2 Bristol

Bristol had been hit hard by the Chaos, and by the years that followed, its population falling to almost zero. But in the last two and a half decades it had been re-built, the old remains bulldozed to the ground and the invading grassland cleared. Now it was at the centre of one of the fastest growing regions in the country, home to nearly sixty thousand people and over one hundred thousand coders.

I reduced power and bought the air-car down in a gentle hover towards the cluster of hangers nestled beside the largest of the five domes. One of the drab, concrete roofs slid open and I dropped the car through the gap and onto the pad below.

The Park occupied the entire land area of the main dome, the other four being reserved for small-scale food production. Elegant paved paths lined with flower-beds arced between the scattered mounds that were the only visible sign of the city buried beneath the earth. Around me the park was full of citizens enjoying its pleasures. Couples strolled between the trees, oblivious to all around them, while in the clearings groups of young people played a variety of ball games, carefully avoiding the families enjoying picnics served by their coder servants.

I eventually found the chess boards in a small secluded copse near the eastern edge of the dome. There were ten of them, built into solid granite benches; but only three people were sitting at them - two boys apparently locked in a close-fought game, and an older man who sat alone, three tables down from them. I walked over to the old man's table and sat down opposite him. I figured there was no point loitering and looking suspicious.

"Want a game?" I queried. The old man nodded and flicked open the small case that lay on the table, indicated the white pieces placed within it, then began setting up the black pieces on his side of the board. I grabbed a handful of the white pieces and began setting them up, trying to remember where they went.

"Your move," he announced. He was old, probably in his seventies at least, if not older, and wore simple, but well-made, robes. Beside him, a thin wooden cane was leaned carefully against the table. I turned my attention to the chess board - realising I'd better make this look good. Link.

Sapphire: 11:24:25> Activated.

I'm playing chess, and I'm the white player. Where should I move?

Sapphire: 11:24:34> Is the game just starting?

Yes.

Sapphire: 11:24:35> Try pawn on e2 to e4.

I took a guess on the coordinate system and pushed the piece forward. The old man thought for a moment then advanced the pawn opposite mine.

Okay, he's moved the pawn on e7 to e5. I think.

Sapphire: 11:24:46> Move the bishop on f1 to c4.

Do you know what you're doing?

Sapphire: 11:24:52> Yes.

I picked up the bishop and swung it across the squares. The old man leant forward, resting his chin on his hands, and examined the board.

"An interesting move. So interesting that I think I'll do the same." He moved his bishop forward, depositing it on the square in front of mine." He leaned back and looked me straight in the eye. "So lad, what brings you to Bristol?"

I placed a finger on one of the pawns as if thinking about a move, and - attempting to sound casual - asked, "How do you know I'm new here?"

"Oh I know many things," he chuckled. "I know the faces of most of the people who live here. And I also know someone who's never been in this park before, when I see them wondering about lost." He stopped speaking for a moment to pull out a battered wooden pipe and a leather pouch from his robes. "A disgracefully old-fashioned habit I know, but one I'm rather partial to. Mind you, it was old fashioned when I was your age." He smiled wistfully and with infuriating slowness began to laboriously fill the pipe with tobacco from the pouch. Then he paused and waved the pipe towards me.

"I don't suppose you'd care to partake?"

"Erm... no thanks, I don't..."

He continued pressing the tobacco into the bowl of the pipe. "No. I suppose you're into these new-fangled drugs."

I gave an ambiguous shrug, but he ignored me and carried on.

"Now, what's that latest one called. Oh, I heard it just the other day. Now what was the name." He stopped and looked straight at me, an expression of horror on his face. "Well come on man, make your move. Haven't got all day you know!"

What the hell did he move? I thought. Oh yeah, that was it.

He moved the bishop on f8 to c5.

Sapphire: 11:26:06> Move the queen to h5.

The old man appeared not to notice the move. "Now what was it called? Scarlet, that was it. Scarlet thingumajig."

"Scarlet Sunset," I drawled, supplying the answer.

"Scarlet Sunrise," he shouted in triumph, "that was it."

I didn't bother correcting him.

"So that's your vice is it?" he asked, a smile playing across his face.

"Well, no actually," I replied, feeling awkward. I looked around to see if anyone else had arrived, but we were still alone except for the two boys.

"Never trust a man without vices. That's what I've always said." He pulled a heat stick from his pocket, flicked it on and pressed the glowing end into the bowl of the pipe. "It was heroin in my day, and cocaine, you know. And they were illegal, would you believe?" He sucked loudly on the stem of the pipe. "That was a long time ago, my boy, such a long time ago. Before the Chaos..."

He paused and looked around, a far-away look in his pale, blue eyes. "I was already a young man when the Chaos began." Then he stared straight at me. "Do you know what it's like to walk outside, to breathe the fresh air, to feel the sun on your skin and not have to worry about cancer? Do you know what it's like to feel rain on your face and not worry about it's chemical balance?" He paused, then shouted, "Well do you!"

I shook my head.

"No you don't, do you?" He slumped down into the bench, fanning himself. "Damn heat! No, you've lived all your life under one of these monstrosities," he shouted, waving his hand at the silvery skin of the dome above us. "So much lost," he muttered to himself. I said nothing, not wishing to get involved in the lonely ramblings of a senile old man. After a few moments he roused himself.

"Still, no use dwelling on the past, eh? Now what was that move." He leant forward, resting on his elbows, looked at the chessboard for a few moments and then moved his knight out behind his bishop. "Yes, that should do nicely." He smiled in satisfaction, then looked back to me and took a deep puff from his pipe.

"So. What brings you to our fair city. Would you be looking for something, or should that be someone?"

Suspicion flared within me. "Why do you think I'm looking for someone?" I asked, the words carefully weighted.

"Because everyone is looking for either someone or something. Now let me make a guess. You came here to find someone, to meet someone. Someone who you thought might be here. Someone who could give you answers. But instead you found me. Would I be right?"

What the hell? I thought. This was no senile old man, and I was starting to get the distinct feeling that someone somewhere knew a lot more about what was happening than I did. His eyes opened wide in fright and surprise, as I knocked the pipe from his hands, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him onto the table. Behind us the two boys continued with their game, completely oblivious to the old man's distress.

"Now you listen, old man! I could happily break your neck right now. So think very carefully about what you say. What the hell is going on?"

He looked at me, confused now rather than frightened.

"My dear boy, I really didn't mean to upset you. Now if you'll just put me down, I'm sure I can satisfy your curiosity."

I let him go and settled back into my seat.

"Ok. Talk. Who the hell are you?"

"Would you believe just an old man who knows many people? Some of whom seem to think that this foolish old man might actually know something of value."

I didn't, but I let it go. "Were you waiting for me?"

"Yes. I was asked to you see. They knew someone was coming to meet us, and they thought that perhaps an old man like me was the best choice."

"And what were you supposed to do?"

"To check you out I suppose. They didn't actually explain."

"And have you?"

"I think you'll pass," he chuckled.

"How did they know I was coming?"

Again he stared straight into my eyes. "I don't know, I really don't. I'm just an old man on the fringes of things, someone they sometimes ask for advice. Do you want to continue with your search?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I don't know where it is you're going, or what it is you want to do. But I do know one thing. These are dangerous worlds you're moving in. Possibly a lot more dangerous than you imagine. So, do you want to continue?"

I nodded.

His voice changed now, suddenly business-like. "Go to the Temple of Love in the Plaza. One of the girls who works there belongs to our group. She calls herself Paris. Tell her that Twilight sent you." He settled back and took a long drag from his pipe.

I got up to go, but he motioned for me to stop, pointing at the board. "My dear boy, you haven't taken your move."

He moved knight b8 to c6.

Sapphire: 11:26:06> Queen to f7. Checkmate.

I stood up, leaning over the board, and moved the queen forward with a flourish to take the pawn. "Checkmate."

The Plaza was spectacular; a ten storey deep atrium stretching deep into the ground, greenery engulfing every available surface. Gleaming escalators criss-crossed the huge open space, while bullet-like scenic elevators glided silently up and down. I walked over to the rail at the edge of the top balcony, and looked down at the tiny figures walking across the marbled floor, ten levels below. Sited in the centre of the atrium's base was a sculpted stone fountain pumping six jets of water high into the air, the hiss of the water as it fell back to the surrounding pool contrasting perfectly with the recorded background chanting; an effect both beautiful and serene.

I stopped for a moment and thought, realising that I'd better not go straight to my destination, since that would make the task of any trackers rather too simple. It would be better to sample some of the delights of the glittering Plaza first. I strode forward onto the first of the escalators and began to ride down.

Diamonds crunched underfoot as I staggered in a haze of pain through the darkened forest. Above me crimson tinged clouds writhed across a stormy sky. I activated a glowstick and held it up, hoping that it would penetrate thought the thick, cold air. It flickered into life, the tip glowing white, but then it died and all was dark again.

I stopped and drew a long, deep breath into my protesting lungs, feeling the fire spreading through my chest.

"You're bleeding," said Tasha. I turned to face her. She shone in the moonlight, her blond locks touched with scarlet, her dress flapping gently in the wind.

"Help me!" I pleaded, calling over to her. "Please god help me!"

"From what?" asked Jenny in reply. She looked more beautiful than I ever recalled, her cropped blond hair only emphasising her high cheekbones.

I stumbled towards her, across a landscape of diamonds that blazed like ten thousand tiny suns; but the further I walked, the further away she seemed. In the distance a rolling peel of thunder echoed across the world. "Help me please!" I cried, feeling blood pouring from a thousand cuts. "Why won't you help me?"

"Because you hurt me," said Tasha.

"I never meant to hurt you!"

"But you did," replied Jenny.

"I'm sorry!"

"I loved you," said Jenny.

"I know!"

"I could love you," pleaded Tasha.

I screamed once more, and sank to my knees, anger beginning to channel through my veins. "Why won't you help me?"

Around her the diamonds began to swirl, rising, forming a silvery whirlwind, that enveloped her from head to foot. She lifted her arms, in ecstasy.

"You never wanted my help," said Jenny from within the whirlwind.

"I could help you," called Tasha.

"You never needed my help," accused Jenny.

"I want to help you," moaned Tasha.

"You never accepted my help," snarled Jenny.

"I need to help you," demanded Tasha.

I pointed at her accusingly, "You need my citizenship, nothing more, nothing less."

The diamonds swirled once more, coalesced, and formed into a knife; a knife of diamonds; a knife that glittered from a thousand points. It floated, warily circling around her, then moved forward in a blinding series of slashes, moving faster that the eye could follow. Cuts began appearing across her belly, a score of bloody lines criss-crossing her ivory skin. The knife swept in again, moving in deeper arcs now, penetrating deep into her.

"I need you," she screamed.

"You never needed me," cried Jenny, bleeding from a hundred wounds, the blood floating around her in tiny droplets as though in zero-gravity. More and more blood poured from her as she transformed into Tasha...

"You won't help me,"

...to Jenny...

"You wouldn't help me,"

...to Tasha...

"You can't help me,"

...to Jenny...

"You couldn't help me!"

The globules of blood began to rotate now, spinning around her faster and faster, merging into thin, stretched rings.

"You couldn't help me!"

The rings spun faster, widened, merged, and then exploded - hurling a wave of blood that covered my face and hair. I wiped the sticky liquid from my eyes and looked up. They were gone, and I was alone once more.

"Don't leave me!" I wailed, "please don't leave me. Come back!" My bleeding hands clawed furiously at the point where they had stood, anger giving me new strength. A hand touched my shoulder, withdrawing as I turned. It was Henderson, standing motionless, just a few metres from me.

"Why did you do it?" I implored.

He stood still, looking through me as though I did not exist.

"Why couldn't you just let me go?"

Nothing.

"Why have you sent them after me Father? Why?"

I sat back in the padded chair, trying not to become distracted by the incessant tapping of the stylus on the comp-pad. At last the women spoke.

"Now just a last few questions." She swivelled her chair around to face me. "When you were talking to the girls, how did you feel?"

I shrugged and made a face. "Well, frustrated I suppose. I needed help, and they wouldn't help me."

"Why did you need help?" she questioned, the stylus again tapping on the pad.

"How should I know, you're the fucking dream interpreter!"

She looked at me coldly. "Should I take that to mean that in the dream you were unaware of why you needed help, only that you needed it."

"Yes." I spun my chair away from her, examining the cramped interior of the Dream Parlour. Behind me lay the couch, a smooth leather construction with a tangle of wires at the head end. I shuddered slightly and turned back, fingering the tender spots on my temples where the 'trodes had been attached, the 'trodes that had triggered the dream. The women looked up from her pad.

"Were you angry with the two women?"

"I suppose so."

She scribbled a few notes on the pad. "And how would you describe the way they were behaving?"

"They were acting pretty strange - screaming and crying." Even now, it was painful to remember.

"Would you describe them as acting hysterically?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"Right. I think that's all I need to know." She made a last few notes, and sat back. "The meaning's quite clear. Expect trouble, and quarrels with friends. That's indicated by the feeling of abandonment, the blood, the light going out, the clouds and thunder, the red light, the knife, the diamonds and the fact that you saw your father but he wouldn't talk to you. The forest indicates a possibility of misfortune and disgrace. The interesting thing is the fact that the girls were hysterical. This is a warning not to be persuaded to act against your wishes." She looked up, waiting for my reaction.

Great, I thought, slumping back into the chair. To be honest, it wasn't exactly a surprise, but to have it confirmed was rather depressing. I was roused from my thoughts by the concerned voice of the woman.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news Mr Smith. Is there anything I can do?"

"No," I replied wearily. I was hurtling down shit-creek and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. "No," I confirmed, "but thanks anyway." I stood up, shook her outstretched hand and left, walking through the empty waiting room and back into the plaza.

"What exactly were you looking for?" asked the agent from behind his old-fashioned spectacles.

I considered for a moment. "What are the choices?"

The agent looked at his notes. "You say you want a domestic model?"

"Yeah, basically." I shrugged. "Cooking, cleaning. That sort of thing."

The agent nodded, cleared his throat, and scrutinised his notes. "Now, I don't mean to make any impolite suggestions Mr Smith," he assured me, clearly embarrassed, "but do you have a regular partner?"

"No, I live alone," I replied smiling, knowing what he meant. He relaxed, relieved that I had not taken any offence from the query.

"In that case would you be interested in one of our more attractive models?" he asked, then added, "I'm presuming you're interested in a female."

"Yeah, I suppose so," I responded. "But only as an extra. Effectiveness and utility are my primary requirements."

"Of course sir," he spluttered. "Now you say you want effectiveness. That does rather imply a reasonable degree of intelligence, perhaps even no mental retardation at all?"

I nodded. "I want someone who can do a bit more than burn toast."

He ground out a forced chuckle. "So to summarise," he announced, consulting his notes, "you require a domestic model with no degree of retardation, perhaps with some training in catering and other domestic tasks. Additionally she should at least be moderately attractive."

"I'd like a good personality too," I interrupted. The agent looked shocked.

"Mr Smith," he barked, "all the models we offer have placid, non-aggressive personalities. Any genes causing bad personality traits are edited out before creation."

"Of course," I apologised, holding my palms up. "I simply meant that I want someone who won't just sit in the corner like a pot-plant." He glared at me, shocked now in a different way. I could guess why. Someone I could screw - that was fine. Hell, for all I knew he might have had a stunner of his own, tucked away in a box somewhere at his place. But someone you could talk to, now that, in his mind was really sick.

"Good personality," he tutted, scribbling on the comp-pad. He looked at me, "you realise that your requirements will be impossible to fulfil with an off-the-shelf model. You'll need a custom model - and that will cost. It could also take some time."

"Fine."

"Right, let's see what we've got." He plugged the comp-pad into a network socket on his desk, and started tapping on the screen. After about thirty seconds he looked up. "Well I'm afraid that there's nothing available right now, at least not with the attributes you require. We could start preparation?"

I thought for a moment. "How much, and how long?"

He took a deep breath, his head tipping from side to side as he calculated. "How much? Probably about twenty thousand, although that is only approximate. As to how long... probably about six months. We would require a down-payment. Would you like to put in an order?"

"I'll think about it," I muttered, and left.

"Hey cit-i-zen, will you accept the love of God?" She looked about fifteen, her flowing green mini-dress revealing most of her firm youthful body as she wrapped herself around me and gathered up the pendent that nestled between her breasts. "Will you accept my love," she asked, popping it open to reveal the pearl-like capsule resting inside it. "Take it," she pleaded, "I did. Take it, and feel the love that I feel."

I smiled and shook my head.

"What's the matter?" she queried. "I could give you so much love. Don't you want my love?"

"It's not that... I'm just a bit busy right now." Call me old-fashioned, but stoned fifteen year-olds weren't quite my type. Especially when they were acolytes of the Knights.

"Too busy to accept God's love?" asked a male voice from behind me. I whirled round, dragging the still clinging girl around with me. It was a druid, the hood of his green robe thrown back to reveal a neat greying beard.

"I've got a few things to do," I stuttered in excuse. "You er... know how it is."

The druid extended his hand. "I'm Brother Paul."

"And I'm Amber," giggled the girl.

"Er.. hi!" I muttered, shaking the druid's hand. "My name's Phil."

"Phil... Of course it is." He motioned towards the pool that occupied most of the bottom floor. "Come, let us sit down."

I sat down beside him on the low wall that surrounded the pool, the druid sitting down beside me. Amber eased herself onto my lap, and put an arm around my neck.

The druid took a slow breath, then spoke, "I presume you are a believer Phil?"

"Of course," I replied, trying to ignore the lips nibbling gently on my ear.

"Feel my love Phil," breathed Amber slowly.

"But you say that you are busy," prodded the druid.

"Well, you know how it is!"

He hesitated, stroking his beard. "Pardon me for saying this, but your view of time does seem to be rather akin to that held before the chaos."

"Yeah..." agreed Amber, stroking my arm.

"Well, er... I wouldn't say that." The old fart was starting to get a bit deep for me.

"You don't sound too sure?"

"Take it," gasped Amber, offering me the pill once more, "take it, and then you'll understand." She squirmed, tucking her legs underneath her, her bare feet resting across my knees.

"Well I wouldn't claim to be an expert," I ventured, wondering how the hell I got into this, and how the hell I could get out of it. All I'd done was walk past the fountain.

"If you've got a few minutes, I could try to explain some aspects of the truth?" he asked, concern wrapped around every syllable. Of course I've got a few minutes, I thought. You always have a few fucking minutes handy when the Knights of Avalon ask for them. Or if they ask for anything else come to that.

"Of course," I replied, through a tight smile.

"Good. Good!" he exclaimed, beaming. "Now, before the Chaos, people used to think of time as linear. Something like a line, running from the start of the universe to the end. Now that seems reasonable, doesn't it."

"Yeah," I replied. Actually, this was all pretty basic theory, which I knew. But I thought I'd better let him make his speech.

"And if that is the case, then we can say the same about a human life - that it is like a straight line, from birth to death. That's reasonable too?" He stopped and looked at me, his head held to one side.

"Well yeah, I suppose so."

"Let's think about it a bit further. If time were linear, then it would mean that either end of your life was rooted in a void. Before you were born, there was nothing, and after you die, there will again be nothing." He looked straight at me. "Not particularly attractive, is it?"

"No."

"Cold void," whispered Amber, "dark, so dark."

He chuckled lightly. "So, we take another look at time. Is it simply linear? Are there no other patterns? Is time purely an unbroken line, or do we divide it?"

I trotted out the standard answer. "We divide it. Into days and years."

"Exactly - into days and years." He stroked his beard. "Now let us consider the course of a day. Is it constant? Or does it change as time continues?"

"It changes. Starts off dark, gets light, then gets dark again." The bloke was stating the absolutely bloody obvious.

"Day and night," chanted Amber, "night and day."

"That's it! Day and night - a cycle. The sun rises in the east, moves high in the sky, and sets in the west. Then the next day it rises again, and the cycle continues. A never-ending circle, yes?"

I nodded in agreement.

"Now let us consider the course of a year. It also, is not constant. The year begins in winter, heats up through spring into summer, then cools through autumn to another winter. Another continuous cycle. Does all this seem reasonable?"

"Perfectly," I ventured, as Amber again lifted up her pendant and popped the cover open. She carefully lifted the pearl-like capsule from its velvet resting place and held it between finger and thumb.

"You sure you won't take it?" she murmured, her flawless face held close to mine. "Please take it." The druid placed his hand on her knee.

"I think the citizen is in need of spiritual help at the moment. You can give him your love later," he suggested quietly.

She looked hurt for a few moments, then smiled. "Ok. Later then." She giggled and placed the capsule carefully onto her outstretched tongue, the smile spreading across her face as she withdrew the pill into her mouth. A slight gulp indicated that she had swallowed the capsule, a satisfied moan announced that the contents of the quick-acting drug were hitting her system. She writhed, slowly, and drew herself tighter to me, her head resting sleepily on my shoulder.

The druid continued. "So we see that in the cosmos, in the movement of the Earth and of the Stars, time is not an infinite line, but a circle, a cycle. There is no start, and no end. When the sun sets it seems that the day has died, but in the morning it is reborn, as bright as ever. In winter, it seems that nature is in retreat, but in the spring, it also is reborn. This we can see, is a universal truth. We can see this cycle of life, death, and rebirth, in everything. When you are a child we can say that you are in the spring time of your life, with adulthood the summer, old age the autumn, and death the winter."

"Rebirth," murmured Amber, almost imperceptibly.

The druid placed his hands together, touching his fingers to his lips. "We talked earlier about the possibility of our lives starting in the void, and ending in the void. But we can see now that this is not the case. Our lives are a continuous circle! You are born, you grow into an adult, you grow old, and you die. And then you are reborn, and the cycle continues."

"Reincarnation."

"Exactly! Now in astronomical terms, what is at the centre of the cycle of the day, and the cycle of the year."

The answer was not hard. This was the sort of stuff you learnt in your first year at school. "The Sun."

"Indeed, the Earth rotates around the Sun. Now in spiritual terms, what is at the centre of the cycle of human life?"

"The soul."

"Yes - the soul. The physical body is born, lives and dies; but the soul continues, from life to life; the Sun at the centre of the physical cycles, the soul at the centre of the spiritual cycles. That is the link, between the Sun and the soul. That is why we revere the Sun, why we believe that it is the seat of God and the place where souls are located between lives. We can see that life and the world is unchanging, that though things might vary, the wheel will turn and events will come back. Do you see that?"

"I see it."

"Before the Chaos people believed that they had only one life, and that they had to achieve everything within that one life. Their belief was that the purpose of life was to change the world, to achieve, to make their mark. They tried to break the cycle, to stop the wheel turning. Then the changes began to occur. The forests were cut-down and burnt. The ozone layer was destroyed. The temperature rose, and the seas flooded. Poisons were scattered across the land. People were scared; they wanted to know if this was the end. It must be a question that you have asked yourself?"

"Hasn't everyone?" I countered, quite truthfully.

"Of course. But we can see that there is another cycle at work, that of the Earth itself. When the Earth was young - still cooling and with a poisonous atmosphere - that was its springtime. Later, the rocks cooled, the atmosphere grew pure, and life flowered. That was the summer. But that was before the changes." He face saddened. "Now the Earth is in its autumn, passing through to winter. But we need not despair - for we can see that after that winter will come the spring when the Earth will be reborn."

"And we just have to wait for that day?" I asked.

"Yes! It may take a hundred years, it may take thousands. But we know it will come, and that is what is important. And in the meantime, as you said - we wait. But this knowledge, this enlightenment, helps us even now. Before the Chaos, people were selfish and cruel. Money was all they cared about. Huge corporations ruled peoples lives; crime bought terror to every aspect of society. We have abolished all that. Now we think of much more, not simply what we can achieve. We move with the natural order, not against it." He waved his hand around the Plaza. "Take these cities that we have built. It is true that they are no substitute for the outdoor life we led before the Autumn came. But they are islands of peace, tranquillity and love in a hostile world."

"Peace, citizen," hummed Amber.

His stern gaze settled back onto me. "Now you said you were busy. What is it you need to do that is more important than turning with the wheel, than following your cycle."

Shit, I thought. The old bastard had me well skewered. "I was wrong," I answered, choosing my words carefully. "But now I think I understand. Thank you."

"There is no need to thank me. It is simply my duty. We are holding a small service tonight, at the stone circle in the park. Could you join us?"

Amber tipped her head back, and lifted her face, her lips brushing mine. "Please come Phil," she slurred, "let me show you my love; let's share God's love." The druid stood up, then gently lifted Amber off my lap and onto her feet. She swayed, a confused smile on her face. "Please come."

The druid held her gently. "Perhaps you ought to take a dip - to cool off."

"Okay!" She shrugged, easing the dress off her shoulders, the flimsy garment falling whispering to the floor, and settling in a low heap. Then she cautiously stepped over the low wall of the pool, her arms held out for balance, and sank down into the warm, clear water. A dopey grin appeared on her face, and she held her hands out to me. "Phil, it's wonderful. Come in. Be with me."

"About this meeting," I said, changing the subject, "it was the stone circle in the Park, at midnight?"

Amber sat up, the water cascading off her small pointed breasts. "Please come, share our love."

"Yes Phil," said the druid, "let us share God's love."

I smiled and nodded. "I'll be there."

The druid held up his hand. "Peace be with you citizen."

"And with you," I replied, as I turned to go.

The Temple of Love was located on the Plaza's lowest level, behind the fountain. Its entire frontage consisted of red smoked glass, with a wide opening filled by a wall of rainbow coloured laser-beams that totally blocked any view of the interior. I walked in, momentarily interrupting the beams, and moving from the brightly lit, antiseptic Plaza, to a small cosy room, discretely lit by an array of small red lights. Exotic flavours wafted on the scented air. Affixed to the far wall, opposite the entrance, was a framed caption, proclaiming in ornate lettering: Let us give you the Love of God.

A short, plump woman sat at a small desk to the side of the lobby. She greeted me as I entered. "Good afternoon citizen. My name's Janet and I run this establishment. How can I help you?"

"I'd like to see a girl."

She stifled a laugh. "Most of our customers do." Her gold painted finger-nails motioned me to sit down in the chair that stood in front of her desk.

"Is this the first time you've visited us?"

"Yes."

"In that case there's a few things I should explain. This is a respectable establishment, with good, God-fearing girls. We are not like certain, cheaper establishments that you might have heard of. We use real girls, not coders. Is that all understood?"

"Absolutely," I nodded.

"Good. Now do have any feelings about the type of girl you would like? I have a portfolio of photos you could look through."

"Actually an acquaintance of mine did recommended someone," I interrupted, fending away the album. "Paris, I think her name was."

"Yes, she does work here. But I'm not sure if she's free at the moment." She picked up the comp-pad that lay on the desk and examined it for a few moments. "You're in luck citizen. She'll be free in a few minutes - if you don't mind waiting?"

"Of course not," I replied, relieved that there weren't going to be any problems getting to see the right girl.

She picked up the handset of the phone that sat on the desk, and spoke. "Laura, could you come here please." A few moments later the door at the rear of the room opened, and a teenage girl entered. "Laura, the gentleman is here to see Paris. Could you please show him through to the waiting room, take his payment, and give him some refreshments." I got up to go, extending my hand to the woman. She took it in a firm handshake.

"I hope you enjoy your visit, citizen."

"We call upon you God," chanted the elderly druid, "to bless this union, of this man, and this women. May their souls be as one, pure and unbreakable, a living symbol of your love, sharing their lives for a period of -" The druid stopped speaking and looked down at Paris, who like me was sitting cross-legged within the sacred circle marked on the thick carpet. "Was it for half-an-hour or an hour?" he croaked in a loud stage whisper. She stifled a giggle.

"An hour." She glanced up at me and smiled as the druid continued.

"...For a period of one hour. We ask you God, to grant them enlightenment, to let them bathe in your love, that they may enrich their souls. We humbly ask you God." He took out a small bottle from within his robes, and scattered a few drops of the holy water it held over the two of us. Then he took a step back and looked fondly at both of us. "Peace be with you citizens."

"And with you," we chorused. He turned carefully and shuffled from the room, leaving us alone. The awkward silence was broken by Paris.

"Well Phil, what would you like to do?" she asked brightly, unfolding her legs out from beneath her, and settling into a more comfortable position. Like me, she wore a red temple robe, the design almost kimono-like.

"What could we do?" I asked.

"How about this..." she suggested and crawled over to me.

"Twilight sent me," I whispered, as she lay in my arms with her dark hair spread across my chest, both of us still breathing heavily. She drew a deep, shuddering breath and wrenched herself away from me into a sitting position.

"What?" she snorted furiously, her sweat-covered breasts rising and falling as her empty lungs sucked in air.

"I said that Twilight sent me." I replied carefully.

"I know what you said." She looked away, and took a few slow breaths. "What are you, some kind of pervert?"

"What?"

"What was it? Thought you'd play at being a real customer?" She ground out each word slowly.

"Well, since I paid real money at the desk... Yes!"

She got up, and began to pace around the room.

"You're outside the circle," I pointed out, twisting around to face her.

She stopped, and looked at me contemptuously. "I know I'm outside the fucking circle. You got a problem with that?"

"No. No problem at all." I shut up, fished around for my discarded robe, and pulled it on. After a few minutes, she stopped pacing and sat down in front of me, pulling her own robe tightly around her. Then she lifted her chin and fixed me in her glare.

"Look, before you say anything, there's a few things I have to say." She hesitated and licked her lips nervously. "I don't know who you are, and I don't want to know. And you don't need to know who I am, so don't ask. Ok?" She looked at me quizzically.

"Fine," I replied, and she seemed to relax slightly. "But one question? The stuff the old man, Twilight, sprouts. The stuff about: just an old man who people ask for advice. It's bollocks isn't it?"

She shrugged, then nodded. "It is kindof true. He isn't in charge, and he does only give advice; but we do tend to take it. So yes, the senile old man bit - that's just a front." I began to ask my next question, but she motioned to me to stop. "We got some information from some of our sources, warning us that you'd be arriving. They said you checked out. They also said that you were looking for the Rook. Is that correct?"

Things were starting to get distinctly strange. Presumably, the person who had checked me out was the same person who sent me the photo. Someone wanted me to find the Rook. But who, and why? I looked back at Paris. "Kindof. He was with a girl at one point. Someone I was very close to. She was later found dead. I want to find out why she was killed, and who was responsible. He might have some answers."

She looked up sharply, as if I had slapped her. "This girl, was she about medium height, with blond hair cut short... and a small scar on her forehead?" I was silent for a moment, my mind clouded with memories; memories of how I accidently gave Jenny that scar during a childhood game.

"Yes."

"Shit!" She cried, closing her eyes and slumping down into the carpet.

"You knew her?" We had drifted apart in the last few years as our jobs took us in different directions, but I had thought I had known her. I was beginning to realise how wrong I had been.

She opened her eyes and looked at me. "I can't say we were close, and I only met her on a few occasions. But she seemed such a strong supporter of the cause." She looked away, a tear in her eye.

"The cause?"

"You don't know?"

I shrugged. Apparently I did not.

"You're purely in this to find out who killed her?"

"Yes." Actually once I had found them they would die very quickly - but I thought I'd better gloss over that. I said nothing, leaving my previous question still hanging. She stood up again and began pacing around the room.

"Our organisation fights for the liberation of coders, for freedom and for democracy!" She sprouted that crap so piously she had to be genuine. I stood up myself, and turned to face her.

"We have freedom and democracy. We had a General Election six months ago - remember?"

An expression of contempt descended onto her face. "How can you call it democracy when only a privileged minority get to vote?"

"That statement's only correct if you include the coders."

"And you don't?" She demanded angrily, her voice rising.

I motioned to her to be quiet, pointing at the door, then replied in a whisper. "As a general rule no."

She took a deep breath and spoke again, quieter now. "Well your friend did, and so do many others. More everyday, both coders and citizens. It's an unstoppable force!"

I sighed. "Listen princess. It all seems very simple from a rich girl's perch. A wonderfully fun, romantic ideal. Something you can do behind daddy's back. You think it's that simple?" I didn't give her a chance to answer. "You think we can just set everybody free? And everyone will live happily ever after?"

"Why not?"

I grabbed her by the shoulders. "Have you ever actually looked outside the domes? I mean really looked! Ever noticed that we live on an near-uninhabitable planet? Ever wondered who keeps the grasslands trimmed back; or who builds the cities and the roads; or grows the crops and digs the mines?"

"The coders," she stated sullenly, drawing away.

"The coders! And when they've fried too long, and they're riddled with cancers and Christ knows what poisons, we put them down, and get another one. Well do you want to replace them? Do you want to make the sacrifice?"

"It doesn't have to be like this," she told me defiantly. "If we all just worked together everyone could have a good life. Alright, the citizens would have to make some sacrifices, but it would all be worth it, so completely worth it."

"You might be prepared to make those sacrifices, and so might I. But if you think the average citizen will, then you're in dreamland. Oh yeah, they'll stand up and say that they don't like cruelty to coders. They'll say about how they always treat their house coders fairly. And they probably do. That way they can believe they're decent, upstanding folk. But when it comes to the coders out there, frying on the roads or being buried in the mines, then they just don't want to know. The coders could roast in hell - are roasting in hell, and the average citizen just couldn't give a fuck. And if you think you can do anything about that, you're wrong."

She was quieter now, the defiance gone. "Are you saying it's wonderful now?"

"Me? I'm not saying anything. But when the average citizen compares what life is like for him or her now, and then looks back to what it would have been like during the Chaos - well there isn't much comparison."

"Sounds like the government line. The old crap about how they rescued us from the Chaos; built a new society; that they saved us from the brink!"

"But the people believe them. After all, they've won every election for the last fifty years. And whatever you might think about them, and their counterparts in other countries - they did get the human race out of the Chaos. You might despise the way they did it, but can't deny that they did." I gave her a moment to consider that. "But anyway, this is pointless. Perhaps you should just tell me what I need to know?"

She nodded. "The Rook and your friend - we called her Starfire - they left nine days ago, for Glastonbury. He should have contacted us by now, but he hasn't."

"Glastonbury?" The secretive headquarters of the Knights of Avalon seemed a strange location for a pair of coder-rights activists to travel to.

"Yeah. I don't know why, and I don't know where they were planning to go next. The Rook likes to keep his plans secret. We have a contact there - you'll have to talk to him.

"And how precisely am I supposed to get there? We're talking about Glastonbury, not the bloody Isle of Wight. I can hardly just fly in there and land on the roof."

"I know that," she replied icily. "A fisherman from Cheddar will take you. Just ask for Jacob, and say that you're his cousin Paul. He'll take you to Glastonbury, and get you to our contact." She stopped, working out if she had told me all I needed to know. "Oh and by the way, if you ever need to contact us, use the code name Storm Rider."

"How do I get to Chedder? I can hardly log it as the destination on my flight plan, and if I say anywhere else then they might get suspicious when I like, don't turn up." In 22nd century Britain you didn't just fly about where the fancy took you, not if you wanted to continue flying that is.

"You walk."

I choked back an angry response. "I haven't got the necessary gear. You see I've got this funny aversion to skin cancer!" She moved to the corner of the room and pulled a small bag from a concealed cupboard.

"The cupboard's for keeping our personal stuff," she explained while she opened a side pocket in the bag and pulled out a key. She walked back and handed it over to me. "It's a key to locker 67 in the mag-lev station. Inside's a survival kit with everything you'll need."

"Looks like you've thought of everything."

"Not me! I'm just the poor bitch that had to get involved. Anyway, you better get going. I'll show you out."

"Did you enjoy your visit citizen?" asked Janet when Paris led me into the entrance lobby. I glanced across at Paris, who seemed to have a slight smile on her face.

"It was... enlightening," I replied with a chuckle. Paris pulled me to her and whispered in my ear.

"Good luck."

"Thanks," I whispered back, hearing as I did so, Janet's angry tones.

"Look go away," she was shouting at someone, "You're not allowed in here. You're not even supposed to be in the Plaza." I spun round, wondering what the commotion was. It was a tiny coder male, dressed in simple workman's overalls, and looking no more than about fourteen years old. He stood, confused and frightened, in front of Janet, ignoring her angry shouts. Paris approached him, speaking softly.

"Look it's okay, you don't need to be scared. Nobody's going to hurt you." She placed her hand on his shoulder, and his face slowly turned to face her, blank eyes staring straight through her. Paris bent down, bringing her face level with his. "Where are you supposed to be. Who should you be with? If you tell us, then we can take you there." Still he did not speak. It was Janet who broke the resulting silence.

"It's brainless," she declared icily, venom dripping from every syllable. "This thing couldn't answer you even if it wanted to. I'm calling security. They can pick it up." She sat down behind the desk, picked up the phone and angrily jabbed in the number. "Hello? Security?"

Something was wrong. I felt it, rather than knew it. But something was wrong. I looked back at the coder, at the vacant expression and the motionless body. It was wrong. I shouted, "Get down!" and dived for the doorway behind me, sailing through the opening into the passageway beyond as the explosives implanted in the coder's body detonated, ripping the fragile flesh into a thousand fragments. The shockwave radiated outward through the doorway, reaching me before I hit the floor and hurling me into the wall beyond.

When I came to I was lying on my front, in one of the back rooms, amid thick smoke that billowed through the shattered interior walls. Mercifully, the ceiling was still holding. I hauled myself up, and realised that nothing was actually broken, although I was bruised, cut, and ached everywhere. Crawling gingerly, I edged over the sharp, concrete rubble, and into the lobby where I found that the smoke was gradually clearing. A low, agonised moan emerged from the wreckage. It was Paris, the life slowly, but painfully, ebbing from her torn and mutilated body. I found the tattered remains of her robe beside her, rolled them up, and pushed the makeshift pillow under her head. Her hand brushed against my leg.

"Who?" she whispered, tilting her head to the side, her sightless eyes awash with blood.

"It's me," I replied, feeling totally inadequate. A few minutes ago I'd been making love to this girl; now she was dying in my arms and I didn't even know her real name. She shuddered, and coughed, drowning in her own blood. In the distance an alarm was sounding, and I realised that I had to go.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to her, "I never thought they'd be this desperate to stop me." Then I left, stepping cautiously through the smoke to where the front of the temple had been. The glass frontage had been shattered by the force of the blast, turning into hundreds of razor sharp shards, each hurled with the force of a bullet. In the atrium itself the smoke had begun to clear, and the devastation wrought by the blast as it radiated from the Temple was much more apparent.

The druid and his acolytes had taken the full force of the blast. Two bodies floated in the pool, huge slicks of blood spreading over the still surface of the water. Another girl lay some distance from the pool, blood pumping from her severed neck. I heard a pitiful cry for help and glanced round. A female citizen, who couldn't have been more than twenty was dragging herself across the scorched tiles, her blue mini-dress stained mauve with blood. Both her legs ended in tattered stumps a few inches below the shredded hem. I'm sorry, I thought once more, I'm so sorry. I looked away from her; at the escalators, which still ran - their steps covered with blood and flesh, torn from the bodies that littered their upper ends.

Someone was really going to pay for this, I realised. Nobody did this to the Knights of Avalon and expected to get away with it. And I had a nasty feeling that I was that someone. Still stunned and shocked, I staggered past the horror aiming for the fire exit opposite, catching a movement out of the corner of my eye. It was my hunter, the man who'd tried to kill me in Kerensky's, standing in a department store opposite and mingling with the terrified shoppers as they made their way to the exit. The bastard, I thought, the picture of Henderson burning in my mind. What had I done to make him get his people to do this?

He'd better pray the Knights got to him before I did.

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