‘Now we have biononics, we have effectively killed death.’ His hand gestured irritably at the other diners on the platform, all lovingly lost in each other. ‘And what have we done with it?’

‘Taken over this whole section of the galaxy, discovered alien life and other wonders, built ANA, given people the ability to live exactly how they please. Sure,’ she teased sarcastically. ‘So terrible it’s a wonder we’re not all fleeing.’

‘The Central worlds are fine. People are civilized, responsible. The rest—’

‘Drag you down. Oh the ingrates.’

‘Why do they need you, Paula? Why should they need you? Because they’re unhappy and try to get ahead the wrong way.’

‘Ah, now I get it. If only everyone knew their place and just did as they were told. You’re still the great dictator.’

‘I was never a dictator, I just had a huge amount of political clout. I still do. And just to be the devil’s advocate, Huxley’s Haven was all about knowing your place. And it produced you.’

Paula smiled as she twirled the wine glass in front of her face. She might have known he’d bring up her formative years. Huxley’s Haven had been a unique, and massively controversial, experimental society, where its citizens were sequenced with genes that fixed specific psychoneural profiles. In short, their personality and professional aptitude were established before they were even born. Paula had been genetically designed as a policewoman, with an obsessive compulsion to solve puzzles. She’d been taken away from Huxley’s Haven, and adapted to life in the Greater Commonwealth, because there were always crimes to solve. ‘I had to evolve to survive,’ she reminded him. ‘Those old profiling genes were sequenced right out on my fifth rejuve – or was it my fourth? Who knows? Point is: nothing stays the same. Our species has become a living free-will Darwinian organism; we are in a constant state of evolution towards post-physical status. The External worlds will become Higher eventually. Don’t tell me you’re finally becoming impatient?’

‘And when the current External worlds are Higher, there will still be some other planets or new Faction causing trouble.’

‘Of course they will. That’s being human for you.’

He poured himself more wine. ‘Yeah, well, I’m going to found a uniform society. Everyone agreeing to the same philosophy and goals before it starts. There’ll be no dissent because we won’t be taking any dissenters.’

‘I can’t believe you’re being that simplistic. Yes, the first generation will all have the same noble goal, living worthy lives in accordance with the Party rules. But differences will creep in; they always do. By the time the third or fourth generation is born, you’ll have a hundred different factions, just like the Commonwealth.’

‘I disagree. Differences used to creep into societies because of unfairness and inequality. If you eradicate that, and the potential for it, right at the start, then society will remain uniform. Our technology is finally capable of that; we’re effectively a post-scarcity society, Paula. We should be better than what we are.’

She sighed. ‘Go get yourself reprofiled and live on Huxley’s Haven; they’re all happy. Or they were last time I checked.’

‘It’s a goal worth aiming for, Paula.’

She raised her glass to him. ‘I’m proud of you for thinking and acting selflessly. A thousand years ago, who’d have thought . . . Now you’re true evolution.’

He laughed as they touched glasses. ‘I’ll miss you.’

‘All right, so now you’ve duly plied me with alcohol. And you’ve grabbed my attention with all this philosophy. Please tell me why. You know, tormenting me with this kind of suspense normally gets people thrown directly into memory read.’

‘I would like to hire you.’

She pursed her lips coyly. ‘Are you sure you can afford me?’

‘On a consultancy basis. There’s something I personally have to do, and I need your expertise to pull it off.’

‘All right, I am officially intrigued. What expertise?’

‘I need to know how to commit a perfect crime.’

May 22nd 3326

Golden Park was massive. Paula hadn’t quite appreciated how big Makkathran2 was until she walked the mile and a half over the greensward which surrounded it. Because there were no capsules on Querencia where the original was sited, Inigo had imposed a no-overflight law which extended for ten miles around his city, which she thought was taking realism a step too far. The only way into the construction site, which was the full-scale replica of the city on Querencia, was in a ground vehicle, or on foot. She and Nigel had arrived at the project’s landing field in a scheduled commercial capsule, then taken a bus to the greensward – actually a misnomer; the ground that would one day mimic the forests and meadows outside the Void’s Makkathran was currently a muddy swathe of freshly ploughed and planted earth. From there they’d walked, as all the Living Dream followers did the first time, emulating Edeard who came to the city as a traveller with the Barkus caravan.

Two thousand square miles of empty government land on the eastern coast of the Sinkang continent had been signed over to Inigo by the Ellezelin government eighteen months ago. Paula suspected a great many election campaign donations (among other payments) to local and national politicians by Inigo’s wealthier backers had secured it. The official explanation was that the quasi-religious movement would bring a huge influx of followers, who would boost the planet’s economy. Ellezelin had been founded as a capitalist Advancer culture and was quite devout in the pursuit of money.

They trudged in through the North Gate (just as Edeard had) – although this gate was less impressive than the one cut through the wall by Rah. The wall of golden crystal around the real Makkathran was nothing more than a three-metre-high mesh fence here – so far. Inside it, the High Moat was another strip of flat grassland. Then came the North Curve Canal – two parallel trenches with slim trickles of brown water along the bottom marking where the excavation was scheduled to be. There was a bridge over the unborn waterway, leading to the Ilongo district. In Edeard’s city, it had small boxy buildings with walls that leaned at precarious angles. Here it was like a refugee camp of plyplastic tents and malmetal cabins. The tracks between them were laid with a mesh of carbon fibre through which mud was oozing. The long sections were being slowly tramped down by the sheer amount of foot traffic. It was like being in some pre-Commonwealth bazaar, appropriately enough.

Three hundred metres above her, a realistic semiorganic ge-eagle was keeping pace with them, scanning the neighbourhood. Paula controlled it through a heavily shielded link. Several of the impressive-looking birds soared on the thermals above the proto-city; Inigo’s followers had resequenced them from terrestrial avian DNA, duplicating the birds that so many Makkathran citizens possessed. They competed for airspace with Ellezelin’s native seabirds. It wouldn’t be long before other replica Void creatures appeared.

‘I didn’t realize there were this many ardent followers,’ Paula said quietly as they stood back to allow a young goatherd to lead his animals past them. The other thing she’d noticed was the way people dressed. It was all natural cloth in old styles, some amazingly elaborate, like a costume convention; there was no semiorganic fabric or modern garments to be seen. For herself she’d chosen a simple green cotton skirt, a white blouse and a leather jacket with a satchel slung over her shoulder. Nigel had gone all out in the tunic of an Eggshaper Guild master, complete with fur-lined robe.

He was gazing to the east. ‘They’re doing that wrong,’ he muttered.

‘What?’ Paula followed his gaze, seeing a tall tower surrounded by scaffolding that swarmed with constructionbots. The ge-eagle performed a fast scan of the incomplete structure. ‘That’s Blue Tower, the Eggshaper Guild headquarters. I recognize it from the Fourth Dream. It looks pretty accurate to me.’