Acre and his fellow steward in charge of the opposite cylinder held a party for “Half-Degree Day.” Acre was a master at giving parties; he never seemed bored, was never at a loss for polite conversation. His only time alone came when the rest of the passengers were asleep. His sole defense seemed to be a certain blankness that did not encourage long conversations. I was pretty sure he wasn’t an Earth-made android, but the suspicion never passed completely.

Passengers gathered in the lounge from both cylinders, still mingling freely, and watched Mars become the size of Earth’s Moon, as seen from Earth. The Terrestrials found the sight entrancing, and there were songs of “Harvest Mars,” though the planet was only one-third full. The Captain broke out a glass bottle of French champagne, one of five, he said.

The young girl introduced herself to me at breakfast on our third day out; her name was Orianna, and her parents were citizens of the United States and Eurocon. Her face fascinated me. Eyes uplifted at the corners, slightly asymmetric, pupils the fiery red-brown color of Arcadia opal, her skin flawless multiracial brown, she seemed perfectly at home in micro-g and floated like a cat. She recommended the best sims available on the ship, and seemed amused when I told her I didn’t go in for sims.

“Martians are lovely curious,” she said. “You’ll be a big draw on Earth. Terries love Martians.”

I was prepared not to like Orianna very much.

For the first week, Bithras spent much of his time exercising, working in his cabin, or waiting impatiently to communicate with Mars. He rarely even spoke to us. Allen and I spent some time in each other’s company at first, exercising or studying together, but we did not hit it off personally, and soon drifted to other passengers for conversation.

I knew the public interior of our cylinder fore and aft, and despite my reticence, had spoken to almost everybody. Not much chance of shipboard romance; the men were all older than me, and none seemed interesting; all, like Bithras, were movers and shakers and much absorbed in things they really couldn’t talk about.

I fantasized being aboard an immigrant ship, with men of diverse background, whose hidden pasts they would suddenly feel the urge to confess… Dangerous people, intriguing, passionate.

Mounted on the hull was a four-meter telescope, kept collapsed and hidden away for the first few million kilometers, then unfurled for the use of passengers. I had signed up for a few hours. The free hours aboard Tuamotu were wonderful for catching up on subjects I had neglected, including astronomy.

The viewing station for our cylinder was in the observation lounge, a small cubicle with room for four. I had hoped to study alone, try my hand at celestial navigation and object finding, tracking a few of the near stars known to have planetary systems. I wanted to rediscover at least the most prominent and closest examples. But in the lounge I met Orianna.

Point-blank, she asked if she could join me. “I haven’t signed up, and it’s full for a week!” she said plaintively. “I love astronomy. I’d like to transform and go to the stars…” She separated her hands a few centimeters, suggesting the proposed size of humans designed for interstellar migration. “Would you mind?”

I did, but Martian manners kept me polite. I said of course she could join me, and with a smile, she did.

She was adept with the controls and ruined my game by tracking all my chosen objects expertly within a few minutes. I expressed my admiration.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “My parents gave me seven different enhancements. If I want, I can play nearly all musical instruments with just a few days’ practice — not like the best, of course, but enough to pass as a talented amateur. In a few years, if they make it legal, I could install a mini-thinker.”

“Doesn’t it bother you, having so many talents?” I asked.

Orianna curled into a ball and with one finger flicked herself upside down in relation to me. Her toe caught on a bar and she stopped spinning. “I’m used to it. Even on Earth, some people think my parents and I have gone too far. I’ve asked for things, they’ve given them to me… I have to really ramp down to make friends.”

“Are you ramped down now?” I asked.

“You bet. I don’t show off, ever. Good way to spoil any chance of connecting. You’re a natural, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“Some of my friends would envy you. The chance to just be what you are. But it would slow me down too much. Do you ever feel slow?”

I laughed. She was too ethereal to resent… much, or for long. “All the time,” I said.

“Then why not enhance? I mean, it’s possible, even on Mars. And you’re from Majumdar, the finance BM… aren’t you?”

The inflection of her last question told me she knew very well I was from Majumdar.

“Yes. How long have you been on Mars?”

“Just time for turnaround. Two months. We came on a fast passage, inside Venus. My parents had never been to Mars. My folks thought we should see what Mars and the Moon are really like. Camay. In the flesh.”

“Did you like it?”

“It’s wonderful,” she said. “Such defiance. Beautiful, really. Like the whole planet is just hitting puberty.”

I had never heard it described that way. Martians tended to think of themselves as old and established, perhaps confusing our own brief past with the planet’s obvious age. “Where did you visit?”

“We were invited to stay in half a dozen towns and cities. We even went to a handful of extreme stations, new ones settled by immigrant Terries. My father and mother know quite a few Eloi. We didn’t get to — ” Again the introspective pause. “Ylla or Jiddah. That’s your home, isn’t it?”

“What are you referencing?” I asked. My home address wasn’t on the open manifest.

“I sucked in the public directories,” Orianna said. “I haven’t dumped them yet.”

“Why would you want to do that? Any slate can carry them.”

“I don’t use a slate,” she said. “I take it direct. No separation. I love being dipped.”

“Dipped?”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “Immersed. It’s like I just go away, and there’s only information and processing, pure and swift.”

“Oh.”

“Learning distilled into an essence. Education means being.”

“Oh.” I closed my mouth.

“I think I came on sharp for most Martians. I negged quite a few my own age, even. Martians are fashion locked, aren’t they?”

“Some think so.”

“You?”

“I’m pretty conservative, I suppose.”

She unfolded long arms and legs and gripped the holds in the booth with uncanny grace. “I don’t like anybody on the ship, for partners, I mean,” she said. “Do you?”

“No,” I said.

“Have you had many partners?”

“You mean, lovers?”

She smiled wisely, anciently. “That’s a good word, but not always accurate, is it?”

“A few,” I said, hoping she would take a hint and not pry.

“My parents were part of the early partner program. I’ve been partnering since I was ten. Do you think that’s too early?”

I hid my shock; I had heard about early partnering, but it had certainly never taken on Mars. “We think childhood is for children,” I said.

“Believe me,” Orianna said, “I haven’t been a child since I was five. Does that bother you?”

“You first had sex when you were ten?” This conversation was making me very uncomfortable.

“No! I haven’t had physical sex at all.”

“Sim?” I asked meekly.

“Sometimes. Partnering… oh, I see your confusion. I mean sharing closeness mentally, finding so many kinds of pleasure together. I like whole-life sims. I’ve experienced two… Very expanding. So I know all about sex, of course. Even sex that’s not physically possible. Sex between four-dimensional human forms.” Suddenly she looked distressed, and she had such a charismatic presence that I immediately wanted to apologize, do anything to make her happy. My God, I thought. A planet full of people like her.