‘The Qax technology was based on genetic manipulation. We pharaohs were promised that our gift would be passed on to our children. And we had those children! But we pharaohs rarely bred true. I once had a child myself. She did not survive.’ She hesitated, just for a second. Then she went on, ‘But by now there are genes for immortality, or at least longevity, scattered through the human population - even among you. Do you see now why we had to build these arks - why we couldn’t flee and abandon you, or just take frozen zygotes or eggs?’ She spread her hands wide. ‘Because you are my children, and I love you.’

Nobody moved. Rusel thought he could see tears in her stony eyes. She is grotesque, he thought.

Diluc said carefully, ‘Pharaoh, would I be able to bring Tila with me? And our children, if we have them?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said gently. ‘Tila doesn’t qualify. Besides, the social structure simply wouldn’t be sustainable if—’

‘Then count me out.’ Diluc stood up.

She nodded. ‘I’m sure you won’t be the only one. Believe me, this is no gift I’m offering you. Longevity is a heavy burden.’

Diluc turned to Rusel. ‘Brother, are you coming with me?’

Rusel closed his eyes. The thought of his eventual death had actually been a comfort to him - a healing of his inner wounds, a lifting of the guilt he knew he would carry throughout his life. Now even the prospect of death was being taken away, to be replaced by nothing but an indefinite extension of duty. But he had to take it on, he saw. As Lora herself had told him, he had to live on, like a machine, and fulfil his function. That was why he was here; only that way could he atone.

He looked up at Diluc. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

Complex emotions crossed his brother’s face: anger, despair, perhaps a kind of thwarted love. He turned and left the room.

Andres behaved as if Diluc had never existed.