It almost made sense. “The tweaker, the coextensive space, becomes a surrogate for others. What you do to it, you do to them.”

“Right,” Charles said. “There are no particles, you understand — no such thing as space or time. Those are just fragments of the old paradigm now. We’re left with nothing but descriptors interacting within an undefined matrix.” He looked over my shoulder at Casares and Zenger, visible as moving shapes behind the translucent curtain. Chinjia and Leander helped them. “We can excite a distant particle in a way that can be interpreted as a signal.”

“How fast?” I asked.

“How fast can the signal travel? Instantaneously,” he said. “Remember. Distance doesn’t exist.”

“Don’t you violate a few important laws?”

“You bet,” Charles said enthusiastically. “Paradigm shift. And I don’t say that lightly. We’ve thrown causality right out the door. We replace it with an elegant balancing act in the Bell Continuum. Bookkeeping.” He rounded his lips, sucked in a deep breath, folded his hands on the table and rapped the surface lightly with a knuckle. “That’s the explanation. In a nutshell.”

“All of it?” I asked. He was holding something back.

“All of it that’s relevant for now — and certainly as much as you’d care to hear.”

“You mean, as much as I’d understand. One more question. What’s the ‘destiny tweak’?”

Charles lowered his eyes. “You’ve read the letter from Stanford,” he said.

“Yes.”

“That’s why you sent me that message a few years back.”

“Yes.”

“It was speculation. Pure and unfounded.”

“Nothing more?”

He shook his head. “How’s your husband’s work going?”

“Very well,” I said.

“You’ve a curious taste for scientists, Miz Majumdar,” Charles said with an enigmatic smile.

Before I could respond, Leander and Casares pushed through the curtain. They sat in the booth and Casares said, “We’re finished. The inside of the container is scarred — as if it’s been baked and etched. I’m convinced energy was created by a mirror matter interaction in the sealed sample. Doctor Zenger is convinced, as well.”

Zenger came forward and said, “I’ll go along for the time being.”

“We can send our report directly to the President, or…”

“I’ll take it to her,” I said.

“Have you made security arrangements yet?” Leander asked. “We need to know whom we can talk to.”

“We’re still working out details.”

“Government’s in the details,” Charles said.

On the shuttle back from the lab, I looked at Charles and Chinjia, observing their postures, the play of their glances at each other and at me, Zenger, and Casares. Flying over Solis Dorsa, avoiding the edge of a thin but wide dust storm, I experienced a quick shiver of unease.

Something very important was being left unspoken, undescribed.

More than government lay in the details.

I fell into a darker mood. The less I understood, the less I could interpret what was being said, the weaker Ti Sandra and I would be. We could not afford weakness. We would have to understand more fully — and anticipate as much as we possibly could.

There was only one way for me to do that. I lacked Charles’s native ability. I could not track his leaps of intuition. I would have to take at least a step toward being more like Orianna. Charles had made the suggestion. It was obvious, it was necessary, but I still strongly resisted.

I would need an enhancement.

I would have to reach Charles’s level of comprehension, if not brilliance, and as soon as possible.

Outwardly, the social structure of Mars — where people lived, whom they associated with — changed little. The greatest upheavals came for officials in the birthing government, who flocked over Mars like birds in search of a nest. The nest was found, selected without much ceremony by the interim President. Ti Sandra chose Schiaparelli Basin between Arabia Terra and Terra Meridiani, and the tiny station of Many Hills spilled over with activity. This would be the capital of Mars.

Such a grand denomination required more than a digging of tunnels and erection of domes; it required a new architectural renaissance, something that would impress the entire system and serve as symbol for the new Republic. All the families in the Republic wanted to contribute funds and expertise. The difficulty was selecting from a wealth of enthusiasm and advice.

The interim legislature created an agency called Point One, and assigned it twin tasks: security of the executive branch, and gathering of information for the government as a whole. Ti Sandra had mused that the tasks would have to be separated eventually, or a fifth branch of government would arise — “The branch of intrigue and back-stabbing.” So far, however, things were working smoothly.

In the tiny headquarters at Many Hills, I spoke with Ti Sandra about the end of our government and the transition to the elected government. I hoped to continue working with the Olympians, at least until a fully capable Office of Scientific Research could be established; I mentioned acquiring an enhancement. Ti Sandra expressed interest in what sort of enhancement I would employ — I had not decided yet — and then sprung her own surprise.

The President walked along the display that filled an entire wall of the President’s Office. The media links had been established just the day before. On the new display, projected statistics for much of Mars could be called up instantly, as well as ports to all public ex nets. Dedicated thinkers performed image and concept searches on all LitVid communications, and constantly glossed the mood of the planet. We hoped to buy similar (though less comprehensive) services for other parts of the Triple, including Earth.

Our conversation turned to the coming election. “We’re not so bad, you know,” she said. “Have you seen the lists?”

Many candidates had declared, but none seemed especially popular in the pre-campaign polling.

“I’ve seen them,” I said.

“If we declared, we’d probably win,” she said with a deep sigh.

I tensed. “You’re serious?”

Ti Sandra laughed and hugged me. “What should we do, show honorable Martian reserve and retire to our farms, to advise the lesser politicians like elder statesfolk?”

“Sounds fine to me,” I said.

Ti Sandra clucked disapprovingly. “You’ve mapped out your territory. You want to keep track of Charles Franklin.”

I gave her a shocked look.

“I mean, of course, what he’s doing.”

I seldom became angry at the President, but now my blood stirred. “It’s not trivial. If it’s not directed properly, it’s the biggest source of trouble we’ll face for years.”

“I know,” Ti Sandra said, raising her hands in placation. “I shudder when I think about it. And I can’t think of anyone better than you to oversee the project. But… What makes you think a completely fresh batch of elected officials will be so wise?”

“I’ll help them,” I said.

“What if they refuse your help?”

The possibility hadn’t occurred to me.

“Election is a chancy thing,” Ti Sandra said. “We haven’t proven we know how to do it on Mars. The most delicate time is transition.”

“Transition is confounded by leaders who won’t give up power,” I reminded her.

“And muddled by leaders who don’t know how to govern,” she said.

“You’d want me to declare with you?”

“I depend on you,” she said. “And… I’d give you the Olympians as your special problem. It would be a pity to pour all that money into an enhancement and sit on the outside, looking in.”

I considered for a moment. Being a part of history mattered much less to me than pulling Mars through a frightening time. To accept her offer, I would have to give up more time with Ilya, years more of my private life. But Ti Sandra was right. Most of the candidates who had declared were not impressive. At least we had some experience.