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Trin allowed conscience and desire to war within him momentarily. But conscience had never been his ally.

* * * *

Sole

manifestspace

watch‘m secrets

cleave’m thoughts/bring’m danger danger

lose’m thoughts/round round

make’m/absurd absurd

try’m other

threat threat/on little creature.

watch’m secrets

* * * *

TEKTON

‘What privacy issues, Tekton? I am told that Sole Entity encourages competition between the tyros. And, to put it frankly, tell someone who cares. As long as you turn up for your assigned scans, you are free to bitch as much as you like among yourselves.’

Bitch? BITCH! Tekton toyed with the idea of opening his robe to share his annoyance with the Chief Astronomein but the Balol scientist’s attention had already drifted back to the algorithm matrices rotating above his console.

Kick him, said his free-mind. Slice tiny bits from his neck frill and stuff them up his olfactory orifice. His logic-mind chipped in at this point with a cool observation that free-mind is exhibiting signs of extreme liberation, and warned Tekton that following its suggestions could be construed as psychotic behaviour. Oh, and…the astronomein clearly has no legislative power over the tyros.

In a rather disconsolate fashion Tekton made his daily pilgrimage to the ménage lounge.

To his surprise, Ra was there, playing 4D quoits with the uuli humanesquetarian specialist. Tekton hadn’t seen him for weeks. The only other person in the bar was a particularly unkempt individual that Tekton’s moud informed him was the famously famous Jo-Jo Rasterovich, mineral scout and Sole-discoverer.

Tekton experienced a surge of possibility that titillated both his minds.

‘Cousin,’ acknowledged Ra, amiably enough.

Tekton kept his tongue between his teeth lest he should hiss, and took a seat at the bar next to the scout.

‘May I introduce myself and procure you a drink?’

The scout shrugged in a confused, thuggish kind of way. Tekton tried not to recoil from the sickly aroma of freeze-dried cabbage that clung to him.

‘Jax and spritzer. And a teranu spliff,’ he mumbled.

No cannabis if I’m paying, Tekton told his moud. But put some adrenalin in the mixer—he seems half asleep.

The moud relayed the message to the bar.

When the two drinks arrived sans boosted cigarette, the scout didn’t seem to notice.

‘I am Godhead Tekton of archiTects and I believe, sir, that you are somewhat of an expert in the field of mineral discovery?’ said Tekton.

Jo-Jo took a sip and washed it around in his mouth. The movement displayed the elasticity of his skin and sent Tekton’s free-mind skittering after thoughts of Miranda Seeward’s jowls.

‘Can’t do, mate. Retired from all that, after all this.’ Jo-Jo waved his hand around to indicate Belle-Monde.

‘There would of course be some remuneration for any answers . . . any clues you might be able to give me.’

‘Cheap as I might look, mate, I don’t need your moolah.’

‘What do you need?’ Tekton was feeling unusually forthright—desperate, in fact.

Jo-Jo’s answer, or lack thereof, was drowned out by Miranda and Jise entering the lounge, arguing loudly.

Lovers’ spat, thought Tekton with a superior sniff and turned back to the scout.

Whether it was the effects of the adrenalin, Tekton could only guess, but suddenly Jo-Jo quivered with the alertness of a hunted animal. He stood and attempted to leave but stumbled backwards as if his body would not do as he told it—as if something held him firmly to the room.

His expletives were, thankfully, beyond the interpretation of Tekton’s moud. He grasped Tekton’s robe and dragged him close. ‘You know that woman?’ he whispered.

Tekton resisted pulling away, sensing that a bargaining point had presented itself. ‘Indeed. We are colleagues.’

‘She must not see me.’

Tekton pulled away a little and regarded the scout with a steely eye. ‘How interesting that suddenly we both have something that the other wants.’

Jo-Jo Rasterovich gulped his drink and huddled