She rolled to a halt on the roadway, then pushed herself upright, feeling dizzy. She had been lucky not to break her neck, but she didnt want to stay around Malcolm or his friend any longer than she had to.

Up ahead, their car had come to a sudden halt.

Hey! Malcolm shouted back at her, his face turned white with fear and tension. All around them, people were staring, and they had begun attracting all the attention hed warned her they had to avoid. What the hell do you think youre doing? he yelled.

She started to run, pushing through the crowds of curious onlookers. She felt hands grab for her, curious voices shouting in her wake, but she determinedly shook them off, fighting her way in deeper amongst the crowds, frantic to put as much distance between her and Malcolm as possible.

Finally she emerged into a sidestreet, feeling cold and terrified and exhausted, with no idea of where to go or what to do next. So she simply put one foot in front of the other, and kept going, until she had got herself thoroughly lost in the depths of a city that she hadnt even known existed during her previous life.

Thus she wandered for hours, warm air exiting from her breather mask and rising up into the night. Her stomach rumbled from increasing hunger. She constantly kept a wary eye out for anyone wearing a uniform like Malcolms.

Just by following the crowds, and listening to snatches of conversation around her, Dakota learned that the pilgrims would come to Dios in such numbers that the city authorities were obliged to construct vast temporary accommodations solely to house and feed them. She followed one group of people who looked as if they knew where they were going, heading into an enormous prefab hangar filled with welcome heat and light. There, she quickly discovered food and drink for the taking. Better still, nobody questioned her, or asked where she came from.

Dakota saw numerous posters featuring a girl in ceremonial robes, and she realized with a shock that these must be images of the Speaker-Elect of herself. The images did not, however, look anything like she remembered herself, and she guessed Ests appearance had been surgically altered at some point in the past.

She continued staring at the poster until she felt dizzy, feeling as if she had woken up into some kind of endless waking nightmare. Despite the humid warmth within the hangar, she kept the woollen cap on, and the hood of her coat pulled over her head. She also took particular care not to meet anyones eyes or let herself become involved in conversation.