The inside of the tent was even more opulent than the section they had been standing in, with wide silk sashes and thick downy mattresses laid out around a large, extremely ornate and even uglier white marble table. Incense burned in the corners, filling the tent with a sickly sweet smell that was rather heady.

Father led the way to the mattresses around the table, and waited for them to settle down before sitting down himself.

‘So tell me,’ said Albert eagerly, leaning forward.

‘Now tell me, Albert, what do you know of the Intelligence Interface?’

Albert blinked. Another question! Where had this come from, now? ‘The Intelligence Inter—what does that have to do with anything?’

‘Everything. It is where everything begins. So you have heard of it?’

‘Of course. It’s what made all these addicts.’

Father smiled, but there was no humour in it. ‘Yes, all these addicts, as you said.’

‘Well, it’s true, right? I mean from what you and June have told me, there are plenty here. I know it’s a lot better up there, but—’

‘What else do you know about it?’

‘The Intelligence Interface? Well, there’s not much to know, is there? It’s the doohickey some chap came up with that turns information into a drug. And then it took off, before they nipped it in the bud.’

‘A lie, but that makes it no less successful as a fact. Do you know who he was? This chap, as you call him. The one who invented it.’

Albert stared at him. ‘No, obviously I don’t know! Nobody ever knew who he was. Else he’d have been in a lot of—’

‘That is another lie. Everyone knew who he was. He was a scientist, a very eminent scientist, by the name of Dr Donnelly.’

‘Oh, really? That’s nice trivia to have, but what’s he got to do with anything anyway?’

‘Oh, everything, as you will soon understand. Donnelly’s first name was Robert.’

Albert started, digging his fingernails into his palms. ‘Robert—’

He broke off, glancing again at June, who sat there, motionless, face pale and expressionless as the marble top of the table.

‘You mean Theo’s—’

‘Yes, Albert, exactly. Theo’s grandfather, my friend, our Robert, Robert Donnelly. The man behind the Intelligence Interface. And the architect of the world as you know it.’

21

Albert looked at him and then at June. She was still staring down at the table, her face pinched. He looked back at Father.

‘Robert? He’s the guy behind the—you mean the addiction’s his fault? Because of—’

‘His fault? Because? Fault is a word that apportions blame, not cause, Albert. Perhaps you should let me explain before you rush to pass judgement.’

‘Explain what? You just said he—never mind. Tell me this, does Theo know? About—um … about—’