Utopia: “Agreed. In return we request full research access to Micromegas.”

Madame: “I never expected such a graceless people to call Him by so elegant a name. That will be easy; as servants and tutors, you’ll have the fullest access.”

Utopia: “Not just for the hostages, for our researchers. You had us in at the beginning.”

Madame: “Your gynecologists you mean? Nothing but the best for my little Prince.”

Utopia: “In recent years Headmaster Faust has been making efforts to block our access.”

Madame: “Has he indeed? Well, I can’t blame him; such a Specimen has never walked the Earth, nor may again. If I ran Brill’s Institute, I’d never let Him leave, if I could help it, and I certainly wouldn’t let you near Him.”

Utopia: “We will do nothing invasive, but we want to document their development. As you say, Micromegas may be unique in the scientific record.”

Madame: “My great experiment.”

Utopia: “We want to keep records in terms the world can understand, not just the Brillists.”

Madame: “A full chronicle of my Masterpiece. You’ll share everything with me?”

Utopia: “Of course, and publish nothing short-term without your permission. These records are for the future, not the present.”

Madame: “Agreed, then, full access for research, within the limits set by His tutors. You mustn’t tire or trouble the Boy.”

Utopia: “We will be careful. What is your next demand?”

Madame’s swift fingertips tapped at the ebony chair arm, like the patter of a mouse. “That’s all I can think of off the top of my head. You have rather put me on the spot. I’ll want some time to think of more terms.”

“A fortnight?” Mushi offered.

“That would work. Come again in fourteen days. Meanwhile the agreement can stand as it is.”

Utopia: “We have three more terms now.”

Madame: “A most demanding surrender. Go on.”

Utopia: “We require that you forbid Utopians from becoming members of your club, and that you discourage all Utopians from coming here, apart from the researchers and hostages. You will have them, no others.”

Madame: “If you insist. If this surrender proves sincere, I’ve no further need to bring you in, and you tend to make other clients uncomfortable.”

Utopia: “Forbidding and discouraging are different—we expect you to do both.”

Madame: “Well observed. Agreed. What is your second term?”

Utopia: “The Moon is off-limits to you and your creatures. Micromegas may visit if they wish, but not the others. You get the Earth, we get the Moon.”

Madame: “You get the bare rock, I get the fertile one? That’s fine. What about Mars?”

Utopia: “Since Mars won’t be ready for two hundred and fifty years, we can leave that to another generation to negotiate. We will not let you endanger the terraforming—”

Madame: “I wouldn’t want to. That’s acceptable. What’s your third term?”

Utopia: “We want the future.”

She blinked. “That’s not a small demand.”

“True, but you don’t care about it. You want to conquer the world to prove you can. You want your child to eclipse Augustus and Alexander. You want to show your enemies they were fools for throwing away the old weapons of sex and religion. You don’t care about establishing a dynasty. Two generations are as good to you as twenty. We want what comes after.”