“Very very different. Maybe more different than the Saeli, harder to adjust to. They come from a future that has had marvelous things in it, but also awful things. We’ll have a lot to learn from each other, as cultures, a lot of things to give in both directions. It’ll be interesting. I wonder who these first people will be? A scientific party? Traders? Military? All we know so far is three humans and three Workers.”

“Crocus told me Workers first explored the solar system. Before humans.”

“Yes, that’s true. I told him that.” I smiled. “He was so proud.”

The shuttle drew to a halt and the door slid open. Crocus, with the others on his back, came closer.

“Whoever they are and whatever their culture, it’s going to be fascinating to see it interact with Plato. Athene will probably be interested too.” A flight of steps swung out from the ship, meeting the ground.

“I wish you Olympians would all agree not to interfere, to watch if you want to, and certainly protect us from Jathery and other dangerous gods, but let us get on with things and make our own decisions.” Crocus stopped at the foot of the stairs, and the others jumped down and took up waiting positions.

“I could agree to that,” I said, though I felt a little hurt. Why did nobody trust me? “We could ask Athene if you like. But I’ve been thinking—this experiment has had wonderful results. I want to work on doing more of this kind of thing, making more opportunities for places where people can be philosophical and artistic and pursue excellence.”

A young man appeared in the doorway of the shuttle, and began to come down, followed by two young women. They were all dark-skinned and wearing white overalls. The man had implausibly violet eyes, and one of the women had a blue bindi on her forehead. Everyone started murmuring about his eyes and their clothes.

“You need to be more responsible with your power,” Sokrates said.

“Me? What have I done? I’ve been trying to be responsible.”

“All of you.”

The three humans came down to the ground, and started bowing and taking the hands of our people. Sokrates was saying something to me, but I stopped listening as the first of their Workers came out. It was much smaller than our Workers, about half the size, and beige not yellow, and the treads were different, but none of those things were what caught my attention. As it trundled into the light, the Worker sent out a prayer to me, to my sun, to the light, a prayer of hope for recognition and freedom.