She had been born in city memory, incarnated much as her son would soon be, and feeling uncertain about city memory now was both premature and foolish. She had at least one more incarnation to go, her life was not hazardous; she might live for millennia before the problem became practical…

But she mulled it over as a natural youth on Earth might mull over death. The youth on Earth, however, would not be allowed to sample the afterlife; she could do so whenever she wished, for as long as she wished, and visiting her “unborn” son was the usual reason.

Her visits seldom lasted more than five minutes, external time; those five minutes in city memory could extend for months. The last time she had visited, she had accompanied Tapi on a tour of an imaginary and highly embellished Amazon, something he had created as a personal project. The simulation was selected for a permanent place in city memory recreations, something of an honor.

Their time would be more limited on this visit. She was entering Axis Euclid’s city memory remotely, from Thistledown. That reduced both the time and complexity of her experience.

When she accessed Tapi’s personal space, he was involved in “limiting” himself, cutting away unnecessary mental adjuncts to prepare his mentality for birth. By law, no newborn could enter its body requiring implant memory; every incarnate had to design and choose a core mentality that could fit within the limits of a normal human brain.

“It’s painful,” he said ruefully. “So much freedom here. Makes the real world seem harsh and confined!”

“Sometimes it is.”

“Makes me wonder if incarnation is such a privilege…”

She moved through his personal space, looking over what he had already cut away. “Wise choices,” she said. Extraneous subroutines, modified personalities adapted to abstract environments he was unlikely to encounter when he became incarnate, sexual image experimentations probably prompted by fellow unborns…all stored away, to be accessed at some future date should he wish, or permanently discarded.

“There’s a lot of me disappearing,” he complained. Around Olmy, Tapi did not complain; he enthusiastically demonstrated and explicated, but never revealed his doubts. That was reserved for his mother, and she took some pride in seeing this other side.

“Doesn’t look like anything essential,” she commented dryly.

“Fewer voices in the chorus,” he said. “But I’m seeing what I’ll be more clearly. I think Olmy will approve, don’t you?’

“Has he been to see you?”

Tapi nodded. “Some time back. He gave his approval.”

She withheld some half-sarcastic comment. “He knows quality when he sees it,” she said instead.

“Father’s facing some very large problems.”

“Aren’t we all.”

“Perhaps larger than you think.”

She examined her son’s present image—very close to the appearance of his chosen body-form—and asked, “Has he told you anything…surprising?”