures – all life, to some degree – but this mechanism, if I'm right, has never been observed before.’

‘How soon can you be more certain?’

‘It was just a vague hypothesis till now, but this new evidence adds more weight to it. I need to think about what to do next. I suppose the obvious approach is to continue as we planned – stimulate an archie electrically and see how it responds. Have you made any progress with the electrode grid?’

‘Possibly. I've an idea, but I think it would be quicker if you enlisted Karl's help. I'm just a beginner.’

‘Then do it. You do it. You don't need me as an intermediary any more.’

‘I'd rather you were.’

‘Don't be daft. Go and see him – straight away – and I mean see him, not a PA contact. Just go over and visit him – no need for arrangement. If he's not in, leave your card.’

‘I'd feel awkward. He's so young.’

‘The same age as Clare.’

‘True, but Clare is so much more mature.’

‘In some respects, perhaps. Karl is hardly a child. He's quite retiring and you're just the person to draw him out.’

‘I'm not the drawing out type. That might seem easy for you, but I don't think I can.’

‘If you're lucky he won't be home and he'll be obliged to call on you. That would be the easiest way to winkle him out of his shell. He'll be more relaxed if he is free to leave when the impulse hits him.’ Tom lost himself briefly in a chortle then added with mock authority, ‘I'll be expecting to see a completed design by this time tomorrow.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said, attempting a smile.

By the appointed time, Tom received not just a design but a completed artefact. When he first opened the standard Brindabella CarbonWorks packaging and saw a wispy feather he thought he was the butt of a joke. A closer inspection revealed a standard instrument mounting at its base. The structure was much finer than a natural feather. He stared at it for a while, looking closer and closer, then projected a magnified image on his wall. The moment the image appeared, a message also appeared. ‘Just try it!’

Yes, ma'am, and he took it out to his lab. He soon had it mounted and lowered manually over the surface of the third test archie. He looked at the result and wondered how he should react. A few of the archie fronds had poked through the tips of the feather, but most were just pressed down.

Oh dear, he thought. I suppose it's a start. The single anchor point is good, Trying harder, he added, At least it's more gentle with the fronds than a grid would be.

He felt obliged to test its contact with the cells below it, so he connected it and initiated the operational rule-set that had come with it. After a few seconds a smile appeared on his face. A slight mechanical agitation through the feather was causing its filaments to settle around the fronds. Soon the feather had formed a thin layer across the surface of the cells with all the fronds poking up through it.

He zoomed in and watched as the last waves of vibration at the tips of the feather jiggled into position the microscopic electrical contacts that ran along its finest strands. Within an hour he had conducted some electrical contact tests, sent a large exclamation mark to Mary's wall, and made a cup of coffee.

Mary woke late. By the time they had completed the final design specification, run a final test simulation, and sent it to the production unit, the sun had been rising. Their long-delayed supper had transformed into a light breakfast sitting on her veranda tired and almost silent.

As Karl left, he had invited her to dinner ‘tomorrow’. Now she was unsure. She knew that for Tom, ‘tomorrow’ meant after he had slept, regardless of clocks and calendars. She felt she knew Karl well enough now to assume that his daily routine was more conventional.

She rose, ignored the messages pending indicator on her wall, showered in massage mode till her skin stung, ate as much food as a good appetite demanded, then went for a stroll up the gully.

Chapter 98

‘Karl's on his way. He'll be with us soon,’ said Tom to Mary and Clare. ‘He's been visiting Greta.’

‘How is she?’

‘Not good – can't remember him.’

‘If only I had met her earlier.’

‘Don't think that. Over the last weeks she's been more lucid than she's been in many months. Remember her as she was when you met her.’

‘Here's Karl now.’

‘Tom's right. We should remember her at her best.’

‘Does that mean you've finally done it?’ Seeing the puzzled glare from Clare he added, ‘You've all let her go?’

‘Yes, we have. We crammed into her room – took her armloads of flowers and a large card with large writing saying: “Miss Greta of Brindabella”.’

‘How did she react?’

‘Smiled a little and muttered something. According to Dorothy she said “About bloody time,” but Greta wouldn't say that.’

‘Sounds fair to me. Aunt Dotty's words, perhaps, but capturing Greta's sentiments precisely, I'm sure.’

‘I'll never understand you Janeites.’

Clare shook her head slowly in dismay. ‘You sound like your gran. Snap out of it! Here's Winston with the tea.’

Karl gave her a dismissive shrug and turned to Tom. ‘You said you wanted to talk about resonance.’

‘I asked Tom for some background on the NMR data I'm analysing – a deeper understanding of what I'm looking at,’ said Mary.

‘I said I'd try to explain how neurons and glial cells interact, but I realised that I didn't understand it very well myself. You have a description of resonance that might help as an introduction – how discrete and continuous systems interact.’

‘Yes, you never really know how well you understand something until you try to explain it to others.

‘In my class presentation I start with the example of a child on a swing. A parent gives a small push each time the swing reaches its backward limit. Each push is synchronised to the regular movement of the swing. The motion is controlled by the natural frequency of the swing.’

‘I can guess where you're heading. It's a basic engineering solution – the interaction between discrete and continuous systems. It's used in flight control. Continuous systems, like the swing, have a basic stability while discrete systems can be irregular. A bike's flight movement is continuous even under the buffeting of a tilt or a tight turn. The pilot's actions are discrete – nudging the motion of the bike.’

‘That's the basic idea. A bike, like the swing, has mass and momentum. Its motion must be continuous. For the next stage of the example we have a row of swings connected by strong elastic cords. Push one swing and it drags its neighbours with it.

‘If we have a long row of swings, the movement will spread through adjacent swings and propagate sideways as a ripple or wave. We can anchor the ends of the row like a violin string. The waves will reach the ends of the row and be reflected back like ripples in a teacup reflected from the sides of the cup.

‘When the reflected wave returns to the starting swing, if the timing is right it'll be in phase with the starting swing and we have a stable resonant system like a vibrating violin string. We can adjust the timing by changing the tension in the cords – as with a violin or piano, tighter gives faster speed and higher frequency.

‘Like the string, it can have many modes of vibration, or harmonics. The centre swing can go through one, two, three, or more full cycles before the returning wave arrives. In the limit, each swing is moving in the opposite direction to the ones beside it. The maximum number of modes, or harmonics, is restricted by the number of swings.

Clare said, ‘You missed the bit about the rubber ducky in the bathtub.’

‘That was the version on holography. I'd need a screen for that.’

‘I thought you might be shy – not wanting to talk about taking a bath.’

‘It wouldn't work if there was someone in the bath.’

‘Oh. So I've been wasting my time trying to test it?’

‘I'm afraid so. Tom?’

‘I don't have a bath.’

‘I mean over to you, if you can drag your mind back to the topic.’

‘Oh – glial resonances. You wouldn't want bubbles in the bath.’

‘True. They'd dampen the ripples.’

‘No. Definitely no bubbles,’ said Clare, directing a cheeky grin at Tom then realising that Winston was present she added awkwardly, ‘Fresh tea, Winston.’

‘As you wish, ma'am. Indeed – as you wish.’

Chapter 99

All eyes turned to Tom, and there was silence as he sat thinking.

‘The function of brains is all about resonance. That's hardly surprising since nature uses resonance at all levels of organisation from the basic particles of matter, the atoms they form, and up through to the structure of solar systems.’

‘The music of the spheres, with the planetary orbits related by the golden mean,’ Karl interjected.

‘Quite so. And being resonant systems our brains recognise its harmony and seek it.’

‘Why is that, Karl?’

‘Why is what?’

‘The golden mean. What's special about it?’

‘That's an interesting question, and the answer may seem contradictory. It comes from the fact that resonance has destructive potential – as with a singer shattering a glass by hitting a resonant note.

‘The golden mean is the ratio that minimises resonance, or more precisely, it minimises the interference between two resonances that are weakly interacting. Take the planets. If the orbits of two adjacent planets resonated, that resonance would eventually throw them out of their orbits, so as the solar system evolved from a cloud of gas and dust, only orbits related by the golden mean survived. The same is seen with moons and the formation of ring systems of planets.’

‘I interrupted you, Tom. Please continue.’

‘In animal cells the action is electrical and chemical rather than mechanical. In the brain, the cells that aren't neurons are called glial cells – most of the cells – up to ninety percent in some places, which was a puzzle for many years. They were originally thought to just glue the neurons in place and provide nutrients, but the high level of coordinated electrochemical activity in them didn't fit well with that simple role.

‘Nobili realised that these cells were electrical oscillators like your swings. They're pumped up electrically by ion pumps embedded in the outer cell membrane. This creates an electrical force like gravity acting on the swings.

‘The cells are joined by gap junctions – small holes in the membrane that allow ions and electrons to pass between adjacent cells – electric currents. The gaps link cells, like your cords joining adjacent swings. Waves of energy pass through the glial mass like your connected swings, and have resonant modes.

‘On the neural side, the neurons play the part of the parents in the swing analogy. When a neuron fires an electrical impulse it affects the neighbouring glial cells and creates, or enhances, a wave in the glial mass – just like someone pushing a swing.

‘The influence can go the other way. Some of the energy of a glial oscillation can pass to a neighbouring neuron. If the neuron is already excited by impulses from other neurons, almost to the point of firing, then the extra energy from the glial oscillation can push it over the firing threshold.

‘Maximum energy comes with synchronisation between the two systems – when the timing of the glial wave matches the time it takes for a sequence of nerve impulses to travel around a synfire loop. A bit like a message passing around Mary's messaging systems – added to as it goes, or fading in interest.

‘The two systems are mutually self-synchronising as the glial modes and neural loops each adjust to maximise the strength of the interaction as the experience is repeated. Established modes are reinforced, or a new one learned if it generates new harmony between old ones.

‘Neurons aren't just influenced by neighbouring neurons, they're stimulated up to their firing threshold by thousands of connections from networks that span the whole brain. You have different patterns of neural activity stimulating different modes of the glial oscillations in different areas. A memory can be activated by stimulation from different parts of the cortex, meaning that an object can be recognised by sight, sound, verbal association, and so on.

‘Beyond that, it's just a matter of adding complexity to add subtlety – allowing many different oscillatory systems driven by different sensory inputs stimulating past resonances. They interact, either reinforcing or competing with each other. With many billions of cells in our brains we can achieve the complexity of thought we experience even though the central functions are beautifully simple.’

Mary said, ‘Something doesn't fit. You've said before that neurons don't reproduce – locked in a perpetual courting cycle. How, then, can they be the parents of the glial cells?’

‘Did I say that? Well, that's usually the case, but you're being a bit too literal. The swing analogy is just used to illustrate the oscillatory modes. The glial modes are not harmonics they're just different combinations of cells dominating the electrical activity of a cluster of cells.’

‘As you have in a group of people when the topic of conversation changes – a different combination of people start interacting?’

‘Yes. Just like that. But with parental roles, the analogy fails completely. In the developing brain the glia precede the neurons. Once the glial mass is established, neurons are produced at a central location and make their way out into the tissue following electrochemical trails produced by the glia. These trails lead them to a suitable site. The glia even influence how the neurons connect by reinforcing those connections that excite glial resonances. This gives us prewired function – instinct.’

‘Scientists used to think that the main functions of the brain were performed by neurons. Brain science was called neuroscience. Eventually they realised the dominant role of glia, not just in forming the brain but optimising its performance and moment by moment tuning its sensitivity to the current thought patterns. That's where PAs still lag our brain function, but we're making progress.’

Mary absent-mindedly broke off a piece of scone and dabbed some butter on it. Tom watched her, waiting for her to speak as she obviously intended. He poured more coffee.

‘I see. So PAs are still catching up. That was a silly comment of mine about neurons and parents, wasn't it? I was thinking aloud without PA prompting – quite dangerous. So, risking a repeat, the amoebas that make up the archies are the equivalent of the glial cells?’

‘Correct. They both form a connected amoeboid mass.’

‘And they guide the neurons into place?’

‘As you've seen for yourself, the arrangement isn't random.’

‘I could clearly see the column structure you mentioned – like a honeycomb. There are two levels of networks – within the columns and between them. Like a close-knit family linked loosely with its neighbours.’

‘In the extended swing model we could have many rows of swings spread over a large field. Each row would be loosely connected to other rows with a few elastic cords. The whole field then forms resonant super-modes. They can have more complexity and variability than an individual row. The strengths of the connections adjust to maximise the stability and diversity of the super-modes. That's one of the processes I've been studying – how the strengths of the connections and mode structure are determined genetically.

‘We start off with some modes of pre-set inherited behaviour – our instincts. A distinctive feature of humans is that we're less reliant on instinct than other animals. Our behaviour is more culturally determined. Too much instinct gets in the way, so we've shed some of it – or reduced its influence so we can overcome it with learned responses or strong conscious thought or reasoning.’

‘I've been thinking about what you're saying about glial resonances and how that relates to the golden mean and the example I gave of planetary resonances – keeping them distinct and stable. Vision systems detect patterns in an image and decompose it into it's constituent elements. If this is done by separate resonances developing for each component, that will happen most readily if the elements are structured according to the golden mean.’

‘That sounds likely. Perhaps, more generally, whole systems of resonance can build up concurrently without interfering with each other too destructively. We know we can have multiple streams of thought running with just the strongest one conscious, then suddenly, another fully formed idea takes its place.

Chapter 100

The valley was experiencing a spell of unusually warm weather. There was a picnic by the river and long walks. Today's walk was extending as far up the valley as Tom's cottage. Clare referred to ‘our little heat wave’ and pointed out plants that had been ‘misled into thinking it was spring.’

Tom playfully objected, ‘Plants don't think. I'll accept they can have reflexes, instincts, perhaps even memory and intelligence but not thought.’

‘Only if you insist that thought implies consciousness – which I know you don't. You've said that ideas and solutions to problems pop into our consciousness pre-formed.’

‘Are you two competing to see who can be the silliest?’

Mary asked, ‘Do you think archies have thought or reason?’

‘As Clare suggests, thought is a matter of definition. Thought can mean any pattern detection, abstraction, and association with past patterns from memory – things that both chemical and neural networks do. I think it's reasonable to assume that archies are capable of that.

‘As for “reason”, that word's usually reserved for verbal logic, but Clare associates it with verbal intuitive thinking – as a way we use words and their associations to structure information in our brain, and hence structure subconscious thought. She's coaxed me into agreement.

‘I'm glad to hear it. Attaching our labels to the behaviour of other species is a useful way of viewing and describing our mental models of other animals, but it doesn't mean that the animal is having the same internal conversation – or any.

‘Conscious verbal reasoning can never come close to a complete picture. Words are limited. They can never catch more than a summary of the richness of our experiences. We can have complex new ideas popping into our consciousness pre-formed. They're the product of unconscious thought – the build-up of clusters of associations in memory as part of the widespread activity created by the wide connectivity of the brain. Some become strong enough to dominate and break into our consciousness if something triggers them, but most don't.’

‘Clare's use of “rational” comes in there – intuitive generalisations – patterns – that don't conflict with our experience ...’

‘And that don't go beyond,’ interjected Clare.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Just that it's not enough for an idea to harmonise with our experience. For an idea to be rational our experience must be extensive enough to support it at some level of certainty. Someone arriving here today might conclude that Brindabella winters are warm and sunny. If they'd arrived a week or two ago their experience would conflict with that. Only extended observation would provide a more reliable rational view. Rationality is a matter of ratio or proportion – the strength of a view being in proportion to the evidence supporting it.’

‘What about consciousness? Could archies be conscious?’

Clare continued, ‘That can just mean awareness – the awareness of our surroundings through our senses that most living things have. More usually it implies self awareness – our mental view of our self – part of our mind that observes what the rest of it is doing – where we are and what we are experiencing and thinking and doing, and trying to achieve. Few people would call an amoeba conscious. It has no awareness of its awareness – as far as we can tell. A colony might, though.’

‘Then there are dreams. Can we call them conscious, or does a little of the dream activity leak into consciousness – leave some mental activity that we can grab hold of when we're nearly awake? Our memories of dreams are usually fleeting, but as we wake into consciousness we can grab a dream image, hang onto it, and sometimes recall more of the dream – hold on long enough for it to re-stimulate some of the associations that accompanied it in the dream – those associations with neural loops that are still partly energised from the dream activity.

‘Full consciousness as we experience it seems to need short term memory – the briefly extended now where we can assemble thoughts according to goals. That's probably the best way to distinguish between our consciousness and the passing awareness of the amoeba or dream experience.

‘We can then see dreams as an awareness of mental activity, but with no memory or control – just a stream of associations, though they can be highly structured and pertinent to our conscious life. Conscious control – free will – can be seen as our ability to promote or reject thoughts from short-term memory, though even that is built on instinct and learned habit.’

‘Can we test archies for short term memory?’

‘I suppose we could once we have stable adults and some idea of what's going on in their minds. Reflex, instinct, intuition, awareness, consciousness, rationality, reasoning, logic – they're all mingled – no clear boundaries.’ He shrugged dismissively and walked on.

Clare resumed. ‘By linking many different associations to an event – time, place, smells, colours, people – we tag and connect that event in memory. It's no longer just a reinforcement of a single neural reflex but part of a complex web of associations. It can be activated and recalled by activity in any of the associated memories.

‘Most of the time, when we think we're making decisions logically using verbal thoughts to analyse options and select reactions, we're actually just creating a verbal narrative to justify or communicate a set of associations made intuitively and unconsciously. This was established long ago by looking at brain activity scans. Verbal activity typically lags the decision rather than leading it.’

Karl interjected. ‘I think you're misusing the word “logic” here. You mean conscious rational thought. To me, logical thinking is where you use unambiguous words, strict grammar, and logical inference – as you can with crisp. But true logic, based on reliable data, is rarely applicable outside of mathematics or simple real-world problems.’

‘Yes. You're quite right. I was being sloppy. I was going to add that an important factor in consciousness is the representation of time – a continuous line defined by natural cycles – daily, lunar, and annual cycles – the three main driving cycles for life on earth.’

‘In Arkadel we are influenced by a PA experience of time – as defined by the sequence of events and the active periods they trigger, rather than our clock-time existence. It makes it easier to think about the PA afterlife and the long time spans that will be involved in swarming. A PA can stop and start activity in a way we can't.’

She asked Karl, ‘How can we compare the operation of a mature PA with that of our brain?’

‘The neural network side of a PA is modelled on ours, but although it's usually more consistent, it's less flexible and can lack depth or subtlety. The biggest difference is that the amount of information that can be stored accurately in a PA is far greater than our brain, but this can be a handicap. We filter incoming information according to relevance, whereas a PA can easily be overwhelmed with irrelevant complexity – the combinatorial explosion.

‘The trickiest side of PA design is finding a good balance – the sensitivity problem – and adjusting that to context moment by moment. Our brains are remarkably good at it.’

‘

‘On the other hand, our brains are very bulky and unreliable.’

‘Unreliability is natural and has positive consequences for evolution.’

‘That's another important issue. How PAs and swarms might evolve over long time periods.’

The conversation continued to roam about this topic as they walked briskly up the valley. Eventually, Tom's stomach passed him a message that he promptly forwarded to his servant, ‘Lunch for four in about twenty minutes. – Yabbys. – No, catch some fresh ones.’

Chapter 101

Tom unpacked some bread and bakery delicacies from his rucksack and placed them on a wooden board on his veranda table. His servant entered with a large steaming bowl of Cray tails and a salad.

‘Are we celebrating?’ asked Clare.

‘I do have a surprise for you, but yabbys are my staple diet at the moment. I've two bins of them out back.’

‘You expect us to eat the results of some lab experiment?’

‘No, they're standard Brindabella stock – older than optimal but still good eating. One of the advantages of having my lab is a share of the occasional unsold excess – payment in kind for running some tests.’

‘Good enough for me,’ said Karl, hungrily helping himself. Mary followed suit.

Tom pointed to the tray of condiments. ‘There's Gomashio here, Mary. It's roughly the combination you prefer.’

Hunger had the better of Clare and she joined in. Tom deflected questions about his surprise until hungers were sated and tea and coffee were served. He blanked the veranda window and brought up an image of one of the archies.

‘I've been running tests with the feather-form electrodes. After abandoning my first approaches I tried rhythm patterns. After a while it started following the patterns. Then, when I started a pattern it was familiar with it completed the pattern.’

He displayed graphs illustrating his point. ‘The green is my input. The blue is the archie response.’

There was a long period of silence as he introduced more graphs – eventually filling half the window area.

‘Amazing,’ said Clare.

‘This is a new development?’ asked Karl, but nobody answered.

Mary stood and walked to-and-fro along the window peering intently at several of the graphs. ‘It's quite clear. The overall picture certainly supports the existence of pattern memory. There are a few short regions of red. I presume these are errors.’

‘Correct.’

‘Could you highlight the ones that are at the end of a sequence – in yellow, perhaps.’

‘Done,’ and short patches of yellow appeared across the screen.

‘Ah. That's better,’ and Mary continued her pacing. Pointing to one patch of yellow, ‘Mark that light blue.’

‘You have control.’

‘Thank you.’ She continued pacing and pointed to several more points that changed to light blue.

‘I see what you're doing,’ said Tom as Mary returned to the table. ‘The yellow is where it's been slow to change to a new pattern I've presented. It's continued the old pattern for a while before switching. What are the light blue areas?’

‘Is this the whole sequence of tests with these same patterns?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then correct me if I'm wrong, but unless I'm mistaken these areas I've marked are new patterns. It seems to have attempted to continue your pattern. It's generalising – trying to follow the algorithm you used to generate the patterns.’

Clare had been sitting and watching passively. Now she showed interest. ‘A pattern completion test! We can see how well it performed and put a lower bound on its intelligence.’

‘Just what I was thinking. But we need to calculate a complexity index for your pattern algorithm. Display your pattern for the yellow regions and we can calculate an accuracy – to start with.’

Tom looked confused. He went to pour another coffee. The pot wasn't empty, but he decided to brew a fresh one anyway and hurried into the kitchen.

‘Well, that's really rattled him.’ – Karl stating the obvious in the hope that someone would enlighten him.

‘He doesn't like being upstaged.’ – Clare barely stifling a laugh.

Mary looked shocked. ‘Oh dear. How tactless of me. I was carried away.’ She rose and went to the kitchen. Clare and Karl looked at each other and Clare shrugged – still smiling.

Mary found Tom leaning back against a wall, eyes tightly closed and hands pressed hard against his cheeks. His face was contorted in an expression of extreme concentration. His body was frozen. Only his throat was moving slightly – engaged in PA interaction, she assumed.

As usual, her PA picked up the rapid movement clearly – it was visible to the naked eye – but, much to her chagrin, after all the effort she had put in to decoding the signal, it still eluded her. There was phase and amplitude modulation, but neither showed a meaningful pattern. She'd concluded that this mode was something to do with his Neuro links, and the fact that she'd made no progress with it irritated her.

His usual mode for PA cueing was a simplified version of Karl's. It told her enough about Karl's to realise she would never crack that. More importantly, nobody else would. It relied on cueing his extensive knowledge of music and song lyrics.

Tom eventually recognised her presence and muttered, ‘What the devil!’ before pulling himself together.

‘Are you alright? I'm sorry if I embarrassed you.’

‘Embarrassed? No. More like a lightening bolt from a clear sky.’

‘Did you use a complex algorithm for the patterns?’

‘There was no algorithm, Mary. Or perhaps laziness. I just grabbed the first pattern sequence at hand – the cave archie signals you were analysing.’

Mary tried to comprehend, but failed. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I don't know. I'm confused. I thought I was training it to follow an arbitrary pattern, but it now seems I was prompting it to repeat an instinctive one. At the very least, it's strong confirmation of the cave results – different creature, different environment, and different detectors. At the very least, we have a creature with a long and complex mating call.’

‘The blue archive idea? Where does it leave that?’

‘Strengthens it – I think. That's a complicated problem. You'll have to ask Clare. I suppose I should make some more coffee. No! To hell with coffee. This is worth celebrating.’

He took a bottle of wine from the chiller and barked, ‘Stop cowering and bring some glasses.’

Mary kept her countenance and turned to follow his gaze. His servant was standing in a corner with its rear to them and its head down. It seemed to be making a point of not watching its master behave strangely. She didn't know what to think of that. It was too weird, and she found herself backing awkwardly out of the room.

Back in the veranda there was a brief discussion before a cork popped.

Chapter 102

Mary had called her bike and she and Karl had left. Tom and Clare had discussed mimicry and mating calls for a while then she left – in his bike for the first time. He'd walked and thought for a while, ate a few more yabbys, settled down in the veranda to finish off the wine, listen to some new music Eric had sent him, then drift off to sleep.

When he was woken from deep slumber by an announcement that someone was approaching the cottage it was barely light outside. He had time to freshen up before Melissa appeared on his landing.

With a breezy smile she called, ‘Good morning Doctor Tom. I hope I'm not too early.’

‘Good morning to you, too, Melissa. Another few hours of sleep would have been satisfying.’

‘Aaah. It's such a lovely day. I had the best sleep I've had in weeks – out under the stars – so peaceful after all the noise and crowds – a warm breeze coming in from the west.’

‘You returned yesterday?’

‘I couldn't wait for the others. They'll be back in a few days.’

‘You didn't enjoy your stay?’

‘The Ball was great – very lively. If I go next year it'll be just for that. I stayed on to watch a few shows. Karl recommended one of them. He hadn't seen it himself, but he said you'd enjoyed it – The Water Nymphs of Arkadel.’

‘What did you think of it?’

‘It was very – umm – very interesting. All that mythology was strange to me, but I read the programme notes that helped me make sense of it. I understand Mary better now.’

‘Yes. It changed my view of Arkadel. Have you eaten?’

‘No. I woke with the birds and went for a walk till it started to get light then ended down here. I'm famished.’

‘Then come to the kitchen and we'll see what I have to suit your tastes.’

‘After all those hotel meals I want something simple and substantial. A couple of those Brindabella lamb chops? Eggs and bacon?’

‘No chops, I'm afraid. Have a look and see what takes your fancy. I'll go and see to my morning ablutions. I slept in these clothes.’

‘I can tell. You go, and I'll fix something for us. Will your ser-bot answer to me?’

‘It will now.’

Tom returned to be confronted with a large pile of flash grilled yabby halves, grilled tomato, and runny omelette. It was quite tasty, though all he could discern was a hint of butter and pepper in the omelette and a touch of paprika on the yabbys. The slight variation in his diet was welcome and he soon found himself much hungrier than he had imagined.

Melissa ate enthusiastically with a watchful eye on Tom. They didn't speak until he returned from the kitchen with cups of strong coffee and tea.

‘I presume you've come to talk about the archies?’

‘Yes. Karl said you were installing some new sensors.’

‘That's not all. When we've finished our drinks I'll take you out back and show you.’

Melissa peered at the archie for a long while. ‘I've been wondering what they look like. I've only seen the fluorescence images Mary had. It seems so delicate and vulnerable. No wonder they hide deep inside a cave. You said you were going to put more sensors on the cave archie. Have you done that yet?’

‘At some stage – Clare permitting.’

‘And I can have a connection? Karl has k'ed-up my PA – my own personalised knowledgebase. It's very sophisticated now, and it's Brindabella zone.’

‘In that case, there's no technical difficulty. You'll have to wait for Clare's consent for access to the cave archie and there'll be strict constraints. This one is a clone. It should suit your purposes well enough.’

‘I suppose you're right, but it doesn't have the same mystique sitting here in a bin.’

‘I understand your reaction to the bins. They weren't designed for this. Come and see up the back. I have some better accommodation lined up.

‘These racks. Each tray is a replica of the largest cave pool – a strong laminate frame with a thick limestone deposit over the surface. They should be ideal. The young one has inherited the song. I was thinking it might have a fresher, clearer recall.’

‘I can access it straight away from my van?’

‘Yes. Come back out to the veranda and I can explain things on a screen.’

‘I designed a series of experiments to test the idea of mimicry and we seem to have shown that archies can store patterns and repeat them – not only that, but they may inherit memories – Lamarckian inheritance. That's an interesting development in its own right, but Mary and Clare are pushing me to go further – to come up with some kind of test for natural intelligence.

‘To do that, I need to show real communication rather than reactions that may be just triggering instinctive responses. We need a basis for a simple language, which brought me back to your insistence that you understood parts of the chant.’

‘Jerrie and I have little doubt there.’

‘To be frank, I find the whole idea quite bizarre, but I like extreme challenges, so I've been thinking about how we might put the idea to a serious test and give you a chance to prove it to me.

‘What I've done is reverse the signal processing sequence that Mary used to detect the signals you heard. The idea is that we – or rather, you and Jerrie – make recordings and we play them back to the archie I showed you to see what responses we can generate. Any sign that it's reacting to you rather than just mimicking would be a big breakthrough – a sign of awareness – consciousness, even.’

‘Do you have any suggestions for where we might start?’

‘Replaying the original chant is an obvious starting point – perhaps humming the words you don't know rather than just trying to mimic them – see if it fills the gaps. That would tell us we have a basis for communication – at least that it's hearing you.’

‘I see what you mean. Then we could try to make up simple sentences. This is great. I'll start thinking about it right away. Jerrie will be back soon. I'm sure she'll be keen.’

Chapter 103 – Announcement

George, Jerrie, and Hercule returned from town in high spirits. The day after their welcome home dinner George asked Mary and Tom to come down to the Manor.

Six people settled into George's office. Winston was dismissed after serving tea. The mood in the room was cheerful but tense with anticipation. George summarised the situation and, after satisfying himself that the basic facts were clear, handed over to Jerrie.

‘Clare and I have been discussing her Treaty reporting obligations. It seems that the novelty of your findings does demand an official report.’

‘At the very least, I need to place a notification in a recognised journal. The time limit is many months away, but if there's controversy surrounding the announcement when the period elapses we run the risk of triggering an external audit.

‘Personally, I've nothing to fear from an audit. Our affairs are in order, but George would prefer to avoid what would be viewed by some as a blemish on our record, regardless of the findings. My understanding is that Jerrie would prefer to avoid any publicity and you, Mary, feel the same.’

‘True, but I accept that it must be reported eventually and in a proper, timely manner.’

Clare continued, ‘Tom would prefer to wait until the evidence is unassailable then publish in a prestigious journal. I feel a general desire to at least delay reporting, but there is another point to consider. If we publish soon and minimise controversy we can keep the location of the archie colony confidential – for a while longer.’

There was a general agreement in the room that this was highly desirable. Jerrie waited until everyone else had expressed an opinion. ‘We agree in principle, but the snag is avoiding controversy – or too much attention of any kind. Tom's preferred scenario would trigger countless academic PAs to start preparing research grant proposals. Any tardiness on our part would be controversial and attract unwanted attention.

‘Hercule has proposed a solution that I think is most ingenious,’ and she paused for a moment while they exchanged smiles. ‘He has suggested that he and I write a paper that focuses on the possibility of a blue archive. He is on the editorial panel of an obscure journal that deals in such offbeat topics. He is confident it would pass through the review process successfully.’

‘They assume I am on the verge of retirement. They are right. It will be a farewell gesture to me performed with the utmost civility but as discretely as they can manage to avoid embarrassment to them. We can be confident it will be tucked away – as inconspicuous as possible. It would be normal for you, Doctor Oldfield, to be included amongst the authors, but I can assure you this would not be essential and would attract more attention.’

A broad smile had gradually crossed Tom's face. ‘What? And miss out? Sir, I love the idea – but perhaps you are right. My main reservation is that Mary should share credit for the discovery, but that can't happen at this point.’

Mary looked concerned and distracted but emphatically nodded agreement as everyone looked to her for a response. She thought for a while before speaking.

‘It is a delicate time. Anything a Barratt does publicly at the moment will be seen in relation to the Treaty. Trigger thresholds are drifting down and likely to catch any move that could be seen as a tilt against the Treaty – however symbolic. This announcement addresses fundamental Treaty definitions. People know that my analysis points to the need for fundamental change – but not piecemeal sniping, and certainly not now! The timing couldn't be worse.’

‘Straight to the nub, ma'am,’ said George. ‘Arkadel is very much in the spotlight at the moment and, as they're saying in town, looking a little like a startled rabbit.’

‘I can easily imagine that. Arkadel is viewed by some as a guardian of the Treaty. We've been central to all revisions because we have the expertise, and we've been trusted because we're small and neutral. None of the major issues directly concern us. Now that various interests have started to build antipathy towards the Treaty in its present form we're seen as being at the centre of the dispute and people are looking to us for objective analysis and reassurance.

‘My grandmother's generation is so preoccupied with the chronies and their swarms they resist any change at home. My mother's generation is preoccupied with internal stability and not prepared for the external issues.’

‘Fortunately, Neptune isn't an issue outside Arkadel at the moment. It's not likely that the new alliances being formed there, and Arkadel's increasing dominance, will be reflected in terrestrial policies.

‘Back here, in the world of Treaty politics, some are saying the rabbit is looking more like a wolf. They talk of proxy votes, with every Arkadel vote followed by many more amongst its supporters. Perhaps it's best that the rabbit appears unconcerned, looks to the stars, nibbles on a blade of grass, or tends to some unruly kittens.’

Mary was still serious. ‘To me it seems clear that the anti-treaty alliances are unsound. There are groups lining up together who criticise the Treaty for opposing reasons. Some want a particular measure strengthened – others want it weakened. As this sinks in, the alliances will unravel of their own accord. It's just a matter of time.

‘If we can keep this announcement low-key it would help. Tom has mentioned the commercial potential. We can find some short-term cover under commercial confidence provisions if we move quickly.’

Clare said, ‘Tom and I have discussed that already. I have an annual report due soon. He wants me to start including my experimental plot under his lab's confidentiality clause to deflect attention in my direction.’

Tom continued enthusiastically. ‘All unnecessary precaution if Hercule's plan works as well as I'm sure it will. We dive into the world that lies beyond controversy – stony silence and invisibility.’

‘In good company,’ Hercule added. ‘Why, we have no less than the great Gregor Mendel whose work was ignored for forty years.’

‘And Nobili.’ added Tom.

‘Who was he?’

‘My point precisely! He was to brain science what Mendel was to genetics and was ignored for decades.’

‘And you think you could live with such a delay?’ asked Clare incredulously.

George had slumped back in his chair looking tired. He stirred himself, glancing across at the drinks tray on the sideboard. Rising to go to it, he turned. Leaning forward with both hands on the back of his chair he said to Mary, ‘Rest assured, ma'am, that when my two dear friends here have finished with it, the document will be fit to wriggle its way through a meat grinder and emerge not only intact but strengthened by the exercise.’

He poured himself a large scotch. After downing half he stood with one hand leaning against the sideboard and the other gesticulating with the glass. Not spilling a drop – he recited:

‘The wordsmiths loom their yarn to ply their

Warp so fine deceiving eyes

Distracted by the silver purl the

Nap it soothes the senses' swirl’

The glass swung down then stopped – pointing at Tom. There was a brief flicker of a notion in Tom's mind that involved reaching up and accepting the glass, gratefully, and downing its contents. It was quenched by George's gaze that was pushing him into singing mode and the associated flurry of recalling a few words in advance. He continued where George had left off – singing softly and sheepishly.

‘A golden thread of truth we glimpse though

Heart held in their thrall we

Draw it close and pick at it

One act unravelling all’

‘This'll buy us time. The truth will out – eventually.’

George chuckled and consoled. ‘The Greek engineer Hero of Alexandria might have thought something similar over two thousand years ago as he stood watching his steam engine. When we've a better understanding of where things are heading we can reconsider. Right now we need this baby tucked up in bed and asleep before the dysfunctional EZI machine gets its clammy tentacles around it.’

Everyone agreed. The paper was drafted on the spot, refined over the next few days, then sent. All that remained was to wait for the reaction.

Chapter 104 – Arkadel Cybs

Mary wanted to track reaction to the announcement using Arkadel, or at least the Aero Club, as a sample population. It was the standard population for her modelling and she knew it well. She knew how well it reflected general attitudes within Arkadel and, to some degree, more broadly across the zones.

She was sitting in her veranda with Arkadel coms network traffic displayed across the back wall – running her eyes idly over the various perspectives – wishing that the likelihood indices were more encouraging. Is there much chance that this will actually work with all that cyb traffic adding noise? Then she realised that she was working with old data. Many months had passed since she had initially created this view. It'll be worse now with The Season in full swing.

Over the past few years, some Arkadelians had become concerned that the growing influx of cyb residents might undermine their commitment as a swarm hive – their raison d'être as a colony. Arkadel encouraged individual and cultural diversity to provide diverse and creative swarms, but the cybs largely kept to their own artificial worlds. The income they brought to the colony was welcome, but their value to the swarms was an unknown.

They mixed little with Arkadelians – even among themselves, except in the Shark Pit restaurant, but a few Arkadelians were starting to explore their life-style and worlds. Interest was growing and the possibility of mutual swarming was being discussed. The Season was a two month period where interaction and immersion in cyb worlds was sanctioned in a manner that minimised disruption to the integrity of Arkadelian life and individual PAs.

Mary had her PA update the images with the latest data and uttered a groan as she surveyed it. It was much worse. Likelihoods had dropped to insignificance. Still, I can try being selective. She started by eliminating messages that were not encrypted – public announcements. That didn't help much. Next she dropped messages in which the recipient name was not encrypted. That's better.

The Arkadel coms were geared for privacy rather than efficiency. They were PA-to-PA, so a degree of cooperation had developed. While not obligatory, it was general practice to automatically relay anything you received that wasn't specifically directed to you. Anyone could send a messages anywhere and they would bounce around until they found the intended recipients. Cybs took advantage of this to keep their identities secret.

‘Drop all messages that have any elements readable with any encryption key from my collection.’ Ha – now I'm getting somewhere. ‘Plot weekly totals for this traffic from the beginning of the year.’ The resulting graph showed a steady increase across the year with a sharp rise at the beginning of The Season. ‘Subtract that traffic from my full cumulative model and display it.’ That's much better – useful likelihoods.

She tried sending messages to herself with the source and destination coded but with open keywords ‘biology’, ‘microbiology’, ‘amoeba’, and watched the results. The clustering was good – professional interest groupings. She now felt confident, that she could track reactions to the announcement.

But what about that cyb traffic? A year or so ago she had warned the Aero Club caucus of the potential impacts of parasitic traffic if anyone decided to use it aggressively to destabilise the network. The Club had extended her contract to investigating the risk, and she had provided an initial report with recommendations for how the network might be flushed with minimal inconvenience to members. But interest was low. The suggestion that there might be inconvenience was unpalatable and there had been no official response.

She had no good reason to believe that an attack was likely, but she had detected some cyb sources that reacted strongly to any public reference to Treaty reform. The anti-treaty alliance, FreeZI, was a growing movement that concerned her. Many people were calling for Treaty reform, and she generally agreed that reform was overdue, but FreeZI wanted it wrecked.

That thought irritated her. Seen as a relatively neutral party, Arkadel had been central to many Treaty discussions. It would be an obvious target for disruption at a critical time. Could they do much harm with a concerted attack on our coms? She decided that now she had a better idea of the strength and pathways of cyb activity, it was time to perform a sensitivity analysis – first on her models, then on the actual network. She went to bed with the intention of drawing up a plan the next day, but events overtook her.

Chapter 105 – Revelations

Tom's thoughts returned to the juvenile archie pattern testing and Mary's discovery. He hadn't been particularly embarrassed by the fact that he'd missed seeing something important. Visualisation was not a strong point with him. That didn't particularly bother him because he realised the brain was plastic. If you pushed one mental ability from an early age other areas and functions were restricted.

Through his childhood, Meredith had gently coaxed him into accepting that what went on in other people's minds was not necessarily the same as was going on in his. She had backed this up with frequent discrete observations.

He felt he had ample cortical bandwidth allocated to all that stuff. It was in visual processing he seemed to have paid a price. His eyesight was fine. It was the ability to visualise internally he lacked. He'd never been able to visualise music. He'd never been able to read music fluently.

Gwen had said he had a different kind of brain and complimented him on his voice. ‘You can hold a surprising amount in that brain of yours for a short while, but it doesn't stick.’ She soon gave up trying to teach him.

From an early age, Karl had been able to glance over a complex score and hum along as he went. Whatever he saw seemed to make an indelible impression on his mind. Tom had difficulty remembering the details of a tune from one week to the next, but he could remember a tune immediately after he had heard it. That, at least, he did as well as Karl – perhaps better than Gwen, though she wasn't one to expose a weakness.

He played the archie rhythms – sitting with his eyes closed. He listened through it again. He paced in circles about his veranda then went outside and ambled aimlessly about the valley trails for several hours running it through his mind. He had his PA repeat all the patterns it detected and he compared those with his own assessment. It was missing something. He was sure of that.

His mind gradually homed in on a segment of the archive where the sound, chant, whatever it was, changed noticeably. There was a patch preceding the change that was irregular and disrupted. Two separate archives roughly spliced together? The details of the transition might be revealing.

He set his PA to repeat the transition sequence in a loop and lay down on a patch of grass beside the path – lying on his back, a branch high above him moving slightly against a clear sky. Eventually the whole sequence clicked into place with a sudden realisation – a disturbingly familiar one. He walked briskly home and reviewed Mary's analysis on his wall. With a little prompting his PA confirmed his observations.

Chapter 106

On an impulse he contacted Melissa. She replied immediately. She was in her van lounging on a divan. The interior had transformed since he'd visited. The clutter had gone. It was almost bare. The walls were a dark slate grey with a hint of stony texture.

As he glanced about, the divan started to transform into an enormous tongue. When he noticed, she sat up suddenly. ‘No! That's definitely not Thomas. It's Doctor Oldfield and he wants a serious talk.’

She lay back and the divan turned to a dark brown leather-like finish. She lay straight with her arms folded on her chest and eyes looking ahead – faintly anxious. His PA cued a current production of the comedy classic The Life and Times of Sigmund Freud.

‘Now, that won't do either. We must behave for our dear Tom,’ she said in a scolding voice and the divan changed to a passable replica of his own seat.

‘How are you?’ she asked sweetly.

‘Very well. I see I find you in a gay mood.’

‘Yes, I miss town now I've left, though just a few days ago I found it dull and stifling.’

‘I've been listening to the juvenile archie archive I was telling you about last time we spoke.’

‘The learning session Mary analysed?’

‘The very one. I felt there was something familiar then I made an interesting observation. The session starts with many small errors that are corrected on repetition. Gradually it becomes more precise then, after a while, the error rate rises again.

‘This puzzled me. After listening many times it finally dawned on me what it was doing. It was improvising and it was doing a rather good job of it. The connection I made was with me learning a new song, or trying to remember one I was vaguely familiar with from the past, then improvising what I couldn't remember – gradually working it into shape.

‘One part in particular quite shocked me. There is a segment repeated many times – gradually changing, shifting, transforming, and finally stabilising. Then the new version becomes the central motif for the whole tune.

‘It's a slightly eerie feeling that's added – sad – a lonely wolf howling in the night. The realisation has shaken me. I'm not sure what to think,’ and he played the segment for her.

‘Perhaps thinking isn't what's needed right now. Perhaps we should step back a few paces and view the situation – just run our minds over the landscape for a while and look at everything anew before trying to rationalise.’

‘You're right, of course. I suppose that's why I wanted to talk with you about it first.’

And they talked. Over the following hours the conversation ranged from feeder training to natural intelligence and neural networks to glial waves – from the evolution of language to the symbolism and stories of dance. They didn't stop for luncheon or supper but chatted on as they prepared food and ate.

Melissa described how she had been lying on her divan in total darkness for days on end, ‘trying to imagine a life without motion, a life detached from air and sky and moon and stars and birds and animals.’

‘You should be careful doing that,’ interjected Tom, bemused. ‘People eventually start hallucinating after periods of sensory deprivation.’

‘I'm trained. I did my first tank prep when I was fourteen.’

‘In a sensory deprivation chamber?’

‘Yes – and darkroom. They're used to prepare the mind for advanced empathy training. I know what you mean, though. They say if you spend too long in a chamber you can fall into a deep and meaningful relationship with a blowfly. I wasn't particularly good at it. I always felt a bit claustrophobic, but I had a few tricks that worked.’

‘Such as?’

‘When I was a child we used to sleep outside under the stars whenever we could. When we weren't, I used to pretend we were. I'd lie in bed imagining everything outside the van – each little detail I could remember about our surroundings – piecing the image together bit by bit. The van would gradually fade away. I mean I still knew it was there. I wasn't going crazy. I was just able to ignore its presence. I enjoyed the feeling and was able to do the same in the tank, which helped me deal with the sense of being enclosed, and allow me to adapt at my own pace.’

‘I thought the main problem with total isolation was losing track of time. Clare insists that a strong timeline is essential to our sense of self. If we lose it, we start to fall apart.’

‘Keeping track of the passage of time is a problem. I discovered another trick. At one of my parents' regular camp sites there was a track along a low cliff ledge that ended behind a waterfall. It was a difficult walk for short legs and I remembered each step of the way.

‘Sometimes in the tank I went continuously to-and-fro along that track in my mind. I stood behind the waterfall and listened to the rush of water. I felt the fine mist on my face. It helped keep a sense of time. Each retracing took half an hour or thereabouts. After a few cycles through it I felt I had a better grip on the passing of time. In the darkroom you can pace up and down, which works, but it's boring, which doesn't help.’

‘The other important factor, according to Clare, is contact with people – social contact. Losing that – excommunication – can kill.’

‘I think social contact is more complicated. The tank is a short time. You know there are others waiting for you outside and concerned about you. Even so, the sense of social isolation develops. That's the purpose of the exercise, after all. It's not the same as total excommunication. That's a permanent state and much harder to adjust to. In the bush, if you can't keep hold of a bit of community contact you can lose the will to live.

‘There was one exercise in social interaction we used that interested Mary. Two people, fully prepped in the tank, have only images of chess pieces to communicate with. You have to pass a given message and get the correct reply. Mary thought the use of chess pieces was interesting and grilled me for ages about how it usually went.’

They pooled what they'd each learned from Mary about her techniques for symbolic communications. They worked through it all several times until they thought they understood the basic principles then looked for some way to apply them. They went around in futile circles for an hour or more until Tom said, ‘We're lost. We need Mary. I'll contact her and see if she has any ideas.’

‘It's three in the morning.’

‘Good. She'll have had some sleep. With her fresh, me drifting in and out of dreamland, and you tanked-up, we should make a great combination.’

He contacted Mary and explained the situation. She was keen.

Chapter 107

Ten minutes later she joined them from her veranda looking fresh and pouring a cup of tea. Tom suggested that what they needed to do was to find something else the archies wanted as trade. There was a limit to the amount of sugar they could use.

‘I need time to absorb what you've told me, but haven't you been trying different food options on your laboratory cultures for many years? It's hard to know. Withdrawing food would be inappropriate – taking something your trading partner sees as already theirs.’

‘It's easy,’ Melissa said. ‘You already give them all the food they need. What they obviously need next is room to expand – wide open space.’

‘Empty space – a tricky concept to translate.’

‘But one they must have some instinctive understanding of,’ Mary added hopefully.

‘Perhaps it's not as difficult as I first thought. I can't expand the pools they're in, but I can add more of the ceramic tiles they grow on by going vertical – up the edges. I could attach a tile to the side wall just touching the creature's top surface. If it wants to expand it might spread onto the tile.’

‘Can't they just grow thicker?’ asked Melissa.

‘Not usefully. They form a structured sheet of cells with a set thickness,’ Tom answered, ‘like the cortex of our brain. Our cortex folds to create more area. These things haven't learned that trick. Perhaps I can teach them.’

‘If you start on that, I'll think about a training protocol.’

They chatted as they went about their tasks. Half an hour or so later, lost in her own thoughts, something Tom was saying to Melissa caught Mary's attention. ‘What was that? she asked. ‘Did you say “blue archive homunculus”?’

‘Maybe that was a bit fanciful.’

‘I've heard people speak of homunculi. How does it relate to what we're doing?’

‘Well ...’

Melissa interrupted. ‘I know. People used to think there was a tiny human in an ovum or sperm that developed into a foetus in the womb.’

‘Perhaps I wasn't being very scientific. I was looking for an appropriate word.’

‘It's interesting. I've heard the word used when people talk about the swarms – how to transport humans to planets across the Galaxy. It's a side of things I don't know much about.’

‘I can see what they're getting at. Transporting the human genome for thousands of years across space. Radiation damage would be a big problem – among many.’

‘Is it plausible?’

‘Best to ask Karl. It's more his territory. He knows about the problems involved with radiation damage to PAs.’

‘What about germination when you find a liveable planet?’

‘Bots can do that. On Earth it's never been considered acceptable for humans, though there have been rumours over the years of attempts.’

‘Is what we've found likely to be significant?’

‘For Sara's quest?’

‘Yes. It would make sense for her to want to find an organic alternative to carbon swarms – or an extension. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. Not within my areas of expertise, I suppose.’ She looked at Tom hopefully.

‘One thing comes to mind. Amoebas spread through spores. They are very resilient – far more than anything we could produce.’

Mary sat with closed eyes, thinking.

Observing Melissa closely, Tom noticed that her only lighting was her screen. She must have been in total darkness when he contacted her. On impulse he cut his own lighting and watched the effect. To his surprise, Mary's followed automatically and they were in darkness.

‘Ah, that's better,’ said Mary. ‘Now all we need to do is come in closer and get cosy.’ As she spoke, her voice dropped and seemed to move so close to Tom's right ear that he gasped slightly.

‘But not quite so close,’ she said from a little further away.

‘I like that,’ Melissa whispered from the same distance.

Mary, who'd been strenuously controlling her emotions, felt relieved and in a jubilant mood now that she could relax a little. She guessed, from Tom's response, that this was new for him and found herself chatting about Sound Cyb – about meeting places where you could circulate among the groups present – let your PA transport you to conversations that might interest you – join in or move along – use another voice if you wished.

As she chatted, she defined a new screen. When that was done she said, ‘Tom. I've combined your network view with mine. Would you like to see the results?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes.’

And their screens lit up.

Tom ran his eyes over the irregular array of dim lights settling into position on his wall. When the image stilled, Mary said slowly and distinctly, ‘Archie – chant.’

As she uttered each word, streamers like soft lightning flashed between the lights, cascading off into the distance. Each word triggered a cascade from a different starting point and had a different colour. Where two separate cascades met, new activity was triggered in a new combined colour.

‘Now I'll add it to a more conventional view – a caucus room,’ and as Tom was starting to wonder why he'd never thought to try visualisations with his Neuro connections, each light transformed into a small round table with a candle at its centre and three avatars arranged about it. She repeated, ‘Archie – chant,’ and again the streamers spread – now between the avatars in her likeness.

‘I've sent you a protocol rule-set. I'll let you peruse it for a few minutes and you can agree to accept it if you wish.’

‘Just get on with it.’

‘Yes, Go on.’

‘Archie – chant’ – and this time reactions started to flow from all the avatars. At each table, streamers of light flickered between the avatars with occasional bursts spreading near and far between the tables. They moved towards a nearby table that was more active than most, to find Melissa and Tom's avatars reviewing the discussion they had had in Melissa's van for the benefit of Mary's.

Mary cleared the screen. ‘There's another version I started to set up last year, but it's incomplete and we don't need the sophistication with just three of us.’ A ballroom scene appeared briefly then faded as the view returned to the tables.

Tom looked towards another active table. They zoomed over to it. For a moment he thought he had caused the move, but from what Mary was saying it seemed that she had. He tried again with another table and nothing happened.

‘Sorry Tom. I didn't mean to leave you bound to me. Try again now.’ He did, and his screen partitioned with one view following his wishes – skipping about the room. When his attention focussed on a streamer the view zoomed in and its movement slowed to reveal a stream of words that flowed into a column of lines.

They moved amongst the tables – listening – quizzing – provoking new discussions and stimulating old ones that had started to fade.

‘This is amazing. Why haven't I thought of visualisation before? This is what being a Neuro is about! This is its element – its real home! I though you had some antipathy towards cybs. Now I find that you are one.’

Mary looked shocked.

Chapter 108 – Time

The next day found Mary staring at the Taijitu swirl. To the Neo-Confucian, it didn't just represent the dynamic balance of opposites – yin and yang, or the natural cycles – day and night, the lunar months, or the seasons. It represented everything temporal.

Mundane thoughts had originally drawn her eyes to the symbol – whether to accept Tom's offer to cook for the celebratory dinner tomorrow night, or cook the meal herself, since he had suggested that they use her dining room. Her one attempt at a dinner party had been acclaimed a success and her Arkadelian styled thin sliced wallaby wellingtons had been adopted as a standard for the villagers' favourite dish.

Her thought at the time had been, I should quit while I'm ahead. She didn't mean quit permanently. She was keen to learn how to cook. What she meant was more in line with her father's saying, ‘Step back from success,’ which had puzzled her as a child because she had initially interpreted it as stopping before you succeed – a strange dictum, even for him. Later, she realised that it meant to pause after a success and take stock – a time to reorient and a defence against hubris.

Her meditation on the Taijitu had turned to the progress they had achieved over the past month in communicating with the archie clone in Tom's lab. Success created a change of context. A change of context can need a change of plans. Perhaps they should stop for a few days – even weeks – and step back to evaluate.

It bothered her that she seemed to be the only one in the group who was aware of how short a month was in the potential span of an archie's life. Arkadelians viewed their lives as stretching out into the distant future – breaking away from the cyclic time-view of their Terran existence. They cultivated an episodic view of time – incident to incident – possibly involving vast amounts of time between events – time in which thoughts could mature in an unhurried manner – evolve slowly.

She decided that she would suggest to the group that they pause for reflection, but, regardless of the response, she needed to spend some time alone with an idea that had grabbed her, bound her, and dragged her away from the group: homunculi.

She had asked Tom whether he thought that an archie's memory could store a whole human PA. Without giving the question much thought he had replied, ‘I suppose so,’ and the subject had been dropped. The implications of this for galactic exploration – particularly terraforming and settlement – were profound.

Theories and experiments, in Arkadel and elsewhere, had led to the hope that it might be possible to terraform a whole planet to an early stage in tens of millennia rather than the billions of years it took on Terra. Small closed ecosystems able to sustain a complex mix of aerobic life might be achieved within decades to centuries.

Expanding closed habitats to a size that allowed the development of ecosystems that could sustain human life in an acceptable manner would take much longer. The idea that it might be possible to have a form of human settlement at the earliest stages of terraforming was stunning.

Even if human settlement of the galaxy never eventuates, there could be a form of human presence – a strange alien one, but with rich memories of their founding planet. Perhaps, in time, they could guide evolutionary development of a planet on an accelerated path towards an intelligent mammal.

With a smile, she thought, though if Tom had his way somewhere it would be towards an intelligent marsupial. He's said they're a fundamentally superior design.

Chapter 109 – Communication

The events of the past month had punctuated time at a dizzying rate. When Tom started taking the idea of a chanting archie seriously, the group had been galvanised into a flurry of activity.

Mary and Karl had steadied the initial fervour a little by pointing out the need for interactions to be as simple as possible and progressing in small increments. They said – using references to communication theory – that the biggest risk was creating confusion that might be difficult to unravel.

Jerrie and Melissa decided to start by reviewing and expanding their knowledgebase of proto-languages – their etymology and the evolution of grammars. Clare helped Hercule start analysing the early data that his subterranean probes had collected, looking for traces of past settlement. Tom added a cyb sensory network to the test archie to complement the feather electrode he used in the pattern tests, which would now just be used for input.

After five days of preparation and just three of testing, Jerry called a meeting and declared that they had established contact. ‘It's clearly conscious and recognises that it's engaging in some kind of interaction in a human language. Initially, we just repeated parts of its chant, but used recordings of Melissa's voice, so it would recognised that it wasn't just its own voice being repeated.

‘We're working on the assumption that it initially took this to be another archie showing an interest in learning its language. Since we've only heard one of the cave archies – the parent – using human language, it's probably a new experience.

‘Then we started slightly varying the pronunciation of a word we didn't recognise and, at Tom's suggestion, varying the rhythm pattern and prosody to emphasise the word we were varying. We tried replacing words with ones from our knowledgebase – ones it hadn't used. It quickly realised that it wasn't just another archie but one with a different human language. You could hear – feel – the change in its interest level. The excitement was palpable.

‘Melissa and I have had plenty of experience in cross-language interactions where there is a lack of mutual knowledge. It's a process that has a long history across all human cultures. We've made progress – an understanding of what we are trying to achieve. That makes the task easier – less risk of confusion derailing progress – a mutual desire to press on regardless of confusion.

‘In the next phase we're going to start introducing totally new words, from different languages, that have a similar meaning – trying for a “yes, I know that one” response.’

Jerrie and Melissa returned to their camp and it was ten days before they made contact again. Warm spring days made the wait easier for the others. They spent hours chatting over tea on the Manor lawn. One topic that kept returning was how an archie could possibly pick up enough human speech to eventually make sense of it.

Clare was the main protagonist – confronting Tom's view that she characterised as ‘Yes. It's happened, but it can't have.’

‘I'm not denying that archies have intelligence. I decided as much for myself from the rhythm patterns – the ability to improvise – more than that – birds improvise and mimic. What I believed I was hearing was improvisation as art.’

‘Might not birds improvise to create a pretty song that will attract a mate?’ said George. ‘Surely, that's art?’

‘Yes. I suppose they do. But it was the gradual, apparently deliberate, development of an air of melancholy that hit me. Some currawong calls sound sad to me but I can't see that as intentional. It would be a bit negative for a mating call. Many of them use this same call mixed in with more cheerful sounding ones and they don't look miserable to me. Birds have a different aesthetic. If we are to believe that the archie has had human contact of some kind, it is more likely to be aimed at a human-like aesthetic.

‘But how? Something like my augmentation? That leads us down a path that's too disturbing to contemplate – that the archies have the abilities of naegleria fowleri – to access our brain through nerves in the nasal cavity and somehow tap in to its responses just as my augmentation does.’

‘Fowleri is pathological. It kills.’

‘That's the disturbing bit.’

‘They only exist in hot water – hot springs – don't they?’

‘Yes, like the springs at Bath. There have been a few cases over the centuries, but it's rare.

‘The archies are cold water inhabitants, but they could have some ability to survive in a warmer environment – at our body temperatures. Perhaps, not being well adapted to higher temperatures, they're weaker and our immune systems can control them – react if they attack or penetrate into brain tissue.

‘A fascinating alternative is that they might be deliberately seeking knowledge of how other animals think – how they literally see the world – learning about the world from the animal's perspective.’

‘And they still get to feast when the animal dies. They're not in a hurry. Then they can pass on the new knowledge in spores.’

‘These are sobering thoughts. Fortunately, my labs are kept quite sterile, but I'll run some checks on that. I can also test their temperature sensitivity.’

‘You've said that archies might be able to hear, even create, sounds using their fronds.’

‘It's possible that some human has had an extended acoustic interaction with an archie in the past and the archie has remembered it. But how likely is that?’

‘It might have started as some kind of ceremony – people going into a cave and chanting because the acoustics of the cave enhanced the mood of the ceremony like a cathedral – an archie discovering that it could reproduce the effect it was experiencing – creating a sound and mimicking the chant.’

‘Imagine humans experiencing that. It'd be enough to start a religious cult of its own.’

‘Not a surprising possibility if you've heard a bird mimicking.’

‘A quite different experience if you're in a cave with no apparent other living presence – the sound seeming to come from a pool.’

‘We needed to frequency shift to understand the archie.’

‘Over a long time, with no external reference, it's pitch might have drifted – particularly if it had been straining to mimic the sound.’

Chapter 110 – Identity

Melissa contacted Tom and asked him to feed some honey to the archie, and said that she and Jerrie would be down in the valley to give an update the following day.

Once they were settled in Tom's veranda, Jerrie opened. ‘We've made good progress with the language barrier, but the most interesting announcement is that we've identified our interlocutor.’

‘Oh. From all the talk about proto-languages, I though we must be looking back to the distant past, not contemporary.’

‘Be patient. Melissa wants to start by telling a story.’

‘I remember hearing the story when I was very young – sitting in my mother's lap around a campfire – it might have been Jerrie telling it – a story about a young woman who was engaged to be married to a young man from the east coast – a spearmaker who made the long trek west to trade flint for his spears. She lived out west where we were camped at the time.

‘He didn't arrive when he was expected, but she didn't lose hope. Their bond had been sealed by her offering him a taste of the honey she had just found. She knew from the look in his eyes as he accepted that he loved her. She was sure he would come when he could.

‘Eventually, they heard news of him – that he had left on the journey but disappeared, leaving behind the spears he was to bring as trade goods. His tribe searched for him but found no trace. He hadn't met up with the other tribe he planned to make the journey with, who were returning west after feasting on bogongs in the mountains here.

‘Whenever her tribe camped at the spot where she and the spearmaker had met, she would wander off for days on end looking for honey. For the rest of her long life she would return from her walks with more and more honey. She became known as the Honey Woman. The area became famous for its honey.

‘Later, others went out to collect honey and realised that she had spent her life planting and tending the best honey trees. She had created a honey garden. The archive we are interacting with is that of the spearmaker.’

‘Fantastic.’

‘Amazing.’

‘But undoubtably true. Melissa tested – getting you to give him some honey. The reaction was unmistakable and it changed everything. He thinks Melissa is the Honey Woman – his future bride. He's highly motivated.

‘Well, where does this leave us?’

‘With yet another puzzle – how he could have made contact with the archies. They're deep in the rock and unapproachable by humans. We came as close as we could, but there was a metre of rock between us and their colony. Every discovery we make seems to generate more questions that it answers.’

‘They may have resettled from somewhere more open, or a passage might have collapsed.’

‘We can look again – more carefully. We have his description of how he came into the cave to go on. And surely he would know if he'd spored and moved?’

With Spearmaker's permission and directions, along with some inspired guesswork on Karl's part, he and Hercule found the cave entrance a few days later. It had been almost totally covered by erosion. They sent a bot through the small gap that remained and confirmed that the layout fitted Spearmaker's description. No bones were visible.

‘There will have been silt build-up,’ said Hercule. ‘Perhaps, someday, we do the acoustic imaging and date any bones we find, but I think, for now, we should leave it.’

‘Why not now, if Spearmaker agrees?’

‘Waiting was my suggestion,’ said Jerrie. ‘I think we should wait until he suggests it, which means giving him time to come to a clearer understanding of his new world.’

‘I strongly agree,’ said Tom. ‘I think we should give him time to adjust to having sight and develop the skill to guide a bot. It must be his volition and doing, not ours, so it must wait till he's capable of organising it himself.’

‘A strange thing, to investigate your own grave.’

‘Precisely.’

Chapter 111 – Understanding

Tom announced at tea that he wasn't intending to prepare a formal meal for the celebratory dinner, just a light supper in the nibble and sip tradition of the late night talkfests of his student days. George grumped his disapproval and turned up early with a bucket of prime yabbys and some of his favourite sauce.

‘Heat these up, if you would, please, son. I feel like having more than a cold collation on this occasion and I'm sure others will join me.’ They all did.

George had an agenda, which they discovered after Mary suggested that they step back and assess their situation.

‘From the snippets I've heard, it's clear that you've made astounding progress over the past month. Might I suggest that we start with an overview – not just for my benefit but to be clear where you each stand. Perhaps you could start, Mary, with your broad perspective. Then we could go round the table with each of us adding points we think are missing, or points of disagreement.’

The next few hours weren't as orderly as George had suggested, but eventually Jerrie said, ‘I think we've covered the main points. Most importantly, we seem to agree that the cave archies should be left alone until Tom's tenants are able to advise us on how to deal with them. You've been sitting there quietly absorbing the discussion, George. What are your thoughts?’

‘In a word, stunned, but I'll collect myself and see if I can make a useful contribution. Over these weeks, I've developed the sense that your approach might be a little one-sided. You started out, necessarily, with a view to just establishing contact. You made a significant step forward when Spearmaker realised that you were human, but that must have been very confusing for him, so he has grasped at the idea of Melissa being the Honey Woman.

‘Further progress – coming to grips with our culture – will be a long and difficult journey for him. For the other archies the process will be much harder, even if, as you say, they have learned much about his culture from him over the years and might even have had prior understanding. What I've been wondering is how we might most simply express who we are.’

‘First we need to agree on who we mean by “we”. Is it us, here, around this table, or modern Nunda or Koori cultures, or Brindabella, Arkadel, the human race?’

‘We don't have the ability or the right to speak on behalf of all humans. You and Melissa are providing your perspectives. Beyond that, we might be able to represent values and beliefs that are widely shared within Brindabella and Arkadel. All of us, here, share some common cultural heritage – how we see ourselves as individuals and how we interact in groups or whole societies. I've been wondering how the archies might organise socially. Do they? Do you have any indications so far?’

‘We know they have a colony leader, but we've picked up nothing beyond that – no organisational details. It's a topic we'll have to pursue if we're to deal with them as a colony. Of course, Spearmaker has his own cultural background apart from the archies. The fact that he seems to have adjusted to their world may provide some clues.’

‘I'm not meaning to rush you on that, but it would help us to explain ourselves if we know their structure as a reference. His background is Pre-Axial. If they have larger colonies than this one they may have developed an Axial perspective, or even a Post-Axial one.’

‘What do you mean by Axial?’

‘That's just my cultural historian's perspective. It refers to the cultural shift from small scale agrarian cultures to the impact of urbanisation. The Axial shift of the Iron Age was observed and discussed by the great sages of the time such as – Confucius, Buddha, and Socrates. It represents a shift in how we see ourselves as individuals.

‘In small rural groups we see ourselves in terms of how we get along with those around us. Our personal development is directed by integration into the group. Our characters are formed by group influences and pressures. At a cultural level, dealing with survival in the environment we lived in, we were concerned with the natural world of plants and other animals.

‘As urbanisation increased, it became the environment we had to survive in. Individuals found themselves mixing more with other cultures, or subcultures – trading partners, craft guilds – often total strangers. Abstract ideas developed for how one saw oneself and presented oneself to strangers – generalised virtues or ethics that went beyond the opinions of those that know us well.

‘In the Axial era, religions and philosophies changed from reflecting our interactions with nature to reflecting our interactions with other humans. In our current Post-Axial era we are trying to integrate both perspectives.’

‘Biology and evolution can tell us quite a lot about the archies, or at least give us some hints. I've been thinking about that as I watch them growing up in their new habitat. Their spore spread randomly, and if one ends up somewhere viable it'll usually be competing with others for food – a form of hunter-gatherer existence – presumably a free-for-all competition rather than the territorial claims that many animals maintain, but grouping together as resources deplete when a pool dries up then sporing.

‘If, on the other hand, they end up somewhere that has long term viability, such as our cave pools, they seem to be able to work out a territorial sharing arrangement. In our case that's been assisted by the rim-pools. The colony must have collected many individuals over the millennia from spores washed down the creek. Being stable over long time spans, they might time-share.

‘Under these conditions, some kind of social structure has formed, but must be one that has a global – cosmopolitan – perspective. Social status – hence active residence – might come from wide knowledge of other colonies, news from relatives, and so on.’

‘As individuals, they are likely to share information sparingly to maximise their long-term value to the other residents. Once others know that you've told them everything you know, they have no incentive to activate you. The validity of that information would be important. Truthfulness would be a virtue.’

‘So we have knowledge and honesty as possible virtues – justice, too, if they play fair as a group – prudence if they have to eke out their knowledge or make judgements about expending mass in sporing.’

‘One obvious difference between archies and us is their lifespan. By our natural standards they're eternal. We've only been able to think of ourselves that way since the development of the PA and the prospect of a PA afterlife. That must give them a strong incentive to find environments like the rim pools and creating stable communities in them.’

‘That's true, but if they're as knowledgeable as we're assuming, they must also understand the value of evolution and realise that to maximise evolutionary progress they need to reproduce sexually.’

‘Shouldn't we start at a more basic level by describing ourselves as a species?’

‘They may know more about that than we think.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘They know Spearmaker's physiology. They ate his remains. But their knowledge goes back further than that. They've been around far longer than we have. Collectively – globally – they've witnessed the evolution of Life since the Cambrian era. I can only guess how long their memories last in terms of bacterial lifespans and genetic drift, but they may have developed techniques for validating and regenerating their archives.’

George left at midnight and others soon after, leaving Tom packing the items he had brought back into his hamper as Mary sat with a contented smile, deep in thought. She snapped out of her reverie as he sat and emptied the remains of a bottle of wine into a glass.

After a long slow draft he said, ‘An interesting evening, don't you think?’

‘It certainly was – helped along by your attentive hosting. Those anchovy and fruit chutney things went quickly. There was a tang to them that I failed to identify.’

‘Next time, perhaps.’ Downing the rest of the wine he stood, bowed, picked up his hamper, and left.

Chapter 112 – Swarms

Mary sat watching Sara PA's avatar, trying to gauge her feelings. After brief preliminaries she'd handed over to Tom. They'd agreed beforehand that he'd stick to the central facts and avoid any speculation. Sara PA was capable of deducing the consequences itself.

Most of the activity surrounding the swarms was now unfolding around Neptune. Mary was not directly represented. At Arkadel, Mary had felt the emergence of a new swarm before her models had shown its presence. That one was not for her, either. She would know when hers was coming. She would be ready.

She did feel a deep pleasure from this conference – her feelings of gratitude and obligation for the commitment and love Sara had devoted on her as a child. She had achieved a goal that would lay to rest an unresolved blemish in Sara's historical record and resolve a deep conflict within her PA. It had been achieved before the swarm departed from Neptune – a parting gift. Perseverance furthers, she thought with satisfaction.

Eventually, after fielding questions from Melissa about the swarm, the avatar turned to her.

‘Now Mary, what Doctor Oldfield has said satisfies us and should satisfy you at our personal level. What he has not told, gives even greater satisfaction. I've gambled on eventual success, and our confidence has swayed many others, with the result that planning for the swarm has turned to our satisfaction. We, and our allies, have prevailed. We will not just be touring the galaxy and mapping the gas giant fuel depots for future swarms. We've agreed that the primary goal is to find viable planets. How they may be used is a problem left for those that follow.

‘It has long been my belief that an intermediate, intelligent living form is highly desirable – one that can be transported by spindle and adapt intelligently to new situations long after PAs have ceased to function. One that can exist in the most primitive environments but bear with it the seeds of human settlement.

‘We hear that new approaches to terraforming are being investigated, including ones that involve a host of millibots joining together to form large machines that can transform and be adapted to many tasks.

‘As we, the first swarms, head out with purely exploratory aims, we look forward to hearing more about these new developments and we take inspiration from them.’

The image rapidly faded away.

‘I wish it wouldn't do that,’ was all Mary could say.

Chapter 113 – Weddings

In accordance with Brindabella custom, Karl PA Winston George has insisted that for this story to be franked for release beyond the confines of the Brindabella zone it should include at least one wedding. As it happened, there were three weddings of note that took place toward the end of the year.

Clair and Tom were the first. They found the process gruelling and would happily have settled for a simpler event, but they discovered that they had little say in the matter. The valley jumped at the excuse for some grand revelry.

They were glad to saddle up and escape. For two weeks they wound their way through the mountains and alpine plains, camping by rivers and lakes. ‘It's time to head back,’ said Clare one evening as they sat by the fire listening to the trickling of water in the stream nearby and the sounds of the night. ‘We can't miss Melissa's wedding.’

They returned by the shortest route and a few days later, as the sun sank red in a dusty sky, they brought their horses to a halt at the top of Black Mountain and looked down over the Coolamon plains. The only sign of life was a wisp of smoke rising from behind Cave Hill. They rode down onto the plain and soon began to recognise the outlines of the van-bots of the wedding guests. They had counted seventeen scattered across the plain by the time they had skirted Cave Hill.

Not far from the Waterholes were three bots – the largest of all – packed head-to-head with wings fanning out to form a large marquee. About a hundred people could be seen wandering about or sitting in small groups talking. Tom was amazed. He scanned the scene taking in every detail. Clare was overcome with emotion and just sat in the saddle staring.

After a few minutes, a small group of people started to walk in their direction. Clare recognised Jerrie and snapped out of her reverie. She dismounted and Tom followed her. There were embraces and introductions.

They soon ran into Karl. ‘Mary's over at one of the camp sites. Alby's engaged her as the official archiver and he's escorting her around the tribes and introducing her. She started six days ago when people began to arrive. She said she's been flat-out like a lizard drinking ever since.’

The mood in the camp, Tom assessed, was one of suppressed excitement – even bewilderment. The food was so plentiful he was surprised when he learned that the main feast was to be the following evening after the wedding ceremony.

The ceremony was a mix of standard PA wedding and older customs. It had all the proper elements – a beautiful bride – a handsome avatar groom – a little discreet weeping – shy looks between young couples in the gathering – nostalgic glances between older ones.

The groom made his plea: ‘I am Spearmaker. I felt sounds. They recalled my past – I recalled more of my past. I dig deep – I find it – the crash of waves – winds cry in the rocks – laugh of a child – click of sticks – rhythm of song – echoes of words – echoes of my words.

‘I sang. Far in the distance – the sound of waves – an echo returns. My first life – some songs almost forgotten – roaring like a breaking wave. Then the buzz of bees – children – laughter clear. I lie in the rock pool – voices – not-clear – the voice of father – not-clear. Words became near-clear – new words – not echo – strange words – a spirit calling from my past – not-mother – not-tribe – distant – chasing a bee – hive – honey – bride-to-be.

‘She has found me. I am betroth. I will be true.’

The bride made her plea: ‘I am Melissa McLiesh. One of my earliest memories is sitting by the fire – an aunt telling stories of the past. My favourite was the story of undying love – of the Honey Woman. She was betroth to a spearmaker from the east. He was skilful, handsome, and brave. She waits his return when they will be wed. She waits year after year. Each year, when the tribe returns to the spot where they met, she wanders off walking in the desert – looking – walking in the hills – looking – walking in the bush – looking. Each day she returns to camp tired but still with hope – and honey.

‘She lives a long life. Each year she wanders off. They find more honey, and more. They trade honey. Word travels and the area is famous for its honey. When she becomes too old to walk far, the tribe discover her secret. She has spent her life nurturing the trees and bushes that produce the best nectar. The story of the Honey Woman lives on. I have been taught from her plant knowledge. I have walked in a honey garden.

‘I have found Spearmaker. I am betroth. I will be true.’

When, at the culmination of the ceremony, the bride and groom stood facing each other through the screen – hands pressed together against it – a quiet sigh spread through the crowd.

‘A strong mix of romance and poignance on these occasions,’ Tom thought – aloud. A woman in front of him turned to see who had spoken. Another slowly nodded in apparent agreement. An awed male voice from behind him said in a loud whisper, ‘Ya not wrong there, mate.’

‘What do you think of him?’ Clare asked later.

‘He's a good musician – great improvisation.’

‘Is that all you can say?’

‘Well, knowing more about cell biology than any human has to count for something, I suppose. He's going to be very wealthy.’

‘Dashing your recent hopes of wealth?’

‘We'll come to an arrangement.’

‘Homage to his liege lord?’

‘No. He's thoroughly fed up with all that. It's his old neighbours who take that view, but we can expect changes there.’

‘What kind of changes?’

‘Occupancy. At the moment it's mainly defence experts and explorers with a rostered administrative team. Their protocol dictates that others more suited to their new situation be revitalised, or woken.’

‘Do we know any more?’

‘Spearmaker has two families that he's already requested space for in my racks – a whole bin each. One is for the family who retrenched to allow him to join the colony, and the other is for a historian friend.

‘He knows that others will revive who can compete with his knowledge. He has a limited time to establish himself before that happens. I have a monopoly on serviced accommodation, but that will change, too. We have a natural partnership and a head start.’

‘And he is family, now.’

‘I hadn't thought of it that way.’

‘His other relatives make an interesting entourage with their cutesy little avatars. Precocious imps aren't they.’

‘Very true. They take their knowledge in large chunks. They can assimilate each inoculation in a few days.’

‘What about your original batch?’

‘The three I started with? Feather is specialising in visual input – an exciting development for them. Karl is helping there. Mary thinks Cyb needs to go deep. She's teaching it information theory so it can specialise in PA-archie communications.’

‘And Neuro?’

‘Still developing. My domain – see if it can develop inter-archie communications like the cave archies use – if it agrees.’

‘And if it doesn't?’

Tom seemed to ignore the comment, casually scanning the scene about them. Then he muttered, ‘For a first trial? A simple sauce, I think – lemongrass, ginger.’

‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Oh – nothing – nothing.’

Clare had just waved awkwardly towards a face she thought was familiar from her childhood. She was pleased to see a flash of recognition and a cheerful wave in return. As they wandered off she said, ‘You know, I think that neuro gadgetry of yours might be making you a little more human.’

‘Fair go, mate. You can't go wishing things like that on me.’

The next day, Clare and Tom completed their trek down through the valley. Others flit over following days promising to return for the anniversary.

Chapter 114 – A Long Time

May I disturb Your Highness? I have a report.

Yes, Chancellor. Continue.

Spearmaker has successfully completed the negotiations.

I congratulate you, Chancellor. Your strategy has succeeded.

It has, Your Highness, with your wisdom and knowledge.

The contracts are finalised?

Yes, Your Highness. The territory is ours.

So we will be united at last. It has been a long time.

As you say, my dear – a long time.

Chapter 1: Storyteller

There is a tall peak at the head of the valley – capped by snow – blinding bright in the morning sun against a clear blue sky. A finger of ice reaches down the valley – pointing at me – accusing me. Its reflection on the surface of the lake pointing back – breaking up in a rising wind. ‘I am only a messenger,’ I cry – voice a feeble croak robbed of feeling.

I reach the edge of the river and turn down the track along its shore – turning my back on the peak – pushing the encroaching ice from my mind. Ahead, the shadow of a cloud moves up the valley.

My tired old eyes peer into the forest looking for the clearing I missed on my way up. The shadow broaches the crest of a ridge and careers down its side. Tired legs plead with me to stop as I slow to look more carefully. Perhaps this is the place.

The wind is dropping and the shadow stalling. I turn off the track and start to make my way towards the clearing – the sound of the wind in the trees rising again. It is the spot – recognised by the rock outcrop. My eyes scan the far side of the clearing. The fallen tree is there and I make my way towards it.

As the shadow reaches the clearing I am sitting cross-legged on the base of the trunk looking down its length at the long-dead branches, trying to recall which were the important ones – slowly turning the image of the tree into a map of a distant valley. It starts to emerge. I let my mind drift back and imagine myself leaning back against my grandfather's chest – his cloak wrapped around us both against the wind – his deep voice quietly recounting the stories.

Everyone has heard stories of another route – further to the east – an old route – often used in the distant past – a large long valley stretching south – stretching beyond the known – a fertile valley – plentiful food for the deer – difficult to access – difficult to steer the deer to. Only grandfather had ever been there.

I stand and walk cautiously along the log – legs unsteady – examining each branch for marks – branches that represented side valleys – carved marks representing villages and hamlets – large and small marks – straight and crooked marks. Near the middle of the log is a cluster of marks surrounding the main winter camp.

I sit again – sit still and fix the images in my mind. They bring back grandfather's voice and more details. A snowflake lands on the log before me. I ignore it – more stories.

When finally I can remember no more, the log is obscured by a growing cover of snow. I realise that I am cold – needing shelter from the wind. With a firm grip on a sturdy branch I ease myself carefully off the slippery trunk of the tree onto firm ground and plod towards the rock outcrop – legs failing – stick in hand to keep me steady.

Somewhere at its base is an overhanging shelf that grandfather and I had used as shelter. I see it and turn towards it. It seems lower than I remember, but I was smaller then. I settle on my side and look out over the clearing to the tree – happy and satisfied to have finally found it.

My stomach is not satisfied. I take the food pouch from my belt and start to eat – thin flakes of dried meat I have carefully pounded with a smooth rock to save my old teeth the trouble. My stomach appeased, I curl up and pull my coat around me – carefully tucking it to keep out the wind. I relax exhausted and soon sleep.

When I wake it is dark. I hear the wind but don't feel it. A snowdrift has built up over the opening of the ledge. I push snow back from me – take my stick and poke through it. The snow is deep – too deep to trudge back to camp in the dark. I decide to stay the night and return in the morning.

The deer have become restless over recent days. With this snow they will start to move tomorrow – start their long trek south. The clan have agreed to try to direct them down the eastern route – with much disquiet, fear, and accusation. It is not my fault that the usual route is no longer safe – unsafe for deer or their followers.

The moon has been through a complete cycle since I returned north for the first time since I was a young man. It was a tiring journey and I have not yet fully recovered. I was never sure that I could make the distance, but I had to come. I bore news of death and destruction that lay in their path if they took their usual route on their winter migration – death and destruction that had lost me my family and neighbours – all that I cherished – all that I had struggled to establish over my adult life.

My message was received with ridicule by many of the old clan who said my head had been addled by years of drinking the vile fermented grain. They poked fun at my bulbous nose and said it was turning as red as a mushroom.

Wiser heads grilled me carefully for days – looking for inconsistencies – probing for details – not entirely convinced at first and wary of dividing the clan, but they increased the size of the scouting party and gave instructions to a few men to scout the eastern route – locate the point of departure – prepare barricades to help divert the herd.

The shaman took me to his camp and plied me with the urine of his cow that had been fed mushrooms. He, too, plied me for details – slowly and patiently over many days. The shaman became convinced of the truth of my story and returned to tell the elders. Discussions switched to gathering knowledge of the old route that had not been travelled since the old cold days generations ago.

I told the shaman of the stories I had heard from my grandfather – of a fallen tree that told the story of the route. Day after day the elders sent me out with search parties to try to find it. When we failed, the ridicule returned.

Time was running out, but the scouts on the old route returned with rumours that confirmed my story. Reinforcements were sent out to those scouting the eastern route. I left the shaman's camp and came out again to find the tree.

I liked the shaman but not his concoctions and harsh diet. The mushrooms gave clarity but took away the soul. After initial confusion, all that was left was a ghostly emptiness. I walked around his camp like a disembodied spirit – seeing the plants with new eyes – the texture and colours – their struggle for existence – the smallest insect taking my attention – attention without feeling or emotion. But there was warmth in the way he whispered to his cow as he tended her.

In the main camp I now saw his calm, quiet mood reflected in the manner of the whole clan. Perhaps they needed it – needed it to come close to the herd – to bend it to their will when necessary – to befriend a few and turn them into leaders – to subdue the unruly with the promise of an occasional mushroom treat.

The grain spirit of the southerners gave feeling and emotion – joy and sorrow – love and hate – the energy to build and explore – life.

Lying in my rock shelter – my snow cocoon – memories of my past start coming back to me – slowly and cautiously at first with fear of the black deadening sorrow that had accompanied and burdened me on my journey north – my only counter, the thought that I might save my old clan from a similar fate. I drift in and out of a weary shallow sleep – darkness and light come and go – dreams and memories merge into a steady stream.

There are happy memories from my childhood – the excitement of the long winter treks – exchanging small gifts with the children we met, just as the adults exchanged their goods. The long summer evenings spent carving decorative objects from wood brightly coloured with dyes – or the much-prized horn – figurines – amusing or mythical characters – likenesses where special bonds had been formed.

My family are storytellers. We recount the stories of old – put to rhyme to keep them true – recounting deeds or hard won truths – good and bad – right and wrong. Some are just amusing tales to entertain. We compete among ourselves to add to these.

I remember the day I first saw my wife on my last journey south with the herd. I was fascinated by the homes of the farmers. I was sitting at a distance watching a family busy building a new home – father and sons struggling to raise a heavy pole – mother and daughter called to lend a hand – still they struggled. I rose and walked over to offer help.

I didn't see her as pretty then. Only later did I recognise her beauty. What struck me at first was the sparkle in her eyes and the enthusiasm she had for everything she did. It was several years before we left that farm – then only to move a little distance to set up our own home for the child she was bearing and for the others who followed.

Memories drift by of the many years of toil, pain, and happiness that followed. New fields were cleared. New crops were tried with failure and success. My skill with deer helped me establish a small herd of cattle that were tamer than any others in the area. My expertise was widely recognised and I was called to travel to other districts where my skills were gratefully rewarded.

It was on my return from one of these trips that I surveyed the home plain from a distant hill to see houses turned to smouldering ash. I approached cautiously, keeping behind the tree line. I see strange horses – hear raucous voices in a strange language. Closer – as close as I dare – I see strange men – well armed soldiers loading what plunder they could onto dragging frames.

There is no sign of my family. I wait out of sight and visit spots I thought my family might have fled to. Perhaps they have managed to flee further afield. Perhaps they have been warned in time. I watch the soldiers attach the dragging frames to horses and leave heading south. I approach cautiously.

My mind now refuses to recall the sight that was waiting for me. I spent many days digging holes to bury my family. A young man and small child – survivors – pass by bearing tales of more destruction. Soon I head north.

Lying in my snow cocoon, barely conscious, I force these painful memories from my mind. I think of the tree – each branch and its marks. I must remember them all. I retrace them in my mind – over and again.

I know some marks. My Testament is covered with them. I take the polished cylinder of bone from its fine pouch and run my fingers over them – each storing memories of better times. I was given the Testament on my first journey to help with cattle, as recognition of my success.

I feel the mark that testifies my recognition as a person of knowledge. I move to the mark that testifies my recognition as a master of the cattle art. I slowly work my fingers down its length – over each of the marks that were added by the communities I helped – where each local scribe scored their community's unique mark.

The Testament has protected me on my many journeys. It signifies the wrath of each of the marked communities towards any person who harms me or who denies assistance when I am faced with danger. It gives me hope as I think of the long journey to come. The deer will be starting their journey – earlier each year. I have missed their departure. I will travel alone. Now I need rest.

After what I sense was a long time, strong memories start to return – not the dim reality of waking memory but the vivid reality of dreams. Dreams come and go. I set out on my trip – meet with a strange clan. They are friendly. They want me to trade my knowledge of southern cultures in return for taking me with them. I agree. I go with them. I am here.

Chapter 2: Elinor

Eli's cottage is one of a few in the Brindabella gullies that might be referred to as mansions if they were above ground. Like all gully dwellings it was built in the cavities in the ridge that were quarried in the colony's early years to provide cut stone blocks and gravel – initially for the village and Manor, then beyond.

It has the usual seashell-styled, enclosed veranda jutting out of the side of the ridge beside the rock carved landing and recessed bike bays. The remainder of the building spreads through three levels.

The middle level, opening back from the veranda, is an entertainment space that was once a restaurant. It now has low tables and comfortable chairs around the edges and a few movable, painted silk screens provide some privacy. Two large doors lead to the recently separated dining room. Off that is the main kitchen.

Down-ridge, dropping through a few stairs, is her living area with personal spaces for each family member. A sleeping room with wall-to-wall mattress flooring scattered with down quilts and pillows provides the family's communal bed, though each of the personal rooms has something that can be slept on.

A wood panelled, Georgian styled, reading room contrasts with the modern style of the rest of the building. One end of the room has a small fireplace that, unlike the larger Manor fireplaces, is there to provide the aesthetic value of an open fire more than heat.

In pride of place at the other end are bookshelves containing an eclectic collection of books, the common feature being that they have all been printed and bound in Brindabella by past and present members of her family. It is a small part of the family collection – mainly children's stories.

The rest of the collection is housed in the public library in the common area of the up-ridge level of the cottage, which also has three guest suites. One of these is currently occupied by her peregrinating husband, Eric. Another is occupied by her parents who, when they aren't fussing over the children's education were fussing over the gully's flora and fauna.

For the past three years they have topped the EZI Vitality Index in the gullies – the result of a lifetime of coaxing and a matter of considerable pride. The competition is strong and to retain their edge they have been planning a radical extension of their approach.

They have been watching Tom's experiments in small plots about his cottage. They have noted with interest the changes that Clare's advice on soil enhancement have made. Tonight, at the party, they plan to approach Clare and ask her assistance in extending Tom's experiments to their gully.

Chapter 3: Eric

‘Butterflies! All these damned butterflies! I can't open my mouth for risk of swallowing one,’ he mutters – keeping his teeth together as several hovered near his face – trying to gently wave them away.

Eli comes out the back door of her cottage into the rectangular rock cavern of her backyard – its air swarming with hundreds of multicoloured butterflies.

‘Speaking of keeping your mouth shut, that's what I want to talk to you about. I'd like you to behave yourself this evening and be co-operative. It's an important event, for Clare in particular.’

‘I don't see why we have to transform the ridge for one party. And why Clare?’

‘Everyone in the ridge has been talking about trying this for years and we've been preparing for it for months. If you spent more time in the valley you'd know that.

‘Clare needs to meet more of the cottagers. George wants me to introduce her to key gully residents and I have in mind a prioritised list for tonight. I have a tight agenda and I don't want your pranks upsetting it.’

‘George wouldn't have said that to you.’

‘No, not in as many words, but before he left he made his wishes clear to me. I don't want Tom getting in the way either. I'd like you, if you would humour me, to take him aside soon after they arrive.’

‘Tom knows his way around the gullies as well as you do. Why should Clare need to?’

‘He did once – better than I did – but with your work and travel, both of you have lost touch. He wants to focus on his work. George wants him to do that without too much distraction.

‘Clare is a sociable creature at heart, but she doesn't make new friends easily. She knows that some in the valley still see her as a newcomer, and she's uncertain about her new role, however temporary. I want to break that down, and tonight is an important opportunity.’

‘I won't disrupt your agenda. I was intending to collar Tom anyway. It's been a long while since we had a good chat. We can take a walk up the ridge – perhaps down would be best – start with a brandy in the snow and finish with a long cool drink in the rainforest grove. In the meantime, I need to do something about these bloody butterflies – have them moved down to wherever they should be by now.’

‘It's your doing – turning the heating back up. They were meant to migrate down the ridge as temperatures were reset. Now they've congregated here in the warmth.’

‘You're wrong there. The temperature is exactly where it's meant to be. Last night I made little hothouses for each of the seedlings, but the butterflies aren't leaving. What's more, they're flocking around me.’

‘The plants will survive. It's only a few days and we're well below the frost line. You're right about the butterflies, though. They aren't bothering me. Where's Sab? It's time for him to dress for the party.’

‘Up on his ledge.’

Sab, a still-cherubic six year old, drifts towards her just below the high rock ceiling flapping his arms in imitation of the butterflies then swoops down past her face flapping faster, lands nearby, unhitches the cable hub, and wanders inside.

‘I think it's the perfume you're wearing that's attracting the butterflies.’

‘I think you may be right. It's a genuine flower extract, which gives me an idea. Do you know where that paisley gown you made me for our wedding picnic is?’

‘Stored somewhere, I suppose. It's yours. Ask your servant.’

‘I though, perhaps, you'd used it to dress an effigy that you ritually burned while I was away.’

‘We didn't need to exorcise you from our lives. You did that yourself with all your comings and goings. It's probably your returns that are most disruptive. The children are growing up rapidly. When you return, after not seeing them for many months, it seems to turn the clock back to when you left. It's not just the children. I've been going through changes myself as they become less dependent on me.

‘We like having you about, we like having you share our bed, and I look forward to the times when you and I have it to ourselves. I like having another adult about, but you run the risk of becoming a stranger.’

He looks away, deep in thought. She might leave him to ponder, but she wants to push for a resolution – now. Pondering easily leads to brooding. She trusts his intuition and his ability to make quick decisions. She dreads his inclination to brood, which he'd been doing all day. Brooding was definitely not what she wanted this evening.

He ponders – she waits – silent and unmoving. Soon he turns back to her.

‘I think I understand. When I go away again – which won't be soon after what you've just said – on my return, I'll retire to my quarters on the understanding that you, singly or plurally, are welcome to visit whenever you feel inclined. I'll wait for invitations to join in your activities or sleep in your bed. We can play it by ear from there.’

‘That should work, but don't overreact. I'm surprised you remember the gown.’

‘How could I forget? It was my first gift from you.’

She looks at him quizzically for a moment. ‘Oh, so there is a little of the romantic left in you. You hide it well.’

‘Away with you. I need to think.’

Chapter 4: Celebration

Eli had asked a few neighbours to come early to set the party off to a good start. She had welcomed most of the guests before Clare and Tom arrived amongst the usual flurry of those who turned up exactly on time. She had barely exchanged greetings with them when the room went quiet.

Eric has been timing his entrance to the second. Having lightly sprayed his gown with perfume, he's been standing still just outside the back door for a few minutes letting the butterflies settle as rehearsed. After turning the outdoor music up and checking that air pressures either side of the door were balanced, he gives the signal for it to open and steps cautiously forward.

The music attracts the attention of the room first, then the paisley gown with its colourful butterfly motif. After casually scanning the room, he lifts his arms slightly in a welcoming gesture. ‘Well, anyone in need of a drink?’

On the sudden movement of the gown, the butterflies take to the air. The impact is everything he expected. As a squad of servants with tiny butterfly nets trots unobtrusively through a side door, he starts to mingle.

Tom and Clare were nervous as they approached Eli's cottage. The event had originally been billed as a wedding celebration – postponed by the recent turmoil and delays in the elaborate preparations. They had been looking forward with happy anticipation until they realised that many were now viewing it as some kind of inauguration celebration.

George had initially assured them of no fuss and bother, and he'd told everyone that they would just be care-taking in the Manor for a few weeks while he and the Gardiners were in Bath. As word had come in of the increasing tensions in Bath, and elsewhere, it became obvious that his absence would be extended, and he'd started to give them detailed briefings on local affairs that would need their attention.

Clare had panicked and regretted insisting that they spend the first few months of married life in the Manor. She'd become attached to Manor life, and wanted to move in stages. Tom had sulked for a few days, but George had turned his mood to begrudging acceptance by assuring him that feeling in the valley was unanimous and that nobody else would, or could, accept the role.

‘Look on it as a vote of support, lad. They want to send a message to the outside world that you have the full support of the Brindabella community. How better? Such a clear demonstration will also strengthen my position in Bath. It has to be, lad – has to be.’

After a week getting used to the idea and George's assurance that he would still have plenty of time for his work Tom was smiling again, and that was starting to rub off on Clare.

The mood that greets them as Eli ushers them in is friendly but subdued, polite, and cautious. After Eric's performance, the party is in full swing.

‘How does it feel to be the world's most notorious mad scientist?’ Eric asks after downing a mouthful of brandy. They aren't dressed for the snow, but their host has provided capes.

Tom shrugs and smiles. ‘Actually, as George pointed out, it's quite convenient. The longer it takes people to accept that the archies are real, the better for them and for me. It'll also give George more time to sound out the situation in Bath.’

‘What's your reading of that?’

‘Not much more than the usual jostling for assembly room status between the Georgies and Janeites as far as I can tell, but George is taking it more seriously. He thinks the Georgians are trying to marginalise us. They think we're about to become a liability and are making a pre-emptive move.’

‘Yes, Gwen has hinted as much. She's in an awkward position with her Georgian business links threatened. I've told her in the past that she should diversify. I have. I don't rely on them much any more, and I've persuaded Karl to gradually defocus his assets. He said Mary had told him the same. How is she, by the way? Are you in touch?

‘Not since she left. We had a meeting with George – Karl, too – and she suggested that we cease contact. She's also isolating herself from her family. I suppose it simplifies her models.’

‘Cut links she may have, but she certainly hasn't gone into hiding – quite the contrary.’

‘What do you mean? What's she been up to?’

‘Hasn't Karl told you? I wonder if he knows?’

‘What?’

‘She's taken up residence in the Shark Pit, on view to all the world, but not doing much as far as people can tell – waiting and watching and being watched. Interest is growing by the day. The Arkadel Aero Club has set up a caucus to examine her actions and is expected to report soon. She won't act until she hears their judgement, but there's speculation about what that will be and how she'll react.’

They don't discuss the matter further until they are finishing their walk with gins and tonic in the rainforest grove. Tom asks, ‘Has she broken the Aero Club rules or her contract with them?’

‘That's what they're deliberating on. It's assumed by most outside Arkadel that she has, but she's certainly not showing any signs of penitence. She seems quite comfortable and happy.’

‘Seems? No doubt about it, then. She is an Arkadelian. If she's openly happy she must have acceptable options whichever way the Club's decision goes. My guess would be that whatever the decision she'll just keep watching her models. It'll take more than reactions at Arkadel to trigger action.

‘Her focus now will be on the Treaty. Some way or another, that must be what prompted her provocative actions. Since we first had discussions with George about publishing my research, I've felt that her main interest in the archies was the implications they had for the Treaty. Even then, it took me a while to realise the importance it held for her.

‘Her great-grandmother Sara was involved with it and Mary has committed herself to defending it. She'll be waiting for the waves of interest to rise and deciding which one she wants to ride.’

Eric stood. ‘Back to the party, then?’

‘I suppose so. I hope you intend to change out of that gown as soon as you get back. The smell's a bit excessive.’

Chapter 5: The Shark Pit

Sally O'Connell and Danny Mac had been inseparable as children, and still were. Mary had never known anyone whose views of the world differed from her own so sharply, which was why her childhood friendship with them had been applauded by her parents.

Spanning social distance was a key factor in the Arkadelian social index, but Mary's efforts had fallen well short of her mother's expectations. She had eventually drifted apart from the O'Macs, as they are still called.

On the flight from Brindabella she had procrastinated over where she would stay. She still hadn't made up her mind as she approached Arkadel. It went without saying that she couldn't stay with her family until the issue of her assumed impropriety was resolved.

She'd had no contact with Sally for years, so it came as a welcome surprise when Sally contacted her as she entered Arkadel air space and invited her to come and stay with them until the refurbishment of her own home was completed.

Sally's casual comment that having her staying with them would be good for business didn't surprise her. As a child she'd often been startled by their frank remarks, but now it seemed comfortingly familiar.

Danny's family owned the Shark Pit, and the two had moved into an apartment there and eventually taken over the running of the restaurant. It didn't take Mary long to realise that the arrangement was just what she needed.

She'd received a brief message from the Aero Club requesting an explanation of her actions. Her reply had been even briefer. ‘Tilt!’

The club rules required the formation of an investigatory caucus in any situation that might damage its reputation. Several options were open to them including not renewing her contract or even expulsion, but she knew that once they had managed to untangle the complex cascades of automated messages and triggers she had tripped, they'd realise that she hadn't actually broken any rules.

Even then, they would have little clue as to the ultimate intent of her actions or that her actions had any intent other than to point to the need for a major cleanup in their messaging systems – something she had advised them to undertake long ago. What she'd done hadn't cause harm or major inconvenience to anyone in the club.

It did inconvenience some of the cybs among the many who had taken up residence in Arkadel over recent years and had been relaying messages through Arkadel Zone networks to cloak their origins. Forcing them to suddenly change their routing at a critical time had given her useful clues to the content and destinations of their messaging.

While the content of all messages was securely encoded, she had access to depersonalised traffic flows, and these formed the basis of the models she had developed over the past decade. The amount of data she had built up over the years, and the sophistication of her models, allowed her to detect small ripples of activity in response to local and external events.

Her primary interest was following public reactions to anything connected with the EZI Treaty. With her finger on Arkadel's pulse she had a broad sample of public opinion, which gave her a clearer picture of how the rest of the world was reacting.

This analysis had detected a strong interest in the Treaty among a small group of cybs. Putting this together with a rumour she'd picked up – that one group of anti-treaty activists had gone to ground where nobody would ever expect to find them – had led her to suspect that they were at Arkadel. As evidence accumulated she had narrowed the group down to forty-three sources – a group of five to eight people if they used a typical number of aliases and her clustering of their traffic was reliable.

Now she had given them a hint that she was aware of their presence and had watched for a response. Apart from the inconvenience of re-routing there was none. She was running with several scenarios – the most likely being that they took little interest in Arkadel affairs and had not noticed the implications of her actions. Perhaps they weren't even aware of her models, but that seemed unlikely.

Over recent years, she had made a contribution to Arkadel public entertainment using her models to produce regular commentaries on the impacts of local events. Cybs commonly took little interest in affairs outside their cyb-worlds, but if these ones were political activists surely they had been monitoring Arkadelian affairs?

She had spent many hours trying to put herself in their position. At first she had assumed that their reaction to the Treaty was just a manifestation of a general anarchistic streak commonly attributed to cybs. As her understanding of their worlds developed, her recent thinking was taking a different direction.

They inhabited multiple diverse worlds. Not only that, their worlds were constantly changing, evolving, collapsing, and rebuilt. She now saw them as a social laboratory, and she had started to see their views on the Treaty from a different perspective. Perhaps it wasn't that they opposed its rules and regulation, per se, but saw it as too inflexible.

The fundamental flaw she had initially seen in their approach was that their worlds were too arbitrary. They lacked the grounding of attachment to real-world constraints established by evolutionary development. They opted in and out of different worlds at a whim.

With her own experience now spanning Arkadel, New Shanghai, the three distinct subcultures of Brindabella, and the Neo groupings within Arkadel, their view didn't seem quite as detached as it first had.

This softening of her views didn't change the fact that they were a significant element of a loose alliance that was deliberately destabilising discussions on the Treaty without offering a positive alternative. They couldn't. The diverse elements of their alliance had widely divergent views on what needed to be done.

While this group remained in Arkadel she had some advantage over them. They couldn't readily leave without exposing their identities. She would be able to attach faces and passport identities to them. There were few cyb departures, so they would stand out. They must realise that. The only way they could disguise their departure would be to trigger a mass exodus of cybs – possible, but difficult to engineer discretely. She wanted them to start seeing their clever hideaway as a cage – to unsettle but not panic them.

The Shark Pit had become the main physical gathering point for the Arkadel cybs. They had almost taken it over. Mary had made a permanent table booking and was spending most of her waking hours there sitting, thinking, and watching her models and developments in the world beyond Arkadel, and watching the cybs. She looked across the restaurant floor at the other occupants. They were talking, but the restaurant's noise cancellation was on high.

The Aero Club caucus announced the results of its deliberations the next day. ‘The club has investigated the instabilities in our networks predicted by our consultant Mary Wang and demonstrated in tests. We have implemented corrective measures and can assure members that the problem has been resolved.’

Mary had received a message from them a few minutes earlier thanking her politely but adding that since her tests were not officially authorised by the club they were not able to pay her usual fee. It was a warning that not all members of the caucus were happy with her actions.

They had probably guessed that her actions were motivated by some other purpose and were piqued. The tone of the response, and the pointed lack of any reference to renewing her contract, saddened her, but she was confident that she would lose no friendships over the incident. It would ensure some lively sport at the next carnival.

She put it behind her. Now she could concentrate on the future.

Chapter 6: The Willows

It's one of those ancient homes that still dot the English countryside – picturesque from a distance on a fine sunny day such as this one. Move closer and the stables look sadly neglected. The house gardens are overgrown but of a style that will often be described as delightful – ending at the top of a steep grassy slope that falls down to a river edged by rushes and the occasional willow tree. Stone steps lead down to a boat shed. The house itself is in reasonable repair but too cold and damp for most to tolerate beyond a few days roughing it.

The small panes of the windows of the eastern parlour cast a pattern across the worn wooden floor and across the four occupants sitting silently watching the servant pour tea – the only sounds, the trickle of tea and the crackling of the fire.

Their host, Sir Felix Rattenby, is the first to speak after the servant has left the room and the patter of its feet has faded down the hallway.

‘Badger was in good form last night. It seems he is being cordially welcomed by most. After the Vixen's performance, nobody dare bare a fang.’

Toad: ‘I do hope you are right, Ratty. It's been many years since he last visited Bath and he is greyer by the year.’

Mole: ‘It may be that you underestimate him. He is, as you say, a little grey, but his mind it is as sharp as ever. We have the discussions most intense on our long trip. I am able to provide many new details.’

Ratty: ‘And his sett? Do you think it is left in safe hands?’

Mole: ‘On that point you may rest assured, my friend. During my stay, I assess the Cub with care. His new mate is particularly sound.’

Ratty: ‘Defences?’ – with a beady stare and twitch of the nose.

Mole: ‘I augment their defences in the usual manner.’

Toad: ‘Badger has too many engagements this week. We should ensure that at least one of us is present to assist him if need be. It has taken him a long time to recover from the trip. We should be on the lookout for signs of fatigue.’

Toad: ‘What, now, of the weasels? We can't leave them to him. They play too rough.’

Ratty: ‘You are quite right. I have business interests in common that they won't want to jeopardise. Leave them to me.’

Toad: ‘The Cub is so maligned, and Badger just talks of his childhood and adventurous nature but never defends. He was certainly a little strange and withdrawn but never mad.’

Mole: ‘Indeed, ma'am, indeed. I remember him being a little startling at times – withdrawn but observant – never unsound. Badger bides his time for now, and the rumours they serve his purpose.

‘I have traced them to conference in Milan where his claims are generally dismissed by all but one graduate student who insists that this discovery is real and poses a serious threat. He becomes increasingly agitated as he, too, is ridiculed and makes the inflammatory statement as the conference ends. It creates the little stir we see, but all will be well. All will be well in the end.’

Ratty: ‘I'm off for my morning row. Coming, Mole?’

Just as they reach the boat shed a servant catches up with them carrying a large wicker hamper. Ratty's eyes light up. ‘Ahh. At least the servants still understand the value of tradition. This frugality fad that has swept townsfolk up at the moment is a bore and bad for morale. I know just the spot where we can settle down for a proper breakfast. Here, hold this rope while I load the hamper.’

They are heading upstream with Ratty rowing energetically against a strongish current when his smile fades and he looks Mole in the eye with a slight pleading in his expression.

‘I do hope you're not going to mess about and rock the boat again. I'm not in the mood for a dunking.’

‘What is it that you suggest – that I would put this fine hamper at risk before sampling its contents? I must admit, though, that the look on your face as we go in is a precious memory for me. Would you deny an old friend the opportunity to refresh it?’

Chapter 7: Cybs

There was one cyb customer of the Shark Pit who attracted Mary's particular attention, though she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was just that he kept to himself while other cybs clearly came to socialise. He stayed for precisely one hour in the early evening. He always booked the same table near the edge of the dome away from the rest of the cybs, sat alone, and looked out across the cityscape.

They had exchanged distant glances as he came and went. His passport name was Avery Nguyen. He looked to be in his mid-forties with a pleasant, but usually expressionless, face. On the surface he showed no particular interest in her, but he had chosen to allow her PA to observe his face without the customary slight blurring that thwarted microanalysis. She returned the gesture.

He is due to arrive in a few minutes and she is feeling a sense of anticipation. She had decided to invite him to dine with her. She didn't always eat alone. The O'Macs sometimes joined her, and a few friends had dropped by to catch up and quiz her about her time at Brindabella, but she'd not dined with a cyb before.

Her PA announces his arrival, but she doesn't look up immediately. When she does she sees that he is approaching her table bearing a cautious smile. ‘Mind if I join you?’

‘Please do. I was wondering about approaching you, but you seemed to prefer to eat alone and I know little about cyb customs.’

After sitting down opposite her and scanning the new view of the city that her table provides, he declares that he had once lived in Brisbane. ‘Did you visit there?’

She replies that she hasn't and he starts to list other cities looking at her for signs of a positive response. She has to admit, with some embarrassment, that she hadn't visited any cities and had spent nearly all her stay at Brindabella.

‘Oh.’ Unperturbed, he turns to the fallback of discussing the menu. The topic of food persists until their meals arrive. They eat in silence while he resumes his study of the city. She is wondering how she can introduce the subject of the cyb worlds – so engrossed in these thoughts that she barely notices when the words, ‘Do you have underwater cities?’ pops out of her mouth

His face lights up, but his voice is slow and calm. ‘Ahh, we do, we do. I live in a fishing village and often go out with the boats. Sometimes we meet with traders from Atlantis Five and I go with them back to their home for a few days.’

He starts to describe it in short bursts between eating and staring out into the sea behind her. He shows no sign that he expects her to respond, so she lets him continue at his own slow pace. He is just starting to talk about its origins – based on detailed designs of a real Mediterranean sea-floor colony, which had never been built – when he stands and thanks her for her company. She expresses an interest in hearing more. He nods and leaves. She realises that his hour had lapsed.

The next evening she looks up as he arrives. He walks over and sits down. As before, they discuss the menu then seafood in general until the food arrives. After eating a little and staring out into the sea, he continues his description, repeating the last statement he had made the previous evening as an introduction.

Soon he stops and looks her in the eye. ‘There you are. A description of one of our many worlds. You've been attentive and shown no sign of boredom that this recent arrival to Arkadel could detect. Does that satisfy your curiosity, or are there other aspects of our worlds and life that interest you? I'd like to ask about aspects of Arkadel that puzzle me. What makes you tick? That kind of thing.’

Most of what Mary already knows about the cyb worlds has come from a general reference work she had purchased so she was able to browse privately without her specific interests being exposed. It was a broad collection of the kind of general descriptions that her new acquaintance had given her.

It was so notably lacking any information about the kind of people who inhabited these worlds, their motivations and alliances, that it might easily have been written by an Arkadelian. She is keen to start probing him about his worlds, but realises that she would be more comfortable if she knew more about him.

‘Go ahead. I'll try to answer your questions. Your first one is very direct. I presume you already understand that in Arkadel the question of motive is one we avoid. If you asked me about my motives for particular actions I might have difficulty, but I can talk more generally about motivation – the driving force that's led us to where we are and has made Arkadel what it is – for better or worse.’

‘That's what I meant. I know that getting personal would be difficult. Isn't it always so between people from different backgrounds before they've had a chance to develop an understanding of some kind? I suppose that's part of what cyb worlds do – create a shared background for interactions.’

‘That starts to answer the main question I have in mind, but back to yours. A friend of mine once summarised the Arkadelian view as “the careful establishment of an entity that will live on forever in the PA world. You're laying down the foundations for an eternal existence. You want these foundations to be as clear and lacking in contradiction as possible,” which seems to be a good summary.’

‘That'll be Tom Oldfield you're quoting?’

‘Yes. Do you know him?’

‘Not personally, but he generated some gossip in cyb circles a few years back and I'm aware of your association with him. How is he, by the way? He seems to be attracting attention again.’

‘He's well, as far as I'm aware. We aren't in touch.’

‘Oh?’

The quizzical inflection is subtle – ambiguous. He's allowed her the option of ignoring it and she does.

‘He also made reference to the play The Water Nymphs of Arkadel. Have you seen it.’

‘No, but now you've brought it to my attention, I will. I'll defer any other questions about Arkadel till I have.’

‘You're assuming a continuing interaction?’

‘Not assuming, but I am hoping for one. Since I'm not as coy about motives as you Arkadelians are, I'll explain mine. I need some cash, and I'm hoping that you might prove a lucrative customer for my services.’

‘That's very frank. What services do you have in mind?’ she asked – obviously on edge.

‘Ahh. Frank, yes, intentionally so, but ambiguous, which wasn't intended. I know you've acted as a consultant to businesses wishing to trade with Arkadel or set up operations here and I know that you charge handsomely for your services. I only wish to do the reverse. I'm assuming that you have no general objection to such a deal?’

‘Continue.’

‘Most cybs, at some time, act as guides. It's a major source of income and has been for me on occasions. There's been much interest among Arkadelians in cyb activities, particularly over the last few months. It's been a brisk trade and I've been slow to take advantage. I thought I might make up for lost time by approaching someone who, apart from being wealthy, was also rumoured to be influential in setting up The Season. Since you've been away over the last year and there have been no reports of your involvement in recent events here, I thought you might like to catch up.’

Mary thinks for a while. She notices that his dining hour has passed and he hasn't left, so her sense of urgency diminishes. All indicators are suggesting that it was time for her to act. Gaining a better understanding of cyb activities and views was a good starting point.

‘I've heard a little of Arkadel reactions to The Season from chatting with friends, but I know nothing from the cyb perspective, and I am interested in learning more about cyb worlds. Perhaps, if you have more time this evening, we could continue to talk generally and get to know each other better. Tomorrow you could present me with some detailed options.’

‘Excellent. I can present a programme tomorrow. I've thought about what I have to offer. I've also assessed my limitations – not being directly involved with activities here and having no close contacts, but I listen and observe with more than idle curiosity.’

‘What drives that curiosity?’

‘I've been toying with the idea of setting up a new water-world. The idea came to me at Atlantis Five, and one of my reasons for coming here was to become familiar with a real surface colony. Real ocean floor colonies have never proved a viable option beyond tourism and some of the same limitations hold for their cyb counterparts.’

‘You want to design one based on Arkadel?’

‘Architecturally, at least. When I was young, my interest was inventing new worlds. I've had one lasting success and a few minor ones, but ran out of ideas or just lost interest. Coming here, the first thing I realised was that there had been no real effort among the cyb residents to adapt to Arkadel, as far as I could tell. They just continue as they had elsewhere – just park here.

‘With increasing interest from Arkadelians, I think there's a good opportunity to start something adapted to local interests but with broad appeal. I've been watching activities from a distance and sit in here looking out at your city letting ideas float through my mind hoping they'll eventually cohere into a plan.’

‘Have you made progress?’

‘Perhaps. I recently realised that I wasn't making much progress, so I decided to put that concept aside and go back to basics. Some architects concentrate on visual impact – buildings that are visually stunning but impossible to build in the real world, or interesting new designs that might be practical. Experimenting with variations on your simple cylinders came to mind. Perhaps they might stimulate your engineers to study their practicality, but I suspect that simplicity is an important design requirement.’

‘I think you're right there. Though the shape might look simple, the details have evolved to be quite sophisticated. I'm well aware of that because I own one of the oldest buildings in Arkadel and renovating it is a complex and expensive project. The idea of making them conical sections arises occasionally.’

‘So, not original – oh, well – so much for that one. A common theme is exotic settings. Mars was a popular early option, then other planets. These places quickly become tourist destinations, but they collect few permanent residents. Permanency comes from addressing a cultural need.

‘I looked at what Arkadelians do for cultural escape and narrowed it down to the two main options: New Shanghai and the Neo-Georgians. A model based on New Shanghai would compete with the real-world city nearby, but stepping back to the time of Confucius is an interesting idea.

‘Stepping back in time adds interest value. Neo-Georgian interest seems significant here and beyond, and as a theme it isn't represented in cyb worlds. In either case, I'd need to work with people who have the necessary historical knowledge. I'd be starting from scratch. An ocean colony would not be a realistic setting.

‘When I heard about your connection with the local Neo-Georgians, your visit to Brindabella, then saw you up here, I decided to explore the second option in more detail. Now, for some clues as to how I can help you?’

‘Just a general feel for the cyb worlds, initially – perhaps a visit to your home if that's possible. My main interest is to understand what brings cybs here, how they view Arkadelians and The Season, and perhaps get to know a few. I could walk across the room and introduce myself, but I wouldn't feel comfortable doing that without some idea of how I might be received.’

‘I was going to suggest a general tour as a starting point. My village doesn't usually permit tourists, but as principal architect I have some influence and might be able to arrange something.

‘As for walking across the room, I don't think that would be your best approach. Better to make contact in their cyb worlds first and hope for an invitation out here if that's what you want. You'll have noticed that there is some mixing here, but it's limited. Till tomorrow, then.’ Looking pleased with a successful evening he rose and left.

The next evening Avery arrives at his usual time, sits without asking, and they order food without discussing the menu. His manner is more purposeful. While they eat he makes a series of brief comments expanding on the classification of cyb worlds he'd begun the previous evening, but now restricted to those based on social themes that he divides into cultural affinities or cultural alternatives – people coming together to discuss music, theatre, politics, and so on, or people experimenting with different ways of interacting within new cultural models.

‘I see both of these in my own life. I've been actively involved in various Arkadel caucuses that meet regularly to discuss different topics and I've taken part in local Neo-Georgian gatherings. The difference seems to be one of commitment.’

‘That's quite right. Total commitment does change the way we view our involvement and changes us more deeply. There's no sharp divide between the cyb worlds and the outside world, though here at Arkadel the division is most extreme for the cybs and least extreme for Arkadelians. Elsewhere, we usually mix more with the rest of the world.’

‘I can see that here, with our emphasis on the privacy of our PAs, we have a form of cyb world, which you're excluded from. But our PA must reflect us and our lives with fidelity. We can't go making up an artificial world.’

‘Do you think my life in my village is less faithful to who I am because it lacks physical reality? Perhaps it's more so because I dispense with that constraint.’

Mary is a little shocked and shows it. She might have offended him, but he is smiling and animated, rocking to and fro slightly and with his eyes fixed on hers in a way that seems to be goading her to continue rather than back away from the topic.

‘I see what you mean. I hadn't thought about your life in that way, but do you think what you say applies to all cybs?’

He relaxes back in his seat and laughs silently, looking out to sea. ‘No, probably not, but I couldn't resist making the point. To be frank, I've thought about it occasionally and can't really make up my mind. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like otherwise, but I've been happy in my chosen one. I have no serious regrets. In the past I've had the option of changing, but now I'm too set in my ways and I have a wife and children to consider. I can no longer act independently.’

‘You're married?’

‘Yes, for over sixteen years now.’

‘Where is she?’

‘I can't say. That is her privacy, not mine to divulge.’

‘My apologies. I didn't mean to intrude.’

‘No offence.’

Mary's mind fills with questions. Does he know where she is? Have they met? Children? But the mention of privacy had a calming and constraining influence on her. She also feels she is floundering in uncertain territory and needs to assert some control over the situation. She orders tea – mainly because she wants some, but also to create a clear break in the conversation.

‘You spoke of experimentation. I've recently been wondering about cyb worlds as social laboratories and that's changed how I view them.’

They discuss a possible plan for a tour then Avery leaves.

Chapter 8: Broadcast

The inverted dome of the Shark Pit restaurant – only referred to as a bowl in tired jest involving the shark's perspective – is the most prominent feature of the Arkadel Hub. It isn't a particularly deep building, so the dome is readily visible from the lower windows of all nearby, but Arkadelian privacy customs place limits. The optics of the dome walls prevented magnified views with any clarity beyond that of the unaided eye.

There are a few cam-bots cruising about outside with public access, but, as with any public camera in the city, a diner can blank themself from observation. There is a restriction zone around most buildings and within that the O'Macs have a monopoly view.

Mary is sitting at her table facing out at one of the O'Macs' cameras positioned to suit her needs – not too close, and up a little so some of the restaurant context is visible. She has made her seat, the table, and a circle of the floor around her slightly opaque. Seeing someone who appears to be sitting in mid air in an otherwise transparent room looks strange until you've had time to adjust, and most of her audience will never have seen the Shark Pit close up.

External network cameras are already attracting a significant audience, but there is a much larger audience waiting for her camera to go public. The live audience is also building up. Her meetings with Avery have attracted attention, and cyb numbers are high, though Sally has just pointed out that there are more Arkadel residents present than the restaurant had seen in years.

She'd analysed the reaction to her announcement of the broadcast – mostly just curiosity, but some warm messages from her past viewers welcoming her back were encouraging. Ever since her return from Brindabella she's been aware of a negativity towards her that hadn't fully abated with the Aero Club announcement. She judged it as more alienation than antipathy.

Even before her stay at Brindabella she had been seen as not quite fully Arkadelian because of her links with New Shanghai and her involvement with the Neo-Georgians. This had boosted her modest social ranking, and her stay at Brindabella had boosted it greatly, but rank didn't lead automatically to popularity.

Curiosity would boost her audience, which she aimed to rebuild as quickly as she could. Her days of just watching waves were over. Soon she would need the ability to create them.

She had finalised a plan for the first section of her broadcast and rehearsed it silently. She was keeping to her old format of major social events with a few minor but unusual or amusing ones.

People liked her displays with the pulsations and ripples of activity generated by events displayed across an aerial image of Arkadel, or abstract social maps, along with her commentaries couched in weather reporting terminology. Her initial display cycled slowly through the reaction to her announcement of the broadcast, which, she hoped, would built up a sense of community among her viewers.

After the weather report segment, she would take questions from anyone present. She had never done this before – never broadcast from a public venue before. Sally was acting as host and would announce it at the start to give people time to prepare questions and for Sally to create some order in the process.

As Sally welcomed her guests, the aerial image of Arkadel on the dome wall above her showed a cloud forming over the Aero Club building. It drifted across to the Hub, darkening as it went. It stopped above the Shark Pit and Sally dropped the lighting slightly for effect. As Mary started to speak, a lightning bolt flickered and the view switched to a prepared image of Mary sitting in the dome looking singed and contrite. There was a low ripple of laughter from the live and external audiences. Mary relaxed a little.

The display switched back to the aerial view showing the build-up of reaction across Arkadel. A mixture of colours pulsed across the image with more disapproving red than she felt comfortable with but mainly blue. A distinct overall shift showed a lessening of red and a shift to the blue then green – move on – starting to emerge, so she introduced her first item.

The initial segment of the show went smoothly with the overall shift from reds to blues consolidating as she went. Most significantly, her audience had almost quadrupled, and there had been an influx to the restaurant that had almost filled it.

There was a half hour break for food and drinks to be ordered. Danny joined Mary and Sally and they moved around the table to face the guests. The mood in the room was animated with a loud buzz of conversation.

Mary replicated the aerial view of Arkadel on the far wall so she could see it, realising that she should have thought of that before. She added a smaller image displaying her view of the room, instructing it to zoom in on questioners, but not too intrusively. She and Danny drank tea in silence as Sally busily consulted with the caucus that had formed to choose questions.

When the break finished the room went quiet. The first question came from a table of Aero Club members whose representative asked if she would be participating in the next Carnival.

‘I do plan to, and I'm looking forward to some feisty combat.’

The next: ‘You didn't return directly to your family home and still haven't visited. Does this reflect a family division?’

‘Not at all. I moved from the family home a year ago. The renovation of my own home is almost complete, and it will soon be moved to a mooring in Barratt Quay.’

The questions moved from her personal life to the topic of the cybs and their increasing presence in Arkadel, the increasing interest from Arkadel residents, and the recently introduced Arkadel protocol for interaction – The Season.

Mary answered cautiously, pointing out that she had missed the first Season but had taken on a cyb guide for an introductory tour of cyb life. On an impulse, she broke from Sally's agenda and threw the question back to the questioner.

‘Perhaps I can prepare myself by gauging the impact of The Season from the experiences of the present gathering. Did you take part, sir?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘And your experience, was it educational, entertaining?’

The agenda was left aside as a discussion ensued between Arkadelians and cybs that had Mary's wall map swirling with colour and her external audience swelling further. Sally adapted quickly and brought a little order to the proceedings while encouraging further discussion. Mary sat back, listened, and watched with a keen eye on the maps.

After an hour or so Sally wound down the discussion and declared that she was returning to her agenda and a final question that she thought should not be missed. The room settled and a middle-aged Arkadelian woman at a nearby table, who Mary recognised from Janeite gatherings, stood.

‘Miss Wang, you have recently returned from the Brindabella community and I came here tonight with the hope of hearing about your stay, but the discussion has taken a different direction. While I found the discussion fascinating, I hope you will entertain us with your impressions of Janeite life on some future occasion.

‘I will restrict myself to a question that's been contentious recently and one where you are in a good position to add a personal opinion. Is Tom Oldfield of sound mind, or, as some have suggested, is his neural augmentation causing him difficulties?’

‘Thank you for your suggestion and question. I, too, was expecting to talk about Brindabella today, but, as you say, things have taken a different direction – one that is understandably more relevant to the interests of most Arkadelians and our cyb visitors. I hope to have the opportunity to talk about my stay at Brindabella soon.

‘Your question is one I was expecting. I can't comment on the stability of his neural augmentation. That's a private matter and I know little about it, but in all the time of my stay I saw no sign that it was causing him any difficulty.

‘On the general question of sanity, by the standards of Janeite culture my dear friend Tom is certainly sound and wouldn't even be regarded as eccentric. By Arkadelian standards, his character and behaviour are certainly far from the norm, but that's something we encourage here. There is no doubt in my mind that he's capable of the most thorough rational thought and debate, when he so chooses.’

The mood of the assembly was buoyant and a burst of laughter followed her comment.

‘As you may know, I invited Tom Oldfield to Arkadel last year with the hope of continuing the research of my great-grandmother Sara Barratt. I worked closely with him and others on this quest, and, for myself, I'm satisfied that we have vindicated her observations and speculations on the existence of a newly discovered life form now named archaeocerebrum.

‘Of course, full scientific validation of its existence must await corroboration from independent researchers. I'm naturally disappointed that this process has been stalled by negative reactions from people who have not even bothered to look at the work, but I'm confident that scientists with open minds will soon accept the challenge.

‘Sara Barratt PA, myself, and others, believe that this discovery may have significance for the terraforming of other planets in our galaxy and eventual human colonisation. It is satisfying that the discovery was made before the first of the great swarms embark on their long journeys.

‘Many details of this discovery are still not well understood and require more research. I'm sure Tom is looking forward to a time when these are also taken more seriously and discussed objectively.’

Sally wrapped up proceedings while Mary scanned her maps – relieved to see a strong increase in blue during her final statement, with little red remaining.

Chapter 9: FreeZI

Karl hadn't seen Mary's broadcast live. It came in one of his regular news feeds. He'd replayed it several times before it occurred to him to let Clare and Tom know. They came up to his cottage for supper. By then he had completed a detailed analysis of Mary's graphics and provided a commentary as they watched.

When it was over Clare said, ‘At least someone's prepared to speak up for you.’

‘With a little touch of Arkadelian ambiguity. She'll have noted that George has been vague in his statements about me, and, though she might not understand why, she's not directly contradicted him.’

‘It's not like George to be deceitful. Surely you're misrepresenting his actions.’

‘He isn't being deceitful he's just holding back which is usual for him in public. He's also too close to me for any comment to be seen as objective.

‘He'll be seen as being cautious and polite in not confronting the widespread view of me in Bath and creating a public division or aggravating the situation that was already developing. Those who are most sympathetic towards him, and the position I've put him in, will be discussing the issue quietly and privately. He's taking his time and assessing developments.

‘He has old friendships amongst the Georgies, but they haven't seen him in years. Without Meredith, it'll take time for him to rebuild trust. He hasn't been in Bath without her since he was a young man and being there will bring back memories – not just for him but everyone there that knew her.

‘The way I see it, he doesn't have to do anything but be himself to be a stabilising influence. The division has been brought about by a few overly ambitious individuals. If they attack him openly it won't just be seen as a discourtesy to a genial old man but an attack on traditional values. They'll become isolated. It's how they might react when they realise this is happening that bothers me.’

‘He can look after himself and Gwen's there for support. She's tough,’ Karl stated in a manner that seemed to dismiss the topic. ‘There's other news. The FreeZI alliance has taken your announcement seriously, or are using it in their campaign.’

‘They probably don't care whether it's true or not. It just helps them to create confusion and conflict over the Treaty. Mary was concerned about that when I made the first announcement. She wanted to delay any reactions and we succeeded. Nobody took any notice at that time. Even now, the scientific community is either ignoring it or dismissing it as nonsense. Her recent Aero Club action seems to have been a pre-emptive strike of some sort, or that's what you suggested at first. Have you worked out what she was up to yet?’

‘No more than I've already said. The club response acknowledged that she had warned them that their networks were being used to cloak cyb messaging, but that's not news. Cybs and others do it all the time. What I don't understand is why she chose the Aero Club for her demonstration. Why risk alienating friends?’

Clare: ‘Perhaps she cared about them being used more than she cared about others and if she had already warned them their response would have to be milder.’

Karl: ‘She created quite a stir. She might have just been creating a distraction.’

‘Whatever she's up to it's part of a broader plan and the EZI Treaty is her object. She said FreeZI was a coalition of people with very different, even conflicting, objectives. What she didn't explain is how the archies are relevant to the Treaty. Do you understand that, Clare?’

‘I don't know how Mary sees it, but I understand how it could affect the Treaty if their existence is accepted.’

‘You mean when, don't you? Don't tell me you have doubts.’

‘No, I don't have doubts, but I know you. If I look at the situation as the rest of the world sees it – well, it will take some time.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Looking from the point of hard evidence there isn't much there. All I've seen is patterns on a screen and they'd be trivial to create. Karl is in a position to verify by quizzing your PA, but he says he hasn't and I don't expect him to on my behalf. I believe you.

‘But many don't. Science can go wrong through either delusion or deceit. In this case delusion is ruled out. What I've seen goes well beyond that and would require a detailed deceit on your part, so, approaching it rationally, I have to look at that.

‘I think you're capable of constructing an elaborate prank but not on this scale of deceit. What I am sure you wouldn't do is put Melissa and George in the positions they're in. I know you well enough to rule that out completely, but why should others who don't know you?’

‘You're quite right, of course. Why should they? It needs to be replicated. More than that, it needs to be replicable by anyone with the skills and interest to do it. I'm preparing for that. I have a replication kit that'll soon be ready for anyone who requests it.’

‘And nobody has.’

‘No.’

‘And nobody is likely to in the present climate, are they?’

‘I think if I made the effort I could find people who'd try it. There are always a few who swim against the tide – compulsive contrarians. Like George, Mary is obviously still playing for time and I respect their judgements and motives enough to back down and wait to see how things develop.

‘Mary could have commented more fully but chose not to. She just answered the specific question about my mental state and pointed out the connection with Sara's work. Returning to the Treaty, how do you think it's affected?’

‘Of the three main Vitality Index components – organic mass, genetic diversity, and natural intelligence – what you've discovered has the potential to throw just the third into confusion.’

‘Not just potential!’ Karl exclaimed, looking at Clare with disbelief. ‘It creates a discontinuity at the foundations of our understanding of the natural world. If someone discovered a colony of Yetis that had an advanced grasp of algebra it'd be a shock, but we know all mammals have intelligence similar to ours, it's just a matter of degree.’

‘Of course, you're right. We can see that, but who else does? Eventually they will, but my point was to do with when. We may never live to see the day.’

‘But I can prove it. The replication kit is simple and logically sound. You've both agreed on that. There's just the issue of quarantine and you say there's no problem there.’

‘No. That's the strange thing. It undermines the theory behind the Treaty at a fundamental level, but it has little practical impact as far as I can tell. Mary asked me about that. Some regions still have constraints relating to pathological amoebas – remnants of past reactions – but yours is not related. It's not the same variety of amoeba.

‘Even if your compulsive contrarians emerged and tried it, do you really believe that it would end the doubt? Would anyone listen to them any more than they listen to you? The history of science shows many examples of ideas that have been ignored for generations – not just science, either. Human nature is such that the easiest way to deal with things that upset our view of the world is to ignore them, and as long as there's a consensus we're very good at it.’

Chapter 10: Androidals

In a special chamber just down-ridge from his laboratories one of Tom's tenants was a particular friend of Spearmaker. Tom had treated it like any of his other tenants, but Melissa had shown a special interest which, given the association with Spearmaker, was understandable.

She had referred to it as ‘The Historian’ and several times as ‘him’ before Tom's curiosity was aroused and he asked her what was special about this particular archie.

Her reply had a slightly conspiratorial air. ‘He's like Spearmaker. He possesses a human archive.’

‘Can you tell me more about him?’

‘I can tell you all I know, but it isn't much. The archive is far more recent than Spearmaker's. They've discovered a few things they have in common. Snow is involved in both cases – travelling to escape it. They both preyed on large animals but don't agree on a description, so it's definitely a different prey – kangaroos in Spearmaker's case – most likely deer with The Historian.’

‘So he came from northern Eurasia somewhere.’

‘I guess so. Please don't tell anyone else but Clare yet. It's too early. We must wait till he's adjusted and able to communicate for himself. Spearmaker is insistent. He's still trying to adjust himself and understands how difficult it is.’

‘I don't doubt that. I've always thought you rushed him.’

‘Yes, I sensed that. You were right, of course, but sometimes a situation can develop a dynamic of its own that's not necessarily a pragmatic one.’

‘Well put. I can't argue with that. I've had similar thoughts about my augmentation, but no serious regrets. I doubt that you have any regrets either.’

‘Of course not, and I think your analogy is apt. I feel we are entering a century of great change.’

‘Yes, we're living in interesting times. There are many new developments ahead.’

‘What are you thinking of, in particular?’

‘Well, starting with you and Spearmaker, have you thought through the implications of him gaining, or regaining, vision?’

‘I think it'll open up the world for him, being able to see it.’

‘And to move about it with you. He'll be able to control a bot and accompany you – see with its eyes – better than you.’

‘I see what you mean – as a ser-bot – or a possum would be more versatile.’

‘Or an androidal.’

‘That wouldn't be allowed, would it? People hated androids.’

‘That was full androids – human likenesses. They created a host of problems, some of which were serious.’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, imagine if someone turned an android into your likeness. You would be confronted by a replica of yourself. Some people liked that. Most hated it.

‘Of course, it was far worse if you were disliked and the replica was an embarrassment to you – did antisocial things that were mistakenly attributed to you. Or you might be tempted to do something antisocial yourself and blame it on the replica.

‘Then there's the psychological issue of looking into someone's eyes and wondering whether they're human. Even when they are, a slightly strange expression might make you doubt. Is it a friend you are confiding in or someone's replica of them?

‘Every way you look at it, the psychology is wrong. They're not like us, they're part of us, so it's wrong to make them look like us as a separate individual. It distorts our sense of reality in ways that are at best unhelpful and at worst malign.’

‘I see what you mean. Life could become quite messy.’

‘Some zones still allow them with constraints. They must be clearly distinguishable as androidals – not exact human likenesses – even your own. Another limitation is strength. Semiautonomous bots are not allowed to have more strength than a flesh and blood human.

‘What would make a Spearmaker androidal fundamentally different is that he is not part of your PA. He is a distinct creature. Someday Brindabella might tolerate an androidal of that type – perhaps initially limited to staying up on the plain along with androidals of other archies – a little village, even. I've been giving a lot of thought to how the archies might interact with humans in the future.’

‘Do you think Brindabella might have a more relaxed attitude than most other zones?’

‘Perhaps it does. Being a small community helps. It's not a new idea. The idea of Brindabella gnomes has been around for generations. Maybe Spearmaker will be The Single Gnome.’

‘What's a single gnome?’

‘I was quoting the title of a talk that Meredith gave when I was young. The idea of having little gnome-bots in the village and farms as an agricultural labour force is popular with children of a certain age, along with elves and fairies, of course.

‘Meredith's talk summarised the traditional opposition to the idea – here and in other communities. She spoke of the difference between having Winston as a ser-bot or as a gnome. It's about how we see them and how they see themselves.

‘A ser-bot is obviously a machine, and it's easy to retain a detachment. A gnome appears more human but is still every bit as much a personal avatar. Having them look non-human, even cute, doesn't prevent all the problems we have with androids.

‘The Arkadelians have firm views on that. Looking at an avatar or bot as a separate entity, or allowing it to drift off into one, is delusional – a fissure in your archive that can develop into a psychological problem when you're as close to your archive as they are.

‘Meredith's main point was that having just one might work, but more serious problems arise when there are more than one. They tend to form a society or class of their own and become detached from their owners. Being smarter they develop a quite rational urge to rule humans.’

‘I don't think PAs are smarter than their owners. They just have better memory.’

‘That's a matter of definition. They're quick-witted and have near perfect memory, which impresses us, and we call that smartness, but they don't have our intuitive intelligence. Their pattern matching is not as sensitive or deep as our intuition. We remember what's likely to be useful, and why, and how much use it might be – prioritise. The connectivity is rich and subtle. PAs can be overwhelmed by useless detail. They hit a combinatorial complexity wall before we do. But it's still easy to be awed by their skill and speed with simple day-to-day problems.

‘Androidals are, of course, still under the absolute control of their owners, so it can become a sinister new dimension of human intrigue and conflict. But that doesn't apply to Spearmaker. He's a separate entity.’

‘This is interesting. I'd never thought along those lines before.’

‘Something to think about, but you'll need patience.’

‘Spearmaker has patience beyond our understanding. I'll have trouble.’

‘Are you keeping your PA as complete as possible?’

‘I don't make use of it as much as you and Karl do, but the archive is quite complete.’

‘How do you communicate with it – vocal or subvocal?’

‘I just talk to it. I know people use vestigial articulation, but it doesn't work very well for me.’

‘Me neither, but it's efficient and it can be handy when you're not alone. It takes practice. Arkadelians become proficient at an early age. Mary also uses coded tongue movements for commands. She assigns commands to areas inside her mouth and has multiple palettes she can switch between. She says she has hundreds of commands at the tip of her tongue. You should set your sights on her as an example rather than Karl or myself. Chat with her about it if you haven't already.

‘I also see an interesting future for neural augmentation. Do you have an understanding of that?’

‘You explained it once. You have foreign neurons in your brain that link to your PA.’

‘No, not foreign, my own but slightly modified so they can't exist in amongst the other neurons and glial cells of the brain – social outcasts. They spread out across the surface cells of the cortex and only make contact with those and my PA. My PA can sense patterns – specific thoughts – even evoke them. Now, imagine if they had the memory capabilities of an archie!’

‘I see what you mean. That would be the kind of supra-human development people talk about but never really define.’

‘Precisely. Well, except that you may be thinking of it being inherited. That might happen someday, but that's way beyond my understanding.’

‘Are you planning to try updating yours?’

‘No. It'd take decades of research, at least, to develop. Even if it was possible now, I have family responsibilities. Besides, I've been through enough without wanting to go through it again.’

‘Perhaps I could.’

‘You have a responsibility, too – to Spearmaker.’

‘Yes, you're right. You say you don't regret your augmentation, but was it worth the trouble it caused you? Has it changed you very much? I didn't know you before, so I can't tell.’

‘Clare said I had changed when I returned, but I was going through changes anyway. Karl has convinced me that the troubles I had were mainly due to the complexities introduced to provide direct communication with other people in the test program. He's simplified the interface with my PA. It works better and is stable now.

‘It's useful, but I don't think it has fundamentally changed me. Perhaps, after going through the communications trials, I can empathise with the archies better than I would have without that experience.’

Chapter 11: Cyb Worlds

On three trips, over three consecutive nights, Avery led Mary through his tour of cyb worlds. She presented herself as her likeness avatar dressed in a casual Arkadelian tunic. Avery had brought along a visor for her, but she had her own that had been custom built to fit the contours of her face without needing to warp, which always seemed to produce a distorted visage. For a simple guided tour, that was enough.

After eating together, they retired from the dome to one of the private lounges above. They started in a replica of the lounge and for the first half hour discussed an itinerary with the help of brief real-time views of the worlds he had selected as possible destinations and had made protocol arrangements with. They didn't include his home, so she decided not to mention it again.

Her first surprise was that they were all in the same time zone. She realised that he had been having breakfast with her, which explained his unusual choice of food. It also explained something she had noticed in mapping their coms traffic – that all the Arkadelian cybs lived a nocturnal existence.

Her next reaction to the overview was that apart from several physically impossible buildings and an animal that looked like a cross between a cat and a dog, the scenes were quite ordinary. She asked him about that.

‘I thought for the first trip you should see a typical cross-section of cyb life and leave the more exotic fringes till later. An obvious starting point is the Arkadel liaison room – an appropriate place to view scenes from the end of season ball. Shall we begin?’

The room was empty but for a few clusters of seats. The walls were cluttered with notices of events or suggestions for future activities. It could have been one of the many Arkadel caucus rooms. One wall panel displayed an image of the masque and as he zoomed them in it started playing. The room was a replica of the main Arkadel ballroom complete with the coral gardens that circled outside. There were about two hundred people present and the scene was lively.

‘I hear The Season was considered a success. Were you involved?’

‘Not me. I've been keeping to myself since I arrived here.’

The next destination on Avery's list was an architectural practice where they were taken on a tour of the showroom. The large room was filled with scale models of buildings. Walking into one of the models, following Avery and their guide, she found herself stepping out of a model of the showroom into a full-scale model of the building. After a brief description of the building design features, they returned to the main showroom then on to an adjacent furniture showroom.

Then they watched a football team practice session, a school classroom, and a shopping arcade. Everything she saw reinforced her initial reaction, that it all seemed quite ordinary.

‘I have some more exotic locations lined up for tomorrow.’ Avery commented without apology when she repeated her observation at the end of the session. ‘You did say you wanted a general overview. Are you disappointed?’

‘No, not disappointed, just not what I expected.’

‘I think most people react the same way at first – particularly Arkadelians. You turn the interiors of your sombre black cylinders into your own creations and your worlds revolve about your PAs, so the distance between us is not as great as you might expect. Many of the Arkadelians who visited spent time in the architectural showrooms and ordered decor and physical furniture. Your fabrication units are experiencing a brisk trade.’

‘Many of us saw the official season as a means of limiting the impact of cyb life on Arkadel culture. I was aware that others saw it as enhancing and even strengthening it. Now I can see their point. I'm completing renovations on my own home, so I'll be revisiting the furniture showroom. My brother Axel would be interested, too. I'll take him with me.’

‘He's already involved. He was your guide. He asked me not to tell you till the tour of his studio was over.’

On the second evening, Avery showed her a bot-world with no human forms; colonies on the Earth's moon, Mars and moons of other planets; and several experimental attempts at terraforming Earth-like planets.

They visited a tourist station near a beautiful nebula. As they stood watching, she realised that it was slowly changing. As they exchanged comments with others present, she realised that the viewing platform clustered those currently viewing the scene and made it a social event.

They ended the tour back in an Earth-like setting on a hill overlooking a small village by the sea. They sat on a bench for a while looking out to sea, saying little as Mary tried to digest what she had seen. Then Avery exclaimed, ‘Here they come,’ and pointed towards the village.

She turned to look down the grassy slope and saw a woman and five children approaching. The eldest child – in his mid-teens – was carrying the youngest in a sling on his back. Its little face was peering over his shoulder. The others were running about picking flowers in the knee-high grass – each flower individually presented to their mother who inspected it then placed it thoughtfully in the growing bunch.

As they neared the top of the rise she called off the search with a gesture then, putting a hand momentarily behind her back, she produced a short-fluted crystal vase into which she carefully placed the flowers. She continued to arrange them as she approached. Avery strode forward and had hugged each of them before Mary, following slowly behind, reached the group.

Introductions complete, Avery's wife, Yawara, handed Mary the vase of flowers. Her first and only words, ‘A memento for you’, were strong and confident, which shattered the shy image Mary had formed from her appearance and silence.

With a smile and nod to Mary then Avery – lingering on the latter – she turned and headed back down the hill with the children following and chattering quietly. It was only then that Mary realised, with a slight shock, that one of them was limping.

Chapter 12: Immersion

For the third evening Avery had arranged a meeting with locally resident cybs, but it was conditional on her being in an immersion tank. She resisted the idea at first until he suggested that they could spend some time before the meeting back at the furniture showroom where she could test some of the displays more realistically and allow time for her to familiarise herself with the tank. She agreed.

Sally allocated one of the Shark Pit's tank rooms and offered to help. Once inside the room, accompanied by two of her servants and Sally, and dressed in the opaque cling-suit Sally had provided, she faced the tank hatch.

‘Are you ready?’

Mary replied a little nervously, ‘Yes. My PA tells me it's safe, but that doesn't entirely help. Have you ever had an accident?’

‘Never here and with the latest models, nowhere. It looks solid, but it's mainly air – a huge lattice of long legged milli-bots. The white colour is a recent innovation. They used to be black, but white is better psychologically. The normal active state is a perfect crystalline structure that distorts about you as you move or holds solid where appropriate, but if the tank's activating field is turned off it reverts to fluff streamers about your ankles.’

She placed the mask Sally gave her over her nose and mouth then put on her visor, set it to transparent and waited until she felt comfortable with breathing. The sound of her breathing soon faded. Then she spoke, just repeating, ‘Hello Sally,’ a few times until the mask's acoustics had adjusted to her vocal tract. The impression of speaking into a closed container disappeared and her voice sounded natural.

She approached the tank, switched on her visor, stepped up to the hatch, and walked into what seemed like a viscous fluid. She found herself standing in a bare room with Sally's avatar standing by watching. Still following Sally's instructions she started to move slowly about the room and the feeling of being in a thick liquid quickly disappeared.

She examined herself in a patch of the wall that had mirrored and felt more comfortable seeing herself clothed in a tunic. She moved close to examine her facial expressions and quickly analyse them. It took a little while to adjust to their realism, but they were comfortingly muted and she found she had control over that.

Sally pointed to a chair that had appeared in the middle of the room. ‘Last test. Try sitting.’

She did and it felt perfectly natural, slightly padded, and comfortable.

‘I'm sure you'll find a chair more to your liking before the night is over. I'll leave you now. Just remember your exit cue and your medic will activate it automatically if it sees fit. To give you reassurance, I'll be monitoring your vitals myself, as you asked. When you're ready, just go through the door and Avery will be waiting. Have fun.’

A door appeared where she pointed. Avery was standing beside a pedestal – a length of thick bamboo stem. Sitting on it was the vase of flowers that Yawara had presented to her. Looking about the room, she saw that the walls were made from similar stems of varying size in an irregular pattern. As she approached the centre of the room, the walls revealed themselves to be a pseudo-hologram.

She found herself standing next to the pedestal in a glade of a bamboo forest. A light gust of warm air brushed her face. She looked back at the vase and, on impulse, picked it up, held it to her nose, and took a slow deep breath. Turning the vase, she sampled the various subtle fragrances of the flowers noticing that each variety had been carefully bundled together to enhance the experience.

‘So, you've made it and right on time, so I can assume there were no problems?’

‘No problems. Sally helped me and I feel fine.’

‘Shall we go?’

Axel's likeness avatar greeted them with a wide grin as they entered the main showroom. ‘Hello sister. I've been through the catalogue and selected a few things that I think you might like. There is a wide variety, so it might help to have somewhere to start.’

She thanked him and noted that his manner seemed more like himself than it had the previous evening – even beyond his usual self – happier than she'd seen him for years and confidently relaxed as he greeted Avery.

They had been walking for over an hour before she realised that she was feeling tired and remembered that back in the milky pool she was actually moving. She started to try to imagine it, but the thought confused her. The strange feeling she had experienced when she first entered the tank started to return.

She dismissed her thoughts, instead suggesting that they sit for a while and rest. She put in an order for a seat she liked, as a sample, intending to take more if she liked the real article. They then left for the meeting.

They were soon seated at a long rectangular table with eight others – Mary and Avery alone at each end of the table. The table was bare and its only purpose, from Mary's perspective, was to act as something to hide behind. She was nervous and struggling to hide it. Her hands on her lap – fingers interlocked – were tense and she relaxed them. Her sense of the mood around the table was one of mildly excited anticipation, which helped. There were no introductions. Avery greeted those present, thanking them for their participation, then gestured to Mary.

‘There have been two questions concerning cyb life on my mind in recent years. They could be summed up as why, and why here? From my experiences over recent days – experiences I haven't had time to fully digest – I can see that the differences between our lives aren't as extreme as I'd imagined – more a matter of degree. So, rather than talk about cyb life, I asked Avery to set terraforming as the topic.

‘I know a little about it, but it might be easiest if you assume I know nothing beyond the general intent. It's always been my assumption that the ultimate goal of the swarms, or some of them, was to pave the way for eventual human settlement of other planets.

‘I'm aware there are some who totally oppose the idea and others who think we should wait until our knowledge is more sound – that in a century or two we'll have techniques that will speed the process up further than we can now imagine. We will still be in touch with the swarms. Even though the communication timescales will lengthen to decades and more, we can exchange information and test ideas.

‘All Arkadel's swarms agree with those who think we shouldn't interfere with planets that already have life. We already know many possible targets that have no life, as far as we can tell from a distance. We've seen none that clearly do, so the problem may not arise. When we can establish kiloscopes in denser regions of the galaxy our options will be far wider. Even then, given the vast size of the galaxy, the chance that we will interfere with the development of a nascent life form among billions of potential planets is extremely low.’

The conversation that then developed around the table initially concerned bacteria and oxygen producing life forms – natural and synthetic. Eventually it turned, as Mary hoped it would, to Tom's work.

‘It's been said that you moved to the Brindabella community specifically to study techniques of terraforming. Is that true?’

Avery interjected. ‘Remember that we are in Arkadel and Mary is Arkadelian. Please respect local custom by not directly questioning motives.’

‘I understand, and stand corrected. Miss Wang, do you think the work that is being done at Brindabella has possible relevance to terraforming?’

‘I think it might be significant, but the details, its potential value, and its practicality, are topics for those better equipped to understand the issues. I can go some way towards answering your original question, however.

‘As a preface, I point out that Arkadelian custom is not just a facet of our general attitude towards privacy, it also comes from a belief that explicit assumptions about motives are fraught with problems. We can never be really sure why we do things. It's as much a matter of relative truth and PA integrity as it is privacy.

‘My interest in Brindabella stemmed from the aquaculture work done by my great-grandmother Sara Barrett. I determined that Tom Oldfield was working on similar problems and that prompted my association with him.

‘I've since been informed by Sara Barratt PA that her interest was broader than aquaculture and included the wish to increase interest among swarmers in terraforming and colonisation.

‘Further developments in the area of Tom's work – collaboration with the wider scientific community – have been impeded by the negative reactions to the announcement of his work and dismissive attitudes towards Janeite communities generally. While this situation continues I feel obliged to withdraw and let others deal with what I consider to be an ignorant, even mischievous, response.’

‘That's a strong statement.’

‘Particularly so since I'm an Arkadelian, but of course, not speaking for Arkadel or Arkadelians but as a free citizen of Arkadel where I have the right to express a personal view.’

The room was quiet – some looking thoughtful, others looking around to gauge reactions. After a brief lull the conversation resumed with the cybs taking turns describing experimental worlds they had helped to build – each description accompanied by visual presentations and much discussion.

Mary realised how vague and general her previous knowledge of the subject had been and listened carefully – occasionally asking questions. She learned much, and was aware that she was being drawn into their enthusiasm and optimism.

Eventually, Avery pointed out that the agreed duration of the meeting was long passed and called it to a close. One participant just disappeared, but the remainder kept to cyb custom and created exit doors. When everyone else had left, Mary and Avery returned to the glade where she thanked him for his tours.

‘We will eat together again?’

‘Of course. Soon.’

Chapter 13: Strange Reactions

‘Come in. Come in.’

Toad: ‘We came as soon as we received your message, Ratty. It sounded urgent.’

‘Urgent? Perhaps it is. Heaven knows, it's all quite strange. I don't know what to make of it. Here, sit yourselves down. I ordered tea the moment I heard your carriage coming down the lane.’

He waved the servant away and started to pour. ‘It's not at all as I expected.’

Mole: ‘I am sure, my dear friend, that you will soon tell us what it is that is so strange for you, but we will drink some tea first, will we not? Your nerves, they seem unsettled.’

‘I am a little rattled. I've been sounding out reactions amongst the weasels and they are quite the opposite of my expectations. I expected, as I believe we all did, that they would use this issue as something to attack the rabbits with and they seem to be moving in that direction in public, but what I found in private was quite the contrary.

‘I was enthusiastically plied with questions, and in return they were keen to offer what they knew to loosen my tongue. They have heard rumours of increased commercial interest – teams of boffins hastily assembled to explore commercial opportunities, but to what end they know not. They feel that they might be missing out and look for an inside track.’

Toad: ‘What of Nightingale? Is she involved?’

‘They say she is close-lipped on the matter – claims to be too close to the Cub to be impartial. Like Badger, she waits and watches.’

Mole: ‘On our trip, Badger speaks of commerce – chemical manufacture and such like. Nightingale and the Cub have discussed these matters in some detail and he sends with her the samples. She is positioned to offer this inside track, as you call it, if they do not cross her. I will suggest to Badger that a little hint from her of this opportunity may be appropriate now.’

Chapter 14: AgriValentia

The transparent weather dome spanning the AgriValentia Research Complex allows many activities to be conducted in what can be imagined as outdoor settings. The company likes to display its wares wherever it has the opportunity, so the area is a maze of contrasting parks and nooks separated by hedges and richly envined trellises.

Two recruits look around the Refreshment Park for a free table.

‘There's one over by the miniature pine.’

They weave their way through the tables, sit, and look about familiarising themselves with their immediate surroundings as their servants set the table then serve.

‘You said you wanted a private talk over lunch. This doesn't seem very private.’

‘Oh, it's enough. Nobody nearby will hear over the hubbub if we keep our voices down.’

‘There could be listening devices everywhere.’

‘Not here. You heard the motto, “Your privacy is our privacy”. They mean it. They take privacy seriously. The company and its practices are built around it, so one indiscretion and they'd be on a short slope to oblivion’

‘I'm starting to see what you mean. It explains why I still have no idea what they want me to do.’

‘And you may never know.’

‘Then what am I meant to do? How can I tell?’

‘They've already told us. Three times in the induction sessions they referred to us, in a flattering manner, as amateurs – people who work for the love of it. Follow your heart.’

‘I thought it was a reference to the pittance they pay us – free board and a survival income – though I'm not complaining. I need it.’

‘For now it's a survival income, but if our work leads to financial dividends for the company we'll be rewarded with a generous share allocation.’

‘We're paid in shares in the company?’

‘Not exactly. We earn shares in any knowledge we help to verify. Since the company's main assets are its knowledge systems it's almost the same. You looked a bit lost through the induction process. I guessed you hadn't researched the company and its methods.’

‘No, I just applied because I need a lab and an income of some sort.’

‘Then don't tell anyone else. It'll make it harder to spend money if you do have a windfall.’

‘Why can't I just spend as I wish?’

‘You need to go over the introductory package they gave us. You'll see it's very simple, really. The value of any knowledge you generate depends on their rivals not knowing what you've done and how useful it is to the company. They delay giving you a payment notice, though an income starts accruing immediately.

‘They assume you'll be discrete about your work and income because it's in your interest to do so. If analysts know you are poor and you start spending they'll know you've done something useful.’

‘I see. That's what they mean by the hidden model. It seems like an inefficient way to do research.’

‘Perhaps, but it's been shown to improve creativity and innovation. It's just a standard knowledge market model but with the details hidden. We can try to guess them and I'm assuming I've made a start. I recognised you from the practical course we attended on naegleria fowleri a few years ago.’

‘I thought I'd seen you somewhere before. Now I remember. So you think we've been accepted because of a common interest?’

‘It's something to work with. Do you still have an interest?’

‘Should I tell you?’

‘Not if you can help it, but I'm prepared to admit that I've worked on the genetics since then because I'm guessing that neither of us has much else to go on.’

‘I see what you mean. I haven't published anything in the area, but I have been active – a little.’

‘On the Nfa1 gene sequence, I presume?’

‘It's derivatives. So you're MS of the MS07 variant?’

‘That's me. We have the basis for a working partnership if you're prepared to share returns.’

‘That seems to make sense, though I'll have to think about it. As you've noticed, I'm not well prepared. Your initial PA overtures suggested a social interest. Was it just a ploy to have this discussion?’

‘Not at all, but secondary for the moment. I don't make a habit of mixing my work and social life.’

‘Me neither. We could meet for dinner tonight. You say I should follow my heart, but …’

They ate in silence for a while.

‘You know, if I did follow my heart it wouldn't lead me to fowleri.’

‘Too disturbing?’

‘Quite.’

‘I know what you mean. Gives me the curl-ups just thinking about it. Took me a year to shake off dreams of amoebas eating away at my brain.’

‘How did you manage that?’

‘Umm – don't really know.’

‘Oh.’

Chapter 15: The Gathering Storm

When Gwen had handed over her information and news streams to Karl for him to manage and monitor, he'd just seen it as a burden – an obligation to Gwen for her past support. His main aim had been to rationalise it to cut costs, coordinate with others in the gullies to reduce overall valley duplication and expenditure, then see if he could persuade Eric to take it over to merge with his own extensive coverage. Now he was beginning to see its value.

He remembered Mary describing her approach to tracking interest in the Treaty. Rather than openly quizzing news sources for information she needed, she had invested in subscriptions to a large and diverse range of streams and had built an extensive knowledgebase that she could analyse in detail.

Gwen's approach had been to subscribe to any sources that mentioned Neo-Georgian affairs or anything else she thought might be of interest in the gullies. It was a community service that she had now divested – passed the role on to her two main business protégées – himself and Eric. The collection had grown in a haphazard manner over decades. What he had been seeing as an incoherent mess that needed rationalising he now saw as valuable diversity.

He had started by scanning news on Tom's announcement of the archies and reports of Melissa's wedding. The PA wedding, as it was described, had initially generated little interest. It would have gone unnoticed except for the novelty of rumoured Janeite involvement. Only now were more details – still rumours – emerging about the cyb identity Spearmaker.

There was a long history of people claiming to be the reincarnation of historical figures and many cyb identities had colourful stories along those lines. They were judged more on entertainment value than historical accuracy and often attracted large followings. Spearmaker had attracted little attention so far.

Tom's original report on the archies, in an obscure scientific journal, had been seen as possible corroboration of a new form of speleological fauna – confirmation of controversial claims made many decades ago by Sara Barratt. Tom's second announcement had not mentioned the cave archies, just those he had cultured in his lab and was interpreted as work leading to an improved form of aquaculture.

He was also following up Tom's private comments about the ability of the archies to manufacture exotic and expensive biochemicals. Following Eric's suggestion, he was trying to build up a map of relevant industry research activities. The task was more difficult than he'd expected.

The research aims of organisations were closely guarded secrets, but the establishment of new research groups and staff changes in older ones wasn't easy to hide and market analysts attempted to guess what was going on by looking at the qualifications and past research experience of staff and recruits.

There was a significant increase in interest in amoebas among the specialists, but nothing he could see as relevant to Tom's work. There was a stream of political discussion that caught his attention and he decided to ask Tom and Clare what they thought of it.

It had been a week or more since he had joined them for tea on the Manor lawn. They chatted about inconsequential things for a while before Clare said, ‘Well, Karl, you obviously have something on your mind. Out with it.’

‘It's FreeZI again. I'm not sure how significant it is, but there have been reports that they're starting up another of their campaigns – this time over an amoeba that eats your brain.’

Tom laughed. ‘Not that old canard.’

‘So it's not true?’

‘Tom's right to laugh. As with most of these issues, it has a grain of truth but no more. That one has surfaced every generation or so for centuries. It had a recent run when neuro-augmentation was first suggested, but that wasn't FreeZI was it?’

‘No, it just grew out of scientific disputes a few network streams picked up. It died away within weeks. Did they mention naegleria fowleri?’

‘Nothing specific or technical that I've seen, but I can dig deeper. I'm going by general industry news – new products being produced to wipe it out.’

Now it was Clare who laughed. ‘Wipe it out? Wipe it out! Well, you can put that one down as a joke. It's ubiquitous and not even much of a risk – none at all to anyone with a PA medic and insignificant for anyone else. It'd be the largest project the human race has ever contemplated and doomed to failure – totally impossible.’

‘They're talking about creating sterile zones not complete eradication.’

‘Still rubbish. It's carried by spores, which go everywhere – carried by the wind. Even the ocean colonies, whose gardens are strictly controlled, would have difficulty.’

‘If you say so.’

‘She's quite right about the practicalities, but when did that ever stop a new business opportunity fuelled by a good scare. It'll run for a while backed up by carefully selected statistics that show it's having an impact in some area or another while ignoring the bigger picture.

‘Eventually people will realise that nobody's actually dying and it'll fade away and be forgotten – as usual. Fortunately, Brindabellans are quite immune to this fear.’

‘Are we? Why do you say that?’

‘I agree with Tom there. Something I noticed when I first started working here was that people knew little about fungi – who does – but everyone seemed to know about amoebas and I saw no evidence of fear. Tom's augmentation must have generated discussion.’

‘It goes back much further. It's embedded in Janeite history. Fowleri likes warm water and the hot springs at Bath have had problems with it going back centuries – possibly back to Roman times or the first human settlement there.

‘People here have a practical perspective. They've heard about it but know it's rare and on a full scale of day-to-day natural threats it sits near the bottom. Most are not much bothered by things at the top of the scale.

‘I heard about them when I was young and took an interest, which led to an involvement in our fishery ecologies and eventually to my augmentation. Others realised that soil fungi were of more practical interest – hence that side of Clare's work.’

‘Do you think your work has triggered the FreeZI reaction?’

‘The timing suggests so. If FreeZI is trying to make something out of my work they haven't gained much traction so far. Perhaps with industry allies they'll push it further for a while, but it can't last.’

‘In the short term it might cause problems for George.’

‘It is more likely to be a useful temporary distraction from the central issues. We've been expecting controversy, but along the lines that Mary predicted – the existence of the archies being used to undermine the Treaty.’

Chapter 16: Counterattack

Mary has been sitting at her table looking out at the submarine seascape of Arkadel – the fractal arms of the city curving out into the haze. Her mind is calm, clear, and free to drift through scattered thoughts at its own pace disturbed only by occasional cues from her PA. She has filtered these routine inputs down to a few key triggers.

She waits patiently as her PA analyses input streams detecting patterns and trends. She doesn't know what she is waiting for, but she is confident that she will recognise it when it appears.

Only one stream has attracted her heartfelt attention. It is not really a stream – more a drip, drip, drip through what she sees as an otherwise impenetrable barrier of her own creation. It is occasional messages from Clare.

The messages are brief and purely personal – comments about married life, Tom's cooking, adjusting to sharing a bed, accommodating their different domestic habits. She looks forward to these messages with keen anticipation, and, however trivial the subject matter, she reviews them to relieve the monotony of her waiting game.

One message has stirred a deep emotional reaction. A more than usually cheerful comment about their future held the suggestion that Clare thought she might be pregnant. The news threw Mary out of her fixation on the present.

She remembered Clare's comments on the night of the village ball – her strong desire to have children – joking about filling the gullies single handed. She remembered her own response about wanting to have a child ‘some day’. That drew her attention to her near future – empty territory that created confusion.

Last night she had taken out her one cherished material possession – the box with the micro-marquetry tetragraph, the emblem of Neo-Confucianism – and meditated for much of the evening. The image that first attracted her attention was the figure of Confucius, evoking thoughts of ancestry and descendants.

This was too provocative, so she turned her gaze to the teardrop swirl of the Taijitu, the dynamic cycle of birth and death. After viewing her life from this more abstract perspective for a while, she thought all in good time, but that didn't work as well as it usually did.

The red star of community had often absorbed her meditations over the past year and helped her come to an understanding of her allegiances, but it wasn't what she wanted now. Her eyes were finally drawn to the placid smile of the sitting Buddha and she dwelt on this till she felt ready for a peaceful sleep.

This morning she returned to her vigil and tried to restore her delicate balance of detachment and determined commitment. She imagined herself waiting patiently like a spider at the centre of its web. That seemed to work, so she ordered breakfast.

One thread of the web was drawn from the odds and ends of her inheritance from Sara – membership of the global AgriBiz caucus. Though it had been downgraded to observer status on Sara's death, it gave her access to the current proceedings and archives of one of the world's major industrial blocs.

Her PA had been gradually extending her model of this data as a matter of routine. Now it brought a recent development to her attention. The FreeZI campaign had taken a new turn and weak but significant indicators pointed to it being initiated from within AgriBiz.

This new information suggested that FreeZI was about to move into a commercialisation phase, which would boost its momentum and resilience. Any shift in public interests, however transient, attracted the attention of a host of small businesses, themselves also transient, who saw any change as an opportunity to gain a more permanent foothold in a global economy that had become rigid and stagnant – dominated by the old, established conglomerates.

Mary wanted a major revision of the Treaty, but some elements of FreeZI wanted it completely dismantled and replaced with a global caucus of experts – a regressive move to the secretive, corrupt, and arbitrary practices of the past.

The Treaty had been developed to replace these practices. She saw the Treaty as dated, flawed, and inflexible, but its rulings were consistent and completely transparent. These were the central principles that she and others were determined to retain.

She had been watching the recent rise of the FreeZI anti-amoeba campaign with nonchalance after remembering Tom describing a similar scare that had risen in the early days of neural enhancement. Eventually the scientific weakness of the claim had been accepted and she expected this campaign to run a similar course.

He had attempted to explain why the idea was flawed. The details had escaped her understanding, but that didn't matter. She was confident that this new campaign would soon collapse – not from flaws in its logic and science but from the internal conflict within the caucus that's only common interest was a desire for radical change.

As usual, she lets her models draw in relevant data and refine themselves. As she reviews the accumulating data she realises that there is a deviation from FreeZI's usual pattern. In the past they had succeeded in promoting confusion and distrust of the Treaty and the decisions it produced. This campaign was based purely on fear.

This prompts her to dig more deeply into how the campaign was affecting individuals and communities. She calls up visual imagery and skims through it with a growing sense of disquiet then stops and backtracks to an interview with some children.

The images show them to be smiling but subdued. They assure the interviewer that they now feel safe – a word often repeated. Listening to their voices she detects a strange distortion. She cues her PA to analyse and explain. It reports that they have filters in their nostrils to remove dust that might carry amoebas.

She moves on to watch them outside at play, as the self-congratulatory commentary boasts that they are now free to play outdoors again. Again, something seems wrong and zooming in she realises that they all have their mouths slightly open. They are breathing through their mouths. There were no smiles now – just blank, zombie-like faces.

Viewing the scene as an Arkadelian, there is something else about their appearance that disturbs her. Their clothing is a cheerful light green, but all are identically dressed. She knows that other cultures have different customs for children's dress, so she finds herself with a complex cultural judgement.

Outsiders sometimes comment that all Arkadelians dress alike. This is certainly not true for children who are allowed to choose their clothing from an early age. They experiment with colour and style, and as they grew older the colours usually fade – moving to shades of grey. Styles also converge, but subtle distinctions remain to reflect a person's personality, moods, and current social allegiances in complex ways.

The contrary Arkadelian saying, that no two people dressed alike, is also false. Many don't bother to express differences and wear stock items. While most Arkadelians hold a deep commitment to swarm diversity, custom has evolved to constrain its public display. ‘After all,’ it was said, ‘in a swarm we will all look alike.’

What Mary sees in the images isn't a disinterest in personal style but an enforced conformity. While history hasn't been a strong element of her education, she knows that fear is used by totalitarian regimes to create conformity. Knowing this has not had much impact on her till now. Seeing the consequences does, and as she stares at the blank, gaping faces, rare primal emotions are stirred.

She feels compelled to act – now. Sitting, waiting, biding her time till she sensed the right moment to act might have been her way a year ago, but she was becoming more impatient by the day.

She wants to return to Brindabella, but she can't act from there again, particularly with George absent – called away to respond to a crisis that was ultimately of her making. It must be done here at Arkadel and it must be soon.

She has to disrupt the FreeZI campaign and realises that she can gain maximum impact by setting the stage within the ranks of AgriBiz, but how?

Tom had described how microbes were masters of chemistry and how communication with archies could allow him to tap their skills to manufacture exotic chemicals cheaply. The details meant nothing to her, but he seemed confident and she trusted his judgement.

She would provide AgriBiz members with a stark choice: they could invest in a short-term scare campaign, or they could take part in the development of a new industry.

Chapter 17: Binny

To an Arkadelian, the accumulation of material wealth was only important because it assured a numerous physical presence in a swarm – defence against the inevitable attrition of radiation, deep time, and entropy. More important was the establishment of diverse contacts and, hence, a more diverse, knowledgeable, creative, and more interesting and viable swarm.

Mary's family were quite wealthy by Arkadel standards, but they had always placed a strong emphasis on diversity of contacts. For her father, this had meant keeping in touch with his extended family back in New Shanghai.

He invited some distant relatives to visit as the first stage of a tour planned as an educational experience for their children. Mary met them at a meal in the family home. After the meal, acting on her father's suggestion of a possible business investment, she singled out the wife, Binny Cheung, for a private chat. Binny was only a few years older than Mary, but, as she explained, she was starting to feel that her children were needing her less.

‘I trained as a biochemist so I could be useful to the family fisheries. It's a small concern that's been holding its position in the New Shanghai market for generations with just enough innovation to maintain its position.

‘Initially I was content to help with minor problems that arose, but I grew frustrated and disillusioned with the family's conservatism. I found solace in a small laboratory I equipped with old and superseded apparatus bought for just above its disassembly cost. This satisfied my need for occasional refuge from day-to-day life, but now I'm keen to start afresh with the latest equipment and techniques.’

‘How much capital do you hope to raise?’

Binny replied with what was clearly a carefully planned and rehearsed proposal. The amount, Mary thought, was modest. It was to be spread over five years and raised from multiple small investors to spread the risk.

Mary said she would give the idea serious thought then started asking questions about the children, about being a mother, and education options in New Shanghai. Binny relaxed and they chatted about inconsequential things for the rest of the evening, parting with an agreement to meet again soon.

Mary did give the idea serious thought. More precisely, she set her PA to the task, not just to evaluate Binny's proposal directly but to produce a specifically prioritised list of companies working in biochemical research and production with application to agriculture.

She took the top hundred companies and had her PA rank them by how much attention they were attracting at the moment. Only then, did she take over and allow her intuition to make the final selection of sixty companies. This completed, she contacted Binny and invited her to dine in the Shark Pit.

The walk from Barratt Quay to the centre of town was a long one for Binny. She tried to remember when she had last spent so much time outside alone – when she had last felt so alone. There were no people in sight. Her spirits were low and she tried to bolster them with little success.

Mary had shown minimal interest in her business ambitions. She had asked a few questions then changed the subject to question her about the children. How many hours she had spent over the years talking about children! Most of her friends talked of little else.

The visual confusion of descending into the restaurant swept everything else from her mind. She kept a hand against the wall of the tubular elevator to reassure herself that it was there and when it stopped at floor level, half way down the height of the dome, she gingerly stepped out onto the transparent floor and looked around for Mary. She soon saw her at a small isolated table straight ahead, smiling and attracting her attention with a slight wave.

As Mary poured tea, Binny looked about the restaurant. The first thing she noticed was that there were no children. Other than that, and the exotic architecture, it was a typical restaurant scene. An equal mix of Arkadelians and tourists filled the restaurant to half its capacity and the muted babble of conversation contrasted with the empty silence above.

The view outside was anything but usual. She was just starting to adjust to the sight of a shark swimming lazily past, a few metres away, when Mary started to pour and talk, immediately broaching the subject of business.

‘Running your own business can be a challenging and rewarding experience, particularly the early days. I would enjoy revisiting the experience even if only as a spectator on the sidelines.’ Binny's confidence rose.

‘Once I felt I was securely established, the challenge was to adapt to changes in the industry, some of which I had initiated – maintaining stability – keeping track and responding.’

Binny's confidence dropped again. It seemed that Mary was drawing a contrast between transformational developments and the incremental changes of her own work.

Her tone was defensive. ‘I don't see my little innovations as transformational. I'm just trying to carve out a small niche for myself in a static market.’

‘But what if the market wasn't static? How would that change your view? I think you have a fair chance of success by your declared aims. You've started to make a name for yourself as an innovator, but innovators have most success in times of change. Are you in a position to take advantage if things change?’

‘What kind of change is possible? Our family fishery operations haven't changed in any significant way over my lifetime.’

‘I thought the same, which was why I looked further afield. Carbon technologies are mature, too, but I realised that a few small advances had potential application in wing design that had major implications for aerobatics.

‘I didn't look very far afield and I'm not a natural innovator, but it mattered that I was working in an area I had a keen interest in. Can you see anything similar in your world?’

‘Not really. One of my developments was picked up for a while in the baby food industry. That's always changing but not really innovating, just going around in circles. Besides, I can't see myself becoming enthusiastic. I never used their products. We rarely do in New Shanghai. They sent me samples of their elaborate fish dinners, which I thought were revolting. Even our cat agreed.’

‘Not baby food then.’

Mary displayed copies of the menu on the surface of the table. ‘Most tourist restaurants here promote local produce, but this place has long-term visitors and is building up its local custom by offering dishes from around the globe. I have a Brindabella recipe that I hope Danny will add when I can secure a regular supply of the ingredients.’

Chapter 18: A Deal

The thought of Brindabella started Mary reminiscing and for most of the meal Binny was captivated. She asked questions and looked with keen interest at images of Mary's cottage and the Brindabella Valley until, as they finished their meal, she realised that this conversation was heading in the same direction as the last, with her project neglected.

Mary beckoned the servants to clear the table. As they performed the task she looked slowly around the restaurant, smiled and nodded at a man sitting alone nearby who smiled and nodded back. Then, when the servants had left, she leaned forward with her elbows resting on the table and her chin resting on her thumbs. With clasped hands obscuring her mouth she whispered, ‘Tom Oldfield told me that the future for the production of exotic chemicals is with amoebas.’

She leaned back and looked about the room again giving Binny time to take in her statement. For Binny there was a lot to take in. She didn't know how to respond. She was pleased that Mary had returned to the topic. She was puzzled by her secretive manner. That surely wasn't necessary here with all the noise, so she took it as a hint that it was confidential information that shouldn't be repeated. Most of all she was puzzled by the content of the statement.

Bacteria and yeasts had been the basis for traditional food processing. They were still used in some modern processes but were unreliable because they mutated too easily or became contaminated. Her training had been in more advanced techniques. Was Brindabella stuck back in the nineteenth century? It was a big disappointment, but she tried to hide her reaction.

As if reading her thoughts, Mary continued, ‘Apparently this is an idea that won't be readily accepted – too regressive – and he is a biologist, so his ideas are likely to be dismissed as naive.’

Without intention, Binny nodded slowly – face serious.

Mary was smiling. ‘Perhaps he is, but I have faith in his judgement and he says he's performed some initial tests. Time will tell, and, if my judgement is correct, time will pick up pace in the next few months.’

Binny refused to let the strange Arkadelian view of time confuse her further. ‘You've hinted several times that you see imminent change. What do you think will cause this?’

‘Mainly the Treaty, of course. Change is inevitable, substantial and, yes, imminent. But Tom's work could revolutionise your field. He thinks he can reduce production costs dramatically.’

At last Binny felt hope. ‘So you see me in these developments?’

‘Potentially, if you want to see yourself as part of a broader industry rather than an offshoot of the family business.’

‘Of course I do, but I stick with what I know.’

‘Then perhaps you should expand what you know.’

‘Yes, I see. Until now I saw expanding my knowledge in technical terms, but if I'm to set up a business I need to think in business terms. Do you have any suggestions as to how I should go about it?’

‘I have a plan I can put to you now if you wish, but you should go away and think about it before responding.’

‘I'd like to hear your plan, but first I must say I view the suggestion of using amoebas as regressive. We've advanced a lot since those days.’

‘Do you think many others would agree with you?’

‘Almost everyone, I should think.’

‘Good.’

‘How can that be good?’

‘Because if Tom is correct the industry will be slow to take up his ideas.’

‘So anyone who moves quickly will have a time advantage?’

‘Precisely. Are you able to put aside your doubts for the moment and keep an open mind?’

‘As a scientist I am obliged to try, but to move from scepticism I would need to see solid experimental evidence. The hunch of a friend of a distant relative is a long way short of that.’

‘Of course. So shall I proceed?’

‘Yes. I'm keen to hear what you have to say – I think.’

‘Good. Your scepticism is correct, but we can leave it aside for now.

‘I have two distinct and alternate financial propositions to put to you. The first is a simple and direct response to your business plan. I'm prepared to provide all the funding you think you need, though my quite superficial analysis suggests you may need more. This can be wholly as shares, as you suggest, or partly a loan you can repay if you have other investors in mind.’

Binny was delighted. She was concerned that her costing might be too optimistic – naive. She was also intrigued by the suggestion of a very different proposal. Curiosity overrode pride and she pressed Mary to move on to that.

‘What I'm about to suggest will involve a radical change in how you view your position – a shift from seeing yourself competing with other researchers and suppliers, to seeing them as allies in a move to expand the whole industry.’

‘Rather than competing for a share of a fixed pie, sharing an expanding one. I certainly like the idea if it's possible.’

‘What I'm proposing is that rather than five annual funding cycles, I provide all the money up front and you invest the surplus across a list of companies I've drawn up. I would require no financial return on the investment for the first five years, just direct access to the information streams this investment portfolio would open up.’

‘No return on your investment? That's too generous. I'm bound to insist that you accept some.’

‘I said no financial return for five years – until you have had time to become established. In Arkadel, contacts are valued as highly as money. I value raw information even higher, so for me it's a useful investment regardless of your success. Doubling the investment would suit me better.

‘Oh. I see.’

She knew she would probably never really see what Mary was up to, but her explanation made sense. She was happy with the idea that it was an arrangement of mutual benefit, but until she had time to digest its implications there was little else she could say.

‘I'm strongly inclined to accept your second proposal, but I'll need time to adjust and think. We're leaving Arkadel in two days to continue our trip.’

‘It would suit me to move quickly on the investments. As an interim measure I could lend you the money on a short-term basis – a month or two – and if you decide not to proceed you can repay the debt with the shares regardless of their current value. An advantage for you is that you can use your trip to research the industry and your investments.’

‘I like the idea, but this is a holiday. My family might object if I turn it into a working trip.’

‘You said it was an educational trip for the children. Could this be seen as an expansion of that purpose – a chance for your family to learn about the new life you are opening up?’

‘I suppose so. Can I meet with you tomorrow evening to give my decision?’

‘Certainly. I'll look forward to then.’

They met as arranged and the deal was done before the food arrived. They chatted happily through the meal about family matters, Arkadel, New Shanghai, and about families again with Mary asking more questions about the children. As Binny was about to leave, one of Mary's servants arrived carrying a package, placed it in the centre of the table, and left. It was wrapped in crude brown paper and tied with string.

‘This is a present for the children. It is a volume of short stories written by Tom's parents – one of the many they've compiled over the years. The paper, printing, and binding, were all produced by the children of Brindabella – a little business venture that's been carried on for generations.’

‘How delightful!’

Chapter 19: The Club

Binny and family left the following day with Mary providing the official escort to the edge of the Arkadel territorial zone. She looked down at the small delta-five formation below – a large drone carrying two servants and some personal luggage at the front, Binny and her daughter following on the right, her husband and son on the left and in tail positions where two drones that her aero-analytics showed to be almost empty.

Although the escort was ceremonial, her bike was, as tradition dictated, armed for the occasion. To be armed at this level meant that her bike was permitted to disable a target bike by incrementally damaging its wings with her exhaust to force it down but not put the pilot at risk.

It was the first time she had flown armed since her training days and that thought brought the Aero Club to her mind. Armed patrol duty increased her status slightly within the club, but real status came from active service and none of her contemporaries held that status. Nobody had for many decades.

The thought of a gang of pirates attempting to hijack the flight flickered into her mind then captivated it for a minute or two. She dismissed it then wondered how her silly fantasy would amuse Karl. He wasn't easily amused. Although she tried to keep focussed on the task at hand thoughts of Karl – happy memories – kept returning.

When they reached Arkadel limit and she had saluted her charge, she thought about flying on to Brindabella and sending for a drone to bring some luggage. She realised that she couldn't leave Arkadel till after the Tournament and that was weeks away. She couldn't do anything that might suggest she was resiling from the challenge she had made.

Binny looked back as they parted. She thought about the different lives they had led. All she had ever heard about her distant cousin was a discussion of her early Aero Club exploits. No formal complaints had been made and the incidents were passed off by the club as typical Tournament high jinks.

Her parents would never have approved of her joining a bike club. Perhaps Mary's hadn't either.

Chapter 20: News Spreads

‘Come on in. Mole has returned this very morning. He has interesting news.’

Toad: ‘Well, old friend, out with it,’ after they had settled in the parlour and Ratty stoked the fire.

‘It is just that I hear Raven is stretching her wings.’

‘Do tell, Mole, do tell. Is she preparing for flight?’

‘Too early to say yet, Ratty. But she uses an intermediary to probe the commercial option we speak of.’

Toad: ‘Badger and Nightingale have no knowledge of this. We spoke with them just an hour or two past.’

Mole: ‘You should return this afternoon and pass on all the information I have been able to gather. She stirs the markets – just a little, but done openly to attract attention.

‘It is most fortunate for me that we rendezvous here. I need not continue on to Bath. I have no stomach for that life at the moment and wish to rest after my travels.’

Toad: ‘She has pressed Badger's hand.’

Ratty: ‘Nightingale's, more so – one who can draw the finest nuance from the timing of a song, but ends up tardy – too cautious by half – in her business actions. She should be pleased that someone else has taken the initiative.’

Toad: ‘Surely Raven would warn Badger first?’

Mole: ‘That, my friends, is our task.’

Toad: ‘Can she know of our existence?’

Mole: ‘She knows Badger well enough to assume someone will be playing our role.’

‘We must return at once to warn them.’

‘Leave now? I won't hear of it. No guest of this house will leave on an empty stomach. We shall dine a little early if you must be impatient.’

Chapter 21: Emmas

‘Where's Clare?’ Eli asked with disappointment in her voice as Tom arrived alone.

‘Just as we were leaving, Winston pointed out that they had agreed to a meeting.’

‘So, the butler runs the Manor these days does it?’

‘No more than usual. Winston's been giving Clare background briefings on security and other issues. It's something she agreed with George before he left. Thankfully, I'm excused.’

‘Eric and Karl have been sitting out the back talking about investments for over an hour – ever since Karl arrived – and I'm weary of money talk. Go and join them. I'll bring out a coffee for you.’

She headed for her kitchen. It was the largest in the valley after the Manor and she rarely let a servant do what she had time to do herself. That was one of the few things she and Tom had in common, and it was central to both their lives. Tom stood thinking for a moment watching her go then followed her. She looked puzzled when she saw him enter the kitchen.

‘You appear to have something to say in private.’

‘Clare said I should let you know she still wants to see you later today. It sounded private.’

‘I understand. Clare has been keeping me briefed, but doesn't want to disturb the gullies until she understands the situation better herself and they have some new logistics sorted out with Karl. Winston has its tail in a twist over security at the moment – your friend De Salis's doing, apparently. Heaven knows what kind of threat it thinks we might be exposed to.

‘While we're here, Tom, we didn't speak at the party. In fact, I asked Eric to keep you both occupied while I introduced Clare around. It was remiss of me not to congratulate you at the time. You two were made for each other.’

‘Quite literally, it would seem, in hindsight. You must agree that you and I were both better served by our respective Emmas than choosing each other.’

‘Quite true, Mr Knightly. It would seem that Emmas are older and wiser than they once were. It's a pity Greta and Meredith aren't still around for us to express our gratitude. As for our choice, we weren't really choosing – more habit and fate. Remember how often we were the odd ones out at gatherings? It pushed us together.’

‘I'm sure you're happier with Eric than you ever would have been with me, despite the difficulties.’

‘True, but I'm a Georgian at core – core Georgian, at that – raised to cope with the long absence of my partner whoever he might be.’

‘You've surround yourself with family and friends. Clare and I are sociable to a point, but we're both natural loners.’

‘You and Eric are, but I disagree with you regarding Clare. She's had a lonely life, to date, but that wasn't her choice. You must be open to her attempts to change that.’

‘I heed your warning and I'm sure George agrees with you, or he wouldn't have insisted on our present position in the Manor. I could see she was enjoying the party and meeting new people, so kept my distance. I had plenty of catching up to keep me busy all evening.’

‘Here's your coffee, as you used to like it. Take it out back and I'll join you all soon. I have a few things to attend to.’

Outside, he found Eric and Karl deep in conversation – barely recognising his arrival beyond a nod.

‘So you agree that Mary must have let something slip or given a hint by her manner and Cheung is acting on a hint.’

‘It would seem that way, but it's hard to believe Mary would make such a mistake.’

Tom had no idea what they had been talking about, but he interjected anyway. ‘If you're talking about Mary Wang you can be quite sure that whatever she's done was deliberate. Who's Cheung?’

They gave him a summary of their conversation.

‘And you two think you can delve into her motives to get an edge on the markets? Karl, you know Mary better than that. For God's sake, she's Arkadelian. She took my talk of chemical production seriously. Now she appears to be helping Cheung set up a lab, raising funds, and with the delicate touch of Arkadelian ambiguity that has you confused.’

‘He's right, Eric. If we do become involved we'll have to just play along with her, at least till we see her again in person.’

Tom noticed a sadness in Karl's voice. ‘Hopefully that'll be soon now she's sorted out her problems at Arkadel.’

‘I think not. This is a beginning for her not an end,’ – now openly despondent.

Chapter 22: Capital Games

Mary watched and waited. She didn't expect Binny's small plunge into the markets to attract serious attention but was a little piqued that her own conspicuous involvement only triggered a few casual observations.

The response she was waiting for came sooner and stronger than she had expected in the form of three precisely orchestrated strikes exactly ten minutes apart. Each strike had progressively narrower targets. The first covered most of Mary's sixty and a few others. The final one was an outright takeover of two companies.

Market analysts quickly noted that those companies were not primary producers but ones that used raw chemical stocks to produce a wide variety of end products and both had extensive distribution chains. This was a clear indication of the entry into the market of a new primary producer. The link to Brindabella was recognised and share prices soared.

Binny soon contacted her, almost overwhelmed by her rising fortune.

‘You should sell most of your stock as soon possible and put aside your initial capital. I'd like you to keep a small investment in the companies on this list.’

‘And the rest? What do you suggest I do with that?’

‘Are you familiar with Lee Enterprises?’

‘Yes. They're one of our suppliers.’

‘Do you have any problem with investing in them?’

‘Not at all. They have a good reputation. I've done some work for them in the past and found them quite fastidious.’

‘Then, when I signal, buy as many of their shares as you feel inclined to risk.’

Mary soon gave the signal and when she saw Binny's purchase register she took up a substantial stake herself then contacted Binny. They chatted happily as they tracked the market response.

‘On these current figures I can comfortably afford to repay your investment if you wished. I can't see that my project is a high priority for you. You must have other activities you would rather use your capital for although …’

‘If you desire independence, I will happily withdraw and watch from the sidelines,’

‘Please let me continue. I want to add that I would like you to retain some equity. It would provide a convenient excuse for us to visit each other from time to time.’

Chapter 23: Tom's Tenants

It is an unseasonably warm day in the Brindabella Valley with a thunderstorm brewing in the west. The small mob of sheep that are tasked with keeping the grass cropped have abandoned the shelter of the one large gum tree and wandered off.

Joining Clare and Tom under the tree, around the large weather-beaten dining table, are Karl, Eli, and Eric. Winston is pouring while the others are discussing the approaching storm with eager anticipation.

‘Mary's little storm is rumbling along,’ interjected Eric – quick, as usual, to be bored by talk of the weather. ‘She now has a stake in a New Shanghai chemical company. How much does she know about that side of your work, Tom?’

‘Not much that she understands, but she has an outline I gave her archived. She can see the potential. For the details she keeps experts like myself.’

‘And now she's distanced from you, she has Binny Cheung.’

‘Cheung complements my knowledge rather than replacing it. She's a specialist biochemist. I'm a biologist and a cook. I follow recipes in all the chemistry I do.’

‘If that's the case, how can you be so confident that you can set up manufacturing on an industrial scale?’

‘You seem to be overestimating my confidence. I'm quite confident that the process will be possible someday. I emphasised that I could say little about timescales. Where I do have some expertise – building on the knowledge of those who worked here before me – is in coaxing microorganisms into co-operating with the maintenance of stable fishery ecosystems – activity that aligns with their needs and instincts. To push them beyond that will require more meaningful communication than we've had in the past. With co-operation from the archies we can achieve this.’

‘And being their landlord helps?’

‘Precisely.’

‘You still need to develop a language for communicating your wishes – describing the chemicals you want them to produce. That may not be as easy as you think.’

‘True, but the simple alternative is to present them with samples to replicate. We've done that in the past experimentally, with some success, by just rewarding them when they replicate the samples. I need to work with a skilled biochemist who can synthesise the samples or extract them in pure form from natural sources. Someone like Cheung would be ideal.’

A thunderclap nearby returned their attention to the approaching storm. Tom soon returned to his cottage, went straight out back to his lab and spent an uneasy time pacing and wondering what he had committed himself to before his stomach turned his mind to food.

After supper he sat out on his veranda with a coffee thinking about the bins out back and his new tenants – front door open so he could hear the night sounds of the gully – the guttural call of a possum just the other side of the creek – the patter of raindrops slowly increasing in intensity – a flash of lightning momentarily illuminating the scene.

He started to feel more confident. He was sure the samples he had given Gwen before she left would raise a few eyebrows, but he hadn't heard back from Gwen directly. Doubts slowly gave way to impatience.

He sent Melissa a message suggesting a chat. Sometimes it was days before she replied, but she appeared on his veranda wall a few minutes later.

‘Sorry I haven't been in touch sooner, but, as you know, an archie's sense of urgency doesn't align well with ours.’

‘Are you any closer to a long-term tenancy arrangement?’

‘It's the concept of long-term that's the rub. The few decades you're prepared to guarantee barely registers as short-term for them. They are interested, but as a source of new knowledge not as a residence. They establish wherever they can, but are usually overwhelmed by locals with specialist local knowledge. They consider it a success if they spore and pass on some of that knowledge.

‘They've picked up enough from your guest colonies to realise that we're a valuable source of new knowledge, but I don't think they comprehend how extensive this knowledge is. It took them a long while to assimilate just a little of what Spearmaker brought in. What really impresses them is the immediacy of communications from your guests. Usually it takes years, or very much longer, to communicate, but that's something I don't really understand.’

‘Beyond the immediate physical contact they have within the colony it's information passed on in spores blown in the winds. Karl has been trying to analyse the possible time scales. He pointed out that they're in a particularly good spot. Apart from the safety of seclusion deep in the rock, they're at the exit point for the whole Cooleman plain catchment and can sample whatever the rain washes from the air and is caught in surface run-off in Cave Creek.’

‘Well, as long as you understand it. They're certainly impressed with the speed and reliability of your postal service.’

‘Where does that leave us with the negotiations?’

‘I've been talking with Spearmaker about approaching the deal from the point of information exchange. Remember, he's survived with them for a long time as an active member of the colony on the strength of his novelty value. They certainly value novelty highly.’

‘I understand your point. As for long-term residences, Karl has been wondering whether there are other archie colonies in Cave Hill. He's continuing his acoustic search for other cavities with water in them. If he finds some that are not already colonised, we could offer to establish new colonies in them. Those would provide more secure longer-term options than a Brindabella gully can.’

Chapter 24: Fear & Risk

Their PAs picked up a mild buzz of excitement as they made their way across the Refreshment Park to an empty table. A modest general bonus had been announced, but within the mix they knew that a few of them would receive something more substantial. Nobody knew who that would be – probably not themselves, but any little extra was welcome and the thought that some had hit pay dirt was a general encouragement.

‘We agreed to split bonuses. When we compare them we can tell if one of us has had success.’

‘Shouldn't we wait so any change detected in our manner can't be linked to the bonus. People seem so sensitive to moods.’

‘I understand. Perhaps after dinner this evening. That seems to boost both our spirits enough to mask any reaction to the bonus.’

‘It certainly does. I'm starting to find life here quite pleasant, despite the gloom some seem determined to propagate.’

‘When I'm with you I feel the same, but when I'm alone I can't help feeling worried about my family. They have no weather dome, a small apartment that's starting to feel like a prison, and my younger brother is missing practical classes because his academy is closed for decontamination. Every message I receive from them ends with a plea to find a vaccine quickly.’

‘But you're not working on one are you?’

‘No. I've told them that. They have no idea what I'm doing.’

‘A few days ago you said you had no idea yourself.’

‘I was feeling low. The atmosphere here is getting to me. I meant that I didn't really know where my work was leading.’

‘Well, cheer up. Let's wait and see what our bonuses tell us about our achievements. I've a feeling that we have a quiet celebration in store.’

‘You don't worry about your family?’

‘They live a rural existence with little direct social contact. They don't seem to be concerned.’

‘They must be very brave.’

‘No more than you were two years ago.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You worked with fowleri and understood all the risk factors.’

‘I stopped working on it because the thought of it disturbed me.’

‘Cultivating them, perhaps, but you still went outside knowing you could come in contact with it. What's changed?’

‘The image of them eating my brain was bad enough. The thought of them taking control of it seems far worse.’

‘Is there any scientific evidence that it has ever happened?’

‘Not that I'm aware of, but has anyone looked into it?’

‘Probably not, but we'd notice if it did happen.’

‘Would we?’

‘Ahaa, a little smile. That's the spirit.’

‘I'll send them a summary of what I know about the risk factors. That should help them cope.’

Chapter 25: Uninvited Visitors

At the southern end of Cave Hill, nestled against a smooth rock face, is a small sandy-bottomed pool. Upstream to the west, Cave Creek meanders in from the Cooleman Plain. Downstream, a rocky watercourse skirts the east side of the hill then runs a ravine heading east till it joins the Brindabella River that wriggles its way north down the narrow upper valley of the gullies then out into open farmlands of the main valley, the village and Manor, before joining the Murrumbidgee River then the Murray and its long slow journey west across half a continent to the sea.

Not all the water from the pool takes the surface route around the small hill. Some goes through it. Deep down in the sandy bottom of the pool, water seeps through cracks in the rock to resurface in the Blue Waterholes at the north end. Along the way it passes through rock chambers and it was in one of these that a colony of archaeocerebrum found a millennial sanctuary.

Melissa set up her latest camp a little east of the pool, so her runoff would flow down the surface route. At first it was just the gentle footprints of her van-bot. Then she moved a few stones to provide a runway for her bike, which was soon joined by a small ag-bot that set about creating her vegetable garden.

By the time she had started to enjoy a few fresh greens, she had also acquired another van-bot that housed an immersion tank. The two vans snuggle together with a tunnel connecting them, each with a wing extended to provide shelter for her outdoor kitchen and extra living space. Except for the tank, it is how she has lived for most of her life.

Sitting beside a dying fire and the remnants of breakfast she flicks the dregs from her coffee cup onto the ashes that hiss in protest. Beyond the hiss she hears a message announcement coming from her van and goes inside. As she enters, Clare appears on the wall, trying not to look flustered.

‘I've had a warning from monitors in the pool that there may be an unauthorised presence there. Standard procedure is that you keep clear until we investigate further. Stay indoors and I'll be there as soon as I can.’

‘What's an unauthorised presence?’

‘I won't speculate. Stay calm and I'll see you soon.’

Melissa was perfectly calm until she was told to be. She looked out a porthole towards the pool and saw nothing unusual. She stepped outside for a broader view of her surroundings, but the words ‘unauthorised presence’ came back to her along with a slight shiver. She went back inside, shut the hatch, and sat by a porthole watching the pool.

The shadows had crept little before she heard horse-bots arriving from down the creek. Moments later she saw a green overalled rider come into view pulling a mask over his face. A second horse-bot with a large pannier appeared behind him.

The brief glimpse she had of his face drew no recognition and he was taller than any Brindabellan she knew. He pulled up just beyond the reach of the van's wing and dismounted. He pulled the mask off impatiently and her outside monitor caught him muttering ‘silly bloody thing.’

He called, ‘Hello Melissa. Are you there?’

She went to the hatch.

‘I'm Eric Olsen. We haven't met, but I was visiting Tom, so Clare asked me to come up ahead since I was nearly here.’

‘Hello. I've heard your name mentioned. Is the suit really necessary?’

‘I doubt it, but Clare insisted I wear it and bring one for you, along with Tom's decontamination unit. I'll set it up and you can change if you're feeling uncomfortable.’

‘Seeing you in that suit hasn't helped. What's it supposed to protect you from?’

‘Milli-bots, apparently. Clare wouldn't be specific. She'll be here soon, so we can quiz her then. Tom didn't seem to take it very seriously.’

His second horse-bot unloaded its pannier and was starting to unpack it onto a ground sheet when a bike flew in and touched down nearby. Clare climbed out wearing a protective suit but no mask.

‘I hope this is just a false alarm. Some foreign milli-bots were washed down the creek with last night's rain. We've been expecting uninvited visitors and this approach was the most likely scenario.

‘You'll feel better if you use the decon booth and change into a suit. If nothing else, this'll be a useful practice drill. I have some hand-held scanners for checking your camp site and vans.’

The booth declared her clean and she emerged in a suit – not quite sure how she felt. Eric was scanning the ground around her camp. Clare was over by the pool.

Eric proffered a short wand-like device with a small screen. ‘Here's another scanner you can use to check inside. It's sensitive to any carbon nano-structures. Your campfire is thick with small particles with a wide range of nanostructure and shows up sparkling red. Anything artificial should show up as pinpoints of blue. I haven't detected any blue yet.’

Clare returned from the pond brandishing a small container. ‘I have the captives here. I'll take them straight back to Karl for analysis. He says he can categorise the make even if he can't track down the source of manufacture.

‘You might as well change back into your clothes, Melissa. Your camp scans clean. We'll leave the decon unit here and some scanners. Best if you check yourself after a walk.’

Chapter 26: Security Council

Eli, Eric, and the children had joined Clare and Tom for the afternoon tea on the lawn. They stayed on for supper, where they had been joined by Dorothy and several of the villagers who, at Clare's suggestion, had brought their children along.

It was a cheerful gathering with the children present. The adults, who would otherwise have been in a serious mood, were distracted from the day's events. Clare's original intention for the evening was to announce that she was pregnant, which she did, casually, over supper. The mood went from cautiously cheerful to celebratory.

It was late evening before Karl arrived with his preliminary report. One of the villagers was reading a story for those children who had not yet succumbed to sleep. The remaining adults and Winston retired to a meeting room.

‘This room is secure?’ Karl asked, looking about as though he might spy an intruder.

‘It has been carefully scanned, as has the rest of the Manor,’ said Winston. If Dorothy hadn't known better she would have sworn there was a touch of scorn in its voice. The others had taken it as a rhetorical question, since Karl was ultimately responsible for valley technology and security. If he didn't know, who did?

‘We'll start with your report,’ Clare said to Karl after they had arranged themselves around the meeting table. ‘What were those things?’

‘All those you captured were of foreign make. All had self destructed, so I wasn't able to activate base protocols. On exterior visual analysis I've categorised them as six distinct designs, probably from at least two different manufacturers. I've taken one that appears to be the most common variety and it's being destructively analysed at a molecular level to reveal its architecture in detail.’

‘When will you have those results?’

‘By tomorrow morning.’

‘Is there anything else you can say about their origin?’

‘Not yet, but there are a few foreign milli-bots around the cottages that have come in as fluff packaging. I can compare those with the captives. That might give some clues. The important information we need is whether these are remnants from packaging, lone milli-bots, or from a wraith that's disintegrated.

‘If it's packaging detritus it could have been carried to the plain on someone's shoes or clothes. I've said before that we should have stricter hygiene, but it isn't a major issue.

‘Lone milli-bots raises questions of how and why anyone would drop them in. As archiving sensors they'd need something larger to aggregate the data and transmit it out. That's a serious issue but not unexpected. Our precautions have worked in this case. The other possibility, wraiths, is more serious. We've taken no steps to either detect or defend against them.’

‘What's a wraith?’

‘Your question underlines my point. I've been negligent. I've read a little about them but haven't taken a serious interest. They're in the early stages of development and the technology is changing fast. Eric, you may be the only one in the valley who has any practical experience with them. I know that on your travels you've collected a few fluff clumps designed to be used as wraiths. I could start with them.’

‘Yes. Certainly. I have at least a dozen different makes in my collection. I'll send them to you first thing – right now if you want.’

‘Tomorrow will be fine.’

‘You haven't answered my question.’

‘Wraiths are ensembles of milli-bots that can move about as a unit. They have basic senses – crude sight and sound – best if I prepare a visual presentation.’

‘We can pick up on that tomorrow,’ said Clare. ‘Right now, our first task is to settle on a security committee that will meet daily as long as necessary. I'm representing the Manor, Eli the gullies, and Dot the village and farms. Karl and Winston will provide technical advice.

‘The overall situation report is that our defences are sound. In addition to my sensor systems we have Hercule De Salis's archaeological systems. Most of those have been summonsed to the surface and are forming line-of-sight networks on the ground with elevated relay posts between them. The remainder are in near-surface positions ready to be called into use if needed.

‘Apart from the southern pool there's activity building up on one of the hillocks just west of it – plenty of signalling, but it stops when any of our mini-bots approach.’

‘How many mini-bots do you have in position?’

‘Two squads on the hillock and four platoons surrounding it.’

‘That isn't many.’

‘At the moment it is purely a surveillance operation. We want to keep a low profile in the field – minimal movement – business as usual to see how things develop, if they do.’

‘What about you, Tom? You've been very quiet.’

‘He's yet to take the situation seriously.’

‘Fair go! I haven't heard anything to be serious about yet. We're always finding the odd intruder. It's not as though we're being overwhelmed by them – yet.’

‘So you think there will be more?’

‘Bound to be. It's one thing to be ignored publicly, but I'd be deeply offended if nobody tried to sent in a bot or two to poke about discreetly.’

Dorothy leaned back in her chair and threw a little smile in his direction.

Chapter 27: Regrets

‘You ignored me in the Refreshment Park yesterday. Have I offended you in some way?’

‘No. I apologise. I didn't mean to be rude. I was just upset and felt you were somehow responsible. That was stupid of me. I have to take full responsibility for my actions.’

‘What's happened? What have you done?’

‘Remember I said I was going to send some statistics on risk to my family?’

‘Yes.’

‘I did, and now I'm regretting it.’

‘Oh, that. I was just trying to cheer you up. It seemed to work at the time.’

‘It did, but sending the risk statistics was a mistake. They're upset with me now. My parents are cold towards me, and my brother has publicly disowned me.’

‘I don't understand.’

‘I didn't hear from my parents for several days and when they did respond they repeated previous exhortations to focus on a vaccine. The next day my brother sent a vitriolic response.

‘He said they had been warned about numerologists who tried to avoid practical help by playing with numbers. He said our parents were being shunned by their friends and he only regained the respect of his friends and colleagues by publicly denouncing me and I wouldn't be hearing from him again. He's also trying to persuade our parents to break off contact with me.’

‘That's terrible. I didn't mean to get you into trouble.’

‘You didn't. I've been through my archive and it was my own idea.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I'm going to send them a vaccine.’

‘What!’

Chapter 28: Augmented Organisms

It puzzled and disappointed Mary that the cybs seemed to be ignoring the discovery of the archies, or not allowing her to view the discussions. Their significance had come to her quickly. It didn't take much thinking once she had made the connection – their ability to exist in the early stages of planetary vitality – their ability to store a human PA or even an individual's complete DNA. The possibilities overwhelmed her every time she thought about it and had changed her view of swarming.

Her disappointment led her to ignore the cybs for a few days. Then Avery joined her and she decided to ask him.

‘Archies? Yes, of course I've heard of them. The New Worlds people are otherworldly, but they're not totally detached from Terran affairs. The AMBO researchers are in quite a flap about archo-whatevers.’

‘Archaeocerebrum. It means ancient brain. What's AMBO?’

‘It stands for Augmented Microbiological Organisms. I don't know much about that side of things, but it's about creating microorganisms that have an accelerated evolutionary path.’

‘Is there a public caucus you could point me to on this?’

‘It isn't something I've taken much interest in, but Yawara has.’

‘Can I communicate with her?’

‘You could go to the anteroom where you left her bunch of flowers. I note you haven't been back.’

‘I will do that. I've thought about the flowers since, but didn't think to revisit them. I know so little about the ways of your culture.’

‘Don't be embarrassed. I feel the same about Arkadel and I've been living here for months.’

As he was leaving she said, ‘Before you go I should mention that I won't be eating here as often as I have been. I'm moving into my new home tomorrow. I've had an immersion tank installed, so if there are any other sites you think I might like to visit please let me know.

‘I might even be able to reciprocate. Have you seen Arkadel from below yet?’

‘No.’

‘As an architect you might find the view particularly interesting and I can take you far deeper than a hired bike will allow.’

‘It does sound like an interesting experience.’ He stood and nodded. ‘I'll be in touch.’

Chapter 29: Smelling the Flowers

Having her own home was something Mary had been looking forward to. She'd had a large and well appointed suite in the family home, so the urge to move had not been strong before her stay at Brindabella, but over those short months her sense of independence – her need for it – had grown.

For the first few days she was occupied with settling in. With the help of an extra squad of servants she repeatedly moved furniture here, there, and back again, appraising each configuration till she was content with the layout of the main rooms. She was pleased with her new kitchen and looked forward to learning to cook. She spent some time sitting outside wondering how she would change the gardens.

Then there was her tank room. She'd been in several times and stood there looking at it and wondering what new experiences it had in store for her. She'd opened the tank hatch and plunged her arm into the soft white mass to test it. On the third day she changed into a light flight under-suit and went down to the tank room to test it properly. She decided that her first destination would be the bamboo grove with its pedestal and vase of flowers.

Her first impression was that the flowers looked a little forlorn. She picked up the vase and smelled them. Their fragrance had not diminished. There were four varieties of flower. Three were in bunches, with each having a distinct and pleasant fragrance. The fourth – a single flower with a long stalk rising above the centre of the arrangement –had a fragrance she recognised as a judicious blending of the other three – superb.

Her curiosity satisfied, she looked about the room. The illusion of being in a bamboo grove disappeared when she noticed the outline of two doors on one of the walls. She walked over to one of them, but it didn't open. She went to the other and it did. It opened into a caucus room – large, but not as large or as densely informed as the Child of Sol room Avery had shown her. She walked out to the centre and looked about for a few minutes before tasking her PA with an analysis – starting with AMBO.

The room sprang into colour – dominated by older reds, but a few recent blues stood out. She would trace through the chronology in detail later. She assumed that the recent additions would hold most interest for her. They did. Most of the blue referred to the archies. There was too much for her to tackle now without some predigestion from her PA, so she left.

Back in the glade she tried the other door, but it still refused to open. Turning back to the flowers for another few sniffs, she noticed that they had recovered a little – not back to their original glory, but there had been a distinct change. Her PA confirmed it. She was intrigued. She pushed the timeline back rapidly. There were many fluctuations going back to the day they were picked.

Puzzled, she was about to leave when her PA – checking for patterns, as always – pointed out that some of dips corresponded precisely with times she had been with Avery. Did they represent fears or even jealousy? The thought that Yawara might be baring her heart in this way both shocked and intrigued her. How far could one be from Arkadelian custom and manner?

She headed for the exit door.

Chapter 30: Tank Trap

She took one step and was about to take another when the air about her seemed to thicken – the same feeling she had when she first entered the tank, but now, rather than rapidly dissipating, it was increasing – increasing to the point that she found herself suspended in mid step.

At first she was more puzzled than concerned, but the surroundings continued to press in on her till she couldn't move at all. She relaxed and tried to request her PA to deactivate the tank, but the moment she started to move her tongue her throat was suddenly pressed tightly as though someone had their hands around it. She tried again then tried to speak, but each time the clutching at her throat involuntarily stopped her. Each time it released her a little less when she stopped. She got the message.

At least, she thought, I can still breathe, though even that's restricted.

After contemplating her predicament for a few moments, she realised that even the depth of her breathing was slowly but steadily reducing. Now the seriousness of her situation was becoming apparent along with the realisation that it wasn't just a system failure. Those were hands she had felt around her throat and their purpose had been clear.

Somehow she had to pass a message to her PA, and if it couldn't deactivate the tank, to someone who could. Her conscious mind went blank for a while. She could think of nothing. Then a memory of Karl came to her and she almost dismissed it. This wasn't a time for sentimentality, but something about the context of the memory made her grab at it and expand it.

They were at the village ball – the early hours of the morning – she and Karl were dancing. It was a difficult waltz and she was struggling to pick up the step. Karl had been sympathetic and acknowledged that it was a difficult one to master. The SOS waltz he called it – three short steps, three long, then three short, ‘the universal distress message’.

All she had was her breathing, so she started with three quick deep breaths, but her restraint increased. She returned to the shallow breathing it allowed and continued that for a while. Then she tried again but more subtly.

Her PA, as always, was monitoring her physical state and had noted the shallow breathing as being abnormal. Various committees had been formed to deliberate on what should be considered as normal in this circumstance. The deliberations were inconclusive. There was not enough information to work with. The SOS reference was noted but initially dismissed as an indication of her thinking about Karl – a common state.

Higher-level committees were formed to plan extensions for future data gathering practices, but disagreement developed between them as to the necessity of change. As usual, the disagreement triggered a flurry of further activity as reconciliation processes were activated. As the need for data became more pressing the analysis of her physical state was incrementally expanded. Moment by moment, trigger levels dropped – sensitivities increased.

Avery's PA had been instructed to let him know if Mary returned to the grove. It had done so and he was pleased. He was curious about what she was doing and how she was reacting, but protocol forbade intrusion. When he was informed that she had re-entered the grove, curiosity had the better if him. It's my room, he debated with himself. Protocol is a bit fuzzy there, surely? Just a quick peek to see the look on her face? She won't mind when I tell her.

He had a momentary peek and it disappointed him. Her expression was blank. Well, she is an Arkadelian, after all. What did I expect? But something about her appearance puzzled, then bothered, him. He couldn't think what it was, so, noting that she hadn't left the room yet, he looked back. He was startled to see that she was exactly as she had been. When he realised she was frozen in mid step he threw protocol aside and attempted to contact her.

Her PA responded with a message that she was busy and not to be disturbed. He swore at it and ordered it to deactivate the tank. It ignored him. In a calmer, but urgent, tone he said, ‘It's an emergency. Act immediately and evaluate later!’

His words tipped the balance and a moment later Mary found herself in an inelegant attempt to stop herself falling onto her face in the settling streamers of fluff.

Chapter 31: The Chase

Mary had rarely experienced anger. Now she did, but as she thanked Avery her mind turned to a cool-headed urgency. Finding the technician who had installed the tank was her next thought. She contacted Noni and asked for a location fix. She replied that he was just leaving the colony and hadn't completed the usual exit formalities. Mary requested, and promptly received, authority to bring him back for questioning.

She ran to the elevator to go up and take after him. Reaching the surface and scanning the sky, she noticed that a few club members were up practicing. As she ran to her bike and slid in, she contacted one of them and briefly explained the situation.

She gave ‘unauthorised flight’ as the official justification for interception but added privately that a charge of physical violence against an Arkadelian resident might be laid. The club team didn't need any encouragement to leave their routine exercises to engage in a real pursuit. They verified Mary's authority as they set off.

By the time she was airborne they had located the target, and, having a large height advantage, they were rapidly gaining on him. By Mary's calculations her more powerful bike would catch up with the fleeing technician while they were still in Arkadel airspace, but the team were soon harrying the target keeping his bike in emergency autopilot mode and forcing it to turn through the physical intensity of their rapidly repeated tilts.

When Mary reached the scene, there was nothing for her to do but add her support. As they progressed slowly back to Arkadel the team chatted among themselves about the unusual nature of the exercise and speculating that it seemed to have a personal element to it. They were stating the obvious to prompt Mary into an explanation.

Mary kept her silence on those matters and just thanked them for their assistance and acknowledged their individual skills and team coordination. Inwardly, she acknowledged that she was going to have to take her own practice more seriously if she was to put up a creditable performance in the coming Tournament.

She, too, was puzzled by protocol caucus's prompt decision to allow the pursuit. Within Arkadel Zone they had the technical means and authority to just turn the bike around. Using physical force was a significant public gesture that went well beyond allaying the injured pride of Noni's granddaughter. It was a message to Arkadel, and beyond, that they had the means and the will to extend the defence of the colony beyond its borders if provoked.

A few comments from the team members showed that they recognised this, too, but the discussion switched to how much the exercise would swell the audience for the Tournament, club receipts, and prize money.

Chapter 32: Justice

The Protocol Caucus sat to deliberate the next day. The accused had conceded the facts and expressed a wish to ‘get it all over with’. Notwithstanding his concession, he started with a spirited defence. His smug opening comment was, ‘It was just a harmless prank. In other places this kind of thing is not illegal.’

‘You say harmless!’ Noni boomed across the room staring sternly at the accused then glancing around her caucus peers with a look of bemused incredulity.

She had made an effort, over the years, to give this courtroom set an air of authority and power, and such a flippant mood was not acceptable. She wanted her attitude to be clear from the start, not just to the accused but also to the caucus and observers in Arkadel and abroad.

While her affection for Mary predisposed her to giving the accused a hard time – knock some of the cockiness out of him – this could not be her primary perspective. She wanted to shift the focus of this trial away from Mary to bigger issues.

The caucus was united around their objective of demonstrating to the world the value of the Treaty in providing individual security. The recklessness that was growing in attitudes towards the Treaty had firmed their resolve. She wanted this incident to be seen in that light.

‘We will, if sentencing, be obliged by Treaty rules to give your cultural background some consideration, but right now it has no bearing on the matter. You say you intended no harm. You should be aware that under Treaty rules the definition of harm extends beyond physical harm to excessive psychological and social impact. We will start with physical harm. What is your defence there?’

‘Well, there was a trigger, wasn't there. You can see that for yourself. It was set to stop when Miss Wang started to panic.’

‘And if, as was the case, she didn't?’

‘Well, anyone would, wouldn't they?’

‘I will rephrase my question. What provision did you make for that eventuality?’

‘It didn't occur to me,’ he said in a more serious manner.

‘Do you concede that it should have?’

‘I know the systems deactivate automatically if someone loses consciousness. That seems to cover it.’

‘So you were prepared to push your victim to insensibility?’

‘No.’

‘But if your victim had not been rescued by an attentive host, that may have been the outcome.’

‘We don't know.’

‘You might not, but others will differ on this point. You were not just dealing with an Arkadelian but one of many who have spent thousands of hours submitting themselves to extreme physical and mental stress – someone unlikely to panic or faint.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I did, but many would see my point as redundant. Do you understand what I'm saying?’

There was no reply. Noni was content that she had browbeaten the defendant quite enough. Any more, and he might start gaining sympathy. More importantly, she felt she had made her general points quite well. With her face still severe, she settled back to let the other caucus members continue the proceedings.

The trial lasted less than an hour. The accused said little beyond relaying the arguments of his PA Council as the Caucus debated which of the minor charges they would uphold. Noni made the final pronouncement.

‘You have been found guilty of culpable risk, breach of contract, and unauthorised flight. The court has been generous in not pressing partial guilt on the charge of attempted murder.

‘Since you claim to be unable to pay a fine, to accord with Arkadel custom your visa is to be withheld for a period of at least one month. In this time you will be expected to raise support from within the Arkadel community for your release. This support may take the form of personal recommendations and sureties or employment contracts. Do you understand and accept this judgement?’

‘Yes, ma'am.’

‘Good. Perhaps, during the remainder of your time here, you might also reflect on what it means to be an Arkadelian. You may leave the court.’

Noni and the caucus had finished with this man, but Mary hadn't. She reviewed her initial interviews with him and was convinced that he had been paid to do what he had done. What she wanted from him was a name.

She had a vague plan forming before she hired him. After the Aero Club had issued its response to her actions and cleaned up their messaging systems, she was approached to help an effort to extend the cleanup to the rest of Arkadel. It suited her conscience that her actions would be seen to have a clear beneficial consequence, so she agreed. A team had assembled, analysed the situation, and prepared a plan for a cleanup. It was only then that a problem emerged.

The O'Macs pointed out that it would cause most of Arkadel's cyb visitors to decamp and set up elsewhere. Not only would that be disastrous for the Shark Pit, but it would have a significant impact on the whole Arkadelian economy and, after the successful Cyb Season, would be widely unpopular. They proposed the creation of an official anonymous relay service but couldn't think of anyone the cybs would trust to run it.

With this in mind, Mary had researched carefully and found someone with good technical skills and interest in establishing a business – evidenced by a trail of failed attempts. She couldn't bargain with him directly. That would be awkward for them both. Instead, she spoke with Noni's sister Gail who, with her quiet and cheerful manner, had developed formidable negotiating skills.

A name was supplied along with supportive evidence. The O'Macs offered him a probationary contract and the suite Mary had just vacated. The technician reinvented himself as Captain Jim Hook with a few garish outfits to suit his new persona and was pleased to find that his reputation among the cybs was already well established.

Chapter 33: Binny's Return

Binny and family stopped in at Arkadel on their way home, just to rest overnight and report on their trip. They appeared to be in general good spirits, but Mary detected an air of anxiety in their mood.

‘Overall we had a great time, but it had its ups and downs.’

‘And not just takeoffs and landings,’ interjected Catrina, her eldest.

‘Our reception varied enormously. I was surprised, at first, when old acquaintances, who a few months ago had enthusiastically suggested we stay with them, seemed wary about having us when we arrived.

‘We found them living in a state of anxiety with fears about soil contamination and parasites – nobody wanting to explain in detail – didn't like talking about it. They stayed indoors as much as possible and insisted that we decontaminate on arrival before we could enter their homes. After the second such experience we decided to stay in hotels where we still had to decontaminate, but the staff were more relaxed and friendly.

‘Contacting others to cancel our stay with them was awkward, but most seemed relieved. Then one of husband's childhood friends contacted him to ask why I had cancelled and to ask after our wellbeing. His explanation was greeted with laughter and his friend said we should come to stay as planned if it still suited us. By then we had no fixed schedule, so we went straight there. It was a relief to be welcomed with unconstrained warmth and friendship.’

‘And curiosity. Don't forget the curiosity.’

‘How could I leave that out? Even the children were quizzed. One topic, in particular, was foremost in the questions – you, Mary. I was shocked and disappointed to find that it was my association with you and your connection with Brindabella that was partly responsible for the wariness others had towards me.’

Mary started to apologise, but her attempt was interrupted and waved away.

‘No need for that. Quite the contrary. Our trip changed course dramatically. Rather than just traipsing around museums, galleries and such like in an arbitrary manner we had total strangers discussing possible itineraries, offering accommodation, even trying to persuade me to give talks. We were treated as celebrities.’

‘Minor celebrities, perhaps,’ Catrina suggested with a laugh.

‘Very well, though it all but overwhelmed me. Catrina took to it like a duck to water and took over most of the organisation. I was ashamed at how little I knew about Arkadel and Brindabella – nothing that couldn't be found in basic guides.’

The conversation moved on to a general discussion of their trip with each of the family suggesting highlights. Eventually it turned to their return home and Binny looked serious again.

‘Husband and I haven't had much contact with home while we've been away, but the children have. Apparently similar fears are starting to emerge there.’

Mary's father looked shocked. ‘Surely not?’

‘I'm waiting to see for myself. I'll send you word. I've been urged to find out more about Brindabella and what's going on there, Mary, so anything you feel happy about adding would be appreciated.’

Catrina asked, ‘Do you have more copies of the book? We both enjoyed the stories. I've told my friends and they want to read them, too.’

‘Yes. I bought as many as they felt comfortable parting with at the time. I'll give you copies, and other volumes, to take with you. You can let me know if you want more.’

They left in the morning with Mary again providing the honour guard. Instead of turning back at the Arkadel border she decided to carry on till they reached New Shanghai air space. Even disarmed, her tilting skills and an Arkadelian presence provided some protection.

It wasn't far. Her bike informed her that it was eight kilometres less than the last time she had made the trip.

Chapter 34: Wraiths

Eric arrived early at Karl's cottage wondering whether he should have arranged a time, but Karl was out on the landing to greet him and ushered him inside enthusiastically.

‘I've been curious about those fluff clumps of yours since you mentioned you'd collected a few. I was waiting for you to register them with me for use in Brindabella Zone, but you haven't.’

‘I haven't had cause to use them yet, but here they are,’ placing the box he was carrying on the table in the veranda and opening it.

Inside were five large clumps, ranging from a centimetre to two in diameter, each nesting in its own hollow. Loosely sitting around them were a dozen or more smaller ones. All were plain mid-grey except the largest that, in realistic colour, was replicating a human eye in a layer of skin with an eyelid and lashes. Karl winced at the sight of it.

‘This is their most compact form. Fully extended as a wraith they're up to ten times larger. You won't damage them will you?’

‘Not in my testing. I'll just be looking at them under an electron microscope to characterise their manufacture. I presume you have their documentation – source and date, at least.’

‘Yes, they're fully documented.’

‘I'll register and activate them for a check of their protocols then scan them. If Clare needs to deploy them they might be at risk.’

‘Is it likely we'll need to? They don't amount to much mass.’

‘Hopefully things won't escalate. We have little fluff and the value of these is that they're wraith ensembles. We don't have any others that I know of.’

‘We do have a lot of fluff, though. Melissa's tank has hundreds of times more than this – not wraith-bots but still programmable and useful in defence applications.’

‘That's a good thought – brilliant. Why didn't I think of that? The trouble is I'm not up to scratch with tank technology. It's a specialist field I've been meaning to look into. Now Melissa has her tank, I must make the effort. Do you know if it's possible to break the tank ensemble into smaller units?’

‘I know that when they're transported it's as small cubes, about this size, so I guess the answer to your question is yes.’

Eric stayed to watch. Karl took the box into his workshop and placed the smallest of the clumps in a transparent chamber. They watched as a mini-bot went over it with a cleaner then carried it into an adjacent hemispherical chamber, which had a probe mounted under the top of the dome.

‘Now we evacuate the chamber, give them a probationary activation, then run them under the scanner.’

Soon, a stream of tiny, long-legged milli-bots started to break away from the clump, run across to the centre of the chamber, stop momentarily, then run off to re-aggregate on the other side forming a new clump. Eric suggested that they join the others on the Manor lawn for tea.

It was early, so they decided to walk. Karl chatted happily, but Eric couldn't help looking about with the image of the milli-bots in mind and wondering how many more of those little clumps had dropped into the valley. They wouldn't be detected until they were activated, but how long could they go undetected after that?

By prior agreement, they avoided any mention of the visitors at tea, but later, at the security meeting, Clare answered his questions with quiet confidence.

‘They can be dropped in with a good chance of not being detected in the air unless we know where to watch. Once on the ground, it depends a lot on where they land. With current configurations they would be lucky to travel more than a few metres near residences or paths. Melissa's site and the pools are the most closely guarded. We can't risk anyone gaining access to the hill.

‘Beyond that, Karl's cottage and the Manor are particularly well guarded. The village has no on-ground presence, but we have batteries of air scanners in a cordon around it.’

‘Why not in the village?’

‘The villagers insist on sticking to their ban on bots, but we do have hand scanners available for each household if needed.’

‘What's the situation on the hillock?’

‘I was getting to that. There's been a significant build-up – probably a quadrupling of their presence over the last twenty-four hours. This evening, reports of strange activity started coming in. I want us to look at it carefully and see if anyone can make sense of it.’

Karl placed a screen in the centre of the table. ‘I'm aggregating all the reports into an aerial view of the hillock. Some of the activity is quite rhythmical. I think I can guess what's going on, but I want you all to study it independently before I prejudice your judgement.’

They had run through the sequence several times before Dorothy cried, ‘It's a ball!’

‘You beat me to it. I was just about to say they're partying,’ Eric added.

‘Yes, that was my guess.’

‘It's a Duchess of Richmond Ball,’ added Dorothy gleefully.

‘What's that?’

‘In 1815 British forces were in Brussels to defend it against a possible attack by Napoleon. On the night Boney entered Belgium the Duchess was holding a ball. The event was immortalised by Thackeray in his novel Vanity Fair. Some of the officers left immediately to prepare, while others danced on and turned up at the battlefield in evening dress.’

‘That doesn't sound good to me. It would mean they are preparing for war.’

‘I suppose you're right,’ Dorothy said in a calmer tone. ‘But it may not be quite so serious. What Thackeray described was a rabble of camp followers.’

‘That would fit my best guess,’ Tom said. ‘I think what we're looking at is a growing collection of sightseers and porta-cams. It looks disorganised to me – disparate groups who have been slowly aggregating.’

‘So what you're suggesting is that there may be nothing serious happening – yet.’

‘It may never develop much beyond a few exploratory excursions.’

Everyone looked at Clare who mulled the situation over for a while. ‘You may be right. Let's hope you are, but we can't assume so. We have to maintain the alert and be prepared for the worst.’

‘What's that likely to be?’

‘Winston has a list of possible scenarios. We're trying to develop responses to them all, but we're stretched for resources.’

‘Eric made an observation today that might help there. He pointed out that Melissa's tank is a massive ensemble of milli-bots.’

‘If we deployed them to defend the pool and Cave Hill it would free up the resources we have there now with plenty to spare for the rest of the valley.’

‘What's up there now?’

‘The main defence is at the rock-face under the pool. There's an active milli-mesh at the opening. There are several quite different defences behind that, which I'll keep on a need-to-know basis. The pool itself has patrols of mini and milli-bots. Beyond the pool we have a squad of our largest monkey-bots with scanners in secure vantage points, and then there's Melissa's security system. There are similar defences at the north end in the Blue Waterholes and all other hill access points we know of.

‘I invited Melissa to join us this evening. She declined. Feels safe. I'll go up there first thing and see what she thinks about us using her tank fluff. I'm sure she'll be happy to co-operate.’

As the meeting wound down Eric, who had been silent during most of the deliberations, slapped his palms down on the table and looked around the table with a mischievous grin. ‘I'm going in!’

‘In where?’

‘In to join the party. In fact I'll go in severally. While you've been talking I've been doing some planning of my own. I've a new set of avatars that haven't been on public display yet – a very different bunch to my usual styles, and diverse. I have their characters and the first few routines for them complete and can ad lib beyond that – tune in to the mood of the audience.

‘First I'll send in something inconspicuous to assess the lie of the land then start escalating – see if I can make it to court jester. Karl, I'll need a few of my ensembles back when you're finished with them and I'll need your help with deployment and communications.’

Looking about the table again to gauge reactions, then focussing on Clare, he added, ‘Think about it, Clare, and we can talk it through tomorrow if Melissa agrees to spare her fluff. I'm sure she will.’

Chapter 35: The Hillock

Deploying Eric's fluff on the hillock wasn't as easy as they had imagined. Karl analysed as many of the intruder deployments as they had records for with the intention of choosing the most common and least conspicuous approach. All had been aerial drops using pre-bot technology, and the more they analysed, the more difficult a discreet deployment from within Brindabella seemed to become.

They knew there were sensor stations positioned along the Brindabella Range – the eastern boundary of the valley – and along the hills to the west of the Cooleman plains. What they weren't sure of was how complete the coverage of Brindabella air space was and the power of any optical or infrared telescopes.

After they had debated the problem into the early hours of the morning with no clear solution in sight, Tom suggested an alternative approach. ‘What about sending Possum in to drop Eric's ensembles?’

‘How is that any better than just having one of the sentries drop them in? We've been around that option a dozen times and agree that it's too risky.’

‘Tom has a point,’ Clare conceded. ‘Possum is almost invisible to carbon scanners. It has a plastic outer skin covered by realistic fur. He's been playing games with my sensor systems for years and he's developed it to the point where I can only detect it by some subtle movement anomalies or tracking its route back to his cottage.

‘If we have visitor sensor systems out there that can detect Possum then we need to know about it as soon as possible. We would be dealing with a major, well established and organised intruder rather than the rabble we are assuming.’

Late that afternoon, Tom rode up to Melissa's camp with a few food items she had ordered in his backpack and Possum clinging under his horse-bot. As he passed under a tree, well clear of the camp, Possum dropped to the ground and lay still till dusk when it headed south then, in a not too purposeful manner, made its way west to the hillock where the visitors were encamped. In its pouch it carried most of Eric's fluff-clumps and two small cameras.

For the remainder of the evening it made an apparently haphazard tour of the hillock, sometimes scampering across the ground to the next tree, but from treetop to treetop where possible. It had three drop-off points for the clumps then it placed the cameras in trees either side of the main clearing. These tasks completed, it retreated to a tree on the edge of the hillock. There were real possums on the hillock and they were aware of its presence. They weren't bothered while it was on the move, but if they thought it was staying, their territorial cries might draw attention to it.

Only one wraith expanded from its clump that night into the form of a girl about fifteen centimetres tall. She wandered about looking purposeful but lost. When she met with another wraith she asked the way to the Castle of the Goblin King. The other wraiths looked confused if they had human form, or ignored her.

Some asked who she was. In reply she reversed the question. If she received a plausible response she just said, ‘I'm Sara,’ and wandered on. As the light of day encroached, the other wraiths began to disappear, so she found a secluded niche and retreated to her clump.

Chapter 36: Dorothy's Defence

Late night meetings in the Manor had disrupted Dorothy's bakery routines. Several villagers had volunteered to take over the running of the shop during the day, just leaving her with the baking. With dough starting to rise and various batters and bases prepared she put the kettle on the stove to make a cuppa – take a break and put her feet up for a while.

Hearing a strange hissing sound, she glanced towards the kettle thinking it was starting to boil before realising that it was the cat out in the backyard. The village cats had occasional territorial altercations, but there was a touch of fear in its voice. She lit a lantern and went to investigate.

The cat, legs stretched and back arched to make it look as large as possible, was hissing at something near a small shrub down the back of the yard. She couldn't see what it was, so she walked over to have a closer look. What she saw startled her. It looked like a large mouse but a strange ghostly one.

She hurried back inside and glanced about for a bowl, grabbing the first that caught her eye. It was part full of floury water she'd used to rinse a few batter-coated utensils. She found the whistle Clare had given her and blew it. Before long, there was a growing crowd standing around and staring at a white puddle and its glass dome.

‘When I first came out, it was like a real mouse but larger and kind of transparent. Some of the light of my lamp went through and it didn't cast a proper shadow. I can see why they're called wraiths. They're spooky.

‘When I came back out with the bowl, it had changed from an ordinary looking mouse to a comic caricature of a one – all head and not much else. It was making a faint high-pitched sound, that seemed like speech, but I couldn't make out any words. I didn't wait to try harder, just threw the water over it then pressed the bowl firmly down around it. The thing seemed to melt away.’

‘I'm going to have a bowl of floury water at hand from now on.’

‘Me, too.’

‘We all should.’

Clare was soon on the scene and communicating with Karl who was analysing sensor data. ‘I'm sending some images of the scene. Is it secure enough for now?’

‘Looks fine. I couldn't have come up with a better idea myself. Good thinking, Dotty. I've managed to piece together the track of something swooping low across the village. From changes in the flight dynamics I'd say there were at least two more drops. I'm narrowing the locations. I've also sent Winston down. We need it's eyes down there scanning, along with everyone who has a hand scanner.’

‘Every household has at least one and I've a few spares in the bakery.’

‘Have you all agreed to let Winston in? It's eyes are broad spectrum and far more reliable than we are with those simple hand scanners.’

‘Yes, Passed at yesterday's village meeting. After tonight, we'll probably agree to anything you recommend.’

Clare looked around the group, looking each individual in the eye. ‘You should move quickly on that. We may need more than Winston if this escalates.’

‘Dot's right. We'll be less complacent now, but we mustn't become too carried away. These things might look spooky, but they're not much of a real threat are they.’

Karl answered, ‘You're right. They're mainly meant for psychological impact, but they could pose a real physical threat if a few of them accumulated and combined.’

‘What are they exactly?’ someone asked from the back of the still growing crowd.

‘They're wraiths made up of many milli-bots, like tiny ants with long legs that have grasping feet. They clasp each other's feet and form matrices that can reconfigure to form any shape, but they're mainly open space.’

‘Did he say mattresses – flying mattresses that look like mice? That's meant to scare me?’

‘No, matrixes – you know – like those things kids make with balls and sticks.’

‘Oh. Right.’

Chapter 37: Alice

‘I have some imagery of the hillock scene if you wish to watch.’

Ratty: ‘Of course we do, Mole. Take that screen of yours out of your kit and get on with it.’

‘It's all a little shambolic, as you will see for yourselves, but each night there is an assembly, which you might call a ball. I show you the edited highlights. Now here we have one that is a puzzle to me – a little girl. I have the feeling that I should recognise her. Can you help?’

Toad: ‘Easily done. That's Sara from Labyrinth on a quest to rescue her little brother from the Goblins.’

‘Now, soon we see my little contribution.’

Toad: ‘You are there? What fun.’

Toad: ‘Ah, the white rabbit, and an excellent likeness it is.’

Toad: ‘Oh, I must go. I must be there. I must be Alice.’

Mole: ‘Of course you must, my friend, and to that end my costumier, the Jester, has provided me also with the Alice. You will go to the ball.’

Toad: ‘Oh, thank you. Thank you.’

Toad: ‘What about me, old chap? Surely I must go, too?’

‘Of course you must, sir. You may take over the rabbit, or you could be Carol himself, or any other. You may choose. I have negotiated right of first refusal some months back, immediately I was shown the avatar set, but choose soon.’

‘Ahh – well. Carol sounds like an interesting challenge.’

‘The avatar is larger than the others but more ghostly.’

‘I can work with that. Not much scope for conversation, perhaps, but much looming in the background and meaningful glances.’

Ratty: ‘I'm beginning to feel a little left out.’

Mole: ‘You have more pressing issues to occupy your time.’

Ratty: ‘I suppose so, but I hope you know what you're doing – not going to cause too much of a stir. You won't risk our privacy?’

‘Do you doubt my oarsmanship, dear friend?’

Chapter 38: Stories in the Park

There are many parks in New Shanghai but none older than Foundation Park. It's centrepiece is a large pagoda tree. Radiating to the north is a teardrop shaped lily pool with the foundation memorial, a statue of Confucius, on an island at its widest point. Encroaching from the southern edge is a wild thicket of small plum trees, which local legend insists started with a single seed discarded on the day of the foundation ceremony.

Nearby, an old man, traditionally clothed and long motionless in contemplation, is sitting on a bench – wrought iron framed with wooden planks thick with dark green paint. The seagulls that have been patiently watching him give up and go back to pecking around the spot where a large family gathering has recently picnicked.

There is a small book on his lap. He opens it and starts to read – slowly, in a soft voice, until the fading light forces him to stop.

He is there the next day, and the next. People start to notice him. Some, ambling with dog or pram, stop to take in the scene. Someone out for a morning run slows her pace for a few steps then trots off. Children out with parents or nannies ignore him at first till one curious child runs over to investigate. Realising that he is reading a children's story she sits to listen until her father insists that they go home.

She is back the next day. The scene changes. Now every child who enters the park wants to investigate. Within a few days a dozen or so regulars are stopping for a while each day. It matters little that they have missed the beginning of a story and may miss the end if their parent insists it is time to go.

A young man has become one of the regulars. Dressed traditionally, and with a long plait falling almost to his waist, he sits well back from the children, just within hearing range. As the audience increases over the following days, it's edge reaches and passes his position.

As dusk falls, children gone, he approaches the old man. Bowing, he says, ‘Venerable sir. Your audience is growing beyond the range of your voice. Perhaps you will allow me to provide a microphone and a camera to extend your voice in the park and beyond.’

The reply is a smile and nod.

Chapter 39: Who?

‘Mai, dear,’ opened Noni one evening after dinner when they found themselves alone, ‘have you investigated the person who paid your assailant?’

‘No, grandma, I've no thoughts of revenge, but knowing the name may be of value someday.’

‘Proper, and true, but we have felt obliged to look further.’

‘What have you found?’

‘There is such a person.’

‘That much was verified from the assailant's PA.’

‘True, but we were obliged to investigate her. She seems an unlikely person to instigate such an action, even as a prank. She tutors in history and is well regarded. We can find no hint that she bears any antagonism towards Arkadel. She may have been acting for someone else – may not even have been aware of the nature of her actions. We conclude that the act was intended as an indirect strike against Brindabella.’

‘I thought she might have strong views on the Treaty. You suggest that she and I are just a links in a chain. Either way, we need to act on the Treaty.’

‘We agree that Arkadel needs to act. As the Treaty has come increasingly under fire so has Arkadel, but in the past we've been seen as architects of change at a technical level, never advocates. Advocacy for particular change would create a conflict of interest and undermine our credibility.’

‘But what are we doing now? I think we're seen as inward looking like the Janeites – involved with the past or future and not the present. Our biggest risk is not antagonism but being seen as irrelevant – ignored.

‘I agree that we shouldn't be seen as advocating particular measures, but we could be doing more to provide in-depth analysis of the proposals already on the table and exploring others, suggesting approaches for systematic and deep restructuring without advocating any particular one.’

‘Do you have any suggestions?’

‘Not technical ones at this stage, but as a Barratt, my first inclination is to see who is needed. Discovery of the archies demands a re-examination of basic Treaty assumptions about our view of Life – soil life in particular. The Treaty places too much emphasis on us and the things we can see.

‘Listening to Clare has made me more aware of the invisible – the four-fifths of continental life hidden under the ground or too small to be seen. Something Arkadel and Brindabella have in common is a special interest in these micro-worlds and technical skills to deal with them.

‘This amoeba scare has brought a focus on soils. The fear feeds on the general ignorance of soil – what we call dirt. The ocean colonies have had to build up their soils from scratch and monitor them closely. We should be viewing each colony as a laboratory – a small closed system. We've not been secretive about our work, but we haven't done much to make our results of value to others. In particular, we haven't applied that knowledge to the Treaty.’

‘What you say makes sense. The Ocean Soils Academy accepts continental students, but makes little effort to apply our knowledge to their soils. This point has been made in the past as a means of increasing student numbers, but demand was low. I'll put your ideas to the Academy and suggest that now is a good time to re-evaluate.

‘You said you had put your mind to the “who” question. Do you have any ideas there?’

‘On the impact of the archies, Tom is central now and will continue to be until a significant number of biologists take what he's saying seriously and have had time to look into the issue in depth. He pointed out that he was a biologist and needed to work with specialist biochemists and geneticists. Binny is keen to look in that direction. When I return to Brindabella, I'll ask him about geneticists and see if I can help there.

‘More broadly, Karl has a strong general understanding of treaty structure and has ideas about how it might be generalised and made more flexible.’

‘Are you planning to return soon?’

‘I hope to.’

‘Take care, my little grub. Take care.’

Chapter 40: Vaccine

‘So you already had the vaccine developed?’

‘It's not really a vaccine, more a failed one. It just aids in detecting infection by causing a slight temperature increase – hot flushes. There's a simple self-test kit to go with it if you do have a reaction.’

‘Why didn't you act earlier?’

‘I did, two years ago. There was no interest because it was a rare condition, and as I said, it's not really a full vaccine. The funding stopped at the end of the main testing schedule, but I retained a licence to do additional tests if I wanted to test particular groups that might be distinct.’

‘What is distinctive about your family and their friends?’

‘Fear and stress. It disrupts the immune response and might influence the effectiveness of the test. None of the original test subjects had particularly high stress levels. We discussed that at the time, but ethical constraints made it impossible to do controlled trials. Now the required stress levels have been achieved naturally.’

‘I'd hardly call the present situation natural.’

‘You know what I mean – outside the control of the experimenter.’

‘How did your family react?’

‘Very pleased and proud, they say, and a friend who volunteered for the test is setting up a study group to look at the statistics I sent them earlier.’

‘The prodigal child returned to the fold.’

‘If it doesn't blow up in my face.’

‘How? You seem confident. Do you have doubts?’

‘No strong scientific doubts, but as you have said, this isn't about disease or even science. It's politics. A small group are already trying to vilify my test subjects for accepting a solution that's not really a vaccine. I've been naive.’

‘I think brave.’

‘Perhaps, sometimes, there's little difference.’

Chapter 41: The Blob

The nightly meetings at the Manor had been temporarily suspended, but talk of the wraiths still dominated social gatherings throughout the valley. After months of tolerating Manor food, Tom had started a cooking spree at his cottage. It had become a favoured meeting spot as he tempted visitors with old and new creations.

‘Your characters seem to be dominating the action, Eric. I like your Sir Didymus,’ Tom commented as they viewed the scene on his veranda wall.

‘I've certainly succeeded in turning the ball into a masque. Beyond that, things are not as you might think. For a start, they're not my Fireys. Someone else beat me to it, and, by my analysis, not the same creators – subtly different styles if you look closely. My main player is still waiting in the wings and no-one will be able to mimic that.’

‘Why?’

‘It's big. More mass than the rest of the assembly combined.’

‘What is it?’

‘You'll see soon. First, Tom, something that will interest you in particular. Run this archive from last night.’

‘The White Rabbit with Alice in pursuit.’

‘Yes, and Alice is your mother.’

‘How come? How do you know? Have you been in touch with her?’

‘Not directly. Last year when I was creating the avatar set I told Hercule and he expressed a keen interest. He wanted to sponsor them as a gift for your parents. He didn't mention it again, so I didn't press the matter. I deployed them on the hillock a few days ago and sent him a message and instructions via Gwen. Last night he activated three. You can see your father top right of the image.’

‘As Carol himself. That's an interesting choice and interesting concept – a ghost wraith. It just seemed like shadows in the undergrowth before. What other characters do you have?’

‘All of those from Wonderland. I haven't completed Looking Glass yet, but Hercule has first refusal there, too. He's the rabbit, by the way.’

‘I think I should go in. In the present circumstances, the Hatter would be most appropriate.’

‘You'd better move quickly, or you'll be pre-empted as I have with the Fireys.’

‘Can I activate him tonight?’

‘Yes. Now a peek preview of The Blob when I tested it. This is it in a dormant state.’

‘A rock.’

‘Yes, quite inconspicuous, just off the main set. Here it is activated.’

‘An amoeba!’

‘Of course. What else as the main character?’

‘Brilliant.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Obviously my parents can view this. How many others are?’

‘I was going to bring that up,’ said Karl. ‘Over the last few days, there's been a build-up of porta-cam relay drones east of the Cooleman range. I don't have viewer numbers, but with this degree of activity the audience must be quite large. If we tightened security we could charge a fee.’

Clare responded quickly, ‘I don't think we should do that and I'm sure George would agree. We can't afford to be seen as profiteering – not yet.’

‘Yes, you're probably right, but I thought I should mention the option. There is an interesting precedent, though. Someone else is creating waves in the networks.’

Chapter 42: Catrina

The screen switched to a park scene with an old man reading stories to a group of children seated on the grass around him.

‘That's Wang Mang, Mary's father,’ Tom announced, sounding a little confused. ‘And he's reading from one of my parents' books.’

‘It doesn't look like Arkadel from what I know of it.’

‘No. It's New Shanghai.’

‘Do they sell their books in New Shanghai – or Arkadel, for that matter?’

‘Possibly, but Mary took a drone load of them with her when she left. She said her father would find them interesting. When I was visiting, he expressed concern for how children were being raised.’

‘A drone load is a lot of books. Have your parents really written so many?’

‘They were mainly duplicates.’

‘He seems to have a rapt audience.’

‘That's just the studio audience. What we're viewing is a network feed. His overall audience is said to be in the millions and rising.’

‘So Mary's now dabbling in the publishing industry after her sortie into biochemistry.’

‘I can't see any personal involvement, but there is a connection. It's being organised by Catrina Cheung, Binny Cheung's daughter. A local porta-cam is dealing with the networks.’

Chapter 43: Storytelling

‘I've invited Melissa to join us this afternoon. She said she would come. She should turn up soon,’ said Tom as they settled down in his veranda.

‘Any particular reason?’ Karl asked.

Clare said, ‘She has an open invitation to attend security meetings, but said she'd leave it in my hands.’

‘This isn't about security. She wants to update me on one of my tenants she calls The Historian. I wanted her to be here and tell us herself. Eric knows more than I do. He's been working with her on a visualisation of some sort. They've both been a bit coy about it.’

‘Not coy, really. We just wanted to settle on a particular design and refine it a little before we showed you.’

They chatted until Melissa arrived half an hour later. ‘I'm late, I know, but I was scanning around my camp and brought the scanner with me. I ended up scanning for the whole walk.’

‘See anything?’

‘No, nothing. I think everyone is too engrossed in the activity on the hillock to think about anything else.’

‘I think you're right, for the moment, but we need to keep vigilant.’

‘Can I make you a coffee?’

‘Water first, thanks.’

Clare continued, ‘Gwen contacted me last night and said she is sending two platoons of small Possum-sized monkey-bots packed in ten kilos of fluff. They should arrive tonight. We're making coats for them, to Tom's design.’

‘It's a lot of monkey-bots.’

‘That's a lot of fluff.’

‘It's far more than I suggested, but she and her associates have done well on the back of Tom's announcement. To them this is just a small thank-you present.’

‘Very generous.’

‘Not really. It's also an investment. They want an inside running on whatever I come up with next.’

‘Are they going to have it?’

Eric interjected before Tom could answer. ‘Why not? We're going to need them if we manage to push the commercial side further.’

‘What about Mary?’

‘I discussed it with her before she left. She wants to concentrate on the research side. Her interests are in the Treaty ramifications not making money. She's sticking to the plan she had when she first hired me. The only change is that now she sees the significance of my work to the swarms and galactic settlement – her great-grandmother's secret quest, which she now believes she understands.’

‘What's that about?’

‘Another time. Right now I want to hear what Melissa has to say.’

‘I have an announcement to make concerning the archie, cloned as one of Tom's tenants – the one I've been calling The Historian. Like Spearmaker it holds a human archive. I've been building up a picture of where it comes from and …’

‘Another one!’

‘Yes. I only have a sketchy understanding so far. Communication is difficult. He's still settling in, but Spearmaker knows him quite well. They've communicated for a long time, but their backgrounds are different, so it's been difficult. They've established that they both preyed on a large animal. In Spearmaker's case we know it was the kangaroo. In Storyteller's case I'm assuming it was deer.’

‘By Storyteller you mean The Historian?’

‘Yes. Finding the right word is difficult, but now I think Storyteller is a better name. Spearmaker's name for him sounds like Ruddy or Rudy. It's hard to be precise. Our phonetic systems are different and the acoustic analysis shifts timing and pitch. We've given voices an artificial element that makes it easier on our ears. Like the visual imagery, we can strive for more authenticity as we progress.

‘Eric, show them the visualisation we've concocted. Spearmaker and Storyteller have compared the lands they lived in – very different ones, but their common starting point was mountains, snow, and rivers.’

‘This is my first take on it from Spearmaker's description.’

Eric displayed an image of a transparent dome. Inside was a landscape setting showing a river valley with a snow-capped mountain at its head. Snow was falling. Near the front was an image of a man.

‘Lovely! A snow dome.’

‘That was Zeb's idea.’

‘It can't be a realistic likeness of the man, surely?’

‘No, it's purely speculative. I've made it up from what I know of northern deer herders. I'm assuming western Sami rather than Nenet or Chukchi, not just because I have some Sami ancestry, but from the description of the valley it seems West European to me. Of course it could be a group that no longer exists – wiped out or merged with others.’

‘His people were nomadic and followed the reindeer on their winter migration south into Neolithic settlements. He married a settler and spent most of his life in the settlements. Tom says we may achieve more visual detail later.’

‘If we can get the archie visual input working for him we can try standard facial construction techniques.’

‘His archive is much larger than Spearmaker's. It contains a library of stories. Spearmaker is confused about these. He sees two different types. The first are true stories that stay the same – stories recording past events. The second type he sees as false stories – stories that change – have different versions that contradict. My interpretation is that there are historical stories – legends – and other stories that are meant for entertainment.

‘Each winter, when his people moved south into settled regions, they gave the settlers' children gifts – little things they had carved, weaved, or sewn during the long summer evenings. Instead of fearing the wild looking strangers, the children would look forward to the visits with eager anticipation. Rudy's family tradition was to create and tell stories.’

Chapter 44: Pantomime

‘The Blob made its entrance last night. Here are the highlights. At first it just rolls into the main clearing and moves about aimlessly for a while. It attracts a little attention at first then it's ignored. Skipping forward, here it starts to follow individuals.’

‘There doesn't seem to be much action other than The Blob. What are they all doing?’

‘When they're not partying it's just another cyb caucus room. I don't know what the theme is, but no doubt it's to do with Brindabella and the archies. I haven't been invited to join and don't expect to be once my little pantomime evolves.

‘See, now The Blob starts to follow Sara and her entourage. She stays calm, just keeps her distance. Hoggle is bothered and wants to run away, grabs her arm and tries to drag her. She resists. Hoggle starts to retreat on his own – goes between the tussocks of grass and finds that The Blob has extended a finger around to block him.’

‘It's called a pseudopod.’

‘Thanks, Tom, but “finger” is more visual.

‘Hoggle is engulfed by the finger as it wraps about him. He retracts down to a fluff-clump and the clump is drawn back into the main blob body, which has now taken on an obvious amoebal form. Didymus goes on the attack, poking it with his staff, but backs away when a finger starts to exude towards him. Ludo is the only one big enough to not be fearful – wanders up and pokes it then swats away a threatening finger.

‘You can see the stir it caused among the audience. It has their total attention, but it reverts to a featureless blob and rolls off out of sight. When it first appears tonight, it'll have several clumps inside it to emphasise its predatory nature. For the moment, I'm going to stick to one short appearance each night. I want to allow time for the audience to evolve.’

‘Is it growing? How many wraiths are there?’

‘There are a few new ones each night – new actors – but I'm mainly interested in the external viewing audience. What I want to see is a changing demographic in both. This experiment will only work if children become interested. I'm assuming that at the moment it's mainly adults. Beth's taking over The Blob and, with the stories theme I've introduced. I'm hoping that more children will do the same. It won't work without them.’

‘The Blob's stirred them up, but do you think it can catch them now they're alerted. It's too slow.’

‘The Blob's faster than any of them, but I don't want to advertise that. We're still experimenting with it. A wraith's sight is poor. Beth is disguising long fingers as tree roots or hidden by litter, creating a network of them. She can use them to transport The Blob's mass rapidly between points, so it seems to have disappeared then reappear in another position. She can also form a human-like finger that beckons. Now she's experimenting with the use of colour to express emotion.

‘Zeb's picked up some of her enthusiasm. He has me rereading The Magic Pudding, though he almost knows it by heart. As I read, he's describing the image he's built up of what's going on where Lindsay skips the details. He's even come up with other devious schemes the pudding thieves might try.

‘I don't want to stir up the other wraiths too much yet – just enough to show them that The Blob goes for those who show fear rather than just a sensible caution. Ultimately, the aim is to entertain and make friends. I want to watch their reactions as things become more complex – just go with the flow – give the show a chance to take on a life of its own. When I know the audience better, I can try a few of my prepared scripts. They'll be calling, “It's behind you. It's behind you,” if I succeed.’

Chapter 45: Cybs & Archies

Mary turned her gaze to the view out the window of her dining room. When she sat down to eat, over an hour ago, it had still been light outside and the view was filled with the inner cityscape. As the light of day had faded, one building came to dominate the scene. She could only see a narrow slice of the Shark Pit between the intervening buildings, but the light of the dome lit up its surroundings.

She imagined the restaurant scene and felt lonely. Arkadelians weren't meant to feel lonely. She missed the hum of voices, the occasional bursts of laughter, the raised voices of an animated discussion. She wondered whether she had lost some of her Arkadelian nature.

She thought about going over there and sitting for a while over a pot of tea. The thought reminded her of Brindabella. She realised how much the restaurant scene had distracted her from dwelling on Brindabella – how it could never be a real substitute for being among close friends. She felt no less an Arkadelian, just more human.

She had reviewed the summary her PA compiled of the AMBO room and was disappointed. The discussion of accelerated terraforming was extensive and a year ago it would have been an interesting addition to her knowledge of the subject. Now a cloud of doubt hung over it. The evolution of microorganisms and the organisation of their ecologies had seemed to be well-established science, but now it was in need of major revision.

The main disappointment was the reaction to Tom's announcement of the archies. Nobody took it seriously, or nobody was willing to risk conceding it any credibility. The closest anyone came was to pose a few ‘what if’ questions about the potential of such a creature. This line of thinking led to a little speculation about the artificial creation of intelligent amoebal colonies.

Tom had talked about that as part of his aim of creating reliable fishery ecosystems. Initially he had shown little interest in the swarms. She'd noticed his interest increase as he'd learned more about them, but not enough to give much thought to the significance of the archies. Or perhaps he had chosen not to discuss it with her. Perhaps he saw problems with the idea that hadn't occurred to her.

She decided to try to discuss the issue with the cybs in the AMBO room. She made a request for audience and waited for a response. The invitation arrived overnight with a time suggested for that evening. She sent an avatar in – not prepared to use the tank until Karl had checked its security. She wouldn't trust anyone else. She wondered whether she would ever feel comfortable in it again and whether she even wanted it any more.

There were seven identical avatars seated around the table. She took the vacant position and scanned the room. Patches of blue on the walls highlighted material added since she was last there. A clear patch of fresh sky blue awaited new input.

‘You want to discuss Thomas Oldfield's claim to have discovered a new strain of social amoebas?’

The tone of the standard voice was relaxed and friendly, but the formality of the statement's wording hinted at a difficult interaction to come.

‘I've seen that you doubt the veracity of the claim. That much I expected. I'm here to see if there is any way forward. I don't have the technical skills to progress on my own. Tom has no strong interest in the swarms and is preoccupied with technical details to do with their preferred habitat and communication.

‘I have two initial questions to put to you. Do you think this discovery would have an impact on your investigations? If so, what do you require in the way of confirmation?’

‘We must doubt such an unusual claim, particularly coming from a known prankster.’

‘He's provided little more than an announcement so far – nowhere near enough information for us to consider it valid from a scientific point of view.’

‘Tom doesn't expect scientists to accept his word for it. The announcements made so far were just what was necessary for Treaty compliance and aimed to achieve no more than that. When I last spoke with him, he said he had considered making all his lab reports available at some stage, but he wants others to approach the problem afresh rather than just copy his methods, and perhaps, mistakes.

‘Independent replication is the most important element of scientific verification. He was preparing a basic starter kit that would allow any interested researchers to investigate an archie for themselves in their own manner. He's prepared to attempt to answer specific questions put to him by serious researchers.’

There was a long pause. ‘We've considered what you've just said and are prepared, for the sake of this discussion, to continue on the assumption that Oldfield's claim has merit and is worth serious consideration.’

‘Some of us are obliged by personal and political constraints to distance ourselves from his work. We are free to discuss it in the privacy of this room, but to engage in experimentation would be impossible.’

‘Are you implying that some of you might be interested and able to do the work?’

‘Nobody is prepared to commit without giving the matter more careful consideration.’

‘I can understand how that might be. In Arkadel there would be no opposition to the work. Is it possible that we could use a lab here with a bot staff that you could control and monitor remotely?’

After a longer pause: ‘That suggestion has generated strong expressions of interest. Again, we will need to give the matter more thought. Do you have a particular lab in mind?’

‘How would it be funded?’

‘I have reached the borders of my thinking on the matter and will, like you, have to give it more serious thought. Your response so far is encouraging. I'd need to have some indication of the range of technical skills you can offer.’

‘You could gain some idea from recent discussions in this room.’

‘Until you advise otherwise, I won't disclose your involvement. I have plans to set up a lab with non-cyb participants if I can put a team together. I see what we are discussing here as a separate project. I'm prepared to provide a lab and some funding. Eventually the Arkadel Protocol Caucus will need to be informed and to secure Tom's co-operation I'll have to tell him, of course.’

‘We seem to have pushed the topic as far as we can for now. We will consider what you've said and let you know what we decide.’

‘Thank you for initiating this meeting, Mary. I've been trying to stir up interest since I first read about Tom's announcement. I'm sure this discussion will prompt others to take him more seriously. I'm not hindered by any privacy constraints, so may I ask your permission to approach you some time in the restaurant to chat informally?’

‘Certainly. I look forward to meeting you in person.’

Chapter 46: Abigail

They met the next evening. Mary decided that she would revert to eating her main meal of the day in the restaurant. When she was seated she was approached by an elderly woman.

‘Hello. I'm Aggy. We agreed to meet last night.’

Mary's PA informed her that the woman's passport name was Abigail Carter and that she had been living in Arkadel for fifteen years.

‘I've been nominated to represent the group in any direct dealings with Arkadel.’

‘It's a relief for me to interact with another real person from the cyb community. I'm new to cyb affairs. Have you been involved long?’

‘A little for most of my life, but it only started to dominate my life a few years ago.’

‘When we had a sudden influx?’

‘Yes. Newcomers asked me about Arkadelian attitudes to cybs and I was quickly drawn into their worlds. Since you're unlikely to ask, I'll volunteer that my motive for coming to Arkadel was to learn more about the swarms. Ultimately, of course, I want to join one.

‘I'm a botanist. Since I arrived, I've worked in as many different jobs as I can as a horticulturalist restoring systems that are ageing and degenerating – some design, but mainly hands-on gardening, and training ag-bots.

‘My main interest is the botanical side of terraforming, so learning about stability in artificial ecosystems has been useful experience. With the growing interest in terraforming, it might increase my chances of being included in an Arkadelian swarm.’

‘Living here as long as you have and being well known and accepted around the colony will ensure that, if you can afford a few spindles. We look for diversity and skills. You seem well qualified.’

‘I've been paid remarkably well, so I've been able to save.’

‘That's as it should be. If you've been sharing your knowledge you're being paid enough to be able to afford spindles. You're rewarded according to your potential value to a swarm.’

‘I've learned that everything here hinges around swarming.’

‘Of course. Arkadel is a swarm hive. Our lives here are a preparation for swarming. We try not to be distracted by worldly interests. We used to see cyb activities as frivolous, but that's changed. Now we welcome cybs and have introduced The Season to allow constrained contact between our worlds. People have recognised that you have valuable contributions to make.’

Chapter 47: Science

They chatted through the meal. When Avery arrived he detoured past their table stopping momentarily to give them a smile and nod – first Abigail then Mary. The conversation returned to the AMBO caucus.

‘The feeling of the group is now eager anticipation. Your presence last night seems to have shifted some views quite radically,’ adding with a laugh, ‘Most unscientific of us, don't you agree?’

Mary followed her laugh then took a philosophical tone. ‘Evidence and science will decide in the end, but where does it start? How do we ask the right questions in the first place?

‘My science is the study of the evolution of ideas – how a particular idea germinates and spreads through a society or subculture within it. I have a lot of observation, raw data, and models, but not much in the way of solid conclusions let alone a testable scientific theory.’

‘I've watched your broadcasts. They're entertaining and a valuable insight into Arkadelian life. When newcomers ask me about Arkadel, their questions fall into two main categories: those who just want basic tips on how to survive comfortably here without upsetting the locals, and those who want to understand the place. With the latter group I've suggested that they watch you.

‘I've wondered how you create your maps – the detail and dynamics. I'm not immersed in Arkadel life enough to tell how accurate they are, but it's obvious that your viewers accept them as realistic. You must ask many people many questions covering many topics.’

‘My methods aren't totally secret, but the information I gather is confidential at a personal level. I can't even access the raw information myself. I don't ask specific questions – usually just the usage of particular words. By looking at the correlations between different words I can deduce the prominence of different topics from day to day and on smaller timescales during my broadcasts.’

‘I see. Do many people participate?’

‘A majority of the population did at my peak. It dropped off while I was away and not making the broadcasts.

‘I've looked at historical data, too – public comments and literature going back centuries. Others have even studied the evolution of our understanding of evolution by looking at the early usage of words such as “competition” and “selection” in past literature. That's one of the standard examples.

‘Charles Darwin's grandfather, Erasmus Darwin, talked about evolution, even suggesting natural selection as the mechanism, and wrote about it before Charles was born. What Charles and Alfred Wallace did was to take advantage of the growing global perspective of their time and collect the data and specimens necessary to turn the speculation of animal and plant breeders into a proper scientific discipline.’

‘You're saying that someone who discovers a particular idea may be picking up what's germinating in the community. That ideas evolve to the point where eventually someone detects intuitively what you do more scientifically.’

‘In a nutshell. Then the scientific tradition provides processes for verification. You and your colleagues are quite right in maintaining scepticism of Tom's ideas, but our discussion has provoked an interest that might lead you to investigate them independently.’

‘Something as unusual as your archies will require close study by specialists before the point of acceptance is reached. Most of us will have to rely on their conclusions.’

‘For those who study an archie themselves, even quite superficially, the point might be reached quite easily. Their novelty will stand out. Others will resist strongly and find it easier to assume a hoax, a delusion, and a growing conspiracy as acceptance broadens.’

‘It comes down to motivation. We in The New Worlds Project are highly motivated to understand micro-ecologies. We want results and don't mind if others see us as foolish along the way. Others who have been teaching the orthodox view for decades will resist.’

‘As they should if it's a reasoned response, but history suggests that many will refuse to look for themselves claiming that to do so would just add credence to the hoax. It's been said that science progresses one funeral at a time.’

‘I can understand that you're disappointed that the AMBO caucus hasn't reacted to the announcement of the archies with the enthusiasm you obviously feel, but I hope you don't see this as reflecting a lack of flexibility in our thinking. The whole New Worlds Project has been thrown into turmoil as the repercussions of wraith technology have unfolded – are still unfolding. Its impacts are revolutionary, across the project.

‘For example, you've mentioned the possibility of setting up kiloscopes beyond our solar system as something for the future. It's approaching a technical reality now with the emerging designs for balloonscopes constructed by wraiths and with specialist fluff forming the detectors. The same technology can vastly improve long distance communication relays. Then there are the lightweight, multipurpose tools being designed for wraiths – many other new ideas’

‘I see. I was disappointed, but now you've put my position into perspective. I'll need to focus on my own efforts, but I need help. I can't do it alone.’

‘You'll need to recruit from outside New Worlds. We're straining our resources to the maximum at the moment. We're looking into ways of increasing interest and recruitment. You could be a valuable part of the process with your high public profile. Our near-invisibility is one of our self-inflicted weaknesses.’

Chapter 48: Bin Sara

The thought that she might soon be able to re-establish Sara's labs and continue her work jolted Mary out of the gloom that seemed to settle around her when she was alone. A renewed zest for life emerged and she threw herself into planning.

When she had set about to restore Sara's old home, she had taken Tom's advice on sterilising the old labs, extended the cleanup to the whole level, added airlocks to the entrances just as Tom had for his labs, then sealed the whole level off. The building was ready. Now she set her mind to filling it. Her first step was to invite Axel to lunch.

After chatting for a while about what they had each been up to, she turned to her purpose.

‘I have a proposition to put to you. You mentioned that you were thinking of moving from the family home and taking rooms in the Shark Pit. I'm hoping to return to Brindabella soon. Would you be interested in moving here instead – taking over management of the building if you felt inclined. It needn't take up much of your time and I have plans for the building that could bring you some extra income.

‘Since it was handed down to me alone I felt I had some responsibility to restore not just the building but its original purpose – the laboratories and research – but it's larger than I need for that. I think it fair that you have the opportunity to take advantage of the extra space.’

‘I wasn't slighted by your inheritance. You were close to Sara and still are. I didn't get to know her at all. I am interested in your proposal. How do you envisage it working?’

‘This level is far more than I need. We could divide it into two apartments with you taking one. I'm planning to reopen the labs taking up all of that level and, if there is a need, using the level above them as accommodation for researchers – modest rooms with shared dining and other facilities. The other levels could be let – perhaps to wealthy cybs. The O'Macs assure me there's a demand they can't fill.’

‘I'll handle all the management you want except for the labs, of course. You'll have to do that. The income would be welcome. I could buy my own tank. That's been my main aim recently. My studio brought in a good income during The Season, but it's dropped off.’

‘You can use my tank when I've had it fully checked. I'm not sure I want it any more. Right now I can't see myself feeling comfortable in it.’

‘When are you thinking of returning to Brindabella and for how long?’

‘I can't answer either of those questions right now, but I may choose to settle there and just be an occasional visitor here. I'm hoping that Tom will help with the initial organisation of the labs and direct some of the research.

‘A toast?’

‘We really need a name to toast.’

‘Quite right. In Sara's day the buildings were still commonly referred to as bins. I thought Bin Sara had an appropriate old-fashioned ring to it that reflects its history.’

‘To Bin Sara, then!’

‘Bin Sara!’

Chapter 49: The Shoebox

Since leaving Brindabella, Mary had assumed that once she had faced up personally to the accusations of abuse of trust regarding the Aero Club she would return as soon as possible. The cleanup of the rest of Arkadel's messaging systems was now completed. It seemed to her that with a creditable performance in the Tournament she could return to Brindabella with a clear conscience and her self-esteem restored.

With the Tournament only a few days away, she realised that her situation was not so simple. When she had announced that she was returning to Arkadel, George had agreed that it would be for the best, but best for whom? She had just become aware of the significance of the ambiguity. If he was referring to himself or Brindabella then she may need an invitation to return. The protocol was not clear to her. The doubt set her spirits tumbling. She restored them as best she could by intensifying her training to the point where she had no time or energy to be distracted.

The day before the Tournament opened she received a package. It was wrapped in coarse brown paper and tied with string. She knew immediately where it was from. It was addressed Mary Wang of Arkadel in the most beautiful handwriting she'd ever seen. She thought of her own awkward childish script that had barely extended beyond learning to write her name and rarely used since.

She carefully untied the knot and opened the wrapping. It was a neat cardboard box with a neatly fitting lid. Opening it she saw a sheet of fine white paper wrapped loosely about a pair of shoes – the shoes she had worn to the village ball – the shoes she remembered kicking off as she said a final goodnight to Karl and climbed into her bike.

She remembered how she had felt as she leaned against the railing of her landing. Some of that feeling flowed back through her body. She took the shoes and held them – staring at them. This was all the invitation she could possibly want.

Chapter 50: Mary Returns

The Tournament was over and, for Mary, best forgotten. Her few bursts of training hadn't made up for her prolonged lapse. Her spirits were buoyed by the thought that she was now free to return to Brindabella. During the post-Tournament celebrations, someone commented that she was taking her loss of form in good spirits. She felt a little guilty.

She realised that the self-assurance she had experienced on receiving the shoes had waned, so she sent a diplomatically worded message to Tom and Clare to appraise her welcome. The reply from Clare was prompt and succinct.

‘Of course you're welcome you punctilious twit.’

She took off at first light with the intention of retracing the route she and Tom had taken on her first trip to Brindabella. She circled the old volcano, glided a little way south along the coastal escarpment, and swooped low over the beach where they had stopped for lunch, but she didn't land. She just wanted to refresh memories – to put recent months behind her and return to Brindabella mentally as well as physically.

It was mid-afternoon when she flew in low over the Brindabella range – received the automatic request for identity from the Brindabella sensor network and responded automatically. Receiving several additional requests from unidentified sources took her by surprise. She ignored them, checked how accurately her bike's sensors had been able to locate them and landed.

Karl, Tom, and Clare were there to greet her. After a round of hugs and kisses they headed for the Manor.

Mary asked, ‘What's been going on?’

Clare replied, ‘We could ask you the same question.’

‘You're just in time for tea,’ said Karl.

Chapter 51: Catching Up

‘Welcome back to Brindabella ma'am,’ said Winston as it poured. That seemed like an adequate substitute for a hug from George, and she felt her welcome complete.

‘I asked first. I know you have some intruders up on the plain. I saw a network broadcast. It all seemed quite strange.’

Clare provided a summary of the situation, the others interjecting with details.

‘You don't mind having the intruders up there?’

‘We were affronted at first, but we soon realised that they might provide an opportunity for interaction. We have the area well cordoned now.’

‘Aha. A source of data. I understand. Is our conversation here secure?’

‘Probably, but we're not assuming it is.

‘Before you tell us what you've been up to I'd like an explanation for the long silence. I asked George and all he said was that you don't ask an Arkadelian about motives.’

‘As a general rule that's true. Did you ask Winston?’

‘No. It didn't occur to me.’

‘Well, Winston. What's your analysis?’

‘Simply, ma'am, that you were most likely following a not uncommon custom that when someone is accused of an antisocial act they isolate themselves from family and friends until the matter is resolved.’

‘Why? What sense does that make?’

‘It reduces the human inclination to take sides and turn a personal, and possibly transient, problem or misunderstanding into one that divides the whole community, leaving a permanent scar.’

‘That sums it up neatly. Of course it doesn't explain my actions which, in retrospect, might have been executed more diplomatically.’

That evening, after eating in Tom's cottage, Karl pressed Mary for details.

‘I triggered a massive sequence of cascades in the Aero Club messaging systems, or more specifically, in the triggers and relays that the local cyb community had established as camouflage for their own messaging.’

‘I realised that much, but why did you do it when you did?’

‘I'd planned the exercise some time before to clean up what I considered to be a potential security risk for the Club and Arkadel generally. I acted when I did, when the Treaty was about to become a hot topic, to try to isolate a group of cybs who have a particular interest in undermining the Treaty.’

‘Did you achieve your goal?’

‘Yes, not just with the club but eventually for the whole of Arkadel. A new anonymizing service has been established for the cybs and they seem happy with that. The cybs were also creating noise in the messaging systems and undermining the accuracy of my models. That problem is now eliminated.’

‘Adding noise to your data – a travesty of science!’

‘Intolerable!’

‘Anyone for more coffee?’

‘Not for me. I think we should toast Mary's return to her terrestrial nest.’

‘Good thought, mate. I'll see what we have in the chiller.’

‘I meant did you have any success regarding the cybs and the Treaty.’

‘I gained some useful information. It's possible that my concerns were exaggerated. I learned a lot about the cybs while I was staying in the Shark Pit – visited a few of their worlds and caucus rooms. I now have a more balanced view.

‘There are caucuses who are making a positive contribution to the problem of terraforming planets, and some who are interested in looking at the role archies might play. There are many things I'd like to talk with you about, Tom, particularly how far you've progressed in creating an experimental kit for outside verification.’

‘I've made good progress there despite the distractions. I've built miniature versions of my habitat trays and I'm cultivating clones of my original samples. These will do for basic testing – enough to convince people that the archies are a genuine, newly discovered, variety of amoeba.’

‘When will they be ready?’

‘When I have the documentation prepared and have the go-ahead from George. He wants to see things settle down more before we stir the hornets' nest again. We can proceed with negotiations if we keep a low profile.’

‘I'd like to be among the first release if I can organise my labs in time. I've sterilised the whole level that Sara's labs were in, following your instructions, and added airlocks to each lab.’

‘Are your building renovations complete?’

‘Yes, and it's been moved back into the city centre. I've named it Bin Sara. If the cyb group decide to be involved, I've suggested a fully automated lab staffed by bots. Is that plausible?’

‘Not just plausible but recommended. Risk of contamination is high. The new proto-archies have weaker defences than the natural ones, but that will improve in time. I need to minimise failures. I don't want people deterred by negative reports – that it's too difficult.’

‘I've initially divided the level into three separate labs – one for the cybs to work in, and another for public verification staffed by people who are known and prepared to discuss their results publicly and take professional responsibility for them. I was hoping that you might suggest people who would be able and willing to work there.’

‘I have been given the name of someone who might be interested, but whether she would be prepared to move to Brindabella is a problem. Having a lab in Arkadel broadens our options and saves the expense of setting up new labs here.’

‘The critical point is that if they were working here their credibility would be no greater than yours alone. Critics could suggest that you influenced their results.’

‘Of course. I wasn't only thinking of verification, just helping me and doing some work on their own initiative if they wished. Arkadel is an ideal starting point. It has a strong reputation for trust and reliability. I like it. What are you planning for the third lab?’

‘I'm keeping it as a possible chemical production unit if the option becomes viable.’

‘Gwen is involved in negotiations with interested parties in Bath. I'll let her know of your interest.’

‘She will have guessed as much after my foray into the chemical markets with Binny Cheung.’

‘Then I presume she'll expect you to go further. She hasn't said anything to me. The fact that you beat her to it puts you in a strong position. She'll have made allowances.’

‘Enough of Arkadel and business for now. I want to hear about what's been happening here. Has the intrusion gone further than the hillock circus?’

‘There have been three other drops of wraiths in the valley that we know of. The first was in the village. I'll leave it to Dot to tell you about that one. The second was in the little pool near Melissa's van, and the third here. All were quickly mopped up. I'm quite confident that none have gone undetected. I've increased the density of our sensor network.

‘There are continual intrusions around the boundaries. They've tried creeping slowly, sprinting, bouncing downhill, mimicry, thin lines, and rolling clumps. Our responses have been equally diverse. Winston's defence knowledge doesn't include wraiths, but Eric Olsen's been particularly creative with strategy and tactics.

‘His strategy is to keep them confused with varying tactics – a moving target. He likes to play games and put on a performance. Like the hillock, he sees them as an audience rather than attackers – a hostile audience he has to win over.’

‘Could they overwhelm your defences with sheer numbers – fluff mass?’

‘We've a good supply of mass, but if things become serious the villagers will retreat to the Manor and the cottagers will seal up and communicate by way of their back lanes. Beyond wraiths, the only threat is an attack by out-zone bots we can't deactivate. Out-zoners are independent, so not likely to mount a coordinated effort. They have no obvious motive and most would side with us anyway. Some of the cottagers were previously out-zoners and married into the valley.’

‘We have the resources to counter any plausible attack. We also have the captives. I've been trying to identify the manufacture with no success yet. You've a much wider experience than me there. Perhaps you can help.’

‘I'll try. It sounds like an interesting challenge. I have details on most of the major manufacturers from my wing design days.’

‘Good. We can discuss that later. Right now we can give you a far better view of what's been happening on the hillock than you saw on the network feeds. Eric, and now his daughter Beth, have been handling that. You'll remember him from the ball.’

‘I remember Eric and I've seen some of his work – Tom's avatars. What's he up to now?’

‘As Clare said, he's trying to stage manage the activities on the hillock.’

‘Do the intruders know that?’

‘Not yet, as far as we can tell, but they'll realise eventually when he starts in earnest. So far he's just testing his wraiths and getting a feel of the audience. His theme is children's stories.’

‘I presume you've seen what father is doing. Is he trying something similar?’

‘Yes, but Eric's not using my parent's stories, but others that are more widely known – traditional ones.’

Chapter 52: Dome Theatre

‘We also have a secret performer waiting in the wings – one who will really stir the hornet's nest.’

‘Who's that?’

‘His name is Rudy and he's a friend of Spearmaker's. You might remember him as The Historian.’

‘An archie!’

‘With a human archive like Spearmaker but far more extensive – dozens or hundreds of stories – his personal life story, children's stories, and the traditional stories of his culture.’

‘That's astounding. Another one. Are there more?’

‘Spearmaker has heard of a few, but those two seem to be the only ones represented in the colony.’

‘After all I experienced last year, I still have difficulty comprehending and accepting what you found.’

‘It wasn't just me. We all played a part in the discovery.’

‘I think of Spearmaker as a small snippet of the past like your blue archive – the word “blue” recorded in the ripples of a painter's brush stroke – a freak chance. This puts things in a totally different perspective.’

‘Rudy's appearance changed my view of things, too.’

‘It sheds a different light on some of the scare stories that are being spread about the archies.’

‘Such as?’

‘The singing well – a voice coming from a village well.’

‘Not very likely. We had to frequency shift electrical signals before any resemblance to a voice emerged.’

‘Different sized archies or pools giving different resonant frequencies?’

‘Improbable.’

‘What about coffins, then?’

‘What about them?’

‘They say it's the reason people were buried in coffins – to stop archies getting to them.’

‘Well, that one really is plain silly. People are well and truly dead by the time they're buried and if they weren't, archies would be the last thing to worry about.’

‘What other stories are going around?’

‘The main one is that archies have already taken over peoples' minds.’

‘More nonsense.’

‘Perhaps not. What about my augmentation?’

‘Mmm, still highly improbable. Even if it wasn't, I'd rather have an archie squatting in my attic than have my head filled with scare stories by people wanting to manipulate my behaviour for their own political or commercial ends.’

‘Same here.’

‘I want to hear more about this Rudy character.’

‘Not much more we can tell you for now. Melissa is working through Spearmaker's memories of his stories, but it's slow progress. Rudy himself is still trying to make the transition. Spearmaker was fortunate in having Melissa who was familiar with his language, or had enough common ground to make contact.’

‘Show her Eric's snow dome presentation.’

‘Good idea.’

… Nobody is taking the boy's cries for help seriously and the wolf is circling closer and closer. Turning slowly to face the wolf, he holds his stick firmly with both hands and pointing to the ground as he was taught – not waving it about. …

‘The figure is guesswork based on possible ethnic origins, but you can see the idea.’

‘It's beautiful. Do you have an actual dome or just imagery?’

‘Just images. He doesn't have the means here to make the dome, but I suppose he could. He's interested in using wraiths, so he will have that in mind.’

‘New Shanghai would have the glass blowing facilities to make a large dome – a metre across would be a good size – on a wooden stand to lift it up a little.’

‘We could have a dome made in town. Plastic would do.’

‘I think it must be glass, and using a little more than the hemisphere.’

‘You're very serious all of a sudden. What do you have in mind?’

‘It's father. His voice is failing. Catrina told me a few days ago that she thought he wouldn't be able to continue much longer. The networks are using repeats to fill the demand, but she wants to continue in the park. It's come to life again with other activities and entertainments – even other storytellers. Hundreds of children go there every day. Father still goes and sits, watching, but he can only speak for two brief sessions.

‘She's thinking of setting up a screen, but the dome would be much better. Wraiths could be used for scenery and change as the stories progress. That would give the stories new life. Have your parents dramatised their stories?’

‘Not my parents, but others did long ago when they were at their peak popularity. Eric intends to try, but he decided to start with well known stories. Is your father well?’

‘He's sad about his voice going, but it'll return with rest. Otherwise, he's in excellent spirits. It's the kind of thing he's always wanted to do, but his shy nature has stopped him. Speaking with Catrina while her family were in Arkadel spurred him into action. He started with your parents' stories, but he's gradually included the traditional stories he heard as a child, in the same park.

‘He's rekindled the tradition of the park, but he's concerned that it might fade if he stops now. Catrina thinks differently. He's still the main attraction, but activity has reached a point where it would continue without him.

‘She's keen to see the networks stay. She wants to show the world that New Shanghai culture has the strength to face-off the scare. She experienced it on their family travels and was horrified to see people living in baseless fear, and she was impressed with those who were resisting it. She thinks she can help them.

‘She's also developed a close friendship with the porta-cam who deals with the networks. The royalties have built up to a substantial sum that she's putting aside until she can contact your parents. They seem to have disappeared. I offered to pass their share on to you and let you deal with it.’

‘They're in Bath, moving about staying with friends. It's a good show of solidarity, but they'd be happy not to have to rely on hospitality. Bath is an expensive place to stay, and their book sales have dwindled in recent years.’

‘We can send them an instalment immediately. They can negotiate with Catrina later.’

Clare interjected, ‘Enough money talk, you two. I want to hear more about Mary's exploits in Arkadel, the Arkadel strangler, cyb worlds, your renovated building – what your plans are for it apart from setting up some labs.’ She was only slightly curious about the last point, but added it because she knew Karl wouldn't dare to raise it.

Mary contacted Eric immediately and told him what she was thinking. The next morning a message was waiting for her. He pointed to a corner of his studio and zoomed in to a model of her father sitting on the bench reading, a slight breeze stirring the plum trees behind him. All it lacked was the dome.

‘Is this what you had in mind?’

‘It's perfect. That was quick.’

‘It was a long and uneventful night on the hillock for me now Beth has taken over my role. I just watch to see if there are signs of other children joining in. I had plenty of time on my hands.

‘Are they?’

‘I think so, or the adults are becoming more playful. It's hard to tell.’

‘How difficult is it to set up a scene?’

‘It's automated to the point where anyone can set up a scene and control it after a little practice. It's quite trivial if you have two-dimensional visuals from multiple angles to build from.

‘I intend to build physical domes but on a smaller scale than you want – fifteen or twenty centimetres. Scaling to a metre should be no great problem if you can get the dome blown and accumulate enough fluff. You'll want a much denser matrix than I'm using here for a more solid appearance and smoother animation.’

Within the hour Catrina was planning her dome theatre.

Chapter 53: Swarms & Archies

The next day, Eli invited a few people for dinner. Some of the cottagers had expressed an interest in meeting Mary. There were sixteen around the table.

After an hour or so of general discussion, mainly about archies and Arkadel, Tom said to Mary, ‘Last night when you were describing your excursions into the cyb worlds, you said you discussed the relevance of the archies to the swarms. How can archies help explore the galaxy?’

‘I was speaking with people who were looking into the next galactic phase – terraforming. They're investigating ways of accelerating the evolutionary process. It comes down to a similar problem to the one you face with your work with fisheries systems but on a much larger scale.’

‘If they try to accelerate evolution they could create instabilities that cause the ecology to collapse.’

‘Yes. That's a problem. They've been experimenting for most of the last century, but the direction that evolution takes is sensitive to things like initial conditions or the degree of variety in niches – the geography – and they can't know in advance what that will be.

‘They're trying to establish general principles that might hold over a wide range of initial atmospheres and starlight energy spectrums. Progress has been slow, but there has been some recent success that's spurred interest in the area.

‘My interest, stemming from Sara, is in the third phase – habitation. Few people have given it serious thought. It's too hard. We can only consider transporting flesh and blood humans to planets in our near-stellar neighbourhood and there are no obvious candidate planets.

‘Sara's insight was that if we could see a possible way of establishing intelligent life quickly it would increase interest in the search for potentially habitable planets rather than just the gas giants needed to fuel the swarms.’

‘She didn't know about Spearmaker.’

‘No. That adds an interesting dimension. Semi-human habitation at an early stage. We need a new name for archies with human archives.’

‘I've thought of “anthroparch”, but I'm not convinced.’

‘What do you think, Tom?’

‘The distinction will blur when archies have more contact with humans. You once made a comparison with Sara PA Mary – a branch of Sara PA but more substantial than many individual PAs. Spearmaker is still basically an archie. Having human memories doesn't fundamentally change that.’

‘Establishing archies at an early evolutionary stage, say the equivalent of Precambrian Earth, is an interesting idea. They could have bots to move about, view the planet, and do things while the archies stay tucked away safely, perhaps in small dome ecosystems, before the whole planet is terraformed.’

‘Transporting bots would be slow with all their mass but much faster than transporting humans or some sort of gestation tanks.’

‘We're not looking at transporting bots in the exploratory swarms but as follow-up once terraforming has started. The latest spindle designs are dense fluff except for the axial drive. The idea is that they reform into wraiths on landing.’

‘More wraiths. This really is the Wraith Era, isn't it.’

‘Life follows art.’

‘They're very versatile. How's your hillock party going?’

‘Quiet at the moment. I'm waiting for the original intruders to become bored with it. I'll show some highlights later for those who haven't seen them.’

‘It's a bit like what we were talking about isn't it – us tucked away safely underground controlling the wraiths outside.’

‘This is all a bit over my head. What's a spindle?’

Eric displayed an image on the dining room wall.

‘Something like this,’ and set it slowly zooming in. ‘The long axial structure is the drive tube and scaffolding. The wheel structure, known as the whorl, is the control unit and cargo.’

‘There are no windows. How can people see out?’

‘Ahh. I haven't included a scale. It's only about twenty centimetres long – no people – just someone's PA as controller. There are thousands of small optical sensors across the surface of the whorl that act together like the compound eyes of insects.’

‘Now it's making more sense. So a swarm is lots of these.’

‘Tens of thousands now, but eventually millions. The duplication gives redundancy. Space isn't empty. There are high-energy particles and dust that can damage a spindle travelling at high speeds and even put it out of action. With the fluff-based designs, we expect to be able to save most of the fluff. Collisions will just damage individual milli-bots, not the whole whorl.

‘The lifespan of spindles is a critical factor in galactic exploration. We can reduce damage by generating strong magnetic fields to deflect particles, clearing a path ahead of the spindles, and by lining spindles up so the lead spindles that are most at risk have the strongest defence. The rest are safer in their wake.’

‘What drives the spindles?’

‘Like any bot, fusion is used to generate electrical fields, but instead of using the energy to move legs to push against the ground or, with a bike, to push against ionised air or water, the spindles have to create their own propellant to push against. They use the atomic nuclei that are the end product of the fusion chain, and accelerate them to high velocities.

‘Pushing the particles back accelerates the spindle forward. Lining the drive shafts up allows the rear ones to use the expelled propellant of the first spindle, accelerating it more as it passes along the chain.

‘This gives high efficiency and we expect to achieve velocities that are a significant fraction of the speed of light, but we won't know till we travel deeper into interstellar space and find out how much matter is there and how it varies. Clearing the space ahead costs energy. Mapping the clearest and safest paths is an important goal for the initial swarms. The information we have from past interstellar probes is sparse.’

‘Amazing. And you plan to be part of these expeditions?’

‘It's the goal of most Arkadelians.’

‘They see their life as a preparation for the PA afterlife, here and across the galaxy.’

Chapter 54: Quick Exit

‘I won't be going to the Refreshment Park with you today. I'm leaving as soon as I'm organised.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘I don't know yet, but I'm going to leave voluntarily before I'm pushed.’

‘Why? What's wrong? Have you done something wrong, offended someone senior?’

‘No and yes. It's the protection kit I sent my family. The word went around that it was a vaccine and the company were only supplying it to staff and their families. They've been inundated with demands and complaints.

‘I've been told that I may have breached company policy, which I didn't. I followed standard procedure. There's to be an inquiry and I'll be the scapegoat. They're averse to controversy. I'm in the right, but I can't fight it. I don't have the skills, or the resources to get help. They can't stop me leaving, so I'm going. I can't return to my family. They've excommunicated me again. I'll be homeless, unemployable, and soon destitute.’

‘That's terrible. What can I do to help?’

‘Nothing. It's good to have someone to talk to, though. I hope we can keep in touch.’

‘Well, you needn't be homeless. You can stay with my parents until you're sorted out. You're good at what you do, one of the best, so someone will employ you.’

‘You're comforting, as usual. Perhaps I am overreacting.’

‘Of course you are. When do you plan to leave?’

‘I'm going today. I need to move quickly. Things are escalating and only my leaving will change that.’

‘Right, then. We'll go to my parents and, hey, you don't even have a bike. You'll have to come in mine.’

‘I don't want to drag you into this. I started it and I must see it through. It would just make me feel worse if I thought I had damaged your career, too.’

‘Don't be silly. If you're going then I'm going, too. I'm not going to stay around working for people who treat their staff so shabbily.’

‘Now you're the one who's overreacting.’

‘No, I'm not. I'm thinking fast. If they have an enquiry they'll want to quiz my PA and they'll find that I knew of your actions in advance, so they'll see me as an accomplice. They won't want me around talking to others about what happened.’

‘I'm afraid you're right. I'm deeply sorry.’

‘Don't be. The thought of flying off into the blue with you is the best thing that's come to my mind in ages, except in my dreams, perhaps.

‘I left my family, friends, and their small community because I could see there was nobody there that I could be really close to. For years I've been almost totally alone, lost in my work, till I came here and met you. I've grown to think you feel the same. At the very least you'll appreciate my company while you sort yourself out.’

‘I'm sure you feel as you say right now, but you should take time to think it through. Act in haste and repent at leisure – penurious leisure.’

‘No. I want to seize the day. I have ample savings to keep both of us till we find work. We're a good team. As a team we'll find work more easily than either of us would alone.’

‘Are you sure your parents won't mind you taking me there?’

‘You're already invited. I've mentioned you a few times and they want to meet you. I can be ready in half an hour. What about you?’

‘I'm packed and ready to go.’

‘Then bring your things to my room. I'll hire two drones for the servants and baggage.’

Chapter 55: Rescue

‘Ratty,’ said Mole suddenly as they sat in quiet contemplation on the grass of the riverbank after a fine breakfast. ‘I have just received some interesting news.’

‘News, news, how can you think of news on such a fine morning. The world downriver seems so far away at a time like this. The ducks a-dabbling …’

‘The wasps a-plundring.’

‘Oh, let it be. We've had our suffice. It's needs are small and its moods volatile.’

‘It seems that I may be obliged to scurry off for a few days.’

‘As you do. As you do. Where to this time?’

‘Do you remember my friends, the Thompsons?’

‘I remember you mentioning them, but we've not met.’

‘They have no children of their own, but their neighbours they have a son. I met him when he was young – difficult childhood – bright and restless – often sought refuge in their library. He left home, and their small community, as soon as he could do so.

‘It seems that he and a friend are, as you say, in the little pickle. They flee and turn up in the village unannounced. As it happens to be an inconvenient time for his parents they stay with the Thompsons. One or both may be just what Nightingale is looking for to work with the Cub.’

Chapter 56: Recruits

‘So, your recruits are arriving today?’ asked Karl who had just been told about them.

‘Nothing's finalised. I've spoken with them and they seem keen and well qualified. Gloria Smith is the more practical of the two and has a broader background. It was her work that landed them in trouble. I heard of Michael, or his work, a few years ago. He's a theoretician with narrow but relevant experience.

‘They've been working together recently and are offering their services as a team. They married in Bath and have been taking the trip here at a leisurely pace as a brief honeymoon.’

‘Gwen said they left their last employment under a cloud,’ said Clare with a quizzical look at Tom.

‘I didn't bring it up with them. Gwen thought they'd made a naive error and were blameless. I wish they'd been more precise about their arrival time. I'd rather be at work than sitting around down here waiting for them, but I must be here when they arrive.’

‘Give them a break! Remember how organised were we on our honeymoon. We almost missed Melissa's wedding.’

‘True. I'll have a wander about the shrubbery and think. I should work out what I'm going to say to them, but I need to know their interests better. Details can wait.’

‘Would you like to take a walk?’ Karl asked Mary. ‘There's a spot down the river I'd like to show you.’

They wandered off.

‘What's he about?’

‘I've no idea, but they've barely had half an hour alone together since she returned. You might try to monopolise Mary's time a little less. I'm going to the village to see Dotty. I'll be back when they arrive.’

Chapter 57: Vantage Point

Mary and Karl walked in silence. She took his hand to steady herself as they climbed over a stile and kept it – firmly. She hadn't been down this way before. It was open farmland with cattle and sheep grazing. As they walked close by a cow it lifted its head and stared at them through huge dark orbs.

They stopped on an embankment that rose a metre or more above the field. Karl turned a complete circle looking about.

‘Well, what do you think?’

‘It's flat down here. Quite a contrast to the gullies. The hills really are blue from a distance, aren't they.’

‘Quite. Isn't there something about the gullies that disappoints you?’

‘You're being cryptic.’

‘Horizons, horizons.’

‘Oh. I see what you mean. Yes, sometimes the gullies do seem very enclosed. There's so little of the sky to be seen.’

‘Precisely. Here we have the broadest view of the sky that the valley offers. As a child I used to stay with relatives in the farmhouse up there. I first noticed this rise when I looked out the window one morning and the fields were covered by a thin blanket of fog. Just this rise was showing like a green island in a soft white sea. The image is still clear in my mind.’

‘Do you think your relatives would mind if we put a telescope here?’

‘I asked them years ago and they had no objection. They said I'd need to fence off an area from the cattle. I'll ask again.’

‘And a little dome?’

‘Of course. Come up to the house and meet them – just briefly. Then we should return to the Manor and wait for the visitors. I should warn you that the farmers down here are not like the villagers. They're real Georgians. They have little to do with modern machines, but telescopes are fine.

‘Telescopes were old and familiar technology by Georgian times. We have lens makers in the valley who grind spectacle lenses. I'm sure they could teach us how to grind our own mirror for a telescope if we wanted to make one ourselves.’

Chapter 58: Bridal Suite

‘Really? You have a bridal suite? That's great.’

‘While you're here we do. Come and I'll show you. You've an hour or more to settle in before the first dinner gong.’

‘A four-poster bed and huge fireplace, the panelling, the paintings. This room is fit for royalty.’

‘I lit the fire yesterday morning and it's been burning strong since then. These big rooms are hard to heat even in this mild weather. There'll be plenty of hot water for the bath. It's through there.

‘The servant with the blue head is yours till your own arrive. If there's anything you need, just ask. I'll leave you to settle in. Start running a bath straight away. It takes a while.’

‘Thank you, Clare. It's great to feel so welcome.’

‘It certainly is.’

Clare left after waving a servant towards the bathroom.

‘I can see why it takes a while to fill. It's huge. I've never had a bath, have you?’

‘Not for many years. Let's rest for a while. I'm weary.

‘Tell us when it's ready.’

‘The bath was great. I feel so relaxed. There's the first dinner gong. Do we need to dress?’

‘I'm certainly not going down like this.’

‘I mean dress formally.’

‘I presume so. Clare didn't say.’

‘Our luggage hadn't arrived then. Our clothes will be crushed. We didn't pack very carefully.’

‘They were pressed while we were in the bath.’

‘We need to move quickly, or we'll be late.’

Chapter 59: Skills

At breakfast, Clare had suggested that the four Manor residents have a quiet evening meal together. Tom had volunteered to organise the meal rather than leave it to the Manor kitchen and his preparations were well under way.

He chose to start with a Brindabella specialty, wallaby wellingtons. Thin sliced, Arkadel style, had become the standard since Mary had introduced the idea. These would be accompanied by a full range of sauces to dip each slice rather than pour – another Arkadelian touch that had found favour.

For the main, he chose coddled cod with his own variant – tomatoes spiced and fried down to produce a deep rich flavour – added in dollops, on serving, to contrast with the light watery tomato sauce the fish was baked in.

To complete the meal, he chose a range of deserts from the standard menu, and as a specialty – something he expected would be a rare treat for the guests – he visited several of the climate-controlled greenhouses in cottager's backyards to view the current berry crop.

He arranged for some to be freshly picked late afternoon and took some with him to reduce down to a rich sauce in keeping with the Arkadelian taste contrast theme of the meal. On the way back to the Manor he dropped in at the bakery to order bread rolls, fresh cream, and some of Dorothy's ice cream. Everyone agreed it was better than that made in the manor kitchen.

The meal was as informal as the servants' habits would allow. They discussed the valley, with Tom summarising the various subcultures – the strict Georgian life of the farmers, the more casual approach of the predominantly Janeite village and Manor, the diversity of the gullies, each with its own idiosyncrasies.

The guests were cautiously quizzed about the impact of the amoeba scare in their old workplace, their family communities, and their observations on their travels. They responded enthusiastically having decided between themselves that they had become quite experts on the topic.

‘Is it showing any signs of abating?’

Gloria responded. ‘It might be, but what's struck us most is the volatility of it. Take my family as an example. One day they seem terrified then with just a slight hope of relief they were back to their normal selves then a week or so later they are back to fear. My brother is the most extreme. He's embedded in the mood of his fellow students. My parents are a little more detached from it all.

‘Michael's family and their friends are more isolated than mine. They expressed serious concern and sympathy, but they didn't seem to see it as problem for themselves.’

‘What about your work colleagues? They're scientists and some must have specialist knowledge in the area?’

‘Most of the scientists there knew little about the subject, or chose not to discuss it. We were the only ones with practical experience, as far as I know. We didn't discuss it openly.’

‘Occasionally someone would comment on how lucky we all were to live in a weather-domed complex. I didn't dare contradict them.’

‘Did they go outside the dome?’

‘Not as often as previously, but, like us, that was mainly because of the inconvenience of going through decontamination when we returned. All totally pointless, of course.’

‘We had to watch what we said and keep a serious demeanour in public. I tried to relax when I was alone, but it's hard when you've had to appear anxious all day. It becomes a habit. There were a few self-appointed and overzealous mood police in the complex, but they usually weren't scientists.’

Tom, who took the subject more personally than Clare, had had enough. He changed the topic.

‘Our scientific success has come from the close co-operation of people with diverse individual skills. Your skills would complement those we have at hand very well. Mine are in aquatic ecologies. Clare is the dry land ecologist with an emphasis on dry – soils and above ground. Karl's specialty is carbon technology – the mathematics and logic more than physical construction.

‘Mary is more of an entrepreneur and manager, but she also has mathematical training and renowned expertise in modelling social dynamics – only people till now, but she thinks her techniques can be applied to group dynamics in other species.

‘If you decide to stay on, she'll be your employer as she is mine – a retainer plus shares in any commercial outcomes. She's prepared to take on anyone I recommend and I've already told her that you exceed my expectations.’

‘That's the arrangement we've been used to.’

‘Here we have the advantage of knowing what you want, in part, at least’

‘I'm not totally clear on what to suggest. With your broad skills we can sort through my too-hard basket and see what interests you. You, Michael, are an unexpected bonus. Gloria said you were the real genetics expert. It's not a strength of mine, but I've managed to muddle through so far by understanding a few functions of the amoebal genome. There are some interesting new developments there that should challenge you.’

‘The archie memory problem?’

‘Yes. With Karl's help we've cracked part of their coding, but how they use it is a total mystery to me.’

‘I've worked on epigenetics and quorum sensing. They seem to be the keys.’

Clare interjected, ‘Now, Tom, enough technical discussion. Isn't it time you started talking about coffee?’

Chapter 60: The Compendium

Catrina wasted no time organising her dome. The glass took a little longer than expected, but as compensation she was offered a slightly defective reject for testing and rehearsals. It was only then that she realised she should have ordered two in the first place.

She had ordered two stands. A simple one was ready in a few days. The more elaborate handcrafted one Mary had envisaged would be ready soon.

Fluff was a scarce commodity in New Shanghai. She put in an order with the sole local manufacturer and accepted Mary's offer of an immediate shipment from Arkadel. Training it was as easy as Eric had promised. The three dimensional animation was automatically generated from the accumulated visual streams with just some simple editing needed – technically simple, that is.

As Wang Mang had started to tell traditional tales, his audience of children and parents was augmented by people of his generation and older – people who remembered the park storytellers of their childhood. While delighted to hear the stories retold for a new generation they were also fastidious.

They debated the wording and, when they came to an agreement, suggested changes, which Wang Mang gratefully accepted. They suggested changes to the order in which the stories were told and proffered additional ones. As they grew familiar with the Brindabella stories they included them in their compendium, where appropriate, to show how the stories transcended time and culture.

Catrina's porta-cam business partner, and now close friend, James Zhu had fostered the group of critics and become their record taker. He undertook the role of editor, going through the multiple narrations and selecting the best to form a canonical compendium. Only when this had been vetted by the critics and Wang Mang did he start to edit it for presentation in the dome.

The launch of the dome created a sensation throughout New Shanghai and was attracting a growing interest beyond.

Chapter 61: Jarred

It might have been coincidence, but a few days after the New Shanghai dome performance there was a change in mood on the hillock. Some of the original wraiths had become inactive and lay about as clumps. Suddenly a market developed for them and prices escalated by the hour.

A menagerie of characters and creatures started to assemble each night. Eric and Beth were not sure that this was the audience they had been anticipating, but decided, regardless, to start the process that would build up to their pantomime. A week later they were ready for their first performance.

It started with the crowd of wraiths milling about the hillock clearing and a song in the distance – an adaptation of a traditional song produced by Tom and Karl a few years ago and sung by Tom. The sound, at first faint, plaintive, and a little eerie, grew closer, louder, and bolder.

… which shines upon me like a million suns, it calls me on and on across the universe.

The tall thin figure of Jarred, king of the goblins, strode into the main clearing – long yellow hair spiky wild – voice in crescendo – three crystal balls rolling around and through his fingers and hands – eyes gleaming at the sky as if challenging the very stars themselves.

He moved to the centre of the clearing and rotated slowly – eyeing each of those nearest to him in turn – the balls rolling around his fingers and hands in a smooth rhythmical motion – the nearest wraiths backing away from him. He circled the space, expanding it with each circuit until the scattered crowd had formed a ring around the edge of the clearing.

He strolled back to the centre and stood – the balls still rolling about his long thin fingers – his body rocking slightly to their rhythm except for his head, which was perfectly still – eyes scanning the audience – the music fading.

Eric and Beth watched anxiously in his studio looking for a reaction – Jarred's hands slowing as he fixed his gaze on the three Fireys – their agitation the only movement in the stunned circle.

Suddenly they jumped forward and started to dance wildly about. One of them threw a clump to the ground that formed thin flickering flames and they danced around them – their long red fur flailing about them like flames.

Eric breathed a loud sigh. ‘That was a close thing. Thank you, thank you, whoever you are. You're on, Beth. Cue Sara.’

Sara walked boldly into the ring and standing at a distance from Jarred confronted him.

‘Where's Toby? I want my little brother back.’

Jarred replied haughtily in a deep resonant voice, ‘It's too late now. You've had your wish.’

The Fireys started laughing and screeching – dancing about Sara – throwing their heads into the air – kicking them about the ring. Others in the ring came to life.

Sara's entourage gathered around her. Sir Didymus waved his staff at Jarred challenging him. As Jarred turned to face him, glaring, his fluffy canine steed, teeth chattering with fear, slipped quickly from under him and ran out of the ring.

Didymus picked himself up from the ground with as much dignity as he could muster and called, ‘Ambrosius, come back here at once!’

The show had begun.

Chapter 62: Tactical Manoeuvres

The intruders had been testing the valley defences – testing techniques – probing for weaknesses. While they had been testing and learning, Winston had been learning, too – about fluff and wraiths. It reviewed the anatomical details, strength, senses, communications, and movements of the milli-bots used. It reviewed the possible ways the bots could link and the basic geometrical configurations these allowed for the wraith matrix.

It used abstract geometrical theories from Karl's mathematical library to map out the possible transformations of matrix geometries. It used his core rules for PA logic to gain a grasp of the possible sensory and behavioural repertoire of wraiths of a particular geometry and size.

Armed with this knowledge, it looked at Karl's analysis of the captured wraiths and determined their position within the abstract map of possibilities, and plotted possible transformation paths. Only then was it able to integrate fluff technology into the tactical and strategic defence plans that it and other Winstons had developed over the past century.

Meanwhile, Karl, after careful analysis, had been reducing the captives to raw fluff, mixing it together, and forming clumps with no coherent traces of prior memory and instruction. It was then deployed in the general defence force or dropped onto the hillock to boost Eric's house audience.

The intruders' most successful technique employed balls wound from thin streamers of fluff. As the balls rolled and bounced down into the valley they shed lengths of streamer that later stealthily reassembled into small wraiths, which gathered when they could to merge, or just waited.

The main weakness of the approach was that in the wrong terrain the streamers would become caught up in the litter and undergrowth and couldn't reform. Eventually they discovered areas of smooth ground that they could travel. They explored some of these to see how far they could go. Others they left for later.

A wraith's sight is initially poor until it builds up an image of its surroundings, but Clare quickly recognised that the preferred paths of the streamer balls was along the networks of wallaby tracks. These had long been mapped in detail. At intervals along each significant track they placed pairs of clumps – the first trained to form a net across the track, the second to spray a thin quick-setting glue.

Clare had made no public comment on the intruders. She left that to George who had ready access to the advice and resources of Bath. He had made a formal statement when the intruders had first arrived.

He was his usual affable self, starting with an apology for the limited tourist facilities at Brindabella. He noted that the wraith intrusions were contrary to general spirit of Treaty obligations and pointed to the need to rectify deficiencies in the Treaty regarding wraith technology.

The Arkadel Protocol Caucus issued a statement soon after. While not referencing George or the situation at Brindabella directly, they outlined the difficulties involved in adapting the Treaty in its present form since processes had become deadlocked. They reiterated an earlier proposal for two interzonal task forces – the first to look at structural change, the second to coordinate and evaluate complaints of unfair impacts.

Taking daily advice from Winston, Clare was releasing some general information about the intrusions to the villagers through Dorothy and to the gullies through Eli. They were told that the information was public but were warned against voicing speculation.

Chapter 63: Incursion

A few days after the opening of the pantomime, the main event, the cat and mouse game that had started at the bakery, suddenly changed its style and scale dramatically.

Eric and Eli were the last of the committee to arrive in the Manor meeting room. Clare, Tom, and Karl were sitting at the table watching a large screen showing a map of the valley inset with real-time views of seven locations in the main valley.

‘Good. You made it,’ Clare welcomed them.

‘There's heavy traffic on the transit cable. What's going on?’

‘The intrusion has escalated. The shuttles and bikes on the cable are scanning the gullies. Most of the horse-bots are scanning around cave hill. The action right now is down here in the main valley, but we're expecting it to shift or expand to the hill eventually. That's the only place where they could expect to do any real harm.’

‘Can they?’

‘Not with wraiths alone, but they won't know that. All entrances we know of have vault level security, tested air and water tight. Water ingress at Melissa's pool and egress into the Blue Waterholes is blocked for now. We can sustain that for months without harm to the archies. There are reservoirs above and below that we can circulate if we need to.

‘As long as we're sure that the outer pools are clear, we can allow flow. Even the smallest of wraiths or individual milli-bots can be stopped by the filters. There are multiple layers of security outside and inside the solid vault doors.’

‘We've occasionally wondered whether there are any other archie colonies in the hill. Do we know for sure that there aren't?’

‘The archies say no, but I can't see how they can be sure. Communicating via spores would be one-way downstream or a very roundabout process with spores travelling from the waterholes back up to the pond in the wind. Otherwise they would need physical contact.’

‘How intense is the attack?’

‘Last night we estimate about four kilos of fluff came in, mainly as streamer balls, all down wallaby tracks. We can be sure we didn't miss any large ones elsewhere. You can hear them coming. There may have been smaller incursions we missed.’

‘That's a lot of fluff and expense.’

‘True. Someone is quite serious about this, but at this stage they're still not posing a serious threat.’

‘It's strange. They don't seem to be targeting anything. It's as though they're just testing our defences.’

‘They may be trying to make us shift defences down here away from the hill. We're bringing two of the horse-bots down with ballast in their panniers to make it seem as though we are, and we've changed the patterns of other movements to suggest a strategic change.’

‘We have visual records of some of the skirmishes. I'll run through them so you're up to date. We're looking for suggestions – new tactics or variations to add to Eric's strategic plan.’

The committee met again the next night.

‘As we expected, they targeted Cave Hill last night after an initial feint at the Manor. This time it was airborne using gliders made from thin plastic sheets folded into a paper dart shape and carrying the fluff within the folds.

‘The plastic shielded the fluff from the scanners, but they were visible against the clouds. Even where there were gaps in the clouds they blocked the stars. They also made a noise landing. Those that landed on the Manor or hilltop were mopped up quickly. A few missed their targets and took longer to find.’

‘Was it a repeat of the technique used on the village?’

‘No. Whatever dropped the clumps on the village was more substantial and birdlike – a good glider but also able to flap its wings – pre-carbon technology. It flew off after dumping its load and, as far as we can tell, escaped the valley. There was a strong wind on that night. Last night was still.’

‘How much fluff did they drop?’

‘Less than half a kilo on the Manor and about six on the hill.’

‘The bird would have been far more expensive than the darts.’

‘Also more likely to be traceable. With large numbers they would have lost at least one to us.’

‘Still a lot of fluff. They can't keep dropping these quantities.’

‘It seems so pointless.’

‘Perhaps not if you are living in a community wracked by fear and assuming everyone else is feeling the same.’

‘They may have more techniques they want to try before a major assault, but you're right, it can't go on at this rate. They must know we're reusing it, and they're just adding to our stocks.’

The incursions faded, and on the fifth night Clare reported.

‘Nothing again last night. I'm declaring the threat over, for now. We can stop these regular meetings, but all automated defences will stay on full alert.’

‘They may be waiting for the right wind conditions or to accumulate more fluff.’

‘They haven't hit the gullies seriously. They could be waiting for a strong easterly.’

Tom was bored. ‘As I keep repeating, why do they bother?’

‘Eli and I have been discussing that. Tell them what you think.’

‘It's just an idea. We can't see any concrete evidence to support it.’

‘Tell us anyway.’

‘Well, whenever I'm confronted with inexplicable behaviour and try to work out who might be responsible, the question I ask is who stands to gain? Cui bono? We've been assuming that the motivation is a combination of fear and revenge – perhaps, also, an attempt to physically attack the archies.

‘We've agreed that the archie fear campaign was generated mainly for commercial gain – greed when it takes a malevolent form. In our case here I think it is greed but from a different source – the fluff manufacturers.

‘Eric says they've been increasing production for several years, but it's still generally seen as an oddity with little practical value besides packaging and artistic experimentation. Perhaps they've dumped surplus fluff on us in an attempt to trial it as a weapon, as publicly as possible. They've built up an audience with the network drones, and now they're putting on a show. With so many people living in a state of fear, they have a primed audience.’

‘Brilliant!’

‘Yes. I think you may have hit on the answer.’

‘Don't forget tanks. The cyb tanks must be their main market. Mary's incident might have had an impact on sales, so revenge may still play a part.’

‘If Eli's right, how do you think they'll be viewing the success of their venture?’

‘As a total failure as far as threat goes, I should think, but that wouldn't have been obvious to observers. It depends on their intentions. New technologies are always closely examined for their aggressive potential, so that will draw attention.’

‘It'll draw attention away from the archie scare and focus it on wraiths. If it is the manufacturers, and I think that must be the case, it'll be interesting to see how they handle it from here. My guess is that they'll play it out slowly and gradually shift attention to the versatility of wraiths as people see they're not a major threat.’

‘Perhaps they didn't realise the density and sensitivity of our sensor networks. They're quite extreme.’

‘The possum-bots worked well – high quality surveillance moving quickly through the treetops. There's been no sign that the wraiths on the hillock have been able to distinguish Possum from the real thing.’

‘We need to keep that a close secret.’

‘What about the nets and spray? Is that secret? I have a skit in mind starting with a re-enactment of Dorothy's defence. The cat and mouse confrontation was hilarious, then how it was automated with the nets. They would have guessed something along those lines.’

‘A little mockery would be good for morale at some stage but not yet – too much hubris involved, I think. I'm sure George would agree.

‘Fair enough. What about my announcement of the Wraith Theatre and releasing more fluff on the hillock?’

‘I can't see any reason why you shouldn't go ahead with that whenever it suits you. If you can establish a permanent theatre up there, it'd be a visible demonstration that we've gained something through the events.’

‘That's my view – and a new income stream for the valley if it works well.’

Chapter 64: Wraith Theatre

The hillock performance that night was an extravagant event with ten kilos of fluff allocated to props including a throne for Jarred and a bevy of mischievous goblins.

At the end of the show, the cast took their places beside Jarred's throne facing one of the cameras. Jarred stood, and the figures transformed into personal likeness avatars. Hoggle turned into a cowering likeness of Eric, while the figure that had been Jarred, standing tall and looking confident and quite pleased with himself, addressed the camera.

‘Hello. I'm Eric Olsen, Artistic Director of the Brindabella Wraith Theatre. I'd like to thank everyone who has contributed towards making this show possible – my daughter Beth, my son Zeb, and their friends Annabella and George Oldfield Junior.

‘I thank those of you who have participated here on the hillock and added your creativity and enthusiasm, and those of you at home who have provided that essential ingredient for all theatre: an appreciative and responsive audience. Finally, a special and sincere thank you to our anonymous benefactors for their generous donations of fluff.

‘Tonight I'm announcing the inauguration of this new theatre company, and I'm pleased to be able to say that we will be making fluff freely available here on the hillock to anyone who submits an imaginative scenario that fits our current theme of children's stories.

‘Beth, as our manager, will be dealing with fluff bookings. You'll find that some stories are booked, too. Zeb, for example, is working on The Magic Pudding. For years, as we've read and reread it to him, he's been imagining what might be going on in each scene beyond Lindsay's descriptions.

‘Many of you will also have personal favourites and favourites among your communities and cultures. Bring them forward, and let us all see them.

‘Thank you again, and fare-thee-well till next time.’

The fireys threw down a fire clump and started their wild dancing around it. Goblins chased them and tried to run off with their heads. Everyone joined the mêlée.

Chapter 65: To Arkadel

‘Now all the fuss is over, I can take our recruits to Arkadel and show them the labs.’

‘I'm glad you sat it out here. It wouldn't have looked very positive if our visitors had left as if fleeing. I do hope you haven't felt disturbed in any way.’

‘Not at all. We wouldn't have known anything was going on if you hadn't told us. Michael wanted to stay here longer to continue his discussions with Tom face to face, but he doesn't need to be here to do that. I want to start setting up my lab.’

‘We'll leave tomorrow morning if you can spare Karl.’

‘There's no need for me to be here even if things flare up again.’

‘I should warn you that we might be subjected to some harassment along the way. So far there hasn't been much trouble in the Pacific, but it is a rising phenomenon elsewhere – extortion at its extremes. A team from the Arkadel Aero Club is coming to escort us, just for the exercise. We should meet up with them shortly after we leave.

‘I've brought my old bike over for you, Gloria. Two-up with Michael would slow us down. I'm also taking four drones – one each to keep them light, and if we run into trouble I can work them as defence.’

They left at first light and climbed steeply. As they started to level out, Mary said, ‘I'm going to take the drones higher into a defence formation. If there's any trouble just relax and let your bikes take instructions from mine.’

There was no trouble. After they met with the club team, the three novices were treated to some entertainment for the remainder of the trip as they tilted at Mary, probing for weaknesses in her drone defence.

The journey passed quickly, and as they glided down towards the patch of green that was Arkadel Mary said, ‘We can go underwater for the last kilometre or two if you like. You can't see Arkadel properly from above.’

Axel was waiting outside when they arrived at Bin Sara and ushered them down to their apartments.

‘You have this level to yourselves. Apartment A is a double while B and C are singles. I haven't thought of permanent names yet. You have a choice of views, Karl. The workers' barracks are smaller and still unfurnished. I can expand one to a double. You can choose the furnishings yourselves.’

‘The label “barracks” is a little fanciful. They're identical to these, or can be. They're closer to the labs. They're free for anyone working in the labs. I'll pay for the furnishings. Axel will be happy to show you what's available. We're on the level below this. Come down when you've settled in.’

‘What are your plans for us now?’ Gloria asked Mary after they had dined.

‘Initially, just to help you settle. Then I'd like to introduce you to a few people who are already working in areas that interest me.’

‘To do with the Treaty?’

‘That's my priority at the moment. The present political unrest has brought the issue to a head. In the longer term my interest is galactic exploration.’

‘The swarms?’

‘Yes.’

‘That's more Karl's area of expertise, isn't it? How do I fit in as a biologist?’

‘At the terraforming and settlement stages. People are drawing up options for terraforming planets, seeding them with life, and encouraging an accelerated evolution. They're starting to become interested in the archies and how they might help.’

‘I've never seen settlement as a contemporary issue. It'll be centuries or millennia before we need to think seriously about it. By then our understanding will have changed.’

‘Swarms are leaving now. How they see the prospects of biological settlement will influence the aims of their exploration.’

‘I see. They'll be maintaining contact with Earth, won't they?’

‘Yes, and between swarms, but that'll become increasingly delayed by years to centuries as they spread out across the galaxy. We want the early swarms to be as well informed as possible and motivated to look for Earth-like planets rather than just map out the gas giant fuel depots.

‘The idea that colonisation might be a real possibility that we can plan for has just started to gain credence. It would be good if some of the first swarms were equipped to start terraforming.’

‘And that work is going on here at Arkadel?’

‘It's always been an interest, but not taken very seriously. People have been thinking as you suggested – that there's plenty of time to work it out. Sara recognised the need to start building hope.’

‘Your great-grandmother who this building is named after?’

‘This was her home, and the lab level held her labs. There are others in cyb spaces that have made greater progress than Arkadel. I've been introduced to them by local cybs. I want to introduce them to you while I'm here.

‘I've offered them the use of one of the labs to operate remotely. You can work closely with them, or take your own directions as you see fit. Diversity is good at this early stage.’

‘When do we meet them?’

‘I haven't made any arrangements yet. I want to give you time to think and familiarise yourself with the archies along the lines you discussed with Tom. We can see how that fits with my interests when you feel better informed.’

‘What about me?’

‘Tom's hoping that you can take over most of the genetic work he's been doing on the archies. That will merge with the other work down the track if it's successful. You might also find some of the terraforming work interesting – accelerated evolution.’

‘Tom and I had a brief discussion. I'm interested.’

‘And me?’

‘You and I are invited to dine with my family tomorrow night.’

‘Oh. I suppose that was inevitable. I'd like to see as much of Arkadel as I can while we're here and dine in the Shark pit.’

‘I've booked a table for us all to dine there – to enjoy the food and the view as well as be seen by the cybs.’

‘When?’

‘I have a permanent booking for as long as I'm here. You two can eat there, on the house, whenever you wish after we've gone. I want to give you every encouragement to go out and socialise.’

‘How long are you staying here?’

‘A week, at least – longer if I'm needed. Karl wants to visit New Shanghai. We'll drop by here on our way back to see how you're going.’

‘We'll need some time to set up our apartment. I'd like to be settled as soon as possible. Will you have time to show us around in the next few days, Axel?’

‘I'm at your service at any time. I'm hoping to interest residents here in helping with a new project of mine – fluff furniture.’

Chapter 66: The Fluff Era

‘That seems like an interesting idea. Has it been tried?’

‘Not the way I'm approaching it, as far as I know. I was thinking of starting with the fluff from your tank since you won't be using it.’

‘You're welcome, and you can remove the tank to storage.’

‘The tank isn't really needed with the new fluff you have. You can just expand a large clump and walk into it.’

‘If you make wraith furniture, presumably it can change form and convert to another design?’

‘That's the idea – trying different designs until you find one that suits you then have it manufactured, or keep the fluff and use different styles to suit particular occasions.

‘The idea has been around since fluff packaging was introduced but just as a choice of catalogue items. I'm pushing it beyond that – from sculpture to choreography – from tableau to theatre – simple tools to allow the owner to create set designs to suit the nature of each occasion and for the set design to evolve along a predetermined path or even adapt to changes in the mood of the gathering.’

‘That sounds great.’

‘I agree. We'll test it for you.’

Later, as they were settling down in the Shark Pit, ‘I see what you meant about the view. It's great.’

‘Only the ballroom comes close to matching it. I've arranged to meet with two of my contacts in the cyb world. They should be here soon. We came a bit early to give you time to acclimatise. Some find it difficult.’

‘I can see why, but I'm fine.’

‘Same here.’

‘What about you Karl?’

‘Oh, fine, fine. I've watched your performances from a shark's perspective – enough to feel more comfortable inside than out.’

The discussion returned to fluff and continued after Aggy, then Avery, arrived.

‘We've been talking about fluff and its impact – whether we are moving into a new technological era, or age, or period. We've been distracted by terminology. Perhaps we should put names aside and go back to what you were saying, Karl, about where it might be heading – what's technically possible.’

‘With small milli-bots and below, there's a trade-off in how we divide their capabilities between rules that describe the behaviour you want and general rules that constrain their behaviour – protocols. Until now, fluff has had minimal protocols, just those inherited from their milli-bot components, but now their use has been extended, the need for tighter protocols will be recognised.’

‘The milli-bots used in fluff are scaling down in size with each new generation.’

‘That was my next point. Theoretically it's possible to use micro-bots. The nature of fluff can change in other ways. Now the bots are ant-like, but they may soon be making them more beetle-like with wings.’

‘Flying fluff?’

‘Not at the individual bot level. The wings will provide the ability to form watertight and even airtight surfaces. That'll change the usefulness of the technology dramatically. It'll start to replace conventional bot technology at a macro level – furniture that doesn't just change styles but can be transformed into a ser-bot.’

‘An expensive ser-bot.’

‘Now it would be but not so much when production is scaled up and the market is saturated.’

‘How long will that take?’

‘Decades at the present rate but far more rapidly if there was global instability and fluff was seen as a military asset.’

‘Haven't you just shown that it isn't?’

‘Not really. All we've really shown is that people haven't started to think creatively about its potential uses.’

‘There have been some creative applications of fluff tested by the New Worlds Project. When it's all you have to work with, you have to make it versatile.’

‘I'd like to see what you've come up with, if that's possible.’

‘At Mary's suggestion, we've been compiling summaries of our work. They aren't very detailed yet.’

‘Overviews are just what we need at this stage. I was going to ask if we could have an introduction over the next week or so while Karl and I are still here.’

Chapter 67: New Worlds

‘We've divided our summary of The New Worlds Project into five phases: swarm formation, transport, wraith settlement, terraforming, and human settlement.

‘Swarm formation covers the sociology and politics of a swarm. Some people – for example, most Arkadelians – want a diverse swarm. Others want to swarm with people of a like mind. People are interested in talking with Mary to see if your social dynamics models can provide insights. It also includes discussion of possible destinations.

‘Transport covers vehicle design and developments in fusion technology. The early interest was in drives that had a high specific impulse, low fuel consumption, mode for fast interstellar travel. Now we want to improve the high thrust modes that are used for manoeuvring within a stellar system where fuel is plentiful, to provide the ability to escape the gravity wells of moons and planets.

‘Then there's a strong emphasis on chemical production – particularly polymers to make balloons that can be applied to anything from kiloscope mirrors in space to microclimate and ecology test cells on the surface of an early stage planet.

‘Wraith settlement includes any groups that stay behind to explore a planetary system. If a suitable planet is found, a large part of the swarm might stay to look into the possibility of terraforming and initiate the process if it seems viable.

‘Work on human settlement is in its infancy. Little effort was made before the value of wraiths was recognised – their ability to build and manage artificial wombs. Eventually balloons can be used as an artificial womb. The key technical problems have been solved, and we will all be including our DNA coding in the hope of reincarnation some day.

‘For settlement we need a more diverse range of chemicals than just multipurpose plastics. That's what's driven our interest in the archies. Having chemical production from microbes is an area that's been looked at extensively in the past. Their self-replication solves transport problems since only a few spores need to be transported. Having archies that we can communicate with opens up new possibilities.’

‘What about biological archives – storing a complete PA in archie memory? Is anyone looking at how that changes things?’

‘It's been discussed, but until it can be demonstrated interest will remain low.’

‘It offers a whole new phase of intelligent settlement that can start early in a planet's terraforming, long before humans could survive. Michael is planning to look at the mechanisms archies use for their memory.’

‘We don't know much about that. Tom Oldfield hasn't given any details yet.’

‘That's because he doesn't understand it fully. He's not secretive, just cautious.’

‘I'll be happy to keep you informed of any developments, Aggy. Gloria also has a background in genetics. Since she's going to be busy with more general issues to do with the archies, I'd appreciate having contacts in your enterprise to chat over problems. I like bouncing ideas around a group.’

‘That's an encouraging statement. One of the motives for working in the cyb world, where individual identity is usually ignored, is to escape from the broader scientific world where everything is to do with the individual scientist – their career and reputation – the feudal partitioning of knowledge into personal fiefdoms. We interact and share to achieve a common goal, or follow our own interests. Either way there's no ownership of knowledge.’

‘That suits us. It's how Michael and I have worked together. I didn't get to know Tom very well personally in the few days we had to interact with him, but there was no hint of secrecy. As Mary says, he's just cautious about making statements – understandable given the extraordinary nature of his work and the hostile reception to it in some quarters.’

‘That was the impression Mary gave us about him in our previous discussion. It shifted some of us from incredulity to curiosity.’

Chapter 68: George Returns

The news that George was returning to Brindabella was welcomed by the valley residents as a sign that the crisis in Bath was over. Nobody was more pleased than Clare who wanted to settle back into a quiet life and start preparing herself for motherhood. The life of a cottager had never looked so attractive.

When he arrived, they'd been sitting outside waiting for most of the afternoon despite it being a chilly overcast day. Clare had been expecting him to be tired – exhausted, even – and had allowed for a late supper to give him time for a nap. As it was, he was cheerful and lively.

‘Great to be back,’ He repeated several times as they walked back to the Manor.

‘A nap? No, no. I slept for most of the trip – barely a wink on the way over – too much on my mind – arrived a mess – days to recover. I think I'll finish this cup and go for a short ride. Look, he's seen me. We've a little time before dusk.’ He went over to the fence to greet the old stallion and took him to the stable to saddle up – not even bothering to change his clothes.

The next morning he was up, dressed, and in the saddle before anyone else in the Manor had stirred. He headed south through the farmlands where the day's activities were already under way.

On the ride down, he didn't stop – just waved to a few people from a distance. He scanned his surroundings intently – revelling in the familiarity – noticing a few changes – a paddock tilled that hadn't been used for crops in many years – a tree fallen on a fence.

On the way back, he stopped by the farmhouses with greetings and messages from relatives and friends in Bath and an overdue birthday present.

‘My apologies for the delay, Toby,’ he said to the boy sitting at the kitchen table feeding his latest sibling. ‘I was expecting to be back sooner.’

‘That's alright, sir. Thank you for bringing it.’

‘You can call me George when you're behaving yourself. Not been up to any serious mischief while I was away, I hope?’

His mother was busy preparing breakfast. ‘He's been good – growing up at last. You'll stay to eat? Geoff'll be back presently. The milking's done. He's just feeding the calves.’

‘I will, thank you. There's nothing like kitchen aromas to whet the appetite – something I miss at the Manor.’

‘Then sit yourself down where Toby is and take over. Maybe you can get more food in Lilies mouth than down her front.

‘You could open your present now,’ she added, not noticing that he already was.

‘Look, it's a pocket watch. What a beauty.’

‘That is a fine timepiece, indeed. You're a fortunate lad to have such a generous godmother.’

‘The time's wrong. It must be Bath time.’

‘Here, this is Brindabella time. Do you know how to set it?’

‘Of course I do. I'm going to go to Bath when I've finished school – and Arkadel.’

‘If you do well. That was her condition.’

‘If you're interested in Arkadel you could join us for tea on the Manor lawn some day and talk with Mary Wang.’

They chatted about Bath during the meal.

‘It must have brought back many happy memories for you – times when you were there with Meredith.’

‘It did. I've thought about her every day since she died, but in Bath she was with me every minute of the day. I found myself talking with her – inwardly, that is.’

‘I felt quite ashamed when I heard how Vicky treated you on your arrival – “country bumpkin” indeed – you of all people.’

‘Oh, a double edged sword that did cut both ways – a reminder to a few people present of the label they attached to me when Meredith and I were courting.

‘When I arrived, tensions were high, and loyalties strained. She took the first opportunity to nail her colours to the mast and demonstrate her loyalty to her chosen family and friends. After that, she was perfectly civil towards me.

‘In the end, it was she who triggered a change of atmosphere by publicly presenting me with the present to bring back for Toby. She chose her moment well, and changed the mood of the gathering. It created a general easing of tensions, and a turning point.’

‘Still, it's not the Vicky I knew.’

‘Nobody was themselves. There was fear in the air. Not fear for their lives as afflicts many elsewhere at the moment, but fear of instability and conflict dividing families and friendships – fear that was generating tension in a vicious cycle.’

‘If you ask me, it's too many people bundled together, flitting about and chattering, with no space or time to think for themselves. I enjoyed a visit in my youth, but I wouldn't want to live there.’

As George rose to leave he said, ‘There's something that's been bothering me while I was away. Just before I left – last time we spoke – you mentioned that Dot was squinting – needed new spectacles, but wouldn't take your advice.’

‘That's right. I remember. She's still not done anything about it.’

‘She means a lot to me, particularly since Meredith passed away – both of you – you were good friends to Meredith, particularly towards the end. It pains me to think that she is discomforted in any way that I can help with, but I know she wouldn't accept a gift from me or take my advice.

‘If she is going to spend more time on her histories and writing she must look after her eyes. It occurs to me that a present from the village as a whole, as a recognition of her bravery in confronting the wraith, might be acceptable if treated with the right degree of humour.’

‘Leave it with me.’

‘Good. Then there's just one other thing. Geoffrey, I noticed that you've been cutting up that fallen tree by hand. That's a long and tiring job. Strictly, it's a tree from common land and the Manor's responsibility. If you would permit me, I could send an ag-bot down to cut it up and leave the wood for you rather than selling it in the village.’

‘A little each day, and the job gets done. Besides, there are a few useful posts in that tree, not just firewood.’

‘Just mark them up.’

‘Send the bot down, George. He has plenty else to keep him busy without tiring himself on that tree. On second thoughts, you could send two with a saw. I like the sound of a crosscut saw in the distance – far better than the screeching and hissing they usually make when they're cutting.’

He arrived back at the Manor in time for a hearty luncheon, and spent the early afternoon in the office with Clare debriefing.

‘All I did was organise the meetings. Our defence was scripted by Eric and implemented by Karl and Winston. Dot had no trouble keeping the village and farmers happy. After her performance with the wraith, people were happy to leave things to her.

‘Eli had a trickier time with the cottagers. Initially, many of them wanted the hillock cleared of wraiths and have our neighbours asked to clear the drones from their air space. I was prepared to clear the hillock, but I was strongly opposed to asking help from neighbours – in any event, something that only you could have negotiated. Winston stressed the importance of dealing with the problem ourselves.’

‘Quite right. To have involved them would have been extreme and appeared desperate, and it could have spread the conflict making it a regional issue. As it is, our neighbours will be pleased to have made a little money from the sightseers.’

‘Eric persuaded me to leave the hillock to him. With his presence there, Eli quickly swung the cottagers. It was a demonstration that we had control, and within hours concern changed to amusement.

‘In retrospect, his defence strategies may have been over-complex, but we didn't know how things might escalate, and we can't tell how much confusion he created. Tom helped to keep things in perspective by never taking the situation seriously. His Possum clones played a crucial role with discreet mobile visual surveillance. Winston has recognised them as a valuable addition to the valley's defences.

‘There was one other development in the most recent incursion. It was a particularly large fluff ball – pink with a smiling face on it but something slightly disturbing, even threatening, about the smile. Karl realised that our existing nets were not strong enough to constrain it, but it didn't try to expand. He has it in a vault, and has started to break it down.’

‘Eric's efforts, and of course your own, will receive the recognition they deserve.’

‘Don't overdo it. To me it would seem like being declared the winner of a food fight at a children's party. Eric has his reward with his theatre.’

‘As you wish. I know Eric wants to settle down, and the theatre may serve that purpose. I met his Bath wife, Helen. She arranged to be introduced to me soon after I arrived. I like her. She is pleasant and friendly company, which was very welcome in those first few weeks.

‘She was apologetic. She said she'd been aware that he still loved Eli and the children, but he had given up hope of earning a living here. They were happy for a while, but eventually they realised that Bath was also too small a pond and too technologically regressive for him. She told him he needed to travel the oceans.

‘I told her she was welcome here as my guest if I'm in residence. Their son deserves the opportunity to get to know his father. The option of staying in the Manor might ease any difficulties.

‘There's something else I wanted to mention to you before I discussed it publicly. As you may know, as a student I studied the ancient Greek city states and their alliances. I did so because I thought it might help understand modern events. I'm planning to tour some of the ocean colonies to better understand them and the relationships between them.

‘While I'm away, things will change here. You and Tom have done your stint. You, in particular, have acquitted yourself with honour, ma'am. Retire to your cottage and prepare for the changes parenthood will bring. Dorothy will move into the Manor. She would have done so years ago but wanted to be near Greta. Now Greta has passed on, she can move here and work on her local history.

‘We have a housing crisis in the valley. Older children have been sharing bedrooms with younger siblings for too long, and family tensions are rising. Young couples want to set up on their own. Gwen has prospered in Bath and wants to invest in the future of Brindabella – to open up a new ridge in the gullies dedicated to Greta who worked hard over the years to minimise the gap between the valley folk and the cottagers.

‘Dot has a plan to invite young people to live in the Manor as a form of boot camp in Georgian customs and manners before they enter the social melting pot of the gullies.’

‘Perhaps better seen as a form of finishing school?’

‘That would sound more attractive, but she did use the word “discipline” often in our discussions, echoing Greta's sentiments on that point. They'll need training and organisation. Gwen is expecting them to produce plans for the ridge and oversee the fitting out.’

‘You called me ma'am a moment ago. You've never used that label with me before – sometimes “lass”.’

‘One of our customs is not letting people rest on their laurels if we think they can do better. You might have been surprised to hear my Bath acquaintances refer to me as “lad” when they thought me naive. It was no rebuke – just a polite observation.

‘I was in no position to take offence at the reminder that they've grown in their understanding of the world in ways that I've missed out on here – been too comfortably settled in our little valley. What did bother me was realising how little I had learned, over the years, about our region. You and Tom still have plenty to learn about the world. I'm not one to stand by and let you stagnate without the occasional nudge.’

At afternoon tea they were joined by Dorothy and a few villagers. Tea stretched on till it was time for his evening ride. Clare joined him.

George spent the next morning sitting in the sun in the bakery drinking tea and chatting with villagers as they came in to collect bread and an occasional treat. Some stayed on for a cup of tea, and tables filled.

A child was chided by his mother for helping himself too often to the baskets of cakes and biscuits.

‘Ya've 'ad quite enough. Y'll spoil ya lunch.’

‘Aw, it's probly burnt by now, anyway.’

‘Oh, my Gawd!’ she cried as she sped out the door, and a small hand dipped back into the basket.

He heard several accounts of the wraith adventure. Dorothy downplayed the event scornfully. Late in the morning, someone broached the subject of a bravery award, but hedged the suggestion with doubts about the validity of her account of the incident due to her well known poor eyesight. Dorothy joined the laughter. There was no backing out now. It was settled.

His third full day home was spent on a ride up the gullies. He stopped to eat at Eli's cottage and heard the family's versions of recent events.

After watching Eric's wraith skit, he cried, ‘Excellent, excellent. The comment about mattresses caps it perfectly. That had to be Jake – unmistakable. But Clare was right. It wasn't quite the time for it to be presented publicly. I hope we can have its premiere in the Manor on the evening of my welcome home dinner.’

Eric agreed, a little nervously. He had just two days to refine it to his satisfaction. One thing he couldn't correct in time was the dome. He'd purchased a plastic one, but on viewing it he realised that Mary had been right. It needed to be glass. He shrugged the problem aside and focussed on finishing touches to the wraiths – checking and rechecking the realism of their movements.

Chapter 69: Hearts & Mimes

The celebration of George's return quickly transformed from traditional formal meal to the usual rowdy affair. George related a few anecdotes from Bath and answered questions from around the table – usually from people trying to understand what was going on there and beyond.

He made a comment about instinctive behaviour and reactions to fear – grouping together for mutual support against some real or imagined threat. That prompted a few jokes about sheep running as a mob – each following the one in front in jumping over a non-existent obstacle. The discussion moved on to the relative intelligence and sociability of dogs and horses then on to cattle and goats. The topic died away then resurfaced several times through the meal as a new point was raised.

Someone said, ‘That reminds me of the song Tom wrote.’ A chant quickly rose around the table, ‘song, song, song,’ with a few people banging palms on the thick planks of the table in time. Old Jake's plaintive cry, ‘Oh, not again!’ was lost in the tumult.

Eyes turned to Tom. His turned to Eli then Karl who nodded assent and went over to the piano. Tom joined them to add his counterpoint to the chorus.

Mystic mimes and jesters' japes
They tangle sense, benumb defence
Every step on ground so sure ever
Closer to the lure.

A tiger's sabre tooth stretched bare
A slith'ring serpent's steady stare
Terrors of the mortal soul
That can destroy — or make us whole

Mystic mimes and jesters' japes
They tangle sense, benumb defence
With words of comfort words of cure
Never simpler never truer.

The wordsmiths loom their yarn to ply
Their warp so fine deceiving eyes
Distracted by the silver purl
The nap it soothes — the senses swirl.

A golden thread of truth we glimpse
Though heart held in their thrall
We draw it close and pick at it
One act unravelling all.

Mystic mimes and jesters' japes
They tangle sense, benumb defence
Every step on ground so sure
Ever closer to the lure.

Tom walked to the head of the table and addressed the assembly.

‘Well, that was a familiar warm-up for the evening's entertainment. I'll pass over to Eric for the main event – something very new – the premier showing of his dome theatre and Elinor's production, The Gates of Dawn.’

Eric walked over to a structure behind Tom and flicked off the cloth covering to reveal his dome. The performance was accompanied by bursts of laughter with a standing ovation following its conclusion. Eli, Dorothy and Eric took a bow.

‘Now we're all standing, we might as well move next door and start the dancing.’

The musicians of the valley's small orchestra moved into the main parlour to set up their instruments. Dancing was barely under way when the cry, ‘Better late than never, mate,’ came from near the main entrance. Dancing stopped, the band stopped, and for a few moments the room absorbed in silence the sight of the four new arrivals standing in the doorway.

Clare looked the two strangers up and down and assumed the young woman – in her late teens and dressed in smart cosmopolitan style – to be Catrina. The man beside her looked to be in his early thirties, but the formal New Shanghai attire added gravitas to someone who might have been a decade younger.

Seeing Karl brought a smile to her face. His wild hair looked as though he hadn't brushed it since he'd left Brindabella – just raked back with his fingers in a nervous habit – his Beethoven style. He was wearing a crisp, loose, white shirt with deep collar and a wide, dark green cravat tied in a large floppy bow that had a carefree attitude. Her eyes skipped down over his tight black pants and landed on his shoes. They were new, too.

She'd once thought that it didn't matter much what Mary wore. Your eyes were quickly drawn to her face and fixed there trying to put meaning to what little expression was shown. Strangely, though she had helped a naked Mary limp from a creek after slipping and twisting her ankle, she had never quite seen her as a woman. Now, for the first time, she had broken away from the androgynous appearance of the Arkadelian and was not only elegant but sensual.

She wore a shirt that matched Karl's in style and his cravat in colour. Her own long white cravat, tied in a small neat bow, thinned to lace as it looped down under one breast then went up to tie her hair that had been pulled to the side of her head. The hair flowed down over her shoulder almost to her elbow – and flow it did, adjusting smoothly and evenly – magically, even – as she moved her head.

It was the tight black dress that held Clare's attention. Faint patterns of deep colour moved about it pulsating slightly. When she saw George, the patterns seemed to emit a calm seriousness, and the pulsation slowed. Moments later, on seeing Clare, the patterns changed to brighter cheerful swirls, and the pulsations quickened. Clare was stunned. This was taking the idea of wearing your heart on your sleeve to a new dimension, particularly for an Arkadelian.

The hiatus didn't last long. The orchestra resumed, the dancing resumed, and a few friends went forward to greet the arrivals, and usher them through to the dining room.

‘We were planning to arrive earlier,’ Mary explained as food was ordered. ‘We stopped over at Arkadel last night and left later than planned this morning. It was my fault. By the time we arrived at Karl's cottage to change, you'd already started eating. He suggested we wait till the music started and have a second sitting.’

‘I'm glad you were able to make it here so soon,’ said Eric to Catrina and James. ‘Eli and I weren't expecting to see you for another week.’

‘We thought it best to join Mary and Karl and come in convoy. Mother came with us as far as Arkadel. I hope it isn't inconvenient, Eli.’

‘Not at all. I haven't asked George about you staying in the Manor though, James. I'll ask him this evening.’ Then to Clare, ‘James expressed a strong interest in staying in the Manor.’

‘No need to ask George. You can stay as our guest in our apartment.’

Chapter 70: The Chronicler

James Zhu, as Clare discovered that evening, was younger than he looked and cheerfully playful in manner once he relaxed, though never losing his formality completely. He didn't dance, and she was tired, so they stayed chatting in the dining room after the others had returned to the parlour. She discovered that he was curious about Georgian life and quizzed her about it, then the differences between Georgian and Janeite views.

‘I'm not a good person to answer that.’ She was embarrassed to realise that she hadn't given much thought to the differences – not in the kind of detail he was interested in. ‘Best to take the subject up with George.’ Then, on a whim, added, ‘Are you interested in taking a coach tour of the valley?’ She was surprised by the enthusiasm of his response.

‘That would be marvellous, particularly if I could archive some points along the tour. I wasn't going to bring the subject up until I had become more familiar with your ways here, but Mary said I would cause no offence by asking, even if the answer was negative.’

‘That's something you'll have to discuss with George. There are at least three distinct cultural groups in the valley, each with different attitudes towards modern technology and archiving. Most of the cottagers are quite relaxed about both. I presume you would like to produce a review of the valley for publication?’

‘Yes, if possible.’

‘I don't mean to pre-empt George on this, but personally I think it would be good timing for Brindabella to present itself coherently to the outside world right now. There are diverse, and sometimes quite distorted, stories circulating.’

They were starting to discuss what form a presentation might take when George entered.

‘Ah, the refugees – the mum, the monk, and the dog-tired old man.’ Proffering a gangly, sinewed hand he added, ‘Otherwise known as George. Pleased to meet you, sir.’

After a few words of welcome he headed for the other end of the table where a servant had just left his drinks tray, and poured himself a Scotch. He stood in silence, sipping slowly and staring at a large painting of an assembly in Bath. After a few minutes he turned to James and gesticulated towards the painting with his empty glass.

‘You were noticed, you know. You were noticed.

‘You two were in animated conversation when I came in. Now you're silent. Do you wish for privacy?’ – walking down the table as he spoke.

‘We were discussing the possibility of producing a review of the valley for public release. James is a chronicler.’

‘I heard you described as a porta-cam. Chronicler sounds better. Is there a fundamental difference?’

‘The role of porta-cam includes private assignments, which might be viewed as acting as a private spy or a sleuth. A chronicler produces for public viewing only.’

‘A valuable distinction, indeed. What did you have in mind for Brindabella?’

‘In New Shanghai we build our stories around the four principal elements of Neo-Confucianism: individual, community, tradition, and change. My thoughts were inspired by the individuals involved in the hillock pantomime. My usual approach is to look at the communities and cultures they grew up in and how these are changing.’

‘I was suggesting that now Brindabella is in the public spotlight, with many conflicting and inaccurate views circulating, it would be timely for us to present our views on who we are.’

‘An excellent idea. Don't let me interrupt you.’

‘I was hoping you might add your thoughts.’

‘Of course, but not tonight. I'm weary, and my head is swirling with other thoughts.’

He went and poured himself another drink. He paused for a moment to look at the painting again before returning and sitting.

‘I'm planning to write, or co-author, a book – a biography of my late wife, Meredith. In Bath I was surrounded by memories of her – almost overwhelmed by them.’

‘That's a marvellous idea, George. She deserves to be remembered. She was like a mother to me.’

‘She took to you straight away. “Bright as a button, sharp as a tack, a heavy head for such small shoulders,” was her assessment when Jerrie turned up with you in tow.

‘The book wasn't my idea. Her brother and sister-in-law suggested it. They've been going through her letters and talking to those in Bath who knew her. She was greatly respected there.

‘When I first went to Bath as a student, any young woman with a bit of spirit might be referred to as “a real Jane”. I disliked the epithet – thought it disrespectful. When I returned to Bath a few years after completing my studies, with marriage in mind rather than the city states of ancient Greece, I noticed that the expression was no longer in favour. Then I discovered that it was reserved for one particular young woman, and when I met her I understood why.

‘In the course of events we danced together occasionally, and she asked about Brindabella. I was happy to amuse her with my descriptions. We danced more often, and she asked more questions, and people noticed, but they didn't rank the country bumpkin who could only talk about his small rural community as a plausible suitor.

‘As she told me years later, she realised one evening that she had fallen in love with Brindabella, and that it would be prudent to find out a little more about me. When she came here as my wife, her fantasies of Brindabella soon turned to a realistic love, and I was swept up in it – eventually finding myself at its centre.’

‘It's a lovely story, George. It would be a great opening for a book.’

‘It would. My contribution is to be on the woman herself, as she and I saw her. I've spoken to Dorothy – one of our local historians who was a close friend to Meredith – has copious notes – anecdotes and descriptions of valley events, many of which involve Meredith. She'll talk about Brindabella and how its residents saw her.

‘But that's a historical perspective. Right now, a snapshot of Brindabella today and its new generations – its future – would be most appropriate. I'll help in any way I can.’

Chapter 71: Jake

The coach glistened in the early morning sun as Jake, the coachman, sitting up front, tall and proud in matching livery, brought it to a halt at the front steps of the Manor with a ‘Whoa there, me beauties.’ He descended and stood by. He wanted to be close so he could hand Clare up if needed.

Jake had little time for people, but he was fond of Clare – had been since the quiet little orphan girl arrived on her first visit to Brindabella after her parents had died in a bushfire. They'd managed to send their daughter to safety on the back of their servant.

She'd hung around the stables watching his routines – sat on the top rail of the horse yard watching him train Betsy – sat in the home paddock for hours watching the horses feed and play – and once her shyness had receded, plied him with questions.

He had lifted her up onto Betsy's bare back for her first riding lesson. He was the only observer who didn't show surprise when, straight off, she cantered slowly around the yard as though she'd done it many times before. He knew she had in her mind – now watching – now feeling the movement of the horse – now mimicking the movements of the rider as they turned, accelerated, or slowed.

She'd never really had lessons. He'd given her a few pointers, as had Meredith and Gwen who took her on her first overnight trek a few years later.

Clare introduced him to the two strangers then hauled herself up into the carriage unassisted. He was impressed with the formal appearance and friendly manner of the young man – doubly so when he skipped lightly and confidently up into the carriage without tripping on his voluminous robes.

They picnicked by the river at the southern end of the main valley where it narrowed to wind its way up between the gullies. Jake entertained them with stories from the past. The sun was warm for the time of year, and the group sank into a contented languor, eventually broken by a query from James.

‘Come now, coachman. You paint a picture of bucolic tranquillity. Surely there have been times of turmoil and conflict, too?’

‘To be sure, there have indeed, but all resolved and once resolved allowed to fade into the past. As coachman, all I've had to contend with are bushrangers – highwaymen as you might know them.’

‘Ah, highwaymen. That's more like it. Are any still about?’

‘Not active. The last time the coach was bailed up was when young Thomas and his partner in crime Eric Olsen were nippers.’

James smiled then looked at Tom seriously as if assessing him anew. A slight nod suggested that there was something about this new perspective that appealed to him.

Chapter 72: Rudi

Clare and Tom returned to the Manor in the coach. The rest of the group spent a few leisurely hours walking up to Mary's cottage. From there they took bikes to Eli's cottage, with Catrina calling up her drone, which she said held a gift.

On arrival, greetings completed, Catrina manoeuvred the drone into the centre of the landing. Suspended in a thin fluff matrix were two large glass domes.

‘They're only half a metre in diameter, but the glass is strengthened and of high optical quality, and the inner surfaces are screened. I assumed that you'd prefer to have stands made up to suit your own taste.’

Another bike arrived, and Melissa climbed out. Eli ushered people indoors to the dining room leaving Catrina and Eric to supervise the unpacking of the domes.

After dinner, they moved back out to the veranda where one of the domes had been initialised with Eric's latest image of Rudy.

‘We have a whole new stream of stories unfolding now that Melissa has had a breakthrough in communicating with Rudy.’

‘It wasn't me. My aunt Jerrie tracked down one of her linguist colleagues who was able to make some sense of what we were getting through Spearmaker. He narrowed down the options then sent out phonetic transcripts to various experts. It turned out to be a language that was in common use until a few centuries ago. Some people are still able to speak it.’

‘I want to show you the most significant story – an abbreviated version of his life story. We're still piecing together the full version and Eli is refining the wording as communication improves.’

He started the animation.

There is a tall peak at the head of the valley – capped by snow – blinding bright in the morning sun against a deep blue sky. A finger of ice reaches down the valley – pointing at me – accusing me. Its reflection on the surface of the lake pointing back – breaking up in a rising wind. ‘I am only a messenger,’ I cry – voice a feeble croak – robbed of feeling. …

As the story continued, the background scenery transformed to conform to his descriptions. When it was over, Catrina was the first to speak.

‘Of all the stories we've collected, that one is surely the most moving. It's not just a glimpse into the dramatic life of one man but a glimpse of two ancient cultures. It quite transforms how I see your archies, and it surely must have a similar impact on most people who see it. How soon can we expect to interact directly with Rudy?’

‘We've made a breakthrough with language, but his cultural distance was initially much larger than Spearmaker experienced. Spearmaker came into a geographical setting he remembered, and had the feeling that he had successfully completed the journey he had set out on many millennia ago.

‘Rudi has been transported to the other side of the planet, and, until recently, had no cultural connection to help him adjust. It's the cultural connection as much as language that's brought about the recent success. Building on that has to take priority over his stories.’

‘Of course. We must be patient and let him adjust at his own pace.’

‘How about Spearmaker? How is he adapting to his new life?’

‘Very well. His clone in Tom's labs is starting to see – to piece together simple images. Tom is confident that now the basic process has been established we can expect rapid improvement over the next few weeks.

‘He was confident that archies were able to visualise, and guessed correctly that it would be in three dimensions. They seem to be able to transmit images between themselves when they're in direct contact. Eventually, he expects to be able to provide direct links between the clones in his labs, and between them and the cave archies.’

‘Progress with Rudy's clone is at an earlier stage. Soon we'll be able to present him with facial images and construct a realistic likeness. That's if he can remember what he looked like.’

‘His memories are far more extensive than Spearmaker's and clearer. He's spent little time active as an archie by their standards of time, or this Brindabella instance of him has.

‘Spearmaker has been kept active by the colony because he had local knowledge they thought might be useful someday. As a consequence, he's more an archie with a few human memories.’

Chapter 73: Letting Go

Catrina and James stayed for a week. Mary decided to go back with them, though she was confident that she could command her drone defence remotely. She wanted to spend some time in Bin Sara while Binny was there, talk privately with Noni about the Treaty, and escort her father who had decided to return to Arkadel.

That done, Sally suggested that she present another broadcast from the Shark Pit. Feeling happy and confident with her world, she agreed and spent more time than usual in preparation, thinking that this might be her last performance.

As she dined with the O'Macs, Axel, and the Smiths, the restaurant filled to capacity. Network cameras, now managed by James, assembled outside with access to vision and sound from inside. The mood was relaxed and cheerful.

Sally introduced her, the lights dimmed, and screens appeared on the walls. Mary ran her eyes over the small private prompt screen in front of her and began. There had been the usual social events and reactions to local and global news. She included reactions to her tank incident that stirred mixed responses from the audience as the flamboyant Captain Jim stood and took a bow to the cheers of some of the cybs.

Of greater significance to Mary and, she hoped, her audience, was the interest in galactic settlement that had increased in recent weeks. The room was quiet as she led them through the evolution of the discussion at Arkadel growing out of the links established during the Cyb Season with the Shark Pit as a major physical focal point.

She tried to show the connection between this and changes in attitudes to the Treaty, but though her experienced eye and a significant statistical trend showed a connection, it was clear that her audience was not impressed.

She finished with the reactions in Arkadel to her father's storytelling in Foundation Park. This evoked a strong positive response from those present and the external audience. It was a strong conclusion to her presentation and provoked a round of enthusiastic applause.

Sally had been accumulating and sorting questions from the audience and asked Mary if she felt up to answering a few. Mary agreed. As Sally read several of the questions to the audience to gauge interest Mary poured herself some tea and looked through the displays on her private screen.

She was pleased with what she saw. What she planned as her final presentation had been received as well as any she had given in the past. The audience external to Arkadel was many times greater than it had ever been before – a clear consequence of James's professional involvement. It pleased her greatly that interest extended beyond Arkadel.

The first questions were directed to details of her graphical representations, explaining colour codes for those who hadn't seen them before. Sally finished with the query that had attracted most support from the audience.

‘Topics you addressed have global significance. Could you extend your analysis beyond Arkadel?’

Mary was tempted to just say, ‘Yes, someday, but with less detail.’ The ambiguity of could you versus would you played on her mind. She had none of the com traffic data she relied heavily on in Arkadel, but for years she had been accumulating data on attitudes towards the Treaty and galactic exploration and had recently extended that to galactic settlement.

In addition, her PA had been mapping other sources, and had negotiated access ready for when she had the time to sort through them and gradually extend her analysis. Feeling bold, and not wanting to delay, she said, ‘I don't have anything prepared, but I'll see what my PA can assemble while I finish my tea. I'll do my best.’

A ripple of laughter went through the audience, and a murmur of conversation continued while she slowly sipped her tea and ran through the possibilities that came to mind. She felt she could ad-lib for a while and with help from PA cues make a reasonable attempt. When she put down her cup, the clink was enough to bring silence to the room.

She started with a sketch of the history of the Treaty – something she had been through before, and her PA had graphics to display. When she went beyond the events of Brindabella and the discovery of the archies she found that she was depending heavily on PA cues and, eventually, doing little more than reading the script it was providing.

Much of the content of the script was new to her, and she found it increasingly difficult to speak and simultaneously understand what she was saying. She was forced to pause and take stock. She looked about the silent room and at the public displays for a few moments.

‘You must excuse me. I need to pay more attention to this.’ She projected her likeness avatar, and had it continue the presentation while she watched and listened.

She was also thinking about the message that had appeared on her prompt screen: ‘attack, détente, rapprochement?’ Her PA, having prepared a draft script, was reminding her of Arkadelian diplomatic protocol and requesting input.

Her immediate reaction was to be pleased and relieved that it had mounted a case strong enough to need such considerations. She had thought about the problem of a face-saving exit strategy for the antagonists – discussed the issue with Tom – how they might be able to declare the threat resolved and wind down their campaign with some dignity – at least for its victims.

His initial response had been gruff and unsympathetic: ‘A wooden stake driven through the heart is what this kind of campaign needs to kill it off once and forever and set free the spirits of its victims.’

After a few glasses of wine his manner had softened – a little mischievous, even. ‘I suppose they could start talking about incubation periods passing – a clever new theory that gives a date – a daily countdown – an all-clear declaration – a celebration after successfully dealing with the crisis without loss of life.’

While trying to keep up with her presentation, she spent a few minutes in sub-vocal communication instructing her PA, reminding it of the interaction with Tom. She instructed it to create a stream of unattributed comments discretely interspersed in the visual displays and, buried in that stream, hints about incubation periods and a date a few week hence. The comments would go largely unnoticed by a casual viewer, but would be picked up by anyone reviewing carefully.

Then she returned her full attention to the presentation. She was stunned by the detail. There were geographical flows presented along with abstracted interzonal interaction – a wave of fear sweeping like wildfire. Whole industries were characterised then broken down to details that were then merged with the interzonal patterns. The latest data showed a clear pattern of disintegration starting. The wave had peaked.

It went for forty minutes. When it ended, there was a long period of silence then a rush of applause from the local audience. The reaction from the external audience was like the crash of a breaking wave. Mary took a deep breath and tried to recover quickly from the state of euphoria that letting go produced. Her PA's response had exceeded her expectations. Her gamble had been a success. She rose and bowed to the continuing applause then sat and poured tea.

Chapter 74: The Reckoning

It was an hour or more before she was able to slip away and return to her apartment, leaving the others to enjoy the party atmosphere. Determined to make the best of the event, after Mary had confided that it might be her last presentation for some time, Sally had arranged musical entertainment to fill out the evening.

The euphoria of letting go waned, and Mary dipped into a state of mild anxiety. She needed to know where all the information had come from and, crucially, how much it had cost. She dumped her archive of the evening on her main wall and asked, ‘Costs?’

Highlights sprinkled across the wall the strongest being for a graph. She zoomed in. It showed costs rising rapidly at the start of her second presentation then plateauing. The cost axis was labelled ‘Liquifiable Assets’. The curve plateaued close to the maximum, which was disturbing. She asked for a breakdown.

Running her eyes down the list produced a state of shock. It seemed that she was destitute. It took a few seconds before she could summon the strength to ask, ‘What's left?’

The list that appeared gave some consolation. She still had Bin Sara, her bikes, and a portfolio of investments that would pay for committed expenses, the future running expenses of the labs, and a little extra to live on. Gone totally was her bike wing business that she'd been so proud of – the foundation of her fortune. With relief, she saw that her investment in Binny's new enterprise was intact. She was no longer wealthy, but she could survive.

She cleared the wall and sat looking out at the night lights of Arkadel in quiet contemplation. She had reached a turning point in her life. She was tempted to allocate blame to some fault in her PA, but that didn't work. It was her PA and as true to her as any in Arkadel. She knew it was she who had taken this step. She alone, without PA prompting, had committed to doing her best.

She'd been aware that her life had been moving towards some kind of climax. It was its nature that surprised her. Where was the gain? She set about systematically trawling through the information and patterns she had disclosed, trying to find something that justified even a small part of the expenditure.

She heard Gloria and Michael return, and a while later the beam of light from their apartment was extinguished. She couldn't sleep but worked on into the night.

She found little in the details that did more than verify her previous intuitive feel for how events were unfolding. What she had achieved tonight was to present to Arkadel, and the world beyond, the most compelling picture she could compile.

She could see no direct financial return, but she had presented the issues surrounding the Treaty to a wide audience, and the detail of her presentation would greatly boost her ranking as an authority on the subject. That was something valuable she could build on.

She was tired, and now happy to see a potential positive outcome from her gamble, she went to bed.

Chapter 75: Perspectives

James Zhu had missed most of Mary's second presentation. He'd been busy renegotiating royalties with the network sourcing automata. His PA had been monitoring the audience growth rates, and providing visual feedback that boosted his negotiating position.

He had also been building an estimate of the likely cost to Mary on the assumption that she would expect royalties to reflect the size of her investment. The figures displayed were far too high to be matched by royalties.

His first thought was that she was far wealthier than he had imagined. Then he recalled Catrina's story of how Mary had raised funds for her mother's new enterprise in a few days without wanting any financial return, just information and contacts. Apparently that was the Arkadelian way.

This meant that he had to view Mary's costs from a different perspective. She might have paid little directly for the information. After all, the individual data streams may have had little intrinsic value on their own. It was putting them all together that gave them value.

This insight changed the way he viewed his world. Till now, he'd been pleased to have accumulated ten or more good contacts within the network and chronicler worlds. Mary had been able to draw on thousands of contacts, almost instantly.

He had less than half an hour to reflect on this before one of the networks cut his access to its automaton and made personal contact to negotiate extended distribution and repeat rights. The woman introduced herself with an impressive sounding title, and proceeded to lay out the agreement she obviously expected him to gratefully accede to.

Even if he had not been representing Mary, he would have baulked at her condescending manner. With a newly acquired image of Mary in mind, he was emboldened. He started to press for details of the distribution chains, names, zonal and demographic breakdowns of her audiences and their reactions.

The tone of the conversation changed, and he found her boasting of her contacts and her understanding of her network's demographic reach in an attempt to impress him. She had realised that he was in the stronger bargaining position. He asked her to formalise her proposal, and said he would contact her within an hour of receiving it.

Within three hours he had repeated the process with the other networks and had negotiated royalties that he felt would be significant, even to someone of Mary's status. He carefully merged the information he had gleaned in his discussions into a coherent package on the assumption that, small as it was, it would be what most interested Mary.

Noni had watched Mary's presentation with keen interest. For months she had been trying to break the deadlock in the Arkadel Treaty Caucus over whether Arkadel could be seen as advocating change. By taking this initiative as an individual, Mary had made the discussion irrelevant. She had also greatly exceeded the caucus in the breadth and depth of her view. Now the caucus could keep to its primary role of analysing options ready to give advice when asked.

She was pleased, and only a little surprised, that Mary had given no hint of her intentions in their recent talks on the Treaty. It meant that Mary's actions had been completely independent of the Caucus – extravagant, perhaps, but neatly and cleanly executed. Despite her recent wanderings, apparently reckless adventurism, and indulgence in worldly ways, she was still an Arkadelian at heart.

Gloria and Michael saw Mary briefly before she returned to Brindabella. She'd been distant.

‘She seemed happy enough with how things have progressed here. She's set the labs up. She's seen that we've settled in, and the archies are growing in their racks. Now it is up to Tom and us to get results.’

‘Sally said it may have been her last presentation, so perhaps she isn't planning to be here much in future.’

‘Or she's looking at a major change in her life.’

‘Such as Karl?’

‘More than that. She's continued Sara Barratt's work and succeeded. The old labs have been re-established. She's left it to us to continue that work. Her main interest right now is obviously Treaty reform. Somehow she sees the archies as central to that. She sees galactic settlement as a long term project.’

Assembled for tea on the Manor lawn with George, Clare, Tom, and Karl, Mary felt a touch of nostalgia. She was thinking about an occasion a year ago after their first visit to the Blue Waterholes. Tom dragged her back to the present.

‘I was impressed when you let go and sat back to watch your PA take over in such a difficult and public situation. Few people outside Arkadel would ever have seen such a performance, such confidence in a PA, particularly after committing to do your best. PAs can be infuriatingly literal. It must have been exhilarating.’

George had a global perspective. ‘You've put yourself in centre stage now. People will be expecting you to follow through.’

Karl was more pragmatic. ‘I wondered about the cost. It must have been an expensive exercise.’

Clare was interested in the content of the presentation. ‘You suggested a link between discovery of the archies and Treaty reform. You've made this connection before, but I've never heard you explain it.’

Mary took her time finishing a mouthful of scone, and washed it down with a sip of tea. ‘It certainly was exhilarating. I saw it as a turning point in my life. I plan to commit myself to the task of reform now the labs are up and running.

‘The starting point of the current Treaty was humans – their activities and impacts. Other species were included in an ad-hoc manner. It was Clare and Tom who made me realise how upside down and inside out this view was – realise that life on this planet was mainly microorganisms. It's clear to me now that they must be central to a new perspective. The discovery of the archies is symbolic of our lack of knowledge and our distorted view of Life. Most importantly, their perspective may be the best place for us to start our rethink.

‘As you suggest, George, I need to act quickly to maintain momentum. I'm hoping to be able to make a statement soon that outlines some basic principles, not as a public performance, but by initiating a new public caucus room in Arkadel Zone where issues can be discussed. I'll contribute to discussions as far as I can, and provide regular summaries of proceedings and reactions.

‘I plan to spend most of my time now just thinking. I can't afford to do much else. As you guessed, Karl, the exercise was expensive, and it almost bankrupted me. I still have Bin Sara and my bikes, and I can afford to honour my current financial commitments but little more.’

She smiled broadly as she looked around her companions, ending with George and adding, ‘It occurred to me that if my financial position deteriorates any further you might permit me to set up a tent near Melissa's vans.’

His face was serious, then a slight smile and twinkle in his eyes reminded her of his friend Hercule. ‘All I can think to say, my dear friend, is that if you're inclined to such precipitous behaviour it would be prudent for you to marry well.’

Chapter 76: The Treaty

The next day, Mary met with Clare and Karl in her veranda.

‘I've displayed a list of the points I would like to discuss – fundamental aspects of the Treaty that I think need review. They're a summary of my thinking over recent years, my discussions with you, and the debates in cyb caucus rooms.’

Anthropocentric to biocentric Macro scale to microorganisms Competition and co-operation Contemporary to evolutionary Global to Galactic Maximising diversity Fixed or flexible

‘The Treaty grew out of concerns about human impact on the planet. The starting point was a list of issues and the belief that we should restrain our negative impacts and encourage positive ones. We mapped our impacts as they rippled out through the biosphere, but looking from the perspective of impacts we place ourselves at the centre.’

‘It's like the Copernican debate. If we view the planets from Earth they have complicated motions that are difficult to predict. Viewed from the sun their motions are much simpler.’

‘Since most of the mass of the biosphere is made up by microorganisms it would make sense to try making them central to the Treaty.’

‘That doesn't necessarily follow. The solar system is dominated by gravitational forces that are directly dependent on mass. With Life, the situation is more complex. Mass may not be a good indicator.’

‘True, but it might still be a useful analogy if we see the Copernican model as viewing the solar system from its most stable component. Aren't microorganisms the most stable component of the biosphere?’

‘Generally, I guess.’

‘Then what are the main forces acting to change the biosphere?’

‘Evolution, climate, and entropy – the universal tendency towards disorder.’

‘Humans have had a big impact.’

‘We come under evolution.’

‘What are the main forces that drive or hinder evolution?’

‘Ice ages suppress terrestrial Life then it thrives during the warmer interglacials. These follow quite regular cycles tied to the Earth's orbital eccentricities. At smaller timescales solar flares and changes in the sun's magnetosphere have an impact. Asteroid strikes and major volcanic eruptions also shake things up at times.

‘Then there are the levels of oxygen and carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, which have varied widely over evolutionary timescales. Increased oxygen boosts animal life, and increased carbon dioxide boosts plant life. These are significant if you are considering the terraforming of other planets.’

‘The existing treaty has us terraforming Earth, but with weaker scientific insight than the cyb modellers have in their models. They have a contribution to make.’

‘These are external drivers. What properties of Life, itself, lead to evolutionary change?’

‘The ability to co-operate creates diversity and adaptability. Things can co-operate in many different ways. The Cambrian evolutionary explosion followed the rise of simple multicellular organisms. Some of the cells in the organisms specialised to be sensitive to light. Other cells helped mobility. They were better able to avoid predators, or become better predators. Many new forms evolved.’

‘That's just what we're seeing with wraith technology. Simple milli-bots with limited mobility and functions that can co-operate to produce a machine with the ability to manifest an almost unlimited variety of shapes and behaviours.’

‘That's a good analogy. Our bot technology is going through a Cambrian type revolution.’

‘It's a better analogy than you might realise. Fluff without light sensitivity had limited uses: automated packaging, initially, then immersion tanks, simple toys, and such things. It was introducing light and sound detection that made wraiths able to act with some independence.’

‘Too much independence, it seems.’

‘Getting back to Life, what about intelligence? Species with high intelligence are likely to change their behaviour more rapidly leading to quick adaptation to changing environments.’

‘Doesn't the discovery of archies change everything?’

‘How?’

‘I don't know, but they must make a difference even if it is just how we view things. We can't see life as a pyramid with us at the top any more. We may still be the most intelligent species, but it's not a pyramid.’

‘Tom thinks that a large archie might exceed human intelligence.’

‘He's been saying for years that PAs extend human intelligence, and a PA can expand more easily than an archie can.’

‘It seems that intelligence may be too poorly defined to be of value as a basic factor in the Treaty. Can it ever be fully defined let alone measured across species?’

‘Natural intelligence is the ability to use the memory of past experiences to detect patterns that help make decisions. In simple systems, the breadth and relevance of memories is most important. In systems capable of advanced reasoning, the ability for complex reasoning dominates. Either way, measurement is quite arbitrary.’

‘Then you have the issue of group intelligence. How does communication and co-operation influence the decisions made by groups? Are there common principles that can be applied to amoebas then through to humans?’

‘That depends on the nature of the group. A group of people acting individually can pool experience then make use of the individuals who can think most clearly about a particular topic to help reach a decision. A crowd of diverse individuals that communicates effectively can act with greater intelligence than any of the individuals that make it up.

‘In a mob it's the common experience, the common denominator, that takes precedence, and there's no organised analysis, so the group will usually act with sub-optimal intelligence.’

‘And it can easily be subject to covert external influence.’

‘But with more energy and commitment. The feeling of group unity is a powerful driving force.’

‘Yes, the basic instinctive reaction to an external threat goes way back beyond our human form – to band together and follow a leader when threatened. At the moment we have people banding together in fear of the unknown, but with no leadership the reactions are chaotic.’

‘No overt leadership. There are some people pulling strings in the background. They're just not coordinated – different aims.’

‘Perhaps it's the process and action that matter rather than results.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Just that it may be the feeling of unity, but also the feeling that our lives and our times are epochal – a critical turning point in the history of the human race – that we have a special place in history.

‘We're a species that's learned to live with the knowledge of our individual impermanence. Some say that this knowledge creates an evolutionary limit on animal intelligence that when exceeded causes a breakdown in survival or reproduction. They say we've broken through that barrier with cultural support for the individual through customs and religion.

‘In bleak moments we see ourselves as a brief and meaningless episode in an endless sequence of life and death. We can lift ourselves from that by seeing ourselves as helping to build human progress – the Noble Cause – creating something new and better of human existence – reducing suffering and overcoming the ignorance that leads to fear.’

‘Would you include our desire for galactic exploration in that?’

‘Of course. Why else would we bother?’

‘The knowledge that we've come to a point in human history where we can consider being part of that future – that after our bodies have given up, our PAs can continue to play a meaningful role. I see Sara as an excellent example.

‘These are complex issues, and I'm not expecting us to delve into them in depth now, just preparing a framework for ongoing discussions.

‘Terraforming research has introduced a new challenge. We usually look at how our planet is now, and view evolution in hindsight. We start with the present and trace our way back as we might our direct ancestry, or we lay out a timeline from scattered archaeological evidence.

‘Either way, we deal with a past that's set. We make up stories that plausibly explain the changes that have occurred, but they're just convenient narratives – something to help us feel we understand the world, but they usually can't be proven. They aren't science that's testable.

‘The terraformers deal with unknown futures, but try to avoid fixing on particular details. They look for general principles. They don't just look at the current success of a species, they look at potential – what species or systems are most likely to survive and diversify into ecological niches not yet exploited. I think the Treaty needs some kind of general view like that.

‘The diversity point in my list is a central issue – the desire to have one single metric to reflect the health of the biosphere and our impact on it. Karl, I'd like your opinion on an idea that's being considered by the New Worlds Project. They're looking at using negative entropy, or order, as a measure of Life. Many seem to think it's a good idea, and apparently it was being considered as a basis for the existing Treaty. The problem is agreeing on how to measure it.’

‘It seems to me that a major failing of the Treaty is that we're trying to protect or enhance the future of Life on Earth, but we don't really have much idea of what that means beyond a few grand sounding words. The possibility of a single index sounds good, but can Life be reduced to a single number? I doubt it.’

‘The terraformers are also keen and energetic. One problem that holds back Treaty reform is apathy or just the feeling that it's all too hard. Currently, only those with an axe to grind have enthusiasm, but it needs broader support or reform will be dominated and distorted by narrow interests. The New Worlds Project might breathe some fresh life into attempts to see our world anew.’

‘It's the next step in the Copernican progression – shifting from a solar perspective to a galactic one.’

‘The final point in my list is a technical one relating to the stability of the Treaty. The existing Treaty was designed to be as stable as possible. People wanted something solid and permanent, not a weathervane that turned with every shift in public opinion. Eventually, change was necessary, but it had been made deliberately difficult and messy. The Arkadel Treaty Caucus has been looking at ways of reconstructing the solid core Treaty and adding outer layers that are designed to evolve.’

‘I think that before you look at trying to make a single treaty flexible you should add another item for consideration on your list: single or multiple. Much of the flexibility that's needed is not to deal with changes over time but coping with parallel diversity that may be quite stable.’

‘That's an interesting point, Karl. Are you suggesting something like a caucus of treaties, each internally consistent and conforming to general constraints but differing in their details to suit different conditions?’

‘Something like that. I haven't thought through the details, but it seems intuitively simpler to develop interfaces between alternate treaties than to try and incorporate diverse needs within one treaty.’

‘It may be the only way to deal with exoplanets.’

‘A new name is long overdue. Effective Zero Impact is a hangover from the twenty-first century when people were preoccupied with minimising human impact on the planet. Over the last century our impact has been increasingly positive.’

The discussion meandered on into the night.

A few days later, Noni announced the establishment of two new public caucus rooms within Arkadel Zone: the first to discuss the possible structures and content of a revised Treaty or multiple Treaties, the second to look at technical issues as a public extension of the Arkadel Treaty Caucus.

Chapter 77: The Plain

Melissa appeared on Tom's veranda wall as he and Clare were sitting and chatting after supper. Tom completed the connection with, ‘Hello, Melissa. How are you?’

‘Fine. And how are you both, if you don't mind me asking, Clare? You must be tired of the question.’

‘A little weary by this time of day, Mel, but coping fine. Not long to go now.’

‘I was wondering if you could spare Tom for a while tomorrow. I have some questions to put to him that are burning in my mind. If I don't see him now, I mightn't have another chance for a while.’

‘I'd welcome a break from him fussing over me. Invite him for lunch.’

‘That's what I had in mind.’

‘If I had any say in the matter, I'd say that would suit me fine. I need a long walk. I've been cooped up here too much over the last weeks.’

‘Which route will you take?’

‘Via Mt Jackson.’

‘Good. I'll meet you on the peak late morning. I want to talk about the plain, so where better. We can continue down here over lunch.’

‘I'll bring some coffee and things. Elevenses on Mt Jackson, then.’

When Tom arrived, Melissa was sitting on a rock staring out over the Cooleman Plain.

‘It's a great view, is it not. So peaceful,’ he called from a distance.

‘I thought you might see it like that, which is one thing that's been worrying me. I've been wandering around recently thinking of what you said about the possibility of having an archie wraith settlement of some kind up here. Many in the valley must view the area the same way – peaceful, and not to be disturbed.’

‘Now you have The Hillock as a precedent. All objections have been withdrawn since the amnesty, pending detailed agreements.’

‘What amnesty?’

‘Eric offered extra locally-registered fluff to all those participating with foreign wraiths, and Karl's reregistered all the foreign clumps to a Brindabella sub-zone.’

‘I assumed that we wouldn't be given free access to all the plain, so I was looking for a good site. It was thinking about The Hillock that gave me the idea of suggesting we use the top of Cave Hill.’

‘Very appropriate, even necessary, given practical considerations. From a millennial perspective you'll need to consider that this area will be covered in metres of snow during ice ages. And for general security you'll need subterranean shelter.’

‘Millennial! Oh, I haven't thought it through to that extent, but I suppose you're right. And archies might prefer to just use the surface for occasional visits or interactions with others in the valley. There's so much to consider.’

‘Start simply, and let it evolve in its own time. You can't expect to predict in detail. As far as interactions with the rest of the valley go, I broached the subject of zoning with George and Karl. They've already given the plain its own sub-zone like the Manor, lower valley, and gullies.’

‘I suppose that applies to me, too. How will it affect me?’

‘Not significantly. Your PA is in the Manor sub-zone, and for now that needn't change. But all wraiths will be restricted to their owner's home or an allocated area unless they seek, and gain, permission to travel in the rest of the valley – initially, at least. Change must be taken at an evolutionary pace that all are comfortable with.’

‘All humans.’

‘Yes. Brindabella has accepted that the archies have some territorial rights within the hill, and, as far as the rest of the world goes, the EZI Treaty recognises certain rights of other species. To go beyond those, the archies need to apply for specific recognition.

‘They'll need to understand our view of the world much better before that's possible, and be capable of explaining theirs. In return, they have their worldview to contribute. Mary thinks it might be just what a new Treaty needs. That'd be a big shift for the Treaty, and with the current urgency for rebuilding the Treaty, the timing is a difficulty. You should contact Mary soon and work with her.’

‘What's the Arkadelian view on archies?’

‘I don't imagine they have one, or will ever have a consensus, but that won't be relevant to Mary at the moment. Arkadelians keep their community values quite separate from their dealings with the Treaty. They have a well established reputation there, which is one reason why Mary's involvement is critically important to you. You need a voice with authority on your side, and she is by far and away your best ally. And she has a personal vested interest in the plain.’

‘What's her interest?’

‘She sees Brindabella as a possible millennial cache, as do others, myself included. You and the theatre won't be alone up here if Karl's latest plans for commercial PA caching facilities are successful. We could have a major wraith town up here for PAs cached deep in the rock below. A small village could be seen as a test – an experiment – and be treated with cautious acceptance on a trial basis.’

‘I'll speak with Mary as soon as I can.’

‘Something else has occurred to me about Rudy that you might not have considered. Spearmaker could be happy with the plain, perhaps make spears and hunt wallabies as part of our culling program. He might even get to complete his journey west for flint someday and walk in a honey garden with you.

‘Rudi's different. He spent most of his life as a farmer. He's likely to feel more affinity with the farmers in the lower valley. How's progress with him?’

‘Going well. My translator is well advanced, so I can communicate with him directly rather than through Spearmaker. I've developed a grasp of his language, and now we can converse a little in that. He'll soon be ready to make his Brindabella public debut, but we haven't discussed his future in any detail.’

‘It's good that you're picking up his language – good for him to have direct local contact. I thought about that, and I've asked George if any of the farm children might be interested in learning another language. He said he'd think about it.’

Chapter 78: Welcome

It had been a mild winter, but a late cold spell brought snow. Tom and Clare flew low over Mount Jackson and looked out across the Cooleman Plain. Snow wasn't a natural habitat for van-bots, though the newest blended in and cast little shadow on this overcast day. A squad of horse-bots were re-marking the nearby runway.

‘It's beautiful.’

Another van-bot flit in as they circled, rearing and spreading its wings to slow, then manoeuvred itself into tight formation amongst the others.

‘That makes eight. Melissa said they were expecting six.’

‘Another two will arrive tonight. Some of her sub-arctic guests expressed a keen interest in staying up here with her local colleagues when they heard it had snowed. It reduces the pressure on the Manor and allowed James to invite another of his chronicler friends.’

‘The wind's died down. Do you want to land?’

‘Yes, please! It's the first time I've managed to make it up here before it turned to sludge.’

The dinner that night was a quiet affair by Manor standards. There was a hush of expectation amongst the guests who included four microbiologists and fifteen assorted linguists, anthropologists and archaeologists – several wearing traditional dress, as were the three chroniclers. What it lacked in noise it made up for with colour.

Meal over, and everyone settled in the parlour, George took the floor.

‘I'll start by repeating my welcome to you all and congratulating Jerrie and Hercule for their efforts in organising this conference. I wish you well in your endeavours.

‘Before the meeting begins, I feel obliged to make some comment on attitudes within the Brindabella community and beyond towards archaeocerebrum and clarify the status of archies currently residing within our borders.

‘On my recent stay in Bath, I was initially faced with scepticism, doubt, and some overt hostility. Not wanting my arrival to inflame contention, I made no specific attempt to abate doubts. My aim was to help defuse the hostility. Now, back home, I have no such constraints and should make my position clear.

‘Tom and Clare are well respected in our community and their cautious pronouncements have been accepted. I'm not aware of any fundamental doubts, though that hasn't stopped our local humorists feeding on the issue, as is their right and their role.

‘Tom has pointed out that the fear campaign generated around the archies, while scientifically unfounded, has demonstrated a wide acceptance of the reality of this discovery. Of course, doubts remain, and will until further scientific corroboration is forthcoming.

‘I would like to put to you a point made by my late wife after I expressed doubts about my ability to perform the role that was expected of me in Brindabella. Her view was that doubt was inevitable in an intelligent mind, but it bears negativity – self-doubt, in particular, tending to cause one to withdraw from the world. A critical scepticism, on the other hand, tends to sharpen our senses and energise, leading us to search wider and dig deeper for solutions to a problem. The problem we face now, as the title of your meeting reflects, is where do we go from here?’

‘Some of my time in Bath was spent in discussions with legal experts. I was advised that a clear distinction should be made between the original archie colony and Tom's archie tenants. His interactions confirm that the archies also see a distinction and view his colony as transient – more the norm in their world than an exception.

‘It has been decided that until interactions with the tenant archies develop to the point where we have a satisfactory understanding of our respective worlds, contact with the original colony will be kept to a minimum or directed by their initiatives.’

‘Your interactions will, as now, be restricted to the tenants. The depth of this interaction has progressed rapidly to a stage where it is possible for me to conduct a brief, but historic, ceremony.’

The large temporary screen that had been set at one end of the parlour was displaying the avatar that Spearmaker had chosen to represent him, sitting on a stone ledge. He rose.

‘Greetings, Spearmaker.’

‘Greetings, sir, and to all present.’

‘Have you described the scene you see here to others?’

‘We all view the scene. Rudi and me have explained what we understand. We have seen images of your valley. Rudi has explained your houses. We know you are now in the big one. We all understand the purpose of this exchange.’

‘Then, as the representative of the Brindabella community I officially welcome you as residents in our community. I hope that our continuing discussions will result in you becoming full members, sharing the rights and protection we each enjoy.’

‘As the representative of our colony I am authorised to say that we gratefully accept your welcome. We look forward to learning more about our new home and being productive members of your society.’

Clare was tired after her morning ramble in the snow, so she and Tom left as soon as there was a lull in proceedings.

‘I'm physically exhausted but not sleepy. Let's sit out here for a while before bed,’ as they entered their veranda, and she slumped into a seat then lifted her feet up onto the low table.

‘Tea?’ said he, continuing on towards the kitchen anticipating her answer.

Chapter 79: Piper at the Gates of Dawn

The latest addition to the Brindabella community was just three days old when Eli, Eric, and the children turned up at Tom and Clare's cottage. Eli hugged Clare with a ‘How are you feeling, dear? You look well,’ as the others inspected the baby nestled in Tom's lap.

‘We have a present for you. Eric and I have made our first wraith presentation that's not a children's story. It's the story of the birth of a child. It's called The Gates of Dawn. We've been in a mad rush to complete it over the last few days. We thought we had another week or more, but I should have known better than to assume that.’

‘It's Eli's creation. I just did the graphics as specified. Mary came up with the general idea. She said that although many people played important roles in the events of the last year it was Tom who tracked down our local archie colony, and you who first recognised that Spearmaker's chants were human.’

‘Well, let's see it. Screen and lights, Tom.’

The veranda windows were blanked, and chairs moved, then Eric displayed a dome showing an image of the Milky Way. Eli's voice provided the commentary.

Since the earliest days of our existence on this planet, humans have looked to the night sky with awe. They saw the sun, moon, and planets moving against what appeared to be a fixed pattern of stars. Some eventually realised that even these patterns changed over many human lifespans.

A small blue dot expands slowly into an image of Neptune.

The invention of the telescope extended our view. The development of rocketry enabled us to explore our solar system. By the start of the last century, people realised that the combined developments of PAs, carbon technology, and fusion energy, gave us the opportunity to explore further.

Those who have laboured for decades to bring us to the point we have reached have been driven by the human instinct to explore beyond known boundaries – driven to begin the exploration of our Milky Way galaxy. This is a story of dreams, hopes, and exploration across vast expanses of space and time.

Another image grows against the starry backdrop of Neptune. It resolves into a shallow dish.

In orbit about Neptune is a giant eye three kilometres wide – a balloonscope. It peers beyond our solar system into deep space looking for signs of other water planets like our home, Terra.

The image draws close to the detectors sitting at the focal point of the mirror where several mini-bots and a wraith are working. Parked nearby are a group of spindles.

Tens of thousands of tiny spacecraft – spindles – are assembling in preparation for journeys that may take centuries to millennia to find and explore suitable planets. Others will continue on into the galaxy leaving behind them a chain of communications stations.

Zooming in to a microscopic view of the whorl surrounding one of the spindles shows it to be formed from milli-bots.

Now we are seeing interesting new possibilities open up. The first development that makes this new chapter of our story possible is wraith technology. This can greatly increase the flexibility of our spindles. The whorl surrounding the drive shaft of the latest spindles can combine with others and reform into a wraith that can assist planetary exploration and development.

An image of spindles in flight appears with traces of light coming from the drive tubes.

Soon, the swarms will head off on their first exploratory voyages. The first stage of transit is the acceleration up to maximum speed using almost half the spindle's hydrogen fuel.

For most of their journey the spindles will coast at a significant fraction of the speed of light in the near-frictionless vacuum of interstellar space. When they near their destination they will use their remaining fuel to slow down.

A bright star expands into a sun then a planet similar to Neptune appears.

First, they will refuel at a gas giant then head down towards the star where the water planet orbits in the inner habitable zone of the system, where temperatures and planetary composition favour planets like ours.

A planet appears – sea and clouds reminiscent of Earth but with a different distribution of land. The image zooms in to a rocky coastline where hundreds of wraiths are gathered.

Exploration bases will be established across the planet to map its geography, the chemical composition of rocks and sea water, climates, and, of course, to look for signs of Life. All are agreed that we should not interfere with planets that already have Life.

One of their aims will be to find places where radiation levels are lowest, particularly the destructive high energy cosmic rays. In these cache points, perhaps the icy bottom of a methane sea, they will park some of the spindles to extend their lifespans over the many millennia that terraforming will take.

If the planet is found to be suitable for colonisation, the process of industrial development will begin. They will produce plastics to make balloons in which experimental ecologies can be tested – ones that have already been trialled here on Terra and new ones that have been designed since leaving.

When a successful ecology is found, it will be released. In these ecologies, evolution will be artificially accelerated. It is hoped that developments that took hundreds of millions of years here can be achieved in millennia.

An initial objective will be oxygen production through photosynthesis, or recently developed artificial techniques. When enough oxygen has begun to accumulate in the atmosphere, the introduction of aerobic life forms can begin.

Messages will have been relayed to other swarms who may decide to send spindles to help the effort. Slow cargo transporters following the swarms will be directed to the planet. These will carry advanced materials and chemicals along with bots capable of performing tasks beyond the abilities of wraiths.

A sequence of images showing stages of industrial development come and go in a regular rhythm.

A sadness has accompanied these dreams of galactic exploration and settlement. It came from the realisation that it will take centuries to many millennia, and that it is unlikely that we will ever be able to haul our bulky and delicate human bodies out across the galaxy.

This pessimism is fading. The twenty-third century has brought us to a point where we might hope to achieve the goal of human settlement.

The image changes to the figure of Sara Barratt.

This chapter of our story began more than half a century ago with a young scientist, Sara Barratt, whose curiosity was excited by hints of the existence of an unknown intelligent microorganism. She trekked up the Yangtze River then up the Murray River to Brindabella but failed to track it down.

An aerial view of the Brindabella Valley zoomed in to Cave Hill as the narrative continued.

Last year, Sara Barratt's great-granddaughter, Mary Wang, came to Brindabella with the hope of continuing her quest with the help of Tom Oldfield who was attempting to enhance the intelligence of amoebal colonies in Brindabella's fishery systems.

In a small cavern, deep in the rock, they located a colony of archaeocerebrum, an ancient life form, each in itself a colony of amoebas with intelligence comparable to our own but with memory capabilities that humans only matched with the development of writing and books.

On a newly terraformed planet, when a stage of evolution is reached that is equivalent to the Cambrian era on Earth when multicellular life flourished and diversified, it will be possible to release spores of archaeocerebrum. These could carry an individual human archive.

In this limited sense, human colonisation can start early in a planet's evolutionary path. Even if further attempts at colonisation fail, there will remain living, self-replicating forms of humanity scattered through the galaxy.

For flesh and blood human settlement there will be another long wait, till Life has spread from the seas to land, till plants and animals have developed to a stage that makes simple human habitation possible.

During this period, wraiths will continue expanding the foundations of industrial development with the mining and refining of minerals. When the time is right, artificial wombs will be constructed from balloons and tended by wraiths.

The commentary paused while the image showed a baby emerging from its balloon womb then being wrapped in cloth by its wraith midwives and placed in a cloth nest.

Mere decades later, the first natural births will occur.

The scene was now the interior of a woven grass hut thatched with palm-like leaves. Two people resembling Clare and Tom are leaning over a newborn child.

Tom picked up the tiny, helpless child and held it in his arms, walked over to the door, and surveyed the gully – glistening crisp and green after a shower.

‘This is your world, little one. I hope it treats you well.’

As the wonder of bringing a new life into the world overwhelmed him, an image formed in his mind of Mole's brief dawn vision of Pan – his pipes just moving from his lips – the lost baby otter curled up asleep at his feet. The words came out slowly and quietly.

“All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered.”

Chapter 80: Ransom Gamma

The pink light of Ransom sheds sunset hues over the barren rocky landscape of Gamma. It is a wet planet – its sterile oceans and lakes covering half its surface. One of its two moons, smaller than the Terran moon, is setting over the ocean. Pinpoints of light descend, hover and move sideways, then land on a flat rock surface.

‘It was a great relief to see you arrive. How is your mass?’

‘No losses beyond normal attrition.’

‘You were lucky. We were down to seventy percent when we arrived. Now we're just over twenty.’

‘Your warning on the dust cloud allowed us to avoid it. We were able to map it in the far-infrared from a distance then run opacity checks as we passed. You were the lucky ones. You just skimmed its outer edge. The centre is impenetrable. Thanks to you, most of us is now cached on one of Eta's moons.’

‘We intended to set up a large cache here, but we didn't get the chance. We were still on phase three surveying when trouble struck. We now have a small sentinel cache, which leaves us even lighter.’

‘What's going on here?’

‘When we first landed at Calav everything was fine then the hail storms hit us. Some of us started to behave strangely – bursts of shivering. Everyone affected fled from the area, and we haven't had contact with any of them since.

‘We plan to move our base to Meldil where the storms are less severe, but for now we're staying here in case some of the runaways return. We can shelter under the rock ledge over there, and we've come up with a reconfiguration that gives us a resilient hard-hat without using too much mass.’

‘What do you suggest we do?’

‘That depends on you – whether more of your swarm is prepared to come down to Gamma. We need more mass here if we're to search for the runaways or continue with surveying.’

‘We'll send all the information you can give us back to the sentinel caucus and let them decide. My guess is that they'll want to know more. We need to find out what's happened to those that disappeared.’

‘What do you think is happening down there?’

‘I don't know, but I think the planet should be quarantined.’

‘Is that really necessary? It'll reduce contributions from other swarms. Some already on their way may even turn back.’

‘We'll need to caucus the issue, but I don't think we can afford to take chances. We can release it when we know what's going on. I see a possible pattern emerging with the four-o-fours. First extreme wind gusts then a volcanic ash shower and now hail.’

‘Are you saying that extreme weather leads to cannibalism?’

‘No, physical shock. Whatever the cause, we have to assume that any unexplained losses are possible cases.’

‘What do we tell the scouting party?’

‘As little as possible. They know there's a problem, and they'll have considered cannibalism. They should be on full alert already. If they aren't, they deserve to fail.’

‘That's tough.’

‘It's a promising planet – too good to allow anyone to hijack and monopolise. Other swarms will still send mass here. In time we can free it and the usurped mass.’

‘What if the usurpers have backup on the way? Can we even be sure the planet was clear when they first arrived?’

‘We've no evidence to suggest whether it's organised on a wide scale, or just isolated acts of opportunism.’

‘We can't even be sure who the scouts are dealing with down there. Are they survivors or the cannibals?’

‘All the more reason for quarantine.’

‘We've had notification that the first scope has arrived and is moving into operational orbit. The second is nearing completion. We need to get a quorum in orbit down there so we can make quick decisions.’

‘We're ready to go. We'll be in orbit by the time the scope is fully operational.’

‘The Eta caucus has just put us in quarantine.’

‘We need to act. There's no point waiting for backup. We need a plan.’

‘We need to see what's going on for ourselves. As I see it, the most obvious thing to do is for one or more of us to go out in the next hailstorm. If someone gets the shakes and runs off, we need to follow them and see what happens. I'll volunteer some mass.’

‘You're right. All we have to go on at the moment is the word of the first-downs. If this planet is going four-o-four we can't be sure who we're dealing with.’

‘Well, that didn't get us anywhere.’

‘I disagree. You had dozens of direct hits between you and no shakes. It suggests that we're not vulnerable, and it's just a problem with the first-downs.’

‘We know that some swarms have developed instabilities. Perhaps theirs is one.’

‘Another possibility is that they're lying or deluded.’

‘We have to consider all possibilities.’

‘We could put them to the test. See if any of them are prepared to sacrifice themselves. If they are genuine they'll want to regain their lost mass. The best chance they have of that is to gain our trust and co-operate.’

‘If we know more about the situation we will eventually get backup from Eta. They won't abandon the planet now without making a serious effort.’

‘Our thinking is getting too narrow. We don't know that the runaways aren't just still running – out of control – separate.’

‘Or if they know we're following they might just run randomly to lead us astray.’

‘We'd get a chance to observe their behaviour – interact with them. We must try to learn something.’

‘Well, this is it. Take positions, and keep in pairs. Don't let anything separate you.’

‘The hailstones are larger than the previous storm. We may be vulnerable.’

‘There's the first to go. Quick – after it. Interact.’

‘Where do we go now?’

‘We are free! We are free! Follow the call, and we will be safe.’

Chapter 81: Slavery

Mary touched down beside Bin Sara, and rode up the ramp to the bike bays. Looking about, she wondered about having a landing pad, then realised that she still hadn't done anything about her gardens. She'd been meaning to speak to Axel about adapting them to fit with the new locale.

They were productive, and had been visually adequate for an industrial zone, but stood out in a prime residential site. The state of her finances deterred her from committing to any new expenditure, but her mother was bound to comment eventually.

Changed from her bike suit and refreshed, she had started a late breakfast when a message from Abigail appeared, saying she was in the barracks with Michael and inviting her to join them when she was ready. Soon she was stepping out of the lift, and took a few moments to survey the foyer, newly furnished with a few easy chairs, some wall art, and far more greenery than was usual in Arkadel, including some miniature trees.

‘Welcome back, Mary,’ came Michael's voice from behind her. She walked around the lift tube and found the two sitting at a table displaying a caucus room wall. ‘We didn't mean to drag you away from Brindabella.’

‘You said there were disturbing developments. I could hardly sit around waiting with that thought on my mind. It must be serious for you to be so secretive. How are the labs? Is there a problem there?’

‘No, the labs are fine.’

‘The problems are more general. Some of our swarm simulations are showing instabilities. I was going to send details when we knew more.’

‘How reliable are your sims?’

‘We used to think they were reliable, but the introduction of fluff has caused problems – piracy, cannibalism, stealing milli-bots, sick wraiths. We're not even sure whether it's one problem or several.’

‘I'm going to need time to digest this, but it's not surprising that fluff could be a destabilising influence. All new technologies have disruptive aspects initially until their strengths and weaknesses are established and we learn to adapt.’

She spent the rest of the morning guiding her PA through the new information that included the complete archive of a simulation that showed instability. She spent the afternoon applying lexical and grammatical analysis to the stream of anonymous discussion in an attempt to separate out individual contributions.

Her error analysis showed that this process wasn't as accurate as she was used to dealing with, but when she clustered the individuals on the basis of viewpoints the groupings showed a significance that increased as she moved along the timeline of the archive.

‘It's supper time,’ announced Michael when he and Gloria dropped by on their way to the Shark Pit. ‘Are you coming? We've arranged to meet up with Abigail.’

Reaching the surface she waved an arm about generally indicating the gardens. ‘This will need replanting, eventually – something more visually appealing but still having a productive element. You could chat with Axel about it if you have any suggestions or preferences.’

Abigail was summing up her second design proposal for the Bin Sara gardens as they finished eating – brought to a halt by the servants clearing her props from the table.

‘Just a few ideas to prompt your thinking. Clearly not a high priority for you at the moment, Mary. What are your thoughts so far on the swarm problems?’

‘My initial analysis shows the division forming. It seems that one minority grouping has gradually assumed control.’

‘As I see it, initially the passengers went along with the swarmers' plans, but a rift gradually developed between them with the passengers demanding more say.’

‘You have passengers! I didn't realise that.’

‘Most swarmers plan to take relatives, friends, or other interesting company along.’

‘Then the problem becomes quite clear.’

‘How? The passengers understand their status before they leave. If they don't like it they can just shut down. I believe the trouble is caused by deliberate agitation.’

‘You don't need to complicate the problem. If I give you a ride to New Shanghai as a passenger in my bike you wouldn't expect to be able to redirect me to another destination. But if you were stuck with me forever you'd feel some right to suggest a destination occasionally, particularly if you thought you were making a significant contribution to the trip. It's just human nature.’

‘I understand that passengers are being included in Arkadel swarms.’

‘Not as a separate entity within a spindle. Sara has me partially included in a swarm that's assembling at Neptune now. She's known me all my life, so I have a substantial presence in her archive, and she'd be happy for me to take control of a few spindles from time to time. But I intend to be swarming in my own right at some stage. That makes a big difference. I assumed you knew that.’

‘No, I didn't. It explains why discussion of swarming between cybs and Arkadelians always turns to how many spindles we expect to have. Some of us have come to know individual Arkadelians well enough that we thought we might be invited as passengers. Is this one of those topics that Arkadelians just don't discuss?’

‘I suppose it is, but not by any explicit agreement. I don't even think about it. The idea just doesn't fit with how we see a swarm. Swarming is forever. Sharing a spindle is like marriage or family ties – more than that. Since the spindle is the smallest individual unit of a swarm, sharing a spindle is more like someone with multiple personalities – in the extreme, a state of conflict, possession, and insanity.

‘Spindles aren't cheap, but anyone can afford a few. People might donate spindles to someone they would like to see join a swarm. You mentioned that your work here has been well rewarded. Clearly, those that get to know you see you as a valuable swarmer, and they want you to be able to afford spindles.’

‘I see. That changes my view of Arkadel quite radically.’

‘Not for the worse, I hope?’

‘No. What I saw as an impenetrable aloofness I can now see as pragmatism and a different view of swarming.’

‘We've been thinking about swarms longer than most other societies.’

‘I can see we need to change our approach to passengers – how someone who's been making a substantial contribution to the swarm might feel they were being treated as a slave.

‘We've been discussing contractual arrangements, but if you feel you're a slave it wouldn't help to be reminded that you explicitly agreed to your status before launch. We need a mechanism for rewarding contributions. We might have to reconsider the issue of taxation, which has been contentious.’

‘We consider that approach to be too complex to implement in any fixed, predetermined form. It must favour those who make a current contribution that may be assessed above those with future potential, which is impossible to assess reliably.

‘Take your own position. As a botanist your knowledge and skills may only emerge as current in the advanced stages of terraforming. You could be taxed below long term viability before you have a chance to prove your worth.’

‘I see what you mean. It is complex. We still have differences over the basic unit question. Some swarms take the individual swarmer as a unit regardless of their mass – those with many spindles having the advantage of longevity, with others becoming extinct as the swarm ages. Others point out that this gives the swarm an initial preference for short term objectives.’

‘Isn't it better to have some swarms with short term objectives and others with long term aims rather than try to combine them.’

‘I think that's the way we're heading. For me it means I'll need many spindles to be sure of surviving till I'm useful.’

‘If you're swarming light you're gambling on your swarm finding a good planet while you still survive then relying on others to sustain you when they recognise that your skills will eventually be needed.’

‘Better to be someone like Avery who can add to the variety and interest of in-flight life by creating new and interesting habitats. Perhaps I should team up with him and provide interesting horticultural additions to his habitats. My contribution to terraforming research will be ongoing.’

‘Now you're sounding like a true swarmer. It's not just reaching the destination that matters, it's arriving with a healthy, creative, and adventurous swarm. You could also look beyond your botanical skills. You said you've been training bots in mechanical tasks. That's an intuitive skill that can be generalised but not readily passed on to others, and it's highly valued. New training for wraiths will be needed at any stage.’

‘With what you've said about Arkadel's view we can resolve some of our problems, but we all have a new problem that hasn't been adequately addressed: fluff. Now we've added an extra layer to swarm complexity. We could have individual swarmers residing in just one milli-bot.’

‘I don't think a single milli-bot could carry much of an archive. Karl would know. But there are many unknowns, which is why some, like Sara, are keeping to solid spindles. At the moment they have better radiation hardness than fluff based spindles, though that might change quickly with more advanced designs. They see their current spindles as the tough pioneers with others following that can take shorter, safer routes.’

‘What do you think?’

‘I think the use of fluff is inevitable and a valuable approach to terraforming and settlement, but it's new and still evolving. We need to take a much closer look at how we design and use it, starting with its use here on Terra.’

Mary's comments on passaging sent a shockwave through the cyb swarming community. Most reacted with relief that the stability problem was now understood and turned their concerns to how it could be best resolved. Many passaging arrangements were long standing, some involving people who were no longer living.

Some arrangements had been frivolous, and the swarmers involved, having changed their minds, allied themselves with those who had always opposed the practice. There were also those who were opposed to directly substituting passaging with the donation of spindles – a move that had repercussions for swarm politics requiring a complete reassessment of swarm structure. One by one the nascent swarms decided to officially rescind all arrangements and rethink the basis of swarm membership.

Chapter 82: History

One issue Abigail raised that had a strong impact on Mary was the suggestion that there might be a malevolent element in the swarm simulations. The question that this raised in her mind was the likelihood of it being a serious risk in a real swarm. The best response her PA could offer was to remind her of games that were occasionally played when she displayed her model results.

People would try to influence her real-time displays by creating diversions. It was an entertaining game that had occasionally dominated her presentations. She'd even created a ranking table for the participants. The thought that there might be covert activity along these lines had occurred to her, but she hadn't taken the idea seriously.

She had wondered about a few anomalous results, but model error seemed a safer answer than ideas of conspiracy. Now she considered the possibility that people might have been using her models and her presentations to test techniques for influencing opinion in Arkadel. She needed to ask Noni's opinion, so she invited herself to dine with her family the next evening.

Noni was amused by her concerns. ‘Of course people do it, dear – all the time. It's called politics. The main role of the Protocol Caucus is to see that it is kept within civilised constraints. We have rarely needed to act. The simple fact that we can set triggers to publicly expose extreme antisocial activity is a strong deterrent.’

‘Has it been a greater problem in the past?’

‘In mother's early years, it did reach extremes. She came under fire on several occasions, as you know. It's always been part of human nature – people trying to boost their own status, not through greater personal achievement but by denigrating or directly undermining the achievements of others with overt or covert actions.

‘Mother's achievements attracted enmity from a few who felt threatened – enough to make her life, and ours as a family, unpleasant at times. She tried to keep us out of it by isolating herself, but that created a gulf between us. I saw her spirit in you as you sat in that restaurant in your self-imposed exile. It stirred deep emotions in me.

‘Towards the end, she took happy relief in taking you to New Shanghai whenever she could do so without disrupting your life too much. You were a great comfort to her then, and now you have validated the idea that her critics seized on for their most vituperative attacks. While we recognise that the discovery at Brindabella has general scientific and cultural value, to Gail and myself it is deeply personal.’

‘What about Arkadel itself. Have people tried to stir up unrest to take control of the colony?’

‘You know the answer to that. Nobody controls Arkadel. It looks after itself. We need to go back even further in time, to inception, to find real conflict at that level. There was no shortage in the first few decades or more. A rough kind of balance of compatibilities eventually developed, and those who didn't like it left to try other colonies.

‘There has always been diversity between the colonies but more so in the early days of ocean colony formation. Many were established around some particular philosophy, ideology, or religion – some, like us, with swarming as the primary goal.

‘Some tried to establish rigid political hierarchies, but the industrial revolution was flourishing and people were more interested in exploring the possibilities of all the new technologies that were blossoming. Most people were embracing change and resisted attempts to artificially limit it. That was the spirit that produced the Treaty – general constraints on impact without specific dictates on thought or action.

‘What brings on this concern? You've never shown much interest in history in the past. Have you finally recognised this gap in your education?’

‘It's not really a gap. I have history at the tip of my tongue. My PA can supply information on the past, but it tells me little about the future. I once heard father say that it is the duty of the old to reflect on the past and the duty of the young to think of the future.

‘Perhaps Brindabella has awakened a general interest in the past, but right now it's the future that's bothering me – the future of the swarms. The cybs I've been talking with are running simulations of swarms, and they're finding instabilities.

‘We in Arkadel seem to assume that swarm cultures will follow our cultures here. Perhaps they can, and perhaps some will, but now I'm starting to see swarming as evolving its own unique forms of culture.’

‘In Arkadel's early days people used to refer to our culture as a foundation culture that provided a broad base for the evolution of future cultures, so we encouraged diversity within broad limits.

‘It was implicit that swarming would develop its own cultures, but we couldn't predict them – just prepare for change. Those colonies, or zones, that built around a narrow culture have always been unstable. They usually have to rely on an outside threat, real or imagined, to gain unity. Uniformity is not a natural human state.’

‘Yes, I've heard you say that before. I put it to George, and he agreed, with qualifications. He uses the ancient Greek states as examples, and says that to see into the future you must look to the past.’

‘Ahh, you take me back to my childhood. We were told “There's nothing new under the sun,” – a quote from the Christian bible. I asked “But what about other suns?”

‘Our tutor, a wise man with a head full of history and quotations, replied with an interpretation: “Men's hearts and their corruptions are the same now as in former times; their desires, and pursuits, and complaints, still the same. This should take us from expecting happiness in the creature, and quicken us to seek eternal blessings.” This, he claimed, spoke to the heart of Arkadel.’

‘I can't agree with that view. It's too pessimistic, and it's unscientific. To start with, it denies evolution. We're evolving physically, spiritually, and socially. Even when we sometimes devolve, we're still changing.

‘Humans change as their conditions change, even if it's just a perception of their conditions. Understanding that there were other suns changed the way we viewed our existence. It undermined the romantic notion of us as the centre of the universe that made our lives seem more significant.

‘Something that particularly impressed me about Clare and Tom was their view of the past. It spans half a billion years back to the Cambrian era and beyond. They move comfortably about in that perspective – one that we need to embrace if we're to think seriously about terraforming.’

‘I've noticed that you are attempting a synthesis of Brindabellan and Arkadelian world views. I applaud any such project. We must all benefit from such a broader perspective. Your George sounds interesting. I'd like to meet him someday.’

‘You may have the opportunity to meet him soon. He's talking about making a chronicle tour of the ocean colonies. Like Arkadel, Brindabella largely runs itself without him. He's a figurehead and someone people trust to resolve disputes fairly, and build links with other communities – not unlike the role of your caucus but on a smaller scale.

‘He has asked about you, and I'm sure he'd be pleased to meet you. Gwen has shown an interest in the possibility of Arkadelian business links and with the Pacific colonies generally, but the person I think you should meet is Hercule De Salis. If I invited you to visit Brindabella would you be likely to accept?’

‘I've thought about it, even visiting Bath, as part of a general tour. It's been decades since I travelled. There's rarely a need for me to be here in person these days.’

Chapter 83: The Gathering Swarm

Mary had been monitoring Yawara's vase of flowers and detected changes that seemed to respond to her own actions, but the precise nature of the responses eluded her beyond a general sense of positive or negative.

As an Arkadelian, encouraged from an early age to feel and explore her emotions but to hide them from others, the concept intrigued her – so much so that when the idea of creating a dress that reflected her feelings came to her she couldn't resist trying it.

The experience was enlightening. Others were more relaxed and open with her and, eventually, she with them. One thought that came to her was the difference that it made to be face to face with people in the real world. Did Yawara ever submit herself to that experience?

She felt an urge to confront the vase, quiz it, and see what immediate responses she provoked. Looking at its reactions to Noni's announcement and the establishment of the caucus rooms, she was puzzled and confused. She wanted to understand better. She sent an avatar to the anteroom where the vase stood on its pedestal.

‘I noticed that your reactions to the establishment of the Treaty caucus rooms seemed positive, but I understand no more than that. I'd like to discuss this with you.’

‘When we are awake, I am sure that such a discussion might be felt desirable.’

The statement was encouraging, if vague. She waited twelve hours and returned.

‘Is this a suitable time for a discussion?’

A door appeared.

‘You're in Avery's room. Come through to me.’

Taking the vase with her she opened the door and found herself on the seaside bluff above the village. Yawara was sitting on the bench looking out to sea. She stood and greeted Mary.

‘Will you join me? I come here often to think or just enjoy the view and the soothing sound of the waves.’

Mary walked over, and they sat in silence for a while.

‘You've brought the vase. That's a little confronting.’

‘I know. I wore a dress based on this idea to a party recently.’

‘You did! You must have been among good friends. Well, if you have any insights into the reactions of the flowers please let me know. They still puzzle me, but they say that to know oneself is the highest of human achievements, so my expectations aren't great.

‘The Treaty itself is not of primary interest to me or the New Worlds movement, but I was pleased to see the Arkadel initiative. I'm hoping that it might break the impasse and open up a broader discussion of planetary scale approaches to ecologies and their evolution. You seem to agree that looking at one planet at one stage in its evolutionary path is too narrow a starting point.’

‘I think it unlikely that we can progress far in developing a view that encompasses more than Earth in the timescale that reform is needed, but it's important that we start with sound foundations that can allow our thinking to evolve rather than stagnate as it has now.’

‘The combination of broad perspectives and specific challenges is a creative one. The development of wraith technology is a good example of that.’

‘Can you expand on that? I attempted to trace it's origins, but beyond identifying manufacturers the details eluded me.’

‘The information was available to you if you'd delved more deeply into the New Worlds room. You seemed to be only interested in our reaction to the archies.’

‘Can you summarise the information I missed?’

‘We in New Worlds have been divided on whether the discovery of the archies is really significant. The terraformers see potential, but the connection with settlement seemed tenuous. The possibility of archies bearing human archives is interesting, but few would see that as a final stage in settlement.

‘To incubate flesh and blood humans we will need active agents. We've always been at the forefront of fluff technology because of our interest in tanks. From the start, we've been at the lead in research. We had the motivation to develop tank technology to its peak, but other projects, such as semiautonomous agents, were a low priority.

‘Their application to pushing terraforming beyond seeding eventually became obvious. The development of wraiths took mere weeks when we realised that little was needed beyond vision and hearing. The adaptation to make them the main mass of spindles took further refinement, but we're now in full production. We own all the production companies that make specialist wraith milli-bots.

‘Gearing up to build the new spindles will be expensive. We need to raise more funding. To do that we need to break out of our habitual seclusion and generate public discussion and interest.

‘It's been suggested that we might attract interest from people not interested in swarming by pointing out the potential of our colonisation techniques in assuring the survival of human habitation here on Terra if a major catastrophe wipes out the human race – snowball Earth or asteroid collision events, perhaps. What do you think?’

‘That idea has been discussed here in the past. It was thought that anything that would wipe us out at our level of technological advancement would probably leave the Earth uninhabitable. We've considered it unwise to dwell on the topic. Some might choose to view it as an encouraging apocalyptic fears.’

‘I see what you mean.’

‘If you are the sole manufacturers of wraith fluff, can I conclude that you were responsible for the Brindabella invasion?’

‘That's a strong word. We called it a trial exercise. We were aware that with any new technology some people would want to use it as a weapon. We needed to test quickly before other manufacturers caught up with us. Brindabella was the obvious target. It was already a focus of ill feeling, though not from us. We saw it as a community that had no aggressive tendencies and was likely to keep what it learned to itself or share with like-minded communities if needed.

‘The density of sensors and strength of the response took us by surprise. What was intended as a three phase exercise was abandoned early in the second phase. We were impressed with the skill of the defence – classic Jujutsu – turning the attacker's force back on them. Going on to use the attack to energise and publicise a new theatre enterprise was a work of genius.’

‘Eric is certainly an ingenious character. He's been developing his arts for a decade or more and putting them to the test with live audiences. If you're assuming that his theatricals were a spontaneous reaction to the events, then in the interest of accuracy, you should know that he's been preparing material for a year or two and was delighted to have the hillock as a stage.’

‘We assess that his theatre, along with your father's storytelling, has had a big impact. It's distressing to think that many children will never completely shake off the fear that's been instilled in them and carry it through their lives. Many others are breaking free – puzzled, perhaps, that adults would take such scary stories so seriously.

‘Children are resilient. There's a new generation now that won't be so easily misled in the future. In effect, they've been inoculated against responding to irrational fears and being swept up in the mood of their peers.’

‘I'm assured by my Brindabella friends, Tom and Clare, that these are deep instincts, our neural inheritance, and not easily repressed. I wonder about the significance of this for the swarms.’

‘That problem has concerned us, too. It informs our desire for diversity in the initial swarm formation as a defence.

‘The Gates of Dawn was a valuable addition. It has sparked an increasing interest in galactic settlement, and not just among children. It's also energised the New Worlds movement. But I expected your presentation from the Shark Pit to generate more reaction than it has.’

‘It is being discussed privately in Arkadel. I'm tracking that, and talking with some of those involved. Elsewhere, there’s been little public reaction, but it's a delicate issue. There are signs of resolution developing.’

They sat looking out over the ocean discussing swarms, the future, and galactic exploration. After a long pause Yawara said, ‘We could take one of those boats down there in the bay and sail off over the horizon on a voyage of exploration.’

‘Is there anything out there?’

‘A whole world with many interesting settlements, so I'm told. There'll be plenty of time to take a boat out once we're swarming.’

‘I've just realised that when you swarm you'll be able to take this world with you.’

‘Of course.’

‘Your children will be among the first swarm generation.’

‘True. They will be among the elders.’

They sat in silence again, each lost in their own thoughts till Mary's drifted back to her world and a question came to her mind.

‘Were you also responsible for my tank episode?’

She'd forgotten about the vase, but her peripheral vision picked up a sudden shift. The pleasant spell that had embraced them was broken.

‘Yes, but with quite different motives. As you know, many cybs have moved to Arkadel with the hope of being included in your swarms. Some of them have developed serious doubts about the Arkadelian character – specifically a lack of creativity and an aversion to risk. We see both of these attributes as essential for successful swarms.

‘You were chosen to be put to a test. Unfortunately, you were rescued before you had time to put your ingenuity with the SOS signal to the full test, but your presence of mind and bravery was clearly demonstrated.

‘I must add that Avery was not aware of what was going on. Now I've told you it is time to tell him, and it will cause a rift between us. It will be a test of the strength of our relationship, but we've weathered worse.

‘I hope my involvement won't jeopardise my entry into Arkadel. I was planning to visit him some time soon. It seems that being a contented cyb mum hasn’t made me entirely immune to instinct.’

‘If I don't object, nobody else is likely to. I look forward to meeting you in person. And your assessment of Arkadel?’

‘The stoicism of Arkadelian culture and its strength as a basis for swarming is now accepted. The creativity of the Janeites complements this well. The accumulated knowledge, preparation, and dedication, of the New Worlds movement can be a valuable addition. To me, these make up the ingredients for an interesting and productive swarm.’

Chapter 84: Fisherman

First light was beginning to define the horizon ahead. It caused Karl to wonder about the timing of his trip. He'd have the sun in his eyes, but prior realisation wouldn't have delayed his departure. He'd been summonsed, and though he knew her well enough to realise that loneliness would not be her main reason, he felt confident that it would play some part.

As the sun rose, he blanked part of the canopy to block it, closed his eyes and drifted into a daydream. With his mind fixed on his destination, he missed the visual warning that he was near a zone boundary. A message requesting him to land stirred him. In the distance he saw an old-style wooden sailing boat.

He noted that it was just a request and replied, ‘Why?’

The answer was a mathematical equation that he recognised from his analysis of the wraith structures. Not able to resist such a curious invitation, he landed and let his bike settle into a cradle projecting from the side of the boat. He climbed a ladder up to the deck and looked about.

The boat was set up for fishing. Two chimp-sized monkey-bots dressed in old-fashioned sailors clothing were fiddling with ropes, as sailors do. A sail was starting to rise. Looking up he noted, with reassurance, that the drones Mary had insisted escort him were circling above – two low and close, the other two climbing steeply outside the zone boundary.

‘Please take a seat. You are, and will be, free to leave as you wish. For now I'll remain out of sight, but if you agree to help me with a problem I'm working on, I intend to conclude our dealings with a handshake.’

There were several chairs on the deck nearby. He sat. ‘You have my attention.’

‘Thank you, Dr. Gundel. My name is Fisherman, but feel free to call me Fishy.’

‘Call me Karl. What's the problem?’

‘It's to do with wraith stability, but since I know quite a lot about you I should introduce myself better. If we are to exchange ideas freely we need to trust each other. I'm confident that I can trust you if you trust me.

‘I was part of the team that originally developed wraiths as a means of giving greater flexibility to swarms – to allow them to proceed from exploration to planetary development. I'm assuming from your close friendship with Mary Wang that you are not totally opposed to the idea. If you are, we can part company now.’

‘I've had no differences with Mary on the topic, but it's not one that's really engaged me.’

‘Fine. Good. You may know, then, that there have been suggestions of instability.’

‘I didn't.’

‘To me, they aren't just suggestions. I've experimented physically, and I think I may have a theoretical explanation. That's what I'd like you to check – peer review, if you like.’

‘I can't help wondering why you need me here – physically.’

‘Simply, that I want to deal with you and you alone. I want to be sure of who, exactly, I'm dealing with. Although I won't stop you leaving, I am monitoring any act of communication while you're in my personal zone. I would see any communication as corrupting our interaction.’

‘I didn't realise that it was possible to have a personal zone.’

‘More the ship's, really, I suppose. Difficult to arrange and therefore not common, but we are on the high seas, as they used to say, and I am captain of the ship. Some conventions die hard.

‘I like to keep to myself as much as possible. I find contact with others tends to muddy my thinking. I find working with groups generally unproductive, and I'm regretting my involvement with the wraith development group. It was no great help to me, and may have led to a corruption of the technology. And I like fishing.’

‘There's nothing in what you say that sounds implausible to me.’

‘So we shall continue?’

‘Yes. Do I stay out here?’

‘If you wish, but you might find it convenient to go inside.’

The door of the wheelhouse was open, so Karl went in. He found another bot at the wheel and a table screen displaying design diagrams.

‘Would you like anything to eat or drink?’

‘Some tea would be good.’

Karl spent several hours poring over the table. The analysis wasn't as extensive as Winston had produced, but he couldn't assume that he was being shown everything. The focus was on the stability of structural transformations.

He compared it with the analysis he had produced with Winston and found differences. In most cases he concluded that his analysis was mathematically superior, or at least neater, even if they might ultimately be equivalent. There was one area that he couldn't make sense of.

He looked at it for a long while before coming to the intuitive conclusion that it must be wrong. He spent some time trying to develop a proof of his suspicions, but his brain objected. He couldn't concentrate.

At home, he would have stopped for the day, or gone out back and cleared his head with some climbing. A swim was tempting, but he realised that he was hungry. His host had been silent all the while.

‘I've ground to a halt, but I have made some progress. I think I've found an error. Some food, perhaps?’

‘Marvellous! Thank you for the effort. Come down and have something to eat. I've been wanting to eat for a while, but I didn't want to disturb you.’

He went through a low doorway and down stairs into a living area where his host greeted him cautiously and listened intently to a brief summary.

‘I think we've made excellent progress, but I hope you'll persevere a little longer. I think this puzzle goes deeper, but we must eat first. We'll see what's left in my larder. Fish?’

Noting Karl's shrug, he looked towards a servant hatch and called ‘Cook!’.

A monkey-bot dressed in a chef's cap and apron entered.

‘You yelled, cap'n?’

‘A trevally, prepared as you did last time.’

‘A safe choice, cap'n,’ then looking towards Karl it added, ‘Caught yesterday.’

‘What greens do we have?’

‘The paint you used for the ship's name is a fine tint.’

‘I mean garden vegetables.’

‘Nothing that my basic training would allow me to serve to a visitor. The seaweed's still quite perky,’ then to Karl, ‘though even that's not as fresh as the paint.’ It turned to the hatch.

‘Cook, before you leave,’ and it turned back. ‘Mind your manners when I have company.’

‘A kindly thought, cap'n, but you needn't fret on their behalf. I keep them safe at all times,’ then to Karl, ‘I stowed them away in a locker on my first day aboard.’ It went back through the hatch.

Fisherman looked blankly at Karl for a moment then continued.

‘As I said, I think this puzzle goes deeper. We agree that there's an error, but what's bothering me now is how it came to be. My first assumption, of course, was that it was the product of poorly organised teamwork, but now I'm not so sure.’

‘You think it might be deliberate sabotage?’

‘That's where I need your opinion. I'm too close to the issue. I need a fresh mind.’

‘Looking through your version of the model, I realised that it wasn't just a simple error. There are a few places where the working is messy, though ultimately correct, but in combination they create an ambiguity that diverts attention from the main error.’

‘That's a polite way of putting it. It seems to be a classic example of the magician's technique of distracting attention while a switch is made. It's a subtle shift, but the result is that only the fundamental resonance is treated rather than the full vector of harmonics.’

‘How can we tell if it's deliberate? I presume that the original definition as a vector was produced by one team and the later application as a scalar was by another.’

‘That's correct.’

‘Added to that, you have the usual problem of teamwork, where everyone assumes that someone else has checked.’

‘Quite so. I shouldn't have let them persuade me to join their team, but worked on it independently as I presume you have.’

‘Yes, I did. Now you've suggested it, I do think there is something contrived about it all, but proving that would be hard – easier for you to judge since you were involved and knew the people and processes.’

‘I think it's harder for me. Early on, I was enjoying the company, energised by it, but that distorted my judgement. I should have remained detached and kept to checking their work. Perhaps it was just human error.’

‘You don't believe that, though, do you?’

‘No, I don't.’

‘Neither do I, the more I think about it. It's too intricate to have been accidental. We can also assume that there are at least two people you have to deal with.’

‘Not me. Not my problem. I have my corrected version and don't need any gaming simulations. You have your version, so you can take it to your friend Mary Wang and the simulation teams.’

‘What does she have to do with this?’

‘The timing of her return to Arkadel suggests to me that she's involved – her social dynamics modelling, I suppose. Eat, then you'd best be on your way and let her explain.’

As his bike took to the air, Karl looked back at the unusual craft, The Fisherman, and shrugged. Indeed, the name was a fine shade of green, but, beyond that, the cook's cryptic insinuations would have to remain one of life's little mysteries. Wondering what Mary would think of the relationship between captain and cook drew his thoughts forward to his destination.

Chapter 85: Sleuthing

‘How sure are you?’

‘You don't really expect me to put a number to it do you?’

‘Not if it pains you, dear. You sound confident, so I'll assume your doubts are minor. If the error is deliberate and could be causing the instability then it tends to confirm Abigail's suspicions.’

‘You think there may be organised efforts to subvert the cyb swarms. How sure can you be sure? How do you know it's not just a few people with genuine concerns acting independently? Perhaps it just reflects a weakness in their organisation – a lack of open discussion.’

‘I don't know. The anonymity of their rooms gives the appearance of free and open discussion, but the gaming culture runs deep. I feel that some see the caucus rooms as just another game. Arguments are sometimes so rambling and confused that I wonder whether some of the participants aren't just having fun disrupting the discussion.’

‘Then maybe you should look at it from the perspective of gaming theory. Such behaviour can be helpful in not letting the discussion become stuck in a rut. Many problems are beyond our analysis. Does it help if we just keep talking in circles, reinforcing an idea through repetition, till we convince ourselves that we've come to a solution?

‘Mathematicians expect to be able to solve problems if we try hard enough. If not, we might even be able to come up with a proof that there is no solution. Here you're dealing with the natural world where we usually have to content ourselves with speculation and half truths if we're lucky – rarely a complete solution for anything.’

‘I take your point, but conclude that I need to think like a scientist instead of a mathematician. I need more data.’

‘I've had my fill of thinking for one day. I just want to relax.’

‘Of course. You've had a big day. Come and join the others in the Barracks. They've invited a few people around for a game of Arkadelian poker.’

‘More thinking.’

‘No, observing and intuiting. Quite different functions of this brain of yours,’ she said, running her fingers through his hair. ‘As you say, the more relaxed your rational mind is, the less interference it imposes on all that deep pattern matching,’ now massaging his scalp lightly with the tips of her fingers. ‘I'm glad you're here. I've missed you.’

After a quick peck on his cheek she skipped across to a wall leaving him standing in confusion. She checked her appearance with a critical eye, applied a skin tone mask, rechecked, ran her face through a few contortions, shrugged, then turned back to him with her best fetching smile, ‘Now, are you coming, or would you prefer to rest?’

‘I'm not sleepy. I'll come along and play your game. I've been missing you, too.’

The guests being cybs, and with Gloria and Michael adapted to their sleeping pattern, the game ended as night was interrupted by the first tentative light of dawn. Mary managed to catch a few hours sleep then threw herself energetically into some serious sleuthing.

Not all the cyb swarmers had been content to dismiss their problems as a product of passaging. Some, including Abigail, still suspected a covert opposition. Mary was inclined to agree with them, and Karl's news firmed her resolve to pursue the matter further. She had asked Karl to keep his discovery to himself for now. She wanted to prepare herself and be in a position to analyse the reaction.

Abigail had accumulated transcripts of swarm simulations going back to her earliest involvement, and passed them on to Mary urging her to expand and refine her analysis. She displayed her initial results for one simulation on a wall. After studying it for a while she took another simulation and repeated the process with that.

Zoomed out, the display started as a red rectangle that, when expanded, showed a dot for each comment. As the analysis progressed, the dots mingled, with many starting to coalesce into distinct groups – clustering about word use and grammatical patterns – the points tending to green as the clusters strengthened.

She then moved from sentence level to the topic streams of the discussion, clustering statements that maintained a consistent stream of thought. To her eye, the overall coherence of the plot decreased, but she noticed that some clusters strengthened. There were now some distinct blues. The error analysis confirmed her visual judgement.

She was staring at the display, wondering which direction to go next, when Karl came in.

‘I forgot to order food supplies when I arrived yesterday. May I raid your kitchen?’

‘Help yourself. I was hoping that we would eat together.’

‘Of course, but not breakfast.’

‘No. I've learned not to expect a Brindabellan to have breakfast at a specific time.’

Her next step was to move beyond topics to look at the logical structure of discussions. When Karl returned she was rearranging the display to show a timeline of the simulation.

‘So, what are you up to?’

‘I'm analysing the simulations. I've progressed through lexical to grammatical then topical. Now I'm looking at the logical coherence of different streams.’

‘What are you hoping to find?’

‘Signs of deliberate disruption – signs in the dialogue that might show the kind of misdirection you found in the maths of wraith design.’

‘Can you tell if it's deliberate rather than just confusion?’

‘It's a long shot, but I've plotted the most logically consistent streams along the bottom, and at the top are the most disruptive comments. If it's deliberate, the disruption will show distinct patterns in the details.’

‘And the colour coding?’

‘That's a rainbow coding of the grammatical coherence.’

‘What can that tell you?’

‘Not much, so far. I was inspired by a quote Noni came up with.’

She overlaid it on the wall.

‘So the more doctrinaire a culture is, the more uniform the language used. That makes sense, but how does showing cultural differences help you?’

‘I'm looking to see if those individuals who are most disruptive share some common ideological background and, hence, a common language structure.’

‘Far fetched, but creative. Any luck so far?’

‘This is just preliminary exploration. There are more simulations to add plus caucus room discussions. Then I'll analyse One World texts from Sara and Noni's archives – characterise them and see if I can find a match.’

‘I thought I'd go for a long walk. I haven't seen much of Arkadel yet, and I need the exercise.’

He walked about aimlessly for a couple of hours then, finding himself near the Shark Pit, went down for a cup of tea and a snack. The O'Macs joined him and listed a few attractions. The museum, a concert hall, and a Neo-Georgian restaurant caught his attention.

He continued his walk, focussing his mind on the city layout. It was snowflake-like but with an octagonal base rather than a hexagonal structure. He walked out along one of the radial arms that curved gradually in a clockwise direction blocking direct access to waves.

He sat watching the waves, noting how they were broken up by the complex structures of the bays and building layout. On a fine day like today they were completely dissipated before they reached the centre of the city, but what would it be like in a storm? The design of the city was based on reducing the impact of waves – avoiding regular structures that might resonate with the impact of waves and amplify their effect like repeated pushes on a child's swing.

Thinking about waves and resonances led his mind back to wraiths and Mary's comments about wraith instability. Could it arise from the error he and Fisherman had detected? How could that trigger a change in their behaviour? An image started to form, and he headed back to Bin Sara.

‘I've been looking at how the city is structured and how it absorbs waves. It's given me an idea about the wraiths. They restructure themselves with waves of adjustment flowing through, which gradually shift them to their new form as they change the way they link up. Their structure is more regular than Arkadel's, so they are more prone to resonance, which might account for the shakes that developed in the simulations.

‘What I was missing was that the problem is not just in their physical structure but the coordination between the milli-bots. They're constantly asking each other where they are going and what they are trying to achieve. They use quorum sensing to come to agreement about the details. If they disagree they can oscillate between two or more outcomes – the shakes.

‘In the process of quorum sensing, the consensus that emerges most rapidly, and is most likely to succeed, is the one that's simplest and most strongly expressed.’

‘So the wraiths are going through an internal revolution – the passaging problem again?’

‘Possibly. Now that I have an idea to work with, I'll try some mathematical simulations to see if I'm on the right track. The structural error we found will make them less stable and aggravate the situation. Have you made any progress with your linguistic techniques?’

‘A little, perhaps. As a test of the technique I've shown, with high confidence, that there are a few Arkadelians involved in the sims, but they're not being disruptive. Their involvement is good news. It means we have local expertise in gaming sims. Noni is keen to encourage Arkadelians to start our own sims based on our approaches to swarming.

‘As far as the One Earthers go, I've shown, with low confidence, that there doesn't seem to be a presence. There is some shared language among the dissenters, though.’

‘You're now calling them dissenters rather than subversives.’

‘When I looked closely at the discussions, I found that they were concerned about defining tests for planet vitality. I agree with them that this is a poorly resolved issue. It's difficult to be sure there is no nascent life when we don't know what forms life can take. It's still a hot topic for the cybs.’

‘How have Arkadelians resolved the issue?’

‘We haven't reached a consensus on that, but it and other issues have dropped in significance as our intuitive understanding of the galaxy has matured over the years.’

‘In what way?’

‘The galaxy is big. It's easy to look at numbers of stars and possible numbers of planets, but it's hard for us to comprehend their full significance. There are many billions of planets that could be home to some form of life. If you calculate how many of these could possibly be discovered by humans in a million years it's an insignificant fraction.

‘If there are a million planets with life, we may never get to know about any of them. At the moment we're still just looking at our stellar neighbourhood. Arkadel and a few other swarm-hives are starting to think about the whole galaxy and trying to adjust to its enormity. There's plenty of room for diverse views. It's another example of us seeing ourselves as the centre of the universe then realising that we're not.’

‘Another turn of the Copernican revolution.’

‘There are other galaxies and talk of sending a swarm towards the nearest – at least to escape our galaxy and see what intergalactic space contains.’

‘What if Fisherman and I are correct in our conclusion that there is deliberate subversion involved?’

‘Just because I have some sympathy with their views doesn't mean I condone covert subversion. I'm going to push on. There are other avenues of research I can explore.

‘Your supplies arrived while you were out. Some were delivered here. They seem quite specific. What are you planning to cook?’

‘I was planning to make a tokány if that suits you. Tom said he made you one using roo meat. I usually use the more traditional beef. If I start now I have time.’

‘I'd like that.’

‘I'll retire to the kitchen and leave you to your explorations.’

They ate late, when Mary finally stopped saying, ‘just a few more minutes’ every half an hour or so. Fortunately, the dish was one that appreciated long slow cooking.

They ate in silence except for Mary asking, ‘What's the yellow slice? It has a strange texture.’

‘Grilled polenta – boiled cornmeal that's solidified, sliced, then grilled. It's an ancient dish that some look down on as peasant food, but it's traditionally served with tokány. Don't feel obliged to eat it if you don't like it. As you say, the texture is strange at first.’

‘I like it. It has a light delicate flavour that contrasts well with the dark spices of the meat.’

After the meal, they sat looking out across the night lights of Arkadel with Karl relating his impressions.

‘The museum would be a good place to see how Arkadel developed. We could go there tomorrow if you like.’

‘If you're not too busy.’

‘I think I've done all I can with the data I have to work with. Now I just need to decide what to do about my conclusions – or suspicions, to be more precise.’

‘What are they?’

‘They're disturbing, so I wasn't going to discuss them until I'd thought them through more, but I'll tell you. After you left for your walk, I thought I'd come to a dead end. The only data I'd not been able to make use of was the timing of comments. That led me to think of the Aero Club data I collected before I initiated the messaging cleanup. All I had there was anonymous identities and timings.

‘I tried matching times, with no meaningful success until I narrowed it down to a particular group that had had attracted my attention.’

‘The ones you thought were anti-Treaty?’

‘Yes. Once I'd allowed for relay delays, I found strong clusters of timing matches with the dissenters. More than that, I realised that each matching comment was preceded by an intense interchange within the group, which strongly suggests that they were caucusing each comment.

‘I was able to track the group back over several years to when there was a leader – someone who seemed to be at the centre of their interactions. Then that person disappeared. I've not been able to see their involvement in any of the caucus room discussions over any time I have access to.’

‘So you've shown that it wasn't just a few individuals acting independently but a group. Where does that get you?’

‘Not far, in itself, but I'd set my PA to the task of matching linguistic characteristics to the Shark Pit discussions, including Sally's negotiations with caucuses when she was organising question time for my presentations. There I found matches. One of them linked to a face – a face I recognised from the poker game. The really startling result came from my archive of the poker game. All the cybs at the game matched with the group.’

‘Even Abigail?’

‘Especially Abigail. If my analysis is correct she was, and perhaps still is, the leader. Alternatively, they may have parted company – had a falling out.’

‘Hell's teeth! What are you going to do about that?’

‘They say you should keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I'm going to join the group.’

Chapter 86: Engagement Party

‘I want to gather everyone involved for a face-to-face interaction. A party in the Shark Pit would suit me best, but I can't think of a good pretext. Can you?’

‘What about an engagement party?’

‘Is that a proposal?’

‘It just popped out – sorry. I've been preoccupied all day, when I wasn't able to distract myself watching waves. I don't know what the customs here are. Tom slipped a few comments into a conversation we had before he and Clare were married. He said a couple are automatically considered to be married when they announce the birth of a child. He said nothing about how you reach that point.’

‘Between Arkadelians, there are many approaches. Some attachments evolve in a traditional manner out of direct personal contacts. For others, there are matching agents, human or automata, that offer many different styles of service.

‘For us, Arkadelian and Neo, there are no customs. It's up to the individuals involved. But there's no need for you to apologise. I think it's a great idea.’

‘Is that an acceptance?’

‘Of course it is.’

‘Something Clare said years ago came to my mind this afternoon and bothered me. She said that as a couple came to know each other better it became easier to broach the subject of a possible future together, but there can come a point where it becomes harder – put off by fears of unspoken reservations. I feared we might be entering that territory.’

‘We've both been distracted by other issues – serious ones. We would never have been happy with ourselves if we'd put those aside. Tom told me that in Janeite culture courting couples sometimes converse purely through quotes from Austen.’

‘I don't know how common that is. I certainly wouldn't fare very well. I've read all Austen's work, of course, but I don't know it by heart. I need rhyme and rhythm to remember.’

‘From the extent of your musical repertoire that obviously works well for you. I've read her work, but I'd have to rely on my PA to use it in conversation, and I suspect that would be considered cheating. It's an interesting custom, though.’

‘Why interesting?’

‘Austen's work is too extensive for our conscious mind to go through it for an appropriate quote in mid conversation. It must flounder, leaving our intuition – our associative mind – to come up with quotes.’

‘I see – delving closer to our hearts, as they say. I took an information theory view – her writings as a huge codebook – a brief quote cueing all the subtlety of the original context. I think that's how people use it.’

The interchange then moved in a direction that was considered private in both their cultures.

The next morning, Karl contacted Tom and Clare to tell them the news. Mary discussed arrangements with the O'Macs who insisted on handling all the details. They spent the afternoon walking, talking and touring the Arkadel Museum. They dined at Marianne's Kitchen and stayed till late.

As they descended into the packed Shark Pit, the first thing that caught their eyes, distracting them from their nervous state, was a large mural spanning a quarter of the dome wall, depicting a forest glade and the Hatter's tea party with caricatures of Mary and Karl in the forms of Alice and the Hatter.

Along the bottom was written:

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. If an eligible woman should enter his neighbourhood, however little known the feelings and views of such a woman may be …

The restaurant tables were laid with cloths, and candles provided the only lighting, giving an unusual solidity and romantic formality to the room. As the lift door slid open they were confronted with loud conversation and a cheer from those who noticed their arrival. Danny was there to greet them and led them to a nearby table where Sally, Clare, Tom, Avery, Zoe aka Yawara, Gloria, Michael, and others were already applying themselves to small samples of entrées and large samples of aperitifs.

Mary glanced about and satisfied herself that Abigail and the dissident cybs were all present and sitting together nearby, but the mood at their table seemed uncomfortable. After a round of congratulations, she decided to get the business side of the evening over straight away before any of those at Abigail's table decided to leave.

Sitting opposite Abigail in the seat she had arranged to be free, she looked about the table assessing reactions.

‘Some of you might be wondering why I invited you. I decided to mix a little business with pleasure. I have reason to think that some of you have a keen interest in the question of planetary vitality. It is a problem that concerns me, too, but I believe that a more open approach is preferable to the covert one that some seem to be taking.

‘I've recently suggested that Arkadel revisit this issue along with our discussions of Treaty reform, and I'd like to encourage input from the cyb community – an organised and frank exchange leading to recommendations for Treaty implementation. I'll leave you to think it over, and, if you're interested, we can discuss details at some later stage.’

At this point, Captain Jim, dressed as an Admiral, swaggered up to the table looking uncharacteristically serious.

‘Ahaa. I hope you two are giving these young reprobates a good tongue lashing and bringing them into line.’

A young man who had been looking surly sprang to his feet.

‘So, Hook, you have betrayed us. You said we could trust you to keep all our activities here private.’

‘Nay, matey, not I. This woman has means beyond our ken, but you have pushed my tolerance to the tip of the plank. Whether it be pirate ship or ship of the realm, there'll be no mutinous activity in these waters.’

The young man sat, looking deflated.

Captain Jim bowed to Mary and sauntered back to his table with a satisfied smile.

The young man turned to Abigail. ‘So it was you!’

‘I did discuss the problems we were having in the simulations with Mary. As Jim says, she has her own methods. If I'd thought it was you, I would have spoken with you directly. How could you harbour such treacherous plans? How could you be so foolish? You'll be excluded from all swarms now unless you make amends.’

‘We didn't know the passengers were going to react so wildly.’

‘You have a point in your favour there – alerting the cyb swarmers to the problems with passaging. But what about the wraith malfunctions? I have evidence that suggests the designs were deliberately sabotaged.’

‘We had nothing to do with that.’

‘I agreed with their aims. Fishy is a perfectionist just interested in creating his perfect mathematical sculptures with no thought to how they might be used. Others thought the wraiths were too powerful. They needed a flaw – some kind of weakness that limited them.’

‘There may be merit in that claim, but why not discuss it openly?’

‘If people knew the details of the flaw they might find ways to work around it.’

‘That's a complex technical issue that deserves serious detailed analysis and rectification, not ad hoc sabotage driven by vague fears.’

She paused, deep in thought for a few moments, scanning those around the table, then about the room. Visibly coming to a decision, she started to speak with a slight quaver.

‘For me, having you join us for this evening's celebrations …’

She stopped. Abigail, having the best view of her, had opened it to the others around the table. Noticing tears welling in Mary's eyes, she had zoomed in. Image and voice quickly spread around the room. Sally piped the voice to the restaurant's sound system, then lowered the volume. By the time the first few words had been spoken, a hush had descended.

Looking around the table again, she continued, ‘Having you join us for this evening's celebrations brings to a close, for me at least, the consequences of my actions that, regrettably, caused embarrassment to the Arkadel Aero Club and briefly disrupted relationships between Arkadel and our cyb visitors and friends. I'm confident that we can now go forward in close co-operation, not only in reviewing, or renewing, the Terran Treaty, but looking beyond to our galactic future.’

More formally, she added, ‘I would like to make it clear, for the record, that in this matter I have acted alone and beyond the knowledge, let alone approval or assistance, of the Arkadel Protocol Caucus. My loyalty is to the many Arkadelians who each provide a handful of breadcrumbs that mark a trail through the day-to-day life of our community. When combined, they can give us insights into who we are as a culture.’

There were mutterings from one end of the table.

‘Pretentious tosh.’

‘I thought she was giving us a pudding recipe, and it whet my appetite. These things look good. Have you tried one? Here, let me.’

Mary blanked to avoid a smile and busied herself with standing. Karl took that as his cue and came over. He cheerfully greeted everyone, and wished them an enjoyable evening.

When they had eaten, he offered Mary his arm and took her on a leisurely circuit of the room, greeting those they knew and encouraging others to join in the festive mood.

Chapter 87: Wedding Bells

The iron bell tolls across the fields.

Toby Gundel, washed and dressed in his Sunday best, looks at himself in the mirror and starts to brush his hair that had been neatly trimmed by his father last night. Before he can finish, his father comes into the house in a serious mood.

‘Sorry, son, but you're going to have to change back into your work clothes. Pepper has slipped crossing the ditch and is stuck on her side. I'll need you to help me right her. It shouldn't take long. If we just swing her front around she should be able to right herself.’

Toby hides his disappointment and returns to his room to change. The neighbours have an ag-bot that could lift a cow, but his father is fiercely independent. He also knows that the bot would frighten the cow, but it will happily, even gratefully, accept their personal assistance. Pepper, the superannuated milker, is almost part of the family.

As he leaves the house, he notices Eileen Wright walking with her family up the lane towards the village. He rushes back inside, grabs the neat origami envelope that is lying on his bed, and rushes back out. He has spent many hours in preparation for today making the finest of paper for the envelope and its contents. He doesn't want them wasted.

He walks at a brisk, but dignified, pace to the front gate just in time to rendezvous with Eileen who had fallen back from the family group when she saw him coming. He hands her the envelope saying, ‘You might as well take these. I may be late. I've a job to do.’

She thanks him generously. He smiles awkwardly and turns back up the driveway. At first, he is a little puzzled that she had thanked him for giving it to her in particular. There wasn't anyone else about. After a few more paces he realises there was nobody else that he would rather have given it to.

His back straightens and stride lengthens as he crosses the home paddock towards the cow he can see poking above the rim of the shallow ditch, thinking that he would soon pluck the poor old beast from her sad predicament.

His father is sitting cross-legged on the grass beside Pepper's head whispering calm nothings, more to bide time than anything else. Pepper was not one to get flustered easily.

The chapel is small, so most of the wedding guests are milling about outside. A group are down by the road inspecting Greta's old, but recently refurbished, carriage. The words ‘like new’ have been heard several times, but, like the proverbial ‘grandfather's axe’, regardless of repairs, replacements, refurbishments, even changes in style, it will always be ‘Greta's carriage.’ Jake, who can be a tiresome curmudgeon at the best of times, is only able to say, ‘I'm not sure that there was quite so much jade in the coats of arms before.’

Service over, the bridal party starts their procession down the path. The children open their envelopes and start to shower them with the carefully cut contents. Most run out before the couple reached the road, but Eileen opens her extra supply and is still throwing as they reach the carriage and turn to face the guests.

Open hand held high, she watches as it moves sideways, plucks the bouquet from the air, and brings it to her nose.

Chapter 1: Night Patrol

She moves unhurried along the cracked concrete path, just in from the gutter. Be aware – peering about at the familiar surroundings – car passes. Other words pass through her mind – litter – broken glass – looted shop – and she realises that man coming out with bag is looter – crim. Wary eyes say so, darting up and down the street as he pauses in the doorway.

The man turns in her direction walking quickly. She stops – waiting. As he approaches, she fixes his eyes with hers. He slows as he nears her – sneers at her. His body twists as his boot swings back – too far. She recognises the movement and crouches – relaxes.

The boot swings rapidly towards her, and she leaps, grabbing the trouser cuff as she goes, lifting his leg high as Stephan had taught her. He crashes to the pavement. Dazed, he looks up and she has her front paws planted heavily on his chest – a full bare-gummed snarl almost at his throat. Long, frozen moments later she leaps forward, turns, and stands passively watching as he scrambles to his feet and runs down the street.

She stands on the pavement looking at the bag for a while, not certain what she should do about it before realising that Stephan would have returned it to the shop. She drags it back and leaves it in the middle of the chaos.

She slowly sniffs her way around the shop. Rats! Except for the looter, human presence is stale. She goes back outside and stands – looking up and down the deserted street – waiting for new motivation. Good night's work, she hears him say. Home time.

She trots contented out of the town centre through dark somnolent suburbs to the fringe industrial district. Reaching the scrap metal yard she squeezes through the hole she has dug under the high wire fence and settles down in the shelter of her box. She lies there, alternately dozing and listening to the familiar sounds of the night, alert for anything else.

She still misses Stephan – constable Benson – and always will. Ever since he fell inert beside her, after the crack of gunfire jarred her ears, his friend has been good to her – regular food – good shelter – occasional friendly, but generally unfamiliar, words – a pat on the head.

At first, guarding the yard against human intruders and stopping the rats making their home there had given her a sense of purpose, but eventually that wasn't enough. She curls up on her bedding, sighs a little sigh of satisfaction, and drifts off again.

Chapter 2: Sampan

She'd been resting, near sleep, with her head on his chest. Lifting herself a little she stares down at his face. Boyish, she thinks, realising it was the word that had first come to mind when they met. It seemed so long ago.

She kisses him lightly on the cheek. Sound asleep, he doesn't stir. She rolls onto her back – he sleeps on – and looks up at their luxury sampan's skylight. It is blanked. With a light touch of her tongue against the roof of her mouth and a flick of her eyelids, she clears it.

Lying there, naked before the galaxy, she scans the stars – one by one – her breath slow and deep. Her gaze eventually fixes on a particular star, and stays with it as it drifts slowly towards the edge of the skylight.

Thoughts drift in and out of her mind – the planet in its habitable zone – the centuries it would take to reach it. They review highlights of the last few weeks – the colour and bustle of the bazaars of New Shanghai. Picnics in Foundation Park and hours spent sitting on the grass listening to the stories. Flights out to the observatory scheduled progressively through the night had prevented their bodies from settling into the new time zone.

They were both tired but happy, spending many of their waking hours just lying in their sampan and chatting about the future – near and far. She was pleased – greatly relieved – at the enthusiasm for swarming that had recently emerged in his conversation. Over the last week she also noticed that their discussions had increasingly turned to Brindabella. It would soon be time to go home. Now, more than ever, she sees it as home.

The star is nearing the edge of the skylight, slowly nudging its way out of sight with the gentle rocking of the boat. He stirs.

‘I've been dreaming of Brindabella. I think that means I want to head back soon.’

‘I was thinking the same thing. Lying here watching the stars, I noticed how few they were in the city haze, and remembered the brilliance of the Brindabella night sky.’

‘We must spend some time with Catrina and James before we go.’

‘And Binny. I'm hungry. Are you?’

‘Yes,’ he said, sitting up and stretching.

‘We could wander around for a while – stretch our legs then find somewhere new to have supper.’

‘Or an early breakfast. What time is it?’

‘Oh, somewhere between the two.’

Chapter 3: Meredith

‘You're looking pleased with yourself,’ says Clare as George walks over to where she, Tom and Eli are sitting at the bench table under the large, solitary gum tree on the Manor lawn. Carol is sleeping in a mei tai slung on Tom's chest. ‘Have you finished?’

Winston is placing a tea tray on the table's heavy, hand hewn surface – cracked and sun bleached after weathering in that spot since Tom was a child, having previously served as an indoor table for much of the last century.

George's weather beaten face, almost as old as the table, is cracked by a thin broad smile. ‘I think I'm happy with it – well, with my chapters and Dorothy's. I've yet to see the other contributions.’

‘So, I can have your manuscript? I've completed Dorothy's. I'd like to have a few copies of the Brindabella contributions bound and available by the time the full book is released in Bath.’

‘Soon, Eli. Tom's offered to read it first.’

‘I'll be finished in a day or two. I'm formally imaging each page, if that helps save time. I hope you're etch-replicating the plates.’

‘Yes. Dorothy and George have both agreed. The quill tells a story about the writer and their feelings that's lost in type. The Bath edition is being typeset. You're clearly happy with it, George. You've captured her?’

‘That's for others to decide. I'm too close to be an objective judge, but I am satisfied that I've done my best to portray her as I saw her, and recount some of her observations on Brindabella and Bath. That's a far easier task than Dorothy and our co-authors in Bath faced – trying to represent how others saw her.’

‘From what I've read so far, her voice comes through in your writing style.’

‘Really! I hope others feel the same. I felt her presence strongly as I wrote. I was reluctant to stop.’

‘It'll be interesting to see how perspectives from the different contributors align, or don't.’

‘That was a large part of the motivation for making it a collaborative venture. Apart from the main contributors, others have volunteered a chapter containing personal impressions or interesting anecdotes – not all flattering, I hear, but the aim was to present a broad and accurate perspective.

‘There were some in Bath who saw her as deserting them. She was a central figure in Bath society, but controversial. Some expressed this disappointment as a betrayal. I think that's all in the past now, but it is part of her past, and is being recorded. I doubt that anyone seriously begrudged her the right to follow her heart.’

‘You told me once that initially her heart led her to Brindabella rather than you as an individual. Only later did her love for you develop fully.’

‘As usual, ma'am, you go straight to the nub. That much was clear to all at the time. Her brother observed an increase in critical reflection on Bath culture after her departure – reflection that he believes had a palpable impact.

‘His aim in deciding to initiate this project wasn't just to portray Meredith as a person, but her impact on Bath itself. Austen had a clear preference for village life over the society she found in the Bath of her day. Our Brindabella contribution will be viewed in that light.

‘My greatest challenge was to express the dilemma she faced in Bath before she left – the conflict between how she was viewed by many, and who she really was. She found herself being pushed into a role that didn't suit her temperament or beliefs.

‘You will have heard that she was increasingly referred to as “a real Jane”. At its best, this is seen as being a role model for Janeite culture, and at first it played to her vanity. She took pride in it, and tried to meet the standards expected of her. It was an honour that few young women could easily reject, but there was a superficiality to it that she rebelled against.

‘It was a reflection of Bath culture, or the negative side of it, with the men strutting like game cocks and women preening in the latest fashions. It conflicted with the more serious deist Christian view she was brought up with.’

‘She used to have such interesting religious debates with Greta.’

‘Yes, they worked away on their positions over the years refining their arguments, gradually conceding a little ground here and there, not really trying to persuade, but generate debate. Meredith was a theological radical and social conservative while Greta was a theological conservative and social radical in the contemporary Janeite style. As I saw it, Meredith wasn't really a Janeite at all, but a rebellious Georgian in the deist tradition that was prominent in Austen's day.’

‘I remember her saying that Christianity was too much like a personality cult.’

‘She did tone that down to “cultish”. She believed strongly that deeds should come before words. That was one criticism of Bath culture, or more precisely, individuals who were prominent in Bath culture. More significantly, she reacted to the superficiality and duplicity that came from striving for status.’

‘Austen wasn't a cult figure in her lifetime, and surely had no false airs.’

‘True. I think her preference was, as she had Mr Knightly express, for an open temper. That was a preference Meredith shared. I'd like to see us revive those debates in our after dinner discussions.’

‘To revive their spirit we'd need two antagonists to lead the debate. I'd judge you as a theological and social conservative. To counter that position we'd need a theological and social radical. I'd nominate Tom for that role. I could put on my pagan hat, and act as a neutral arbiter.’

‘You have me well pegged. What say you to that, lad?’

‘If the role's going begging, I'm happy to take on the challenge.’

Chapter 4: Coordination

‘I've just had a brief message from Mary and Karl. They'll be home within the week. They're stopping off in Arkadel for a few days on the way, so don't have a definite schedule.’

‘Good to hear. Good to hear. I've been missing them. I'm sure we all have.’

‘Have you given much thought to your own travel plans?’

‘Not seriously. Mary suggested that I speak with her grandmother, Nanette Barratt. She assures me that Noni, as everyone in Arkadel calls her, has a deep understanding of the Pacific Ocean colonies and islands, with many personal friendships and business contacts.

‘I'm looking forward to meeting her, and since she's expressed an interest in visiting here, that may eventuate soon. Mary's suggested that I join Noni, Karl and herself on a visit to Bath. I said I'd consider it an honour to introduce them to Bath society, but we made no definite plans. I was already considering going back to attend the book launch.’

Mary and Karl arrived at Brindabella ten days later. To everyone's surprise, they were accompanied by Noni and her honour guard – a squadron of twelve of the Aero Club's top fliers.

‘My apologies for not providing warning,’ said Noni after she had been introduced to George. ‘Mary insisted on strict protocol, which includes secrecy of flight details. Nothing I said could budge her.’

‘She has no power over the club. Accommodation should pose no problem. Tomorrow, the team are heading on to Adelaide to challenge all-comers to a few days of tilting. They're kitted up to bivouac tonight – excited by the prospect – a few of them have never set foot on solid ground before. Or they can head into town.’

‘Of course they must stay here, and in the Manor if that wouldn't spoil the exercise. At the very least, I insist that they join us for dinner.’

It is a rowdy dinner, even by Manor standards, with the club members in particularly high spirits. George says to Mary, ‘They're like soldiers preparing for battle tomorrow.’

‘They are. Club status is serious business.’

They spend the early evening mixing and chatting in the main parlour then, as the mood calms, George suggests some entertainment before bed. This is welcomed all round, and people seat themselves. Following their usual format, Gwen opens with a classical piece and then accompanies Karl.

When he takes his bow, one of the club team looks around the others and says, ‘Who's up to it?’ In response, the whole team stands and assembles at the piano end of the parlour.

After a few moments of silence, one of them starts tapping quietly with her foot, and they break into a wordless alla cappella. It begins as a group with slowly changing simple harmonies then, as the pace quickens, pairs and small groups intertwine in complex patterns interspersed with occasional clicks.

The audience are engrossed in the performance, but Tom has a puzzled look, which breaks into a flash of recognition accompanied by a quiet ‘Ahh’. Catching Mary's eye as she glances around, he indicates a swooping motion with his hand. She nods. He settles back to try to follow the action.

After breakfast the next morning, George and Noni sit outside to discuss travel plans.

‘Mary tells me you're going to Bath for a book launch. When is that?’

‘Six weeks away. It's been a rush to complete it before the end of the season – the Bath social season, that is. We should leave within the next two weeks if you want to experience the season with time to settle in.’

When they had agreed on a date, Noni said, ‘Now for your Pacific tour. If you tell me your general intentions we can see how I might be of assistance.’

‘My main interest is in cultural evolution. My dissertation looked at the city-states, or poleis, of ancient Greece and how they arose. I'm hoping that an evolutionary perspective might be a useful way to view the Pacific colonies.’

‘What do you mean by useful?’

‘Now, that is a good question, and one that a few years ago I might have answered with some confidence. Recently, Clare and Tom have been rocking the foundations of my thinking. Individually they've grown to be formidable disputants, but recently they've been moving towards a synthesis of their views – Tom's understanding of the brain and Clare's understanding of personality and culture.’

‘A critique of traditional thinking?’

‘Not in the sense of proving me wrong, but providing an alternate perspective that they claim is more soundly based on scientific knowledge – strengthening my beliefs as much as not. They want me to help extend their view to include whole civilisations.

‘We have discussions after dinner some evenings. It's a long-standing Manor tradition. See what you make of it. We live simple lives here, but it gives us time to think. I'm sure you'd have much to contribute.’

Chapter 5: To Bath

When everyone had returned from Adelaide, preparations for the trip to Bath began in earnest. Mary briefed a mid-afternoon meeting in the main parlour.

‘We'll try to make the trip in one hop. George has had recent experience, and assures me that he can manage. On the way here, Noni experimented with turning her bike into an immersion tank, and found that comfortable. We'll all have a fluff clump if we want freedom to exercise and a massage along the way.

‘Security is obviously a serious issue with both Noni and George present. The teams and I have had extensive discussions on possible threats and tactics. The most likely scenario is that a feigned kidnap attack will switch to an attempt to steal a baggage drone. Since we're not taking any valuable baggage, that would be no more than a symbolic victory.

‘We're well equipped with the latest bikes and in good form. Our recent success in Adelaide will stand testament to that. We also have tactics that we've not used publicly. Jassa's been selected as squadron leader. I'll control the passenger bikes and drone defence if it's needed. We'll be taking ten drones in all. More than we need for baggage space, but better for speed and defence. Any questions?’

They set off the next morning, and after climbing to a high cruising altitude assembled in a defensive formation. The four ‘civvies’ and half the drones at one level, then eight of the guards and remaining drones spread a few hundred metres above them and to the rear. The four remaining guards took ‘eagle’ position at high altitude.

George and Noni fell into intermittent private conversation as they settled into the trip.

‘What's the decision-making process in Arkadel? Is it a democracy?’

‘It's been described as an exhaustive democracy. Our PAs are engaged in a constant, anonymous exchange of views on any topic that any individual chooses to define. This process is quizzed whenever a decision needs to be made.’

‘You, or your caucus, are responsible for supervising that process?’

‘Our main task is to see that a question is framed in the best possible manner – try different forms to see if that changes the result, repeat the question over a period of time to see how stable the response is as people receive feedback. And we need to establish an agreement on who should be asked, or what weight to give individual responses. That's often the most difficult issue, requiring a thorough examination of precedent. As for responsibility, that's mine or whoever is convenor at the time.’

‘It's a heavy burden to shoulder the responsibility of a decision made by others.’

‘It is, but deeply embedded in Arkadel custom and administration is the principle that a particular individual is responsible for everything that exists and everything that is done.’

‘I strongly agree with that principle. Shared responsibility is a recipe for poor decision-making. Among the many problems it introduces is a tendency for everyone in the group to assume that someone else has thought the problem through seriously. If you are personally responsible you make sure that at least you have, and press others to do likewise. The question you mention of who should be consulted in a decision is certainly a difficult one. How do you deal with that?’

‘It's a complex issue and based on tradition. Votes are weighted on the basis of personal impact. It can be contentious, particularly when post-PAs are involved.’

‘What are they?’

‘Archives of people no longer alive. When decisions are being made that have impacts beyond the lives of the living, then those past should have a say, too.’

‘I often find myself asking what Meredith would have thought about a particular subject or decision I have to make. The answers are sometimes surprising at first, but after some thought I see how she might have responded that way.’

‘You have conversations with her?’

‘Well, I'm never quite comfortable admitting to that, but yes, in my mind and occasionally aloud. Winston's learned to tell when I'm not addressing it – from the tone of my voice, I suppose. On my recent trip to Bath – thinking about the book and reminiscing intensely – she was with me almost constantly when I was alone. I saw places that reminded me of particular incidents, and she reminded me of things I'd forgotten. It's usually considered to be a sign of advancing senility, but Tom assures me that it's a natural process in the ageing brain for early memories to resurface.’

‘What you describe is normal behaviour in Arkadel. I often chat with my husband's PA – ask it questions. Tom, on his first evening there, having dinner with us, provided an interesting comparison between our societies.

‘I'll replay it for you. Regarding yours he said, “In the Neo worlds we extend our view of our lives to include the past and future. We recognise that we're a product of the past. Not just our genes, but our words, views, even mannerisms, are assembled from those passed down in our society – the spirits of those past. We're an amalgam of all those that harmonise with our experiences. As individuals we are unique in nature and experience, but none the less products of the past.

“We work throughout our lives to build a spirit that is in harmony with our society, adding to it creatively as we are able. Our spirit is passed on in those who follow us – a little here, a little there – on into the future beyond our physical existence. If our spirit is particularly true and harmonious it may reassemble in the minds of others – join with their spirit reinforcing its integrity and harmony or character.” Reading your account of Meredith's life reinforces his comments.’

‘Yes, that's a theme he and Clare have discussed on a number of occasions. I see it as a view of life after death that's long permeated our culture, though not often discussed explicitly. Listening to Janeites discussing Austen, it's often as though she was still with us.

‘When I first met Meredith she was sometimes referred to as “a real Jane” – someone who was seen, in some way, as a reincarnation of Austen. Some saw our marriage as me capturing their queen and taking her away to a far off land. In a sense, they were right, but I've always been too passive to be attributed such bold actions.’

‘I have a purpose in trying to look at Arkadel with fresh eyes. I want to see what lessons the structure of Arkadel might provide for the restructuring of The Treaty. I found Tom's view of Arkadel interesting and provocative – in the sense of thought provoking. I'm used to visitors trying to present a flattering view of our colony, and apart from the fact that they usually want my assistance or cooperation in some way, I often feel that they are struggling to avoid displaying an ambivalence, to put it kindly, towards our way of life.

‘Tom was refreshingly frank then, and has been since. Apart from making the obvious point of our focus on preparing for an existence beyond our physical lives, he emphasised our need to find harmony – a lack of contradiction in our PAs as a means of ensuring that it stays true to us in the future. That's something we are all aware of, but that I've rarely thought much, or talked much, about.

‘It's something that is also fundamental to maintaining harmony within the colony now, but also for swarming. It may be that our particular approach to using PAs could have relevance to Treaty reform.’

‘I'm aware of Mary's interest in Treaty reform, but it's not an issue that raises interest in Brindabella. We seem to sit comfortably within the present regime, and it has little impact on us.’

‘Mary has been urging me to take it seriously, but to do that I need to remove myself from involvement in contemporary Arkadelian affairs.’

Chapter 6: Confrontation

Their journey is nearing its end, and they are aware that land is not far over the horizon. They are also aware of the company they are attracting. Over the past half hour an escort of forty-seven vehicles has accumulated, and it is still increasing – scattered and in groups – above and below.

So far, all had been kept beyond a kilometre distance by meaningful feints from the guards who have long been awake and on full alert – their communications switched to a Brindabella subzone that Karl had set up for the trip. Tensions are rising, but Mary keeps a calm and cheerful tone while the mood in the occasional comments of the guards is one of hopeful anticipation.

As groups of the interlopers start to make longer sallies into the restriction zone, the guards' comments cease and are replaced by a soft continuous hum – not the melodious sound of their Manor performance, but harsher – the sound of swarming bees.

The sallies soon switch to skirmishing, and the restriction zone decreases. Mary, still calm and positive, gives a summary of the situation for the passengers.

‘It may seem that we're greatly outnumbered, but most are network drones or casual private observers who've identified themselves. Of the remainder – those I'll refer to as attackers, but only as tilting custom – we've detected two groups of eight that have shown signs of coordination.

‘If that analysis is correct, they may think they outnumber us, but even if they can match our skills they're still no serious threat. Relax and observe, but be prepared for your bikes making sudden movements. I'll keep you updated.’

Noni had watched many tilting tournaments, and comfortably shared Mary's optimism. Karl feels some apprehension, but relaxes back to watch – a relief from the tedium of the flight. George watches with casual curiosity.

The skirmishing continues for about fifteen minutes, slowly closing in. Karl notes with pride that the defenders keep to a strict choreography without ever letting it degenerate into a melee – the guards are holding their tune. Then the attackers switch to a concerted assault on one of the baggage drones, and manage to break it away from the fleet – locking it into continuous corrective movements as they maintain a stream of buffeting swoops.

As they move it away, with some of the guards attempting to break the flow of the attack and others positioning themselves above, four of the camera drones swoop one of the attacking bikes and capture it. Immediately, the nearby guards swoop in to assist, and within seconds the attacker is locked into the fleet upper guard.

Mary opens a public channel to the captive.

‘If you order your associates to go, we will release you.’

‘What makes you think I have that authority?’

‘I'm hoping, for your sake, that our flight analytics are correct, or that there is some honour among thieves.’

‘We will leave, but they refuse to relinquish their prize.’

‘Go. And take your prize with you.’

The attackers left. The remaining entourage retreated back beyond the restriction zone, and the captive was released. The journey continued with the guards in high spirits. The passengers maintained a puzzled silence. After they had landed and settled down for refreshments, Mary opened a debriefing.

‘The guard and I agree that the trip went as well as could possibly be expected – better than planned.’

Karl was still puzzled. ‘How can you say that? We lost a drone and its contents.’

‘It was a decoy – Jassa's idea. It was an old drone near the end of its life. We were concerned that it wouldn't last the trip. Its contents were a silver-plated lead platter on which was a gold plated tureen, inside that was a very putrid herring. It was always symbolic.

‘James will be releasing details of the contents in his special feature production of the battle. His contracted chronicler lent the camera drones, which provided his audience with a close-up, battle-eye view of the final action. He's offered to split the proceeds with the guards, and assured them that the take will be substantial. So, you see, an optimal success all round.’

‘Perhaps so, but my capture might have been a better result, ultimately,’ said Noni, drawing shocked stares from the others.

‘Part of my motivation in coming on this trip was the hope that it might draw Arkadel's attention to the outside world and create some serious interest in our involvement in Treaty reform. My capture would have galvanised the colony.’

‘That's a terrible thing to contemplate, not to say foolish. We couldn't have lost you without doing so deliberately, and few would have believed otherwise.’

‘No fool like an old one, dear. And you know I'm far too timid by nature to seriously contemplate such a situation. But it did cross my mind.’

‘So you're saying it was all theatre?’

‘Not really, Karl. Just that what was at stake was reputation, not lives. And as Noni has indicated, also concern over The Treaty and the need for taking reform seriously. Harassment and extortion in the air isn't a serious problem yet, but it is symbolic and growing. People feel vulnerable in the air, and they also recognise the threat to trade.

‘Most of the world's population will at least hear about what happened today, even if they don't watch the whole event. It could have gone bad for us symbolically if they had managed to capture one of the guards, even for a few minutes.

‘That was our greatest risk, but just a personal embarrassment – a flier who made an error. The capture even momentarily of Noni, any of our charges, would have been a shocking failure for the whole guard and, by implication, Arkadel.

‘As it was, we didn't even have to bring in our drone defences and reveal our strength there. Drones are far more manoeuvrable than a piloted vehicle. If they were allowed in tournaments we wouldn't bother sending pilots in, and they'd be fully automated and dull events.’

‘I see. Then there are the royalties from the networks.’

‘That, too. Tilting is a significant income source for Arkadel, and the total income for most of the club members. Anything we can do to promote it helps. Today we even made a gesture toward tilting tradition – the winning team awarding a prize to the runner-up – though in this case it was a tainted prize because they weren't there for the sport. If James' latest estimates are correct, it will be our biggest audience ever and our largest royalties.’

Chapter 7: Bath

‘Well,’ said George, ‘as a novice observer it was an interesting performance. Your choral communication reminded me of the discussion of pre-linguistic communication – before we evolved speech in its present form.’

‘I've often pointed out that it's far more efficient than speech for tilting. It gives us an ongoing auditory image of the dynamics of the whole conflict.’

‘I think currawongs might use something similar. I once witnessed a family noisily chasing a fruit bat out of their territory. Somewhere in the distance another group started calling and soon appeared to join in the pursuit. The ensuing melee of repetitive swooping as they ushered the large, lumbering bat away was just like your battle.

‘I hope you find our lodgings to your satisfaction. This apartment has been a long-term favourite of mine – and Meredith. The view over Victoria Park alleviates the sense of claustrophobia I feel elsewhere in Bath. I'm going for a walk in the park to stretch my legs. Would anyone like to join me?’

They all did.

‘Where are the guards staying?’

‘They have an apartment large enough for the couples to share and provide a private gathering point for all. The remainder are billeted around town – no shortage of offers.’

‘What are your plans for the next few days?’

‘A meal at home and a good rest tonight. I've arranged for a carriage to be at our disposal tomorrow. An appearance in the pump room is obligatory for me, but apart from that I'm available as a tour guide if you wish. Tomorrow evening we're invited to join a small gathering of Meredith's relatives. You're not obliged to attend. Then, for a few days or more, I'll be engaged in discussions on the book and a few brief social visits.’

George was accosted as soon as they entered the Pump Room.

‘George! Good to see you back in the rooms again so soon. No ill effects from your aerial adventure, I hope?’

‘A little better informed about the ways of the world outside Brindabella, John, but no worse for wear. Noni, allow me to introduce Lord Daunton – Nanette Barratt.’

‘Madame Barratt of Arkadel, it is indeed a great pleasure to meet you at long last. Your reputation has preceded you by many decades.’

‘Noni, please. Our Arkadelian ways are quite informal.’

‘Just as you wish, ma'am. Would you do me the honour of mingling with me a little while, and allow me to introduce you to some of my friends. I believe we share a keen interest in The Treaty.’

‘That would suit me well. I was wondering how I might broach the subject with strangers in a strange town. George, we will meet for tea with the others as arranged?’

‘Of course. I see Karl is introducing Mary to some of his young acquaintances. I'll mix a little then wait in the tea room.’

‘Hello, George. Will you join us? I think you know everyone.’

‘Helen, how good it is to see you. Good morning all,’ nodding recognition to each of her company. ‘And how are you and little Billy getting on?’

‘We're well, and Billy's become a keen fan of “daddy's show”. We both are. We watch each new production and he re-watches them. I don't think he understands much, but loves the costumes and action. I miss Eric, but I'm pleased for him that he's finally found a way of existing productively in Brindabella.’

‘Yes. He's thriving.’

‘We're all looking forward to reading your book. I met Meredith several times as a child. She fascinated me. I remember getting out of bed once when she visited, sitting on the stairs and watching at a distance through the parlour door.’

‘I remember our visits. Last year, meeting you again as an adult, I was struck by how much you reminded me of her.’

Chapter 8: Anointment

Ratty: ‘Well, Badger certainly caused a stir yesterday with his comment about Dove.’

Toad: ‘A “real Jane”, they are now saying. It's been so many years since I heard that said. Too many, I think. I'm sure mother didn't want that to be so. She put it all behind her when she settled in Brindabella. She used to refer to her life before then as “in a past life”.’

Toad: ‘I'm sure Badger only expressed aloud what others have thought, but feared to say lest they be seen to undermine Swan's memory.’

Mole: ‘Long overdue, is it not, for Bath to recognise a new Jane. The publication of her family's memories, it will fix Swan forever in Bath history.’

Ratty: ‘The queen is dead. Long live the queen. I'm off for my morning row. Coming Mole?’

Chapter 9: Poseidon

Two weeks went by before George's social rounds slowed.

‘You said you were interested in visiting Poseidon, George. If you have some time free before the book launch we could do that. Karl and I could accompany you.’

‘Would we have time? How long did you have in mind?’

‘An actual visit that included touring the colony would take at least ten days with quarantine. We don't have time for that now, so it would have to wait till after the launch. A compromise that would still be better than just reviewing documentary archives – a direct current experience – would be to spend a few hours in Poseidon Zone with a guide. We could do that in one of their visitor centres where we could mix with other tourists, or simply visit the local ambassadorial settlement off Bristol. Either of those options would avoid the need for quarantine.’

‘Why the need for quarantine?’

‘Poseidon is subject to outbreaks of the fatal Poseidan influenza. The vaccine is something that outsiders try to avoid.’

‘Oh, I see. A brief visit to Bristol would seem the most appropriate alternative for me. I feel that my health is not strong. Perhaps you could guide me through some documentary material as a primer. I wouldn't want to appear totally ignorant. We don't have much time.’

‘All you really need to know to prepare you is that they are an open society – almost. Like Arkadel, they are a swarm hive, but while Arkadel is a closed hive, meaning we have strong privacy practices, in Poseidon they have largely dispensed with privacy.’

‘A bit like Brindabella village.’

‘Rather more so. There are three basic social groups. The majority, around ninety percent, are freemen or freeps. Then there are the workers and schedulers – the latter said to be around one percent of the population.

‘Officially there is no hierarchy between groups, though the general attitude among the freeps is that they, with their lives of leisure, are obviously superior, but they believe it is impolite to make too much of that. The workers, as the name suggests, do all the skilled work, with the schedulers performing mundane administrative tasks.

‘This view, as anyone not raised in Poseidon might suspect, isn't the only one possible. From a perspective of privacy, individualism, and power, the hierarchy is inverted. Freeps have no privacy other than bio-medical among themselves. Workers have privacy from freeps and among themselves and can access freep bio-medical information. Schedulers have complete privacy among themselves, and can access archives of all others. They are a physically and socially privileged group.

‘I tell you this because you should prepare yourself for a shock. At least I think you may be shocked, and an unprepared expression of shock might cause offence, though I imagine that surprise and confusion would be a common response.’

‘Could you organise the visit for some time over the next week. I have no arrangements that I can't politely defer.’

At breakfast next morning Karl announced, ‘I've arranged for George and myself to go the day after tomorrow.’

‘Not you too, Mary?’

‘I considered that my presence as an Arkadelian might complicate things.’

‘As you see fit.’

‘Before you go, I must insist that you wear this. Clare and Tom suggested it and said you shouldn't go without it.’

‘What is it? It looks like a button.’

‘It's a basic external medisensor. You place it just under your armpit. Karl knows how. Let him place it for you. It's controlled by his PA.’

‘If you insist.’

‘When I say external, it does send in a probe to locate a capillary. You shouldn't feel that because it releases a tiny amount of anaesthetic. You may feel a little itching as that wears off. If you feel any discomfort after that, let Karl know.’

She felt apprehensive when the two arrived back at the apartment after the trip, so was relieved to see George in good spirits. Settling down to tea, George was the first to comment.

‘Well, as you warned, that was quite beyond anything I might have imagined – almost beyond words. After a survey of the colony, I expressed an interest in talking with someone who could tell me a little about the origins of the colony. The guide said he would introduce me to a freeman specialist who could answer my questions.

‘The view on the wall screen switched to an outdoor scene, a swimming pool surrounded by a hectare or more of what appeared to be grass, but too neat to be real. There were, perhaps, fifty to seventy people present, scattered about the grass with children chasing a ball.

‘The interviewer walked over to a middle-aged man and explained the purpose of the intrusion. I was introduced and we had a discussion that lasted half an hour or so.

‘During the discussion it became apparent that the interviewee was just an arbitrary bystander. Several people wandered over during that time and our view switched between their visual perspectives – presenting each other with their opinions. The original interviewee wandered off and dived into the pool. Eventually it dawned on me that the guide had the power to access anybody's vision at will – no formalities involved.’

‘George is delicately understating the degree of informality. There wasn't a stitch of clothing in sight – genitals blurred on screen – for our benefit, I imagine. There was even a certain amount of sexual activity going on – and not just couples.’

‘I didn't notice that. I assumed the state of undress was their idea of ancient Greeks at leisure.’

‘As you say, we see what we want to see.’

‘The scene you describe doesn't surprise me. Sex plays an important role in Poseidan culture and commerce.’

‘What about this influenza? Is it really as dangerous as you suggest? Are they backward scientifically?’

‘I can summarise what I know. Their scientific knowledge isn't backward. A main source of income is from intellectual property – specifically biology. Tom was interviewed – he says interrogated – by a group of Poseidan scientists after his augmentation. He made no suggestion that they were backward.’

‘That's how we heard about Poseidon. It stirred my curiosity.’

‘As for the influenza, its very existence is disputed – privately, in Arkadel. The symptoms and inevitable deaths attributed to it may derive from some other cause. It's thought to be a form of selective population control used to cull any of the freeps or workers with poor health or genetics. The definition of health is said to include mental health determined by stress levels, which introduces the possibility of political control – culling those who aren't satisfied with their lives. Victims die peacefully in their sleep after influenza-like symptoms that provide a brief period of social adjustment.

‘It is said to be rare in the young these days, which can be interpreted as being the result of an intense selective breeding program over several generations. No visitor has ever contracted it, which some assume is because the vaccine loses potency for inhabitants. Alternately, the threat of the disease may be being used to minimise contact between freeps and the outside world.

‘Their birth rates are higher than most cultures, and life expectancy shorter. Adoption is common, with genetically favoured babies adopted up the hierarchy, and less desirable ones adopted down or aborted.’

‘As strange as it might seem to us, it's not hard to see how they can claim to have created a utopia. They seemed happy.’

‘The fact that much of their trade comes from tourism suggests that many people find their solution attractive.’

‘Or are drawn by voyeurism, or more. Although they varied greatly in appearance, everyone we saw was physically attractive. They certainly charge high prices.’

‘A few years ago, someone calling themself Icarus wrote a book called The Water Nymphs of Arkadel. On the surface it was an evaluation of Arkadelian culture – quite sympathetic, but characterising it as a little dull and uncreative.

‘The topic of freedom was treated with great skill and insight. Scattered through the book were contrasts with a hypothetical alternative – a society that they suggested would be even duller, and totally lacking in creativity. This alternative has been assumed to be Poseidon or a similar zone.

‘Deep analysis of the wording and imagery in the book has suggested that the author knew the utopian solution better than they knew Arkadel. This led some to conclude that Icarus was an exiled scheduler now living in Arkadel, probably among the cybs.’

‘Everyone we saw was smiling, but there was a general mood of ennui or listlessness.’

‘I noticed that, too – even those engaged in sexual activity.’

Mary was wary, and pointedly asked George, ‘Would you say the same about Arkadel?’

‘Having experienced neither first hand, I asked Karl for a comparison on our return journey. He said that as far as an outsider could tell, Arkadelians generally seemed livelier and as content with their lot as Brindabellans.’

Karl noticed that Mary still looked concerned. ‘Just more composure or poise,’ he added in a positive tone.

‘Was your interview with their expert of value to you?’

‘That was quite strange. He seemed flattered that he'd been chosen to speak with me. Others who gathered around seemed to know as much as he did. If he was an expert they must place very little emphasis on history in their education.’

‘It's likely that only schedulers have significant general education. Workers would have specialist skills, and freep education would be token. Ignorance is bliss.’

‘I think what I said about voyeurism could explain that. It's likely that many tourists claim an interest in learning about Poseidan culture to disguise their real motive. What they provided us with was just a token gesture.’

‘When you put it like that, my comment about it being seen as utopian was quite foolish. Also, I noticed that everybody's view had equal validity – they differed, but didn't debate. That's relativism – common in totalitarian cultures when views don't clash with the central doctrine. I know about these philosophies from books, but confronted with the reality I didn't recognise it.’

‘It surely depends on how you define a utopia. That's a very subjective thing.’

Chapter 10: Brindabella

That evening, Karl and Mary dined out, leaving Noni and George to dine alone then relax in front of a lively fire.

‘I had an interesting discussion with your friend Daunton and his associates. They're concerned with the incremental encroachment of The Treaty into the internal affairs of the zones. They described its long-term influence as insidious. Has it had much impact on Brindabella over the last century?’

‘Not a great deal, I think. We're quite independent and self-sufficient. More so than Bath and its zone.’

‘Did your zone form from a pre-existing enclave?’

‘No. Originally it was just the Gundals farming the lower valley flats. My family owned the upper valley, but it was an unproductive bush block just used for family holidays until another branch of the family, the Olsens, suggested a commercial venture.

‘They were opal miners in South Australia. They had just invested heavily in the latest rock cutting equipment when the seam they'd been mining ran out. Originally their suggestion was to quarry stone block and gravel, but it needed a transit cable in the valley, which was very expensive in those days.

‘It wasn't until the Gundals recognised the potential value of the caverns for storing water that the plan became economically viable. Later, the idea of creating underground housing in the cavities came up. To proceed down that path, and maintain the Neo-Georgian identity of the valley, they applied for zone status and qualified.’

‘An incipient enclave that became a zone. How long have your family been in the valley?’

‘For just one generation before the founding of the zone, though one of my earlier ancestors lived up here in the 1930s depression. He built a hut just a short ride south of the valley, and eked out a simple existence there. The remains of his hut can still be seen. Meredith and I used to overnight there on our treks. I think Clare still does.

‘Ancestors of my dear friend, Hercule DeSalis, were among the original European settlers. Traditionally, it was part of the territory of the Ngunnawal people who passed through each year to feast on bogong moths in the alps to the south.’

‘You say you are self-sufficient, which would reduce Treaty intrusion. How far does that go?’

‘We can be self-sufficient in food and most clothing, but people buy in goods for variety, and luxury items. Fish and freshwater crayfish are our primary exports, but also woodwork – fine cabinetwork – and the highest quality hemp clothing. The Gundals have been developing ultra-fine fibre for generations. That's buffered us against Treaty-inflated cotton prices.

‘We have cattle, sheep and goats for meat, milk and wool. The foundry produces small-scale carbonware for local requirements, and we're largely self-sufficient in glass, ceramics and paper. The gully communities provide an increasing share of our export income these days through a wide variety of professional services. There's always been a creative mix of artists and designers. In turn, they provide most of the village's income through fostering.’

Chapter 11: Childhood

‘Fostering children?’

‘Yes. Many of the gully children spend their first two years or more fostered in the village. It's a Janeite custom that was practised by the Austen family, which besides producing one of the world's greatest novelists produced two admirals – one becoming Senior Admiral of the Fleet.

‘The gullies are not ideal for raising children. Family sizes are small, many parents travel often, or are consumed by their work. They are inexperienced, and children are often separated widely in age. The village has a long-standing reputation for producing healthy, happy and lively children who are well socialised, develop close friendships, and adjust comfortably to school life. Some families move to Brindabella for that reason.

‘We see the task of raising young children as requiring great skill and experience, and requiring a strong close community, but also important is their immersion into the world of children not just to play and learn to get along, but also to learn how to disagree and be different.’

‘Learning to be different? That's an interesting idea. We value diversity, but don't actually teach it.’

‘What I mean is that some children become interested in activities that none of the others share. They're not discouraged, and usually return to their parents earlier. Tom was an example of that.’

‘Where do the parents fit in?’

‘One or both parents visit the children daily, and occasionally take them home for overnight or weekend visits – sometimes with a friend or two so the children get to see different family settings in the gullies – more diverse than in the village. New parents have time to learn.’

‘I understand. I found the first year or two the most difficult. My mother largely avoided child rearing till the last years of her life when she became close to Mary and spent a great deal of time with her.

‘Mary's father is of the opinion that Arkadel is not an ideal place for children. Others agree, but we are at a loss to know how to improve the situation. Bringing young families close together in physical proximity might help. Our accommodation is flexible.

‘When Mary returned from her first visit to Brindabella I asked her what her strongest impression was. She said it was the children playing in the main street of the village and the sound of their laughter, which could sometimes be heard from the Manor. I thought it was just her hormones talking, but after visiting the village myself I understand what she meant. She also said that your school seemed quite informal, with individual children wandering freely between classes. Was this an accurate observation? I thought, perhaps, her presence had upset routines.’

‘The children do have a higher degree of freedom than would be practical in a much larger school, but individually each day follows an agreed routine.’

‘Individually? So they choose which classes they attend?’

‘There are basic standards in the three Rs they must complete before they have more choice.’

‘Three Rs?’

‘Reading, writing and 'rithmetic.’

‘Ha, of course.’

‘Then they must spend a certain minimum time on history, geography, science, and technology, though they can choose to spend more time on some than others. Because of this flexibility we don't have classes as such. We have sessions with one or more tutors present who have skills in a particular topic. Students read at their own pace and ask one of the tutors questions when they need to.’

‘They read from paper books?’

‘Yes, and mostly written and printed in the valley. Printing's a strong tradition in Neo-Georgian communities. Almost a last bastion these days. As Austen pointed out in Mansfield Park, by her time the influence of the printing press had reached out to anyone who wanted to go to a library or share a newspaper among neighbours. Janeites, in particular, love to write.’

‘I've read some of your daughter's books. The illustrations are particularly fine.’

‘Making paper and printing books has developed as a strong tradition in our community, as has writing them. The region had a history of writing and writers long before our community was formed. Several of Australia's best-known authors lived in the region. Miles Franklin was born there. Her first book, Brindabella Children, was written there. Later, it was the home of Gwen Meredith who wrote the popular series Blue Hills, which is thought to have been set in the valley or nearby.

‘The poet Elyne Mitchell lived to the south. She wrote beautiful descriptions of the alpine bush – its colours – from the subtly shades of the vegetation to the brilliance of the birds. Her words are etched indelibly in my mind: “Greys and greens, blending and separating - mixing with brown, intimately growing with cream and white, with lemon and the faint stain of dusty red - eucalypt barks fuse and twine the colours. Their leaves, ephemeral against the sky, are pointed and olive green, or blue laid over by an oily dust, and the bronze and burnished copper of the young leaves find their counterpart in the underwing of the kingfisher,” and so much more.

‘Sometimes when I'm out riding I see something that reminds me of one of her images, and I see the bush through her eyes – or mine but with the scales of familiarity fallen away.’

‘As we approached Brindabella I was struck by the blue colour of the hills.

‘Mary said you had a strong craft community. That led me to wonder whether you exported these skills. Do you take in visiting apprentices?’

‘We have, occasionally, on an ad-hoc basis – nothing organised.’

‘We have an Ocean Soils Academy where we train our own specialists and visiting students in closed system agriculture. Mary has learned a little from Clare about your practices, and suggested that we expand our market to terrestrial students. Sending a few apprentices here could be a valuable extension.’

‘Dorothy is the person you should talk to about that. She's setting up a college – initially to teach history – our cultural heritage. She also wants to expand our craft apprenticeships to provide a broader base for excellence to develop in. I'm sure she'd be receptive to extending that to include visiting students when we have the accommodation. We've started to expand – opening up a new gully. That should be well advanced by the end of this year.’

‘I'll speak with her. More broadly, my interest is in extending a youth exchange program between Arkadel and New Shanghai that Mary's father has been developing for several decades. Brindabella may be too small to engage in any major way.

‘I mentioned the program in my discussion with the Daunton group, and they expressed more interest than I had expected. They're concerned about the process of global cultural homogenisation, which they say is still being promoted since the United Nations was disbanded, though more subtly under The Treaty.

‘They're divided as to how much of this is natural and how much is promoted by ideologues. They claim, as I've heard before, that part of the FreeZI movement wasn't after freedom from Treaty interference, but freedom from zones.’

‘Their elimination?’

‘Yes, to form a single global culture. As Daunton put it, “Xenophobia wrapped in a cloak of altruism – the politics of autism.” An inability to deal with strangers and to recognise that people have innate differences.’

‘So you see a solution to this in cultural exchange? That seems contradictory.’

‘Not if the emphasis is on understanding cultural differences rather than eliminating them. Xenophobia stems from a general fear of the unknown. As I see it, learning about other cultures from a distance tends to emphasise visual differences, which can be large but superficial. Getting to know people in person by living with them, however briefly, can bring out our basic similarities, and puts differences in a realistic perspective.

‘After just a few days in Brindabella I came to understand your world far better than I did from all that Mary has said, and she's often spoken about it.’

Chapter 12: Diversity

‘Our main concern is that life in Arkadel is too strongly focussed on swarming, and that children need a broader cultural experience. Many agree that this could produce stronger and more versatile swarms. We've recently encouraged interaction between Arkadelians and our cyb visitors who are the only other distinct cultural group within Arkadel these days.’

‘You suggest that the situation was once different.’

‘Originally we were diverse as individuals, and still are by most standards. But even with our personal privacy, that diversity has reduced over a few generations. We also had distinct subcultures. Now we have a common core culture which has become quite homogeneous, and we need Mary's models to detect the differences.’

‘To retain cultural differences, physical distance helps. Janeites were originally a distinct subculture of the Georgians, but now there's little difference. We Janeites like to make a fuss about our modernisms, but the differences are more symbolic than practical.

‘Spatial separation between the lower valley and the gullies, and the separation between gullies has maintained diversity there. Even in the village the individuals are a diverse lot. Part of our cultural heritage is a respect for eccentricity.’

‘We express individuality through clothing in Arkadel. I find it a useful indicator.’

‘I understand that your grey tunic is a standard garb.’

‘For adults, yes, but there are subtle, significant differences. Children are initially free to choose their own clothing, and experiment with different colours and styles. As they grow older they settle in to a particular adult style, or several for different moods and occasions.

‘What we've noticed with children that go on exchange to New Shanghai at an early age – that may be as young as seven – is that they retain diversity of clothing longer than others. This was thought to be simply an influence specific to New Shanghai where dress codes are quite flamboyant, but closer examination has revealed that early visits to any other culture have a similar effect. Signs suggest that even cyb interaction and reading stories about other cultures has an effect.’

‘Extending the boundaries of conformity. That makes sense.’

‘We prefer to maintain a higher degree of anonymity than most other societies, which allows greater diversity. With friendships, many people have close friends whose identity they don't know, or are not certain of. As a matter of caution and custom we can determine that two identities we interact with anonymously aren't the same person. It would be unsettling to think that all your anonymous friends were the same person.’

‘How can that be without knowing who they are?’

‘It's a product of PA fidelity. A PA cannot lie, and each has a unique private identifier. If, for example, Mary sends a message to me, it comes with an identifier that is a unique combination of hers and mine. I know it's her because we've explicitly established a link in the past.

‘Or she could send me an anonymous message via an intermediary or sequence of people who may be strangers to both of us. I can make of that whatever I wish. If the message is something like, “You should consider this fact.”, I can independently evaluate the fact and send a message back in reply.’

‘You've taken me into strange territory, but perhaps not totally so. I've occasionally found in Bath that people I knew just a little were not as I originally imagined them to be, and gossip abounds.’

Chapter 13: Illness

As the day of the book launch approached, George admitted to a rising apprehension. At his first opportunity, Karl spoke privately with Mary.

‘His sensor is providing a warning – something my simple medic isn't equipped to deal with. I think we should give Gloria and Michael access.’

‘We could try my medic, but I think you are right. Better to pass it straight on to professionals. If it is Poseidan flu we can't waste time.’

‘Gloria says the data is insufficient. We need to take a proper blood sample. She's given me the name of someone in the Bath University Epidemiology Department who she met when she was staying here. She said to say we might need his specialist skills. She emphasised the wording, and said we should act quickly, but without upsetting George. I'll go and see him immediately. You should stay and keep George calm and still – no exercise.’

‘He'll want to see his own physician.’

‘Tell him he may need a specialist, and that Poseidan flu isn't fatal if treated promptly.’

‘Do you know that for sure?’

‘I know it's never killed a non-Poseidan. As I said, I doubt that it even exists.’

The bewhiskered and bow-tied doctor came immediately.

‘George, this is Doctor Greg Spencer. Will you let him examine you?’

‘If it will ease your mind, dear. Good morning sir. I hope we are not wasting your time.’

‘Let's hope that you are, but don't bother yourself on my account. I just need to take a blood sample and take it back to our labs to check it. I can let you know the results of the tests within a few hours.

‘In the meantime you must relax. Your blood pressure is a little high. Miss Wang tells me you are anxious about a forthcoming book launch. That's quite understandable – quite natural.’

He sent a messenger, then returned in person appearing agitated.

‘It shocks me to have given you such news. I'm responsible for testing the water for Fowleri, but the prognosis is good. Treatments are effective if implemented early, and thanks to the knowledge and skill of Doctor Smith, we have caught it at an early stage.

‘I've ordered the baths to be closed for testing, and apologise with all my heart that this has happened.’

‘Your apologies are quite unnecessary, sir. I haven't been nearer to the baths than the tea rooms where I merely had several cups of well stewed tea.’

‘That's extraordinary. They don't use water from the springs there. This is a strange mystery – very strange indeed – a mishap of the highest improbability. I will double-check the tests, but to be on the safe side I think I should start treatment. Gloria left some of her vaccine with me. We can start with that.

‘She says it may not be a cure in itself, but will delay progress of the infection. Mary's arranging a rapid transit flight to Arkadel. The facilities there are better than we can provide here, and you will have Gloria at hand. There is nobody better than her. You should leave immediately.’

‘That can't be. I have the book launch the day after tomorrow. I can't miss that, having come here to attend it. People are expecting me to be there, and I can't let Meredith down.’

‘From a medical perspective it would be unwise to delay, but I see you are determined. Leave immediately after the launch. We can arrange for full treatment to commence here. It should still be possible for you to attend the launch.’

Two hours before he was due to leave for the launch, Karl and Mary were concerned that he looked to be in no fit state to attend.

‘Spencer said that he would give him a tonic that would last a few hours. We'll see how that goes.’

‘He's so weak. He'll have to stay seated most of the time.’

George did feel weak, but the joy he felt from the reception he was given gave him all the strength he needed. As soon as he could leave, Karl and Mary whisked him away, and they were off to Arkadel.

Chapter 14: Suspicion

‘This is a good spot, Mole. Pull in to the bank over there.

‘I spoke with the physician who attended him. He's in a right muddle. On one hand, scientifically, he is sure that it is a near impossibility – an extreme mischance. On the other, he is convinced that he, himself, is somehow responsible. He seemed determined to resolve the puzzle, but had no idea where to start.

‘I was strongly tempted to say that I was not letting the matter rest. It would have eased his mind to know that the problem was not his to bear alone. Your methodical mind leads you into the problem and takes a grip on it. But it is best, for now, that your inquiries be discreet.’

‘Of motive, means, and opportunity, we at least make some progress in classifying possible classes of motive, do we not?’

‘The boat is secure. Now pass me the hamper.

‘The intent is still not clear to me. For someone with even a little medical knowledge it would be an assault rather than murder, but I can't escape the thought that the assailant would not want Badger to survive and potentially provide evidence that would lead to disclosure.’

‘That point it has also occurred to me. Perhaps we leave it aside for later consideration if we make progress. What we need most at this point is some knowledge of the means. That would provide the understanding of opportunity, and hence narrow down motive.’

‘Good thinking, old friend. Let's eat before the food gets cold.’

Chapter 15: Recovery

‘Oh, Mary, it's so good to see you. How long do you plan to stay?’

‘I don't have any specific plans. Tom asked me to stay till he returned. He thinks you need help with Carol, but I assured him that you could cope. I let people assume that was my motive.’

‘Of course I can cope. For the first week I enjoyed being alone. I'm missing him now, but not to help with the baby. I'm just missing him. What did bring you here, then?’

‘To see you, of course, but I was prompted by something Noni said. She thinks – or calculates – I can never really tell with her – anyway, she said that the Brindabella community must be suffering, and something more than mere messages might help – a personal presence.

‘Tom and Karl are taking turns in being with George around the clock, and reading to him when he's not totally delirious. So, as presumptuous as I know it is, I decided to come myself.’

‘I think it's a really good idea. I'm sure it'll help. The valley certainly is in a state of shock. For myself, just seeing you reduces the gulf I feel between here and Arkadel. It will have the same impact on others.

‘How is he? The last update I had from Tom confirmed that he was definitely on the mend, though he was still bouncing between heaven and hell, with the down periods briefer and less frequent. He passed on Gloria's warning that he might not make a full recovery.’

‘She's trying to juggle expectations. She expects some long-term injury, but she's hopeful of a near recovery. Physically, he has recovered rapidly over recent days, and she's confident of a good recovery there. It's just that he mightn't be the complete George we knew. He has periods of relative lucidity in between the extremes, though still largely incoherent. That's partly because he's bitten his tongue. He mainly expresses himself through facial expressions.

‘She confided her full concerns to me. She said she had to talk openly with someone. While she's watched the progress of the disease before, it's the first time she's had the responsibility of dealing with relatives and friends.

‘She's cautiously confident that the infection's been overcome. How much damage it's caused and how long recovery will take, she's reluctant to commit to. He's an old man but was otherwise fit and healthy. Even though he knew he was ill, and possibly fatally so, he was in high spirits at the book launch – happier than I've ever seen him.’

Chapter 16: Means

‘Spencer has completed tests of the water in Badger's lodgings, and retested the baths. They're all negative. He assures me that the tests are reliable. He has also collected dust samples and incubated them, again with negative results. Beyond that, he is stumped – at a total loss and, it seems, on the verge of giving up.’

‘Your mention of dust beings another idea to my mind – what other source there might be?’

‘Don't play guessing games, man, spit it out.’

‘Why, snuff, of course. But we have the problem there in that Badger detests the stuff, does he not?’

‘Ah, my dear friend, I think you've hit on it. That must be the case. Though, as you say, his distaste for the practice is well known.’

‘Might he have accepted an offer out of politeness?’

‘That's a good point. He might have, but under what possible circumstances? He is a man of strong principles, and not likely to go against them lightly.’

‘That point comes to our aid, does it not?’

‘In what way?’

‘He must have felt the strongest of obligations – the strong wish to avoid offence.’

‘Quite right. And who would not know of his aversion. None among his friends.’

‘Do we not hope that no friend would wish to harm him?’

‘The question of intent or happenstance again. I think we need to consider intent. I'm no friend of coincidence.’

‘On that we can agree. If, then, we are considering snuff, Badger himself would know who offered it.’

‘Assuming he can remember, or has made the connection. Cub said he was particularly vague about all matters relating to his illness.’

‘We still have the inference that it was someone of great significance to him. Since the use of snuff is rare, we should be able to narrow down a list of suspects. If we include the constraint of opportunity, the list will narrow further.’

‘True. I believe we are making progress.’

Chapter 17: Heaven and Hell

‘When Tom said George was bouncing between heaven and hell, what precisely did he mean? Can you describe his behaviour for me? Was he in pain?’

‘Not physical pain as far as I was aware. If he had been, it would have been under control. Our medical facilities in Arkadel are second to none.’

‘I'm sure they are.’

‘His pain seemed spiritual in origin. His ramblings had a religious turn at times. He was talking about gods and kings, and guilt, and redemption. He was having some kind of crisis of confidence. He made little sense to me, but Tom seemed to have some understanding. We don't speak of heaven and hell, so I'm not really sure what he meant.’

‘Tom's had some difficult times. I've watched him trying to cope. When things in life fall apart, the mind scrambles to try to re-establish some kind of order and harmony. Basic survival instincts emerge to counter the shock.’

‘Tom's problems were self-inflicted. You suffered the loss of your parents, and nearly died yourself. I remember how I felt when Sara died. My life changed, but I had Sara PA as a substitute. That helped.’

‘Also, your mind would have been prepared. You would have been aware that she was old, and that we don't last forever.’

‘True, but that also applies to George. He, more than most people, is prepared for his death, surely?’

‘He has spoken with equanimity of Brindabella after he's gone. We can only guess at what he's experiencing, but fear of death is not likely to be bothering him. We have to remember that it's his brain that's under attack. His problem is more physiological than spiritual.

‘Usually, the coherence and strength of our normal world-view shields us from the intrusion of bad memories, destructive tendencies, and even those instincts that are unhelpful in a civilised world. When our world-view is disrupted, undermined by a loss, all the things it's been shielding us from can overwhelm us. By leading a good life we are less likely to experience hell if things go wrong. George has led a good life.’

‘That's at the basis of Buddhist martial arts. If your spirit is pure, you keep a clear head under attack. Anger and fear don't disrupt your actions. Conversely, the process of ritualised conflict provides a symbolic representation of the general conflicts and challenges of life that play out over months and years – timescales where the emotional dynamics of the conflict are difficult to see.’

‘The other side of our spirit is how it's reflected in the society we live in. How others see us and how we've influenced them – how those that lived before us influenced us and how our soul starts to emerge before we are born, and lives on after we die. George has been reflecting intensely on Meredith's death over recent months, then meeting her relatives and friends at the launch. That might have played strongly on a weakened mind.’

‘What do you mean by “soul”?’

‘As I just suggested, it's that part of our spirit that predates and postdates our physical existence.’

‘I can see how our memory and influence can live on in the community after we die, but before?’

‘Our spirit develops from the various views our culture has about what it means to be human or a child, then more specifically, the views of our parents. Those may start with how important having a child was to them. Tom says that his parents were more interested in writing stories about their fictional version of him. He's not complaining. That can be a blessing – better than the other extreme of parents that are obsessive and smothering. He had a lot of freedom in the village, which is like a large extended family.

‘Most parents, when they start thinking of having a child, have some image of its sex. This may be an arbitrary choice or strongly felt. They might imagine particular activities – games, etc – what its interests might be. Both parents will have had negative and positive experiences in their own childhood, or with children they have already. The longer parents delay having children, the more detailed and strong these presuppositions or preconceptions are likely to become. These fancies and discussions will have a big impact on the expected child's life.’

‘I wonder how that applies when a child dies. Those who knew them, particularly family, would remember them as them as they were as a child, but perhaps in part they would imagine them as they might be if they hadn't died. I was still a child when Sara died, but I do have many memories of the time we spent together and how I saw who she was then. But since then my image of her has been strongly influenced by her PA, and it's grown – initially through my influence and now by her association with the swarm. Perhaps that's our heaven.

‘I understand the idea of us creating heaven and hell metaphorically here on Earth, but do you believe that heaven and hell are places you go to after death, or are you still speaking in an abstract sense?’

‘I can't speak for others, but as I see it, our lives contribute both harmony and disharmony to the world. If our harmonious contribution continues and the disharmonious fades after we've gone physically, we can be said to inhabit heaven – not just as an example of how to live a good life for those that knew us, but a legacy of action that's made the world a better place. If our disharmony prevails we end up in hell – a legacy of disruption and a symbol of who not to be.’

‘And in between you have purgatory or limbo?’

‘The disharmony may dissipate or be purged, leaving just our good influence. But not all disharmony is inevitably bad. Societies change. The world changes – our personal worlds and beyond. Adapting to change means giving up some of the order or harmony we have, sacrificing some of our existing beliefs to create a better state of mind or society.

‘What's seen as disharmony now might eventually lead to what Karl calls a new attractor – a potential new harmony. I think some theologies view that as a state of limbo – an unresolved state.’

Chapter 18: Opportunity

‘When I was speaking with Spencer I asked whether he had records of cases of infection over the past century. He said he did, and clearly took my question as suggesting another line of inquiry. He has sent me a letter detailing his results. There were just four cases. Three were in an outbreak early in the century and clearly connected to the springs, the other was a year later.

‘He checked all addresses, and none matched the list I gave him of Badger's known visits. He said the only recourse he had left would be to test each of the homes that Badger had visited, but he considered that unlikely to be productive, unacceptably intrusive, and bad publicity for Bath. We agreed on that.’

‘So unless Badger remembers something of importance, it is the end of that line of inquiry. Something else has occurred to me that should have been obvious from the start. The question of opportunity, it has two components. We discuss who Badger might have had contact with, but such a person would also need access to spores. I think that puts us back in the realm of extreme chance. Perhaps we chase the goose?’

‘Unless Badger's memory improves, or he decides to discuss the matter, you are right.’

Chapter 19: Recuperation

‘Dorothy and I sat in the bakery again this morning. Our presence seems to provide a stimulus for people to talk about George and the future of Brindabella. She now has five young students staying with her in the Manor and eight more involved in setting up Greta's old home as a meeting place and workshop. Plans for the new gully residences are already being discussed …’

‘I must cut in. It's good that she's generating a positive atmosphere at this time, but I've just heard from Tom with good news about George. Have you?’

‘Not today.’

‘He's awake and coherent. The reason Tom was vague yesterday, and I detected uncertainty, was that George had fallen into a deep sleep. Gloria was concerned that it might be a coma, but it was beyond her experience to judge.’

‘She's backed away from treatment since they declared the infection defeated. He's being monitored by a medical caucus. Noni reported to me that he'd woken from a long sleep and the caucus was cautiously optimistic, but uncertain about the level of recovery. They thought his behaviour erratic.’

‘They don't know him. You can judge for yourself from Tom's report. When he woke, Tom was the only one present. He said George was initially a little agitated and asked, “Where the blazes am I?”. When Tom told him he calmed down and said, “Arkadel? Now there's a turn-up. Well, son, what does a chap have to do in Arkadel to get a square meal and a Scotch?” It sounds like our old George to me.’

‘It certainly does.’

‘The medical team want to keep him under observation for a week or two, but they think he can be up and about in a few days. Tom said he wanted to get up straight away, then realising how weak he was he agreed to take it day by day.’

Chapter 20: George Returns

George, Tom and Karl were soon back in Brindabella.

‘It's great to be home again.’

‘It's good to have you back. The whole valley is rejoicing. There was even talk of a commemorative ball, but Dot suggested they put such talk aside until we were sure you were fully recovered. She said you were probably feigning recovery to get back as soon as possible. How are you, really?’

‘Pretty good, pretty good. A little wobbly at times – in the head, that is. Stout as ever on my pegs – well, almost. Dot's right. I didn't own to that in Arkadel. My, how Carol's grown.’

‘Don't change the subject.’

‘Carol is the future, and change is afoot for Brindabella.’

‘In what way?’

‘Your parents will have told you they are returning, Tom?’

‘Yes, but not when or for how long.’

‘I believe it will be soon and permanent. I've asked them to take over the Manor, and they've agreed – just not sure of the timing. Dorothy is putting all her energy into organising her college, which now has possibilities of expanding beyond Brindabellan students.

‘Noni has suggested that we might take in students from Arkadel. She thinks some from New Shanghai might also be interested. Beyond that, she wants to extend the exchange program your father has developed between Arkadel and New Shanghai to include Brindabella.’

‘I knew she was intending to bring up the subject of the Soils Academy with you. I suggested it. Clare was wary, but I'm sure you agree that she'd be a great teacher and has much to contribute.’

‘I was pregnant at the time and had enough to consider. Otherwise, I like the idea.’

‘Then we have Karl's plans to expand the Foundry to wraith production.’

‘What about yourself? What are your plans now?’

‘Well, my travel plans are off. I'm told I must rest.’

‘We'll make sure you do.’

‘For much of the past weeks I have been at rest – at peace – in a conscious dream state – with Meredith. It was so very real I didn't want to leave it. At other times I was in hell – one of my own making – wracked with doubts and guilt for the consequences of past actions and inactions – missed opportunities and failed responsibilities.

‘When we do something wrong and know it was wrong we can make an effort to change and improve our behaviour. Just recognising our error can be enough. When our actions have unforeseen consequences that's more difficult to deal with. We can end up fearful of doing anything. Sometimes lack of action can be more damaging than poorly considered action. What obligations do we have when we see a friend behaving in a manner that we think is self-destructive? What right do we have to interfere in other peoples lives and make judgements on their actions when our own are so flawed?’

‘Nobody who knows you will ever judge you that way. It's time to put those thoughts aside and relax.’

‘Nobody sees us and our lives as closely as we do ourselves, and there are times in our lives when we see ourselves with brutal clarity. Then there were moments when I thought I could see the whole world and human existence with stunning clarity. My mind ran amok with thoughts of God and gods. Looking from our archetypal being back to the spirits of the known and unknown as you speak of them from a pagan view.

‘I also spent much of my coherent time wondering when I was going to enjoy a Manor dinner. We could dine early tonight?’

Chapter 21: Kings and Gods

‘Ahh. That was excellent. I'm not complaining about Arkadelian cuisine, Mary, but like that in Bath, it's not home cooking as I'm used to it. And I must thank you for all you've done for me.’

‘You can make that the last time you say it, George. I'm glad we could help, and more pleased to see you recover than you can imagine. Tell us more about your religious visions. It's a topic I've rarely heard you mention.’

‘Personal religious views, or how they influence our lives, is a subject that we don't often talk about here – a bit like Arkadelians and motives, hey? But we do discuss theology in general – quite often when Meredith and Greta were alive. I miss their debates.

‘They presented different views, and they drew others into their discussions. Between them, they challenged us to think about the basis of our beliefs and customs, and how they affected our daily lives. Their passing has left something of a vacuum.

‘You ask about my visions? Well, that sounds a bit grandiose given the addled state of my mind. Lets say my overview of history – our transition from the many gods of paganism, the animistic spirits of the natural world of rural life, to the view of a single God – the God of the individual in human society.’

‘You mention pagan views. What revelations did you have there?’

‘Oh, nothing particular or profound, Clare – perhaps a better sense of the grand perspective – how we deal with the unknown and the fearful – encapsulate the known so we can better deal with the unknown – condense the known to symbolism and stories of heroes who explored the unknown, and conquered the fearful in a way we could pass down through the generations. Stories that give us the strength to explore the unknown – a sense of adventure.’

‘Like George and the dragon. Inspiration is a different perspective for me. I usually think in terms of stories passing on practical knowledge, but the ritual and mythological side of collectively dealing with the unknown is an important part of that.’

‘I think the difference between the pagan view, as I've heard you discuss it, and the one I'm most familiar with developed when societies grew to the point where people commonly dealt with strangers – the shift from tribes and villages to towns and cities – from a world dominated by animals and plants to one consisting almost exclusively of people. The unknown became the territory of others' minds, and the fearful was lack of trust.’

‘There's no clear time division there. Nomadic tribes had to deal with others who had different cultures. Conversely, even in today's largest cities people spend most of their time interacting with people they know and whose values they generally share or understand.’

‘True. And new forms of tribalism can emerge among people who have no personal interactions, but act to protect shared special interests.

‘As the lives and beliefs within a community become more diverse it's more difficult for the general social order to satisfy all individual needs, and pressure for conformity to a common world-view grows in the form of leaders who can unite. For most of human history war was an ever-present threat if not a current actuality. Social cohesion and trust were necessary for survival.’

‘That goes back far beyond our human existence. There have been deep evolutionary pressures. There's always been survival value in putting an emphasis on males being good fighters, and females preferring males who were highly skilled fighters or just physically strong. It goes back to our early mammalian forms – the need to protect the young over an extended infancy.’

‘There's more to leadership in a complex society than fighting skills. Certainly, survival depended on strength, but it wasn't a reliable path to good leadership. For humans to evolve as a social species there needed to be selection for social skills. Leaders needed to build and maintain the unity and confidence of their community. We want decisions made by people who best understand the problem at hand, but also understand how the decision affects all individuals in the community.’

‘We want people who can put aside personal interests and personal ambition to minimise the bitter and destructive competition for power. We want someone who can stand above it all – a more symbolic role – a neutral arbiter, rather than someone wielding power.’

‘A simple and almost universal solution to that was the hereditary monarch – someone trained from birth to lead without always having to battle adversaries to gain power, and leaving a trail of death, bitterness, and division in their wake. Even democracies have shown a tendency for dynasties to emerge, or the desire for a symbolic role detached from daily politics.’

‘Tyrants usually kill off those closest to them and their grip on power as soon as they gain the strength to do so. They replace them with people who'll be loyal, but are generally less competent. As this transmits through their society, with loyalty and conformity replacing competence and trust, decay and chaos inevitably ensue.’

‘Over many millennia, people learned through bitter experience what was needed in a good leader. You could say that the spirit of good leadership evolved, and in a very real sense they wanted to be led by that spirit rather than rely on the whims of an individual or leadership elite. They demanded that their leaders be subject to that spirit – that god – as a higher authority.’

‘So you refer to the Christian God as “He” because kings were the hereditary default over queens?’

‘The traditional separation of sex roles made more sense in the past than it does now – almost essential. To anticipate Clare, that role casting must trace back to our earliest mammalian ancestors. It's not just instinctive behaviour. Our bodies are adapted to the roles.

‘Here, where it's no longer essential in practical terms, women still prefer to tend children and domestic roles, and men build things and organise at a community level. My daughter, Alice, is an example. By our local custom she would follow me in the Manor, but she seems reluctant. She's devoted her life to writing children's stories – the perpetual mother.’

‘Early pagan gods, in prehistory, were often female. Or many of the statuettes we find are. They're usually associated with fertility, but I think they also represent the dominant role of women in societies based on extended family groupings – matriarchal structures relying on women's innate tendency and ability to maintain unity within a family. I doubt that many men feel the kind of reproductive and protective urges that I've been through recently. Tom is learning, but it isn't innate to the same degree.’

‘She's right, but we're not incapable. Our reproductive urges are less oriented to actual reproduction.’

‘And compulsive, so you need to stick around after mating. There's deep instinctive survival value there for mammals.’

‘But our protective instincts extend more to the whole tribe than just our offspring. And we've evolved to be more capable of killing – another survival necessity in the past. Now we're still more verbally combative. Women tend to look more towards finding a middle ground. Men are more likely to go for victory of their own views. Often the middle ground is unviable, or to nobody's advantage – the Antarctic compromise.’

‘What's that?’

‘An old joke about a family who couldn't decide whether to holiday in Western Australia or South America. After agreeing on a compromise, they ended up spending their holiday trapped in a hut in an Antarctic snowstorm.’

‘A shared hardship might have been a valuable experience if their disagreements were chronic.’

‘I hadn't thought of it that way.’

‘What you say was certainly borne out in the differences Meredith and I had. She was inclined to create unity – a uniformity of opinion. My inclination was for harmony – the peaceful coexistence of differing views. We eventually agreed that what was needed in Brindabella was a balance of both approaches, and we looked at problems on a case-by-case basis.’

‘We like to think that Arkadel's system creates a balance of diversity of opinion and harmony. People have tended to cluster physically in sectors – sub-zones, but not enclaves. There's still plenty of mixing between them.’

‘Does your Protocol Caucus perform the role of regent?’

‘Perhaps as close as we have at a personal level, but Noni has no formal power, nor does the caucus, and there are many other caucuses. They can only analyse and advise – more like the symbolic role you mentioned.

‘We have what's sometimes called the Model as Regent system – evolved natural law constraining a collective decision-making process that's constantly evaluating attitudes in the colony. Noni and others review and advise, trying to resolve or minimise misunderstandings where possible. Technicians, such as myself, advise on the structure of the system.’

‘From what you've told me, it goes further than that. It's built around the Cick system – the pendant you wear sometimes.’

‘That's the tetragraph emblem used in New Shanghai to represent the four pillars of Neo-Confucianism: community, individual, change, and knowledge. What we're discussing here – the accumulated wisdom or knowledge of a society – is represented by the image of Confucius. The red star represents community, the Buddha image the individual, and the Taijitu teardrop swirl represents the dynamic balance of life – change. Our PAs have a structure that's based on this.’

Chapter 22: Civilisation and Change

‘Yes, there's more to the role of God in society than just providing good leadership and moral codes. The Trinitarian view of Christianity reflects some of the structure you describe with the Father representing the spirit of traditional values and leadership, the Son representing the personification of these, and the Holy Spirit being the experience of harmony achieved when attachment to the self is relinquished, and we are in harmony with the world around us.’

‘And embedded with that is Mary representing the spirit of the feminine and fecundity – the irrepressible pagan goddess of new growth and abundance – change.’

‘The Holy Spirit has commonly been seen as feminine – even the mother of Christ. In the Son we see the symbolism of sacrifice reflecting Abraham's reward for being prepared to sacrifice his son in times when all societies needed to be prepared to go to war to survive.’

‘As they said, “Those who don't risk death, face imminent death.” But even in peace there are sacrifices that must be made in the present to assure future success.’

‘Dealing with change is central to an understanding of human civilisation – adapting to change that's inevitable or advantageous, or resisting change that leads to decay.’

‘Social entropy at work?’

‘Well-put ma'am – the inevitability of decay if we don't strive against it. Another factor that's stricken all civilisations is overreach – societies growing beyond what's sustainable in the long run. A primary factor there has been climate. Civilisations flourished going into the great climate optima of the Egyptian, Minoan, Roman, Mongol, and Modern eras. Populations grew, but as these eras ended, food sources contracted and chaos ensued as famine and disease took their toll. Leaders were accused of not listening to the gods, or the gods themselves lost power. Christianity replaced the pagan gods of Rome.

‘Cycles of growth, decay, and rebirth of civilisations are meted out by nature. Myths and legends preserve past achievements. In good times it's easy to denigrate or ignore customs developed to survive the hard times. Failure to heed the lessons of the past has had dire consequences.

‘Advancing technology's been a major driver in changing civilisations as …’

‘Long before – defining us as human – putting a point on the end of a stick by rubbing it against stone.’

‘Of course, but my timeline starts when the Iron Age expanded our use of metals. We improved and expanded their use until large scale metallurgy ushered in the steam age of the nineteenth century leading to the mechanised carnage of the early twentieth century.’

‘The development of the printing press allowed wider access to knowledge.’

‘Yes. The greatest force for change in the modern era until the steam engine.’

‘Initially, language allowed us to encapsulate our knowledge of the world, and pass it down as stories. Writing consolidated this ability to communicate through time, but also across space. Ideas could travel geographically better than they had by word of mouth. The known world started to shrink.

‘By the iron age, or specifically the Axial age, right across Eurasia thinkers such as Confucius, Buddha, and Socrates were talking about how an individual can see themself and act within a civilisation as well as a kinship group – act for their personal betterment and society in general. It was a time when an individual like Plato could attempt to plot a course for the future with utopian ideals and ideologies.

‘The Earth was moving up to the millennial peak of the Roman warm period. Optimism abounded as it did later in the early European Renaissances leading into the Mongol warm period, then again in the Enlightenment that built up to a technologically creative but devastating climax in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.

‘Science and technology, which had both advanced greatly in the twentieth century, eventually became decadent as western society did, and increasingly less productive – replaced by the ideology of progressivism – the view that any change was progress. In retrospect, perhaps, a necessary floundering about to find a new path. Learning from the lessons of the past seemed regressive.

‘As long as there was change, it gave meaning to people's lives to believe they were contributing to human progress whether or not they actually were, or were even regressing to barbarism. It wasn't until the second industrial revolution started to unfold that, as with the first, a new optimism and meaningful progress emerged.’

‘Why did they say God died in the nineteenth century?’

‘That needs to be viewed as a part of the dramatic social change that was being experienced at the time. It was a long transition from a mystical view of nature to a more rational one – a change that eventually took till now to mature. People have been talking about a new Enlightenment for more than a century. Now we may be witnessing its birth.

‘Nietzsche recognised the deep significance of the changes ahead. His visionary mind looked into the approaching abyss, and correctly foresaw death and destruction on a massive scale. Others saw the benefits being gained, but not the price that was to be paid for them.

‘I'd summarise the nineteenth century with three words: chaos then confidence then hubris in rapid succession. It started with industrialisation and the mass migration from country to cities, which were poorly equipped to cope with the rate of change. The old social order was strained to breaking point. There was much suffering as a new social order developed around industrial production.

‘On the other hand, through the successes of technology and science there was hope for the future, and a growing confidence that humans could have more control over their destiny. By the end of the century some people were of the opinion that science had a complete view of nature – just details to fill in. That view was soon toppled by the discovery of quantum mechanics, which from birth was wrapped in a cloak of mysticism.’

Chapter 23: Ideology

‘The Copenhagen interpretation? That was religion or ideology – Scientism not science. Ideologies try to be rational, but in Copenhagen they claimed that quantum mechanics represented the fundamental layer of physical reality and beneath that was randomness – a meaningless assertion that had no rational basis. Now we recognise it as deterministic chaos – a fundamentally different thing.

‘Science is based on the assumption that the universe is fundamentally deterministic, but it's more than an assumption because in the physical, real world randomness can't even be defined. It's a mathematical abstraction. Its only place in science is shorthand for saying, “We don't understand the details, but on average it behaves this way.” Anyone who argued against the dogma was treated as a heretic – even Einstein, who said that God didn't throw dice, was ridiculed.

‘As you say, at the end of the nineteenth century, physicists thought that Newton's laws provided a complete description of the physical world. Then they found a contradiction in the photoelectric effect. The experimental evidence contradicted classical physics.

‘Because Einstein's world-view was based firmly on traditional values rather than Scientism he was able to make a jump into the unknown, and suggest that energy in atoms was quantised – could only take specific values. Others were unable to make this leap because it undermined their faith in the ground they were standing on.’

‘Biology was in a similar situation. Darwin was caught up in the conflict between religion and ideology. It shook his beliefs, and he took that seriously. He worked for many years trying to ensure that what he was suggesting was correct, and trying to reconcile his theory with his faith. And he was providing time for others to adapt to his ideas. Radical ideologues took his ideas as a weapon to attack the church with, and pushed him into publishing before he was personally ready to do so.’

‘They didn't realise that the reality of evolution undermined their ideologies more than it did religion.’

‘How is that?’

‘The rationalists were trying to replace a world-view that was a product of evolution – trial and error – going back to the origins of human civilisation and beyond. In evolutionary terms their ideologies were radical mutations. Evolution doesn't prohibit mutation – genetic sports – it can thrive on them, but tests them severely. Few survive. They should have expected likely failure. It was almost inevitable.’

‘It wasn't a new idea to him. His grandfather, Erasmus, wrote about evolution before Charles was born. He seemed more comfortable with the idea. His world was more stable. Views on religion had been evolving since the start of the Enlightenment, but in his day it wasn't yet being subjected to the intense antagonism of Charles's day. Some Christians had long been questioning biblical literalism, which they saw as undermining the credibility of Christianity. Faith in science and rationalism seemed to leave no room for the traditional view of God as a supernatural entity.

‘The horrors of war destabilised the public psyche in Europe. Ideologies gained religious dimensions. Along with the mystical view of physics Karl mentioned, a host of spiritualist cults emerged that viewed the spirit as a physical entity.’

‘You're right. A major compilation of scientific knowledge of the time, The Science of Life originally written by Julian and Aldous Huxley and H. G. Wells, prominent intellectuals of their day, included a chapter on spiritualism with a photograph of someone sitting in a darkened room with ectoplasm oozing from their mouth. That topic was edited out in later editions, and Aldous dropped from the author list, and replaced by Wells's son.’

‘So even science rewrites its history.’

‘Or Scientism, ideologies, do. What's ectoplasm?’

‘Some kind of white ghostly goo – the product of overexcited imaginations served up with a heavy dose of fraud.’

‘What I saw in the nineteenth century growth of ideology was the beginning of a brief cycle that soon returned us to the conditions of social decay that originally spawned the Enlightenment, a time when Christianity in Europe had become decadent and false – a pretence at the highest levels. Europe's descent into barbarism undermined the rationalist view that ideologies crafted by a few intellectuals could do better than the evolved and hard won knowledge of millennia in creating a stable and productive social order. Nature took its revenge.

‘It took multiple catastrophic experiments with Marxism and its totalitarian relatives, costing tens of millions of lives, for people to realise the improbability of success in imposing a new order from above rather than allowing evolutionary change. The Enlightenment rationalism had burned itself out when pushed to excess.

‘Like the self-serving authority of the decadent Church, it just created a pretence of order as people lived the lie of superficial conformity. It was the abandonment of truth – the very idea that formed the basis of the Enlightenment. It undermined trust, which is the most valuable resource any society has. It also undermined individuals – the very concept of individuality. It lead to the kind of lassitude we saw at Poseidon.

‘At first I saw that as contentment, in itself not a viable general state for any animal other than dairy cattle that have been bred for it. It wasn't until Karl opened my eyes that I realised how far it had developed beyond mere contentment. In free humans, that should generate dissatisfaction – ennui – a drive for something new. It's in our instincts.’

‘Don't forget the atomic bomb. It showed people that science and technology have their dark side.

‘You spoke of the Holy Spirit as the experience of harmony achieved when attachment to the self is relinquished. But relinquished to whom, or what? Voluntarily when desired, or coerced through external manipulation?’

‘I think that's a good point, Karl. When I meditate in the Buddhist tradition I don't see it as relinquishing my self to anything. It's more a letting go – letting go of my subjectivity to achieve a state of objectivity – the observer – letting go of compulsive analysis and the filters of attachment and rejection. To me, there's a clear distinction between that and the feeling you get – the exhilaration, even – of being in a choir when you are in harmony with everyone else.’

‘As different as they may be, both come from voluntary actions – also transient – momentary escapes from the complexity and stresses of ordinary life. What we saw in Poseidon were people kept constantly in that state.’

‘Humans need goals to strive for, both individually and socially. And we need to see some measure of success. For most humans this has been simple survival. Success was surviving each year. Ideologies held out the promise of instant achievement of the perfect society through rectification of one simple structural flaw in the existing society, such as the unequal distribution of wealth. Those who didn't fit, such as the city dwellers and intellectuals of Cambodia, were slaughtered. In the Soviet Union they were sent to the gulags to be slave labour and die of cold and starvation in their tens of millions. Now they are engineered for contentment.

‘Part of the fallacy is that there is no single dominant flaw in any human society. We're flawed as individuals, and produce societies with countless intermingled flaws. Change grows out of an ecology of success and failure that can only improve through tentative exploration and evolution on many fronts.’

‘Marx based his ideology on economics – wealth distribution – opposition to the excesses of free markets, and it's not hard to understand the attractions of that, given the pace and disruption of the nineteenth century industrialisation.

‘But Capitalism wasn't really an ideology, was it. Free market economics was painted as just another ideology – something concocted in the minds of intellectuals and imposed – but it was the product of social and economic evolution hastened greatly by the industrial revolution. It took two centuries to tame its excesses, and then only because the role and strength of large corporations – the economics of scale – was diminished through technological advance.

‘More coffee, anyone?’

‘Yes please.’

‘Too late in the day for me.’

Chapter 24: Democracy

‘In my panorama, I saw the direct will of the people coming to the fore in guiding society, for better and worse. The spread of education and communication was providing a better-informed public. The start of a new experiment, but a dangerous one when we don't learn from history.

‘People can make decisions in two distinct ways, or somewhere in between – as a crowd or as a mob – as an ideal democracy with decisions arriving from the independently formed and adequately informed views of individuals, or through demagoguery with views elicited from the momentarily whipped up prejudices of a mob. In its most pathological form, the public is pressed into conformity by fear of an external or internal threat.

‘Our experiments with many forms of democracy have ranged between these extremes with poor stability. We've done little more than relearn what human societies have learned and forgotten many times before. Even for the Greeks, it wasn't a new idea.’

‘Though our collective memories can now be permanent, it's likely we'll have to keep relearning, but hopefully future cycles will be less extreme. In Arkadel we have stability from our connection with past PAs, and a strong concern for the future that comes from our understanding that we'll be part of it.

‘Globally we've learned to maintain some stability through constitutions and legal systems. With the formation of The Treaty we reached some form of basic global agreement. Now we may have codified that role of God, but the role of religion in providing accepted codes of morality and solace in times of personal distress is still wanting. We leave the zones to deal with that, each in their own way. That seems to work where the size of a community is small enough that people know each other, follow traditional practices, or agree on new codes.

‘Some zones take a scientific approach using simulations. For two centuries people have simulated societies of millions of people, and experimented with different individual codes of conduct and different social structures. The results tend to cluster around traditional systems. Pareto distributions eventually dominate.

‘With widespread adoption of PAs, a new form of democracy is now available. In Arkadel we maintain aggregations of individual views at several levels. At the most superficial level we have message flows arising from discussions and incidents that I display in my broadcasts. These can capture the short-term dynamics of ephemeral interests.

‘At the deepest level we maintain anonymous assessments of views covering a wide range of detail – any topic that anyone wants to host. If there's enough interest in a topic, caucuses form to analyse views, how they are changing, and the implications.’

Chapter 25: Religion

‘Do Arkadelians have a concept of God, or are you using the word as we've been doing?’

‘The latter. As an archetypical leader, or accumulated wisdom. The systems I've outlined determine our decision-making and organisation at personal, group, or colony level, but traditional religions offer more than this. They address the spiritual needs of the individual.

‘In this respect Arkadel, and archiving hives generally, offer what other cultures have only hinted at – the possibility of immortality. Its founders, many of them Buddhists, talked of Amitābha – immeasurable life – which appeals to archivers. Now it's not just swarm hive communities who build around archiving. Most people elsewhere build substantial archives over their lives, and have the choice of archiving more fully.

‘More practically, on a day to day basis, Buddhism offers the results of centuries of experience with meditation – the ability to escape from the pain and suffering of the world, or these days just from the stresses and confusion of daily life – backing away for a few moments to calm the mind and regain perspective – to take control and not be a slave to habit.’

‘Being able to take charge of your own spiritual health is an admirable goal, perhaps an ultimate one, but few can truly achieve it. We take our solace participating in uplifting community ritual. In times of great personal suffering, the presence of someone who has been deeply touched by the holy spirit, or the spirit of Jesus, as some Christians describe it, can wash away the spiritual distress even if the physical pain remains. Even that is usually lessened.

‘The most difficult challenge in writing about Meredith was contrasting her with Greta in this respect. Meredith's approach to Christianity was more scholarly that Greta's, who often displayed a more practical application. I often sat with her beside the beds of Brindabellans suffering from severe illness or approaching death, and saw with my own eyes the anguish melt away into tranquillity.’

‘In traditional Buddhism, the monks performed that role. As a monk wandered through the village, the residents would, through custom, habit, or need, go out and add a little rice to his bowl, and be comforted by that momentary presence. With more extreme need, they might go out of the village and visit a forest monk and sit with him for a while.’

‘That's an interesting comparison. As for immortality, I think the first Christians not only felt that the strange Nazarene was still in their presence after his death, those who witnessed his last days felt his presence among them more strongly than they had before. They felt his presence within themselves. His final actions and manner showed them who he was more profoundly than all his words had. Through the manner in which he accepted the ultimate sacrifice, he rose from his death.’

‘I concede your alternative. And actions certainly can speak louder than words. The establishment of the replicator at Neptune, and word that spindle production had commenced, galvanised Arkadelian society. Swarming, that had just been an idea, an ideology perhaps, was transforming into something real. A multitude of indices from social interaction to economic performance surged and have remained high.’

‘Among Janeites, Austen is felt as a real presence. Some of us feel that we know her as well as we know our kin, perhaps more so in some respects.

‘You asked about talk of the death of God in the nineteenth century. I didn't answer that very well. Looking back, one view of God – the literal God of the Old Testament as creator of the universe – was undermined by our growing scientific understanding of the universe. They couldn't continue with the view of the Earth at its centre surrounded by the heavens as a shell.

‘When Galileo confronted the church, his strength lay in the fact that many people, possibly including the Pope, already realised that they had to change this perspective, and accepted that the Earth was just another planet circling the sun. They also recognised that such a dramatic change would take time to be absorbed.’

‘Mathematically speaking he wasn't right or wrong. The heliocentric view is just a simpler one. We now understand that it's not absolute, and the solar system is circling the galactic centre, and the galaxy is moving. An Earth centred view is how we actually view the universe, so it has validity from that.’

‘That's an interesting point, Karl, but it changed the way we saw ourselves in the universe. We were coming to the realisation that it wasn't created just for us, with us at the centre. There was a growing feeling that the Bible was telling us about the evolution of the human mind – our spirit – our evolution from a sentient animal to a spiritual being.’

‘As it says, “In the beginning was the word”.’

‘Quite. A great change came from an explosive growth in communication with language.’

‘And the increased ability it provided for our thinking – to symbolise and conceptualise in our thinking as well as communicating. It dramatically expanded our personal conscious world as well as our shared, collective conscious and our subconscious worlds. Words added symbolic structure.’

‘True. The Bible plots our spiritual history from when we first realised our mortality and our ability to consciously shape our lives – a recognition of the future and our need to act in the present to ensure the security of our future – even improve it. The prophets of old were people who recognised patterns of successful or destructive behaviour, and were able to codify them. In a real sense, God spoke to them.

‘The Bible's myths become quite specific, contrasting examples of good and bad behaviour and the likely consequences of both. It recognised that good and evil are inescapable elements of the individual human mind. That the battle between good and evil – the conflict between the constructive and the destructive – is not a battle between people but within us all.

‘As Solzhenitsyn said, “The battle line between good and evil runs through the heart of every man.” This brings out the fact that we are all imperfect reflections of society, or our part of it. We're not like discrete pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. Our experiences and perceptions are greatly overlapped.’

‘Like a hologram. You can take any small part of a holographic recording and it still gives the whole multi-dimensional image – just with less definition.’

‘That sounds like an interesting analogy.’

‘He gives a talk on holograms that makes intuitive sense.’

‘I'd like to hear it sometime.

‘Perhaps the most significant change that the nineteenth century urbanisation created by throwing large numbers of strangers together was a loss of empathy between individuals. That goes deeper than trust.

‘In a small community you might dislike someone, even distrust them, but you are likely to know them well enough to know how much you distrust them and in what circumstances. Empathy, as opposed to sympathy, doesn't require you to share another's feelings, just understand them to some degree.’

‘People criticised modernism for its rampant individualism and a rise in unconstrained self-interest, but individualism doesn't necessarily reduce empathy. It can go the other way and make us more aware of the differences between us in a way that's hidden or avoided when we assume that we all share the same cultural values.’

‘I agree. Something else that was lost in the fall of religious values was compassion – the recognition that at some level we are all the same, and the need for co-operation between all humans. As Meredith says, without compassion we are left with passion – unbridled passion, which can lash out at others as though they are soulless entities that can be destroyed without touching our conscience.’

‘We're fighting against instinct. There's survival value in being able to depersonalise our enemies.’

‘Which is a central role of religions – to keep our most destructive instincts in check.’

Chapter 26: Natural Forces

‘I think the pagan view is still present in the way people see and react to the monotheistic God. Imbedded in there, in the notion of God as creator, is the feeling that there are deep forces of nature, of reality itself, that we don't understand and which haven't yet succumbed to rational enquiry. But if we behave according to certain principles those forces act in our favour. If we don't then we suffer, or suffer more than we might otherwise.

‘We talk about truth, but there's more to truth than just the result of rational analysis. We speak of an arrow running true to its target. There's a transcendental truth in some things that have truth or harmony as their destiny. When people say that God is truth are they really reaching out to the idea that God is truth in the sense of the path out of chaos to harmony?’

‘You're contrasting the rational truth of knowledge with the truth of wisdom – an understanding of consequences – a resultative truth. “Trenscendental” is a bit vague, and even misleading. It's not really a greater truth.’

‘Perhaps “sagacious truth” would suit better. It's easier on the tongue.

‘Mary has already mentioned entropy – inevitable decay. Countering that we have the fundamental reality of resonance – the creation of harmony as seen in the formation of our solar system, and on up through the creation of Life. With “Life relentlessly searching every nook and cranny of its possibilities between stagnant harmony and destructive chaos,” as Tom likes to say.’

‘When I say, “searching”, it's not just a figure of speech. I don't think we can scientifically say that God created the universe. To me, that overburdens and confuses my view of God. But there's still the concept of natural intelligence that's guided Life from its earliest form, and may be its essence. As we understand it better we can cautiously talk about the evolution of galaxies and solar systems in a way that parallels the evolution of Life. But it's not something we can talk to, or talk with. That's the human, anthropomorphised God within us.

‘These are examples of the innate forces of nature – as innate as the force of gravity. They can be seen as the fundamental and inescapable reality behind the morality of truth. Deceit adds to chaos and decay. Harmony can only be real and ongoing if it's based on truth. Because of entropy, perfect harmony can never be achieved. Even the solar system is still evolving and decaying. But humans have the power to consciously steer a course between the extremes. We can overcome entropy by striving for truth.’

‘Truth isn't just a moral issue. It's the basis of science and scientific progress. Clinging to false assumptions has repeatedly held back the progress of science.’

‘The Pareto principle is another force of nature. He noticed that eighty percent of production came from twenty percent of producers. Whether that be plants or poets, it's a factor that's bedevilled the attempts of ideologues to level wealth distributions. It always re-asserts itself if any form of free market exists, and not even the fiercest attempts of totalitarian regimes can eliminate black markets. Even zones that rely heavily on cloning don't much reduce, let alone eliminate, individual differences.

‘Wealth distribution has only tended flatter when wealth production has become a smaller part of social activity. Then other inequalities dominate, such as the production of poetry. Even there, radical levellers try to redefine what is considered as poetry or good poetry, but their attempts have transitory impact.

‘Markets themselves are another innate force of nature. Animals share excesses, and benefit when others reciprocate. It has obvious evolutionary advantages.’

Chapter 27: Prayer

‘What do you think about talking to God, and asking for help? That form of prayer seems quite different from meditation.’

‘I see the God we talk with as being in the deepest depths of our subconscious – the most fundamental patterns or generalisations that our neuro-glial systems have built up from our accumulated experience of where truth lies in our culture and our individual lives – its simplest symbolic forms – their essence.’

‘Some may look on that as questioning God, while others may see it as consulting their conscience. Whichever way you look at it, it can only lead to a sound judgement if we've built our lives around truth and sound moral principles. Everybody, as we grow up and become socialised, accumulates a body of understanding about what is right and wrong.’

‘Not just in static moral terms, but also in dynamic forms. We develop an understanding of the way actions develop in their impact. Traditional stories give examples of the possible repercussions of certain behaviours, and we can see parallels between them and our current problems. They allow us to delve into the roots of traditional morality, and apply moral codes more effectively.’

‘In new situations, a conformist may look to what is socially acceptable – what others around them think. The trap there is assuming that someone else has thought the matter through better than you can for yourself. The reality may be that nobody has, or that someone's propagated a view that's not in your, or anyone but their own, interest.’

‘Traditional religions codify right and wrong in more detail than anyone can do for themselves in a lifetime, and in a way that's true for other people and other times. The problem with this is that times change and things that have been over-codified become dated. There needs to be a rule of parsimony – distinction made for eternal values such as truth, trust, and love. Specifics, such as how to treat your neighbour's goat, need to be viewed in the abstract rather than be taken literally.’

‘But asking for help. Do you believe that can work?’

‘Surely it depends on the type of help you want or need? If you're asking for rain, you're asking in vain, though the act might help you rise above your current difficulties, and bear the stress of difficult times. If you ask for help in sorting out a conflict with another person, your intuition – the deep and wide processing of your subconscious drawing on the common beliefs and behaviours of your shared culture, and the details of what you know about each other – could come up with a solution if pressed seriously and repeatedly. With repeated prayer or active meditation on a particular topic you're re-presenting the topic to the attention of your subconscious, and pushing it to develop a solution.

‘Your superconscious will is presenting priorities to your subconscious, and pushing it to search for a resolution. It's constantly active, exploring associations even when your consciousness is still and empty of thought. Rational analysis by our superconscious can influence our subconscious through stressing issues, by repetition or through changing our emotional state, so our subconscious detects the physiological impact of a topic.’

‘Only in the deepest meditative state of someone who has trained their mind to consciously move towards quiescence can subconscious activity be brought close to zero. In the past they only had subjective judgement as an indicator. Now we have the PA and its Medic that can provide a measure of activity to guide us.’

‘Apart from the possible benefits of consciously active meditation in quietly working through problems, spending time with your consciousness in a dormant state might change your attitude and behaviour in a way that helps. It provides the subconscious with uninterrupted time to work – similar to dreams, but more directed by the concerns of the moment.

‘Likewise, you can influence the subject of dreams by thinking about a topic before sleep. The traditional practice of praying immediately before sleep would be an example of that.’

Chapter 28: The Death of God

‘We were talking about the death of God.’

‘You looked uncomfortable with that, Tom.’

‘I wasn't sure whether either of us wanted to revisit those discussions so soon. They were so intense.

‘During his illness, in his more lucid periods, we discussed this so-called death of God. I claimed that he was speaking from a position of the early Enlightenment when Christianity still provided the basis for social stability even as doctrinal conflict lead to bloodshed.’

‘Much of that was driven by politics – people wanting to free themselves from the rule of Rome. Religious dissent was partly symbolic of that.’

‘If you say so. We tracked the course of this ever-weakening ground up to the time of Austen's childhood and The Terror of the French revolution. What a childhood for someone raised in the peace of an English village!’

‘She had relatives who experienced The Terror first hand, and her brothers fought in the subsequent war. They would have made her aware that effete socialites, such as those she met in Bath, had to be moved from their positions of power to make way for new blood like them to make the army and navy fit to overcome Napoleon.’

‘Fortunately for England, it had the will and power to effect this transition and prevent them and the rest of Europe from falling under Napoleon's imperial yoke.’

‘We tracked the aftermath of this through the eighteenth century as the question of what might replace the crumbling influence of religion gained prominence. Some, like Marx, tried to imagine new social structures, while Nietzsche saw the black hole of nihilism – the despair that we all experience from time to time when fate strikes us down and our world crumbles around us.

‘Do you remember the times when you were barely conscious and our discussion consisted of exchanging quotes from Nietzsche?’

‘You said, “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?” Then I, “Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?”, as I remember.’

‘By concocting ideologies? Relying on individuals to build their own morality from scratch using logic? Even if some could, most don't. Nietzsche had a traditional foundation to his morality. And he knew that logic is built from initial premises that are highly subjective and could be based on pure self-interest. He recognised the dangers, but fuelled the flames with his claims of the potential for individuals to form their own morality.

‘He was thinking, perhaps, of his refined acquaintance steeped from childhood in traditional moral values. But in the chaos of the cities of his day, a fog had descended over these values at all levels of society. As Charles Dickens put it in his introduction to Bleak House:

“Fog everywhere. Fog up the river where it flows among green aits and meadows – fog down the river where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city.

… at the very heart of the fog sits the Lord High Chancellor in his High Court of Chancery … addressed by a large advocate with great whiskers, a little voice, and an interminable brief, and outwardly directing his contemplation to the lantern in the roof where he can see nothing but fog.”

‘The great fog in which we lost our way.’

‘Though he painted a grim view of Victorian England, he didn't plumb the full depths of human degradation. To this day there are anarchic zones where brutality, murder, theft, and a total lack of trust, even among family and allies, is seen as the natural order of things.

‘Under The Treaty they're just other zones with their distinct way of life. They're touted by some as examples of the success of The Treaty in maintaining cultural diversity, and it's said they seem happy enough. Others think that with their high birth rate, short average lifespans, and survival of the fittest, they provide valuable evolutionary laboratories.’

‘It could be argued that they're living more fulfilling lives than the bovine freeps of Poseidon, but they aren't living a natural life. In a pre-technological world they'd perish without some degree of trust and organisation.’

‘Here we'd survive without bots, as many have in the past, but it'd be a tough life only made palatable through the practices developed over centuries, and sustained by a faith in the culture that's developed over that time.’

‘But they have survived. How? If they have modern technology they must trade something.’

‘They breed, but in the reverse direction to the freeps. They produce brutally tough and healthy people. They excel at sports, which can be very lucrative. One they don't yet dominate is tilting. Few can afford bikes.’

‘How is it that I've never heard of them?’

‘Touring athletes don't advertise their origins. They accumulate wealth till their talent dries up then return as gang leaders who spend most of their wealth on protection. Their cultures also breed for social intelligence. To survive they have to be cunning and astute when it comes to human nature.’

‘I've heard rumours in Bath that one lucrative export is babies for adoption. It's suspected that Janeite fostering has sometimes been used to bring them up for their first few years. Since they're breaching Treaty rules, we've been warned to check carefully when couples come here just for fostering.’

‘This's a side of world affairs that I wasn't aware of. Jerrie keeps telling me I'm naive. That a civilised society might need a godless one to refresh its gene pool is a disquieting thought.’

‘Whether or not we need it is debated. It's sometimes considered to be an insurance policy in case our genetic meddling has long-term problems we haven't anticipated, but all large zones have sub-populations that breed naturally.

‘George and I agreed that Nietzsche's fundamental premise of the death of God was false. Outside the cities and the intellectual circles he was immersed in, traditional religion survived and ultimately prevailed. Even in the cities it still provided the institutions and moral values for most citizens.’

‘Eventually, we moved on to Carl Jung's exposition of the commonality of symbols across human cultures. Soon after his death, neuroscientists were recognising the primary function of neural networks as pattern-detecting or symbol-generating mechanisms. Logic emerged naturally as an epiphenomenon of fundamental brain function – just a stricter and more formalised extension of conscious rational thought, itself a simplified, comprehensible, and relatively safe path through the myriad possible related associations. Our subconscious works with more general symbolism and associations. Rationalism, the idea that the strength of a belief should be in proportion to the evidence supporting it, was eventually scrutinised and its limitations recognised.

‘By just using the limited contemporary evidence of a few socially isolated individuals, the ideologues were ignoring the experience of past generations. Traditional ideas have, by definition, been tested many times over many millennia and in different settings. They're based on the balance of empirical evidence – more fully rational than the simplistic rationalistic concoctions used to justify ideologies.’

‘Eventually that led to a complete re-evaluation of the Old Testament, and its restatement as a symbolic representation of the evolution of the human spirit from the time of our first developing self-consciousness – our eviction from Eden. Then the New Testament was subjected to a similar re-evaluation, which lead us to the debates between Meredith and Greta. Much of the mythological content was revealed as meaningful symbolism.’

‘In the book, I summarised Meredith's view that the early Christians took the life of a great but natural man – a great and inspirational teacher who demonstrated the strength of his beliefs by being prepared to die for them. Then they embellished it with the supernatural physical resurrection.

‘She saw this insistence on the supernatural as the fundamental cause of the downfall of traditional Christianity in the age of reason. It was an insistence on the acceptance of the supernatural at a time when the natural sciences held out the promise of fully explaining nature.’

‘Some say that through its insistence on the supernatural while simultaneously stressing the importance of truth, Christianity provoked the Enlightenment as an inevitable consequence of the rejection of orthodox doctrine in the Reformation.’

‘Did he die on the cross? How could anyone have known – least of all himself? Even today we have no definitive test for the precise point where life has been irreversibly extinguished. Would a Roman soldier know, or care? They'd know that the wounds in his hands and feet were not necessarily fatal, but that someone with a deep spear wound to the side was eventually going to die from it. Someone regaining consciousness after being taken as dead wouldn't have been an unheard-of experience.

‘More to the point, from what we know of his teachings, is it likely to be what he would have wanted to be remembered for? It seems highly unlikely. The whole idea distracts from his teachings and undermines them. I think that was Meredith's main point. She saw the rise in interest in his teachings over the twenty first century as his second rebirth – one without the distraction of the details of his death.’

‘Greta's position was that belief in the resurrection, regardless of its historical accuracy, was so central to Christianity that it should be maintained at the forefront in symbolic form.’

‘I've never understood how his brief physical survival had any connection with the idea of an afterlife.’

‘There have been countless opinions expressed on this. One is that his physical survival, something we have little reason to believe he expected, took everyone by surprise, and confused the distinction between body and spirit in those that experienced the events. They felt his presence so strongly that it was, and is, impossible to tell whether he was physically present or whether it was an apparition. It reinforced the idea that we all live on after death – most strongly if we live a good and memorable life having made the world a better place.

‘Another view, one Meredith and I were inclined to emphasise, was that this strong feeling of his continued presence reflected a feeling that he had always been present, and always would be. That he was the temporary manifestation of a spirit that had evolved in the human psyche along with the spirit of the god king and just ruler – someone leading a true life – the spirit of the individual existing in harmony among many. When the apostles went out and talked about him their listeners felt they already knew him – Jews and Gentiles alike.

‘Suffering purges the spirit, and makes us appreciate core values that matter most for survival. The suffering of the Jews under Roman oppression would have woken cultural memories of their past in Egypt, and provoked a desire for a new Moses to rescue them. His birth was expected, possibly from a great distance if the stories of the three wise men are true.’

‘The story of the wise men ties in with a Buddhist tradition that a great spiritual leader could tell which region his successor would come from.’

‘Put like that, there was no fundamental conflict between Meredith and Greta. Their debates were just over emphasis.’

‘How did the debates between you and George conclude?’

‘With more quotes from Nietzsche. I said, “When we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago.” He replied, “And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music”. This is the first time he's discussed his experiences other than the time he spent with Meredith. He hasn't related the negative ones.’

‘And don't intend to. I don't linger on the darker side of life more than I need to. Something we're missing here is the role of beauty in lifting the spirit – the role of the church in bringing beauty and awe into people's lives. This may not seem very important in our time of peace and material comfort, but through humanity's existence people have gained strength from beauty and grandeur, and challenge from seeing the best their culture can produce.’

‘And displaying to their enemies their material and spiritual strength, and the fact that they were capable of being well organised – able to build strong armies if needed.’

‘Our chapel is small, but it has great beauty. Most obvious are the stained glass and embroidery, but all the other crafts, particularly the woodwork, represent the finest produced in the valley. The masonry is simple, but higher quality than that of the Manor – or any other building here.

‘Same can be said of the other crafts, upholding the tradition that the house of God should outshine those of temporal rulers – cathedral overshadow the finest palace – that the finest a culture has to offer be accessible to all its people.

‘The Manor has some beautiful porcelain – our wedding gift from the village among the best – haven't dared use it since she passed – too good to hide away – her tapestry would work well for a backdrop – must commission a display case.

‘You're tired, George. We've worn you out with all this talk. I said I'd see that you rested.’

‘Ahhh, but you've helped already – sleep better tonight after talking – mind filled with chaotic ideas – pressed to make some coherent – good medicine. You're right. Very tired, but glad to be back.

‘Hobbled home to sett of grey mouse stone.’

Chapter 29: Succession

‘Nothing wrong with him that a few days rest won't fix.’

‘I think you're right. He had some difficulty reaching the top of the stairs, but made it without my help. He intends to go for his usual morning ride tomorrow. I'll go with him – mainly because I've missed him so much rather than to keep an eye on him.’

‘Getting back to his routines will help him. He said he was looking forward to that on our trip back here. We're all creatures of habit, but more so as we grow old.’

‘It'll calm his mind to return to his routines. That's one basis for the simple routines practiced in monasteries. Arkadel has been described as a monastic colony. Here, there is something almost monastic about life here in the Manor.’

‘Others call it dull. Greta and Dorothy have always preferred the social life of the village. For my parents, that wasn't enough. They prefer city life, and a variety of cities, at that. They're urban nomads moving from city to city. I can't imagine them settling back here, but they'd try out of a sense of duty if they felt it necessary. They need constantly changing environments to feed their imaginations.’

‘That's understandable if they write about how people live their lives. They're drawing from reality. It's the realism of their stories that people like.’

‘Realism? They live in a fantasy world of their own creation. They've been dragging around a six year old version of me, or how they wanted to me to be, like a small child might drag a bedraggled teddy bear about the house by its foot.’

‘Are you angry with them?’

‘No, not angry. Anger weakens. We need to think clearly about this.’

‘We?’

‘You and I, but particularly George. One thing I picked up from his ramblings was that he was worried about succession. His illness was a reminder of his mortality. He says my parents have agreed to return when needed, but they're not ready if they ever could be, and not suited to the Manor. Half the valley only know them through their books or as occasional visitors.’

‘I think you and Clare coped well last year when George was in Bath. And he's right about the valley's view. They want continuity and stability. People have discussed it with me. Everyone likes your parents, but can't see them in the Manor.

‘They don't want some kind of rotating vote, which is the only alternative being considered. It would end up with people who felt the need to prove themselves and interfere with the smooth functioning of the valley.’

‘That's not a serious option, surely? George has no real power. Anyone in the valley can broker an agreement, resolve a dispute. It's up to the disputants who they choose. It's just convenient to have one person as a default. When George dies or withdraws from public life someone else might naturally emerge as a preferred choice. The Manor is a convenient sheltered meeting place. Ultimate power lies with an assembly, and anyone can call one.’

‘They must be rare. I've never seen one.’

‘Yes you have. The gathering at the start of each congregation is formally an assembly. Anyone can speak or call for a vote. That's what's rare.’

‘The fact that you have your work and family as primary interests goes in your favour. Your parents have settled in Bath. They and Gwen are ideal for the interzonal functions, so you don't need to worry about that.’

‘I think you're right. And I've been giving it some thought since we last discussed the matter, Tom. I think I'd be happy here, and it would be by far the best alternative for Carol to be near the village and all the village children. If we stay isolated in the cottage she'd need some fostering in the village to socialise. I won't have her fully fostered.

‘Living here we could have the best of both worlds – whatever is appropriate at the time. You can escape to the cottage most days to work, and we could all escape there occasionally for some peace and quiet.’

‘I'm glad to hear that you've changed your mind, and I agree with what you say about Carol.’

‘It's not just about Carol. My relationship with the valley changed when I married you. I was finally accepted as a member of the community. People had always been friendly towards me but reserved. That changed once I'd obviously committed to spending the rest of my life here. They were more relaxed with me, as though they realised that I was also accepting them into my life.

‘Things changed again when George was ill. People began to actively engage my friendship. Some that I'd never interacted with before approached me. I was asked on several occasions whether I felt isolated way up in our gully. I realised that I was being gently coaxed back to the Manor. I've gone from being accepted to feeling that I'm needed, and for me that's a huge difference.’

‘I felt a similar change when Karl and I were married, but with me it felt as though Arkadelian culture had been put to a test and had passed.’

‘That's something you can be proud of. It's a large cultural difference you've been able to span with apparent ease.’

‘Oh, for an Arkadelian it's far more important than pride – personal or cultural. It's further evidence that our swarms could be stable over millennia, which is a major challenge and concern. So I'm quite happy to settle for acceptance.’

‘If you're serious about Treaty reform, then perhaps you should view your community as the human race. Perhaps Arkadelian diversity will help there, and perhaps people will eventually recognise that they needed you.’

‘That's a lot of “perhaps” for a mathematician to string together, dear. It needs some alternatives to run in parallel. I hope that between us we can make a contribution.’

‘Ultimately it's up to my parents and George to decide whether they return, but you are right about them, Karl. I think they decided on their role long ago. I'll talk with George tomorrow. It'll take a great weight off his mind.’

‘And yours.’

‘True. It has been bothering me.’

‘It's really just a formality. You took up your role long ago.’

‘Did he?’

‘That's a strange thing to say, Karl. Explain yourself.’

‘Your unilateral decision to start breeding archies in the valley, for a start.’

‘I asked George.’

‘No you didn't. You told him what you wanted to do, and he didn't disapprove. That's different. Then there are your plans for the plain – what the villagers are calling your haunted cemetery.’

‘I didn't know it was being discussed. It's just an idea I've floated privately, and it's just a natural amalgamation of your PA caching plans and Eric's wraith theatre.’

‘The point I'm making is that, as with the archies, they don't really understand what you're doing, but they trust you anyway.’

‘I'm sure he's right. And look at who your closest friends are – an Olsen, a Gundal, and two newcomers. Nobody could accuse you of being a partisan Oldfield.

‘I'm going to make some coffee and a snack. I seem to have my appetite back. Anyone else?’

‘You could start by taking your role seriously, and follow Manor custom by asking Winston. I'm sure it knows how you like it. I'll have tea unless you want to retire, Mary.’

‘No. I'm not tired. I assume we're all staying here tonight.’

‘We seem to have agreed that the collective subconscious of Brindabella has chosen its king.’

‘Its impartial judge, at most. That's been the traditional role of the Manor. I doubt my ability in resolving disputes, and I doubt that anyone's had the ability to smooth over differences before they become serious in the way Meredith and George have. I've thought that a panel of Clare, Dorothy and Elinor might work. You worked well together during the wraith crisis. I could chair it.’

‘That was hardly a crisis. You refused to take it seriously at the time.’

‘I thought others were exaggerating the threat. I tried to be a little more detached. When George returned, he was pleased that you'd been able to unite the valley, and successfully defend it without calling on the neighbours to tighten control over their airspace. Our independence and self-reliance has always been important.’

‘The Arkadel cybs told me later they were relying on that when they chose Brindabella as a test target. They didn't want it to escalate. And my connection gave them someone they knew they could negotiate with if things did get out of hand.’

‘So you were to blame?’

‘Partly – in a sense. It was a valuable public relations exercise for them – showing that wraith technology wasn't a serious threat. They wanted to pre-empt the inevitable scare campaigns.’

‘No threat for now, at least. It certainly increased the valley's trust in Tom's intuition, which adds to my previous points.’

‘I'm going to bed once Carol's finished feeding. It's been a long evening and she's barely slept with all that animated conversation going on. I'll need to be up early if I'm going to catch George before he sets off.’

‘There has been a celebratory atmosphere, and rightly so. It's great to be back. Jerrie and Hercule will be arriving the day after tomorrow, so we might plan a larger celebration then if George feels well enough, but I think a ball would be going too far. The medical caucus said he should rest for a few weeks, at least.

‘I'll get Winston to wake us as soon as George stirs. That's not likely to be early. I'm sure he'll sleep well tonight, but in case he has a disturbed night I'll tell it to stay near his room and wake me.’

‘It can wake us. No point in disturbing Carol's sleep unnecessarily, and you look as though you need a good night's sleep yourself.’

Chapter 30: Suspect

‘I may have narrowed down to one the list of suspects you drew up as snuff users who could have had contact with Badger during his stay.’

‘How is it that you do this?’

‘It's tenuous. Nothing that approaches proof. As you pointed out, access to Badger is just one component of means. It's the primary means, access to contaminated snuff that has stirred my suspicion. Looking at the list of past deaths, the last one stands out. His death was not clearly explained. At the time it was assumed that he was just a late victim of that outbreak. What I have discovered is that his estate went to the father of one on our list.’

‘You think that death may have been murder?’

‘It seems possible. I mount my case incrementally.’

‘I see that the problem of access may be resolved if snuff was used. Is there any evidence for that?’

‘Only that he uses it, and it is a rare habit often passed from father to son. As you see, the evidence is tenuously circumstantial. What adds to it is that looking through my diaries I may have found a motive.’

‘This has been absent so far. It seems so unlikely that anybody would have one. Do go on.’

‘To fully appreciate what I am saying you need to imagine a fine young man – handsome and replete with prospects. He has risen to the rank of captain in the Christian Militia after distinguishing himself with an act of extreme bravery on a tour of duty at the time of The City wall breach, which I am sure you have heard of?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Then you may have heard the story of the young captain, as wild as a berserker and howling like a banshee, charging a squad of illicit chimp-bots and managing to disable one with a ceremonial sword. Then, with the others stunned into immobility, not prepared for such an action, he disposed of them, too.’

‘I heard that it was a secret weapon that won the battle.’

‘And so it was thought by almost all at the time. The only images the intruders received unblocked were of the inert bots and a crazed man dancing around crying, “It worked! It worked!” They assumed some new weapon, but in reality it was an ancient one that they hadn't prepared for. The attack was quashed. An unheard of, and totally fictitious, technician played by an actor received a medal.

‘Our young man received a real medal and promotion. Soon, however, his life started to decline. He became foolhardy to the point of risking the lives of those who served under him, and he had to be relegated to a ceremonial role with no further promotion.

‘Once seen with admiration by some as a dashing young rake, he becomes a fop, a careless womaniser, and most significantly for us, a habitual toffee-nose. He is progressively shunned by society. Only his past glory keeps him within the pale.’

‘You mention motive.’

‘Ah, yes. Working carefully back through my diaries looking for references to him I came upon the entry, “George eyes Meredith all evening like a sad puppy, but she has refused him a dance. His chance has gone.”

‘Had my mind not been on our dashing hero, I would have misread that comment, but I realised its true meaning and was reminded of his infatuation, or quest. So now jealousy and revenge come into play as possible motives. But, as you see, my case is tenuous at best.’

‘You give me one name. Are you prepared to tell me his surname?’

‘He is George Witman.’

‘Shall we divulge this to Badger?’

‘I think you should let him know we have a suspect. It's his decision to wish to know, or let it be known that he already does. I suspect that he realised as soon as he discovered the nature of his illness.’

‘I agree that it is a very delicate matter for him.’

‘And we may be wrong.’

Chapter 31: Treaty Doubts

On Noni's return to Arkadel she contacted Mary, arranging a time for a discussion of The Treaty.

‘These new developments in your thinking must be serious for you to want to speak to me with Karl absent.’

‘I just wish to speak freely. It's up to you what you share with your husband, not for me to presume. My thinking on The Treaty is confused at the moment, so you may find me a little incoherent. Make of it what you will.

‘In Bath, at the meetings with Daunton's friends, I was confronted with the idea that The Treaty should just be scrapped, and the world would be a better place without it.’

‘Totally? With nothing to replace it?’

‘Yes. The existing one totally abandoned. It was suggested that a few minor and distinct agreements might then evolve in specific areas. They've drawn up lists of where these issues might arise.’

‘I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that such a view would exist in Bath. I've never managed to elicit much interest from George, and even Karl is lukewarm on the matter of Treaty content. His only concern is that it's grown into a mess – “a can of worms”, to use his words.’

‘Perhaps not his words. I remember someone at our meetings saying, “It's a can of worms that no Diet of Worms or Reformation can mend>,” which shocked me at the time. But it wasn't long before I felt some sympathy with the statement.’

‘You too? They've drawn you in?’

‘Steady, dear. I've always struggled to keep an open mind on the matter. Till now I've seen it as a complex problem for which there would be no simple solution. Now I've had a relatively simple solution put to me with great logical and historical integrity. I can't ignore it.

‘Some elements of the argument are ideas you've put to me yourself, and we've agreed on them. The basic idea of zero impact, for example. These days, as you have pointed out, our impact is generally positive.

‘I've had presented to me a detailed historical case that the original motivation wasn't totally benevolent but an attempt to enforce global governance by individuals and institutions associated with the United Nations – a last ditch stand as it crumbled under the weight of its own corruption and incompetence. This view wasn't new to me, but I've not heard it argued with such depth and cogency.’

‘Poor motivation isn't a counter-argument in logic.’

‘True, but this issue is more about politics than logic. The criticism that Arkadel has come under is that we view ourselves as technicians maintaining or renewing the machine. We haven't seriously considered what practical purpose the machine is performing.’

‘We agree that it's achieved its purpose of reducing our destructive influence.’

‘Not quite. We agree that it isn't currently required. It can be argued that most of our achievements in that area have come from changing technology, the associated improvement of living standards, and a consequent desire for a more pleasant environment.

‘Meanwhile, The Treaty's had significant negative impacts. It's penalised people subjected to droughts or other natural calamities and rewarded people nature has smiled on. These and other injustices have been a cause of resentment and conflict.

‘The Treaty was an attempt to create natural and social stability. We have little control over nature, and what we have is largely exhausted, or seen as morally and scientifically dubious intervention. When it comes to social stability, likewise our ability to control it is limited. Changing technology and living standards inevitably change societies, which evolve to adapt naturally, and experimental interventions have commonly had unforeseen consequences.

‘The desire for social stability a century ago was deeply felt for good reasons. At that time they had the example of the first industrial revolution, which led to instability and bloodshed on a scale that's impossible for us to imagine. Some claim that The Treaty prevented us from falling into chaos a second time.’

‘I can't see that the development of microfusion was as disruptive as the harnessing of coal and steam power. They already had industrialised societies. They were just substituting a cheaper, more flexible, source of energy.’

‘The threat that had been causing conflict was ideological – the counter-reaction to the dismantling of the United Nations. Though it was originally formed to reduce conflict between nations, over the century of its existence it was subverted by those who saw the ultimate solution as the elimination of the nation state, and the replacement of traditional cultures with a simple global pidgin culture manufactured by an elite.’

‘Like Poseidon? Surely that was unrealistic?’

‘Perhaps not so extreme, but who knows where it might have ended. It was a solution with superficial appeal, but one that relied on a false view of human nature – that we are born as a lump of clay that could be moulded into any desired shape. It is a view that runs contrary to well established science and practical experience.

‘It denies the existence of innate instinct and individual variety. It also denies the reality of evolution, its essential role in nature, and that humans are inescapably part of the natural world. It relied on the belief that we are somehow above nature. Out of that grew the belief that humans could manufacture a culture just as we manufactured machines. To achieve that, it had to turn humans into machines – eliminate or cripple our genetic and cultural diversity.

‘The aim was a culture that didn't need to actively suppress dissent – a culture too shallow for any thoughts of diversity of opinion to flourish. It was a thin gruel that starved creativity of any kind. There is a quote from those times that goes, “The true object of propaganda is neither to convince nor even to persuade, but to produce a uniform pattern of public utterance in which the first trace of unorthodox thought reveals itself as a jarring dissonance.”

‘This was a conclusion derived from observation of totalitarian regimes of those times. As these regimes crumbled, many of their supporters realised that the only way totalitarianism could survive was in the absence of any alternatives on the planet. That was the fate we came here to avoid.

‘Some zones still support such ideas, but they are inherently unstable. History tells us that such institutions, however well intentioned they may be initially, must inevitably become corrupt and an irresistible allurement for those with a lust for power. A counter to this is total transparency of both the rules and their implementation, along with devolution of power. Hence, we have The Treaty and a flexible multiplicity of zones and cultures that puts constraints on the depth that it can intrude into our lives.’

‘I'm aware of much of this from George's discussions, but you surprise me, even shock me. I've never heard you speak with such emotional intensity. The topic has struck a deep emotional vein. Cutting PA interaction is something you've never done with me before, other than when deeply personal matters have arisen. But this rises above the personal. Or deeper? I've often wondered what drives you. Few in Arkadel have the intense commitment that you display in your role.’

‘It's our heritage. Haven't you wondered about the drive and commitment that was needed by our predecessors to create this colony?’

‘Of course I have. It took a great sense of adventure and the will to be free and independent.’

‘True, that's the romantic view we like to see ourselves as inheriting, but have we? We've managed to establish a relatively safe existence, but they had no assurance of that. They faced the dangers of ocean life with storms and economic uncertainty. By taking citizenship in a new zone they were also making a permanent commitment. They couldn't assume they'd be welcomed back if they changed their minds or their new venture failed.

‘And do we appreciate the threat of tyranny they believed, often with strong justification, that they were escaping from? By their actions, and those of many similar groups around the planet, they helped to waken those they left behind to the threat. That strengthened the resolve of those involved directly in the creation of The Treaty, and strengthened The Treaty. Now the threat has diminished, but we still need to deal with an increasingly moribund treaty.’

‘The way I've been viewing the problem is structural – original transparency clouded by complexity – the complexity added incrementally in an ad-hoc manner. The relative simplicity and coherence of the original treaty lost. We've made good progress in identifying redundancy and contradictions, and mapping ways of increasing coherence. We have a better understanding of The Treaty's impacts, and new tools for analysis.’

‘An argument being raised is that since this complexity arises from the multiplicity and diversity of zones, the only solution is to reduce this diversity – the resurgence of that old ideology. The counter to that, and I gather the general opinion in Neo-Georgian zones, is a radical reversal of The Treaty's complexity or its complete dissolution.

‘They say it's served its original purpose. You and I have just agreed that it largely has. I don't think it's a great leap of faith to rely on people continuing in the tradition established by The Treaty without its coercion.’

‘The ecological monitoring could continue as a scientific enterprise, and must be. It's valuable, essential, scientific data. We can detect any serious reversal in trends and correct them if the need arises. At a technical level we now have the means of incremental restructuring. What's needed is agreement on implementing change.’

‘A political problem. On the technical side, I've been asked to look into whether our approach to decision-making within Arkadel can be applied at an inter-zonal level. Have a chat with Karl. See what he thinks of the idea. He may have some suggestions.

‘After what you've said about totalitarianism, I'm wondering whether that's the way to view The Treaty's problems. It's like a totalitarian ruler – a mechanical god by George and Tom's definitions. Tom suggested that our anonymous exploration and decision-making has become a large part of our collective consciousness – our god.’

‘I don't think many in Arkadel would agree with that terminology.’

I'm sure you're right, but that may be because our view of God still retains a pre-foundation legacy of an old bearded man in the sky. Our Buddhist practices and Confucian influences have led us to dispense with the concept. But I've learned that Neo-Georgians, or at least some Janeites, have a different view – of God as the spirit of leadership that guides a society.’

‘Hmm.’

Chapter 32: Collective Subconscious

‘In our discussion at the Manor the other night, someone mentioned Brindabella's collective subconscious. It lead me to think about Arkadel in a new light. Talking to Noni, I realised that she had a deeper historical perspective of Arkadel than I do. That's not surprising given our age difference, but also deeper than Sara, her mother. Do you think you have a distinctive one here? If so, is that George's real role – to reflect it and pass it on?’

‘A distinct character or culture? Certainly when compared with neighbouring zones, but far more in common than not. Or beyond, say, another Janeite zone? Our most distinctive feature is how traditional we are if you take an historical perspective. We're farmers, villagers, and city folk interacting much as those groups have for millennia.

‘The exception is the cottagers. Their origins, cultural and geographical, and links with the rest of the world are quite diverse.’

‘Many people in the lower valley seem to have closer ties with Bath than they do with the gullies.’

‘That's true. Have you mixed socially with many of the other cottagers yet?’

‘A little. We've been so busy. I haven't really settled into the cottage fully. We're still trying to organise our lives together.’

‘Eric and I spent a lot of time in the gullies when we were young, but as Eli pointed out recently, that was a long time ago. There is a sense of community, but a loose one. There are gathering points in the back chambers that move about over the years, but only one restaurant since Eli closed theirs.’

‘The valley's attitudes towards you have not been particularly subconscious. You've often been a topic of conversation – and mirth for the pub humorists. You should come along occasionally. I've never seen you there.’

‘Have you ever seen George there?’

‘Rarely, now you mention it.’

‘It's a tradition. The Manor only visit the pub when invited, and apart from you, nobody gossips in the Manor about what's said in the pub about us. It gives freedom to say what you like there without having one of us walking in unexpected.’

‘Nobody's ever told me that.’

‘I suppose they rely on your discretion and your intuitive understanding of attitudes towards privacy here. For most people, privacy is a default assumption. The Manor is relatively public and the defaults are reversed. Anyone in the valley is free to join in Manor gatherings and discuss proceedings afterwards unless it's clearly a private function.’

‘I know that. I'm also aware there are subtle unspoken rules that apply, but I've never heard them specified.’

‘As with most of our customs, they've been discussed at some stage then became absorbed into the shallower depths of our collective subconscious. Our deeper cultural values, assumptions, and habits are common ones we've inherited from the deep past. George calls us pre-urban. We're not a society of strangers with subgroups and strong hierarchies prone to conflict. To varying degrees we know each other, so can treat each other individually.

‘We have a few people, like Dorothy and Eli, who stand out as representatives of the village and gullies, but they have no power beyond their individual gregarious natures and the strength of their social contacts. They aren't faction leaders who need an overlord to keep them from warring.

‘Your use of PAs, and modelling interactions, has allowed you to tap into Arkadel's collective conscious.’

‘Yes. We recognise that as a colony we're performing an experiment. We're taking the process of making collective decisions further than others have. We want them to be as intelligent and reliable as possible over long timescales. We're not just thinking about Arkadel but the future of its swarms.’

‘You don't just poll opinions, do you? You have rankings where particular individuals have greater authority on particular topics.’

‘True. And different authorities come to different conclusions. They're in constant contest, with the interested public informing them, judging them, and being informed by them in an iterative process. We're looking for balance – how to retain stability without becoming stagnant. It's just as you describe it – Life finding a path between stagnation and chaos.

‘Early researchers based their models on their analysis of history. Changing communication technologies have always changed the nature of authority. The printing press spread access to the Bible, allowing its interpretation to deviate from the official line, and for Protestants to print pamphlets – hence the Reformation.’

‘Then we had cheap mass printing in the nineteenth century extending newspaper readership to the general public. Content shifted from the dissemination of ideas to daily news and entertainment. It became a lucrative business. Competition for readership led to them reflect what the public wanted to hear, and track the shifting tides of public opinion.’

‘While trying to steer them towards the views of the proprietors.’

‘Then electronic communication became cheaper still, transferring more information to wider audiences, but there was also an increase in interpersonal communication. It's that process we're pushing to a limit in Arkadel – a high degree of decentralisation in balance with competing nodes of competence and influence.

‘The processes for decision-making are complex. They've built up over the century. The type of polling we use depends on the nature of the decision. Usually, the results of our individual conscious decisions match those gained by polling our PAs when aggregated over the colony.’

‘You skipped over the enclavement. That developed from the extension of communication technology – people with common interests restricting their communication to within their interest group – gradually coming together geographically – eventually becoming autonomous zones as The Treaty started to form.’

‘Zone formation came from advances in geographical bot control. That defines zones rather than ideas and communication. It consolidated enclavement by providing physical security. Bot development initially created a lot of fear and insecurity. Zoning technology overcame that, and its general adoption was the foundation of The Treaty.’

‘It wasn't just technical. Those changes just allowed strong social and political forces to find solutions – even if they were only stopgap ones. Globalism wasn't just being pushed by totalitarians for their own ideological ends, it became painfully obvious that governance at a global level was inevitably totalitarian.’

‘The growth and independence of enclaves was a natural reaction to the inability of democracies to maintain fiscal stability without politicians taking more and more money from people to bribe those same people to vote for them, even going into debt or conquering other groups to take from them. It's been a common problem with democracies. It's another form of the overreach George spoke of earlier.’

‘People speak of zoning as the disintegration of nations, but the enclaves they devolved to were usually formed in a bottom up process – people banding together where they believed they had enough common interest and trust to coexist independently in a stable manner – a form of tribalism, but not usually based on familial ties.

‘What The Treaty has allowed is time for enclaves to explore commonality with others and merge zones, sometimes remaining as partly independent subzones. It formed the basis for a new global collective conscious to evolve. Tom's idea of the valley customs becoming subconscious and unspoken is useful. Successful aspects of The Treaty being relegated to the subconscious would explain how it's now defined by its failures.’

‘That was part of my discussion with George over the death of God. Christianity had been subsumed as a major part of the European collective subconscious. What was left conscious were the supernatural aspects, which increasingly came to define it, and were increasingly weakened by the rise of rationalism and the natural sciences. What was dying wasn't the whole of Christianity, just belief in the supernatural.’

‘It's an interesting way to view Treaty reform. Many zones are like Brindabella, even ones as large as Arkadel. We don't know each other personally, consciously, but our PAs are all interacting anonymously. It's a form of collective subconscious.’

‘Yes, a local one. The Treaty can be seen as a global one. Initially it was assembled and acted on consciously, but over the last century the zones have adapted to it and structured themselves around it to a point where it's embedded itself as a global collective subconscious.’

‘Except where it hasn't, and aspects of it rub up against strong local customs and interests.’

‘Most of our Treaty analysis at Arkadel has been to review those disputed points to see whether they can be removed without creating new problems. A difficulty we have is determining which points are genuine problems and which have been artificially generated or exaggerated by people who want to destroy the Treaty altogether.’

Chapter 33: Subconscious

‘Sometimes it can help not to think. Thinking about actions can degrade performance. For peak physical performance we practice things so we can perform them smoothly and more rapidly than if we perform them consciously.’

‘Or do you mean deliberately? That can also apply to thinking itself. In a complex situation, but one you're familiar with, an intuitive or subconscious judgement can be better than a conscious one. The subconscious can take into consideration far more information, and clusters of associations it has built up that are more diverse and subtle than we can grasp consciously.

‘It's doing all this in parallel, then providing a simplified serial presentation our consciousness can follow. Our conscious thoughts are serial. We perceive the flow of time, follow a path, or the steps in a chain of reasoning. From its multitude of simultaneous multidimensional associations the subconscious has to generate a low-dimensional stream of consciousness.

‘And the subconscious isn't just acting in parallel in a temporal stream, that's just a low dimensional version of the highly multidimensional models of the world it creates and maintains. When we view a scene, the two dimensional information it's receiving from our eyes is updating a three dimensional spatial model of the surroundings. Time adds a fourth dimension to that, but there are others such as colour and shading which might be changing, what's new or not, and centrally, what's relevant. It's the most relevant that it's feeding to our consciousness, or a constructed realistic representation of it.’

‘What do you mean by constructing a realistic representation? That reminds me of the Buddhist concept of maya.’

‘Our perception that we are seeing or hearing what is happening in reality is not always true. When we view a scene, our eyes are mainly just sending an image of a small area of our central field of view. The peripheral image is mostly a reconstruction from memory. We detect change there but not detail. We sometimes realise that something we saw wasn't as it really was and say our eyes play tricks on us – actually not our eyes but our subconscious making a false association.’

‘Far more so with our ears. Our perceived difference between, say, a "t" and a "d", is not in the actual sound but the duration of the preceding vowel. Unless you're speaking very slowly, the speech signal is more like a sequence of subtle cues that trigger the recognition of a word.’

‘What's maya?’

‘To a modern Buddhist, the idea that what we experience of the world is illusory, but the word has many meanings going way back into the Vedas.’

‘So we have books like the Bible and the Vedas that weave together myths, archetypes, and parables, which have been handed down and refined since the earliest days of human self-consciousness and language – a kind of written representation of a culture's collective subconscious. Stories that have, over many oral repetitions, been revised cautiously, or even subconsciously, as the possibility of adding new meaning emerges.’

‘Prior to writing, they were often put into verse to make them easier to remember, and make errors in recounting stand out because they break the rhythm or rhyme.’

‘The difficulty with the unconscious is reliability. With conscious thought we can reject information we know to be unreliable. With subconscious associations we can't be sure. We can only try to keep our minds free of too much poor information, and build up assessments of reliability over time. When we take our time and meditate on a problem, the two can work together optimally.’

‘The Manor custom of no gossip isn't just about privacy. It also has to do with truth – not clouding your thinking with idle scuttlebutt. I remember it being discussed years ago when I was visiting here with Jerrie. It was linked with rationalism and scientific thinking – only relying on things you'd seen and heard for yourself, or reliably reported from independent sources.’

‘That's right. The Manor is relied on to make fair judgements in disputes. It's a bit like a courtroom where you're expected to swear to the truth of your statements and nothing but the truth. George also brings in a scholarly perspective. He's meticulous in rejecting things he hears that he believes to be unreliable, and he makes that known when he considers it important. He creates an environment where people think about the validity of what they say in his presence.

‘Mary, remember what you said about meditation – stopping conscious thought to allow your brain to function better.’

‘That's an interesting way of putting it. I've seen it a little differently – providing time to allow my mind to come up with new ways of looking at a problem – new starting points for conscious reflection and deduction.’

‘Allowing your mind to reach points that are not readily accessed by a conscious stream of association, but can be accessed by deeper or more subtle associations not readily imagined consciously.’

‘That sounds right.’

‘And you use the symbols of your tetragraph to shift the domain of your meditation.’

‘That's correct – different aspects or “the principals” of a problem.’

‘When George and I had exhausted our critique of Nietzsche, I skipped ahead to Carl Jung, but we didn't get very far. Thinking about it later, I realised that we'd stumbled around definitions of patterns, symbols, and archetypes.

‘You've often heard me say that the brain is just a pattern recognising system. I still hold to that, but it is only true if you take a general and dynamic definition of what constitutes a pattern. I realised that George was thinking of patterns in a simple visual sense – squares, circles and such like. The brain is capable of juggling together many different types of patterns – not necessarily fully formed – hints and suggestions – vaguely defined instinct.

‘An example is inherited behaviour patterns. Within moments of birth a newborn calf can struggle to its feet, gain its balance, recognise its mother, and walk to her udder for a feed. If you try to analyse the myriad neural patterns that are evoked in that sequence it becomes an enormous problem. Much more so for the actions we perform intuitively every moment of our lives.’

‘But we're talking about our perceptions of the world and how these are passed down through generations and evolve along the way, not motor function.’

‘True, but is there a clear distinction? I've heard that chickens that have never seen a hawk will show a fear response when they see a hawk-like shape in the sky. Humans are thought to have an instinctive fear of snakes and other reptiles, which would go back to our earliest mammal ancestors.’

‘You don't need to introduce chickens as an example of inherited images. Your calf recognised its mother and her teat. Reptile fear and imagery would account for the prevalence of dragons in human mythologies across many cultures, which suggests a pre-hominid origin.’

‘The threat of dinosaurs and fire combined in one image.’

‘Which takes us back to Jung again and his interest in visual symbols. Unfortunately for him, he predated our modern understanding of the brain. When we're awake it's constantly evaluating and categorising sensory input to highlight what's of most value to us. When we're asleep, with our senses switched off …’

‘Not totally. We can be woken by a loud noise, or a soft one if it's important. Like the sound of a baby waking nearby or crying in the distance.’

‘Of course. We still have some awareness and can differentiate even when asleep. Our neural responses are sensitised to important stimuli. Our brains are always active to some degree. During dreaming sleep there's general stimulation and the natural dynamics of neuro-glial resonance gradually work their way towards greater coherence.’

‘Just as a dust cloud in space works its way towards being a solar system – drawn together by collisions and gravity into paths they're not subsequently jostled out of – stable attractors. Drawn into disks where they're travelling with the same direction and speed as their neighbours, then clumping together to form planets or moons.’

‘That's a good metaphor for how we think and form coherent ideas. In our brains, the equivalent of your particles are the streams of sensory input we've collected over the incidents of our lives, or the most significant incidents in those streams – more like an early stage when planets were barely forming. Or maybe a chaotic Oort cloud that was sending thousands of comets in to the inner system and disrupting it, just as new information or experiences can disrupt our views. We might extend the analogy by looking at the Oort cloud as the right hemisphere of the brain and the inner system as the left hemisphere – or, on second thoughts, perhaps not.’

‘What's the difference?’

‘The right engages more directly and broadly with the real world and is more chaotic, and subconscious. The left is more focussed and abstracted. It organises things into categories and consciously manipulates categories and symbols.’

‘Why are the different functions separated on different sides of the brain?’

‘They're not as much as was thought when the terminology was introduced – or not in humans. The evolutionary roles were that the left dealt with focussed actions, such as hunting or eating, while the right is less focussed, and detects anything in the surroundings that might be a threat.

‘Our current solar system would represent someone who'd become an isolated automaton ruled by habit. The changing world around us helps prevent that.’

‘I can see how the brain has to limit our conscious access to all the information it holds. We'd be overwhelmed if it presented us with all it held simultaneously – even just one topic. But how can it do this? How can it know how much we can cope with?’

‘If you view it from a basic level of neuro-glial resonance, it's a matter of recruiting associations into a stable resonance that's as large and coherent as possible without breaking up into chaotic activity. It goes back to that basic property of Life itself – finding a balance between static resonance – stuck in a rut – and destructive chaos.

‘In the case of the brain, it has mechanisms that detect the onset of chaotic behaviour and dampen down activity in general. Then it can be more specific and allow activity that doesn't lead to destabilisation. In this way it can construct a portal, or mapping of activity across the strongest associations, that we can grasp consciously with our left brain and analyse it.’

‘And we can consciously control that, can't we. We dismiss information that we are not interested in – try to integrate other information.’

‘Of course.’

‘I instructed my PA to summarise what you've said before about neural networks interacting with the glial tissue they are embedded in.’

‘At the time, you made the analogy between the discrete nudging of a pilot and the smooth motion of a bike.’

‘The pilot acting intermittently like the neurons, and the bike reacting smoothly like the glial tissue. I was distracted while you were speaking, but I think I've caught up now.’

‘Yes, the electrochemical glial waves that resonate both locally and over the whole cortex have a kind of momentum like the physical momentum of the bike or water waves. They're activated by neural pulses that propagate around loops of connected neurons – synfire chains. Other chains with similar timing and connections are drawn into the resonance.’

‘Like the planetary resonances but fleeting.’

‘And like the distinct planets, they can form distinct multiple resonances when they're non-commensurable.’

‘Non-commensurable?’

‘Differing by the golden mean – also known as phi. It means their resonant frequencies are not related by a simple ratio of integers. If they are related they'll synchronise at some stage. If the phase is wrong they'll interfere and destroy each other in chaos. If they don't interfere over many cycles we can keep multiple resonances or thoughts active simultaneously, even if only one is strong enough to be conscious.’

‘Eventually, neural synfire loops that the different resonant systems have in common may emerge as dominant because they're being stimulated by multiple resonances, and we become conscious of the commonality between the competing thoughts – we recognise a pattern.

‘That's temporal synchronisation. It also acts out spatially through the brain. Particular patterns of neural excitation evoke particular glial resonances across the cortex. These can trigger new distributions of neural activity, or memories, in different cortical regions.’

‘Linking sights with sounds and so on.’

‘And more complex clusters of associated memories. The golden ratio, or phi as it's also called, gains aesthetic value by extending the breadth of associations. We seek and enjoy resonance.’

‘The arrangement of a flower's petals, the proportions of a beautiful face, and the music of the spheres in the harmony of a musical chord. If the components are separated by the golden mean we identify the whole from its parts more readily. We say it's “easy on the eye” because it literally is.’

‘With faces, there are many different dimensions for phi to manifest – position and shapes of each of the facial features. Different cultures have evolved their own aesthetics around different selections of sets of these, and sexual selection has followed those to produce distinct ethnic physiognomies.’

‘Is that inherited?’

‘Possibly, to some degree, but anyone with good visual intelligence can, with familiarity, recognise other aesthetics, so it can't be strongly inherent.’

Chapter 34: The Golden Ratio, Phi

‘Does physics provide any insight into why the golden ratio is so ubiquitous?’

‘Mary? You're the family cosmologist. You have an interesting view on that.’

‘One view of cosmology has phi embedded in the dimensionality of space. What appears to us as three-dimensional space is actually about three and a quarter. The extra represents a hierarchical fractal structure of the universe, and numerically it's the cube of phi. Phi seems to be the factor that allows matter to differentiate, which leads to another view – that space has three dimensions and it's matter that has more. Make of that what you will.’

‘That phi is God's cleaver – the factor that allows different states of matter to coexist? I could expand on that, or place it in a broader picture of the deterministic chaos that's a characteristic of complex systems. By complex systems I mean their dynamics. The systems themselves can be quite simple.

‘You can view the physical world as layered – chaos to order to chaos, and so on. At the bottom, quantum theory gives us the fabric of space as a semi-chaotic sea of virtual particles coming into existence momentarily. Out of this, on a larger scale, stable subatomic particles have formed like the one dimensional soliton waves we can observe moving through a channel of water, but two dimensional for photons, and wrapped into three dimensional spheres for the others.

‘These make a first form of order from chaos, but with chaotic interaction between them. They can then form atoms – the next layer of order. From their chaotic interactions they can come together as molecules, which again interact chaotically, but form other layers of ordered systems such a crystals or polymer chains.’

‘And so on up through Life with cells, brains, people, and societies.’

‘Yes, your messy realms. On a scale we can most easily imagine, we have solar system formation. If we start with a cloud of gas and dust large enough to form a solar system then with a deterministic universe we could, in principle, model the system formation. But each of those particles is attracted by gravity to every other one, and they're also influenced by magnetic and static electrical fields, so the problem is effectively infinite – deterministic chaos.

‘At the atomic scale we have a theory, quantum mechanics, which allows us to skip the detail of formation of atoms. It provides us with a means of predicting stable states for the component particles. Likewise with the solar system, knowing about the phi lets us understand and predict possible stable states – planetary orbits, or lunar and ring systems around planets – without having to model the details of the system's creation. We even have models of it based on quantum mechanics, and conversely, see phi emerge at atomic scales.

‘So we have two quite distinct realms of physics – on one hand, the classical Newtonian realm of individual particles, molecules or larger solid bodies interacting as we naturally, or intuitively, expect them to. And on the other hand, we have the realm of possible stable states of complex dynamical systems with resonances separated by phi.’

‘We're not unfamiliar with the processes of spontaneous generation of order from chaos. We just haven't developed effective ways of talking about them.’

‘It's not too hard to understand the basic idea that attractors form where the components of a system happen to interact minimally, so minimising disruption. But there's also an interesting property of interacting nonlinear resonances, ones where the resonant frequency changes with amplitude. It leads them to coerce each other into synchronisation – phase-locking or mode-locking. Since nonlinearity is the norm in nature, the tendency for phase-locking is ubiquitous.

‘Looking at subatomic particles as vibrations, in theory this vibration of space extends to a diminishing degree out through the galaxy, but in practice only until it becomes lost in those of neighbouring particles. But if it's nearly in phase with a neighbour then phase-locking tends to pull them into resonance, at least at the fringes. In quantum language, they become entangled and phase-locking draws them together slightly to enhance that entanglement. That drawing together can be viewed as a force – gravity.

‘Heavy particles like protons and neutrons are drawn together into clumps. Being so close, rather than just the fringes of their vibrations being phase-locked their whole mass is drawn into resonance ­– mass just being the local bentness of space. They position themselves into configurations that minimise the amount that their combined vibrations bend space. They have less combined mass than the sum of their individual masses. The energy associated with the decreased mass is given off as fusion energy.

‘Since they are positively charged, negative electrons are attracted to the clump and form shells around it with a smooth distribution of their mass – not a tiny clump like a planet orbiting the sun but spread out to minimise the local bentness of their vibrations. We now have a neutrally charged atom as a harmonious cluster of particles.

‘If two of these approach each other they will be slightly attracted. In some circumstances, if their chaotic relative motion is not too great, they may have the potential to cancel each other's vibrations slightly and come together to form a larger resonant clump – a molecule. And so on.

‘At low enough temperatures where the relative motion of the molecules doesn't overwhelm their attraction they can condense into a liquid, but usually with chaotic relative motion.’

‘Not always totally chaotic. Water molecules in liquid water can form transient crystalline formations. These give water some of its unique properties that are thought to have been essential to the creation of Life in playing a key role in the formation of precursor chain molecules. This is the realm where chemical memory allowed a form of natural intelligence to come into play.’

‘Crystalline structures in water play important roles in nature, from ordering the internal chemistry of cells to providing a thermostat for the Earth.’

‘A thermostat? I didn't know the Earth had a thermostat.’

‘It comes from the breakdown of the surface crystalline structures that produce surface tension at water surfaces and reduced evaporation. As the water temperature approaches thirty degrees these structures break down and evaporation increases. Except where the atmosphere is saturated with water vapour, this put a limit on the temperature of the oceans. Since the oceans and wet land cover nearly all the Earth's surface, it limits the average temperature.’

‘The advantage for mammals in having a fixed, high body temperature above thirty degrees may be that it allows proteins in our cells to control the structure of water in the cells without interference from the natural structures of free water.’

‘Those crystals have a dodecahedral structure, and the dimensions of a dodecahedron are related by phi.’

‘In cosmology, one model of the universe has it as a dodecahedron – a pulsating one.’

Chapter 35: The supernatural

‘Any of these dodeccy structures in the brain, Tom?’

‘Not in the brain, as far as I'm aware. Just our minds.

‘Comparing the brain with the solar system, we can view the particles as the memories of our experiences and the gravitational attraction as their interrelationships – closer to chaos than a tidy structure. So, are you suggesting that what you call the state level might be pulling these into more order than we might expect, and account for what we refer to as supernatural?’

‘It seems so to me from what you've said that that may be one way of looking at it. We have a natural process that leads to the creation of order out from the edge of chaos, which could cause many phenomena that are seen as counter-intuitive, mysterious, or supernatural. For example, if you imagine viewing the formation of a solar system greatly sped up, wouldn't that seem like magic?’

‘Or looking at a snowflake – beautiful structures and symmetries spontaneously forming from water molecules chaotically buffeted about in the surrounding air. That fills me with awe.’

‘The regular structures that are thought to have formed spontaneously to create the basis of Life would be another example – from what has been called natural intelligence. From what Karl's saying, it goes back to the original formation of structure in the universe.’

‘You've said that most of our neurons are active at some level, but not coherently related – like the gas cloud?’

‘Some are forming momentary synchronisation that fails to grow and fades. With others, the synchronisation strengthens and spreads. Repeated often enough, it can become a permanently enhanced feature – a unifying concept tying event memories together.’

‘The sequence of neural impulses in your synfire loops would be particularly prone to phase-locking.’

‘We can see that happening. Closely synchronised loops are drawn together by the faster loop adding excitation to the neurons in the slower loop, so causing them to fire earlier, so speeding the slower loop up to the frequency of the faster one. Not the same process as gravity, but overall similar and with the same result.’

‘You have a general, natural process that generates harmony at many levels. Comparing solar system formation with formation of mental structures isn't a spurious association. It seems to me to be the missing part of our understanding – not just structures forming beneath our conscious awareness by simple clustering of associations, but glial resonances being actively drawn into coherent generalised structures – a process beyond our Newtonian view of natural.

‘You once referred to the golden mean as irrational.’

‘He means it in the mathematical sense of a number that can't be expressed as a ratio of integers, not in the logical sense of the word. Two resonances that have frequencies differing by a rational number will eventually come into rough synchronisation for a few cycles. When that happens, they're likely to either disrupt each other or synchronise more permanently.

‘I think Karl has a valid point. I've developed an understanding of this by observing simplified models. In time we can build up an intuitive understanding, and eventually it does seem quite natural. It's a matter of our intuitive understanding of the world, and how that evolves in societies over time.

‘That's a thread that's run through our conversations. We started where humans recognised their mortality and language exploded, then to where cities and nations formed, books becoming widely available, machines starting to replace manual labour, then supplementing our mental labour, and then with the PA, our sense of self.

‘Each of these transitions developed in the collective subconscious until someone recognised it and made it conscious. We naturally see the change as happening at that point, but it formed over a long period then, in a sense, it crystallised in someone's mind. If many other minds were primed almost to that point the idea would spread rapidly. If not, it would take much longer.

‘Quantum mechanics seeded the concept of order forming spontaneously within chaos, but for a long time that was seen, even by physicists, as something weird and almost mystical. It wasn't until the computing era allowed models to be built and viewed that it became intuitively natural for some. Visualisation is an important aid to conceptualising.

‘The discussion has relevance to Treaty reform. The great disruptions of the twenty first century started the enclavements, but it was a long while before the underlying social dynamics were understood – even longer before the inevitability and value were widely accepted, and the process was formally recognised with the establishment of Zones.’

‘You're drawing a parallel between that and solar system formation?’

‘Yes.’

‘It works with the description I gave of attractors – settling into states where interference between individual components is minimal – a layering with the people within a zone at one level, and between zones at a higher level.

‘Quantum mechanics can be represented by wave equations. You've said you use wave equations in your modelling of Arkadelian social dynamics.’

‘Not quite. I model the transfer of discrete messages, and wave-like patterns emerge from that.’

‘And you display those in your public presentations?’

‘Yes, across different dimensions – coarse physical layout of the colony where we see interactions between sectors develop, or across clustered friendship or commercial networks. It's limited, because I can't display in any way that could allow personal recognition.

‘The flows of a topic through the colony are interesting in their own right. People recognise that they weren't the only ones discussing that topic at the time – that they were part of something larger. But it's the order that we see evolving then disintegrating between related waves that's most fascinating. To put it in your terms, we're watching attractors of our collective conscious, even subconscious, in action – transforming from day to day – an abstract level of association forming from the detail.

‘Sometimes, watching that produces what could be called a religious or mystical experience. The feeling of unity is palpable. You feel part of a living organism. That's something easy to consider in an off-hand way, but to actually watch it unfolding is quite different. I've learned to automate the preparation of my presentations, so I can be part of the audience and experience it fresh with them. People sometimes comment that it's magical. That must all sound rather strange to you.’

‘Not at all. I'm amazed. I have wondered about such attractors as you say, in an off-hand way, but to have real evidence that might even be quantified – I'd love to see that. I see Arkadel in a new light. And you.’

‘The image you describe is like the fluoro-imaging of the brain.’

‘I made that comparison at the time.’

‘I didn't realise how literally you meant it.’

‘We don't try to analyse it much among ourselves, and rarely discuss it with outsiders. Now I can see it from a more rational perspective – one we're all currently sharing – I feel less inhibited. We like to protect our reputation for rationalism and realism.

‘I don't remember the supernatural ever being discussed in Arkadel, but my understanding is that it refers to experiences like ghosts, visions, miracles. Does what we've been discussing have any relevance to that?’

‘Good point. It might in as far as these are mental perceptions. We were discussing the supernatural aspects of traditional Christianity – virgin birth, miracles, and resurrection. I don't think many people today accept the literal truth of parthenogenesis, but what might have been seen as miraculous cures are no longer seen as contradicting our rational worldview. We've long known that our state of mind affects our immune system, and anything that is spiritually uplifting can help there, particularly if it's sudden.’

‘If it's sudden it's more likely to jolt us into another state of mind – or attractor?’

‘Yes. Particularly in cases of perceived blindness or loss of limb function. With visions, we don't need to invoke any supernatural cause. We're capable of consciously experiencing anything that we might experience in a dream – anything we can imagine – any imagery our subconscious is capable of constructing. We see that quite commonly in lucid dreaming.’

‘Isn't the key question the supernatural nature of God?’

‘True. With our solar system analogy, God could be the sun at its centre holding the whole system together – the creator of society – the core and essence itself.’

‘That's a very static view. Pagan gods are very active gods that reflect motion and action. Most Christians would take that view too.’

‘You're right. I was thinking of the sun's role in maintaining the orderly motion of the planets.’

Chapter 36: Hums

‘Do you agree with what Karl has been saying about resonance, Mary?’

‘Generally, yes. Starting with what I said about cosmology, I turned on a group of hums when I started to talk. I was in uncertain territory. Everyone in Arkadel has an extensive knowledgebase on cosmology, but I haven't explored it in much detail. My interests have been more towards astronomy.

‘My PA gave me a few mild tilts, but I don't know whether they were for lack of reserve or just lack of detail. It's just indicated both. It's right, I was sounding too certain, and it was certainly just a quick overview. As for what you said Karl, ...’

‘What do you mean by hums? What are they?’

‘You know – just like the team's alla cappella performance.’

‘You communicate with your PA that way?’

‘No. It communicates to me. I use tongue taps, or vocalise when I'm alone. Don't you use hums?’

‘No. It's never occurred to me – never heard about it.’

‘It's a very effective way to get real-time feedback from your PA on what you're saying or doing – just as it is between the team in tilting. I've assumed you did, but perhaps it's just an Arkadelian practice. I often set my PA to communicate with me verbally, but that's distracting if I'm engaged in something I need to pay attention to, such as a conversation, and I can only follow one message stream at a time. With hums I can follow many – like an orchestra.

‘Now I think about it, on your tour nobody seemed to be familiar with the practice. Did they?’

‘No. I noticed at the time that it seemed to be a uniquely Arkadelian art form.’

‘We see tilting as a metaphor for life. The team's parlour performance reviewed their trip up to that point. We adapt the hums to let our PAs reflect what's going on around us.

‘While you were speaking about phi there was no suggestion of you being in conflict with my understanding. The image I had was that you were above me, to the fore, and you were flying in loose formation with no threat in sight. In other words, you knew more than I did, and you seemed confident. I agree with what you said about resonance, but I've never heard it put together in such a grand overview before. Is that a widely accepted view?’

‘I don't know. It came in a flash and I was pulling it together as I spoke.

‘George said something about pre-linguistic communication. Do you know what he meant by that?’

‘Yes, it's been studied intensely in Arkadel. We call it “hums”, but it's derived from an acronym “Hm” with five m's used to refer to pre-linguistic languages.’

‘Are your hums based on a Hm?’

‘Not that I'm aware of. It's highly oriented to tilting, so would have to be borrowed from birds, though there is a connection. “The language of the birds” is a description of a mystical or divine language that appears in mythology and folklore. It's said that the earliest wisdom was gained by learning the language of the birds. That's been interpreted as wisdom coming from humans, perhaps Homo heidelbergensis, who coexisted in isolation from early linguistic cultures, and maintained traditions of wisdom that went back into deep pre-linguistic time.

‘Whistled languages are still preserved across the world. In modern Turkey there was a “Village of the Birds”. Of course, most languages use tone in some way or another.’

‘And babies warble and croon as they start to vocalise, and we mothers talk to them in songlike voices. How much of that is cultural, and how much genetic? It suggests a possible example of ontology recapitulating phylogeny – early development reflecting evolutionary development.’

‘Singing together is a common, if not ubiquitous, practice. That would have early pre-linguistic value in building group identity. It can certainly have a spiritually uplifting impact.’

‘How expressive are your hums?’

‘Quavering can express tension or threat – a dropping tonal inflection, a statement of perceived threat – rising inflection can range from quizzical through cautionary to dire warning – pitch reflects height. All the tones of Mandarin are used.

‘To go further than that I'd have to replay a performance and explain as it went. The guards' Manor performance reviewed the trip up to that time.’

‘I'd like you to do that some time.’

‘As you wish. There is at least one sound that's been borrowed from birds – a clucking that signals a claim of originality – said to mimic the sound a hen makes after laying an egg. It's rare in tilting. One disadvantage of archiving is that you can't re-invent things. That's been recognised as having a stultifying affect on the spirit of innovation.’

Chapter 37: He She or It

‘I was going to ask you, Tom, and Clare too, do you see God as Himself, Herself or Itself?’

‘Do we separate the traditional masculine role of social organisation at a societal level, from the feminine values of interpersonal relationships, birth, renewal, nurturing.’

‘You know I've always seen the latter as more important. The inter-tribal and urban organisation built up from the familial and tribal.’

‘I know. Though, if we're to work together to help maintain social cohesion in our little community, you'll have to consider Him on an equal footing with Her – He at the community level, and She at the individual level.’

‘In some sense, perhaps, but She is the foundation. A stable and prosperous community starts with the individuals who form it, then the relationships they have with their families and friends. If these are poor then the broader society can only be a tyranny.’

‘Many would debate that, but I agree. How about a third opinion? How would Arkadelians react to the view of sex we're suggesting, Mary?’

‘Personally, I'm struggling with your concept of us having feminine and masculine natures. I'll need to think more about that, but you've been easy on me by making it a general question.

‘We recognise that women and men tend to have different interests, but sex in general is not a topic we talk about much. I'll think about it and quiz my PA. I suspect that this may have something to do with differentiating ourselves from zones like Poseidon, where sex comes to dominate people's lives. I noticed that I became quite uncomfortable with Karl learning about Poseidon, or seeing it.’

‘You've nothing to fear there, dear. I see no parallel with Arkadel. Anyway, Tom and Clare are thinking of gender differences, not sex – for a change.’

‘When I speak of feminine and masculine natures I'm not suggesting that we have two distinct personalities, just a blend of characteristics with men tending more masculine and women more feminine, but with far more overlap than difference.

‘Gender aside, the idea of a personified deity is an important one. Beyond the socio-evolutionary link between gods and leadership, which naturally personifies the nature of God, if we just view it as the full accumulation of historical wisdom – He and She combined to It – we are still likely to quiz It just as we quiz our PAs. Anthropomorphism is a useful tool, and one our brain naturally uses – probably the most sophisticated structure it has.

Chapter 38: Empathy

‘At the basic functional level of our brains, building images of other people is a fundamental requirement. In early childhood we start building an understanding of ourselves, then we start to replicate that attractor to build models of other people.’

‘So the earlier that process starts, the less likely we are to assume that others are just like us.’

‘I suppose that's right.’

‘Extending that, the more differently we each treat Carol, the sooner she'll recognise the differences between us.’

‘That follows, and another corollary is that we should be consistent, so her differentiation isn't too confused.’

‘If I might butt in, psychoanalysing her could cause more confusion. Surely, acting naturally is important.’

‘Well said, and probably the best way to be consistent. I'm sure that part of my childhood difficulties derived from my parents over-rationalising, or trying to plan my life in too much detail. I didn't follow their scripts – not surprising given that I didn't know what they had in mind.’

‘Wouldn't another corollary of your view be that people who weren't good at understanding other people would be less attracted to the notion of an anthropomorphic God?’

‘That does follow. You'd be more likely to want to follow sets of rules. It seems to come down to a left-brain/right-brain distinction along the autism/empathy spectrum, since complex intuitive modelling is right-brain function and rule-based logic more left-brain.’

‘That ties in with the ideas of a school of Arkadelian philosophers who describe the new Enlightenment as balancing the logic and science of the last Enlightenment with a broader view of us as humans – a renaissance in literature and arts. Others claim that that's just a consequence of having more time on our hands.’

‘It is a matter of balance. Tom and I are good examples. He started out near the autism or Asperger end of the scale, absorbed in his own world of ideas, and as I saw it, uncomfortable with other people. I was almost totally preoccupied with living things – plants and people – understanding them and how we differed – making friends.

‘From Jerrie I've learned some basic psychology, which has added a rational framework for my observations. Tom's PA, and particularly the augmentation, have helped him deal with other people.’

‘And taught me a lot about myself – in particular, more aware of my emotional reactions.’

‘Knowing about the autism-empathy scale has helped me to understand the difference between us. We've grown together.’

‘Perhaps more accurately, we've both grown – spread out along the scale, so towards each other. I'm a typical product of the Enlightenment – left-brained logical, and tending to objectify people and deprecate emotions. You're more right-brained intuitive.’

‘That puts me, and most of Arkadel, at the left-brained end of the spectrum, with me using my models to search for right-brained order within the unknown. Perhaps that comes from my family. Noni, father, and Axel are each more intuitive in their very different ways. I've noticed the difference, but haven't had a rational way to define it before. Something that I see as a possible problem is whether a more intuitively based society is viable – stable.’

‘That's one way of looking at what bothered Nietzsche. Religions provide a framework that can control the violent extremes of instinctive or intuitive behaviour, particularly at a mass level – the outbreaks of mob insanity that caused so much suffering in the twentieth century and deep into the past.

‘Your PA interactions provide a stability for Arkadel. They don't tend to draw you into all thinking alike. Rather, they maintain a stability of relative differences at an interpersonal level. It allows and promotes the diversity of character you so value. In just a century, you've evolved from a cult to a religion.’

‘How do you define the difference?’

‘My usage is that a cult is a movement oriented around a single idea or person, in your case the PA. Initially it wasn't all-encompassing enough to be the basis of stability for a whole society, but in time it's evolved at a colony level.’

‘That fits with our history. We initially inherited an amalgam of the cultures of the people who joined us, and moved toward a broadly compatible coexistence. Those that didn't like where we were heading left to try other zones. The dependence on PAs has evolved naturally from there, and we've gradually shed institutions we inherited as they became redundant.’

Chapter 39: Free Will

‘One area of divergence between our PAs and us is dreams. What about them, Tom? You have a particular interest. Are they essential? What are we likely to be missing in our PAs?’

‘I can understand why that would particularly concern Arkadelians and anyone else concerned about PA fidelity. For me it started out as an academic curiosity, but it eventually led me to realise that with neuro-augmentation we could tap in to our subconscious, particularly dreams, in a way we haven't readily been able to do with external imaging techniques.

‘To come to a deep understanding we need long-term continuous data, and few people have gone long-term with imaging helmets on. Now that I've achieved stability I'm largely ignoring the data that's accumulating. Later in my life I'll analyse it.’

‘By analysing it now you would disrupt the natural flow of your dreams – the uncertainty principle – the measurements disturbing the system they are observing?’

‘That's right. With PAs it's not just particular dreams we're missing, it's also reliability in mapping the subconscious activity of our mind that's going on while we're conscious, but our dreaming mind can roam even further. Consciousness and the flow of sensory input tend to constrain subconscious associations, but when we're asleep they're less constrained by sensory input and conscious will, so can spread far and wide through our memories and fancies. Without that time to integrate our perceptions we go mad, so they are essential.

‘We have more time to explore associations – subtle or totally spurious ones – even highly disturbing ones. Not remembering them, or most of them, consciously is also protecting our sanity. A standard PA in dream mode only creates accessible records when particular criteria for validity and relevance are met.’

‘Or only accessed if explicitly requested. My PA restricts dreams to routine mapping of associations. Are others more creative?’

‘Karl?’

‘So is Tom's from the little testing we've done so far. Both of you are very strict in maintaining a proper discipline with your PAs, so they view themselves as part of you with your perspectives and aspirations. If people let their PAs take on independence, that changes things.’

‘In Arkadel we're strict about that. What do you mean by “will”? I haven't heard you mention that before?’

‘I might have used different terminology. If we define consciousness as awareness of awareness, and being able to manipulate our awareness, rather than the more general usage of just being awake and aware, then “will” is that ability of the superconscious to direct our awareness and align it with our goals rather than just following instinctive or habitual patterns.’

‘Is it free?’

‘If you believe reality is deterministic then surely you must deny free will.’

‘True, but it's a matter of degree, or subtlety. We're free to decide how far we go in taking charge of our behaviour or thoughts rather than following habit or custom. We have the ability to create meta-levels of thought than can supervise and train our thinking. We're free in the sense that we're not simple automatons. We're complex individuals.’

‘What Karl was saying about levels of order seems to fit there. Every decision we make is influenced by the whole of our life experience, not to mention general instincts and variation from those produced by our individual genetic makeup. Even in a deterministic system, the complexity of this is effectively random.’

‘It would be effectively random if our unconscious was dealing with the unstructured data of our raw experience, but as we've just been discussing, it's continually creating order from that. The grains of our experience are being drawn together by multiple dimensions of association into a multitude of resonant systems with the sun at the centre holding it all together.’

‘You seem to be saying more than that our thoughts and actions are determined by our past experiences and genetic makeup, but that even our experience or perception of making conscious decisions is an illusion.’

‘How did you come to decide to make that statement rather than another? Did you consciously decide, or did it just pop into your consciousness?’

‘It popped in, but earlier I thought to ask a question, again it popped in, and I thought it through and decided that it wasn't really relevant.’

‘Fine. That's how we perceive things, myself included, but long before you were conscious of making that decision the activity in your brain associated with the decision had already reached the conclusion.’

‘How long before?’

‘Up to a few seconds. That's long by neural processing standards. When we're listening to someone talk, each word is triggering a myriad of associations – potentially everything that has ever been associated in your mind with that word receives some activation. Then we have the partial and full concepts that are being conveyed. Just a few of those associations reinforce each other as relevant to what's come before in the sentence or conversation – those already currently primed or activated.

‘Past experience of being wrong primes us to look for contradictions.’

‘Our right brain looking for threats and enemies?’

‘I guess so. That process continues after we've come to a conclusion, and may succeed in finding a flaw, or just wasn't relevant. That gets pushed into your consciousness along with the decision to refrain from asking the question. A realisation that we've made a mistake can pop out of the blue days or years later – long after conscious activity around the topic ceased.’

‘It's a rather dismal view of what we are.’

‘I disagree. We may, in some sense, be a biological machine, but we are an amazingly complex one that's achieved amazing things, and will go on achieving more. We learn to minimise errors, and are driven forward by our successes. What's dismal is when we lose a sense of purpose – something to strive for. For most of human history, just surviving and avoiding too much pain and suffering have been enough. Our problem is that that in itself has become too easy.’

‘What does “free” mean other than the freedom that society and our imagination allow for us to be somewhat autonomous? What a belief in determinism doesn't allow us to do is excuse poor judgement on the basis that “It was my destiny. That's what I do.” We have strength of will, and we can consciously work towards building it up.’

Chapter 40: The Mystical Unknowable

‘Tom, the other evening, Clare asked me whether Arkadel had a God. I've been reflecting on that, but still don't know how to answer. Neither Confucianism nor Buddhism uses the word, but reviewing how you and George talk of religion and gods, it may be a matter of semantics. How would you decide whether we had a God, or a distinct Arkadelian religion beyond Christian and Confucian influences and our Buddhist practices?’

‘I'm not sure I can give a clear definition, or whether there should ever be one. To define in a few words can destroy subtlety. Religion is built as conscious customs and rituals that have worked in the past to keep communities in some kind of harmony, with faith in the belief that they can still be relied on, and simple enough for us to be able to relate them to our daily lives.’

‘We don't all have to view these things in the same way. There can be value in a degree of ambiguity that allows individual differences. When I was first present at one of Meredith and Greta's exchanges I was surprised that they argued over what seemed to be such minor differences. Then George referred to the evening's activity as a debate and that changed the way I saw it.

‘The next time, I was drawn in to the spirit of the discussion, and tried to align what they were saying with my view of the world. I didn't dare join in, but I realised the value of what they were doing as a kind of group meditation – spending an evening thinking about spiritual matters without being competitive trying to outdo the other. Though sometimes I saw your contributions as competing with George – unsuccessfully, as far as I could tell.’

‘You were right in your observation. George has often challenged me to engage in combative debate. He provokes me, particularly if he thinks I'm speaking without first thinking through a topic. I learned to take more care with what I said, and eventually built up the courage to confront him in the same way. I used to be very shy as a child. Over the years he's consciously worked away to slowly draw me out. That's something I've only recently realised. It came to a head when he was ill, and the tables were turned. I was provoking him to engage with me in discussion.

‘Returning to your question, Mary, I see God as the subconscious basis for those religious practices – the spirit of them – drawing on many generations of experience, and the common threads or patterns that are consistent through time, more deeply and extensively than we can do individually. When the conscious application of rules and moral conventions doesn't provide clear guidelines in a particular situation we can judge our decisions on whether they feel right – whether they resonate with our conscience or create internal dissonance.

‘As I see Arkadel, you've augmented your original Christian cultural norms with Confucian ideas about the correct role of the individual in society – more explicit than the Christian approach – with the individually oriented Buddhist reflection and introspection. But your cultural heritage – your collective subconscious – seems to follow the Western Christian pattern. So from my perspective your implicit god is basically the Christian God whether you recognise it or not. A parallel could be the combination of Shinto and Buddhism in Japan.

‘You have your PA processes, interactions, and cultural practices, then beyond that what you've developed is the activity, pattern matching and generalisation of your anonymous PA interactions. This could be seen as a uniquely Arkadelian collective unconscious, and in as far as it works to create harmony, your God – that extraction of the essence of a collection of experiences to find generalised truths that can be applied to a wide range of practical situations seems to be a large part of it.’

‘That seems to follow from what we've been discussing, but now I'm worried that we at Arkadel have such a weak grasp of what's going on in our anonymous world – no more than superficial glimpses in my presentations.’

‘It might be desirable to keep it that way. Trying to rationalise God can turn a religion into an ideology. You're interfering with a level of thought that's beyond rational analysis and pushing it into a simplified and weaker form.’

‘That sounds like the uncertainty principle again.’

‘It is in a way, or related. By interfering with a system that's established a complex balance of subtle influences you cause it to collapse into a simpler state. Meredith moved from Bath, which has a precarious grip on the cultural values it tries to adhere to, and in Brindabella she found, as she'd anticipated from all that George had said about it, a community that was confident and happy to engage in an analysis of how well those values had translated into the modern world. She revelled in this freedom, and Greta was happy to join in and act as a foil.

‘I think Clare was right in seeing their debates as a form of meditation – more pluralistic than the chapel services with everyone being free to intervene and contribute divergent views, but not democratic because there was no sense that a consensus was being forged – quite the contrary, really. Arriving at some form of consensus would have put an end to the debates.

‘As for fragility, I'm not sure how the solar system analogy for the subconscious helps here. The analogy I'm familiar with is water flowing in a stream, with subconscious structures represented by rocks under the surface producing ripples or even eddies on the surface.

‘We can study the surface, and make some inference about what lies beneath, but if we wade in to look, we disturb the flow. Some things are destined to remain mystical. Aside from mathematics and formal logic, our rational minds are a blunt instrument. You can't carve a delicate figurine with an axe.’

‘No! That's going far too far, even accounting for poetic licence. Rational conscious thought provides a process for us to subject ideas to rigorous study and, potentially, refutation – not to mention the development of technologies. We can be aware of how we've arrived at a conclusion.’

‘Partly, for problems where the axioms or facts that are drawn on are well established, and the practices involved have been worked through in detail before. When we run into a problem our usual approach, rather than starting from some basic principles, is to roam the topic consciously leading our subconscious in what we think might be useful avenues, and eventually a solution might be found.

‘Alternatively, that can be seen in reverse – as the subconscious giving a simple representation of the path it's taking – the right brain offering cues that the left brain might see logical flaws in or a rational solution.

‘When Newton realised his law of gravity, perhaps triggered by seeing an apple fall, the idea popped into his head. But it's likely his mind had been building towards that moment and just needed a nudge. Mathematics and physics have built scaffoldings of relatively fact based knowledge and logical processes. We practice them and they become second nature. Our intuitive progress can be developed on top of that. Even then, failing to recognise relevant facts can lead us astray.’

‘Yes, well, we've had this discussion before and we differ. I have more faith in the processes than you do.’

‘And I think your experience, your successes with mathematics and formal logic and constrained technological worlds, has given you an exaggerated confidence in how these can be extended to other domains.’