She was engaged in a conversation with Antonio about the state of the world, and the tendency of the general public to pay little attention until conditions deteriorated severely, when Matt announced they were ready to make their jump.

Jon had replaced her up front, tinkering with the settings. “I don’t want to go in too close,” he said. “We can’t trust the mass detector.”

That sounded a little too casual for Hutch. She’d have felt more comfortable if she were at the controls.

Matt’s voice came over the allcom. “Buckle in.”

She activated her harness. Antonio’s belt locked him down.

“Ten seconds,” said Matt.

Antonio’s eyes slid shut. He seemed to be somewhere else. “Go, baby,” he said.

She closed her own eyes, felt a momentary tug in her belly, saw the glare of light against her eyelids dim and come up again.

“That’s it,” said Matt. He couldn’t avoid a snicker. They all laughed. “We’ve arrived.”

Hutch shook her head. It just didn’t feel right. A jump that had lasted a fraction of a second.

Antonio was looking up at the display. “Are we done? Is it okay to release this thing?” He didn’t like the restraints.

“One moment,” said Phyl. “Measuring.”

Whatever happened today, it was coming. Near-instantaneous travel would hit in the next generation, or somewhere close down the road. It struck her that the metaphor would itself become obsolete. People living perhaps in the next century would have no concept of road. Or maybe it would survive as a referent to spiritual journeys. It was a sad idea. She wondered whether the fears about a singularity waiting at a given point in scientific research, when too many breakthroughs came together, might not have some validity. Not in the classical sense that here was a rise of the machines or some such wild-eyed notion, but simply that maybe you reached a point where the downside of each technological advance outweighed the advantage. Where the price was too high. Where people fell in love with avatars instead of each other. But no one could stop progress, no matter how much damage it did, because it had become a kind of religion.

Phyl’s voice again: “Range to Seabright is 285 million kilometers.”

“We lost ground,” said Antonio. “How could that happen?”

Hutch released her belt. “Matt?”

Matt came off the bridge, looking chagrined. “I think we’re on the other side,” he said. “We jumped half a billion klicks. Maybe we were a bit too cautious.”

Antonio was making notes. “Best system in the world doesn’t do you much good if you can’t get where you’re going.”

Jon appeared in the hatch behind Matt. “I guess we missed,” he said. “It’ll just be a matter of making some adjustments. We have to feel our way. Can’t have everything overnight.”

ANTONIO WAS ANNOYED that he couldn’t report back. The Locarno couldn’t really be a success, he told Jon, until it included an advanced communication device.

“I haven’t had time to work on it,” said Jon. “Sorry. But it keeps everything we’re doing mysterious. That should be good. People will be wondering what’s going on out here.”

Antonio went back to his notebook. “I forgot about that aspect of things. I’m going to have to rewrite this,” he complained.

“Why?” asked Matt.

“‘As we stand here,’” he read, “‘looking out at this magnificent sun…’”

“It’s a little hyperbolic, isn’t it?” said Matt.

Antonio’s features darkened. “It’s supposed to be. Audiences like hyperbolic.”

“They’re nitwits,” said Matt.

Antonio shook his head. “Not exactly. But they do like over the top. That’s the reality. The Brits have a taste for understatement. But they’re pretty much in it alone.”

“They’re still nitwits.”

“You sound like somebody else I know,” said Hutch.

“Who’s that?”

“Gregory MacAllister.”

Matt nodded. “One of my favorite people.”

SHE FELT ALIVE. She looked out at strange constellations, configurations she hadn’t seen in decades.

Antonio came over and joined her. Gazed through the viewport. “Lovely,” he said.

“What’s the range of the Locarno?” asked Rudy. “Could we cross the galaxy with this thing?”

Jon shook his head. “Not in one jump. I haven’t really worked out the details yet, but it’s not like the Hazeltine, where once you’re in hyperspace, you stay there until the system acts to bring you back. We don’t belong in Locarno space, if we can call it that, and it keeps trying to push us out. Sort of like an air-filled balloon trying to stay underwater. So the system uses energy throughout the transit. When it runs out of energy, the ship will pop back into normal space.”

“But obviously,” Rudy continued, “we can manage fifty or sixty light-years.”

“Oh, yes. And considerably better than that. I’d guess we could jump ten thousand or so. But that’s only a guess. We’re just going to have to try it and see what happens.”

Hutch could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Ten thousand light-years?”

Jon smiled. “Interesting to think about, isn’t it?”

“It sure is. It really does put the entire galaxy within reach.”

“Why stop there?” asked Rudy.

Matt took a deep breath. “You’re talking what? Andromeda?”

“Why not?”

THEY RELEASED A probe to take pictures of the Preston against the backdrop of Alioth. Phyl adjusted the lenses and filters so the probe wasn’t blinded. She also got pictures of the ship approaching Seabright, gliding past a gas giant, and running alongside a comet.

Phyl prepared a special meal, and they sat down to spaghetti and meatballs, not usually the fare you’d expect on a superluminal. “Things change,” said Matt, “when you only have to feed everybody once.”

They opened a fresh bottle of wine. Filled the glasses and did another round of toasts. “To real estate dealers,” said Jon.

Hutch raised her glass. “Realtors conquer the world.”

Jon watched Antonio writing something into his notebook. “Do you actually have a science background?” he asked.

“Me?” Antonio’s smile widened. It was self-deprecating, genuine, warm. “I was a journalism major,” he said.

“But you’re the science guy for Worldwide. How’d that happen?”

Rudy shook his head. “Jon, Antonio used to be Dr. Science.”

Jon frowned. “Who?”

“Dr. Science. You’re not going to tell me you don’t know who Dr. Science is?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. Not at all.”

Jon stared hard at Antonio. “You know, I thought you looked familiar. More than from the Worldwide shows.”

“Hello, boys and girls,” said Antonio, mimicking the voice he’d used years before. “Today we’re going to be talking about event horizons and why we shouldn’t go near them.”

“But you were a journalism major?” persisted Jon.

“Worldwide gave me the science beat because they think I’m pretty good at explaining things so ordinary people can understand them.”

“But how do you do it if you don’t have the physics yourself?”

“I get somebody like you to lay it out for me, then I just translate it into plain English and relay it.” He finished whatever he’d been writing, closed the machine with a sweep of his right arm, and sat back in his chair. “So,” he said, “what’s next?”

Jon looked puzzled. “Next? This is where I wanted to go. Eighty light-years by dinnertime.”

“That’ll be a good title for your autobiography,” said Rudy.

Antonio agreed. “Absolutely right,” he said. “But where do you go from here? What are you going to do about licensing the Locarno? I think you’ve just become the richest guy on the planet.”

“Maybe. I hope so.”

“Has anybody bid yet for manufacturing rights?”

“Everybody in town. It looks as if tours are going to be big again. For a while anyhow. Luxuriat is talking about picking up where Carmody left off.” Carmody had run the luxury flights during the golden years.