The way it came to again was eerie, frightening, like a timepiece clicking into motion on the hour. Li Yuan felt a small shiver of fear pass through him. Yes, he could see now what Kim meant. The thing was mad-totally, unequivocally mad.

"I can't remember. Something happened, but I can't remember. It's like a piece of cloth where the edge has frayed. I get so far and then there's nothing left."

It stared at Kim, mouth open in a perfect O of surprise.

"Okay, you'd better rest. If you dream the dream again, write it down. Or speak of it to the camera, before the edges fray."

It nodded, then, with a curious meekness, allowed itself to be tucked in beneath the thin white sheets. It lay there, passive, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Then, with a suddenness that was shocking, its eyelids clicked shut.

Outside again, Li Yuan stood at the view window looking in.

"What does it mean, all that?"

"The dream?" Kim scribbled something in a small notebook, then slipped it into the pocket of his one-piece. "It's the same every time, detail for detail. It's not really a dream-not as you and I have them- more a symbolic landscape of its self-consciousness ... a tacit recognition of its basic nonexistence. It knows, you see. Knows what it is and how it was made. It even knows what's wrong with it. The dreams . . . they're a kind of anxiety outlet. The only one it has. Without them it would cease to function."

"I see." Li Yuan shuddered, feeling a strange pity for the creature. He was silent for a time, then he sighed. "I hoped we'd be farther along.""We've come a long way."

"I know, it's just . . ."

"Time?"

Li Yuan nodded, then turned to face Kim. "Time. It's the curse of kings and emperors." He laughed wistfully. "When I was a child, I thought there was all the time in the world-that things would be the same forever. Time was like an old friend, unalterable, unending. But it isn't so. My father knew it. The day I was born, they say, he had a dream. A dream of the darkness to come."

Kim traced a circle on the one-way mirror. "You think collapse is inevitable, then?"

"Inevitable? No. But likely. More and more likely every day. Unless we take preventive action."

"And this?" Kim tapped the glass, indicating the sleeping android. "Do you really think this is any kind of solution?"

"You don't, I take it?"

Kim laughed. "You are the Pang, Chieh Hsia."

Li Yuan smiled. "So when will it be ready?"

"A year. Six months if we're really lucky."

"Lucky?" Li Yuan raised an eyebrow. "I thought your science was a precise thing."

"Oh, no, Chieh Hsia. Far from it. Luck plays a huge part in things. But the problems we've been having with the prototypes have stemmed mainly from the pace of development. We've come from nothing to this in less than three years. That's fast. Too fast, perhaps. If we were dealing with a single homogenous biosystem, it would be relatively straightforward-we could locate any errors as and when they occurred-but we're not: we're dealing with a dozen, fifteen different biosystems at any one time, and those systems aren't discrete, they're dependent on each other. One goes wrong, the whole lot goes wrong. And the trouble is, the systems have had no time to evolve properly-to grow together. We've had to rely on guesswork most of the time, and our guesses have sometimes been wrong. But why something doesn't work-whether it's this system we've got wrong or that- well, it's difficult to say."

Li Yuan raised a hand. "I understand. But a year ... a year should do it, right?"

Kim nodded.

"Good. Then it's time, perhaps, to make the thing specific."

"Specific?"

"Facial details, build, height and weight. That kind of thing."

"Ah . . ." Kim digested that a moment, then looked back at his T'ang. "Who is it?"

"I think it's best you don't know."

"Who is it?" Kim insisted. "I have to know."

Li Yuan stared at him, surprised, reminded briefly of Ben, then took the envelope from within his silksand offered it to Kim.

"He's a killer. A man named Soucek. But that information is classified, all right? Four men died getting those details."

Kim studied the sheaf of paper a moment longer, then nodded. "I understand. But why him?"

"He works for Li Min. He is his right-hand man. He has access to him."

"Ah ..." A shadow passed over Kim's face.

"You want to pull out?"

Kim shook his head. "I didn't say that. But I needed to know."

"A year? At the very most?"

Kim nodded.

"Then let us pray we have a year, neh, my Clayborn friend? Let us pray to all the gods we know that time, this once, does not outrun us."

SOUCEK SAT IN a chair to one side of the Magistrate's desk, his legs crossed casually, his long, pockmarked face inexpressive. Two guards stood at his back-big, brutal-faced thugs, heavy automatics held across their chest. Behind the desk, Old Yang, the Magistrate, cleared his throat, then tugged nervously at his wispy beard.

The hall was packed. People stood at the back and along the side walls or crouched in the aisles, talking and fanning themselves indolently. There were over two dozen cases to be heard this session and this was only the third of them. Already they had seen two deaths and there was a mounting excitement now that this case, too, was coming to a head.

From where she stood against the back wall, Emily looked on apprehensively. How many times had she seen this in these last two years? How many times had she had to stand and watch this dumb show of justice? Far too often, she thought, her fingers tracing the shape of the gun beneath her jacket. But today . . . today would be different.

The accused-a young Han male of seventeen years-stood in the blood-spattered space in front of the dais, his hands bound behind his back, his head bowed. His scalp had been crudely shaved and was flecked with cuts. A leather thong had been tied around his head, over his mouth, holding down his tongue and keeping him from speaking. Two bare-chested tong members stood behind him, butchers'

cleavers in their belts, ceremonial black sashes about their brows. The arresting tong officer's testimony had been read, the security camera evidence shown. All that remained was for the Magistrate to pronounce sentence.

The evidence seemed conclusive. They had a Security film of the boy-a non-tong member-purchasing a knife from an unidentified criminal, and the sworn statements of "friends" that he had been boasting about what he was going to do with it. The matter appeared clear cut. He had committed a crime for which the penalty was death. But the evidence was fake, the boy innocent.

She had seen the parents yesterday and listened to their story, then had checked out the details for herself. The father was a local market trader and the couple had three children: two boys and a girl. A week back he had had an argument with one of the local tong officials- what it was about she hadn't managed to get from him, but it had to do with their fourteen-year-old daughter. The two men hadexchanged sharp words. The old man had thought that that was it, but the official had not let the matter rest. He had bought evidence-faked film, the "word" of several worthless youths-and had had his cousin, the officer responsible for Security in these stacks, arrest the boy.

The circumstances were not unusual. She had evidence now on more than eighty such cases and knew that these represented only a small part of what was going on throughout the Lowers. For two years now the White T'ang had run the tribunals down here, imposing his "Code of Iron" on these levels. But what had at first seemed like justice had quickly revealed itself as just another means for tong members to lord it over the common citizens. It was a stinking, corrupt system, administered by bullies, cheats, and murderers.

Like this case here. She sighed, her anger mixed with pain. This wasn't justice, this was arranged murder, with the victim denied even the right to speak for himself. And Soucek . . . Soucek was the architect of it all, the administrator and chief executioner. It was he who let the sewers run with filth.

But today . . . today she would strike a blow for all those who had suffered under him.

As the Magistrate began to pronounce sentence, those who were crouching stood, craning their necks to see, an electric current of anticipation running through the crowded hall. Emily stood on her toes, noting where the guards were standing, then began to move through the press of bodies, making her way toward the front.

Old Yang was shouting now, berating the youth in a shrill, ugly voice, calling him the vilest of names and insulting his family. Then it was done, the sentence pronounced. There was a murmur of anticipation.

Emily slowed, looking about her. She was still some way from the front. She would need to get nearer.

At a signal from Soucek one of the tong members behind the youth stepped up and kicked the youth hard just behind his left knee. With a groan the boy went down. As he got up onto his knees, the arresting officer came across and, drawing his gun, cocked it and placed it against his head.

The hall was silent now, a tension in the air like that before a thunderstorm. She edged forward.

The shot was like a release. Heads jerked, mouths opened. A great sigh ran round the hall. It was done.

The White T'ang's word meant something. But for Emily there was only anger. Her hand covered her gun. She was only five orsix from the front now. She could see Soucek clearly; see how calm-how hideously calm-j-he was as he turned to speak to one of the guards.

There was a wailing to her right. His mother, she thought, slipping her hand inside her jacket pocket and cocking the gun. Then, shockingly, there was a gunshot.

She turned her head, anxious, trying to see where it had come from. A small cloud of smoke was rising from the crowd to her right. As she saw it, another shot rang out. There was screaming, the beginnings of panic. Tong guards were converging from all sides. For a moment she didn't understand, then, as the crowd parted, she saw. It was the youth's father. He was standing there, his face distraught, holding a gun out at arm's length. She saw his hand tremble as he tried to fire again, and then one of the big automatics opened up and he jerked back, bullets ripping into him, the gun falling from his hand.

As if at a signal everyone got down. She did the same. But as she did she saw, up on the dais, one of the guards crouched over Soucek.

He's hit! she thought, exultant. The old man got the bastard!

Yet even as half a dozen tong thugs scrambled up onto the dais to surround him, she saw Soucek get upand, shrugging off the guard's hand, push past the men and vanish through the door at the far end.

She looked down, disappointed. Soucek was bleeding. From the look of it one of the old man's shots had hit his right shoulder and broken the collarbone. But he had survived. She would have to wait for another opportunity to get to him.

Yes, but it wouldn't be so easy next time. After today they'd be sure to take greater precautions.

She got up, sighing heavily. Old Yang was slumped in his seat, dead. All about her people were moaning and whimpering. To her right it was a scene of utter chaos. Chairs were scattered everywhere. A dozen or more people were down, dead or wounded.

As the guards began to clear the hall, she let herself be herded with the rest, letting the gun slip down her leg onto the floor, then peeled the flesh-thin gloves from her hands and dropped them casually.

There'll be another time, she promised herself. The bastard can't always be so lucky. Yet she felt sick at heart and bitter . . . and angry. More angry than she'd ever felt before.

KIM STOOD BEFORE the mirror in his room, adjusting his silks. He was due at the Hive in an hour, but still he hadn't made up his mind whether to sign again or not.

"Well?" he asked, addressing the air. "What did you see?"

"He hates you."

Kim turned, startled by the words. "Hates me? Li Yuan?"

"No. Tolonen. He wishes you dead. There's such anger in him."

Kim let out a breath. "I hoped things might have changed. I hoped-"

"She's with the boy," it said, anticipating his next question.

"The boy?"

"Pauli. Her father's ward. He can't sleep and she's gone to his room to comfort him."

"Ah . . ." Kim grimaced at his reflection then turned away. "And Reiss?"

The machine was silent a moment, then, rather than answering his question, it did something it had never done before and offered him advice.

"You should go and see her."

"See her?" Kim laughed uncomfortably. "Why should I do that?"

"Because you ought."

Kim turned, looking up into the camera eye. "It's unlike you to be so vague."

It was silent.

"Okay," Kim said, faintly disturbed. "I'll think about it."

"And you should buy yourself a Mansion."Kim looked up again. "A Mansion? Are you all right?"

The Machine's voice was hesitant. "You don't see things. The obvious things. Your vision . . . it's so narrow."

Kim laughed, astonished.

"Maybe you should talk to Reiss about it. Insist on it as a term in whatever deal you make with him. You need a home, Kim-somewhere to build from. This . . . this is no good for you."

Kim stood there a moment, staring into the camera, then, with an impatient, dismissive gesture, he left the room.

"It makes sense," the Machine said, its voice following Kim down the corridor. "If you were to have children-"

Kim stopped and turned, angry now. "Matters logical, they're your province. As for matters of the heart . . . well, what would you know of those?"

He waited, expecting an answer, but the Machine was silent. Kim 11 walked on, troubled, thinking about what it had said.

"Kim ... so there you are!"

Reiss got up and came out to greet Ward as he approached the table. The Hive was packed, as it always was this time of evening, but Reiss had paid to have the four tables surrounding his kept clear. He embraced Kim, then turned, introducing his companion.

"Kim, this is jack Neville. Jack . . . this is Kim Ward."

"Pleased to meet you," Neville said, stepping round Reiss to offer his hand. He was a slender, brown-haired man in his early thirties with a plump, almost boyish face.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Kim said, taking a seat across from them. "There was something I had to do."

Reiss smiled. "No matter. I understand things went well after I'd gone."

Kim smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry about that. I know what you said about the second prototype, but I was sure Li Yuan would see it our way once things were explained."

Reiss took the menu the Head Steward was offering, then smiled back at Kim. "And you were right. Nan Ho was on to me only an hour back. It seems Li Yuan has decided to extend the program for a further year."

"Excellent!" Then, understanding why Reiss was not quite so enthusiastic, Kim gave a soft laugh. "We'd best resolve this, neh? As it is . . . well, I'm finding it hard to work."