Araminta stayed at the table long after she usually packed up and went home. The sun began to fall, turning the clouds a genuine gold-pink as the planet's hazy mesosphere diffused the dying rays of the K-class star. Trans-ocean barges shone brightly out on the Cairns, regrav engines keeping their flat hulls just above the slow rippling water as they nosed out of the dock and headed for the open sea and the islands beyond. She was always soothed by the sight of the city like this, a huge edifice of human activity buzzing along efficiently; a reassurance that civilization did actually work, that nothing could kick the basics out from under her. And now, finally, she could begin to take an active part, to carve out a life for herself. The files from the property agencies floated gently through her exoimage display, allowing her to plan what she might do to them in more detail than she ever bothered before. Without money such reviews had been pointless daydreams, but this evening they took on a comfortable solidity. Part of her was scared by the notion. If she made a mistake now, she'd be back waitressing tables for the next few decades. She only had one shot. Eighty-three thousand was a tidy sum, but it had to be made to work for her. Despite the trepidation, she was looking forward to the challenge. It marked her life truly beginning.

The sun set amid a warm scarlet glow. It seemed to match Araminta's mood. By then, the first customers of the evening were starting to fill up the restaurant. She left a big tip, and went downstairs. Her usual routine had her walking back to Nik's, maybe do some shopping on the way, and taking the trike pod home. But there was nothing usual about today. There was music blasting through the bar. People were leaning on the counter, ordering drinks and aerosols. Araminta glanced down at her clothes. She was wearing a sensible skirt, navy blue, that came down below her knees, a white top with short sleeves was made from a fabric that was specifically wipe-clean so she could cope with spills. Around her, people had made an effort to smarten up for the evening and she felt slightly downmarket by comparison.

But then who are they to judge me?

It was a liberating thought, of the kind she hadn't entertained since leaving Langham. Back when the future was full of opportunity, at least in her imagination.

Araminta sidled her way up to the bar and studied the bottles and beer taps. 'Green Fog, please, she told the barman. It earned her a slightly bemused smile, but he mixed it perfectly anyway. She drank it slowly, trying not to let the smouldering mist get up her nose. Sneezing would really blow away any remaining credibility.

'Haven't seen anybody drink one of those for a while, a man's voice said.

She turned and looked at him. He was handsome in that precise way everyone was these days, with features aligned perfectly, which she guessed meant he'd been through at least a couple of rejuve treatments. Like the rest of the bar's clientele, he'd dressed up, a simple grey and purple toga jacket that cloaked him in a gentle shimmer.

And he's not Laril.

'Been a while since I was let out, she retorted. Then smirked at her own answer, the fact she was bold enough to say it.

'Can I get you another? I'm Jaful, by the way.

'Araminta. And no, not a Green Fog, that's a nostalgia thing for me. What's current?

'They say Adlier 88Vodka is going down in all the wrong places.

She finished her Green Fog in a single gulp. Tried not to grimace too hard. And pushed the empty glass across the bar. 'Best start there, then.

'Are you awake?

Araminta stirred when she heard the question. She wasn't awake exactly, more like dozing pleasantly, content in the afterglow of a night spent in busy lovemaking. Her mind was full of a strange vision, as if she was being chased through the dark sky by an angel. Her slight movement was enough for Jaful. His hands slid up her belly to cup her breasts. 'Uh, she murmured, still drowsy as the angel dwindled. Jaful rolled her on to her front, which was confusing. Then his cock was sliding up inside her again, hard and insistent. It wasn't a comfortable position. Each thrust pushed her face down into the soft mattress. She wriggled to try and get into a more acceptable stance, which he interpreted as full acceptance. Heated panting became shouts of joy. Araminta cooperated as best she could but the pleasure was minimal at best. Out of practice, she thought, and tried not to laugh. He wouldn't understand if she did. At least she was doing her best to make up for lost time, though. They'd coupled three or four times after they got back to his place.

Jaful climaxed with a happy yell. Araminta matched him. Yep, remember how to do that bit as well. Eighteen months with Laril had made faking orgasms automatic.

Jaful flopped on to his back, and let out a long breath. He grinned at her. 'Fantastic. I haven't had a night like that for a long time, if ever.

She dropped her voice a couple of octaves. 'You were good. It was so funny, like they were reading from a script.

Picked up in a bar. Back to his place for a one night stand. Compliment each other. Both of them playing their part of the ritual to perfection.

But it has been fun.

'I'm going to grab a shower, he said. 'Tell the culinary unit what you want. It's got some good synthesis routines.

'I'll do that. She watched him stroll across the room and into the en suite. Only then did she stare round in curiosity. It was chic city bachelor pad, that much was evident by the plain yetexpensive furniture and contemporary art. The wall opposite the bed was a single window, covered with snow-white curtains.

Araminta started hunting round for her clothes as the spore shower came on. Underwear (practical rather than sexy, she acknowledged with a sigh) close to the bed. Skirt halfway between bed and door. Her white top in the lounge. She pulled it on, then looked back at the bedroom. The shower was still on. Did he always take so long, or was he sticking with the part of the script that gave her a polite opportunity to exit. She shrugged, and let herself out.

There wasn't anything wrong with Jaful. She'd certainly enjoyed herself in his bed for most of the time. It was just that she couldn't think what they could say to each other over breakfast. It would have been awkward. This way she kept the memory agreeable. 'More practice, she told herself, and smiled wickedly. And why not? This is real life again.

The building had a big lobby. When she walked out into the street she blinked against the bright pink light, it was twelve minutes until she was supposed to start the morning shift at Nik's. Her u-shadow told her she was in the Spalding district, which was halfway across the city. So she called a taxi down. It took about thirty seconds until the yellow and purple capsule was resting a couple of centimetres above the concrete, three metres in front of her. She watched in bemusement as the door opened. In all her life she'd never called a taxi herself; it had always been Laril who ordered them. After the separation, of course, she couldn't afford them. Another blow for freedom.

As soon as she arrived at Nik's she rushed into the staff toilets.

Tandra gave her a leery look when she came out, tying her apron on. 'You know, those look like the very same clothes you wore when you left yesterday. She sniffed elaborately. 'Yep, travel-clean again. Did something happen to your plumbing last night?

'You know. I'm really going to miss you when I leave, Araminta replied, trying not to laugh.

'What's his name? How long have you been dating? 'Nobody. I'm not dating, you know that. 'Oh, come on! 'I need coffee. 'Not much sleep, huh? 'I was reviewing property files, that's all. Tandra gave her a malicious sneer. 'Sweetie, I ain't never heard it called that before.