"Nice. Quiet." Cadmann glanced at Mary Ann. "Wait until Sylvia has the baby. Come on up for dinner."

"I'd like that, if we can get this damned chair into a Skeeter."

"Sure, we can do that. Or have Carlos make you a folding model."

The projection equipment was wheeled out to the center of the floor.

An enlarged holo field shimmered like a heat mirage: the faces and figures against the far wall were pale, wavering ghosts.

The lights dimmed. The holo image hardened, and the speakers piped in sound.

A motorboat was being lowered down the ravine and into the river below the dam. The boat was a ten-foot black oval, tough synthetic elasticized skin stretched over a metal frame, two low seats and crescent steering wheel mounted in the front. The Skeeter-type engine aft looked too big for the boat. The plastic-sealed knob of a holotape recorder showed above the central mast.

It had reached the water. A second, identical boat dropped to join it.

Sylvia came to sit between Cadmann and Terry, and she smiled shyly as she lowered herself uncomfortably to her seat.

"You look ready," Mary Ann said.

"You know it. Now Marnie's saying next week! Cadmann, don't ever get pregnant." Her complexion was a little blotchy. She wheezed with relief as she settled herself, balancing a plate heaped with food in her hands.

"I'll remember that," he said. "Last time Mary Ann gets on top."

"Hush."

Someone yelled, "Ta-ta-ta-daah!" as Elliot Falkland and his fiancee.

La Donna, dashed to the center of the floor amid a rowdy chorus of cheers. "Chunky!" Falkland was all grin and jug ears and peeling tan, with a body almost twice the size, of La Donna's. But the little woman was known as an indefatigable construction worker. Behind Cadmann, Andy guffawed something about La Donna "sweating that blubber off Elliot before they reach the ocean."

Cadmann raised a cheer as Carlos and Bobbi joined the first couple. Carlos swept off a broad-brimmed hat in a low, gallant bow. Somehow, even dressed in denims, Bobbi managed a shy curtsey.

Carlos rushed over to Cadmann and Mary Ann. He wore a yellow safety vest, and skintight rubber pants. He carried a bedroll in his left hand. He and Bobbi would take the boat all the way to the ocean, camping along the way. Three days later they would be picked up by Skeeter, officially married.

Cadmann chortled to himself, guessing that Carlos would triple-check that the recording equipment was off before turning in for the evenings...

"Wish me luck, amigo. Falkland has more water experience than we do."

"More than anyone but the samlon. He's got flippers for feet." Elliot

Falkland and Jerry minded the catfish ponds downriver. Falkland also coordinated the underwater repair operations and had overseen the construction of the dam. That was where he had come to know La Donna. "Anyway, it's not when you get there, it's how."

"Loser paints the winner's house."

"I see your point. Kill him."

"Senor Falkland sleeps with the fishes."

"Good luck," Terry and Sylvia chimed.

Carlos shook hands with the men, kissed the women, then hustled out to supervise the lowering of his boat.

Sudden envy stirred in Cadmann. A three-day trip down the river would be a nice honeymoon. But we had ours while we built the camp, and it was fine!

The holo field flickered to a different vantage point. An aerial view of the Skeeter pad swiftly expanded to take in the entire camp. Cadmann's stomach lurched—the reaction he always had when in the air under another's control.

The Skeeter zoomed and veered explosively, rose straight up, then dive-bombed Civic Center. There was clapping, cheering and groaning. The holo field was expanded to fill the room, the magnification bleaching a little of the color from the image.

The three-dimensional aerial panorama was stunning, especially when it veered east, across the Miskatonic. There, Camelot, their new community, was already blocked out.

Camelot wasn't the cramped curlicue of the first year's temporary dwellings. It would be Avalon's first permanent city, and was designed as such. Now that the crops were established, there was time to work on a more leisurely layout. Camelot covered a square kilometer of homes, boulevards, parks and meditation groves, recreation centers...

Each plot of land was huge, larger than any of them could have afforded on Earth. Unbelievable wealth by any standard that they had left behind. And room for almost infinite expansion, as their worms and insects and terraforming lichens churned Avalon's soil into something that the less hardy plants and animals could use. Mineral supplementation and acid balancing created an ideal medium for their crops. Huge homes, ranch houses. Mansions that would one day overlook gracious estates.

Room for a man to grow!

The boat engines were no longer ear-jarring burrs, and the Skeeter zipped off to follow the race. The camp cheered, bets flying and changing: Who would be the first through the rapids? They were twenty kilometers from the northern mountains, and it would be a while before the real action began, a few minutes before the boats worked their way through the dam locks.

In the meantime, the band had apparently rested long enough. Zack mopped his forehead with a bandanna and yelled, "All right—we've got enough time for a couple more turns around the floor. Let's get it moving!"

He shouldered his fiddle. His fingers danced across the strings, producing sounds of surprising sweetness.

Hey there ladies, grab your man

Hold that lad as tight as you can—

Sylvia's hand sneaked around behind Cadmann and tapped Mary Ann twice, sharply, and they exchanged a silent message.

It's a conspiracy. I'm doomed...

Mary Ann stood, politely but firmly pulled his plate from his hand.

Setting her heels into the composition floor, she dragged him to his feet.

Sylvia and Terry and the surrounding crowd howled at his obvious discomfort, and Cadmann let that bolster him.

"It's been a long time," he whispered, "and I am sore wounded," relieved that others were moving out on the floor. They formed a square with Hendrick and Phyllis.

In a few moments there were squares all over the hall, and Zack was calling and fiddling, the band was playing, and Cadmann's considerations were lost in the urge to keep the rhythm and watch his feet.

Mary Ann was an excellent square dancer, and she pulled him along with her into the mood. Soon Cadmann was part of an interweaving pattern of human rectangles, do-si-do-ing and skip-stepping as their square broke and re-formed, changed places and swiveled joyously around the floor. Sharp reminders from half-healed wounds eased as he warmed up. The seated observers whistled and clapped and stomped their feet.

Before he realized it, Cadmann was grinning and sweating and thoroughly convinced that he was keeping better time than anyone out there.

At the end of an hour the dance broke up with a spontaneous cheer and hugs all around, and Cadmann's drunken whoop was as loud as any. What the hell—this is your family. You need them—at least Mary Ann does. And don't be surprised that square dancing makes you feel like part of the community. Earth magic, that's what it is. What it's always been.

The holofield projector was wheeled back to the center of the quad. Once again the air shimmered, causing squeals of delight—Carlos's boat had breached the rapids, and it was deliciously easy for Cadmann to lose himself in the illusion.

He was aboard their boat, hovering directly above Carlos's shoulders as he spun the wheel, guiding the boat through the rushing water. The water was beginning to churn white, and there an outcropping of glistening wet rock scraped the side of the inflatable. The boat jumped, and beside him Bobbi screamed delightedly.