"Do you understand all that we're seeing?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Not all."

Ram Kikura broke from a cluster of brightly dressed homorphs and came their way. "We'll pass through the gate in just a few minutes," she said. "You must know, if Olmy and the Nexus allow it, that I can make you very wealthy people."

"Wealth still means that much?" Carrolson asked dubiously.

"Information does," Ram Kikura replied. "And I've already picted with four or five powerful information distributors."

"Send us on tour like circus freaks," Heineman grumbled.

"Oh, give me some credit, Larry," Ram Kikura said, touching his shoulder. "You won't be abused. I wouldn't stand for it, and even if I turned out to be—what did you call them?—a scheister, Olmy would protect you. You know that."

"Do we?" Heineman undertoned as she departed.

"Don't be a grouch," Carrolson scolded.

"I'm being on my guard," Heineman said testily. "When in Rome, watch out for public restrooms."

Lanier laughed, then shook his head. "Hell, I don't even know what he means," he confided to Patricia. "But I admire his caution."

The disk was now level with a broad, low port in the eastern side of the terminal. The surface of the building was coated by a material resembling opalescent milk glass, with bands of brassy orange metal spaced at seemingly random intervals on the horizontal planes.

"It's beautiful," Farley said. Patricia agreed and then felt her eyes grow warm and moist; she couldn't be sure why. Her throat clutched and she wiped her cheeks as drops broke free.

"What's wrong?" Lanier said, edging closer to her.

"It is beautiful," she said, stifling a sob. Involuntarily, Lanier felt his own eyes moistening.

"We can't forget them, can we?" he asked. "Wherever we go, whatever we see—they're with us. All four billion of them."

She nodded rapidly. Olmy came up behind them and held an archaic and unexpected handkerchief over her shoulder. She took it, surprised, and thanked him.

"If you keep this up," he warned in a whisper, "you might be surrounded in a few minutes. We are not used to seeing people cry."

"Jesus," Carrolson said.

"Don't judge us on that basis," Olmy said. "Our people feel as strongly, but we differ in how we express ourselves."

"I'm fine," Patricia said, dabbing ineffectually at her eyes. "You carried this just in case we. . . ?"

Olmy smiled. "For emergencies."

Lanier took the handkerchief and finished wiping her face for her, then waved the cloth through the air to catch a few stray drops. "Thank you," he said, returning it to Olmy.

"Not at all."

They entered the terminal. Within the hollow structure, beams of light outlined paths for vehicles to take. In the center, still perhaps a kilometer below them, was the gate itself—a vast, smooth-lipped hole leading into a featureless blueness.