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No. But...

Jo-Jo was forced to launch into his patter, which he delivered while he tried to follow the sub-channelling. Annoyingly, most of it had stopped or had dropped below his auditory level. The Convocation, it seemed, were captivated by his story.

To his relief the speaker called for a break before question time.

Jo-Jo leapt from his chair. Nausea from the rapid reality switch burned its way up his oesophagus. He burped it out and called for the uuli escort.

‘What is it?’ Catchut was standing behind him, blinking and clutching his stomach. ‘What happened?’

‘Msr?’ The uuli escort appeared from inside the chamber.

‘There is talk of a shooting in the Heijunka district. Where can I find out more about it?’

The uuli took some time to reply. ‘There is a public viewer outside the chamber should you wish to access public news.’

‘Show me.’

The uuli slid ahead of them, back through the small antechambers and out into a heavily trafficked section.

Jo-Jo ran past it to the closest ‘cast node but the queues wound back for half a mesur into the CBD.

Catchut was breathing in his ear. ‘What in fuckin’ cruxsakes are you—’

‘Another one. I need another ‘cast.’

‘There is another one behind the water tower,’ volunteered the uuli. It had caught up with them and was contorting in and out of shape, as if agitated.

Jo-Jo, followed by Catchut, ran the short distance to the node behind a large cylindrical tank. He thumbed the shortcast into action and began searching the feeds. The story was logged in Gal, between unverified reports that the Arrivals Bell was being closed while The Families investigated the flood of Extropists onto the mesa-worlds, and a notice that the TAFTers’ Convocation was in progress.

Jo-Jo opted for audio only and peeled an earpiece from the dispenser. He listened carefully to the report and then placed a query.

The reply was quick. ‘The identity of the archiTect is not public information at this time.’

Jo-Jo cued up the unverified sources. ‘Potential identification?’ he asked.

They all returned the same educated guess. ‘Tekton of Lostol.’

Jo-Jo reeled back. ‘Well, fuck me, Carnage Farr. Did your System Device predict that?’

Then a thought slapped him across the head. He blanked out the feed and stepped away from the ‘caster. Farr hadn’t shown him a tool for forecasting at all—he didn’t want to predict the future, he wanted to shape it. It was a Bifurcation Device. And where in Crux had he got the technology for that?

Realisation became a throb in his temple. There was only one possible answer—

‘Rasterovich!’

It was Catchut, with Rast Randall standing beside him.

‘Saw the Capo on the other side of the node.’

Jo-Jo glanced around. ‘Where are Beth and the Baronessa?’

Rast hesitated. There was a shifty look in her eyes that could have been guilt. ‘I got called away to do some business. Sent ‘em back straight back to the ‘zoon. Only...’

‘Only what?’ Jo-Jo demanded.

‘Only I just tried to ‘cast them. Can’t get a reply.’

MIRA

According to the tourist guide in Mira’s ear, the markets that populated the Rho Six docks never closed. Vendors replenished their stocks from flat-backed automons which meandered down the rows with arrogant lack of concern for the passing foot traffic.

Mira was overwhelmed by the collision of pungent smells and the colours and shapes of the myriad sentient forms. She found herself wanting to reach for Bethany’s hand like a child afraid of losing its mother in a crowd. She had craved to see such a place but now, confronted by it, she was terrified.

‘Siphonophores. Incredible,’ breathed Bethany as a group of nearly transparent creatures passed by them. ‘Their feet are so fluid it’s as though they are floating.’

Mira glanced at the pale suckered rippling flaps of skin that flowed across the floorspace. ‘They look amphibious.’

‘Probably were,’ said Rast Randall. ‘The Extros would have modified them when they stole their bodies.’

‘Then it is true?’ exclaimed Mira.