Babel - Razjosh

Kaleem looked at his bed. It must have been a bad night. It didn’t usually look like that in the morning.  Normally, he would just have to straighten out the duvet. Today he would have to tell the house robot to change the sheets. Preferably before Louish Kennedy, his grandmother, saw it.

The room felt stuffy. He was covered in sweat. He needed to shower quickly and change into fresh clothes. It was almost as if the air control had not worked. The bed-clothes, too, were drenched in sweat.  

He pressed the button which would summon the robot.

The machine trundled in.

“Refresh bedding, sir?” it asked.

Elders alive, its sensors were good. Rather different form the one he and his mother used to have in their cave apartment.

“At once,” mumbled Kaleem.

What had caused him to sleep so untidily? He couldn’t think.

Then he started to remember the events of the previous evening. And Rozia.

Rozia! Oh, great elder, he fancied her.  

He remembered how he had behaved. How careful he’d been, and how he’d wanted to be anything but careful.

I bet she thinks I’m a virgin, he thought. But he wasn’t. No way! Not that he was any sort of stud either, and neither had he ever had any great romantic affair. But there had been a couple of times on Zandra, after just the right amount of frega and the right sort of girl, and the convenience of a suitably placed love-niche. All of that had been part of behaving normally, more than anything else. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the experience … and Zandrian  girls were, on the whole, uncomplicated. Well, maybe there’d been about six times, which was about twenty too few.

But it would have been wrong with Rozia. He’d known her too long and respected her too much. She was worth more than a quick fumble in a dark doorway.

The robot finished putting on the clean sheets.

“Would sir care for a bath?” it asked.

Kaleem considered for a minute. No, a shower would be fine. He dismissed the robot with a flick of his wrist and made his way into his bathroom.

As he stepped into his shower he remembered. It reminded him of the entrance to the tower. He’d had the dream again.

The children had greeted him as usual. He was no longer shocked by the wrinkled faces which turned to face him, and they no longer seemed to be excepting so much from him. And as he came towards the end of the dream, their faces changed into the ones which belonged to the children they should have been as he began to tell them stories. When he woke up, as always he’d forgotten stories he’d told, but he remembered that the children seemed to enjoy them.

He turned on the shower.

As the water cascaded over him, he remembered the tower falling. It, too, had felt like water rather than the bricks it had been made of. As it crashed down, the children began to chant.

He dried himself and touched the spot where Rozia had laid her bare hand on his skin the evening before. He realized with a shock, that the girl known as Panandra – or some such, because her name changed a little each time – had looked exactly like Rozia this time. The almond eyes were Rozia’s.

That explained his dishevelled night then. He’d been dreaming about the tower and he’d been dreaming about Rozia.

Rozia! He must call her up later today. Goodness, she’d really meant it about the Black Tulpen then. Oh, that had been tempting. But he wanted to take this one slowly. He wanted this one to mean something.

As he dressed he began to feel uneasy. That was the first time he’d had the dream that clearly since he got back from Zandra. They’d all spoken Terrestran English this time. And still that idea of the Babel Prophecy was nagging away at him. It was nonsense, surely? But then, why did he keep having that dream and that whole story which Marijam had told him about his conception and birth was bizarre. If it was true. There was still a strong possibility that she had imagined it all. Yet he was convinced that Nazaret was really his father.

Louish and Frazier Kennedy were already half way through breakfast when he joined them in the dining-room. This apartment was everything that the old cave apartment he used to share with Marijam was not. It had an impressive view across the Thames Harbour. All the materials were from the old world – real wood, real steel and real wool carpets. There was a linen tablecloth on the table. Every day there was a superb spread for breakfast. Louish Kennedy had never lost any of her glamour, and though her hair showed her age, it was long and shiny and its ash white colour suited her more than the normal Terrestran black. Frazier looked younger than he had two years ago when Kaleem had first met him and not known that he was his grandfather. Kaleem guessed it was because he had now been reconciled with Marijam. He had found his daughter again after she had been missing for nearly eighteen years.  Frazier Kennedy was an energetic sort of man anyway. He did not stand still for long.

“Kaleem!” cried Louish. “My, you do look serious. Come and sit down, and get stuck in.”

“Good night, was it?” asked Frazier, grinning. “You were quite late getting back.”

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Kaleem. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.” He’d generally got used to this sophisticated Head of educationbeing his grandfather and this really elegant but fun-loving woman being his grandmother. They were an odd match. Every now and then though he remembered how important his grandfather was. He didn’t dare annoy them. Despite everything he’s managed to do he dreaded being sent to live underground again.  He desperately wanted to fit in.

“No, you didn’t disturb us,” said Louish. “We’d only just got in ourselves.” A slight shadow passed across her face. “Only you will let us know if you’re going to be late, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course” said Kaleem. He really should have thought. They’d already lost one child. They didn’t want to go through that again. Only he’d been so free to come and go as he pleased when he’d lived on Zandra. Until he’d been put in prison, that was.

“It’s fine,” said Frazier. “A young man like you, with plenty of energy and not much work at the moment, you should be out enjoying yourself a bit.”

“How was the wake?” Kaleem remembered to ask.

“Good,” replied Frazier. “We gave him a good send off.”

“No better than he deserved,” said Louish. Tears were forming in her eyes. “He was a lovely man.”

“We’ll be putting in the nominations for the next elder of culture and education next week. Then the vote will take place in another five weeks, after the period of mourning finishes.”

“Oh, it’s nonsense,” cried Louish suddenly. “How can we be without an elder for so long? It’s not as if he just dies. We always know when they’re going to depart.”

“No worries!” exclaimed Frazier. “They have such a brilliant head of education, they’ll manage.”

Louish suddenly laughed. “Oh just listen to your grandfather, Kaleem. What shall we do with him? Now come, on, tuck in, we need to feed you up.”

She passed him the bowl of fruit salad and the jar of enriched yoghurt, while Frazier poured him some coffee.

Louish chattered on while Kaleem finished his breakfast. The sun was streaming in through the wide veriglass windows. It was putting them all in a good mood. Kaleem almost forgot to feel nervous about the visit he was expecting later that morning. Razjosh, the elder who had been his mentor throughout his training as Peace Child, was going to come and see him.

In fact, a few moments later he even forgot that Razjosh was coming at all. His grandmother was giving such an amusing account of some of the other visitors to the wake the evening before.

“Honestly,” she said. “He had some of the most peculiar friends.”  She suddenly put her hand in front of her mouth and giggled. “I suppose that means we must be peculiar as well.”

The communicator buzzed.

“Razjosh Elder wishes to be admitted,” chuntered the house robot.

“Go on,” Frazier said to Kaleem, “go and meet him in the drawing room. We’ll send in some more coffee and some pastries.”

Kaleem actually met Razjosh in the entrance hall. He was shocked by the elder’s appearance and how slowly he walked into the room. Kaleem had not seen him for a few weeks. Not, in fact, since they’d both come back to Terrestra. Razjosh had not even been to see him in a hologram. There had been no need. All the urgency had gone. Kaleem was just refreshing his knowledge of one or two of the more obscure languages. Even he wasn’t sure how much they were needed, but he actually now quite liked dabbling around with words and grammatical forms. And Razjosh had been busy, along with the other elders, getting ready for  Joshran Elder’s switch-off.

“I just thought it was time we touched base,” said Razjosh as they made themselves comfortable in the luxuriously furnished room. The comfisessels there actually had a form recognition function and made their way over to them. “See how you’re getting on.”

“I don’t feel as if I’m doing anything very important,” said Kaleem. “I’m just pottering about.”

“That’s fine,” said Razjosh. “You need some relaxation now. Another couple of months and there’ll probably be another challenge coming up. Everything is running smoothly now between Zandra and Terrestra, vis-à-vis acorns and vaccine. The trees are beginning to grow again on Zandra. You should go and see them …” Razjosh paused. “Aren’t you going to see Nazaret and Marijam again soon?”     

Kaleem shrugged. He supposed he ought to. But the truth was he felt a bit in the way. His mother and father were behaving like teenagers. He was the one who was being serious. And he couldn’t quite feel comfortable around his father yet. No, he was happy enough getting to know his grandparents. Besides, there was Rozia now.

“Mm,” said the Elder. “I see not. Maybe the next step is to get Terrestra to trade with Zandra for other items. Or even with another planet. But perhaps we don’t need a full blown Peace Child for that. Another type of negotiator might do. Now that you’ve got us this far.“ He looked thoughtfully at Kaleem. “The next problem could be closer to home.”

Kaleem had no idea what he was talking about. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I’ll leave you to work that out for yourself,” replied Razjosh. “Only when you realize will you be ready to do what’s needed. And also we ought to try to get down to what that prophecy is all about.”

“Do you think there’s something in it, then?” asked Kaleem.

“Not so much that,” replied Razjosh, “as how your mother became mixed up in an interpretation of it. Whether everything she told us did happen, or whether she imagined it all while she was asleep.”

That again, then!  This was just not going to go away. It was impossible – and yet ….  His whole birth had been odd. Conceived despite the Stopes programme and pushed out into the world the same way some wild animals were born. If you believed Marijam. No, that was not fair. He didn’t think she’d made it up. She really did think that had happened. But maybe it was just what she had imagined while she was in that coma. And if it wasn’t true, he was almost back to square one. He knew who is father was, that was for sure, but he had no idea what had happened after his conception.

Also, there was that strange movie clip he had seen that time, all about the Babel prophecy.

“Well, I’ll leave you to think about that,” said Razjosh, getting up form the comfisessel with some difficulty. He winced as if in pain. “Let me know when you understand what I’m talking about.” He moved himself a little nearer to Kaleem and put his hand on Kaleem’s shoulder.

“Only don’t leave it too long,” he said. “My switch-off is scheduled for six months from now.”

The shock jerked through Kaleem. The blood seemed to rush to his head and he could hear his heart thudding in his ears.

“Don’t look so alarmed,” said Razjosh. “It comes to us all. It’s the price we pay for the exceedingly pleasant life we have on this planet.”

Kaleem was so stunned he could not even say good-bye to Razjosh. He sat in the drawing room, trying to get his thoughts together. In six months’ time there would be no more Razjosh. Yet that man was strong and healthy and still had so much to show others. Ben Alki – or someone like him - would have to perform that terrible ceremony. Well, it wouldn’t be Ben Alki who actually murdered Razjosh – yes that was the word for it – murder. A medic would give him the reposant, the fatal injections which would send him into a sleep from which he would not wake. Someone else would press the button which would make the lasers sanitise the lifeless remains and the mulchers would reduce it to nutritious pulp. Then Ben Alki would have to say words of reassurance to the people left behind before someone else came in and took the stage and told the whole world what a great man Razjosh had been. No doubt he would be involved in the celebration of Razjosh’s life in the after-ceremony. Would Razjosh pull as many crowds as Joshran Elder had? Perhaps because of his involvement in Kaleem’s mission to Zandra they’d do something grand. But he wasn’t as popular as Joshran, though Kaleem knew he was just as great.

Just six months, then, to get ready for that awful ceremony. He would definitely be invited to the actual switch-off. Razjosh had already told him that. It would be terrible watching the life go out of the old man. It would be bad watching that happen to anyone, even a stranger. And it would bring memories back of his mother lying in a coma for all those months.

But Razjosh! What would he do without Razjosh? Who could he ask when there was something he did not understand about a new culture he was getting to know? Or who would advise him when he had to go on another mission, do some delicate negotiating on behalf of Terrestra? Besides, he actually liked the old man.

There would be no-one. Kaleem would take Razjosh’s place. Oh, he wouldn’t be an elder yet and all that that entailed. Not for another forty years or more. The Peace Child Elder was selected ages before he could become an elder. But one day, sure enough, he would have to leave behind his friends and family, again, and go and live with the other elders in the Citadel.

Kaleem clutched the edge of his comfisessel. His fingers ached with the effort and his forehead was covered in sweat. The nausea he had felt in the park the day before came back. There was a weight that was almost a pain in his chest. Perhaps it would be a relief to throw up, but he wouldn’t dare, not all over his grandmother’s elegant furnishings. Louish Kennedy was as fond of her home as she was of her clothes. He considered whether he should ask the dataserve to arrange a drink for him of plain water perhaps – or whether he could make it in time to a bathroom or a diastic monitor. He wanted to spit this weight out of himself, but perhaps the work with the pressure points was the surest option. 

Within seconds of pushing on his right wrist with the fingers from his left hand the weight began to ease. He took a deep breath and began to feel calmer. The physical symptoms were subsiding gradually. Something else was taking over now. A really deep sadness he had never felt before. Deeper that what he had felt when he heard of Tulla’s and Petro’s attachment.

He was just changing wrists and taking another deep breath when the door to the drawing-room swished open.

“Razjosh gone already?” asked Louish. “I was going to ask him to stay to dinner?”

“Well, I expect he’d like to,” answered Kaleem. He was surprised at how normal his voice sounded. “If not tonight, some other time.”

It all made sense now, the way Razjosh had not contacted him and didn’t seem to have any plans. He had certainly been taking it a bit easier since they’d got back to Terrestra. He would never have accepted social invitations like that before. He was always much too busy. But now it looked as if he was taking every opportunity to make the most of what life he had left.  In a way, it was almost as if he’d given up, that he was just waiting to die.

“Hey,” said Louish, sitting herself down in the comfisessel which Razjosh had left a few minutes before. “What’s the matter? You look as pale as a proper Terrestran.” 

“He was talking about his switch-off,” Kaleem managed to whisper. This time his voice was high and hoarse. The heaviness had come back, but he knew he was not going to be sick. Something equally humiliating was about to happen. He could not help himself. A loud sob escaped him though he did his best to keep it back. Neither could he stop the two tears which rolled down his cheeks.

Louish was on her feet in seconds and pulling Kaleem and his comnfisesel towards her until his head was level with he shoulders.

“Sweetie, oh sweetie,” she said, pushing his head down on to her shoulder. “I know. I know. It is so hard. The first time you have to face a switch-off. And Razjosh must have been so good to you, especially when Nazaret and Frazier weren’t there for you.” She ruffled his hair.

It was as if he’d been floating away, out of control, and somehow she had reattached him to the ground. Her perfume was strong and comforting, filling his head and pushing away the tears. The urge to sob slowly faded. She just let him stay there for a few minutes, her soft, strong arms stopping him from falling. 

“But listen,” she said after a while. She pushed him back and held him by the shoulders. “It’s all right to grieve and it’s all right to start now,” she continued. She wagged her finger at him. “Don’t you be ashamed of those tears. It’s also all right for a man to cry. But also remember that one day the sadness will go and you will know that it was just a great thing that that you knew him so well.”

Kaleem took another deep breath. He knew that his grandmother was right.

“Life goes on,” she said. A suggestion of a smile came into her eyes. “I’d actually come to tell you some more news. You’ve got another visitor, you see.”

Kaleem frowned. Who else on Terrestra would be visiting him at this time of day?

“But maybe I’d better tell her to go away and come again another day. When you’re a bit more robust.”

She... Could it be … really, could it be Rozia?

“Very nice young lady, if you ask me,” Louish was now grinning properly. “Does the name Rozia Laurence mean anything to you?”

Another feeling replaced the heaviness in his chest. His heart was beginning to beat quite fast. He could feel the colour coming back into his cheeks.

“Look, I can send her away,” said his grandmother, suddenly becoming serious again. “Tell her you’re not feeling too good.”

“No,” Kaleem said. He sighed. “I want to see her. I’d better see her. Now.”

He thought he may have come across as not interested last night. He daren’t send her away. But he did have to get this right, exactly right. She was too precious. He just could not make a mess of it this time. No way.

“You’re sure?” asked his grandmother.

Kaleem nodded. He followed Louish out of the drawing room.

She was there, waiting for him in the entrance hall. Louish nodded to them both and went into the main sitting room. She winked at Kaleem as she left and closed the door behind her.

“Hi, Rozia,” Kaleem managed to say. He leant forward and took her hand. A tingle of excitement shot up his arm.

She was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. A little pink came into her pale cheeks. She smiled without showing her teeth. The features on her face were so tiny and perfect. Her fine black hair shone. He so wanted to protect her and pull her to him and love her to bits.

He must be so careful. He must take this slowly. He must not spoil things.

Rozia squeezed his hand.

“Hi Kaleem,” she said, giggling prettily as the two pink spots became larger and redder.  

The Propnecy Chapter 1

Marijam looked up at the skylight. The smoky plastiglass, which covered the ordinary plastic window, was distorting her view of the stars. But it could not dull the brightness of the strange lights, which were shooting across the sky tonight. They were still changing colour. They were even more intense now than when they started an hour ago.

‘Is it working again?’ her mother called up from the other chamber.

Marijam looked at the dataserve screen. Still frozen. She bit her lip and ran her fingers through her hair. She wanted to finish the unit on the causes of sunlight poisoning in the late twenty-third century. That would complete her Part One, the first of her Specialist Study for her High School Graduation Certificate and well before the summer holiday.

‘No!’ she called back.

‘Well give it a rest, now, sweetheart,’ her father called. ‘You really should watch this. It’s the first time the Northern Lights have appeared for centuries.’

Marijam’s mother, Louish Kennedy, came into the room. Dressed from head to toe in a besequined pale blue satin, Louish stood out as usual from the damp greyness of the cave walls. Marijam winced as she saw her. She preferred to blend in with her surroundings. But even Mrs Kennedy couldn’t compete tonight with the light show out there.

‘Do you think’ she said to Marijam, ‘it might mean that the poison cloud’s beginning to lift at last? And it really is something, isn’t it?’

Marijam watched as a sheet of light shot across the sky. Marbled streamers of pinks and golds and greens flowed into one another. Marijam had never seen so many colours in one go. It was so dull down here in the caves. And even when you went up into the tubes and walked across the surface, you looked at everything through grey glass. The colours were so bright tonight that the glass couldn’t dull them.

‘I don’t think it is actually the Northern Lights,’ said Marijam’s father, appearing in the doorway. ‘I’ve seen movie clips of them, and they weren’t this pretty. Even when you saw them direct, and not through plastiglass.’

‘I don’t think you’ll be able to get anything else done tonight,’ said her mother. ‘There are too many problems with the network.’ She shivered. ‘The other support systems will work, won’t they?’ she asked, looking at her husband.

Marijam’s father, Frazier Kennedy, Head of Education, smiled.

‘They’ll be fine,’ he said to Louish, combing his hand through his wiry black hair.

Marijam recognised the gesture. He always did that when he was trying to convince himself rather than the person he was speaking to. He hugged his wife, resting his dark brown cheek against her greyish pale one. Not for the first time Marijam looked at her own arms and wished she had inherited her father’s skin colour instead of her mother’s. The cave-life was just washing white people out.

‘They always give the air top priority,’ Frazier continued, the skin round his eyes beginning to crinkle as his eyes smiled. ‘They’ll keep the seals in place as well.

‘But they’ve got to keep the life support systems going… on the farms and everything,’ Louish continued.

Marijam suddenly noticed how anxious her mother looked. The pupils of her eyes were bigger and her face was a shade whiter than normal.

Frazier shrugged his shoulders lightly and opened his arms, turning his palms upwards, and admitting defeat. ‘The education networks will be the first to go down,’ he said. ‘They’ll keep the lights on in the plantation caves, and yes, they’ll let us carry on breathing. Don’t worry so much.’

A purple light, edged with silver and blue streamed across the sky, catching Marijam’s eye and making her look again through the skylight. She held her breath. Not even the Midsummer Presidential Laser Show could match this.

It wasn’t just the lights, though. There was something about the atmosphere tonight. It was warm, even with the air conditioning, and she had this overwhelming feeling that something tremendous was about to happen.

‘Well, I guess nobody will be studying much tonight,’ said Marijam’s mother. ‘Everyone will be up in the tubes, getting a closer look at the sky.’

‘You should go and meet your friends,’ said Frazier. ‘You’ve just got to enjoy an event like this with people of your own age.’

‘Well, we’re going anyway,’ said Mrs Kennedy.

It probably was a good idea. There seemed to be little hope of completing her project tonight. And goodness knows when anything as exciting as this would happen again. Marijam felt a strange fluttering in her stomach. Her heart was racing.

‘Go on,’ said Louish Kennedy. ‘Put on your best tunic. Go and meet your friends. I’ll bet they’re all out there.’

They left her room. Marijam turned to her wardrobe. It was overflowing. She was the only daughter of the Head of Education. All the Heads of Services – Education, Transport, Agriculture, Life Support, Diastics and all the other services which kept this isolated planet going - were rich and important. Marijam could have anything she wanted apart from fresh air. Her parents had even let her have the room with the skylight. She opened the door. Row upon row of tunics. Black and grey ones. Some were made from expensive wool and cotton. Then there were the ordinary ones out of ripon, the cheap comfortable cloth that everyone wore. And some in blue, red, lilac, in fact every colour you could think of.

How can I possibly choose from all these? she thought. So much for equality.

She always felt guilty that her father’s position allowed her so much. Everyone was supposed to be born with equal chances. She knew, though, that she had it easier than many. That was why she normally preferred to just wear a comfortable dull-coloured ripon tunic.

She really didn’t go out much, even though she was allowed to use the cyber beaches and holoscenes as much as she liked. That was yet another advantage of being the daughter of one of the Heads of Services. There was never a question about the cost. On the whole, though, she preferred the solitude of her room and her dataserve, and the sky above, which she looked at through her skylight. She liked to dream of a time when all the people – even those from the Z Zone - would be able to walk freely on the surface of the planet. Would they ever be able to again? And would it be in her lifetime?

No, that won’t do, she thought to herself as she took down her old grey tunic. Not today. Today’s really special.

Marijam found herself gently touching a purple silk tunic. It was so soft and smooth beneath her fingers. She had not worn it before. It had been a present from her aunt, her mother’s sister.

‘You should get out more and enjoy yourself,’ Aunt Kayla said. She always told Marijam off about spending too much time in front of a dataserve screen, of not going out enough and mixing with other young people.

Well, Aunt, thought Marijam, you would be astounded. Yes, this will do nicely.

She felt the soft fineness of the silk next to her skin. It added to her excitement. She sprayed on some perfume, and even put on a little make up. She looked at herself in the mirror.

Yes, she would do nicely as well. Though for what, she was not quite sure. Another streak of pink light rushed through the sky above. She heard the swish of the vacuum doors closing in the entrance hall below. Her parents were already on their way. Time to get going for her as well.

The crowds making their way through the cave networks were stifling. Marijam had never seen so many people out at once. If you could really call it ‘out’. Even up in the tubes wasn’t really ‘out’. She had often wondered what ‘out’ would really be like. Not even this many people were around for the President’s Laser Show or the Christmas Walks. The queues for the lifts were really long. Marijam asked herself whether it would be better to just make her way to one of the large skylights. But no! Looking up from a tube would be a bit nearer to standing in a field and staring at the night sky.

‘Oh come on, get a move on,’ she heard one man mumble under his breath.

Exactly, she thought.

‘I expect we’ll get there eventually,’ a woman’s voice answered him.

It was amazing how calm people were staying.

Eventually she was at the front of the queue and the lift came. In seconds they were up at the surface, and she was joining the crowds now making their way along the tubes. She desperately wanted to get to somewhere where they didn’t criss-cross over each other so much, so that she could get an uninterrupted view of the sky.

Odd that she had not yet seen anybody she knew. She had to walk almost half a mile before she came to somewhere she could stand and look.

The lights still rushed across the blackness. Occasionally two from different directions would collide and then a shower of golden and lilac stars would sprinkle down towards Terrestra’s surface. But it was not accompanied by the ‘oohs’ and aahs’ heard at the President’s laser display. Everyone stood in absolute silence. This was something really special. The excitement carried on growing inside Marijam’s stomach. She felt as if she were glowing. And it was good watching the lights through the plastiglass tubes. She seemed as if she was nearer to them than when she looked through the sky light. You didn’t have the long tube of rock and stone.

Gradually, though, the brightness of the lights faded, and their path across the sky became slower, less urgent. Suddenly, one last vibrant streak of red seemed to rush at the plastiglass tube where they were standing.

The silence broke. There was a gasp of surprise, perhaps of fear. The light hovered, almost threateningly. Then it vanished suddenly. There was nothing left but a clear night sky. Clearer, Marijam thought, than she had ever seen it before. Was her mother right? Was the poison cloud shifting at last?

The noise that the people now made as they moved towards the lifts compensated for the earlier silence. There was an excited chatter. And all sorts of ideas about what might have caused the lights.

‘I bet it’s somebody from another planet,’ a young boy cried. ‘I bet they’ve got some guards up there that they didn’t tell us about. They’ve been zapped.’

‘It could just be some strange meteorite storm,’ the man with him replied.

‘I wouldn’t have thought they’d be that colourful, though,’ replied another man.

Marijam didn’t want to go back to the apartment. It would be too much of an anticlimax to go back to work. And she was not far from the Laguna, the nectar bar where people from her school level were encouraged to go to meet people of their own generation.

For once, anyway, Marijam felt the need to be amongst people, and drink some of the state-provided nectar with its mild mind-altering chemicals.

The Laguna was buzzing when she arrived. Marijam almost turned straight back. People she wanted, yes, but not this many. But she had to pause a moment to admire the granite walls. The Laguna, at least, was a real cave, unlike most of the man-made ones that inhabitants of Terrestra used as their homes. The ceiling was covered with a huge screen, which showed the picture taken from a camera up on the surface. You could almost believe that you were outside.

Marijam looked up at the sky. No, there was definitely no more sign of the lights. And yes, she was sure the sky did look clearer than normal.

‘Marijam!’ a voice suddenly called. ‘Over here!’

Marijam turned to see who had called her. A girl in a silver tunic and with purple hair was waving frantically at her. A whole group from her school unit were sitting in one of the alcoves. It was Sadie Rojens. They had once worked on a project together, though mainly via the dataserve.

‘So what do you think caused those lights?’ asked Sadie excitedly. ‘We’re just getting one or two ideas here.’

‘What would you like to drink, Marijam?’ said a male voice.

A tall boy who was now standing up next to the table. It was Rainer Elbman.  He looked quite elegant in his deep navy tunic. It looked as if it was made of wool and so must have been expensive.

‘Oh, er … a peach and melon, I think,’ said Marijam blushing slightly.

‘Hands off, he’s mine,’ Sadie hissed in her ear.

The thought had never occurred to Marijam.

‘Well, Marijam, what do you reckon?’ asked another masculine voice. Ponty Davidson. ‘What was all that about?’

Marijam felt herself flush. Ponty made a point of talking to her at every school meet. She always felt so awkward talking to boys, but with Ponty it was worse. He seemed to stifle her. She couldn’t work out what he wanted of her.

‘Do you think it’s the poison cloud going?’ she managed to mumble eventually.

‘Maybe,’ replied Ponty. ‘Or maybe it’s because one of the most delicious girls in our social group has decided to show off her assets at last.’

His pupils were wide open and she could feels his eyes first on her legs, and then on her breasts. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her towards him, nestling his nose into her hair. ‘Oh, and you smell so gorgeous too,’ he said. ‘Have you any idea, what you’re doing to me?’ he asked.

‘Put her down,’ said one of the other girls. ‘This is much more interesting.’

Marijam managed to wriggle free. She was surprised, though to see something different flash across Ponty’s face. There was something in his eyes. He looked almost as if he was going to cry.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Won’t you go out with me, though? I promise I’ll behave well.’

‘Oh look,’ said Marijam, as another bright flash chased across the sky.  When she turned back, Ponty had disappeared.

‘Well, I guess we’ll know soon enough, what’s been happening,’ said one of the other boys. ‘I bet the scientists are on to it already.’

‘They’ll be putting it up on the news screens soon, then we’ll know,’ said someone else.

Rainer placed her drink down in front of her.

‘Who’s that over there?’ he asked.

Marijam looked over to where he was pointing. It was a boy she had never seen before. His tunic was a little odd. Not really quite the usual shape. He was white but had much darker skin than she had ever seen before and his hair was much lighter than everybody else’s.

I don’t know, thought Marijam, but I wish I did. That odd, exciting feeling was beginning all over again. Her stomach was turning summersaults and her heart was racing. She held her breath until she really needed to breathe again.

Now she understood what Sadie was talking about. She took a sip of her peach and melon nectar.

The Tower Zandra

Gengis Hall 231 was just like any other meet venue that Kaleem had been in – either here on Zandra or on Terrestra. Boring, but particularly so when your meet partner was running late. Kaleem stared at the holoscene which showed through the window. At least it was convincing. You really felt as if you were looking at a view through a window, just like you might on Terrestra. It was storied from a real place: one of the infant forests, complete with bluebells, ice-bells and all the rest, one of the very forests that his father was working on.

He gets everywhere, thought Kaleem. He wished Edmundson would hurry up. He needed to find out what he wanted. He was beginning to imagine all sorts.

The dataserve whirred into life. Edmundson’s face appeared on the screen.

“Listen Kennedy,” he said. “I’m going to be another fifteen minutes at least. Load the stuff about acorn and vaccine exchange. You tell me what those statistics mean.”

“Of course,” said Kaleem.

Edmundson was still not giving anything away.   

The screen blanked over before Edmundson said goodbye. In fact, Kaleem, supposed, he probably hadn’t said goodbye. Edmundson never wasted time on superfluous words.  Before he even thought about what he’d been asked to do, the screen suddenly started showing the Supercraft at London Harbour and Zandra Dock 1. He was now watching similar scenes to the ones he’d seen yesterday. He didn’t bother, though, this time asking for the Figurescript version of the statistics. He was fairly certain that Edmundson couldn’t read Figurescript.

It was quite mesmerising listening to the robotic voiceover. “Day 116 3520, acorns imported 7500, vaccine exported 5679. Viability in package from day 116 3519 96%. Vaccine to date 97% effective. Forecast for new needs, Day 118 3520, 17,000 acorns, 18,644 doses of vaccine. Forecast for reciprocal needs met Day 220 3527…”

Goodness, if I ever can’t sleep, thought Kaleem, I’ll load some of this stuff up.

It struck him as he watched the split screen picture of London Harbour and Zandra Dock 1 that although Zandrian droids and Supercraft were not quite the same, there was more the same about them than different. The Supercraft were more or less the same shape and had the entrances in exactly the same places, the droids were the same height and walked in the normal slightly stiff manner and the metal containers being loaded at either end were exactly the same size, colour and shape, but the Zandrian ones had a green cross on them to show that they held medication and the Terrestrans had green hexagons to show that they contained plant life.

“Do you see what’s missing?” a voice behind him asked.

Kaleem jumped.

He turned to face Don Edmundson. The man was even scarier in the flesh than he was usually on screen. There was absolutely no expression on his face at all.

Kaleem shook his head. He just couldn’t think with Edmundson staring at him like that. 

“Doesn’t it strike you as odd that there are no people around?”

Kaleem looked back at the screen. Well there were people, but only a very few. Most of the work was being done by the droids.

“I mean, getting on and off the Supercraft,” said Edmundson.

“Forecast daily rate for this lunar period,” the robotic voiceover droned on.

“Fine, we know,” said Edmundson, looking pointedly at the dataserve screen.

The screen went blank immediately and the serve itself gave a final bleep.

Edmundson nodded to Kaleem that he should sit down and took one of the not-so comfisessels himself.

“Everything is going according to plan,” said Edmundson, “as far as acorns and vaccine are concerned. But another part of the bargain was a greater connection between the people of Zandra and Terrestra. I don’t see it happening.”  

“What do you mean exactly?” asked Kaleem.

“I mean that we need people, Terrestrans, to come to Zandra now. And we need to get Zandrians on Terrestra.”

Yes. Of course. Kaleem had known that all along. In fact that had even been his excuse for coming here. Or that was what he had told everyone including his parents and his grandparents: he was here on a Peace Child mission. He had to oversee the first visits to Zandra from Terrestrans and then increase the number of visitors from Terrestra to Zandra. There had been just a few – himself, his mother and the small team that had come across on the first mission to Zandra in search of the vaccine against the Starlight Racer disease. If he was honest, though, he had really come here to get away from Rozia and everything associated with her.

“Well? said Edmundson. “Do you have any concrete plans yet?”

“No,” said Kaleem. “You can imagine how carefully we have to tread with Terrestrans.”

“I don’t have to imagine,” replied Edmundson quickly. “It’s all too obvious. It was part of the original agreement that an exchange of persons as well as materials would actually take place. You and your mother are hardly enough. And besides, that is not an exchange: there are no Zandrians on Terrestra.”

Kaleem knew he was absolutely right. He would have to do something and soon. He would probably have to ask Razjosh for ideas.

“I suggest,” Edmundson continued, “a person exchange. Six people go from here to Terrestra, and meet with six Terrestran delegates. They travel back to Zandra with our people. Not too much to ask is it, just for a start?”

No, it wasn’t. But Kaleem knew he would be pushed to find six. Maybe Pierre and Stuart. Razjosh was too old really and probably wouldn’t count as he’d been before. Rozia, he knew, would come like a shot. He daren’t ask her, though. He wouldn’t be able to cope with her being there. Not now that she was with Julien. Abel and Kevik – but they were too busy in the Z Zone. Saratina maybe? But how would they react to her here? No, he shouldn’t think like that.

“Well?” asked Edmundson.

“It sounds reasonable,” said Kaleem. Reasonable but almost impossible.

“Good,” said Edmundson. “I’ll get Emmerline to show you the ideas we’d had.”

Kaleem shuddered. Edmundson’s secretary droid was famous. It was always difficult to remember that she wasn’t a real woman. She was so life-like and always carried so much authority. But of course, not being human she never tired.

The door swished open and in she came. Only the slightest jerkiness in her movements and the data that started streaming across the screen as she moved into the room gave away that she was a droid and not a sexy young woman. She moved her hips as she walked and her long straight blond hair flowed behind her as she moved. She was connecting directly with the dataserve, though. Soon images flickered and flashed making Kaleem blink. So, she was a droid after all.

“Data download is now complete,” said Emmerline. The voice was astoundingly human. No way was she a droid. Why was Edmundson the only one to have something as sophisticated as this? She tossed her sleek hair back and smiled at Kaleem and Edmundson. 

“Talk him through it,” said Edmundson.

“Yes, certainly.  A delegation of about six persons should go to Terrestra. Kaleem should help decide who. They should have a diplomatic tour, stay in a good hotel but also have direct contact with Normal Zoners and of at least one in the newly integrating Z Zone. They should have ample opportunity to sample Terrestran food…”

“What would you know about that?” whispered Kaleem. Droids didn’t need food – well at least not the same sort that humans needed.

“It’s a most important part of human life,” said Emmerline, staring at him. The pupils on her artificial eyes widened as if she was trying to take more of him in.

Great elders, she was scary. The scariest female that Kaleem had ever met… not that she was really female, he reminded himself. She was just a machine.

“Essential, in fact,” continued Emmerline. “Fundamental. And also extremely puzzling why food is so much better here on Zandra than on Terrestra where you have better raw materials.”

Kaleem had to concede that one. And he had no idea how they did it either.

“Naturally, we would also like to learn more about your diastics systems,” continued Emmerline. “My searches reveal the following academics may be able to give advice.”

Movie clips of Terrestran scientists showed for a few seconds each on the screen.

And to think all you need is microchips and some good programming, thought Kaleem.

“We would also like to arrange a discussion between the delegates and a committee made up of heads of service and elders. And yourself of course.” She flashed Kaleem another smile. She flicked her hair out of her eyes and her pupils grew even larger as if she were flirting with him.

For a few seconds Kaleem was almost convinced that she really was human and that it was just some trick of Edmundson’s and a female friend of his. Edmundson seemed to be finding it all extremely amusing.

“Show him the timetable,” he said to the droid. It was clear he could hardly keep his face straight. 

A chart immediately appeared on the data screen.

“These show the timings,” said Emmerline. “Red is for food discussion, blue for investigation of scientific matters, yellow for social activities and purple for further negotiation of the peace.”

Now Kaleem wanted to giggle. This was just too much. It was much too precise.

Edmundson suddenly looked stern.

“Stand-by,” he ordered Emmerline. “You see, she really is a droid.”

“No, no,” said Kaleem. “I just found it all too neat and tidy. You can’t do things that quickly.”

“Hmm,” said Edmundson. “But it ought to be a lot more focussed than you’re making it.” He turned back to the droid. “Continue,” he commanded. “Show Terrestrans on Zandra.”

A movie clip loaded on to the screen. Kaleem gasped. There were Pierre, Stuart, Saratina, Rozia, Sandi Depra and Ben Alki. They were here, on Zandra, looking at one of the oak plantations. Of course, why hadn’t he thought of those two? 

“It‘s all right,” said Edmundson. “She can read your mind.”

“But I never thought of Ben Alki or Sandi Depra,” Kaleem murmured.

“Good, isn’t she?” continued Edmundson. “She can even read your subconscious mind.” He was grinning.

Here we go, thought Kaleem. Another mission impossible.

The droid whispered something to Edmundson. The executive’s face went pale.

“Really? He said. He turned to Kaleem. “I’d get home as soon as possible if I were you. You don’t want to be caught here with me with what might be about to happen.” What was he talking about?

“Go on, I mean it,” said Edmundson, his face now red. “Skedaddle.”

Kaleem could see that he meant business. He set off home.