carcass filled with crawling maggots. Maurice often wondered if the other planets in the Enemy Domain had the same feel.
When they had leave, Maurice joined the other humans and hopped onto a flier, heading far from the haunted mountains to the wild coastline, where he hoped the whipping breezes would blow the ghosts away.
Armstrong and Maurice had gone to one of the cafes that stood in line along the beach in the little village they had christened Raspberry.
“I hope that Douglas hasn’t brought his fiddle along,” complained Armstrong. “We can all play an instrument, and yet we have the good sense not to. Why don’t these people leave the job to the experts? Let the AIs play for us.”
“Exactly,” Maurice agreed. “We get enough of music at school. Here, I’ll get you a beer.” He headed for one of the crates dumped at the back of the room.
There were other people sitting at the metal tables, looking out at the spit of land across the bay, a rugged grey line between the blue water and the freshly laundered clouds in the blue sky above. The Von Neumann Machines had never made it down the spider-web bridge that ran from the AI’s base in the mountains to the coast. The construction of the houses and bars intended to help house the nineteen million had been left half completed.
“Here you are,” Maurice said, handing a beer to Armstrong. They twisted the caps and felt the bottles chilling in their hands.
“Do you know what I feel like doing?” Armstrong said. “I feel like getting drunk. It’s nice to be able to do just that without anyone telling you about the danger to your health.”
Maurice laughed in agreement. “Or having someone discreetly replace your drink with nonalcoholic lager,” he added. “You’ll never manage it, though. Social Care will be in later on. Rebecca, or one of the Stephanies.”
“Hah! I’ll be too far gone by then. Aren’t you going to join me?”
“Yeah.” Maurice smiled. “I think I might.”
Armstrong gulped down beer and gave a yeasty belch. “I don’t see why not, anyway,” he said, pressing his hand to his stomach. “You won’t get the chance when your tour here is done. Once you’re back on a regular planet, SC’ll be monitoring you day and night. I tell you, what the Watcher is doing on Earth at the moment will soon be the norm on all the other planets. Soon we won’t be able to even think unhealthy thoughts.”
Maurice laughed and gulped down more beer.
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help overhearing you.”
For a moment, Maurice thought that the stranger who had unobtrusively joined them at their table was one of the nineteen million embryos. Tired of waiting for its long-delayed birth, it had ripped itself from the ground and made its way into the land of light and warmth. The newcomer was exquisite, gorgeous in an otherworldly way. His skin was the color of lacquered wood; he wore a loose raw-silk shirt and three-quarter–length trousers the color of yellow cream; his hair was braided and beaded and tied back to accentuate his high cheekbones and deep brown eyes. He wore a handwoven bracelet on his left wrist; the straps on his sandals were woven in the same way. He looked cool and relaxed in the warm, beer-scented air of the bar. Armstrong had no imagination, however. He saw the stranger for what he was: just another man and a potential challenger. He leaned back in his chair, allowing his combat jacket to fall open, displaying his oiled chest and flat stomach. He gave the stranger a cold stare.
“You Social Care?”
“No.” The stranger smiled. “I’m the complete opposite. My name is Claude. I wondered if you would be interested in joining us?” He pointed to a group of people sitting at a table at the far end of the bar. “We’re playing the n-string game. Have you heard of it?”
“No.” Armstrong took a gulp of beer.
Claude’s smile widened. “You may enjoy it. It might just change your life.”
Maurice was recovering from his first surprise at seeing Claude. Now, for some reason, he longed to reach out and touch the dappled cream silk of the man’s shirt, it looked so cool. There was something about Claude that fascinated him.
“Why don’t we go over?” he asked. “It could be interesting.”
