Strata

and cities of gold. This is the yeast in the planetary crust, without which the imagination of men will not rise.” ’
    There was a pause.
    ‘Mr Hendry,’ asked Kin, ‘did I say anything there about nuclear-disarmament dinosaurs?’
    ‘No, but—’
    ‘We build worlds, we don’t just terraform planets. Robots could do that. We build places where the imagination of human beings can find an anchor. We don’t bugger about planting funny fossils. Remember the Spindles. Supposing the colonists here turn out like them? Your fossil would kill them, blow their minds. Docked three months’ labour. You too, Miss Plante, and I don’t even want to know for what reasons you were helping this nitwit. You may go.’
    She switched off the recorder.
    ‘Where are you going? Sit down. All that was for the benefit of the tape. Sit down, you look dreadful.’
    He was no fool. She saw the embryo hope in his eyes. Best to scotch that now.
    ‘I meant it about the sentence. Three months’ enforced vacation. It’s on the tape, so you won’t talk me out of it. Not’, she added, ‘that you could.’
    ‘But we’ll have finished this job by then,’ he said, genuinely hurt.
    Kin shrugged. ‘There’ll be others. Don’t lookso worried. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t yield to temptation. If you feel bad, ask Joel Chenge about the boots he tried to lay down in a coal seam. They didn’t ruin his career.’
    ‘And what did you do, Miss?’
    ‘Hmm?’ The boy was looking at her sidelong.
    ‘You sort of give the impression I’ve done something everyone else has done. Did you do it too?’
    Kin drummed her fingers on the desk. ‘Built a mountain range in the shape of my initials,’ she said.
    ‘Whee!’
    ‘They had to rerun almost half a strip. Nearly got fired.’
    ‘And now you’re Sec-exec and—’
    ‘You might be too one day. Another few years they might let you loose on an asteroid of your very own. Some billionaire’s pleasure park. Two words of advice; don’t fumble it, and never, never try to quote people’s words against them. I, of course, am marvellously charitable and understanding, but some other people might have made you eat the book a page at a time under threat of sacking. Right? Right. Now go, the pair of you. For real this time. It’s going to be a busy day.’
    They hurried out, leaving a coral trail. Kin watched the door slide across, staring into space for a few minutes. Then she smiled to herself, and went back to work.
    Consider Kin Arad, now inspecting outline designs for the TY-archipelago:
    Twenty-one decades lie on her shoulders like temporal dandruff. She carries them lightly. Why not? People were never meant to grow old. Memory surgery helped.
    On her forehead, the golden disc that multiple centenarians often wore – it inspired respect, and often saved embarrassment. Not every woman relished attempted seduction by a man young enough to be her great-to-the-power-of-seven grandson. On the other hand, not every elderly woman wore a disc, on purpose … Her skin was presently midnight-black, like her wig – for some reason hair seldom survived the first century – and the baggy black all-suit.
    She was older than twenty-nine worlds, fourteen of which she had helped to build. Married seven times, in varying circumstances, once even under the influence of love. She met former husbands occasionally, for old times’ sake.
    She looked up when the carpet cleaner shuffled out of its nest in the wall and started to tidy up the sand trails. Her gaze travelled slowly round the room as though seeking for some particular thing. She paused, listening.
    A man appeared. One moment there was air: the next, a tall figure leaning against a file cabinet. He met her shocked gaze, and bowed.
    ‘Who the hell are you?’ exclaimed Kin, andreached for the intercom. He was quicker, diving across the room and grabbing her wrist politely yet agonizingly. She smiled grimly and, from a sitting position, brought her left hand across and gave him a scientific fistful of rings.
    When he had wiped the blood out of his eyes she was looking down at him and holding a stunner.
    ‘Don’t do anything aggressive,’ she said. ‘Don’t even breathe threateningly.’
    ‘You are a most unorthodox woman,’ he said, fingering his chin. The semi-sentient carpet cleaner bumped insistently around his ankles.
    ‘Who are you?’
    ‘Jago Jalo is my name. You are Kin Arad? But of course—’
    ‘How did you get