Lanier stood slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All right," he said. "We've gone public and now we're being used for purposes of propaganda. It'll take us years to become sophisticated here—maybe we'll never make it, since we don't have implants. But at least you're showing us more than before. We're no longer unblemished specimens of pre-Death Homo sapiens." He paused, uncertain where he was heading.

"But—"

"You'll never be completely happy with my explanations," Olmy interrupted. "You sense however much we tell you, there's a subtext you cannot understand. And you're right. You'll notice that I have never asked you to trust me. That would be more than I could reasonably expect. But for this once, it should be obvious that we can help each other enormously. You want to communicate with your fellows—and the Nexus must come to grips with your very presence, and what that implies. In the next few days, you're going to learn more about the Way, and our mission here—more than even the data pillar could tell you. I'll escort you, and Suli Ram Kikura and I will do everything in our power to plead your case—first, because it is just, and then because I believe that what is in your best interest, also serves the Nexus."

Lanier looked at the other four, his gaze lingering on Farley and then Patricia. Farley smiled encouragement; Patricia's expression was less clear.

"You have our cooperation, within reason, for seven more days," Lanier said. "If it isn't obvious to me that our interests are being mutually served, and if we haven't been allowed to communicate with the Thistledown, the cooperation stops. I don't know how much of a threat that is," he said, taking a deep breath. "For all I know, you can create computer-generated images of us and make them do whatever you want, or even manufacture look-alike androids. But that's our position."

"Agreed," Olmy said. "Seven days."

Olmy and Ram Kikura left them. Heineman swung his head back and forth slowly, then looked at Lanier. "Well?"

"We keep on studying," Lanier said. "And we bide our time."

Hoffman stood before the small mirror in her "cardboard condo," as she had come to call the room in the women's bungalow. She decided she didn't look too bad. She had been sleeping better the past few days.

The suicide rate had declined; her people—Hoffman always thought of them that way, soldiers and civilians—seemed to be accepting their fate, and plans were under way to re-outfit the shuttle and some of the Russian heavy-lifters and see if a trek to the Moon was possible. A few were even discussing an expedition to Earth—Gerhardt and Rimskaya leading that group.