Cressida was instantly apologetic. 'I'm sorry darling. But my life is without risk now. Honestly, I admire you for taking this gamble. But you have to admit, it is a gamble.

'Of course it's a gamble. You never get anywhere in life without taking a gamble.

'Well well, whatever happened to the little farmgirl from Langham?

'She died. Nobody came to the funeral.

A perfectly shaped eyebrow rose in surprise. 'What have I unleashed on the world?

'I thought you'd be happy to see me move forward like this.

'I am. Are you going to do all the work yourself, again?

'Most of it, yes. I've got some new bots, and I know where to go for all my supplies and fittings now. This is going to be a prestige development, you'll see, all the apartments will fetch a premium.

'I'm sure they will. Did you know most of the hotels in town are fully booked?

'Is that relevant?

Cressida wiped the balcony rail with a hand then leant on it. 'There's a lot of Living Dream devotees flooding in. Rumour in the gaiafield is that the Second Dreamer is on Viotia.

'Really, I didn't know that, but then I haven't accessed a news show in weeks. I'm a working gal these days.

'Keep it quiet, but the government is worried about the pressure that's going to put on housing, among other things, like public order.

'Oh, come on!

'Seriously. We've had over two million of the faithful arrive in the last seven weeks. Do you know how many have left again?

'No.

'None. And if they all apply for residency, that's going to shift the political demographic'

'So we're receiving immigrants again. That's how planets develop. There's going to be a big demand for housing. I come out a winner.

'All I'm saying is that in times of civil disturbance property values take a dive.

'It's that serious? Araminta asked in sudden alarm; after all, Cressida was very well connected.

'You know there's always been an undercurrent of resentment towards Ellezelin. If the Living Dream numbers keep rising at their current rate, then there could be trouble. Who wants to wind up living in a hierocracy?

'Yes, but there's the Pilgrimage. That'll call them back to Ellezelin, won't it? And it's not like they're going to find this stupid Second Dreamer, least of all here. The whole thing's a political stunt by the new Cleric Conservator. Isn't it?

'Who knows. But I'd respectfully suggest, darling, that you find a sucker who you can offload these apartments on to at very short notice.

Araminta recalled how keen Ikor had been to sell to her. And it was a good deal, or so it seemed at the time. Am I the sucker? 'I suppose it wouldn't harm to look for one, she said.

Mr Bovey let loose a small chorus of swearing as four of hims tried to manoeuvre the old-fashioned stone bath along the hallway and through the bathroom door. It was an awkward angle, and the apartment's rear hallway wasn't particularly wide.

'Can I help? Araminta sang out from the kitchen where she and three bots were making last minute changes to the new utility connections ready for the units she'd ordered.

'I'm quite capable, thank you, quadraphonic voices grunted back.

His hurtful insistence made her giggle. 'Okay. It was another twenty minutes before one of him walked into the kitchen. He was the Bovey she'd first encountered in his macrostore's bathroom aisle, the one with ebony skin and an ageing body. In his biological late-middle-age he may have been, but he didn't shirk from hard work. His wrinkled forehead was smeared with sweat.

'I made some tea, she said, gesturing at the kettle with its cluster of ancient cups. 'You look like you need a break.

'I do, my others are younger. He smiled in admiration at the steaming cups and the packet of tea cubes. 'You really did make it, too, didn't you?

'Waiting for my culinary unit to arrive, she said with a martyred sigh.

'It's in the next load, I promise, he told her, and picked up a cup. His eyes took in the packets of folded food and the hydrator oven. 'Are you actually living here?

'Yeah. Not renting saves me a bucket load of money. I mean, what's the point? I've got five apartments, and they're not that bad — the roofs don't leak and the rest is just aesthetics. I can stick it out for a few months.

'You know I really admire your attitude. There's not many your age would take on a project like this.

She batted her eyes. 'And what's my age?

'Honestly? I've no idea. But you come across as a first life.

'I'll own up to that.

'Can I offer you an alternative to hydrated food tonight? There's a nice restaurant I know.

She grinned, her hand curling round her own mug of tea. 'That would be lovely. Oh, I don't like curry!

'That's okay, some of mes don't, either.

'Your tastes are different?

'Sure. Taste is all down to biochemistry, which is subtly different in every human body. And, face it, I have quite a variety to chose from.

'Okay, she said, and dropped her gaze bashfully. 'I have to ask. I've never been on a date with a multiple before. Do you all come and sit at the table with me?

'Nah, I think that would be a little full on for you, wouldn't it? Besides, I have the macrostore to run, deliveries to be made, installation, that kind of thing. My life goes on the whole time.

'Oh. Yes. It was a strange notion. Not an objectionable one, though.

'Now if you were another multiple, it might be different.

'How?

'We'd book the whole restaurant of romantic tables for two and take over the lot. Yous and mes everywhere having fifty different conversations simultaneously and trying out the entire menu and wine list all at once. It's like speed dating in fast forward.

She laughed. 'Have you ever done that?

'Tell you tonight.

'Right. So which one of you do I get sitting at that romantic table for two?

'You choose. How many of mes and which ones.

'One, and you'll do just fine.

Araminta took a great deal of thought and care over what to wear and which cosmetic scales to apply. Dressed exactly to plan two hours early. Took one look at herself in the mirror and chucked the whole image. Fifty minutes later all the cases in her bedroom were hanging open. Every outfit she had bought in the last two months was draped over floor and furniture leaving little space to walk. She'd experimented with four different styles of scale membrane. Her hair had been sparkled then damped. Oiled then fluffed. Bejewelled with red scintillators, blue scintillators, green, blue-white…

In the end — with eleven minutes to go — she took an executive decision: go basic. Mr Bovey wasn't the kind to concern himselfs with surface image.

His capsule landed on the pad outside, and she took a lift down to the lobby. The doors opened to a dusty space piled with junk and newly delivered boxes. It was all illuminated by too-bright temporary lighting.

Mr Bovey was dressed in a simple pale-grey toga suit with minimal surface shimmer. He smiled as the doors opened, and said: 'A lady who is on time, now that's — oh wow.

She permitted the smallest nod of approval as he stared. In her mind was an image of his customers left unattended, installations stalled, delivery flights landing at the wrong addresses all over town.

'You look, he swallowed as he tried to regain equilibrium, 'fantastic. Absolutely amazing.

'Why thank you. She held her hands behind her back, and presented the side of her face for a formal greeting kiss like some girly ingenue. It was the right choice then. A black sleeveless dress of plain silky fabric with a wide cleft down the front, barely held together by a couple of slim black emerald chains, making it look as if she was about to burst out. Hair glossed pale auburn, and brushed with just a couple of waves to hang below her shoulders. No scales other than lips slightly darker than her natural pigmentation, and emerald eyelash sparkles on low radiance. Most important was the sly half-smile guaranteed to totally befuddle the male brain — all of them.