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‘Time for the news,’ Mary said. Janis looked around for a TV screen.

Mary smiled. ‘We roll our own,’ she said.

She cleared a space in the electronic clutter, sat down, adjusted a light, and suddenly was a professional-looking newscaster, expertly patching together agency material with jerky head-camera stuff from comrades on demonstrations, in street fights, unionizing space rigs, crawling through dangerous industrial processes…Janis, watching it on a monitor, was rather unwillingly impressed. Most defence agencies televised their own activities and used the results as both crime programme and self-advertisement, but this group seemed to be trying to make a genuine political intervention as well.

‘How many subscribers have you got?’ she asked when Mary had signed off.

Mary shook out her hair, which she’d tied back for her screen image. ‘A few hundred,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t bring in much, except when one of the bigger opposition networks picks up something we’ve put out. Lots of groups do it, swap stories and ideas and so on all the time, on the net. Gets to people who don’t want to sift through all that but don’t want to rely on the standard filters.’

‘All the anti-UN groups feed off each other,’ Moh said. ‘It’s a global conspiracy of paranoids. The Last International.’

Mary shot him a black look from under her black hair.

‘Janis is all right,’ Moh said. The banter had gone out of his voice. Mary looked at him for a moment, frowning, then turned to Janis with a smile that didn’t hide her embarrassment.

‘No offence?’ she said. Janis shook her head, feeling she’d missed something. Before she could ask what it was Moh said: ‘Oh well, might as well see what the other side has to say.’

The main news filters were, for once, agreed about what the lead item was: Turkish troops had fired on a demonstration on Sofia. The Russians had warned that they shared a ‘Christian and orthodox heritage’ (or, on some readings, ‘Orthodox’; war critics earnestly debated whether they meant Orthodox Christian or orthodox Communist) with the Bulgars and would not tolerate indefinitely these outrages. The President of Kurdistan was shown boarding a KLM Tupolev for Moscow on what was officially described as a routine meeting with the President of the Former Union.

Mary made a gloating O-sign and left.

The news item about the day’s software disruptions, now irremovably pinned on the cranks, came well after the news about a US/UN warning to a Japanese car company.

‘Not a word about wildcard AIS and smart drug breakthroughs,’ Moh said as he switched the screen off. ‘Knew it. Capitalist media cover-up!’

‘Didn’t see anything in your alternative media,’ Janis said.

‘Lucky for us.’

‘Yeah…Aren’t you going to tell the…comrades anything about all of that?’

Moh scratched his head. ‘Not as such.’

‘Hardly comradely, is it?’

‘Oh, but it is. It’d be difficult to explain, and they don’t need to know. It wouldn’t lessen any danger they might be in. Might even increase it, what you don’t know can’t be—’

Can’t be got out of you, she thought. She nodded sombrely.

‘So what are we going to do?’

‘There was this guy I met years ago, name of Logan. A space-rigger who was grounded. He was in the Fourth International—’

In response to her puzzled look, Moh dipped his finger in a splash of wine on the table and traced the hammer-and-sickle-and-4 while saying, ‘Tiny socialist sect, would-be world socialist party. Trotskyists. Same organization as my father was in. Logan was kind of intrigued to meet me. It was like…he was expecting something from me. He asked me if I knew about the “Star Fraction”. He was in the space fraction. That was something else.’

‘Sounds close enough,’ Janis smiled, trying to cheer him up. ‘A different faction, perhaps?’

‘Not the same thing. Faction and fraction. Not the same thing.’

‘What’s the difference?’

‘You can have a faction inside a fraction,’ he told her with self-mocking pedantry, ‘but not a fraction inside a faction.’

‘That really clears it up. Why can’t you have a—’

‘Democratic