Hrotrun had waved to them from the station above, but right now ve was fully occupied in slowing vir velocity, gingerly stretching the slipthread with vir feet as ve glided to the platform ahead of them. To either side of the path, bright pink goopfields bubbled all the way to the rim of the bowl of Tentative Scoop. It was quieter here, the busy hubbub of sounds from nearby Perilax dulled by the goop’s soft belching and sputtering.

Fift and Pip’s audience was beginning to convert from passive to active: they were back up to a thousand or so active viewers.

Hrotrun sprang from the thread a bodylength above the platform, landed with a slight stumble, bowed jerkily, and hurried toward them, head hunched slightly downward. Pip had come to a stop, and Fift stopped with zir.

“Most esteemed . . . visitors,” Hrotrun began, panting a little from vir exertions. “A pleasure. Let me just say, there’s some good anti-surveillance just over on the next platform, I don’t suppose . . .”

Pip sent Fift zir first line over a private channel: {We’re not interested in anti-surveillance, as I’m sure you can imagine.}

“We’re not really interested in anti-surveillance,” Fift said, “As I’m sure you can . . . imagine.” It came out sympathetic, and perhaps slightly confused-sounding. Not like Pip would have said it, stern, wry, and immovable.

“No,” Hrotrun said, swallowing. Ve was lean and smooth, with perfectly symmetrical features, small firm breasts, and bright red and blue hair like stiff feathers on vir head and cheeks. Every part had a standard attractiveness, but the total effect was generic, as if ve had assembled vemself from packages, which ve probably had . . . timidly, and alone. “No, I suppose not. Well . . .”

From Pip: {You struck me in the face with the elbow of an anonybody two days ago.}

“You, ah,” Fift said, “you were the one who,”—the rudeness bothered zir, to go straight to accusations with no greeting, no attempt to soften the blow—“uh, who struck me in the face, during the riot, two days ago?”

“Oh,” said Hrotrun. “Oh. Yes. I suppose I must have been. I mean I know I was, I looked at the footage. I’m so sorry. It’s quite remarkable that you discovered that it was me! But then”—ve gave a little uncertain titter of a laugh—“your family seems to be fairly remarkable. So. I’m terribly sorry. I can assure you it was an accident. I will be more careful in the future.”

Pip stiffened at the word “accident” and glanced, narrow-eyed, at Fift. {I’m afraid it was no accident.} ze sent.

“An . . . accident,” Fift said.

Hrotrun began to knead vir hands together, bending vir knuckles first one way, then the other. “Yes, yes, certainly an accident,” ve said miserably. “I mean you don’t think I would hit . . . hit! . . . a . . . a staidchild . . . on purpose? Come now.”