And, looking into her young-old eyes, he believed it.

The light was changing now, subtly, growing significantly darker.

The blue-white companion star was passing behind the denser bulk of the parent. David could see the companion’s light streaming through the complex layers of gas at the periphery of the giant — and, as the companion touched the giant’s blurred horizon, he actually saw shadows cast by thicker knots of gas in those outer layers against the more diffuse atmosphere, immense lines that streamed toward him, millions of kilometres long and utterly straight. It was a sunset on a star, he realized with awe, an exercise in celestial geometry and perspective.

And yet the spectacle reminded him of nothing so much as the ocean sunsets he used to enjoy as a boy, as he played with his mother on the long Atlantic beaches of France, moments when shafts of light cast by the thick ocean clouds had made him wonder if he was seeing the light of God Himself.

Were the Joined truly the embryo of a new order of humanity — of mind? Was he making a sort of first contact here, with a being whose intellect and understanding might surpass his own as much as he might surpass his Neanderthal great-grandmother?

But perhaps it was necessary for a new form of mind to grow, new mental powers, to apprehend the wider perspective offered by the WormCam.

He thought. You are feared and despised, and now you are weak. I fear you; I despise you. But so was Christ feared and despised. And the future belonged to Him. As perhaps it does to you.

And so you may be the sole repository of my hopes, as I have tried to express to you.

But whatever the future, I can’t help but miss the feisty girl who used to live behind those ancient blue eyes.

And it disturbs me that not once have you mentioned your mother, who dreams away what is left of her life in darkened rooms. Do we who preceded you mean so little?

Mary pulled herself closer to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. Despite his troubled thoughts, her simple human warmth was a great comfort.

“Let’s go home,” she said. “I think your brother needs you.”

Kate knew she had to tell him. “Bobby.”

“Shut up, Manzoni,” Hiram snarled. He was raging now, throwing his arms in the air, stalking around the room. “What about me? I made you, you little shit. I made you so I wouldn’t have to die, knowing -”

“Knowing that you’d lose it all,” Kate said.

“Manzoni.”

Wilson took a step forward, standing between Hiram and Bobby, watching them all.

Kate ignored her. “You want a dynasty. You want your offspring to rule the fucking planet. It didn’t work with David, so you tried again, without even the inconvenience of sharing him with a mother. Yes, you made Bobby, and you tried to control him. But even so he doesn’t want to play your games.”

Hiram faced her, fists bunching. “What he wants doesn’t matter. I won’t be blocked.”

“No,” Kate said, wondering. “No, you won’t, will you? My God, Hiram.”

Bobby said urgently, “Kate, I think you’d better tell me what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I don’t say this was his plan from the beginning. But it was always a fallback, in case you didn’t — cooperate. And of course he had to wait until the technology was ready. But it’s there now. Isn’t it, Hiram?…” And another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “You’re funding the Joined. Aren’t you? Covertly, of course. But it’s your resources that are behind the brain-link technology. You had your own purpose for it.”

She could see in Bobby’s eyes — black-ringed, marked by pain — that he understood at last.

“Bobby, you’re his clone. Your body and nervous structures are as close to Hiram’s as is humanly possible to manufacture. Hiram wants OurWorld to live on after his death. He doesn’t want to see it dispersed — or, worse, fall into the hands of somebody from outside the family. You’re his one hope. But if you won’t cooperate…”

Bobby turned to his clone-parent. “If I won’t be your heir, then you’ll kill me. You’ll take my body and you’ll upload your own foul mind into me.”

“But it won’t be like that,” Hiram said rapidly. “Don’t you see? We’ll be together, Bobby. I’ll have beaten death, by God. And when you grow old, we can do it again. And again, and again.”

Bobby shook off Kate’s arm, and strode toward Hiram.

Wilson stepped between Hiram and Bobby, pushing Hiram behind her, and raised her pistol.

Kate tried to move forward, to intervene, but it felt as if she were embedded in treacle.

Wilson was hesitating. She seemed to be coming to a decision of her own. The gun muzzle wavered.

Then, in a single lightning-fast movement, she turned and slapped Hiram over the ear, hard enough to send him sprawling, and she grabbed Bobby. He tried to land a blow on her, but she took his injured arm and pressed a determined thumb into his wounded shoulder. He cried out, eyes rolling, and he fell to his knees.

Kate felt overwhelmed, baffled. What now? How much more complicated can this get? Who was this Wilson? What did she want?

With brisk movements Wilson laid Bobby and his clone-parent side by side, and began to throw switches on the equipment console at the centre of the room. There was a hum of fans, a crackle of ozone; Kate sensed great forces gathering in the room.

Hiram tried to sit up, but Wilson knocked him back with a kick in the chest.

Hiram croaked, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Initiating a wormhole,” Wilson murmured, concentrating. “A bridge to the centre of the Earth.”

Kate said, “But you can’t. The wormholes are still unstable.”

“I know that,” Wilson snapped. “That’s the point. Don’t you understand yet?”

“My God,” Hiram said. “You’ve intended this all along.”

“To kill you. Quite right. I waited for the opportunity. And I took it.”

“Why, for Christ’s sake?”

“For Barbara Wilson. My daughter.”

“Who?…”

“You destroyed her. You and your WormCam. Without you -”

Hiram laughed, an ugly, strained sound. “Don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter. Everyone has a grudge. I always knew one of you bitter arseholes would get through in the end. But I trusted you, Wilson.”

“If not for you I would be happy.” Her voice was pellucid, calm.

“What are you talking about?… But who gives a fuck? Look — you’ve got me,” Hiram said desperately. “Let Bobby go. And the girl. They don’t matter.”

“Oh, but they do.” Wilson seemed on the verge of crying. “Don’t you see? He is the point.” The hum of the equipment rose to a crescendo, and digits scrolled over the SoftScreen monitor outputs on the wall. “Just a couple of seconds,” Wilson said. “That isn’t long to wait, is it? And then it will all be over.” She turned to Bobby. “Don’t be afraid.”

Bobby, barely conscious, struggled to speak. “What?”

“You won’t feel a thing.”

“What do you care?”

“But I do care.” She stroked his cheek. “I spent so long watching you. I knew you were cloned. It doesn’t matter. I saw you take your first step. I love you.”

Hiram growled. “A bloody WormCam stalker. Is that all you are? How — small. I’ve been hunted by priests and pimps and politicians, criminals, nationalists, the sane and the insane. Everybody with a grudge about the inventor of the WormCam. I evaded them all. And now it comes down to this.” He began to struggle. “No. Not this way. Not this way.”

And, with a single, snake-like movement, he lunged at Wilson’s leg and sank his teeth into her hamstring.

She cried out and staggered back. Hiram clung on with his teeth, like a dog, the woman’s blood trickling from his mouth. Wilson rolled on top of him and raised her fist. Hiram released Wilson’s leg and yelled at Kate. “Get him out of here! Get him out…” But then Wilson drove her fist into his bloodied throat, and Kate heard the crunch of cartilage and bone, and his voice turned to a gurgle.