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A crying drunk, said Tekton’s free-mind. Disgusting!

But useful, countered logic-mind. Drunker the better when it comes to secrets.

Tekton ordered Connit another beer, this time with a shot of fatta extract. Fatta extract was expensive but as tasteless as vodka and was known for its numbing effect on the humanesque amygdala.

‘It sounds as if you need a sabbatical. Or perhaps a visit with your family? That is ... I don’t know where you come from but it can’t be too far. Orion is rather small.’

Connit slurped down the fatta-laced beer, none the wiser. ‘No. No ... Impossible!’ He shook his head vehemently.

Why not? Tekton wondered. The tyros were free to go anywhere, anytime, unless their sponsors had set restrictions. Tekton’s main sponsor was GOHI and his minor sponsor was his studium. He imagined the others had similar arrangements.

Moud, who is Labile Connit’s sponsor?

The Group of Higher Intelligence.

And?

Tekton sipped his juice while he waited for the moud to answer. Really, it was bordering on the ineffectual as bio-ware went.

Godhead, there seems to be an anomaly in my information.

Yes?

Godhead Connit’s co-sponsor is stated as being an industrial company called CGE.

And who in-a-Lostols-fine-skin are they?

I have searched the Orion companies register and they do not appear to exist.

Aha! gloated logic-mind. A secret!

‘What programme entertains you so, Labile?’ Tekton enquired.

Connit scowled and turned the table-screen off abruptly. He drew shapes in the spilled beer and didn’t bother to answer.

Moud?

The station AI informs me that Godhead Connit has been streaming Unbound broadcasts.

Unbound? Tekton had heard of Unbound—vaguely. Where do they emanate from?

There is no proven point of origin though it is commonly held that they originate from Consilience.

‘How interesting,’ Tekton murmured.

‘Whassat?’ slurred Connit.

Tekton realised that he’d spoken aloud and smiled blandly at the Geneer. ‘What is what?’

‘What’d you shay?’

‘Perhaps you should get some sleep, my dear Connit, for I said nothing at all.’ Tekton smiled again and excused himself.

On the taxi ride home he flipped things between his minds.

Why would one of Orion’s top Geneers be watching streams originating from Consilience? And why would he not be able to visit his family?

Logic-mind was of the opinion that Connit was showing all the symptoms of dislocation syndrome.

Dislocation syndrome. Pah! said free-mind. He’s lonely and he’s hiding something.

When he got back to his quarters, Tekton told his moud to stream Unbound to his viewing screen. He spent impatient minutes while the moud ran lists of the programmes broadcast in the last hour through the myriad of sub-broadcasts that came through the Unbound node. The political propaganda from the countless groups uncensored by the OLOSS charter was at worst unintelligible and at best sinister.

Tekton felt a moment’s relief that OLOSS had a powerful military force to suppress such anarchical tendencies among sentients. Those insufferable Extropists perpetuated much of this lawless behaviour. He wondered if they realised that in their desire for post-humanesque evolution they had swayed dangerously close to anti-humanesque. How peeved they must be by the appearance of Sole.

‘Narrow the search. Reject “authentic war” and ‘‘combat injury”.’

The feed dropped to a more manageable ten thousand channels. Tekton continued refining his search based on the glimpse he’d had across the viewing table in the Mélange bar. With five hundred channels left he began to question the fruitfulness of what he was doing. What was he expecting to find? Why was he even bothering?

No good reason, said logic-mind.

Searching for a clue, said free-mind.

A clue to what? What had suddenly so intrigued him about the recalcitrant and graceless Geneer?

Tekton left the screen and went to his bed where he disrobed and ordered the room into complete darkness. There he let thoughts percolate in his mind for a time,