‘Symat,’ his mother cut in, ‘I wouldn’t change a hair on your head. Don’t ever think that, not ever. But I want what’s best for you. And this—it’s as if you are refusing medical treatment, say. We can’t just ignore it. Believe me, going into a booth would be the best choice - the Xeelee are coming - in the long run it’s the only choice.’

‘I think that’s the trouble,’ Mela put in brightly. ‘The trouble is he doesn’t believe you.’

Hektor snarled, ‘Who asked you, Virtual?’

Mela flinched.

Pelle held up her hand. ‘No. She’s right. Symat, we’ve always tried to educate you. But on some level we’ve failed.’ She seemed to be coming to a rehearsed suggestion. ‘So let us show you. Give us one day, that’s all. Just listen, watch, for one day. Try to see things from our point of view. And then you can see how you feel about the booths.’

Symat hesitated. ‘What if I still don’t want to do it?’

‘Then we won’t force you,’ his mother said.

‘In fact we can’t,’ Hektor said stiffly. ‘That’s the law. But you need to understand that we’re going through the booths, with or without you. After that you can do what you want. Stay here. Move away. There are others who choose not to come. Other oddballs and deadbeats—’

‘Just give us one day,’ Pelle said firmly.

Symat glanced at Mela. She nodded. ‘All right,’ he said.

Hektor stood up. ‘Then let’s not waste any more time.’ He spoke to the air. ‘Ready the flitter. We leave in five minutes.’ He clapped his hands, and the bot began to clear away the barely touched food.

Pelle patted Symat’s arm. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘We can always eat on the ship—’

The flitter rose from Mars like a stone thrown from a crimson bowl. The little craft tumbled slowly as it climbed, sparkling. Mela peered out of the flitter’s transparent hull, wide-eyed; evidently she had never seen the world like this.

From here you could clearly see how Mars was divided into two hemispheres, barren landscapes of hot and cold, separated by a narrow belt of endless twilight. The canals, shining blue-black, laced across this precious strip. Kahra, a capital city almost as old as man’s occupation of Mars itself, was a green jewel that glimmered on the desert skin of the planet.