“No no no. They are for pleasure, purely. They are better than surgically sterile, and have no effect except when paired with their twin, the other half of their matched pair, when they create a more intense ecstasy.” Banstegeyn smiled, ran his fingers down amongst some of the ringlets in her hair, touched her cheek. “There are many similar paths to the same effect, my love, just through drugs, implants, augmentations … but the beauty of these is that they are made for each other, and have no other effect, even if,” he smiled regretfully, “one has other lovers. They can’t be felt, they can barely be seen, even if you look for them, and everything else that would ever normally happen, there, can still happen – people have happily given birth, even, though I understand that is not advised – yet the wearer knows they are there, and the wearer of the other half knows that it’s there. It is about … commitment, you might say, and I would say a kind of tying, a bonding, between us.”

She looked at him shyly. They were alone in the dark cabin of a quietly purring skiff on a perfumed lake in a private pleasure garden on the outskirts of M’yon, at a party being thrown by a family long grown rich on government contracts. They had both worn masks and plain cloaks, like everybody else at the party. “And is there one for you, then?” she asked.

He smiled, opened the case further, revealing another level, where a slightly slimmer version of the piece lay, also glittering like a narrow pocket of lace made of liquid gold salted with tiny jewels. “There!” he said, as he smiled and she smiled. “One each.”

She touched the one that was his, stroking it with one finger. “They are not … permanent, are they? They can be taken … out, off …?”

“Yes. Most easily, by touching the cloth of the case to any part of them. You may keep the case. I’ll wear mine for ever, I swear.”

She made a delicate, laugh-like noise through her nose. “How do we … put them …?” she asked.

He laughed, almost silently. “How do you think. Shall I put mine on, first? Perhaps you might like to do that?”

“Mmm, perhaps,” she said, smiling, lifting the male piece of the two from its ruched nest. It hung from her fingers, golden in the subdued light, perfectly draped. “How … limp it is,” she said, and pressed herself against him, beginning to undo his clothes. “That will not do, now, will it?”

“Not at all,” he agreed, and lay back, exhaling, allowingly.

The tramway led tilted into the sky for a long, long time.