'And the method of analysis, but yes I'll grant you we do need know how the damn thing is generated. It's one of the reasons I'm with you on our little conspiracy.

'Think of us as a very small Faction.

'Whatever. I stopped screwing round with semantics a long time ago. Purpose is absolute, and if you can't define it: tough. And our purpose is to undo the damage the Accelerators have caused.

'To a degree, yes. The Conservatives will be most active on that front, we can trust them to do a decent job. I want to try and think a couple of steps ahead. After all we're not animal any more, we don't just react to a situation. We're supposed to be able to see it coming. Ultimately something has to be done about the Void problem. Understanding its internal mechanism is all very well, but it cannot be allowed to carry on threatening the galaxy.

Nelson raised a glass to his lips, and smiled in salute. 'Way to go, tough guy. Where the Raiel failed…

'Where the Raiel tell us they failed. We have no independent confirmation.

'Nothing lasts long enough, apart from the Raiel themselves. 'Bullshit. Half the post-physicals in the galaxy have been around for a lot longer.

'Yeah, and those that were don't bother to communicate any more. They're all quiet, or dead, or transcended, or retroevolved. So unless you want to go around and poke them with a big stick, the Raiel are our source. Face it, ANA is good, great even, we're damn nearly proto-gods, but in terms of development we are still lacking behind the Raiel, and they plateaued millions of years ago. The Void defeated them. They converted entire star systems into defence machines, they invaded the fucking place with an armada, and they still couldn't switch it off, or kill it or blow it to hell.

'They went at it the wrong way. Nelson laughed. 'And you know the right way? 'We have an advantage they never did. We have insider knowledge, a mole.

'The Waterwalker? In Ozzie's name, tell me you're joking. 'You know who paid the most attention to Inigo's dreams right at the start? The Raiel. They didn't know what was inside. They built ships which could theoretically withstand any quantum environment, yet not one of them ever returned. We're the ones who showed them what's in there.

'It's a very small glimpse, a single city on a standard H-congruous planet.

'You're missing the point. His arm swept round Hawksbill to point at the thick pillar of black rock protruding from the water several hundred metres out to sea. Small waves broke apart on it, churning up a ruck of spume. 'You bring any human prior to the twenty-fifth century into here, and they'd think they were in a physical reality. But if you or I were to observe the environment through them, we'd soon realize there were artificial factors involved. The Waterwalker gives us the same opportunity. His telepathic abilities have provided a very informative glimpse into the nature of the universe hiding inside that bastard event horizon. For all it looks like our universe with planets and stars, it most definitely is not. This Skylord of the Second Dream confirms that. The Void has a Heart which is most distinctive, even though we haven't been shown it yet.

'Knowing it's different in there doesn't give us any real advantage.

'Wrong. We know nothing can be achieved on a physical level; you can't use quantumbusters against it, you can't send an army in to wipe out the chief villain's control room. The Void is the ultimate post-physical in the galaxy, and probably all the other galaxies we can see. What we have to do is communicate with it if we ever want to achieve any resolution to the problem it presents to our stars. I don't believe the Firstlife ever intended it to be dangerous; they didn't know there was anything left outside it could ever threaten. That's our window. We know humans can get inside, even though we're not sure how they did it that first time. We know there are humans in there who are attuned to its fabric. Through them we may be able to affect change.

'The Waterwalker is dead. He has been for millennia of internal time.

'Even if he were unique, which I don't believe for a minute, time is not a problem, not in there. We all know that. What we have to do is get inside and forge that tenuous little link to the Heart. That's the key to this.

'You want to visit the Void? To fly through the event horizon?

'Not me. Much as my ego would love being the union point, there's no empirical evidence that I would have the telepathic ability inside. Even if we took ANA inside there's no certainty it could become the conduit. No. We have to employ a method that has a greater chance of success.

Nelson shook his head in dismay and not a bit of disappointment. 'Which is? 'I'm working on it.

It wasn't an auspicious start to the day. Araminta hadn't overslept. Not exactly. She had an Advancer heritage which gave her a complete set of macrocellular clusters, all functioning efficiently; she could order her secondary thought routines competently. So naturally she'd woken up on time with a phantom bleeping in her ears and synchronized blue light flashing along her optic nerve. It was just after that wake-up spike she always had difficulty. Her flat only had two rooms, a bathroom cubical and a combi main room; that was all she could afford on her waitress pay. For all that it was cheap, the expanded bed with its a-foam mattress was very comfortable. After the spike she lay curled up in her cotton pyjamas, cosy as a nesting frangle. Hazy morning sunlight stole round the curtains, not bright enough to be disturbing, the room maintained itself at a comfortable warmth. If she bothered to check the flat's management programs everything was ready and waiting; the day's clothes washed and aired, a quick light breakfast in the cuisine cabinet.

So I can afford to laze for a bit.

The second alarm spike jerked her awake again, vanquishing the weird dream. This spike was harsher than the first, deliberately so, as it was an urgent order to get the hell up — one she never needed. When she cancelled the noise and light she assumed she'd messed up the secondary routines, somehow switching the order of the spikes. Then she focused on the timer in her exoimages.

'Shit!

So it became a struggle to pull on her clothes whilst drinking the Assam tea and chewing some toast. A leisurely shower was replaced by spraying on some travel-clean, which never worked like the ads promised, leaving busy glamorous people fresh and cleansed as they zipped between meetings and clubs. Instead she hurried out of the flat with her mouse-brown hair badly brushed, her eyes red-rimmed and stinging slightly from the travel-clean, and her skin smelling of pine bleach.

Great. That should earn me some big tips, she thought grouchily as she hurried down to the big building's underground garage. Her trike pod purred its way out into Colwyn City's crowded streets and joined the morning rush of commuters. In theory the traffic should have been light, most people these days used regrav capsules, floating in serene comfort above the wheeled vehicles except when they touched down on dedicated parking slots along the side of the roads or rooftop pads. But at this early hour the city's not-so-well-off were all on their way to work, filling the concrete grid close to capacity with pods, cars, and bikes; and jamming the public rail cabs.

Araminta was half an hour late when her pod pulled up at the back of Nik's. She rushed in through the kitchen door, and got filthy looks from the rest of the staff. 'Sorry! The restaurant was already full of the breakfast crowd, mid-level executives who liked their food natural, prepared by chefs rather than cuisine units, and served by humans not bots.

Tandra managed to lean in close as Araminta fastened her apron. She sniffed suspiciously and winked. 'Travel-clean, huh. I guess you didn't get home last night?