"But not everyone wants to be comfortable. Isn't there more to life than that?" He looked at Farr again with that odd tinge of envy. "That's what Surfing offers me... Your life, in the upflux, must be so — interesting. Waking up in the open Air, every day. Never knowing what the day is going to bring. Having to go out and find your own food, with your bare hands..." Cris looked down at his own smooth hands as he said this.

Farr didn't know what to reply to all this. He had come to think of the City folk as superior in wisdom, and it was a shock to find one of them talking such rubbish.

Looking for something to say, he pointed to the board Cris was still cradling. "What's this?"

"My board. My Surfboard." Cris hesitated. "You've never seen one before?"

Farr reached out and ran his fingertips over the polished surface. It was worked so finely that he could barely feel the unevenness of the wood; it was like touching skin — the skin of a very young child, perhaps. The mesh of shining threads had been inlaid into a fine network of grooves, just deep enough to feel.

"It's beautiful."

"Yes." Cris looked proud. "It's not the most expensive you can get. But I've put a hell of a lot of work into it, and now I doubt there's a better board this side of Pall Mall."

Farr hesitated, embarrassed by his utter ignorance. "But what's it for?"

"For Surfing." Cris held the board out horizontally and flipped up into the Air, bringing his bare feet to rest against the ridged board. The board drifted away from him, of course, but Farr could see how expertly Cris's feet moved over the surface, almost as if they were a second pair of hands. Cris held his arms out and swayed in the Air. "You ride along the Magfield, like this. There's nothing like it. The feeling of power, of speed..."

"But how? Do you Wave?"

Cris laughed. "No, of course not." Then he looked more thoughtful. "At least, not quite." He flipped off the board, doing a neat back-somersault in the cramped room, and caught the board. "See the wires inlaid into the surface? That's Corestuff. Superconducting. That's what makes the boards so damn expensive." He rocked the board in the Air with his arms. "You work it like this, with your legs. See? It's like Waving, but with the board instead of your body. The currents in the superconductors push against the Magfield, and..." He shot his hand through the Air. "Whoosh!"

Farr thought about it. "And you can go faster than Waving?"

"Faster?" Cris laughed again. "You can be faster than any car, faster than any farting pig — when you get a clear run, high above the Pole, you feel as if you're going faster than thought." His expression turned misty, dreamlike.

Farr watched him, fascinated and curious.