This was a city where banks proliferated, and soon Trudi and Rick - more aware than Roger of the simulation’s topography - had picked a branch of the Greater Helvetian to rob. Part of the game was to don avatars that would remain for the duration. Soon all three of them were portly gentlemen with extravagant moustaches and silk waistcoats beneath their frock coats, and revolvers weighing down their pockets.

‘And switch,’ said Rick.

They were standing in front of the Rathaus, the city hall, which stood on the river’s edge. The waters of the Limmat were black. This time of year, it was often frozen over.

‘This way.’ Rick led, followed by Trudi.

Roger enjoyed the uphill walk as they climbed a narrow road formed with large irregular stones too large to be called cobbles. The grey stone buildings on either side looked old, some perhaps dating back to the Middle Ages. In reality, the gradient was a product of a morphing, flowing quickglass floor, and the image of the buildings was lased in to his smartlenses.

Antisound would ensure that the two teams could not hear each other.

Then they were entering the gloomy bank branch.

The robbery itself was exciting but straightforward, as the three of them produced revolvers and threatened staff, who obeyed their instructions and handed over the bags of cash. The money-bags felt tangible and heavy, the effect produced by their clothing - their sleeves had elongated to form gloves - responding to magnetic induction that tugged downward in a high-fidelity simulation. Within minutes of stumbling from the building, Rick and Trudi were puffing, while Roger could already feel his forearms burning from the weight.

Struggling uphill past the cathedral-like Frauenkirche, they became aware of police whistles behind them. Rick grinned.

‘The game is afoot, gentlemen. Excuse me, Trudi.’

‘You’re excused.’ Her feminine voice issued from her overweight male avatar. ‘I don’t think I can move any faster, though.’

‘Me neither. How about you, Roger?’

‘It’s tough.’

Passers-by were pointing at them as they hurried.

‘We should’ve stolen diamonds,’ gasped Rick. ‘Would’ve weighed practically nothing.’

‘Now you think of it,’ said Trudi.

There was a rattle of trams from up ahead, then more police whistles.

‘Crap. They’re closing in.’

Roger caught a glimpse of dark uniforms, just as Rick and Trudi staggered left into a narrow cross-street. Then he stopped, a second before Rick did likewise.

‘Shit,’ muttered Rick. ‘It’s a dead end.’

Nicely played, Alisha.

She must have worked out where they were fleeing, and held back from the sounding the whistles until herding them here. Now they were trapped.

‘We go into one of the shops,’ said Trudi. ‘Try to get out through the back.’

‘No.’ Roger hefted his money bags. ‘This way.’

He pushed the pace into a near sprint. Behind him, Rick and Trudi muttered. Beyond a buttress he hauled left, into a tiny space between two buildings.

‘Huh,’ said Rick.

Then they were following a narrow lane parallel to the street. Unable to hold bags out to the side, they had to move awkwardly. Soon Roger’s shoulders were filled with pain, and he was finding it hard to breathe. Behind him, Rick and Trudi were struggling.

But after a time the sound of whistles diminished, and then they were following a descending route down a wider road where trams clanged along shining tracks.

‘There,’ said Roger. ‘That’s Alisha.’

He pointed to a thin man in civilian clothes standing down on the bridge across the Limmat. The Alisha-avatar - no doubt a senior police officer - was facing away from them, and he pulled the other two behind a tram stop just before the avatar turned. After a few seconds, Roger peeked out, and when the time was right he led the other two across the street.

Then they circled around the magnificent Hauptbahnhof, and jumped down on to the tracks. No one cried out or whistled as they stumbled towards an empty train. Roger pulled open a carriage door and threw the money-bags inside. Then he boosted Trudi up the step and through the door, followed by Rick.

Ten seconds later, he was inside as well and pulling the door shut.

‘Nice work,’ said Rick. ‘Game over.’

Everything shimmered around them. Roger closed his eyes, then opened them to see the lounge in their student house, while he, Rick and Trudi were sitting on quickglass seats extruded by the floor. Alisha, Angela and Stef were standing, facing in various directions. They turned.

‘Well played,’ said Alisha. ‘Considering our team had the greater knowledge of the city’s layout, you dodged us far more easily than expected.’

‘You call that easy?’ Rick was rubbing his arms and shoulders. ‘My God, it was painful.’

Trudi gestured. ‘It was Roger who found a hidden alleyway. And spotted you, Alisha, outside the station.’

‘You saw through my avatar?’

‘Uh . . . Yeah,’ said Roger.

‘Interesting.’ Alisha blinked several times. ‘I’m looking at your escape route now. How did you know that alley was there? The road appeared to be a dead end.’

‘It was instinct.’

Alisha looked at him. ‘If you say so.’

So how did I know?

He tried to blank his expression, but could not tell if he succeeded. Then Stef was ordering the room to serve daistral, and everyone got busy with refreshing themselves, while Alisha continued to glance at him, and he grew increasingly puzzled by his own ability to navigate the hidden byways of 1920s Zürich, a simulation of a period he had never studied, on a world he had never visited.

Correction: an historically accurate simulation, verified by twenty-two different methods, according to Alisha. And she was a near-Luculenta, therefore impossible to beat in a game situation, or so he would have thought.

SIX

EARTH-CLASS EXPLORATORY EM-0036, 2146 AD

Rekka Chandri woke from delta-coma with a headache. All around, the rest of the pre-contact team seemed fresh-eyed, their voices energetic as they sat up on couches and greeted each other. They were in a spartan cargo hold that made no attempt to emulate a comfortable passenger lounge. Nor was there any greeting from the unseen Pilot who had navigated them through mu-space to here.

But she was offworld, in orbit around a new planet for the first time.

‘Hey, Rekka,’ called Mary Stelanko, the team leader. ‘Are you okay?’

The others were checking holo displays, conversation suspended, ensuring their equipment was intact. Acting professional: maybe Rekka ought to do the same.

‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I’ll just check my autofact has survived.’

Tapping a display into being, she ran a status check, then powered down the kit.

‘All right.’ Mary clapped her hands together. ‘I’m not going to tell you to be careful down there, just as there’s no way I’m going to threaten you with dire consequences if you make contact—’

‘I’m glad you’re not telling us that,’ said Lucy Chiang, to laughter.

‘—or with even worse penalties if you do make accidental contact and not do it right, because I expect professionalism at all times.’

Amid catcalls, Ralph Antero said: ‘You sure you got the right team, Mary? Professionals? Us?’

‘Whoop it up now, because down on the surface you’ll be all alone and quiet as mice. All right, everyone?’

‘Were mice quiet?’ asked Lucy.

‘I thought you had to click them,’ said Ralph. ‘But history was never my subject.’

Mary smiled, relaxing her shoulders, holding her hands at hip height, palms down. The room quietened.

‘Be careful, be watchful, be safe.’

‘You got it, boss.’

‘Let’s get to the drop-bugs.’

Penrose tiles fluttered back as a bulkhead dissolved like leaves in a wind. Beyond lay an array of one-person capsules, dark-grey and glossy, ready to launch.