Garden of Rama [017 4.9]

Third book in the Rama Cycle

By: Arthur C. Clarke

Synopsis:

The Ramans return in the third saga of extraterrestrial contact--a
riveting odyssey of a future Eden. The phenomenon begun in Rendezvous
with Rama and carried on in Rama II continues in a masterpiece of
technological extrapolation--an exhilarating adventure into the heart of
both the universe and humankind.

Arthur C.  Clarke is without question the world's best-known and
bestselling science fiction writer.  He was born in Minehead, Somerset;
the town recently hosted a Festival of Space in honour of his
seventy-fifth birthday.  He has won innumerable international awards for
his fiction, for his scientific writing, and for his inspirational role
as one of the chief prophets of the space age.  His collaboration with
Stanley Kubrick on 2001: A Space Odyssey set new standards for SF films.

As the presenter of the TV series Arthur C.  Clarke's Mysterious World
and its successors, Clarke has become a household name.  He lives in Sri
Lanka.

Gentry Lee combines two remarkable careers; on the one hand he is a
screenwriter, whose credits include Carl Sagan's Cosmos series; on the
other he is a distinguished space scientist, being chief scientist on
NASA's' deep space exploration programme.  His collaboration with Arthur
C.  Clarke was born when he was assigned by Warner Brothers to script
the film of Cradle from Clarke's extensive treatment.

Also in Orbit: RENDEZVOUS WITH RAMA by Arthur C.  Clarke

RAMA 11

CRADLE


An Orbit Book First published in Great Britain in 1991 by Victor
Gollancz Ltd

Paperback edition published in 1992 by Orbit Reprinted 1992, 1993 'rhis
paperback edition published in Great Britain in 1993 by Orbit Copyright
C 1991 The moral right of the authors has been asserted.

All characters in this publication are fictitious, and any resemblance
to real persons, living or dead. is Purely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

NO Part of this publication may be reproduced, Stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior
permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in
any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published
and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed
on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British
Library

ISBN 1 85723 021 3

Typeset by Leaper & Gard Ltd, Bristol Printed in England by Clays Ltd,
St Ives pie Orbit A Division of Little, Brown and COMPANY (UK) Limited
165 Gent Dova Street Loudon SEI 4YA

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.

Many people made valuable contributions to this novel.  First among
them, in terms of overall impact, was our editor Lou Aronica.  His early
comments shaped the structure of the whole novel and his insightful
final editing significantly strengthened the flow of the book.

Our good friend and polymath Gerry Snyder was again extremely helpful,
generously tackling any technical problem, whether large or small.  If
the medical passages in the story are accurate and have verisimilitude,
then credit should go to Dr Jim Willerson.  Any errors are strictly the
responsibility of the authors.

During the early writing, Jihei Akita went out of his way to help us
find the proper locations for the Japanese scenes.  He was also more
than willing to discuss at length both the customs and history of his
nation.  In Thailand, Ms Watcharee Monviboon was an excellent guide to
the marvels of that country.

The novel deals in considerable detail with women, especially the way
they feel and think.  Both Bebe Barden and Stacey Lee were always
available for conversations about the nature of the female.  Ms Barden
was also especially helpful with the ideas for the life and poetry of
Benita Garcia.

Stacey Kiddoo Lee made many direct contributions to The Garden of Rama,
but it was her unselfish support of the entire effort that was
absolutely critical.  During the writing of the novel, Stacey also gave
birth to her fourth son, Travis Clarke Lee.  For everything, Stacey,
thank you very much.

coNTENTS Nicole's Journal , 1 At the Node - 139 Rendezvous at Mars - 233
Epithalamion 365 The Trial 485 29 DECEMBER 2200 Two nights ago, at 10:44
Greenwich time on the Earth, Simone Tiasso Wakefield greeted the
universe.  It was an incredible experience.  I thought I had felt
powerful emotions before, but nothing in my life - not the death of my
mother, not the Olympic gold medal in Los Angeles, not my thirty-six
hours with Prince Henry, and not even the birth of Genevieve under the
watchful eyes of my father at the hospital in Tours - was as intense as
my joy and relief when I finally heard Simone's first cry.

Michael had predicted that the baby would arrive on Christmas Day. In
his usual lovable way, he told us that he believed God was going to
'give us a sign' by having our spacechild born on Jesus' assumed
birthday.  Richard scoffed, as my husband always does when Michael's
religious fervour gets carried away.  But after I felt the first strong
contractions on Christmas Eve, even Richard almost became a believer.

I slept fitfully the night before Christmas.  just before I awakened, I
had a deep, vivid dream.  I was walking beside our pond at Beauvois,
playing with my pet duck Dunois and his wild mallard companions, when I
heard a voice calling me.

I could not identify the voice, but I definitely knew it was a woman
speaking.

She told me that the birth was going to be extremely difficult and that
I would need every bit of my strength to bring my second child into the
light.

On Christmas itself, after we exchanged the simple presents that each of
us had clandestinely ordered from the Ranians, I began to train Michael
and Richard for a range of possible emergencies.  I think Simone would
indeed have been born on Christmas Day if my conscious mind had not been
so aware that neither of the two men was even remotely prepared to help
me in case of a major problem.  My will alone probably delayed the
baby's birth those final two days.

One of the contingency procedures we discussed on Christmas was a breach
baby.  A couple of months ago, when my unborn baby girl still had some
freedom of movement inside my womb, I was fairly certain that she was
upside down.  But I thought she had turned around during the last week
before she dropped into the birth position.  I was only partially
correct.  She did manage.  to come head first down the birth canal;
however, her face was upward, towards my stomach, and after the first
serious set of contractions, the top of her little head became awkwardly
wedged against my pelvis.

In a hospital on Earth the physician would probably have performed a
Caesarean section.  Certainly a doctor would have been on guard for
foetal stress and at work early with all the robot instruments, striving
to turn Simone's head around before she wedged into such an
uncomfortable ' ' position.

Towards the end the pain was excruciating.  In between the strong
contractions driving her against my unyielding bones, I tried to yell
out orders to Michael and Richard.  Richard was almost useless.  He
could not deal with my pain (or 'the mess', as he later called it), much
less either assist with the episiotomy or use the makeshift forceps we
had obtained from the Ranians.  Michael, bless his heart, sweat pouring
off his forehead despite the cool temperature in the room, struggled
gallantly to follow my sometimes incoherent instructions.  He used the
scalpel from my kit to open me up wider and then, after only a moment's
hesitation due to all the blood, he found Simone's head with the
forceps.

Somehow he managed, on his third attempt, both to force her backwards in
the birth canal and to turn her over so she could be born.

Both men screamed when she crowned.  I kept concentrating on my
breathing pattern, worried that I might not maintain consciousness.
Despite the intense pain, I too bellowed when my next powerful
contraction shot Simone forward into Michael's hands.  As the father, it
was Richard's job to cut the umbilical cord.

When Richard had finished, Michael lifted Simone up for me to see. 'It's
a girl,' he said with tears in his eyes.  He laid her softly on my
stomach and I rose up slightly to look at her.  My first impression was
that she looked exactly like my mother.

I forced myself to stay alert until the placenta was removed and I had
finished stitching, with Michael's assistance, the cuts he had made with
the scalpel.  Then I collapsed.  I don't remember many details from the
next twenty-four hours.  I was so tired from the labour and delivery (my
contractions were down to five minutes apart eleven hours before Simone
was actually born) that I slept at every opportunity.  My new daughter
nursed readily, without any urging, and Michael insists that she even
nursed once or twice while I was only partially awake.  My milk now
surges into my breasts immediately after Simone begins to suckle.  She
seems quite satisfied when she's finished.  I'm delighted that my milk
is adequate for her - I was worried that I might have the same problem I
had with Genevieve.

One of the two men is beside me every time I wake up.  Richard's smiles
always seem a little forced, but they are appreciated nevertheless.
Michael is quick to place Simone in my arms or at my breasts when I am
awake.  He holds her comfortably, even when she is crying, and keeps
mumbling 'She's beautiful'.

At the moment Simone is sleeping beside me, wrapped in the quasi-blanket
manufactured by the Ramans (it is extremely difficult to define fabrics,
particularly quality words like 'soft', in any of the quantitative terms
that our hosts can understand).  She does indeed look like my mother.
Her skin is quite dark, perhaps even darker than mine, and the thatch of
hair on her head is jet black.  Her eyes are a rich brown.  With her
head still caned and misshapen from the difficult birth, it is not easy
to call Simone beautiful.  But of course Michael is right.  She is
gorgeous.  My eyes can readily see the beauty beyond the fragile,
reddish creature breathing with such frantic rapidity.  Welcome to the
world, Simone Wakefield.

I have been depressed now for two days.  And tired, oh so tired.  Even
though I am well aware that I have a typical case of postpartum
syndrome, I have been unable to relieve my feelings of depression.

This morning was the worst.  I woke before Richard and lay quietly upon
my portion of the mat.  I looked over at Simone, who was sleeping
peacefully in the Raman cradle against the wall.  Despite my feelings of
love for her, I could not manage any positive thoughts about her future.
The glow of ecstasy that had surrounded her birth and lasted for
seventy-two hours had completely vanished.

An endless stream of hopeless observations and unanswerable questions
kept running through my mind.  What kind of life will you have, my
little Simone?  How can we, your parents, possibly provide for your
happiness?

My darling daughter, you live with your parents and their good friend
Michael O'Toole in an underground lair on board a gargantuan spacecraft
of extraterrestrial origin.  The three adults in your life are all
cosmonauts from the planet Earth, part of the crew of the Newton
expedition sent to investigate a cylindrical worldlet called Rama almost
a year ago.  Your mother, father, and General O'Toole were the only
human beings still on board this alien craft when Rama abruptly changed
its trajectory to avoid being annihilated by a nuclear phalanx launched
from a paranoid Earth.

Above our lair is an island city of mysterious skyscrapers, which we
call New York.  It is surrounded by a frozen sea that completely circles
this huge spacecraft and cuts it in half.  At this moment, according to
your father's calculations, we are just inside the orbit of Jupiter
(although the great gasball itself is way over on the other side of the
Sun), following a hyperbolic trajectory that will eventually leave the
solar system altogether.  We do not know where we are going.  We do not
know who built this spaceship or why they built it.  We know there are
other occupants on board, but we have no idea where they came from and,
in addition, have reason to suspect that at least some of them may be
hostile.

Over and over, my thoughts the last two days have continued in this same
pattern.  Each time I come to the same depressing conclusion: it is
inexcusable that we, as supposedly mature adults, would bring such a
helpless and innocent being into an environment about which we
understand so little and over which we have absolutely no control.

Early this morning, as soon as I realised that today was my
thirty-seventh birthday, I began to cry.  At first the tears were soft
and soundless, but as the memories of all my past birthdays flooded into
my mind, deep sobs replaced the soft tears.  I was feeling an acute,
aching sorrow, not just for Simone, but also for myself.  And as I
remembered the magnificent blue planet of our origin and could not
imagine it in Simone's future, I kept asking myself the same question.

Why have I given birth to a child in the middle of this mess?

There's that word again.  It's one of Richard's favourites.  In his
vocabulary, 'mess' has virtually unlimited applications.  Anything that
is chaotic and/or out of control, whether it is a technical problem or a
domestic crisis (like a wife sobbing in the grips of a fierce postpartum
depression), is referred to as a mess.

The men were not much help earlier this morning.  Their futile attempts
to make me feel better only added to my gloom.  A question.  Why is it
that almost every man, when confronted by an unhappy woman, immediately
assumes that her unhappiness is somehow related to him?  Actually I'm
not being fair.  Michael has had three children in his life and knows
something about the feelings I'm experiencing.  Mostly he just asked me
what he could do to help.  But Richard was absolutely devastated by my
tears.  He was frightened when he woke up and could hear my weeping.  At
first he thought that I was having some terrible physical pain.  He was
only minimally reassured when I explained to him that I was simply
depressed.

After first establishing that he was not to blame for my mood, Richard
listened silently while I expressed my concerns about Simone's future. I
admit that I was slightly overwrought, but he didn't seem to grasp
anything I was saying.  He kept repeating the same phrase that Simone's
future was no more uncertain than our own - believing that since there
was no logical reason for me to be so upset, my depression should
immediately vanish.  Eventually, after over an hour or miscommunication,
Richard correctly concluded that he was not helping and decided to leave
me alone.

(Six hours later.)  I'm feeling better now.  There are still three more
hours before my birthday is over.  We had a small party tonight.  I have
just finished nursing Simone Anhur C Clay*e and Gent?y Lee and she is
again lying beside me.  Michael left us about fifteen minutes ago to go
to his room down the hall.  Richard fell asleep five minutes after his
head was on the pillow.  He had spent all day working on my request for
some improved diapers.

Richard enjoys spending his time supervising and cataloguing our
interactions with the Ramans, or whoever it is that operates the
computers we activate by using the keyboard in our room.  We have never
seen anyone or anything in the dark tunnel immediately behind the black
screen.  So we don't know for certain if there really are creatures back
there responding to our requests and ordering their factories to
manufacture our odd items, but it is convenient to refer to our hosts
and benefactors as the Ramans.

Our communication process with them is both complicated and
straightforward.

It is complicated because we talk to them using pictures on the black
screen and precise quantitative formulas in the language of mathematics,
physics, and chemistry.  It is straightforward because the actual
sentences we input using the keyboard are amazingly simple in syntax.
Our most often used sentence is 'We would like' or 'We want' (of course
we could not possibly know the exact translation of our requests, and
are just assuming that we are being polite - it could be that the
instructions we activate are in the form of rude commands beginning with
'Give me'), followed by a detailed description of what we would like
provided to us.

The hardest part is the chemistry.  Simple everyday objects like soap,
paper, and glass are very complex chemically, and extremely difficult to
specify exactly in terms of their number and kind of chemical compounds.
Sometimes, as Richard discovered early in his work with the keyboard and
black screen, we must also outline a The Garden ofRama manufacturing
process, including thermal regimes, or what we receive does not bear any
resemblance to what we ordered.  The request process involves a lot of
trial and error.  In the beginning it was a very inefficient and
frustrating interaction.  All three of us kept wishing that we
remembered more of our college chemistry.  In fact, our inability to
make satisfactory progress in equipping ourselves with everyday
essentials was one of the catalysts for the Great Excursion, as Richard
likes to call it, that occurred four months ago.

By then the ambient temperature, topside in New York as well as in the
rest of Rama, was already five degrees below freezing and Richard had
confirmed that the Cylindrical Sea was again solid ice.  I was growing
quite concerned that we were not going to be properly prepared for the
baby's birth.  It was taking us too long to accomplish everything.
Procuring and installing a working toilet, for example, had turned out
to be a month-long endeavour, and the result was still only marginally
adequate.  Most of the time our primary problem was that we kept
providing incomplete specifications to our hosts.  However, sometimes
the difficulty was the Ramans themselves.  Several times they informed
us, using our mutual language of mathematical and chemical symbols, that
they could not complete the manufacture of a specific item within our
allocated time period.

Anyway, Richard announced one morning that he was going to leave our
lair and try to reach the stilldocked military ship from our Newton
expedition.  His expressed purpose was to retrieve the key components of
the scientific data base stored on the ship's computers (this would help
us immensely in formulating our requests to the Ramans), but he also
acknowledged that he was terribly hungry for some decent food.  We had
been managing to stay healthy and alive with the chemical concoctions
provided by the Ramans.  However, most of the food had been either
tasteless or terrible.

In all fairness, our hosts had been responding correctly to our
requests.

Although we knew generally how to describe the essential chemical
ingredients our bodies needed, none of us had ever studied in detail the
complex biochemical process that takes place when we taste something. In
those early days eating was a necessity, never a pleasure.  Often the
goo was difficult, if not impossible, to swallow.  More than once nausea
followed a meal.

The three of us spent most of the day debating the pros and cons of the
Great Excursion.  I was in the heartburn stage of my pregnancy and was
feeling quite comfortable.  Even though I did not relish the idea of
remaining alone in our lair while the two men trekked across the ice,
located the rover, drove across the Central Plain, and then rode or
climbed the many kilometres to the Alpha relay station, I recognised
that there were many ways in which they could help each other.  I also
agreed with them that a solo trip would be foolhardy.

Richard was quite certain the rover would still be operational, but was
less optimistic about the chairlift.  We discussed at length the damage
that might have been done to the Newton military ship, exposed as it was
on the outside of Rama to the nuclear blasts that had occurred beyond
the protective mesh shield.

Richard conjectured that since there was no visible structural damage
(using our access to the output of the Raman sensors, we had looked at
images of the Newton military ship on the black screen several times
during the intervening months), it was possible that Rama itself might
have inadvertently protected the ship from all the nuclear explosions
and, as a result, there might not he any radiation damage inside either.

I was less sanguine about the prospects.  I had worked with the
environmental engineers on the designs for the spacecraft shielding and
was aware of the radiation susceptibility of each of the subsystems of
the Newton.

Although I did think there was a high probability the scientific data
base would be intact (both its processor and all its memories were made
from radiation hardened parts), I was virtually certain the food supply
would be contaminated.

We had always known that our packaged food was in a relatively
unprotected location.  Prior to launch, in fact, there had even been
some concern that an unexpected solar flare might produce enough radi
ation to make the food unsafe to eat.

I was not afraid of staying alone for the few days or week that it might
take for the men to make the round trip to the military ship.  I was
more worried about the possibility that one or both of them might not
return.  It wasn't just a question of the octospiders, or any other
aliens that might be cohabiting this immense spaceship with us.  There
were environmental uncertainties to be considered as well.  What if Rama
suddenly started t( manoeuvre?  What if some other equally untoward
event occurred and they couldn't make it back to New York?

Richard and Michael assured me that they would take no chances, that
they would not do anything except go to the military ship and return.
They departed just after dawn on a twenty-eight-hour Raman day.  It was
the first time I had been alone since my long solitary sojourn in New
York that started when I fell into the pit.  Of course I wasn't truly
alone.  I could feel Simone kicking inside me.  It's an amazing feeling,
carrying a baby.  There's something indescribably wonderful about
knowin,there's another living soul inside you.  Especially since the
child is formed in significant part from your own genes.  It's a shame
that men are not able to experience being pregnant.  If they could,
maybe they would understand why we women are so concerned about the
future.

By the third Earth day after the men left, I had developed a bad case of
cabin fever.  I decided to climb out of 000, our lair and take a hike
around New York.  It was dark in Rama, but I was so restless I started
to walk anyway.  The air was quite cold.  I zipped my heavy flight
jacket around my bulging stomach.  I had only been walking for a few
minutes when I heard a sound in the distance.  A chill ran down my spine
and I stopped immediately.  The adrenalin apparently surged into Simone
as well, for she kicked vigorously while I listened for the noise.  In
about a minute I heard it again, the sound of brushes dragging across a
metallic surface and accompanied by a highfrequency whine.  The sound
was unmistakable; an octospider was definitely wandering around in New
York.  I quickly went back to the lair and waited for dawn to come to
Rama.

When it was light I returned to New York and wandered around.  While I
was in the vicinity of that curious barn where I fell into the pit, I
began having my doubts about our conclusion that the octos only come out
at night.  Richard has insisted from the beginning that they are
nocturnal creatures.  During the first two months after we passed the
Earth, before we built our protective grille that prevents unwelcome
visitors from descending into our lair, Richard deployed a series of
crude receivers (he had not yet perfected his ability to specify
electronic parts to the Ramans) around the octospider lair covering, and
confirmed, at least to his own satisfaction, that they only come topside
at night.  Eventually the octos discovered all his monitors and
destroyed them, but not before Richard had what he believed to be
conclusive data supporting his hypothesis.

Nevertheless, Richard's conclusion was no comfort to me when I suddenly
heard a loud and totally unfamiliar sound coming from the direction of
our lair.

At the time I was standing inside the barn, staring into the pit where I
had almost died nine months ago.  My pulse immediately jumped up and my
skin tingled.

What disturbed me the most was that the noise was between me and my
Raman home.

I crept up on the intermittent sound cautiously, peering around
buildings each time before committing myself.  At length I discovered
the source of the noise.

Richard was cutting pieces of a lattice, using a miniature chain saw
that he had brought back from the Newton.

Actually he and Michael were having an argument when I discovered them.
A relatively small lattice, about five hundred nodes altogether with
square dimensions, maybe three metres a side, was affixed to one of
those low, nondescript sheds about a hundred metres to the east of our
lair opening.

Michael was questioning the wisdom of attacking the lattice with a chain
saw.

At the moment they saw me, Richard was justifying his action by
extolling the virtues of the elastic lattice material.

The three of us hugged and kissed for several minutes and then they
reported on the Great Excursion.  It had been an easy trip.  The rover
and the chairlift had worked without difficulty.  Their instruments had
shown that there was still quite a bit of radiation throughout the
military ship, so they didn't stay long and didn't bring back any of the
food.  The scientific data base, however, had been in fine shape.
Richard had used his data compression subroutines to strip much of the
data base on to cubes compatible with our portable computers.  They had
also brought back a large backpack full of tools, like the chain saw,
that they thought would be useful in finishing our living accommodation.

Richard and Michael worked incessantly from then until the birth of
Simone.

Using the extra chemical information contained in the data base, it
became easier to order what we needed from the Ramans.  I even
experimented with sprinkling harmless esters and other simple organics
on the food, resulting in some improvement in the taste.  Michael
completed his room down the corridor, Simone's cradle was constructed,
and our bathrooms immeasurably improved.  Considering all the
constraints, our living conditions are now quite acceptable.  Maybe soon
...

Hark.  I hear a soft cry from beside me.  It's time to feed my daughter.

Before the last thirty minutes of my birthday is history, I want to
return to the vivid images of previous birthdays that catalysed my
depression this morning.

For me, my birthday has always been the most significant event of the
year.  The Christmas-New Year time period is special, but in a different
way, for it is a celebration shared by everyone.  A birthday focuses
more directly on the individual.  I have always used my birthdays as a
time for reflection and contemplation about the direction of my life.

If I tried, I could probably remember something about every single one
of my birthdays since I was five years old.  Some memories, of course,
are more poignant than others.  This morning many of the pictures from
my past celebrations evoked powerful feelings of nostalgia and
homesickness.  In my depressed state I railed against my inability to
provide order and security in Simone's life.  But even at the bottom of
my depression, confronted by the immense uncertainty surrounding our
existence here, I would not have really wished that Simone were not here
to experience life with me.  No, we are voyagers tied together by the
deepest bond, parent and child, sharing the miracle of consciousness
that we call life.

I have shared a similar bond before, not only with my mother and father,
but also with my first daughter, Genevieve.  Hmm.  It's amazing that all
the images of my mother still stand out so sharply in my mind. Even
though she died twentyseven years ago, when I was only ten years old,
she left me with a cornucopia of wonderful memories.  My last birthday
with her was quite extraordinary.  The three of us went into Paris on
the train.  Father was dressed in his new Italian suit and looked
extremely handsome.  Mother had chosen to wear one of her bright,
multicoloured native dresses.  With her hair stacked in layers on her
head, she looked like the Senoufo princess that she had been before she
married Father.

We had dinner at a fancy restaurant just off the Champs-Elys6es.  Then
we walked to a theatre where we watched an all-black troupe perform a
set of native dances from the Western regions of Africa.  After the
show, we were allowed backstage, where Mother introduced me to one of
the dancers, a tall, beautiful woman of exceptional blackness.  She was
one of Mother's distant cousins from the Ivory Coast.

I listened to their conversation in the Senoufo tribal language,
remembering bits and pieces from my training before the Para three years
earlier, and marvelled again at the way my mother's face always became
more expressive when she was with her people.  But fascinated as I was
by the evening, I was only ten years old and would have preferred a
normal birthday party with all my friends from school.  Mother could
tell I was disappointed while we were riding on the train back to our
home in the suburb of Chilly-Mazarin.  'Don't be sad, Nicole,' she said,
'next year you can have a party.  Your father and I wanted to take this
opportunity to remind you again of the other.  half of your heritage.

You are a French citizen and have lived your whole life in France but
part of you is pure Senoufo with roots deep in the tribal customs of
West Africa." Earlier today, as I recalled the danses ivoiriennes
performed by Mother's cousin and her associates, I imagined briefly, in
my mind's eye, walking into a beautiful theatre with my ten-year-old
daughter Simone beside me - but then the fantasy vanished.  There are no
theatres beyond the orbit of Jupiter.  In fact, the whole concept of a
theatre will probably never have any real meaning for my daughter.  It
is all so bewildering.

Some of my tears this morning were because Simone will never know her
grandparents, and vice versa.  They will be mythological characters in
the fabric of her life and she will know them only from their
photographs an videos.  She will never have the joy of hearing my
mother's amazing voice.  And she will never see the soft and tender love
in my father's eyes.

After Mother died, my father was very careful to make each of my
birthdays very special.  On my twelfth birthday, after we had just moved
into the villa at Beauvois, Father and I walked together in the falling
snow among the manicured gardens at the ChAteau de Villandry.  That day
he promised me that he would always be beside me when I needed him.  I
tightened my grip on his hand as we walked along the hedges.  I wept
that day also, admitting to him (and to myself) how frightened I was
that he too would abandon me.  He cradled me against his chest and
kissed my forehead.  He never broke his promise.

Only last year, in what seems now to have been another lifetime, my
birthday began on a ski train just inside the French border.  I was
still awake at midnight, unter with Henry at the chalet on reliving my
noon enco the side of the Weissfluhjoch.  I had not told him, when he
indirectly inquired, that he was Genevieve's father.  I would not give
him that satisfaction.

But, I remember thinkin on the train, is it fair for me to keep from my
daughter the fact that her father is the king of England?  Are my
self-respect and pride so important that I can justify preventing my
daughter from knowing that she is a princess?  I was mulling these
questions over in my mind, staring blankly out at the night, when
Genevieve, as if on cue, appeared in my sleeping berth.

'Happy Birthday, Mother,' she grinned.  She gave me a hug.  I almost
told her then about her father.  I would have, I am certain, if I had
known what was going to happen to the Newton expedition.  I miss you,
Genevieve.  I wish that I had been allowed a proper goodbye.

Memories are very peculiar.  This morning, in my depression, the flood
of images from previous birthdays heightened my feelings of isolation
and loss.

Now, when I'm in a stronger mood, I savour those same recollections. I'm
no longer terribly sad at this moment that Simone will not be able to
experience what I have known.  Her birthdays will be completely
different from mine and unique to her life.  It is my privilege and duty
to make them as memorable and loving as I can.

26 MAY 2201 Five hours ago a series of extraordinary events began to
occur inside Rama.  We were sitting together at that time, eating our
evening meal of roast beef, potatoes, and salad (in an effort to
persuade ourselves that what we are eating is delicious, we have a code
name for each of the chemical combinations that we obtain from the
Ramans - the code names are roughly derived from the kind of nutrition
provided, thus our 'roast beef' is rich in protein, 'potatoes, are
primarily carbohydrates, etc.), when we heard a pure and distant
whistle.  All of us stopped eating and the two men bundled up to go
topside.  When the whistle persisted, I grabbed Simone and my heavy
clothes, wrapped the baby in numerous blankets, and followed Michael and
Richard up into the cold.

The whistle was much louder on the surface.  We were fairly certain that
it was coming from the south but since it was dark in Rama we were leery
about wandering away from our lair.

After a few minutes, however, we began to see splashes of light
reflecting off the mirrored surfaces of the surrounding skyscrapers and
our curiosity could not be contained.  We crept cautiously towards the
southern shore of the island, The Garden ofRama where no buildings would
be between us and the imposing horns of the Southern Bowl of Rama.

When we arrived at the shore of the Cylindrical Sea, a fascinating light
show was already in progress.  The arcs of multicoloured light flying
around and illuminating the gigantic spires of the Southern Bowl
continued for over an hour.

Even baby Simone was mesmerized by the long streamers of yellow, blue,
and red bouncing between the spires and making rainbow patterns in the
dark.  When the show abruptly ceased, we switched on our flashlights and
headed back towards our lair.

After a few minutes of walking our animated conversation was interrupted
by a distant long shriek, un isin takably the sound of one of the avian
creatures that had helped Richard and me to escape from New York last
year.  We stopped abruptly and listened.  Since we have neither seen nor
heard any avians since we returned to New York to warn the Ramans of the
incoming nuclear missiles, both Richard and I were very excited.

Richard has been over to their lair a few times, but has never had any
response to his shouts down the great vertical corridor.  just a month
ago Richard said that he thought the avians had left New York altogether
- the shriek tonight clearly indicates that at least one of our friends
is still around.

Within seconds, before we had a chance to discuss whether or not one of
us would go in the direction of the shriek, we heard another sound, also
familiar, that was too loud for any of us to feel comfortable.
Fortunately the dragging brushes were not between us and our lair.  I
put both of my arms around Simone and sprinted towards home, nearly
running into buildings at least twice in my hurry in the dark.  Michael
was the last to arrive.  By then I had finished opening both the cover
and the grille.  'There's several of them,' Richard said breathlessly,
as the sounds of the octospiders, growing louder, surrounded us.

He cast his flashlight beam down the long lane leading east from our
lair and we all saw two large, dark objects moving in our direction.

Normally we go to sleep within two or three hours after dinner, but
tonight was an exception.  The light show, the avian shriek, and the
close encounter with the octospiders had energised all three of us. We
talked and talked.  Richard was convinced that something really major
was about to happen.  He reminded us that the Earth impact manoeuvre by
Rama had also been preceded by a small light show in the Southern Bowl.
At that time, he recalled, the consensus of the Newton cosmonauts had
been that the entire demonstration was intended as an announcement or
possibly as some kind of an alert.  What, Richard wondered, was the
significance of tonight's dazzling display?

For Michael, who was not inside Rama for any extended period of time
before its close passage by the Earth, and had never before had any
direct contact with either the avians or the octospiders, tonight's
events were of major proportions.

The fleeting glance that he caught of the tentacled creatures coming
towards us down the lane gave him some appreciation of the terror that
Richard and I had felt when we were racing up those bizarre spikes and
escaping from the octospider lair last year.

'Are the octospiders the Ramans?" Michael asked tonight.  'If so,' he
continued, 'then why should we run from them?  Their technology has
advanced so far beyond ours that they can basically do with us as they
see fit." 'The octospiders are passengers on this vehicle,' Richard
responded quickly, 'just as we are.  So are the avians.  The octos think
we may be the Ramans, but they The Garden of Rama are not certain.  The
avians are a puzzle.  Surely they cannot be a spacefaring species.  How
did they get on board in the first place?  Are they perhaps a part of
the original Raman ecosystem?" I instinctively clutched Simone against
my body.  So many questions.  So few answers.  A memory of poor Dr
Takagishi, stuffed like a huge fish or tiger and standing in the
octospider museum, shot through my mind and gave me the shivers.

'If we are passengers,' I said quietly, 'then where are we going?"
Richard sighed.  'I've been doing some computations,' he said.  'And the
results are not very encouraging.  Even though we are travelling very
fast with respect to the Sun, our speed is puny when the reference
system is our local group of stars.  If our trajectory does not change,
we will exit the solar system in the general direction of Barnard's
star.  We will arrive in the Barnard system in several thousand years."
Simone began to cry.  It was late and she was very tired.  I excused
myself and went down to Michael's room to feed her while the men
surveyed all the sensor outputs on the black screen to see if they could
determine what might be happening.  Simone nursed fretfully at my
breasts, even hurting me once.  Her disquiet was extremely unusual.
Ordinarily she is such a mellow baby.  'You feel our fear, don't you?" I
said to her.  I've read that babies can sense the emotions of the adults
around them.  Maybe it's true.

I still could not rest, even after Simone was sleeping comfortably on
her blanket on the floor.  My premonitory senses were warning me that
tonight's events signalled a transition into some new phase of our life
aboard Rama.  I had not been encouraged by Richard's calculation that
Rama might sail through the interstellar void for over a thousand years.
I tried to imagine living in our current conditions for the rest of my
life and my mind balked.  It would certainly be a boring existence for
Simone.  I found myself formulating a prayer, to God, or the Ramans, or
whoever had the power to alter the future.  My prayer was very simple. I
asked that the forthcoming changes would somehow enrich the future life
of my baby daughter.

Again tonight there was a long whistle followed by a spectacular light
show in the Southern Bowl of Rama.  I didn't go to see it.  I stayed in
the lair with Simone.  Michael and Richard did not encounter any of the
other occupants of New York.  Richard said that the show was
approximately the same length as the first one, but the individual
displays were considerably different.  Michael's impression was that the
only major change in the show was in the colours.  In his opinion the
dominant colour tonight was blue, whereas two days ago it had been
yellow.

Richard is certain that the Rarnans are in love with the number three
and that, therefore, there will be another light show when night falls
again.  Since the days and nights on Rama are now approximately equal at
twenty-three hours a time period Richard calls the Raman equinox,
correctly predicted by my brilliant husband in the almanac he issued to
Michael and me four months ago the third display will begin in another
two Earth days.  We all expect that something unusual will occur soon
after this third demonstration.  Unless Simone's safety is in doubt, I
will definitely watch.

Our massive cylindrical home is now undergoing a rapid acceleration that
began over four hours ago.  Richard is so excited that he can hardly
contain himself.

He is convinced that underneath the elevated Southern Hernicylinder is a
propulsion system operating on physical principles beyond the wildest
imaginings of human scientists and engineers.  He stares at the external
sensor data on the black screen, his beloved portable computer in his
hand, and makes occasional entries based on what he sees on the monitor.
From time to time he mumbles to himself or to us about what he thinks
the manoeuvre is doing to our trajectory.

I was unconscious at the bottom of the pit at the time that Rama made
the midcourse correction to achieve the Earth impact orbit, so I don't
know how much the floor shook during that earlier manoeuvre.  Richard
says those vibrations were trivial compared to what we are experiencing
now.  just walking around at present is difficult.  The floor bounces up
and down at a very high frequency, as if a jackhammer were operating
only a few metres away.  We have been holding Simone in our arms ever
since the acceleration started.  We cannot put her down on the floor or
in her cradle, because the vibration frightens her.  I am the only one
who moves around with Simone, and I am exceptionally cautious.  Losing
my balance and falling is a real concern - Richard and Michael have each
fallen twice already - and Simone could be seriously injured if I fell
in the wrong position.

Our meagre furniture is hopping all over the room.  One of the chairs
actually bounced out into the corridor and headed for the stairs half an
hour ago.  At first we replaced the furniture in its proper position
every ten minutes or so, but now we just ignore it - unless it heads out
of the entryway into the hall.

Altogether it has been an unbelievable time period, beginning with the
third and final light show in the south.  Richard went out first that
night, by himself, just before dark.  He rushed back excitedly a few
minutes later and grabbed Michael.  When the two of them returned,
Michael looked as if he had seen a ghost.  'Octospiders,' Richard
shouted.  'Dozens of them are massed along the shoreline two kilometres
to the east." 'Now you don't really know how many there are,' Michael
said.  'We only saw them for ten seconds at most before the lights went
out." 'I watched them for longer when I was by myself,' Richard
continued.  'I could see them very clearly with the binoculars.  At
first there were only a handful, but they suddenly started arriving in
droves.  I was just starting to count them when they organised
themselves into some kind of an array.  A giant octo with a red and blue
striped head appeared to be by itself at the front of their formation."
'I didn't see the red and blue giant, or any "formation",' Michael added
as I stared at the two of them with disbelief.  'But I definitely saw
many of the creatures with the dark heads and the black and gold
tentacles.  In my opinion they were looking to the south, waiting for
the light show to begin." 'We saw the avians too,' Richard said to me.
He turned to Michael.  'How many would you say were airborne in that
flock?" 'Twenty-five, maybe thirty,' Michael replied.

'They soared high into the air over New York, shrieking as they rose,
and then flew north, across the Cylindrical Sea." Richard paused for a
moment.  'I think those dumb birds have been through this before. I
think The Garden ofRama they know what is going to happen." I started
wrapping Simone in her blankets.  'What are you doing?" Richard asked. I
explained that I wasn't about to.miss the final light show.  I also
reminded Richard that he had sworn to me that the octospiders only
ventured out at night.  'This is a special occasion,' he replied
confidently, just as the whistle began to sound.

Tonight's show seemed more spectacular to me.  Maybe it was my sense of
anticipation.  Red was definitely the colour of the night.  At one point
a fiery red arc inscribed a full and continuous hexagon connecting the
tips of the six smaller horns.  But as spectacular as the Raman lights
were, they were not the highlight of the evening.  About thirty minutes
into the display, Michael suddenly shouted, 'Look!" and pointed down the
shoreline in the direction where he and Richard had seen the octospiders
earlier.

Several balls of light had ignited simultaneously in the sky above the
frozen Cylindrical Sea.  The flares were about fifty metres off the
ground and illuminated an area of roughly one square kilometer on the
ice below them.

During the minute or so that we could see some detail, a large black
mass moved south across the ice.  Richard handed me his binoculars just
as the light from the flares was fading away.  I could see some
individual creatures in the mass.

A surprisingly large number of the octospiders had coloured patterns on
their heads, but most were dark charcoal grey, like the one that chased
us in the lair.

Both the black and gold tentacles and the shapes of their bodies
confirmed that these creatures were the same species as the one we had
seen climbing the spikes last year.  And Richard was right.  There were
dozens of them.

When the manoeuvre began, we returned quickly to 'N' our lair.  It was
dangerous being outside in Rama during the extreme vibrations.

Occasionally small parts of the surrounding skyscrapers would break free
and crash to the ground.  Simone began to cry as soon as the shaking
started.

After a difficult descent into our lair, Richard began checking the
external sensors, mostly looking at star and planet positions (Saturn is
definitely identifiable in some of the Raman frames) and then making
computations based on his observational data.  Michael and I alternated
holding Simone - eventually we sat in the corner of the room, where the
two merging walls gave us some sense of stability - and talked about the
amazing day.

Almost an hour later, Richard announced the results of his preliminary
orbit determination.  He gave first the orbital elements, with respect
to the Sun, of our hyperbolic trajectory before the manoeuvre started.
Then he dramatically presented the new, osculating elements (as he
called them) of our instantaneous trajectory.  Somewhere in the recesses
of my mind I must have stored the information that defines the term
osculating element, but I luckily didn't need to fetch it.  I was able,
from the context, to understand that Richard was using a shorthand way
of telling us how much our hyperbola had changed during the first three
hours of the manoeuvrc.  However, the full implication of a change in
hyperbolic eccentricity escaped me.

Michael remembered more of his celestial mechanics.  'Are you certain?"
he said almost immediately.

'The quantitative results have wide error bars,' Richard replied.  'But
there can be no doubt about the qualitative nature of the trajectory
change." 'Then our rate of escape from the solar system is increasing?"
Michael asked.

'That's right,' Richard nodded.  'Our acceleration is 'in virtually all
going into the direction that increases our speed with respect to the
Sun.  The manoeuvre has already added many kilometres per second to our
Sunbased velocity." 'Whew,' Michael replied.  'That's staggering." I
understood the gist of what Richard was saying.  If we had retained any
hope that we might be on a circuitous voyage that would magically return
us to the Earth, those hopes were now being shattered.  Rama was going
to leave the solar system much faster than any of us had expected. While
Richard waxed lyrical about the kind of I propulsion system that could
impart such a velocity change to this 'behemoth of a spacecraft', I
nursed Simone and found myself again thinking about her future.  So we
are definitely leaving the solar system, I thought, and going somewhere
else.  Will I ever see another world?  Will Simone?

Is it possible, my daughter, that Rama will be your home world for your
entire lifetime?

The floor continues to shake vigorously, but it comforts me.  Richard
says our escape velocity is still increasing rapidly.  Good.  As long as
we are going somewhere new, I want to travel there as fast as possible.

5 JUNE 2201 I awakened in the middle of last night after hearing a
persistent knocking sound coming from the direction of the vertical
corridor in our lair.  Even though the normal noise level from the
constant shaking is substantial, Richard and I could both clearly hear
the pounding without any difficulty.  We made certain that Simone was
comfortably sleeping in the new cradle that Richard had constructed to
minimize the vibrations, and then walked cautiously over to the vertical
corridor.

The knocking grew louder as we climbed the stairs towards the grille
that protects us from unwanted visitors.  At one landing Richard leaned
over and whispered to me that it 'must be Macduff knocking at the L
gate' and that our 'evil deed' would soon be discovered.  I was too
tense to laugh.  When we were still several metres below the grille, we
saw a large moving shadow projected on the wall in front of us.  We
stopped to study it.  Both Richard and I realised immediately that our
outside lair cover was open - there was daylight topside in Rama at the
time - and that the Raman creature or biot responsible for the knocking
was creating the bizarre shadow on the wall.

71he Garden o] Rama I instinctively clutched Richard's hand.  'What in
the world is it?" I wondered out loud.

'It must be something new,' Richard said very softly.

I told him that the shadow resembled an oldfashioned oil pump going up
and down in the middle of a producing field.  He grinned nervously and
agreed..

After waiting for what must have been five minutes and neither seeing
nor hearing any change in the rhythmic knocking pattern of the visitor,
Richard told me that he was going to climb to the grille, where he would
be able to see something more definitive than a shadow.  Of course that
meant that whatever was outside beating on our door would also be able
to see him, assuming that it had eyes or an approximate equivalent.  For
some reason I remembered Dr Takagishi at that moment and a wave of fear
swept through me.  I kissed Richard and told him not to take any
chances.

When he reached the final landing, just above where I was waiting, his
body was partially in the light and blocked the moving shadow.  The
knocking stopped abruptly.  'It's a biot all right,' Richard shouted.
'It looks like a praying mantis with an extra hand in the middle of its
face." His eyes suddenly widened.  'And now it's opening the grille,' he
added, immediately jumping off the landing.

A second later he was beside me.  He grabbed my hand and we raced down
several flights of stairs together.  We didn't stop until we were back
on our living level, several landings below.

We could hear the sound of motion above us.  'There was another mantis
and at least one bulldozer biot behind the first mantis,' Richard said
breathlessly.

'As soon as they saw me they started removing the grille ...  Apparently
they were just knocking to alert us to their presence." 'But what do
they want?" I asked rhetorically.  The noise above us continued to grow.
'It sounds like an army,' I remarked.

Within seconds we could hear them moving down the stairs.  'We must be
prepared to run for it,' Richard said frantically.  'You get Simone, and
I'll wake Michael." We moved swiftly down the corridor towards our livin
area.

Michael had been awakened already by all 9 the noise and Simone was
stirring as well.  We huddled together in our main room, sitting on the
shaking floor Pa opposite the black screen, and waited for the alien
invaders.  Richard had prepared a keyboard request for the Ramans that
would, upon the input of two additional commands, cause the black screen
to lift up just as it did when our unseen benefactors were about to
supply us with some new product.  'If we are attacked,' Richard said,
'we'll take our chances in the tunnels behind the screen.)  Half an hour
passed.  From the hubbub in the direction of the stairs we could tell
that the intruders were already on our level in the lair, but none of
them had yet entered the passage to our living area.  After another
fifteen minutes curiosity overpowered my husband.  'I'll go check out
the situation,' Richard said, leaving Michael with me and Simone.

He returned in less than five minutes.  'There are fifteen, maybe twenty
of them,' he told us with a puzzled frown.  'Three mantises altogether,
plus two different types of bulldozer biots.  They seem to be building
something on the opposite side of the lair." Simone had fallen asleep
again.  I put her in the cradle and then followed the two men towards
the noise.  When we reached the circular area where the stairs climb
towards the opening to New York, we encountered a maelstrom of activity.
It was impossible to follow all the 77te Garden of Ranut work being done
on the opposite side of the room.  The mantises appeared to be
supervising the bulldozer biots as they widened a horizontal corridor on
the other side of the circular room.

'Does anybody have any idea what they are doing?" Michael asked in a
whisper.

'Not a clue,' Richard replied at the time.

It is almost twenty-four hours later now, and it is still not clear
exactly what the biots are building.  Richard thinks that the corridor
expansion has been made to accommodate some kind of a new facility.  He
has also suggested that all this activity almost certainly has something
to do with us, for it is, after all, being done in our lair.

The biots work without stopping for rest, food, or sleep.  They seem to
be following some master plan or procedure that has been thoroughly
communicated, for none of them ever confer about anything.  It is an
awesome spectacle to watch their relentless activity.  For their part,
the biots have never once acknowledged that we are there watching them.

An hour ago Richard, Michael and I talked briefly about the frustration
we are all feeling because we do not know what is happening around us.
At one point Richard smiled.  'It's really not dramatically different
from the situation on Earth,' he said vaguely.  When Michael and I
pressed him to explain what he meant, Richard just waved his hand in a
sweeping gesture.  'Even at home,' he replied abstractedly, 'our
knowledge is severely limited.  The search for truth is always a
frustrating experience." It is inconceivable to me that the biots could
have finished the facility so quickly.  Two hours ago the last of them,
the foreman mantis that had signalled to us (using the 'hand' in the
middle of its Tace') to inspect the new room early this afternoon,
finally trundled up the stairs and disappeared.  Richard says that it
had remained in our lair until it was satisfied that we understood
everything.

The only object in the new room is a narrow rectangular tank that has
obviously been designed for us.  It has shiny metal sides and is about
three metres high.  At either end there is a ladder that goes from the
floor to the lip of the tank.  A sturdy walkway runs around the outside
perimeter of the tank just centimetres below the lip.

Inside the rectangular structure are four webbed hammocks secured
against the walls.  Each of these fascinating creations has been
individually crafted for a specific member of our family.  The hammocks
for Michael and Richard are at each end of the tank; Simone and I have
webbed beds in the middle, with her tiny hammock right beside mine.

Of course Richard has already examined the entire arrangement in detail.

Because there is a cover to the tank and the hammocks are set down into
the cavity, between half a metre and a metre from the top, he has
concluded that the tank closes and is then probably filled with a fluid.
But why was it built?  Are we going to undergo some set of experiments?
Richard is certain that we are about to be tested in some way, but
Michael says that our being used as guinea pigs is 'inconsistent with
the Raman personality' we have observed heretofore.  I had to laugli at
his comment.  Michael has now spread f iL his incurable religious
optimism to encompass the Ramans as well.  He always assumed, like
Voltaire's Dr Pangloss, that we are living in the best of all possible
universes.

The foreman mantis hung around, mostly watching from the walkway of the
tank, until each of the four of us had actually lain upon our hammock.
Richard pointed out that although the hammocks had been positioned at
varying depths along the walls, we will each 'sink' to approximately the
same level when occupying the webbed beds.  The webbing is slightly
elastic, reminiscent of the lattice material we have encountered before
in Rama.  While I was 'testing' my hammock this afternoon, its bounce
reminded me of both the fear and the exhilaration during my fantastic
lattice harness ride across the Cylindrical Sea.

When I closed my eves it was easy to see myself again just above the
water, suspended beneath the three great avians who were carrying me to
freedom. Along the lair wall, behind the tank from the point of view of
our living area, there is a set of thick pipes that are connected
directly to the tank.  We suspect that their purpose is to carry some
kind of fluid that fills up the volume of the tank.  I guess we will
find out soon enough. So what do we do now?  All three of us agree that
we should just wait. Doubtless we will eventually be expected to spend
some time in this tank.  But we have to assume that we will be told when
it is the proper time. Richard was right.  He was certain that the
intermittent, low-frequency whistle early yesterday was announcing
another mission phase transition.  He even suggested that maybe we
should go over to the new tank and be prepared to take positions on our
individual hammocks.  Michael and I both argued with him, insisting that
there was not nearly enough information to jump to such a conclusion.

We should have followed Richard's advice.  Essentially we ignored the
whistle and went on with our normal (if that term can ever be used for
our existence inside this spacecraft of extraterrestrial origin)
routine.  About three hours later, the foreman mantis appeared suddenly
in the doorway of our main room and scared me out of my wits.  It
pointed down the corridor with its peculiar fingers and made it clear
that we were to move with some dispatch.

Simone was still asleep and not at all happy when I woke her up.  She
was also hungry, but the mantis biot would not let me take the time to
feed her.  So Simone was crying fitfully as we were herded across our
]air to the tank.

A second mantis was waiting on the walkway that All rings the lip of the
tank.  It was holding our transparent helmets in its strange hands.  It
must also have been the inspector, for this second mantis would not let
us descend to our hammocks until it had checked to ensure P that the
helmets were property placed over our heads.  The plastic or glass
compound that forms the helmet front is remarkable; we can see perfectly
through it.  The bottoms of the helmets are also extraordinary.  They
are made of a sticky, rubberlike compound that adheres to the skin very
tightly and creates an impermeable seal.

We had only been lying on our hammocks for thirty seconds when a
powerful surge pressed us down against the webbed elements with such
force that we sank halfway into the empty tank.  An instant later tiny
threads (they seemed to grow out of the hammock The Garden ofRama
material) wrapped themselves around the trunks of our bodies, leaving
only our arms and necks free.  I glanced over at Simone to see if she
were crying; she had a big smile upon her face.

The tank had already begun to fill with a light green liquid.  In less
than a minute we were surrounded by the fluid.  Its density was very
close to our own, for we half floated on the surface until the top of
the tank closed and the liquid completely filled the volume.  Although I
considered it unlikely that we were in any actual danger, I was
frightened when the lid closed over our heads.

There is a little claustrophobia in each of us.

All this time the strong acceleration continued.  Luckily it wasn't
completely dark inside the tank.  There were tiny lights scattered
around the tank cover.  I could see Simone next to me, her body bouncing
like a buoy, and I could even see Richard in the distance.

We were inside the tank for slightly more than two hours.  Richard was
extremely excited when we were finished.  He told Michael and me that he
was certain we had just completed a 'test' to see how we could withstand
'excessive' forces.

'They are not satisfied with the paltry accelerations that we have been
experiencing heretofore,' he exuberantly informed us.  'The Ramans want
to really increase the velocity.  To accomplish that, the spacecraft
must be subjected to long duration, high G-forces.  This tank has been
designed to provide us with enough cushioning so that our biological
construction can accommodate the unusual environment." Richard spent all
day doing calculations, and a few hours ago showed us his preliminary
reconstruction of yesterday's 'acceleration event'.  'Look at this!" he
shouted, barely able to contain himself.  'We made an equivalent
velocity change of seventy kilometres per second during that short two
hour period.  That is absolutely monstrous for a spacecraft the size of
Rama!  We were accelerating at close to ten gees the entire time." He
then grinned at us.  'This ship has one hell of an over4' drive mode."
When we finished the test in the tank, I inserted a new set of biometry
probes in all of us, including Simone.  I have not seen any unusual
responses, at least nothing that has triggered a warning, but I admit
that I am still a little concerned about how our bodies will react to
the stress.  A few minutes ago Richard chided me.  'The Ramans are
certainly watching too,' he said, indicating that he thought the
biometry was unnecessary.  'I bet they are taking their own data through
those threads." My vocabulary is inadequate to describe my experiences
of the last several days.

The word 'amazing', for example, falls far short of conveying the true
sense of how extraordinary these long hours in the tank have been.  The
only remotely similar experiences in my life were both induced by the
ingestion of catalytic chemicals, first during the Para ceremony in the
Ivory Coast when I was seven years old and then, more recently, after
drinking Omeh's vial while I was at the bottom of the pit in Rama.  But
both those trips or visions or whatever were isolated incidents and
comparatively short in duration.  My recent episodes in the tank have
lasted for hours.

Before throwing myself totally into a description of the world inside my
mind, I should summarise first the 4real' events of the past week so
that the hallucinatory episodes can be placed in context.  Our daily
life has now evolved into a repeating pattern.  The spacecraft continues
to manoeuvre, but in two separate modes: cregular', when the floor
shakes and everything moves but a quasinormal life can be lived, and
'overdrive', when Rama accelerates at a ferocious rate that Richard now
estimates is in excess of eleven gees When the spacecraft is in
overdrive, the four of us ' Z must be inside the tank.  The overdrive
periods last for just under eight hours out of each twenty-seven-hour,
six-minute cycle in the repetitive pattern.  We are clearl y intended to
sleep during the overdrive segments.  The tiny lights above our heads in
the closed tank are extini, guished after the first twenty minutes of
each segment, and we lie there in the total darkness until five minutes
before the end of the eight-hour period.

All this rapid velocity change, according to Richard, is speeding our
escape from the Sun.  If the current manoeuvre remains consistent in
both magnitude and direction, and continues for as long as a month, we
will then be travelling at half the speed of light with respect to our
solar system.

'Where are we going?" Michael asked yesterday.

'It's still too early to tell,' Richard responded.  'All we know is that
we're blasting away at a fantastic rate." The temperature and density of
the liquid inside the tank have been carefully adjusted each period
until they are now exactly equal to ours.  As a result, when I lie there
in the dark, I can feel nothing at all except a barely perceptible
downward force.  My mind always tells me that I am inside an
acceleration tank, surrounded by some kind of fluid cushioning my body
against the powerful force, but the absence of sensation eventually
causes me to lose my sense of body altogether.  That's when the
hallucinations begin.  It's almost as if some normal sensory input to
the brain is necessary to keep me properly functioning.  If no sounds,
no sights, no tastes, no smells, and no pain reach my brain, then its
activity becomes unregulated.

I tried to discuss this phenomenon with Richard two days ago, but he
just looked at me as if I were crazy.  He has had no hallucinations.  He
spends his time in the 'twilight zone' (his name for the period of no
sensory input prior to deep sleep) doing mathematical calculations,
conjuring up a wide variety of maps of the Earth, or even reliving his
most outstanding sexual moments.  He definitely manages his brain, even
in the absence of sensory input.  That is why we are so different.  My
mind wants to find a direction of its own when it is not being used for
chores such as processing the billions of pieces of data coming from all
the other cells in my body.

The hallucinations usually begin with a coloured speck of red or green
that appears in the total dark surrounding me.  As the speck enlarges,
it is joined by other colours, often yellow, blue, and purple.  Each of
the colours rapidly forms into its own irregular pattern and spreads
across my vision screen.  What I am seeing becomes a kaleidoscope of
bright colours.  The movement in the field accelerates until hundreds of
strips and splotches fuse into one raging explosion.

In the middle of this riot of colour, a coherent image always forms.  At
first I cannot tell exactly what it is, for the figure or figures are
very small, as if they are far, far away.  As the image moves closer, it
changes colour several times, adding both to the surreal overtone of the
vision and to my inner sense of dread.  More than half the time the
image that eventually resolves itself contains my mother, or some animal
like a cheetah or a lioness that I intuitively recognise as my mother in
disguise.  As long as I just watch, and make no volitional attempt to
interact with my mother, she remains a character in the changing image.
However, if I try to contact Mother in any way, she, or the animal
representing her, immediately disappears, leaving me with an
overwhelming feeling of having been abandoned.

During one of my recent hallucinations the waves of colour broke into
geometric patterns, and these in turn changed to human silhouettes
marching single file across my field of view.  Omeh was leading the
procession in a :,J bright green robe.  The two figures at the rear of
the group were both women, the heroines of my adolescence, Joan of Arc
and Eleanor of Aquitaine.  When I 000 first heard their voices the
procession dissolved and the scene instantly shifted.  Suddenly I was in
a small rowing boat in the early morning fog on the small duck pond near
our villa at Beauvois.  I shivered with fear and began to weep
uncontrollably.

Joan and Eleanor appeared in the fog and mist to assure me that my
father was not going to marry Helena, the English duchess with whom he
had gone to Turkey on a vacation.

Another night, the overture of colour was followed by a bizarre
theatrical performance somewhere in Japan.  There were only two
characters in the hallucinatory play, both of whom were wearing
brilliant, expressive masks.  The man who was dressed in the western
suit and tie recited poetry and had magnificently clear, open eyes that
could be seen through his friendly mask.  The other man looked like a
seventeenth-century samurai warrior.  His mask was a perpetual scowl. He
began to threaten both me and his more modern colleague.

I screamed at the end of this hallucination, because the two men met in
the middle of the stage and merged into a single character.

Some of my most powerful hallucinatory images have only lasted for a few
seconds.  On the second or third night, a naked Prince Henry, engorged
with desire, his body a vibrant purple in colour, appeared for two or
three seconds in the middle of another vision in which I was riding on a
giant green octospider.

During yesterday's sleep period there were no colours for hours.  Then,
as I became aware of being incredibly The Garden ofRama hungry, a giant
pink manna melon appeared in the darkness.  When I attempted to eat the
melon in my vision, it grew legs and scampered away, disappearing into
unresolved colours.

Does any of this mean anything at all?  Can I learn something about
myself or my life from these apparently random outpourings of my
undirected mind?

The debate about the significance of dreams has raged now for almost
three centuries and is still unresolved.  These hallucinations of mine,
it seems to me, are even more removed from realitv than normal dreams.
In a sense they are distant cousins of the two psychedelic trips that I
took earlier in my life, and any attempt to interpret them logically
would be absurd.  However, for some reason I still believe some
fundamental truths are contained in these wild and seemingly unconnected
rampagings of my mind.  Maybe that's because I cannot accept that the
human brain ever operates in a purely random manner.

Yesterday the floor finally stopped shaking.  Richard had predicted it.
When we didn't go back into the tank two days ago at the customary time,
Richard correctly conjectured that the manoeuvre was almost over.

So we enter still another phase of our incredible odyssey.  My husband
informs us that we are now travelling at a velocity of more than half
the speed of light.  That means we are covering the Earth-Moon distance
approximately every two seconds.  We are headed, more or less, in the
direction of the star Sirius, the brightest true star in the night sky
of our home planet.  If there are no more manoeuvres, we will arrive in
the vicinity of Sirius in another twelve years.

I am relieved that our life may now return to some kind of local
equilibrium.  Simone seems to have weathered the long periods in the
tank without any noticeable difficulties, but I can't believe that such
an experience will leave an infant totally unscathed.  It is important
for her that we now reestablish a daily routine.

In my moments alone I still think often about those vivid hallucinations
during the first ten days in the tank.  I must admit that I was
delighted when I finally endured several 'twilight zones' of total
sensory deprivation without the wild, coloured.  patterns and disjointed
images flooding my mind.  By that time I was starting to worry about my
sanity and, quite frankly, was already way past 'overwhelm'.  Even
though the hallucinations abruptly stopped, my recollection of the
strength of those visions still made me wary each time the lights in the
top of the tank were extinguished during the last several weeks.

I had only one additional vision after those first ten days - and it may
actually just have been an extremely vivid dream during a normal period
of sleep.

Despite the fact that this particular image was not as sharp as the
earlier ones, I have nevertheless retained all the details because of
its similarity to one of the hallucinatory segments while I was at the
bottom of the pit last year.

In my final dream or vision I was sitting with my father at an outdoor
concert in an unknown place.  An old Oriental gentleman with a long
white beard was by himself on the stage, playing music on some kind of
strange string instrument.  Unlike my vision at the bottom of the pit,
however, my father and I did not turn into little birds and fly away to
Chinon in France.  Instead, my father's body disappeared completely, The
Garden ofRama leaving only his eyes.  Within a few seconds there were
five other pairs of eyes forming a hexagon in the air above me.  I
recognized Omeh's eyes immediately, and my mother's, but the other three
were unknown.  The eyes at the vertices of the hexagon all stared at me,
unblinking, as if they were trying to communicate something.  just
before the music stopped I heard a single distinct sound.  Several
voices simultaneously uttered the word 'Danger'.

What was the origin of my hallucinations, and why was I the only one of
the three of us to experience them?  Richard and Michael also endured
sensory deprivation, and they have each admitted that some bizarre
patterns floated 'in front of their faces', but their images were never
coherent.  If, as we have conjectured, the Ramans intially injected us
with a chemical or two, using the tiny threads that wound around our
bodies, to help us sleep in the unfamiliar surroundings, why was I the
only one to respond with such wild visions?

Richard and Michael both think the answer is simple, that I am a
'druglabile individual with a hyperactive imagination'.  As far as they
are concerned, that's the entire explanation.  They don't pursue the
subject any further and, although they are polite when I raise the many
issues associated with my 'trips', they don't even seem interested
anymore.  I might have expected that kind of a response from Richard,
but certainly not from Michael.

Actually, even our predictable General O'Toole has not been completely
himself since we began our sessions in the tank.  He has clearly been
preoccupied with other matters.  Only this morning did I obtain a small
glimpse of what has been going on in his mind.

'I have always,' Michael finally said slowly, after I had been pestering
him with friendly questions for several minutes, 'without consciously
acknowledging it, redefined and relimited God with each new breakthrough
in science.  I had managed to integrate a concept of the Ramans into my
Catholicism, but in so doing I had merely expanded my limited definition
of Him.  Now, when I find myself aboard a robot spacecraft travelling at
relativistic speeds, I see that I must completely unfetter God.

Only then can He be the supreme being of all the particles and processes
in the universe." The challenge of my life in the near future is at the
other extreme.

Richard and Michael are focused on profound ideas, Richard in the realm
of science and engineering, Michael in the world of the soul.  Although
I thoroughly enjoy the stimulating ideas produced by each of them in his
separate search for the truth, someone must pay attention to the
everyday tasks of living.  The three of us have the responsibility,
after all, of preparing our only member of the next generation for her
adult life.  It looks as if the task of being the primary parent will
always fall to me.

It is a responsibility I gladly embrace.  When Simone smiles radiantly
at me during a break from her nursing, I don't muse about my
hallucinations, it really doesn't matter that much whether or not there
is a God, and it is not of overwhelming significance that the Ramans
have developed a method for using water as nuclear fuel.  At that
instant the only thing that is important is that I am Simone's mother.

Spring has definitely come to Rama.  The thaw began as soon as the
manoeuvre was completed.  By that time the the Garden of Rama
temperature topside had reached a frigid twenty-five below zero, and we
had begun to worry about how much lower the outside temperature could
become before the system regulating the thermal conditions in our lair
would be stretched to the limit.  The temperature has been rising
steadily almost a degree per day since then and, at that rate, will
cross the freezing level within two more weeks.

We are now outside the solar system, in the near perfect vacuum that
fills the immense voids between neighbouring stars.  Our sun is still
the dominant object in the sky, but none of the planets is even visible.
Two or three times a week Richard searches through the telescopic data
for some sign of the comets in the Oort Cloud, but thus far he has seen
nothing.

Where is the heat coming from that warms the interior of our vehicle?
Our master engineer, the handsome cosmonaut Richard Wakefield, had a
quick explanation when Michael asked him that question yesterday.  'The
same nuclear system that was providing the huge velocity change is
probably now generating the heat.

Rama must have two different operating regimes.  When it is in the
neighbourhood of a heat source, like a star, it turns off all its
primary systems, including propulsion and thermal control." Both Michael
and I congratulated Richard on an eminently plausible explanation.
'But,' I asked him, 'there are still many other questions.  ny, for
example, does it have the two separate engineering systems?  And why
does it turn off the primary one at all?" 'Here I can only speculate,'
Richard answered with his usual grin.  'Maybe the primary systems need
periodic repairs and these can only be accomplished when there is an
external source of heat and power.  You have seen how the various biots
maintain the surface of Rama.

Maybe there's another set of biots who perform all the maintenance on
the primary systems." J have another idea,' Michael said slowly.  'Do
you believe we are meant to be on board this spacecraft?" 'What do you
mean?" Richard asked, his brow furrowed.

'Do you think it is a random event that we are here?  Or is it a likely
event, given all the probabilities and the nature of our species, that
some members of the human race would be inside Rama at this moment?"X I
liked Michael's line of reasoning.  He was hinting, although he didn't
yet understand it completely himself, that perhaps the Ramans were not
just geniuses in the hard sciences and engineering. Perhaps they knew
something about universal psychology as well.  Richard wasn't following.

'Are you suggesting,' I asked, 'that the Rarnans purposely used their
secondary systems in the neighbourhood of the Earth, expecting thereby
to lure us into a rendezvous?" 'That's preposterous,' Richard said
immediately.

'But Richard,' Michael rejoined, 'think about it.  What would have been
the probability of any contact if the Ramans had streaked into our
system at a significant fraction of the speed of light, rounded the sun,
and then gone on their merry way?  Absolutely zero.  And, as you have
indicated yourself, there may be other "foreigners", if we can call
ourselves that, on this ship as well.  I doubt if many species have the
ability ..." During a break in the conversation I reminded the men that
the Cylindrical Sea would soon melt from below, and that there would be
hurricanes and tidal waves immediately afterwards.  We all later agreed
that we should retrieve the backup sailing boat from the Beta site.

It took the men slightly more than twelve hours to trek both ways across
the ice.  Night had already fallen by the time they returned.  When
Richard and Michael reached our lair, Simone, who is already completely
aware of her surroundings, reached our her arms to Michael.

'I see someone is glad that I'm back,' Michael said jokingly.

'As long as it's just Simone' Richard said.  He seemed strangely tense
and distant.

Last night his peculiar mood continued.  'What's the matter, darling?" I
asked him, when we were alone together on our mat.  He didn't reply
immediately, so I kissed him on the cheek and waited.

'It's Michael,' Richard said at length.  'I just realised today, when we
were carrying the boat across the ice, that he's in love with you.  You
should hear him.  All he talks about is you.  You're the perfect mother,
the perfect wife, the perfect friend.  He even admitted that he was
envious of me." I caressed Richard for a few seconds, trying to figure
out how to respond.

'I think you're making too much of some casual statements, darling,' I
said finally.  'Michael was simply expressing his honest affection.  I
am very fond of him as well .  .  ." 'I know - that's what bothers me,'
Richard interrupted me abruptly.  'He takes care of Simone most of the
time when you're busy, the two of you talk for hours while I'm working
on my projects..." He stopped and stared at me with a strange, forlorn
look in his eyes.  His gaze was scary.  This was not the same Richard
Wakefield that I have known intimately for over a year.  A chill rushed
through my system before his eyes softened and he reached over to kiss
me.

After we made love and he fell asleep, Simone stirred and I decided to
feed her.  While I was nursing I thought back over the entire period of
time since Michael had found us at the foot of the chairlift.  There was
nothing I could cite that should have caused Richard the slightest bit
of jealousy.  Even our lovemaking had remained regular and satisfying
throughout, although I will admit it hasn't been too imaginative since
Simone's birth.

The crazy look that I had seen in Richard's eyes continued to haunt me
even after Simone was finished nursing.  I promised myself I would find
more time to be alone with Richard in the coming weeks.

I verified today that I am indeed pregnant again.  Michael was
delighted, Richard surprisingly unresponsive.  When I talked to Richard
privately, he acknowledged that he had mixed feelings, because Simone
had finally reached the stage where she didn't need constant attention
anymore.  I reminded him that when we had talked two months ago about
having another child, he had given his enthusiastic consent.  Richard
suggested to me that his eagerness to father a second child had been
strongly influenced by my 'obvious excitement' at the time.

The new baby should arrive in mid-March.  By then we will have finished
the nursery and will have enough living space for the entire family.  I
am sorry that Richard is not thrilled about being a father again, but I
am glad that Simone will now have a playmate.

Catharine Colin Wakefield (we will call her Katie) was born on the
thirteenth of March at 6:16 in the morning' It was an easy birth, only
four hours from the first strong contraction to delivery.  There was no
significant pain at any time.  I delivered squatting on my haunches and
was in such good shape that I cut the umbilical myself.

Katie already cries a lot.  Both Genevieve and Simone were sweet, mellow
babies, but Katie is obviously going to be a noisemaker.  Richard is
pleased that I wanted to name her after his mother.  I had hoped that he
might be more interested in his role as father this time, but at present
he is too busy working on his 'perfect data base' (it will index and
provide easy access to all our information) to pay much attention to
Katie.

My third daughter weighed just under four kilograms at birth and was
fiftyfour centimetres long.  Simone was almost certainly not as heavy
when she was born, but we did not have an accurate scale at the time.
Katie's skin colour is quite fair, almost white in fact,.and her hair is
much lighter than the dark black tresses of her sister.  Her eyes are
surprisingly blue.  I know that it's not unusual for babies to have blue
eyes and that often they darken significantly in the fint year.  But I
never expected a child of mine to have blue eyes for even a moment.

It's hard for me to believe that Katie is already more than two months
old.  She is such a demanding baby!  By now I should have been able to
teach her not to pull on my nipples, but I cannot break her of the
habit.  She is especially difficult when anyone else is present while I
am nursing.  If I even turn my head to talk to Michael or Richard, or
especially if I try to answer one of Simone's questions, then Katie
jerks on my nipple with a vengeance.

F 14o, Richard has been extremely moody lately.  At times he is his
usual brilliant, witty self, keeping Michael and me laughing with his
erudite banter; however, his mood can shift in an instant.  A single
seemingly innocuous observation by either of us can plunge him into
depression or even anger.

I suspect that Richard's real problem these days is boredom.  He has
finished his data base project and not yet started another major
activity.  The fabulous computer he built last year contains subroutines
that make our interface with the black screen almost routine.  Richard
could add some variety to his days by playing a more active part in
Simone's development and education, but I guess it's just not his style.
He does not seem to be fascinated, as Michael and I are, with the
complex patterns of growth that are emerging in Simone.

When I was first pregnant with Katie, I was quite concerned about
Richard's apparent lack of interest in children.  I decided to attack
the problem directly by asking him to help me set up a mini-laboratory
that would enable us to analyse part of Katie's genome from a sample of
my amniotic fluid.  The project involved complex chemistry, a level of
interaction with the Ranians deeper than any we had ever tried before,
and the creation and calibration of some sophisticated medical
instruments.

Richard loved the task.  I did too, for it reminded me of my days in
medical school.  We worked together for twelve, sometimes fourteen hours
a day (leaving Michael to take care of Simone - those two are certainly
fond of each other) until we were finished..  Often we would talk about
our work late into the night, even while we were making love.

When the day came, however, that we completed the analysis of our own
future child's genome, I discovered, much to my amazement, that Richard
was more excited about the fact that the equipment and analysis met all
our specifications, than he was about the characteristics of .  When I
told him that the child was a girl, and didn't have Down's or
Whittingham's syndrome, and none of her a priori cancer tendencies were
outside the acceptable ranges, he reacted matter-of-factly.  But when I
praised the speed and accuracy with which the system had completed the
test, Richard beamed with pride.  What a different man my husband is! He
is much more comfortable with the world of mathematics and engineering
than he is with other people.

Michael has noticed Richard's recent restlessness as well.  He has
encouraged him to create more toys for Simone, like the brilliant dolls
Richard made when I was in the final months of my pregnancy with Katie.
Those dolls are still Simone's favourite playthings.  They walk around
on their own and even respond to a dozen verbal commands.  One night,
when Richard was in one of his exuberant moods, he programmed TB to
interact with the dolls.  Simone was almost hysterical with laughter
after The Bard (Michael insists on calling Richard's
Shakespeare-spouting robot by its full name) chased all three of the
dolls into a corner and then launched into a medley of love sonnets.

Not even TB has cheered Richard these last two weeks.  He's not sleeping
well, which is unusual for him, and he has shown no passion for
anything.  Even our regular and varied sex life has been suspended, so
Richard must be really struggling with his internal demons.  Three days
ago he left early in the morning (it was also just after dawn in Rama -
every now and then our Earth clock in the lair and the Raman clock
outside The Garden ofRama are in synch) and stayed up in New York for
over ten hours.  When I asked him what he had been doing, he replied
that he had sat on the wall and stared at the Cylindrical Sea.  Then he
changed the subject.

Michael and Richard are both convinced that we are now alone on our
island.

Richard has entered the avian lair twice recently, both times staying on
the side of the vertical corridor away from the tank sentry. He even
descended once to the second horizontal passageway, where I made my
leap, but he saw no signs of life.  The octospider lair now has a pair
of complicated grilles between the covering and the first landing.  For
the past four months, Richard has been electronically monitoring the
region around the octo lair again; even though he admits there may be
some ambiguities in his monitor data, Richard insists he can tell from
visual inspection alone that the grilles have not been opened for a long
time.

The men assembled the sailing boat a couple of months ago, and then
spent two hours checking it out on the Cvlindrical Sea.  Simone and I
waved to them from the &re.  Fearful that the crab biots would define
the boat as 'garbage' (as they apparently did the other boat we never
did figure out what happened to it; a couple of days after we escaped
from the phalanx of nuclear missiles, we returned to where we had left
it and it was gone), Richard and Michael disassembled it again and
brought it into our lair for safekeeping.

Richard has said several times that he would like to sail across the
sea, towards the south, and see if he can find any place where the
five-hundred-metre cliff can be scaled.  Our information about the
Southern Hemicylinder of Rama is very limited.  Except for the few days
when we were on the biot hunt with the original Newton cosmonaut team,
our knowledge of the region is limited to the crude mosaics assembled in
realtime from the initial Newton drone images.  It would certainly be
fascinating and exciting to explore the south - maybe we could even find
out where all those octospiders went.

But we can't afford to take any risks at this juncture.

Our family is critically dependent on each of the three- .

adults - the loss of any one of us would be devastating'll I believe
Michael O'Toole is content with the life we have made for ourselves on
Rama, especially since the addition of Richard's large computer has made
so muchJ more information readily available to us.  We now have access
to all the encyclopedic data that was stored on board the Newton
military ship.  Michael's current 'study unit', as he calls his
organised recreation, is art history.  Last month his conversation was
full of the Medici and the Catholic popes of the Renaissance, along with
Michelangelo, Raphael, and the other great painters of the period.  He
is now involved with the nineteenth century, a time in art history that
I find more interesting.  We have had many recent discussions about the
Impressionist 'revolution', but Michael does not accept my argument that
Impressionism was simply a natural by-product of the advent of the
camera.

Michael spends hours with Simone.  He is patient, tender, and caring. He
has carefully monitored her development and has recorded her major
milestones in his electronic notebook.  At present Simone knows
twenty-one of her twenty-six letters by sight (she confuses the pair C
and S, as well as Y and V, and for some reason cannot learn the K), and
can count to twenty on a good day.  Simone can also correctly identify
drawings of an avian, an octospider, and the four most prevalent , es of
biots.  She knows the names of the twelve I disciples as well, a fact
that does not make Richard happy.  We have already had one 'summit 77ze
Garden ofRarna meeting' about the spiritual education of our daughters,
and the result was polite disagreement.

That leaves me.  I am happy most of the time, although I do have some
days when Richard's restlessness or Katie's crying or just the absurdity
of our strange life on this alien spaceship combine to overwhelm me.  I
am always busy.

I plan most of the family activities, decide what we're eating and when,
and organise the children's days, including their naps.  I never stop
asking the question, where are we going, but it no longer frustrates me
that I do not know the answer.

My personal intellectual activity is more limited than I might choose,
if I were left to my own devices, but I tell myself that there are only
so many hours in the day.  Richard, Michael, and I engage often in
lively conversation, so there is certainly no dearth of stimulation. But
neither of them has much interest in some intellectual areas that have
always been a part of my life.  My skills in languages and linguistics,
for example, have been a source of considerable pride to me since my
earliest days in school.  Several weeks ago I had a terrifying dream in
which I had forgotten how to write or speak in anything but English. For
two weeks thereafter I spent two hours by myself each day, not just
reviewing my beloved French, but studying Italian and Japanese as well.

One afternoon last month, Richard projected on the black screen a Raman
external telescope output that included our sun and another thousand
stars in the field of view.  The sun was the brightest of the objects,
but just barely.

Richard reminded Michael and me that we are already more than twelve
thousand billion kilometres away from our oceanic home planet in close
orbit around that insignificant distant star.

Later the same evening we watched 'Eleanor the Queen', one of the thirty
or so movies originally carried on board the Newton to entertain the
cosmonaut crew.  The movie was loosely based on my father's successful
novels about Eleanor of Aquitaine and was filmed in many of the
locations that I had visited with my father when I was an adolescent.

The final scenes of the movie, showing the years before Eleanor died,
all took place in L'Abbaye de Fontevrault.  I remember being fourteen
years old and standing in the abbey beside my father opposite the carved
effigy of Eleanor, my hands trembling with emotion as I clutched his.
'You were a great woman,' I once said to the spirit of the queen who had
dominated twelfth-century history in France and England, 'and you have
set an example for me to follow.  I will not disappoint you." That
night, after Richard was asleep and while Katie was temporarily quiet, I
thought about the day again and was filled with a deep sorrow, a sense
of loss that I could not quite articulate.  The juxtaposition of the
retreating sun and the image of myself as a teenager, making bold
promises to a queen who had been dead for almost a thousand years,
reminded me that everything I had ever known before Rama is now
finished.  My two new daughters will never see any of the places that
meant so much to me and Genevieve.  They will never know the smell of
freshly mown grass in springtime, the radiant beauty of the flowers, the
songs of the birds, or the glory of the full moon rising out of the
ocean.  They will not know the planet Earth at all, or any of its
inhabitants, except for this small and motley crew they will call their
family, a meagre representation of the overflowing life on a blessed
planet.

That night I wept quietly for several minutes, knowing even as I was
weeping that by morning I would again be wearing my optimistic face.
After all, it could be much worse.  We have the essentials: food, water,
shelter, clothing, good health, companionship, and, of course, love.
Love is the most important ingredient for the happiness of any human
life, either on Earth or Rama.  If Simone and Katie learn only of love
from the world we've left behind, it will be enough.

I APRIL 2204 Today was unusual in every respect.  First, I announced as
soon as everyone was awake that we were going to dedicate the day to the
memory of Eleanor of Aquitaine, who died, if the historians are correct
and we have properly tracked the calendar, exactly one thousand years
ago today.  To my delight, the entire family supported the idea and both
Richard and Michael immediately volunteered to help with the
festivities.  Michael, whose art history unit has now been replaced by
one on cooking, suggested that he prepare a special medieval brunch in
honour of the queen.  Richard dashed off with TB, whispering to me that
the little robot was going to return as Henry Plantagenet.

I had developed a short history lesson for Simone, introducing her to
Eleanor and the twelfth-century world.  She was unusually attentive.
Even Katie, who never sits still for longer than five minutes, was
cooperative and didn't interrupt us.  She played quietly with her baby
toys most of the morning.  Simone asked me at the end of the lesson why
Queen Eleanor had died.  When I responded that the queen had died of old
age, my three-year-old daughter than asked if Queen Eleanor had 'gone to
heaven'.

77te Garden of Ranta 'Where did you get that idea?" I asked Simone,
'From Uncle Michael,' she replied.  'He told me that good people go to
heaven when they die and bad people go to hell." 'Some people believe
there is a heaven,' I said after a reflective pause, 'others believe in
what's called reincarnation, where people come back and live again as a
different person or even as a different kind of animal.  Some people
also believe that our existence is a finite miracle, with a specific
beginning and an end that terminates with the death of each particular,
unique individual." I smiled and tousled her hair.

'What do you believe, Marna?" my daughter then asked.

I felt something very close to panic.  I temporised with a few comments
while I tried to figure out what to say.  An expression from my
favourite TS Eliot poem, 'to lead you to an overwhelming question',
whisked in and out of my mind.  Luckily I was rescued.

'Fare thee well, young lady,' the little robot TB, dressed in what was
supposed to pas-s for medieval riding garb, walked into the room and
informed Simone that he was Henry Plantagenet, king of England, and
husband of Queen Eleanor.  Simone's smile brightened.  Katie looked up
and grinned.

'The queen and I built a grand empire,' the robot said, making an
expansive gesture with his little arms, 'that eventually included all of
England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and half of what is now France." TB
recited a prepared lecture with gusto, amusing Simone and Katie with his
winks and hand gestures.  He then reached in his pocket and pulled out a
miniature knife and fork, claiming that he had introduced the concept of
eating utensils to the 'barbaric English'.

'But why did you put Queen Eleanor in prison?"

Arthw C Ckrke and Genvy Lee Simone asked after the robot was finished. I
smiled.  She had indeed paid attention to her history lesson.  'Mc
robot's head pivoted in Richard's direction.  Richard held up a finger,
indicating a brief wait, and rushed out into the corridor.  In no more
than a minute, TB aka Henry H returned.  The robot walked over to
Simone.  'I fell in love with another woman,' he said, 'and Queen
Eleanor was angry.  To get even with me, she turned my sons against
me..." Richard and I had just started a mild argument about the real
reasons why Henry imprisoned Eleanor (we have discovered many times that
we each learned a different version of Anglo-French history) when we
heard a distant but unmistakable shriek.  Within moments all five of us
were topside.  The shriek was repeated.

We looked up in the sky above us.  A solitary avian was flying a wide
pattern a few hundred metres above the tops' of the skyscrapers.  We
hurried over to the ramparts, beside the Cylindrical Sea, so we could
have a better look.

Once, twice, three times the great creature flew around the perimeter of
the island.  At the end of each loop the avian emitted a single long
shriek.  Richard waved his arms and shouted throughout the flight, but
there was no indication that he was noticed.

The children became restless after about an hour.  We agreed that
Michael would take them back to the lair and Richard and I would stay as
long, as there was any possibility of contact.  The bird continued
flying in the same pattern.

'Do you think it's looking for something?" I asked Richard.

'I don't know,' he said, shouting again and waving at the avian as it
reached the point in its loop where it was closest to us.  This time it
changed course, inscribing long graceful arcs in its helical descent. As
it grew closer, Mm" A

The Garden ofRama Richard and I could see both its grey velvet
underbelly and the two bright, cherry red rings around its neck.

'It's our friend,' I whispered to Richard, remembering the avian leader
who had agreed to transport us across the Cylindrical Sea four years
earlier.

But this avian was not the healthy, robust creature that had flown in
the centre of the formation when we had escaped from New York.  This
bird was skinny and emaciated, its velvet dirty and unkempt.  'It's
sick,' Richard said as the bird landed about twenty metres J away from
us.

-the avian jab .  bered something softly and jerked its head around
nervously, as if it were expecting more company.  Richard took one step
towards it and the creature waved its wings, flapped them once, and
backed up a few metres.  'What food do we have available,' Richard said
in a low voice, 'that is chemically most like the manna nielon?" I shook
my head.  'We don't have any food at all except last night's chicken -
wait,' I said, interrupting myself, 'we do have that green punch the
children like.  It looks like the liquid in the centre of the manna
melon." Richard was gone before I had finished my sentence.  During the
ten minutes until he returned, the avian and I stared silently at one
another.  I tried to focus my mind on friendly thoughts, hoping that
somehow my good intentions would be communicated through my eyes.  Once
I did see the avian change its expression, but of course I had no idea
what either expression meant.

Richard returned carrying one of our black bowls filled with the green
punch.  He set the bowl in front of us and pointed at it as we backed
away six or eight metres.  The avian approached it in small, halting
steps, stopping eventually right in front of the bowl.  The bird dropped
its beak into the liquid, took a small sip, and A

then threw its head back to swallow.

Apparently the punch was all right, for the liquid was drained in less
than a minute.  When the avian was finished, it backed up two steps,
spread its wings to their full extent, and made a full circular turn.

'Now we should say "you're welcome",' I said, extending my hand to
Richard.  We executed our circular turn, as we had done when we had said
goodbye and thank you four years earlier, and bowed slightly in the
avian's direction when we were finished.

Both Richard and I thought that the creature smiled, but we readily
admitted later that we might have imagined it.  The grey velvet avian
spread its wings, lifted off the ground, and soared over our heads into
the air.

'Where do you think it's going?" I asked Richard.

'It's dying,' he replied softly.

'It's taking one last look around the world it has known." Today is my
birthday.  I am now fortyone years old.  Last night I had another of my
vivid dreams.  I was very old.  My hair was completely grey and my face
was heavily wrinkled.  I was living in a castle - somewhere near the
Loire, not too far from Beauvois - with two grown daughters (neither of
whom looked, in the dream, like Simone or Katie or Genevieve) and three
grandsons.  The boys were all teenagers, healthy physically, but there
was something wrong with each of them.  They were all dull, maybe even
retarded.  I remember in the dream trying to explain to them how the
molecule of haemoglobin carries oxygen from the pulmonary system to the
tissues.  None of them could understand what I was saying.

)4 the Garden ofRama I woke up from the dream in a depression.  It was
the middle of the night and everyone else in the family was asleep.  As
I often do, I walked down the corridor to the nursery to make certain
that the girls were still covered by their light blankets.  Simone
hardly ever moves at night but Katie, as usual, had thrown her blanket
off with her thrashing around.  I put the cover back over Katie and then
sat down in one of the chairs.

What is bothering me?  I wondered.  Why have I been having so many
dreams about children and grandchildren?  One day last week I made a
joking reference to the possibility of having a third child and Richard,
who is going through another of his extended gloomy periods, almost
jumped out of his skin.  I think he's still sorry I talked him into
having Katie.  I dropped the subject immediately, not wanting to provoke
another of his nihilistic tirades.

Would I really want another baby at this juncture?  Does it make any
sense at all, given the situation in which we find ourselves?  Putting
aside for the moment any personal reasons I might have for giving birth
to a third child, there is a powerful biological argument or continuing
to reproduce.  Our best guess at our destiny is that we will never have
any future contact with other members of the human species.  If we are
the last in our line, it would be wise for us to pay heed to one of the
fundamental tenets of evolution: maximum genetic variation produces the
highest probability of survival in an uncertain environment.

After I had thoroughly awakened from my dream last night, my mind
carried the scenario even further.  Suppose, I asked myself, that Rama
is really not going anywhere, at least not soon, and that we will spend
the rest of our lives in our current conditions.  Then, in all
likelihood, Simone and Katie will outlive the three of us adults.  What
will happen next?  I asked.  Unless we have somehow saved some semen
from either Michael or Richard (and both the biological and sociological
problems would be formidable), my daughters will not be able to
reproduce.  They themselves may arrive at paradise or nirvana or some
other world, but they will k/ eventually perish and the genes they carry
will die with them.

But suppose, I continued, that I give birth to a son.  Then the two
girls will have a male companion their age and the problem of succeeding
generations will be dramatically lessened.

It was at this point in my thought pattern that a truly crazy idea
jumped into my brain.  One of my major areas of specialty during my
medical training was genetics, especially hereditary defects.  I
remembered my case 4 studies of the royal families of Europe between the
fifteenth and eighteenth centuries and the many 'inferior' individuals
produced from the excessive inbreeding.  A son produced by Richard and
me would have the same genetic ingredients as Simone and Katie.  That
son's children with either of the girls, our grandchildren, would have a
very high risk of defects.  A son produced by Michael and me, on the
other hand, would share only half his genes with the girls and, if my
memory of the data serves me correctly, his offspring with Simone or
Katie would have a drastically lower defect risk.

I immediately rejected this outrageous thought.  It did not, however, go
away.  Later in the night, when I should have been sleeping, my mind
returned to the same topic.  What if I become pregnant by Richard again,
I asked myself, and I have a third girl?  Then it will be necessary to
repeat the entire process.  I'm already forty-one.  How many more years
do I have before the onset of menopause, even if I delay it chemically?
On the basis of the two data points thus far, there is no evidence that
Richard can produce a boy at all.  We could establish a laboratory to
permit male sperm selection from his semen, but it would take a
monumental effort on our part and months of detailed interaction with
the Ramans.  And there would still remain the issues of sperm
preservation and delivery to the ovaries.

I thought through the various proven techniques of altering the natural
sex selection process (the man's diet, type and frequency of
intercourse, timing with respect to ovulation, etc.)  and concluded that
Richard and I would probably have a good chance of producing a boy
naturally, if we were very careful.  But at the back of my mind the
thought persisted that the odds would be still more favourable if
Michael were the father.  After all, he had two sons (out of three
children) as a result of random behaviour.  However much I might be able
to improve the probabilities with Richard, the same techniques with
Michael would virtually guarantee a son.

Before I fell back into steep, I considered briefly the impracticality
of the entire idea.  A foolproof method of artificial insemination
(which I would be require to supervise, even though I was the subject)
would have to be devised.

Could we do that, in our current situation, and guarantee both the sex
and the health of the embryo?  Even hospitals on Earth, with all the
resources at their command, are not always successful.  The other
alternative was to have sex with Michael.  Although I did not find that
thought unpleasant, the sociological ramifications seemed so great that
I abandoned the idea altogether.

(Six hours later.)  The men surprised me tonight with a special dinner.
Michael is becoming quite a cook.  The food tasted, as advertised, like
Beef Wellington, although it looked more like creamed spinach.  Richard
and Michael also served a red liquid that was labelled wine.  It wasn't
terrible, so I drank it, discovering much to my surprise that it
contained some alcohol and I actually felt a buzz.  4 All of us were, in
fact, slightly tipsy by the end of the dinner.  The girls, Simone
especially, were puzzled by our behaviour.  During our dessert of
coconut pie, Michael told me that forty-one was a 'very special number'.
He then explained to me that it was the largest prime that started a
long quadratic sequence of other primes.  When I asked him what a
quadratic sequence was, he laughed and said he didn't know.  He did,
however, write out the forty-element sequence he was talking about: 41,
43, 47, 53, 61, 71, 83, 97, 113 ...  concluding with the number 1601. He
assured me that every one of the forty numbers in the sequence was a
prime.  'Therefore,' he said with a twinkle, 'forty-one must be a magic
number." While I was laughing our resident genius Richard looked at the
numbers and then, after no more than a minute of playing with his
computer, explained to Michael and me why the sequence was called
'quadratic'.  'The second differences are constant,' he said, showing us
what he meant with an example.  'Therefore the entire sequence can be
generated by a simple quadratic expression.  Take f(N) N2 - N + 41,' he
continued, 'where N is any integer from 0 to 40.  That function will
generate your entire sequence.

'Better still,' he laughed, 'consider, f(N) = N2 - 8 IN + 1681, where N
is an integer running from 1 to 80.  This quadratic formula starts at
the tail end of your string of numbers, f(l) = 1601, and proceeds
through the sequence in decreasing order first.  It reverses itself at
f(40) = f(41) - 41, and then generates your entire array of numbers
again in increasing order." Richard smiled.  Michael and I just stared
at him with awe.

Katie had her second birthday today and everyone was in a good mood,
Richard especially.  He does like his little girl, even though she
manipulates him outrageously.  For her birthday he took her over to the
octospider lair cover and they rattled the grilles together.  Both
Michael and I expressed our disapproval, but Richard laughed and winked
at Katie.

At dinner Simone played a short piano piece that Michael has been
teaching her and Richard served a quite remarkable wine, a Raman
Chardormay he called it, with our poached salmon.  In Rama poached
salmon looks like scrambled eggs on Earth, which is a bit confusing, but
we continue to adhere to our convention of labelling foods according to
their nutritional content.

I'm feeling buoyantly happy, even though I must admit that I am slightly
nervous about my coming discussion with Richard.  He is very upbeat at
present, mostly because he's busily working on not one, but two major
projects.  Not only is he making liquid concoctions whose taste and
alcohol content rival the fine wines of the planet Earth, but he is also
creating a new set of twenty centimetre robots based on the characters
from the plays of the twentieth-century Nobel laureate Samuel Beckett.
Michael and I have been urging Richard to reincarnate his Shakespeare
troupe .  for several years, but the memory of his lost friends has
always stopped him.  But a new playwright - that's a different question.
He has already finished the four characters in 'Endgame'.

Tonight the children laughed gleefully when the old folks 'Nagg' and
'Nell' rose out of their tiny garbage cans shouting 'My Pap.  Bring me
my Pap." I am definitely going to present to Richard my idea of having a
son with Michael as the father.  He will, I am certain, appreciate the
logic and the science of the suggestion, although I can hardly expect
him to be terribly enthusiastic about it.  Of course I have not
mentioned my idea at all to Michael yet.  He does know I have something
serious on my mind, however, because I have asked him if he would look
after the girls this afternoon while Richard and I go topside for a
picnic and a ram talk.

My nervousness about this issue is probably unwarranted.  It is
doubtless based on a definition of proper behaviour that simply has no
application to our present situation.  Richard is feeling good these
days.  His wit has been very sharp lately.  He may throw a few sharp
zingers at me during our discussion, but I bet he will be in favour of
the idea at the end.

This has been the spring of our discontent.  Oh Lord, what fools we
mortals be.

Richard, Richard, please come back.

Where to start?  And how to begin?  Do I dare to eat a peach?  In a
minute there are visions and revisions that a minute ...  In the next
room Michael and Simone come and go, talking of Michelangelo.

.  My father always told me that everyone makes mistakes.  Why did mine
have to be so colossal?  The idea made good sense.  My left brain said
it was logical.

But deep down inside the human being, reason does not always carry the
day.

Emotions are not rational.  jealousy is not the output of a computer
program.

There were plenty of warnings.  That first afternoon, as we sat beside
the Cylindrical Sea and had our 'picnic', I could tell from Richard's
eyes that there was a problem.  Uh-oh, back off, Nicole, I said to
myself.

But later he seemed so reasonable.  'Of course,' Richard said that same
afternoon, 'what you are suggesting is the genetically correct thing to
do.  I will go with you to tell Michael.  Let's get this over as fast as
we can, hoping one encounter will beall that is necessary." I felt
elated at the time.  It never occurred to me that Michael might balk.
'It would be a sin,' he said in the evening, after the girls were
asleep, seconds after he understood what we were proposing.

Richard took the offensive, arguing that the entire concept of sin was
an anachronism even on Earth and that he, Michael, was just being silly.
'Do you really want me to do this?" Michael asked Richard directly at
the end of the conversation.

'No,' Richard answered after a brief hesitation, 'but it's clearly in
the best interests of our children." I should have paid more attention
to the 'no'.

It never occurred to me that my plan might not work.  I tracked my
ovulation cycle very carefully.  When the designated night finally
arrived, I informed Richard and he stalked out of the lair for one of
his long hikes in Rama.

Michael was nervous and fighting his feelings of guilt, but even in my
worst doomsday scenario I had not imagined that he might be unable to
have intercourse with me.

When we took off our clothes (in the dark, so Michael would not feel
uncomfortable) and lay beside each other on the mats, I discovered that
his body was rigid and tense.  I kissed him on the forehead and cheeks.
Then I tried to loosen him up by rubbing his back and neck.  After about
thirty minutes of touching (but nothing that would be considered sexual
foreplay), I snuggled my body against his in a suggestive way.  It was
obvious we had a problem.  His penis was still completely flaccid.

I did not know what to do.  My initial thought, which of course was
completely irrational, was that Michael did not find me attractive. I
felt terrible, as if someone had slapped me in the face.  All my
repressed feelings of inadequacy burst to the surface, and I was
surprisingly angry.  Luckily I didn't say anything (neither of us talked
during this entire period) and Michael couldn't see my The Garden of
Rama face in the dark.  But my body language must have signalled my
disappointment.

'I'm sorry,' he said softly.

'It's all right,' I answered, trying to be nonchalant.

ck without moving, his eyes closed most of the time.  Although I am
certain he was enjoying the rub, he neither said anything nor uttered
any murmurs of pleasure.  'By this time I was becoming exceedingly
anxious.  I found myself wanting Michael to caress me, to tell me that I
was all right.

At length I rolled over with part of my body across his.  I let my
breasts drop gently on his torso while my right hand played with the
hair on his chest.

I leaned up to kiss him on the lips, intending to arouse him elsewhere
with my left hand, but he pulled away quickly and then sat up.

'I can't do this,' Michael said, shaking his head.

'Why not?" I asked quietly, my body now in an awkward position beside
him.

'It's wrong,' he answered with great solemnity.

I tried several times in the next few minutes to start a conversation,
but Michael did not want to talk.  Eventually, because there was nothing
else for me to do, I dressed silently in the dark.  Michael barely
managed a meagre 'good night' when I left.

I did not return immediately to my room.  Once I was out in the corridor
I realised that I was not yet ready to confront Richard.  I leaned
against the wall and struggled with the powerful emotions engulfing me.
Why had I assumed everything would be so simple?  And what would I tell
Richard now?

From the sound of Richard's breathing I knew that he was not asleep when
I entered our room.  If I had had more courage, I might have told him
right then what had happened with Michael.  But it was easier to ignore
it for the moment.

That was a serious mistake.

The next two days were strained.  Nobody mentioned what Richard had once
referred to as the 'fertilisation event'.  The men tried to act as if
everything was normal.  After dinner the second night I persuaded
Richard to take a walk with me while Michael put the girls to bed.

Richard was explaining the chemistry of his new wine fermentation
process as we stood on the ramparts overlooking the Cylindrical Sea.  At
one point I interrupted him and took his hand.  'Richard,' I said, my
eyes searching for love and reassurance in his, 'this is very difficult
.  .  ." My voice trailed off.

'What is it, Nikki?" he asked, forcing a smile.

'Well,' I answered, 'it's Michael.  You see,' I blurted out, 'nothing
really happened ...  He couldn't..." Richard stared at me for a long
time.  'You mean he's impotent?" he asked.

I first nodded and then completely confused him by shaking my head.

'Probably not really,' I stammered, 'but he was the other night with me.
I think he's just too tense or feels guilty or maybe it's been too long
..." I stopped myself, realising I was saying too much.

Richard gazed across the sea for what seemed like an eternity.  'Do you
want to try again?" he said eventually in a completely expressionless
voice.  He did not turn to look at me.

'I ...  I don't know,' I answered.  I squeezed his hand.  I was going to
say something else, to ask him if he could deal with the situation if I
tried one more time, but Richard abruptly walked away from me.  'Let me
know when you make up your mind,' he said tersely.

For a week or two I was certain that I was going to abandon the entire
idea.

Slowly, very slowly, a semblance of cheer returned to our little family.
The night after my period was over Richard and I made love twice for the
first time in a year.  He seemed especially pleased and was very
talkative as we cuddled after the second intercourse.

'I must say I was really worried there for a while,' he said.  'The
thought of your having sex with Michael, even for supposedly logical
reasons, was driving me crazy.  I know it doesn't make rational sense,
but I was terribly afraid that you might like it - do you understand?  -
and that somehow our relationship might be affected." Richard was
obviously assuming that I wasn't going to try again to become pregnant
with Michael's child.  I didn't argue with him that night because I too
was momentarily content.  A few days later, however, when I began
reading about impotence in my medical books, I realised that I was still
determined to proceed with my plan.

During the week before I ovulated again, Richard was busy brewing his
wine (and maybe tasting it a bit more often than necessary - more than
once he was a little drunk before dinner) and creating little robots out
of Samuel Beckett's characters.  My attention was focused on impotence.
My curriculum at medical school had virtually ignored the subject.  And
since my own sexual experience has been comparatively limited, I had
never personally been exposed to it before.

I was surprised to learn that impotence is an extremely common malady,
primarily psychological but very often with an exacerbating physical
component as well, and that there are many well-defined treatment
patterns, all of which focus on lessening 'performance anxiety' in the
man.

Richard saw me preparing my urine for ovulation testing one morning.  He
didn't say anything, but I could tell from his face that he was hurt and
disappointed.  I wanted to reassure him, but the children were in the
room and I was afraid there might be a scene.

I didn't tell Michael that we were going to make a second attempt. I
thought that his anxiety would be reduced if he didn't have time to
think about it.  My plan almost worked.  I went with Michael to his
room, after we had put the children to bed, and explained to him what
was happening while we undressed.

He had the beginnings of an erection and, despite his mild protests, I
moved quickly to sustain it.  I am certain that we would have been
successful if Katie had not started screaming 'Mommy, Mommy' just when
we were ready to begin intercourse.

Of course I left Michael and ran down the corridor to the nursery.
Richard was already there.  He was holding Katie in his arms.  Simone
was sitting up on her mat, rubbing her eyes.  The three of them all
stared at my naked body in the doorway.  'I had a terrible dream,' Katie
said, holding tightly to Richard.  'An octospider was eating me." I
walked into the room.  'Are you feeling better now?" I asked, reaching
out to take Katie.  Richard continued to hold her and she made no effort
to come to me.  After an uncomfortable moment I went over to Simone and
draped my arm across her shoulder.

'Where are your pyjamas, Mother?" my four-year-old asked.  Most of the
time both Richard and I sleep in the Raman version of pyjamas.  The
girls are quite accustomed to my naked body - the three of us shower
together virtually every day - but at night, when I come into the
nursery, I'm almost always wearing pyjamas.

I was going to give Simone a flippant answer when I 77w Garden ofRama
noticed that Richard too was staring at me.  His eyes were definitely
hostile.

'I can take care of things here,' he said harshly.  'Why don't you
finish what you were doing?" I returned to Michael to try one more time
to achieve intercourse and conception.  It was a bad decision.  I made a
futile attempt to arouse Michael for a couple of minutes and then he
pushed my hand away.  'It's useless,' he said.  'I'm almost sixty-three
years old and I haven't had intercourse for five years.  I never
masturbate and I consciously try not to think about sex.  My erection
earlier was just a temporary stroke of luck." He was silent for almost a
minute.  'I'm sorry, Nicole,' he then added, 'but it's not going to
work." We lay silently side by side for several minutes.  I was dressing
and preparing to leave when I noticed that Michael had fallen into the
rhythmic breathing pattern that precedes sleep.  I suddenly remembered
from my reading that men with psychological impotence often have
erections during their sleep and my mind dreamed up another crazy idea.
I lay awake beside Michael for quite a while, waiting until I was
certain he was in a deep sleep.

I stroked him very softly at first.  I was delighted that he responded
very quickly.  After a while I slightly increased the vigour of my
massage, but I was extremely careful not to wake him up.  When he was
definitely ready I prepared myself and moved on top of him.  I was only
moments away from achieving intercourse when I jostled him too roughly
and he awakened.  I tried to continue, but in my haste I must have hurt
him, for he uttered a yelp and looked at me with wild, startled eyes.
Within seconds his erection had vanished.

I rolled over on my back and heaved a deep sigh.  I was terribly
disappointed.  Michael was asking me questions, but I was too distraught
to answer.  Tears suffused my eyes.  I -dressed in a hurry, kissed
Michaelj lightly on the forehead, and stumbled out into the corridor.  I
stood there for another five minutes before I had the strength to return
to Richard.

My husband was still working.  He was down on his knees beside Pozzo,
from Waiting For Godot.  The little robot was in the middle of one of
his long, rambling speeches about the uselessness of everything. Richard
ignored me at first.  Then, after silencing Pozzo, he turned around. 'Do
you think you took long enough?" he asked sarcastically.

'It still didn't work,' I answered dejectedly.  'I guess .  .

'Don't give me that shit,' Richard suddenly shouted angrily.  'I'm not
that stupid.  Do you expect me to believe that you spent two hours naked
with him and nothing happened?  I know about you women.  You think that
.  .  ." I don't remember the rest of what he said.  I do recall my
terror as he advanced towards me, his eyes full of anger.  I thought he
was going to hit me and I braced myself.  Tears burst from my eyes and
rolled down MY z cheeks.  Richard called me horrible names and even made
a racist slur.  He was insane.  When he raised his arm in a fury I
bolted from the room, rushing down the corridor towards the stairs to
New York.  I nearly ran over little Katie, who had been awakened by thei
shouting and was standing dumbfounded at the door ofi the nursery.

It was light in Rama.  I walked around, crying intermittently, for most
of an hour.  I was furious with Richard, but I was also deeply unhappy
with myself.  In his rage Richard had said that I was obsessed with this
idea of mine and that it was just a 'clever excuse' to have intercourse
with Michael so that I could be the 'queen 4 fika bee of the hive'.  I
hadn't replied to any of his rantings.  Was there even a smidgin of
truth in his accusation?  Was any part of my excitement about the
project a desire on MY part to have sex with Michael?

I convinced myself that my motivations had all been proper, whatever
that means, but that I had been incredibly stupid about this entire
affair from the very beginning.  1, of all people, should have known
that what I was suggesting was impossible.  Certainly after I saw
Richard's initial response (and Michael's too, for that matter), I
should have immediately forsaken the idea.  Maybe Richard was right in
some ways.  Maybe I am stubborn, even obsessed with the idea of
providing maximum genetic variation to our offspring.  But I know for
certain that I did not concoct the entire thing just so I could have sex
with Michael.

It was dark in our room when I returned.  I changed into my pyjamas and
plopped down, exhausted, on my mat.  After a few seconds Richard rolled
over, hugged me ce fier ly, and said, 'My darling, Nicole, I'm so, so
sorry.  Please forgive me." I have not heard his voice since then.  He
has been gone now for six days.

I slept soundly that night, unaware that Richard was packing his things
and leaving me a note.  At seven o'clock in the morning, an alarm
sounded.  There was a message filling the black screen.  It said, 'FOR
NICOLE DES JARDINS ONLY Push K when you want to read'.  The children
were not yet awake, so I pushed the K button on the keyboard.

'Dearest Nicole,' the note began, 'this is the most difficult letter I
have ever written in my life.  I am temporarily leaving you and the
family.  I know that this will create considerable hardship for you,
Michael, and the girls, but believe me, it is the only way.  After last
night it is apparent to me that there is no other solution.

'My darling, I love you with all my heart and know, when my brain is in
control of my emotions, that what you are trying to do is in the best
interests of the family.  I feel terrible about the accusations that I
made last night.

I feel even worse about all the names I called you, especially the
racial epithets and my frequent use of the word "bitch".  I hope that
you can forgive me, even though I'm not certain I can forgive myself,
and will remember my love for you instead of my insane, unbridled anger.

jealousy is a terrible thing.  "It doth mock the meet it feeds upon' is
an understatement.  jealousy is completely consuming, totally
irrational, and absolutely debilitating.  The most wonderful people in
the world are nothing but raging animals when trapped in the throes
ofjealousy.

'Nicole, darling, I did not tell you the complete truth about the end of
my marriage of Sarah.  I suspected for months that she was seeing other
men on those nights she was spending in London.  There were plenty of
telltale signs - her uneven interest in sex, new clothes that were never
worn with me, sudden fascinations with new positions or different sexual
practices, phone calls with nobody on the other end - but I loved her so
madly, and was so certain that our marriage would be over if I
confronted her, that I didn't do anything until I was enraged by my
jealousy.

'Actually, as I would lie in my bed at Cambridge and picture Sarah
having intercourse with another man, my jealousy would become so
powerful that I could not fall asleep until I had imagined Sarah dead.
When Mrs Sinclair called me that night and I knew I could no longer
pretend that Sarah was faithful, I went to London with the express
intention of killing both my wife and hcrlover.

The Garden of Rama 'Luckily I had no gun and my rage upon seeing them
together made me forget the knife I had placed in the pocket of my
overcoat.  But I definitely would have killed them if the rn16e had not
aroused the neighbours and I had not been restrained.

'You may be wondering what all this has to do with you.  You see, my
love, each of us develops definitive patterns of behaviour in his life.
My pattern of insane jealousy was already present before I met you.
During the two times that you have gone to be intimate with Michael, I
have been unable to stop the memories of Sarah from returning.  I know
you are not Sarah, and that you are not cheating on me, but
nevertheless, my emotions return in that same lunatic pattern.  In a
very strange sense, because the idea of your betraying me is so
impossible to conceive, I feel worse, more frightened, when you are with
Michael than I did when Sarah was with Hugh Sinclair or any of her other
actor friends.

'I hope some of this makes sense.  I am leaving because I cannot control
my jealousy, even though I acknowledge it to be irrational.  I do not
want to become like my father, drinking away my misery and ruining the
lives of everyone around me.  I sense that you will achieve this
conception, one way or another, and I would prefer to spare you my bad
behaviour during the process.

'I expect that I will be back soon, unless I encounter unforeseen
dangers in my explorations, but I do not know exactly when.  I need a
period of healing, so that I can again be a solid contributor to our
family.  Tell the girls that I am off on a journey.  Be kind especially
to Katie - she will miss me the most.

'I love you, Nicole.  I know that it will be difficult for you to
understand why I am leaving, but please try.

Richard' Today I spent five hours topside in New York searching for
Richard.  I went over to the pits, to both lattices, to all three
plazas.  I walked the perimeter of the island along the ramparts.  I
shook the grille on the octospider lair and descended briefly into the
land of the avians.  Everywhere, I called his name.

I remember that Richard found me five years ago because of the
navigation beacon he had placed on his Shakespearean robot Prince Hal. I
could have used a beacon today.

There were no signs of Richard anywhere.  I believe that he has left the
island.  Richard is an excellent swimmer - he could easily have made it
across to the Northern Hemicylinder - but what about the weird creatures
inhabiting the Cylindrical Sea?  Did they et him across?

Come back, Richard.  I miss you.  I love you.

He had obviously been thinking about leaving for several days.  He had
updated and arranged our catalogue of interactions with the Ramans to
make it as easy as possible for Michael and me.  He took the largest of
our packs and his best friend TB, but he left the Beckett robots behind.

Our family meals have been dreadful affairs since Richard left.  Katie
is nearly always angry.  She wants to know when her Daddy will be back
and why he has been gone so long.  Michael and Simone endure their
sorrow in quiet.  Their bond continues to deepen - they seem to be able
to comfort one another quite well.  For my part, I have tried to pay
more attention to Katie, but I am no substitute for her beloved Daddy.

The nights are terrible.  I do not sleep.  I go over and over all my
interactions with Richard during the last two months and relive all my
mistakes.

His letter before departing was very revealing.  I never would have
thought that his earlier difficulties with Sarah would have had the
slightest impact on his marriage to me, but I recognise now what he was
saying about patterns.

There are patterns in my emotional life as well.  My mother's death when
I was only ten taught me the terror of abandonment.  Fear of losing a
strong connection has made intimacy and trust difficult for me.  Since
my mother, I have lost Genevieve, my father, and now, at least
temporarily, Richard.  Each time the pattern recurs all the chimeras of
the past are reactivated.  When I cried myself to sleep two nights ago,
I realised that I was missing not only Richard, but also Mother,
Genevieve, and my marvelous father.  I was feeling each of those losses
all over again.  So I can understand how my being with Michael could
trigger Richard's painful memories of Sarah.

The process of learning never stops.  Here I am, fortyone years old, and
I am discovering another facet of the truth about human relationships. I
have obviously wounded Richard deeply.  It doesn't matter that there is
no logical basis for Richard's concern that my sleeping with Michael
might lead to an alienation of my affection for him.  Logic has no
application here.  Perception and feeling are what count.

I had forgotten how devastating loneliness can be.  Richard and I have
been together for five years.  He might not have had all the attributes
of my Prince Charming, but he has been a wonderful companion and is,
without a doubt, the smartest human being I have ever met.  It would be
an immeasurable tragedy if he were never to return.  I grieve when I
think, even for a moment, that I may have seei- him for the last time.

At night, when I am especially lonely, I often read poetry.  Baudelaire
and Eliot have been my favourites since my university days, but the last
few evenings I have been finding comfort in the poems of Benita Garcia.
During her days as a cadet at the Space Academy in Colorado, her wild
passion for life caused her lots of pain.  She threw herself into her
cosmonaut studies and the arms of the men surrounding her with equal
61an.  When Benita was called before the cadet disciplinary committee
for no transgression except her uninhibited sexuality, she realised how
schizophrenic men were where sex was concerned.

Most of the literary critics prefer her first volume of poetry, Dreams
of a Mexican Gir4 which established her reputation when she was still a
teenager, over the wiser, less lyrical book of poems she published
during her final year at the Academy.  With Richard now gone and my mind
still struggling to understand what has really occurred during these
last months, it is Benita's poems of late adolescent angst and
questioning that resonate with me.  Her path to adulthood was extremely
difficult.  Although her work remained rich in images, Benita was no
longer Pollyanna walking among the ruins at Uxmal.  Tonight I read
several times one of her university poems that I particularly like: My
dresses brighten up my room, Like desert flowers after rain.

You come tonight, my newest love, But which me do you want to see?

The pale pastels are best for books, My blues and greens, an evening
make, As friend, or even wife to be.

But if it's sex that's in your mind, Then red or black and darkened
eyes, Become the whore that I must be.

The Garden ofRama My childhood dreams were not like this, My prince came
only for a kiss, Then carried me away from pain, Can I not see him once
again?

The masks offend me, college boy, I wear my dress without much joy.

The price I pay to hold your hand, Belittles me as you have planned.

14 DECEMBER 2205 I guess I should celebrate, but I feel that I have won
a pyrrhic victory.  I am finally pregnant with Michael's child.  But
what a cost. We have still heard nothing from Richard and I fear that I
may have alienated Michael as well.

Michael and I each separately accepted the full responsibility for
Richard's departure.  I dealt with my culpability as well as I could,
recognising that I would have to put it behind me to be any kind of
meaningful mother to the girls.

Michael, on the other hand, responded to Richard's action and his own
guilt by pouring himself into religious devotion.  He is still reading
his Bible at least twice every day.  He prays before and after every
meal, and often chooses not to take part in family activities so that he
can 4communicate' with God.  The word 'atonement' is currently very big
in Michael's vocabulary.

He has swept Simone along in his reborn Christian zeal.  My mild
protests are essentially ignored.  She loves the story of Jesus, even
though she can't have more than the slightest notion of what it is
really about.  The miracles especially fascinate Simone.  Like most
children, she has no difficulty suspending her disbelief.  Hei mind
never asks 'how' when Jesus walks on the water or turns the water into
wine.

My comments are not completely fair.  I'm probably jealous of the
rapport that exists between Michael and Simone.  As :ier mother I should
be delighted that they are so compatible.  At least they have each
other.  Try as we may, poor Katie and I remain unable to make that deep
connection.

Part of the problem is that Katie and I are both extremely stubborn.

Although she is only two and a half years old, she already wants to
control her own life.  Take something simple, for example, like the
planned set of activities for the day.  I have been creating the
schedules for everybody in the family since our first days in Rama.
Nobody else has ever argued seriously with me, not even Richard. Michael
and Simone always accept whatever I recommend - as long as there is
ample unstructured time.

But Katie is a different story.  If I schedule a walk topside in New
York before an alphabet lesson, she wants to change the order.  If I
plan chicken for dinner, she wants pork or beef.  We start virtually
every morning with a fight about the activities for the day.  When she
doesn't like my decisions, Katie sulks, or pouts, or cries for her
'Daddy'.  It really hurts when she calls for Richard.

Michael sa s that I should acquiesce in her desires.  He insists that
it's just a phase of growing up.  But when I point out to him that
neither Genevieve nor Simone were ever like Katie, he smiles and shrugs.

Michael and I do not always agree on parenting techniques.  We have had
several interesting discussions about family life in our bizarre
circumstances.

Towards the end of one of the conversations, I was slightly miffed about
Michael's assertion that I was 'too strict' with the girls, so I decided
to bring up the religion issue.  I asked Michael why it was so important
to him that Simone learn about the minutiae of Jesus' life.

'Someone has to carry on the tradition,' he said vaguely.

'So you believe that there will be a tradition to carry on, that we are
not going to drift forever in space and die one by one in terrifying
loneliness?" 'I believe that God has a plan for all human beings,' he
answered.

'But what is His plan for us?" I asked.

'We don't know,' Michael replied.  'Any more than those billions of
people still back on Earth know what His plan is for them.  The process
of living is searching for His plan." I shook my head and Michael
continued.  'You see, Nicole, it should be much easier for us.  We have
far fewer distractions.  There is no excuse for our not remaining close
to God.  That's why my earlier preoccupations with food and art history
are so difficult to forgive.  In Rama, human beings have to make a major
effort to fill up their time with something other than prayer and,
devotion." I admit that his certitude annoys me at times.  In our
present circumstances, the life of Jesus seems to have no more'relevance
than the life of Attila the Hun or any other human being who has ever
been alive on that distant planet two light years away.  We are no
longer part of the human race.  We are either doomed, or the beginning
of what will essentially be a new species.  Did Jesus die for all our
sins as well, those of us who will never see the Earth again?

If Michael had not been a Catholic and programmed from birth in favour
of procreation, I never would have convinced him to conceive a child. He
had a hundred 77ke Garden ofRwna reasons why it was not the right thing
to do.  But in the end, maybe because I was disturbing his nightly
devotions with my persistent attempts to persuade him, he finally
consented.  He warned me that it was highly likely that 'it would never
work' and that he 'would not take any responsibility' for my
frustration.

It took us three months to produce an embryo.  During the first two
ovulation cycles I was unable to arouse him.  I tried laughter, body
massage, music, food - everything mentioned in any of the articles about
impotence.  His guilt and tension were always stronger than my ardour.
Fantasy'finally provided the solution.  When I suggested to Michael one
night that he should imagine I was his wife Kathleen throughout the
entire affair, he was finally able to sustain an erection.  The mind is
indeed a wonderful creation.

Even with fantasy, making love with Michael was not an easy task.  In
the first place, and this is probably an unkind thing for me to say, his
preparations alone are enough to put any ordinary woman out of the mood.
Just before he takes off his clothes, Michael always offers a prayer to
God.  What does he pray for?

It would be fascinating to know the answer.

Eleanor of Aquitaine's first husband, Louis VII of France, had been
raised as a monk and only became king because of a historical accident.
In my father's novel about Eleanor there is a long interior monologue in
which she complains about making love 'surrounded by solemnity and piety
and the coarse cloth of the Cistercians'.  She longed for gaiety and
laughter in the bedroom, for bawdy talk and wanton passion.  I can
understand why she divorced Louis and married Henry Plantagenet.

So I am now pregnant with the boychild (I hope) who will bring genetic
variation to our progeny.  It has been quite a struggle and almost
certainly not worth it.  Because of my desire to have Michael's child '
, Richard is gone and Michael is, at least temporarily, no longer the
close friend and companion that he was during our first years on Rama.

I have paid the price for my success.  Now I must hope that this
spacecraft does indeed have a destination.

I repeated the partial genome test this morning to verify my initial
results.

There is no doubt about it.  Our unborn baby boy definitely has
Whittingham's syndrome.  Fortunately there are no other identifiable
defect, but Whittingham's is bad enough.

I showed the data to Michael when we had a few moments alone after
breakfast.  At first he didn't understand what I was telling him, but
when I used the word C retarded', he reacted immediately.  I could tell
that he was envisioning a child who would be completely unable .to take
care of himself.  His concerns were only partially allayed when I
explained that Whittingham's is nothing more than a learning disability,
a simple failure of the electrochemical processes in the brain to
operate properly. When I performed the first partial genome test last
week, I suspected Whittingham's, but since there was a possible
ambiguity in the results, I didn't say anything to Michael.  Before
drawing a second amniotic sample, I wanted to review what was known
about the condition. My abridged medical encyclopedia unfortunately did
not contain enough information to satisfy me. This afternoon, while
Katie was napping, Michael and I asked Simone if she would read a book
in the nursery for an hour or so.  Our perfect angel readily complied.
Michael was much calmer than he had been in the morning.  He
acknowledged that he had been devastated at first by the news about
Benjy (Michael wants to name the child Benjamin Ryan O'Toole, after his
grandfather).  Apparently reading the book of job had played a major
role in helping him regain his perspective. I explained to Michael that
Benjy's mental development would be slow and tedious.  He was comforted,
however, when I informed him that many Whittingham's sufferers had
eventually achieved twelve-year-old equivalency after twenty years of
schooling.  I assured Michael there would be no physical signs of the
defect, as there are in Down's, and that since Whittingham's is a
blocked recessive trait, there was little likelihood that any possible
offspring would be affected before the third generation at the earliest.

'Is there any way of knowing which one of us has the syndrome in our
genes?" Michael asked when we were near the end of our conversation.

'No,' I replied.  'It's a very difficult disorder to isolate because it
apparently arises from several different defective genes.  Only if the
syndrome is active is the diagnosis straightforward.  Even on Earth
attempts to identify carriers have not been successful." I started to
tell him that since the disease was first diagnosed in 2068, there have
been almost no cases in either Africa or Asia.  It has been basically a
Caucasian disorder, with the highest frequency of occurrence in Ireland.
I decided Michael would learn this information soon enough (it is all in
the main article in the medical encyclopedia - which he is reading now),
and I didn't want him to feel any worse than he already did.

'Is there any cure?" he asked next.

'None for us,' I shook my head.  'There was some indication in the last
decade that genetic countermeasures could be effective, if used during
the second trimester of pregnancy.  However, the procedure is
complicated, even on Earth, and can result in losing the foetus
altogether." That would have been a perfect time in the discussion for
Michael to mention the word 'abortion'.  He didn't.  His set of beliefs
is so steadfast and unwavering that I'm certain he never even considered
it.  For him, abortion is an absolute wrong, on Rama as well as Earth. I
found myself wondering if there were any conditions under which Michael
would have considered an abortion.  What if the baby had Down's syndrome
and was also blind?  Or had multiple congenital problems that guaranteed
an early death?

If Richard had been here, we would have had a logical discussion about
the advantages and disadvantages of an abortion.  He would have created
one of his famous Ben Franklin sheets, with pros and cons listed
separately on the two sides of the large screen.  I would have added a
long list of emotional reasons (which Richard would have omitted from
his original list) for not having an abortion, and in the end we would
almost certainly have all agreed to bring Benjy into Rama. It would have
been a rational, community decision.

I want to have this baby.  But I also want Michael to reaffirm his
commitment as Benjy's father.  A discussion of the possibility of
abortion would have elicited that renewed commitment.  Blind acceptance
of the rules of God or the church or any structured dogma can sometimes
make it too easy for an individual to withhold his own support for a
specific decision.  I hope that Michael is not that kind of person.

4 A' 30 AUGUST 2206 Benjy came early.  Despite my repeated assurances
that he would look perfectly healthy, Michael seemed relieved when the
boy was born three days ago with no physical abnormalities.  It was
another easy birth.  Simone was surprisingly helpful during both labour
and delivery.  For a girl who is not yet six years old, she is extremely
mature.

Benjy also has blue eyes, but they're not as light as Katie's and I
don't think they will stay blue.  His skin is light brown, just a little
darker than Katie's, but lighter than mine or Simone's.  He weighed
three and a half kilograms at birth and was fifty-two centimetres long.

Our world remains unchanged.  We don't talk about it very much, but all
of us except Katie have given up hope that Richard will ever return.  We
are headed for Raman winter again, with the long nights and the shorter
days.  Periodically either Michael or I goes topside and searches for
some sign of Richard, but it's a mechanical ritual.  We don't really
expect to find anything.  He has been gone now for sixteen months.

Michael and I now take turns computing our trajectory with the orbit
determination program that Richard designed.  In the beginning it took
us several weeks to figure out how to use it, despite the fact that
Richard had left explicit instructions with us.  We reverify once a week
that we are still headed in the direction of Sirius, with no other star
system along our path.

Despite Benjy's presence, it seems that I have more time to myself than
I have ever had before.  I have been reading voraciously and have
rekindled my fascination with the two heroines who dominated my
adolescent mind and imagination.  Why have Joan of Arc and Eleanor of
Aquitaine always appealed so much to me?  Because not only did they both
display inner strength and selfsufficiency, but also each woman
succeeded in a male-dominated world by ultimately relying on her own
abilities.

I was a very lonely teenager.  My physical surroundings at Beauvois were
magnificent and my father's love was overflowing, but I spent virtually
my entire adolescence by myself.  In the back of my mind I was always
terrified that death or marriage would take my precious father away from
me.  I wanted to make myself more self-contained to avoid the pain that
would occur if I were ever separated from Father.  Joan and Eleanor were
perfect role models.  Even today, I find reassurance in reading about
their lives.  Neither woman allowed the world around her to define what
was really important in life.

Everyone's health continues to be good.  This past spring, as much to
keep myself busy as anything, I inserted a set of the leftover biometry
probes in each of us and monitored the data for a few weeks.  The
monitoring process reminded me of the days of the Newton mission - can
it really be more than six years since the twelve of us left the Earth
to rendezvous with Rama?

Anyway, Katie was fascinated by the biometry.  She would sit beside me
while I was scanning Simone or 7'he Garden of Rama Michael and ask
hundreds of questions about the data on the displays.  In no time at all
she understood how the system worked and what the warning files were all
about.  Michael has commented that she is extraordinarily bright.  Like
her father.  Katie still misses Richard terribly.

Although Michael talks about feeling ancient, he is in excellent shape
for a sixty-four year old man.  He is very concerned about being
physically active enough for the children and has been jogging twice a
week since the beginning of my pregnancy.  Twice a week.  What a funny
concept.  We have held faithfully to our Earth calendar, eventhough it
has absolutely no meaning here on Rama.  The other night Simone asked
about days, months, and years.  As Michael was explaining the rotation
of the Earth, the seasons of the year, and the orbit of the Earth around
the sun, I suddenly had a vision of a magnificent Utah sunset that I
shared with Genevieve on our trip to the American west.  I wanted to
tell Simone about it.  But how can you explain a sunset to someone who
has not seen the sun?

The calendar reminds us of what we were.  If we ever arrive at a new
planet, with a real day and night instead of this artificial one in
Rama, then we will most certainly abandon the Earth calendar.  But for
now, holidays, the passage of months, and most especially birthdays, all
remind us of our roots on that beautiful planet we can no longer even
find in the best Raman telescope.

Benjy is now ready to nurse.  His mental capabilities may not be the
best but he certainly has no problem letting me know when he is hungry.
Michael and I, by mutual consent, have not yet told Simone and Katie
about their brother's condition.  That he will take attention away from
them while he is an infant will be difficult enough for them to handle.
That his need for attention will continue, and even grow, when he
becomes a toddler and a little boy is more than they can be expected to
grasp at this point in their young lives.

Katie is four years old today.  When I asked her two weeks ago what she
wanted for her birthday, she didn't hesitate a second.  'I want my Daddy
back,' she said.

She is a solitary, isolated little girl.  Extremely quick to learn, she
is definitely the moodiest child I have ever had.  Richard was also
extremely volatile.  He would sometimes be so elated and exuberant that
he couldn't contain himself, usually when he had just experienced
something exciting for the first time.  But his depressions were
formidable.  There were times when he would go a week or more without
laughing or even smiling.

Katie has inherited his gift for mathematics.  She can already add,
subtract, multiply, and divide - at least with small numbers.  Simone,
who is certainly no slouch, appears more evenly talented.  And more
generally interested in a wide range of subjects.  But Katie is
certainly pressing her in maths.

In the almost two years since Richard has been gone, I have tried
without success to replace him in Katie's heart.  The truth is that
Katie and I clash.

Our personalities are not compatible as mother and daughter.  The
individuality and wildness that I loved in Richard is threatening in
Katie.  Despite my best intentions, we always end up in a contest.

We could not, of course, produce Richard for Katie's birthday.  But
Michael and I did try very hard to have some interesting presents for
her.  Even though neither 77m Garden ofRww of us is particularly skilled
at electronics, we did manage to create a small video game (it took many
interactions with the Ranians to produce the right parts - and many
nights working together to make something Richard probably could have
finished in a day) called 'Lost in J Rama'.  We made it very simple,
because Katie is only four years old.  Mier playing with it for two
hours she had exhausted all the options and had figured out how to get
home to our lair from any starting point in Rama.

Our biggest surprise came tonight, when we asked her (this has become a
tradition for us in Rama) what she would like to do on her birthday
evening.  'I want to go inside the avian lair,' Katie said with a
mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

We tried to talk her out of it by pointing out that the distance between
the ledges was greater than her height.  In response, Katie went over to
the rope ladder of lattice material hanging at the side of the nursery
and showed us that she could climb it.  Michael smiled.  'Some things
she has inherited from her mother,' he said.

'Please, Mom,' Katie then said in her precocious little voice,
'everything else is so boring.  I want to look at the tank sentry
myself, from only a few metres away." Even though I had some misgivings,
I walked over to the avian lair with Katie and told her to wait topside
while I put the rope ladder in place.  At the first landing, opposite
the tank sentry, I stopped for a moment and looked across the chasm at
that perpetual motion machine protecting the entry to the horizontal
tunnel.  Are you always there?  I wondered.  And have you ever been
replaced or repaired during all this time?

'Are you ready, Mom?" I heard my daughter call from above.  Before I
could scramble up to meet her, Katie was already descending the ladder.
I scolded her when I caught up with her at the second ledge, but she
ignored me.  She was terribly excited.  'Did you see, MoniF she said. 'I
did it by myself." I congratulated her even though my mind was still
reeling from a mental picture of Katie slipping off the ladder, banging
into one of the ledges, and then careering into the bottomless depths of
the shaft.  We continued down the ladder, with me helping her from
below, until we reached the first landing and pair of horizontal
tunnels.  Across the chasm the tank sentry continued its repetitive
motion.  Katie was ecstatic.

'What's behind that tank thing?" she asked.  'Who made it?  What's it
doing there?  Did you really jump across this hole?  .  .

In response to one of her questions, I turned and took several steps
into the tunnel behind us, following my flashlight beam and assuming
Katie was following me.  Moments later, when I discovered that she was
stiff standing back on the edge of the chasm, I froze with fear.  I
watched her pull a small object out of the pocket of her dress and throw
it across the chasm at the tank sentry.

I yelled at Katie but it was too late.  The object hit the front of the
tank.  Immediately there was a loud pop like gunshots, and two metal
projectiles smashed into the wall of the lair not more than a metre
above her head.

'Yippee,' Katie shouted as I jerked her back from the abyss.  I was
furious.

My daughter began to cry.  The noise in the lair was deafening.

She stopped crying abruptly several seconds later.  'Did you hear it?"
she asked.

'What?" I said, my heart still pounding wildly.

'Over there,' she said.  She pointed across the vertical corridor into
the blackness behind the sentry.  I shone the flashlight into the void
but we could see nothing.

We both stood absolutely still, holding hands.  There I&A was a sound
coming from the tunnel behind the sentry.

But it was at the very limit of my hearing and I could not identify it.

'It's an avian,' Katie said with conviction.  'I can hear its wings
flapping.  Yippee,' she shouted again in her loudest voice.

The sound ceased.  Although we waited fifteen minutes before climbing
out of the lair, we never heard anything else.  Katie told Michael and
Simone that we had heard an avian.  I couldn't corroborate her story but
chose not to argue with her.  She was happy.  It had been an eventful
birthday.

Patrick Erin O'Toole, a perfectly healthy baby in every respect, was
born yesterday at 2:15 in the afternoon.  The proud father is holding
him at this very moment, smiling as my fingers dart across the keyboard
on my electronic notebook.

It is late at night now.  Simone put Benjy to sleep, as she does every
night at nine o'clock, and then went to bed herself.  She was very
tired.  She took care of Benjy without any help from anyone during my
surprisingly long labour.

Every time I shouted, Beniy would cry out in response and Simone would
try to soothe him.

Katie has already claimed Patrick as her baby brother.  She is very
logical.

If Benjy is Sinione's, then Patrick must belong to Katie.  At least she
is showing some interest in another member of the family.

Patrick was not planned but both Michael and I are delighted that he
showed up to join our family.  His conception was some time late last
spring, probably in the first month after Michael and I started sharing
his bedroom at night.  It was my idea that we should sleep Pr together,
although I'm certain that Michael had thought about it as well.

On the night that Richard had been gone for exactly two years, I was
completely unable to sleep.  I was feeling lonely, as usual.

I tried to imagine sleeping all the rest of my nights by myself and I
became very despondent.  just after midnight I walked do-Am the corridor
to Michael's room.

Michael and I have been relaxed and easy with each other from the
beginning this time.  I guess we were both ready.  After Benjy's birth
Michael was very busy helping me with all the children.

During that period he eased up a little on his religious activities and
made himself more accessible to all of us, including me.

Eventually our natural compatibility reasserted itself.  All that was
left was for us both to acknowledge that Richard was never going to
return.

Comfortable.  That's the best way to describe my relationship with
Michael.  With Henry, it was ecstasy.  With Richard, it was passion and
excitement, a wild rollercoaster ride in life and bed.

Michael comforts me.  We sleep holding hands, the perfect symbol for our
relationship.  We make love rarely, but it is enough.

I have made some concessions.  I even pray, now and then, because it
makes Michael happy.  For his part he has become more tolerant about
exposing the children to ideas and value systems outside of his
Catholicism.  We have agreed that what we are seeking is harmony and
consistency in our mutual parenting.

There are six of us now, a single family of human beings closer to
several other stars than we are to the planet and star of our birth.  We
still do not know if this giant cylinder hurtling through space is
really going anywhere.  At times it does not seem to matter.  We have
created our own world here in Rama and, although it is limited, I
believe that we are happy.

-A I had forgotten what it felt like to have adrenalin coursing through
my system.

In the last thirty hours, our calm and placid life on Rama has been
utterly destroyed.

It all began with two dreams.  Yesterday morning, just before I woke up,
I had a dream about Richard that was extrao rdinarily vivid.  Richard
wasn't actually in my dream: I mean, he didn't appear alongside Michael,
Simone, Katie, and me.  But Richard's face was inset in the upper
left-hand corner of my dream screen while the four of us were engaged in
some normal, everyday activity.  He kept calling my name over and over.
Ms call was so loud that I could still hear it when I awakened.

I had just begun to tell Michael about the dream when Katie appeared at
the doorway in her pyjamas.  She was trembling and frightened.  'What is
it, darling?" I asked, beckoning to her with my open arms.

She came over and hugged me tightly.  'It's Daddy,' she said.  'He was
calling me last night in my dreams." A chill ran down my spine and
Michael sat up on his mat.  I comforted Katie with my words but I was
unnerved by the coincidence.  Had she heard my conversation with
Michael?  Impossible.  We had seen her the moment she arrived at our
room.

After Katie returned to the nursery to change her clothes, I told
Michael that I could not possibly ignore the two dreams.  He and I have
often discussed my occasional psychic powers.  Although he generally
discounts the whole idea of extrasensory perception, Michael has always
admitted that it is impossible to state categorically that my dreams and
visions do not foreshadow the future.

'I must go topside and look for Richard,' I told him after breakfast.

Michael had expected me to make such an effort and was prepared to look
after the children.  But it was dark in Rama.  We both agreed that it
would be better if I waited until our evening, when it would again be
light in the spacecraft world above our lair.

I took a long nap so that I would have plenty of energy for a thorough
search.  I slept fitfully, and kept 41 dreaming that I was in danger.
Before I left, I made ce rtain that there was a reasonably accurate
graphics drawing of Richard stored in my portable computer.  I wanted to
be able to show the object of my quest to any avians I might encounter.

After kissing the children good night, I headed straight for the avian
lair.

I was not that surprised when I found that the tank sentry was gone.
Years ago, when I was first invited into the lair by one of the avian
residents, the tank sentry had also not been present.  Could it be that
I was somehow being invited again?  And what did all this have to do
with my dream?  My heart was pounding like crazy as I passed the room
with the cistern of water and headed deeper into the tunnel that the
absent sentry usually guarded.

I never heard a sound.  I walked for almost a kilometer before I came to
a tall doorway on my right.  I cautiously peered around the corner.  The
room was dark, like everywhere in the avian lair except the vertical
corridor.

The Garden ofRama I switched on my flashlight.  The room was not very
deep, maybe fifteen metres at the most, but it was extremely tall.
Against the wall opposite the door were rows and rows of oval storage
bins.  The beam from my light showed that the rows extended all the way
to the high ceiling, which must have been just under one of the plazas
in New York.

It did not take me long to figure out the purpose of the room.  Each of
the storage bins was the size and shape of a manna melon.  Of course, I
thought to myself, this must have been where the food supply was kept.
No wonder they didn't want anybody in here.

After verifying that all the bins were indeed empty, I started to walk
back towards the shaft.  Then, on a hunch, I reversed my direction,
passed the storage room, and continued on down the tunnel.  It must go
somewhere, I reasoned, or it would have ended at the melon room.

After another half a kilometer the tunnel widened gradually until it
entered a large circular chamber.  In the centre of the room, which had
a high ceiling, was a broad domed structure.  Around the walls were
about twenty alcoves, cut into the walls at regular intervals.  There
was no light except my flashlight beam, so it took several minutes to
integrate the room, with the domed building in the middle, into a
composite picture.

I walked completely around the perimeter, examining the alcoves one
after another.  Most were empty.  In one of them I found three identical
tank sentries neatly arrayed against the back wall.  My initial impulse
was to be wary of the sentries, but it was not necessary.  They were all
dormant.

By far the most interesting of the alcoves, however, was the one at the
centre of the room, exactly one hundred and eighty degrees around the
circle from the entrance tunnel.  This special alcove was carefully
organised and had thick shelves cut into its walls.  There were fifteen
shelves in all, five each on the two sides and five more on the wall
opposite the doorway to the alcove.  The shelves on the sides had
objects arranged on them (everything was very orderly); the shelves
against the far wall each had five round pits hollowed out along their
lengths.

The contents of these pits, which were each further subdivided into
sections, like portions of a pie, were fascinating.  One of the sections
in each of the pits contained a very fine material, like ash.  A second
section contained one, two, or three rings, either cherry red or gold,
that I immediately recognised because of their similarity to the rings
we had seen around the neck of our grey velvet avian friend.  There did
not seem to be any particular pattern to the rest of the articles in the
pits - in fact, some of the pits were empty except for the ash and the
rings.

Eventually I turned around and approached the domed structure.  Its
front door faced the special alcove.  I examined the door with my
flashlight.  An intricate design was carved on its rectangular surface.
There were four separate panels, or quadrants, in the design.  An avian
was in the top left quadrant, with a manna melon in the adjacent panel,
on the right.  The lower two quadrants contained unfamiliar pictures. On
the left side was a carving of a jointed, striped creature running on
six legs.  The final panel, on the bottom right, featured a large box
filled with very thin mesh or webbing.

After some hesitation I pushed open the door.  I nearly jumped out of my
skin when a loud alarm, like a klaxon, pierced the silence.  I stood
inside the door without moving while the alarm sounded for almost a
minute.  When it was over, I still did not move.  I was trying to The
Garden ofRama hear if anyone (or anything) was responding to the alarm.

No sound disturbed the silence.  After a few minutes I began-examining
the inside of the building.  A transparent cube, roughly two and a half
metres in each dimension, occupied the centre of the single room.  The
walls of the cube were stained in spots, partially obscuring my vision,
but I could still see that the bottom ten centimetres were covered by a
fine, dark material.  The remainder of the building around the cube was
decorated with geometric patterns on the walls, floors, and ceiling. One
of the cube faces had a narrow entryway that permitted access to the
cube interior.

I went inside.  The fluffy black material appeared to be ash, but it was
a slightly different consistency from the similar stuff I had found in
the alcove pits.  My eyes followed the beam of my flashlight as it moved
in an orderly pattern around the cube.  Near the centre there was an
object partially buried in the ash.  I walked over, picked up the
object, shook it off, and nearly fainted.  It was Richard's robot, TB.TB
was considerably altered.  His exterior was blackened, his tiny control
panel had melted off, and he no longer operated.  But it was
unmistakably he.

I put the little robot to my lips and kissed him.  In my mind's eye I
could see him spouting one of Shakespeare's sonnets as Richard listened
with rapt enjoyment.

It was obvious that TB had been in a fire.  Had Richard also been
trapped in an inferno inside the cube?  I sifted through the ash
carefully, but found no bones.  I did wonder, however, what it was that
had burned and created all the ash.  And what was TB doing inside the
cube in the first place?

I was convinced that Richard was somewhere in the avian lair, so I spent
another eight long hours scrambling Anhur C.  Clarke and Genny Lee up
and down ledges and exploring tunnels.  I visited all the places I had
been before, during my short sojourn long ago, and even found some
interesting new chambers of unknown purpose.  But there were no signs of
Richard.  There were, in fact, no signs of life of any kind.  Mindful
that the short Raman day was almost over and that the four children
would be waking up soon in our own lair, I finally returned, tired and
dejected, to my Raman home.

Both the cover and the grille to our lair were open when I arrived.

Although I was fairly certain that I had closed them both before
leaving, I could not remember my exact actions at departure.  Eventually
I told myself that perhaps I had been too excited at the time and had
for otten to close everything.

I had just started to descend when I heard Michael call 'Nicole' from
behind me.

I turned around.  Michael was approaching from the lane to the east.  He
was moving quickly, which was unusual for him, and was carrying baby
Patrick in his arms.  'There you are,' he said, panting as I walked up
to him.  'I was beginning to worry..." He stopped abruptly, stared at me
for an instant, and then looked around quickly.  'But where's Katie?" he
said anxiously.

'What do you mean, where's Katie?" I asked, the look on Michael's face
causing me alarm.

'Isn't she with you?" he asked.

When I shook my head and said that I hadn't seen her, Michael suddenly
erupted in tears.  I rushed forward and comforted little Patrick, who
was frightened by Michael's sobs and started crying himself.

'Oh Nicole,' Michael said.  'I'm so, so sorry.  Patrick was having a bad
night, so I brought him into my room.  Then Benjy had a stomach ache and
Simone and I had t

to nurse him for a couple of hours.  We all fell asleep while Katie was
alone in the nursery.  About two hours ago, when we all woke up, she was
gone." I had never seen Michael so distraught before.  I tried to
comfort him, to tell him that Katie was probably just playing in the
neighbourhood somewhere (and when we find her, I was thinking, I will
give her a scolding she'll never forget), but Michael argued with me.

'No, no,' he said, 'she's nowhere around.  Patrick and I have been
looking for over an hour." Michael, Patrick and I went downstairs to
check on Simone and Benjy.  Simone informed us that Katie had been
extremely disappointed when I had gone to look for Richard alone.  'She
had hoped,' Simone said serenely, 'that you would take her with you."
'Why didn't you tell me this last night?" I asked my eight-year-old
daughter.

'It didn't seem that important,' Simone said.  'Besides, it never Katie
would try to find Daddy by herself." Michael and I were both exhausted,
but one of us had to look for Katie.  I was the correct choice.  I
washed my face, ordered breakfast for everybody from the Ramans, and
told a quick version of my descent into the avian lair.  Simone and
Michael turned the blackened TB over slowly in their hands.  I could
tell they too were wondering what had happened to Richard.

'Katie said that Daddy went to find the octospiders,' Simone commented
just before I left.  'She said it was more exciting in their world." I
was filled with dread as I trudged over to the plaza near the octospider
lair.  While I was walking, the lights went out and it was night again
in Rama.

'Great,' I muttered to myself, 'nothing like trying to find a missing
child in the darkness." Both the octospider covering and the pair of
protective grilles were open.

I had never seen the grilles open before.  My heart skipped a beat.  I
knew instinctively that Katie had gone down into their lair and that,
despite my fear, I was about to follow her.  First I bent down on my
knees and shouted 'Katie' twice into the blackness beneath me.  I heard
her name echoing through the tunnels.  I strained to listen for a
response but there were no sounds at all.

At least, I told myself, I also didn't hear any dragging brushes
accompanied by a high-frequency whine.

I descended the ramp to the large cavern with the four tunnels that
Richard and I had once labelled 'Eenie, Meenie, Mynie, and Moe'.  It was
difficult, but I forced myself to enter the tunnel that Richard and I
had followed before.

After a few steps, however, I stopped myself, backed up and then went
into the adjacent tunnel.  This second corridor also led to the
descending barrel corridor with the protruding spikes, but it passed the
room that Richard and I called the octospider museum along the way. I
remembered clearly the terror I had felt nine years earlier when I had
found Dr Takagishi, stuffed like a hunting trophy, hanging in that
museum.

There was a reason I wanted to visit the octospider museum that was not
necessarily related to my search for Katie.  If Richard had been killed
by the octospiders (as Takagishi apparently was - although I am still
not convinced that he did not die from a heart attack), or if they had
found his body somewhere else in Rama, then perhaps it too would be in
the room.  To say that I wasn't anxious to see an alien taxidermist's
version of my husband would be an understatement; however, above all I
wanted to know what had happened to Richard.  Especially after my dream.

AA6 -14R The Garden of Rama I took a,deep breath when I arrived at the
entrance to the museum. I turned slowly left through the doorway.  The
lights came on as soon as I crossed the threshold but fortunately Dr
Takagishi was not staring directly in my face.  He had been moved across
the room.  In fact, the whole museum had been rearranged in the
intervening years.  All the biot replicas, which had occupied most of
the space in the room when Richard and I had visited it briefly before,
had been removed.  The two 'exhibits', if one could call them that, were
now the avians and the human beings.

The avian display was closer to the door.  Three individuals were
hanging from the ceiling, their wings outspread.  One of them was the
grey velvet avian with the two cherry neck rings that Richard and I had
seen just before its death.

There were other fascinating objects and even photographs in the avian
exhibit , but my eyes were drawn across the room, to the display
surrounding Dr Takagishi.

I sighed with relief when I realised that Richard was not in the room.
Our dinghy was there, however, the one that Richard, Michael, and I had
used to cross the Cylindrical Sea.  It was on the floor right next to Dr
Takagishi.  There was also an assortment of items that had been salvaged
from our picnics and other activities in New York.  But the centre of
the exhibit was a set of framed pictures on the back and side walls.

From across the room I could not tell much about the content of the
pictures.  I gasped, however, as I approached them.  The images were
photographs, set in rectangular frames, many of which showed life inside
our lair.  There were photos of all of us, including the children.  They
showed us eating, sleeping, even going to the bathroom. I was feeling
numb as I scanned the display.  We are being watched, I commented to
myself,  Anhur C.  Clarke and Gen* Lxe even in our own home.  I felt a
terrible chill.

On the side wall was a special collection of pictures that dismayed and
embarrassed me.  On Earth they would have been candidates for an erotic
museum.

The images showed me making love with Richard in several different
positions.

There was one picture of Michael and me as well, but it wasn't as sharp
because it had been dark in our bedroom that night.

The line of pictures below the sex scenes were all photographs of the
children's births.  Each birth was shown, including Patrick's,
confirming that the eavesdropping was still continuing.  The
juxtaposition of the sex and birth images made it clear that the
octospiders (or the Ramans?) had definitely figured out our reproductive
process.

I was totally consumed with the photographs for probably fifteen
minutes.

My concentration was finally broken when I heard a very loud sound of
brushes dragging against metal coming from the direction of the museum
door.  I was absolutely terrified.  I stood still, frozen on my spot,
and looked around wildly.  There was no other escape from the room.

Within seconds Katie came bouncing through the door, 'Mom!" she shouted
when she saw me.  She raced across the museum, nearly toppling Dr
Takagishi, and jumped into my arms.

'Oh, Mom,' she said, hugging and kissing me fiercely.  'I knew you'd
come." I closed my eyes and held my lost child with all my strength.
Tears cascaded down my cheeks.  I swung Katie from side to side,
comforting her by saying, 'It's all right, darling, it's all right."
When I wiped my eyes and opened them, an octospider was standing in the
museum doorway.  It was momentarily not moving, almost as if it were
watching A

the reunion between mother and daughter.  I stood transfixed, swept by a
wave of emotions ranging from joy to sheer terror.

Katie felt my fear.  'Don't worry, Mother,' she said, looking over her
shoulder at the octospider.  'He won't hurt you.  He just wants to look.
He's been close to me many times." My adrenalin level was at an all-time
high.  The octospider continued to stand (or sit, or whatever octos do
when they're not moving) in the door.  Its large black head was almost
spherical and sat on a body that spread, near the floor, into the eight
black and gold striped tentacles.  In the centre of its head were two
parallel indentations, symmetrical about an invisible axis, that ran
from the top to the bottom.  Precisely centred in between those two
indentations, roughly a metre above the floor, was an amazing square
lens structure, ten centimetres on a side, that was a gelatinous
combination of grid lines plus flowing black and white material.  While
the octospider was staring at us, that lens was teeming with activity.

There were other organs embedded in the body between the two
indentations, both above and below the lens, but I had no time to study
them.  The octospider moved towards us in the room and, despite Katie's
assurances, my fear returned with full force.  The brush sound was made
by cilia-like attachments to the bottom of the tentacles as they moved
across the floor.  The high-frequency whine was emanating from a small
orifice in the lower right side of the head.

For several seconds fear immobilised my thought processes.  As the
creature drew closer, my natural flight responses took over.
Unfortunately, they were useless in this situation.  There was nowhere
to run.

The octospider didn't stop until it was a scant five metres away.  I had
backed Katie against the wall and was standing between her and the octo.
I held up my hand.  Again there was a flurry of activity in its
mysterious lens.  Suddenly I had an idea.  I reached into my flight suit
and pulled out my computer.  With my fingers trembling (the octospider
had raised a pair of tentacles in front of its lens - in retrospect I
wonder if it thought I was going to produce a weapon) I called the image
of Richard up on the monitor and thrust it out towards the octospider.

When I made no additional movement the creature slowly returned its two
protective tentacles to the floor.  It stared at the moriftor for almost
a full minute and then, much to my astonishment, a wave of bright purple
colouring ran completely around its head, starting at the edge of its
indentation.  This purple was followed a few seconds later by a rainbow
pattern of red, blue, and green, each band a different thickness, that
also came out of the same indentation and, after circling the head,
retreated into the parallel indentation almost three hundred and sixty
degrees away.

Katie and I both stared in awe.  The octospider picked up one of its
tentacles, pointed at the monitor, and repeated the wide purple wave.
Moments later, as before, came the identical rainbow pattern.

'It's talking to us, Mommy,' Katie said softly.

'I think you're right,' I replied.  'But I don't have any idea what it's
saying." After waiting for what seemed like for ever, the octospider
began to move backward towards the doorway, its extended tentacle
beckoning us to follow.

There were no more bands of colour.  Katitie and I held hands and
cautiously followed.  She started looking around and noticed the
photographs on the wall for the first time.  'Look, Mommy,' she said,
'they have pictures of our family."

The Garden ofRmw I shushed her and told her to please pay attention to
the octospider.  It backed into the tunnel and headed towards the spiked
vertical corridor and the subways.  That was the opening we needed.  I
picked Katie up, told her to hang on tight, and raced down the tunnel at
top speed.  My feet scarcely touched the floor until I was up on the
ramp and back in New York.

Michael was ecstatic to see Katie safe, even though he was very
concerned (as I still am) that there were cameras hidden in the walls
and ceilings of our living quarters.  I never did scold Katie properly
for going off on her own - I was too relieved to find her at all.  Katie
told Simone that she had had a 'fabulous adventure' and that the
octospider was 'nice'.  Such is the world of the child.

4 FEBRUARY 2209 Oh joy of joys!  We have found Richard!  He is still
alive!  Just barely, for he is in a deep coma and has a high fever, but
he is nevertheless alive.

Katie and Simone found him this morning, lying on the ground not fifty
mares from the opening to our lair.  The three of us had been planning
to play some soccer in the plaza and were ready to leave the lair when
Michael called me back for something.  I told the girls to wait for me
in the area around the lair entrance.  When they both started screaming
a few minutes later, I thought something terrible had happened.  I
rushed up the stairs and immediately saw Richard's comatose body in the
distance.

At first I was afraid that Richard was dead.  The doctor in me
immediately went to work, checking his vital signs.  The girls hung over
me while I was examining him.  Especially Katie.  She kept saying, over
and over, 'Is Daddy alive?  Oh, Mommy, make Daddy be all right." Once I
had confirmed that he was in a coma, Michael and Simone helped me carry
Richard down the stairs.  I injected a set of biometry probes into his
system and have been monitoring the output ever since.

I took his clothes off and checked him from head to toe.  He has some
scratches and bruises that I have not seen before, but that's to be
expected after all this time.  His blood cell counts are peculiarly
close to normal - I would have expected white cell abnormalities with
his almost forty degree temperature.

There was another big surprise when we examined Richard's clothing in
detail.  In his jacket pocket we found the Shakespearean robots Prince
Hal and Falstaff, who had disappeared nine years ago in the strange
world below the spiked corridor in what we thought was the octospider
lair.  Somehow Richard must have convinced the octos to return his
playmates.

I have been sitting here beside Richard now for seven hours.  Most of
the time this morning other members of the family have also been here,
but for the last hour Richard and I have been alone.  My eyes have
feasted on his face for minutes on end, my hands have roamed across his
neck, his shoulders, and his back.  My touching him has evoked a floor
of memories and my eyes have often been filled with tears.  I never
thought I would see or touch him again.  Oh Richard, welcome home.
Welcome home to your wife and family.

13 APRIL 2209 We have had an incredible day.  just after lunch, while I
was sitting beside Richard and routinely checking all his biometry,
Katie asked me if she could play with Prince Hal and Falstaff.  'Of
course,' I told her without thinking.  I was certain that the little
robots were not functioning and, to tell the truth, I wanted her out of
the room so that I could try another technique for bringing Richard out
of his coma.

I have never seen a coma even remotely like Richard's.  Most of the time
his eyes are open, and occasionally they even seem to be following an
object in his field of vision.  But there are no other signs of life or
consciousness.  No muscles ever move.  I have used a variety of stimuli,
some mechanical, mostly chemical, to try to rouse him from his comatose
state.  None of them have worked.

That's why I was so unprepared for what happened today.

After Katie had been gone for about ten minutes, I heard a very strange
mix of sounds coming from the nursery.  I left Richard's side and walked
into the corridor.  Before I reached the nursery the strange noise
resolved itself into clipped speech with a very peculiar rhythm.
'Hello,' a voice that sounded as if it were in the bottom of a well
said.  'We are peaceful.  Here is your man." The voice was coming from
Prince Hal, who was standing in the middle of the room when I entered
the j nursery.  The children were on the floor surrounding the robot,
somewhat tentatively except for Katie.  She was clearly excited.

'I was just playing with the buttons,' Katie said to me in explanation
when I gave her a questioning glance, and suddenly he started talking."
No motions accompanied Prince Hal's speech.  How peculiar, I thought,
remembering that Richard took pride in the fact that his robots always
moved and spoke in concert.  'Richard did not do this,' a voice inside
my head told me, but I initially dismissed the idea.  I dropped down on
the floor beside the children.

'Hello.  We are peaceful.  Here is your man,' Prince Hal said again
several seconds later.  This time an eerie feeling swept through me. The
girls were still laughing but they quickly stopped when they noticed the
strange expression on my face.  Benjy crawled over beside me and grabbed
my hand.

We were sitting on the floor with our backs to the door.  I suddenly had
a feeling there was someone behind me.  I turned around and saw Richard
standing in the doorway.  I gasped and jumped up just as he fell and
lost consciousness.

The children all screamed and began to cry.  I tried to comfort them
after quickly examining Richard.  Since Michael was topside in New York
havin his afternoon walk, I cared for Richard on the floor outside the
nursery for over an hour.  During that time I watched him very closely.
He was exactly as he has been when I left him in the bedroom earlier.
There was no obvious The Garden ofRama sign that he had been awake for
thirty or forty seconds in the interim.

When Michael returned he helped me carry Richard to the bedroom.  We
talked for over an hour about why Richard had awakened so abruptly.
Later I read and reread every article about coma in my medical books.  I
in convinced that Richard's coma is caused by a a mixture of physical
and psychological problems.  In my opinion the sound of that strange
voice induced a trauma in him that temporarily overwhelmed the factors
creating the coma.

But why did I he then relapse so quickly?  That's a more difficult
issue.

Perhaps he had exhausted his small energy base by walking down the hall.
There's no way we can really know.  In fact, we cannot answer most of
the questions about what happened today, including the one that Katie
keeps asking - who is it that is peaceful?

Let it be recorded that on this day Richard Colin Wakefield actually
acknowledged his family and spoke his first words.  For almost a week he
has been working up to this moment, initially by giving signs of
recognition with his face and eyes and then by moving his lips as if to
make words.  He smiled at me this morning and almost said my name, but
his first actual word was 'Katie', spoken this afternoon after his
cherished daughter gave him one of her energetic hugs.

There is a feeling of euphoria in the family, especially among the
girls.  They are celebrating the return of the .

1r father.  I have told Simone and Katie repeatedly that Richard's
rehabilitation will almost certainly be long and painful, but I guess
they are too young to comprehend what that means.

I am a very happy woman.  It was impossible for me to restrain the tears
when Richard distinctly whispered 'Nicole' in my ear just before dinner.
Even though I realise that my husband is not yet anywhere near normal, I
am now certain that he will eventually recover and that fills my heart
with joy.

18 AUGUST 2209 EM& Slowly but surely Richard continues to improve.  He
only sleeps twelve hours a day now, can walk almost a mile before
becoming fatigued, and is able to concentrate occasionally on a problem
if it's especially interesting.  He has not yet begun to interact with
the Ramans through the keyboard and screen.  He has, however, taken
Prince Hal apart and tried unsuccessfully to determine what caused the
strange voice in the nursery.

Richard is the first to admit that he is not himself.  When he can talk
about it, he says that he is 'in a fog, like a dream but not quite as
sharp'.

It has been over three months since he regained consciousness, but he
still can't remember very much about what happened to him after he left
us.  He believes he was in the coma for the last year or so.  His
estimate is based more on vague feelings than any particular fact.

Richard insists that he lived in the avian lair for some months and that
he was present at a spectacular cremation.  He can't supply any other
details.

Richard has also twice contended that he explored the Southern
Hemicylinder and found the main city of the octospiders near the
Southern Bow, but since what he can remember changes from day to day, it
is difficult to place much credence in any specific recollection.

I have replaced Richard's biometry set twice already and have very
lengthy records of all his critical parameters.  His charts are normal
except in two areas - his mental activity and his temperature.  His
daily brain waves defy description.  There is nothing in my medical
encyclopedia that will allow me to interpret any pair of these charts,
much less the entire set.  Sometimes the level of activity in his brain
is astronomically high; sometimes it seems to stop altogether.  The
electrochemical measurements are equally peculiar.  His hippocampus is
virtually dormant - that could explain why Richard's having such
difficulty with his memory.

His temperature is also weird.  It has been stable now, for two months,
at 37.8 degrees Celsius, eight-tenths of a degree above normal for an
average human.

I have checked all his pre-flight records; Richard's 'normal'
temperature on Earth was a very steady 36.9.  I cannot explain why this
elevated temperature persists.  It's almost as if his body and some
pathogen are in stable equilibrium, neither able to subdue the other.
But what pathogen could it be that would elude all my attempts to
identify it?

All the children have been especially disappointed in Richard's
lackadaisical behaviour.  During his absence we probably mythologised
him somewhat, but there's no doubt he was a very energetic man before.
This new Richard is only a shadow of his former self.  Katie swears she
remembers wrestling and playing vigorously with her Daddy when she was
only two (her memory has undoubtedly been reinforced by the stories that
Michael, Simone, and I told her while Richard was gone), and is often
quite angry that he spends so little time with her now.  I try to
explain to her that 'Daddy is still sick', but I don't think she is
mollified by my explanation.

Iq A0, 000, _ddw Michael moved all my things back to this room within
twenty-four hours of Richard's return.  He is such a sweet man.  He went
through another heavy religious phase for several weeks (I expect in his
mind he needed forgiveness for some fairly grievous sins) but has since
moderated because of the workload on me.

He has been marvelous with the children.

Simone acts as a backup mother.  Benjy worships her and she has
incredible patience with him.  Since she had commented several times
that Benjy was 'a little slow', Michael and I have told Simone about his
Whittingham's syndrome.

We still have not told Katie.  Right now Katie is having a difficult
time.  Not even Patrick, who follows her around like a pet dog, can
cheer her up.

We all know, even the children, that we are being watched.  We searched
the walls in the nursery very carefully, almost as if it were a game,
and found several minute irregularities in the surface finish that we
declared to be cameras.  We chipped them away with our tools, but we
could not positively say that we had indeed found monitoring devices.
They may be so small that we couldn't see them without a microscope.  At
least Richard remembered his favourite saying, about advanced alien
technology being indistinguishable from magic.

Katie was the most disturbed about the prying cameras of the
octospiders.

She spoke openly and resentfully of their intrusion into her 'private
life'.  She probably has more secrets than any of us.  When Simone told
her younger sister that it was really not important, because 'after all,
God is also watching us all the time', we had our first sibling
religious argument.  Katie replied with 'Bullshit', a rather unpleasant
word for a six-year-old girl to use.  Her expression reminded me to be
more careful with my own language.

One day last month I took Richard over to the avian lair to see if
perhaps being there would refresh his memory.  He became very frightened
as soon as we were in the tunnel off the vertical corridor.  'Dark,' I
heard him mumble, 'I cannot see in the dark.  But they can see in the
dark." He wouldn't walk any more after we passed the water and the
cistern, so I brought him back to the lair.

Richard knows that both Benjy and Patrick are Michael's sons and
probably suspects that Michael and I lived as husband and wife for part
of the time he was gone, but he has never commented on it.  Both Michael
and I are prepared to ask for Richard's forgiveness and to stress to him
that we were not lovers (except for Benjy's conception) until he had
been gone for two years.  At the moment, however, Richard doesn't seem
much interested in the subject.

Richard and I have shared our old conjugal mat since soon after he
awakened from his coma.  We have touched a lot and been very friendly,
but until two weeks ago there had never been any sex.  In fact I was
starting to think that sex was another of the things that had been
erased from his memory, so unresponsive had he been to my occasional
provocative kisses.

Then came a night, however, when the old Richard was suddenly in bed
with me.  This is a pattern that has been occurring in other areas as
well - every now and then his old wit, energy, and intelligence are all
present for a short period of time.  Anyway, the old Richard was ardent,
funny, and imaginative.  It was like heaven for me.  I remembered levels
of pleasure that I had long since buried.

His sexual interest continued for three consecutive nights.  Then it
departed as abruptly as it had arrived.  At first I was disappointed
(Isn't that human nature?  Most of the time we want it to be better.
When it's as good as it can be, we want it to last forever), but now I
have accepted that this facet of his personality must also undergo a
healing process.

Last night Richard computed our trajectory for the first time since he
has been back with us.  Both Michael and I were delighted.  'We're still
holding the same direction,' he pronounced proudly.  'We're now less
than three light years from Sirius." Forty-six years old.  My hair is
now mostly grey on the sides and in front.  Back on Earth I would be
debating whether or not to colour it.  Here on Rama it does not matter.

I am too old to be pregnant.  I should tell that to the little girl
growing inside my womb.  I was quite astonished when I realised that I
was indeed pregnant again.  The onset of menopause had already begun
with its strange hot flushes, moments of daffiness, and totally
unpredictable menstruations.  But Richard's sperm has made one more
baby, another addition to this homeless family adrift in space.

If we never encounter another human being (and Eleanor Joan Wakefield
turns out to be a healthy baby, which seems likely at this point), then
there will be a total of six possible combinations of parents for our
grandchildren.  Almost certainly all of those permutations will not
occur, but it's fascinating to imagine.  I used to think that Simone
would mate with Benjy, and Katie with Patrick, but where will Ellie fit
into the equation?

This is my tenth birthday on board Rama.  It seems utterly impossible
that I have spent only twenty per cent of my life in this giant
cylinder.  Did I have another life once, back on that oceanic planet
thousands of billions of kilornetres away?  Did I really know adult
people other than Richard Wakefield and Michael O'Toole?  Was my father
actually Pierre des Jardins, the famous writer of historical fiction?
Did I have a secret, dream affair with Henry, Prince of Wales, that
produced my wonderful first daughter Genevieve?

None of it seems possible.  At least not today, not on my forty-sixth
birthday.  It's funny.  Richard and Michael have asked me, one time
each, about Genevieve's father.  I have still never told anyone.  Isn't
that ridiculous?  What possible difference could it make here on Rama?
None at all.  But it has been my secret (shared only with my father)
since the moment of Genevieve's conception.

She was my daughter.  I brought her into the world and I raised her. Her
biological father, I always told myself, was of no importance.

That is, of course, poppycock.  Hah.  There's that word again.  Dr David
Brown used it often.  Goodness.  I haven't thought about the other
Newton cosmonauts for years.  I wonder if Francesca and her friends made
their millions off the Newton mission.  I hope Janos got his share. Dear
Mr Tabori, an absolutely delightful man.  Hmm.  I also wonder how Rama's
escape from the nuclear phalanx was explained to the citizens of Earth.
Ah yes, Nicole, this is a typical birthday- A long, unstructured voyage
down memory lane.

Francesca was so beautiful.  I was always jealous of how well she
handled herself with people.  Did she drug Borzov and Wilson) Probably.
I don't think for a minute she meant to kill Valeriy.  But she had a
truly twisted morality.

Most genuinely ambitious people do.

I am amused, now when I look back, at how obsessed I was as a young
mother in my twenties.  I had to succeed at everything.  My ambition was
quite different from Francesca's.  I wanted to show the world that I
could play by all the rules and still win, just as I had done with hid
the triple jump in the Olympic games.  What could be more impossible for
an unmarried mother than to be selected as a cosmonaut?  I was certainly
full of myself during those years.  Lucky for me, and for Genevieve,
that Father was there.

I knew, of course, every time I looked at Genevieve, that Henry's
imprint was obvious.  From the top of her lips to the bottom of her chin
she looks exactly like him.  And I did not really want to deny the
genetics.  It was just so important to me to make it on my own, to show
at least myself that I was a superb mother and woman even if I were
unsuitable to be the queen.

I was too black to be Queen Nicole of England, or even Joan of Arc in
one of those French anniversary pageants.  I wonder how many years it
will be before skin colour is no longer an issue among human beings on
Earth.  Five hundred years?  A thousand?  What was it that the American
William Faulkner said something about Sambo will be free only when each
and every one of his neighbours wake up in the morning and say, both to
themselves and to their friends, that Sambo is free.  I think he is
right.  We have seen that racial prejudice cannot be eradicated by
legislation.  Or even by education.  Each person's journey through life
must have an epiphany, a moment of true awareness, when he (or she)
realises, once and for all, that Sambo and every other individual in the
world who is in any way different from him (or her) must be free if we
are to survive.

When I was down at the bottom of that pit ten years ago and certain that
I was going to die, I asked myself what particular moments of my life I
would live over again if I Jr were offered the opportunity.  Those hours
with Henry leapt into my mind, despite the fact that he later broke my
heart.  Even today I would gladly soar again with my prince.  To have
experienced total happiness, even if it's just for a few minutes or
hours, is to have been alive.  It is not that important, when you are
6ced with death, that your companion in your great moment subsequently
disappointed or betrayed you.  What is important is that sense of
momentary joy so great you feel you have transcended the Earth.

It embarrassed me a little, in the pit, that my memories of Henry were
on a level equal to my memories of my father, mother, and daughter.  But
I have since realised that I am not unique in cherishing my
recollections of those hours with Henry.  Each person has very special
moments or events that are uniquely hers and are zealously protected by
the heart.

My only close friend at the University, Gabrielle Moreau, spent a night
with Genevieve and me at Beauvois the year before the Newton expedition
was launched.

We had not seen each other for seven years and spent most of the night
talking, primarily about the major emotional events of our lives.
Gabrielle was extremely happy.  She had a handsome, sensitive successful
husband, three healthy, gorgeous children, and a beautiful manor house
near Chinon.  But Gabrielle's 'most wonderful' moment, she confided to
me after midnight with a girlish smile, had occurred before she met her
husband.  She had had a powerful schoolgirl crush on a famous movie star
who one day happened to be on location in Tours.  Gabrielle somehow
managed to meet him in his hotel room and talk to him privately for
almost an hour.  She kissed him a single time on the lips before she
left.  That was her most precious memory.

Oh, my prince, it was ten years ago yesterday that I saw you for the
last time.  Are you happy?  Are you a good king?  Do you ever think of
the black Olympic champion who gave herself to you, her first love, with
such reckless abandon?

You asked me an indirect question, that day on the ski slopes, about the
father of my daughter.  I denied you the answer, not realising that my
denial meant I had still not forgiven you completely. If you were to ask
me today, my prince, I would gladly tell you.  Yes, Henry Rex, King of
England, you are the father of Genevieve des Jardins.  Go to her, know
her, love her children.  I cannot.  I am more than fifty thousand
billion kilometres away.

f Everyone was too excited to sleep last night.  Except for Benjy, bless
his heart, who simply could not grasp what we were telling him.  Simone
has explained to him many times that our home is inside a giant
cylindrical spacecraft - she has even shown him on the black screen the
different views of Rama from the external sensors - but the concept
continues to elude him.

When the whistle sounded yesterday Richard, Michael, and I stared at
each other for several seconds.  It had been so long since we last heard
it.  Then we all started talking at once.  The children, including
little Ellie, were full of questions and could feel our excitement.  The
seven of us went topside immediately.  Richard and Katie ran over to the
sea without waiting for the rest of the family.  Simone walked with
Benjy, Michael with Patrick.  I carried Ellie because her little legs
just wouldn't move fast enough.

Katie was bursting with enthusiasm when she ran back to greet us.  'Come
on, come on,' she said, grabbing Simone by the hand.  'You've got to see
it.  It's amazing.  The colours are fantastic." Indeed they were.  The
rainbow arcs of light crackled from horn to horn, filling the Raman ni
ht with an 9 awesome display.  Benjy stared southward with his mouth
open.  After many seconds he smiled and turned to Simone, 'It's
beautiful,' he said slowly, proud of his use of the word.

'Yes it is, Benjy,' Simone replied.  'Very beautiful." 'Ve-ry
beautiful,' Benjy repeated, turning back to look at the fights.

None of us said very much during the show itself.  But after we returned
to the lair the conversation was nonstop for hours.  Of course someone
had to explain everything to the children.  Simone was the only one born
at the time of the last manoeuvre, and she was just an infant. Richard
was the chief explainer.

The whistle and fight show really energised him - he seemed in ore like
himself last night than he has at any time since he returned - and he
was both entertaining and informative as he recounted everything we knew
about whistles, light shows, and Raman manoeuvres.

'Do you think the octospiders are going to return to New York?" Katie
asked expectantly.

'I don't know,' Richard said.  'But that's definitely a possibility."
Katie spent the next fifteen minutes telling everyone, for the umpteenth
time, about our encounter with the octospider four years ago.  As usual,
she embellished and exaggerated some of the details, especially from the
solo part of the story before she saw me in the museum.

Patrick loves the tale.  He wants Katie to tell it all the time.  'There
I was,' Katie said last night, 'lying on my stomach, my head peering
over the edge of a gigantic round cylinder that dropped into the black
gloom.  Silver spikes were sticking out of the sides of the cylinder,
and I could see them flashing in the dim light.  "Hey," I shouted,
"anybody down there?" 'I heard a sound like dragging metal brushes
together 77te Garden of Raw with a whine.  Lights came on below me.  At
the bottom of the cylinder, beginning to climb the spikes, was a black
thing with a round head and eight tentacles of black and gold.  The
tentacles wrapped around the spikes as it climbed swiftly in my
direction..." 'Oc-to-spi-der,' Benjy said.

When Katie was finished with her story, Richard told the children that
in four more days the floor was probably going to start shaking.  He
stressed that everything should be carefully anchored to the ground and
that each of us should be prepared for another set of sessions in the
deceleration tank.  Michael pointed out that we needed at least one new
toy box for the children, and several sturdy boxes for our stuff as
well.  We have accumulated so much junk over the years that it will be
quite a task to secure everything in the next few days.

When Richard and I were lying alone on our mat, we held hands and talked
for over an hour.  At one point I told him that I hoped this coming
manoeuvre signalled the beginning of the end of our journey in Rama.

'Hope springs eternal in the human breast.

Man never is, but always to be blessed." he replied.  He sat up for a
moment and looked at me, his eyes twinkling in the near darkness.
'Alexander Pope,' he said.  Then he laughed.  'I bet he never thought he
would be quoted sixty thousand billion kilometres away from Earth." 'You
seem better, darling,' I said, stroking his arm.

His brow furrowed.  'Right now everything seems clear.  But I don't know
when the fog will descend again.  It could be any minute.  And I still
cannot remember more than the barest outline of what happened during the
three years that I was gone." He laid back down.  'What do you think
will hap pen' I asked.

'I'm guessing we'll have a manoeuvre,' he replied.  'And I hope it's a
big one.  We are approaching Sirius very quickly and will need to slow
down considerably if our target is anywhere in the Sirius system." He
reached over and took my hand.  'For you,' he said, 'and especially for
the children, I hope this is not a false alarm.

The manoeuvre began four days ago) right on schedule, as soon as the
third and final fight show was finished.  We didn't see or hear any
avians or octospiders, as we haven't for four years now.  Katie was very
disappointed.  She wanted to see the octospiders all return to New Y
ork.

Yesterday a pair of the mantis biots came into our lair and went
straight to the deceleration tank.  They were carrying a large
container, in which were the five new webbed beds (Simone, of course,
needs a different size now) and all the helmets.  We watched them from a
distance while they installed the beds and checked out the tank system.
The children were fascinated.  The short visit from the mantises
confirmed that we will soon be undergoing a major change in velocity.

Richard was apparently correct with his hypothesis about the connection
between the main propulsion system and the overall thermal control of
Rama.  The temperature has already started to drop topside.  In
anticipation of a long manoeuvre, we have been busy using the keyboard
to order cold weather clothing for all the children.

The constant shaking is again disrupting our lives.  At A FAMA A The
Garden ofRama first it was amusing for the children, but they are
already complaining about it.

For myself, I am hoping that we are now near our ultimate destination.
Although Nbchael has been praying, 'God's will be done', my few prayers
have definitely been more selfish and specific.

I SEPTEMBER 2213 Something new is definitely happening.  For the last
ten days, ever since we finished in the tank and the manoeuvre ended, we
have been approaching a solitary light source situated about thirty
astronomical units away from the star Sirius.

Richard has ingeniously manipulated the sensor list and the black screen
so that this source is dead centre on our monitor at all times,
regardless of which particular Raman telescope is observing it.

Two nights ago we began to see some definition in the object.  We
speculated that perhaps it was an inhabited planet and Richard rushed
around computing the heat input from Sirius on a planet whose distance
was roughly equal to Neptune's distance from our sun.  Even though
Sirius is much larger, brighter, and hotter than the sun, Richard
concluded that our paradise, if this was indeed our destination, was
still going to be very cold.

Last night we could see our target more clearly.  It is an elongated
construction (Richard says it therefore cannot be a planet - anything
'that size' that is decidedly non-spherical 'must be artificial'),
shaped like a cigar, with two rows of lights along the top and bottom.
Because we don't know exactly how far away it is, we don't know its size
for certain.  However, Richard has been making some 'guesstimates',
based on our closing velocity, and he thinks the cigar is roughly a
hundred and fifty kilometres long and fifty kilometres tall.

The entire family sits in our main room and stares at the monitor. This
morning we had another surprise.  Katie showed us that there were two
other vehicles in the vicinity of our target.  Richard had taught her
last week how to change the Raman sensors providing input to the black
screen and, while the rest of us were talking, she accessed the distant
radar sensor that we had first used thirteen years ago to identify the
nuclear missiles coming from Earth.  The cigar-shaped object appeared at
the edge of the radar field of view.  Standing right in front of the
cigar, almost indistinguishable from it in the wide field, were the two
other blips.  If the giant cigar is indeed our destination, then perhaps
we are about to have company.

8 SEPTEMBER 2213 There is no way I can adequately describe the
astounding events of the last five days.  The language does not have
adjectives superlative enough to capture what we have seen and
experienced.  Michael has even commented that heaven may pale by
comparison with the wonders that we have witnessed.

At this moment our family is on board a driverless small shuttle craft,
no larger than a city bus on Earth, that is whizzing us from the
waystation to an unknown destination.  The cigar-shaped waystation is
still visible, but just barely, through the domed window at the rear of
the craft.  To our left, our home for thirteen years, the cylindrical
spaceship we call Rama, is headed in a slightly different direction from
ours.  It departed from the waystation a few hours after we did, lit
like a Christmas tree on the outside, and we are presently The Garden of
Rama separated from it by about two hundred kilometres.

Four days and eleven hours ago our Rama spacecraft came to a stop
relative to the waystation.  We were the third vehicle in an amazing
queue.  In front of us was a spinning starfish about one-tenth the size
of Rama, and a giant wheel, with a hub and spokes, that entered the
waystation a few hours after we stopped.

The waystation itself turned out to be hollow.  When the giant wheel
moved into the centre of the waystation, gantries and other deployable
elements rolled out to meet the wheel and fix it in place.  A suite of
special vehicles in three unusual shapes (one looked like a balloon,
another like a blimp, and the third resembled a bathysphere on Earth)
then entered the wheel from the waystation.

Although we couldn't see what was going on inside the wheel, we did see
the special vehicles emerge, one by one, at odd intervals over the next
two days.

Each vehicle was met by a shuttle, like the one in which we are now
flying but larger in size.  These shuttles had all been parked in the
dark in the right-hand side of the waystation and had been moved into
place thirty minutes or so before the rendezvous.

As soon as the shuttles were loaded, they always took off in a direction
directly opposite our queue.  About an hour after the final vehicle had
emerged from the wheel and the last shuttle had departed, the many
pieces of mechanical equipment attached to the wheel were retracted and
the great circular spacecraft itself eased out of the waystation.

The starfish in front of us had already entered the waystation and was
being handled by another set of gantries and attachments when a loud
whistle summoned us topside in Rama.  The whistle was followed by a
light show in the Southern Bowl.  However, this display was completely
different from the ones that we had seen before.  The Big Horn was the
star of the new show.

Circular rings of colour formed near its tip and then sailed slowly
north, centred along the spin axis of Rama.  The rings were huge.
Richard estimated they were at least a kilometer in diameter, with a
thickness of forty metres.

The dark Raman night was illuminated by as many as eight of these rings
at a time.  The order remained the same - red, orange, yellow, green,
blue, brown, pink, e000100 and purple - for three repetitions.  As a
ring broke up and disappeared near the Alpha relay station at the
Northern Bowl of Rama, a new ring of the same colour would form back
near the tip of the Big Horn.

We stood transfixed, our mouths agape, as this spectacle took place.  As
soon as the last ring disappeared from the third set, another
astonishing event occurred.  All the lights came on inside Rama!  The
Raman night had only begun three hours earlier - for thirteen years the
sequence of night and day had been completely regular.  Now, all of a
sudden, it was changed.  And it wasn't just the lights.  There was music
as well; at least I guess you could call it music.

It sounded like millions of tiny bells and it seemed to be coming from
everywhere.

None of us moved for many seconds.  Then Richard, who had the best pair
of binoculars, spied something flying towards us.  'It's the avians,' he
shouted, jumping up and down and pointing at the sky.  'I just
remembered something.  I visited them in their new home in the north
while I was on my odyssey." One at a time we each looked through his
binoculars.  At first it wasn't certain that Richard was correct in his
identification, but as they came closer the fifty or sixty specks
resolved themselves into the great birdlike creatures we know as the
avians.  They headed straight for New York.  Half the avians hovered in
the sky, maybe three hundred metres above their lair, as the other half
dived down to the surface.

'Come on, Daddy,' Katie yelled.  'Let's go." Before I could raise any
objection, father and daughter were off at a sprint.  I watched Katie
run.  She is already very fast.  In my mind's eye I could see my
mother's graceful stride across the grass in the park at ChillyMazarin -
Katie has definitely inherited some characteristics from her mother's
side of the family, even though she is first and foremost her father's
daughter.

Simone and Benjy had already started towards our lair.  Patrick was
concerned about the avians.  'Will they hurt Daddy and Katie?" he asked.

I smiled at my handsome five-year-old son.  'No, darling,' I answered,
'not if they're careful." Michael, Patrick, Ellie, and I returned to the
lair to watch the starfish being processed in the waystation.

We couldn't see much because all the ports of entry to the starfish were
on the opposite side, away from the Raman cameras.  But we assumed some
kind of unloading activity was s occurring, because eventually five
shuttles departed for some new location.  The starfish was finished with
its processing very quickly.

It had already left the waystation before Richard and Katie returned.

'Start paeking,' Richard said breathlessly as soon as he arrived. 'We're
leaving.  We're all leaving." 'You should have seen them,' Katie said to
Simone almost simultaneously.

'They were huge.  And ugly.  They went down in their lair..." 'The
avians returned to get some special things from their lair,' Richard
interrupted her.  'Maybe they were mementoes of some kind.  Anyway,
everything fits.  We're getting out of here." As I raced around trying
to put our essentials into a few of the sturdy boxes, I criticised
myself for not having figured everything out sooner.  We had watched
both the wheel and the starfish 'unload' at the waystation.  But it had
not occurred to us that we might be the cargo to be unloaded by Rama.

It was impossible to decide what to pack.  We had been living in those
six rooms (including the two we had fixed up for storage) for thirteen
years.  We had probably requested an average of five items a day using
the keyboard.  Granted, most of the objects had long since been thrown
away, but still ...  We didn't know where we were going.  How could we
know what to take?

'Do you have any idea what's going to happen to us?" Iasked Richard.

My husband was beside himself trying to figure out how to take his large
computer.  'Our history, our science - all that remains of our knowledge
is there,' he said, pointing at the computer in agitation.  'What if
it's irretrievably lost?" It weighed only eighty kilograms altogether. I
told him we could all help him carry the computer after we had packed
clothing, personal items, and some food and water.

'Do you have any idea where we're going?" I repeated.

Richard shrugged his shoulders.  'Not the slightest,'he replied.  'But
wherever it is, I bet it will be amazing." Katie came into our room. She
was holding a small pouch and her eyes were alive with energy.  'I'm
packed and ready,' she said.  'Can I go topside and wait?" Her father's
affirmative nod was barely in motion when Katie bolted out of the door.
I shook my head, giving Richard a disapproving look, and went down the
hall to help Simone with the other children.  The process of packing for
the boys was an ordeal.  Benjy was cranky and confused.  Even Patrick
was irritable.  Simone and I had just finished (the job was impossible
until we forced the boys to take a nap) when Richard and Katie returned
from topside.

'Our vehicle is here,' Richard said calmly, suppressing his excitement.

'It's parked on the ice,' Katie added, taking off her heavy jacket and
gloves.

'How do you know it's ours?" Michael asked.  He had entered the room
only moments after Richard and Katie.

'It has eight seats and room for our bags,' my ten-year-old daughter
replied.

'Who else could it be for?" 'Whom,' I said mechanically, trying to
integrate this latest new information.  I felt as if I had been drinking
from a fire hose for four consecutive days.

'Did you see any octospiders?" Patrick asked.

'Oc-to-spi-der,' Benjy repeated carefully.

'No,' answered Katie, 'but we did see four mammoth planes, real flat,
with wide wings.  They flew over our heads, coming from the south.  We
think the flat planes were carrying the octos, don't we Dad?" Richard
nodded.

I took a deep breath.  'All right then,' I said.  'Bundle up, everybody.

Let's go.  Carry the bags first.  Richard, Michael, and I will make a
second trip for the computer." An hour later we were all in the vehicle.
We had climbed the stairs of our lair for the last time.  Richard
pressed a flashing red button and our Raman helicopter (I call it that
because it went straight up, not because it had any rotary blades)
lifted off the ground.

Ou r flight path was slow and vertical for the first five .  minu tes.
Once we were close to the spin axis of Rama, where there was no gravity
and very little atmosphere, the vehicle hovere d in place for two or
three minutes while it changed its external configuration.

it was an awesome final view of Rama.  Many kilometres below us our
island home was but a small patch of greyish -brown in the middle of the
frozen sea that circled the giant cylinder.  I could see the horns in
the south clearer than ever before.  Those amazing long structures,
supported by massive flying buttresses larger than small towns on the
Earth, all pointed directly north.

I felt strangely emotional as our craft began to move again.  After all,
Rama had been my home for thirteen years.  I had given birth to five
children there.  I have also matured, I remember telling myself, and may
finally be growing into the person I have always wanted to be.

There was very little time to dwell on what had been.  Once the external
configuration change was complete, our vehicle zipped along the spin
axis to the northern hub in a matter of a few minutes.  Less than an
hour later we were all safely in this shuttle.  We had left Rama.  I
knew we would never return.  I wiped the tears from my eyes as our
shuttle pulled out of the waystation.

-At t1w Node Nicole was dancing.  Her partner in the waltz was Henry.

They were young and very much in love.  The beautiful music filled the
huge ballroom as the twenty or so couples moved in rhythm around the
floor.  Nicole looked stunning in her long white gown.  Henry's eyes
were fixed on hers.  He held her firmly at the wrist, but somehow she
felt completely free.

Her father was one of the people standing around the edge of the dance
floor.  He was leaning against a massive column that rose almost twenty
feet to the domed ceiling.  He waved and smiled as Nicole danced by in
the arms of her prince.

The waltz seemed to last forever.  When it was finally over, Henry held
her hands and told Nicole that he had something very important to ask
her.  At just that moment her father touched her on the back.

'Nicole,' he IC whispered, 'me must go.  It's very late." Nicole
curtsied to the prince.  Henry was reluctant to let go of her hands.
'Tomorrow,' he said.  'We'll talk tomorrow." He blew her a kiss as she
left the dance floor.

When Nicole walked outside it was almost sunset.

Her father's sedan was waiting.  Moments later, as they raced down the
highway beside the Loire, she was dressed in blouse and jeans.  Nicole
was younger now, maybe fourteen, and her father was driving much faster
than usual.

'We don't want to be late,' he said.  'The pageant starts at eight
o'clock." The ChAteau d'Uss6 loomed before them.  With its many towers
and spires, the castle had been the inspiration for the original story
of Sleeping Beauty.  It was only a few kilometres down the river from
Beauvois, and had always been one of her father's favourite places: It
was the evening of the annual pageant, when the story of Sleeping Beauty
was replayed in front of a live audience.  Pierre and Nicole attended
every year.  Each time, Nicole longed desperately for Aurora to avoid
the deadly spinning wheel that would throw her into a coma.  And each
year she wept adolescent tears when the kiss of the handsome prince
awakened the beauty from her deathlike sleep.

The pageant was over, the audience gone.  Nicole was climbing up the
circular steps that led to the tower where the real Sleeping Beauty had
supposedly lapsed into her coma.  The teenager was racing up the steps,
laughing, leaving her father far behind.

Aurora's room was on the other side of the long window.  Nicole caught
her breath and stared at all the sumptuous furnishings.  The bed was
canopied, the dressers richly decorated.  Everything in the room was
trimmed in white.  It was magnificent.  Nicole glanced back at the
sleeping girl and gasped.  It was she, Nicole, lying in the bed in a
white gown!

Her heart pounded furiously as she heard the door open and the footsteps
coming towards her in the room.  Her eyes remained closed as the first
aroma of his mint breath reached her nose.  This is it, she said
excitedly to herself.  He kissed her, gently, on the lips.  Nicole felt
as if she were flying on the softest of clouds.  Music was all around
her.  She opened her eyes and saw Henry I s smiling face only
centimetres away.  She reached her the Gankn ofRama ar ms out to him and
he kissed her again, this time with passion, as a man kisses a woman.

Nicole kissed him back, reserving nothing, allowing her kiss to tell him
that she was his.  But he pulled away.  Her special prince was wearing a
frown.  He pointed at her face.  Then he backed up slowly and left the
room.

She had just started to cry when a distant sound intruded upon her
dream.  A door was opening, light was coming into the room.  Nicole
blinked, then closed her eyes again to protect them against the light.
The complicated set of ultra-thin, plastic-like wires that were attached
to her body automatically rewound themselves into their containers on
either side of the canvas mat on which she was sleeping.

Nicole awakened very slowly.  The dream had been extremely vivid.  Her
feelings of unhappiness had not vanished as quickly as the dream.  She
tried to chase her despair by reminding herself that none of what she
had dreamed was real.

'Are you going to just lie there for ever?" Her daughter Katie, who had
been asleep beside her on the left, was already up and bending over her.

Nicole smiled.  'No,' she said, 'but I admit I am more than a little bit
groggy.  I was in the middle of a dream ...  How long did we sleep this
time?" 'A day short of five weeks,' Simone answered from the other side.
Her older daughter was sitting up, casually arranging her long hair that
had become matted during the test.

Nicole glanced at her watch, verified that Simone was correct, and sat
up herself.  She yawned.

'So how do you feel?" she said to the two girls.

'Full of energy,' eleven-year-old Katie answered with a grin.  'I want
to run, jump, wrestle with Patrick ...  I hope this was our last long
sleep." 'The Eagle said it should be,' Nicole replied.  'They're hoping
that they will have enough data now." She smiled.  'The Eagle says we
women are more difficult to understand - because of the wild monthly
variations in ur hormones." Nicole stood up, stretched, and gave Katie a
kiss.  Then she eased over and hugged Simone.  Although not quite
fourteen, Simone was almost as tall as Nicole.

She was a striking young woman, with a dark brown face and soft,
sensitive eyes.

Simone always seemed calm and serene, in marked contrast to the
restlessness and impatience of Katie.

'Why didn't Ellie come with us for this test?" Katie asked a little
querulously.  'She's a girl too, but it seems like she never has to do
anything." Nicole put her arm around Katie's shoulder as the three of
them headed for the door and the light.  'She's only four years old,
Katie, and according to The Eagle, Ellie's too small to give them any of
the critical data they still need." In the small illuminated foyer,
directly outside the room where they had been sleeping for five weeks,
the put on their tight body I suits, transparent helmets, y and the
slippers that anchored their feet on the floor.  Nicole checked the two
girls carefully before activating the outside door of the compartment.
She need't have worried.  The door wouldn't have opened if any of them
were unprepared for the environmental changes.

If Nicole and her daughters had not seen the large room outside their
compartment several times before, they would have stopped in amazement
and stared for several minutes.  Stretching in front of them was a long
chamber, a hundred or more metres in length and fifty metres wide.  The
ceiling above them, filled with banks of lights, was about five metres
high.  The room looked 77te Garden of Rwna like a mixture of a hospital
operating theatre and a semiconductor-manufacturing plant on the Earth.
There were no walls or cubicles dividing the room into partitions, yet
its rectangular dimensions were clearly suballocated into different
tasks.  The room was busy - the robots were all either analysing data
from one set of tests or preparing for another set.  Around the edges of
the room were compartments, like the one in which Nicole, Simone, and
Katie had slept for five weeks, in which the experiments' were carried
out.

Katie walked over to the closest compartment on the left.  It was set
back in the corner and was suspended from the wall and ceiling along two
perpendicular axes.  A display screen built next to the metallic door
showed a wide array of what was presumably data in some bizarre
cuneiform-like script.

'Weren't we in this one last time?" Katie asked, pointing at the
compartment.  'Wasn't this the place where we slept on that peculiar
white foam and felt all the pressure?" Her question was transmitted
inside the helmets of her mother and sister.

Nicole and Simone both nodded and then joined Katie in staring at the
unintelligible screen.

'Your father thinks they are trying to find a way that we can sleep
through an entire acceleration regime lasting for several months,'
Nicole said.  'The Eagle will neither confirm nor deny this conjecture."
Although the three women had undergone four separate tests together in
this laboratory, none of them had ever seen any form of life or
intelligence except for the dozen or so mechanical aliens that were
apparently in charge.  The humans called these beings 'block robots'
because, except for their cylindrical 'feet' which allowed them to roll
around the floor, the creatures were all made of rectangular solid
chunks that looked like the blocks that human children played with on
Earth.

'Why do you think we've never seen any of the Others?" Katie now asked.
'I mean, in here.  We see them for a second or two in the Tube and
that's all.  We know they're here - we aren't the only ones being
tested." 'This room is scheduled very carefully,' her mother replied.
'It's obvious that we weren't meant to see the Others, except in
passing." 'But why?The Eagle ought..."Katic persisted.

'Excuse me,' Simone interrupted.  'But I think Big Block is coming over
to see us." The largest of the block robots usually stayed in the square
control area in the centre of the room and monitored all the experiments
that were under way.

At that moment he was moving towards them down one of the lanes that
formed a grid in the room.

Katie walked over to another compartment about twenty metres away. From
the active monitor on its exterior wall, she could tell that an
experiment was under way inside.  Suddenly she pounded on the metal
quite sharply with her gloved hand.

'KatieP Nicole shouted.

'Stop that." A sound came from Big Block almost simultaneously.  He was
about fifty metres away and approaching them very rapidly.  'You must
not do that,' it said in perfect English.

'And what are you going to do about it?" Katie said defiantly as Big
Block, all five square metres of him, ignored Nicole and Simone and
headed for the young girl.  Nicole ran over to protect her daughter.

'You must leave now,' Big Block said, hovering over Nicole and Katie
from only a couple of metres away.  'Your test is over.  The exit is
over there, where the lights are flashing." Nicole tugged firmly on
Katie's arm and the girl reluctantly accompanied her mother towards the
exit.  'But what would they do,' Katie said stubbornly, 'if we decided
to stay here until another experiment was finished?  Who knows?  Maybe
one of our octospiders is in there right now.  Why are we never allowed
to meet anyone else?" 'The Eagle has explained several times,' Nicole
replied, a trace of anger in her voice, 'that during "this phase" we
will be permitted "sightings" of other creatures but no additional
contact.  Your father has repeatedly asked why and The Eagle has always
answered that we will find out in time ...  And I wish you would try not
to be so difficult, young lady." 'It's not much different from being in
prison)' Katie groused.  'We have only limited freedom here.  And we're
never told the answers to the really important questions." They had
reached the long passageway that connected the transportation centre to
the laboratory.  A small vehicle, sitting at the edge of a moving
sidewalk, was waiting for them.  When they sat down the top of the car
closed over them and interior lights were illuminated.  'Before you
ask,' Nicole said to Katie, pulling off her helmet as they started to
move, 'we are not allowed to see out during this part of the transfer
because we pass portions of the Engineering Module that are off limits
to us.  Your father and Uncle Michael asked this set of questions after
their first sleep test." 'Do you agree with Daddy,' Simone inquired
after they had been riding in silence for several minutes, 'that we have
been having all these sleep tests in preparation for some kind of space
voyage?" 'It seems likely,' Nicole answered.  'But of course we don't
know for certain." 'And where are they going to send us?" asked Katie.

'I have no idea,' Nicole replied.  'The Eagle has been very evasive on
all questions about our future." The car was moving at about twenty
kilometres per hour.  After a fifteen minute ride it stopped.  The 'lid'
of the vehicle was removed as soon as all their helmets were properly in
place again.  The women exited into the main transportation centre of
the Engineering Module.  It was laid out in a circle and was twenty
metres tall.  In addition to half a dozen moving sidewalks leading to
locations interior to the module, the centre contained two large,
multilevel structures from which sleek tubes departed.  These tubes
transported equipment, robots, and living creatures back and forth among
the Habitation, Engineering, and Administration Modules, the three huge
spherical complexes that were the primary components of The Node.

As soon as they were inside the section, Nicole and her daughters heard
a voice on their helmet receivers.  'Your tube will be on the second
level.  Take the escalator on the right.  You will be departing inin
four minutes." Katie rolled her head from side to side, surveying the
transportation centre.  She could see racks of equipment, cars waiting
to take travellers to destinations inside the Engineering Module,
lights, escalators, and station platforms.  But there was nothing
moving.  No robots and no living creatures.

'What would happen,' she said to her sister and mother, 'if we refused
to go up there?" She stopped in the middle of the station.  'Then your
schedule would be all fouled up,' she shouted at the tall ceiling.

'Come on, Katie,' Nicole said impatiently, 'we just went through this in
the laboratory." Katie started walking again.  'But I do want to see At
The Garden of Rama something different,' she complained.  'I know that
this place is not always this empty.  Why are we kept isolated?  It's as
if we're unclean or something." 'Your tube will depart in two minutes,'
the disembodied voice said.  'Second level on the right." 'Isn't it
amazing that the robots and controllers can communicate with each and
every species in its own language,' Simone commented as they reached the
escalator.

'I think it's freaky,' Katie replied.  'Just for once, I'd like to see
whoever or whatever controls this place make a mistake.  Everything is
too slick.

I'd like to hear them speak avian to us.  Or for that matter, speak
avian to the avians." On the second level they shuffled along a platform
for about forty metres until they reached a transparent vehicle, shaped
like a bullet, the size of an extremely large automobile on Earth.  It
was parked, as always, on a track on the left side of the median.  There
were four parallel tracks on the platform altogether, two on either side
of the median.  All the others were currently empty.

Nicole turned and looked across the transportation centre.  Sixty
degrees around the circle was an identical tube station.  The tubes on
that side went to the Administration Module.  Simone was watching her
mother.  'Have you ever been over there?" she asked.

'No,' replied Nicole.  'But I bet it would be interesting.  Your father
says it looks wonderfully strange from up close." Richardjust had to
explore, Nicole thought, remembering the night almost a year ago when
her husband set out to 'hitch' a ride to the Administration Module.

Nicole shuddered.  She had gone out into the atrium of their apartment
with Richard and tried to dissuade him while he was putting on his space
suit.  He had figured out how to fool the door monitor (the next day a
new, foolproof system was in place) and could hardly wait to take an
'unsupervised' look around.

Nicole had barely slept that night.  In the wee hours of #POOOOO the
morning their light panel had signalled that someone or something was in
the atrium.  When she had looked on the monitor, there was a strange
bird-man standing there, holding her unconscious husband in his arms.
That had been their first contact with The Eagle ...

The thrust of the tube momentarily pinned them against the backs of
their seats and returned Nicole to the present.  They zoomed away from
the Engineering Module.  In less than a minute they were hurtling at
full speed down the long, extremely narrow cylinder that connected the
two modules.

The median and four tube tracks were at the centre of the long cylinder.

Out to their right, in the far distance, the lights of the spherical
Administration Module shone against a blue background of space.  Katie
had her tiny binoculars out.  'I want to be ready,' she said.  'They
always go by so fast." Several minutes later she announced 'It's coming'
and the three women pressed against the right side of the vehicle.  In
the far distance another tube approached on the opposite side of the
track.  Within instants it was upon them and the humans had no more than
a second to stare across at the occupants of the vehicle heading for the
Engineering Module.

'Wow!" said Katie as the tube rushed past.

'There were two different types,' said Simone.

'Eight or ten creatures altogether." 'One set was pink, the other gold.
Both mostly spherical." 'And those long stringy tentacles, like
gossamer.  How big would you guess they were, Mother?" t J The Garden
ofRama 'Five, maybe six metres in diameter,' Nicole said.

'Much bigger than we are." 'Wow!" said Katie again.  'That was really
something." There was excitement in her eyes.  The girl loved the
feeling of adrenalin rushing through her system.

I too have never stopped being amazed, Nicole thought.  Not once during
these thirteen months.  But is this all there is?  Were we brought all
the way here from Earth just to be tested?  And titillated by the
existence ofcreatures from other worlds?  Or is there some other,
deeperpurpose?

There was a momentary silence in the speeding vehicle.  Nicole, who was
sitting in the middle, drew her daughters closer to her.  'You know I
love you, don't you?" she said.

'Yes, Mother,' Simone replied.  'And we love you too." The reunion party
was a success.  Benjy embraced his beloved Simone the moment she walked
into the apartment.  Katie had Patrick pinned to the floor no more than
a minute later.

'See,' she said, 'I can still beat you." 'But not by much,' Patrick
replied.  'I'm getting stronger.  You'd better watch out." Nicole hugged
both Richard and Michael before little Ellie ran over and leaped into
her arms.  It was evening, two hours after dinner on the twenty-four
hour clock used by the family, and Ellie had been almost ready for bed
when her mother and sisters had arrived.  The little girl walked down
the hall to her room after proudly showing Nicole that she could now
read 'cat', 'dog', and 'boy'.

The adults let Patrick stay awake until he was exhausted.  Michael
carried him to bed and Nicole tucked him in.  'I'm glad you're back,
Mommy,' he said.

'I missed you very much." 'And I missed you too,' Nicole answered. 'I on
t think I'll be going away for so long again." 'I hope not,' the
six-year-old said.  'I like having you here." Everyone but Nicole was
asleep by one o'clock in the morning.  Nicole was not tired.  After all,
she had just finished sleeping for five weeks.  After lying restlessly
Jf, beside Richard in bed for thirty minutes, she decided to take a
walk.

Although their apartment itself had no windows, the small atrium just
off the entrance hall had an exterior window that offered a breathtaking
view of the other two vertices of The Node.  Nicole walked into the
atrium, put on her space suit, and stood in front of the outer door.  It
did not open.  She smiled to herself.  Maybe Katie's right.  Maybe we
arejustprisoners here.  It had been clear very early in their stay that
the outside door was locked intermittently: The Eagle had explained that
it was 'necessary' to keep them from seeing things they 'couldn't
understand'.

Nicole gazed out of the window.  At that moment a shuttle vehicle,
similar in shape to the one that had brought them to The Node thirteen
months before, was approaching the Habitation Module transportation
centre.  What kind of wonderful creatures do you contain?  Nicole
thought.  And are they as astounded as we were when we first arrived?

Nicole would never forget those first views of The Node.  All of the
family had thought, after they had left The Waystation, that they would
reach their next destination within several hours.  They had been wrong.
Their separation from the illuminated Rama craft had grown slowly until
after six hours they could no longer see Rama at all on their left.  The
lights of The Waystation behind them were becoming faint.  They were all
tired.  Eventually the entire family had fallen asleep.

It had been Katie who had awakened them.  'I see where we're going,' she
had shouted triumphantly, her excitement unrestrained.  She had pointed
out of the front shuttle window, a little to the right, where one strong
and growing light was dividing itself into three.

For the next four hours the image of The Node grew and grew.  From that
distance it had been an awesome sight, an equilateral triangle with
three glowing, transparent spheres at its vertices.  And what a scale!
Even their experience with Rama had not prepared them for the majesty of
this incredible engineering creation.  Each of the three sides, actually
long transportation corridors connecting in the three spherical modules,
was over a hundred and fifty kilometres in length.  The spheres at each
vertex were twenty-five kilonietres in diameter.  Even from a great
distance the humans could discern activity on many of the separate
levels inside the modules.

'What is going to happen now?" Patrick had anxiously asked Nicole as the
shuttle had altered its path and started heading towards one of the
vertices of the triangle.

Nicole had picked Patrick up and he'd him in her arms.  'I don't know,
darling,' she had said softly to her son.  'We have to wait and see."
Benjy had been completely awestruck.  He had stared for hours at the
great illuminated triangle in space.  Simone had often stood beside him,
holding his hand.  While the shuttle was making its final approach to
one of the spheres, she had felt his muscles tense.  'Don't worry,
Benjy,' Simone had said reassuringly, 'everything will be all right."
Their shuttle had entered a narrow corridor cut into the sphere and then
docked in a berth at the edge of the transportation centre.  The family
had cautiously left the craft, carrying with them their bags and
Richard's computer.  Then the shuttle had immediately departed,
unnerving even the adults by its swift disappearance.  Less than a
minute later they heard the first dis embodied voice.

'Welcome,' it had said in an unniodulated tone.  'You have arrived at
the Habitation Module.  Proceed straight ahead and stand in front of the
grey wall." 'Where is that voice comin- from?" Katie had asked.

Her voice contained the fright they all were feeling.

'Everywhere,' Richard had answered.  'It's above us around us, even
below us." They all scanned the wall' s and ceilings.

'But how does it know English?" Simone had inquired.  'Are there other
people here?" Richard laughed nervously.  'Unlikely,' he replied.
'Probably this place has been in contact with Rama in some way and has a
master language algorithm.  I wonder .  .

'Please move forward,' the voice had interrupted.  'You are in a
transportation complex.  The vehicle that will take you to your section
of the module is waiting on a lower level." It had taken them several
minutes to reach the grey wall.  The children had never been in
unconfined weightlessness before.  Katie and Patrick jumped off the
platform and did flips and rolls in the air.  Benjy, watching their fun,
tried to copy their antics.

Unfortunately, he was not able to figure out how to use the ceiling and
walls to return to the platform.  He was completely disoriented by the
time Simone rescued him.

When the entire family and its baggage were properly positioned in front
of the wall, a wide door opened and they entered a small room.  Special
tight-fitting suits, helmets, and slippers were neatly arranged on a
bench.  'The transportation centre and most of the common areas here at
The Node,' the voice said in its absolute monotone, 'do not have an
atmosphere that is suitable for your species.  You will need to wear
this clothing unless you are inside your apartment." When they were all
dressed, a door on the opposite side of the room opened and they entered
the main hall of the Habitation Module transportation centre.

The station was identical to the one they would later encounter at the
Engineering Module.  Nicole and her family descended two levels, as
directed by The Voice, and then proceeded around the circular periphery
to where their 'bus' was waiting.  The closed vehicle was comfortable
and well lit, but they were unable to see out during the hour and a half
that it travelled through a maze of passageways.  At length the bus
halted and its top lifted off.

'Take the hall to your left,' another, similar voice had directed as
soon as all eight of them were standing on the metallic floor.  'The
hall splits into two pathways after four hundred metres.  Take the path
to your right and stop in front of the third square marker on the left.
That is the door to your apartment." Patrick had sprinted off down one
of the halls.  'That is the wrong hall,' the voice had announced without
inflection.  'Return to the dock and take the next hall on your left."
There was nothing for them to see on the walk from the dock to their
apartment.  In the succeeding months, they would make the walk many
times, either going to the exercise room or, occasionally, for tests
over in the Engineering Module, and they would still never see anything
except walls and ceilings and the square markers they would come to
recognise as doors.  The place was obviously carefully monitored. Nicole
and Richard both felt certain, from the very beginning, that some,
perhaps many, of the apartments in their area were occupied by someone
or something, but they never ever saw any of the Others in the
corridors.

After finding and entering the specified door to their apartment, Nicole
and her family removed their special clothing in the atrium and stored
it in the cabinets created for that purpose.  The children took turns
looking out of the window at the other two spherical modules while they
waited for the inner door to open.  A few minutes later they saw the
interior of their new home for the very first time.

They were all overwhelmed.  Compared to the relatively primitive
conditions in which they had been living in Rama, the family's apartment
at The Node was paradise.  Each of the children had his own room.
Michael had a suite for himself at one end of the unit; Richard and
Nicole's master bedroom, complete even with a kingsize bed, was at the
opposite end of the apartment, just off the entrance hall.  There were
four bathrooms altogether, plus a kitchen, a dining room, and even a
playroom for the children.  The furniture in each room was surprisingly
appropriate and tastefully designed.  The apartment contained over four
hundred square metres of living space.

Even the adults were stunned.  'How in the world Could they have done
this?" Nicole had asked Richard that-first night, out of earshot of the
overjoyed children.

Richard had cast a bewildered glance around them.  11 can only surmise,'
he had replied, 'that somehow all our actions in Rama were monitored and
telemetered here to The Node.  They must also have had access to our
data bases and extracted the way we live from that set of information."
Richard grinned.  'And of course, even way out here, if they have
sensitive receivers, they could be picking up television signals from
Earth.  Isn't it embarrassing to think that we are represented by such .
.  ." 'Welcome,' another identical voice had interrupted Richard's
thought.  Again the sound seemed to be coming from all directions.  'We
hope everything in your apartment is satisfactory.  If it is not, please
tell us.  We cannot possible respond to everything that all of you say
at all times.  Therefore, a simple communication regimen has been
established.  On your kitchen counter is a white button.  We will assume
that everything said by an individual after pushing the white button is
directed to us.  When you are finished with your communication, push the
white button again.  In that way .  .

J have one question first,' Katie had then interrupted.  She had run
into the kitchen to push the button.  'Just who are you anyway)' A tiny
delay of maybe one second had preceded the answer.  'We are the
collective intelligence that governs The Node.  We are here to assist
you, to make you more comfortable, and to supply you with the essentials
for living.  We will also from time to time, ask you to perform certain
tasks that will help us to understand you better .  .

Nicole could no longer see the shuttle she had been watching through the
window.

Actually, she had been so deeply immersed in her memory of their arrival
at The Node that she had temporarily forgotten the newcomers.  Now, as
she returned to the present, in her mind's eye she imagined an
assemblage of strange creatures disembarking on a platform and being
startled upon hearing a voice address them in their native language. the
experience of wonder must be universal, she thought, belonging to all
conscious chemicals.

Her eyes lifted from the near field and focused on the Administration
Module in the distance.  What goes on over there?  Nicole wondered.  We
hapless creatures move back and forth between Habitation and
Engineering.  All our activities appear to be logically orchestrated.
But by whom?  And for what?  Why has someone brought all these beings to
this artificial world?

The Garden of Rama Nicole had no answer to these infinite questions.  As
usual, they gave her a powerful sense of her own insignificance.  Her
immediate impulse was to go back inside and hug one of her children. She
laughed at herself.  Both pictures are true indications of our position
in the cosmos, she thought.  We are both desperately important to our
children and absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. It takes
enormous wisdom to see that there is no inconsistency in those two
points of view.

Breakfast was a celebration.  They ordered a feast from the exceptional
cooks who prepared their food.  The designers of their apartment had
considerately provided them with a variety of ovens and a full
refrigerator, in case they wanted to prepare their own meals from the
raw materials.  However, the alien (or robot) cooks were so good, and so
quickly trained, that Nicole and her family almost never prepared the
meals themselves they just pushed the white button and ordered.

'I want pancakes this morning,' Katie announced in the kitchen.

The, too, me too,' her sidekick Patrick added.

'What kind of pancakes?" the voice intoned.  'We have four different
types in our memory.  There is buckwheat, buttermilk 'Buttermilk,'
interrupted Katie.  'Three altogether." She glanced at her little
brother.  'Better make it four." 'With butter and maple syrup,' Patrick
shouted.

'Four pancakes with butter and maple syrup,' said the voice.  'Will that
be all?" 'One apple juice and one orange juice as well,' Katie said,
after a brief coconsultation with Patrick.

'Six minutes and eighteen seconds,' the voice said.

When the food was ready, the family gathered at the round table in the
kitchen.  The youngest children explained to Nicole what they had been
doing during her

77m Garden of Ram

J= absence.  Patrick was especially proud of his new personal record in
the fiftymetre dash over in the exercise room.  Benjy laboriously
counted to ten and everyone applauded.  They had just finished breakfast
and were cleaning the dishes off the table when the doorbell rang.

The adults looked at each other and Richard walked over to the control
console, where he turned on the video monitor.  The Eagle was standing
outside their door.

'I hope it's not another test,' said Patrick spontancously.

'No ...  no, I doubt it,' Nicole replied, moving towards the entryway.
'He's probably here to give us the results of the last experiments."
Nicole took a deep breath before she opened the door.  No matter how
many times she encountered The Eagle, her adrenalin level always
increased in his presence.  Why was that?  Was it his awesome knowledge
that frightened her?  Or his power over them?  Or just the bewildering
fact of his existence?

The Eagle greeted her with what she had come to recognise as a smile.
'May I come in?" he said pleasantly.  'I would like to talk to you, your
husband, and Mr O'Toole." Nicole stared at him (or i4 her mind instantly
flashed), as she always did.

He was tall, maybe two and a quarter metres, and shaped like a human
being from the neck down.  His arms and torso, however, were covered
charcoal grey feathers with small, tightly-woven except for the four
fingers on each hand, which were creamy white and featherless.  Below
his waist, the surface of The Eagle's body was fleshcoloured, but it was
obvious from the sheen of his outer layer that no attempt had been made
to duplicate real human skin.  There was no hair below his waist and
neither visible

.4'r

joints nor genitalia.  His feet had no toes.  When The Eagle walked,
wrinkles developed around the knee area, but they disappeared when he
was standing still.

The Eagle's face was mesmerising.  His head had two large, powder blue
eyes on either side of a protruding greyish beak.  When he talked the
beak opened and his perfect English came from some kind of electronic
voice box at the back of the throat.  The feathers on the top of his
head were white and contrasted sharply with the dark grey of his face,
neck, and back.  The feathering on his face was quite sparse and
scattered.

'May I come in?" The Eagle repeated politely when Nicole did not move
for several seconds.

'Of course ...  of course,' she replied, moving away from the door. 'I'm
sorry ...  I just hadn't seen you for so long." 'Good morning, Mr
Wakefield, Mr O'Toole.  Hello, children,' The Eagle said as he strode
into the living room.

Patrick and Benjy both backed away from him.  Of all the children, only
Katie and little Ellie did not seem to be afraid.

'Good morning,' Richard replied.  'And what can we do for you today?" he
inquired.  The Eagle never made social calls.  There was always some
purpose for his visits.

'As I told your wife at the door,' The Eagle replied, 'I need to talk to
all three of you adults.  Can Simone take care of the other children
while we chat for an hour or so?" Nicole had already started herding the
children back into the playroom when The Eagle stopped her. 'That won't
be necessary,' he said.  'They can use the whole apartment.  The four of
us are going to the conference room across the hall." Uh-oh, Nicole
thought immediately.  This is something 4z Fbig ...  We've never left
the children alone in the aparmmt before.

She was suddenly very concerned about their safety.  'Excuse me, Mr
Eagle,' she said.  'Will the children be all right here?  I mean,
they're not going to have any special visitors or anything like that ...
?" 'No, Mrs Wakefield,' The Eagle responded matter-offactly.  'I give
you my word that nothing will interfere with your children." Out in the
atrium, when the three humans started to put on their space suits, The
Eagle stopped them.  'That won't be necessary,' he said.  'Last night we
reconfigured this portion of the sector.  We have sealed off the hall
just before the junction and transformed this whole area into an
Earthlike habitat.

You'll be able to use the conference room without putting on any special
clothing." The Eagle started talking as soon as they sat down in the
large conference room across the hall.  'Since our first encounter you
have repeatedly asked me questions about what you are doing here, and I
have not given you direct answers.

Now that your final set of steep tests are completed - successfully, I
might add - I have been empowered to inform you about the next phase of
your mission.

'I have also been given permission to tell you something about myself.
As all of you have suspected, I am not a living creature - at least not
by your definition." The Eagle laughed.  'I was created by the
intelligence that governs The Node to interface with you on sensitive
issues.  Our early observations of your behavior indicated a reluctance
on your part to interact with the disembodied voices.  It had already
been decided to create me, or something similar, as an emissary to your
family when you, Mr Wakefield, nearly caused serious chaos in this
sector by trying to make an unscheduled and unapproved visit to the
Administration Module.  My appearance at that time was designed to
preclude further untoward behavior.

'We have now entered,' The Eagle continued after only a momentary
hesitation, 'the most important time period of your stay here.  The
spaceship you call Rama is over at The Hangar undergoing major
refurbishment and engineering redesign.  You human beings will now take
part in that redesign process, for some of you will be returning with
Rama to the solar system in which your originated." Richard and Nicole
both started to interrupt.  'Let me finish first,' The Eagle said.  'We
have very carefully prepared my remarks to cover your anticipated
questions." The alien bird-man glanced at each of the three humans
around the table before continuing at a slower pace.  'Notice that I did
not say that you will be going back to Earth.  If the nominal plan
succeeds, those of you who return will interact with other human beings
in your solar system, but not on your home planet.  Only if there is
some required deviation from the baseline plan will you actually return
to Earth.

'Notice also that only some of you will be returning.  Mrs Wakefield,'
the Eagle said directly to Nicole, 'you will definitely be travelling
again in Rama.

This is one of the constraints that we are placing on the mission. We
will let you and the rest of your family decide who will accompany you
on the journey.

You can go alone if you choose, leaving everyone else here at The Node,
or you can take some of the others.  However, you cannot all make the
voyage on Rama.

At least one reproductive pair must stay here at The Node - to ensure
some data for our encyclopedia, in the unlikely event that the return
mission is unsuccessful.

Die Garden ofRama 'The primary purpose of The Node is to catalogue life
forms in this part of the galaxy.  Spacefaring life forms have the
highest priority, and our specifications call for us to collect vast
amounts of data about each and every spacefarer we encounter.  To
accomplish this task, we have worked out, over hundreds of thousands of
years of your time, a method of gathering this data that minimises the
likelihood of a cataclysmic intrusion into the evolutionary pattern of
those spacefarers while, at the same time, maximising the probability of
our obtaining the vital data.

'Our approach involves sending observing basic spacecraft on
reconnaissance missions, hoping to lure spacefarers to us so they can be
identified and phenotyped.  Repeat spacecraft are later sent to the same
target, first to expand the degree of interaction, and ultimately to
capture a representative subset of the spacefaring species so that
long-term and detailed observations can take place in an environment of
our choice." The Eagle paused.  Nicole's mind and heart were both racing
at a frantic pace.  She had so many questions.  Why had she been
especially selected to return?  Would she be able to see Genevieve?  And
what exactly did The Eagle mean by the word 'capture' - did he
understand that the word was usually interpreted in a hostile manner?
Why did ...

'I think I understood most of what you said,' Richard spoke first, 'but
you have omitted some crucial information.  Why are you gathering all
this data about spacefaring species?" The Eagle smiled.  'In our
information hierarchy there are three basic levels.  Access to each
level by an individual or a species is permitted or denied based on a
set of established criteria.  With my earlier statements we Anhur C.
Clarke and Gent?y Lee have given you, as representatives of your
species, Level Two information for the first time.  It is a tribute to
your intelligence that your initial question seeks an answer which is
classified as Level Three." 'Does all that gobbledygook mean you're not
going to tell us?" Richard asked, laughing nervously.

The Eagle nodded 'Will you tell us why I alone am required to make the
return voyage?" Nicole now asked.

'There are many reasons,' The Eagle answered.  'First, we believe you
are the best suited physically for the return voyage.  Our data also
indicates that your superior communication skills will be invaluable
after the capture phase of the mission is completed.  There are
additional considerations as well, but those two are the most
important." 'When will we be leaving?" Richard asked.

'That's not certain.  Part of the schedule is dependent on you.  We will
let you know when a firm departure date is established.  I will tell
you, however, that it will almost certainly be in less than four of your
months." We're going to leave very soon, Nicole thought.  And at least
two of us must stay here.  But who ...

'Any reproductive pair can be left here at The Node?" Michael now
inquired, following the same pattern of thought as Nicole.

'Almost, Mr O'Toole,' The Eagle replied.  'The younger girl Ellie would
not be acceptable with you as a partner - we might not be able to keep
you alive and fertile until she reaches sexual maturity - but any other
A combination would be fine.  We must have a high probability of
successfully producing healthy offspring." 'Why?" Nicole asked.

'There exists a very small, but finite, probability that your mission
will not be successful and that the pair left 77m Gwden of Rona at The
Node will be the only humans we are able to observe.  As infant
spacefarers, having reached that stage without the usual assistance, you
are especially interesting to us." The conversation could have lasted
indefinitely.  However, after several more questions, The Eagle abruptly
rose and announced that his participation in the conference was over. He
encouraged the humans to deal quickly with the issue of 'allocation', as
he called it, for he intended to begin work almost immediately with
those members of the family who would be returning in the direction of
Earth.  It would be their job to help him design the 'Earth module
inside Rama'.  Wit out any additional explanation, he left the room.

The three adults agreed not to tell the children the most important
details of their meeting with The Eagle for at least a day, until after
they had had a chance to reflect and converse among themselves.  That
night, after the children had gone to bed, Nicole, Richard, and Michael
talked quietly in the living room of their apartment.

Nicole opened the conversation by admitting that she was feeling angry
and powerless.  Despite the fact that The Eagle had been very nice about
it, she said, he had basically ordered them to participate in the return
mission.  And how could they refuse?  The entire family was absolutely
dependent upon The Eagle - or at least the intelligence that he
represented - for its survival.  No threats had been made, but no
threats were needed.  They had no choice but to comply with The Eag e s
instructions.

But who among the family should stay at The Node?  Nicole wondered
aloud.

Michael said it was absolutely essential that at least one adult remain
at The Node.  His argument was persuasive.  Any two of the children,
even Simone and Patrick, would need the benefit of an adult's experience
and wisdom to have any chance for happiness under the circumstances.
Michael then volunteered to stay at The Node, saying that it was
unlikely he would survive a return trip anyway.

All three of them agreed that it was clearly the Nodal intelligence's
intention to have the humans sleep most of the way back to the solar
system.

Otherwise, what was the purpose of all the sleep tests?  Nicole did not
like the idea of the children missing out on the critical development
periods of their lives.  She suggested that she should return alone,
leaving everyone else in the family at The Node.  After all, she
reasoned, it wasn't as if the children would have a 'normal' life on
Earth after they made the journey.

'If we are interpreting The Eagle correctly,' she said, anybody who
returns will end up ultimately as a passenger on Rama heading to some
other location in the galaxy." 'We don't know that for certain,' Richard
argued.  'On the other hand, whoever stays here is almost certainly
doomed never to see any humans other than the family." Richard added
that he intended to make the return trip under any circumstances, not
just to be a companion for Nicole, but also to experience the adventure.

The trio could not reach a final agreement about the deployment of the
children during that first evening's discussion.  But they did firmly
resolve the issue of what the adults were going to do.  Michael O'Toole
would stay at The Node.  Nicole and Richard would make the return
journey to the solar system.

In bed after the meeting Nicole could not sleep.  She kept running
through all the options in her mind.  She was certain that Simone would
make a better mother than Katie.  Besides, Simone and Uncle Michael were
extremely compatible, and Katie would not want to be separated from her
father.

But who should be left to mate with Simone?  Should it be Benjy, who
loved his sister madly, but would never be able to engage in an
intelligent conversation?

Nicole tossed and turned for hours.  In truth, she didn't like any of
the choices.  She well understood the source of her disquiet.  However
the issue was resolved, she would be forced once again to separate,
probably permanently, from at least a few members of the family that she
loved.  As she lay in her bed in the middle of the night, the ghosts and
pain of past separations returned to haunt her.  Nicole's heart ached as
she imagined the parting that would come in a few months.  Pictures of
her mother, her father, and Genevieve tugged at her heartstrings.  Maybe
that's all life is, she thought in her temporary depression.

An endless sequence of painful partings.

00000, 'Mother, Father, wake up.  I want to talk to you." k Nicole had
been dreaming.  She had been walking in the woods behind her family
villa at Beauvois.  It had been springtime and the flowers had been
magnificent.  It took her a few seconds to realise that Simone was
sitting on their bed.

Richard reached over and kissed his daughter on the forehead.  'What is
it, dear?" he asked.

'Uncle Michael and I were saying our matins together and I could tell
that he was distressed." Simone's serene eyes moved slowly back and
forth from one parent to the other.  'He told me everything about your
conversation ANN" yesterday with The Eagle." Nicole sat up quickly as
Simone continued.  'I've had over an hour now to think carefully about
everything.  I know I'm only a thirteen-year-old girl, but I believe I
have a solution to this, uh, allocation issue that will make everybody
in the family happy." 'My dear Simone,' Nicole replied, reaching out for
solve her daughter, 'it's not your responsibility to 'No, Mother,'
Simone gently interrupted.  'Please hear me out.  My solution involves
something that none of you adults would ever even consider.  It could
only come from me.  And it's obviously the best plan for everyone
concerned." Richard's brow was now furrowed.  'What are you talking
about?" he said.

Simone took a deep breath.  'I want to stay at The Node with Uncle
Michael.

I will become his wife and we will be The Eagle's "reproductive pair".
Nobody else needs to stay, but Michael and I would be happy to keep
Benjy with us as well." Maat?" Richard shouted.  He was flabbergasted.
'Uncle Michael is seventytwo years old!  You're not even fourteen yet.
It's preposterous, ridiculous ..." He was suddenly silent.

The mature young woman who was his daughter smiled.  'More preposterous
than The Eagle?" she replied.  'More ridiculous than the fact that we
have travelled eight light years from the Earth to rendezvous with a
giant intelligent triangle that is now going to send some of us back in
the opposite direction?" Nicole regarded Simone with awe and admiration.
She said nothing, but reached out and gave her daughter a strong hug.
Tears swam in Nicole's eyes.

'It's all right, Mother,' Simone said after the embrace was ended.
'After you recover from the initial shock, you'll realise that what I'm
suggesting is by far the best solution.  If you and Father make the
return trip together - as I think you should - then either Katie or
Ellie or I must stay here at The Node and mate with Patrick or Benjy or
Uncle Michael.  The only combination that is genetically sound is either
Katie or me with Uncle Michael.  I've thought through all the
possibilities.  Michael and I are very close.  We have the same
religion.

If we stay and marry, then each of the other children is free to choose.
They can either remain here with us or return to the solar system with
you and Daddy." Simone put her hand on her father's forearm.

'Daddy, I know that in many ways this will be harder on you than it is
on Mother.  I have not yet mentioned my idea to Uncle Michael.

He certainly did not suggest it.  If you and Mother donon't give me your
support, then it can't work.  This marriage will be difficult enough for
Michael to accept even if you don't object." Richard shook his head.
'You are amazing, Simone." He embraced her.

'Please let us think about it for awhile.  Promise me you won't say
another word about this until your mother and I have had a chance to
talk." 'I promise,' Simone said.  'Thank you both very much.  I love
you,' she added at the door to their bedroom.

She turned and walked down the illuminated hall.  Her long black hair
reached almost to her waist.  You 4 have become a woman, Nicole thought,
watching Simone's graceful walk.  And not just Physically.  You are
mature way beyond your years.  Nicole imagined Michael and Simone as
husband and wife, and was surprised that she didn't find it at all
objectionable.

Considering eve?anything, Nicole said to herself, realising that after
his protests Michael O'Toole would be very happy, your idea be the least
unsatisfactory choice in our difficult may situation.

Simone did not waver from her intention even when Michael objected
strenuously to what he called her proposed martyrdom'.  She explained to
him, patiently, that her marriage to him was the only one possible since
Katie and he were, by everyone's assessment, incompatible personalities,
and anyway Katie was still only a girl, a year or eighteen months away
from sexual maturity.  Would he prefer that she marry one of her
half-brothers and commit incest?  No, no, he responded.

Michael assented when he saw that there were no other viable choices,
and that neither Richard nor Nicole raised any strong objections to the
marriage.  Richard, of course, couched his approval in the phrase 'in
these unusual circumstances', but Michael could tell that Simone's
father had at least partially accepted the idea of his thirteen-year-old
daughter marrying a man old enough to be her grandfather.

Within a week it had been decided, with the children's involvement, that
Katie, Patrick, and little Ellie would all make the return trip to Rama
with Richard and Nicole.  Patrick was reluctant to leave his father, but
Michael O'Toole graciously agreed that his six-year-old son would
probably have a 'more interesting and fulfilling' life if he stayed with
the rest of the family.  That left only Benjy.  The adorable boy,
chronologically eight but mentally equivalent to an average
three-year-old, was told that he would be welcome either in Rama or at
The Node.  He could barely comprehend what was going to happen to the
family, and was certainly not prepared to make such a momentous choice.
The decision frightened and confused him; he became quite distraught and
lapsed into a deep depression.  As a result, the family postponed
discussions of Benjy's fate until an undefined time in the future.

'We will be gone a day and a half, maybe two,' The Eagle said to Michael
and the children.  'Rama is being reconditioned at a facility about ten
thousand kilometres from here." 'But I want to go too,' Katie said
petulantly.  'I also have some good ideas for the Earth module." 'We'll
involve you in later phases of the process,' Richard assured Katie.

'We'll have a design centre right here beside us, in the conference
room." Eventually Richard and Nicole finished their goodbyes and joined
The Eagle in the hallway.  They put on their special suits and crossed
over into the common area of the sector.  Nicole could tell that Richard
was excited.  'You do love adventure, don't you, darling?" she said.

He nodded.  'I think it was Goethe who said that everything a human
being wants can be divided into four components - love, adventure,
power, and fame.

Our personalities are shaped by how much of each component we seek.  For
me, adventure has always been numero uno." Nicole was contemplative as
they entered a waiting car along with The Eagle.  The lid closed over
them and again they could not see anything during their ride to the
transportation centre.  Adventure is very important to me19 also, Nicole
thought, and as a young girl fame was MY uppermost goal She smiled to
herself.  But now it's definitely love ...  We would be boying if we
never changed, They travelled in a shuttle identical to the one that had
A originally brought them to The Node.  The Eagle sat inJ front, Richard
and Nicole in the rear.  The view behind them of the spherical modules,
the transportation corridors, and the entire lighted triangle was
absolutely sensational.

The direction they were going was towards Sirius, the dominant feature
in the space surrounding The Node.

The large, young white star glowed in the distance, appearing roughly
the same size as their native sun would look from the asteroid belt.

'How did you happen to pick this location for The Node?" Richard asked
The Eagle after they had been cruising for about an hour.

'What do you mean?" he replied.

'Why here, why in the Sirius system, instead of some other place?" The
Eagle laughed.  'This location is only temporary,' The Garden ofRama he
said.  'We'll be moving again as soon as Rama departs." Richard was
puzzled.  'You mean the entire Node moves' ' He turned around and
glanced back at the triangle glowing faintly in the distance.  'Where is
the propulsion system?" 'There are small propulsion capabilities in each
of the modules, but they are only used in case of emergency.  Transport
between temporary holding sites is accomplished by what you would call
tugs - they affix themselves to ports on the sides of the spheres and
provide virtually all the trajectory change velocity." Nicole thought
about Michael and Simone and became worried.  'Where will The Node go?"
she asked.

'It's probably not specified exactly yet,' The Eagle answered vaguely.

'It's always a stochastic function anyway, depending on how the various
activities are proceeding." He continued after a short silence. 'When
our work in a specific place is finished, the entire configuration -
Node, Hangar and Waystation - are moved to another region of interest."
Richard and Nicole stared silently at each other in the back seat.  They
were having difficulty grasping the magnitude of what The Eagle was
telling them.

The entire Node moved!  It was too much to believe.  Richard decided to
change the subject.

'What is your definition of a spacefaring species?" he asked The Eagle.

'One that has ventured, either on its own or through its robot
surrogates, outside the sensible atmosphere of its home planet.  If its
own planet has no atmosphere, or if the species has no home planet at
all, then the deflnition is more complicated." 'You mean there are
intelligent creatures that have evolved in a vacuum?  How can that be
possible?"

r- r Anhur C.  Clarke and Genity Lee 'You're an atmospheric chauvinist,'
The Eagle replied.  'Like all creatures, you limit the ways that LIFE
might express itself to environments similar to your own." 'How many
spacefaring species are there in our galaxy?" Richard asked a little
later.

'That's one of the objectives of our project - to answer that question
exactly.  Remember, there are more than a hundred billion stars in the
Milky Way.

Slightly more than a quarter of them have planetary systems surrounding
them.

If only one out of every million stars with planets were home to a
spacefaring species, then there would still be twenty-five thousand
spacefarers in our galaxy alone." The Eagle turned around and looked at
Richard and Nicole.  'The estimated number of spacefarers in the galaxy,
as well as the spacefarer density in any specified zone, is Level Three
information.  But I can tell you one thing.  There are Life Dense Zones
in the galaxy where the average number of spacefarers is greater than
one per thousand stars." Richard whistled.  'This is staggering stuff,'
he said to Nicole excitedly.

'It means that the local evolutionary miracle that produced us is a
common paradigm in the universe.  We are unique, to be sure, for nowhere
else would the process that produced us have been duplicated exactly.
But the characteristic that is truly special about our species, namely
our ability to model our world and understand both it and where we fit
into its overall scheme, that capability must belong to thousands of
creatures!  For without that ability they could not have become
spacefarers." Nicole was overwhelmed.  she recalled a similar moment,
years before when she was with Richard in the photograph room of the
octospider lair in Rama, when.

The Garden ofRama WIN she had struggled to grasp the immensity of the
universe in terms of total information content.  Again, now, she I
realised that the entire set of knowledge in the human domain,
everything that any member of the human species had ever learned or
experienced, was no more than a single grain of sand on the great beach
representing everything that had ever been known by all the sentient
creatures of the universe.

At 177 1224i Their shuttle stopped several hundred, kilometres from The
Hangar.  The facility had a strange shape, completely flat on the bottom
but with rounded sides and top.  The three factories in The Hangar - one
at each end and another in the middle - looked from the outside like
geodesic domes.  They rose sixty or seventy kilometres above the bottom
of the structure.  Between these factories the roof was much lower, only
eight or ten kilometres above the flat plane, so the overall appearance
of the top of The Hangar was what might have been expected from the back
of a three-humped camel, if such a creature had ever existed.

The Eagle, Nicole, and Richard had stopped to watch a starfish craft
which, according to The Eagle, had been reconditioned and was now ready
for its next voyage.  The starfish had come out of the left hump and the
vehicle, small compared to either The Hangar or Rama, but still almost
ten kilometres from its centre to the end of a ray, had begun to spin as
soon as it was free of The Hangar.  As the shuttle remained 'parked'
some fifteen kilometres away, the starfish increased its spin rate to
ten revolutions per minute.  Once its spin rate was stabilised, the
starfish zoomed away to the left.

'That leaves only Rama out of this set,' The Eagle The Garden ofRama ch
was first in our queue at ANNThe Waystation, left four months ago.  It
required only minimal refurbishing." Richard wanted to ask a question
but he restrained himself.  He had already learned during the flight
from The Node that The Eagle voluntarily gave them virtually all the
information he was allowed to share.  'Rama has been quite a challenge,'
The Eagle continued.  'And we're still not certain exactly when we will
finish." The shuttle approached the right dome of The Hangar and lights
began to shine at five o'clock on the dome's face.  Upon closer
inspection Richard and Nicole could see that some small doors had
opened.  'You'll need your suits,' The Eagle said.  'It would have been
a major engineering feat to have designed this huge place with a
variable environment." Nicole and Richard dressed while the shuttle
docked in a berth very similar to the one at their transportation
centre.  'Can you hear me all right?" The Eagle said, testing the
communication system.

'Roger,' Richard replied from inside his helmet.  He an4 Nico g anced at
each other and laughed as they remembered their days as Newton
cosmonauts.

The Eagle led them down a long, wide corridor.  At the end they turned
right through a door and came out on a broad balcony ten kilometres
above a factory floor larger than anyone could possibly image.  Nicole
felt her knees weaken as she stared into the giant abyss.  Despite the
weightlessness, waves of vertigoswept through both Richard and Nicole.
They both turned away at the same moment.

They focused their eyes on each other while they tried to comprehend
what they had just seen.

'It's quite a sight,' The Eagle commented.

What a colossal understatement; Nicole thought.  She very slowly lowered
her eyes agdin to the awesome spectacle.  This time she held on to the
rail with both hands to help her equilibrium.

The factory below them contained the entire Northern Hemicylinder of
Rama, from the port end where they had docked the Newton and entered,
down to the end of the Central Plain at the banks of the Cylindrical
Sea.  There was no sea, and no Raman city of New York, but there was
almost as much real estate in this one enclosed factory as the entire
American state of Rhode Island.

The crater and bowl of the north end of Rama were still completely
intact, including the outer shell.  These segments of Rama were
positioned to the right of Richard, Nicole, and The Eagle, almost behind
them as they stood on the platform.  Mounted in front of them on the
railings were a dozen telescopes, each with a different resolution,
through which the three of them could see the familiar ladders and
stairways, resembling the three ribs of an umbrella, that took thirty
thousand steps to descend (or ascend) to the Central Plain of Rama.

The rest of the Northern Hemicylinder was split open and lying beneath
them in parts, not directly connected to the bowl or to each other, but
nevertheless lying with adjacent sectors in the proper alignment.  Each
part was roughly six to eight square kilometres and its edges rose, due
to the curvature, substantially off the floor.

'It's easier to do the early work in this configuration,' The Eagle
explained.  'Once we've closed the cylinder it's harder to get in and
out with all the equipment." Through the telescopes Richard and Nicole
could see that two different areas of the Central Plain were teeming
with activity.  They could not begin to count the number of robots going
to and fro on the floor of the factory below them.

Nor could they determine exactly The Garden ofRanut what was being done
in many cases.  It was engineering on a scale never dreamed of by
humans.

'I brought you up here first to give you an overview,' The Eagle said.

'Later we will go down on the floor and you can see more of the
details." Richard and Nicole stared at him, dumbfounded.  The Eagle
laughed and continued.  'If you look carefully, and put the pieces
together in your mind, you will see that two vast regions of the Central
Plain, one near the Cylindrical Sea and another covering an area almost
up to the end of the stairways, have been completely cleared.  That's
where all the new construction is going on.  Between these two areas
Rama looks exactly as it did when you left it.  We have a general
engineering guideline here - we only change those regions that are going
to be used on the next mission." Richard brightened.  'Are you telling
us that this spacecraft is used over and over?  And that for each
mission only required changes are made?

The Eagle nodded.

'Then that conglomeration of skyscrapers we call New York might have
been built for some much earliermission, and simply left there because
no changes were required?" The Eagle did not say anything in response to
Richard's rhetorical question.  He was pointing at the northern area of
The Central Plain.  'That will be your habitat, over there.  We have
just finished the infrastructure, what you would call the "utilities",
including water, power, sewer, and top level environ mental control.
There is room for design flexibility in the rest of the process.

That's why we have brought you over here." 'What is that tiny domed
building south of the cleared area?" Richard asked.  He was still
staggered by the idea that New York might have been a leftover, a
remnant from an earlier Raman voyage.

'That's the control centre,' The Eagle replied.  'The equipment that
manages your habitat will be stored there.  Usually the control centre
is hidden beneath the living area, in the shell of Rama, but in your
case the designers decided to put it on the Plain." 'What's that large
region over there?" Nicole said, pointing at the cleared area
immediately north of where the Cylindrical Sea would have been located
if Rama had been completely reassembled.

'I'm not allowed to tell you what it's for,' The Eagle replied.  'In
fact, I'm surprised that I have even been allowed to show you that it
exists.

Ordinarily our return voyagers are totally ignorant of the contents of
their vehicle outside their own habitat.  The nominal plan is, of
course, for each species to stay within its own module." km 'Look at
that mound or tower in the ccntre,) Nicole said to Richard, directing
his attention to the other region.

'It must be almost two kilometres high., 'And it's shaped like a
doughnut.  I mean, the centre is hollowed out., They could see that the
outside walls of what was possibly a second habitat were already quite
advanced.

None of its interior would be visible from the factory floor.

'Can You give us a hint as to who or what is going to live there?"
Nicole asked.

'Come on,' The Eagle said Firmly, shaking his head.  'It's time for us
to descend." Richard and Nicole disengaged themselves from the
telescopes, took a quick look at the general layout of their own habitat
(which was not nearly as far along in construction as the other one),
and followed The Eagle back into the corridor.  After f I've minutes of
walking they reached what The Eagle told them was an elevator.

the Garden ofRama you must buckle yourselves into these seats very
carefully,' their guide said.  'This is quite a wild ride." The
acceleration in their bizarre oval capsule was powerful and swift.  Less
than two minutes later, the deceleration was equally abrupt.  They had
reached the factory floor.  'This thing travels three hundred kilometres
an hour?" Richard asked after doing some quick mental calculations.

'Unless it's in a hurry,' The Eagle replied.

Richard and Nicole followed him out on to the factory floor.  It was
immense- In many ways it was more stag gering than Rama itself, because
almost half of the giant spacecraft was lying on the floor around them.
They both remembered the overpowering feelings they had had riding in
the chairlifts in Rama and looking out across the Cylindrical Sea at the
mysterious horns in the South Bowl.  Those feelings of reverence and awe
returned, and were even amplified, as Richard and Nicole stared at the
activity going on around and above them in the factory.

The elevator had deposited them at the floor level just outs ide one of
the portions of their habitat.  The shell of Rama was in front of
themem.  They checked its thickness as they walked across from the
elevator exit.  'About two hundred metres thick,' Richard noted to
Nicole, answering a question they had had since their first days in
Rama.

'What will be beneath our habitat, in the shell?" Nicole asked.

The Eagle held up three of his four fingers, indicating that they were
asking for Level III information.  Both the humans laughed.

'Will you be going with us?" Nicole asked The Eagle a few moments later.

'Back to your solar system?  ...  No, I can't,' he answered.  'But I
will admit that it would be interesting.)  The Eagle led them over to an
area of intense activity.  Several dozen robots were working on a large,
cylindrical structure about sixty metres tall.  'This is th main fluid
recycling plant,' The Eagle said.

'All the liquids that find their way into the drains or sewers in your
habitat are eventually sent here.  Purifi led water is piped back into
the colony and the rest of the chemicals are retained f or other
possible uses.  This plant will be scaled and impregnable.  It uses
technology far beyond your level of development.)  The Eagle then led
them up a ladder and into the habitat itself.  He gave them an
exhaustive tour.  In each sector The Eagle showed them the main features
of that particular area and then, without a break, comman deered a robot
to transport them to the next adjacent sector.

'What exactly do you want us to do here?" Nicole inquired, after several
hours, as The Eagle prepared to take them to still another part of their
future home.

'Nothing specific,' The Eagle replied.  'This will be your only visit to
Rama itself.  We wanted you to have a feel for the size of your habitat,
in case you needed that to be more comfortable with the design process.
We have a one -twentieth per cent scale model back at the Habitation
Module - all the rest of our work will be done there." He looked at
Richard and Nicole.  'We can leave whenever you want." Nicole sat down
on a grey metal box and gazed around her.  The number and variety of the
robots were enough to make her dizzy all by themselves.  She had been
overwhelmed since the moment she walked out on the balcony of the
factory and was now absolutely numb.  She reached her hand out to
Richard.

'I know I should be studying what I'm seeing, darling, i'l but none of
it makes sense any more.  I'm completely saturated." 'I am too,' Richard
confessed.  'I would never have thought it possible that there was
something more astonishing and awesome than Rama, but this factory
certainly is." 'Have you wondered, since we've been here,' Nicole said,
'What the factory must look like that made this lace?  Better still,
imagine the assembly line for The p Node." Richard laughed.  'We can
continue that comment into an infinite regression.

If The Node is indeed a machine, as it appears to be, it is assuredly a
higher order machine than Rama.  Rama was probably designed here.  It is
controlled, I would guess, by The Node.  But what created and controls
The Node?  Was it a creature like us, the result of biological
evolution?  And does it even still exist, in any sense that we can
understand, or has it become some other kind of entity, content to let
its influence be felt by the existence of these amazing machines that it
created?" Richard sat down beside his wife.  'It's even too much for me.
I guess I've had enough as well ...  Let's go back to the children."
Nicole leaned over and touched him.  'You're a very smart man, Richard
Wakefield,' she said.  'You know that's one of the reasons I love you."
A large robot resembling a fork lift trundled close by them, carrying
some rolled metal sheets.  Richard again shook his head in wonder.
'Thank you, darling,' he said after a pause.  'You know that I love you
too." They stood up together and signalled The Eagle that they were
ready to leave.

The next night, back at their apartment in the Habl tation Module, both
Richard and Nicole were still alert thirty minutes after making love?
'What is it, dear?" Nicole asked.  'Is something wrong?" 'I had another
foggy spell today,' RichaLd said.  'It lasted for almost three hours."
'Goodness,' Nicole said.  She sat up in bed.  'Are you all right now?

Should I get the scanner and see if I can tell anything from your
biometry?" 'No,' Richard answered, shaking his head.  'My fogs have
never registered on your machine.  But this one really disturbed me.  I
realised how incapacitated I am during them.  I can barely function at
all, much less help you or the children in any kind of crisis.  They
scare me." 'Do you remember what started this one)' 'Absolutely.  Like
always.  I was thinking of our trip to The Hangar, especially about that
other habitat.  I inadvertently started remembering a few disconnected
scenes from my odyssey and then suddenly there was the fog.  It was
total.  I'm not certain I would have even recognized you during the
first five minutes of its duration." 'I'm sorry, darling,' Nicole said.

'It's almost as if something is monitoring my thoughts.- And when I
reach into a certain portion of my memory, then bant, I'm given some
kind of warning." Richard and Nicole were silent for almost a minute.

'When I close my eyes,' Nicole said, 'I still see all those robots
scurrying around inside Rama." The too." 'And yet, I still have great
difficulty believing it was a real scene and not something I dreamed or
saw in a movie." Nicole smiled.  'We have lived an utterly unbelievable
life these last fourteen years, haven't we?" 'Absolutely,' Richard said,
turning over on his side in his normal sleeping posture.  'And who
knows?  The most interesting part may be still ahead of us." The
holographic model of New Eden was projected into the centre of the large
conference room at a 1/2000 scale.  Inside Rama the actual Earth habitat
would occupy an area of one hundred and sixty square kilometres in the
Central Plain, starting just opposite the bottom of the long northern
stairway.  Its enclosed s long in the direction volume would be twenty
kilometer around the cylinder, eight kilometres wide in the direction
parallel to the cylindrical spin axis, and eight kilometres high from
the colony floor to the towering ceiling.  odule, The New Eden model at
the Habitation M however, which The Eagle, Richard, and Nicole used for
their design work, was a more manageable size.  it fitted easily into
the single large room, and the holographic projections made it easy for
the designers to walk through and among the various structures.  Changes
were made using the computer-aided design subroutines that acted upon
the voice commands of The Eagle.

'We've changed our minds again)' Nicole said, beginning their third
marathon design discussion with The Eagle by encircling, with her black
'flashlight', a concentration of buildings in the centre of the colony.
'We now think it's a bad idea to have everything in one place, with the
people all on top of each other.

Richard and I think it would make more sense if the living areas and
small trade shops were in four separate villages at the corners of the
rectangle.  Only the buildings used by everyone in the colony would be
in the central complex." 'Of course our new concept will completely
change the transportation flow you and I discussed yesterday,' Richard
added, 'as well as the specific co-ordinate assignments for the parks,
Sherwood Forest, Lake Shakespeare, and Mount Olympus.

But all the original elements can still be accommodated in our current
design for New Eden - here, take a look at this sketch and you can see
where we have moved everything." The Eagle seemed to grimace as he
stared at his human helpers.  After a second he looked at the map in
Richard's electronic notebook.  'I hope this will be the last major
alteration,' he commented.  'We don't make much progress if every time
we meet we essentially start the design all over." 'We're sorry,' Nicole
said.  'But it has taken us a little while to grasp the magnitude of our
task.  We now understand that we're designing the long-term living
situation for as many as two thousand human beings - if it takes several
iterations to get it right, then we must spend the time." 'I see you've
again increased the number of large structures in the central complex,'
The Eagle said.  'What's the purpose of this building behind the libra
ry and auditorium?, 'It's a sports and recreation building,' Nicole
replied.  'It will have a track, a baseball diamond, a soccer field,
tennis courts, a gymnasium, and a swimming pool - plus enough seating in
each area to handle almost all the citizens.  Richard and I imagine that
athletics will be very important in New Eden, especially since so many
of the routine tasks will be handled by the biots."

Ali The Garden of Rama 'You've also expanded the sizes of the hospital
and the schools .  - ." 'We were too conservative in our original
allocations of the space,' Richard interrupted.  'We didn't leave enough
unassigned floor area for activities that we cannot yet define
specifically." The first two design meetings had lasted ten hours each.
Both Richard and Nicole had marvelled initially at how quickly The Eagle
was able to integrate their comments into specific design
recommendations.  By the third meeting they were no longer amazed by the
speed and accuracy of his synthesis.  But the alien biot did surprise
them regularly, by showing a keen interest in some of the cultural
details.  For example, he questioned them at length about the name
thehurnans had given to their new colony.  After Nicole had explained to
him that it was essential that the habitat have some specific name, The
Eagle asked about the meaning and significance of 'New Eden'.

'The whole family discussed the name of the habitat for most of one
evening,' Richard explained, 'and there were many good suggestions,
mostly derived from the history and literature of our species.  Utopia
was a leading candidate.  Arcadia, Elysium, Paradise, Concordia, and
Beauvois were all seriously considered.  But in the end we thought New
Eden was the best choice." 'You see,' Nicole added, 'the mythological
Eden was a beginning, the start of what we might call our modern Western
culture.  It was a lush, verdant paradise, supposedly designed
especially for humans by an allpowerful God who had also created
everything else in the universe.  That first Eden was rich in life forms
but devoid of technology.

'New Eden is also a beginning.  But in almost every other way it is the
opposite of the ancient garden.  New Eden is a technological miracle
without any life forms, at least initially, except a few human beings."
Once the general layout of the colony was complete, there were still
hundreds of details that had to be decided.  Katie and Patrick were
given the task of designing the neighbourhood parks for each of the four
villages.  Even though neither of then had ever seen an actual blade of
grass, a real flower, or a tall tree, they had watched plenty of movies
and seen many, many photographs.

They ended up with four different, tasteful designs for the five acres
of open area, communal gardens, and peaceful walkways in each village.

'But where will we get the grass?  And the flowers?" Katie asked The
Eagle.

'They will be brought by the people from Earth,' The Eagle replied.

'How will they know what to bring?" 'We will tell them." It was also
Katie who pointed out that the design of New Eden had omitted a key
element, one that had played a major role in the bedtime stories her
mother had told her when she was a little girl.  'I've never seen a
zoo,' she said.  'Can we have one in New Eden?" The Eagle altered the
master plan during the next design session to include a small zoo at the
edge of \ Sherwood Forest.

Richard worked with The Eagle on most of the technological details for
New Eden.

Nicole's area of speciality was the living environment.  The Eagle had
originally suggested one kind of house with a standard set of furniture
for all the homes in the colony.  Nicole had laughed out loud.  'You
certainly haven't learned very much about us as a species,' she said.
'Human beings must have variety.  Otherwise we become bored. If we make
all the houses the same, people will start changing them immediately."
Because she had only limited time (The Eagle's requests for information
were keeping Richard and Nicole working ten to twelve hours a day -
luckily Michael and Simone were happy to look after the children),
Nicole decided on eight basic house plans and four modular furniture
arrangements.  Altogether then, there were thirty-two different living
configurations.  By varying the external design of the buildings in each
of the four villages (details that Nicole worked out with Richard, after
some useful input from art historian Michael O'Toole), Nicole finally
achieved her goal of creating a design for everyday living that was
neither uniform nor sterile.

Richard and The Eagle agreed upon the New Eden transportation and
communication systems, both external and internal, in just a few hours.
They had more difficulty with the overall environmental control and biot
designs.  The Eagle's original concept, on which the infrastructure
supporting New Eden was based, assumed twelve hours of light and twelve
hours of darkness every day.

Periods of sunlight, clouds, and rain were to be regular and
predictable.  There was to be virtually no variation in the temperature
as a function of place and time.

When Richard requested seasonal changes in the length of the day and
more variability in all the weather parameters, The Eagle stressed that
allowing those isignificant variations' in the enormous volume of air in
the habitat would result in the use of much more 'critical computational
resource' than had originally been allocated during the infrastructure
design.  The Eagle also indicated that the major control algorithms
would have to be restructured and retested, and that the departure date
would be delayed as a result.  Nicole supported Richard on the weather
issue and the seasons, explaining to The Eagle that true human behavior
('which you and the Nodal Intelligence apparently want to observe') was
definitely dependent on both these factors.

In the end a compromise was reached.  The length of day and night
throughout a year would match a location at thirty degrees latitude on
the Earth.  The weather in New Eden would be allowed to evolve naturally
within specified limits, the master controller only acting when
conditions reached the edge of the 'design box'.

Thus the temperature, wind, and rainfall could freely fluctuate inside
tolerances.  The Eagle was adamant about two items, however.  There
could be no lightning and no ice.  If either of those conditions (both
of which introduced new complexities' into his computational model) were
imminent, even if the rest of the parameters were still within the
design box, then the control system would take over automatically and
regularise the weather.

It had been The Eagle's original intention to retain the same kind of
biots that had been in the first two Rama craft.  Richard and Nicole
both, however, stressed to him that the Raman biots, especially the ones
like the centipedes, mantises, crabs, and spiders, were not at all
appropriate.

'The cosmonauts that have boarded the two Rama craft,' Nicole explained,
'would not be considered average humans.  Far from it, in fact.  We were
especially trained to deal with sophisticated machines - and even some
of us were frightened by a few of your biots.  The more ordinary humans
who will probably form the bulk of the New Eden inhabitants will not be
at all comfortable with these bizarre mechanical contraptions scurrying
all over their realm." After several hours of discussion The Eagle
agreed to redesign the biot maintenance staff.  For example, garbage
would be collected by robots that looked like typical garbage trucks on
Earth - there just wouldn't be any drivers.

Construction work, when required, would be done by robots whose shapes
were the same as vehicles performing similar functions on Earth. Thus
the strange machines would be familiar in appearance to the colonists
and their xenophobic fears should be mitigated.

'What about the performance of routine, everyday act ivities)' The,
Eagle asked at the end of one long meeting.  'We had thought we would
use human biots, voice responsive, deployed in large numbers, to free
your colonists of all drudgery.  We've spent considerable time since you
amved perfecting the design." Richard liked the idea of having robot
assistants, but Nicole was leery.

'It is imperative,' she said, 'that these human biots be absolutely
identifiable.

There should be no chance that anyone, not even a small child, could
mistake one for a real human being." Richard chuckled.  'You've read too
much science fiction,' he said.

'But this is a real worry,' Nicole protested.  'I can well imag ine the
quality of the human biots that would be made here at The Node. We're
not talking about those vacant imitations we saw inside Rama.  People
would be terrified if they couldn't tell the difference between a human
and a machine." 'So we'll limit the number of varieties,' Richard
responded.  'And they'll be easily classified by primary function.  Does
that satisfy your concern ...  ?

It would be a shame not to take advantage of this incre dible
technology." 'That might work,' Nicole said, 'providing that one A&,_WMW
short briefing could easily familiarise everyone with the different
types.  We must absolutely ensure that there are no problems of
misidentification." After several weeks of intense effort, most of the
critical design decisions had been made, and the workload AL dropped for
Richard and Nicole.  They were able to resume a more or less normal life
with the children and Michael.  One evening The Eagle dropped by and
informed the family that New Eden was in its final test period,
primarily verifying the ability of the new algorithms to monitor and
control the environment over the wide range of possible conditions.

'Incidentally,' The Eagle continued, 'we've inserted gas exchange
devices, or GEDs, in all the places Sherwood Forest, the parks, along
the shores of the lake and the sides of the mountain - where plants
coming from Earth will eventntually be growing.  The GEDs act like
plants, absorbing carbon dioxide and producing oxygen, and are
quantitatively equivalent as well.  They prevent the buildup of
atmospheric carbon dioxide which, over a long period of time, would
undermine the efficacy of the weather algorithms.  Operating the GEDs
requires some power, so we've slightly reduced the wattage available for
human consumption during the early days of the colony.  However, once
the plants are flourishing the GEDs can be removed and there will be
abundant power for any reasonable purpose." 'OK, Mr Eagle,' Katie said
when he was finished.  'What we all want to know is when we are going to
depart." 'I was going to tell you on Christmas Day,' The Eagle replied,
the small wrinkle that passed for a smile forming at the corner of his
mouth, 'and that's still two days away."

A

'Tell us now, oh please, Mr Eagle,' Patrick said.

'Well ...  all right,' their alien companion replied.  'Our target date
for finishing with Rama in The Hangar is January 1 1.  We expect to load
you in the shuttle and depart from The Node two days later, on the
morning of January 13." That's only three weeks, Nicole thought, her
heart skipping a beat as the reality of their departure sunk in.  There
is still so much to do.  She glanced across the room, where Michael and
Simone were sitting beside each other on the couch.  Among other things,
my beautiful daughter, I must prepare you foryour wedding.

'So we'll be married on your birthday, Mama Simone said.  'We've always
said the ceremony would be one week before the rest of the family left."
Tears crept involuntarily into Nicole's eyes.  She lowered her head so
that the children would not see.  Iam not ready to say goodbye, Nicole
thought.  I cannot bear to think that I will never see Simone again.

Nicole had chosen to leave the family parlour game that was going on in
the living room.  She had given, as her excuse, that she had some final
design data to develop for The Eagle, but in reality she desperately
needed a few moments alone to organise the last three weeks of her life
at The Node.  All during dinner she had been thinking of all the things
she needed to do.  She had been close to panic.  Nicole feared that
there wasn't enough time, or that she would forget something critical
altogether.  Once she had made a thorough list of her remaining tasks,
however, along with a timetable for accomplishing them, Nicole relaxed
somewhat.  It was not an impossible list.

One of the items that Nicole had entered in her electronic notebook, all
in capital letters, was BENJY??  As she sat on the side of her bed,
thinking about her retarded eldest son and chastising herself for not
having addressed the issue earlier, Nicole heard a loud knock on her
open door.  It was an astonishing coincidence.

'Mom-my,' Benjy said very slowly with his wide innocent smile, 'can I
talk to you?" He thought for a moment.  'Now?"he added.

'Of course, darling,' Nicole answered.  'Come in and sit beside me on
the bed." Benjy came over next to his mother and gave her a big hug. He
looked down at his lap and spoke haltingly.  His emotional struggle was
obvious.  'You and Rich-and and the other chil-dren are go-ing a-way
soon for a ve-ry long time,' he said.

'That's right,' Nicole replied, trying to be cheerful.

'Dad-dy and Si-mone will stay here and be mar-ried?" This was more of a
question.

Benjy had lifted his head and was waiting for Nicole to corroborate his
statement.  When she nodded, tears rushed instantly into his eyes and
his face contorted.  'What about Ben-jy?" he said.  'What will hap-pen
to Ben-jy?" Nicole pulled his head to her shoulder and cried with her
son.  Ms entire body shook with his sobs.  Nicole was now furious with
herself for having procrastinated so long.  He's known all along, she
thought.  Ever since that first conversation.  He's been waiting.  He
thinks nobody wants him 'You have a choice, darling,' Nicole managed to
say when she had collected her own emotions.  'We would love to have you
come with us.  And your father and Simone would be delighted if you
stayed here with them." Benjy stared at his mother as if he did not
believe her.  Nicole repeated her statements very slowly.  'You are
tel-ling me the truth?" he asked.

The Garden ofRama Nicole nodded vigorously.

Benjy smiled for a second and then looked away.  He was silent for a
long time.  'There will be no-bo-dy to play with here,' he said at
length, still staring at the wall.  'And Simone will need to be with
Dad-dy." Nicole was astonished at how concisely Benjy had summarised his
considerations.  He seemed to be waiting.  'Then come with us,' Nicole
said softly.  'Your Uncle Richard and Katie and Patrick and Ellie and I
all love you very much and want to have you with us." Benjy turned to
look at his mother.  Fresh tears were running down his cheeks.  'I will
come with you, Mom-my,' he said, and put his head on her shoulder.

He had already made up his mind, Nicole thought, holding Benjy against
her body.  He's smarter than we think.  He only came in here to make
certain he was wanted.

...  and Dear Lord, let me properly cherish this wonderful young girl
that I am about to marry.  Let us share Thy gift of love and let us grow
together in our knowledge of Thee ...  I ask these things in the name of
Thy son, whom Thou sent to Earth to show Thy love and to redeem us for
our sins.  Amen." Michael Ryan O'Toole, seventy-two years of age,
unclasped his hands and opened his eyes.  He was sitting at the desk in
his bedroom.  He checked his watch.  Only two more hours, he thought,
until I will many Simone.  Michael glanced briefly at the picture of
Jesus and the small bust of St Michael of Siena in front of him on his
desk.  And then later tonight, after the meal that is both wedding feast
for us and birthday dinner for Nicole, I will hold that angel in my
arms.  He could not stop the next thought from coming.  Dear Lord,
please do not let me disappoint her.

O'Toole reached into his desk and pulled out a small Bible.  It was the
only real book he owned.  All the rest of his reading material was in
the form of small data cubes that he inserted into his electronic
notebook.  His Bible was very special, a memento of a life once lived on
a planet far away.

During his childhood and adolescence, that Bible had gone everywhere
with him.  As Michael turned the small The Garden ofRama black book over
in his hands, he was flooded with memories.  In his first recollection
he was a small boy, six or seven years old.  His father had come into
his bedroom at home.  Michael had been playing a baseball game on his
personal computer and was somewhat embarrassed he always felt ill at
ease when his serious father found him engaging in p ay.

'Michael,' his father had said.  'I want to give you a present.  Your
very own Bible.  It is a true book, one that you read by turning pages.
We've put your name on the cover." His father had extended the book and
little Michael had accepted it with a soft 'thank you'.  The cover was
leather and felt good to his touch.  'Inside that volume,' his father
had continued, 'is some of the best teaching that human beings will ever
know.  Read it carefully.  Read it often.  And govern your life by its
wisdom." That night I put the Bible under my pillow, Michael recalled.
And it stayed there.  All through my childhood.  Even through high
school.  He remembered his machinations when his high school baseball
team had won the city championship and was going to Springfield for the
state tournament.  Michael had taken his Bible with him, but he didn't
want his teammates to see it.  A Bible wasn't 'cool' for a high school
athlete, and the young Michael O'Toole did not yet have enough
self-esteem to overcome his fear of the laughter of his peers.  So he
designed a special compartment for his Bible in the side of his toiletry
bag and stored the book there, enclosed in protective wrap.  In his
hotel room in Springfield he waited until his roommate took a bath. Then
Michael removed the Bible from its hiding place and put it under his
pillow.

I even took it on our honeymoon.  Kathleen was so understanding.  As she
always was with everything.  A brief memory of the bright sun and the
white sand outside their suite in the Cayman Islands was quickly
followed by a powerful feeling of loss.  How are you doing, Kathleen?
Michael said out loud.  Where has life taken you?  He could see her in
his mind's eye, puttering around their brownstone condominium on
Commonwealth Avenue in Boston.  Our grandson Mau must be a teenager by
now, he thought.  Are there others?  How many altogether?

The heartache deepened as he imagined his family Kathleen, his daughter
Colleen, his son Stephen, plus all the grandchildren - gathered around
the long table for a Christmas feast without him.  In his mental image a
light snow was falling outside on the avenue.  I guess Stephen would
give the family prayer now, he thought.  He was always the most
religious of the children.

O'Toole shook his head, returning to the present, and opened the Bible
at the first page.  A beautiful script writing of the word 'Milestones'
appeared at the top of the sheet.  The entries were sparse, a total of
eight altogether, the chronicle of major events in his life.

7-13-67Married Kathleen Murphy in Boston, Massachusetts 1-30-69Birth of
son, Thomas Murphy O'Toole, in Boston 4-13-70Birth of daughter, Colleen
Gavin O'Toole, in Boston 12-27-71Birth of son, Stephen Molloy O'Toole,
in Boston 2-14-92Death of Thomas Murphy O'Toole in -Pasadena, Calif.

Michael's eyes stopped there, at the death of his firstborn son, and
they quickly filled with tears.  He recalled The Garden ofRama vividly
that terrible St Valentine's Day many years before.  He had taken
Kathleen out to dinner at a lovely seafood restaurant on Boston Harbor.
They had been almost finished with their meal when they first heard the
news.  'I'm sorry I'm late showing you the desserts,' apologised the
young man who was their waiter.  'I've been watching the news in the
bar.  There has just been a devastating earthquake in Southern
California." Their fear had been immediate.  Tommy, their pride and joy,
had won a scholarship in physics to Cal Tech after graduating as the
valedictorian at Holy Cross.  The O'Tooles had abandoned what was left
of their meal and rushed into the bar.  -There they had learned that the
earthquake had struck at 5:45 in the evening, Pacific time.  The giant
San Andreas fault had ripped apart near Cajon pass and the poor people,
cars, and structures within a hundred miles of the epicentre had been
tossed about on the surface of the Earth like hapless boats at sea
during a hurricane.

Michael and Kathleen had listened to the news all night long,
alternately hoping and fearing, as the full magnitude of the nation's
worst disaster of the twentysecond century had become better understood.
The quake had been a fearsome 8.2 on the Richter scale.  Twenty million
people had been left without water, electricity, transportation, and
communications.  Fiftyfoot-deep cracks in the Earth had engulfed entire
shopping centres.  Virtually all the roads had become impassable.  The
damage was worse, and more widespread, than if the Los Angeles
metropolitan area had been hit by several nuclear bombs.

Early in the morning, before dawn even, the Federal Emergency
Administration had issued a telephone number to call for inquiries.
Kathleen O'Toole gave the message machine all the information they knew
- the address and phone number of Tommy's apartment, the name and
address of the Mexican restaurant where he worked to earn spending
money, and his girfriend's address and phone number.

We waited all day and into the night; Michael remembered.  Then Cheryl
called.  She had managed somehow to drive to herparents'home in Poway.

'The restaurant collapsed, -Mr O'Toole,' Cheryl had said through her
tears.

'Then it caught fire.  I talked to one of the other waiters, one who
survived because he was out on the patio when the quake hit.  Tommy had
beenworkingthestationclosesttothekitchen..." Michael O'Toole took a deep
breath.  This is wrong, he said to himself, struggling to force the
painful memories of his son's death out of his mind.  This is wrong, he
repeated.  77zis is a time forjoy, not sorrow.  For Simone's sake, I
must not think of Tommy now.

He closed his Bible and wiped his eyes.  He stood up at his desk and
walked into the bathroom.  First he shaved, slowly and deliberately, and
then he stepped into the hot shower.

Fifteen minutes later, when he opened his Bible again, this time with
pen in hand, Michael O'Toole had exercised the demons of his son's
death.  With a flourish he wrote an additional entry on the Milestones
page, pausing when he was finished to read the final four lines.

10-31-97Birth of grandson, Matthew Arnold Rinaldi, in Toledo, Ohio
8-27-06Birth of son, Benjamin Ryan O'Toole, in Rama 3-7-08Birth of son,
Patrick Erin O'Toole, in Rama 1-6-16Marriage to Simone Tiasso Wakefield
You are an old man, O'Toole he said to himself, looking at his thin,
grey hair in the mirror.  He had closed his Bible several minutes
earlier and returned to the bathroom to brush his hair one final time.
Too old to begetting married again.  He remembered his first wedding,
fortysix years before.  My hair was thick and blond -then, he recalled.
Kathleen was beautifiil.  The service was magnificent.  I cried the
moment I saw her at the end of the aisle.

His picture of Kathleen in her wedding drcss, holding on to her father's
arm at the other end of the aisle in the cathedral, faded into another
memory of her, this one also shrouded in tears.  In this second image
the tears belonged to his wife.  She had been sitting beside him in the
family room at Cape Kennedy when the time had come for him to check in
for the flight to LEO-3 to join the rest of the Newton crew.  'Be
careful,' she had said, in a surprisingly emotional farewell.  They had
hugged.  'I'm so proud of you, darling,' she had whispered in his ear.
'And I love you very much." 'Because I love you very much,' Simone had
said when Michael had asked her if she really, really wanted to marry
him and, if so, why.  A soft image of Simone came into his mind as his
memory of his final goodbye with Kathleen gently faded away.  You are so
innocent and trusting, Simone, Michael mused, thinking of his young
bride-to-be.  Back on Earth you wouldn't even be datingyet.

You'dstillbeconsideredjustagirL The thirteen years in Rama flashed
through his mind in an instant.  Michael recalled first the struggle of
Simone's birth, including the glorious moment when she had finally cried
and he had laid her gently on her mother's stomach.  His next image was
of a very young Simone, a serious girl of six or so, earnestly studying
her catechism under his tutelage.  In another picture Simone was
skipping rope with Katie and singing a joyous song.

The final fleeting image was a scene of the family picnicking beside the
Cylindrical Sea in Rama.  There was Simone, standing proudly beside
Benjy as if she were his guardian angel.

She was already a young woman when we arrived at Vie Node, General
O'Toole thought to himself, his mind moving to a more recent sequence of
images.

Extremely devout, Patient and selfless with the younger children.  And
nobody has ever made Be:qiy smile like Simone.

There was a common theme to all these pictures of Simone.  In Michael's
mind, they were bathed in the unusual love that he felt for his child
bride.  It was not the kind of love that a man normally feels for the
woman he is going to marry - it was more like an adoration.  But it was
love, nevertheless, and that love had forged a powerful bond between the
unlikely pair.

I am a ve?y lucky man, Michael thought as he finished adjusting his
clothing.  God has seen fit to show me his wonders in many ways.

In the master suite at the other end of the apartment, Nicole was
helping Simone with her dress.  It was not a wedding dress in the
classic sense, but it was white and full with small straps over the
shoulders.  It was certainly not the casual attire that all of the
family were accustomed to wearing on an everyday basis.

Nicole carefully placed the combs in her daughter's long black hair and
studied Simone in the mirror.  'You look beautiful,' Nicole said.

She glanced at her watch.  They had ten more minutes.  And Simone was
completely ready except for the shoes.  Good.  Now we can talk, Nicole
thought fleetingly.  'Darling,' she started, her voice surprisingly
catching in her throat.

'What is it, Mother?" Simone said pleasantly.  She was The Garden of
Ranut sitting on the bed beside her mother, carefully putting the black
shoes on her feet.

'When we had that talk last week about sex,' Nicole began again, 'there
were several topics that we didn't discuss." Simone looked up at her
mother.  Her attention was so complete that Nicole momentarily forgot
what she was going to say.  'Did you read those books I gave you ...  ?"
she eventually stammered.

Simone's wrinkled brow revealed her puzzlement.  'Yes, of course,' she
replied.  'We discussed that yesterday." Nicole took her daughter's
hands.  'Michael is a wonderful man,' she said.

'Kind, considerate, loving but he is older.  And when men are older..."
'I'm not sure I'm following you, Mother,' Simone gently interrupted.  'I
thought there was something you wanted to tell me about sex." 'What I'm
trying to say,' Nicole said after taking a deep breath, 'is that you may
need to be very patient and tender with Michael in bed.  Everything
might not work right away." Simone stared at her mother for a long time.
'I had suspected that,' she said quietly, 'both from your nervousness
about the subject and some unspoken anxiety that I have read in
Michael's face.  Don't worry, Mother, I do not have unreasonable
expectations.  In the first place, we are not marrying because of a
desire for sexual gratification.  And since I have no experience of any
kind, except for holding hands occasionally during this last week,
whatever pleasure I feel will be new and therefore wonderful." Nicole
smiled at her amazingly mature thirteen-year-old daughter.  'You are a
jewel,' she said, her eyes brimming with tears.

'Thank you,' Simone replied, hugging her mother.

'Remember,' she added, 'my marriage to Michael is blessed by God.
Whatever problems we encounter, we will ask God to help us with.  We
will be fine." A sudden heartache devastated Nico!e.  One more week, a
voice insidide her said, and you will never see this beloved girl again.
She continued to embrace Simone until Richard knocked on the door and
told them that everyone was ready for the ceremony.

A X, 'Good morning,' Simone said with a soft smile.  The rest of the
family were all seated at the table, having breakfast, when she and
Michael walked in, hand in hand.

'Good mor-ning,' Benjy replied.  His mouth was stuffed with buttered
toast and jam.  He rose from his seat, walked slowly around the table,
and hugged his favourite sister.

Patrick was right behind him.  'Are you going to help me with my maths
today?" he asked Simone.  'Mother says that now that we're going back, I
have to be serious about my studies." Michael and Simone sat down at the
table after the boys had returned to their seats.  Simone reached for
the coffee pot.  She was like her mother in one respect.  She didn't
function well in the morning until she had had her coffee.

'Well, is the honeymoon finally over?" Katie asked in her usual
irreverent manner.  'After all, it's been three nights and two days. You
must have listened to every piec e of classical music in the data base."
Michael laughed easily.  'Yes, Katie,' he said, smiling warmly at
Simone.

'We've taken the 'Do Not Disturb" sign off the door.  We want to do
whatever we can to help everyone pack for the voyage." 'We're actually
in pretty good shape,' Nicole commented, delighted to see Michael and
her daught QL so comfortable together after their long seclusion.  I
needn't have worried, she thought quickly.  In some wa-ys Simone is more
adult than I am 'I wish The Eagle would give us more specifics about our
return trip,' Richard complained.  'He won't tell us how long the
journey will take, or whether or not we'll sleep all the way, or
anything definite." 'He says he doesn't know for certain,' Nicole
reminded her husband.  'There are "uncontrollable' variables that could
result in many different scenarios.

'You always believe him,' Richard countered.  'You are the most trusting
.

The doorbell interrupted their conversation.  Katie went to the door and
returned a few moments later with The Eagle.  'I hope I'm not disturbing
your breakfast,' the bird-man apologised, 'but we have much to
accomplish today.  I will need Mrs Wakefield to come with me." Nicole
took the final sip of her coffee and looked quizzically at The Eagle.
'Alone?" she said.  She was aware of a vague fear inside her.  She had
never left the apartment by herself with The Eagle during their
sixteen-month stay at The Node.

'Yes,' The Eagle replied.  'You'll be coming with me alone.  There is a
special task that only you can perform." 'Do I have ten minutes to get
ready?" 'Certainly,' The Eagle replied.

While Nicole was out of the room, Richard peppered The Eagle with
questions.

'OK,' Richard said at one juncture, 'I understand that as a result of
all these tests, you are confident now that we can safely remain asleep
throughout the acceleration and deceleration periods.  But what about
during normal cruise?  Will we be awake or asleep?" 'Mostly asleep,' The
Eagle replied, 'because that way The Garden of Rama we can both retard
the ageing process and ensure your good health. But there are many
uncertainties in the schedule.  It may be necessary to awaken you
several times en route." 'Why have you not told us this before)'
'Because it wasn't yet decided.  The scenario for your mission is quite
complicated and the baseline plan has only recently been defined." 'I
don't want my ageing process to be "retarded",' Katie said.  'I want to
be a grown woman when we meet other people from The Earth." 'As I told
your mother and father yesterday,' The Eagle said to Katie, 'it is
important that we have the ability to slow the ageing process while you
and your family are asleep.  We do not know exactly when you will return
to your solar system.  If you were to sleep for fifty years, for example
..." 'Whaaat?" Richard interrupted in consternation.  'Who said anything
about fifty years?  We reached here in twelve or thirteen.  Why wouldn't
...  ?" 'I'll be older than Mama,' Katie said, a frightened look on her
face.

Nicole entered from the next room.  'What's this I heard about fifty
years?

Why will it take so long?  Are we going somewhere else first?"
'Obviously,' Richard said.  He was angry.  'Why were we not told all
this before we made the "allocation" decision?  We might have done
something differently ...  My God, if it takes fifty years, Nicole and I
will be a hundred years old!" 'No, you won't,' The Eagle replied without
emotion.  'We estimate that you and Mrs Wakefield will only age one year
in five or six while we have you "suspended".  For the children, the
ratio will be closer to one year in two, at least until their growth
subsides.  We are wary of tampering too much with the growth hormones.
And besides, the fifty years is an upper bound, what a human engineer
would call a three sigma number." 'Now I'm completely confused,' Katie
said, walking over and directly confronting The Eagle. 'How old will I
be when I meet up with a human being who is not part of my family?" 'I
can't answer that question exactly, because there are statistical
uncertainties involved,' their alien colleague replied.  'But your body
should be at the equivalent development level of your early to
mid-twenties.  At least, that's the most likely answer." The Eagle
motioned to Nicole.  'Now that's all I'm going to say.  I have business
with your mother.  We should return before dinner tonight." 'As usual,'
Richard grumbled, 'we're told almost nothing.  Sometimes I wish that we
had not been so cooperative." 'You could have been more difficult,' The
Eagle remarked as he and Nicole were leaving the room, 'and in fact our
predictions, based on our observational data, were for less co-operation
than we have had.  In the end, though, there would have been no
substantive difference in the outcome.  This way it has been more
pleasant for you." 'Goodbye,' Nicole said.

'Good-bye,' said Benjy, waving to his mother after the door was already
closed.

It was a long document.  Nicole calculated that it would take her at
least ten, maybe fifteen minutes to read the entire text out loud.

'Are you almost finished with your study?" The Eagle inquired again.
'We'd like to begin the shooting, as you call it, as soon as possible."

71he Garden ofRanza 'Explain to me again what happens to this video
after I make it,' Nicole requested.

'We broadcast it towards the Earth several years before you arrive in
your solar system.  That gives your fellow human beings ample time to
respond." 'How do you know if they have actually heard it?" 'We have
requested a simple return signal acknowledging receipt." 'And what if
you don't ever receive this return signal?" 'That's what contingency
plans are for." Nicole had serious misgivings about reading the message.
She asked if she could have some time to discuss the document with
Richard and Michael.

'What is it that you are worried about?" The Eagle asked.

'Everything,' Nicole replied.  'It just doesn't seem right.  I feel as
if I'm being used to further your purpose - and since I don't know
exactly what your purpose is, I'm afraid that I'm being a traitor to the
human species." The Eagle brought Nicole a glass of water and sat down
beside her in the alien studio.

'Let's look at this logically,' The Eagle said.  'We have very clearly
told you that our primary objective is to gather detailed information
about spacefaring species in the galaxy.  Right?" Nicole nodded.

'We have also constructed a habitat inside Rama for two thousand
Earthlings and are sending you and your family back to gather those
humans for an observational voyage.  All you're doing, with that video,
is informing the Earth that we are on our way and that the two thousand
members of your species, along with the supporting artifacts of your
culture, should meet us in Mars orbit.

What could be wrong with that?" 'The text of this document,' Nicole
protested, pointing at the electronic notebook The Eagle had given her,
'is extremely vague.  I never indicate, for example, what will be the
eventual fate of all these humans - only that they will be "cared for"
and "observed" during some kind of a journey.  There is also no mention
of why the humans are being studied, or anything at all about The Node
and its controlling intelligence.  In addition, the tone is definitely
threatening.  I am telling the people on Earth who receive this
transmission that if a contingent of humans does not rendezvous with
Rama in Mars orbit, then the spaceship will approach closer to the Earth
and "acquire its specimens in a less organised way".  That is clearly a
hostile statement." 'You may edit the remarks, if you would like, just
as long as the intent is not changed,' The Eagle replied.  'But I should
tell you that we have a great deal of experience with this type of
communication.  With species similar to yours, we have always been more
successful when the message has not been too specific." 'But why won't
you let me take the document back to the apartment?  I could discuss it
with Richard and Michael and we could jointly edit it to soften the
tone." 'Because the video must be prepared by you today,' The Eagle said
stubbornly.  'We are open to discussing modifications to the content and
will work with you as long as necessary.  But the sequence must be
completed before you return to your family." The voice sounded friendly
but the meaning was absolutely clear.  I have no choice, Nicole thought.
I am being ordered to do the video.  She stared for several seconds at
the strange creature sitting beside her.This Eagle is just a machine,
Nicole said to herself, feeling her anger rise.  He is carrying out his
programmed instructions ...  My quarrel is not with him 'No,9 she said
abruptly, astonishing even herself.  She shook her head.  'I won't do
it." The Eagle was not

prepared for Nicole's response.  There was a long silence.

Despite her emotional agitation, Nicole was fascinated by her companion.
What's going on with him now?  she wondered.  Are complicated new logic
loops being exercised in his equivalent of a brain?  Or is he perhaps
receiving signals ftant somewhere else?

At length The Eagle stood up.  'Well,' he said, 'this is quite a
surprise ...  We never expected you to refuse to do the video." 'Then
you haven't been paying attention to what I've been saying ...  I feel
as if you, or whoever is commanding you, are using me ...  and purposely
telling me as little as possible ...  If you want me to do something for
you, then at least some of my questions should be answered." 'What is it
precisely that you want to know?" 'I've told you already,' Nicole
replied, her frustration showing.  'What the hell is really going on in
this place?  Who or what are you?  Why do you want to observe us ...  ?
And while you're at it, how about a good explanation of why you need us
to leave a 'reproductive pair" here?  I've never liked the idea of
breaking up my family I should have protested more forcefully at the
beginning.  If your technology is so wonderful that it can create
something like this incredible Node, why can't you simply take a human
egg and some sperm .  .  ." 'Calm down, Mrs Wakefield,' The Eagle said.
'I've never seen you so agitated before.  I had you classified as the
most stable individual in your group.

And most malleable too, I'll bet, Nicole thought.  She waited for her
anger to subside.  Somewhere in that bizarre brain is doubtless a
quantitative assessment of the probability that I would meekly follow
orders ...  Well, I fooledyou this time ...

'Look, Mr Eagle,' Nicole said a few seconds later, 'I'm not stupid.  I
know who is in control here.  I just think we humans deserve to be
treated with a little more respect.  Our questions are quite
legitimate." 'And if we answer them to your satisfaction?" 'You've been
watching me carefully for over a year,' Nicole said.  She smiled.  'Have
I ever been completely unreasonable?" 'Where are we going?" Nicole
asked.

'On a short tour,' The Eagle replied.  'That may be the best way to deal
with your uncertainties." The strange vehicle was small and spherical,
just large enough for The Eagle and Nicole.  The entire front ansparent.
Behind the window, on the hemisphere was tr side where the alien birdman
was sitting, was a small control panel.  During the flight The Eagle
occasionally touched the panel, but most of the time the craft seemed to
be operating on its own.

Seconds after they were seated inside, the sphere zipped down a long
corridor and through a large set of double doors into total blackness.
Nicole gasped.  She felt as if she were floating in space.

'Each of the three spherical modules of The Node,' The Eagle said, as
Nicole struggled vainly to see anything at all, 'has a hollow centre. We
have now entered a passageway that leads to the core of the Habitation
Module." After almost a minute some distant lights appeared in front of
their small craft.  Soon thereafter the vehicle emerged from the black
passageway and entered the immense hollow core.  The sphere flipped and
turned, disorienting Nicole as it headed towards the darkness, away from
the many lights on what must have been the inside of the main body of
the Habitation Module.

'We observe everything that occurs with all our guest species, both
temporary and permanent,' The Eagle said.  'As you have suspected, we
have hundreds of monitoring devices inside your apartment.  But all your
walls are also one-way mirrors - from this core region we can watch your
activities from a wider perspective." Nicole had grown accustomed to the
wonders of The Node, but the new sights around her were still
staggering.  Dozens, maybe hundreds of tiny blinking lights moved about
in the vast darkness of the core.  They looked like a group of scattered
fireflies on a dark summer night.  Some of the lights were hovering near
the walls, others were moving slowly across the void.  Some were so far
away that they seemed to be standing still.

'We have a major maintenance centre here as well,' The Eagle said,
pointing in front of them at a dense collection of lights in the
distance.  'Every element of the module can be reached very quickly from
this core, in case there are engineering, or any other kind of
problems." 'What's going on over there?" Nicole asked, tapping on the
window.  Several hundred miles to the right, a group of vehicles were
stationed just away from a large, illuminated portion of the Habitation
Module.

'That's a special observation session,' The Eagle replied, 'using our
most advanced remote sensing monitors.  Those particular apartments
house an unusual species, one that has characteristics never before
recorded in this sector of the galaxy.  Many of its individuals are
dying and we do not understand why.  We are trying to figure out how to
save them." 'So everything doesn't always work the way you planned it?"
'No,' replied The Eagle.  In the reflected light the creature seemed to
be smiling.  'That's why we have so many contingency plans." 'What would
you have done if no humans had ever come to find out about Rama in the
first place?" Nicole suddenly asked.

'We have alternative methods of accomplishing the same goals,' The Eagle
answered vaguely.

The vehicle accelerated along its chordal path in the darkness.  Soon a
similar sphere, slightly larger than theirs, approached them from the
left.

'Would you like to meet a member of a species whose development level is
approximately equal to yours?" The Eagle said.  He touched the control
panel and the interior of their craft was illuminated by soft lights.

Before Nicole could respond, the second vehicle was beside them.  It
also had a transparent forward hemisphere.  This second sphere was
filled with a colourless liquid, and two creatures were swimming about.
They looked like large eels wearing capes, and they moved in undulations
through the liquid.  Nicole estimated that the creatures were about
three metres long and twenty centimetres thick.  The black cape, which
spread out like a wing during movement, was about a metre wide when
fully extended.

'The one on your right, without the coloured markings,' The Eagle said,
'is an artificial intelligence system.  It serves a role similar to
mine, acting as a host for the aquatic species.  The other being is a
spacefarer from another world." Nicole stared at the alien.  It had
folded its cape tightly around its slightly greenish body and was
sitting nearly motionless in the liquid.  The creature had arranged
itself in a horseshoe configuration with both ends of its body facing
her.  A burst of bubbles came from one of its two ends.

'It says 'Hello, and wow, are you intriguing",' The Eagle said.

air 'How do you know that?" Nicole replied, unable to take her eyes off
the bizarre being.  Its two ends, one bright red and the other grey, had
now wrapped around each other.  Both were pressed against the window of
the craft.

'My colleague in the other vehicle is translating and then communicating
to me ...  do you wish to respond?" Nicole's mind was a blank.  What do
I say?  she thought, her eyes focused on the unusual wrinkles and
protuberances on the alien's extremities.  There were half a dozen
separate features on each end, including a pair of white slits on the
red 'face'.  None of the markings looked like anything that Nicole had
ever seen on Earth.  She stared silently, remembering the many
conversations that she and Richard and Michael had had about the
questions they would ask if, and when, they were ever able to
communicate directly with an intelligent extraterrestrial.  But we never
imagined a situation like this, Nicole thought.

More bubbles flooded the window opposite her, '"Our home planet accreted
five billion years ago," The Eagle said, translating.  '"Our binary
stars reached stability a billion years later.  Our system has fourteen
major planets, on two of which some kind of life evolved.  Our oceanic
planet has three intelligent species, but we are the only spacefarers.
We began our space exploration slightly more than two thousand years
ago."' Nicole was now embarrassed by her silence.  'Hello...  hello,'
she said haltingly.  'It is a pleasure to meet you...  Our species have
only been spacefarers for three hundred years.  We are the only highly
intelligent organism on a planetet that is two-thirds covered by water.
Our heat and light come from a solitary, stable, yellow star.  Our
evolution began in the water, three or four billion years ago, but now
we live on the land .

Nicole stopped.  The other creature, its two ends still entwined, had
now brought the rest of its bod y over t against the windows so that the
details of its physical structure could be seen more clearly.  Nicole
understood.  She stood up next to the window and turned around slowly.
Then she held her hands out, wiggling her fingers.  More bubbles
followed.

'Do you have an alternative manifestation?" the Eagle translated a few
seconds later.

'I don't understand,' Nicole replied.  The Nodal host in the other
sphere communicated her message using both body motions and bubbles.

'We have two manifestations,' the alien explained.  'My offspring will
have appendages, not unlike yours, and will dwell mostly on ocean
bottoms, building our homes and factories and spaceships.  They in turn
will produce another generation that looks like me." 'No, no,' Nicole
replied eventually.  'We have only a single manifestation.

Our children always resemble their parents." The conversation lasted for
five more minutes.  The two spacefarers talked mostly about biology. The
alien was especially impressed by the wide thermal range in which humans
could function successfully.  It told Nicole that members of its species
were unable to survive if the ambient temperature of the surrounding
liquid was outside a narrow range.

Nicole was fascinated by the creature's description of a watery planet
whose surface was almost totally covered by huge mats of photosynthetic
organisms.  The caped eels, or whatever they were, lived in the shallows
just below these hundreds of different organisms and used the
photo-synthesizers for practically everything food, building materials,
even as reproductive aids.

At length The Eagle told Nicole that it was time to depart.  She waved
at the alien, which was still pressed against the window.  It responded
with a final flurry of bubbles and unwrapped its two ends.  Seconds
later the distance between the two capsules was already hundreds of
metres.

It was dark again inside the moving sphere.  The Eagle was silent.
Nicole was exhilarated.  Her mind continued to race, still actively
formulating questions for the alien creature with whom she had had the
brief encounter.  Do you have families?  she thought.  And if so, how do
dissimilar creatures live together?  Can you communicate with the bottom
dwellers who are your children?

Another genre of question intruded into Nicole's stream of consciousness
and she suddenly felt slightly disappointed in herself.  I was much too
clinical, too scientific, she thought.  I should have asked about God,
life after death, even ethics.

'It would have been virtually impossible to have bad what you would call
a philosophical conversation,' The Eagle said a few moments later after
Nicole had expressed a lack of satisfaction in the topics that had been
discussed.  'There was absolutely no common ground for such an exchange.
Until each of you knew a few basic facts about the other, there were no
references for a discussion of values or other meaningful issues." Still
Nicole reflected, I could have tried.  no knows?  That horseshoe-shaped
alien might have had some answers ...

Nicole was jolted out of her contemplation by the sound of human voices.

As she looked questioningly at The Eagle, the sphere turned completely
around and Nicole saw that they were hovering only a few metres away
from her living quarters.

A light went on in the bedroom that Michael and Simone were sharing. 'Is
that Benjy?" Nicole heard her daughter whisper to her husband of a few
days.

'I think so,' Michael replied.

Nicole watched quietly as Simone rose from the bed, pulled her robe
about her, and crossed into the hallway.  When she switched on the light
in the living room, Simone saw her retarded brother curled up on the
sofa.

'What are you doing here, Benjy?" Simone asked kindly.  'You should be
in bed - it's very, very late." She stroked her brother's anxious brow.

'I could not sleep,' Benjy replied with effort.  'I was wor-ried a-bout
Mama." 'She'll be home soon,' Simone said soothingly.  'She'll be home
soon." Nicole felt a lump in her throat and a few tears eased into her
eyes.  She looked over at The Eagle, then at the illuminated apartment
in front of her, and finally, at the firefly vehicles in the distance
above her head.  She took a deep breath.  'All right,' Nicole said
slowly, 'I'm ready to do the video." 411m jealous,' Richard said.  'I
really am.  I would have been willing to trade both my arms for a
conversation with that creature." 'It was amazing,' Nicole said.  'Even
now, I'm still having difficulty believing that it actually happened ...
It's also amazing that The Eagle somehow knew how I would respond to
everything." 'He was just guessing.  He really could not have expected
to have solved his problem with you that easily.  You didn't even make
him answer your question about their need for a reproductive couple 'Yes
I did,' Nicole replied somewhat defensively.  'He explained to me that
human embryology was such an astonishingly complicated process that even
they couldn't possibly know the exact role played by a human 77ze'Garden
of Rama mother without ever having watched a foetus maturc and develop."
'I'm sorry, darling,' Richard said quickly.  'I wasn't implying that you
really had any choice ...

'I felt as if they were at least UYing to satisfy my objections."Nicole
sighed.  'Maybe I'm kidding myself.  After all, in the end I did make
the video, exactly as they had planned." Richardput his arms around
Nicole."As Isaid, youreally had no choice, darling.  Don't be too hard
on yourself." Nicole kissed Richard and sat up in bed.  'But what if
they are taking this data so that they can prepare an efficient
invasion, or something like that?" 'We've discussed all this before,'
Richard replied.  'Their technological capabilities are so advanced they
could take over the Earth in minutes if that was their goal.  The Eagle
himself has pointed out that if invasion and subjugation was their
objective, they could accomplish it with a far less elaborate
procedure." 'Now who's the trusting one,' Nicole said, managing a smile.

'Not trusting.  just realistic.  I'm certain that the overall welfare of
the human species is not a significant factor in the priority queue of
the Nodal Intelligence.  But I do think you should stop worrying about
being an accomplice in crime with your video.  The Eagle is right.  Most
likely you have made the "acquisition process" less difficult for the
inhabitants of Earth as well." They were silent for a few minutes.
'Darling,' Nicole said at length.  'Why do you think we're not going
directly to the Earth?" 'My guess is that we must stop somewhere else
first.  Presumably to pick up another species in the same phase of the
project as we are." 'And they will live in that other module inside
Rama?" 'That's what I would assume,' Richard replied.

M The day of departure was January 13, 2215, according to the calendar
that had been fastidiously kept by Richard and/or Nicole ever since Rama
had escaped from the nuclear phalanx.  Of course this date didn't really
mean anything - except to them.  Their long trip to Sirius at slightly
more than half the speed of light had slowed time inside Rama, at least
relative to the Earth, so the date they were using was a complete
artifice.  Richard estimated that the actual date on the Earth, at the
time of their departure from The Node, was three to four years later, in
2217 or 2218.  It was impossible for him to compute the Earth date
exactly, since he did not have an accurate velocity time history from
the years that they had travelled inside Rama.  Thus Richard could only
approximate the relativistic corrections necessary to transform their
own time basis into the one being experienced on the Earth.

'The date on Earth right now really has no significance to us anyway,'
Richard explained to Nicole soon after they had awakened for their final
day at The Node.  'Besides,' he continued, 'it's almost certain that we
will be returning to our solar system at extremely high velocities,
meaning there will be additional time dilation before we rendezvous in
Mars orbit." Nicole had never really understood relativity - it was The
Garden ofRama totally inconsistent with her intuition - and she
certainly wasn't going to spend any energy worrying about it on her last
day before separating from Simone and Michael.  She knew that the final
partings would be extremely difficult, for everybody, and she wanted to
concentrate all her resources on those last emotional moments.

'The Eagle said that he would come for us at eleven,' Nicole said to
Richard while they were dressing.  'I was hoping that after breakfast we
could all sit together in the living room.  I want to encourage the
children to express their feelings." Breakfast was light, even cheerful,
but when the eight members of the family gathered together in the living
room, each mindful that they had less than two hours remaining before
The Eagle arrived to take everyone but Michael and Simone away, the
conversation was forced and strained.

The newlyweds sat together on the love seat, facing Richard, Nicole, and
the other four children.  Katie, as usual, was completely frenetic.  She
talked constantly.  She jumped from subject to subject, steering safely
away from any discussion of the imminent departure.  Katie was in the
middle of a long monologue about a wild dream she had had the night
before when her story was interrupted by the sound of two voices coming
from the entryway to the master suite.

Sir John,' said the first variation in Richard's voice, 'this is our
last chance.  I'm going out there to say goodbye whether you're coming
or not." 'These goodbyes, my prince, do wrench my very soul.  I'm not
yet in my cups enough to deaden the pain.  You yourself said the lass
was the very apparition of an angel.  How can I possibly .  .

'Well, then, I'm going out there without you,' said Prince Hal.  All the
eyes of the family were on Richard's tiny robot prince as he came down
the hall to the living room.  Falstaff staggered after him, stopping
every four or five steps to take a drink from his flask.

Hal walked over in front of Simone.  'Dearest lady,, he said, bending
down on one knee, 'I cannot find the words to express properly how much
I will miss seeing your smiling face.  Throughout my entire realm, there
is not one member of the fairer sex who is your equal in beauty ..."
'Zounds,' Falstaff interrupted, throwing himself on both knees beside
his prince.  'Mayhap Sir John has made a mistake.  Why am I going with
this motley crew' (he waved his arm at Richard, Nicole, and the other
children - all of whom were smiling broadly) 'when I could remain here,
in the presence of such magnificent grace, and only this one old man for
competition?  I remember Doll Tearsheet ..." While the pair of
twenty-centimetre robots were entertaining the family, Benjy rose from
his chair and approached Michael and Simone.  'Si-mone,' he said,
fighting back his tears, 'I am go-ing to miss you." Benjy paused for a
moment, looking first at Simone and then at his father.  'I hope that
you and Dad-dy will be ve-ry hap-py." Simone rose from her seat and put
her arms around her trembling little brother.  'Oh, Benjy, thank you,'
she said.  'I will miss you too.  And I will carry your spirit with me
every day." Her embrace was too much for the boy.  Benjy's body was
racked by sobs and his soft, sorrowful moan brought tears to the eyes of
everyone else.  Within moments Patrick had crawled into his father's
lap.  He buried his swollen eyes in Michael's chest.  'Daddy ... Daddy,'
he kept saying, over and over.

A choreographer could not have designed a more The Garden ofRama
beautiful dance of goodbye.  The radiant Simone, looking somehow still
serene despite her tears, waltzed around the room, saying a meaningful
farewell to each and every member of the family.  Michael O'Toole
remained sitting on the love seat, with Patrick on his lap and Benjy
beside him.  His eyes brimmed repeatedly as one by one the departing
family members came to him for a final embrace.

I want to remember this moment for ever.  There is so much love here,
Nicole said to herself as she glanced around the room.  Michael was
holding little Ellie in his arms; Simone was telling Katie how much she
would miss their talks together.  For once even Katie was in emotional
knots - she was surprisingly silent when Simone walked back across the
room to rejoin her husband.

Michael gently lifted Patrick off his lap and took Simone's extended
hand.

The two of them turned towards the others and dropped to their knees,
their hands clasped in prayer.  'Our heavenly Father,' Michael said in a
strong voice.  He paused for several seconds while the rest of the
family, even Richard, knelt beside the couple on the floor.

'We thank Thee for having allowed us the joyful love of this wonderful
family.  We thank Thee also for having shown us Thy miraculous handiwork
throughout the universe.  At this moment we beseech Thee, if it be Thy
will, to look after each of us as we go our separate ways.  We know not
if it is in Thy plan for us once again to share the camaraderie and love
that has uplifted all of us.  Stay with us all, wherever our paths take
us in Thy amazing creation, and let us, 0 Lord, someday be joined
together again - in this world or the next.

Amen." Seconds later the doorbell rang.  The Eagle had arrived.

Nicole left the house, purposely designed as a smaller version of her
family villa at Beauvois in France, and walked down the narrow lane in
the direction of the station.  She passed other houses, all dark and
empty, and tried to imagine what it would be like when they were full of
people.  My life has been like a drearr; she said to herself.  Surely no
human has ever had a more varied experience.

Some of the houses cast shadows on the lane as the simulated sun
completed its arc in the ceiling far above her head.  Another remarkable
wor1A Nicole mused, surveying the village in the southeast corner of New
Eden.  the Eagle was correct when he said that the habitat would be
indistinguishablefrom Earth.

For a fleeting moment Nicole thought of that blue, oceanic world nine
light years away.  In her mental picture she was standing beside Janos
Tabori, fifteen years earlier, as the Newton spaceship had pulled away
from LEO-3.

'That's Budapest,' Janos had said, circling with his fingers a specific
feature on the lighted globe J shimmering in the observation window.

Nicole had then located Beauvois, or at least the general region, by
backtracking up the Loire River from where it emptied into the Atlantic.
'My home is just about here,' she had said to Janos.  'Maybe my father
and daughter are looking in this direction right now." Genevieve, Nicole
thought as the brief recollection faded, My Genevieve.

You would be a young woman now.  Almost thiny.  She continued to walk
slowly down the lane near her new house in the Earth habitat inside
Rama.  Thinking of her first daughter made Nicole remember a short
conversation she had had with The Eagle during a break in the video
recording at The Node.

The Garden qfRama 'Will I be able to see my daughter Genevieve whilc we
are close to the Earth?" Nicole had asked.

'We don't know,' The Eagle had replied after a short hesitation.  'It
depends entirely on how your fellow humans respond to your message. You
yourself will stay inside Rama, even if the contingency plans are
invoked, but it is possible that your daughter will be one of the two
thousand who come from Earth to live in New Eden.  It has happened
before, with other spacefarers .  .

'And what about Simone?" Nicole had asked when The Eagle was finished.

'Will I ever see her again?" 'That is more difficult to answer,' The
Eagle had replied.  'There are many, many factors involved." The alien
creature had stared at his despondent human friend.  'I'm sorry, Mrs
Wakefield,' he had said.

One daughter left on Earth.  Another in an alien space world almost a
hundred thousand billion kilometres awayAnd I will be somewhere else.  W
ho knows where.  Nicole and f was feeling extremely lonely.  She stopped
her walk focused her eyes on the scene around her. She was standing
beside a circular area in the village park.  Inside the rock
circumference was a slide, a sandbox, a jungle Jim, and a merry-go-round
- a perfect playground for Earth children.

Underneath her feet, the network of GEDs was interleaved throughout the
portions of the park that would eventually contain the grasses brought
from Earth.

Nicole bent down to examine the individual gas exchange devices.  They
were compact round objects, only two centimetres in diameter.  There
were several thousand of them arrayed in rows and columns that
crisscrossed the park.

Electronic plants, Nicole thought.  Converting carbon dioxide to oxygen.
Making it possiblefor us animals to survive.

In her mind's eye Nicole could see the park with grass, trees, and
lilies in the small pond, just as it had appeared in the holographic
image in the conference room at The Node.  But even though she knew that
Rama was returning to the solar system to "acquire' human beings who
would fill up this technological paradise, it was still difficult for
her to imagine this park teeming with children.  I have not seen another
human being, exceptJor myJamily, in abnostfifteen yeam Nicole left the
park and continued towards the station.  The residential houses that had
lined the narrow lanes were now replaced by row buildings containing
what would eventually be small shops.  Of course they were all empty, as
was the large, rectangular structure, destined to be a supermarket, that
was right opposite the station.

She walked through the gate and boarded the waiting train in the front,
just behind the control cab that was manned by a Benita Garcia robot.
'Almost dark,' Nicole said out loud.

'Eighteen more minutes,' the robot replied.

'How long to the somnarium?  Nicole asked.

'The ride to Grand Central Station takes ten minutes,' Benita answered
as the train left the southeast station.  'Then you have a two-minute
walk." Nicole had known the answer to her question.  She had just wanted
to hear another voice.  This was her second day alone, and a
converersation with a Garcia robot was better than talking to herself.

The train ride took her from the southeast corner of the colony to its
geographic center.  Along the way, Nicole could see Lake Shakespeare on
the left-hand side of the train and the slopes of Mount Olympus (which
were covered with more GEDs) on the right.  Electronic message monitors
inside the train displayed information 1W about the sights that were
being passed, the time of day, and the distance that had been travelled.

You and The Eagle did a good job on this train system, Nicole said to
herself, thinking of her husband Richard, now asleep along with all the
other members of her family.  Soon I will beloining you i .  n the big
round room The somnarium was, in reality, just an extension of the main
hospital that was located about two hundred metres from the central
train station.  After leaving the train and walking past the library,
Nicole entered the hospital, walked through it, and then reached the
sonmarium through a long tunnel.  The rest of her family were all asleep
in a large, circular room on the second floor.

Each was in a 'berth' along the wall, a long, coffin-like contraption
hermetically sealed against the outside environment.  Only their faces
were visible through the small windows near their heads.  As she had
been trained to do by The Eagle, Nicole examined the monitors containing
the data about the physical condition of her husband, two daughters, and
two sons.  Everybody was fine.  There were not even any hints of
irregularities.

Nicole stopped and gazed longingly at each of her loved ones.  This was
to be her last inspection.  According to the procedure, since everyone's
critical parameters were well within tolerances, it was now time for
Nicole to go to sleep herself.  It could be many years before she saw
any of her family again.

Dear, dear Benjy, Nicole sighed as she studied her retarded son in
repose, of all of us, this break in life will be the hardest on you.
Katie, Patrick, and Ellie will catch up quickly.  Their minds are quick
and agile.

But you will miss the years that might have made you independent The
berths were held out from the circular wall by what looked like wrought
iron metalwork.  The distance from the head of one berth to the foot of
the next was only about a metre and a half.  Nicole's empty berth was in
the middle - Richard and then Katie were behind her head; Patrick,
Benjy, and Ellie were at her feet.

She lingered for several minutes beside Richard's berth.  He had been
the last to go to sleep, two days before.  As he had requested, Prince
Hal and Falstaff were lying on his chest inside the sealed container.
Those final three days were wonderju4 my love, Nicole said to herself as
she stared at her husband's expressionless face through the window.  I
could not have askedfor more.

They had swum and even water-skied in Uke Shakespeare, climbed Mount
Olympus, and made love whenever either one of them had had the slightest
inclination.  They had clung to each other all through one night in the
big bed in their new home.  Richard and Nicole had checked on the
sleeping children, once each day, but had mostly used the time for a
thorough exploration of their new realm.

It had been an exciting, emotional time.  Richard's last words, before
Nicole activated the system that put him to sleep, were, 'You are a
magnificent woman and I love you very much." Now it was Nicole's turn.
She could procrastinate no longer.  She climbed into her berth, as she
had practised many times during their first week inside New Eden, and
flipped all the switches except one.  The foam around her was
unbelievably comfortable.  The top of the berth closed over her head.
She had only to trip the final switch to bring the sleeping gas into her
compartment.

She sighed deeply.  As Nicole was lying on her back, she remembered the
dream she had had about Sleeping Beauty during one of her final tests at
The Node.  Her mind then plunged backward to her childhood, to those
77ze Garden ofRana wonderful weekends she had spent with her father
watching the Sleeping Beauty pageants at the ChAteau d'Uss6.

That's a nice way to go, she said to herself, feeling her drowsiness as
the gas crept into her berth.  Thinking that it will be some Irince
Channing who will awaken me.

Rendezvous at Mars 'Mrs Wakefield." The voice seemed far, far away.  It
intruded gently into her consciousness but did not quite awaken her from
sleep.

'Mrs Wakefield." This time it was louder.  Nicole tried to recall where
she was before opening her eyes.  She shifted her body and the foam
reoriented itself to provide maximum comfort.  Slowly her memory began
to send signals to the remainder of her brain.  New Eden.  Inside Rama.
Back to the solar system she recalled.  Is this all1just a dream?

She finally opened her eyes.  Nicole had difficulty focusing for several
seconds.  At length the figure bending over her resolved itself.

It was her mother, dressed in a nurse's uniform!

'Mrs Wakefield,' the voice said.  'It is now time to wake up and prepare
for the rendezvous." For a moment Nicole was in a state of shock.  Where
was she?  What was her mother doing here?  Then she remembered.  The
robots, she thought.

Mother is one of the five kinds of human robots.  An Anawi Tiasso robot
is a health andfitness specialist The robot's helping arm steadied
Nicole as she sat up in her berth.

The room had not changed during the long time that she had been asleep.

'Where are we?" Nicole asked as she prepared to climb out of the berth.

'We have completed the major deceleration profile and entered your solar
system,' the jet black Anawi Tiasso replied.  'Mars orbit insertion will
be in six months." Her muscles did not seem at all strange.  Before she
had left The Node, The Eagle had informed Nicole that each of the
sleeping compartments included special electronic components that would
not only regularly exercise the muscles and other biological systems to
preclude any atrophy, but also monitor the health of all the vital
organs.  Nicole stepped down the ladder.  When she reached the floor she
stretched.

'How do you feeP asked the robot.  She was Anawi Tiasso Number 017.

Her number was prominently displayed on the right shoulder of her
uniform.

'Not bad,' answered Nicole.  'Not bad, 017,' she repeated, while
examining the robot.  It did look remarkably like her mother.  Richard
and she had seen all the prototypes before they had left The Node, but
only the Benita Garcias had been operational during the two weeks before
they went to sleep.  All the rest of the New Eden robots had been built
and tested during the long flight.  It really does look just like
Mother, Nicole mused, admiring the handiwork of the unknown Raman
artists.  They made all the changes to the prototype that I suggestel In
the distance she heard footsteps coming towards them.  Nicole turned
around.

Approaching them was a second Anawi Tiasso, also dressed in the white
uniform of a nurse.  'Number 009 has been assigned to help with the
initialisation procedure as well,' the Tiasso robot beside her said.

'Assigned by whom?" Nicole asked, struggling to remember her discussions
with The Eagle about the wake-up procedure.

'By the preprogrammed mission plan,' Number 017 replied.  'Once all you
humans are alive and alert, we will take all our instructions from you."
Richard woke up more rapidly, but was quite clumsy descending the short
ladder.  It was necessary for the two Tiassos to support him to prevent
his falling.  Richard was clearly delighted to see' his wife.

After a long hug and a kiss, he stared at Nicole for several seconds.

'You look none the worse for wear,' he said jokingly.  'The grey in your
hair has spread, but there are still healthy clutches of black in
isolated spots." Nicole smiled.  It was great to be talking to Richard
again.

'By the way,' he asked a second later, 'how long did we spend in those
crazy coffins?" Nicole shrugged her shoulders.  'I don't know,' she
answered.  'I haven't asked yet.  The first thing I did was wake you
up." Richard turned to the two Tiassos.  'Do you fine women know how
long it has been since we left The Node)' 'You have slept for nineteen
years of traveller's time,, Tiasso 009 replied.

'What does she mean, -traveller's time"?" Nicole asked.

Richard smiled.  'That's a relativistic expression, darling,' he said.
'Time doesn't mean anything unless you have a frame of reference.

Inside Rama nineteen years have passed, but those years only pertain to
'Don't bother,' Nicole interrupted.  'I didn't sleep all this time to
wake up to a relativity lesson.  You can explain it to me later, over
dinner.  Meanwhile, we have a more important issue.  In what order
should we awaken the children?" 'I have a different suggestion,' Richard
replied after a moment's hesitation.  'I know you're eager to see the
children.  So am I.  However, why don't we let them sleep for several
more hours?  It certainly won't hurt them And you and I have a lot to
discuss.  We can begin our preparations for the rendezvous, outline what
we are going to do about the children's education, maybe even take a
moment or two to become reacquainted ourselves .  .

Nicole was anxious to talk to the children, but the logical part of her
mind could see the merit in Richard's suggestion.  The family had
developed only a rudimentary plan for what would happen after they woke
up, primarily because The Eagle had insisted that there were too many
uncertainties to specify the conditions exactly.  It would be much
easier to do some planning before the children were awake ...

'All right,' Nicole said at length, 'as long as I know for certain that
everyone is all right She glanced over at the first Tiasso.

'All the monitor data indicates that each of your children survived the
sleep period without any significant irregularities,' the biot said.

Nicole turned back to Richard and carefully studied his face.  It had
aged a little, but not as much as she had expected.

'Where's your beard?" she blurted out suddenly, realising that his face
was strangely clean-shaven.

'We shaved the men yesterday while they were sleeping,' Tiasso replied.
'We also cut everybody's hair and gave everyone a bath - in accordance
with the preprogrammed mission plan." .

the men?  Nicole thought.  She was momentarily puzzled.  Of course, she
said to herself.  Beniy and Patrick are now men!

She took Richard's hand and they walked quickly 77te Garden ofRanut over
to Patrick's berth.  The face she saw through the window was
astonishing.  Her little Patrick was no longer I a boy.  His features
had lengthened considerably a nd the rounded contours of his face had
disappeared.  Nicole stared at her son silently for over a minute.

'His age equivalence is sixteen or seventeen,' Tiasso Number 017 said in
response to Nicole's questioning glance.  'Mr Benjamin O'Toole remains a
year and a half older.  Of course, these ages are only approximations.
As The Eagle explained before your departure from The Node, we have been
able to retard somewhat the key ageing enzymes in each of you - but not
all at the same rate.  When we say that Mr Patrick O'Toole is sixteen or
seventeen now, we are referring only to his personal, internal
biological clock.  The age quoted is some kind of average across his
growth, maturation, and subsystem ageing processes." Nicole and Richard
stopped at each of the other berths and stared for several minutes
through the windows at their sleeping children.

Nicole repeatedly shook her head in bewilderment.  'Where have my babies
gone?" she said, after seeing that even little Ellie had become a
teenager during the long voyage.

'We knew this would happen,' Richard commented without emotion, not
helping the mother in Nicole cope with the sense of loss that she was
feeling.

'Knowing it is one thing,' said Nicole.  'But seeing it and experiencing
it is another.  This is not a case of a typical mother who suddenly
realises her boys and girls have all grown up.  What has happened to our
children is truly staggering.  Their mental and social development has
been interrupted for the equivalent of ten to twelve years.  We now have
small children walking around in adult bodies.  How can we prepare them
to meet other humans in just six months?" Nicole was overwhelmed.  Had
some part of her not believed The Eagle when he had described what was
going to happen to her family?  Perhaps.  It was one more unbelievable
event in a life that had long been beyond comprehension.  But as their
mother, Nicole thought to herself, I have much to do and almost no time.
Why didn't I plan for all this before we kft The Node?

While Nicole was struggling with her powerful emotional response to
seeing her children suddenly grown, Richard chatted with the two
Tiassos.  They easily answered all his questions.  He was extremely
impressed with their capabilities, both physical and mental.  'Do all of
you have such a wealth of information stored in your memories?" he asked
the robots in the middle of their conversation.

'Only we Tiassos have the detailed historical health data on your
family,' 009 replied.  'But all the human biots can access a wide range
of basic facts.  However, a portion of that knowledge will be removed at
the moment of first contact with other humans.  At that time the memory
devices of all biot types will be partially purged.

Any event or piece of data pertaining to The Eagle, The Node, or any
situations that transpired before you awakened will not remain in our
data bases after we rendezvous with the other humans.  Only your
personal health information will be available from that earlier time
period - and this data will be localised in the Tiassos." Nicole had
already been thinking about The Node before this last comment.  'Are you
still in contact with The Eagle?" she suddenly asked.

'No,' it was Tiasso 017 who replied this time.  'It is safe to assume
that The Eagle, or at least some representative of the Nodal
Intelligence, is periodically monitoring our mission, but there is never
any interaction with Rama once it leaves The Hangar.  You, we, Rama - we
are on our own until the mission objectives are fulfilled."

Katie stood in front of the full-length mirror and studied her naked
body.  Even after a month it was still new to her.  She loved to touch
herself.  She especially liked to run her fingers across her breasts and
watch her nipples swell in response to the stimulation.  Katie liked it
even more at night when she was alone underneath the sheets.  Then she
could rub herself everywhere until waves of tingles rolled across her
body and she wanted to cry out from pleasure.

Her mother had explained the phenomenon to her but had seemed a little
uncomfortable when Katie had wanted to discuss it a second and a third
time.  'Masturbation is a very private affair, darling,' Nicole had said
in a low voice one night before dinner, 'and generally only discussed,
if at all, with one's closest friends." Ellie was no help.  Katie had
never seen her sister examining herself, not even once.  She probably
doesn't do it at a14 Katie thought.  And she certainly doesn't want to
talk about it 'Are you through in the shower?" Katie heard Ellie call
from the next room.  Each of the girls had her own bedroom, but they
shared the bath.

'Yes,' Katie shouted in response.

Ellie came into the bathroom, modestly wrapped in a towel, and glanced
briefly at her sister standing completely naked in front of the mirror.
The younger girl started to say something, but apparently changed her
mind, for she dropped the towel and stepped gingerly into the shower.

Katie watched Ellie through the transparent door.  She looked first at
Ellie's body, and then glanced in the mirror, comparing every possible
anatomical feature.

Katie preferred her own face and skin colour - she was by far the
lightest member of the family other than her father - but Ellie had a
superior figure.

'Why do I have such a boyish shape?" Katie asked Nicole one evening two
weeks later, after Katie had finished reading through a data cube
containing some very old fashion magazines.

'I can't explain exactly,' Nicole replied, looking up from her own
reading.  'Genetics is a wonderfully complicated subject, far more
complex than Gregor Mendel originally thought." Nicole laughed at
herself, realising immediately that Katie could not possibly have
understood what she had just said.  'Katie,' she continued in a less
pedantic tone, 'each child is a unique combination of the
characteristics of her two parents.  These identifying characteristics
are stored in molecules called genes.  There are literally billions of
different ways the genes from one pair of parents can express
themselves.  That's why children f from the same parents are not all
identical." Katie's brow furrowed.  She had been expecting a different
kind of answer.  Nicole quickly understood.  'Besides,' she added in a
comforting tone, 'your figure is really not "boyish' at all.  'Athletic"
would be a more descriptive word." 'At any rate,' Katie rejoined,
pointing at her sister who was studying hard over in the corner of the
family room, J certainly don't look like Ellie.  Her body is really
attractive - her breasts are even larger and rounder than yours." Nicole
laughed naturally.  'Eflie does have an imposing figure,' she said. 'But
yours is just as good it's simply different." Nicole returned to her
reading, thinking the conversation was over.

'They don't have many women with my kind of figure in these old
magazines,' Katie persisted after a short silence.  She was holding up
her electronic notebook, but Nicole was no longer paying attention. 'You
know, Mother,' her daughter then said, 'I think that The Eagle made some
kind of mistake with the controls in my berth.  I think I must have
received some of the hormones that were meant for Patrick or Benjy."
'Katie, darling,' Nicole replied, finally realising that her daughter
was obsessed with her figure, 'it is virtually certain that you have
become the person your genes were programmed to be at conception.  You
are a lovely, intelligent young woman.  You would be happier if you
spent your time thinking about your many excellent attributes, instead
of finding an imperfection in yourself and wishing to be somebody
different." Since they had awakened, many of their motherdaughter
conversations had had a similar pattern.  To Katie, it seemed that her
mother did not try to ununderstand her and was too ready with a lecture
and/or an epigram.  'There's far more to life than just feeling good'
was a regular refrain that resounded in Katie's ears.  Un the other
hand, her mother's praise for Ellie seemed effusive to Katie.  'Ellie is
such a good student, even though she started so late,' 'Ellie is always
helpful without our asking her,' or 'Why can't you be a little more
patient with Benjy, like Ellie is?" First Simone and now Ellie, Katie
said to herself as she lay naked in bed late one night after she and her
sister had quarrelled and her mother had reprimanded only her.  I've
never had a chance with Mother.  We're just too different.  I might as
well sto t7ying.

Her fingers roamed over her body, stimulating her desire, and Katie
sighed in anticipation.  At least, she thought, there are some things
that I don't need Motherfor.

'Richard,' Nicole said one evening in bed, when they were only six weeks
away from Mars.

'Mmmmm,' he responded slowly.  He had been almost asleep.

'I'm concerned about Katie,' she said.  'I'm happy with the progress the
other children are making especially Benjy, bless his heart.  But I have
real worries about Katie." 'What exactly is it that's bothering you?"
Richard said, propping himself upon one elbow.

'Her attitudes, mostly.  Katie is incredibly selfcentred.  She also has
a quick temper and is impatient with the other children, even Patrick
who absolutely adores her.  She argues with me all the time, often when
it's a nonsensical dispute.  And I think she spends far too many hours
alone in her room." 'She's just bored,' Richard replied.  'Remember,
Nicole, physically she's a young woman in her early twenties.

She should be dating, asserting her independence.  There's really nobody
here who is a peer ...  And you must admit that sometimes we treat her
like a twelve-year-old." Nicole did not say anything.  Richard leaned
over and touched her arm.  'We've always known that Katie was the most
highstrung of the children.  Unfortunately, she's a lot like me." 'But
at least you channel your energy into worthwhile projects,' Nicole said.
'Katie is as likely to be destructive as constructive ...  Really,
Richard, I wish you would talk to her.  Otherwise I'm afraid we're going
to have big problems when we meet the other humans." 'What do you want
me to say to her?" Richard replied after a short silence.  'That life is
not just one excitement after another?  ...  And why should I ask her
not to retreat into her fantasy world in her own room) It's The Garden
ofRama probably more interesting there.  Unfortunately there's nothing
very exciting for a young woman anywhere in New Eden at the present
time." 'I had hoped you would be a little more understanding,' Nicole
replied, slightly miffed.  'I need your help, Richard ...  and Katie
responds better to you." Again Richard was silent.  'All right,' he said
finally in a frustrated tone.  He laid back down in the bed.  'I'll take
Katie water-skiing tomorrow - she loves that - and at least ask her to
be more considerate of the other members of the family." 'Very good.
Excellent,' Richard said, finishing his reading of the material in
Patrick's notebook.  He switched off the power and glanced over at his
son, who was sitting somewhat nervously in the chair opposite his
father.

'You have learned algebra quickly,' Richard continued.  'You are
definitely gifted in mathematics.  By the time we have other people in
New Eden, you will be almost ready for university courses - at least in
mathematics and science." 'But Mother says I'm still way behind in my
English,' Patrick replied.  'She says that my compositions are those of
a young child." Nicole overheard the conversation and walked in from the
kitchen.  'Patrick, darling, Garcia 041 says that you do not take
writing seriously.  I know that you cannot learn everything overnight,
but I don't want you to be embarrassed when we meet the other humans."
'But I like maths and science better,' Patrick protested.  'Our Einstein
robot says he could teach me calculus in three or four weeks - if I
didn't have so other subjects to study." The front door suddenly opened
and Katie and Ellie breezed in.  Katie's face was bright and alive.
'Sorry we're late,' she said, 'but we have had a big day." She turned to
Patrick.  'I drove the boat across Lake Shakespeare by myself We left
the Garcia on the shore." ot nearly as ecstatic as her sister.  In fact,
Ellie was n 11 right, dearF she looked a little piqued.  'Are you a
Nicole said quietly to her younger daughter while Katie was regaling the
rest of the family with her tales of their adventure on the lake.

Ellie nodded and didn't say anything.

,What was really exciting,' Katie enthused, 'was crossing over our own
waves at high speeds.  Bam-bamwe bounced from wave to wave.  Sometimes I
felt barn, as if we were flying." 'Those boats are not toys,' Nicole
commented a few moments later.  She motioned for everyone to come to the
dinner table.  Benjy, who had been in the kitchen sit picking at the
salad with his fingers, was the last to down.

'What would you have done if the boat had capsized?"

Nicole asked Katie when everyone was seated.

rcias would have rescued us, Katie answered 'The Ga flippantly.  'There
were three of them watching us from the shore ...  After all , that's
what they're for Besides, we were wearing life vests, and I can swu-n
anyway.

'But your sister can't,' Nicole replied quickly, a critical tone in her
voice.  'And you know she would have A been thrown into the lake."A been
terrified if she had Katie started to argue but Richard interceded and
changed the subject before the conflict escalated.  In f, truth, the
entire family was edgy.  Rama had gone into orbit around Mars a month
earlier and there was still noI rth that they wereI sign of the
contingent from Ea supposed to meet.  Nicole had always assumed that
their rendezvous with their fellow humans would take place immediately
after Mars Orbit Insertion.

After dinner, the family went out into Richard's small backyard
observatory to look at Mars.  The observatory had access to all the
external sensors on Rama (but none of the internal ones outside of New
Eden - The Eagle had been very firm about this particular point during
their design discussions) and could present a splendid telescopic view
of the Red Planet for part of each Martian day.

Benjy especially liked the observing sessions with Richard.  He proudly
pointed out the volcanoes in the Tharsis region, the great canyon called
Valles Marineris, and the Chryse area where the first Viking spacecraft
had landed over two hundred years before.  A dust storm was just forming
south of Mutch Station, the hub of the large Martian colony that had
been abandoned in the fitful days following the Great Chaos.  Richard
speculated that the dust might spread across the entire planet since it
was the proper season for such global storms.

'What happens if the other Earthlings don't show up?" Katie asked during
a quiet point in their Martian observations.  'And Mother, please give
us a straight answer this time.  After all, we're not children any
more." Nicole ignored the challenging tone of Katie's comment.  'If I
remember correctly, the baseline plan is for us to wait here in Mars
orbit for six months,' she replied.  'If there is no rendezvous during
that time, Rama will head for Earth." She paused for several seconds.
'Neither your father nor I know what the procedure will be from that
point forward.  The Eagle told us that if any of the contingency plans
are invoked, we will be told at the time as much as we are required to
know." The room was quiet for almost a minute as images of Mars at
different resolutions appeared on the giant Anhur C Ckr*e and Genny Lee
screen on the wall.  'Where is Earth?" Benjy then asked.

'It's the planet just inside Mars, the next one closer to the sun,'
Richard answered.  'Remember, I showed you the planetary line-up in the
sub-routine in my computer." 'That's not what I meant,' Benjy answered
very slow ly.  'I want to see Earth." It was a simple enough request. It
had never occurred to Richard, although he had brought the family out to
the observatory several times before, that the children might be
interested in that barely blue light in the Martian night sky. 'Earth is
not very impressive from this distance,' Richard said, interrogating his
data base to obtain the right sensor output.  'In fact, it looks pretty
much like any other bright object, such as Sirius, for example." Richard
had missed the point.  Once he had identified the Earth in a specific
celestial frame and then centred the image around that apparently
insignificant reflection, the children all stared with rapt attention.

That is their home planet, Nicole thought, fascinated by the sudden
change of mood in the room, even though they have never been there.
Pictures of the Earth from her memory flooded Nicole as she too stared
at the tiny light in the centre of the image.  She became aware of a
profound homesickness deep within her, a longing to return to that
blessed, oceanic planet filled with so much beauty.  Tears swelled into
her eyes as she moved up closer to her children and put her arms around
them.

'Wherever we go in this amazing universe,' she said softly, 'both now
and in the future, that blue speck will always be our home." Nai Buatong
rose in the predawn dark.  She slipped into a s eve ess cotton dress,
stopped briefly to pay respects to her personal Buddha in the family's
hawng pra adjacent to the living room, and then opened the front door
without disturbing any of the other members of the family.  The summer
air was soft.  In the breeze she could smell flowers mixed with That
spices - someone in the neighbourhood was already cooking breakfast.

Her sandals made no sound on the soft dirt lane.  Nai walked slowly, her
head turning from right to left, her eyes absorbing all the'familiar
shadows that would soon be only memories.  My last day, she thought.  It
hasfinally come.

After a few minutes, she turned right on to the paved street that led to
the small Lamphun business district.  An occasional bicycle passed her,
but the morning was mostly quiet.  None of the shops was yet open.

As she approached a temple Nai passed two Buddhist monks, one on either
side of the road.  Each of the monks was dressed in the customary
saffron robe and was carrying a large metal urn.  They were seeking
their breakfasts, just as they did every morning throughout Thailand,
and were counting on the generosity of the townspeople of Lamphun.  A
woman appeared in a shop doorway right in front of Nai and dropped some
food in the monk's urn.  No words were exchanged and the monk's
expression did not visibly alter to acknowledge the donation.

They own nothing, Nai mused to herself, not even the A robes upon their
backs.  And yet they're happy.  She recited quickly the basic tenet,
'The cause of suffering is desire', and recalled the incredible wealth
of her new husband's family in the Higashiyama district on the edge of
Kyoto, Japan.  Kenji says his mother has eve?anything but peace.  It
eludes her because she cannot buy it.

For a moment the recent memory of the grand house of the Watanabes
filled her mind, pushing aside the image of the simple That road along
which she was walking.  Nai had been overwhelmed by the opulence of the
Kyoto mansion.  But it had not been a friendly place for her.  It had
been immediately obvious that Kenji's parents viewed her as an
interloper, an inferior foreigner who had married their son without
their support.  They had not been unkind, just cold.

They had dissected her with questions about her family and educational
background that had been delivered with emot ess an logical precision.
Kenji had later comforted Nai by pointing out that his family would not
be with them on Mars.

She stopped in the street in Lamphun and looked across at the temple of
Queen Chamatevi.  It was Nai's favourite place in town, probably her
favourite place in all of Thailand.  Parts of the temple were fifteen
hundred years old; its silent stone sentinels had seen a history so
different from the present that it might as well have occurred on
another planet.

Nai crossed the street and stood in the courtyard, just inside the
temple walls.  It was an unusually clear morning.  just above the
uppermost chedi of the old That temple a strong light shone in the dark
morning sky.  Nai realised that the light was Mars, her next
destination.  The juxtaposition was perfect.  For all twenty-six years
of her life (except for the four years she had spent at the University
of Chiang Mai) this town of Lamphun had been her home.

Within six weeks she would be on board a giant spaceship that would take
her to her living quarters for the next five years, in a space colony on
the red planet.

Nai sat down in the lotus position in a corner of the courtyard and
stared fixedly at that light in the sky.  How fitting, she thought, that
Mars is looking down on me this morning.  She began the rhythmic
breathing that was the prelude to her morning meditation.  But as she
was preparing for the peace and calm that usually 'centred' her for the
day ahead, Nai recognised that there were many powerful and unresolved
emotions inside her.

First I must refkci; Nai thought, deciding to forgo her meditation
temporarily.  On this, my lastday at home, I must make peace with the
events that have changed my life completely.

Eleven months earlier Nai Buatong had been sitting in the identical
spot, her French and English lesson cubes neatly packed beside her in a
carrying case.  Nai had been planning to organise her material for the
coming school term, determined that she was going to be more interesting
and energetic as a high school language teacher.

Before she had started work on her lesson outlines on that fateful day
the previous year, Nai had read the daily Chiang Mai newspaper. Slipping
the cube into her reader, she had flipped quickly through the pages,
scarcely reading more than the headlines.  On the back page there had
been a notice, written in English, that had caught her eye.

DOCTOR, NURSE, TEACHER, FARMER Are you adventurous, multilingual,
healthy) The International Space Agency (ISA) is mounting a major
expedition to recolonise Mars.  Outstanding individuals with the
critical skills defined above are sought for a five year assignment in
the colony.  Personal interviews will be held in Chiang Mai on Monday
August 23, 2244.  Pay and benefits are exceptional.  Applications may be
requested from That Telemail # 462-62-4930.

When she had first submitted her application to the ISA, Nai had not
thought that her chances were very high.  She had been virtually certain
that she would not pass the first screening and therefore would not even
qualify for the personal interview.  Nai was quite surprised, in fact,
when six weeks later she received a notice in her electronic mailbox
that she had been provisionally selected for the interviews.  The notice
also informed Nai that, according to the procedure, she should ask
whatever personal questions she might have by mail, first, before the
interview.  The ISA stressed that they only wanted to interview those
candidates who intended to accept, if an assignment in the Martian
colony were to be offered.

Nai responded by telemail with a single question.  Could a significant
portion of her earnings while she was living on Mars be directed to a
bank on Earth?  She added that this was an essential precondition for
her acceptance.

Ten days later another electronic mail notice arrived.  It was very
succinct.  Yes, the message said, a portion of her earnings could be
regularly sent to a bank on Earth.  However, it continued, Nai would
have to be absolutely certain about her division of the moneys -
whatever split a colonist decided upon could not be changed after he or
she left the Earth.

Because the cost of living in Lamphun was low, the salary offered by the
ISA for a language teacher in the Martian colony was almost double what
Nai needed to handle all her family obligations.  The young woman was
heavily burdened with responsibility.  She was the only wage earner in a
family of five that included her invalid father, her mother, and her two
younger sisters.

Her childhood had been difficult, but her family had managed to survive
just above the poverty line.  During Nai's final year at the university,
however, disaster had struck.  First her father had had a debilitating
stroke.  Then her mother, whose business sense was nonexistent, had
ignored the recommendations of family and friends and had tried to
manage the small family craft shop on her own.  Within a year the family
had lost everything, and Nai was forced not only to use her personal
savings to provide food and clothing for her family, but also to abandon
her dream of doing literary translation work for one of the big
publishing houses in Bangkok.

Nai taught school during the week and was a tourist guide at the
weekend.

On the Saturday before the ISA interview, Nai was conducting a tour in
Chiang Mai, thirty kilometres from her home.  In her group were several
Japanese, one of whom was a handsome, articulate young man in his early
thirties who spoke practically unaccented English.  His name was Kenji
Watanabe.  He paid very close attention to everything Nai said, always
asked intelligent questions, and was extremely polite.

Near the end of the tour of the Buddhist holy places in the Chiang Mai
area, the group rode the cable car up the mountain Doi Suthep to visit
the famous Buddhist temple on its summit.  Most of the tourists were
exhausted from the day's activities, but not Kenji Watanabe.  First the
man insisted on climbina, the long dragon stairway, like a Buddhist
pilgrilin, rather than riding the funicular from the cable car exit to
the top.  Then he asked question after question while Nai was explaining
the wonderful story of the founding of the temple.  Finally, when they
had descended and Nai was sitting by herself, having tea in the lovely
restaurant at the foot of the mountain, Kenji left the other tourists in
the souvenir shops and approached her table.

'Kaw tode krap,' he said in excellent That, astonishing Miss Buatong,
'may I sit down?  I have a few more questions." 'Khun pode pasa thai dai
mai a." Nai asked, st shocked.

4pohm kao jai pasa thai dai nitnoy,' he answered, indicating that he
undersrstood a little That.  'How about you?  Anata wa nihon go
hanashimasu ka?" Nai shook her head.  'Nihon go hanashimasen,' she
smiled.  'Only English, French, and That.  Although I can sometimes
understand simple Japanese if it is spoken very slowly." 'I was
fascinated,' Kenji said in English, after sitting down opposite Nai, 'by
the murals depicting the founding of the temple on Doi Suthep.  It is a
wonderful legend - as blend of history and mysticism - but as a
historian, I'm curious about two things.  First, couldn't this venerable
monk from Sri Unka have known, from some religious sources outside of
the kingdom of Lan-na, that there was a relic of the Buddha in that
nearby abandoned pagoda?  It seems unlikely to me that he would have
risked his reputation otherwise.  Secondly, it seems too perfect, too
much like life imitating art, for that white elephant carrying the relic
to have climbed R

Doi Suthep by chance and then to have expired, just when he reached the
peak.

Are there any non-Buddhist historical sources from the fifteenth century
that corroborate the story?" Nai stared at the eager Mr Watanabe for
several seconds before replying.

'Sir,' she said with a wan smile, 'in my two years of conducting tours
of the Buddhist sites of this region, I have never had anybody ask me
either one of those questions.  I certainly do not know the answers
myself, but if you are interested, I can give you the name of a
professor at Chiang Mai University who is extremely well versed in the
Buddhist history of the kingdom of Lan-na.  He is an expert on the
entire period, beginning with King Mengrai ..  ." Their conversation was
interrupted by an announcement that the cable car was now ready to
accommodate passengers for the trip back to the city.  Nai rose from her
seat and excused herself Kenji rejoined the rest of the group.  As Nai
watched him from afar, she kept recalling the intensity in his eyes.
They were incredibk she was thinking, I have never seen eyes so clear
and sofull of curiosity.

She saw those eyes again the following Monday afternoon, when she went
to the Dusit Thani Hotel in Chiang Mai for her ISA interview.  She was
astonished to see Kenji sitting behind a desk with the official ISA
emblem on his shirt.

Nai was initially flustered.  'I had not looked at your documents before
Saturday,' Kenji said as an apology.  'I promise.  If I had known you
were one of the applicants, I would have taken a different tour." The
interview eventually went smoothly.  Kenji was extremely complimentary,
both about Nai's outstanding academic record and her volunteer work with
the orphanages in Lamphun and Chiang Mai.  Nai was honest in admitting
that she had not always had 'an overpowering desire' to travel in space,
but since she was basically 'adventurous by nature' and this ISA
position would also allow her to take care of her family obligations,
she had applied for the assignment on Mars.

Towards the end of the interview there was a pause in the conversation.
'Is that all?" Nai asked pleasantly, rising from her chair.

'One more thing, perhaps,' Kenji Watanabe said, suddenly awkward.  'That
is, if you're any good at interpreting dreams." Nai smiled and sat back
down.  'Go on,' she said.

Kenji took a deep breath.  'Saturday night I dreamed I was in the
jungle, somewhere near the foot of Doi Suthep - I knew where I was
because I could see the golden chedi at the top of my dream screen.  I
was rushing through the trees, trying to find my way, when I encountered
a huge python sitting on a broad branch beside my head.

"Where are you going," the python asked me.

'"I'm looking for my girl friend," I answered.

'"She's at the top of the mountain," the python said.

'I broke free of the jungle, into the sunlight, and looked at the summit
of Doi Suthep.  My childhood sweetheart Keiko Murosawa was standing
there waving down at me.  I turned around and glanced back at the
python.

"Look again," it said.

'When I looked up the mountain the second time the woman's face had
changed.

It was no longer Keiko - it was you who was now waving to me from the
top of Doi Suthep." Kenji was silent for several seconds.  'I have never
had such an unusual or vivid dream.  I thought perhaps Nai had had goose
bumps on her arm while Kenji was telling the story.  She had known the
ending - that she, The Garden of Rama Nai Buatong would be the woman
waving from the top of the mountain - before he had finished.  Nai
leaned forward in her chair.  'Mr Watanabe,' she said slowly 'I hope
that what I am going to say does not offend you in any way ..." Nai was
quiet for several seconds.  'We have a famous That proverb,' she said at
length, her eyes avoiding his, 'that says when a snake talks to you in a
dream, you have found the man or woman that you will marry." Six weeks
later I received the notice, Nai remembered.  She was still sitting in
the courtyard beside Queen Chamatevi's temple in Lamphun.  Vie package
of ISA materials came three da afwmards.  Along with the flowers from
Kenji.

Kenji himself had appeared in Lamphun the following weekend.  'I'm sorry
I didn't call or anything, he had apologised, 'but it just didn't make
sense to pursue the relationship unless you also were going to Mars." He
had proposed on Sunday afternoon and Nai had quickly accepted.  They had
been married in Kyoto three months later.  The Watanabes had graciously
paid for Nai's two sisters and three of her other That friends to travel
to Japan for the wedding.  Her mother could not come, unfortunately, for
there was nobody else to look after Nai's father.

After having carefully reviewed the recent changes in her life, Nai was
finally ready to begin her meditation.  Thirty minutes later she was
quite serene, happy and expectant about the unknown life in front of
her.  The sun had now risen and there were other people on the temple
grounds.  She walked slowly around the perimeter, trying to savour her
last moments in her home village.  2 Inside the main viharn, after an
offering and the burning of incense at the altar, Nai carefully studied
every panel of the paintings on the walls she had seen so many times
before.  The pictures told the life story of Queen Chamatevi, her one
and only heroine ever since childhood.  In the seventh century the many
tribes in the Umphun area had had different cultures, and had often been
at war with each other.  All they had in common at that particular epoch
was a legend, a myth that said a young queen would arrive from the
south, 'borne by huge elephants', and would unite all the diverse tribes
into the Haripunchai kingdom.

Chamatevi had been only twenty-tbree when an old soothsayer identified
her to some emissaries from the north as the future queen of the
Haripunchai.  She was a young and beautiful princess of the Mons, the
Khmer people who would later construct Angkor Wat.  Chamatevi was also
extremely intelligent, a rare woman of the era, and very much favoured
by everyone at the royal court.

The Mons were therefore stunned when she announced that she was giving
up her life of leisure and plenty and heading north on a harrowing
six-month journey across seven hundred kilometres of mountains, jungles,
and swamps.  When Chamatevi and her retinue, 'borne by huge elephants',
reached the verdant valley in which Lamphun lay, her future subjects
immediately put aside their factional quarrels and placed the beautiful
young queen on the throne.  She ruled for fifty years in wisdom and
justice, lifting her kingdom from obscurity into an age of social
progress and artistic accomplishment.

When she was seventy years old, Chamatevi abdicated her throne and
divided her kingdom in half, each ruled by one of her twin sons.  The
queen then announced that she was dedicating the remainder of her life
to God.  She entered a Buddhist monastery and gave away all of her
possessions.  She lived a simple, pious life in the monastery, dying at
the age of 99.  By then the golden age of the Haripunchai was over.

On the final wall panel inside the temple an ascetic and wizened woman
is carried away to nirvana in a magnificent chariot.  A younger Queen
Chamatevi, radiantly beautiful beside her Buddha, sits above the chariot
in the splendour of the heavens.  Nai Buatong Watanabe, Martian colonist
designate, sat on her knees in the temple in Lamphun, Thailand, and
offered a silent prayer to the spirit of her heroine from the distant
past.

Dear Chamatev4 she said.  You have watched over me for these twenty-six
years.  Now I am about to Leave for an unknown place, much as you did
when you came north to find the Haripunchai.  Guide me with your wisdom
and insight as Igo to this new and wonderful world Yukiko was wearing a
black silk shirt, white pants, and a black and white beret.

She crossed the living room to talk to her brother.  'I wish you would
come, Kenji,' she said.  'It's going to be the largest demonstration for
peace that the world has ever seen." Kenji smiled at his youngest
sister.  'I would like to, Yuki,' he replied.

'But I only have two more days before I must leave and I want to spend
the time with Mother and Father." Their mother entered the room from the
opposite side.  She looked harried, as usual, and was carrying a large
suitcase.  'Everything is now packed properly,' she said.  'But I still
wish you would change your mind.  Hiroshima is going to be a madhouse.
The Asahi Shimbun says they're expecting a million visitors, almost half
of them from abroad." 'Thank you, Mother,' Yukiko said, reaching for the
suitcase.  'As you know, Satoko and I will be at the Hiroshima Prince
Hotel.  Now don't worry.  We will call every morning, before the
activities begin.  And I'll be home Monday afternoon." The young woman
opened the suitcase and reached inside a special compartment, pulling
out a diamond bracelet and sapphire ring.  She put them both on.  'Don't
you think you should leave those at home?" her mother fussed. 'Remember,
there will be all those foreigners.

Your jewellery may be too much temptation for them." Yukiko laughed in
the uninhibited way that Kenji adored.  'Mother,' she said, 'You're such
a worry wart.  All you ever think about is what bad things might happen
...  We're going to Hiroshima for the ceremonies commemorating the three
hundredth anniversary of the dropping of the atomic bomb.  Our prime
minister will be there, as well as three of the members of the Central
Council of the COG.  Many of the world's most famous musicians will be
performing in the evenings.  This will be what Father calls an enriching
experience - and all you can think about is who might steal my
jewellery." 'When I was young it was unheard of for two girls, not yet
finished at the university, to travel around Japan unchaperoned 'Mother,
we've been through this before,' Yuki interrupted.  'I'm almost
twenty-two years old.  Next year, after I finish my degree, I'm going to
live away from home, on my own, maybe even in another country.  I'm no
longer a child.

And Satoko and I are perfectly capable of looking after one another."
Yukiko checked her watch.  'I must go now,' she said.  'She is probably
already waiting for me at the subway station." She strode gracefully
over to her mother and gave her a perfunctory kiss.

Yuki shar I ed a longer embrace with her brother.

'Be well, ani-san,' she whispered in his ear.  'Take care of yourself
and your lovely wife on Mars.  We're all very proud of you." Kenji had
never really known Yukiko very well.  He was, after all, almost twelve
years older than she.  Yuki had been only four when Mr Watanabe had been
assigned to the position of president of the American division of
International Robotics.  The family had moved across the Pacific to a
suburb of San Francisco.  Kenji had not paid much attention to his
younger sister in those days.  In California he had been much more
interested in his new life, especially after he started at the
university at UCLA.

The elder Watanabes and Yukiko had returned to Japan in 2232, leaving
Kenji as a sophomore in history at the university.  He had had very
little contact with Yuki since then.  During his annual visits to his
home in Kyoto, Kenji always meant to spend some private hours with
Yukiko, but it never seemed to happen.

Either she was too deeply involved in her own life, or his parents had
scheduled too many social functions, or Kenji himself had just not left
enough time.

Kenji was vaguely sad as he stood at the door and watched Yukiko
disappear in the distance.  I'm leaving this planet; he thought, and yet
I've never taken the time to know my own sister.

Mrs Watanabe was talking in a monotone behind him, expressing her
feeling that her life had been a failure because none of her children
had any respect for her and they had all moved away.  Now her only son,
who had married a woman from Thailand just to embarrass them, was going
off to live on Mars and she wouldn't see him for over five years.  As
for her middle daughter, she and her banker husband had at least given
her two grandchildren, but they were as dull and boring as their parents
...

'How is Fumiko?" Kenji interrupted his mother.  'Will I have a chance to
see her and my nieces before I leave?" 'They're coming over from Kobe
for dinner tomorrow night,' his mother replied.  'Although I have no
idea what I'm going to feed them ...  Did you know that Tatsuo and
Fumiko are not even teaching those Vie Garden ofRama girls how to use
chopsticks?  Can you imagine?  A Japanese child who does not know how to
us chopsticks?  Is nothing sacred?  We've given up our identity to
become rich.  I was telling your father .  .

Kenji excused himself from his mother's querulous monologue and sought
refuge in his father's study.  Framed photographs lined the walls of the
room, the archives of a successful man's personal and professional life.
Two of the pictures held special memories for Kenji as well.  In one of
the photos, he and his father were both holding on to a large trophy
given by the country club to the winners in the annual father-son golf
tournament.  In the other, the beaming Mr Watanabe was presenting a
large medal to his son after Kenji had won first prize in all Kyoto in
the high school academic competition.

What Kenji had forgotten until seeing the photographs again was that
Toshio Nakamura, the son of his father's closest friend and business
associate, had been the runner-up in both contests.  In both pictures
the J young Nakamura, almost a head taller than Kenji, was wearing an
intense, angry frown on his face.

77tat was long before all his trouble, Kenji thought.  He remembered the
headline, 'Osaka Executive Arrested', which had proclaimed four years
earlier the indictment of Toshio Nakamura.  The article underneath the
headline had explained that Mr Nakamura, who was at the time already a
vice-president in the Tomozawa Hotel Group, had been charged with very
serious crimes, ranging from bribery to pandering to trafficking in
human slavery.  Within four months Nakamura had been convicted and
sentenced to several years in detention.  Kenji had been astonished.
What in the world happened to Nakamura?  he had wondered many times in
the intervening four years.

As Kenji remembered his boyhood rival, he felt very Anhur C Clarke and
Gentyy Lee sorry for Keiko Murosawa, Nakamura's wife for whom Kenji
himself bad had a special affection when he was a sixteen-year-old in
Kyoto.  Kenji and Nakamura had, in fact, vied for the love of Keiko for
almost a year.  When Keiko had finally made it clear that she preferred
Kenji over Toshio, young Nakamura had been furious.  He had even
confronted Kenji one morning, near the Ryoanji Temple, and threatened
him physically.

I might have mam'ed Keiko myself, Kenji thought, if I had stayed in
Japan.

He gazed out of the window at the moss garden.  It was raining outside.
He suddenly had an especially poignant memory of a rainy day during his
adolescence.

Kenji had walked over to her house as soon as his father had told him
the news.

A Chopin concerto had greeted his ears the moment he turned into the
lane leading to her house.  Mrs Murosawa had answered the door and had
addressed him sternly.

'Keiko is practising now,' she had said to Kenji.  'She won't be
finished for over an hour." I
'Please,MrsMurosawa,'thesixteen-year-oldboyhad said, 'it's very
important." Her mother was about to close the door when Keiko herself
caught sight of Kenji through the window.  She stopped playing and
rushed over, her radiant smile sending a rush of joy through the young
man.  'IE, Kenji,' she said.  'What's up?" 'Something very important,'
he replied mysteriously.  'Can you come with me for a walk?" Mrs
Murosawa had grumbled about the coming recital but Keiko convinced her
mother that she could afford to miss practice for one day.  The girl
grabbed an umbrella and joined Kenji in front of the house.  As soon as
they were out of view of her home, she slipped her "M arm through his,
as she always did when they walked together.

'So, my friend,' Keiko said as they followed their normal route towards
the hills behind their section of Kyoto.  'What's so very important?" 'I
don't want to tell you now,' Kenji answered.  'Not here anyway.  I want
to wait until we're in the right place." Kenji and Keiko laughed and
made small talk as they headed for Philosopher's Walk, a beautiful path
that wound for several kilometres along the bottom of the.

eastern hills.  The route had been made famous by the twentieth-century
philosopher Nishida Kitaro, who supposedly took the walk every morning.
It led past some of Kyoto's most famous scenic spots, including
Ginkaku-ji (The Silver Pavilion) and Kenji's personal favourite, the old
Buddhist temple called the Honen-In.

Behind and to the side of the Honen-In was a small cemetery with about
seventy or eighty graves and tomb stones.  Earlier that year Kenji and
Keiko, while adventuring on their own, had discovered that the cemetery
housed the remains of some of Kyoto's most prominent citizens of the
twentieth century, including the celebratcd novelist Junichiro Tanizaki
and the doctor/poet Iwao Matsuo.  After their discovery, Kenji and Keiko
made the cemetery their regular meeting place.  Once, after they had
both read Vic Makioka Sistm, Tanizaki's masterpiece of Osaka life in the
1930s, they had laughingly argued for over an hour - while sitting
beside the author's tombstone - about which of the Makioka sisters Keiko
resembled the most.

On the day that Mr Watanabe informed Kenji that the family was moving to
America, it had already started to rain by the time Kenji and Keiko
reached the HoncnIn.  There Kenji turned right on to a small lane and
headed towards an old gate with a woven straw roof.  As Keiko expected,
they did not enter the temple, but instead climbed the steps leading to
the cemetery.  But Kenji did not stop at Tanizaki's tomb.  He climbed up
higher, to another grave site.

'This is where Dr Iwao Matsuo is buried,' Kenji said, pulling out his
electronic notebook.  'We are going to read a few of his poems." Keiko
sat close beside her friend, the two of them nestled under her umbrella
in the light rain, while Kenji read three poems.  'I have one final
poem,' Kenji then said, 'a special haiku written by a friend of Dr
Matsuo's." One day in the month of June, After a cooling dish of ice
cream, We bid each other farewell.

They were both silent for several seconds after Kenji recited the haiku
from memory a second time.  Keiko became alarmed and even a little
frightened when Kenji's serious expression did not waver.  'The poem
talks of a parting,' she said softly.  'Are you telling me that ..."
'Not by choice, Keiko,' Kenji interrupted her.  He hesitated for several
seconds.  'My father has been assigned to America,' he continued at
length.  'We will move there next month." Kenji had never seen such a
forlorn look on Keiko's beautiful face.  When she looked up at him with
those terribLy sad eyes, he thought his heart would tear apart.  He held
her tightly in the afternoon rain, both of them crying, and swore he
would love only her for ever.

The younger waitress, the one in the light blue kimono with the
old-fashioned obi, pulled back the sliding screen and entered the room.
She was carrying a tray with beer and sake.

'Osake onegai shimaszt,' Kenji's father said politely, holding up his
sake cup as the lady poured.

Kenji took a drink of his cold beer.  The older waitress now returned,
soundlessly, with a small plate of hors d'oeuvres.  In the centre was a
shellfish of some kind, in a light sauce, but Kenji could not have
identified either the mollusc or the sauce.  He had not eaten more than
a handful of these kaiseki meals in the seventeen years since he had
left Kyoto.

'Campa' Kenji said, clinking his beer glass against his father's sake
cup.

'Thank you, Father.  I am honoured to be having dinner here with you."
Kicho was the most famous restaurant in the Kansai region, perhaps in
all of Japan.  It was also frighteningly expensive, for it preserved the
full traditions of personal service, private eating rooms, and seasonal
dishes with only the highest quality ingredients.  Every course was a
delight to the eye as well as to the palate.  When Mr Watanabe had
informed his son that they were going to dine alone, just the two of
them, Kenji had never imagined that it would be at Kicho.

They had been talking about the expedition to Mars.  'How many of the
other colonists are Japanese?" Mr Watanabe asked.

'Quite a few,' Kenji replied.  'Almost three hundred, if I remember
correctly.  There were many top quality applications from Japan.  Only
America has a larger contingent." 'Do you know any of the others from
Japan personally?" 'Two or three.  Yasuko Horikawa was briefly in my
class in Kyoto in junior high school.  You may remember her.  Very, very
smart.  Buck teeth.  Thick glasses.  She is, or was I should say, a
chemist with Dai-Nippon." Mr Watanabe smiled.  'I think I do remember
her,' he said.  'Did she come over to the house the night that Keiko
played the piano?" 'Yes, I think so,' Kenji said easily.  He laughed.
'But I have a hard time remembering anything other than Keiko from that
night., Mr Watanabe emptied his sake cup.  The younger attendant, who
was sitting unobtrusively on her knees in a corner of the tatami mat
room, came to the table to refill it.  'Kenji, I'm concerned about the
criminals,' Mr Watanabe said as the young lady departed.

'What are you talking about, Father?" Kenji said.

'I read a long story in a magazine that said the ISA had recruited
several hundred convicts to be part of your Lowell Colony.  The article
stressed that all of the criminals had perfect records during their
times of detention, as well as outstanding skills.  But why was it
necessary to accept convicts at all?" Kenji took a swallow from his
beer.  'In truth, Father,' he replied, 'we have had some difficulty with
the recruitment process.  First, we had an unrealistic view of how many
people would apply and we set up screening criteria that were far too
tough.  Secondly, the five-year minimum time requirement was a mistake.
To young people in particular, a decision to do anything for that long a
period is an overwhelming commitment.  Most importantly, the press
seriously undermined the entire staffing process.  At the time we were
soliciting applications, there were myriad magazine articles and
"specials" on television about the demise of the Martian colonies a
hundred years ago.  People were frightened that history might repeat
itself and they too could be left permanently abandoned on Mars." Kenji
paused briefly but Mr Watanabe said nothing.  'In addition, as you are
well aware, the project has had recurring financial crises.  It was
during a budget squeeze last year that we first began to consider
skilled, model convicts as a way of solving some of our personnel and
budgetary difficulties.  Although they would be paid only modest
salaries, there were still plenty of inducements to cause the convicts
to apply.  Selection meant granting of full pardons, and therefore
freedom, when they returned to Earth after the five-year term.  In
addition, the exprisoners would be full citizens of Lowell Colony like
everyone else, and would no longer have to tolerate the onerous
monitoring of their every activity .  .  V Kenji stopped as two small
pieces of broiled fish, delicate and beautiful and sitting on a bed of
variegated leaves, were placed upon the table.  Mr Watanabe picked

up one of the two fish with his chopsticks and bit off a small piece.
'Oishii desu,' he commented, without glancing at his son.

Kenji reached for his piece of fish.  The discussion of the convicts in
Lowell Colony had apparently ended.  Kenji looked behind his father,
where he could see the lovely garden for which the restaurant was so
famous.  A tiny stream dropped down polished steps and ran beside MOT
half a dozen exquisite dwarf trees.  The seat facing the garden was
always the position of honour for a traditional Japanese meal.  Mr
Watanabe had insisted that Kenji should have the garden view during this
last dinner.

'You were not able to attract any Chinese colonists?" his father asked
after they had finished the fish.

Kenji shook his head.  'Only a few from Singapore and Malaysia.

Both the Chinese and Brazilian governments forbade their citizens to
apply.  The Brazilian decision was expected - their South American
empire is virtually at war with the COG - but we had hoped that the
Chinese might soften their stand.  I guess a hundred years of isolation
doesn't die that easily." 'You can't really blame them,' Mr Watanabe
commented.  'Their nation suffered terribly during the Great Chaos.  All
the foreign capital disappeared overnight and their economy immediately
collapsed." 'We did manage to recruit a few black Africans, maybe a
hundred altogether, and a handful of Arabs.  But most, of the colonists
are from the countries that contribute significantly to the ISA.  That's
probably to be expected." Kenji became suddenly embarrassed.  The entire
conversation since they had entered the restaurant had been about him
and his activities.

During the next few courses Kenji asked his father questions about his
work at International Robotics.  Mr Watanabe, who was now the chief
operating officer of the corporation, always glowed with pride when he
talked about 'his' company.  It was the world's largest manufacturer of
robots for the factory and the office.  The annual sales of IR, as it
was always called, placed it among the top fifty manufacturers in the
world.

'I'll be sixty-two next year,' Mr Watanabe said, the Jf many cups of
sake making him unusually talkative, 'and I had thought that I might
retire.  But Nakamura says that would be a mistake.  He says that the
company still needs me .  .  ." Before the fruit arrived, Kenji and his
father were again discussing the coming Martian expedition.  Kenji
explained that Nai and most of the other Asian colonists who were
travelling on either the Pinta or the Nina were already at the Japanese
training site in Southern Kyushu.  He would join his wife there as soon
as he left Kyoto and, after ten more days of training, they and the rest
of the passengers on the Pinta would be transported to a LEO (Low Earth
Orbit) space station, where they would undergo a week of weightlessness
training.  The final leg of their nearEarth journey would be a ride
aboard a space tug from LEO to the geosynchronous space station at
GEO-4, where the Pinta was currently being assembled while undergoing
its final checks and being outfitted for the long trip to Mars.

The younger waitress brought them two glasses of cognac.  'That wife of
yours is really a magnificent creature,' Mr Watanabe said, taking a
small sip of the liqueur.  'I have always thought that the That women
were the most beautiful in the world." 'She's also beautiful inside)'
Kenji hastily added, suddenly missing his new bride.  'And she is quite
intelligent as well." 'Her English is excellent,' Mr Watanabe remarked.
'But your mother says her Japanese is awful." Kenji bristled.  'Nai
tried to speak Japanese - which, incidentally, she has never studied -
because Mother refused to speak English.  It was all deliberately done
to make Nai feel ill at ease..." Kenji caught himself.  His remarks
defending Nai were not appropriate for the occasion.

'Gomen nasa4' he said to his father.

Mr Watanabe took a long drink from his cognac.  'Well, Kenji,' he said,
'this is the last time we will be alone together for at least five
years.  I have very much enjoyed our dinner and our conversation." He
paused.  'There is, however, one more item that I want to discuss with
you." Kenji shifted his position (he was no longer used to sitting
cross-legged on the floor for four hours at a time) and sat up straight,
trying to clear his mind.  He could tell from his father's tone that the
'one more item' was a serious one.

'My interest in the criminals in your Lowell Colony is not just idle
curiosity,' Mr Watanabe began.  He paused to gather his thoughts before
continuing.  'Nakamurasan came into my office late last week, at the end
of the business day, and told me that his son's second application for
Lowell Colony had also been denied.

He asked me if I would talk to you about looking into the matter." The
comment hit Kenji like a thunderbolt.  He had never even been told that
his boyhood rival had applied for Lowell Colony.  Now here was his
father ...

'I have not been involved in the process of selecting the convict
colonists,' Kenji replied slowly.  'That's an entirely different
division in the project." Mr Watanabe did not say anything for several
seconds.  'Our connections tell us,' he eventually continued, after
finishing his cognac, 'that the only real opposition to the application
is coming from a.  psychiatrist, a Dr Ridgemore from New Zealand, who
has the opinion, despite Toshio's excellent record during his detention
period, that Nakamura's son still does not recognise that he did
anything wrong ...  I believe that you were personally responsible for
recruiting Dr Ridgemore for the Lowell Colony team." Kenji was
staggered.  This was no idle request his father was making.  He had done
extensive background research.  But why?  Kenji wondered.  "y is he so
interested?

'Nakamura-san is a brilliant engineer,' Mr Watanabe said.  'He
has'personally been responsible for many of the products that have
established us as leaders in our field.  But his laboratory has not been
very innovative lately.  In fact, its productivity began to drop around
the time of his son's arrest and conviction." Mr Watanabe leaned towards
Kenji, resting his elbows on the table.  'Nakamura-san has lost his
selfconfidence.  He and his wife must visit Toshio in that detention
apartment once a month.  It is a constant reminder to Nakamura of how
his family has been disgraced.  If the son could go to Mars, then
perhaps ..." Kenji understood too well what his father was asking.
Emotions that had long been suppressed threatened to erupt.  Kenji was
angry and confused.  He was about to tell his father that his request
was 'improper' when the elder Watanabe spoke again.

'It has been equally hard on Keiko and the little girl.  Aiko is almost
seven now.  Every -other weekend they dutifully ride the train to Ashiya
Try as he might, Kenji could not prevent the tears from forming in the
corners of his eyes.  The picture of Keiko, broken and dejected, leading
her daughter inside the restricted area for the biweekly visit with her
father, was more than he could bear.

'I talked to Keiko myself last week,' his father added, at
Nakamura-san's request.  She was very despondent.  But she seemed to
perk up when I told her that I was going to ask you to intercede on her
husband's behalf." Kenji took a deep breath and gazed at his father's
emotionless face.  He knew what he was going to do.  He knew also that
it was indeed 'improper' - not wrong, just improper.  But it made no
sense to agonise over a decision that was a foregone conclusion.

Kenji finished his cognac.  'Tell Nakamura-san that I will call Dr
Ridgemore tomorrow,' he said.

What if his intuition was wrong?  Then I will have wasted an hour,
ninety minutes at the most, Kenji thought as he excused himself from the
family gathering with his sister Fumiko and her daughters and ran out
into the street.  He turned immediately towards the hill.  It was about
an hour before sunset.  She'll be there, he said to himself.  This will
be my only chance to say goodbye.

Kenji went first to the small Anraku-Ji temple.  He walked inside the
hondo, expecting to find Keiko in her favourite spot, in front of the
side wooden altar commemorating two twelfth-century Buddhist nuns,
formerly members of the court harem, who had committed suicide when
Emperor Go-Toba had ordered them to repudiate the teachings of St Honen.
Keiko was not there.  Nor was she outside where the two women were
buried, just at the edge of the bamboo forest.  Kenji began to think
that he had been mistaken.  Keiko has not come, he thought.

Shefeels that she has lost too much face.

His only other hope was that Keiko was waiting for him in the cemetery
beside the Honen-In, where seventeen years earlier he had informed her
that he was moving away from Japan.  Kenji's heart skipped a beat as he
walked up the lane leading to the temple.  Off in the distance to his
right he could see a woman's figure.  She was wearing a simple black
dress and was standing beside the tomb of Junichiro Tanizaki.

Although her body was facing away from him and he could not see clearly
in the fading twilight, Kenji was certain that the woman was Keiko.  He
raced up the steps and into the cemetery, finally stopping about five
metres away from the woman in black.

'Keiko,' he said, catching his breath.  'I'm so glad .  .

'Watanabe-san,' the figure said formally, turning around with her head
low and her eyes on the ground.  She bowed very deeply, as if she were a
servant.

'Domo arrigato gozaimasu,' she repeated twice.  Finally she rose but she
still did not look up at Kenji.

'Keiko,' he said softly.  'It's only Kenji.  I'm alone.

Please look at me." 'I cannot,' she answered in a voice that was
scarcely audible.  'But I can thank you for what you have done for Aiko
and me." Again she bowed.  'Domo, arrigato gozaimasu,' she said.

Kenji bent down impulsively and put his hand under Keiko's chin.  He
gently raised her head until he could see her face.  Keiko was still
beautiful.  But Kenji was shocked to see such sadness permanently carved
into those delicate features.

'Keiko,' he murmured, her tears cutting into his heart like tiny knives.

'I must go,' she said.  'I wish you happiness." She pulled away from his
touch and bowed again.  Then she rose, without looking at him, and
walked slowly down the path in the twilight shadows.

Kenji's eyes followed her until she disappeared in the distance.  It was
only then that he realised he had been leaning on Tanizaki's tombstone.
He stared for several seconds at the two Kanji characters, Ku and Jaku,
on the grey markers.  One of them said 'Emptiness'; the other
'Solitude'.

When the message from Rama was relayed to Earth from the tracking
satellite system in 2241, it caused immediate consternation.  Nicole's
video was quickly classified Top Secret, of course, while the
International Intelligence Agency (IIA), the security arm of the COG,
struggled to comprehend what it was all about.  A dozen of the finest
agents were soon assigned to the secure facility in Novosibirsk to
analyse the signal that had been received from deep space and to develop
a master plan for the COG response.

Once it was ascertained that neither the Chinese nor the Brazilians
could have decoded the signal (their technological capabilities were not
yet on a par with the COG), the requested acknowledgment was transmitted
in the direction of Rama, thereby precluding any future replays of
Nicole's video.  Then the superagents focused on the detailed contents
of the message itself.

They began by doing some historical research.  It was widely accepted,
despite some suggested (but discredited) evidence to the contrary, that
the Rama H spacecraft had been destroyed by the barrage of nuclear
missiles in April of 2200.  Nicole des Jardins, the putative human being
in the video, had been presumed dead before the Newton science ship had
even left Rama.  Certainly she, or what was left of her, must have been
annihilated in the nuclear devastation.  So the speaker could not
actually be she.

But if the person or thing speaking in the television segment was a
robot imitation or simulacrum of Madame des Jardins, it was vastly
superior to any artificial intelligence designs on Earth.  The
preliminary conclusion therefore was that the Earth was again dealing
witith an advanced civilisation of unbelievable capability, one that was
consistent with the technological levels exhibited by the two Rama
spacecraft.

There was no question about the implied threat in the message either,
about that the superagents were unanimous.  If there was indeed another
Rama vehicle on its way to the solar system (although none had yet been
detected by the pair of Excalibur stations), Earth could certainly not
ignore the message.  Of course, there was some possibility that the
entire thing was an elaborate hoax, concocted by the brilliant Chinese
physicists (they were definitely the prime suspects), but until that was
a confirmed fact, the COG needed to have a definite plan.

Fortunately a multinational project had already been approved to
establish a modest colony on Mars in the mid-2240s.  During the two
previous decades, half a dozen exploration missions to Mars had
rekindled interest in the great idea of terra-forming the red planet and
making it habitable for the human species.

Already there were unmanned scientific laboratories on Mars, conducting
experiments that were either too dangerous or too controversial to be
performed on Earth.  The easiest way to meet the intent of the Nicole
des Jardins video and not alarm the populace of the planet Earth would
be to announce and fund a considerably larger colony on Mars.  If the
entire affair turned out subsequently to be a hoax, then the size of the
colony could be scaled back to the original proposed size.

One of the agents, an Indian named Ravi Srinivasan, carefully researched
the massive ISA data archives from the year 2200 and became convinced
that Rama H had not been destroyed by the nuclear phalanx.  'It is
possible,' Mr Srinivasan said, 'that this video is legitimate and that
the speaker is really the esteemed Madame des Jardins." 'But she would
be seventy-seven years old today,' another of the agents countered.

'There is nothing in the video that indicates when it was made,' Mr
Srinivasan argued.  'And if you compare the photographs of Madame des
Jardins taken during the mission with the pictures of the woman in the
transmission we received, they are decidedly different.  Her face is
older, maybe by as much as ten years.  If the speaker in the video is a
hoax or a simulacrum, then it is an amazingly clever one." Mr Srinivasan
agreed, however, that the plan eventually developed by the IIA was the
proper one, even if the video was indeed presenting the truth.  So it
was not that important to convince everyone that his point of view was
correct.  What was absolutely necessary, the superagents all agreed, was
that a bare minimum of people should know about the existence of the
video.

The forty years since the beginning of the twentythird century had seen
some marked changes on the planet Earth.  Following the Great Chaos, the
council of governments (COG) had emerged as a monolithic Organisation
controlling, or at least manipulating, the politics of the planet.  Only
China, which had retreated into isolation after its devastating
experience during the Chaos, was outside the sphere of influence of the
COG.  But after 2200, there were signs that the unchallenged power of
the COG was beginning to erode.

First came the Korean elections of 2209, when the people of that nation,
disgusted with successive regimes of corrupt politicians who had grown
rich at the expense of the populace, actually voted to federate with the
Chinese.  Of the major countries of the world, only China had a
significantly different kind of government from the regulated capitalism
practised by the wealthy nations and confederations of North America,
Asia, and Europe.  The Chinese government was a kind of socialist
democracy based on the humanist principles espoused by the canonised
twenty-second century Italian Catholic, St Michael of Siena.

The GOC, and indeed the entire world, was dumbfounded by the stunning
election results in Korea.  By the time the IIA was able to foment a
civil war (22112212), the new Korean government and their Chinese allies
had already captured the hearts and minds of the people. The rebellion
was easily quashed and Korea became a permanent part of the Chinese
federation.

The Chinese openly acknowledged that they had no intention of exporting
their form of government by military action, but the rest of the world
did not accept their word.  The COG military and intelligence budgets
doubled between 2210 and 2220 as political tension returned to the world
scene.

Meanwhile, in 2218, the three hundred and fifty million Brazilians
elected a charismatic general, Joao Pereira, to head their nation.
General Pereira believed that South America was mistreated and
undervalued by the COG (he was not wrong) and he demanded changes in the
COG charter that would correct the problems.  When the COG refused,
Pereira galvanised South American regionalism by unilaterally abrogating
the COG charter.  Brazil seceded, in effect, from the Council of
Governments and over the next decade most of the rest of the South
American nations, encouraged by the massive military strength in Brazil
that successfully opposed the COG peacekeeping forces, followed suit.
What emerged was a third player in the world geopolitical scene, a kind
of Brazilian empire, energetically led by General Pereira.

At first the embargoes by the COG threatened to return Brazil and the
rest of South America to the destitution that had ravaged the region in
the wake of the Great Chaos.  But Pereira fought back.  Since the
advanced nations of North America, Asia, and Europe would not buy his
legal exports, he decided that he and his allies would export illegal
products.  Drugs became the primary trade of the Brazilian empire.  It
was an immensely successful policy.  By 2240 there was a massive flow of
all kinds and types of drugs from South America to the rest of the
world.

It was in this political environment that Nicole's video was received on
Earth.  Although some cracks had appeared in the COG control of the
planet, the organisation still represented almost seventy per cent of
the population and ninety per cent of the Earth's material wealth.  It
was natural that the COG and its imp1cmenting space agency, the ISA,
should take the responsibility for managing the response.  Carefully
following the security criteria defined by the IIA, a fivefold increase
in the number of people going to Mars as part of the Lowell Colony was
announced in February 2242.  Earth departure was scheduled for the late
summer or early autumn of 2245.

The other four people in the room, all blonde and blueeyed and members
of the same family from Malm6, Sweden, filed out of the door, leaving
Kenji and Nai Watanabe alone.  She continued to gaze down at the Earth
thirty-five thousand kilometres below her.  Kenji joined her in front of
the huge observation window.

'I never fully realised,' Nai said to her husband, 'just what it meant
to be in geosynchronous orbit.  The Earth doesn't move from here. It
looks suspended in space." Kenji laughed.  'Actually we're both moving -
and very fast.  But since our orbital period and the Earth's rotation
period are the same, the Earth always presents us with the same
picture." 'It was different at that other space station,' Nai said,
shuffling away from the window in her slippers.  'There the Earth was
majestic, dynamic, much more impressive." 'But we were only three
hundred kilornetres from the surface.  Of course it was .  .  ." 'Skit!"
they heard a voice shout from the other side of the observation lounge.
A husky young man in a plaid shirt and blue jeans was flailing in the
air, slightly more than a metre off the floor, and his frantic motion
was causing him to tumble sideways.  Kenji crossed over and helped the
newcomer to stand upright on his feet.

'Thanks,' the man said.  'I forgot to keep one foot on the floor at all
times.  This weightlessness is fucking weird for a farmer." He had a
heavy Southern accent.  'Oops, I'm sorry about the language, Ma'am. I've
lived among cows and pigs too long." He extended his hand to Kenji. 'I'm
Max Puckett from DeQueen, Arkansas." Kenji introduced himself and his
wife.  Max Puckett had an open face and a quick grin.  'You know,' Max
said, 'when I signed up to go to Mars, I never realised we would be
weightless for the whole goddanin trip ...  What's going to happen to
the poor hens?  They'll probably never lay another egg." Max walked over
to the window.  'It's almost noon at my home down there on that funny
planet.  My brother Clyde probably just opened a bottle of beer and his
wife Winona is making him a sandwich." He paused for several seconds and
then turned to the Watanabes.  'What are you two going to do on Mars?"
'I'm the colony historian,' Kenji replied.  'Or at least, one of them.
My wife Nai is an English and French teacher."

'Shit,l said Max Puckett.  'I was hoping you were one of the farming
couples from Vietnam or Laos.  I want to learn something about rice."

'Did I hear you say something about hens?" Nai asked after a short
silence.  'Are we going to have chickens on the Pinta?" 'Ma'am,' Max
Puckett replied, 'there are fifteen thousand of Puckett's finest packed
in cages in a cargo tug parked at the other end of this station.  The
ISA paid enough for those chickens that Clyde and Winona could rest for
a whole damn year if they wanted ...  If those hens are not going with
us, I'd like to know what the hell they're going to do with them."

'Passengers only occupy twenty per cent of the s pace on the Pinta and
the Santa Maria,' Kenji reminded Nai.  "Supplies and other cargo
elements take up the rest of the space.  We will only have a total of
three hundred passengers on the Pinta, most of them ISA officials and
other key personnel necessary to initialise the colony .  .  ."
'E-nish-ubeyes the colony?" Max interrupted.  'Shit, man, you talk like
one of them robots." He grinned at Nai.

'After two years with one of those talking cultivators, I threw the son
of a bitch away and replaced him with one of those earlier silent
versions." Kenji laughed easily.  'I guess I do use a lot of ISA jargon.
I was one of the first civilians selected for New Lowell, and I managed
the recruiting in the Orient." Max had put a cigarette in his mouth.  He
glanced around in the observation lounge.  'I don't see a smoking sign
anywhere,' he said.  'So I guess if I light up I'll set off all the
alarms." He put the cigarette behind his ear.  'Winona hates it when me
and Clyde smoke.  She says only farmers and whores smoke any more." Max
chuckled.  Kenji and Nai laughed as well.  He was a funny man. 'Speaking
o whores,' Max said with a twinkle, 'where's all those convict women I
saw on television?  Whoo-eee, some of them were mighty fine. Damn sight
better looking than my chickens and pigs." 'All the colonists who had
been held in detention on Earth are travelling on the Santa Maria,'
Kenji said.  'We'll arrive about two months before them." 'You know an
awful lot about this mission,' Max said.  'And you don't speak garbled
English like the Japs I've met in Little Rock or Texarkana.  Are you
somebody special?" 'No,' Kenji replied, unable to suppress another
laugh.  'As I told you, I'm just the lead colony historian." Kenji was
about to tell Max that he had lived in the United States for six years -
which explained why his English was so good - when the door to the
lounge opened and a dignified elderly gentleman in a grey suit and dark
tie entered.  'Pardon me,' he said to Max, who had again placed the
unlighted cigarette in his mouth, 'have I mistakenly ended up in the
smoking room?" 'No, Pops,' Max answered.  'This room is the observation
lounge. It's much too nice to be the smoking area.  Smoking is probably
confined to a small room, without windows, near the bathrooms.

My ISA inter-viewer told me .  .

The elderly gentleman was staring at Max as if the man were a biologist
and Max a rare but unpleasant species.  'My name, young man,' he
interrupted, 'is not 'Pops'.  It's Pyotr.  Pyotr Mishkin to be exact."
'Glad to know you, Peter,' Max said, sticking out his hand.  'I'm Max.
This couple here's the Wabanyabes.

They're from Japan." 'Kenji Watanabe,' Kenji said in correction.  'This
is my wife Nai, who is a citizen of Thailand." 'Mr Max,' Pyotr Mishkin
said formally, 'my first name is Pyotr, not Peter.  It is bad enough
that I must speak English for five years.  Surely I can ask that my name
at least retain its original Russian sound." 'OK, Pee-yot-ur,' Max said
grinning again.  'What do you do anyway?  No, let me guess ...  You're
the colony undertaker." For a fraction of a second Kenji was afraid that
Mr Mishkin was going to explode in anger.  Instead, however, the
smallest of smiles began to form upon his face.  'It is apparent, Mr
Max,' he said slowly, 'that you have a certain comic gift. I can see
where that might be a virtue on a long and boring space trip." He paused
for a moment.  'For your information, I am not the undertaker.

I was trained in the law.  Until two years ago, when I retired of my own
volition to seek a "TIM adventure", I was a member of the Soviet Supreme
Court." 'Holy shit,' Max Puckett exclaimed.  'Now I remember.  I read
about you in Time magazine ...  Hey, judge Mishkin, I'm sorry.  I didn't
recognise you .  .  ." 'Not at aft,' judge Mishkin interrupted, an
amused smile spreading across his face.  'It was fascinating to be
unknown for a moment and to be taken for an undertaker.  Probably the
practised judge's mien is very close to the proper dour expression of
the funeral attendant.  By the way, Mr .  .

'Puckett, sir." 'By the way, Mr Puckett,' judge Mishkin continued,
'would you like to join me in the bar for a drink?  A vodka would taste
especially good right about now." 'So would some tequila,' Max replied,
walking towards the door with judge Mishkin.  'Incidentally, I don't
suppose you know what happens when you feed tequila to pigs, do you? ...
I thought not ...  Well, me and my brother Clyde .  .  ." 1.

They disappeared out of the door, leaving Kenji and Nai Watanabe alone
again.  The couple glanced at each other and laughed.  'You don't
think,' Kenji said, 'that those two are going to be friends, do you?  '
' What a pair 'No chance,' Nai replied with a smile.  of characters."
'Mishkin is considered to be one of the finest jurists of our century.
His opinions are required reading in all the Soviet law schools. Puckett
was president of the Southwest Arkansas Farmers Co-operative. He has
incredible knowledge of farming techniques, and farm animals as well."
'Do you know the background of all the people in New Lowell?" 'No,'
Kenji replied.  'But I have studied the files of everyone on the Pinta."
Nai put her arms around her husband.  'Tell me about Nai Buatong
Watanabe,' she said.

'That schoolteacher, fluent in English and French, IE equals 2.48, SC of
91 - - ." Nai interrupted Kenji with a kiss.  'You forgot the most
important characteristic,' she said.

'What's that?" She kissed him again.  'Adoring new bride of Kenji
Watanabe, colony historian." Most of the world was watching on
television when the Pinta was formally dedicated several hours before it
was scheduled to depart for Mars with its passengers and cargo.  The
second vice-president of the COG, a Swiss real estate executive named
Heinrich Jenzer, was present at GEO-4, for the dedication ceremonies. He
gave a short address to commemorate both the completion of the three
large spacecraft and the opening of a Cnew era of Martian colonisation'.

When he was finished, Mr Jenzer introduced Mr Ian Macmillan, the
Scottish commander of the Pinta.  Macmillan, a boring speaker who
appeared to be the quintessential ISA bureaucrat, read a six-minute
speech reminding the world of the fundamental objectives of the project.

'These three vehicles,' he said early in his speech, 'will carry almost
two thousand people on a hundred-millionkilornetre voyage to another
planet, Mars, where this time a permanent human presence-will be
established.  Most of our future Martian colonists will be transported
in the second ship, the Nina, which will depart from here at GEO-4 three
weeks from today.  Our ship, the Pinta, and the final spacecraft, the
Santa Maria, will each carry about three hundred passengers as well as
the thousands of kilograms of supplies and equipment that will be
necessary to sustain the colony." Carefully avoiding any mention of the
demise of the first set of Martian outposts in the previous century,
Commander Macmillan next tried to be poetic, comparing the forthcoming
expedition to that of Christopher Columbus seven hundred and fifty years
earlier.  The language of the speech that had been written for him was
excellent, but Macmillan's drab, monotonous delivery transformed words
that would have been inspirational in the hands of an outstanding
speaker into a dull and prosaic historical lecture.

He ended his speech by characterising the colonists as a group, citing
statistics about their ages, occupations, and countries of origin.
'These men and women, then,' Macmillan summarised, 'are a representative
cross section of the human species in almost every way.  I say ab=4
because there are at least two attributes common to this group that
would not be found in a random collection of human beings of this size.
First, the future residents of Lowell Colony are extremely intelligent
their average IE is slightly above 1.86.  Second, and this goes without
saying, they must be courageous or they would not have applied for and
then accepted a long and difficult assignment in a new and unknown
environment." When he was finished, Commander Macmillan was handed a
tiny bottle of champagne, which he broke across the 1/100 scale model of
the Pinta that was displayed behind him and the other dignitaries on the
dais.  Moments later, as the colonists filed out of the auditorium and
prepared to board the Pinta, Macmillan and Jenzer began the scheduled
press conference.

'He's a jerk." 'He's a marginally competent bureaucrat." 'He's a fucking
jerk."

P77 .0 Max Puckett and judge Mishkin were discussing Commander Macmillan
in between bites of lunch.

'He has no goddamn sense of humour." 'He is simply unable to appreciate
things that are out of the ordinary." Max was chafing.  He had been
censured by the Pinta command staff during an informal hearing earlier
that morning.  His friend judge Mishkin had represented Max inin the
hearing and had prevented the proceedings from getting out of control.

'Those assholes have no right to pass judgment on my behaviour." 'You
are most certainly correct, my friend,' judge Mishkin replied, 'in the
general sense.  But we have a set of unique conditions on this
-spacecraft.  They are the authority here, at least until we arrive at
Lowell Colony and establish our own government ...  At any rate, there's
no real harm done.  You are not inconvenienced in any way by their
declaration that your actions were 96untenable".  It could have been
much worse." Two nights before there had been a party celebrating the
crossing of the halfway point in the Pinta's voyage from Earth to Mars.
Max had flirted energetically for over an hour with lovely Angela
Rendino, one of Macmillan's staff assistants.  The bland Scotsman had
then taken Max aside and strongly suggested that Max should leave Angela
alone.

'Let her tell me that,' Max had said sensibly.

'She's an inexperienced young woman,' Macmillan had replied.  'And she's
too gracious to tell you how repulsive your animal humour is." Max had
been having a great time until then.  'What's your angle here,
Commander?" he had asked, after first quaffing another Margarita.  'Is
she your private punch or something?"

The Garden ofRama Ian Macmillan had flushed crimson.  'Mr Puckett,' the
spacecraft officer had replied a few seconds later if your behaviour
does not improve, I will be forced to confine you to your living
quarters." The confrontation with Macmillan had ruined Max's evening. He
had been incensed by the commander's use of his official authority in
what was clearly a personal situation.  Max had returned to his room,
which he shared with another American, a pensive forester from the state
of Oregon named Dave Denison, and quickly finished an entire bottle of
tequila.  In his drunken state Max had been both homesick and depressed.
He had then decided to go to the communications centre to phone his
brother Clyde back in Arkansas.

By this time it was very late.  To reach the communications complex, it
was necessary for Max to cross the entire ship, passing first the common
lounge where the party had just ended, and then the officers' quarters.
In the central wing Max caught a fleeting glimpse of Ian Macmillan and
Angela Rendino, arm in arm, going into the commander's private
apartment.

'The son of a bitch,' Max said to himself.

The drunken Max paced outside Macmillan's door in the hall, growing
angrier and angrier.  After five minutes he finally had an idea that he
liked.

Remembering his award-winning pig call from his days at the University
of Arkansas, Max split the evening quiet with a horrendous noise.

'Sooo-eee, pig, pig,' Max hollered.

He repeated the call another time and then disappeared in a flash, just
before every door in the officers' wing (including Macmillan's) opened
to see what the disturbance had been.  Commander Macmillan was not at
all happy that his entire crew saw him, along with Miss Rendino, in a
state of undress.

The cruise to Mars was a second honeymoon for Kenji and Nai.  Neither of
them had much work to do.  The journey was relatively uneventful, at
least from the point of view of a historian, and Nai's duties were
minimal since most of her high school students were on board the other
two spaceships.

The Watanabes spent many evenings socialising with judge Mishkin and Max
Puckett.  They played cards often (Max was as good at poker as he was
terrible at bridge), talked about their hopes for Lowell Colony, and
discussed the lives they had left behind on Earth.

When the Pinta was three weeks away from Mars, the staff announced a
coming two-day communications outage and urged everyone to call home
before the radio systems were temporarily out of commission.  Since it
was the year-end holiday period, it was the perfect time to phone.

Max hated the time delay and the long one-way conversations.  After
listening to a disjointed discussion of Christmas plans in Arkansas, Max
informed Clyde and Winona that he wasn't going to call any more because
he disliked 'waiting fifteen minutes to firid out if anyone had laughed
at his jokes'.

It had snowed early in Kyoto.  Kenji's mother and father had prepared a
video showing Ginkaku-ji and the Honen-In under a soft blanket of snow;
if Nai had not been with him Kenji would have been unbearably homesick.
In a brief call to Thailand, Nai congratulated one of her sisters on
having won a scholarship to the university.

Pyotr Mishkin didn't telephone anyone.  The old Russian's wife was dead
and he had no children.  'I have wonderful memories,' he told Max, 'but
there is nothing personal left for me on Earth."

Aw On the first day of the planned communications blackout, an
announcement was posted on every operations channel that an important
programme, required viewing for everybody, would be shown at two o'clock
in the afternoon.  Kenji and Nai invited Max and Judge Mishkin to their
small apartment to watch.

'I wonder what stupid lecture this is going to be,' said Max, opposed,
as always, to anything that would waste his time.

When the video began the President of the COG and the Director of the
ISA were shown sitting together at a large desk.  The COG president
underscored the importance of the message that they were about to
receive from Werner Koch, the director of the ISA.

'Passengers on the Pinta,' Dr Koch began, 'four years ago our satellite
tracking systems decoded a coherent signal that had apparently
originated in deep space in the general direction of the star Epsilon
Eridani.  When properly processed, the signal contained an amazing
video, one that you will see in its entirety in about five minutes.

'As you will hear, the video announces the return to our system of a
Rama spacecraft.  In 2130 and 2200, giant cylinders, fifty kilometres
long and twenty kilometres wide, created by an unknown alien
intelligence for a purpose we still have not fathomed, visited our
family of planets in orbit around the sun.  The second intruder, usually
referred to as Rama Two, made a velocity correction while inside the
orbit of Venus that put it on an impact course with Earth.  A fleet of
nuclear missiles was dispatched to encounter the alien cylinder and
destroy it before Rama came close enough to our planet to do any harm.

'The following video claims that another of these Rama spacecraft has
now come to our neighbourhood PT PP with the sole purpose of 'acquiring'
a representative sample of two thousand human beings for "observation".
Bizarre as this claim may be, it is important to note that our radar has
indeed confirmed that a Rama class vehicle did enter orbit around Mars
less than a month ago.

'Unfortunately, we must take this fantastic message from deep space
seriously.  Therefore, you colonists on the Pinta have been assigned to
rendezvous with the new object in Mars orbit.  We realise that this news
will come as a severe shock to most of you, but we did not have many
viable options.

If, as we suspect, some misguided genius has planned and orchestrated an
elaborate hoax, then, after the brief detour, you will continue with
your colonisation of Mars as originally conceived.  If, however, the
video you are about to see is actually telling the truth, then you and
your associates on board the Nina and the Santa Maria will become the
contingent of human beings that the Raman intelligence will observe.

'You can well imagine that your mission now has uppermost priority among
all COG activities.  You can also understand the need for secrecy.  From
this moment forward, until this Rama issue is resolved one way or the
other, all communication between your vehicle and the Earth will be
strictly controlled.

The IIA will monitor all the voice loops.  Your friends and families
will be told that you are safe, and eventually that you have landed on
Mars, but that the Pinta communication systems have completely failed.

'You are being shown the following video now to give you three weeks to
prepare for the encounter.  A baseline plan and accompanying procedures
for the rendezvous, worked out in great detail by the IIA in conjunction
with ISA operations personnel, have already been transmitted to
Commander Macmillan on the high rate data stream.

Badly,, Each one of you will have a specific set of assignments.  Each
of you also has a personalised document packet that will provide you
with the necessary background information for you to perform your
duties.

'Of course we wish you well.  Most likely this Rama affair will turn out
to be nothing, in which case it will simply have delayed your
initialisation of Lowell colony.  If, however, this video is on the
level, then you must move quickly to develop careful plans for
accommodating the arrival of the Nina and the Santa Maria none of the
colonists on those other two spacecraft will have been told anything at
all about Rama or the change in assignment." There was a momentary
silence in the Watanabe apartment as the video abruptly concluded and
was replaced on the screen by a text message, NEXT VIDEO IN TWO MINUTES.
'Well I'll be goddamned,' was Max Puckett's only comment.

In the video Nicole was sitting on an ordinary brown chair with a
featureless wall behind her.  She was dressed in one of the ISA flight
suits that had been her regular apparel during the Newton mission.
Nicole read the message from an electronic notebook that she held in her
hands.

'My fellow Earthlings,' she began, 'I am Newton cosmonaut Nicole des
Jardins, speaking to you from billions of kilornetres away.  I am on
board a Rama spacecraft similar to the two great cylindrical spaceships
that visited our solar system during the last two centuries. This third
Rama vehicle is also heading towards our tiny region of the galaxy.
Approximately four years after your first receipt of this video, Rama
Three will go into orbit around the planet Mars.

'Since I left the Earth I have learned that the Rama class vehicles were
constructed by an advanced extraterrestrial intelligence as elements in
a vast information gathering system whose ultimate objective is
acquiring and cataloguing data about life in the universe. It is as part
of this goal that this third Rama craft is returning to the vicinity of
our home planet.

'Inside Rama Three an Earthlike habitat has been designed to accommodate
two thousand human beings, plus significant numbers of other animals and
plants ' the Garden ofRama from our home planet.  The exact biomass and
other general specifications for these animals and plants are contained
in the first appendix to this video; however, it should be stressed that
the plants, especially those that are extremely efficient in the
conversion of carbon dioxide to oxygen, are a key feature in the basic
design of the Earth habitat on board Rama.  Without the plants, life for
the humans inside Rama will be seriously compromised.

'What is expected, as a result of this transmission, is that the Earth
will send a representative group of its inhabitants - together with the
ancillary supplies detailed in the second appendix - to make a
rendezvous with Rama Three in Mars orbit.  The voyagers will be taken
inside Rama and carefully observed while they are living in a habitat
that reproduces the environmental conditions on the Earth.

'Because of the hostile response to Rama Two which, incidentally,
resulted in only minor damage to the alien spacecraft, the no minal
mission plan for this Rama vehicle involves no approach to Earth closer
than Mars orbit.  This nominal plan assumes, of course, that the
authorities on Earth will indeed comply with the requests contained in
this transmission.  If no human beings are sent to rendezvous with Rama
Three in Mars orbit, I have no knowledge of how the spacecraft has been
programmed to respond.  I can say, however, based on my own
observations, that it is easily within the capabilities of the
extraterrestrial intelligence to acquire its desired observational data
by other, less benign methods.

'With respect to the human beings to be transported to Mars, it goes
without saying that the selected individuals should represent a broad
cross-section of humanity, including both sexes, all ages, and as many
cultures as can be reasonably included.  The large library of
information about Earth that is requested in the third video appendix
will provide significant additional data that can be correlated with the
observations taken inside Rama.

'I myself have no knowledge of how long the human beings will be inside
Rama, or exactly where the spacecraft will take them, or even why the
superior intelligence that created the Rama vehicles is gathering
information about life in the universe.  I can say, however, that the
wonders I have witnessed since leaving our solar system have given me an
entirely new sense of our place in the universe." The total time of the
video, more than half of which was allocated to the detailed appendices,
was just over ten minutes.  Throughout the transmission the basic scene
did not change.  Nicole's delivery was measured and deliberate,
punctuated by short pauses when her eyes moved from the camera to the
notebook in her hands.  Although there was some modulation in her tone,
Nicole's earnest facial expression was virtually constant.  Only when
she implied that the Ramans might have 'other, less benign methods' of
obtaining their data did any strong emotion flash in her dark eyes.

Kenji Watanabe watched the first half of the video with intense
concentration.  During the appendices, however, his mind began to stray
and to start asking questions.  Who are these extraterrestrials?  he
wondered.  Whae did they come from?  ny do they want to observe us?  And
why have they picked Nicole des Jardins as their spokesperson?

Kenji laughed to himself, realising that there was an endless stream of
such infinite questions.  He decided to focus on more tractable issues.

'A If NicoLe were still alive today, Kenji thought next, then she would
be eighty-one years old, The woman on the television screen had some
grey hair, and many more wrinkles than cosmonaut des Jardins had had
when the Newton was launched from the Earth, but her age in the video
was certainly nowhere near eighty.  Maybefifty-two orfifty-three at the
very most; Kenji said to himself.

So did she make this video thirty years ago?  he wondered.  Or has her
ageing process been somehow retarded?  It did not occur to him to
question whether or not the speaker was really Nicole.  Kenji had spent
enough time in the Newton archives to recognise immediately Nicole's
facial expressions and mannerisms.  She should have made the video about
four years ago, Kenji was thinking, but if so ...  He was still
struggling with the entire situation when Nicole's transmission
terminated and the director of the ISA appeared again on the monitor.

Dr Koch explained quickly that the video would be replayed twice in its
entirety on all channels and then would be available to each of the
passengers and crew at his leisure.

'What the hell is really going on here?" Max Puckett demanded to know as
soon as Nicole's face appeared on the monitor again.  He directed his
question at Kenji..

'If I have understood correctly,' Kenji answered after watching for
several seconds, 'we have been purposely misled by the ISA about one of
the primary purposes of our endeavour.  Apparently, this message was
first received about four years ago, back when the funding for the
Lowell Colony was still somewhat uncertain, and it was decided then -
after all efforts to prove the video to be a hoax were unsuccessful -
that the investigation of Rama III would be a secret objective of our
project."

aide 'Shit,' said Max Puckett, shaking his head vigorously.

'Why the hell didn't they just tell us the truth?" 'My mind balks at the
idea of supercreatures sending such awesome technology just to gather
data about us judge Mishkin commented after a short silence.  'on
another level, however, at least I now understand some of the
peculiarities in the personnel selection process.  I was flabbergasted
when that group of homeless American teenagers was added to the colony
about eight months ago.  Now I see that the selection criteria were
based on satisfying the "broad cross-section" requested by Madame des
Jardins; whether or not our particular mix of individuals and skills
would produce a sociologically viable colony on Mars must have always
been a secondary consideration." 'I hate lies and liars,' Max now said.
He had stood up from his chair and was pacing around the room.  'All
these politicians and government managers are the same - the bastards
will lie without any conscience." 'But what could they have done, Max'
Judge Mishkin replied.  'Almost certainly they didn't really take the
video seriously.  At least not until this new craft showed up in Mars
orbit.  And if they had told the truth from the beginning, there would
have been worldwide panic." 'Look, Judge,' Max said in a frustrated
tone, 'I thought I was hired to be a fucking farmer on a colony on Mars.
I don't know anything about ETs and, quite frankly, I don't want to know
anything.  It's hard enough for me to deal with chickens, pigs, and
people." 'Especially people,' judge Mishkin said quickly, smiling at his
friend.  Despite himself, Max chuckled.

A few minutes later judge Mishkin and Max said goodbye and left Kenji
and Nai alone.  Soon after their guests were gone, the videophone rang
in Kenji and 77se Garden of Rama Nai's apartment.  'Watanabe?" they
heard Ian Macmillan say.

'Yes, sir,' Kenji replied.

'Sorry to disturb you, Watanabe,' the commander said.  'But you have the
first assignment to anyone other than my immediate staff.

Your.  orders are to brief the entire Pinta crew on the Newton
expedition, the Ramas, and Cosmonaut des Jardins at nineteen hundred
tonight.  I thought you might want to begin your preparations." ...  All
the media reported in 2200 that Rama Two was completely destroyed,
vaporised by the multiple nuclear bombs that explod d in its vicinity.
The missing cosmoe nauts des Jardins, O'Toole, Takagishi, and Wakefield
were of course all considered to be dead.  Actually, accordining to both
the official documents of the Newton mission and the very successful
books and television series distributed by Hagenest and Schmidt, Nicole
des Jardins presumably died somewhere in New- York, the island city in
the middle of the Cylindrical Sea, weeks before the science ship of the
Newton ever left Rama and returned to the Earth." Kenji paused to look
at his audience.  Even though Commander Macmillan had explained to the
Pinta passengers and crew that a videotape of Kenji's presentation would
be immediately available, many of the listeners were taking notes. Kenji
was enjoying his moment in the limelight.  He glanced at Nai and smiled
before continuing.

'Cosmonaut Francesca Sabatini) the most famous survivor of the ill-fated
Newton expedition, postulated in her memoirs that Dr des Jardins might
have encountered a hostile biot, or had perhaps fallen, somewhere in one
of the blackout regions of New York.  Since the two women had been
together for most of the day - they were searching for the Japanese
scientist Shigeru 1 Takagishi, who had mysteriously disappeared from the
Beta campsite the night before - Signora Sabatini was well aware of the
amount of food and water that Cosmonaut des Jardins was carrying.  "Even
with her consummate knowledge of the human body," Sabatini wrote,
"Nicole could not possibly have survived more than a week.  And if, in a
delirious state, she had tried to obtain water from the ice of the
poisonous Cylindrical Sea, she would have died even sooner."

'Of the half-dozen Newton cosmonauts who did not return from the
encounter with Rama Two, it is Nicole des Jardins who had always
attracted the most interest.  Even before the brilliant statistician
Roberto Lopez correctly conjectured seven years ago, on the basis of
European genome information stored in The Hague) that the late King
Henry XI of England was the father of Nicole's daughter Genevieve, Dr
des Jardins' reputation had become legendary.  Recently the attendance
at her memorial near her family villa in Beauvois, France, has increased
markedly, especially among young females.  People flock there, not only
to pay Cosmonaut des Jardins homage and to view the many photographs and
videos commemorating her outstanding life, but also to see the two
superb bronze statues created by the Greek sculptor Theo Pappas.  In one
the youthful Nicole is depicted in her track singlet and shorts with the
Olympic gold medal around her neck; in the second she is shown as a
mature woman, wearing an ISA flight suit similar to one you saw in the
video." Kenji pointed to the back of the room in the small Pinta
auditorium and the lights were extinguished.  Moments later a slideshow
began on one of the two screens behind him.  'These are the few
photographs of Nicole des Jardins that were stored in our Pinta files.

7'he Garden ofRama The reference data base indicates that many more
pictures, including historical film clips, are available in the reserve
library stored out in the cargo bay, but those data are not accessible
during cruise due to the limitations of the flight data network.  The
extra data are not needed, however, for it is clear from these photos
that the individual who appeared in the transmission' this afternoon is
either Nicole des Jardins, or an absolutely perfect copy of her." A
close-up still from the afternoon video was frozen on the left screen
and juxtaposed by a head photo taken of Nicole the night of the New
Year's Eve party at the Villa Adriani outside Rome.  There was no
question about it.  The two pictures were definitely of the same woman.
An appreciative murmur rose from the audience as Kenji paused in his
presentation.

'Nicole des Jardins was born,' Kenji continued in a slightly subdued
tone, 'on January 6, 2164.  Therefore, if the video we watched this
afternoon was actually filmed about four years ago, she should have been
seventyseven years old at the time.  Now we all know that Dr des Jardins
was in superb physical condition, and that she exercised regularly, but
if the woman we saw this afternoon was seventy-seven, then the ETs who
built Rama must also have discovered the fountain of youth." Even though
it was late at night and Kenji was very tired, he still could not sleep.
The events of the day kept forcing themselves into his mind and exciting
him again.  Next to him in the small double bed Nai Buatong Watanabe was
very much aware that her husband was awake.

'You're absolutely certain that we were seeing the real Nicole des
Jardins, aren't you, dear?" Nai said softly after Kenji had turned over
for the umpteenth time.

'Yes,' said Kenji.  'But Macmillan isn't.  He demanded that I make that
statement about the possibility of a perfect copy.  He thinks everything
in the video is a fake .  .  ." 'After our discussion this afternoon,'
Nai continued, following a short pause, 'I was able to recall all the
brouhaha about Nicole and King Henry from seven years ago.  It was in
most of the personality magazines.  But I've forgotten something.  How
was it established for certain that Henry was Genevieve's father?
Wasn't.  the king already dead?  And doesn't the royal family in England
keep its genome information private and secret?" 'Lopez used the genomes
belonging to the parents and siblings of people who had married into the
royal family.  Then, employing a data correlation technique that he
himself had invented, Dr Lopez showed that Henry, who was still the
Prince of Wales during the 2184 Olympics, was more than three times as
likely as any other person present in Los Angeles at the time to have
been the father of Nicole's baby.  After Darren Higgins admitted on his
deathbed that Henry and Nicole had spent one night together during the
Olympics, the royal family allowed a genetic specialist access to their
genome data base.  The expert concluded, -beyond any reasonable doubt,
that Henry was Genevieve's father." :What an amazing woman,' Nai said.

She was indeed,' Kenji replied.  'But what prompted you to make that
comment right now?" 'As a woman,' Nai said, 'I admire her protecting her
secret and raising her princess herself as much or more than any of her
other accomplishments." Eponine located Kimberly in the corner of the
smoky room and sat down beside her.  She accepted the cigarette her
friend offered, lit it, and inhaled deep .

'Ah, what pleasure,' Eponine said softly as she expelled the smoke in
small circles and watched it rise slowly towards the ventilators.

'As much as you love tobacco and nicotine,' Kimberly said in a whisper
from beside her, 'I know that you would absolutely adore kokomo." The
American girl took a drag from her cigarette.  'I know that you don't
believe me, Eponine, but it's actually better than sex." 'Not for me,
mon amie,' Eponine replied in a warm, friendly tone.  'I have enough
vices.  And I could never, never control something that was truly better
than sex." Kimberly Henderson laughed heartily, her long blonde locks
bouncing on her shoulders.  She was twenty-four, a year younger than her
French colleague.  The two of them were sitting in the, smoking lounge
attached to the women's shower.  It was a tiny square room, no more than
four metres on a side, in which a dozen women were currently standing or
sitting, all smoking cigarettes.

'This room reminds me of the back room at Willie's in Evergreen, just
outside Denver,' Kimberly said.  'While a hundred or more cowboys and
rednecks would be dancing and drinking in the main bar, eight or ten of
us would retreat into Willie's sacred 'office", as he called it, and
fuck ourselves completely up with kokomo." Eponine stared through the
haze at Kimberly.  'At least in this lounge we aren't harassed by the
men.  They are absolutely impossible, even worse than the guys in the
detention village at Bourges.  These characters must think about nothing
but sex all day long." 'That's understandable,' Kimberly replied with
another laugh.  'They're not being closely watched for the first time in
years.

When Toshio's men sabotaged all the hidden monitors, everybody was
suddenly free." She glanced over at Eponine.  'But there's a grim side
as well.  There were two more rapes today, one right in the co-ed
recreation area." Kimberly finished one cigarette and immediately lit
another.  'You need someone to protect you,' she continued, 'and I know
Walter would love the job.  Because of Toshio, the cons have mostly
stopped trying to hit on me.  My main concern now is the ISA guards -
they think they're hot shit.  Only that gorgeous Italian hunk, Marcello
something or other, interests me at all.  He told me yesterd2y that he
would make me "moan with pleasure" if I would just join him in his room.
I was sorely tempted until I saw one of Toshio's thugs watching the
conversation." Eponine also lit another cigarette.  She knew it was
ridiculous to smoke them one after another, but the passengers on the
Santa Maria were only allowed three half-hour 'breaks' each day and
smoking was not permitted in the cramped living quarters.  While
Kimberly was momentarily sidetracked by a question from a burly woman in
her early forties, Eponine thought about the first few days after they
had left the Earth.  Our third day ou4 she recalled, Nakamura sent his
go-between to see me.  I must have been his first choice.

The huge Japanese man, a sumo wrestler before he became a bill collector
for a notorious gambling ring, had bowed formally when he had approached
her in the co-ed lounge.  'Miss Eponine,' he had said in heavily
accented English, 'my friend Nakamura-san has asked me to tell you that
he finds you very beautiful.  He offers you complete protection in
exchange for your companionship and an occasional favour of pleasure."
The offer was attractive in some ways, Eponine remembered, and not
unlike what most of the decent looking women on the Santa Maria have
eventually accepted.  I knew at the time that Nakamura would be very
powerful.  But I didn't like his coldness.  And I mistakenly thought
that I could remain free.

'Ready?" Kimberly repeated.  Eponine snapped out of her reverie.  She
stubbed out her cigarette and walked with her friend into the dressing
room.  While they were taking off their clothes and preparing to shower,
at least a dozen eyes feasted on their magnificent bodies.

'Doesn't it bother you,' Eponine asked when they were standing side by
side in the shower, 'to have these dykes devouring you with their eyes?"
'Nope,' Kimberly replied.  'In a way I enjoy it.  It's certainly
flattering.  There are not many women here who look like we do.

It arouses me to have them stare so hungrily at me." Eponine rinsed the
soapy lather off her full, firm breasts and leaned over to Kimberly.
'Then you have had sex with another woman?" she asked.

'Of course,' Kimberly replied with another deep laugh.  'Haven't you?"
Without waiting for a response, the American woman launched into one of
her stories.  'My first dealer in Denver was a dyke.

I was only eighteen and absolutely perfect from head to toe.  When
Loretta first saw me naked, she thought she'd died and gone to heaven. I
had just entered nursing school and couldn't afford much dope.  So I
made a deal with Loretta.  She could fuck me, but only if she kept me
supplied with cocaine.  Our affair lasted almost six months.  By then I
was dealing on my own and, besides, I had fallen in love with The
Magician.

'Poor Loretta,' Kimberly continued as she and Eponine dried each other's
backs in the lavatory that adjoined the shower.  'She was
broken-hearted.  She offered me everything, including her client list.
Eventually she became a nuisance, so I undercut her and had The Magician
force her out of Denver." Kimberly saw a fleeting look of disapproval on
Eponine's face.  'Jesus,' she said, 'there you go again, turning moral
on me.

You're the softest goddamn murderer I have ever met.  Sometimes you
remind me of all the goody Two Shoes in my high school graduating
class." As they were about to leave the shower area, a tiny black girl
with her hair in braids came up behind them.  'You Kimberly Henderson?"
she said.

'Yes,' nodded Kimberly, turning around.  'But why ..., 'Is your man the
king Jap Nakamura?" the girl interrupted.

Kimberly did not reply.  'If so, I need your help,' the black girl
continued.

'What do you want?" Kimberly asked in a noncommittal tone.

The girl suddenly broke into tears.  'My man Reuben didn't mean nothing.
He was drunk on that shit the guards sell.  He didn't know he was
talking to the king Jap."

NOW

The Garden of Rwna Kimberly waited for the girl to dry her tears.  'What
have you got?" she whispered.

'Three knives and two joints of dynamite kokomo,' the black girl replied
in the same soft whisper.

'Bring them to me,' Kimberly said with a smile.  'And I'll arrange a
time for your Reuben to apologise to Mr Nakamura." 'You don't like
Kimberly, do you?" Eponine said to Walter Brackeen.  He was a huge
American Negro with soft eyes and absolutely magical fingers on a
keyboard.  He was playing a light jazz medley and staring at his
beautiful lady while his three roommates were out, by agreement, in the
common areas.

'No, I don't,' Walter replied slowly.  'She's not like us.  She can be
very funny, but underneath I think she's truly bad." 'What do you mean?"
Walter changed to a soft ballad, with an easier melody, and played for
almost a full minute before speaking.  'I guess in the eyes of the law
we're all equal, all murderers.  But not in my eyes.  I squashed the
life out of a man who sodomised by baby brother.

You killed a crazy bastard who was ruining your LIFE." Walter paused for
a moment and rolled his eyes.  'But that friend of yours, Kimberly, she
and her boy friend offed three people they didn't even know just for
drugs and money." 'She was stoned at the time." 'No matter,' Walter
said.  'Each of us is always responsible for his behaviour.  If I put
shit in me that makes me awful, that's my mistake. But I can't cop out
of the responsibility for my actions." 'She had a perfect record in the
detention centre.  Every one of the doctors who worked with her said she
was an excellent nurse." Walter stopped playing his keyboard and stared
at Eponine for several seconds.  'Let's not talk about Kimberly any
more,' he said.

'We have little enough time together ...  Have you thought about my
proposition?" Eponine sighed.  'Yes I have, Walter.  And although I like
you, and enjoy making love with you, the arrangement you suggested
sounds too much like a commitment ...  Besides, I think this is mostly
for your ego.  Unless I miss my guess, you prefer Malcolm .  .

'Malcolm has nothing to do with us,' Walter interrupted.  'He's been my
close friend for years, since the very first days I entered the Georgia
detention compound.  We play music together.  We share sex when we're
both lonely.  We're soulmates ..." 'I know, I know ...  Malcolm's not
really the central issue, it's more the principle of the thing that
bothers me.  I do like you, Walter, you know that.  But ..." Her voice
trailed off as Eponine struggled with her mixed feelings.

'We're three weeks away from Earth,' Walter said, 'and we have six more
weeks before we reach Mars.  I am the largest man on the Santa Maria. If
I say that you're my girl, nobody will bother you for those six weeks."
Eponine recalled an unpleasant scene just that morning where two German
inmates had discussed how easy it would be to commit rape in the convict
quarters.  They had known that she was within earshot but had made no
effort to lower their voices.

At length she put herself in Walter's huge arms.  'All right,' she said
softly.  'But don't expect too much ...  I'm sort of a difficult woman."

'I think Walter may have a heart problem,' Eponine said in a whisper. It
was the middle of the night and their The Garden of Ratna other two
roommates were asleep.  Kimberly, in the bunk below Eponine, was still
stoned on the kokorno she had smoked two hours earlier.  Sleep would be
impossible for her for several more hours.

'The rules on this ship are fucking stupid.  Christ, even in the Pueblo
Detention Complex there were fewer regulations.  Why the hell can't we
stay in the common areas after midnight?  What harm are we doing?" 'He
has occasional chest pains and, if we havevigorous sex, he often
complains afterwards of shortness of breath...  Do you think you could
take a look at him?" 'And how about that Marcello?  Huh!  What a stupid
ass!  He tells me I can stay up all night if I want to come to his room.
While I'm sitting there with Toshio.  What does he think he's doing?  I
mean, not even the guards can mess with the king Jap ...  What did you
say, Eponine?" Eponine raised herself on an elbow and leaned over the
side of the bed.  'Walter Brackeen, Kim,' she said.  'I'm talking about
Walter Brackeen.  Can you slow yourself down enough to pay attention to
what I'm saying?" 'All right.  All right.  What about your Walter?  What
does he want?  Everybody wants something from the king Jap.  I guess
that makes me the queen, at least in a way 'I think Walter has a bad
heart,' the exasperated Eponine repeated in a loud voice.  'I would like
you to look at him." 'Shh,' Kimberly replied.  'They'll come bust us,
like they did that crazy Swedish girl ...  Shit, Ep, I'm no doctor.  I
can tell when a heartbeat is irregular, but that's all ...  You ought to
take Walter to that con doctor who's really a cardiologist, what's his
name, the super quiet one who stays to himself when he's not examining
somebody .  .

'Dr Robert Turner,' Eponine interrupted.

'That's the one ...  very professional, aloof, distant, never speaks
except in doctorese, hard to believe he blew ',I the heads off two men
in a courtroom with a shotgun, it just doesn't figure ..." 'How do you
know that?" Eponine said.

'Marcello told me.  I was curious, we were laughing, he was teasing me,
saying things like "does that Jap make you moan?" and "how about that
quiet heart doctor, can he make you moan?"

'Christ, Kim,' Eponine said, now alarmed, 'have you been going to bed
with Marcello too?" Her roommate laughed.  'Only twice.  He talks better
than he fucks.  And what an ego.  At least the king Jap is
appreciative." 'Does Nakamura know?" 'Do you think I'm crazy?" Kimberly
replied.  'I don't want to die.  But he may be suspicious ...  I won't
do it again, but if that Dr Turner were to so much as whisper in my ear
I would cream all over myself'..." Kimberly continued her rambling
chatter.  Eponine thought briefly about Dr Robert Turner.  He had
examined Eponine soon after launch when she had been having some
peculiar spotting.  He never even noticed my body, she remembered.  It
was a thoroughlhly professional examination.

Eponine tuned Kimberly out of her mind and focused on an image of the
handsome doctor.  She was surprisd to discover that she was feeling a
spark of Ramantic interest.  There was something definitely mysterious
about the doctor, for there was nothing in his manner or personality
that was the least bit consistent with a double murder.  There must be
an interesting story, she thought.

Eponine was dreaming.  It was the same nightmare that she had had a
hundred times since the murder.  Professor Moreau was lying with his
eyes closed on the floor of his studio, blood streaming out of his
chest.  Eponine walked over to the basin, cleaned the large carving
knife, and ack on the counter.  As she stepped over the placed it b body
those hated eyes opened.  She saw the wild insanity in his eyes.  He
reached out for her with his arms 'Nurse Henderson.  Nurse Henderson."
The knocking on the door was louder.  Eponine awakened from her dream
and rubbed her eyes.

Kimberly and another of their roommates reached the door almost
simultaneously.

Walter's friend Malcolm Peabody, a diminutive, effete white man in his
early forties, was standing at the door.  He was frantic.

'Dr Turner sent me for a nurse.  Come quickly.  Walter's had a heart
attack." As Kimberly began to dress, Eponine glided down from her bunk.
'How is he, Malcolm?" she asked, pulling on her robe.  'Is he dead?"
Malcolm was momentarily confused.  'Oh, hi, Eponine,' he said meekly. 'I
had forgotten that you and Nurse Henderson ...  When I left he was still
breathing but Being careful to keep one foot on the floor at all times,
Eponine hurried out of the door, down the corridor, into the central
common area, and then into the men's living quarters.  Alarms sounded as
the main monitors followed her progress.  When she reached the entrance
to Walter's wing, Eponine paused for a moment to catch her breath.

A crowd of people was standing in the corridor ide Walter's room.  His
door was open wide and the outs bottom third of his body was lying
outside, in the hallway.  Eponine pushed her way through the crowd and
into the room.

Dr Robert Turner was kneeling beside his patient, holding electronic
prods against Walter's naked chest.  The big man's body recoiled with
each jolt, and then rose slightly off the Door before the doctor pushed
it down again against the surface.

Dr Turner glanced up when Eponine arrived.  'Are you the nurse?" he
asked brusquely.

For a fleeting moment Eponine was speechless.  And embarrassed.  Here
her friend was dying or dead and all she could think about was Dr
Turner's practically perfect blue eyes.  'No,' she said at length,
definitely flustered.  'I'm the girl friend ...  Nurse Henderson is my
roommate ...  She should be here any minute." Kimberly and two ISA guard
escorts arrived at that moment.  'His heart stopped completely
forty-five seconds ago,' Dr Turner said to Kimberly.  'It's too late to
move him to the infirmary.  I'm going to open him up and try to use the
Komori stimulator.  Did you bring your gloves?" While Kimberly pulled on
her gloves, Dr Turner ordered the crowd away from his patient.  Eponine
didn't move.  When the guards grabbed her by the arms, the doctor
mumbled something and the guards released her.

Dr Turner handed Kimberly his set of surgical tools and then, working
with both incredible speed and skill, cut a deep incision into Walter's
chest.  He laid back the folds of the skin, exposing the heart.  'Have
you been through this procedure before, Nurse Henderson?" he asked.

'No,' Kimberly replied.

'The Komori stimulator is an electrochemical device that attaches to the
heart, forcing it to beat and continue to pump blood.

If the pathology is temporary, like a blood clot or a spastic valve,
then sometimes the problem can be fixed and the patient's heart will
start functioning again." Dr Turner inserted the stamp-sized Komori
stimulator behind the left ventricle of the heart and applied the power
from the portable control system on the floor beside him.  Walter's
heart began to beat slowly three or four seconds later.  'We have about
eight minutes now to find the problern,' the doctor said to himself.

He finished his analysis of the organ's primary subsystems in less than
a minute.  'No clots,' he mumbled, 'and no bad vessels or valves ...  So
why did it stop beating?" Dr Turner gingerly lifted up the throbbing
heart and inspected the muscles underneath.  The muscular tissue around
the right auricle was discoloured and soft.  He touched it very lightly
with the end of one of his pointed instruments and portions of the
tissue flaked off.

'My God,' the doctor said, 'what in the world is this?" While Dr Turner
was holding the heart up, Walter Brackecn's heart contracted again and
one of the long fibre structures in the middle of the discoloured
muscular tissue started to unravel.  'What the ...  ?" Turner blinked
twice and put his right hand on his cheek.

'Look at this, Nurse Henderson,' he said quietly.  'It's absolutely
amazing.  The muscles here have atrophied completely.  I've never seen
anything like it ...  We cannot help this man." Eponine's eyes filled
with tears as Dr Turner withdrew the Komori stimulator and Walter's
heart stopped beating again.  Kimberly started to remove the clamps
holding back the skin around the heart but the doctor stopped her.  'Not
yet,' he said.  'Let's take him over to the infirmary so I can perform a
full autopsy.  I want to learn whatever I can." The guards and two of
Walter's roommates eased the large man on to a gurney and the body was
removed from the living quarters.  Malcolm Peabody sobbed quietly on
Walter's bunk.  Eponine walked over to him.  They shared a silent hug
and then sat together, holding hands, for most of the rest of the night.

ter 'You'll be in charge here while I'm inside,' Commander Macmillan
said to his deputy, a handsome young Russian engineer named Dmitri
Ulanov.  'Under all circumstances, your primary responsibility is.the
safety of the passengers and crew.  If you hear or see anything
threatening or even suspicious, blow the pyros and move the Pinta away
from Rama." It was the morning of the first reconnaissance mission from
the Pinta into the interior of Rama.  The spacecraft from Earth had
docked the previous day on one of the circular ends of the huge
cylindrical spacecraft.  The Pinta had been parked right beside the
external seal, in the same general location as the earlier Raman
expeditions in 2130 and 2200.

As part of the preparations for the initial sortie, Kenji Watanabe had
briefed the scouting party the night before on the geography of the
first two Ramas.  When he had finished with his comments, he had been
approached by his friend Max Puckett.

'Do you think our Rama will look like all those pictures you showed us?"
Max had asked.

'Not exactly,' Kenji had replied.  'I expect some changes.  Remember
that the video said that an Earth habitat had been constructed somewhere
inside Rama.  Nevertheless, since the exterior of this spacecraft is PP
identical to the other two, I don't think everything inside will be
changed." Max had looked perplexed.  'This is all way beyond me,' he had
said, shaking his head.  'By the way,' he 1 added a few seconds later,
'You're sure you're not i responsible for me being in the scouting
party?" 'As I told you this afternoon,' Kenji replied, 'none of us on
board the Pinta had anything to do with the scouting selections.  All
sixteen members were chosen by the ISA and IIA back on Earth." 'But why
have I been equipped with this godd arsenal?  I have a state of the art
laser machine gun, elf amn S guiding grenades, even a set of mass
sensitive mines.  I have more firepower now than I had during the
peacekeeping invasion of Belize." Kenji had smiled.  'Commander
Macmillan, as well as J many members of the military staff at COG
Headquarters, still believes this whole affair is a trap of some kind.
Your designation in this scouting operation is soldier"."My personal
belief is that none of your weapons will be necessary." Max was still
grumbling the next morning wh en Macmillan left Dmitri Ulanov in charge
of the Pinta and personally led the scouting party into Rama. A Ithough
he was weightless, the military equipment that Max was carrying on the
outside of his space suit was unwieldy and severely restricted his
freedom of movement.  'This is ridiculous,' he mumbled to himself.  'I'm
a farmer, not a goddamn commando." The initial surprise came only
minutes after the scouts from the Pinta had moved inside the external
seal.  Following a short walk down a broad corridor, the group came to a
circular room from which three tunnels led deeper into the interior of
the alien spaceship.  Two of the tunnels were blocked with multiple
metal gates.

The Garden ofRama Commander Macmillan called Kenji in for consultation.

'This is a completely different design,' Kenji said in response to the
commander's questions.  'We may as well throw out our maps." 'Then I
presume we should proceed down the unblocked tunnel?" Macmillan asked.

'That's your call,' Kenji replied, 'but I don't see any other option,
except to return to the Pinta." The sixteen men trudged slowly down the
open tunnel in their space suits.

Every few minutes they would launch flares into the darkness ahead of
them so that they could see where they were going.  When they were about
five hundred metres into Rama, two small figures suddenly appeared at
the other end of the tunnel.  Each of the four soldiers plus Commander
Macmillan quickly pulled out his binoculars.

'They're coming towards us,' said one of the soldier scouts excitedly.

'Well I'll be damned,' said Max Puckett, a shiver going down his spine,
'it's Abraham Lincoln!" 'And a woman,' said another, 'in some kind of
uniform." 'Prepare to fire,' ordered Ian Macmillan.

The four soldier scouts scurried to the head of the party and knelt
down, their guns pointed down the tunnel.  'Halt,' shouted Macmillan as
the two strange figures drew within two hundred metres of the scouting
party.

Abraham Lincoln and Benita Garcia stopped.  'State your purpose,' they
heard the commander shout.

'We are here to welcome you,' Abraham Lincoln said in a loud, deep
voice.

And to take you to New Eden,' Benita Garcia added.

Commander Macmillan was thoroughly confused.  He did not know what to do
next.  While he hesitated, the others in the scouting party talked among
themselves.

'It's Abraham Lincoln, come back as a ghost,' the American Terry Snyder
said.

'The other one is Benita Garcia - I saw her statue in Mexico City
once."k I 'Let's get the hell out of here.  This place gives me the
creeps." :What would ghosts be doing in orbit around Mars?" Excuse me,
Commander,' Kenji said at length to the befuddled Macmillan.  'What do
you intend to do now?" The Scotsman turned to face his Japanese Rama exp
ert.  'It's difficult to decide on exactly the proper action pattern, of
course,' he said.  'I mean, those two certainly look harmless enou hid,
but remember the Trojan horse.  Hah!  ...  Well, Watanabe, what do you
suggest?" 'Why don't I go forward, perhaps alone, or maybe even with one
of the soldiers, to talk to them.  Then we'll know 'That's certainly
brave of you, Watanabe, but unnecessary.  No, I think we'll all go
forward.  Cautiously of course.  Leaving a couple of men at the rear to
report in case we're zapped by a ray gun or something." The commander
turned on his radio.  'Deputy Ulanov, Macmillan here.  We've encountered
two beings of some kind.  They're either human or in human disguise. One
looks like Abraham Lincoln and the other like that famous Mexican
cosmonaut ...  What's that, Dmitri?  .  .  .  Yes, you copy correctly.
Lincoln and Garcia.

We've encountered Lincoln and Garcia in a tunnel inside Rama.  You may
report that to the others ...  Now, I'm leaving Snyder and Finzi here
while the rest of us advance towards the strangers." The two figures did
not move as the fourteenJ explorers from the Pinta approached.  The
soldiers were spread out in front of the group, ready to fire at the
first sign of trouble.

'Welcome to Rama,' Abraham Lincoln said when the first scout was only
twenty metres away.  'We are here to escort you to your new homes."
Commander Macmillan did not respond immediately.  It was the
irresistible Max Puckett who broke the silence.  'Are you a ghost?" he
shouted.  'I mean, are you really Abraham Lincoln?" 'Of course not,' the
Lincoln figure replied matter of factly.  'Both Benita Garcia and I are
human biots.  You will find five cate ories of human -biots in New Eden,
each designed with specific capabilities to free humans from tedious,
repetitive tasks.  My areas of speciality are clerical and legal work,
accounting, bookkeeping and housekeeping, home and office management,
and other organisational tasks." Max was dumbfounded.  Ignoring his
commander's order to 'stand back', Max walked up to within several
centimetres of the Lincoln.  'This is some fucking robot,' he muttered
to himself.  Oblivious to any possible danger, Max next reached out and
put his fingers on the Lincoln's face, first touching the skin around
the nose and then feeling the whiskers in the long black beard.

'Incredible,' he said out loud.  'Absolutely incredible." 'We have been
manufactured with very careful attention to detail,' the Lincoln now
said.  'Our skin is chemically similar to yours and our eyes operate on
the same basic optical principles as yours, but we are not dynamic,
constantly renewing creatures like you.  Our subsystems must be
maintained and sometimes even replaced by technicians." Max's bold move
had defused all the tension.  By this :ime the entire scouting party,
including Commander Macmillan, were poking and probing the two biots.

Throughout the examination both the Lincoln and the Garcia answered
questions about their design and implementation.  At one point Kenji
realised that Max Puckett had withdrawn from the rest of the scouting
party and was sitting by himself against one of the walls of the tunnel.

Kenji walked over to his friend.  'What's the matter, Max?" he asked.

Max shook his head.  'What kind of genius could produce something like
these two?  It's positively scary." He was silent for several seconds.
'Maybe I'm strange, but those two bi-ots frighten me much more than this
huge cylinder." The Lincoln and the Garcia walked with the scouting
party to what appeared to be the end of the tunnel.

Within seconds a door opened in the wall and the biots motioned for the
humans to go inside.  Under questioning from Macmillan, the biots
explained that the humans were about to enter a 'transportation device'
that would carry them to the outskirts of the Earth habitat.

Macmillan communicated what the biots had said to Dmitri Ulanov on the
Pinta and told his Russian deputy to 'blast off' if he didn't hear
anything from them within forty-eight hours.

The tube ride was astonishing.  It reminded Max Puckett of the giant
rollercoaster at the State Fair inJ Dallas, Texas.  The bullet-shaped
vehicle sped along an enclosed, helical track that dropped all the way
from theJ bowl-shaped northern end of Rama to the Central Plain,,I
below.  Outside the tube, which was encased in a heavy transparent
plastic of some kind, Kenji and the others glimpsed the vast network of
ladders and stairways that traversed the same territory as their ride.
But they did not see the incomparable vistas reported by the previous
Rama explorers their view to the south was blocked by an extremely high
wall of metallic grey.

The ride took less than five minutes.  It deposited them in an enclosed
annulus that completely circumscribed the Earth habitat.  When the Pinta
scouts exited from the tube, the weightlessness in which they had been
living since they had departed from Earth had vanished.  The gravity was
close to normal.

'The atmosphere in this corridor, like the atmosphere in New Eden, is
just like your home planet,' the Lincoln biot said.  'But that is not
the case in the region on our right, outside the walls protecting your
habitat." The annulus surrounding New Eden was dimly lit, so the
colonists were not prepared for the bright sunlight that greeted them
when the huge door opened and they entered their new world.  On the
short walk to the nearby train station they carried their space helmets
in their hands.  The men passed empty buildings on both sides of 0 the
path - small structures that could be houses or 0, shops, as well as a
larger one ('That will be an elementary school,' the Benita Garcia
informed them) right opposite the station itself.

A train was waiting for them when they arrived.  The sleek subway car
with soft, comfortable seats, and a constantly updating electronic
status board, raced quickly towards the centre of New Eden, where they
were to have a 'comprehensive briefing', according to the Lincoln biot.
The train ran first along the side of a beautiful, crystalline lake
('Lake Shakespeare,' the Benita Garcia said), and then turned to the
left, heading away from the light grey walls that enclosed the colony.
During the last part of the ride a large, barren mountain dominated the
landscape on the right-hand side of the train.

Throughout the ride the entire contingent from the Pinta was very quiet.

In truth they were all completely overwhelmed.  Not even in the creative
imagination of Kenji Watanabe had anything like what they were seeing
ever been envisioned.  It was all much too large, much more magnificent
than they had pictured.

The central city, where all the major buildings had been located by the
designers of New Eden, was the final stunner.  The members of the party
stood silently and gawked at the array of large and impressive
structures that formed the heart of the colony.  That the buildings were
still empty only added to the mystical quality of the entire experience.
Kenji Watanabe and Max Puckett were the last two men to enter the
edifice where the briefing was to occur.

'What do you think?" Kenji asked Max as the two of them stood on the top
of the stairs of the administration building and surveyed the
astonishing complex around them.

'I cannot think,' answered Max, the awe in his tone quite obvious. 'This
whole place defies thought.  It is hid heaven, Alice's Wonderland, and
all the fairytales of my boyhood wrapped up in one package.  I keep
pinching myself to make sure that I'm not dreaming." 'On the screen in
front of you,' the Lincoln biot said, 'is an overview map of New Eden.
Each of you will be given a full, packet of maps, including all the
roads and structures in the colony.  We are here, in Central City, which
was designed to be the administrative centre of New Eden.  Residences
have been built, along with shops, small offices, and schools, in the
four corners of the rectangle that is enclosed by the outside wall.
Because the naming of these four towns will be left to the inhabitants,
we will refer to them today as the north IA cast, north-west,
south-east, and south-west villages.  In doing this we are following the
convention, adopted by earlier Raman explorers from the Earth, of
referring to the end of Rama where your spacecraft docked as the north
end ...

'Each of the four sides of New Eden has an allocated geographic
function.

The fresh water lake along the south edge of the colony, as you have
already been informed, is called Lake Shakespeare.  Most of the fish and
water life that you have brought with you will live there, although some
of the specimens may be perfect for emplacement in the two rivers that
empty into Lake Shakespeare from Mount Olympus, here on the east side of
the colony, and Sherwood Forest on the west side .  .  .

'At present both the slopes of Mount Olympus and all the regions of
Sherwood Forest, as well as the village parks and green belts throughout
the colony, are covered with a fine lattice of gas exchange devices, or
GEDs as we call them.

These tiny mechanisms serve but one function - they convert carbon
dioxide into oxygen.  In a very true.  sense they are mechanical plants.
They are to be replaced by all the real plants that you have brought
from the Earth ...

'The north side of the colony, between the villages, is reserved for
farming.  Farm buildings have been constructed hem along the road that
connects the two northern towns.  You will grow most of your food in
this area.  Between the food supplies that you have brought with you and
the synthetic food stored in the tall silos three hundred metres north
of this building, you should be able to feed two thousand humans for at
least a year, maybe eighteen months if waste is kept at a minimum. After
that you are on your own.  It goes without saying that farming,
including the aquaculture that has been allocated to the eastern shores
of Lake Shakespeare, win be an important component in your life in New
Eden..." To Kenji, the briefing experience was like drinking out of a
fire hose.  The Lincoln biot kept the information rate exceedingly high
for ninety minutes, dismissing all questions either by saying 'That's
outside my knowledge base' or by referring to the page and paragraph
numbers in the Basic Guidebook to New Eden that he had handed out.
Finally there was a break in the briefing and everyone moved to an
adjacent room, where a drink that tasted like Coca-Cola was served.

'Whew,' said Terry Snyder as he wiped his brow, 'am I the only one who
is saturated?" 'Shit, Snyder,' replied Max Puckett with an impish grin.
'Are you saying you're inferior to that goddamn robot?  He sure all
day." 'Maybe even all week,' mused Kenji Watanabe.  'I wonder how often
these biots need to be serviced.  My father's company makes robots, some
of them exceedingly complex, but nothing like this.  The information
content in that Lincoln must be astronomical .

'The briefing will recommence in five minutes,' the Lincoln announced.

'Please be prompt." In the second half of the briefing, the various
kinds of biots in New Eden were introduced and explained.  Based on
their recent studies of the previous Raman expeditions, the colonists
were prepared for the garbage and bulldozer biots.

The five categories of human biots, however, elicited a more emotional
response.

'Our designers decided,' the Lincoln told them, 'to limit the physical
appearances of the human biots so that there could be no question of
someone mistaking one of us for one of you.  I have already fisted my
basic func The Garden of Rama tions - all the other Lincolns, three of
whom are now joining us, have been identically programmed.  At least
originally.  We are, however, capable of some low level of learning that
will allow our data bases to be different as our specific uses evolve."
'How can we tell one Lincoln from another?" asked one bewildered member
of the scouting party as the three new Uncolns circulated around the
room.

'We each have an identification number, engraved both here, on the
shoulder, and again here, on the left buttock.  This same system is
employed for the other categories of human biots.  I, for example, am
Lincoln Number 004.  The three that just entered are 009, 024 and 0712
When the Lincoln biots left the briefing room, they were replaced by
five Benita Garcias.  One of the Garcias outlined the specialities of
her category police and fire protection, farming, sanitation,
transportation, mail handling and then answered a few questions before
they all departed.

The Einstein biots were next.  The scouts erupted with laughter when
four of the Einsteins, each a wild, unkempt, white-haired replica of the
twentiethcentury scientific genius, walked into the room together.  The
Einsteins explained that they were the engineers and scientists of the
colony.  Their primary function, a vital one encompassing many duties,
was to 'ensure the satisfactory working of the colony infrastructure',
including of course the army of biots.

A group of tall, jet-black female biots introduced themselves as the
Tiassos, specialising in health care.  They would be the doctors, the
nurses, the health officials, the ones who would provide child care when
the parents were not available.  Just as the Tiasso portion of the
briefing was ending, a slight Oriental biot.  with intense eyes walked
into the room.  He was carrying a lyre and an electronic easel.  He
introduced himself as a 1 Yasunari Kawabata before playing a beautiful,
short piece on the lyre.

'We Kawabatas are creative artists,' he said simply.  'We are musicians,
actors, painters, sculptors, writers, and sometimes photographers and
cinematographers.  We are few in number, but very important for the
quality of life in New Eden." When the official briefing was finally
over, the scouting party was served an excellent dinner in the large
hall.  About twenty of the biots joined the humans at the gathering,
although of course they did not eat anything.  The simulated roast duck
was staggeringly authentic, and even the wines could have passed the
inspection of all but the most learned oenologists on Earth.

Later in the evening, when the humans had grown more comfortable with
their biot companions and were peppering them with questions, a solitary
female figure appeared in the open doorway.  At first she as unnoticed.
But the room quieted quickly after Kenji Watanabe jumped up from his
seat and approached the newcomer with an outstretched hand.

'Dr des Jardins, I presurne,' he said with a smile.

Despite Nicole's assurances that everything in New Eden was completely
consistent with her earlier remarks on the video, Commander Macmillan
refused to allow the Pinta passengers and crew to enter Rama and occupy
t el new homes until he was certain there was no danger.  He conferred
at length with ISA personnel on Earth and then sent a small contingent
headed by Dmitri Ulanov into Rama to obtain additional information.  The
chief medical officer of the Pinta, a dour Dutchman named Darl van Roos,
was the most important member of Ulanov's team.  Kenji Watanabe and two
soldiers from the first scouting party also accompanied the Russian
engineer.

The doctor's instructions were straightforward.  He was to examine the
Wakefields, all of them, and certify that they were indeed humans.  His
second assignment was to analyse the biots and categorise their
nonbiological features.

Everything was accomplished without incident, although Katie Wakefield
was uncooperative and sarcastic during her examination.  At Richard's
suggestion, an Einstein biot took apart one of the LincoIns and
demonstrated, at a functional level, how the most sophisticated
subsystems worked.  Deputy Ulanov was duly impressed.

Two days later the voyagers from the Pinta began moving their
possessions into Rama.  A large cadre of biots helped with the unloading
of the spacecraft and the movement of all the supplies into New Eden.

The process took almost three days to complete.  But where would
everyone settle?

In a decision that would later have -significant consequences for the
colony, almost all of the three hundred travellers on the Pinta elected
to live in Southcast Village, where the Wakefields had made their home.
Only Max Puckett and a handful of farmers, who moved directly into the
farming region along the northern perimeter of New Eden, decided to live
elsewhere in the colony.

The Watanabes moved into a small house just down the lane from Richard
and Nicole.  From the very be running Kenji and Nicole had had a natural
rapport .gi and their initial friendship had grown with each subsequent
interaction.  On the first evening that Kenji and Nai spent in their new
home, they were invited to share a family dinner with the Wakefields.

'Why don't we go into the living room?  It's more comfortable there,'
Nicole said when the mcal was completed.  'The Lincoln will clear the
table and take care of the dishes." The Watanabes rose from their chairs
and followed Richard through the entryway at the end of the dining room.
The younger Wakefields politely waited for Kenji and Nai to leave, and
then joined their parents and guests in the cosy living room at the
front of the house.

It had been five days since the Pinta scouting party had entered Rama
for the first time.  Five amazing days, Kenji was thinking as he sat
down in the Wakefield living room.  His mind quickly scanned the
kaleidoscope of jumbled impressions that were as yet unordered by his
brain.  And in many ways this dinner was the most amazing o fall.  What
this family has been through is incredi ble.  'The stories you have told
us,' Nai said to Richard and Nicole when everyone was seated, 'are
absolutely astonishing.  There are so many questions I want to ask, I
don't know where to start ...  I'm especially fascinated by this
creature you call The Eagle.  Was he one of the ETs who built The Node
and Rama in the first place?" 'No,' said Nicole.  'The Eagle was a biot
also.  At least that's what he told us and we have no reason not to
believe him.  He was created by the governing intelligence of The Node
to give us a specific physical interface." 'But then who did build The
Node?" 'That's definitely a Level Three question,' Richard said with a
smile.

Kenji and Nai laughed.  Nicole and Richard had explained The Eagle's
informational hierarchy to them during the long stories at dinner.  'I
wonder if it is even possible,' Kenji mused, 'for us to conceive of
beings so advanced that their machines can create other machines smarter
than we are." 'I wonder if it is even possible,' Katie now interrupted,
'for us to discuss some more trivial issues.  For example, where are all
the young people my age?

So far I don't think I have seen more than two colonists between twelve
and twenty-five." 'Most of the younger set are on board the Nina,' Kenji
responded.  'It should arrive here in about three weeks with the bulk of
the colony population.

The passengers on the Pinta were hand-picked for the task of checking
out the veracity of the video we received." 'What's veracity?" Katie
asked.

'Truth and accuracy,' Nicole said.  'More or less.  It was one of your
grandfather's favourite-words ...  And speaking of your grandfather, he
was also a great believer that young people should always be permitted
to listen to adult conversation, but not to interrupt it ...  We have
many things to discuss tonight with the Watanabes.  The four of you
don't have to stay .  .

'I want to go out and see the lights,' Benjy said.  'Will you come with
me, please, Ellie?" Ellie Wakefield stood up and took Benjy by the hand.
The two of them said goodnight politely and were followed out of the
door by Katie and Patrick.

'We're going to see if we can find anything exciting to do,' Katie said
as they departed.  'Good night, Mr and Mrs Watanabe.  Mother, we'll be
back in a couple of hours or so." Nicole shook her head as the last of
her children left the house.

'Katie has been so frenetic since the Pinta arrived,' she said in
explanation, 'she's barely even sleeping at night.  She wants to meet
and talk to everybody." The Lincoln biot, who had now finished cleaning
the kitchen, was standing unobtrusively by the door behind Benjy's
chair.  'Would you like something to drink?" Nicole asked Kenji and Nai,
motioning in the direction of the biot.  'We don't have anything as
delicious as the fresh fruit drinks that you brought from Earth, but
Linc can whip up some interesting synthetic concoctions." 'I'm fine,'
Kenji said, shaking his head.  'But I just realised we have spent the
entire evening talking about your incredible odyssey.  Certainly you
must have ques tions for us.  After all, forty-five years have passed on
Earth since the Newton was launched." Forty-five years, Nicole suddenly
thought.  Is that possible?  Can Genevieve really be almost sixty years
old?

Nicole remembered clearly the last time she had seen her father and
daughter on Earth.  Pierre and Genevieve had accompanied her to the
airport in Paris.  Her daughter had hugged Nicole fiercely until the
last call F, for boarding and then looked up at her mother with intense
love and pride.  The girl's eyes had been full of tears.  Genevieve had
been unable to say anything.

And during that forty-five years my father has died.  Genevieve has
become an older woman, a grandmother even.  mile I have been wandering
in time and space.

In a wonderiand.

The memories were too powerful for Nicole.  She took a deep breath and
steadied herself.  There was still quiet in the Wakefield living room as
she returned to the present.

'Is everything all right?" Kenji asked sensitively.  Nicole nodded and
stared at the soft, open eyes of her new friend.  She imagined for a
brief moment that she was talking to her fellow Newton cosmonaut
Shigeru.  Takagishi.  This man is full of curiosity, as Shig was.  I can
trust him.  And he has talked to Genevieve only a few years ugu.

'Most of the general Earth history has been explained to us, in bits and
snippets, during our many conversations with other passengers from the
Pinta,' Nicole said after a protracted silence.  'But we know absolutely
nothing about our families except what you told us briefly that first
night.  Both Richard and I would like to know if you've remembered any
additional details that might have been omitted in our first
conversations." 'As a matter of fact,' Kenji said, J went back through
my journals this afternoon and read again the entries I made when I was
doing the preliminary research for my book on the Newton.  The most
important thing that I neglected to mention in our earlier discussion
was how much your Genevieve looks like her father, at least from the
mouth down.  King Henry's face was striking, as I'm certain you
remember.  As an adult, Genevieve's face lengthened and began to
resemble his quite markedly..  Here, look at these, I managed to find a
couple of photo-' graphs from my three days at Beauvois stored in my
data base." Seeing the pictures of Genevieve overwhelmed Nicole.  Tears
rushed immediately into her eyes, and overflowed on to her cheeks.  Her
hands trembled as she held the two photographs of Genevieve and her
husband Louis Gaston.  Oh, Genevieve, she cried to herself, How I
havemissed u.HowIwouldlovetoholdyouinmyamis -W for just a mantem Richard
leaned over her shoulder to see the pictures.  As he did so he caressed
Nicole gently with his hands.  'She does look something like the
prince,' he commented softly, 'but I think she looks much more like her
mother." 'Genevieve was also extremely courteous,' Kenji added, 'which
surprised me, considering how much she had suffered during all the media
uproar in 2238.  She answered my questions very patiently.  I had
intended to make her one of the centrepieces of the Newton book until my
editor dissuaded me from the project altogether." 'How many of the
Newton cosmonauts are still alive?" Richard asked, kee ping the
conversation going while Nicole continued to gaze at the two
photographs.

'Only Sabatini, Tabori, and Yamanaka,' Kenji replied.  'Dr David Brown
had a massive stroke, and then died six months later under somewhat
unusual circumstances.  I believe that was in 2208.  Admiral Heilmann
died of cancer in 2214 or so.  Irina Turgenyev suffered a complete
mental breakdown, a victim of the "Return to Earth" syndrome identified
among some of the twentyfirst century cosmonauts, and eventually
committed suicide in 221 L' Nicole was still struggling with her
emotions.  'Until three nights ago,' she said to the Watanabes when the
room was again silent, 'I had never even told Richard or 77te Garden of
Row the children that Henry was Genevieve's father.  While I was living
on Earth, only my father knew the truth.  Henry might have suspected,
but he didn't know for certain.  Then, when you told me about Genevieve,
I realised that I should be the one to tell my family. I .  .

Nicole's voice trailed off and more tears appeared in her eyes.  She
wiped her face with one of the tissues Nai handed her.  'I'm sorry,'
Nicole said, 'I'm never like this.  It's just such a shock to see a
picture and to recall so many things..." 'When we were living in Rama
Two and then at The Node,' Richard said, 'Nicole was a model of
stability.  She was a rock.  No matter what we encountered, no matter
how bizarre, she was unflappable.  The children and Michael O'Toole and
I all depended on her.  It's very rare to see her .  .  ." 'Enough,'
Nicole exclaimed after wiping her face.  She put the photograph aside.
'Let's go on to other subjects.  Let's talk about the Newton cosmonauts,
Francesca Sabatini in particular.  Did she get what she wanted?  Fame
and riches beyond compare?" 'Pretty much,' Kenji said.  'I wasn't alive
during her heyday in the first decade of the century, but even now she
is still very famous.  She was one of the people interviewed on
television recently about the significance of recolonising Mars." '
Nicole leaned forward in her chair.  'I didn't tell yot.  this during
dinner, but I'm certain Francesca and Brown drugged Borzov, causing his
appendicitis symptoms.  And she purposely left me at the bottom of that
pit in New York.  The woman was totally without scruples." Kenji was
silent for several seconds.  'Back in 2208, just before Dr Brown died,
he had occasional lucid periods in his generally incoherent state.
During one such period he gave a fantastic interview to a magazine MIMI
reporter in which he confessed partial responsibility for Borzov's death
and implicated Francesca in your disappearance.  Signora Sabatini and
the entire story was "poppycock - the crazy outpourings of a diseased
brain", sued the magazine for a hundred million marks, and then settled
comfortably out of court.

The magazine fired the reporter and formally apologised to her."
'Francesca always wins in the end,' Nicole remarked.

'I almost resurrected the whole story three years ago,' Kenji continued,
'when I was doing the research for my book.  Since it has been more than
twenty-five years, all the data from the Newton mission was in the
public domain and therefore available to anyone who asked for it.  I
found the contents of your personal computer, including the data cube
that must have come from Henry, scattered throughout the trickle
telemetry.  I became convinced that Dr Brown's interview had indeed
contained some truth." 'So what happened?" 'I went to interview
Francesca at her palace in Sorrento.  Soon thereafter I stopped working
on the book .  .

Kenji hesitated for an instant.  Should I say more?  he wondered.  He
glanced over at his loving wife.  No, he said to himself, this is not
the time or the place.

'I'm sorry, Richard." He was almost asleep when he heard his wife's soft
voice in the bedroom.

'Huh,' he said.  'Did you say something, dear?" 'I'm sorry,' Nicole
repeated.  She rolled over next to him and found his hand with her
underneath the covers.  'I should have told you about Henry years ago
...  Are you still angry?" 'I was never angry,' Richard said.
'Surprised, yes, maybe even flabbergasted.  But not angry.  You had your
The Garden of Rama reasons for keeping it a secret." He squeezed her
hand.  'Besides, it was back on Earth, in another life.  If you had told
me when we first met, it might have mattered.  I might have been
jealous, and almost certainly would have felt inadequate.  But not now."
Nicole leaned over and gave him a kiss.  'I love you, Richard
Wakefield,' she said.

'And I love you, too,' he responded.

Kenji and Nai made love for the first time since they had left the Pinta
and she fell asleep immediately.  Kenji was still surprisingly alert. He
lay awake in bed, thinking about the evening with the Wakefields. For
some reason an image of Francesca Sabatini came into his mind.  The most
beautiful seventy-year-old woman I have ever seen, was his first
thought.  And what a fantastic life.

Kenji remembered clearly the summer afternoon when his train had pulled
into the station at Sorrento.  The driver of the electric cab had
recognised the address immediately.  'Capisco,' he had said, waving his
hands and then heading in the direction of 'il palazzo Sabatini'.

Francesca lived in a converted hotel overlooking the Bay of Naples.  It
was a twenty-room structure that had once belonged to a
seventeenth-century prince.

From the office where Kenji waited for Signora Sabatini to appear, he
could see a funicular carrying swimmers down a steep precipice to the
dark blue bay below.

La signora was half an hour late and then quickly became impatient for
the interview to be over.  Twice Francesca informed Kenji that she had
only agreed to talk to him at all because her publisher had told her he
was an 'outstanding young writer'.  'Frankly,' she said in her excellent
English, 'at this stage I find all discussion of the Newton extremely
boring." Her interest in the conversation picked up considerably when
Kenji told her about his 'new data', the files from Nicole's personal
computer that had been telemetered down to Earth in the 'trickle mode'
during the final few weeks of the mission.  Francesca became quiet, even
pensive, as Kenji compared the internal notes that Nicole had made with
the 'confession' given by Dr David Brown to the magazine reporter in
2208.

'I underestimated you,' Francesca said with a smile, when kenj i asked
if she didn't think it was a 'remarkable coincidence' that Nicole's
Newton diary and David Brown's confession had so many points of
agreement.  She never answered his questions directly.  Instead she
stood up in the office, insisted that he stay for the evening, and told
Kenji that she would talk to him later.

Near dusk a note came to Kenji's room in Francesca's palace telling him
that dinner would be at eight thirty and that he should wear a coat and
tie.  A robot arrived at the appointed time and led him to a magnificent
dining room with walls covered in murals, and tapestries, glittering
chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings, and delicate carvings on all
the mouldings.  The table was set for ten.

Francesca was already there, standing near a small robot server off to
one side of the enormous room.

Won ban wa, Watanabe-san,' Francesca said in Japanese as she offered him
a glass of champagne.  'I'm renovating the main sitting areas so I'm
afraid we're having our cocktails here.  It's all very gauche, as the
French would say, but it will have to do." Francesca looked magnificent.
Her blonde hair was stacked on top of her head, held by a large carved
comb.  A choker of diamonds was around her throat and an immense
solitary sapphire dangled from an understated diamond necklace.

Her strapless gown was white, with folds and pleats that accentuated the
curves of her still youthful body.  Kenji could not believe that she was
seventy years old.

She took him by the hand, after explaining that she had quickly put
together a dinner party 'in his honour', and led him over to the
tapestries against the far wall.  'Do you know Aubusson at all?" she
asked.  When he shook his head, Francesca launched into a discussion of
the history of European tapestries.

Half an hour later, Francesca took her seat at the head of the table.  A
music professor from Naples and his wife (supposedly an actress), two
handsome, swart professional soccer players, the curator of the Pompeii
ruins (a man in his early fifties), a middle-aged Italian poetess, and
two young women in their twenties, each stunningly attractive, occupied
the other places.  After some consultation with Francesca, one of the
two young women sat opposite Kenji and the other beside him.

At first the armchair opposite Francesca, at the far end of the table,
was empty.  Francesca whispered something to her head waiter, however,
and five minutes later a very old man, halt and almost blind, was led
into the room.

Kenji recognised him immediately.  It was Janos Tabori.

The meal was wonderful, the conversation lively.  The food was all
served by waiters, not by the robots used in all but the most
fashionable restaurants, and each course was enhanced by a different
Italian wine.  And what a remarkable group!  Everyone, even the soccer
players, spoke passable English.  They were also both interested in and
knowledgeable of space history.  The young woman opposite Kenji had even
read his most popular book on the early exploration of Mars.  As the
evening wore on Kenji, who was a bachelor of thirty at the time, became
less inhibited.  He was aroused by everything the women, the wine, the
discussions of history and poetry and music.

Z Only once during the two hours at the table was there any mention of
the afternoon interview.  During a lull in the conversation, after
dessert and before the cognac, Francesca nearly shouted at Janos: 'This
young Japanese man - he's very brilliant, you know - thinks he has found
evidence from Nicole's personal computer that corroborates those awful
lies David told before he died." Janos did not comment.  His facial
expression did not change.  But after the meal he handed Kenji a note
and then disappeared.  "You know nothing but the truth and have no
tenderness',' the note said.  "'Thus you judge unjustly." Aglaya
Yepanchin to Prince Myshkin.  77te Idiot, by Fyodor Dostoevsky." Kenji
had only been in his room for five or ten minutes when there was a knock
on his door.  When he opened it he saw the young Italian woman who had
been sitting opposite him at dinner.  She was wearing a tiny bikini that
revealed most of her exceptional body.  She was also holding a man's
bathing suit in her hand.

'Mr Watanabe,' she said with a sexy smile, 'please join us for a swim.
This suit ought to fit you." Kenji felt an immediate and enormous surge
of lust that did not quickly abate.  Slightly embarrassed, he waited a
minute or two after dressing before he joined the woman in the hall.

Three years later, even lying in his bed in New Eden next to the woman
he loved, it was impossible for Kenji not to recall with sexual longing
the night he spent in Francesca's palace.  Six of them had taken the
funicular down to the bay and swum in the moonlight.  At the cabana next
to the water, they had drunk and danced and laughed together.  It had
been a dream night.

Within an hour, Kenji remembered, we were all haffily naked.  The game
plan was clear.  The two soccer plqyers were for Francesca.  The two
madonnas for me.

Kenji squirmed in his bed recalling both the intensity of his pleasure
and Francesca's free laughter when she found him entwined with the two
young women at dawn in one of the oversized chaise longues beside the
bay.

When I reached New Yorkfour days later, my editor told me that he
thought I should abandon the Newton project I didn't a?gue with him.
Iprobably would have suggested it myseV Ellie was fascinated by the
porcelain figures.  She picked one up, a little girl dressed in a fight
blue ballet gown, and turned it over in her hands.  'Look at this,
Benjy,' she said to her brother.  'Someone made this - all by himself."
'That one is actually a copy,' the Spanish shopkeeper said, 'but an
artist did make the original from which the computer imprint was taken.
The reproduction process is now so accurate that even the experts have a
hard time telling which ones are the copies." 'And you collected all
these back on Earth?" Ellie waved her hand at the hundred or so figures
on the table and in the small glass cases.

'Yes,' Mr Murillo said proudly.  'Although I was a civil servant in
Seville - building permits and that sort of thing - my wife and I also
owned a small shop.  We fell in love with porcelain art about ten years
ago and have been avid collectors ever since." Mrs Murillo, also in her
late forties, came out of a back room where she was still unpacking
merchandise.  'We decided,' she said, 'long before we learned that we
had actually been selected as colonists by the ISA, that no matter how
restrictive our baggage requirements were for the voyage on the Nina, we
would bring our entire collection of porcelain with us."

The Garden qfRama Benjy was holding the dancing girl only a few
centimetres from his face.

'Beau-ti-fial,' he said with a broad smile.

'Thank you,' Mr Murillo said.  'We had hoped to start a collectors'
society in Lowell Colony,' he added.  'Three or four of the other
passengers on the Nina brought several pieces as well." 'May we look at
them?" Ellie asked.  'We'll be very careful." 'Help yourself,' Mrs
Murillo said.  'Eventually, once everything settles down, we will sell
or barter some of the objects - certainly the duplicates.

Right now they're just on display to be appreciated." While Ellie and
Benjy were examining the porcelain creations, several other people
entered the shop.  The Murillos had opened for business only a few days
before.  They sold candles, fancy napkins, and other small household
adornments.

'You certainly didn't waste any time, Carlos,' a burly American said to
Mr Murillo several minutes later.  From his initial greeting it was
obvious that he had been a fellow passenger on the Nina.

'It was easier for us, Travis,' Mr Murillo said.  'We had no family and
needed only a small place to five." 'We haven't even settled into a
house yet,' Travis complained.  'We're definitely going to live in this
village, but Chelsea and the kids cannot find a house they all like ...
Chelsea is still spooked by the whole arrangement.  She doesn't believe
the ISA is telling us the truth even now." 'I admit that it is extremely
difficult to accept that this space station was built by aliens just so
they can observe us ...  and it would certainly be easier to believe the
ISA story if there were pictures from that Node place.  But why would
they lie to us?" 'They have lied before.  Nobody even mentioned this
place until a day before the rendezvous ...  Chelsea believes that we
are part of an ISA space colony experiment.  She says that we will stay
here for a while, and then be transferred to the surface of Mars, so
that the two types of colonies can be compared." Mr Murillo laughed.  'I
see Chelsea hasn't changed since we left the Nina." He became more
serious.  'You know, Juanita and I had our doubts too, especially after
the first week passed and nobody had seen any sign of the aliens.  We
spent two full days wandering around, talking to other people - we
essentially conducted our own investigation.  We finally concluded that
the ISA story must be true.  First of all, it's just too preposterous to
be a lie.  Secondly, that Wakefield woman was very convincing.  In her
open meeting she answered questions for almost two hours, and neither
Juanita nor I detected a single inconsistency." 'It's hard for me to
imagine anyone sleeping for twelve years,' Travis said, shaking his
head.

'Of course.  It was for us too.  But we actually inspected that
somnarium where the Wakefield family supposedly slept.  Everything was
exactly as Nicole had described it in the meeting.  The overall
building, incidentally, is immense.

There are enough berths and rooms to house everyone in the colony, if
necessary ...  It certainly doesn't make sense that the ISA would have
built such a huge facility to support a lie." 'Maybe you're right.
'Anyway, we've decided to make the best of it..  At least for the time
being.

And we certainly can9t complain about our living conditions.  All the
housing is first rate.  Juanita and I even have our own Lincoln robot to
give us a hand both at home and around the store." Ellie was following
the discussion very closely.  She P

L01 remembered what her mother had told her the night A, before when she
had asked if she and Beniy could go for a walk in the village.

'I guess so, darling,' Nicole had said, 'but if anyone recognises you as
a Wakefield, and starts to question you, don't talk to them.  Be polite,
and then come home as quickly as you can.  Mr Macmillan does not want us
talking to any non-ISA personnel about our experiences just yet." While
Ellie was admiring the porcelain figures and listening intently to the
conversation between Mr Murillo and the man named Travis, Benjy wandered
off on his own.  When Ellie realised he was not beside her, she started
to panic.

'What are you staring at, buddy?" Ellie heard a harsh male voice say on
the other side of the shop.

'Her hair is ve-ry pret-ty,' Benjy replied.  He was blocking the aisle,
preventing the man and his wife from moving and.  He smiled and reached
out his hand towards the woman's magnificent, long blonde hair. 'May I
touch it?" he asked.

'Are you crazy?  ...  Of course not ...  Now get out of 'Jason, I think
he's retarded,' the woman said quietly, catching her husband's arm
before he pushed Benjy.

At that moment Ellie walked up beside her brother.  She realised that
the man was angry, but she did not know what to do.  She nudged Benjy
gently on the shoulder.  'Look, Ellie,' he exclaimed, slurring his words
in excitement, 'look at her Pret-ty yel-low hair." 'Is this goon a
friend of yours?" the tall man asked Elbe.

'Benjy is my brother,' Ellie answered with difficulty.

'Well, get him out of here ...  He's bothering my wife." 'Sir,' Ellie
said after summoning her courage, 'my brother doesn't mean any harm.
He's never seen long blonde hair up close before." The man's face
wrinkled in anger and puzzlement.  'Whaaat?" he said.  He glanced at his
wife.  'What's with these two?  One's a dummy and the other..." 'Aren't
you two of the Wakefield children?" a pleasant female voice behind Ellie
interrupted.

The distraught Ellie turned around.  Mrs Murillo stepped between the
teenagers and the couple.  She and her husband had crossed the shop as
soon as they had heard the raised voices.  'Yes, ma'am,' Ellie said
softly.  'Yes, we are." 'You mean these are two of the children who came
from outer space?" the man named Jason asked.

Ellie managed to pull Benjy quickly over to the door of the shop. 'We're
very sorry,' Ellie said before she and Benjy departed.  'We didn't mean
to cause any trouble." 'Freaks!" Ellie heard somebody say as the door
closed behind her.

It had been another exhausting day.  Nicole was very tired.  She stood
in front of the mirror and finished washing her face.  'Ellie and Benjy
had some kind of unpleasant experience down in the village,' Richard
said from the bedroom.  'They wouldn't tell me much about Nicole had
spent thirteen long hours that day helping to process the Nina
passengers.  No matter how hard she and Kenji Watanabe and the others
had worked, it seemed as if nobody was ever satisfied and there were
always more tasks that needed to be done.  Many of the new colonists had
been downright petulant when Nicole had tried to explain to them the
procedures that the ISA had established for the allocation of food,
living quarters, and working areas.

The Garden of Rwna She had been too many days without enough sleep.
Nicole looked at the bags under her eyes.  But we must finish with this
group before the Santa Maria ai7ives, she said to herself.  7hey will
befar more difficult Nicole wiped her face with a towel and crossed into
the bedroom, where Richard was sitting up in his pyjamas.  'How was your
day?" she asked.

'Not bad ...  Fairly interesting in fact ...  Slowly but surely, -the
human engineers are becoming more comfortable with the Einsteins." He
paused.  'Did yid you hear what I said about Ellie and Benjy?" Nicole
sighed.  From the tone of Richard's voice she understood his real
message.  Despite her fatigue, she exited from the bedroom and headed
down the hall.

Ellie was already asleep, but Benjy was still awake in the room he
shared with Patrick.  Nicole sat down beside Benjy and took his hand.
'Hel-lo, Ma-ma,' the boy said.

'Uncle Richard mentioned that you and Ellie went into the village this
afternoon,' Nicole said to her oldest son.

An expression of pain creased the boy's face for a few seconds and then
disappeared.  'Yes, Ma-ma,' he said.

'Ellie told me that they were recognised, and that one of the new
colonists called them some names,' Patrick said from the opposite side
of the room.

'Is that right, darling?" Nicole asked Benjy, still holding and stroking
his hands.

The boy made a barely perceptible affirmative motion with his head and
then stared silently at his mother.  'What's a goon, Ma-ma?" he said
suddenly, his eyes filling with tears.

Nicole put her arms around Benjy.  'Did someone call you a goon today?"
she asked softly.

Benjy nodded.  'The word doesn't have a specific meaning,' Nicole
answered.

'Anyone who is different, or perhaps objectionable, might be called a
goon." She caressed Benjy again.

'People use words like that when they aren't thinking.  Whoever called
you a goon was probably confused, or upset, by other events in his li e,
and he just lashed out at you because he didn't understand you ...  Did
you do anything to bother him?" 'No, Ma-ma.  I just told him that I
liked the wo-man's yellow hair." It took several minutes, but Nicole
eventually learned the gist of what had occurred in the porcelain shop.
When she thought that Benjy was all right, Nicole walked across the room
to kiss Patrick good night.  And how about you?" she said.  'Was your
day all right?" 'Mostly,' Patrick said.  'I only had one disaster - down
at the park." He tried to smile.  'Some of the new boys were playing
basketball and invited me to join them ...  I was absolutely terrible. A
couple of them laughed at me." Nicole gave Patrick a long and tender
hug.  Patrick is strong, Nicole said to herself when she was out in the
hall, headed back to her bedroom.  But even he needs support She took a
deep breath.  Am I doing the right thing?  she asked herself for the
umpteenth time since she had become deeply involved in all aspects of
the planning for the colony.  Ifeel so responsiblefor everything here. I
want New Eden to begin properly ...  But my children still need more of
my time ...  Will I ever achieve the right balance?

Richard was still awake when Nicole snuggled in beside him.  She shared
Benjy's story with her husband.  'I'm sorry I wasn't able to help him,'
Richard said.  'There are just some things that only a mother ..."
Nicole was so exhausted that she was falling asleep before Richard even
finished his sentence.  He touched her firmly on the arm.  'Nicole,' he
said, 'there is something else we must talk about.  Unfortunately it
can't

77m Garden of Rama wait - we may not have any private time in the
morning." She rolled over and looked at Richard quizzically.  'It's
about Katie,' he said.  'I really need your help ...  There's another of
those youth get-acquainted dances tomorrow night - you remember we told
Katie last week she could go, but only if Patrick went with her and she
came home at a reasonable hour ...  Well, tonight I just happened to see
her standing in front of her mirror in a new dress.  It was short and
very revealing.  When I asked her about the dress, and then told her
that it didn't seem like an appropriate outfit for a casual dance, she
flew into a rage.  She insisted that I was 'spying on her' and then
informed me that I was "hopelessly ignorant" about fashion." 'What did
you say?" 'I reprimanded her.  She glared at me coldly and said nothing.
Several minutes later she left the house without saying a word.  The
rest of the children and I ate dinner without her ...  Katie came home
only thirty minutes or so before you did.  She smelled of tobacco and
beer.  When I tried to talk to her, she just said, "Don't bother me",
and then went to her room and slammed the door." I have been afraid of
this, Nicole thought as she lay next to Richard in silence.  All the
signs have been there since she was a little girl.  Katie is brilliant
but she is also selfish and impetuous ...

'I was going to tell Katie that she could not go to the dance tomorrow
night,' Richard was saying, 'but then I realised that by any normal
definition she is an adult.  After all, her registry card at the
administration office gives her age as twenty-four.  We really can't
treat her like a child." But she's maybe fourteen emotionally, Nicole
thought, squirming as Richard began reciting all the difficulties they
had had with Katie since the first other humans had entered Rama.
Nothing matters to her but adventure and excitement Nicole remembered
the day she had spent with Katie at the hospital.  It had been a week
before the colonists from the Nina had arrived.  Katie had been
fascinated by all the sophisticated medical equipment and genuinely
interested in how it worked; however, when Nicole had suggested that
Katie might want to work at the hospital until the university opened,
the young woman had laughed.

'Are you kidding?" her daughter had said.  'I can't imagine anything
more boring.

Especially when there will be hundreds of new people to meet." There's
not much either Richard or I can do, Nicole said to herself with a sigh.
We can ache r Katie, and offer her fo our love, but she has already
decided that all our knowledge and experience is irrelevant There was
silence in the bedroom.  Nicole reached over and kissed Richard.

'I will talk to Katie tomorrow about the dress,' she said, 'but I doubt
if it will do much good." Patrick was sitting by himself in a folding
chair against the wall of the school gymnasium.  He took a sip from his
soda and glanced at his watch as the slow music ended and a dozen
couples dancing on the large floor slowed to a stop.

Katie and Olaf Larsen, a tall Swede whose father was a member of
Commander Macmillan's staff, shared a brief kiss before walking, arm in
arm, in Patrick's direction.

'Olaf and I are going outside for a cigarette and another shot of
whisky,' Katie said when the pair reached Patrick.  'Why don't you come
with us?" 'We're already late, Katie,' Patrick replied.  'We said we
would be home by twelve thirty."

Im The Garden ofRama The Swede gave Patrick a condescending pat on the
back.  'Come on, boy,' he said.  'Loosen up.  Your sister and I are
having a good time." Olaf was already drunk.  His fair face was flushed
from the drinking and dancing.  He pointed across the room.  'You see
that girl with the red hair, white dress, and big boobs?  Her name is
Beth and she's a hot number.  She's been waiting all night for you to
ask her to dance.  Would you like me to introduce you)' Patrick shook
his head.  'Look, Katie,' he said.  'I want to go.  I've been sitting
here patiently .  - ." 'Half an hour more, baby brother,' Katie
interrupted.  'I'll go outside for a little while, then come back for a
couple of dances.  After that we'll leave.

OK?" She kissed Patrick on the cheek and moved towards the door with
Olaf.  A fast dance began playing on the gymnasium sound system. Patrick
watched in fascination as the young couples moved in tune with the heavy
beat of the music.

'You don't dance?" a young man who was walking around the perimeter of
the dance floor asked him.

'No,' said Patrick.  'I've never tried." The young man gave Patrick a
strange look.  Then he stopped and smiled.  'Of course,' he said,
'you're one of the Wakefields ...  Hi, my name is Brian Walsh.

I'm from Wisconsin, in the middle of the United States.  My parents are
the ones who are supposed to be organising the university." Patrick had
not exchanged more than a couple of words with anyone except Katie since
they had arrived at the dance several hours earlier. He gladly shook
hands with Brian Walsh and the two of them chatted amiably for a few
minutes.

Brian, who had been half-finished with his undergraduate degree in
computer engineering when his family had been selected for Lowell
Colony, 47 was twenty and an only child.  He was also extremely curious
about his companion's experiences.

'Tell me,' he said to Patrick when they had become more comfortable with
each other, 'does this place called The Node really exist?  Or is it
part of some cockamamie story dreamed up by the ISA' 'No,' said Patrick,
forgetting that he was not supposed to discuss such things.  'The Node
is definitely there.  My father says it's an extraterrestrial processing
station." Brian laughed easily.  'So somewhere out near Sirius is a
gigantic triangle built by an unknown superspecies?  And its purpose is
to help them study other creatures who travel in space?  Wow.

That's the most fantastic tale I have ever heard.  In fact, almost
everything your mother told us at that open meeting was unbelievable.  I
will, however, admit that both the existence of this space station and
the technological level of the robots do make her story more plausible."
'Everything my mother said was true,' Patrick said.  'And some of the
most incredible stories were purposely left out.  For example, my mother
had a conversation with a caped eel who talked in bubbles.  Also .  . ."
Patrick stopped himself, remembering Nicole's admonitions.

Brian was fascinated.  'A caped eel?" he said.  'How did she know what
it was saying?" Patrick looked at his watch.  'Excuse me, Brian,' he
said abruptly, 'but I'm here with my sister and I'm supposed to meet her
.  .  ." 'Is she the one with the little red dress cut really low?"
Patrick nodded.  Brian put his arm around his new friend's shoulder.

'Let me give you some advice,' he said.  'Somebody needs to talk to your
sister.  The way she acts around all the guys makes people think she's
an easy lay."

77te Garden of Raw 'That's just Katie,' Patrick said defensively. 'She's
never been around anyone except the family." 'Sorry,' Brian said with a
shrug.  'It's none of my business anyway ...  Say, why don't you give me
a call some time?  I've enjoyed our conversation very much." Patrick
said goodbye to Brian and started walking towards the door.  Where was
Katie?  Why had she not come back inside the gymnasium?

He heard her loud laugh seconds after he was outside.  Katie was
standing on the playground with three men, one of whom was Olaf Larsen.
They were all smoking and laughing and'drinking from a bottle that was
being passed around.

'So what position do wu like best?" a dark young man with a mustache
asked.

'Oh, I prefer to be on top,' Katie said with a laugh.  She took a gulp
from the bottle.  'That way I'm in control." 'Sounds good to me,' the
man, whose name was Andrew, replied.  He chuckled and placed his hand
suggestively on her bottom.  Katie pushed it away, still laughing.
Seconds later she saw Patrick approaching.

'Come over here, baby brother,' Katie shouted 'this shit we're drinking
is dynamite." The three men, who had been drawn close around Katie,
moved slightly away from her as Patrick walked towards them.  Although
he was still quite skinny and undeveloped, his height made him an
imposing figure in the dim light.

'I'm going home now, Katie,' Patrick said, refusing the bottle when he
was beside her, 'and I think you should go with ine." Andrew aug e onie
party gir you ave ere, Larsen,' he said sarcastically, 'with a teenage
brother as a chaperon." Katie's eyes flared with anger.  She took
another swig from the bottle and handed it to Olaf.  Then she grabbed
Andrew and kissed him wildly on the lips, pressing her body tightly
against his.

Patrick was embarrassed.  Olaf and the third man cheered and whistled as
Andrew returned Katie's kiss.  After almost a minute Katie pulled away.
'Let's go now, ixed on t e Patrick,' she said with a smile, her eyes
still f hid man she had kissed.  'I think that's enough for one night."
Eponine stared out of the second-storey window at the gently rolling
slope.  The GEDs covered the hillside, their fine, gridwork pattern
almost obscuring the brown soil underneath.

'So, Ep, what do you think?" Kimberly asked.  'It's certainly nice
enough.

And once the forest is planted, we'll have trees and grass and maybe
even a squirrel or two outside our window.  That's definitely a plus."
'I don't know,' a distracted Eponine replied after a few seconds.  'It's
a little smaller than the one I liked yesterday in Positano.  And I have
a few misgivings about living here, in Hakone.  I haven't known that
many Orientals 'Look, Roomie, we can't wait forever. I told you
yesterday that we should have made backup choices.  There were seven
pairs that wanted the apartment in Positano - not surprising since there
were only four units left in the whole village - and we just weren't
lucky All that's left now, except for those tin flats over the shops on
the main street in Beauvois - and I don't want to live there because
there's absolutely no privacy is either here or in San Miguel.  And all
the blacks and btowns are living in San Miguel." Eponine sat down in one
of the chairs.  They were in the living room of the small two-bedroom
apartment.  It was furnished modestly, but adequately, with two chairs
and a large sofa that were the same brown colour as the rectangular
coffee table.  Altogether the apartment, which had a single large
bathroom and a small kitchen in addition to the living room and two
bedrooms, was slightly more than one hundred squar - e metres.

Kimberly Henderson paced around the room im-A patiently.  'Kim,' Eponine
said slowly, 'I'm sorry, but I'm7 having a hard time concentrating on
selecting an apart-i ment when so much is happening to us.  What is this
place?  Where are we?  Why are we here?" Her mind flashed back quickly
to the incredible briefing three days earlier, when Commander Macmillan
had informed them that they were inside a spaceship built and equipped
by extraterrestrials 'for the purpose of observing Earthlings'.

Kimberly Henderson lit a cigarette and expelled the smoke forcefully
into the air.  She shrugged.  'Shit, Eponine,' she said, 'I don't know
the answers to any of those questions ...  But I do know that if we
don't pick an apartment we'll be left with whatever nobody else has
wanted." Eponine looked at her friend for several seconds and then
sighed.  'I don't think this process has been very fair,' she
complained.  'The passengers from the Pinta and the Nina were all able
to pick their homes before we even arrived.  We are being forced to
choose among the rejects." 'What did you expect?" Kimberly replied
quickly.  'Our ship was carrying convicts - of course we got the dregs.

But at least we're finally free." 'So I guess you want to livc in this
apartment?" Eponine said at length.

'Yes,' replied Kimberly.  'And I also want to put in a bid on the other
two apartments we saw this morning, 77te Garden ofRarna near the Hakone
market, in case we are aced out of this one.  If we don't have a
definite home after the drawing tonight, I'm afraid we'll really be in
bad shape." This was a mistake, Eponine was thinking as she watched
Kimberly walking around the room.  I never should have agreed to be her
roommate ...  But what choice did I have?  The living accommodations
that are left for single people are abysmal.

Eponine was not accustomed to rapid changes in her life.  Unlike
Kimberly Henderson, who had had an enormous variety of experiences
before she was convicted of murder at the age of nineteen, Eponine had
lived a relatively sheltered childhood and adolescence.  She had grown
up in an orphanage outside Limoges, France, and until Professor Moreau
took her to Paris to see the great museums when Eponine was seventeen,
she had never even been outside her native province.  It had been a very
difficult ecision for her to sign up for the Lowell Colony in the first
place.  But Eponine was facing a lifetime of detention in Bourges, and
she was offered a chance for freedom on Mars.  After a long deliberation
she had courageously decided to submit her application to the ISA.

Eponine had been selected as a colonist because she had an outstanding
academic record, especially in all the arts, was fluent in English, and
had been a perfect prisoner.  Her dossier in the ISA files had
identified her most likely placement in the Lowell Colony as 'drama
and/or art teacher in the secondary schools'.  Despite the difficulties
associated with the cruise phase of the mission after leaving the Earth,
Eponine had felt a palpable rush of adrenalin and excitement when Mars
had first appeared in the observation window of the Santa Maria.  It
would be a new life on a new world.

Two days before the scheduled encounter, however, 7,= 7 the ISA guards
had announced that the spacecraft was not going to deploy its landing
shuttles as planned.  Instead, they had told the convict passengers, the
Santa Maria was going to take a 'temporary detour to rendezvous with a
space station orbiting Mars'.

Eponine had been both confused and concerned by the announcement. Unlike
most of her associates, she had read carefully all the ISA material for
the colonists and she had never seen any mention of an orbiting space
station around Mars.

It had not been until the Santa Maria was completely unloaded and all
the people and supplies were inside New Eden that anyone had really told
Eponine and the other convicts what was happening.  And even after the
Macmillan briefing, very few of the convicts believed they we being told
the truth.  'Come on now,' Willis Meeker had said, 'does he reallythink
we're that stupid?

A bunch of ETs built this place and all those crazy robots?  This whole
thing is a set-up.  We're jut testing some new kind of prison concept."
'But Willis,' Malcolm Peabody had replied, 'what about all the others,
the ones who came on the Pinta and the Nina?

I've talked to some of them.

They're normal people, I mean, they aren't convicts.  If your theory is
right, what are theydoing here?" 'How the hell should I know, fag?  I'm
no genius.  I just know that Macmillan dude is not giving us the
straight shit." Eponine did not let het her uncertainties about the
Macmillan briefing deter her from going with Kimberly to Central City to
submit requests for the three apartments in Hakone.  They were fortunate
in the drawing this time and were allocated their first choice.

The two women spent a day moving into the apartment on the edge of
Sherwood Forest, and then reported to the employment office in the
administrative complex for processing.

Because the other two spacecraft had arrived well before the Santa
Maria, the procedures to integrate the convicts into the life in New
Eden were quite carefully defined.  It took virtually no time to assign
Kiniber , who really did have an outstanding nursing record, to the
central hospital.

Eponine interviewed with the school superintendent and four other
teachers before accepting an assignment at Central High School.  Her new
job required a short commute by train, whereas she could have walked
each day if she had decided to teach at Hakone Middle School.  But
Eponine thought it would be worth the fr trouble.  She very much liked
the principal and staff members who were teaching at the high school.

At first the other seven doctors working at the hospital were leery of
the two convict physicians, especially Dr Robert Turner, whose dossier
cryptically mentioned his brutal murders without detailing any of the
extenuating circumstances.

But after a week or so, during which time his extraordinary skill,
knowledge, and professionalism became apparent to everyone, the staff
unanimously selected him to be the director of the hospital.

Dr Turner was quite astonished by his selection and pledged, in a brief
acceptance speech, to dedicate himself completely to the welfare of the
colony.

His first official act was to propose to the provisional government that
a full physical examination be given to every citizen of New Eden so
that all the personal medical files could be updated.  When his proposal
was accepted, Dr Turner deployed the Tiassos throughout the colony as
paramedics.  The biots performed all the routine examinations and
gathered data for the doctors admitted Malcolm to his office at the
beginning of the examination.

'Are you Mr Peabody's friend?" the voice said Eponine must have been
dozing.  When her vision was in focus, the beautiful blue eyes were
staring at her from only a metre away.

The doctor looked tired and upset.

'Yes,' Eponine said softly, trying not to disturb the man sleeping on
her shoulder.

'He's going to die very soon,' Dr Turner said, 'Possibly in the next two
weeks." Eponine felt her blood surge through her body.  Am I hearing
correctly?  she thought.

Did he say Malcolm was gong to die in the next two weeks?

Eponine was stunned.

'He will need a lot of support,' the doctor was saying.

He paused for a moment, staring at Eponine.  Was he trying to remember
where he had seen her before?  'Will you be able to help him?" Dr Turner
asked.

'I...  I hope so,' Eponine answered.

Malcolm began to stir.  'We must wake him up now,' the doctor said.

There was no emotion detectable in Dr Turner's eyes.

He had delivered his diagnosis, no his assertion, without a hint of
feeling.  Kim is righ4 Eponine thought.  He's as much an automaton as
those Tiasso robots.

At the doctor's suggestion, Eponine accompanied Malcolm down a corridor
and into a room filled with medical instruments.

'Someone intelligent,' Dr Turner said to Malcolm, 'chose the equipment
that was brought here from Earth.  Although we are limited in staff, our
diagnostic apparatus is first rate." The three of them walked over to a
transparent cube about one metre on a side.  'This amazing device,' Dr
Turner said, 'is called an organ projector.

It can reconstruct, with detailed fidelity, almost all the major organs
of the human body.  What are we seeing now, when we look inside, is a
computer graphic representation of your heart, Mr Peabody, just as it
appeared ninety minutes ago when I injected the tracer material into
your blood vessels." Dr Turner pointed at an adjacent room, where
Malcolm had apparently undergone the tests.

',While you were sitting on that table,' he continued, you were scanned
a million times a second by the machine with the big lens.  From the
location of the tracer material and those billions of instantaneous
scans, an extremely accurate, threedimensional image of your heart was
constructed.  That is what you are seeing inside the cube." Dr Turner
stopped a moment, looked away quickly, and then fixed his eyes on
Malcolm.  'I'm not trying to make it harder on you, Mr Peabody,' he said
quietly, 'but I wanted to explain how I am able to know what's wrong
with you.  So that you will understand there has been no mistake."
Malcolm's eyes were wild with fright.  The doctor took him by the hand
and led him to a specific position beside the cube.  'Look right there,
on the back of the heart, near the top.

Do you see the strange webbing and striation in the tissues?

Those are your heart muscles, and they have undergone irreparable
decay." Malcolm stared inside the cube for what seemed like an eternity
and then lowered his head.  'Am I going to die, Doctor?" he asked
meekly.

Robert Turner took his patient's other hand.  'Yes, You are, Malcolm. On
Earth, we could possibly wait for a heart transplant; here, however, it
is out of the question since we have neither the right equipment nor a
proper donor ...  If you would like, I can open you up and take a
first-hand look at your heart.  But it's extremely unlikely that I would
see anything that would change the prognosis." Malcolm shook his head.

Tears began to run down his cheeks.  Eponine put her arms around the
little man and began to weep as well.  'I'm sorry it took me so long to
complete my diagnosis,' Dr Turner said, 'but in a case this serious I
needed to be absolutely certain." A few moments later Malcolm and
Eponine walked towards the door.  Malcolm turned around.

'What do I do now?" he asked the doctor.

'Whatever you enjoy,' Dr Turner replied.

When they were gone Dr Turner returned to his office, where hard copy
printouts of Malcolm Peabody's charts and files lay strewn across his
desk.  The doctor was deeply worried.  He was virtually certain - he
could not know definitely until he had completed the autopsy that
Peabody's heart was suffering from the same kind of malady that had
killed Walter Brackeen on the Santa Maria.  The two of them had been
close friends for several years, going all the way back to the beginning
of their detention terms in Georgia.  It was unlikely that they had both
coincidmally contracted the same heart disease.  But if it was not a
coincidence, then the pathogen must be communicable.

Robert Turner shook his head.  Any disease that struck the heart was
alarming.  But one that could be passed from one person to another? The
spectre was terrifying.

He was very tired.  Before putting his head down on his desk Dr Turner
made a list of the references on heart viruses that he wanted to obtain
from the data base.  Then he fell quickly asleep.

Fifteen minutes later the phone aroused him suddenly.  A Tiasso was on
the other end, calling from the Emergency Room.

'Two Garcias have found a human body out in Sherwood Forest,' it said,
'and are F

on the way here now.  From the images they have transmitted, I can tell
that this case will require your personal involvement." Dr Turner
scrubbed his hands, put on his gown again, and reached the Emergency
Room just before the two Garcias arrived with the body.  Experienced as
he was, Dr Turner had to turn away from the horribly mutilated corpse.
The head had been almost completely severed from the body - it was
hanging by only a thin strand of muscle - and the face had been hacked
and disfigured beyond recognition.  In addition, in the genital area of
the trousers there was a bloody, gaping hole.

The pair of Tiassos immediately went to work, cleaning up the blood and
preparing the body for autopsy.  Dr Turner sat on a chair, away from the
scene, and filled out the first death report in New Eden.

'What was his name?" he asked the biots.

One of the Tiassos rustled through what was left of the dead man's
clothing and found his ISA identification card.

'Danni,' the biot replied.  'Marcello Danni."

Epithalamion I-A The train from Positano was full.  It stopped at the
small station on the shores of Lake Shakespeare, halfway to Beauvois,
and disgorged its mixture of humans and biots.  Many were carrying
baskets of food and blankets and folding chairs.  Some of the smaller
children raced from the station out on to the thick, freshly mown grass
surrounding the lake.

They laughed and tumbled down the gentle slope that covered the hundred
and fifty metres being the station and the edge of the water.

For those who did not want to sit on the grass, wooden stands had been
erected just opposite the narrow pier that extended fifty metres into
the water before spreading out into a rectangular platform.  A
microphone rostrum, and several chairs were set up on the platform; it
was there that Governor Watanabe would deliver the Settlement Day
address after the fireworks were finished.

Forty metres to the left of the stands, the Wakefields and the Watanabes
had placed a long table covered with a blue and white cloth.

Finger foods were tastefully arranged on the table.  Coolers underneath
were filled with drinks.  Their families and friends had gathered in the
immediate surrounding region and were either eating, playing some kind
of game, or engaged in animated conversation.  Two Lincoln biots were
moving around the group, offering drinks and canap6s to those who were
too far away from the table and the coolers.

It was a hot afternoon.  Too hot, in fact, the third exceptionally warm
day in a row.  But as the artificial sun completed its mini-arc in the
dome afar above their heads and the light slowly began to dim, the
expectant crowd on the banks of Lake Shakespeare forgot about the heat.

A final train arrived only minutes before the light disappeared
completely.

This one came from the Central City station to the north, bringing
colonists who lived in Hakone or San Miguel.  There were not many
latecomers.  Most of the people had arrived early to set up their
picnics on the grass.  Eponine was on the last train.  She had
originally planned not to attend the celebration at all, but had changed
her mind at the last minute.

Eponine was confused when she stepped on to the grass from the station
platform.  There were so many people!  All of New Eden must be here, she
thought.

For a moment she wished that she had not come.  Everyone was with
friends and family, and she was all alone.

Ellie Wakefield was playing horseshoes with Benjy when Eponine stepped
off the train.  She quickly recognised her teacher, even from the
distance, because of her bright red arm band.  'It's Eponine, Mother,'
Ellie said, running over to Nicole.  'May I ask her to join us?" cof
course,' Nicole replied.

A voice on the public address system interrupted the music being played
by a small band to announce that the fireworks would begin in ten
minutes.  There was scattered applause.  'Eponine,' Ellie shouted. 'Over
here." Ellie waved her arms.

Eponine heard her name being called but could not see very clearly in
the dim light.  After several seconds she started in Ellie's direction.
Along the way she inad W7 The Garden ofRarna vertently bumped into a
toddler who was roaming by himself in the grass.

'Kevin,' a mother shrieked, 'stay away from her!" In an instant a burly
blond man grabbed the little boy and held him away from Eponine.  'You
shouldn't be here,' the man said, 'not with decent people." A little
shaken, Eponine continued towards Ellie, who was walking in her
direction across the grass.  'Go home, Forty-one!" a woman who had
watched the earlier incident shouted.  A fat ten -year-old boy with a
bulbous nose pointed his finger at Eponine and made an inaudible comment
to his younger sister.

'I'm so glad to see you,' Ellie said when she reached her teacher. 'Will
you come have something to eat?" Eponine nodded.  'I'm sorry for all
these people,' Ellie said in a voice loud enough for everyone around her
to hear.

'It's a shame they are so ignorant." Ellie led Eponine back to the big
table and made a general introduction..,'Hey, everybody, for those of
you who don't know her, this is my teacher and friend Eponine.  She has
no last name so don't ask her what it is." Eponine and Nicole had met
several times before.  They exchanged pleasantries while a Lincoln
offered Eponine some vegetable sticks and a soda.

Nai Watanabe pointedly brought her twin sons, Kepler and Galileo, who
had just had their second birthday the week before, over to meet the new
arrival.  A large nearby group of colonists from Positano was staring as
Eponine lifted Kepler in her arms.  'Pretty,' the little boy said,
pointing at Eponine's face.

'It must be very difficult,' Nicole said in French, her head nodding in
the direction of the gawking bystanders.

'Oui,' Eponine replied.  Difficult?  she thought.  That's the
understatement of the year.  How about absolutely impossible?  It's not
bad enough that I have some horrible disease that will almost certainly
kill me.  No.  I must also wear an armband so that others can avoid me
if they choose.

Max Puckett glanced up from the chessboard and noticed Eponine.  'Hello,
hello,' he said.  'You must be 77' the teacher I've heard so much
about."

rf JF- 'That's Max,' Ellie said, bringing Eponine over in his A
direction.  'He's a flirt but he's harmless.  And the older man who's
ignoring us is judge Pyotr Mishkin ...  Did I say it correctly, judge?"
'Yes, of course, young lady,' judge Mishkin replied, his eyes not
leaving the chessboard.  'Damnit, Puckett, what in the world are you
trying to do with that knight?

As usual, your play is either stupid or brilliant and I can't decide
which." The judge eventually looked up, saw Eponine's red armband, and
scrambled to his feet.

'I'm sorry, Miss, truly sorry,' he said.  'You are forced to endure
enough without having to bear slights from this selfish old codger." A
minute or two before the fireworks began, a large yacht could be seen
approaching the picnic area from the western side of the lake.  Bright
coloured lights and pretty girls decorated its long deck. The name
Nakamura was emblazoned on the side of the boat.

Above the main deck, Eponine recognized Kimberly Henderson standing
beside Toshio Nakamura at the helm.

The party on the yacht waved at the people on th e shore.  Patrick
Wakefield ran excitedly over to the table.  'Look, Mother,' he said,
'there's Katie on the boat." Nicole put on her glasses for a better
look.  It was indeed her daughter in a bikini bathing suit, waving from
the deck of the yacht.  'That's just what we need,' Nicole mumbled to
herself, as the first of the fireworks our ling the dark sky with col
exploded above them, fil and light.

'Three years ago today,' Kenji Watanabe began his speech, 'a scouting
party from the Pinta first set foot in one of us knew what to expect.
All of this new world.  N o long months that us wondered, especially
during the tw we spent eight hours each day in the somnariuml if
anything resembling a normal life would ever be possible here in New
Eden.

'Our early fears have not materialised.  Our alien hosts, whoever they
may be2 have never once interfered With our lives.  it may be true, as
Nicole Wakefield and others have suggested, that they are continually
observing us, but we do not feel their presence in any way. Outside our
colony the Rama spacecraft is rushing towards the star we call Tau Ceti
at an unbelievable speed.  Inside, our daily activities are barely
influenced by the remarkable external conditions of our existence.

'Before the days in the somnarium, while we were all voyagers inside the
planetary system that revolves around our home star the Sun, many of us
thought our -observation period" would be short.  We believed that after
a few months or so we would be returned to Earth ' or maybe even our
original destination Mars, and that r in the this third Rama spacecraft
would disappea space like its two predecessors.  As I distant reaches of
ay, however, our navigators tell me stand before you tod that we are
still Moving away from our suns as we have n two and a half years, at
approxibeen for more that mately half the speed of light.  If, indeed,
it will be our our own solar system, good fortune someday to return to
that day will be at least several years in the future.

6These factors dictate the primary theme of this3 my last Settlement Day
address.

The theme is simple: fellow 1<i i .e' L colonists, we must take full
responsibility for our own destiny.  We cannot expect the awesome powers
that created our worldlet in the beginning to save us from our mistakes.

We must manage New Eden as if we and our children will be here forever.
It is up to us to ensure the quality of life here, both now and for our
future generations.

'At present there are a number of challenges facing the colony.  Notice
that I call them "challenges", not problems.  If we work together we can
meet these challenges.  If we carefully weigh the long-term consequences
of our actions, we will make the right decisions.  But if we are unable
to understand the concepts of "delayed gratification" and "for the good
of all", then the future of New Eden will be bleak.

'Let me take an example to illustrate my point.  Richard Wakefield has
explained, both on television and in public fora, how the master scheme
that controls our weather is based on certain assumptions about the
atmospheric conditions inside our habitat.

Specifically, our weather control algorithm assumes that both the carbon
dioxide levels and the concentration of smoke particles are less than a
given magnitude.  Without understanding exactly how the mathematics
works, you can appreciate that the computations governing the external
inputs to our habitat will not bet be correct if the underlying
assumptions are not accurate.

'It is not my intent today to give a scientific lecture about a very
complex subject.

What I really want to talk about is policy.  Since most of our
scientists believe that our unusual weather the last four months is a
result of unduly high levels of carbon dioxide and smoke particles in
the atmosphere, my government has made specific proposals to deal with
these issues.  All of our recommendations have been rejected by the
Senate.

'And why?  Our proposal to impose a gradual ban on fireplaces - which
are totally unnecessary in New Eden in the first place - was called a
'restriction on personal freedom'.  Our carefully detailed
recommendation to reconstitute part of the GED network, so that the loss
of plant cover resulting from the development of portions of Sherwood
Forest and the Northern grasslands could be offset, was voted down as
well.  The reason?

The opposition argued that the colony cannot afford the task and, in
addition, that the power consumed by the new segments of the GED network
would result in painfully stringent electricity conservation measures.

'Ladies and gentlemen, it is ridiculous for us to bury our heads in the
sand and hope that these environmental problems will go away.  Each time
we postpone taking positive action, it means greater hardships for the
colony in the future.  I cannot believe that so many of you accept the
opposition's wishful thinking, that somehow we will be able to figure
out how the alien weather algorithms actually work and tune them to
perform properly under conditions with higher levels of carbon dioxide
and smoke particles..  What colossal hubrisP Nicole and Nai were both
watching the reaction of Kenji's speech very carefully.

Several of his supporters had urged Kenji to give a light, optimistic
talk, without 2nv discussion of the crucial issues.  The governor,
ho'wever, had been firm in his determination to make a meaningful
speech.

'He's lost them,' Nai leaned over to whisper to Nicole.  'He's being too
pedantic." There was definitely a restiveness in the stands, where
approximately half the audience was now sitting.  The Nakamura yacht,
which had been anchored just offshore during the fireworks, had
pointedly departed soon after Governor Watanabe began to speak.

Kenji switched topics from the environment to the retrovirus RV-41.
Since this was an issue that aroused strong passions in the colony, the
audience attention increased markedly.  The governor explained how the
New Eden medical staff, under the leadership of Dr Robert Turner, had
made heroic strides in understanding the disease but still needed to
perform more extensive research to determine how to treat it.  He then
decried the hysteria that had forced the passage of a bill, even over
his veto, requiring all those colonists with RV-41 antibodies in their
system to wear red armbands at all times.

'Boo,' shouted a large group of mostly Oriental picnickers on the other
side of the stands from Nicole and Nai.

these poor, unfortunate people face enough anguish ..."Kenji was saying.

'They're whores and Jags,, a man cried from behind the
Wakefield-Watanabe party.

The people around him laughed and applauded.

Dr Turner has repeatedly affirmed that this disease, like most
retroviruses, cannot be transmitted except by blood and semen .  .  .,
The crowd was becoming unruly.  Nicole hoped that Kenji was paying
attention and would cut his comments short.  He had intended to discuss
also the wisdom (or lack thereof) of expanding the exploration of Rama
outside New Eden, but he could tell that he had lost his audience.

Governor Watanabe paused a second and then issued an ear-splitting
whistle into the microphone.  That temporarily quietened all the
listeners.  'I have only a few more remarks,' he said, 'and they should
not offend anyone ...

'As you know, my wife Nai and I have twin sons.  We The Garden of Rama
feel that we are richly blessed.  On this Settlement Day I ask each of
you to think about your children and envision another Settlement Day, a
hundred or maybe even a thousand years into the future.  Imagine that
you are face to face with those whom you have begot, your children's
children's children.  As you talk to them, and hold them in your arms,
will you be able to say that you did everything reasonably possible to
leave them a world in which they had a good chance of finding
happiness?" Patrick was excited again.  just as the picnic was ending,
Max had invited him to spend the night and the next day at the Puckett
farm.  'The new term at the university doesn't start until Wednesday,'
the young man told his mother.  'May I go?  Please?" Nicole was still
disturbed by the crowd's reaction to Kenji's speech and did not
understand at first what her son was asking.  After asking him to repeat
his request she glanced at Max.  'You'll take good care of my son?" Max
Puckett grinned and nodded his head.  Max and Patrick waited until the
biots had finished cleaning up all the trash from the picnic and then
headed for the train station together.  Half an hour later they were in
the Central City station waiting for the infrequent train that served
the farming region directly.  Across the platform from them, a group of
Patrick's college classmates were entering the train to Hakone.  'You
should come,' one of the young men yelled to Patrick.  'Free drinks for
everybody all night long." Max watched Patrick's eyes follow his friends
on to the train.  'Have you ever been to Vegas?" Max asked.

'No, sir,' he answered.  'My mother and uncle .  .

'Would you like to go?" Patrick's hesitation was all Max needed.  A few
seconds later they boarded the train to Hakone with all the merrymakers.
'I'm not terribly fond of the place myself,' Max commented as they were
riding.  'It seems too false, too superficial ...  But it's certainly
worth seeing and it's not a bad place to go for amusement when you're
all alone." Slightly more than two and a half years earlier, very soon
after the daily accelerations ended, Toshio Nakamura had correctly
calculated that the colonists were likely to stay in New Eden and Rama
for a long time.  Before even the first meeting of the constitutional
committee and its selection of Nicole des Jardins Wakefield as
provisional governor, Nakamura had decided that he was going to be the
richest and most powerful person in the colony.  Building upon the
convict support base he had established during the cruise from Earth to
Mars on the Santa Maria, he expanded his personal contacts and was able,
as soon as banks and currency had been created in the colony, to begin
building his empire.

Nakamura was convinced that the best products to sell in New Eden were
those that provided pleasure and excitement.  His first venture, a small
gambling casino, was an immediate success.  Next he bought some of the
farmland on the east side of Hakone and built the colony's initial
hotel, along with a second, larger casino just off the lobby.

He added a small, intimate club, with female hostesses trained in the
Japanese manner, and then a more raucous girlie club.  Everything he did
was successful.  Parlaying his investments shrewdly, Nakamura was in a
position, soon after Kenji Watanabe was elected governor, to offer to
buy one-fifth of Sherwood Forest from the government.  His offer allowed
the Senate to forestall higher taxes that would otherwise have been
required to pay for the initial RV-41 research.

AO The Garden of Rama Part of the burgeoning forest was cleared and
replaced with Nakamura's personal palace as well as a new, glittering
hotel/casino, an entertainment arena, a restaurant complex, and several
clubs.  Consolidating his monopoly, Nakamura lobbied intensely (and
successfully) for legislation that would limit gambling to the region
around Hakone.  His thugs then convinced all prospective entrepreneurs
that nobody really wanted to enter the gambling business in competition
with the 'king Jap'.

When his power was beyond attack, Nakamura permitted his associates to
branch out into prostitution and drugs, neither of which were illegal in
New Eden society.  Towards the end of the Watanabe term, when government
policies began to conflict increasingly with his personal agenda,
Nakamura decided he should control the government also.  But he didn't
want to be saddled with the boring job himself.  He needed a dupe.  So
he recruited Ian Macmillan, the hapless excommander of the Pinta who had
been an also-ran in the first gubernatorial election won by Kenji
Watanabe.  Nakamura offered Macmillan the governorship in exchange for
the Scotsman's fealty.

There was nothing even remotely like Vegas anywhere else in the colony.
The basic New Eden architecture designed by the Wakefields and The Eagle
had all been spare, functional in the extreme, with simple geometries
and plain facades.

Vegas was overdone, garish, inconsistent - a mishmash of architectural
styles' But it was interesting, and young Patrick O'Toole was visibly
impressed when he and Max Puckett entered the outside gates of the
compound.

'Wow,' he said, staring at the huge blinking sign above the portal.

'I don't want to diminish your appreciation any, my ooy,' Max said,
lighting a cigarette, 'but the power required to operate that one sign
would drive almost a square kilometer of GEDs." 'You sound like my
mother and uncle,' Patrick replied.

Before entering the casino or any of the clubs, each person had to sign
the master register.  Nakamura missed no bets.  He had a complete file
on what every Vegas visitor had done every time he had come inside. That
way Nakamura knew which portions of his business should be expanded and,
more importantly, the special and favoured vice (or vices) of each of
his customers.

Mac and Patrick went into the casino.  While they were standing by one
of the two craps tables, Max tried to explain to the young man how the
game worked.

Patrick, however, could not keep his eyes off the cocktail waitresses in
their scanty outfits.

Ever been laid, boy?" Max asked.

Excuse me, sir?" Patrick replied.

'Have you ever had sex, you know, intercourse with a woman?" 'No, sir,'
the young man answered.

A voice inside Max's head told him that it was not his responsibility to
usher the young man into the world of pleasure.  The same voice also
reminded Max that this was New Eden, and not Arkansas, or otherwise he
would have taken Patrick over to Xanadu and treated him to his first
sex.

There were more than a hundred people in the casino, a huge crowd
considering the size of the colony, and everyone seemed to be having
fun.  The waitresses were indeed dispensing free drinks just as fast as
they could Max grabbed a Margarita and handed one to Patrick.

'I don't see any biots,' Patrick commented.

T en't any in the casino,' Max replied.  'Not 'There ar even working the
tables, where they would be more fficient than humans.  The king Jap
believes their e presence inhibits the gambling instinct.  But he uses
them exclusively in all the restaurants." 'Max Puckett, well I do
declare." Max and Patrick turned around.  A beautiful young woman in a
soft, pink dress was approaching them.  'I haven't seen you in months,'
she said.

'Hello, Samantha,' Max said after being uncharacteristically tongue-tied
for several seconds.

'And who is this handsome young man?" Samantha said, batting her long
eyelashes at Patrick.

'This is Patrick O'Toole,' Max answered.  'He is .  .

'Oh, my goodness,' Samantha exclaimed.  'I've never met one of the
o-riginal colonists before." She studied Patrick for a few seconds
before continuing.

'Tell me, Mr O'Toole,' she said, 'is it really true that you went to
sleep for years?" Patrick nodded shyly.

'My friend Goldie says that the whole story is bullshit, that you and
your family are really all agents for the HA.  She doesn't even believe
we have ever left Mars orbit ...  Goldie says all that dreary time in
the tanks was also part of the hoax." 'I assure you, ma'am,' Patrick
politely responded, 'that we did indeed sleep for years.  I was only six
years old when my parents put me in a berth.  I looked almost like I do
now the next time I woke up." 'Well, I find it fas-cinatin', even if I
don't know what to make of it all ...  So, Max, what are you up to) And
by the way, are you going to officially introduce me?" 'I'm sorry ...
Patrick, this is Miss Samantha Porter from the great state of
Mississippi.  She works at the Xanadu..." 'I'm a prostitute, Mr O'Toole.
One of the very best ...  Have you ever met a prostitute before?"
Patrick blushed.  'No, ma'am,'he said.

Samantha put a finger under his chin.  'He's cute,' she said to Max.
'Bring him over.  If he's a virgin, I might do him for free." She gave
Patrick a small kiss on the lips and then turned around and departed.

Max couldn't think of anything appropriate to say after Samantha left.
He thought about apologising but decided it wasn't necessary.  Max put
his arm around Patrick and the two of them walked towards the back of
the casino, where the higher stakes tables were cordoned off.

'All right now, yo,' cried a young woman with her back towards them.
'Five and six makes a-yo.

Patrick glanced over at Max with surprise.  'That's Katie,' he said,
hastening his step in her direction.

Katie was completely absorbed in the game.  She took a quick drag from a
cigarette, belted down the drink handed her by the swarthy man on her
right, and then held the dice high above her head.  'All the numbers,'
she said, handing chips to the croupier.  'Here's twenty-six plus five
marks on the hard eight ...

Now, be there, Forty-four,' she said, flinging the dice against the
opposite end of the table with a flick of her wrist.

'Forty-four,' the crowd around the table shouted in unison.

Katie jumped up and down in her place, gave her date a hug, quaffed
another drink, and took a long, languorous pull from her cigarette.

'Katie,' Patrick said just as she was about to throw the dice again.

She stopped in mid-throw and turned around with a quizzical look on her
face.  'Well, I'll be damned,' she said.  'It's my baby brother."

The Garden ofRama Katie stumbled over to greet him as the croupiers and
other players at the table yelled for her to continue the game.

'You're drunk, Katie,' Patrick said quietly while he was holding her in
his arms.

'No, Patrick,' Katie replied, jerking herself backward towards the
table.

'I am fl Yang.  I am on my own personal shuttle to the stars." She
turned back to the craps table and raised her right arm high.  'All
right now, yo.  Are you in there, yo?" she shouted.

-ago Again the dreams came in the early morning hours.  Nicole woke up
and tried to remember what she had been dreaming, but all she could
recall was an isolated image here and there.  Omeh's disembodied face
had been in one of her dreams.  Her Senoufo greatgrandfather had been
warning her about something, but Nicole had not been able to understand
what he was saying.  In another dream Nicole had watched Richard walk
into a quiet ocean just before a devastating wave came rushing towards
the shore.

Nicole rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock.  It was just before
four o'clock.  almost the same time every morning this week, she
thought.

What do they mean?  She stood up and crossed into the bathroom.

Moments later she was in the kitchen dressed in her exercise clothes.
She drank a glass of water.  An Abraham Lincoln biot, who had been
resting immobile against the wall at the end of the kitchen counter,
activated and approached Nicole.

'Would you like some coffee, Mrs Wakefield?" he asked, taking the empty
water glass from her.

'No, Linc,' she answered.  'I'm going out now.  If anyone wakes up tell
them I'll be back before six." Nicole walked down the hallway towards
the door.

Before leaving the house she passed the study on the The Gardm ofRama
right-hand side of the corridor.  Papers were strewn all over Richard's
desk, both beside and on top of the new computer he had designed and
constructed himself.  Richard was extremely proud of his new computer,
which Nicole had urged him to build, even though it was unlikely that it
would ever completely replace his favourite electronic toy, the standard
ISA pocket computer.  Richard had religiously carried the little
portable since before the launch of the Newton.

Nicole recognised Richard's writing on some of the paper sheets but
could not read any of his symbolic computer language.  He has spent many
long houn in here recently, Nicole thought, feeling a pang of guilt.

Even though he believes that what he's doing is wrong.

At first Richard had refused to participate in the effort to decode the
algorithm that governed the weather in New Eden.  Nicole recalled their
discussions clearly.  have agreed to participate in this democracy,' she
'We laws, then had argued.  'If you and I choose to ignore its we set a
dangerous example for the others 'This is not a law,' Richard had
interrupted her.  'It's only a resolution.  And you know as well as I do
that it's an incredibly dumb idea.  You and Kenji both fought against it
...  And besides, aren't you the one who told me once that we have a
duty to protest majority stupidity?" 'Please, Richard,' Nicole had
replied.  'You may of course explain to everyone why you think the
resolution is wrong.  But this algorithm effort has now become a
campaign issue.  All the colonists know that we are close the Watanabes.
If you ignore the resolution it will to look as if Kenji is purposely
trying to undermine While Nicole was remembering her earlier converion
with her husband, her eyes roamed idly around sat the study.  She was
somewhat surprised, with her mind Amhur C.  Clarke and Gent?y Lee again
focused on the present, to find that she was staring at three little
figures on an open shelf above Richard's desk.  Prince Ha4 Falstaff, TA
she thought.  How long has it been since Richard entertained us with
you?

Nicole thought back to the long and monotonous i weeks after her family
had awakened from their years of sleep.  While they were waiting for the
arrival of the other colonists, Richard's robots had been their primary
source of amusement, In her memory Nicole could still hear the
children's mirthful laughter and see her husband smiling with delight.
77zose were simpler, easier times, she said to herself.  She closelosed
the door to the study and continued down the hall.  Before life became
too complicatedforplay.  Now your liulefricndsjust sit silently on the
shelf Out in the lane, underneath the streetlight, Nicole stopped for a
moment beside the bicycle rack.  She hesitated, looking at her bicycle,
and then turned around and headed for the back yard.  A minute later she
had crossed the grassy area behind the house and was on the path that
wound up Mount Olympus.

Nicole walked briskly.  She was very deep in thought.  For a long time
she paid no attention to her surroundings.  Her mind jumped around from
subject to subject, from the problems besetting New Eden, to her strange
dream patterns, to her anxieties about her children, especially Katie.

She arrived at a fork in the path.  A small, tasteful sign plained that
the path to the left led to the cablecar ex station, eighty metres away,
where one could ride to the top of Mount Olympus.  Nicole's presence at
the fork was electronically detected and prompted a Garcia biot to
approach from the direction of the cable car.

"Don't bother,' Nicole shouted.  'I'm going to walk." The view became
more and more spectacular as the switchbacks wound up the side of the
mountain that faced the rest of the colony.

Nicole paused at one of the viewpoints, five hundred metres in altitude
and just under three kilometres walking distance from the Wakefield
home, and looked out across New Eden.  It was a clear night, with little
or no moisture in the air.

No rain today, Nicole thought, knowing that the mornings were always
damp with water vapour on the days that showers fell.  Just below her
was the village of Beauvois - the lights from the new furniture factory
allowed her to identify most of the familiar buildings of her region,
even from this distance.  To the north the village of San Miguel was
hidden behind the bulky mountain.  But out across the colony, far on the
other side of a darkened Central City, Nicole could discern the splashes
of light that marked Nakamura's Vegas.

She was instantly plunged into a bad mood.  That damn place stays open
all night long, she grumbled, using critical power resources and
offering unsavoury amusenzents.

It was impossible for Nicole not to think of Katie when she looked at
Vegas.

Such natural talen4 Nicole remarked to herself, a dull heartache
accompanying the image of her daughter.  She could not help wondering if
Katie were still awake in the glittering fantasy life on the other side
of the colony.  And such a colossal waste, Nicole thought, shaking her
head.

Richard and she had discussed Katie often.  There were only two subjects
about which they fought - Katie and New Eden politics.  And it wasn't
entirely accurate to say they fought about politics.  Richard basically
felt that all politicians, except Nicole and maybe Kenji 'Watanabe, were
essentially without principles.  His Method of discussion was to make
sweeping pronouncements about the insipid goings-on in the Senate, or
even f

AL in Nicole's own courtroom, and then to refuse to consider the subject
any more.

Katie was another issue.  Richard always argued that Nicole was much too
hard on Katie.  He also blames me, Nicole thought as she gazed at the
far away lights, for ii not spending enough time with her.  He contends
my jumping into colony politics left the children with only a part-time
mother at the most criticalperiod of their lives.

Katie was almost never at home any more.  She still had a room in the
Wakefield house, but she spent most of her nights in one of the fancy
apartments that Nakamura had built inside the Vegas compound.

'How do you pay the rent?" Nicole had asked her daughter one night, just
before the usual unpleasantness.

'How do you think, Mother?" Katie had answered belligerently.  'I work.
I have plenty of time.  I'm only taking three courses at the
university." 'What kind of work do you do?" Nicole had asked.

'I'm a hostess, an entertainer ...  you know, whatever is needed,' Katie
had answered vaguely.

Nicole turned away from the lights of Vegas.  Of course, she said to
herself, it is entirely understandable that Katie is confused.  She
never had any adolescence.  But sti14 she doesn't seem to be getting any
better ...  Nicole started walking briskly up the mountain again, trying
to dispel her mounting gloom.

Between five hundred and a thousand metres in altitude, the mountain was
covered with thick trees that were already five metres high.  Here the
path to the summit ran between the mountain and the outside wall of the
colony in an extremely dark stretch that lasted for more than a
kilometer.  There was one break in the blackness, near the end, at a
lookout point facing north.

Nicole had reached the highest point in her ascent.

Z She stopped at the lookout and stared across at San Miguel.  nere is
theproof, she thought, shaking her head, that we have failed here in new
Eden.  Despite everything, there is poverty and despair in Paradise.

She had seen the problem coming, had even accurately predicted it
towards the end of her one-year term as provisional governor.
Ironically, the process that had produced San Miguel, where the standard
of living was only half what it was in the other three New Eden
villages, had begun soon after the arrival of the Pinta.  That first
group of colonists had mostly settled in the south-east village that
would later become Beauvois, setting a precedent that was accentuated
after the Nina reached Rama.  As the free settlement plan was
implemented, almost all the Orientals decided to live together in
Hakone; the Europeans, white Americans, and middle Asians chose either
Positano or what was left of Beauvois.  The Mexicans, other Hispanics,
black Americans, and Africans all gravitated towards San Miguel.

As governor, Nicole had tried to resolve the de facto segregation in the
colony with a utopian resettlement plan that would have allocated to
each of the four villages racial percentages that mirrored the colony as
a whole.  Her proposal might have been accepted very early in the
colony's history, especially right after the days in the somnarium, when
most of the other citizens viewed Nicole as a goddess.  But it was too
late after more than a year.  Free enterprise had already created gaps
in both personal wealth and real estate values.  Even Nicole's most
loyal followers realised the impracticality of her resettlement concept
at that point.

After Nicole's term as governor was completed, the Senate had
resoundingly approved Kenji's appointment of Nicole as one of New Eden's
five permanent judges.

Nevertheless, her image in the colony suffered considerably when the
remarks she had made in defence of the aborted resettlement plan became
widely circulated.

Nicole had argued that it was essential for the colonists to live in
small, integrated neighbourhoods to develop any real appreciation of
racial and cultural differences.  Her critics had thought that her views
were 'hopelessly naive'.

Nicole stared at the twinkling lights of San Miguel for several more
minutes as she warmed down from her strenuous climb up the mountain.
just before she turned around and headed back towards her home in
Beauvois, she suddenly recalled another set of twinkling lights, from
the town of Davos, in Switzerland, back on the planet Earth.  During
Nicole's last ski vacation, she and her daughter Genevieve had had
dinner on the mountain above Davos and, after eating, had held hands in
the bracing cold out on the restaurant balcony.  The lights of Davos had
shone like tiny jewels many kilometres below them.  Tears came into
Nicole's eyes as she thought of the grace and humour of her first
daughter whom she had not seen for so many years.  Thank you again,
Kenji she mumbled as she began to walk, recalling the photographs her
new friend had brought from Earth, for sharing with me your visit with
Genevieve.

It was again black all around her as Nicole would back down the side of
the mountain.  The outer wall of the colony was now on her left.  She
continued to think about life in New Eden.  We need special courage now,
she said to herself.

Courage, and values, and vision.  But in her heart she feared the worst
was still ahead for the colonists.  Unfortunately, she reflected
gloomily, Richard and I and even the children have remained outsiders,
despite everything we have tried to do.  It is unlikely that we will be
able to change anything very much.

the Garden of Rama Richard checked to ensure that the three Einstein
biots had all properly copied the procedures and data that had been on
the several monitors in his study.  As the four of them were leaving the
house, Nicole gave him a kiss.

'You are a wonderful man, Richard Wakefield,' she said.

'You're the only one who thinks so,' he replied, forcing a smile.

'I'm also the only one who knows,' Nicole said.  She paused for a
moment.

'Seriously, darling,' she continued, 'I appreciate what you're doing.  I
know .

.

'I won't be very late,' he interrupted.  'The three Als and I have only
two basic ideas left to try ...  If we aren't successful today, we're
giving up." With the three Einsteins following close behind him, Richard
hurried down to the Beauvois station and caught the train for Positano.
The train stopped momentarily by the big park on Lake Shakespeare where
the Settlement day picnic had been held two months earlier.  Richard and
his supporting biot cast disembarked several minutes later at Positano
and walked through the village to the south-west corner of the colony.
There, after having their identification checked by one human and two
Garcias, they were allowed to pass through the colony exit into the
annulus that circumscribed New Eden.  There was one more brief
electronic inspection before they reached the only door that had been
cut in the thick external wall surrounding the habitat.  It swung open
and Richard led the biots into Rama itself.

Richard had had misgivings when, eighteen months previously, the Senate
had voted to develop and deploy a penetrating probe to test the
environmental conditions in Rama just outside their module.  Richard had
served on the committee that had reviewed the engineering design of the
probe; he had been afraid that the external environment might be
overwhelmingly hostile and that the design of the probe might not
properly protect the integrity of their habitat.  Much time and money
had been spent guaranteeing that the boundaries of New Eden were
hermetically sealed during the entire procedure, even while the probe
was inching its way through the wall.

Richard had lost credibility in the colony when the environment in Rama
had turned out to be not significantly different from that in New Eden.
Outside there was permanent darkness, and some small, periodic
variations in both atmospheric pressure and constituents, but the
ambient Raman environment was so similar to the one in the colony that
the human explorers did not even need their space suits.  Two weeks
after the first probe revealed the benign atmosphere in Rama, the
colonists had completed the mapping of the area of the Central Plain
that was now accessible to them.

New Eden and a second, almost identical rectangular construct to the
south, which Richard and Nicole both believed to be a habitat for a
second life form, were enclosed together in a larger, also rectangular
region whose extremely tall, metallic grey barriers separated it from
the rest of Rama.  The barriers on the north and south sides of this
larger region were extensions of the walls of the habitats themselves.
On both the east and west side of the two enclosed habitats, however,
there were about two kilometres of open space.

At the four corners of this outer rectangle were massive cylindrical
structures.  Richard and the other technological personnel in the colony
were convinced that the impenetrable corner cylinders contained the
fluids and pumping mechanisms whereby the environ The Garden ofRanta
mental conditions inside the habitats were maintained.

The new outer region, which had no ceiling except for the opposite side
of Rama itself, covered most of the northern hemicylinder of the
spacecraft.  A large metal hut, shaped like an igloo, was the only
building in the Central Plain between the two habitats.  This hut was
the control centre for New Eden and was located approximately two
kilometres south of the colony wall.

When they exited from New Eden, Richard and the three Einsteins were
headed for the control centre, where they had been working together for
almost two weeks in an attempt to break into the master control logic
governing the weather inside New Eden.  Despite Kenji Watanabe's
objection, the Senate had earlier appropriated funds for an 'all-out
effort' by the colony's 'best engineers' to alter the alien weather
algorithm.  They had promulgated this legislation after hearing
testimony from a group of Japanese scientists, who had suggested that
stable weather conditions could indeed be maintained inside New Eden,
even with the higher levels of carbon dioxide and smoke in the
atmosphere.

It was an appealing conclusion for the politicians.  If, perhaps,
neither barring wood-burning nor deploying a reconstituted GED network
were truly required, and it was only necessary to adjust a few
parameters in the alien algorithm that had, after all, been initially
designed with some assumptions that were no longer valid, well then ...

Richard hated that kind of thinking.  Avoid the issue as long as
possible, he called it.  Nevertheless, because of both Nicole's pleas
and the total failure of the other colony engineers to understand any
facet of the weather control process, Richard had agreed to tackle the
task.  He had insisted, however, that he work essentially alone, with
only the Einsteins helping him.

On the day that Richard planned to make his la St attempt to decode the
New Eden weather algorithm, he 1 and his biots stopped first near a site
one kilonietre away from the colony exit.  Under the large lights
Richard could see a group of architects and engineers working at a very
long table.

'The canal will not be difficult to build - the soil is very soft." 'But
what about sewage?  Should we dig cesspools, or haul the waste material
back to New Eden for processing?" 'The power requirements for this
settlement will be substantial.  Not only the lighting, because of the
ambient darkness, but also all the appliances. In addit ion we're far
enough away from New Eden that we must account for nontrivial losses on
the lines ...  Our best superconducting materials are too critical for
this usage." Richard felt a mixture of disgust and anger as he listened
to the conversation.  The architects and engmeers were conducting a
feasibility study for an external village that could house the RV-41
carriers.

The project, whose name was Avalon, was the result of a delicate
political compromise between Governor Watanabe and his opposition. Kenji
had permitted the study to be nded' on the issue funded to show that he
was 'open mi of how to deal with the RV-41 problem.

Richard and the three Einsteins continued down the path in a southerly
direction.  just north of the control centre they caught up with a group
of humans and biots headed towards the second habitat probe site with
some impressive equipment.

'Hi, Richard,' said Marilyn Blackstone, the fellow Briton whom Richard
had recommended to head the probe effort.  Marilyn was from Taunton, in
Somerset.

She had received her engineering degree from LK Cambridge in 2232 and
was extremely competent.

'How's the work coming?" Richard asked.

'If you have a minute, come and take a look,' Marilyn suggested.

Richard left the three Einsteins at the control centre and accompanied
Marilyn and her team across the Central Plain to the second habitat.  As
he was walking, he remembered his conversation with Kenji Watanabe and
Dmitri Ulanov in the governor's office one afternoon before the probe
project was officially approved.

'I want it understood,' Richard had said, 'that I am categorically
against any and all efforts to intrude upon the sanctity of that other
habitat.  Nicole and I are virtually positive that it harbours another
kind of life.  There is no argument for penetration that is compelling."
'Suppose it's empty,' Dmitri had replied.  'Suppose the habitat has been
placed there for us, assuming we are clever enough to figure out how to
use it." 'Dmitri,' Richard had almost shouted, 'have You listened to
anything that Nicole and I have been telling you all these months?  You
are still clinging to an absurd homocentric notion about our place in
the universe.

Because we are the dominant species on the planet Earth, you assume we
are superior beings.  We are noL There must be hundreds 'Richard,' Kenji
had interrupted him in a soft voice, we know your opinion on this
subject.  But the colonists of new Eden do not agree with you.  They
have never seen The Eagle, the octospiders, or any of the other
wonderful creatures that you talk about.  They want to know if we have
room to expand..." Kenji was already a fraid then, Richard was thinking
as he and the exploration team neared the second habitat.  He's still
ter7ified that Macmillan will beat Ulanov ' the election and turn the
colony over to Nakamura.  in 1P Two Einstein biots began working as soon
as the team arrived at the probe site.  They carefully installed the
compact laser drill in the spot where a hole in the wall had already
been created.  Within five minutes the drill was slowly expanding the
hole in the metal.

'How far have you penetrated?" Richard asked 'Only'about thirty-five
centimetres so far,' Marilyn replied.  'We're taking it very slowly.  If
the wall has the 1, same thickness as ours, it will be another three or
four weeks before we are all the way through ...  Incidentally, the
spectrographic analysis of the wall parts indicates it's the same
material as our wall." 'And once you've penetrated into the interior?"
Marilyn laughed.  'Don't worry, Richard.  We're following all the
procedures you recommended ' We will J have a minimum of two weeks of
passive observation before we continue to the next place.  We'll give
them a chance to respond - if they are indeed inside." The scepticism in
her voice was obvious.  'Not you too, Marilyn,' Richard said.  'What's
the matter with everybody?  Do you think Nicole and the children and I
just made up all those stories?" 'Extraordinary claims req require
extraordinary evidence,' she replied.

Richard shook his head.  He started to argue with Marilyn, but he
realised he had more important things to do.  After a few minutes of
polite engineering conversation, he walked back towards the control
centre where his Einsteins were waiting.

The great thing about working with the Einstein biots was that Richard
could try many ideas at once.  Whenever he had a particular approach in
mind, he could Outline it to one of the biots and have complete
confidence that it would be implemented properly.  The Einsteins never
suggested a new method themselves; however, they were perfect memory
devices, and often reminded Richard when one of his ideas was similar to
an earlier technique that had failed.

All the other colony engineers attempting to modify the weather
algorithm had tried first to understand the inner workings of the alien
supercomputer that was located in the middle of the control centre. That
had been their fundamental mistake.  Richard, knowing a priori that the
supercomputer's internal operation would be indistinguishable from magic
to him, concentrated on isolating and identifying the output signals
that emanated from the huge processor.  After all, he reasoned, the
basic structure of the process must be straightforward.  Some set of
measurements defines the conditions inside New Eden at any given time.

The alien algorithms must use this measurement data to compute commands
that are somehow passed to the huge cylindrical structures, where the
actual physical activity takes place that leads to modifications in the
atmosphere inside the habitat.

It did not take Richard long to draw a functional block diagram of the
process.  Because there were no direct electrical contacts between the
control centre and the cylindrical structures, it was obvious that there
was some kind of electromagnetic communication between the two entities.
But what kind?  When Richard scanned the spectrum to see at what
wavelengths the communication was taking place, he found many potential
signals.

Analysing and interpreting those signals was a little like looking for a
needle in a haystack.  With the Einstein biots helping him, Richard
eventually determined that the most frequent transmissions were in the
microwave bandwidth.

For a week he and the Einsteins catalogued the microwave exchanges,
reviewing the weather conditions in new Eden both before and after, and
trying to zero in on the specific parameter set modulating the strength
of the response on the cylinder side of the interface.  During that week
Richard also tested and validated a portable microwave transmitter that
he and the biots had constructed together.  His goal was to create a
command signal that would look as if it had come from the control
centre.

His first serious attempt on the final day was a complete failure.
Guessing that the accuracy of the timing of his transmission might be
the problem, he and the Einsteins next developed a sequencing control
routine that would enable them to issue a signal with femtosecond
precision, so that the cylinders would receive the command within an
extremely tiny time slice.

An instant after Richard had sent what he thou ht .  9 was a new set of
parameters to the cylinders, a loud alarm sounded in the control centre.
Within seconds a wraithlike image of The Eagle appeared in the air above
Richard and the biots.

'Human beings,' the holographic Eagle said.  'Be very careful.  Great
care and knowledge were used to design the delicate balance of your
habitat.  Do not change these critical algorithms unless there is a
genuine emergency." Even though he was shocked, Richard acted
immediately, ordering the Einsteins to record what they were seeing. The
Eagle repeated his warning a second time and then vanished, but the
entire scene was stored in the videorecording subsystems of the biots.

'Are you going to be depressed for ever?" Nicole asked, looking across
the breakfast table at her husband.  'Besides, thus far nothing terrible
has happened.  The weather has been fine." 'I think it's better than
before, Uncle Richard,' Patrick offered.  'You're a hero at the
university - even if some of the kids do think you're part alien."
Richard managed a smile.  'The government is not following my
recommendations,' he said quietly, 'and is paying no heed whatsoever to
The Eagle's warning.  There are even some people in the engineering
office who are saying I created the hologram of The Eagle myself.  Can
you imagine that?" 'Kenji believes what you told him, darling." 'Then
why is he letting those weather people continually increase the strength
of the commanded response?  They can't possibly predict the long-term
effects." 'What is it you're worried about, Father?" Ellie asked a
moment later.

'Managing such a large volume of gas is a very complicated process,
Ellie, and I have great respect for the ETs who designed the New Eden
infrastructure in the first place.  They were the ones who insisted the
carbon dioxide and particulate concentrations must be maintained below
specified levels.  They must have known something." Patrick and Ellie
finished their breakfasts and xcused themselves.  Several minutes later,
after the children had left the house, Nicole walked around the table
and put her hands on Richard's shoulders.  'Do you remember the night we
discussed Albert Einstein with Patrick and Ellie?" Richard looked at
Nicole with a furrowed brow.

'Later on that night, when we were in bed, I commented that Einstein's
discovery of the relationship between matter and energy was "horrible",
because it led to the existence of nuclear weapons ...  Do you remember
your response?" Richard shook his head.

'You told me that Einstein was a scientist, whose life's work was
searching for knowledge and truth.  "There is no knowledge that is
horrible,' you said, "only what other human beings do with that
knowledge can be called horrible'." Richard smiled.  'Are you trying to
absolve me Of J responsibility on this weather issue?" 'Maybe,' Nicole
replied.  She reached down and kissed him on the lips.  'I know that you
are one of the smartest, most creative human beings who ever lived and I
don't like to see you carrying all the burdens of the colony on your
shoulders." Richard kissed her back with.  considerable vigour.  'Do you
think we can finish before Benjy wakes up?" he whispered.  'He doesn't
have school today and he stayed up very late last night." 'Maybe,'
Nicole answered with a coquettish grin.  'we can at least try. My first
case is not until ten o'clock." Eponine's senior class at Central High
School, called simply 'Art and Literature', encompassed many aspects of
the culture that the colonists had at least temporarily 71he Garden of
Ra?w left behind.  In her basic curriculum, Eponine covered a
multicultural, eclectic set of sources, encouraging the students to
pursue independent study in any specific areas they found stimulating.
Although she always used lesson plans and a syllabus in her teaching,
Eponine was the kind of instructor who tailored each of her classes to
the interests of the students.

Eponine herself thought Les Miserables by Victor Hugo was the greatest
novel ever written, and the nineteenth-century Impressionist painter
Pierre Auguste Renoir, from her home city of Limoges, the finest painter
who had ever lived.

She included the works of both of her countrymen in the class, but
carefully structured the rest of the source material to give fair
representation to other nations and cultures.

Since the Kawabata biots helped her each year with the class play, it
was natural to use the real Kawabata's novels A Thousand Cranes and Snow
Country as examples of Japanese literature.  The three weeks on poetry
ranged from Frost to Rilke to Omar Khayyam.  However, the principal
poetic focus was Benita Garcia, not only because of the presence of the
Garcia biots all over New Eden, but also because Benita's poetry and
life were both fascinating to young people.

nere were only eleven students in Eponine's senior class the year she
was required to wear the red armband for having tested positive for
RV-41 antibodies.

The results of her test had presented the school administration with a
difficult dilemma.  Although the superIntendent had courageously
resisted the efforts of a strident group of parents, mostly from Hakone,
who had demanded that Eponine be 'dismissed' from the high school, he
and his staff had nevertheless bowed somewhat to the hysteria in the
colony by making Eponine's senior course optional.  As a result her
class was much smaller than it had been in the previous two years.

Ellie Wakefield was Eponine's favourite student.  Despite the great gaps
in the young woman's knowledge due to her years asleep on the trip back
to the solar system from The Node, her natural intelligence and hunger
for learning made her a joy in the classroom.  Eponine often asked Ellie
to perform special tasks.  On the morning that the class began its study
of Benita Garcia, which was, incidentally, the same morning that Richard
Wakefield had discussed with his daughter his worries about the weather
control activities in the colony, Ellie had been asked to mernorise one
of the poems from Benita Garcia's first book, Dreams of a Mexican Girl,
written when the Mexican woman was still a teenager.

Before Ellie's recitation, however, Eponine tried to fire the
imaginations of the young people with a short lecture on Benita's life.

'The real Benita Garcia was one of the most amazing women who ever
lived,' Eponine said, nodding at the expressionless Garcia biot in the
corner who helped her with all the routine chores of teaching.  'Poet,
cosmonaut, political leader, mystic - her life was both a reflection of
the history of her time and an inspiration for everyone.

'Her father was a large landowner in the Mexican state of Yucatan, far
from the artistic and political heart of the nation.  Benita was an only
child, the daughter of a Mayan mother and a much older father.  She
spent most of her childhood alone on - the family plantation that
touched the marvelous Puuc Mayan ruins at Uxmal.  As a small girl Benita
often played among the pyramids and buildings of that thousand-year-old
ceremonial centre.

'She was a gifted student from the beginning, but it was her imagination
and 61an that truly separated her from the others in her class.  Benita
wrote her first poem A/A 71he Ganien of Rama when she was nine, and by
the age of fifteen, at which time she was in a Catholic boarding school
in the Yucatecan capital of Merida, two of her poems had been published
in the prestigious Diario de Mexico.

'After finishing secondary school, Benita surprised her teachers and her
family by announcing that she wanted to be a cosmonaut.  In 2129 she was
the first Mexican woman ever admitted to the Space Academy in Colorado.
When she graduated four years later, the deep cutbacks in space had
already begun.

Following the crash of 2134 the world plunged into the depression known
as the Great Chaos and virtually all space exploration was stopped.
Benita was laid off by the ISA in 2137 and thought that her space career
was over.

'In 2144 one of the last interplanetary transport cruisers, the James
Martin, limped home om Mars to Earth carrying mostly women and children
from the Martian colonies.  The spacecraft was barely able to make it
into Earth orbit and it appeared as if all the passengers would die.
Benita Garcia and three of her friends from the cosmonaut corps
jerryrigged a rescue vehicle and managed to save twenty-four of the
voyagers in the most spectacular space mission of all time ..." Ellie's
mind floated free from Eponine's narrative and imagined how exhilarating
it must have been on Benita's rescue mission.  Benita had flown her
space vehicle manually, without a lifeline to mission operations on the
Earth, and risked her life to save others.  Could there be any greater
commitment to one's fellow members of the species?

As she thought about Benita Garcia's selflessness, an image of her
mother came into Ellie's mind.  A montage of pictures of Nicole rapidly
followed.

First, Ellie saw her mother in her judge's robes speaking articulately
before the Senate.  Next Nicole was rubbing her father's neck in the
study late at night, patiently teaching Benjy to read day after day,
riding off beside Patrick on a bicycle for a game of tennis in the park,
or telling Linc what to prepare for dinner.  In the last image Nicole
was sitting on Ellie's bed late at night, answering questions about life
and love.

My mother is my hero, Ellie suddenly realised.  She is as unselfish as
Benita Garcia Imagine, if you will, a young Mexican girl of -k sixteen,
home from boarding school for vacation, I climbing slowly up the steep
steps of the Pyramid of the Magician in Uxmal.  Below her, in the
already warm spring morning, iguanas play among the rocks and the ruins
Eponine nodded at Ellie.  It was time for her poem. I She stood at her
seat and recited.

You have seen it all, old lizard Seen our joys, our tears, Our hearts
full of dreams And terrible desires.

And does it never change?

Did my Indian mother's mother Sit here on these steps One thousand years
ago And tell to you the passions She would not, could not share?

At night I look unto the stars And dare to see myself among them.

My heart soars above these pyramids, Flying free into the
everything-can-be.

Yes, Benita, the iguanas tell me, Yes to you and your mother's mother,
Whose yearning dreams years ago Will now become fulfilled in you.

Wqm .,A-WU When Ellie had finished her cheeks were glistening from the
silent tears that had fallen.  Her teacher and the other students
probably thought that she had been deeply moved by the poem and by the
lecture on Benita Garcia.  They couldn't have understood that Ellie had
just experienced an emotional epiphany, that she had just discovered the
true depth of her love and respect for her mother.

It was the last week of rehearsals for the school play.  Eponine had
picked an old work, Waiting For Godot, by the twentieth-century Nobel
laureate Samuel Beckett, because its theme was so germane to life in New
Eden.  The two main characters, both dressed in rags throughout, were
played by Ellie Wakefield and Pedro Martinez, a handsome
nineteen-year-old who had been one of the 'troubled' teenagers added to
the colony contingent during the last months before launch.

Eponine could not have produced the play without the Kawabatas.  The
biots designed and created the sets and the costumes, controlled the
lights, and even conducted rehearsals when she could not be present. The
school had four Kawabatas altogether, and three of them were under
Eponine's jurisdiction during the six weeks immediately preceding the
play.

'Good work,' Eponine called out, approaching her students on the stage.

'Let's call it quits for today." 'Miss Wakefield,' Kawabata Number 05 2
said, 'there were three places where your words were not exactly
correct.  In your speech beginning ..." 'Tell her tomorrow,' Eponine
interrupted, gently waving the biot away.  'It will mean more to her
then." She turned to face the small cast.  'Are there any questions?" 'I
know we've been through this before, Miss Eponine,' Pedro Martinez said
hesitantly, 'but it would help me if we could discuss it again ...  You
told us that Godot was not a person, that he or it was actually a
.concept, or a fantasy ...  that we were all waiting for something ...

I'm sorry, but it's difficult for me to understand exactly what .  .  ."
'The whole play is basically a commentary on the absurdity of life,'
Eponine replied after a few seconds.  'We laugh because we see ourselves
in those bums upon the stage, we hear our words when they speak.  What
Beckett has captured is the essential longing of the human spirit.
Whoever he is, Godot will make everything all right.  He will somehow
transform our lives and make us happy." 'Couldn't Godot be God?" Pedro
asked.

'Absolutely,' Eponine said.  'Or even the super advanced
extra-terrestrials who built the Rama spacecraft and oversaw The Node
where Ellie and her family stayed.  Any power or force or being that is
a panacea for the woes of the world could be Godot.  That's why the play
is universal." 'Pedro,' a demanding voice shouted from the back of the
small auditorium, 'are you almost finished?" 'Just a minute, Mariko,'
the young man answered.  'We're having an interesting discussion.  Why
don't you come join us?" The Japanese girl remained in the doorway.
'No,' she said rudely.  'I don't want to - let's go now." Eponine
dismissed the cast and Pedro jumped down from the stage.  Ellie came
over beside her teacher as the young man hurried towards the door.

'Why does he let her act that way?" Ellie mused out loud.

'Don't ask me,' Eponine replied with a shrug.  'I'm certainly no expert
when it comes to relationships."

The Garden qfRa;na nat Kobayashi girl is trouble, Eponine thought,
remembering how Mariko had treated both Ellie and her as if they were
insects one night after rehearsal.

Men are so stupid sometimes.

'Eponine,' Ellie asked, 'do you have any objections if my parents come
to the dress rehearsal?  Beckett is one of my father's favourite
playwrights and .

.  ." 'That would be fine,' Eponine replied.  'Your parents are welcome
any time.

Besides, I want to thank them 'Miss Eponine,' a young male voice shouted
from across the room.  It was Derek Brewer, one of Eponine's students
who had a schoolboy crush on her.  Derek ran a few steps towards her and
then shouted again.  'Have you heard the news?" Eponine shook her head.
Derek was obviously very excited.  'Judge Mishkin has ruled the armbands
unconstitutional!" It took a few seconds for Eponine to absorb the
information.  By then Derek was at her side, delighted to be the one
giving her the news.  'Are ...  are you certain?" Eponine asked.

'We just heard it on the radio in the office." Eponine reached for her
arm and the hated red band.  She glanced at Derek and Ellie and with one
swift movement pulled the band off her arm and tossed it into the air.
As she watched it arc towards the floor her eyes filled with tears.

'Thank you, Derek,' she said.

Within moments Eponine felt four young arms embracing her.

'Congratulations,' Ellie said softly.

The hamburger stand in Central City was completely run by biots.  Two
Lincolns managed the busy restaurant and fod four Garcias filled the
customer orders.  The food preparation was done by a pair of Einsteins
and the entire eating area was kept spotless by a single Tiasso.  The
stand generated an enormous profit for its owner, because there were no
costs except the initial building conversion and the raw materials.

Ellie always ate there on Thursday nights, when she worked at the
hospital as a volunteer.  On the day of what became known as the Mishkin
Proclamation, Ellie was joined at the hamburger stand by her now
bandless teacher Eponine.

'I wonder why I've never seen you at the hospital,' Eponine said as she
took a bite of a French fried potato.  'What do you do there anyway?

'Mostly I talk to the sick children,' Ellie replied.  'There are four or
five with serious illnesses, one little boy even with RV-41, and they
appreciate visits from humans.  The Tiasso biots are very efficient at
operating the hospital and performing all the procedures, but they are
not that sympathetic." 'If you don't mind my asking,' Eponine said after
chewing and swallowing a bite of her hamburger, 'why do you do it?  You.
are young, beautiful, healthy.

There Ir The Garden ofRama must be a thousand things you'd rather do."
'Not really,' Ellie answered.  'My mother has a very strong sense of
community, as you know, and I feel worthwhile after I talk to the kids."
She hesitated a moment.  'Besides, I'm socially awkward ...  I'm
physically nineteen or twenty, which is old for high school, but I have
almost no social experience." Ellie blushed.  'One of my girl friends in
school told me that the boys are convinced I'm an extraterrestrial."
Eponine smiled at her prot6gde.  Even being an alien would be better
than having R V-4 1, she thought.  But the young men are really missing
something if they're passing you by.

The two women finished their dinner and left the small restaurant. They
walked out into the Central City square.  In the middle of the square
was a monument, appropriately cylindrical in shape, that had been
dedicated in the ceremonies associated with the first Settlement Day
celebration.  The monument was two and a half metres; tall altogether.
Suspended in the cylinder at eye level was a transparent sphere with a
diameter of fifty centimetres.  The small light at the centre of the
sphere represented the Sun, the plane parallel to the ground was the
ecliptic plane that contained the earth and the other planets of the
solar system, and the lights scattered throughout the sphere showed the
correct relative positions of all the stars within a twenty-light-year
radius of the Sun.

A line of illumination connected the Sun and Sirius, indicating the path
that the Wakefields had taken on their odyssey to and from The Node.
Another tiny line of light extended from the solar system along the
trajectory that had been followed by Rama III since it had acquired the
human colonists in Mars orbit.  The host spacecraft, which was
represented by a large, blinking J red light, was currently in a
position about one-third of the way between the Sun and the star Tau
Ceti.

'I understand the idea for this monument originally.,?.., came from your
father,' Eponine said as the two womenstood beside the celestial sphere.

'Yes,' said Ellie.  'Father is really extremely creative where science
and electronics are concerned."A4 NEponine stared at the blinking red
light.  'Does it bother him at all that we are going in a different
direction, not towards Sirius or The Node at all?" Ellie shrugged.  'I
don't think so,' she said.  'We don't talk about it very much ...  He
told me one time that none of us were capable of understanding what the
extraterrestrials were doing anyway." Eponine glanced around her in the
square.  'Look at all the people, hurrying here and there.  Most of them
never even stop to see where we arc ...  I check our location at least
once a week." She was suddenly very serious.  'Ever since I was
diagnosed with RV-41 I have had a compulsive need to know exactly where
I am in the universe ...  I wonder if that's part of my fear of dying."
After a long silence Eponine put her arm on Ellie's shoulder.  'Did you
ever ask The Eagle about death?" she said.

'No,' Ellie replied softly.  'But I was only four years old when I left
The Node.  I certainly had no concept of death." 'When I was a child, I
thought like a child .  ' 1, , , , Eponine said to herself.  She
laughed.  'What did you talk to The Eagle about?" 'I don't recall
exactly,' Ellie said.  'Patrick told me that The Eagle especially liked
to watch us play with our toys.  I 'Really?" Eponine said.  'That's a
surprise.  From your mother's description I would have imagined The
Eagle The Garden ofRama was much too serious to be interested in play."
'I can still see him clearly in my mind's eye,' Ellie said, 'even though
I was so young. But I can't remember what he sounded like." 'Have you
ever dreamed about him?" Eponine asked a few seconds later.

'Oh, yes.  Many times.  Once he was standing on top of a huge tree,
looking down at me from the clouds." Eponine laughed again.  Then she
quickly checked her watch.  'Oh my,' she said.  'I'm late for my
appointment.

What time are you due at the hospital?" 'Seven o'clock,' Ellie said.

'Then we'd better be on our way." When Eponine reported to Dr Turner's
office for her biweekly check-up, the Tiasso in charge took her to the
laboratory, obtained blood and urine specimens, and then asked her to
take a seat.  The biot informed Eponine that the doctor was 'running
behind'.

A dark black man with sharp eyes and a friendly smile was also sitting
in the waiting room.  'Hello,' he said when their eyes met, 'my name is
Arnadou Diaba.  I, m a pharmacist." Eponine introduced herself, thinking
that she had seen the man before.

'Great day, huh?" the man asked after a brief silence.  'What a relief
to take off that cursed armband." Eponine now remembered Amadou. She had
seen him once or twice in group meetings for the RV-41 sufferers.
Someone had told Eponine that Amadou had contracted the retrovirus
through a blood transfusion in the early days of the colony. How many of
us are there altogether?  Eponine thought.  Ninety-three.

Or is it ninetyfour?  Five of whom caught the disease through a
transAsion .  .  .

tit seems that big news always happens in pairs,' Aniadoau was saying.
'The Mishkin Proclamation was announced only hours before the leggie
things were seen for the first time." Eponine looked at him quizzically.
'What are you :1 talking about?" she asked.

'You haven't heard about the leggies yet?" Amadou said, laughing
slightly.

'Where in the world have you been?" Amadou waited a few seconds before
launching into an explanation.  'The exploration team over at the other
habitat has been in the process of widening their penetration site for
the last few days.  Today they were suddenly confronted by six strange
creatures who crawled out of the hole that had been made in the wall.
These leggies, as the television reporter called them, apparently live
in the other habitat.  They look like hairy golf balls attached to six
giant, jointed legs, and they move very, very quickly ...  They crawled
all over the men, the biots, and the equipment for about an hour.  Then
they disappeared back into the penetration site." Eponine was about to
ask some questions about the leggies when Dr Turner came out of his
office.  'Mr Diaba and Miss Eponine,' he said.  'I have a detailed
report for each of you.  Who wants to be first?" The doctor still had
the most magnificent blue eyes.  'Mr Diaba was here before me,'Eponine
replied.  'so..." 'Ladies always go first,' Amadou interrupted.  'Even
in New Eden." Eponine went into Dr Turner's inner office.  'So far, so
good,' the doctor told her when they were alone.  'You definitely have
the virus in your system, but there's no sign of any heart muscle
deterioration.  I don't know why for certain, but the disease definitely
progresses more rapidly in some than others .  .

The Garden of Rama How can it be, my handsome doctor, Eponine thought,
that you follow all my health data so closely but have never once
noticed the looks I've been giving you all this time?

'We'll keep you on the regular immune system medic be ation.  It has no
serious side effects, and it may partially responsible for our not
seeing any evidence of the virus' destructive activities ...  Are You
feeling all right otherwise?" They walked back out to the waiting room
together.  Dr Turner reviewed for Eponine the symptoms that would
indicate the virus had moved to another stage in its development.  While
they were talking, the door opened and Ellie Wakefield came into the
room.  At first Dr Turner ignored her presence, but moments later he did
an obvious double-take.

'May I help you, young lady?" he said to Ellie.

'I've come to ask Eponine a question,' Ellie replied deferentially.  'If
I'm disturbing you, I can wait outside." Dr Turner shook his head and
then was surprisingly disorganised in his final comments to Eponine.  At
first she did not understand what had happened.  But when Eponine
started to leave with Ellie, she saw the doctor staring at her student.
For three years, Eponine thought, I have yearned to see a look like that
in his eyes.  I didn It think he was capable of it.  And Ellie, bless
her heart, missed it altogether.

It had been a long day.  Eponine was extremely tired by the time she
walked from the station to her apartment in Hakone.  The emotional
release she had felt after removing her armband had passed.  She was now
a little depressed.  Eponine was also fighting feelings of jealousy
towards Ellie Wakefield.

She stopped in front of her apartment.  The broad red stripe on her door
reminded everyone that an RV-41 Anhur C.  Clarke and Genny Lee carrier
lived inside.  Thanking judge Mishkin again, Eponine carefully pulled
off the stripe.  It left an outline on the door.  I'llpaint it tomorrow,
Eponine thought.

Once in her apartment.  she plopped down in her soft chair and reached
for a cigarette.  Eponine felt the surge of anticipatory pleasure as she
put the cigarette in her mouth.  I never smoke at school in front of my
students, she rationalised.  I do not sea a bad example for them.  I
smoke only here.  At home.

When I'm lonely.

Eponine hardly ever went out at night.  The villagers in Hakone had made
it very clear to her that they didn't want her in their midst - two
separate delegations had asked her to leave the village and there had
been several nasty notes on her apartment door.  But Eponine had
stubbornly refused to move.  Since Kimberly Henders on as never there,
Eponine had much more living space than she would have been able to
afford under normal circumstances.  She also knew that an RV-41 carrier
would not be welcomed in any neighbourhood in the colony.

Eponine had fallen asleep in her chair and was dreaming of fields of
yellow flowers.  She almost didn't hear the knock, even though it was
very loud.  She glanced at her watch - it was eleven o'clock.  When
Eponine opened the door, Kimberly Henderson entered the apartment.  W
'Oh, Ep,' she said, 'I'm so glad you're here.  I need to talk to someone
desperately.  Someone I can trust." Kimberly lit a cigarette with a
jerky motion and immediately burst into a rambling monologue.  'Yes,
yes, I know,' Kimberly said, seeing the disapproval in Eponine's eyes.
'You're right, I'm stoned ...  But I neededit ...  Good old kokomo ...
Artificial feelings of self-confidence are at least better than thinking
of yourself as a piece of shit." She took a frantic drag and exhaled the
smoke in short, choppy bursts.  'The asshole has really done it this
time, EP ...  He's pushed me over the brink ...

Cocky son of a bitch - thinks he can do whatever he wants ...  I
tolerated his affairs and even let some of the younger girls join me
sometimes - the threesomes relieved the boredom ...  but I was always
ichiban, numero uno, or at least I thought I was .

Kimberly stubbed out her cigarette and began to wring her hands.  She
was close to tears.  'So tonight he tells me I'm moving ...  "What," I
say, "What do you mean?" ...  "You're moving," he says ...  No smile, no
discussion ...  "Pack your things," he says, 'there's an apartment for
you over behind Xanadu."

'"That's where the whores live,' I answer ...  He smiles a little and
says nothing ...  "That's it, I'm dismissed," I say ...  I flew into a
rage ...  "You can't do this," I said ...  I tried to hit him but he
grabbed my hand and smacked me hard on the face ...  "You'll do as I
order," he says ...  "I will not; you mother-fucker" picked up a vase
and threw it.  It smashed into a table and shattered.  In seconds two
men had pinned my arms behind me .  .  .  "Take her away," the king Jap
said.

'They took me to my new apartment.  It was very nice.  In the dressing
room was a large box of rolled kokomo ...  I smoked an entire number and
was flying ...

Hey, I said to myself, this is not so bad.  At least I don't have to
cater to Toshio's bizarre sexual desires ...  I went over to the casino
and was having fun, higher than a kite, until I saw them ...  out in
public in front of everybody else ...  I went wild - hollering,
screaming, cursing - I even attacked her ...

somebody hit me on the head ...  I was on the casino floor with Toshio
bending over me .  .  .  "If you ever do anything like that again," he
hissed, "You'll be buried beside Marcello Danni"." Kimberly put her face
in her hands and started to sob.  'Oh, Ep,' she said seconds later, 'I
feel so helpless.  I have nowhere to turn.  What can I do?" Before
Eponine could say anything, Kimberly was talking again.  'I know, I
know,' she said.  'I could go back to work at the hospital.  They still
need nurses, real ones - by the way, where is your Lincoln?" Eponine
smiled and pointed to the closet.  'Good for you,' Kimberly laughed.

'Keep the robot in the dark.  Bring him out to clean the bathroom, wash
the dishes, cook the meals.  Then, whoosh, back in the closet ..." She
chuckled.

'Their dicks don't work, you know.  I mean, they have one, or sort of,
anatomically perfect after all, but they don't get hard.  One night when
I was stoned and alone I had one mount me but he didn't know what I
meant when I said "thrust" ...  As bad as some men I've known." Kimberly
jumped up and paced around the room.  'I'm not really sure why I came,'
she said, lighting another cigarette.  'I thought maybe you and 1, I
mean, we were friends for a while ..." Her voice trailed off.  'I'm
coming down now, starting to feel depressed.  It's awful, terrible.  I
can't stand it.  I don't know what I expected but you have your own life
...  I'd better be going." Kimberly crossed the room and gave Eponine a
perfunctory hug.  'Take care now, OK,' Kimberly said.  'Don't worry
about me, I'll be all right.

It was only after the door closed and Kimberl left that Eponine realised
she had not uttered one word while her ex-friend was in the room.
Eponine was certain that she would never see Kimberly again.

LIM It was an open meeting of the Senate and anyone in the colony could
attend.  The gallery had only three hundred seats and they were all
filled.  Another hundred people were standing along the walls and
sitting in the aisles.  On the main floor the twenty-four members of the
New Eden legislative body were called to attention by their presiding
officer, Governor Kenji Watanabe.

'Our budget hearings continue today,' Kenji said after striking the
gavel several times to quiet the onlookers, 'with a presentation by the
director of the New Eden Hospital, Dr Robert Turner.  He will summarise
what was accomplished with the health budget last year and present his
requests for the coming year." Dr Turner walked to the rostrum and
motioned to the two Tiassos who had been sitting beside him.  The biots
quickly set up a projector and a suspended cube screen for the visual
material that would support Dr Turner's talk.

'We have made great strides in the last year,' Dr Turner began, 'both in
building a solid medical environment for the colony and in understanding
our nemesis' the RV-41 retrovirus that continues to plague our populace.
During the last twelve months, we have not only completely determined
the life cycle of this complex organism but also developed screening
tests that allow AM" 'K us to identify accurately any and all persons
who carry the disease ...

'Everyone in New Eden was tested during a threeweek period that ended
seven months ago.  Ninety-six individuals in the colony were identified
as being infected with the retrovirus at that time.  Since the
completion of the testing, only one new carrier has been found.  There
have been three deaths from RV-41 during the interim, so our current
infected population is ninetyfour ...

'RV-41 is a deadly retrovirus that attacks the muscles of the heart,
causing them to atrophy irreversibly.  Ultimately the human carrier
dies.  There is no known cure.  We are experimenting with a variety of
techniques for remitting the progression of the disease and have
recently had some sporadic but inconclusive success.  At this moment,
until we score a significant breakthrough in our work, we must
reluctantly assume that all individuals afflicted by the retrovirus will
eventually succumb to its virulence.

'The chart I'm placing on the projection cube shows the various stages
of the disease.  The retrovirus is passed between individuals during a
sharing of bodily fluids involving any combination of semen and blood.
There is no indication that there is any other method of transfer.  I
repeat,' Dr Turner said, now shouting to be heard above the hubbub of
the gallery, 'we have verified passage only where semen or blood is
involved.  We cannot categorically declare that other bodily fluids,
such as sweat, mucous, tears, saliva, and urine, cannot be agents in the
transfer, but our data thus far strongly suggests that RV-41 cannot be
passed in these fluids." The talking in tin the gallery was now
widespread.  Governor Watanabe struck his gavel several times to quiet
the room.  Robert Turner cleared his throat and A

then continued.  'This particular retrovirus is very clever, if I can
use the word, and especially well-adapted to its human host.  As you can
see from the diagram on the cube, it is relatively benign in its first
two stages, when it essentially just resides, without harm, inside the
blood an d semen cells.  It may be that during this time it has already
begun its attack on the immune system.  We cannot say for certain,
because during this stage all diagnostic data show that the immune
system is healthy'We do not know what triggers the decline of the immune
system.  Some inexplicable process in our complex bodies - and here is
an area where we need to do more intensive research - suddenly signals
to the RV41 virus that the immune system is vulnerable and a mighty
attack begins.  The virus density in the blood and semen suddenly rises
by several orders of magnitude.  This is when the disease is the most
contagious, and also when the immune system is overwhelmed." Dr Turner
paused.  He shuffled the papers from which he was reading before
continuing.  'It is curious that the immune system never survives this
attack.  Somehow RV-41 knows when it can win, and never multiplies until
that particular condition of vulnerability has been reached.  Once the
immune system is destroyed, the atrophy of the heart muscles begins and
a predictable death follows.

'In the later stages of the disease, the RV-41 retrovirus disappears
completely from the semen and the blood.  As you can well imagine, this
vanishing wreaks havoc with the diagnostic process.  Where does it go?
Does it 'hide" in some way, become something else we have not yet
identified?  Is it supervising the gradual destruction of the heart
muscles, or is the atrophy simply a side effect of the earlier attack on
the immune system?  All these are questions we cannot answer at the
present time." mentarily for a drink of water.  7Z The doctor stopped mo
'Part of our charter last year,' he then said, 'was to investigate the
origin of this disease.  There have been rumours that RV-41 was somehow
indigenous to New Eden, perhaps placed here as some kind of diabolical
extraterrestrial experiment.

That kind of talk is complete nonsense.  We definitely brought this
retrovirus here from the Earth.  Two passengers on the Santa Maria died
from RV-41 within three months of each other, the first during the
cruise from Earth to Mars.  We can be certain, although this is hardly
encouraging, that our friends and colleagues back on Earth are
struggling was this devil as well.

'As for the origin of RV-41, here I can only speculate.  If the medical
data base that we had brought along from Earth had been an order of
magnitude larger, then perhaps I would be able to identify its origin
without any guessing ...

Nevertheless, I will point out that the genorne of this RV-41 retrovirus
is astonishingly similar to a pathogen genetically engineered, by
humans, as part of the vaccine envelope testing performed in the early
years of the twentysecond century.

'Let me explain in more detail.  After the successful development of
preventive vaccines for the AIDS retrovirus, which was a horrible
scourge during the last two decades of the twentieth century, medical
technology took advantage of biological engineering to expand the range
of all the available vaccines.

Specifically, the biologists and the doctors purposely engineered new
and more deadly retroviruses and bacteria to prove that a given vaccine
class had a broad range of successful application.  All this work was
done, of course, under careful controls and at no risk to the populace.

'When the great Chaos occurred, however, research moneys were severely
cut and many of the medical laboratories had to be abandoned.  The
dangerous pathogens stored in isolated spots around the world were
presumably all destroyed.  Unless ...  and here is where my speculation
enters into the explanation.

'The retrovirus that is afflicting us here in New Eden is amazingly
similar to the AQT19 retrovirus engineered in 2107 at the Laffont
Medical Laboratory in Senegal.  It is possible, I will admit, that a
naturally occurring agent could have a genorne similar to AQT19, and
therefore my speculation could be wrong.

However, it is my belief that all the AQT19 in that abandoned tab in
Senegal was not destroyed.  I am convinced that this particular
retrovirus somehow survived, and mutated slightly in the subsequent
century - perhaps by living in simian hosts and eventually found its way
into human beings.  In that case, we are the ultimate creators of the
disease that is killing us." There was an uproar in the gallery.
Governor Watanabe again gaveled the audience to quiet, privately wishing
that Dr Turner had kept his conjectures to himself.  At this point the
hospital director began his discussion of all the projects for which
funding was needed in the coming year.  Dr Turner was requesting an
appropriation double what he had had in the past year.  There was an
audible groan on the Senate floor.

The several speakers who immediately followed Robert Turner were really
just window dressing.  Everyone knew that the only other important
speech of the day would be given by Ian Macmillan, the opposition
candidate for governor in the elections three mont s hence, It was
understood that both the current governor, Kenji Watanabe, and the
choice of his political party, Dmitri Ulanov, favoured a significant
increase in the medical budget even if new taxes were required to
finance it.  Macmillan was reportedly opposed to any increase in Dr
Turner's funds.

Ian Macmillan had been soundly defeated by Kenji Watanabe in the first
general election held in the colony.  Since that time, Mr Macmillan had
moved his residence from Beauvois to Hakone, had been elected to the
Senate from the Vegas district, and had taken a lucrative position in
Toshio Nakamura's expanding business empire.  It was the perfect
marriage.  Nakamura needed someone 'acceptable' to run the colony for
him and Macmillan, who was an ambitious man without any clearly defined
values or principles, wanted to be governor.

'It is too easy,' Ian Macmillan began reading his speech, 'to listen to
DrTurner and then to open our hearts and purses, allocating funds for
all his requests.  That's what is wrong with these budget heari ngs.
Each department head can make a strong case for his proposals.  But by
listening to each item separately, we lose sight of the larger picture.
I do not mean to suggest that Dr Turner's program is anything but
worthy.

However, I do think that a discussion of priorities is warranted at this
time." Macmillan's speaking style had improved considerably since he had
moved to Hakone.

He had obviously been carefully coached.  However, he was not a natural
orator, so at times his practised gestures seemed almost comical.  His
primary point was that the RV-41 carriers made up less than five per
cent of the population of New Eden and the cost of helping them was
incredibly expensive.

'Why should the rest of the citizens of the colony be forced to suffer
deprivation for the benefit of such a small group?" he said.  'Besides,'
he added, 'there are other, more compelling issues that require added
The Garden ofRarna moneys, issues that touch each and every colonist and
will likely impact our very survival." When Ian Macmillan presented his
version of the story about the leggies that had 'rushed out' of the
adjoining habitat in Rama and 'frightened' the colony exploration team,
he made it sound as if their 'attack' had been the first foray in a
planned interspecies war.  Macmillan raised the spectre of the leggies
being followed by 'more fearsome creatures' that would terrify the
colonists, especially the women and children.

'Money for defence,' he said, 'is money spent for all of us." Candidate
Macmillan also suggested that environmental research was another
activity 'far more important for the general welfare of the colony' than
the medical program outlined by Dr Turner.  He praised the work being
done by the weather engineers, and envisioned a future where the
colonists would have completed knowledge of the coming weather.

His speech was interrupted by applause from the gallery many times. When
he did finally discuss the individuals suffering from RV-41, Mr
Macmillan outlined a more costeffective' plan to deal with 'their
terrible tragedy'.  'We will create a new village for them,' he intoned,
'outside New Eden, where they can live out their final days in peace."
'In my opinion,' he sid, 'the RV-41 medical effort in the future should
be restricted to isolating and identifying all the mechanisms by which
this scourge is passed from individual to individual.  Until this
research is completed, it is in the best interests of everyone in the
colony, including the unfortunate people who carry the disease, to
quarantine the carriers so that there can be no more accidental
contamination."

Nicole and her family were in the gallery.  They had T

JEEP badgered Richard into coming, even though he disl iked political
gatherings.

Richard was disgusted by "I Macmillan's speech.  For her part, Nicole
was frightened.  What the man was saying had a certain appeal.  I wonder
who is writing his materia4 she thought at the conclusion of his speech.
She chastised herself for having underestimated Nakamura.

Towards the end of Macmillan's oration, Ellie Wakefield quietly left her
place in the gallery.  Her parents were astonished, a few moments later,
to see her down on the Senate floor approaching the rostrum.  So were.
the other members of the gallery, who had thought that F, Ian Macmillan
was the last speaker of the day.  Everyone was preparing to depart. Most
of them sat down again when Kenji Watanabe introduced Ellie.

'In our civics class in school,' she started, her k nervousness apparent
in her voice, 'we have beeni',." studying the colony constitution and
the Senate procedures.  It's a little known fact that any citizen of
New" Eden may address one of these open hearings .  .  ." -4 1 Ellie
took a deep breath before continuing.  In the`, gallery, both her mother
and her teacher Eponine leaned-." forward and grabbed the rail in front
of them.  'I wantedi to speak today,' Ellie said more forcefully, 'becau
Ise believe I have a unique point of view on this issue of th RV-41
sufferers.

First, I am young, and second, until little over three years ago I had
never had the privi of interacting with a human being other than my fan
'For both those reasons I treasure human life.  word was picked
carefully.  A treasure is something value greatly.  This man, this
incredible doctor who works all day and sometimes all night to keep us
healthy, obviously treasures human life as well.

'When he spoke earlier, Dr Turner didn't tell you why we should fund his
program, only what the disease was The Garden of Rama and how he would
try to combat it.  He assumed you all understood why.  After listening
to Mr Macmillan,' Ellie said, glancing at the previous speaker, 'I have
some doubts.

'We must continue to study this horrible disease, until we can contain
and control it, because a human life is a precious commodity.  Each
individual person is a unique miracle, an amazing combination of complex
chemicals with special talents, dreams, and experiences.  Nothing can be
more important to the overall colony than an activity aimed at the
preservation of human life.

'I understand from the discussion today that Dr Turner's programme is
expensive.  If taxes must be raised to pay for it, then perhaps each of
us will have to do without some special item that we wanted.  It is a
small enough price to pay for the treasure of another human's company.

'My family and friends tell me sometimes that I am hopelessly naive.
That may be true.  But perhaps my innocence allows me to see things more
clearly than other people can.  In this case I believe there is only one
question that needs to be asked.  If you, or some member of your family,
had been diagnosed with RV41, would you support Dr Turner's programme
...  ?  Thank you very much." There was an eerie silence as Ellie
stepped away from the rostrum.  Then thunderous applause erupted.  Tears
flowed in both Nicole's and Eponine's eyes.

On the Senate floor Dr Robert Turner reached both his hands out to
Ellie.

When Nicole opened her eyes Richard was sitting beside her on the bed.
He was holding a cup of coffee.  'You told us to wake you at seven,' he
said.

She sat up and took the coffee from him.  'Thank you, darling,' Nicole
said.

'But why didn't you let Linc ...  ?" 11 decided to bring your coffee
myself ...

There is news from the Central Plain again.  I wanted to discuss it with
you, even though I know how you dislike being jabbered at first thing in
the morning." Nicole took a long, slow sip from her cup.  She smiled at
her husband.

'What's the news?" she said.

'There were two more leggie incidents last night.  That makes almost a
dozen this week.  Our de trice forces reportedly destroyed three leggies
who were "harassing" the engineering crew." 'Did the leggies make any
attempt to fight back?" 'No, they didn't.  At the first sound of gunfire
they raced for the hole in the other habitat ...  Most of them escaped,
as they did the day before yesterday." 'And you still think they're
remote observers, like the spider biots in Ramas One and Two?" Richard
nodded.  'And you can just imagine what kind of a picture the Others are
developing of us...  we fire on unarmed creatures without provocation...

we react The Garden of Rama in a hostile manner to what is certainly an
attempt at contact 'I don't like it either,' Nicole said softly.  'But
what can we do?  The Senate explicitly authorised the exploration teams
to defend themselves." Richard was about to reply when he noticed Benjy
standing in the doorway.

The young man was smiling broadly.  'May I come in, Mother?" he asked.

'Of course, dear,' Nicole replied.  She opened her arms wide.  'Come
give me a big birthday hug." 'Happy birthday, Benjy,' Richard said as
the boy, who was larger than most men, crawled on to the bed and
embraced his mother.

'Thank you, Uncle Richard." 'Are we' still having a picnic in Sherwood
Forest today?" Benjy asked slowly.

'Yes, indeed,' his mother answered.  'And then tonight we're having a
big party." 'Hooray,' Benjy said.

It was a Saturday.  Patrick and Ellie, were both sleeping late because
they did not have classes.  Linc served breakfast to Richard, Nicole,
and Benjy while the adults watched the morning news on the television.
There was a short film of the most recent 'leggie confrontation' near
the second habitat as well as comments from both of the gubernatorial
candidates.

'As I have been saying for weeks now,' Ian Macmillan remarked to the
television reporter, 'we must dramatically expand our defence
preparations.  We have finally started to upgrade the weapons available
to our forces, but we need to move more boldly in this arena." An
interview with the weather director concluded the morning news.  The
woman explained that the unusually dry and windy recent weather had been
caused by a 'modelling error' in their computer simulation.  'All week
long,' she said, 'we have been trying unsuccessfully to create rain.
Now, of course, since it's the weekend, we have programmed sunshine ...
But we promise it will rain next week." 'They don't have the slightest
idea what they're doing,' Richard grumbled, switching off the
television.  'They're overcommanding the system and generating chaos."
'What's k-oss, Uncle Richard?" Benjy asked.

Richard hesitated for a moment.  'I guess the simplest definition is the
absence of order.  But in mathematics, the word has a more precise
meaning.  It is used to describe unbounded responses to small
perturbations." Richard laughed.

'I'm sorry, Benjy.  Sometimes I talk in scientific gobbledygook." Benjy
smiled.  'I like it when you talk to me as if I'm nor-niab' he said
carefully.  'And some-times I do un-understand a lit-the." Nicole seemed
preoccupied while Linc was clearing the breakfast dishes off the table.
When Benjy left the room to brush his teeth, she leaned towards her
husband.  'Have you talked to Katie?" she asked.  'She didn't answer her
phone yesterday afternoon or last night." Richard shook his head.

'Benjy will be crushed if she doesn't show up for his party ...  I'm
going to send Patrick off to find her this morning." Richard stood up
from his chair and walked around the table.  He reached down and took
Nicole's hand.  'And what about you, Mrs Wakefield?  Have you scheduled
some rest and relaxation anywhere in your busy programme?  After all, it
is the weekend." 'I'm going by the hospital this morning to help train
the two new paramedics.  Then Ellie and I will leave here The Garden of
Rama with Benjy at ten.  On the wa back I'll stop by the courtroom - I
haven't even read the submitted briefs for the cases on Monday.  I have
a quick meeting with Kenji at two thirty and my pathology lecture at
three ...  I should be home by four thirty." 'Which will give you just
enough time to organisc Benjy's party.  Really, darling, you need to
slow down.  After all, you're not a biot." Nicole kissed her husband.
'You should talk.  Aren't you the one who works twenty or thirty
straight hours when you're involved in an exciting project?" She St
opped a moment and became serious.  'All this is very important, darling
...

I feel we're at a cusp in the affairs of the colony and that I really am
making a difference here." 'No question, Nicole.  You are definitely
having an impact.  But you never have any time for yourself." 'That's a
luxury itern,' Nicole said, opening the door to Patrick's room.

'To be savoured in my later years." As they emerged from the trees into
the wide meadow, rabbits and squirrels scurried out of their way.  On
the opposite side of the meadow, quietly eating in the middle of a patch
of tall purple flowers, was a young stag.  He turned his head of new
antlers towards Nicole, Ellie, and Benjy as they approached him, and
then bounded away into the forest.

Nicole consulted her map.  'There should be some picnic tables here
somewhere, right beside the meadow." Benjy was kneeling down over a
group of yellow fow flowers that were full of bees.  'Ho-they,' he said
with a smile.  'Bees make ho-they in their hives." After several minutes
they located the table and spread out a cloth on top of one of them.
Linc had packed sandwiches - Benjy liked peanut butter and jelly best -
plus fresh oranges and grapefruit from the orchards near San Miguel.

While they were eating lunch, another family traipsed through the other
side of the meadow.  Benjy waved.

'Those peo-ple don't know it's my birth-day,' he said.

'But we do,' Ellie said, raising her cupful of lemonade to make a toast.

'Congratulations, brother." just before they were finished eating, a
small cloud passed overhead and the bright colours of the meadow
momentarily dimmed.  'That's an unusually dark cloud,' Nicole commented
to Ellie.  Moments later it was gone and the grasses and flowers were
again bathed in sunlight.

'Do you want your pudding now?" Nicole asked Benjy.  'Or do you want to
wait?" 'Let's play catch first,' Benjy replied.  He took the baseball
equipment out of the picnic bag and handed a glove to Ellie.  'Let's
go,' he said, running out into the meadow.

While her two children were throwing the baseball back and forth, Nicole
cleaned up the remains of their lunch.  She was about to join Ellie and
Benjy when she heard the alarm on her wrist radio.  She pressed the
receive button and the digital time display was replaced with a
television picture.  Nicole turned up the volume so that she could hear
what Kenji Watanabe had to say.

'I'm sorry to bother you, Nicole,' Kenji said, 'but we have an
emergency.

A rape complaint has been filed and the family wants an indictment
immediately.

It's a sensitive case, in your jurisdiction, and I think it should be
handled now ...  I don't want to say anything else on the line." 'I'll
be there in half an hour,' Nicole responded.

At first Benjy was crestfallen that his picnic was going to be cut
short.

However, Ellie convinced her mother The Garden ofRama that it was all
right for her to stay in the forest with Benjy for another couple of
hours.  just as she departed from the meadow, Nicole handed the map of
Sherwood Forest to Ellie.  At that moment another, larger cloud moved in
front of the artificial New Eden sun.

There was no sign of any life at Katie's apartment.  Patrick was
temporarily stymied.  Where should he look for her?  None of his
university friends lived in Vegas, so he really didn't know where to
start.

He called Max Puckett from a public phone.  Max gave Patrick the names,
addresses, and phone numbers of three individuals he knew in Vegas.
'None of these people are the kind you would want to invite home to
dinner with your parents, if you know what I mean,' Max said with a
laugh, 'but they are all goodhearted and will probably help you find
your sister." The only name Patrick recognised was Samantha Porter,
whose apartment was just a few hundred metres from the phone booth. Even
though it was the early afternoon, Samantha was still in her robe when
she finally answered the door.

'I though that was you, when I looked on the monitor,' she said with a
sexy smile.  'You're Patrick O'Toole, aren't you?" Patrick nodded and
then shifted his feet uncomfortably during a long silence.  'Miss
Porter,' he said at length, 'I have a problem .  .

'You're much too young to have a problem,' Samantha interrupted.  She
laughed heartily.  'Why don't you come inside and we'll talk about it?"
Patrick blushed.  'No, ma'am,' he said, 'it's not that kind of a problem
...

I just can't find my sister Katie and I thought maybe you could help
me." Samantha, who had half turned to lead Patrick into her apartment,
turned back to stare at the young man.

'That's why you've come to see me?" she said.  She shook her head and
laughed again.  'What a disappointment!  I thought that you had come to
fool around.  Then I could tell everybody, once and for all, whether or
not you really are an alien." Patrick continued to fidget in the
entryway.  After several seconds Samantha shrugged.  'I believe that
Katie spends most of her time in the palace,' she said.  'Go to the
casino and ask for Sherry.  She'll know how to find your sister." 'Yes,
yes, Mr Kobayashi, I understand, WakafimasW Nicole was saying to the
Japanese gentleman in her office.  ' can appreciate what you must be
feeling.

You can be sure that justice will be done." She escorted the man into
the waiting room, where he joined his wife.  Mrs Kobayashi's eyes were
still swollen from her tears.  Their sixteen-year-old daughter Mariko
was in the New Eden Hospital, undergoing a full medical examination. She
had been badly beaten, but was not in a critical condition.

Nicole called Dr Turner after she finished talking to the Kobayashis.

'There's fresh semen in the girl's vagina,' the doctor said, 'and
bruises on almost every square centimetre of her body.  She's an
emotional wreck as well rape is definitely a possibility." Nicole
sighed.  Mariko Kobayashi had named Pedro Martinez, the young man who
had starred with Ellie in the school play, as the rapist.  Could it be
possible?

Nicole rolled her chair across the floor of her office and accessed the
colony data base through her computer.

MARTINEZ, PEDRO ESCOBAR ...  born 25 May 2228, Managua, Nicaragua ...
mother unwed, Maria Escobar, maid, domestic, often unemployed ... father
probably Ramon Martinez, black dockworker from Haiti ...  six
half-brothers and sisters, all younger ...  convicted for selling
kokomo, 2241, 2242 ...

rape, 2243 ...  eight months Managua Correction Home ...  model prisoner
...

transfer to Covenant House in Mexico City, 2244 ...  IE 1.86, SC 52.

Nicole read the short computer entry twice before calling Pedro into her
office.

He sat down, as Nicole suggested, and then stared at the floor.  A
Lincoln biot stood in the corner throughout the interview and carefully
recorded the conversation.

'Pedro,' Nicole said softly.  There was no response.  He did not even
look up.  'Pedro Martinez,' she repeated more forcefully, 'do you
understand that you have been accused of raping Mariko Kobayashi last
night?  ...  I'm sure I don't need to explain to you that this is a very
serious accusation ...  You are being given a chance now to respond to
her charges." Pedro still did not say anything.  'In New Eden,' Nicole
continued at length, 'we have a judicial system that may be different
from the one you experienced in Nicaragua.  Here criminal cases cannot
proceed to indictment unless a judge, after examining the facts,
believes that there is sufficient reason for indictment.  That is why I
am talking to you." After a long silence the young man, without looking
up at all, mumbled something unaudible.

'What?" Nicole asked.

'She's lying,' Pedro said, much louder.  'I don't know why, but Mariko's
lying." 'Would you like to tell me your version of what happened?" 'What
difference would it make?  Nobody is going to believe me anyway."

Anhur C.  Clarke and Geno Lee 'Pedro, listen to me ...  If, on the basis
of an initial investigation, my court concludes that there is insuffi-1
cient reason to proceed with the prosecution, your case can be dismissed
...  Of course the seriousness of this charge demands a very thorough
investigation, whichJ means you will have to make a complete statement
andI answer some very tough questions." Pedro Martinez lifted his head
and stared at Nicole with sorrowful eyes.  'Judge Wakefield,' he said
quietly, 'Mariko and I did have sex last night ...  but it was her idea
.  .  .  she thought it would be fun to go into the forest AMI The young
man stopped talking and looked back down at the floor.

'Had you had intercourse with Mariko before?" Nicole asked after several
seconds.

'Only once - about ten days ago,' Pedro answered.

'Pedro, was your lovemaking last night ...  was it extremely physical?"
Tears eased out of Pedro's eyes and rolled on to his cheeks. 'I did not
beat her,' he said passionately.  J, would never have hurt her..." As he
spoke there was a strange sound in the distance - 1 like the cracking of
a long whip, except much deeper tone.

'What was that?" Nicole wondered out loud.

'Sounded like thunder,' Pedro remarked.

The thunder could also be heard in the village of, Hakone, where Patrick
was sitting in a luxurious suite in., Nakamura's palace, talking to his
sister Katie.  She wa dressed in an expensive blue silk lounging outfit.

Patrick ignored the unexplained noise.  He was angry., 'Are you telling
me that you won't even t7y to make it t& Bcnjy's party tonight? What am
I supposed to tell Mother?"

The Gardm ofRama 'Tell her anything you want,' Katie said.  She took a
cigarette from her case and placed it in her mouth.  'Tell her you
couldn't find me." She lit the cigarette with a gold lighter and blew
the smoke in her brother's direction.  He tried to wave it away with his
hand.

'Come on, baby brother,' Katie said with a laugh.  'It won't kill you."
'Not immediately, anyway,' he answered.

'Look, Patrick,' Katie said, standing up and starting to pace around the
suite, 'Benjy's an idiot, a moron.  We've never been very close.  He
won't even realise that I'm not there unless someone mentions it to
him." 'You're wrong, Katie.  He's more intelligent than you think.  He
asks about you all the time." 'That's crap, baby brother,' Katie
replied.  'You're just saying it to make me feel guilty ...  Look, I'm
not coming.  I mean, I might consider it if it were just you and Benjy
and Ellie - although she's been a pain in the ass ever since her
"wonderful" speech.  But you know what it's like for me around Mother.
She's on my case all the time." 'She's worried about you, Katie." Katie
laughed nervously and took a deep drag to finish her cigarette.  'Sure
she is, Patrick ...  All she's really worried about is whether I'll
embarrass the farnily." Patrick stood up to leave.  'You don't have to
go now,' Katie said.  'Why don't you stay for a while?  I'll put on some
clothes and we'll go down to the casino ...  Remember how much fun we
used to have together?" Katie started towards the bedroom.  'Are you
using drugs?" Patrick asked suddenly.

She stopped and stared at her brother.  'Who wants to know?" Katie said
defiantly.  'You or Madame Cosmonaut Doctor Governor judge Nicole des
Jardins Wakefield?" into his lungs and he coughed.  He tried to read the
words on the map.

Again he heard his mother's voice.  If you don't recognise the word
atfirs4 then take each letter and sound it out, ve?y slowly.  Next let
all the sounds fall together until it makes a word you understand.

Benjy glanced at Ellie on the table.  'Wake up, oh please wake up,
Ellie,' he said.  'I need your help." Still she did not move.

He bent over the map and struggled to concentrate.  With painstaking
deliberation Benjy sounded out all the letters, over and over, until he
had convinced himself that the green patch on the map was the meadow
where he was sitting.  The white lines are the paths, he said to
himself.  77tere are three white lines running into the green patch.

Benjy looked up from the map, counted the three paths leading out of the
meadow, and felt a surge of selfconfidence.  Moments later, however, a
gust of wind carried cinders across the meadow and ignited the trees on
the southern side.  Benjy moved quickly.  Imustgo, he said, again
lifting Ellie on to his back.

He now knew that the main fire was in the northern portion of the map,
towards the village of Hakone.  Benjy stared again at the paper in his
hands.

So I must stay on white lines in the bottom par4 he thought.

The young man trundled down the path as another tree exploded in fire
far above his head.  His sister was over his shoulder, and the
lifesaving map was in his right hand.  Benjy stopped to look at the map
every ten steps, each time verifying that he was still headed in the
correct direction.  When he finally came to a major trail junction,
Benjy placed Ellie gingerly on the ground and traced the white lines on
the map with his finger.  After a minute he smiled broadly, picked up
his sister again, and AL -74 headed down the trail leading to the
village of Positano.  Lightning flashed one more time, the thunder
boomed, and a drenching shower began to fall in Sherwood Forest.

it 4, , -, -N Several hours later, Benjy was sleeping peacefully in his
bed at home.

Meanwhile, across the colony, the New Eden hospital was a madhouse.
Humans and biots were dashing about, gurneys with bodies were standing
in the halls, patients were shouting in agony.  Nicole was talking on
the phone with Kenji Watanabe.  'We need every Tiasso in the colony sent
here as quickly as possible.

Try to replace those that are doing geriatric or infant care with a
Garcia, or even an Einstein.  Have humans staff the village clinics. The
situation is very serious." She could barely hear what Kenji was saying
above the noise in the hospital.

'Bad, really bad,' she said, in response to his question.  'Twenty-seven
admitted so far, four dead that we know of.  The whole Nara area - that
enclave of Japanese style wood houses out behind Vegas, surrounded by
the forest - is a disaster.  The fire happened too fast ...  The people
panicked." 'Dr Wakefield, Dr Wakefield.  Please come to Number 204
immediately." Nicole hung up the phone and raced down the hall.  She
bounded up the stairs to the second floor.  The man dying in 204 was an
old friend, a Korean, Kim Lee, who had been Nicole's liaison with the
Hakone community during the time that she was provisional governor.

V 3'r fV 2 Ae Garden of Rama Mr Kim had been one of the first to build a
new home in Nara.  During the fire he had rushed into his burning house
to save his seven-year-old son.  The son would live, for Mr Kim had
protected him carefully while he had walked through the flames.  But Kim
Lee himself had suffered third degree burns over most of his body.

Nicole passed Dr Turner in the corridor.  'I don't think we can do
anything for that friend of yours in 204,' he said.  'I'd like your
opinion ...  Call me down in the emergency room.  They just brought in
another critical who was trapped in her house." Nicole took a deep
breath and slowly opened the door to the room.  Mr Kim's wife, a pretty
Korean woman in her mid-thirties, was sitting quietly in the corner.
Nicole walked over and embraced her.  While Nicole was comforting Mrs
Kim, the Tiasso who was monitoring Mr Kim's data brought over a set of
charts.

The man's condition was indeed hopeless.  When Nicole glanced up from
her reading, she was surprised to see her daughter Ellie, a large
bandage on the right side of hear head, standing beside Mr Kim's bed.
Ellie was holding the dying man's hand.

'Nicole,' Mr Kim said in anagonised whisper as soon as he recognised
her.

His face was nothing but blackened skin.  Even speaking one word was
painful.

'I want to die,' the man said, nodding at his wife in the corner.

Mrs Kim stood up and approached Nicole.  'My husband wants me to sign
the euthanasia papers,' she said.  'But I am unwilling unless you can
tell me that there is absolutely no chance he can ever be happy again."
She started to cry but stopped herself.

Nicole hesitated for a moment.  'I cannot tell you that, Mrs Kim,'
Nicole said grimly.  She glanced back and forth between the burned man
and his wife.

'What I can tell you is that he will probably die some time in the next
twenty-four hours and will suffer ceaselessly until his death.  If a
medical miracle occurs and he survives, he'll be seriously disfigured
and debilitated for the rest of his life." 'I want to die now,' Mr Kim
repeated with effort.

Nicole sent the Tiasso for the euthanasia documents.  The papers
required signatures from the attending physician, the spouse, and the
individual himself if, in the opinion of the doctor, he was competent to
make his own decisions.

While the Tiasso was gone, Nicole motioned to Ellie to meet her out in
the hall.

'What are you doing here?" Nicole said quietly to Ellie when they were
out of earshot.  'I told you to stay at home and rest.  You had a bad
concussion." 'I'm all right, Mother,' Ellie said.  'Besides, when I
heard that Mr Kim was badly burned, I wanted to do something to help. He
was such a good friend back in the early days." 'He's in terrible
shape,' Nicole said, shaking her head, 'I can't believe he's still
alive." Ellie reached out and touched her mother on the forearm.  'He
wants his death to be useful,' she said.  'Mrs Kim talked to me about it
...  I've already sent for Amadou, but I need you to talk to Dr Turner."
Nicole stared at her daughter.  'What in the world are you talking
about?" 'Don't you remember Amadou Diaba ...  ?  Eponine's friend, the
Nigerian pharmacist with the Senoufo grandmother.  He's the one who
caught RV-41 from a blood transfusion ...  Anyway, Eponine told me that
his heart is rapidly deteriorating." Nicole was silent for several
seconds.  She could not believe what she was hearing.  'You want me,'
she said finally, 'to ask Dr Turner to perform a manual heart
transplant, right now, in the middle of this crisis?"

M 'If he decides now, it can be done later tonight, can't it?  Mr Kim's
heart can be kept healthy at least that long." 'Look, Ellie,' Nicole
said, 'we don't even know..." 'I already checked,' Ellie interrupted.
'One of the Tiassos verified that Mr Kim would be an acceptable donor."
Nicole shook her head again.  'All right, all right,' she said.  'I'll
think about it.  Meanwhile, I want you to he down and rest.  A
concussion is not a trivial injury." 'You're asking me to do what?" an
incredulous Dr Robert Turner said to Nicole.

'Now, Dr Turner,' Amadou said in his precise British accent, 'it is not
Dr Wakefield who is really making the request.  It is 1.  I beseech you
to perform this operation.  and please do not consider it risky.  You
have yourself told me that I will not live more than three months
longer.  I know full well that I may die on the operating table. But if
I survive, according to the statistics you showed Me, I have a
fifty-fifty chance of living eight mor more years.  I could even marry
and have a child." Dr Turner spun around and glanced at the clock on his
office wall.  'Forget for a moment, Mr Diaba, that it is past midnight
and I have been working nine hours straight with burn victims. Consider
what you are asking.  I have not performed a heart transplant for five
years.  And I have never ever done one without being supported by the
finest cardiological staff and equipment on the planet Earth.  All the
surgical work, for example, was always done by robots." 'I understand
all that, Dr Turner.  But it is not really germane.  I will certainly
die without the operation.  There will almost certainly not be another
donor in the near future.  Besides, Ellie told me that you have recently
U FE Anhur C.  Clarke and Genoy Lee been reviewing all the heart
transplant procedures, as part of your work in preparing your budget
request for new equipment..." Dr Turner flashed a quizzical look at
Ellie.  'My mother told me about your thorough preparation, Dr Turner. I
hope you're not upset that I said something to Amadou." 'I will be
pleased to assist you in any way I can,' Nicole added.  'Although I have
never done any heart surgery myself, I did complete my residency at a
cardiological institute." Dr Turner looked around the room, first at
Ellie, then at Amadou and Nicole.

'Then that settles it, I guess.  I don't see where you've given me much
choice." 'You'll do it?" Ellie exclaimed with youthful excite- J ment.

'I will try,' the doctor answered.  He walked over to Amadou Diaba and
extended both his hands.  'You do know, don't you, that there is very
little chance you will every wake up?" 'Yes, sir, Dr Turner.  But very
little chance is better than none ...  I thank you." Dr Turner turned to
Nicole.  'I'll meet you in my office for a procedure review in fifteen
minutes ...  And by the way, Dr Wakefield, will you please have a Tiasso
bring us a fresh pot of coffee." Preparing for the transplant operation
brought back memories that Dr Robert Turner had buried in the recesses
of his mind.  Once or twice he even imagined for several seconds that he
had actually returned to the Dallas Medical Centre.

He remembered mostly how happy he had been in those distant days on
another world.  He had loved his work; he had loved his family.  His
life had been almost perfect.

The Garden ofRama Doctors Turner and Wakefield carefully wrote down the
exact sequence of events that they would follow before they began the
procedure.  Then, during the operation itself, they stopped to check
with each other after each major segment was completed.  No untoward
events occurred at any time during the procedure.

When Dr Turner removed Amadou's old heart, he turned it over so that
Nicole and Ellie (she had insisted on staying in case there was anything
she could do to help) could see the badly atrophied muscles.  The man's
heart was a disaster.

Amadou would probably have died in less than a month.

An automatic pump kept the patient's blood circulating while the new
heart was 'hooked up' to all the principal arteries and veins.  This was
the most difficult and dangerous phase of the operation.  In Dr Turner's
experience, this segment had never ever been performed by human hands.

Dr Turner's surgical skills had been finely tuned by the many manual
operations he had conducted during his three years in New Eden.  He
surprised even himself with the ease with which he connected the new
heart to Arnadou's critical blood vessels.

Towards the end of the procedure, when all of the dangerous phases had
been completed, Nicole offered to perform the few remaining tasks.  But
Dr Turner shook his head.  Despite the fact that it was almost dawn in
the colony, he was determined to finish the operation himself.

Was it the extreme fatigue that caused Dr Turner's eyes t o play tricks
on him during the final minutes of the operation.  Or could it perhaps
have been the surge o adrenalin that accompanied his realisation that
the procedure was going to be successful?  Whatever the cause, during
the terminal stages of the operation, PP Robert Turner periodically
witnessed remarkable changes in the face of Amadou Diaba.  Several times
his patient's face slowly altered before his eyes, the features of
Arnadou becoming those of Carl Tyson, the young black man that Dr Turner
had murdered in Dallas.

Once, after finishing a stitch, Dr Turner glanced up at Arnadou and was
frightened by Carl Tyson's cocky grin.I The doctor blinked, and looked
again, but it was only Amadou Diaba on the operating table.

After this phenomenon had occurred several times, Dr Turner asked Nicole
if she had noticed anything unusual about Amadou's face.  'Nothing but
his smile,' she replied.  'I've never seen anyone smile like that under
anaesthesia." When the operation was over and the Tiasso reported that
all the patient's vital signs were excellent, Dr Turner, Nicole, and
Ellie were exultant despite their exhaustion.  The doctor invited the
two women to join him in his office, for one final celebratory cup of
coffee.

At that moment, he didn't yet realise that he was going A to propose to
Ellie.A Ellie was stunned.  She just stared at the doctor.  He glanced
at Nicole and then returned his gaze to Ellie.  'I know it's sudden,' Dr
Turner said.  'But there's no doubt in my mind.  I have seen enough.  I
love you.  I want to marry you.  The sooner the better." The room was
absolutely quiet for almost a minute.

During the silence, the doctor walked over to his office door and locked
it.  He even disconnected his phone.

Ellie started to speak.  'No,' he said to her with passion, 'don't say
anything yet.  There's something else I must do first." He sat down in
his chair and took a deep breath.

'Something that I should have done long ago,' he said quietly. 'Besides,
you both deserve to know the whole truth about me." Tears welled up in
Dr Turner's eyes even before he began to tell the story.

His voice broke the first time he spoke, but he then collected himself
and eased into the narrative.

'I was thirty-three years old and blindly, outrageously happy.  I was
already one of the leading cardiac surgeons in America and I had a
beautiful, loving wife with two daughters, aged three and two.  We lived
in a mansion with a swimming pool inside a country club community about
forty kilometres north of Dallas, Texas.

'One night when I came home from the hospital - it was very late, for I
had supervised an unusually delicate open-heart procedure - I was
stopped at the gate of our community by the security guards.  They acted
rattled, as if they didn't know what to do, but after a phone call and
some peculiar glances in my direction, they waved me through.

'Two police cars and an ambulance were parked in front of my house.
Three mobile television vans were scattered in the cul-de-sac just
beyond my home.

When I started to turn into my driveway, a policeman stopped me.  With
flashbulbs popping all around and k1eig lights from the television
cameras blinding my eyes, the policeman led me into my house.

'My wife was lying under a sheet on a cot in the main hall beside the
stairway to the second floor.  Her throat had been slit.  I heard some
people talking upstairs and raced up to see my daughters.  The girls
were still lying where they had been killed - Christie on the floor in
the bathroom and Amanda in her bed.  The bastard had cut their throats
as well." Hu e, desolate sobs wrenched out of Dr Turner.  'I will never
forget that horrible sight.  Amanda must have been killed in her sleep,
for there was no mark on her except for the cut ...

What kind of human being could kill such innocent creatures?" Dr
Turner's tears were cascading down his cheeks.  His chest was heaving
uncontrollably.  For several seconds he did not speak.  Ellie quietly
came over beside his chair and sat on the floor, holding his hand.

'The next five months I was totally numb.  I could not work, I could not
eat.  People tried to help me - friends, psychiatrists, other doctors -
but I could not function.  I simply could not accept that my wife and
children had been murdered.

'The police had a suspect in less than a week.  His name was Carl Tyson.

He was a young black man, twenty-three years old, who delivered
groceries for a nearby supermarket.  My wife always used the television
for her shopping.  Carl Tyson had been to our home several times before
- I even remembered having seen him once or twice myself - and certainly
knew his way around the house.

'Despite my daze during that period, I was aware of what was happening
in the investigation of Linda's murder.  At first, everything seemed so
simple.

Carl Tyson's fresh fingerprints were found all over the house.  He had
been inside our community that very afternoon on a delivery.  Most of
Linda's jewellery was missing, so robbery was the obvious motive.  I
figured the suspect would be summarily convicted and executed.

'The issue quickly became clouded.  None of the jewellery was ever
found.

The security guards had marked Carl Tyson's entry and departure from the
community on the master log, but he was only inside Greenbriar for
twenty-two minutes, hardly enough time for him to deliver groceries and
commit a robbery plus three murders.  In addition, after a famous
attorney A _4 decided to defend Tyson and helped him prepare his sworn
statements, Tyson insisted that Linda had asked him to move some
furniture that afternoon.  This was a perfect explanation for the
presence of his fingerprints all over the house Dr Turner paused,
reflecting, the pain obvious in his face.  Ellie squeezed his hand
gently and he continued.

'By the time of the trial, the prosecution's argument was that Tyson had
brought the groceries to the house in the afternoon and had discovered,
after talking with Linda, that I would be in surgery until much later
that night.

Since my wife was a friendly and trusting woman, it was not unlikely
that she might have chatted with the delivery boy and mentioned that I
would not be home until late ...  Anyway, according to the prosecutor,
Tyson returned after he finished his shift at the supermarket.  He
climbed the rock wall that surrounded the country club development and
walked across the golf course.  Then he entered the house, intending to
steal Linda's jewellery and expecting everyone in the family to be
asleep.  Apparently my wife confronted him and Tyson panicked, killing
first Linda and then the children to ensure that there were no
witnesses.

'Despite the fact that nobody saw Tyson return to our neighbourhood, I
thought the prosecution's case was extremely persuasive and that the man
would be easily convicted.  After all, he had no alibi whatsoever for
the time period during which the crime was committed.  The mud that was
found on Tyson's shoes exactly matched the mud in the creek he would
have crossed to reach the back of the house.  He did not show up for
work for two days after the murders.  In addition, when Tyson was
arrested, he was carrying a large amount of cash that he said he "won in
a poker game".

'During the defence portion of the trial, I really began to have my
doubts about the American judicial system.  His attorney made the case a
racial issue, depicting Carl Tyson as a poor, unfortunate black man who
was being railroaded on circumstantial evidence.  His lawyer argued
emphatically that all Tyson had done on that October day was deliver
groceries to my house.

Someone else, his attorney said, some unknown maniac, had climbed the
Greenbriar fence, stolen the jewellery, and then murdered Linda and the
children.

'The last two days of the trial I became convinced, more from watching
the body language of the jury t han anything else, that Tyson was going
to be acquitted.  I went insane with righteous indignation.  There was
no doubt in my mind that the young man had committed the crime.  The
thought that he might be set free was intolerable.

'Every day during the trial - which lasted about six S weeks - I showed
up at the courthouse with my small medical bag.  At first the security
guards checked the bag each time I entered, but after a while,
especially since most of them were sympathetic with my anguish, they
just let me pass.

'The weekend before the trial concluded I flew to California, ostensibly
to attend a medical seminar but actually to buy a black market shotgun
that would fit in my medical bag.  As I expected, on the day the verdict
was being announced, the guards did not make me open my bag.

'When the acquittal was announced, there was an uproar in the courtroom.

All the black people in the gallery shouted hooray.  Carl Tyson and his
attorney, a Jewish guy named Irving Bernstein, threw their arms around
each other.  I was ready to act.  I opened my briefcase, quickly
assembled the shotgun, jumped over the barrier, and killed them both,
one with each barrel." Dr Turner took a deep breath and paused.  'I have
never admitted before, not even to myself, that what I did was wrong.
However, some time during this operation on your friend Mr Diaba I
understood clearly how much my emotional outrage has poisoned my soul
for all these years ...  My violent act of revenge did not retu rn my
wife and children to me.  Nor did it make me happy, except for that sick
animal pleasure I felt at the instant I knew that both Tyson and his
attorney were going to die." There were now tears of contrition in Dr
Turner's eyes.  He glanced over at Ellie.  'Although I may not be
Worthy, I do love you, Ellie Wakefield, and very much want to marry you.
I hope that you can forgive me fo r what I did years ago." Ellie looked
up at Dr Turner and squeezed his hand ag ain.  'I know very little of
Ramance,' she said slowly, 'for I have had no experience of it.  But I
do know that what I feel when I think about you is wonderful.  I admire
you, I respect you, I may even love you.  I would like to talk to my
parents about this, of course ...  but yes, Dr Robert Turner, if they do
not object I would be ve ry happy to marry you."

-3 Nicole leaned over the basin and stared at her face in the mirror.
She ran her fingers across the wrinkles under her eyes and smoothed her
grey fringe.  You're almost an old woman, she said to herself.  Then she
smiled.  'I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my
trousers rolled,' she said out loud.

Nicole laughed and backed up from the mirror, turning herself around so
that she could see what she looked like from the back.  The kelly green
dress that she planned to wear to Ellie's wedding fitted snugly against
her body, which was still trim and athletic after all these years.  Not
too bad, Nicole thought approvingly.  At least Ellie won't be
embarrassed.

On the end table beside her bed were the two photographs of Genevieve
and her French husband that Kenji Watanabe had given her.  After Nicole
returned to the bedroom, she picked up the photos and stared at them.  I
couldn't be at your wedding, Genevieve, she thought suddenly, with a
burst of sadness.  I never even met your husband.

Struggling with her emotions, Nicole crossed quickly over to the other
side of the bedroom.  She stared for almost a minute at a photograph of
Simone and Michael O'Toole, taken the day of their wedding at The Node.
And I leftyou only a week afteryour wedding ...  You were Am wo so
ve?yyoung, Simone, Nicole said to herself, but in many were far more
mature than Ellie ...

ways you She did not let herself finish the thought.  There was too much
heartache in remembering either Simone or Genevieve.  It was healthier
to focus on the present.  Nicole purposefully reached up and grabbed the
individual picture of Ellie that was hanging on the wall beside her
brothers and sisters.  So you will be my third daughter to many, Nicole
thought.  It seems impossible.  Sometimes life moves much toofast.

A montage of images of Ellie flashed through Nicole's mind.  She saw
again the shy little baby lying beside her in the White Room in Rama II,
Ellie's awestruck little girl face as they approached The Node in the
shuttle, her new adolescent features at the moment of awakening from the
long sleep, and finally Ellie's mature determination and courage as she
spoke in front of the citizens of new Eden in defence of Dr Turner's
programme.  It was a powerful emotional journey into the past.

Nicole replaced Ellie's picture on the wall and started to undress.  She
had just hung her dress in the closet when she heard a strange sound,
like someone crying, at the very limit of her hearing.  "at was that?
she wondered.  Nicole sat still for several minutes, but didn't hear any
other noises.  When she stood up, however, she suddenly had the eerie
feeling that both Genevieve and Simone were in the room with her. Nicole
glanced around her quickly, but she was still alone.

What is going on with me?  she asked herself.  Have I been working too
hard?

Has the combination of the Martinez case and the wedding pushed me over
the bank?

Or is this another of my psychic episodes?

Nicole tried to calm herself by breathing slowly and deeply.  She was
not, however, able to shake the feeling that Genevieve and Simone were
indeed there in the room with her.  Their presence beside her was so
strong that Nicole had to restrain herself to keep from talking to them.

She remembered clearly the discussions that she had had with Simone
prior to her marriage to Michael O9Toole.  Maybe that's why they are
here, Nicole thought.  They've come to remind me that I've been so busy
with my work, I haven't had my wedding talk with Ellie.  Nicole laughed
out loud nervously, but the goose bumps_1 remained on her arm.

Forgive me, my darlings, Nicole said to both Ellie's Z photograph and
the spirits of Genevieve and Simone in the room.  Ipromise that tomorrow
...

This time the shriek was unmistakable.  Nicole froze in her bedroom, the
adrenalin coursing through her system.  Within seconds she was running
across the house to the study where Richard was working.

'Richard,' she said, just before reaching the door to the study, 'did
you hear ...  ?" Nicole stopped herself in mid-sentence.  The study was
a mess.  Richard was on the floor, surrounded by a pair of monitors and
a jumbled pile of electronic equipment.  The little robot Prince Hal was
in one hand and Richard's precious portable computer from the Newton
mission was in the other.  Three biots - two Garcias and a partially
disassembled Einstein - were bending over him.

'Why, hello, darling,' Richard said nonchalantly.  'What are you doing
here?

I thought you'd be asl asleep by now.9 'Richard, I am certain that I
heard an avian shriek.  Only about a minute ago.  It was close by."
Nicole hesitated, trying to decide whether or not to tell him about the
visit from Genevieve and Simone.

Richard's brow furrowed.  'I didn't hear anything,' he replied.  'Did
any of you?" he asked the biots.  They all shook their heads, including
the Einstein, whose chest was wide open and connected by four cables to
the monitors on the floor.

'I know I heard something,' Nicole reiterated.  She was silent for a
moment.

Is this another sign of Terminal Stress?  she asked herself.  Nicole now
surveyed the chaos on the floor in front of her.  'By the way, darling,
what are you doing?" 'This?" Richard said with a vague sweep of his
hand.  'Oh, it's nothing special.  just another project of mine."
'Richard Wakefield,' she said quickly, 'you are not telling me the
truth.

This mess all over the floor could not possibly be "nothing special" - I
know you better than that.  Now what's so secret ...  ?" Richard had
changed the displays on all three of his active monitors and was now
shaking his head vigorously.  'I don't like this,' he mumbled.  'Not at
all." He glanced up at Nicole.  'Have you by any chance accessed my
recent data files that are stored in the central supercomputer?  Even
inadvertently?" 'No, of course not.  I don't even know your entry code
...  But that's not what I want to talk about .  .

'Somebody has ..." Richard quickly keyed in a diagnostic security
subroutine and studied one of the monitors.  'At least five times in the
last three weeks ...  You're certain that it wasn't you?" 'Yes,
Richard,' Nicole said emphatically.  'But you're still trying to change
the subject ...  I want you to tell me what this is all about." Richard
set Prince Hal down on the floor in front of him and looked up at
Nicole.  'I'm not quite ready to tell you, darling,' he said after a
moment's hesitation.

'Please give me a couple of days." Al FP Nicole was puzzled.  At length,
however, her face brightened.  'All right, darling, if it's a wedding
present for Ellie, then I'll gladly wait Richard returned to his work.

Nicole plopped down in the only chair in the room that was not
cluttered.

As she watched her husband, she realised how tired she was.  She
convinced herself that her fatigue must have caused her to imagine the
shriek.

'Darling,' Nicole said softly a minute or two later.

'Yes,' he answered, glancing up at her from the floor.

'Do you ever wonder what's really going on here in New Eden?  I mean,
why have we been left so utterly alone by the creators of Rama?  Most of
the colonists go about their lives with hardly a thought about the fact
that they're travelling in an interstellar spaceship constructed by
extraterrestrials.  How can this be possible?  Why doesn't The Eagle or
some other equally marvelous manifestation of their superior alien
technology suddenly appear?  Then maybe our petty problems..." Nicole
stopped when Richard started laughing.  'What is it?" she said.

'This reminds me of a conversation that I had once with Michael O'Toole.
He was frustrated because I would not accept on faith the eyewitness
reports of the apostles.  He then told me that God should have known
that we were a species of doubting Thomases and should have scheduled
frequent return visits for the resurrected Christ." 'But that situation
was entirely different,' Nicole argued.

iWas it?" Richard replied.

'What the early Christians 1 reported about Jesus could not have been
any harder to accept than our description of The Node and our long,
7.time-dilating journey at relativistic velocities ...  It's far I The
Garden of Rama more comforting for the other colonists to believe that
this spaceship was created as an experiment by the ISA.  Very few of
them understand science well enough to know that Rama is way beyond our
technological capability." Nicole was silent for a moment.

'Then is there nothing we can do to convince them..." She was
interrupted by the triple buzz that indicated an incoming phone call was
urgent.  Nicole stumbled across the floor to answer it.  Max Puckett's
concerned face appeared on the monitor.

'We have a dangerous situation here outside the detention compound,' he
said.  'There's an angry mob, maybe seventy or eighty people, mostly
from Hakone.  They want access to Martinez.

They've already terminated two Garcia biots and attacked three others.
judge Mishkin is trying to reason with them, but they're in a nasty
mood.

Apparently Mariko Kobayashi committed suicide about two hours ago. Her
whole family is here, including her father Nicole was dressed in a sweat
suit in less than a minute.  Richard tried vainly to argue with her. 'It
was my decision,' she said as she climbed on her bicycle.  'I should be
the one to deal with the consequences." She eased down the lane to the
main bicycle path and then began to pedal furiously.  At top speed she
would be at the administrative centre in four or five minutes, less than
half the time it would take her by train at this time of night. Kenji
was wrong, Nicole thought.  We should have had a press conference this
morning.  Then I could have explained the decision.

Almost a hundred colonists were gathered in the main square of Central
City.  They were milling around in front of the New Eden detention
complex where Pedro r Ardw C.  Clarke and Genny Lee Martinez had been
held since he was first indicted for the rape of Mariko Kobayashi. judge
Mishkin was standing at the top of the steps in front of the detention
centre.  He was speaking to the angry crowd through a megaphone.

Twenty biots, mostly Garcias but with a couple of Lincolns and Tiassos
in the group, had locked arms in front of judge Mishkin and were
preventing the mob from climbing the stairs to reach the judge.

'Now, folks,' the grey-haired Russian was saying, 'if Pedro Martinez is
indeed guilty, then he Will be convicted.  But our constitution
guarantees him a fair trial ..." 'Shut up, old man,' someone shouted
from the audience.  'We want Martinez,' another voice said.

Off to the left, in front of the theatre, six young Orientals were
finishing a makeshift scaffold.  There was a cheer from the crowd as one
of them tied a thick rope with a noose over the crossbar.  A burly
Japanese man in his early twenties pushed to the front of the crowd.
'Move out of the way, old man,' he said.  'And take these mechanical
dolts with you'.  Our quarrel is not with you.

We are here to secure justice for the Kobayashi family." 'Remember
Mariko,' a young woman shouted.  There was a crashing sound as a
red-haired boy struck one of the Garcias in the face with an aluminiurn
baseball bat.  The Garcia, its eyes destroyed and its face disfigured
beyond recognition, made no response but did not give up its place in
the cordon.

'The biots will not fight back,' judge Mishkin said into the megaphone.

'They are programmed to be pacifists.  But destroying them serves no
purpose.

It is senseless, inane violence." Two runners coming from Hakone arrived
in the square and there was a momentary change in the focus of the
crowd.  Less than a minutc later, the unruly mob cheered the appearance
of two huge logs, carried by a dozen youths each.  'Now we will remove
the biots that are protecting that murderer Martinez,' the young
Japanese spokesman said.  'This is your last chance, old 0 man.  Move
out of the way before you are hurt." Many individuals in the crowd ran
over to take positions by the logs they intended to use as battering
rams.  At that moment Nicole Wakefield arrived in the square on her
bicycle.

She jumped down quickly, walked through the cordon, and raced up the
steps to stand beside judge Mishkin.  'Hiro Kobayashi,' she shouted into
the megaphone before the crowd had recognised her.  'I have come to
explain to you why there will be no jury trial for Pedro Martinez.  Will
you come forward so that I can see you?

The elder Kobayashi, who had been standing off to the side of the
square, walked slowly over to the bottom of the steps in front of
Nicole.

'Kobayashi-san,' Nicole said in Japanese, 'I was very sorry to hear
about the death of your daughter ..." 'Hypocrite,' someone shouted in
English and the crowd began to buzz.

'As a parent myself,' Nicole continued, 'I can imagine how terrible it
must be to experience the death of a child .  .  ." 'Now,' she said,
switching to English and addressing the crowd, 'let me explain my
decision today to all of you.  Our New Eden constitution says that each
citizen shall have a "fair trial".  In all other cases since this colony
was originally settled, criminal indictments have led to a trial by
jury.  In the case of Mr Martinez, however, because of all the
publicity, I am convinced that no unbiased jury can be found.

A chorus of whistles and boos briefly interrupted Nicole.  'Our
constitution does not define,' she continued, 'what should be done to
ensure a "fair trial" if no jury of peers is to be involved.  However,
our judges have supposedly been selected to implement the law and are
trained to decide cases on the basis of the evidence.  That is why I
have assigned the Martinez indictment to the jurisdiction of the New
Eden Special Court.  There all the evidence - some of which has never
heretofore been made public - will be carefully weighed." 'But we all
know the boy Martinez is guilty,' a distraught Mr Kobayashi cried in
response.  'He has even admitted he had sex with my daughter.  And we
also M know he raped a girl in Nicaragua, back on Earth ...

Why are you protecting him?  What about justice for my family?" 'Because
the law .  .  ." Nicole started to answer, but she was drowned out by
the crowd.

'We want Martinez.  We want Martinez." The chant swelled as the huge
logs, which had been laid on the pavement soon after Nicole's
appearance, were again hoisted by the people in the square.  As the mob
struggled to set up a battering ram, one of the logs inadvertently
crashed into the monument marking the celestial location of Rama.  The
sphere shattered and electronic parts that had indicated the nearby
stars A tumbled out on to the pavement.  The small blinking light that
had been Rama itself broke into hundreds of pieces.

'Citizens of New Eden,' Nicole shouted into the megaphone, 'hear me out.

There is something about this casethatnoneofyouknow.Ifyouwilliustlisten.

'Kill the nigger bitch!" shouted the red-haired boy who had struck the
Garcia biot with the baseball bat.

Nicole glared at the young man with fire in her eyes.  'What did you
say?" she thundered.

the Garden ofRama The chanting suddenly ceased.  The boy was isolated.
He glanced around nervously and grinned.  'Kill the nigger bitch,' he
repeated.

'Nicole was down the steps in an instant.  The crowd moved aside as she
headed straight for the red-haired boy.  'Say it one more time,' she
said, her nostrils flaring, when she was less than a metre away from her
antagonist.

'Kill ..." he started.

She slapped his cheek hard with her open hand.  The smack resounded
through the square.  Nicole turned around abruptly and started towards
the steps, but hands grabbed her from all sides.  The shocked boy
doubled up his fist ...

At that moment two loud booms shook the square.  As everyone tried to
ascertain what was happening, two more blasts were detonated in the sky
over the heads of the crowd.  'That's just me and my shotgun,' Max
Puckett said into the megaphone.  'Now if you folks will just let the
lady judge pass ...  there, that's better ...  and then head on home,
we'll all be better off." Nicole broke free from the hands that were
holding her, but the crowd did not disperse.  Max raised the gun, aimed
it at the thick knots of rope above the noose on the makeshift scaffold,
and fired again.  The rope exploded into pieces, parts of it falling
into the crowd.

'Now, folks,' Max said.  'I'm a lot more ornery than these two judges.
And I already know I'm going to spend some time in this here detention
centre for violating the colony's gun laws.  I'd sure as hell hate to
have to shoot some of you as well .  .

Max pointed his gun at the crowd.  Everyone instinctively ducked, Max
fired blanks over their heads and laughed heartily as the people began
to scurry out of the square.

Nicole could not sleep.  Over and over again she replayed the same
scene.  She kept seeing herself walking into the crowd and slapping the
red-haired boy.  Which makes me no better than he is, she thought.

'You're still awake, aren't you?" Richard said.

'Umm-hm." 'Are you all right?" There was a short silence.  'No, Richard
Nicole answered.  'I'm not ...

I'm extremely upset with myself for striking that boy." 'Hey, come on,'
he said.  'Stop beating yourself up...  He deserved it ...  He insulted
you in the worst way...  People like that don't understand anything but
force." Richard reached over and began rubbing Nicole's back.  'My God,'
he said, 'I've never seen you so tense...  you're in knots from one end
to the other." 'I'm worried,' Nicole said.  'I have a terrible feeling
that the whole fabric of our LIFE here in New Eden is about to come
unravelled ...  And that everything I have done or am doing is
absolutely useless." 'You have done your best, darling ...  I must
confess that I am amazed by how hard you have tried." Richardcontinued
to rub Nicole's back very gently.  'But you must remember you're dealing
with human beings ...  You can transport them to another world and give
them a paradise, but they still come equipped with their fears and
insecurities and cultural predilections.  A new world could only really
be new if all the humans involved began with totally empty minds, like
new computers with no software and no operating systems, just loads of
untapped potential."

Nicole managed a smile.  'You're not very optimistic, darling."

'Why should I be?  Nothing I have seen here in New Eden or on Earth
suggests to me that humanity is capable of achieving harmony in its
relationship with itself, much less with any other living creatures.
Occasionally there is an individual, or even a group, that is able to
transcend the basic genetic and environmental drawbacks of the species
...  But these people are miracles, certainly not the norm." 'I don't
agree with you,' Nicole said softly.  'Your view is too hopeless.  I
believe that most people desperately want to achieve that harmony.  We
just don't know how to do it.  That's why we need more education.  And
more good examples." 'Even that red-haired boy?  Do you believe he could
be educated out of his intolerance?" 'I have to think so, darling,'
Nicole said.  'Otherwise ...I fear I would simply give up." Richard made
a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh.

'What is it?" Nicole asked.

'I was just wondering,' Richard said, 'if Sisyphus ever deluded himself
into believing that maybe the next time, the boulder would not roll down
the hill again." Nicole smiled.  'He had to believe there was some
chance the boulder would stay at the summit, or he could not have
laboured so hard ...  At least that's what I think."

Now As Kenji Watanabe descended from the train at Hakone, it was
impossible for him not to recall another meeting with Toshio Nakamura,
years before, on a planet billions of kilometres away.  He had
telephoned me that time too, Kenji thought.

He had insisted that we talk about Keiko.

Kenji stopped in front of a shop window and straightened his tie.  In
the distorted reflection he could easily imagine himself as an
idealistic Kyoto teenager on his way to a meeting with a rival.  But
that was long ago, Kenji said to himself, with nothing at stake except
our egos.  Now the entirefate of our little world ...

His wife Nai had not wanted him to meet with Nakamura at all.  She had
encouraged Kenji to call Nicole for another opinion.  Nicole also had
been opposed to any meeting between the governor and Toshio Nakamura.
'He's a dishonest, power-crazy megalomaniac,' Nicole had said.  'Nothing
good can ting.

He just wants to find your come from the mee weaknesses." 'But he has
said that he can reduce tension in the colony." 'At what price, Kenji?
Watch out for the terms.  That man never offers to do something for
nothing." So why did you come?  A voice inside Kenji's head J

The Garden ofRa?na asked him as he stared at the huge palace his boyhood
associate had built for himself.  I'm not certain, exactly, another
voice answered.  Maybe honour.  Or self-respect Something deep in my
heritage.

Nakamura's palace and the surrounding homes were built of wood in the
classic Kyoto style.  Blue tile roofs, carefully manicured gardens,
sheltering trees, immaculately clean walkways - even the smell of the
flowers reminded Kenji of his home city on a faraway planet.

He was met at the door by a lovely young girl in sandals and kimono, who
bowed and said, 'Ohairi kudasai', in the very formal Japanese way. Kenji
left his shoes on the rack and put on sandals himself.  The girl's eyes
were always on the floor as she guided him through the few Western rooms
of the palace into the tatami mat area where, it was said, Nakamura
spent most of his free time gambolling with his concubines.

After a short walk the girl stopped and pulled aside a paper screen
decorated with cranes in flight.  'Dozo,' she said, gesturing inside.
Kenji walked into the six mat room and sat cross-legged on one of the
two cushions in front of a shiny black lacquer table.  He will be late,
Kenji thought.  That's allpart of the strategy.

A different young girl, also pretty, self-effacing, and dressed in a
lovely pastel kimono, came noiselessly into the room carrying water and
Japanese tea.

Kenji sipped the tea slowly while his eyes roamed around the room. In
one corner was a wooden screen with four panels.  Kenji could tell from
his distance of a few metres that it was exquisitely carved.  He rose
from his cushion to take a closer look.

The side facing towards him featured the beauty of Japan, one panel for
each of the four seasons.  The winter picture showed a ski resort in the
Japanese Alps smothered in metres of snow; the spring panel depicted
blossom along the Kama River in the cherry trees in .  .  clear day with
M s a pristine ount Kyoto.  Summer wa -capped summit rising above the
verdant Fuji's snow el presented a riot of countryside.  The ahe autumn
pan he Tokugawa family colour in the trees surrounding t in at Nikko.

uddenly beauty, Kenji thought, S e world tried to recreate th feeling
deeply homesick.  He has Why does he spend his we have left behind.  But
why?

art He is a strange, It magnificent sordid money on suc inconsistent
man.  se of the screen told of The four panels on the rever displayed
the battle of ry, after another Japan.  The rich colours nteenth centu
Osaka Castle, in the early seve ugawa was virtually unopposed as which
Ieyasu Tok was covered with human" i !

shogun of Japan.  The screenR warriors in battle, male and female'i
figures - samurai throughout the castle members of the court scattered
grounds, even the Lord Tokugawa himself, larger than g supremely content
with his victory.  the rest and lookin that the painted shogun 11 Kenji
noticed with amusement blance to Nakamura.

bore more than a passing resem the cushion Kenji was about to sit back
down on when the screen opened and his adversary entered.

,Omachido sama deshita,' Nakamura said, bowing sligh tly in his
direction.

Kenji bowed back, somewhat awkwardly because he could not take his eyes
off his countryman.  Toshio Nakamura was dressed in a complete samurai
outfit, including the sw ord and dagge rl This is all part of some
designed to psychological Ploy, Kenji told himself.  It is confitse or
scare Me arnura said, sitting down 'Ano, hajemernashoka,' Nak oishii
desu, posite Kenji.  'Kocha ga, on the cushion op the.

shrine and mausol .  eu All this amazing The Garden of Rama ,Totemo
oishii des,4' Kenji replied, taking another sip t.  But he is not my
shogun, The tea was indeed excellen Kenji thought- I must change thi s
atmosphere before any serious discussion starts.

tNakamura-san, we are both busy men,' Governor It is important to me
that we 'Watanabe said in English.

formalities and cut straight to the dispense with the r.Your
representative told me on the heart of the matte about the at you are
"disturbed" phone this morning th ours and have some twenty-four hid
events of the lastfor reducing the current tension "positive
suggestions" iswhy I have come to talk to You-' in New Eden.  Thishowed
nothing; however, the slight Nakamura's face shis displeasure with hiss
as he was speaking indicated You have forgotten Kenji's directness.

your Japanese ously impolite to start manners, Watanabe-san.  it is
griev ave complimented a business discussion before you hid ed about his
your host on the surroundings and inquir most always leads to
well-being.  Such impropriety all ent, which can be avoided unpleasant
disagreem 11, in sorry,' Kenji interrupted with a trace of im ou, of all
patience, 'but I don't need a lesson from Y people, on manners. Besides,
we are not in Japan, we are not even on Earth, and our ancient Japanese
customs are about as germane now as the outfit you are wearing Kenji had
not intended to insult Nakamura, but he could not have had a better
strategy for causing his '31 his true intentions.  The tycoon rose
adversary to reveal orthought to his feet abruptly.

For a moment the govern Nakamura was going to draw his samurai sword.

mplacably 'All right,' said Nakamura, his eyes I we will do this your
way ...  Watanabe, you hostile, I of the colony.  The citizens are very
have lost contro tell me unhappy with your leadership and my people
there is widespread talk of impeachment and/or insurrection.  You have
botched the environmental and RV-41 issues, and now your black woman
judge, after innumerable delays, has announced that a nigger rapist will
not be subject to a trial by jury.  Some of the more thoughtful of the
colonists, knowing that you and I have a common background, have asked
me to intercede, to try to convince you to step aside before there is
widespread bloodshed and chaos." OMENS&_ This is incredible, Kenji
thought as he listened to Nakamura.  The man is absolutely out of his
mind The governor resolved to say very little in the conversation.

'So you believe I should resign?" Kenji asked after a protracted
silence.

'Yes,' answered Nakamura, his tone growing more imperious.  'But not
immediately.

Not until tomorrow.  Today you should exercise your executive privilege
to take the jurisdiction for the Martinez case away from Nicole des
Jardins Wakefield.  She is obviously prejudiced.  judge lannella or
Rodriquez, either one, would be more appropriate.

Notice,' he said, forcing a smile, 'that I am not suggesting the case be
transferred to judge Nishimura's court." 'Is there anything else?" Kenji
asked.

'Only one more thing.  Tell Ulanov to withdraw from the election.  He
doesn't have any chance of winning and continuing this divisive campaign
will only make it more difficult for us to pull together after the
Macmillan victory.  We need to be united.

I foresee a serious threat to the colony from whatever enemy inhabits
the other habitat.

The leggies, which you seem to believe are "harmless observers', are
just their advance scouts .

Kenji was astonished by what he was hearing.  How had Nakamura become so
warped?  Or had he always been this way?

The Garden ofRama I must stress that time is of the essence,' Nakamura
was saying, 'especially with respect to the Martinez issue and your
resignation.  I have asked Kobayashi-san and the other members of the
Asian community not to act too hastily, but after last night I'm not c
ertain I can restrain them.  His daughter was a beautiful, talented
young woman.  Her suicide note makes it clear that she could not live
with the shame implied by the continual delays in the trial of her
rapist.  There is genuine anger throughout ..." Governor Watanabe
temporarily forgot his resolution to remain quiet.  'Are you aware,' he
said, also standing up, 'that semen from two different individuals was
found in Mariko Kobayashi after the night during which she was allegedly
raped?  And that both Mariko and Pedro Martinez repeatedly insisted that
they were alone together the entire evening?  ...  Even when Nicole
hinted to Mariko last week that there was evidence of additional
intercourse, the young woman stuck to her story." Nakamura momentarily
lost his composure.  He stared blankly at Kenji Watanabe.  'We have not
been able to identify the other party,' Kenji continued.  'The semen
samples mysteriously disappeared from the hospital laboratory before the
full DNA analysis could be completed.  All we have is the record of the
original examination." 'That record could be wrong,' asserted Nakamura,
his self-confidence returning.

'Very, very unlikely.  But at any rate, now you can understand judge
Wakefield's dilemma.  Everyone in this colony has already decided Pedro
is guilty.  She did not want a jury to convict him wrongly." There was a
long silence.  The governor started to depart.

Fr V

A T, 'I'm surprised at you, Watanabe,' Nakamura said at length, 'you've
missed the point of this meeting entirely.  Whether or not that jigaboo
Martinez raped Mariko Kobayashi is really not that important ...  I have
promised her father that the Nicaraguan boy will be punished.  And
that's what counts." Kenji Watanabe stared at his boyhood classmate with
disgust.  'I'm going to leave now,' he said, 'before I become really
angry." 'You will not be given another chance,' Nakamura said, his eyes
again full of hostility.  'This was my first and final offer." A Kenji
shook his head, pulled back the paper screen himself, and walked out
into the corridor.

Nicole was walking along a beach in beautiful sunlight.  About fifty
metres ahead of her, Ellie was standing beside Dr Turner.  She was
wearing her wedding dress, but the groom was dressed in a bathing suit.
Nicole's reat-grandfather Omeh was performing the ceremony in his long
green tribal robe.

Omeh placed Ellie's hands in Dr Turner's and began a Senoufo chant.  He
raised his eyes to the sky.  A solitary avian soared overhead, shrieking
in rhythm with the wedding chant.  As Nicole watched the avian flying
above her, the sky darkened.  Storm clouds rushed in, displacing the
placid sky.

The ocean began to churn and the wind to blow.  Nicole's hair, now
completely grey, streamed out behind her.  The wedding party was in
disarray.  Everyone ran inland to escape the coming storm.  Nicole could
not.  move.  Her eyes were fixed upon a large object being tossed upon
the waves.

The object was a huge green bag, like the plastic bags used for lawn
trash back in the twenty-first century.  The I A, bag was full and was
coming towards the shore.  Nicole would have tried to grab it but she
was afraid of the moiling sea.  She pointed at the bag.  She yelled for
help.

In the upper left-hand corner of her dream screen she saw a long canoe.
As it drew closer, Nicole realised that the eight occupants of the canoe
were extraterrestrials, orange in colour, smaller than humans.  They
looked as if they were made from bread dough.  They had eyes and faces
but no body hair.  The aliens steered the canoe over to the large green
bag and picked it up.

The orange extraterrestrials deposited the green bag on the beach.
Nicole did not approach until they climbed back into their canoe and
returned to the ocean.  She waved goodbye to them and walked over to the
bag.  It had a zipper, which she carefully opened.

Nicole pulled back the top half and stared at the dead face of Kenji
Watanabe.

Nicole shuddered, screamed, and sat up in bed.  She reached over for
Richard but the bed was empty.  The digital clock on the tableread 2:48
a.m.  Nicole tried to slow her breathing and clear her mind of the
horrible dream.

The vivid image of the dead Kenji Watanabe lingered in her mind.  As she
walked over to the bathroom, Nicole remembered her premonitory dreams
about the death of her mother, back when she was only ten years old.
W`hat iffenjiis really going to die?  she thought, feeling the first
wave of panic.  She forced herself to think about something else. Now
where is Richard at this time of night?  she wondered.  Nicole pulled on
her robe and left the bedroom.

She walked quietly past the children's rooms towards the front of the
house.  Benjy was snoring, as usual.  The light was on in the study, but
Richard was not there.  Two of the new biots plus Prince Hal were also
gone.

X One of the monitors on Richard's work table still contained a display.

Nicole smiled to herself and remembered their agreement.  She touched
the keys NICOLE on the keyboard and the display changed.

'Dearest Nicole,' the message appeared, 'if you awaken before I return,
do not worry.  I plan to be back by dawn, eight o'clock tomorrow k,
morning at the very latest.  I have been doing some work with the 300
series biots - you remember, the ones that are not completely programmed
in firmware and therefore can be designed for special tasks - and have
reason to believe that someone has been spying on my work.  Therefore, I
have accelerated the completion of my current project and have gone
outside New Eden for a final test.  I love you.  Richard.

It was dark and cold out on the Central Plain.  Richard tried to be
patient.  He had sent his upgraded Einstein (Richard referred to it as
Super-Al) and Garcia 325 over to the second habitat probe site before
him.  They had explained to the night watchman, a standard Garcia biot,
that the published experiment schedule had changed and that a special
investigation was presently going to be conducted.

With Richard still out of sight, Super-Al had then withdrawn all the
equipment from the opening into the other habitat and placed it on the
IN ground.  The process had consumed over an hour of precious time. Now
that Super-Al was finally finished, he signalled Richard to approach.
Garcia 325 cleverly led the watchman biot off to another area around the
probe site so it wouldn't be able to see Richard.

He wasted no time.  Richard pulled Prince Hal out of his pocket and put
him in the opening.  'Go quickly,' Richard said, setting his small
monitor up on the floor of the passage.  The opening into the other
habitat had been gradually widened over the weeks so that it was now
approximately a square, eighty centimetres a side.  There was more than
enough room for the tiny robot.

Prince Hal hurried through to the other side.  The drop from the passage
to the inside floor was about a metre.  The robot adroitly attached a
small cable to a stanchion he glued to the floor of the passage and then
let himself down.  Richard watched Hal's every move on his screen and
communicated instructions by radio.

Richard had expected that there would be an outer annulus protecting the
second habitat.  He was correct.  So the basic design of the two
habitats is similar, he thought.  Richard had also anticipated that
there would be an opening of some kind in the inner wall, some gate or
door through which the leggies must come and go, and that Prince Hal
would be small enough to enter the inside of the habitat by the same
portal.

It did not take long for Hal to locate the entrance into the main part
of the habitat.  However, what was obviously a door was also more than
twenty metres above the floor of the annulus.  Having watched the video
recordings of the leggies moving up vertical surfaces on the bulldozer
biots and the Avalon survey site, Richard had prepared for this
possibility as well.

'Climb,' he ordered Prince Hal after a nervous glance at his watch.  It
was almost six o'clock.  Dawn would be coming soon in New Eden.  Soon
thereafter the regular scientists and engineers would be returning to
this probe site.

The entrance to the inside of the habitat was one hundred times Prince
Hal's height above the floor.  The robot's ascent would be the
equivalent of a human going straight up a sixty-storey building.  At
home Richard had had the little robot practise by scaling the house, but
he had always been there beside him.  Were there grooves  Anhur G Clarke
and Genity Lee r for hand and footholds on the wall Hal was climbing?

Richard could not tell from the monitor.  Were all the correct equations
in Prince Hal's mechanical engineering subprocessor?  I'll find out soon
enough, Richard thought as his star pupil began his climb.

Prince Hal slipped and dangled by his hands once, but eventually
succeeded in making it to the top.

However, ..........................the ascent took another thirty
minutes.  Richard knew he 7r Mwas running out of time.  As Hal pulled
himself on to the windowsill of a circular porthole, Richard saw that
the robot's ingress into the habitat itself was blocked by a mesh
screen.  However, a small part of the interior was barely visible in the
dim light.  Richard carefully positioned Hal's tiny camera so that it
could see through the gridwork.

'The watchman insists it must return to its main station,' Garcia 325
announced to Richard on the radio.

'It is required to make its daily report at 06.30." Shit, thought.,
Richard, that's only six minutes.  He moved Hal slowly around on the lip
of the porthole to see if he could identify any objects in the habitat
interior."

Richard could see nothing specific.  'Shriek,' Richard then ordered,
switching the robot's audio volume to full.

'Shriek until I tell you to stop." Richard had not tested the new
amplifier he had installed in Prince Hal at its maximum output.  He was
therefore astonished at the amplitude of Hal's avian mimicry.  It
resounded from the passage and Richard jumped back.  Pretty damn good,
Richard said after collecting himself, at least if my memory is
accurate.

The watchman biot was soon upon Richard, following its preprogrammed
instructions by demanding his personal papers and an explanation of what
he was doing.  Super-Al and Garcia 325 tried to confuse the watchman,
but when it could not obtain Richard's cooperation, it insisted it must
make an emergency report.  On the monitor, Richard saw the entire mesh
screen swing open and six leggies swarm on to Prince Hal.

The robot continued to shriek.

The watchman Garcia began to broadcast its emergency.  Richard was aware
that he had only a few minutes before he would be forced to leave.
'Come, dammit, come,' he said, watching the monitor in between furtive
glances behind him in the Central Plain.  There were no lights yet
approaching from his home in the distance.

At first Richard thought he had imagined it.  Then it repeated, the
sound of large wings flapping.  One of the leggies was partially
obscuring his view, but moments later Richard definitely saw a familiar
talon reaching out for Prince Hal.  The avian shriek that followed
confirmed the sighting.  The image on the monitor became fuzzy.

'If you have a chance,' Richard screamed into the radio, 'try to return
to the passage.  I'll come back for you later." He turned around,
quickly packing his monitor in his bag.  'Let's go." Richard said to his
two biot associates.  They began to run towards New Eden.

Richard was triumphant as he hurried towards home.  My hunch was fight,
he said exultantly to himself.  This changes everything ...  ...  now I
have a daughter to give away.

IMP ilk The wedding was scheduled to take place at seven o'clock in the
evening in the theatre at Central High School.  The reception, for a
much larger group, was planned for the gymnasium, an adjacent building
no more than twenty metres away.  All day long Nicole struggled with
last-minute items, rescuing the preparations from one potential disaster
after another.

She did not have time to contemplate the significance of Richard's new
discovery.  He had come home full of excitement, wanting to discuss the
avians, and even who might be spyin on his research, but Nicole had
simply .  9 not been able to focus on anything except the wedding.  They
had both agreed not to tell anyone else about the avians until after
they had had a chance for a lengthy discussion.

Nicole had gone for a morning walk in the park with Ellie.  They had
talked about marriage, love, and sex for over an hour, but Ellie had
been so excited about the wedding that she had not been able to
concentrate fully on what her mother was saying.  Towards the end of
their walk, Nicole had stopped under a tree to summarise her message.

'Remember at least this one thing, Ellie,' Nicole had said, holding both
her daugher's hands in hers.  'Sex is an important component of
marriage, but it is not the most The Garden ofRanta important.  Because
of your lack of experience, it is unlikely that sex will be wonderful
for you at the beginning.  However, if you and Robert love and trust
each other, and both of you genuinely want to give and receive pleasure,
you will find that your physical compatibility will increase year after
year." Two hours before the ceremony Nicole, Nai, and Ellie arrived
together at the school.  Eponine was already there waiting for them.
'Are you nervous?" the teacher said with a smile.  Ellie nodded.  'I'm
scared to death,' Eponine added, 'and I'm only one of the bridesmaids."
Ellie had asked her mother to be matron of honour.  Nai Watanabe,
Eponine, and her sister Katie were the bridesmaids.  Dr Edward Stafford,
a man who shared Robert Turner's passion for medical history, was the
best man.  Because he had no other close associates, except for the
biots at the hospital, Robert picked the rest of his attendants from the
Wakefield family and friends.  Kenji Watanabe, Patrick, and Benjy were
his three groomsmen.

'Mother, I feel nauseous,' Ellie said soon after they were all gathered
in the dressing room.  'I'll be so embarrassed if I throw up on my
wedding dress.

Should I try to eat something?" Nicole had anticipated this situation.
She handed Ellie a banana and some yoghurt, assuring her daughter that
it was completely normal to feel queasy before such a big event.

Nicole's uneasiness about the day increased as time passed and Katie did
not show up.  With everything in order in the bride's dressing room, she
decided to cross the hall to talk to Patrick.  The men had finished
dressing before Nicole knocked on their door.

'How is the mother of the bride?" judge Mishkin asked when she entered.
The grand old judge was going to perform the wedding ceremony.

mile.

'A little spooked,' Nicole answered with a wan s She found Patrick in
the back of the room, adjusting Benjy's clothes.

'How do I look?" Benjy asked his mother as she approached.  d to her
beaming 'Very, very handsome,' Nicole replie son.  'Have you talked to
Katie this morning?" she asked Patrick.

'No,' he said.  'But I reconfirmed the time with her, as you requested,
just last night ...  Is she not here yet?" Nicole shook her hea d.  It
was already six fifteen, only forty-five minutes before the ceremony was
scheduled to start.  She walked out in the hall to use the phone, but
the smell of cigarette smoke told her that Katie had finally arrived.

,just think, little sister,' Katie was saying in a loud voice as Nicole
crossed back to the bride's dressing room, 'tonight you get to have your
first sex.  Oooeee!  I bet the thought just drives that gorgeous body of
yours absolutely wild." 'Katie,' Eponine said, 'I don't think that's
entirely appropriate Nicole walked into the room and Eponine fell
silent.  k 'Why, Mother,' Katie said, 'how beautiful you look.  I had
forgotten that there was a woman lurking behind those judge's robes."
Katie expelled smoke into the air and took a drink from the champagne
bottle on the counter beside her.  'So here we are,' she said with a
flourish, 'about to witness the marriage of my baby sister ..." 'Stop
it, Katie, you've had too much to drink." Nicole's voice was cold and
hard.  She picked up the champagne and Katie's pack of cigarettes. 'Just
hnish dressing and stop the clowning ...  You can have the back after
the ceremony."

A

'OK, judge ...  whatever you say,' Katie said, inhaling deeply and
blowing out smoke rings.  She grinned at the other ladies.  Then, as
Katie reached for the waste basket to flick the ash off her cigarette,
she lost her balance.  Katie fell painfully against the counter, hitting
several open bottles of cosmetics before landing on the floor in a mess.
Eponine and Ellie both rushed over to help her.

'Are you all right?" Ellie asked.

'Watch out for your dress, Ellie,' Nicole said, looking disapprovingly
at Katie sprawled on the floor.  Nicole grabbed some paper towels and
began cleaning up what had spilled.

'Yeah, Ellie,' Katie said sarcastically a few seconds later, when she
was again standing up.  'Watch out for that dress.  You want to be
absolutely spotless when you marry your double murderer." Nobody
breathed in the room.  Nicole was livid.  She approached Katie and then
stood directly in front of her.  'Apologise to your sister,' she
ordered.

'I will no4' Katie replied defiantly just moments before Nicole's open
hand landed on her cheek.  Tears burst into Katie's eyes.  'Ah, hah,'
she said, wiping at her face, 'it's New Eden's most famous slapper. Only
two days after resorting to physical violence in Central City Square,
she strikes her own daughter in a replay of her most famous deed..."
'Mother, don't ...  please,' Ellie interrupted, fearing that Nicole
would slap Katie again.

Nicole turned around and looked at the distraught bride.  'I'm sorry,'
she mumbled.

'That's right,' said Katie angrily.  'Tell her you're sorry.  I'm the
one you hit, judge.  Remember me - your older, unmarried daughter.  The
one you called "disgusting" only three weeks ago yesterday ...  You told
me re th that my friends were "sleazy and immoral" a ose the exact
words?  ...  yet your precious Ellie, that paragon of virtue, you hand
over to a double murderer ...  with another murderer as a bridesmaid to
boot..." All the women realised at roughly the same moment that Katie
was not just drunk and truculent.  She was deeply disturbed.  Her wild
eyes condemned them all as she continued her rambling diatribe.

She is drowning, Nicole said to herself, and c?3ing desp erately for
help.

Not only have I ignored her cries, I have pushed her deeper into the
water.

'Katie,' Nicole said quietly, 'Fin sorry.  I acted foolards her ishly
and without thought." She walked tow daughter with her arms
outstretched.

'No,' Katie replied, pushing her mother's arms away.  CNo, no, no ...  I
don't want your pity." She moved back towards the door.  'In fact, I
don't want to be at this goddamn wedding ...  I don't belong here ...  G
oodluck, little sister.  Tell me some day how the handsome doctor is in
bed." Katie turned around and stumbled through the door.

Both Ellie and Nicole were silently weeping as she left.

Z Nicole tried to concentrate on the wedding, but her heart was heavy
after the untoward scene with Katie.  She helped Ellie put on her makeup
again, repeatedly chastising herself for having responded angrily to
Katie.

just before the ceremony started, Nicole returned to the men's dressing
room and informed them that Katie had decided not to be at the wedding.
She then peeked briefly at the gathering crowd, noticing that there were
about a dozen biots already seated.  My goodness, Nicole thought, we
weren't specific enough in the invitations.  It Im was not abnormal for
some of the colonists to bring their A Lincolns or Tiassos with them to
special functions, The Garden of Rama especially if they had children.
Before she returned to the bride's dressing room, Nicole fretted
momentarily about whether or not there would be enough seats for
everybody.

M oments later, or so it seemed, the bridal party was gathered on the
stage around judge Mishkin and the music announced the arrival of the
bride.  Like everyone else, Nicole turned around and looked to the back
of the theatre.  There was her gorgeous youngest daughter, resplendent
in her white dress with the red trim, coming down the aisle on Richard's
arm.  Nicole fought back the tears, but when she saw big drops
glistening on the cheeks of the bride, she could control herself no
longer.  I love you, my Ellie, Nicole said to herself How I hope that
you will be happy.

judge Mishkin had prepared an eclectic ceremony at the couple's request.

It praised the love of a man and a woman, and talked about how important
their bond was in the proper creation of a family.  His words counselled
tolerance, patience, and selflessness.  He offered a nondenominational
prayer, invoking God to call forth, from the bride and groom that
'Compassion and understanding that ennobles the human species'.

The ceremony was short, but elegant.  Dr Turner and Ellie exchanged
rings and recited their vows with strong, positive voices.  They turned
to judge Mishkin and he placed their hands together.  'With the
authority granted me by the colony of New Eden, I pronounce Robert
Turner and Eleanor-Wakefield husband and wife., As Dr Turner was gently
lifting Ellie's veil for the traditional kiss, a shot rang out, followed
an instant later by another.  judge Mishkin pitched forward on the
bridal couple, blood spurting from his forehead.  Kenji Waianabe
collapsed beside him.  Eponine dived between the bridal couple and the
guests as third and fourth shots were heard.  Everyone was screaming.
There was chaos in the theatre.

Two more shots followed in rapid succession.  In the third row Max
Puckett finally disarmed the Lincoln biot that had been the gunman.  Max
had turned around almost instantly, as soon as he had heard the first
shot, and had leaped over the chairs a second later.  However, the
Lincoln biot, which had risen from its seat at the word 'wife', fired
its automatic gun a total of six times before Max subdued it completely.

Blood was all over the stage.  Nicole crawled over and examined Governor
Watanabe.  He was already dead.  Dr Turner cradled judge Mishkin as the
gracious old man closed his eyes for the final time.  The third bullet
had apparently been intended for Dr Turner, for Eponine had caught it in
her side after her frantic dive to save the bride and groom.

Nicole picked up the microphone that had fallen with judge Mishkin.
'Ladies and Gentlemen.  This is a terrible, terrible tragedy. Please do
not panic.  I believe there is no more danger.  Please just hold your
places until we can tend to the injured." The final four bullets had not
done too much damage.  Eponine was bleeding, but her condition was not
critical.  Max had struck the Lincoln just before it fired the fourth
bullet, almost certainly saving Nicole's life since that particular
bullet had missed her by only centimetres.  Two of the guests had been
grazed by the na shots as the Lincoln was falling.

Richard joined Max and Patrick, who were goddanin question,' Max said.

Richard looked at the Lincoln's shoulder.  The biot 4' was number three
hundred and thirty-three.  'Take him into the back,' Richard said.  'I
want to look at him later." restraining the killer biot.  'He won't
answer a single'a .I On the stage Nai Watanabe was sitting on her knees,
holding the head of her beloved Kenji on her lap.  Her body was
trembling with deep, desperate sobs.

Beside her the twins Galileo and Kepler were wailing with fright. Ellie,
blood all over her wedding dress, was trying to comfort the little boys.

Dr Turner was attending to Eponine.  'An ambulance should be here in
just a few minutes,' he said after dressing her wound.  He kissed her on
the forehead.

'There's no way that Ellie and I can ever thank you for what you did."
Nicole was down with the guests, making certain that neither of the
bystanders who had been struck by bullets was seriously injured.  She
was about to return to the microphone and tell everyone that they could
begin to leave when a hysterical colonist burst into the theatre.

'An Einstein has gone mad,' he shouted before surveying the scene in
front of him, 'Ulanov and judge lannella are both dead." 'We should both
leave.  And now,' Richard said.  'But even if you won't, Nicole, I am
going to go.  I know too much about the three hundred series biots - and
what Nakamura's people have done to change them.  They'll be after me
tonight or in the morning." 'All right, darling,' Nicole replied.  'I
understand.  But someone must stay with the family.  And to fight
Nakamura.  Even if it's hopeless.  We must not submit tohis tyranny." It
was three hours after the aborted end of Ellie's wedding.  Panic was
sweeping the colony.  The television had just reported that five or six
biots had simultaneously gone mad and that as many as eleven of New
Eden's most prominent citizens had been killed.  Luckily the Kawabata
biot performing the concert in Vegas had Anhur C.  Clarke and Genity Lee
failed in its attack on gubernatorial candidate Ian A Macmillan and
noted industrialist Toshio Nakamura ...

'Bullshit,' Richard had said as he had watched.  'That was just another
part of their plan." He was certain that the entire activity had been
planned and orchestrated by the Nakamura camp.  Moreover, Richard had no
doubt that he and Nicole had also been intended targets. He was
convinced that the day's events would result in a totally different Ne w
Eden under the control of Nakamura, with Ian Macmillan as his puppet
governor.

'Won't you at least say goodbye to Patrick and Benjy?" Nicole asked.

'I'd better not,' Richard answered.  'Not because I r, don't love them,
but because I'm afraid I might change my mind."

Z

'Are you going to use the emergency exit?" Richard nodded.  'They'd
never let me out the normal way." While he was checking his diving
apparatus Nicole came into the study.  'It was just reported on the news
that people are smashing their biots all over the colony.  One of the
colonists interviewed said the entire mass murder was part of an alien
plot." 'Great,' Richard said grimly.  'The propaganda has already
begun." He packed as much food and water as he thought he could
comfortably carry.

When he was ready, he held Nicole tightly against him for over a minute.
There were tears in both their eyes as he departed.

'Do you know where you're going?" Nicole asked softly.

'More or less,' Richard answered as he stood in the back door.  'I'm not
telling you, of course, so you can't be implicated .  .

'I understand,' she said.  They both heard something at the front of the
house and Richard dashed out into the backyard.

The train to Lake Shakespeare was not running.  The Garcia operating an
earlier train on the same track had been terminated by a group of angry
colonists and the whole system had shut down.  Richard began walking
towards the eastern side of Lake Shakespeare.

As he trudged along carrying his heavy diving equipment and backpack, he
had the feeling that he was being followed.  Twice he thought he saw
someone out of the corner of his eye, but when he stopped and looked
around, he saw nothing.

Finally he reached the lake.  It was after midnight.  He took one final
look at the lights of the colony and began to put on his diving
apparatus.  Richard's blood ran cold as a Garcia came out of the bushes
while he was undressing.

He expected to be killed.  After several long seconds the Garcia spoke.

'Are you Richard Wakefield?" it asked.

Richard did not move or say Nothing.  'If you are,' the biot said at
length, 'I am bringing a message from your wife.  She says she loves
you, and Godspeed." Richard took a long slow breath.  'Tell her I love
her also,' he said.

In the deepest part of Lake Shakespeare there was an open entrance to a
long submarine channel that ran under both the village of Beauvois and
the habitat wall.  During the design of New Eden, Richard, who had had
considerable practical experience with contingency engineering, had
stressed the importance of an emergency exit from the colony.

'But what would ou need it for?" The Eagle had asked.

'I don't know,' Richard had said.  'But unforeseen situations often
arise in life.  A robust engineering design always has contingency
protection." Richard swam carefully through the tunnel, slowing down
every several minutesutes to check his air supply.  When he reached the
end he moved through a series of locks that left him eventually in a dry
subterranean passage.  He walked for about a hundred metres before" he
removed his diving apparatus and stored it at the side of the tunnel.
When he reached the exit, which was at the eastern edge of the enclosed
area that included both the habitats in the Northern Hemicylinder of
Rama, Richard pulled his thermal jacket out of his waterproof pack.

Even though he realised that nobody could possibly know where he was,
Richard opened the round door in the passage ceiling very cautiously.
Then he eased out X, into the Central Plain.  So far so good, he
thought, breathing a sigh of relief.  Now for Plan R For four days
Richard remained on the eastern side of the plain.  Using his excellent
small binoculars, he could see the lights indicating activities around
the control centre, the Avalon region, or the second habitat probe site.
As Richard had anticipated, there were search parties out in the
interhabitat region for a day or two, but only one group came in his
direction and they were easy for him to avoid.

His eyes grew accustomed to what he had thought was total darkness in
the Central Plain.  Actually there was a small amount of background
light, due to reflec- 1 tion off the surfaces of Rama.  Richard
conjectured that the source or sources of the light must be in the
Southern Hemicylinder, on the other side of the far wall of the second
habitat.

Richard wished that he could fly, so that he would be able to soar over
the walls and move freely in the vastness of the cylindrical world.  The
existence of the very low levels of reflected light piqued his interest
in the rest of Rama.  Was there still a Cylindrical Sea to the south of
the barrier wall?  Did New York still exist as an island in that sea?
And what, if anything, was in the Southern Hemicylinder, a region even
larger than the one that contained the two northern habitats?

On the fifth day after his escape Richard awoke from an especially
disturbing dream about his father and started to walk in the direction
of what he now called the avian habitat.  He had shifted his sleeping
pattern to be directly opposite the diurnal cycle in New Eden, so the
time inside the colony was about seven in the evening.  Certainly all
the humans who were working at the probe site had already finished for
the day.

When he was about half a kilometer away from the 'ALA The Garden of Rama
opening in the avian habitat wall, Richard stopped to verify, using his
binoculars, that there were no longer any people in the region.  He then
sent Falstaff to decoy the site watchman biot.

Richard was not certain how uniform the passage was that led into the
second habitat.  He had drawn an eighty centimetre square on the floor
of his study, and had convinced himself that he should be able to crawl
through it.  But what if the size of the passage was irregular?  We'll
find out soon enough, Richard said to himself as he approached the site.

Only one set of cables and instruments had been reinserted into the
passage, so it was not difficult for Richard to clear them out. Falstaff
had also been successful - Richard neither heard nor saw the watchman
biot.  He threw his small pack into the opening and then tried to climb
in himself.  It was impossible.

He took off his jacket first, then his shirt, pants, and shoes.  Wearing
only his underwear and socks, Richard could barely fit into the passage.
He tied his clothes together in a bundle, affixed them to the side of
his pack, and squeezed into the opening.

It was a very slow crawl.  Richard inched forward on his stomach using
his hands and elbows, pushing his pack in front of him.  He brushed his
body against the walls and the ceiling with every movement. He stopped,
his muscles already beginning to tire, after he was fifteen metres into
the tunnel.  The other side was still almost forty metres; away.

As he rested Richard realised that his elbows, kne es, and even the top
of his balding head were already scraped and bleeding.  Retrieving
bandages from his pack was out of the question - just rolling over on
his back and looking behind him was a monumental effort in the cramped
quarters.

-k He also realised that he was very cold.  While he had been crawling,
the energy required to make forward progress had kept Richard warm. Once
he had stopped, however, his exposed body had chilled rapidly. Having so
much of his body resting against cold, metallic surfaces did not help
either.  His teeth began to chatter.

Richard pressed on slowly, painfully, for another fifteen minutes. Then
his right hip cramped and in his 7 body's involuntary response he
smashed his head against the top of the passage.  A little woozy from
the blow, he became alarmed when he felt blood running down the side of
his head.

There was no light in front of him.  The dim illumination that had
allowed him to monitor Prince Hal's progress had vanished.  He struggled
to roll over and see behind him.

It was dark everywhere and he was becoming cold again.  Richard felt his
head and tried to determine how severely he had been cut.  His panic
started when he realised that he was still haemorrhaging.

Until that moment he had not felt claustrophobic.  Now, all of a sudden,
wedged into a dark passage that Richard could feel pressing against him
from all sides, he felt as if he could not breath.  The walls seemed to
be crushing him.  He could not control himself.  He screamed.

In less than half a minute some kind of light was being shone into the
passage from his rear.  He heard the funny English accent of the Garcia
biot but could not understand what it was saying.  Almost certainly, he
thought, it is filing an emergency report.  Id better move quickly.

He began to crawl again, ignoring his fatigue, his bleeding head, and
his skinless knees and elbows.  Richard estimated that he had only ten
more metres to go, fifteen at the most, when the passage seemed to
shrink.  He couldn't get through!  He strained every muscle, but it was
useless.  He was definitely stymied.  While he was trying to find a
different crawling position that might be more geometrically favourable,
he heard a soft pitter patter approaching him from the direction of the
avian habitat.

Moments later they were all over him.  Richard spent five seconds of
absolute terror before his mind informed him that the tickling
sensations he was feeling all over his skin were caused by the leggies.
He remembered seeing them on television - little spherical creatures
about two centimetres is diameter attached to six radially symmetrical,
multijointed legs almost ten centimetres long when fully extended.

One had stopped and was directly on his face, its legs straddling his
nose and mouth.

He tried to brush it off but bumped his head again.  Richard began
squirming around to shake off the leggies and somehow managed to make
forward progress.  With the leggies still all over him, he crawled the
final metres to the exit.

He reached the outer avian annulus just as he heard a human voice behind
him.

'Hello, is there somebody in there?" it said.  'Whoever you are, please
identify yourself.

We're here to help you." A strong searchlight illuminated the passage.

Richard now discovered he had another problem.  His exit was one metre
above the floor of the annulus.  I should have crawled backwards, he
thought, and dragged my pack and clothes.  It would have been much
easier.

It was too late for hindsight.  With his pack and clothes on the floor
below him and a second human voice now asking questions from behind,
Richard continued to crawl forward until his body was halfway out of the
passage.  When he felt himself falling, Richard put his hands behind his
head, tucked his chin against his chest, and tried to make himself into
a ball.  He then 1 bounced and rolled into the avian annulus.  As he was
falling the leggies jumped off and disappeared in the darkness.

The fights the humans were shining into the passage reflected off the
inner wall of the annulus.  After first ascertaining that he was not
injured, and that his head was no longer seriously, bleeding, Richard
picked up his belongings and hobbled two hundred metres to the left.  He
stopped just under the porthole where Prince Hal had been captured by
the avian.

Despite his fatigue, Richard wasted no time scaling the 1i wall.  As
soon as he had finished dressing and tending to his wounds, he e was
certain that a deployable camera would soon be pushed into the annulus
to look for him.

lately, there was a small ledge in front Fortun of the'',_ porthole that
was large enough to accommodate T Richard.  He sat there while he was
cutting through the metal mesh.  He expected the leggies to show up at
any minute, but he remained alone.  Richard didn't see or, hear anything
from the interior of the habitat.  AlthoughAl he twice tried to summon
Prince Hal on his radio, there was no response to his call.

Richard stared into the complete darkness of the avian habitat.  What is
in there?  he wondered.  The atmosphere in the interior, he reasoned,
must be the same as that in the annulus, because air was allowed to
circulate freely back and forth.  Richard had just decided to pull out
his flashlight, for a look into the interior, when he heard sounds below
and behind him.  Seconds later he saw a light beam coming in his
direction down on the floor of the annulus.

He scrunched himself over towards the interior of the habitat as far as
he dared, to avoid the light, and listened carefully to the sounds. It's
the deployable camera, he thought.  But it has limited range.  It cannot
operate without the tether.

Richard sat very still.  What do I do now?  he said to himself, when it
became apparent that the light attached to the camera was continuing to
sweep the same area below the porthole.  They must have seen something.
If I turn on my flashlight and there's any reflection, they'll know
where I am He dropped a small object into the habitat to ensure that its
floor level was the same as the annulus.  He heard nothing.  Richard
tried another, slightly larger object, but still there was no sound of
it striking the floor.

His heart rate surged as his mind told him that the floor of the habitat
interior was far below of the annulus.  He recalled the basic structure
of Rama, with its thick external shell, and realised that the habitat
bottom could be several hundred metres below where he was sitting.
Richard leaned over and stared again into the voia.

The deployable camera suddenly stopped moving and its light remained
focused on a specific spot in the annulus.  Richard guessed that
something must have fallen out of his pack while he was hurriedly
hobbling from the passage to the area underneath the porthole.  He knew
that other lights and cameras would be coming soon.  In his mind's eye
Richard envisioned being captured and taken back to New Eden.  He did
not know specifically which colony laws he had broken, but he knew that
he had committed many violations.  A deep resentment coursed through him
as he contemplated spending months or even years in detention.  Under no
circumstances, he told himself, will I let that happen.

He reached down the inside wall of the habitat to ascertain if there
were enough irregularities to find places to put his feet and hands.
Satisfied that it was not an impossible descent, he fumbled in his pack
for his climbing line and anchored one end of it to the hinges
supporting the mesh door.  7just in case I should slip, he told himself.

A second light was now in the annulus behind him.  Richard eased himself
into the habitat with the line wrapped securely around his waist.  He
did not rappel, but he did use the line for occasional support while he
was groping for footholds in the dark.  The climb was not technically
difficult; there were many small ledges on which Richard could place his
feet.

Down and down he went.  When he estimated that he had descended sixty or
seventy metres, Richard decided to stop and take his flashlight out of
his pack.

He was not comforted when he shone the light down the wall.  He still
could not see the bottom.  What he could see, maybe fifty more metres
below him, was very diffuse, like a cloud, or even fog.  Grea4 though
Richard sarcastically, that'sjustgrea kw Another thirty metres and he
had reached the end of his climbing line.  Richard could already feel
the moisture from the fog.  By now he was extremely tired.  Since he was
not willing to give up the security of the line, he backtracked up the
wall several metres, wrapped the fine around himself several times, and
went to sleep with his body pressed against the wall.

His dreams were very strange.  Often he was falling, head over heels,
down, down, and never hitting a bottom.  In the last dream before
Richard awakened, Toshio Nakamura and two Oriental toughs were
interrogating him in a small room with white walls.

When he woke up, Richard did not know where he was for several seconds.
His first movement was to pull his right cheek away from the metallic
surface of the wall.  A few moments later, after Richard recalled that
he had gone to sleep in a vertical position on the wall in the interior
of the avian habitat, he switched on his flashlight and looked down. His
heart skipped a beat when he saw that the fog was no longer there.
Instead he could see the wall extending far far below, and what appeared
to be water where the wall finally terminated.

He leaned his head back and gazed above him.  Since he knew he was about
ninety metres below the porthole (the climbing line was a hundred metres
long), he estimated that the distance down to the water was about two
hundred and fifty metres more.  His knees became weak as his brain began
to comprehend fully his predicament.  When Richard started to untangle
himself from the extra loops he had made in the line before going to
sleep, he noticed that his arms and hands were trembling.

He had a tremendous desire to flee, to ascend again to the porthole, and
then leave this alien world altogether.  No, Richard told himself,
fighting his instinctive reaction, not yet.  Only if there are no other
viable options.

He decided he would first have something to eat.  Very .  gingerly
Richard freed himself from part of the line and pulled some food and
water out of his pack.  Then he turned partially around and pointed his
light into the interior of the habitat.  Richard thought he could see j
j shapes and forms off in the distance, but he couldn' t be certain.  It
could bejust my imagination he thought.

When he had finished eating, he checked his food and water supplies and
then made a mental list of his options.  It's all very simple, Richard
said to himself with a nervous laugh.  I can return to New Eden and
become a convict.  Or I can give up the security of my line and continue
down the wall.  He paused a moment, glancing up and down.  Or I can stay
here and hope for a miracle.

Remembering that an avian had come quickly when Prince Hall had
shrieked, Richard began to shout.  After two or three minutes, he
stopped shouting and started to sing.  He sang intermittently for most
of an hour.  He began with tunes from his days at Cambridge Univer i
sity and then switched to songs that had been popular during his lonely
teenage years.  Richard was astonished how well he remembered the
lyrics, The memory is an amazing device, he mused to himself.  What
accounts for its selective reliability?  Why can I remember almost all
the words of these dumb songs ftorn my adolescence and virtually nothing
from my odyssey in Rama?

Richard was reaching into his pack for another drink of water when there
was suddenly light in the habitat.  He was so startled that his feet
slipped off the wall and all his weight was on the climbing line for a
few seconds.  The light was not blinding, as it had been when dawn had
arrived in Rama H while he was riding the chairlift, but it was light
nevertheless.  As soon as Richard was again secure, he surveyed the
world that was now unveiled in front of him.

The source of the illumination was a great, hooded ball hanging from the
ceiling of the habitat.  Richard esti mated that the ball was about four
kilometres away from him and roughly one kilometer directly above the
top of AUthe most prominent structure in sight, a large brown cylinder
in the geometrical centre of the habitat.  An opaque hood covered the
top three-fourths of the glowing ball, so most of its light was directed
downward.

The basic design principle of the habitat interior was radial symmetry.
At its centre was the upright brown cylinder, looking as -if it was made
from soil, that probably measured fifteen hundred metres from top to
bottom.  Richard of course could only see one side of the structure, but
from its curvature he estimated that its diameter was between two and
three kilometres.

There were no windows or doors on the outside of the cylinder.  No light
escaped anywhere from its interior.  The only pattern on the side of the
structure was a set of widely spaced, curved lines, each one of which
started at the top and ran entirely around the cylinder before reaching
the bottom directly underneath its point of origination.  The bottom of
the cylinder was at approxi mately the same altitude as the porthole
through which Richard had entered.

Circumscribing the cylinder was an array of small white structures
inside two rings about three hundred metres apart.  The two northern
quadrants (Richard had entered the avian habitat through the north
porthole) of these rings were identical; each quadrant had fifty or
sixty buildings that were laid out in the same pattern.

Richard assumed fro from the symmetry that the other two quadrants would
conform to the same design.

A thin circular canal, maybe seventy or eighty metres wide, surrounded
the structures.  Both the canal and the rings of white buildings were
located on a plateau whose altitude was the same as the bottom of the
brown cylinder.  Outside the canal, however, a large region of what
appeared to be growing things, primarily green in colour, occupied most
of the rest of the habitat.  The ground in the green region sloped
evenly down from the canal to the shores of the four-hundred-metre-wide
moat that was just inside the interior wall.  The four identical
quadrants in the green region were further subdivided into four sectors
each, which Richard, basing his designations on Earth analogues, called
jungle, forest, grassland, and desert.  'A For about ten minutes Richard
stared quietly at the vast panorama.  Because the level of illumination
dropped in direct proportion to the distance from the cylinder, he could
not see the closer regions any more clearly than those in the distance.
Nevertheless, the details were still impressive.  The more he looked,
the more new things he noticed.  There were small lakes and rivers in
the green region, an occasional tiny island in the moat, and what looked
like roads between the white buildings.  Of course, he found himself
thinking, Why would I have expected otherwise?  We have reproduced a
small Earth in New Eden.  This must represent; in some way, the home
planet of the avians.

His last thought reminded him that both Nicole and he had been convinced
from the beginning that the avians were no longer (if they had ever
been) a high technology, spacefaring species.  Richard pulled out his
binoculars and studied the brown cylinder in the distance.  What secrets
do you hold?  he wondered, thrilled momentarily by the possibilities for
adventure and discovery.

Richard next searched the skies for some sign of the avians.  He was
disappointed.  He thought he saw flying creatures once or twice at the
top of the brown cylinder, but the flecks flitted in and out of his
binocular vision so quickly that he couldn't be absolutely certain.
Everywhere else he looked - in all parts of the green region, in the
neighbourhood of the white buildings, even in the moat - he saw no
evidence of movement.  There was no positive indication that anything
was alive in the avian habitat.

The light disappeared after four hours and Richard was again left in the
dark in the middle of the vertical wall.  He checked his thermometer,
including its historical data base.  The temperature had not varied more
than half a degree from 26'C since he had entered the habitat.
Impressive thermal contro4 Richard said to himself.  But why so
stringent?  Why use so much of the power resource to keep a fixed
temperature?

As the darkness stretched into hours, Richard became impatient.  Even
though he regularly rested each set of muscles by temporarily supporting
himself in different ways with his line, his body was slowly wearing
out.  It was time for him to consider taking some action.  Reluctantlv
he decided that it would be foolhardy for him to abandon the line and
descend to the moat.  What would I do when I reach there anyway?  he
thought.  Swim across?  And then what?  Id still have to turn around if
I didn'tfind food immedively.

He began to climb slowly towards the porthole.  While he was resting
about halfway to the exit he thought he heard something very faint off
to his right.

Richard stopped and quietly reached into his pack for his receiver set.
With a minimum of motion he turned the gain up to its highest level and
put on the earphones.  At first he heard nothing.  But after several
minutes he picked up a sound below him, coming from the moat.  It w i as
impossible to identify exactly what he was hearing - it could have been
several boats moving through the water - but there was no doubt that
some kind of activity was occurring down there.

s that a faint flapping of wings as well, again Wa somewhere off to his
right?  With no warning Richard suddenly screamed at the top of his
lungs, and then truncated the scream abruptly.  The flurry of wing
soundsZ!  died out quickly, but for a second or two they were
unmistakable.

Richard was exultant.  'I know you're there,' he shouted gleefully.  'I
know you're watching me." He had a plan.  It was certainly a long shot,
but it was definitely better than nothing.  Richard checked his food and
water, assured himself that they were both marginally adequate, and took
a deep breath.  It's now or never, he thought.

He practised descending without relying on the line I for support. It
made progress more difficult, but he., could do it.  When he reached the
end of the line,19 Richard unharnessed himself and shone his light down
the wall.  At least as far as the top of the fog there were plenty of
ledges available.  He continued down very carefully, admitting to
himself that he was frightened.

Several times he thought he could hear his own heart beating in his
earphones.

Now if I'm right, Richard thought when he descended into the fog, I'm
going to have company down here.  The moisture made the descent doubly
difficult.  Once he slipped and almost fell, but he managed to recover.

Richard stopped at a spot where his hand and foot holds .A_3100 were
unusually solid.  He estimated that he was about fifty metres above the
moat.  I'll wait now until I hear something.  They'll have to come
closer in the fog.

In a short while he heard the wings again.  This time it sounded as if
there were a pair of avians.  Richard stood where he was for over an
hour, until the fog began to thin.  Several more times he heard the
wings of his observers.

He had planned to wait until it was light again to - descend all the way
to the water.  But when the fog lifted and the lights still did not
return, Richard began to worry about the time.  He started down the wall
in the dark.  About ten metres above the moat he heard his observers fly
away.  Two minutes later the interior of the avian habitat was again
illuminated.

Richard wasted no time.  His plan was simple.  Based on the boat noises
that he had heard in the dark, Richard assumed that there was something
happening in the moat that was critical to the avians or whoever it was
that lived in the brown cylinder.  If not, he reasoned, why had they
proceeded with the activity, knowing that he might hear it?  If they had
postponed it for even a few hours, he would almost certainly have been
gone from the habitat.

Richard intended to enter the moat.  If the avians feel threatened in
any way, he reasoned, they will take some action.  Ifnot, I will
immediately begin my ascent and return to New Eden.

Just before he eased into the water, Richard took off his shoes and with
some difficulty put them into his waterproof pack.  At least they
wouldn't be wet if he had to climb out.  Seconds later, as soon as his
foot touched the water, a pair of avians flew at him from where they had
been hiding in the green region directly across the moat.

They were frantic.  They jabbered and shrieked and acted as if they were
going to tear Richard apart with their talons.  He was so ecstatic that
his plan had worked that he virtually ignored their displays.  The
avians hovered ove r him and tried to herd him back to the wall.  He
trod water and studied them closely.

These two were slightly different from the ones that he and Nicole had
encountered in Rama 11.  These avians had the velvet body coverings,
just like the others, but the velvet was purple.  The single ring around
each of their necks was black.  They were also smaller (Perhaps they're
younger, Richard thought) than the earlier avians, and much more
frenetic.  One of the creatures actually touched Richard's check with
its talon when he didn't move swiftly enough to the wall.

At length Richard did climb up on to the wall, barely out of the water,
but that did not seem to appease the avians.  Almost immediately the two
birds began taking turns flying narrow patterns up the wall, showing
Richard that they wanted him to ascend.  When he didn't move they became
more and more frantic.

'I want to go with you,' Richard said, pointing at the brown cylinder in
the distance.  Each time he repeated his hand signal the giant creatures
shrieked and jabbered and flew up in the direction of the porthole.

The avians were becoming frustrated and Richard started to worry that
perhaps they might attack him.

Suddenly he had a brilliant idea.  ButcanIremembertheenny code?  he
asked himself excitedly.  It's been so many years.

When he reached into his pack, the avians flew away immediately.  'That
proves,' Richard said out loud as he,,, switched on his beloved portable
computer, 'That th4e, leggies are your electronic observers.  How else
could you have possibly known that human beings may keep weapons in
packs like these?"

The Garden qfRama He punched five letters on the keyboard and then 'led
broadly when the display activated.  'Come here,' smi Richard said,
waving at the two giant birds who had retreated almost to the other side
of the moat. 'Come here,' he repeated, 'I have something to show you."
He held up the monitor and displayed the complex computer graphic that
he had used, many years before in Rama II, to convince the avians to
carry Nicole and him across the Cylindrical Sea.  It was an elegant
graphic showing three avians carrying two human figures across a body of
water in a harness.  The two creatures approached tentatively.  That's
it; Richard said to himself excitedly.

Come over here and take a good look Richard did not know exactly how
long he had been living in the dim room.  He had lost track of time soon
after they had taken his pack away from him.  His routine had been the
same, day after day.  He slept in the corner of the room.  Whenever he
awakened, whether from a nap or a long sleep, two avians would enter his
room from the corridor and hand him a manna melon to eat.  He knew they
came through the locked door at the end of the corridor, but if he tried
to sleep near the door they simply denied him his food.  It had been an
easy lesson for Richard to learn.

Every other day or so a different pair of avians would P enter his
prison and clean up his wastes.  His clothes were rank, and Richard knew
that he was unbearably filthy, but he had not been able to communicate
to his captors that he wanted a bath.

He had been exultant in the beginning.  When the two juvenile avians had
finally approached close enough to watch the graphic, and then had made
their first attempt to take the computer from him several minutes later,
Richard had decided to program the display to repeat indefinitely.

In less than an hour the largest avian he had ever seen, one with a grey
velvet body and three brilliant cherry rings around its neck, had
returned with the two juveniles, and the three of them had picked
Richard up in their talons.  They had carried him across the moat, put
him down temporarily in a desert area, and then, after a series of
jabbers among the three of them that must have been a discussion about
the optimal way of carrying him, they had lifted him high into the air.

It had been a breathtaking flight.  The view that Richard had had of the
landscape in the habitat had reminded him of a ride he had once taken in
a hot air balloon in southern France.  He had flown in the clutches of
the avians all the way to the top of the brown cylinder, directly
underneath the bright hooded ball.  They had been met by half a dozen
additional avians, one holding Richard's computer that was still
repeating its graphics, and then escorted down a wide vertical corridor
into the interior of the cylinder.

That first fifteen hours or so Richard had been taken from one large
group of avians to another.  He had thought that his hosts were just
introducing him to all the citizens of avianland.  Assuming that there
were not too many avians who attended more than one of the short jabber
and shriek sessions, Richard estimated that there were about seven
hundred individual birds.

After his parade through the conference halls of the av ian realm,
Richard had been taken to a small room where the three-ringed avian and
two of its associates, also large creatures with three red neck rings,
watched him day and night for about a week.  During that time Richard
was allowed access to his computer and all the items in the pack.  At
the end of that observation period, however, they had taken away all his
belongings and moved him to his prison.

7hat must have" been three months ago, give or take a week, Richard said
to himself one day as he began his twice-daily walk that was his primary
regular exercise.

Nor" INX&A jr F &

The corridor outside his room was approximately two hundred metres long.
He usually made eight complete laps, back and forth from the door at the
end of the corridor to the rock wall just outside his room.

And during this entire period there has not been one single visit ftarn
the leaders.  So the observation period must have been my trial...  At
least the avian equivalent ...  And was I found guilty of something?  Is
that why I have been restricted to this dingy cell?

Richard's shoes were wearing out and his clothes were already tattered.

Since the temperature was comfortable (he conjectured that it must be
26'C everywhere in the avian habitat), he wasn't worried about being
cold.  But for many reasons he wasn't looking forward to being naked all
the time after his clothes eventually disinte grated.  He smiled to
himself, remembering his modesty during the observation period.  Taking
a crap when three giant birds are watching your every move is certainly
not an easy task He had grown tired of eating manna melon for every
meal, but at least it was nourishing.  The liquid at the centre was
refreshing and the moist meat had a pleasant taste.  But Richard longed
for something different to eat.  Even that synthetic stufffrom the White
Room would be a welcome change, he had told himself several times.

In his solitude Richard's greatest challenge had been to retain his
mental acumen.  He had begun by doing mathematical problems in his head.
More recently, worried that the sharpness of his memory had already
decayed measurably because of his age, he had started to pass the time
by reconstructing events and even entire major chronological segments of
his life.

Of particular interest to him during these memory exercises were the
huge gaps associated with his odyssey in Rama II during the voyage from
the Earth to The Node.  Although it was difficult for Richard to recall
many specific events from the odyssey, eating the manna melon always
evoked memory fragments from his long stay with the avians during that
journey.

Once, after a meal, he had suddenly recalled a large ceremony with many
avians.  He had remembered a fire in a domelike structure and all the
avians wailing in unison after the fire was over.  Richard had been
puzzled.  He had not been able to remember anything about the context of
the memory.  Where did that take place?  Was that just before I was
captured by the octospiders?  he had wondered.  But as usual, when he
had tried to remember something about what he had experienced with the
octospiders, he had ended up with a whopping headache.

Richard was thinking about his earlier odyssey again when, on the last
lap of his daily walk, he passed underneath the solitary light in the
corridor.  He looked in front of him and saw that the door to his prison
was open.  That's it; he said to himself, I've finally gone crazy.  Now
I'm seeing things.

But the door remained open as he approached it.  Richard walked on
through, stopping to touch the open door and to verify that he had not
lost his sanity.

He passed two more lights before he came to a small open storage room on
the right.  Eight or nine manna melons were neatly stacked on the
shelves.  Ah, ha, Richard thought.  I get iL They've expanded my prison.
From now on I'm allowed to obtain my own food.  Now if there'sjust a
athroom somewhere ...

Farther down the hallway there was indeed running water in another small
room on the left.  Richard drank heartily, washed his face, and was
sorely tempted to bathe.  However, his curiosity was too strong.  He
wanted to know the extent of his new domain.

A Jii2 Ar I Mg A - -A .  A The corridor that ran just outside his cell
ended at a perpendicular intersection.  Richard could go either way.
Thinking perhaps that he was in some kind of maze to test his mental
capabilities, he dropped his outer shirt at the intersection and
proceeded to the right.  There were definitely more lights in that
direction.

After he had walked for twenty metres or so, he saw a pair of avians
approaching in the distance.  Actually he heard their jabber first, for
they were involved in an animated discussion.  When they were only five
metres away Richard stopped.  The two avians glanced at him,
acknowledged him with a short shriek at a different pitch, and then
continued down the corridor.

He next encountered a trio of avians with roughly the same interaction.
What is going on here?  Richard wondered as he continued to walk.  Am I
no longer in prison?

In the first large room that he passed, four avians were sitting
together in a circle, passing a set of polished sticks back and forth
and jabbering constantly.  Later, just before the hallway widened into a
major meeting room, Richard stood in the doorway of another chamber and
watched with fascination as a pair of leggies did what appeared to be
pushups on the top of a square table.  Half a dozen quiet avians studied
the leggies intently.

There were twenty of the birdlike creatures in the meeting room.  They
were all gathered around a table, staring at a paperlike document that
had been spread out in front of them.  One of the avians had a pointer
in its talon and was using it to indicate specific items on the
document.  There were strange squiggles on the paper that were totally
incomprehensible, but Richard convinced himself that the avians were
looking at a map.

When Richard tried to move closer to the table so that he could see
better, the avians in in front of him graciously moved aside.  Once in
the ensuing conversation, Richard even thought from the body language
around the table that one of the questions had been directed at him.  I
really am losing my mind, he told himself, shaking his head.

But I still don't know why I have been given all this freedom, Richard
thought as he sat in his room and ate his manna melon.  Six weeks has
passed since he had found the door to his prison opened.  Many changes
had been made in his cell.  Two of the lanternlike lights had been
installed on his walls and Richard was now sleeping on a pile of
material that reminded him of hay.  There was even a constantly filled
container of fresh water in the corner of his room.

Richard had felt certain, when his restrictions were initially lifted,
that it was only a matter of hours or at most a day or two before
something really significant happened.  In a sense he had been correct,
for the next morning two juvenile aliens had awakened him from his sleep
and begun his avian language lessons.  They had started with simple
items, like the manna melon, water, and Richard himself, at which they
would first point and then slowly repeat a sound, clearly the jabberword
for that particular item.  With some effort Richard had learned a great
deal of vocabulary, although his ability to differentiate between
closely related shrieks and jabbers was not too sharp.  He was
absolutely hopeless when it came to making the sounds on his own.  He
simply didn't have the physical equipment to speak in the avian
language.

But Richard had expected that somehow his knowledge of the bigger
picture would become clearer, and that had not happened.  Certainly the
avians were trying to educate him, and they had given him freedom to
roam anywhere he wanted in their cylinder - he even ate with them
occasionally when he was in their midst and the manna melons showed up -
but what was it all for?  The way they looked at him, especially the
leaders, suggested to Richard that they were expecting some kind of
response.  But what response?  Richard asked himself for the hundredth
time as he finished his manna melon.

As far as Richard could tell, the avians did not have a written
language.  He had seen no books and none of the Y creatures ever wrote
anything.  There were those strange maplike documents that they
occasionally studied, or at least that was Richard's interpretation of
their activity, but they never created any of them ...  Or markedon any
of them .  It was a puzzle.

And wlat about the leggies?  Richard encountered the creatures two or
three times a week and once had a pair in his room for several hours,
but they would never sit still and let him analyse one of them.  One
time, when he had tried to grasp a leggie in his hand, Richard had
received a rude shock, an electric current almost certainly, that had
caused him to release the leggie immediately.

Richard's mind jumped from image to image as he tried to ascertain some
sensible pattern to his life in avianland.  He was extremely frustrated.
Yet he would not accept for a minute that there was no plan behind his
capture and then subsequent increased freedom.  He continued to search
for an answer by reviewing all his experiences in their domain.

There was only one major area of the avian living quarters that was off
limits to Richard, and he probably could not have reached it anyway
since he was unable to fly.  Occasionally he would see one or two avians
descend in the great vertical corridor and go below the levels that The
Garden of Rama he normally frequented.  Once Richard even saw a pair 0 f
hatchlings, no larger than a human hand, being carrie d up from the dark
regions below.  On another occasion Richard had pointed down at the
darkness and his accompanying avian had shaken its head.  Most of the
creatures had learned the simple head motions of yes and no in Richard's
language.

But somewhere Richard thought, there must be additional information.  I
must be missing some clues.  He vowed to conduct an exhaustive survey of
the entire avian living area, including not only the dense apartments on
the opposite side of the vertical corridor, where he usually felt
unwanted, but also the large manna melon storehouses on the bottom
level.  I will make a thorough map, he said to himself, to make certain
that I haven't neglected something critical As soon as Richard had
rendered the avian living area in his three-dimensional graphics, he
knew what he had been overlooking.  The often disorganised passageways
in the cylinder, including horizontal and vertical corridors for both
walking and flight, had never been synthesised by Richard into one
coherent picture.  Of course he said to himself as he projected
different views of his complex map on to his computer monitor.  How
could I have been so stupid?  More than seventy per cent of the cylinder
is still unaccountedfor.

Richard resolved to take his computer pictures to one of the avian
leaders and request, somehow, to see the rest of the cylinder.  It was
not an easy task.

Some kind of crisis was disturbing the avians that particular day, as
the corridors were full of j abbers, shrieks, and avians rushing to and
fro.  Out in the great vertical corridor Richard watched thirty or forty
of the largest creatures fly up and out of the cylinder in some kind of
organised formation.

J 7N Finally Richard managed to obtain the attention of one of the
three-ringed giants.  It was fascinated by the detail it saw on the
computer monitor and by all the different geometrical representations of
its home.  But Richard was unable to convey his primary message that he
wanted to see the rest of the cylinder.

The leader called in some colleagues to watch the demonstration and
Richard was treated to appreciative avian jabber.  He was dismissed,
however, when another bird broke into their meeting with what must have
been important news about their ongoing crisis.

Richard returned to his cell.  He was dejected.  He lay on his hay mat
and thought of the family that he had left behind in New Eden.  Maybe
it's time for me to leave, he thought, wondering what the protocol was
in avianland for obtaining permission to depart.  While he was lying
down a visitor came into his room.

Richard had never seen this particular avian before.  It had four cobalt
blue rings around its neck and the velvet covering of its body was a
deep black with occasional white tufts.

Its eyes were astonishingly clear and, or so Richard surmised, very sad.
The avian waited for Richard to stand and then started speaking, very
slowly.

Richard understood some of the words, most importantly the oft-repeated
combination 'follow me'.

Outside his cell three other avians were respectfully standing.  They
walked behind Richard and his important visitor.  The group left
Richard's cell area, crossed the single bridge that spanned the great
vertical corridor, and entered the section of the cylinder where the
manna melons were stored.

At the back of one of the manna melon storehouses were indentations in
the wall that Richard had not noticed when he had conducted his survey.
When Richard and the avians approached within a few metres of the
indentations, the wall slid to the side and revealed what appeared to be
an enormous elevator.  The avian superleader gestured for him to enter.

Once he was inside, the four avians each jabbered 4goodbye' and formed
into a circle to formalise their parting with a turn and a bow.  Richard
tried his best to imitate their jabber for goodbye before he also bowed
and backed into the elevator.  The wall closed seconds later.

The elevator ride was painfully slow.  The immense car had a floor
approximately twenty metres square, with a ceiling that was another
eight to ten metres above Richard's head.  The floor of the car was flat
everywhere except for two pairs of parallel grooves, one pair on either
side of Richard, that ran from the door to the back of the elevator.
They can certainly transport huge loads in this, Richard thought,
staring at the ceiling far above him.

He tried to estimate the rate of descent of the elevator, but it was
impossible.  He had no frame of reference.  According to Richard's map
of the cylinder, the manna melon storehouses should-have been about
eleven hundred metres above the base.  So if we're going all the way to
the bottom, at what would be a normal elevator speed on Earth, then this
trip may take several minutes.

It was the longest three minutes of his life.  Richard had absolutely no
idea what he would find when the elevators doors opened.  Maybe I'll be
outside, he thought suddenly.  Maybe I'll be on the edge of that region
with the white structures ...  Could they be sending me home?

He had just begun to wonder how life might have changed in New Eden when
the elevator came to a stopThe large doors opened and for several
seconds Richard .  ok was certain that his heart had jumped out of his
body.  Standing directly in front of him, and obviously staring at him
with all their eyes, were two creatures far stranger than any he had
ever imagined.

Richard could not move.  What he was seeing was so believable that he
was physically paralysed while his un mind struggled with the bizarre
inputs it was receiving from his senses.  Each of the beings in front of
him had four eyes on its 'head'.  In addition to the two large, Milky
ovals on either side of an invisible line of symmetry that bisected the
head, each creature had two additional eyes attached to stalks raised
ten to twelve centimetres above the top of its forehead.  Behind the
large head, their bodies had two more segments, with a pair of
appendages for each segment, giving them six legs altogether.  The
aliens were standing upright on their two back legs, their front four
appendages neatly tucked against their smooth, cream-coloured
underbellies.

They moved towards him in the elevator and Richard backed away,
frightened.

The two creatures turned to each other and communicated in a
high-frequency noise that originated from a small circular orifice below
the oval eyes.  Richard blinked, felt dizzy, and dropped down on one
knee to steady himself.  His heart was still pumping furiously.

The aliens also changed position, putting their middle legs on the
floor.

In that posture they resembled giant ants with their front two legs off
the ground and their heads raised high.  The entire time the black
spheres at the end of the eye stalks continued to pivot, scanning the
full three hundred and sixty degrees, and the milky material in the dark
brown ovals moved from side to side.

For several minutes they sat more or less stationary, S .6L as if they
were encouraging Richard to examine them.  Fighting against his fear, he
tried to study them in an objective, scientific fashion.  The creatures
were roughly the size of medium-sized dogs, but they certainly weighed
much less.  Their bodies were thin and quite trim.  The front and back
segments were larger than the middle one, and all three body divisions
displayed a polished carapace on top that was made of some kind of hard
material.

Richard would have classified them as very large insects except for
their extraordinary appendages, which were thick, perhaps even muscled,
and covered with a short, very dense, black and white striped 'hair'
that made it appear as if the creatures were wearing panty hose. Their
hands, if that was the proper appellation, were free of the hairy
covering and had four fingers each, including an opposing thumb on the
front pair.

Richard had just summoned enough courage to look again at their
incredible heads when there was a highpitched, siren-like noise behind
the two aliens.

They turned around.  Richard stood up and saw a third creature
approaching at a rapid clip.  Its motion was marvelous to watch.  It ran
like a cat with six legs, stretching out parallel to the ground and
pushing off with a different pair of legs at each point in its stride.

The three engaged in a quick conversation and the newcomer, lifting up
its head and front legs, motioned unambiguously for Richard to leave the
elevator.

He walked out behind the trio and entered a very large chamber.

This room was a manna melon storehouse also, but that was its only
similarity to the one in the avian portion of the cylinder.  High
technology and automated equipment were everywhere.  In the ceiling ten
metres above them, a mechanical cherry picker was moving on a rail
system.  It would grasp individual melons and load A them in freight
cars on grooves at one end of th e room.

While Richard and his hosts watched, a freight car moved down the groove
and came to a stop in the elevator.

The creatures bounced off down one of the aisles in the room and Richard
hastened to follow.  They waited for him at the door, then raced to
their left, looking backwards to see if he was still in sight. Richard
ran after them for most of the next two minutes, until they reached a
wide open atrium, many metres high, with a transport ation device in its
centre.

The device was a remote cousin of the escalator.  Actually there were
two of them, one going up and another down, that spiralled around the
two thick poles in the centrc of the atrium.  The escalators moved very
quickly and at quite a steep angle.  Every five metres or so they
reached the next level, or floor, and the passenger then walked a metre
to the spiral escalator around the other pole.  What passed for a
railing on the side of the escalator was a barrier only thirty
centimetres high.  The alien creatures rode in the horizontal position,
with all six legs on the moving ramp.  Richard, who was standing
originally, quickly dropped down to all fours to keep from failing out.

During the ride a dozen or so other aliens, riding on the down half of
the escalator, passed Richard and gawked at him with their amazing
faces.  But how do they eat?  Richard wondered, noting that the circular
hole they used for communication was certainly not large enough for much
food.  There were no other orifices on their heads, although there wert
some small knobs and wrinkles whose purposes were unknown.

Where they were taking Richard was on the eighth or ninth level.  All
three of the creatures waited for him N

until he reached the appointed platform.  Richard followed them into a
hexagonal building with bright red markings on the front.  That's funny,
Richard thought, staring at the strange squiggles, I've seen that
writing before ...  Of course, on the map or whatever document it was
the avians were reading.

Richard was placed in a room that was well lit and tastefully decorated
in black and white with geometric here were objects around him of all
shapes patterns.  T he and sizes, but Richard had no idea what any of t
in were.  The aliens used sign language to inform Richard that this was
where he was going to stay.  Then they departed.  A weary Mr Wakefield
studied the furniture, trying to figure out which thing might be the
bed, and then stretched out on the floor to sleep.

myrmicats.  That's what I'll call then Richard had awakened, after
sleeping for four hours, and could not stop thinking about the alien
creatures.  He wanted to give them a good name.  After dismissing both
cat-ant and catsect, he remembered that someone who studies ants is
called a myrinecologist.  He chose myrmicat because it looked better in
his mind when spelled with an T instead of an V.

Richard's room was well lit.  In fact, every place he had been in the
myrinicat habitat had had good illumination, in marked contrast to the
dark, catacomblike corridors of the upper portions of the brown
cylinder.  I have not seen any of the avians since the elevator ride,
Richard was thinking.  So apparently these two species do not live
together.  At least not completely.  But they both use manna melons ...
What exactly is their connection?

A pair of myrmicats bounded through the entry, placed a neatly sectioned
melon and a cup of water in front of him, and then disappeared.  Richard
was both A

The Ganien of Rama hungry and thirsty.  Several seconds after he had
finished with his breakfast, the pair of creatures returned.  Using the
hands on their front legs, the myrrhicats gestured for him to stand up.
Richard stared at them.  Are these the same creatures as yesterday?  he
wondered.  And are they the same pair that brought the melon and the
water?  He thought back over all the myrinicats he had seen, including
those who had passed him going down the escalator.  He could not recall
a single distinguishing or identifying characteristic in any individual.

So they all look the same?  he thought.  Then how do they tell each
other apart?

They myrmicats led him out into the corridor and bolted away to the
right.

This is great, Richard said to himself, starting to jog after spending a
few seconds admiring the beauty of their gait.  They must think humans
are all athletes.  One of the myrmicats stopped about forty metres in
front of him.  It did not turn around, but Richard could tell it was
watching him because both of its stalk eyes were bent back in his
direction.  'I'm coming,' Richard shouted.

'But I can't run that fast." It wasn't long before Richard figured out
that the pair of aliens was giving him a guided tour of the myrinicat
habitat.  The tour was very logically planned.

The first stop, a very brief one, was at a manna melon storehouse.
Richard watched two freight cars filled with melons slide down grooves
into an elevator similar to (or identical with) the one in which he had
descended the day before.

After another five-minute jog, Richard entered an entirely different
section of the myrmicat den.  Whereas the walls in the other section had
been mostly metallic grey or white, except in his room, here the rooms
and corridors were all decorated profusely, either with colours or
geometric patterns or both.  One vast chamber was about the size of a
theatre and had three liquid pools in its floor.  About a hundred
myrmicats were in this room, half apparently swimming in the pools (with
only their stalk eyes and the top half of their carapaces above the
water line), and the other half either sitting on the ividing the three
pools from each other or milling ridges d around in a weird building on
the far side of the room.  But were they actually swimming? On closer
inspection Richard noticed that the creatures did not move around in the
pool - they just submerged in a given spot r the water for several
minutes.  Two of and stayed unde the pools were quite thick, roughly the
consistency of a rich, creamy soup on Earth, and the third, clear pool
was almost certainly wly water.  Richard followed a single myrmicat as
it moved from one of the thick pools to the water, then over to the
other thick pool.  What are they here?

Almost on cue he was tapped on the back by one of the myrmicats.  It
pointed to Richard, then to the pools, and then to Richard's mouth.  He
had no idea what it It was telling him.  The guide myrmicat next walked
down the slope towards the pools and submerged itself in one of the
thicker pools.  When it returned it stood on its back pair of legs and
pointed to the grooves between the segments of its soft, cream-coloured
underbelly.

It was clearly important to the myrinicats that Richard understand what
was going on at the pools.  At the next stop he watched a combination of
myrmicats and some high technology machines grinding up fibrous material
and then mixing it with water and other liquids to create a thin slurry
that looked like what was in one of the pools.

At length one of the aliens put its finger into the slurry and then
touched the material to Richard's lips.  They must be telling me that
the pools are for feeding, Richard thought.  So theydon't eat manna
melon after all?

Or at least they have a more varied diet?

This is all fascinating.

Soon they were off on another jog to another distant corner of the den.
Here Richard saw thirty or forty smaller creatures, obviously juvenile
myrmicats, engaged in activities with supervisory adults.  In physical
appearance the little ones resembled their elders except for one major
difference - they had no carapace.

Richard concluded that the hard top covering was probably not exuded by
the creatures until its growth was complete.

Although Richard imagined that what he saw occurring with the juveniles
was a rough approximation of school, or perhaps a nursery, he of course
had no way of knowing for certain.  But at one point he was sure that he
heard the juveniles repeating in unison a doing?  Richard wondered.  And
why have they brought me I sequence of sounds made by an adult myrmicat.

Richard next rode the escalator with his pair of tour guides.  On about
the twentieth level the creatures left 1.

the escalators and the open atrium, reaching quickly down a corridor
that ended in a vast factory filled with myrmicats and machines engaged
in an impressive array of tasks.

His guides always seemed to be in a hurry, so it was difficult for
Richard to study any particular process.  The factory was like a machine
shop on Earth.  There were noises of all kinds, smells of chemicals and
metals, and the whine of myrmicat communication throughout the room.  At
one position Richard watched a pair of myrmicats repair a cherry picker
similar to the machine that he had seen operating in the manna melon
storehouse the day before.

In one corner of the factory was a special area that was sealed off from
the rest of the work.  Although his guides did not lead him in that
direction, Richard's curiosity was piqued- Nobody stopped him when he MF
Ai& f crossed the threshold of the special area.  Inside the large
cubicle a myrinicat operator was presiding over an autom Long, skinny,
jointed pieces of light me came into the room on a conveyor belt from
one direction.  Small spheres about two centinictres in diameter entered
from an adjacent cubicle on another conveyor.  I .

Where the two belts merged a large, rectangular that was hanging from
the machine, mounted in housing o the parts with a peculiar high
ceiling, descended on t sucking sound.  Thirty seconds later the
myrmicat operator caused the machine to withdraw and a pair of their
long legs leggies scrambled off the belt, folded th around them, and
jumped into positions in a box that looked like a gigantic egg carton.

Richard watched the process repeat several times.  He was fascinated. He
was alsoo slightly bewildered.  So the myrmicats make the leggies. And
the maps.  And probably the spacecraft too, wherever t;hey and the
avians comefrom.  SO what is this?  Some advanced kind ofsymbiosis?

He shook his head as thtc leggic assembly process in front of him
continued.

Mo)ments later Richard heard a myrinicat noise behind himi.  He turned
around.

One of his guides extended a slice (of manna melon in his direction.

Richard was becoming exh=stcd.  He had no idea how long he had been
touring, but he felt as if it had been ,many many hours.

There was no way he cotuld possibly synthcsise everything he had seen.

After thce ride in the small elevator to the upper reaches of thic
myrmicat region, where Richard not only visited thic avian hospital
staffed and run by the myrinicats, brut also watched the avians hatching
out of brown, Icadhery eggs under the watchful 5M atcd manufacturing
process.

tal or plastic es of myrmicat doctors.  Richard knew for certain that ey
there was indeed a complex symbiotic relationship between the two
species.  But why?  he wondered as his gu ides allowed him to rest
temporarily near the top of the escalator.  The avians clearly benefit
from the myrmicats.  But what do these giant ant-cats getfrom the
avians?

His guides led him down a broad corridor towards a large door several
hundred metres in the distance.  For once they were not running.  As
they neared the door, three other myrmicats entered the hallway from
smaller side corridors and the creatures began to talk in their
high-frequency language.  At one point all five of them stopped and
Richard imagined that an argument was under way.

He studied them carefully while they talked, especially their faces.
Even the wrinkles and folds around the noisemaking orifice and oval eyes
were identical from creature to creature.  There was absolutely no way
of distinguishing one myrinicat from another.

At length the entire group began again to walk towards the door.  From
the distance Richard had underestimated its size.  As he drew near, he
could see that it was twelve to fifteen metres tall, and more than three
metres wide.  Its surface was intricately and magnificently carved, the
central focus of the artwork being a square, four-panel decoration with
a flying avian in the u per left quadrant, a manna melon in the upper
right, a running myrinicat in the lower left partition, and something
that looked like candyfloss with scattered thick, clustered lumps in the
lower right.

Richard stopped to admire the artwork.  At first he had a vague feeling
that he had seen this door, or at least the design, before, but he told
himself that it couldn't be possible.  However, as he was running his
fingers across the sculpted figure of the myrmicat, his memory suddenly
awoke.  Yes, Richard said excitedly to himself, of course.  At the back
of the avian lair in Rama 11.  71at was where the fire was.

Moments later the door swung open and Richard wast ushered into what
resembled a large underground cathedral.  The room in which he found
himself was over fifty i metres tall.  Its basic floor shape was a
circle, about thirtS y metres in diameter, and there were six separate
na ves off to the side, around the circle.  The walls were dazzling.

Virtually every square inch contained sculptures or supporting frescoes
meticulously created with great attention to detail.  It was
overwhelmingly beautiful.

At the centre of the cathedral was an elevated platform on which a
myrinicat was standing and speaking.

Below him were a dozen other, all sitting on their back four legs and
watching the speaker with rapt attention.

As Richard wandered around in the room he realised that the decorations
on the wall, in a metre-wide strip about eight centimetres above the
floor, were telling an A orderly story.  Richard quietly followed the
artwork until he reached what he thought was the beginning of the story.
The first decoration was a sculptured portrait of a manna melon.  In the
next three panels something could be seen growing inside the melon.
Whatever was growing was tiny in the second panel, but by the fourth a A
sculpture it occupied almost the entire interior of the melon.

In the fifth panel a tiny head with two milky, 04 eyes, stalk nubs, and
a small circular orifice below the eyes would be seen poking its way out
of the melon.  The sixth sculpture, which showed a juvenile myrmicat
very much like the ones Richard had seen earlier in the day, confirmed
what he had been surmising as he had been orations.  Holy shi4 Richard
said to following the dec himself, so a manna melon is a myrmicat egg!
His thoughts rise.  The avians eat raced ahead.  But that doesn 't make
se the melons ...  In fact the myrmicats even feed them to me What's
going on here?

Richard was so astonished by what he had discovered (an d so tired from
all the running during the tour) that he sat down in front of the
sculpture containing the juvenile myrmicats.  He tried to figure out the
relationship between the myrmicats and the avians.  He co uld cite no
parallel symbiosis on Earth, although he was well aware that species
often worked together to improve each other's chances for survival.  But
how could o the species remain friendly with another when its eggs were
the sole food for the second species?  Richard concluded that what he
had thought were fundamental biological tenets did not apply to the
avians and the myrmicats.

While Richard was pondering the strange new thi ngs he had learned, a
group of myrmicats gathered around him.  They all motioned for him to
stand up.  A minute later he was following them down a widening ramp on
the other side of the room to a special crypt in the basement of their
cathedral.

For the first time since Richard had entered the habitat, the lighting
was dim.  The myrmicats beside him moved slowly, almost reverently, as
they proceeded down a broad passage with an arched ceiling.  At the i i
other end of the passage was a pair of doors that opened into a large
room filled with a soft white material.  Although the material, which
looked like cotton from a distance, was densely arrayed, its individual
filaments were mostly very thin, except where they came together in
clumps, or ganglia, that were scattered in no definable pattern
throughout the large white volume.

Richard and the myrmicats stopped in the entryway, a metre or so away
from where the material began.  The cottony network extended in all
directions for as far as Richard could see.  While he was studying its
intricate mesh construction, the elements of the material very slowly
began to move, pulling apart to form a lane that would continue the path
from the passage into the interior of its network.  It's alive, Richard
thought, his.

Ise racing as he watched in fascination.

pu S Five minutes later, an alley had opened up that wa just large
enough for Richard to walk ten metres into the material.  The myrmicats
around him were all pointing -A towards the cottony web.  Richard
started shaking his head.  I'm sorryfellas, Richard wanted to say, but
there's 't like.  So I'lljust something about this situation that I don
skip this part of the tour, if it's all right with you The myrmicats
kept pointing.  Richard had no choice) 1: and he knew it.  What is it
going to do to me?  he asked rst step forward.  Eat me?  Is that himself
as he took his fi what this has all been about?  That would make no
sense at all d.  The myrinicats had not moved.

He turned aroun Richard took a deep breath and walked the full ten
metres into the lane, to a spot where he could reach out and touch one
of the odd ganglia in the living mesh.  As he was examining the ganglion
carefully, the material around him began to move again.  Richard whirled
around and saw that the lane behind him was closing.  Momentarily
frantic, he tried to run in that direction, back towards the passage,
but it was a waste of eneq,The net caught him and he resigned himself to
accept whatever was going to happen next.

Richard stood perfectly still as the web envelop, J him.  The tiny
elements, like threads, were about a millimetre wide.  Slowly, steadily,
they began to cover his body.  Wait, Richard thought, wait.  You're
going to suffocate me.  But surprisingly, even thought hundreds of
filaments were already wrapping around his head and face, he was having
no difficulty breathing.

Before his hands were inimobilised, Richard tried to pull one of the
tiny elements off his arm.  It was almost impossible.  As they had been
wrapping around him, the threads had also been making insertions in his
skin.  After many tugs, he finally succeeded in freeing the white
filaments from one small portion of his forearm, but he was bleeding in
the areas that had been freed.  Richard surveyed his body and estimated
that he probably had a million or so pieces of the living mesh
underneath the outer layer of his skin.  He shuddered.

Richard was still amazed that he had not suffocated.

air was getting As his mind began to wonder how to him through the web,
he heard another voice inside his head.  StOP trying to analyse
everything, it said, you'll never understand it an way, For once in your
life, just experience the incredible adventure.

Again Richard had lost track of time.  Some time during the days (or had
it been weeks?) that he had been living inside the alien net, he had
changed positions.

During one of his early naps, the web had also removed his clothes.
Richard was now lying on his back, supported by an extremely dense
section of the fine mesh network enveloping his body.

His mind no longer actively wondered how he was managing to survive.

Somehow, whenever he felt irst, his needs were swiftly satisfied.  His
hunger or th disappeared within minutes.  Breathing wastes always was
easy, even though he was completely surrounded by the living web.

Richard passed many of his conscious hours studying the creature around
him.

If he looked carefully, he could fitly in motion.  The patterns see the
tiny elements consta in the net around him altered very slowly, but they
y plotted the definitely did change.  Richard mentall trajectories of
the ganglia that he could see.  At one point three separate ganglia
migrated into his vicinity and formed a triangle in front of his head.

The net developed a regular cycle of interacting with Richard.  It would
keep its thousands of filaments -attached to him for fifteen to twenty
hours at a time, and then release him completely for several hours.

Richard slept without dreaming whenever he was not attached to the web.
If he happened to awaken still in the unattached mode, he was enervated
and listless.

But each time the threads began to wind around him again he felt a
renewed surge of energy.

His dreams were active and vivid if he slept while attached to the alien
net.  Richard had never dreamed much before and had often laughed at
Nicole's preoccupation with her dreams.  But as his sleeping images
became more complex, and in some cases quite bizarre, Richard began to
appreciate why Nicole paid so much attention to them.  One night he
dreamed that he was again a teenager and was watching a theatrical
performancc of As YouUke It in his home town of Stratford-onAvon.  The
lovely blonde girl who was playing Rosalind came down from the stage and
whispered in his ear.

'Are you Richard Wakefield?" she asked in the dream.

'Yes,' he answered.

The actress began to kiss Richard, first slowly, then more passionately,
with a lively, tickling tongue darting around inside his mouth.  He felt
a surge of overpowering desire and then woke up abruptly, strangely
embarrassed by both his nakedness and his erection. Now what was that
all about?  Richard wondered, echoing the phrase he had often heard from
Nicole.

At some stage in his captivity his recollections of Nicole became much
sharper more clearly delineated.  Richard found to his surprise that in
the absence of other stimuli he was able, if he concentrated, to recall
entire conversations with Nicole, including such details as the kind of
facial expressions she used to punctuate her sentences.  In the
protracted solitude of his long period inside the web, Richard often
ached with loneliness, the vivid memories making him miss his beloved
wife even more.

His memories of the children were equally sharp.  He missed them all as
well, especially Katie.  He remembered his last conversation with his
special daughter, several days before the wedding, when she had come by
the house to pick up some of her clothes.  Katie had been depressed, and
needed support, but Richard had been unable to help her. The connection
just wasn't them Richard thought.  The recent image of Katie, as a sexy
young woman, was rep laced by a picture of a reckless ten-year-old girl
scampering across the plazas of New York.

The juxtaposition of the two images provoked a profound feeling of loss
in Richard.  I was never comfortable with Katie after she awakened, he
realised with a sigh.  I still wanted my little girl, The clarity of his
recollections of Nicole and Katie convinced Richard that something
extraordinary was happening to his memory.  He discovered that he could
'Irk also recall the exact score of every World Cup quarterfinal,
semi-final, and final between 2174 and 2190.  Richard had known all that
useless information as a young man, for he had been an avid soccer fan.
However, during the years before the launch of the Newton, when so many
new things had crowded into his brain, he had often been unable, even
during soccer discussions with his friends, to recall even the
participants in a key World Cup match.

As the visual images from his memories continued to sharpen, Richard
found that he was also recalling the emotions that had been associated
with the pictures.  It was almost as if he were completely reliving the
experiences.  In one long recollection he remembered not only the
overpowering feelings of love and adoration that he had felt for Sarah
Tydings when he had first seen her perform on stage, but also the thrill
and excitement of their courtship, including the unbrunbridled passion
of their first night of love.  It had left him breathless then, and now,
many years later, enveloped by an alien creature resembling a neural
net, Richard's response was equally powerful.

Soon it seemed as if Richard no longer had any control over which
memories were activated in his brain.  In the beginning, or so he
believed, he had purposely thought about Nicole or his children or even
his courtship with the young Sarah Tydings, just to make himself happy.
Now, he said one day in an imaginary conversation with the sessile net,
after refreshing my memory for God knows whatpurpose - it seems that you
are reading it all out.

For many hours Richard enjoyed the forced memory readout, especially
those portions covering his life at Cambridge and the Space Academy,
when his days were enlivened by the constant joy of new knowledge.
Quantum physics, the Cambrian explosion, probability and statistics,
even the long-forgotten vocabulary from his German lessons, reminded him
how much of his happiness in life had been due to the excitement of
learning.  In another particularly satisfying remembrance, his mind
jumped swiftly from play to play, covering every live performance of
Shakespeare that he had seen between the ages of ten and seventeen.
Everyone needs a hero, Richard thought after the montage of scenes, as
impetus to bring out the best in himself My hero was definitely William
Shakespeare.

Some of the memories were painful, especially those from his childhood.
In one of them Richard was eight years old again, sitting on a bench at
the small table in his family's dining room.  The atmosphere at the
table was tense.  His father, drunk and angry at the world, was
glowering at all of them as they ate their dinner in silence.  Richard
accidentally spilled some of his soup and Anhur C.  Clarke and Genhy Lee
seconds later the back of his father's hand hit him hard on the cheek,
knocking him off his bench and into the corner of the room, where he
trembled from fear and shock.  He had not thought about that moment for
years.  Richard was unable to restrain his tears as he recalled how
helpless and scared he had been around his neurotic, abusive father.

One day Richard suddenly began to remember details from his long odyssey
in Rama 11, and a powerful headache almost blinded hfin.  He saw himself
in a strange room lying on a floor surrounded by three or four
octospiders.  Dozens of probes and other instruments had been implanted
in him and some kind of test was under way.

'Stop, stop,' Richard shouted, destroying the memory picture with his
acute agitation.  'My head is killing me." Miraculously his headache
began to fade and Richard was again among the octospiders in his memory.
He recalled the days and days of testing that he had experienced and the
tiny living creatures that had been inserted into his body.  He recalled
also a peculiar set of sexual experiments in which he had been subjected
to all kinds of external stimulation and rewarded when he ejaculated.

Richard was startled by these new memories that he had never accessed
before, never once since he had awakened from the coma in which his
family had found him in New York.  Now I remember other things about the
octospiders too, he thought excitedly.  77tey talked to each other in
colours that wrapped around their heads.  They were basically ftiendly,
but determined to learn everything they could about me.  They ...

The mental picture vanished and Richard's headache returned.  The
threads from the net had just disconnected.  Richard was exhausted and
quickly fell asleep.

After days and days of one memory after another, the readout abruptly
ceased.

Richard's mind was no longe r driven by an external forcing function.
The threads of the net remained unattached for long periods of time.

A week passed without incident.  In the second week, however, an unusual
spherical ganglion, far larger and more densely wrapped than the normal
clumps in the living web, began to develop about twenty centimetres away
from Richard's head.  The ganglion grew until it was about the size of a
basketball.  Soon thereafter the immense clump issued hundreds of
filaments that inserted themselves into the skin around the
circumference of Richard's skull.  At las4 Richard thought, ignoring the
pain caused by the invasion of the threads into his brain, now we will
see what this has all been about He began immediately to see some kind
of pictures, although they were so fuzzy that he could not identify
anything specific.  The quality of Richard's mental images improved very
quickly, however, for he cleverly devised a rudimentary way of
communicating with the web.  As soon as the first image appeared in his
mind, Richard concluded that the net, which had been reading his memory
output for days, was not trying to write into his brain.  But the web
obviously had no way of measuring the quality of the images that Richard
was receiving.  Remembering his trips to the eye doctor as a boy and the
communication pattern that resulted in the final specifications for his
spectacle lenses, Richard used his fingers to indicate whether each
change the net made in its transmission process made the picture better,
or worse.  In that manner Richard was soon able to 'see' what the alien
was attempting to show him.

The first pictures were images of a planet taken from i el Pow, a
spacecraft.  The cloud-covered world with two smallish moons and a
distant, solitary, yellow star as its heat and light source was almost
certainly the home planet of the sessile webs.  The suite of pictures
that followed showed Richard various landscapes from the planet.

Fog was ubiquitous on the home world of the sessiles.  Below the fog in
most of the images was a brown, rockless, barren surface.  Only in the
littorals, where the barren ground encountered the waves of the green
liquid lakes and oceans, was there any suggestion of life.  In one of
these oases Richard saw not only several avians, but also a fascinating
melange of other living things.

Richard could have spent days examining just one or two of these
pictures, but he was not in control of the image sequence.  The net had
some purpose for its communication, he was certain, and the first set of
pictures was only an introduction.

All of the remaining images featured either an avian, a manna melon, a
myrmicat, a sessile web, or some combination of the quartet.  The scenes
were all taken from what Richard assumed was 'normal life' on their home
planet, and expanded on the general theme of symbiosis among the
species.  In several pictures the avians were shown defending the
subterranean colonies of the myrinicats and sessiles from invasions by
what appeared to be small animals and plants.  Other images depicted the
myrmicats ministering to avian hatchlings or transporting large
quantities of manna melons to an 11 avian mound.

Richard was puzzled when he saw several pictures that showed tiny manna
melons embedded inside the sessile creatures.  My would the myrmicats
lay their eggs in here?  he wondered.  For protection?  Or are these
weird webs a kind of thinking placenta?

One definite impression left upon Richard by the Vie Garden of Ranta
sequence of images was that the sessiles were, in a hierarchical sense,
the dominant species of the three.  The pictures all suggested that both
the myrinicats and the avians paid homage to the web creatures.  Do
these nets then somehow do all the important thinking for the avians and
myrmicatsP Richard asked himself.  What incredible symbiotic
relationships ...  How in the world could they possibly have evolved?

There were several thousand frames altogether in the sequence After it
repeated twice, the filaments detached themselves from Richard and
returned to the giant ganglion.  In the days that followed Richard was
essentially left alone, the attachments to his host being limited to
those necessary for him to survive.

When a lane formed in the web and Richard could see the door through
which he had entered many weeks before, he thought that he was going to
be released.  His momentary excitement, however, was quickly dampened.
At his first attempt to move, the sessile net tightened its grip on all
parts of his body.

So what is the purpose of the lane?  As Richard watched, a trio of
myrmicats entered from the hallway.  The creature in the middle had two
broken legs, and its back segment was crushed, as if it had been run
over by a heavy car or truck.

Its two companions carried the disabled myrinicat into the web and then
departed.

Within seconds the sessile began to wrap itself around the new arrival.

Richard was about two metres away from the crippled myrmicat.  The
region between him and the injured creature emptied of all filaments and
clumps.

Richard had never before seen such a gap inside the sessile.  So my
education continues, he mused.  What is it that I am supposed to learn
now?  The sessiles are doctors to the myrmicats, just as the myrmicats
are docton to the avians?

The web did not limit its attention to the injured ortions of the
myrmicat.

In fact, during one long waking period Richard watched the net
completely enclose the creature in a tight cocoon.  At the same time,
the large ganglion in Richard's immediate vicinity migrated over to the
cocoon.

Later, after a nap, Richard noticed that the ganglion had returned to
his side.  The cocoon across the gap had almost finished unravelling.
Richard's pulse rate doubled as the cocoon completely disappeared and
there was no trace of the myrmicat.

Richard didn't have much time to wonder what had happened to the
myrmicat.

Within minutes the filaments from the large ganglion were again attached
to his skull and another picture show was playing inside his brain.  In
the very first irnage Richard saw five human soldiers camping on the
shore of the moat inside the avian habitat.  They were eating a meal.
Beside them was an impressive array of weapons, including two machine
guns.

the pictures that followed showed humans on the attack throughout the
second habitat.  Two of the early scenes were especially gruesome.  In
the first a juvenile avian had been decapitated in mid-air and was
falling to the ground.

A ;)air of satisfied humans congratulated each other in the lower left
portion of the same frame.  The second image depicted a large square
hole in one of the grassland sectors of the green region.  Inside the
hole could be seen the remains of several dead avians.  A human with a
%wheelbarrow containing another pair of avian corpses wats approaching
the mass grave from the left.

Richard was staggered by what he was seeing.  What are these pictures;
anyway, he wondered.  And why am I 77ke Garden of Rama seeing them now?
He quickly reviewed all the recent events in his sessile world and
concluded, with consider able shock, that the disabled myrinicat must
have actually seen everything Richard was being shown, and that the web
creature had somehow removed the images from the mind of the myrinicat
and transferred them into Richard's brain.

Once he understood what he was seeing, Richard paid more attention to
the pictures themselves.  He was completely outraged by the invasion and
slaughter that he saw.  In one of the later images three human soldiers
were shown raiding an avian apartment complex inside the brown cylinder.
There were no survivors.

These poor creatures are doomed, Richard said to himself, and they must
know it ...

Tears suddenly formed in Richard's eyes and a profound sadness, deeper
than any he had ever known, accompanied his realisation that members of
his own species were systematically exterminating the avians.  No, no!
he shouted silently.  Stop, oh please stop.  Can't you see what you are
doing?  These avians too proclaim the miracle of chemicals raised to
consciousness.  7hey are like us.

They are our brothers.

In the next several seconds Richard's many interactions with the
birdlike creatures flooded his memory and chased away the implanted
images.  7hey saved my life, he thought, his mind focusing on the flight
long ago across the Cylindrical Sea.  With absolutely no benefit to
themselves.  What human, he said to himself bitterly, would have done
such a good deedfor an avian?

Richard had rarely sobbed in his life.  But his sorrow for the avians
overpowered him.  As he wept, all his experiences since entering the
avian habitat filed through his mind.  Richard recalled especially the
sudden change in their treatment of him and his subsequent Lxe transfer
to the realm of the myrmicats.  Then came the NOW' guided
tourandmyeventualplacement here...  It's obvious they have been tr),ing
to communicate with me ...  But why?

At that instant Richard had an epiphany of such power that tears rushed
into his eyes again.  Because they are desperate, he answered himself
They are begging me to help.

Collapse,, A F Again a large void was created in the interior of the
sessile.  Richard watched carefully as thirty small ganglia formed into
a sphere with a diameter of about fifty centimetres on the other side of
the gap.  An unusually thick filament connected each of the ganglia with
t he centre of the sphere.  At first, Richard could detect nothing
inside the sphere.  After the ganglia had moved to another location,
however, he saw, where the sphere had been, a tiny green object with
hundreds of infinitesimal threads anchoring it to the rest of the web.

It grew very slowly.  The ganglia had already finished migrating to
three new positions, repeating the same spherical configuration each
time, before Richard recognised that what was growing in the sessile was
a manna melon.  He was thunderstruck.  Richard could not imagine how the
vanished myrmicat could possibly have left behind eggs that had taken so
long to germinate.  And they must have been only a few cells then. Tiny,
tiny embryos somehow nurtured here ...

His own thoughts were interrupted by his realisation that these new
manna melons were developing in a region of the sessile that was almost
twenty metres away from where the myrmicat had been cocooned.  So this
web creature transported the eggs from one place to another?  And then
retained them for weeks?

Richard's logical mind began to reject the hypothesis that the vanished
myrinicat had laid any eggs at all.  Slowly but surely, he developed an
alternative c nation for what he had observed that suggested a bi more
complex than any he had ever encounter Earth What if, he asked himself,
the manna m mynnicats, and this sessile web are all manifestatio s what
we would call the same species?

Staggered by the ramifications of this simple thought,,.  Richard spent
two long waking periods reviewing every:,i, thing he had seen inside the
second habitat.  As he starW at the four manna melons growing across the
gap from' him, Richard envisioned a cycle of metamorphosis inwhich the
manna melons gave birth to the myrmicats;'i who in turn came to die and
add new matter to the[ sessile net, which then laid the manna melon eggs
that', began the process again.  There was nothing he had observed that
was inconsistent with this explanation.  But Richard's brain was
exploding with thousands of questions, not only about how this intricate
set of metamorphoses took place, but also about why this species had
evolved into such a complex being in the first place.

Most of Richard's academic study had been in fields that he had always
proudly called 'hard science'.  Mathematics and physics had been the
primary elements of his education.  As he struggled to understand the
possible life cycle of the creature in which he had been living for many
weeks, Richard was bewildered by his ignorance.  He wished that he had
learned much more about biology.  For how can I help them?  he asked
himself.  I have no idea even where to start Much later, Richard would
wonder if by this time in his stay inside the sessile, the creature had
learned not only how to read his memory, but also how to interpret APS,
I his thoughts.  His visitors arrived a few days afterwards.  Again a
lane formed in the sessile between Richard's position and the original
entryway.  Four identical myrmicats walked down the lane and gestured
for Richard to join them.

They were carrying his clothes.  When Richard made an effort to move,
his alien host did not try to restrain him.  His legs were wobbly, but
after dressing Richard managed to follow the myrmicats back into the
corridor deep within the brown cylinder.

The large chamber had obviously been recently modifled.  The vast mural
on its walls was not yet completed.  In fact, at the same time as
Richard's myrmicat teacher was pointing to specific items in the
painting that had already been finished, myrinicat artists were still at
work on the remainder of the mural.

During Richard's early lessons in the room, as many as a dozen of the
creatures were engaged in sketching or painting the other sections.

Only one visit to the mural chamber was necessary for Richard to
ascertain its purpose.  The entire room was being created to give him
information on how he could help the alien species survive.  It was
clear these extraterrestrials knew that they were about to be overrun
and destroyed by the humans.  The paintings in this room were their
attempt to provide Richard with the data he might need to save them. But
could he learn enough simply from the pictures?

The artwork was brilliant.  From time to time Richard would suspend the
activity in his left brain that was trying to interpret the messages in
the paintings so that his right brain could appreciate the talent of the
myrmicat artists.  The creatures worked in the upright position, their
back two legs on the floor and their four front legs operating together
to implement the sketch or painting.  They talked among themselves,
apparently asking questions, but did not make so much noise that Richard
was disturbed across the chamber.

The entire first half of the mural was a textbook in alien biology.  It
proved that Richard's fundamental understanding of the strange creature
was correct.  There over a hundred individual paintings in the main
sequence, of which two dozen showed different stages in the development
of the myrmicat embryo, expanding considerably the knowledge that
Richard had gleaned from the sculptures inside the myrmicat cathedral.
The primary panels explaining the embryological progression the walls of
the chamber.

followed a straight line around J Above and below these main sequence
pictures were supporting or supplupplementary frames, most of which were
beyond Richard's comprehension.

For example, a quartet of supporting paintings had been arranged around
a picture of a manna melon that had recently been removed from a sessile
web, but had not yet begun any myrinicat development activity in its
interior.  Richard was certain that these four additional pictures were
trying to give him specific information about the ambient conditions
required for the germination process to begin.  However, the myrmicat
artists had used scenes from their home planet, illustrating the desired
conditions with landscapes of fogs and lakes and their native flora and
fauna, to communicate the data.  Richard just shook his head when the
myrinicat teacher pointed at these paintings.

A diagram across the top of the main sequence used suns and moons to
specify time scales.  Richard understood from the arrangement that the
lifetime of the myrmicat manifestation of the species was very short
when compared with the lifetime of the sessiles.  He was unable,
however, to figure out anything else the diagram was trying to convey.

t!

The Garden of Rama Richard was also somewhat confused about the nume
rical relationships among the different manifestations of the species.
It was clear that each manna melon resulted in a single myrmicat (there
were no examples of twins shown), and that a sessile could produce many
manna melons.  But what was the ratio of sessiles to myrmicats?  In one
frame a large sessile was presented with a dozen different myrmicats in
its interior, each in a different phase of cocooning.  What was that
supposed to indicate?

Richard slept in a small room not far from the mural chamber.  His
lessons lasted three to four hours each, after which he would be fed or
allowed to sleep.

Sometimes, when he entered the chamber, Richard would glance over at the
paintings, some still incomplete, in the second half of the mural.  If
that happened, the lights in the chamber would immediately be
extinguished.  The Myrmicats wanted to be certain that Richard learned
his biology first.

After about ten days the second half of the mural was finished.  Richard
was stunned when he was finally allowed to study it.  The renderings of
the many human beings and avians were exceptionally accurate.  Richard
himself appeared half a dozen times in the paintings.  With his long
hair and beard, both of them more than half white, he almost didn't
recognise himself.  I could Pass for Christ in these pictures, he joked
as he wandered around the chamber.

Part of the remaining mural was a historical summary of the invasion of
the alien habitat by the humans.  There was more detail than Richard had
seen in his mental Picture-show while he was inside the sessile, but he
did not learn anything substantively new.  He was, however, again
disturbed emotionally by the horrible details of the continuing
massacre.

The pictures also triggered an interesting question in his mind.  Why
had the contents of this mural not been transferred directly to him by
the sessile, thereby obviating the entire effort by the myrnricat artis
) I ts.

Perhaps, Richard mused, the sessile is a recording device only, and is
incapable of imagination.  Maybe it can only show me what has already
been seen by one of the myrmicats.  fined what the What was left of the
mural explicitly de myrmicat/sessile creatures were asking Richard to In
each of his portraits he was wearing a large blue pa4 over his
shoulders.  The pack had two large pockets in the front, and two more in
the back, each containing a manna melon.

There were two additional, smaller pockets on the sides of the pack. One
was stuffed with a silver cylindrical tube about fifteen centimetres
long, j and the other contained two small, leathery avian eggs.

The mural showed Richard's suggested activity in an orderly sequence. He
would leave the brown cylinder through an exit below ground level, and
come out in the green region on the other side of both the ring of white
buildings and the thin canal.  There, guided by a pair of avians, he
would descend to the shore o the moat, where he would be picked up by a
small submarine.  The submarine would dive under the module wall) enter
a large body of water, and then surface on the shore of an island with
many skyscrapers.

Richard smiled as he studied the mural.  So both the are still here, he
thought.  Cylindrical Sea and New York He remembered what The Eagle had
said about not making unnecessary changes to Rama.  7hat means the "ite
Room may be there as welL There were many additional pictures
surrounding Richard's escape sequence, some giving more details about
the alien plants and animals in the green region, 77je Garden of Rama
and others providing explicit instructions on how to operate the
submarine.  When Richard tried to copy what he thought was the most
important of this information into his portable computer from the
Newton, the myrmicat teacher suddenly seemed impatient.  Richard
wondered if the crisis situation had worsened.

The next day, after a long nap, Richard was outfitted with his pack and
ushered into the sessile chamber by his hosts.  There the four manna
melons he had watched growing two weeks previously were removed from the
web by the myrmicats and placed in his pack.  They were quit . e heavy.
Richard estimated that they weighed twenty kilograms altogether. Another
myrmicat then used an instrument similar to a large scissors to remove
from the sessile a cylindrical volume containing four ganglia and their
associated filaments.  This sessile material was placed in a silver tube
and inserted in one of Richard's smaller side pockets.  The avian eggs
were the last elements to be loaded.

Richard took a deep breath.  This must be goodbye, he thought, as the
myrmicats pointed down the corridor.  For some reason he remembered Nai
Watanabe's insistence that the That greeting called the wai a small bow
with hands clasped together in front of the upper chest, was a universal
sign of respect.  Smiling to himself, Richard performed a wai to the
half dozen myrinicats surrounding him.  To his astonishment, each of
them placed its four forward legs together in pairs in front of its
underbelly and made a slight bow in his direction.

The deep basement of the brown cylinder was obviously uninhabited. After
leaving the sessile chamber, Richard and his guide had first passed many
other myrmicats, especially in the vicinity of the atrium.  But once
they had entered the ramp that descended to the basement, they had never
encountered even a single myrtnicat.

Richard's guide dispatched a leggie in front of them.  It raced along
the final narrow tunnel and through the vault-like emergency exit into
the green region.  When the leggie returned, it stood on the back of the
myrinicat's head for several seconds and then scampered down to the
floor.  The guide motioned for Richard to proceed into the tunnel.

Outside, in the green region, Richard was met by two large avians who
immediately became airborne.  One of them had an ugly scar on its wing,
as if it had been hit by a spray of bullets.  Richard was in a
moderately dense forest, with growth around him up to three or four
metres off the ground.  Even though the light was dim, it was not
difficult for Richard to find a pathwa or to y follow the avians above
him.  Occasionally he heard sporadic gunfire off in the distance.

The first fifteen minutes passed without incident.  The forest thickness
lessened.  Richard had just estimated that he should be at the moat for
the rendezvous with the submarine in another ten minutes when, without
any warning, a machine gun began to fire no more than a hundred metres
away.  One of the guide avians crashed to the ground.  The other avian
disappeared.  Richard hid himself in a dark thicket when he heard the
soldiers coming in his direction.

'Two rings for certain,' one of them said.  'Maybe even three ...  That
would give me twenty rings this week alone." 'Shit, man, that was no
contest.  It shouldn't even count.  The damn bird didn't even know you
were there." 'That's his problem, not mine.  I still get to count his
rings.  Ah, here he is ...  Crap, he only has two." The men were only
about fifteen metres away from .  move, Richard.  He stood absolutely
still, not daring to The Garden ofRama for more than five minutes.  The
soldiers, meanwhile, stayed in the vicinity of the avian corpse, smoking
and talking about the war.

Richard began to feel pain in his right foot.  He sh ifted his weight
ever so slightly, thinking he would relieve whatever muscle was being
strained, but the pain only increased.  At length he glanced down and
discovered to his horror that one of the rodentlike creatures he had
seen in the mural chamber had eaten through what was left of his shoe
and was now chomping on his foot.  Richard tried to shake his leg
vigorously but noiselessly.  He was not completely successful.  Although
the rodent released his foot, the soldiers heard the sound and started
moving towards him.

Richard could not run.  Even if there had been an escape route, the
extra weight he was carrying would have made him easy prey for the
soldiers.  Within a minute one of the men yelled, 'Over here, Bruce, I
think there's something in this thicket." The man was pointing his gun
in Richard's direction.  'Don't shoot,' Richard said.  'I'm a human."
The second soldier had just joined his comrade.  'What the fuck are you
doing out here alone?" 'I'm taking a hike,' Richard answered.

'Are you crazy?" the first soldier said.  'Come on out of there, let us
take a look at you." Richard slowly walked out of the underbrush.  Even
in the dim light he must have been an astonishing sight, with his long
hair and beard plus the bulging blue jacket.

'Jesus Christ ...  Who the hell are you?  ...  Where's your outfit
positioned?" 'This ain't no goddamn soldier,' the other man said, still
staring at Richard.  'This here's a loony tune ...  He must have escaped
from the facility in Avalon and wandered over here by mistake ...  Hey,
asshole, don't I'T you know this is dangerous territory?  You could be
killed 'Look at his pockets,' the first soldier interrupted.  'He's
carrying four huge goddamn melons Suddenly they struck from the sky.
There must have been a dozen of the avians altogether, consumed by fury
and shrieking as they attacked.  The two human soldiers were knocked to
the ground.  Richard started to run.  One J of the avians landed on the
face of the first soldier and began to tear it apart with its talons.
Gunfire erupted as other soldiers in the vicinity, hearing the fracas,
hurried into the area to help the patrol.

Richard did not know how he was going to find the submarine.  He raced
downhill as fast as his feet and his load would allow him.  The gunfire
behind him increased.  He heard the screams of pain of the soldiers and
the death shrieks of the avians.

He found the moat but there was no sign of the submarine.  Richard could
hear human voices coming down the slope behind him.  just when he was
about to panic, he heard a short shriek from a large bush on his right.
The leader avian with the four cobalt rings flew past his head, not far
off the ground, and continued down the shore of the moat to the left.

They located the small submarine in three more minutes.  The ship had
already submerged before the pursuing humans broke into the clear in the
green region.  Inside, Richard took off his pack and placed it behind
him in the small control compartment.  He looked at his avian companion
and tried a couple of simple jabber phrases.  The avian leader replied,
very slowly and very clearly, with the jabber equivalent of 'We all
thank you very much'.

The journey took slightly more than an hour.  Richard and the avian said
very little to each other.  During the The Garden ofRama early part of
the voyage, Richard carefully watched the avian leader operating the
submarine.  He made notes in his computer and, during the second half of
the trip, even took over the controls himself for a short period of
time.  When he was not too busy, Richard's mind was asking questions
about everything he had experienced in the second habitat.  Above all,
he wanted to know why it was he in the submarine with the melons and the
sessile slice, and not one of the myrmicats.  I must be missing
something, he mused to himself.

Soon thereafter the submarine surfaced and Richard was in familiar
territory.  The skyscrapers of New York loomed above him.  'Hallelujah."
Richard said out loud, carrying his full pack on to the island.

The avian leader anchored the submarine just offshore and quickly
prepared to leave.  He turned around in a circle, bowed slightly to
Richard, and then took off towards the north.  As he was watching the
birdlike creature fly away, Richard realised that he was standing in the
exact spot where he and Nicole had waited many years before, in Rama IL
for the three avians who would carry them across the Cylindrical Sea to
freedom.

M, VIM M9 A

J.

During the first second that Richard stood on the ndred billion billion
bits of surface in New York, a hu data were acquired by the
infinitesimal Raman sensors scattered throughout the giant cylindrical
spacecraft.  These data were transmitted in realtime to local data c in
size, where they handling centres, still microscope were stored until
the allocated time for them to be relayed to the central
telecommunications processor buried beneath the Southern Hemicylinder.

of every hour of every day the Raman Every second sensors acquire these
hundred quintillion data bits.  At the telecommunications processor, the
data are labelled, sifted, analysed, compressed, and stored in recording
devices whose individual components are smaller than an atom.  After
storage, the data are accessed by the dozens of distributed processors,
each managing a separate function, that together control the Rama
spacecraft.  Thousands of algorithms spread among the n the data,
extracting trend processors then operate o and synthesis information in
preparation for the regularly scheduled data bursts that transmit the
mission status to the Nodal Intelligence.

The data bursts contain a mixture of raw, compressed, and synthesised
data, depending on the exact formats selected by the different
processors.  The iA7 The Garden ofRama most important part of each burst
is the narrative report, in which the unified but distributed
intelligence of Rama presents its prioritised summary of the progress of
the mission.  The rest of the burst is essentially supporting
information, images or measurements or sensor outputs that either
provide additional background data or directly support the conclusions
contained in the summary.

The language used for the narrative summary is mathematical in
structure, precise in definition, and highly coded.  It is also rich in
footnotes, each eqkiivalent phrase or sentence containing, as part of
its transmission structure, the pointers to the actual data buttressing
the particular statement being made.

The report could not, in the truest sense, be translated into any
language as primitive as the ones used by human beings.  Nevertheless,
what follows is a crude approximation of the summary report received by
the Nodal Intelligence from Rama soon after Richard's arrival in New
York.

REPORT Number 298 Time of Transmission: 156 307 872 491.5116 Time Since
First Stage Alert: 29.2873 References: Node 23-419 Spacecraft 947
Spacefarers 47 249 (A & B) During the last interval the humans
(Spacefarer Number 32 806) have continued to wage a successful war
against the avian/sessile symbiotic pair (number 47 249 A & B).  The
humans now control almost all the interior of the avian/sessile habitat,
including the upper portion of the brown cylinder where the avians
formerly lived.  The avians have fought courageously but vainly against
the human invasion.  They have been killed unmercifully and less than a
hundred o Mern now remain.

Thus far the humans have not breached the integrity of the sessile
domain.  They have, however, found the I elevator shafts leading to the
lower parts of the brown I cylinder.  The humans are currently
developing plans for t I an attack on the sessile lair.

The sessiles are a defenceless species.  There are no weapons of any
kind in their domain.  Even their mobile ns, is form, which has the phys
ical dexterity to use weapo rotect themselves from wha essentially
non-violent.

To p t they fear will be an inevitable invasion by the humans, the
sessiles have directed the mobile myrmicats to build fortresses
surrounding the four oldest and most deveh.k oped of their species.
Meanwhile, no more man* Ions are being allowed to germinate and those
myrnu- i me cats not involved in the construction process are coc ooning
early.  If the humans delay their attack several' re intervals, as seems
likely, it is possible they will MO encounter only a few myrmicats
during their invasion.

The human habitat continues to be dominated by individuals with
characteristics decidedly different from the human contingent observed
inside Rama II and at The Node.  The focus of the current human leaders
is the retention of personal power, without serious consideration of the
welfare of the colony.  Despite both the video message ane and the
presence of messenger humans in their group, these leaders must not
believe they are actually being watched, for their behaviour in no way
reflects the possible existence of a set of values or ethical laws that
supersedes their own dominion.

The humans have continued to prosecute the war against the
avian/sessiles primarily because it distracts attention from the other
problems in their colony, including the human-initiated environmental
degradation and the recent precipitous decline in living standards.  The
human leaders, and indeed most of the colonists, have shown no remorse
whatsoever over the destruction and possible extermination of the
avians.

The human family that remained for over a year at The Node no longer has
any significant impact on the affairs of the colony.  The woman who was
the primary mes senger is still imprisoned, essentially because she
opposes the actions of the existing leaders, and is in danger of being
executed.  Her husband has been living With the avians and sessiles and
is now a critical component in their attempt to survive the human
onslaught.  The children are not yet mature enough to be a major factor
in the human colony.

Very recently, the husband escaped from the sessile domain to the island
in the middle of the spacecraft.  He carried both avian and sessile
embryos with him.  He is currently located in a familiar environment,
and therefore should be able both to survive and to nurture the young g
of the other species.  His successful escape may have been at least part
due to the non-invasive intercession that began, at the time of the
first stage alert.  The intercession signals almost certainly played a
role in the decision by the sessiles to trust their embryos to a human
being.

There is no evidence, however, that the intercession transmissions have
affected the behaviour of any of the humans.  For the sessiles,
information processing is a primary activity and, therefore, it is not
surprising that they would be susceptible to intercessionary
suggestions.  The humans, however, especially the leaders, have their
lives so filled with activity that there is very little, if any, time
for cogitation.

There is an additional problem with humans and noninvasive intercession.
As a species they are so varied, from individual to individual, that a
transmission package cannot be designed with broad applicability.  A set
of signals that might result in a positive behaviour modification for
one human will almost certainly have no impact on anyone else.

Experiments with different types of intercession processes are currently
being conducted, but it may well be that humans belong to that small
group of spacefarers who are immune to noninvasive intercession.

In the south of the spacecraft, the octospiders (Number 2 666) continue
to thrive in a colony almost indistinguishable from any of their other
isolated colonies in space.  The full range of possible biological
expression remains latent, primarily because of restricted territorial
resources and no true competition.  However, they are carrying with them
the significant potential for expansion that has characterised their
several successful transfers from one star system to another.

Until the humans probed through the wall of their own habitat and broke
the seal on their enclosure, the octospiders paid very little attention
to the other two species in the spacecraft.  Since the humans began to
explore, however, the octospiders have watched the events in the north
with increasing interest.  Their existence is still unknown to the
humans, but the octospiders have already started formulating a
contingency plan to cover a possible interaction with their aggressive
neighbours.

The potential loss of the entire avian/sessile community greatly reduces
the value of the mission.  It is possible that the only sessile and
avian survivors of the voyage will be those in the small octospider zoo
and, perhaps, those raised by the human on the island.  Even appealed
irrevocable loss of a single species does not call for a stage two
alert; nevertheless, the continued unpredictable and life-negative
behaviour of the current human leaders provides an unmitigated worry
that the mission may suffer additional serious losses.  Intercessionary
activity in the near future will be focused on those humans who both
oppose the present leaders, and ha ve indicated, by their behaviour,
growth beyond territorialism and aggression.

t 'My country was called Thailand.  It had a king, whose name was also
Rama, like our spaceship.  Your grand T mother and grandfather - my
mother and father probably still live there, in a town called Lamphun
...  Here it is."

ys Nai pointed at a spot on the faded map The bo attention had started
to wander.  They're still too young, she thought.  Even for bright
children, it's too much to expect a tfour.

'All right, now,' she said, folding up the map, 'you can go outside and
play." Galileo and Kepler put on their heavy jackets, picked up a ball,
and raced out of the door into the street.

ere engaged in a one-to-one soccer Within seconds they w match.  Oh,
Kenji Nai thought, watching the boys from the entryway.  How they have
missed you.  71ere's just no way one parent can be both mother and
father.

She had begun the geography lesson, as she a ays did, by reminding the
boys that all of the colonists in New Eden had come originally from a
planet called Earth.  Nai had then shown the boys a world map of sk
their home planet, first discussing the basic concept of continents and
oceans, and then identifying Japan, their father's native country.  The
activity had made Nai both homesick and one y.

Ma be these lessons aren't for you at all, she thought, still watching
the soccer game under the dim street lights of Avalon.  Galileo dribbled
around Kepler and fired at an imaginary goal.  Maybe they're reallyfor
me.

Eponine was coming down the street in their direction.  She picked up
the ball and threw it back to the boys.  Nal smiled at her friend.

'What a delight to see you,' she said.  'I can definitely use a happy
face today." 'What's the matter, Nai?" Eponine asked.  'Life in Avalon
getting you down?  At least it's a Sunday.  You're not working in the
gun factory and the boys aren't over at the centre." The two women
walked inside.  'And certainly your living conditions cannot be the
cause of your despair." Eponine waved her arm at the room.

'After all, you have a large room for the three of you, half a toilet,
and a bath you share with five other families.  What more could you
want?" in Nai laughed and hugged Eponine, 'You're a big help she said.

'Mommy, Mommy,' Kepler was standing in the doorway a moment later.

'Come quickly,' the little boy said.  'He's back ...  And he's talking
to Galileo." Nai and Eponine returned to the door.  A man with a
severely disfigured face was kneeling down in the dirt next to Galileo.
The boy was obviously frightened.  The man was holding a sheet of paper
in his gloved hand.  On it a large human face with long hair and a full
beard had been carefully drawn.

'You know this face, don't you?" the man said insistently.  'It's Mr
Richard Wakefield, isn't it?" Nai and Eponine approached the man
cautiously.  'We told you last time,' Nai said firmly, 'not to bother
the boys any more.  Now go back to the ward or we will call the police."
The man's eyes were wild.  'I saw him again last night,' he said.  'He
looked like Jesus, but he was Richard Wakefield all right.  I started to
shoot him and they attacked me.  Five of them.  They tore my face apart
The man started to weep.

An orderly came running down the street.  He grabbed the man.  'I saw
him,' the wild man shouted as he was led away.  'I know I did.  Please
believe me." Galileo was crying.  Nai bent -down to comfort her son.
'Mama,' the boy said, 'do you think that man really saw Mr Wakefield?"
'I don't know,' she answered.  N ai glanced at Eponine.

'But some of us would like to believe it." The boys had finally fallen
asleep in their beds in the corner.  Nai and Eponine sat next to each
other in the two chairs.  'The rumour is she's very ill,' Eponine said
quietly.  'They hardly feed her at all.  They make her suffer in every
possible way." 'Nicole will never give up,' Nai said proudly.  'I wish I
had her strength and courage." 'Neither Ellie nor Robert has been
allowed to see her for over six months ...  Nicole doesn't even know she
has a granddaughter." 'Ellie told me last week that she has filed
another petition with Nakamura to visit her mother,' Nai said.  'I worry
about Ellie.  She continues to push very, very hard." Eponine smiled.
'Ellie is so wonderful, even if she is incredibly naive.

She insists that if she obeys all the colon laws, Nakamura will leave
her alone." 'That's not surprising...  especially when you consider that
Ellie still thinks her father is alive,' Nai said.  'She has talked with
every one of the people who claim to have seen Richard since he
disappeared."

Ae Garden of Rama 'All the stories about Richard give her hope,' Eponine
said.  'We can all use a dosage of hope from time to time There was a
momentary lull in the conversation.  'What about you, Eponine?" Nai
asked.  'Do you allow yourself ...  ?" 'No,' Eponine interrupted.  'I am
always honest with myself...  I am going to die soon, I just don't know
when ...  Besides, why should I fight to keep living?  Conditions here
in Avalon are far worse than they were even in the detention camp at
Bourges.  If it weren't for the few children in the school ..." They
both heard the noise outside the door at the same time.  Nai and Eponine
sat completely still.  If their conversation had been recorded by one of
Nakamura's roving biots, then ...

The door suddenly swung open.  The two women nearly jumped out of their
skins.  Max Puckett stumbled in, grinning, 'You're under arrest,' he
said, 'for engaging .  in s editious conversation." Max was carrying a
large wooden box.  The two women helped him place it in the corner.  Max
took off his heavy jacket.  'Sorry to show up so late, ladies, but
couldn't help it." 'Another food run to the troops?" Nai asked in a soft
voice.  She pointed at the sleeping twins.

Max nodded.  'The king Jap,' he said in a lower voice, 'always reminds
me that an army travels on its stomach." 'That was one of Napoleon's
maxims." Eponine looked at Max with a sarcastic smile.  'I don't suppose
you ever heard of him out there in Arkansas." 'Uh-oh,' Max repled.  'The
lovely lady teacher is in a smartass mood tonight." He pulled an
unopened pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket.

'Maybe I should just keep her gift for myself." Eponine laughed and
jumped up to grab the cigarettes.  After a short mock struggle, Max
surrendered them to her.  'Thanks, Max,' Eponine said in a genuine
manner.  'There aren't many pleasures allowed to those Of us 14, 'Now
look here,' Max said, still grinning.  'I didn't come all the way out
here to listen to you feeling sorry for yourself.  I stopped in Avalon
to be inspired by your beautiful face ...  If you're going to be
depressed, I'll just take my corn and tomatoes .  .

Mm 'Corn and tornatoes!" Nai and Eponine exclaimed in unison.  The women
ran over to the box.  'The children haven't had any fresh produce in
months,' Nai said excitedly as Max opened the box with a steel bar.

'Be very, very careful with these,' Max said seriously.  'You know that
what I am doing is absolutely illegal.  There's barely enough fresh food
for the army and the government leaders.  But I decided you deserved
something better than leftover rice." Eponine gave Max a hug.  'Thank
you,' she said.

'The boys and I are very grateful, Max,' Nai said.  'I don't know how
we'll ever repay you." 7' 'I'll find some way,' Max said.

The two women returned to their chairs and Max sat q down on the floor
between them.  'Incidentally,' he said, 'I ran into Patrick O'Toole over
in the second habitat ...  He asked me to say "hello" to both of you."
'How is he?" Eponine asked.

'Troubled, I would say,' Max replied.  'When he was drafted, he let,
Katie talk him into reporting to the army which I'm certain he would
never have done if either Nicole or Richard could have spoken to him
even once and I think he realises now what a mistake he made.  He.
didn't say anything, but I could sense his distress.  Nakamura keeps him
in the front line because of Nicole." 'Is this war almost over?" Eponine
asked.

'I think so,' Max said.  'But it's not clear the king Jap wants it to be
over ...  From what the soldiers told me, there's very little resistance
left.

They're mostly moppm g up inside the brown cylinder." Nai leaned
forward.  'We heard a rumour that another intelligent species was also
living in the cylinder - something altogether different from the
avians." Max laughed.  'Who knows what to believe?  The television and
newspaper say whatever Nakamura tells them, and everyone knows it. There
are always hundreds of rumours ...  I myself have encountered some
bizarre alien plants and animals inside that habitat, so nothing would
surprise me." Nai stifled a yawn, 'I'd best be leaving,' Max said,
standing up, 'and let our hostess go to bed." He glanced at Eponine.
'Would you like someone to walk you home?" 'Depends on who the someone
is,' Eponine said with a smile.

A few minutes later, Max and Eponine reached her tiny hut on one of the
side streets of Avalon.  Max dropped the cigarette they had been sharing
and ground it into the dirt.  'Would you like someone .  .  ."he started
'Yes, Max, of course I would,' Eponine replied with a sigh.  'And if
that someone were anyone, it would definitely be you." She looked
directly in his eyes.  'But if you shared my bed, even one time, then I
would want more.  And if, by some awful chance, no matter how careful we
were, you were ever, ever to test positive for RV-4 1, I would never
forgive myself." Eponine pressed herself against him to hide her tears.
'Thanks for everything,' she said.  'You're a good man, Max Puckett,
maybe the only one left in this crazy universe." Eponine was in a museum
in Paris surrounded by hundreds of masterpieces.  A large group of
tourists passed through the museum.  They spent a total of fortyfive
seconds looking at five magnificent paintings by Renoir and Monet.
'Stop,' Eponine shouted in her dream, 'you can't possibly have seen
them." The knocking on her door chased the dream away.  'It's us,
Eponine,' she heard Ellie say.  'If it's too early, we can try to come
back later, before you go to school.  Robert was worried that we might
get tied up in the psychiatric ward." % Eponine leaned over and grabbed
the robe hanging on the room's solitary chair.  'Just a minute,' she
said.  'I'm coming." She opened the door for her friends.  Ellie was in
her nurse's uniform, with little Nicole in a makeshift carrier on her
back.  The sleeping baby was wrapped cleverly in "x cotton to protect
her from the cold.

'May we come in?" 'Of course,' replied Eponine.  'I'm sorry,' she said,
'I must not ha ve heard you .  .

'It's a ridiculous time for us to visit,' Ellie said.  'But with all our
work at the hospital, if we didn't come out here early in the morning,
we'd never make it."

'How have you been feeling?" Dr Turner asked a few seconds later.  He
was holding a scanner in front of Eponine and data was already being
displayed on the portable computer monitor.

'A little tired,' Eponine said.  'But it could be just psychological.
Since you told me two months ago that my heart was beginning to show
some signs of degradation, I have imagined myself having a heart attack
at least once a day." During the examination Ellie operated the keyboard
77ke Garden of Rama that was attached to the monitor.  She made certain
that the most important information from the check-up was recorded in
the computer.  Eponine craned around to see the screen.  'How's the new
system working, Robert?" 'We've had several failures with the probes,'
he replied.  'Ed Stafford says that's to be expected because of our
inadequate testing ...  And we don't yet have a good data management
scheme, but on the whole we're very pleased." 'It's been a saviour,
Eponine,' Ellie said without glancing up from the keyboard.  'With our
limited funds, and all the wounded from the war, there would have been
no way we could have kept the RV-41 files current without this kind of
automation." 'I only wish we had been able to use more of Nicole s
expertise in the original design,' Robert Turner said.  'I hadn't
realised she was such an expert on internal monitoring systems." The
doctor saw something unusual in a graph that appeared on the screen.
'Print a copy of that, will you, darling?  I want to show it to EV 'Have
you heard anything new about your mother?" Eponine asked Ellie as the
examination neared its completion.

'We saw Katie two nights ago,' Ellie replied very slowly.  'It was a
difficult evening.  She had another 'deal" from Nakamura and Macmillan
she wanted to discuss ..." Her voice trailed off.  'Anyway, Katie says
that there will definitely be a trial before Settlement Day." 'Has she
seen Nicole?" 'No,' Ellie answered.  'As far as we know, nobody has. Her
food is brought in by a Garcia and her monthly check-ups are done by a
Tiasso." Baby Nicole stirred and whimpered on her mother's back. Eponine
reached down and touched the portion of the child's cheek that was
exposed to the air.  'They are so unbelievably soft,' she said.  At that
moment the little girl's eyes opened and she began to cry.

'Do I have time to nurse her, Robert?" Ellie asked.

Dr Turner glanced at at his watch.  'All right,' he said.

'We're basically finished here ...  Sin ce both Wilma Margolin and Bill
Tucker are in the next block, why don't I call on them by myself and
then come back?" 'You can handle them without me?" With difficulty,' he
said grimly.  'Especially poor Tucker." 'Bill Tucker is dying very
slowly,' Ellie said to O; Eponine in explanation.  'He's alone and in
great pain.

But since the government has now outlawed euthanasia, there's nothing we
can do." 'There's no indication of additional atrophy in your data,' Dr
Turner said to Eponine a few moments later.  41 7 guess we should be
thankful." She didn't hear him.  In her mind's eye Eponine was own slow
and painful death.

I will not let it she told herself.  Never.  As soon as I am I...  Max
will bring me a gun.

Robert,' she said.  'I must be sleepier than t did you say?" orse."
Robert gave Eponine a kiss on the rted for the door.  'I'll be back in
about s,' he said to Ellie.

svery tired,' Eponine said when he had e replied.  'He still works all
the time hen he's not working." Ellie was sitting on ith her back
against the wall of the hut.  died in her arms, suckling at her breasts
and cooing i: termittently.

'That loo' s like fun,' Eponine said.

w The Garden ofRama 'Nothing I have ever experienced is even remotely
similar.  The pleasure is indescribable." It's not for me, Eponine's
inner voice said.  Not now.  Not ever.  In a fleeting moment Eponine
recalled a night of passion when she almost hadn't said 'no' to Max
Puckett.  A deep feeling of bitterness welled up inside her.  She
struggled to fight it.

'I had a nice walk with Benjy yesterday,' she said, changing the
subject.

'I'm sure he'll tell me all about it this morning,' Ellie said.  'He
loves his Sunday walks with you.  It's all he has left, except for my
occasional visits ...  You know that I am very grateful." 'Forget it. I
like Benjy.  I also need to feel needed, if you know what I mean ...
Benjy has actually adjusted surprisingly well.  He doesn't complain as
much as the 41s, and certainly not as much as the people assigned here
to work at the gun factory." 'He hides his pain,' Ellie replied.
'Benjy's much smarter than anyone thinks ...  He really dislikes the
ward but knows that he can't take care of himself.  And he doesn't want
to be a burden to anybody .  .

Tears suddenly formed in Ellie's eyes and her body trembled slightly.
Baby Nicole stopped nursing and stared at her mother.  'Are you all
right?" Eponine asked.

Ellie shook her head affirmatively and wiped her eyes with the small
cotton cloth that she was holding next to her breasts to catch any
leakage.

Nicole resumed nursing.  'Suffering is difficult enough to watch,' Ellie
said.

'Unnecessary suffering tears your heart out." The guard looked carefully
at their identification papers and handed them to another uniformed man
sitting behind him at a computer console.  The second man in made an
entry into the computer and returned the docu ments to the guard.

'Why,' Ellie said, when they were out of earshot, 'does that man stare
at our photographs every single day?  He must have passed us through
this checkpoint personally a dozen times in the last month." They were
walking along the lane that led from the abitat exit to Positano.  'It's
his job,' Robert replied, hid 4 nd he likes to feel important.  If he
doesn't make a a ceremony out of it, each time, then we might forget the
power he has over us." 'The process was much smoother when the biots
were handling the entrance." 'The ones th at are still functioning are
too critical to fraid that the the war effort ...  Besides, Nakamura is
a ghost of Richard Wakefield will appear and somehow confound the
blots." They walked in silence for several seconds.  'You don't think my
father is still alive, do you, darling?" 'No, dear,' Robert answered
after a short hesitation.

He was surprised by the directness of the question.  'But I don't think
he's alive, I still hope that he even though is." Robert and Ellie
finally reached the outskirts of style, lined the positano.  A few new
houses, European in z lane that sloped gently down into the heart of the
village.

ZAR Ty the way, Ellie,' Robert said, 'talking about your father reminded
me of something I wanted to discuss with you ...  Do you remember that
project I was telling e one that Ed Stafford is doing?" you about, th
Ellie shook her head.

'He's trying to classify and categorise the entire N gs.  He thinks
Solony in terms of general genetic groupin that such classifications,
even though they are completely arbitrary, may contain clues about which
The Garden ofRama individuals are likely to have which diseases.  I
don't compl etely agree with his approach - it seems too forced and
numerical, rather than medical - but parallel studies have been done on
Earth and they showed that people with similar genes do indeed have
similar disease tendencies." Ellie stopped walking and looked at her
husband quizzically.  'Why did you want to discuss this with me?" Robert
laughed.  'Yes, yes,' he said.  'I'm coming to that ...  Anyway, Ed
defined a difference metric - a numerical method of measuring how
different any two individuals are, using the way in which t he four
basic ammo acids are chained in the genome - and then, as a test,
divided all the citizens of New Eden into groups.  Now the metric didn't
really mean anything 'Robert Turne r,' Ellie interrupted.  She was
laughing.  'Will you please get to the point?  What are you trying to
tell me?" 'Well, it's weird,' he said.  'We don't quite know what to
make of it.  When Ed made his first classification structure, two of the
people tested did not belong to any group.  By fiddling with the
definitions of the categories, he was eventually able to define a
quantitative spread that covered one of them.  But the ammo acid
chaining so different from every structure of the final person was other
person in New Eden that she couldn't be placed into any of the groups .
.

Ellie was staring at Robert as if he had lost his mind.

'The two individuals were your brother Benjy and you," Robert concluded
awkwardly.  'You were the one outside all the groupings." 'Should I be
worried about this?" Ellie said after they had walked another thirty
metres in silence.

'I don't think so,' Robert said casually.  'It's probably just an
artifice of the particular metric that Ed chose.  Or perhaps a mistake
was made ...  But it would be fascinating if somehow cosmic radiation
might have altered your genetic structure during your embryological
devel7 opment." By this time they had arrived at the main square of
Positano.  Ellie leaned over and kissed her husband.  'That was very
interesting, dear,' she said, teasing him a little, 'but I must admit
that I'm still not sure what it was all about." A large bicycle rack
occupied most of the square.  Two dozen rows and as many columns of
parking positions were spread out over the area in front of what had
been the train station.  All the colonists, with the exception of the
government leaders, who had electric cars, now used bicycles for
transportation.

The train service in New Eden had been discontinued soon after the war
began.  The trains had originally been constructed by the
extraterrestrials from very light and exc eptionally strong materials
that the human factories in the colony had never been able to duplicate.
These alloys were extremely valuable in many different militar y
functions.  By the middle stages of the war, therefore, the defence
agency had requisitioned all the cars in the train system.

Ellie and Robert rode their bicycles, side by side, along the banks of
Lake Shakespeare.  Little Nicole had awakened and was quietly watching
the landscape around her.  They passed the park, where the Settlement
Day picnic was always held, and turned towards the north.  'Robert,'
Ellie said very seriously, 'have you thought any more about our long
discussion last night?" 'About Nakamura and politics?" 'Yes,' she
answered.  'I still think we should both oppose his edict suspending
elections until after the war is over ...  You have a lot of stature in
the colony.  Most The Garden of Rwna of the health professionals will
follow your lead ...  Nai even thinks that the factory workers in Avalon
might strike." 'I can't do it,' Robert said after a long silence.

'Why not, darling?" Ellie asked.

'Because I don't think it will work ...  In your idealistic view of the
world, Ellie, people act out of commitment to principles or values. In
reality, they don'tF, behave that way at all.  If we were to oppose
Nakamura, the most likely result is that we would both be imprisoned.
What would happen then to our daughter?  InL addition, all the support
for the RV-41 work would be withdrawn, leaving those poor people in even
worse shape than they are.  The hospital would be more shorthanded ...
Many people would suffer because of our idealism.  As a doctor, I find
these possible consequences unacceptable." Ellie drove off the bicycle
path into a small park.

about five hundred metres from the first buildings o Central City. 'Why
are we stopping here?" Robert asked.

'They're expecting us at the hospital."i 'I want to take five minutes to
see the trees, smell the flowers, and hug Nicole." After Ellie
dismounted, Robert helped her disengage the baby carrier from her back.
Ellie then sat on the grass with Nicole in her lap.  Neither of the
adults said anything while they watched Nicole study the three blades of
grass that she had grabbed with her chubby hands.

At length Ellie spread out a blanket and laid her daughter gently upon
it.  She approached her husband and put her arms around his neck.  'I
love you, Robert, very, very much,' she said.  'But I must say that
sometimes I do not agree with you at all." The light from the solitary
window in the cell made a n the dirt wall opposite Nicole's bed.  The
bars pattern o on the window created a reflected square with a
tic-tactoe design, a near perfect three-by-three matrix.  The light in
her cell signalled to Nicole that it was time to rise.  She crossed the
room from the wooden bunk on which she had been sleeping and washed her
face in the basin.  She then took a deep breath and tried to summon her
strength for another day.

Nicole was fairly certain that her latest prison, where she had been for
about five months, was somewhere in the New Eden farming strip between
Hakone and San Miguel.  She had been blindfolded when they had moved her
the last time.  Nicole had quickly concluded, however, that she was in a
rural location.  Occasionally a strong smell of animals drifted into her
cell through the J -square window just below the ceiling.
fortycentimetre In addition, Nicole could see no reflected light of any
Eden.  kind outside the window when it was night in New These last
months have been the wors4 Nicole thought as she stood on her tiptoes to
push a few grams of flavoured rice through the window.  No conversation,
no reading, no exercise.  Two meals a day of rice and water The little
red squirrel who visited her each morning The Garden of Rama appeare d
outside.  Nicole could hear him.  She backed across the cell so she
could see him eating the rice.

'You are my only company, my handsome friend,' Nicole said out loud. The
squirrel stopped eating and listened, always alert for any possible
danger.  'And you have never understood a single word that I have said."
The squirrel didn't stay long.  When he had finished eating his ration
of rice, he departed, leaving Nicole alone.  For several minutes she
stared out the window where the squirrel had been, wondering what was
happening with her family.

Until six months earlier, when her trial for sedition had been
'indefinitely postponed' at the last minute, Nicole had been allowed one
visitor each week for one hour.  Even thought the conversations had been
chaperoned by a guard, and any discussion of politics or current events
had been strictly prohibited, she had eagerly awaited those weekly
sessions with Ellie or Patrick.  Usually it had been Ellie who had come.
From some very carefully worded statements by both her children, Nicole
had deduced that Patrick was involved in some kind of government work
and was only available at limited times.

Nicole had been first angry, and then depressed, when she had learned
that Benjy had been institutionalised and would not be permitted to see
her.  Ellie had tried to assure her mother that Benjy was all right,
considering the circumstances.  There had been very little discussion of
Katie.  Neither Patrick nor Ellie had known how to explain to Nicole
that their older sister had really shown no interest in visiting her
mother.

Ellie's pregnancy was always a safe topic of conversation during those
earlier visits.  Nicole was thrilled to touch her daughter's stomach, or
to talk about the special feelings of a mother-to-be.  If Ellie
mentioned V

how active the baby was, Nicole would share and compare her own
experiences ('When I was pregnant with Patrick,' Nicole said one time,
'I was never tired.

You, on the other hand, were a mother's nightmare always thrashing
around in the middle of the night when J ell, Nicole I wanted to
sleep'); if Ellie was not feeling w would prescribe foods or physical
activities that had helped her deal with the same conditions.

Ellie's last visit had been two months before the due date for the baby.

Nicole had been moved to her new cell the following week, and had not
talked to a human being since then.  The mute biots who attended Nicole
never y indication that they even heard her qu gave an estions.  Once,
in a fit of frustration, she had shouted at the Tiasso giving her the
weekly bath.  'Don't you understand?" she had said.  'My daughter was
supposed to have a baby, my grandchild, sometime last week.  I need to
know if they are all right." in her previous cells Nicole had always
been allowed to read.  New bookdiscs had been brought to her from the
library whenever she had asked, so the days between visits had passed
fairly quickly.  She had reread almost all her father's historical
novels, as well as some poetry, history, and a few of her more
interesting medical books.  Nicole had been especially fascinated by the
parall els between her life and the lives of her two childhood heroines,
Joan of Arc and Eleanor of Aquitaine.  Nicole buttressed her own
strength by noting that neither of the two other women allowed her basic
attitudes to change despite long and difficult periods in prison.

Right after she moved, when the Garcia who attended her in the new cell
did not return her electronic reader I a simple:; with her personal
effects, Nicole thought that mistake had been made.  However, after she
asked for the reader several times, and it still never appeared, she The
Garden ofRama realised that she was now being denied the privilege of
reading.

The time passed very slowly for Nicole in her new cell.  For several
hours each day she deliberately paced about, trying to keep her body and
mind active.

She attempted to organise these pacing sessions, steering them away from
thoughts about her family, which inevitably caused her feelings of
loneliness and depression to intensify, and towards more general
philosophical concepts or ideas.  Often at the conclusion of these
sessions she would focus on some past event in her life and try to
derive some new or meaningful insight from it.

During one such session Nicole remembered sharply a sequence of events
that had taken place when she was fifteen years old.  By that time she
and her father were already comfortably ensconced at Beauvois and Nicole
was performing brilliantly at school.  She decided to enter the national
competition to select three girls to play Joan of Arc in the set of
pageants that would commemorate the 750th anniversary of the maid's
martyrdom at Rouen.  Nicole threw herself into the contest with a
passion and single-mindedness that both thrilled and worried her father.
After Nicole won the regional contest at Tours, Pierre even stopped
working on his novels for six weeks to help his beloved daughter prepare
for the national finals at Rouen.

Nicole was placed first in both the athletic and intellectual components
of the contest.  She even scored very highly in the acting evaluations.
She and her father had been certain that she was going to be selected.
But when the winners were announced, Nicole had been a second runner-up.

Foryears, Nicole thought as she walked around her cell in New Eden, I
thought that I had fa'led.  What my J1111- father said about France not
being ready for a copper skinned Joan of Arc did not matter.  In my mind
I was a failure.  I was devastated.  My self-esteern did not really
recover until the Olympics, and then it was only a few days before Henry
knocked me down again.

The price was terrible, Nicole continued, I was ompLetely
self-absorbedforyears because of my lack ofselfesteem.  It was much
later before I was finally happy with myself And only then was I able to
give to others.  She moment in her thoughts.  Why is it that so paused
for a m many of us go through the same experience?  Why is youth so
selfish, and why must we first find ourselves to realise how much more
there is to life?

When the Garcia who always brought her meals included some fresh bread
and a few raw carrots with her dinner, Nicole suspects that there was
about to be a change in her regimen.

Two days later the Tiasso came into her cell with a hairbrush, makeup, a
mirror, and even some perfume.  Nicole toe took a long, luxurious bath
and freshened herself for the first time in months.  As the biot picked
up the wooden tub and prepared to leave, it handed her a note.  'You
will have a visitor tomorrow morning,' the note said.

Nicole could not sleep.  In the morning she chattered like a little girl
to her friend the squirrel, discussing both her hopes and her anxieties
about the coming rendezVous.  She fussed with her face and hair several
times before declaring both of them to be hopeless.  The time t by very
slowly.

ml well At long last, just before lunch, she heard human footn the
corridor towards her cell.  Nicole steps coming dow rushed forward,
expectantly.  'Katie,' she yelled when saw her daughter walking around
the final corner.

she 'Hello, Mother,' Katie said, unlocking the door and The Garden of
Rama entering the cell.  The two women hugged for many seconds.  Nicole
did not try to restrain the tears that were pouring from her eyes.

They sat on Nicole's bed, the only furniture in the cell, and talked
amiably for several minutes about the family.  Katie informed Nicole
that she had a new granddaughter ('Nicole des Jardins Turner,' she said,
'you should be very proud'), and then pulled out about twenty
photographs.  The pictures included recent snapshots of the baby with
her parents, Ellie and Benjy together in a park somewhere, Patrick in a
uniform, and even a couple of Katie in an evening dress.  Nicole studied
them, one by one, her eyes brimming,repeatedly.  'Oh, Katie,' she
exclaimed severa times.

When she was finished, Nicole thanked her daughter profusely for having
brought the photographs.  'You can have them, Mother,' Katie said,
standing up and walking over to the window.  She opened her purse and
pulled out cigarettes and a lighter.

'Darling,' Nicole said hesitantly, 'would you please not smoke in here?
The ventilation is terrible.  I would smell it for weeks." Katie stared
at her mother for a few seconds and then placed her cigarettes and
lighter back in her purse.  At that moment a pair of Garcias arrived
outside the cell with a table and two chairs.

'What's this?" Nicole asked.

Katie smiled.  'We're going to have lunch together,' she said.

'I've had something special prepared for the occasion - chicken in a
mushroom and wine sauce." The food, which smelled divine, was soon
carried into the cell by a third Garcia and placed on the covered table
beside the fine china and silver.  There was even a bottle of wine, and
two crystal glasses.

It was difficult for Nicole to remember her manners.

'4 IL 1hL ous, the mushrooms so tender, The chicken was so delici that
she ate her meal without talking.  Every so often, ould when she took a
swallow of the wine, Nicole w murmur 'Unim' or 'This is fantastic', but
she basically said nothing until her plate was completely clean.

ry light eater, nibbled at Katie, who had become a ve icole was her food
and watched her mother.  When N finished, Katie called in a Garcia to
take away the dishes and bring some coffee.  Nicole had not had a good
cup of coffee for almost two years.

'So, Katie,' Nicole said with a warm smile after thanking her for the
meal, 'how about you?  What are you doing with yourseIP' Katie laughed
coarsely.  'Same old shit,' she said.  'I'm "Director of Entertainment"
for the whole Vegas now resort ...  I book all the acts into the clubs
...  Business is great even though ..." Katie caught herself,
remembering that her mother knew nothing of the war in the second
habitat.

J* 'Have you found a man who can appreciate all your attributes?" Nicole
asked tactfully.

'Not one who will stay around." Katie was self- J conscious about her
answer and suddenly became Mother,' she said, leaning across the
agitated.  'Look, onie here to discuss my love life ...  I table.  'I
didn't c have a proposition for you, or rather, the family has a
proposition for you that we all support." Nicole looked at her daughter
with a puzzled frown.  She noticed for the first time that Katie had
aged considerably in the two years since she had last seen her.  'I
don't understand,' Nicole said.  'What kind of a proposition?" nt has
been 'Well,.  as you may know, the governme for some time.  They are
preparing its case against you now ready to go to trial.  The charge of
course is sedition, which carries a mandatory death penalty.  The
prosecutor has told us that the evidence against you is overwhelming,
and that you are certain to be convicted.

However, because of your past services to the colony, if you will plead
guilty to the lesser charge of "involuntary sedition", he will drop 'But
I am not guilty of anything,' Nicole said firmly.

'I know that, Mother,' Katie replied with a trace of impatience.  'But
we Ellie, Patrick, and I - all agree that there is a high likelihood
that you will be convicted.  The prosecutor has promised us that if you
will simply plead guilty to the reduced charge, you will be moved
immediately to nicer surroundings and allowed to visit with your family,
including your new granddaughter ...  He even hinted that he might
intercede with the authorities to allow Benjy to live with Robert and
Ellie Nicole was in turmoil.  'And all of you think that I should accept
this plea bargain and acknowledge my guilt, even though I have
steadfastly proclaimed my innocence since the moment I was arrested?"
Katie nodded.  'We don't want you to die,' she said.  'Especially for no
reason." 'For no reason,' Nicole's eyes suddenly flashed.  'You think I
would be dying for no reason!" She pushed away from the table, stood up,
and paced around the cell.  'I would be dying for Justice,' Nicole said,
more to herself than to Katie, 'in my mind at least, even if there is
not a single soul anywhere else in the universe who can understand it."
'But Mother,' Katie now interjected, 'what purpose would it serve?  Your
children and granddaughter would be deprived for ever of your company,
Benjy would remain in that foul institution ...

v e 'So now here's the deal,' Nicole interrupted, her oic rising, 'a
more insidious version of Faust's pact with the devil Abandon your
principles, Nicole, and acknowledge your guilt, even thought you have
not transgressed at all.  And do not sell your soul for mere personal
Earthly reward.  No, that would be too easy to reject ...  You are asked
to take the deal because your family will benefit ...  Can there be any
possible appeal to a mother that is more likely to sway her?" Nicole's
eyes were on fire.  Katie reached into her purse, pulled out a
cigarette, and lit it with a trembling hand.  'And who is it that comes
to me with such a proposition?" Nicole continued.  She was now shouting.
'Who brings me delicious food and wine and pictures of my family to
soften me up for the self-inflicted knife that will surely kill me with
much more pain than any electric chair?  Why, it is my own daughter, the
beloved issue of my womb." Nicole suddenly moved forward and grabbed
Katie.  'Do not play Judas for them, Katie,' Nicole said, shaking her
frightened daughter.  'You are so much better than that.  In time, if
they convict and execute me on these specious charges, you will
appreciate what I am doing." Katie freed herself from her mother's grasp
and staggered backwards.  She took a drag from her cigarette.  'This is
bullshit, Mother,' she said a moment later.  'Total bullshit ...  You're
just being your usual selfrighteous ...  Look, I came here to help you,
to offer you a chance to go on living.  Why can't you listen to someone
else just one time on your goddamn life?" Nicole stared at Katie for
several seconds.  Her voice was softer when she spoke again.  'I have
been listening to you, Katie, and I do not like what I have heard.  I
have also been watching you ...  I don't think for a moment that you
came here today to help me.  That would be completely inconsistent with
what I have seen of your AO character these last few years.  There must
be something in all this for you ...

'Nor do I believe that you in any way represent Ellie and Patrick. If
that were the case, they would have come with you.  I must confess that
for a while earlier I was confused and feeling that perhaps I was
causing too much pain for all my children ...  But in these last few
minutes I have seen what is going on here very clearly ...  Katie, my
dear Katie .  .

'Don't you touch me again,' Katie shouted as Nicole approached her.
Katie's eyes were full of tears.  'And spare me your self-righteous pity
The cell was momentarily quiet.  Katie finished her cigarette and tried
to compose herself.  'Look,' she said at length, 'I don't give a shit
what you feel about me, that's not important, but why, Mother, why can't
you think about Patrick and Ellie and even little Nicole?  Is being a
saint so important to you that they should suffer because of it?" 'In
time,' Nicole replied, 'they will understand." 'In time,' Katie said
angrily, 'you'll be dead.  In a very short time ...

Do you realise that the moment I walk out of here and tell Nakamura that
there's no deal, the date for your trial will be set?  And that you have
no chance at all, absolutely no fucking chance?" 'You cannot scare me,
Katie." 'I cannot scare you, I cannot touch you, I cannot even app eal
to your judgement.  Like all good saints, you listen to your own
voices." Katie took a deep breath.  'Then I guess this is it ...
Goodbye, Mother." Despite herself, fresh tears appeared in Katie's eyes.

Nicole wept openly.  'Goodbye, Katie,' she said.  'I love you."  A".

T Iq eil 'The defence may now make its closing statement." Nicole rose
from her chair and walked around the table.  She was surprised that she
was so tired.  The two J.

years in prison had definitely diminished her legendary stamina.

She slowly approached the jury of four men and two women.  The woman in
the front row, Karen Stolz, had been originally from Switzerland.

Nicole had known the woman fairly well when Mrs Stolz and her husband
had owned and operated the bakery around the corner from the Wakefield
home in Beauvois.

'Hello again, Karen,' Nicole said quietly, stopping directly in front of
the jurors.  They were sitting in two 1:, rows of three seats each. 'How
are John and Marie?  ...  They must be teenagers by now." Mrs Stolz
squirmed in her seat.  'They're fine, Nicole,' she replied very softly.

Nicole smiled.  'And do you still make those wonderful cinnamon rolls
every Sunday morning?"

F

The crack of the gavel resounded through the courtroom.  'Mrs
Wakefield,' judge Nakamura said, 'this is hardly the time for small
talk.

Your closing statement is limited to five minutes and the clock has
already btarted." Nicole ignored the judge.  She leaned across the f

barrier between her and the jury, her eyes focusing on a magnificent
necklace around Karen Stolz's neck.  'The jewels are beautiful,' she
said in a whisper.

'But they would have paid much, much more." Again the gavel cracked. Two
guards quickly ap proached Nicole, but she had already backed away from
Mrs Stolz.  'Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,' Nicole said, 'all this
week you have listened as the prosecution has repeatedly insisted that I
have incited istance to the legitimate government of New Eden For my
putative actions I have been charged with res sedition.  You must now
decide, on the basis of the evidence presented at this trial, if I am
guilty.  Please remember as you deliberate that sedition is a capital
offence - a guilty verdict carries with it a mandatory death penalty.

'In my closing statement, I would like to examine carefully the
structure of the prosecution's case.  The testimony on the first day,
all of which was totally irrelevant to the charges against me and, I
believe, was permitted by judge Nakamura in clear violation of the
colony codicils covering testimony in capital offence trials 'Mrs
Wakefield,' judge Nakamura angrily interrupted, 'as I have told you
before this week, I cannot tolerate such disrespectful comments in my
courtroom.

One more similar remark and I will not only cite you for contempt, I
will also terminate your closing statement altogether." 'That entire
day, the prosecution attempted to show that my sexual morality was
questionable, and that therefore I was somehow a likely candidate to
engage in political conspiracy.  Ladies and gentlemen, I would be happy
to discuss privately with you the unusual circumstances associated with
the conception of each of my six children.  However, my sex life, past,
present, or even 'I future, has no bearing whatsoever on this trial.
Except for its possible value as entertainment, that first day of
testimony was absolutely meaningless." here were a few titters in the
packed gallery but the guards quickly quieted the crowd.  'The
prosecution's next set of witnesses,' Nicole continued, 'spent many
hours implicating my husband for seditious activities.  I .  ...  .
.....

freely admit that I am married to Richard Wakefield.  But his guilt, or
lack of it for that matter, is not of any importance at this trial
either.  Only evidence which purports to show me guilty of sedition is
germane to your verdict here.

'The prosecution has suggested that my seditious acts originated with my
involvement in the video that eventually resulted in the establishment
of this colony.  I acknowledge that I did help prepare the video that
was transmitted from Rama to the Earth, but I categorically deny that I
either "conspired from the beginning with the aliens", or that I have in
any way schemed with the extraterrestrials who built this spaceship
against my fellow humans.

'I participated in the making of that video, as I indicated yesterday
when I allowed the prosecutor to crossexamine me, because I felt I had
no choice.  My family and I were at the mercy of an intelligence and
power far beyond anything any of us had ever imagined. There was a
significant concern that failure to accede to their request for help
with the video would have resulted in reprisals against us." Nicole
returned to the defence table briefly and drank some water.  She then
turned around to face the jury again.  'That leaves only two possible
sources for any real 4 evidence to convict me of sedition - my daughter
Katie's testimony and that strange audio recording, a disjointed
collection of comments that I made to other members of my family after I
was imprisoned, that you heard yesterday morning.

'You are all well aware how easily recordings like that can be twisted
and manipulated.  The two key audio technicians both admitted yesterday
on the witness stand that they had listened to hundreds of hours of
conversation between my children and me before coming up with that
thirty minutes of 'damaging evidence", no more than eighteen seconds of
which were taken from any single conversation.  To say that my comments
on that recording were presented out of context would be an
understatement.

'With respect to the testimony of my daughter Katie Wakefield, I can
only say, with great sorrow, that she lied repeatedly in her original
remarks.  I have not ever had any knowledge of my husband Richard's
supposedly illegal activities, and I have certainly never supported him
in them.

'You recall that under cross-examination by me, Katie became confused
about the facts and ultimately repudiated her earlier testimony before
collapsing on the witness stand.  The judge had advised you that my
daughter has recently been in fragile mental health, and that you should
ignore the comments she made under emotional duress during my
questioning.  I beseech you to remember every word that Katie said, not
only when the prosecutor was asking her questions, but also during the
time that I was trying to obtain the specific dates and places for the
seditious actions that she had ascribed to me." Nicole approached the
jurors one final time, carefully making eye contact with each of them.
'Ultimately, you must judge where the truth lies in this case.  I face
you now with a heavy heart, disbelieving even as I stand here the events
that have led to my being accused of these serious crimes.  I have
served both the colony and the human species well.  I am not guilty of
any of the charges against me.  Whatever power or intelligence exists in
this amazing universe will recognise that fact, regardless of the
outcome of this trial."

PW The outside light was fading quietly.  A contemplative Nicole leaned
against the wall in her cell, wondering if this would be the last night
of her life.  She shuddered involuntarily.  Since the verdict had been
announced, Nicole had gone to sleep each night expecting to die the next
day.

The Garcia brought her dinner soon after it was dark.  The food had been
much better the last few days.  As she slowly ate her grilled fish
Nicole reflected on the five years since she and her family had met that
first scouting party from the Pinta.  What went wrong here?  Nicole
asked herself.  W7iat were our fundamental mistakes?

She could hear Richard's voice in her head.  Always cynical and
distrustful of human behaviour, he had suggested at the end of the first
year that New Eden was too good for humanity.  'We'll eventually ruin it
as we have the Earth,' he had said.  'Our genetic baggage - the whole
bit, you know, territorialism and aggression and reptilian behaviour -
is too strong for education and enlightenment to overcome.  Look at
O'Toole's heroes, both of them, Jesus and that young Italian, St Michael
f Siena.  They were destroyed because they suggested chi that humans
should try to be more than clever inpanzees." But here in New Eden,
Nicole thought, there was so much opportunity for a better world.  the
basics of life were IL provided.  We were surrounded by unambiguous
evidence that there was intelligence in the universe far beyond ours.

Algeria That should have produced an environment in which ...

She finished her fish and pulled the small chocolate pudding over in
front of her.  Nicole smiled to herself, remembering how much Richard
had loved chocolate.  I have missed him very much, she thought.
Especially his conversation and his insight Nicole was startled to hear
footsteps coming towards her cell.  A deep chill of fear coursed through
her body.  Her visitors were two young men, each of them carrying a
lantern.  They were wearing the uniforms of Nakamura's special police.

The men came into the cell in a very businesslike manner.  They did not
introduce themselves.  The older one, probably in his mid-thirties,
quickly pulled out a document and began to read.  'Nicole des Jardins
Wakefield,' he said, 'you have been convicted of the crime of sedition
and will be executed at oh-eight hundred tomorrow morning.  Your
breakfast will be served at six thirty, yn minutes after first light,
and we will come to take you to the execution chamber at seven thirty.
You will be strapped into the electric chair at ohseven fifty-eight, and
current will be applied exactly two minutes later ...  Do you have any
questions?" Nicole's heart was beating so rapidly she could hardly
breathe.  She struggled to calm herself.  'Do you have any questions?"
the policeman repeated.

'What is your name, young man?" Nicole asked, her voice breaking.

'Franz,' the man answered after a puzzled hesitation.

'Franz what)' Nicole said.

'Franz Bauer,' he replied.

'Well, Franz Bauer,' Nicole said, trying to force a smile, 'can you
please tell me how long it will take me to die?  After you apply the
current, of course." 'I don't really know,' he said, somewhat flustered.

'You'll lose consciousness almost instantly, in just a couple of
seconds.  But I don't know how long .  .

'Thank you,' Nicole said, starting to feel faint.  'Could you go now,
please?

I would like to be alone." The two men opened the door to the cell. 'Oh,
by the way,' Nicole added, 'could you possibly leave a lantern? And
maybe a pen and paper, or even an electronic notebook?" Franz Bauer
shook his head.  'I'm sorry,' he said.  'We cannot Nicole waved him away
and crossed to the far side of her cell.  Two letters, she said to
herself, breathing slowly to gather strength.  I only wanted to write
two letters.  One to Katie and one to Richard.  I've made myfinalpeace
with everyone else.

After the policemen had departed, Nicole recalled the long hours that
she had spent in the pit in Rama II many years before, when she had
expected to die from starvation.  She had passed what she had then
thought were her last days reliving the happy moments of her life.
That's not necessary now, she thought.

There is no event from my past that has not been thoroughly scrutinised
already.

That's the benefit of two years in prison.

Nicole was surprised to discover that she was angry about not being able
to write the final two letters.  I'll bring the subject up again in the
morning.

They'll let me write the letters if I make enough noise.  Despite
herself, Nicole smiled.  'Do not go gently ..." she quoted out loud.

Suddenly she felt her pulse rate increase again.  In her mind's eye
Nicole saw an electric chair in a dark room.  She was sitting on it; a
strange helmet was wrapped aroun d her head.  The helmet began to glow
and Nicole saw herself slump forward.

Dear God, she thought, wherever and whatever you are, please give me
some courage now.  I am ver yftightened.

Owl Nicole sat down on her bed in the darkness of her room.  In a few
minutes she felt better, almost calm.  She found herself wondering what
the instant of death would be like.  Is It just like going to sleep, and
then there's nothing?

Or does something special happen at that very last momen4 something that
no living person can ever know?

There was a voice calling her from far away.  Nicole stirred but did not
wake up completely.  'Mrs Wakefield,' the voice called again.

Nicole sat up quickly in her bed, thinking it was morning.  She It a
surge o ar as her mind told her that she had only two more hours to
live.

'Mrs Wakefield,' the voice said, 'over here, outside your cell ...  It's
Amadou Diaba." Nicole rubbed her eyes and strained to see the figure in
the dark by the door.  'Who?" she said, slowly walking across the room.

'Amadou Diaba.  Two years ago you helped Dr Turner do my heart
transplant." 'What are you doing here, Amadou?  And how did you get
inside?" 'I came to bring you something.  I bribed everybody neces sary.
I had to see you." Even though the man was only five metres away from
her, Nicole could see only his vague outline in the darkness.  Her tired
eyes were playing tricks on her as well.  Once, when she tried
especially hard to focus, she momentarily thought her visitor was her
great-grandfather Omeh.  A sharp chill raced through her body.

'All right, Amadou,' Nicole said at length.  'What is it that you have
brought me?" 'I must explain it first,' he said.  'And even then it may
not make any sense ...  I don't understand it fully myself.  I just know
that I had to bring it to you tonight." He paused a moment.  When Nicole
did not say anything, Amadou told his story very rapidly.  'The day
after I was selected for Lowell Colony, while I was still in Lagos, I
received this strange message from my Senoufo grandmother, telling me
that it was very urgent that I come to see her.  I went at my first
opportunity, which was two weeks later, after I had received still
another message from my grandmother insisting that my visit was a matter
of "life and death".

'When I arrived at her village in the Ivory Coast, it was the middle of
the night.  My grandmother awakened and dressed immediately. Accompanied
by our village medicine man, we took a long trek across the savanna that
very night.  I was exhausted by the time we reached our destination, a
little village named Nidougou." 'Nidougou?" Nicole interrupted.

'That's right,' Amadou replied.  'Anyway, there was a strange, wizened
man there who must have been some kind of super shaman.  M grandmother
and our medicine man stayed in Nidougou while this man and I made the
strenuous climb up a nearby barren mountain to the side of a small lake.
We arrived just before sunrise.  "Look," the old man said when the first
rays of the sun hit the lake, 'look into the Lake of Wisdom.  What do
you see?"

'I told him I saw thirty or forty melon-like objects resting on the
bottom of one side of the lake.  'Good," he said with a smile, "you are
indeed the one."

'"I am the one what?" I asked.

'He never answered.  We walked around the lake, nearer to where the
melons had been submerged - we couldn't see them any longer as the sun
rose higher in the sky - and the super shaman pulled out a small vial.
He dipped it into the water, put a cap on it, and handed t it to me.  He
also gave me a small stone, which looked The Garden of Rama and was
shaped like the melon-like objects on the bottom ofthelake.

'"These are the most important gifts you Will ever receive,' he said.

'"Why?" I said.

'A few seconds later his eyes became completely white and he fell into a
trance, chanting in rhythmic Senoufo.  He danced for several minutes and
then suddenly jumped into the cold lake for a swim.

'"Wait a minute,' I shouted, "what shall I do with your gifts?" '"Take
them with you everywhere," he said.  "You will know the time to use
them."' Nicole thought that the beating of her heart was so loud that
even Aniadou could hear it.  She extended her arm through the bars of
her cell and touched his shoulder.  'And last night,' she said, 'a voice
in a dream, or maybe it wasn't a dream after all, told you to bring the
vial and the stone to me tonight." 'Exactly,' Amadou said.  He
paused.,'How did you know?" Nicole did not answer.  She could not speak.
Her entire body was trembling.

Moments later, when Nicole felt the two objects in her hand, her knees
were so weak that she thought she was going to fall.  She thanked
Ainadou twice and urged him to leave before he was discovered.

She walked slowly across the cell to her bed.  Can it be?  And how can
it be?

All this somehow known from the beginning?  Manna melons on the Earth?
Nicole's system was overloaded.  I have lost control she thought, and I
have not even drunkftom the vialyeL Just holding the vial and the stone
reminded Nicole vividly of the incredible vision she had experienced at
the bottom of the pit in Rama 11.

Nicole opened the vial.  She took two deep breaths and swallowed its
contents hurriedly.

At first she thought nothing was happening.  The blackness all around
her did not seem to change.  Then suddenly, a great orange ball formed
in the middle of the cell.  It exploded, spreading colour all across the
darkness.  A red ball followed, then a purple one.  While Nicole was
recoiling from the brilliance of the purple explosion, she heard a loud
laugh outside her window.

She glanced in that direction.  The cell disappeared.  J Nicole was
outside in a field.

It was dark but she could still see outlines of objects.  Off in the
distance Nicole heard the laugh again.  Amadou, she called in her mind.
Nicole raced across the field at blinding speed.  She was catching the
man.  As she drew closer, his face changed.  It was not Amadou at all,
it was Omeh.

He laughed again and Nicole stopped.  Ronata, he called.  His face was
growing.  Larger, ever larger, it was as big as a car, then as big as a
house.

His laughter was deafening.  Omeh's face was a huge balloon, rising
high, ever higher into the dark night.  He laughed once more and his
balloon face exploded, showering Nicole with water.

She was drenched.  She was submerged, swimming underneath the water.
When Nicole surfaced she was in the oasis pond in the Ivory Coast, where
as a sevenyearold girl she had confronted the lioness during the Po ro.
The same lioness was prowling the perimeter of the ond.

P Nicole was a little girl again.  She was very frightened.

I want my mother, Nicole thought.  Lay thee down now and res4 may thy
slumber be blessed, she sang.  Nicole started to walk out of the water.
The lioness did not bother her.  She glanced at the animal once more and
the face of the lioness had changed into the face of her mother.  Nicole
ran over to embrace her mother.  Instead, Nicole became the lioness
herself, prowling on the shore of the oasis in the middle of the African
savanna.

There were now six swimmers altogether in the pond, all children.  As
lioness Nicole continued to sing the Brahms Lullaby, one by one the
children emerged from the water.  Genevieve was first, then Simone,
Katie, Benjy, Patrick, and Ellie.  Each of them walked past her, heading
into the savanna.  Nicole raced after them.

She was running on an infield in a packed stadium.  Nicole was a human
again, young and athletic.  Her final jump was announced.  As she headed
for the top of the triple jump runway, a Japanese judge approached her.
It was Toshio Nakamura.  You are going to f=4 he said with a scowl.

Nicole thought she was flying as she sped down the approach.  She hit
the board perfectly, soared into the air on her hop, executed a balanced
skip, and powered far out into the pit with her jump.  She knew it had
been a good one.

Nicole bounded over to where she had left her warm-ups.  Her father and
Henry both came over to give her a hug.  Well done they said in unison.
Very well done.

Joan of Arc brought the gold medal to the victory stand and hung it
around Nicole's neck.  Eleanor of Aquitaine handed her a dozen roses.
Kenji Watanabe and judge Mishkin stood beside her and offered their
congratulations.  The announcer said that her jump was a new world
record.  The crowd was giving her a standing ovation.  Nicole looked out
at the sea of faces, and noticed that there weren't just humans in the
crowd.  The Eagle was there, in a special box, sitting beside an entire
section of octospiders.  Everyone was saluting her, even the avians and
the spherical creatures with the gossamer tentacles and the dozen caped
eels pressed  ak Z against the window of a gigantic enclosed bowl.
Nicole waved to them all.

Her arms changed to wings and she began to fly.  Nicole was a hawk
soaring high above the farming strip in New Eden.  She looked down on
the building where she had been imprisoned.  Nicole turned west and
found Max Puckett's farm.  Even thought it was the middle of the night,
Max was outside, working on what appeared to be an addition to one of
his barns.

Nicole continued to fly west, heading towards the bright lights of
Vegas.  She descended when she reached the complex, flying behind the
big night clubs, one by one.  Katie was sitting outside on some back
steps, all by herself She had her face buried in her hands and her body
was shaking.  Nicole tried to comfort her but theq only sound was a
hawk's cry in the night.  Katie lookedA up at the sky, puzzled.

She flew over to Positano, near the habitat exit, and waited for the
outside door to open.  Startling the guard,4 hawk Nicole departed from
New Eden.  She reached Avalon in less than a minute.  Robert, Ellie,
little Nicole, and even an orderly were all in the lounge with Benjy in
the ward.  Nicole had no idea why they were all awake in the middle of
the night.  She cried to them.  Benjy came over to the window and gazed
out into the darkness.

Nicole heard a voice calling her.  It was faint, far to the south. She
flew rapidly to the second habitat, entering through the gaping hole
that the humans had cut in the exterior wall.  After speeding through
the annulus and finding a portal, she soared over the green region in
the interior.  She could no longer hear the voice.  But Nicole could see
her son Patrick camped with other soldiers near the base of the brown
cylinder.

An avian with four cobalt rings met her in mid-air.

He's not here any more, it said.  T?y New York.  Nicole exited quickly
from the second module and returned to the Central Plain.  She heard the
voice again.  Up, up, she went, higher and higher.  Hawk Nicole could
barely breathe.

She flew south over the perimeter wall enclosing the Northern
Hemicylinder.

The Cylindrical Sea was below her.  The voice was now more distinct.  It
was Richard.  Her hawk heart was pounding furiously.

He was standing on the shore, in front of the skyscrapers, waving at
her.

Come to me, Nicole, his voice said.  She could see his eyes even in the
dark.

Nicole flew down and landed on Richard's shoulder.

There was blackness around her.  Nicole was back in her cell.  Was that
a bird she heard flying just outside her window?  Her heart was still
fluttering.

She walked across the small room.  Thank you, Amadoz4 she said.  Or
Omeh.

She smiled.  Or God Nicole stretched out on her bed.  A few seconds
later she was asleep.

CRADLE In a mind-blowing mix of scientific speculation and , 4i
Hispanic,, thriller, two seemingly unconnected events trigger off the
:,"A discovery of nothing less than the secret of humanity's existence
...

Written in conjunction with author and senior NASA scientist Gentry Lee,
CRADLE is Arthur C.

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