CAPACITY

temperature of the section beyond.

“This will probably be the last time we do this,” Judy said. “My own section will be gone in a few days.”

“There will be other sections,” Frances said.

Judy rose to her feet. “Yes, but why should it be that way? You heard what Kevin said.”

“Kevin is an expert at manipulating emotions.”

“So am I,” said Judy darkly.

Since their departure that morning, the World Tree had been draped in black and red ribbons. Red and orange petals drifted down from above, forming a thick carpet on the ground. The silver-mirrored entrance to the docking area was set in a shallow depression in the grass, and Judy and Frances found they had to wade through the drift of stuff that had settled there, kicking their way over the smooth lawn that formed the base of this section.

“I should change in honor of the tree,” Judy said, looking down at her kimono.

“Later.” Frances craned her head upwards. As a bodiless AI, she had viewed this section from every possible angle. Even so, to walk out here onto the grass and see the silver-grey trunk of the World Tree, sliding up from the green lawn some 200 meters from where she stood, was to see a smooth grey wall rising to heaven. Frances had seen a cross section of the Shawl: in that picture the tree seemed thin and elongated compared to its surroundings. The upper apartments lining the section walls needed ramps and walkways to link them to the tree itself, but seen from here, looking up…

Frances craned to see the long white banners spelling out messages in different languages trailing from the undersides of the branches. With her enhanced vision she could make out fireworks strapped to the tree, and she laughed at the sheer exuberance of the gesture. The tree was going to burn up as it reentered the atmosphere, but why stop there? Would Sukara and Lemuel and Cadence get the joke? She doubted it. Sometimes you had to become human-size to think human-size thoughts and realize how big the universe was in comparison. Only then could you measure yourself against it.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “maybe you’re right. Maybe we should change.”

“No,” Judy said, striding towards the spiral ramp that led up the World Tree, “there will be time for that later. Come on. David Schummel lives about halfway up the tree.”

Frances picked up on her friend’s unspoken words. They were there, written in her brain, obvious to all.

“I don’t think it is a coincidence that David Schummel lives here, Judy.”

“Do you think that Kevin was really looking for him?”

“I think so. Which means someone else was expecting you to go looking for him.”

“Chris?”

“I think so.”

“And just forty-eight hours before my home dies. Do you think that’s significant?”

Frances said nothing. She could read Judy’s fears clearly and she didn’t want to add to them. It was difficult to think otherwise, when it was written all around them. They were now walking past a long banner, black Gothic letters against the white fabric.

Earth to Earth. Ashes to Ashes. Dust to Dust

David Schummel was eighty-two, but he looked older. His stomach bulged; the rest of his body was too thin, his legs seeming lost inside the baggy legs of his trousers, while his thin wrists were arthritic knots emerging from white cuffs. His pink scalp could be seen through thin white hair, and white stubble grew untidily on his gaunt face. He walked unsteadily, using handles fixed to the walls to support himself, as he led them through the hallway into his living area.

Judy gazed at him in awe, and a treacherous thought began curling and uncurling in her mind. Look at him; he can’t walk. Gravity is killing him. The thought curled around itself for a moment or two, and then it was back. We’re in space, so why does he live at full gravity?

The answer was obvious: because the Shawl was set to simulate full gravity.

Ah, but why? But why?

“Social Care?” David Schummel licked his lips as if tasting the words. “Social Care. Ah, yes. I remember you Judy-you used to come and play poker at the social center.” He gave a cackling laugh. “I never joined you. I never understood why anyone would be stupid enough to play a game of bluff against a member of SC.”

Judy looked at him and wondered. Did she remember him? A grey-haired old man playing cards with the children and adults at the compulsory mixer sessions?

There you are: there’s a reason for the Watcher. Ensuring that we all look after each other, learn about each other. That’s what the Watcher has done for us. Mixer sessions and parties, the old and the young together. No crime. No fear. No loneliness.

Ah, said the treacherous thought, but since when did it become a debate? You always assumed that the Watcher was there for the good of humankind. So why do you now begin to doubt that?

Because I’m doped up on MTPH. It’s having the old effect: schizophrenia. Multiple personalities are fighting to possess me.

Look at David Schummel easing himself into that chair with his arthritic joints. Why? Why does he have to do that? I thought we’d cured arthritis. Why do we still have it here in the twenty-third century?

Judy turned to Frances, but the robot’s big blue eyes were fixed on David Schummel. Not that that meant anything, of course, since that dome of a head just had eyes painted on. You never knew what Frances was looking at. Frances was actually watching her. Judy knew it.

“I don’t remember you, Frances,” Schummel said. His eyes traveled down to the pubic buttons between her legs. “I’m sure I would have remembered you, if we had met.” He made a thin, wracking cough. “Now, what is it about this time? My new apartment again, I suppose. Well, I’m leaving. I’ve not got much choice, have I? Stay here and plunge to my death or start again at the top. Well, I’ll tell you this: I’ll make it around the cycle again, and maybe next time I’ll just stay here at the end. Let myself just drop and burn. That would be a good end.”

Judy smiled weakly. The effect of the drug seemed to be increasing again; her thoughts were following their own paths.

“A good end.” She smiled. “Yes, maybe that would be.” She forced herself to concentrate. “But that’s not what we’re here about.” With some difficulty, she resumed her impassive expression. “I want to ask you about Justinian Sibelius.”

Schummel’s arms and legs trembled constantly, and yet there was a strange sort of stillness around him. Judy sensed a mix of emotions: fear, elation, but mostly she sensed relief. He licked his lips, and a spot of drool formed at the corner of his mouth. Frances leaned forward and gently wiped it away.

“Justinian Sibelius?” Schummel said. “So, the secret is finally out. I wonder what made them change their mind? I suppose whatever was in M32 must finally be catching up with us. The world really is coming to an end.”

Judy knelt on the floor before him. She closed her eyes for a moment, grateful for the chance to be off her feet-she felt so dizzy-and then she took a deep breath and took both his hands. They felt dry and cold.

“The world is coming to an end?” she said. “Why do you think that?”

“Because the fact that you are here suggests to me that they have finally found us. The Watcher must be getting ready to abandon this world before we all commit suicide. Or worse.”

Judy pulled a little red pill from her sleeve. She handed it to him.

“Here,” she said. “I’d like you to take this.”

David took the pill without hesitation, then sat back on the chair. Judy slipped out another pill for herself. The