She continued to type as they passed down a broad thoroughfare. Street about fifty meters wide, divided down the middle by what might have been grass at one time, and trees. Two lanes each side. None of the plants look healthy. Gardening systems deteriorating—not working at all? Shop windows on street level, nearly all broken. Lobbies of businesses, agencies, open to the air. One window—humanoid mannequin. Long-necked. Poised, but nude.

She spotted a sign above what might have once been a jewelry store. "Kesar's," she read. Latin alphabet—and on the other side of the sign, as they moved on, she saw that the same name had been spelled out in Cyrillic. Some shops had Oriental ideograms—Chinese and Japanese. Others were in Laotian and the modified Vietnamese–Roman alphabet.

"Lord," she breathed. "I could be back in LA."

There was something peculiar about the shops, the designs, even a few window displays. She squinted, trying to resolve the discrepancies. "Wait a minute," she said. Lanier slowed the truck. "This is all supposed to be quaint, isn't it? I mean, like back home, where we have shopping malls built to make us think we're in Old England. This is supposed to be old-fashioned."

"As good an observation as any I've heard," Lanier said, shrugging. "I've never really paid this area much attention."

"Garry, I'm very confused. If the Stone was built a thousand years ago, how does all this fit in?"

Lanier swung around a gentle curve and brought the truck to a stop in the middle of the street. He pointed to a large, umber-toned building on the northern edge of the greenspace. "That's one of the libraries—one of two we're investigating now. All the others are closed off."

Patricia clutched her lower lip between her teeth. "Should I be nervous?" she asked.

"Probably. I would be."

"I mean, it's as if—" She shook her head. "Why should I go in there? I'm a mathematician. I'm not an engineer or a historian."

"Believe me, nobody enters the libraries on whim. You're uniquely qualified. You've been working in an area with no practical value—until now."

"I'm going to stop asking questions," Patricia said, sighing. "I don't even know the right questions to ask."

Electronic sensors had been placed around the building. Chain link fences topped by wicked-looking razor-wire curls enforced the gentle suggestions of sensors and cameras. Four guards stood before the entrance, carrying Apples—anti-personnel lasers—and looking very serious. As Lanier and Vasquez approached, an amplified voice boomed out, "Mr. Lanier. Stop and allow scan. Who's that with you?"

"Patricia Vasquez," he said. "Index under science team, reference memo from General Gerhardt."

"Yessir. Advance and present ID."

They left the truck and walked to the gate. "We brought the razor wire and sensors up from Earth two years ago," Lanier told her. "When we began to realize what we had, in there."

They presented their IDs and laid their hands on a plate carried by a woman in black and gray. After being cleared, they entered the enclosure.