'No.

'I don't believe Higher culture is free of bureaucracy, or corruption, or idiots, or useless politicians. They might not be so blatant, but they're there.

'No, they're not. Well… okay, but nothing like as bad as they are in the External Worlds. You see, there's no need for any of that. So many of the social problems the External Worlds suffer from is born out of markets, capital and materialism; that's what old-style economics produces, in fact trouble just is about all it produces. The cybernated manufacturing and resource allocation procedure which Higher culture is based on takes all those difficulties out of the equation. That and taking a mature sensible perspective. We don't struggle for the little things any more, we can afford to take the longer, intellectual view.

'You talk like you're one of them already.

'Them. That's perspective for you. Higher culture is mainly a state of mind, but backed up by physical affluence.

'You are what the External Worlds strive to be: everyone's a millionaire.

'No. Everyone has equal access to resources, that's what you lack. Though I'd point out that External Worlds always convert to Higher culture in the end. We are the apex of human social and technological achievement. In other words, this is what the human race has been aiming for since proto-humans picked up a club to give us an advantage against all the other predators competing for food out on the African plains. We improve ourselves at every opportunity.

'So why didn't you go straight to ANA and download? That's how Highers improve themselves, isn't it?

'Ultimately, I will, I suppose. But Higher is the next stage for me. I want a time in my body which isn't such an effort. A couple of centuries where I can just relax and learn. There are so many things I want to do and see which I never could before. The opportunities here are just astounding.

Araminta laughed silently, that at least sounded like the old Laril. 'Then I suppose I wish you good luck.

'Thank you. I really didn't want to leave things the way they were between us. If there's anything you ever need, please call, even if it's just a shoulder to cry on.

'Sure. I'll do that, she lied, knowing she never would. She felt indecently content when he ended the call. Closure obviously worked both ways.

The people had no faces. At least none that he was aware of. There were dozens of them, men, women, even children. They were in front of him. Running. Fleeing like cattle panicked by a carnivore. Their screams threatened to split his eardrums. Words rose struggling out of the soundwall. Mostly they were pleas for help, for pity, for sanctuary, for their lives. However hard they ran he kept up with them.

The bizarre melee was taking place in some kind of elaborate hall with crystal grooves running across its domed ceiling. Rows of curving chairs hindered the frantic crowd as they raced for the exit doors. He wouldn't or couldn't turn round. He didn't know what they were trying to escape from. Energy weapons screeched, and the people flung themselves down. For himself, he remained standing, looking down at their prone bodies. Somehow he was remote from the horror. He didn't know how that could be. He was there with them, he was a part of whatever terror was happening here. Then some kind of shadow slid across the floor like demon wings unfolding.

Aaron sat up in bed with a shocked gasp. His skin was cold, damp with sweat. Heart pounding. It took a moment for him to recognize where he was. The lights in the sleeping cabin were brightening, showing him the curving bulkhead walls. He blinked at them as the dream faded.

Somehow he knew the strange images were more than a dream. They must be some memory of his previous life, an event strong enough to cling on inside his neurones while the rest of his identity was wiped. He was curious and daunted at the same time.

What the hell did I get myself mixed up in?

Thinking about it, whatever the affray was, it didn't look any worse than anything this mission had generated so far. His heart had calmed without any help from his biononics. He took a deep breath and climbed off the cot.

'Where are we? he asked the Artful Dodger's smartcore.

'Six hours out from Anagaska.

'Good. He stretched and rolled his shoulders. 'Give me a shower, he told the smartcore. 'Start with water; shift to spores when I tell you.

The cabin began to change, cot flowing back into the bulkhead, the floor hardening to a black and white marble finish. Gold nozzles extruded from each corner, and warm water gushed out.

Even given the ship's obvious Higher origin, it had come as a wondrous surprise to discover it was equipped with an ultradrive. Aaron had thought such a thing to be nothing more than rumour. That was when he realized he had to be working for some ANA Faction. It was an idea he found more intriguing than the drive. It also meant the Pilgrimage was being taken a lot more seriously than people generally realized.

After the spores cleaned and dried his skin he dressed in a simple dark purple one-piece suit and went out into the main lounge. His small cabin withdrew into the bulkhead, providing a larger floorspace. Corrie-Lyn's cabin was still engaged, a simple blister shape protruding into the hemispherical lounge. His suggestion yesterday that they share a bunk had been met by a cold stare and an instant: 'Good night.

She probably wouldn't come out again until they touched down.

The culinary unit provided an excellent breakfast of fried benjiit eggs and Wiltshire drycure bacon, with toast and thick-sliced English marmalade. Aaron was nothing if not a traditionalist. So it would seem, he mused.

Corrie-Lyn emerged from her cabin while he was munching away on his third slice of toast. She'd dressed in a demure (for her) turquoise and emerald knee-length cashmere sweater dress which the ship's synthesizer had produced. Her cabin sank back into the bulkhead, and she collected a large cup of tea from the culinary unit before sitting down opposite Aaron.

Recognizing a person's emotional state was an important part of Aaron's assessment routine. But this morning Corrie-Lyn was as unreadable as a muted solido.

She stared at him for a while as she sipped her tea, apparently unperturbed by the awkwardness of the situation.

'Something on your mind? he asked mildly, breaking the silence. That he was the one who broke it was a telling point. There weren't many people who could make him socially uncomfortable.

'Not my mind, she said, a little too earnestly.

'Meaning? Oh come on, you're an attractive woman. I was bound to ask. You'd probably be more insulted if I didn't.

'Not what I'm talking about. She waved her hand dismissively. 'That was some dream you had.

'I… Dream?

'Did you forget? I didn't become a Living Dream Councillor just because I've got a great arse. I immerse myself in people's dreams, I explore their emotional state and try to help them come to terms with what they are. Dreams are very revealing.

'Oh shit! I leaked that into the gaiafield.

'You certainly did. I'd like to tell you that you are one very disturbed individual. But that would hardly be a revelation, now would it?

'I've seen my fair share of combat. Hardly surprising my subconscious throws up crap like that.

She gave a small victory smile. 'But you don't remember any combat, do you. Not previous to this particular incarnation. That means whatever event you participated in was truly epochal for it to have survived in your subconscious. Wipe techniques are generally pretty good these days, and I suspect you had access to the very best.

'Come off it. That was too weird to be a memory.

'Most dreams are engendered by memory, except Inigo's of course. They have their roots in reality, in experience. What you see is the event as your real personality recognizes it. Dreams are very truthful things, Aaron, they're not something you can ignore, or take an aerosol to ward off. Unless you face that which you dream you will never truly be at peace with yourself.