“I’ve invited two of my associates to attend part of your briefing,” the president said, hands folded behind his back.

Two assigned ghosts—projected partial personalities, acting with temporary independence from their originals—appeared a few meters to one side of the president. Olmy recognized one of them, the leader of the neo-Geshels in Axis Euclid, Tobert Tomson Tikk, one of Euclid’s thirty senators in the Nexus. Olmy had investigated Tikk at the start of his mission, though he had not met with the senator personally. The image of Tikk’s partial looked slightly more handsome and muscled than his original, an ostentation gaining favor among the more radical Nexus politicians.

The presence of projected partials was both old and new. For thirty years after the Sundering, the separation of Thistledown from the Way, orthodox Naderites had controlled the Hexamon and such technological displays had been relegated to situations of extreme necessity. Now the use of partials was commonplace; a neo-Geshel such as Tikk would not be averse to casually scattering his image and personality patterns about the Hexamon.

“Ser Olmy is acquainted with Senator Tikk. I don’t believe you’ve met Senator Ras Mishiney, senator for the territory of Greater Australia and New Zealand. He’s in Melbourne at this moment.”

“Pardon the time delay, Ser Olmy,” Mishiney said.

“No fear,” Olmy said. The audience was purely a formality, since most of Olmy’s report was contained on record in detailed picts and graphics; but even so, he had not expected Farren Siliom to invite witnesses. It was a wise leader who knew when to admit his adversary—or adversaries—into high functions; Olmy knew little about Mishiney.

“Let me apologize again for disturbing your well-deserved retirement.” Earthlight flooded the president. As the precinct rotated, the Earth again seemed to pass below them. “You’ve served this office for centuries. I thought it best to rely on someone with your experience and perspective. What we’re dealing with here, of course, are largely historical problems and trends…”

“Problems of cultures, perhaps,” Tikk interposed. Olmy thought it brash for a partial to interrupt the president; but then, that was neo-Geshel style.

“I assume these honorables know the task you set for me,” Olmy said, nodding at the ghosts. But not the whole task.

The president picted assent. The moon slipped beneath them, a tiny bright platinum crescent. They all stood near the center of the platform now, the partials’ images flickering slightly to indicate their nature. “I hope this assignment was less strenuous than the ones you’re famous for.”

“Not strenuous at all, Ser President. I’ve been afraid of losing touch with the details of the Hexamon—” or indeed the human race, he thought, “—living so calmly and peacefully.”

The president smiled. Even for Olmy, it was hard to imagine an old warhorse like himself living a life of studious leisure.