The day the skyship came, Atlanta gave little boy Loki a skyship of his own. She didn't usually play mother — after all, what are servants for? — but on this special occasion she made an exception.
         Atlanta was tall and silverskinned, her slender body graced with pride and strength, still young at the age of thirty. For a couple of years after the death of her boyfriend Yulius, she had kept her hair chopped short, but in the past year she had grown it long. Today, her long white hair flowed free and regal to her shoulders. She had shed her customary uniform of legal grey in favour of a gown of blue-green silk, and she wore a blue-green ribbon at her throat. The understated silk, its subtle patterns reminiscent of sea and sky, set off the stunning brilliance of her blue-blue eyes.
         In her scornful pride, Atlanta was beautiful, but Heineman had no eyes at all for his sister's beauty. His attention was all on Loki's skyship.
        "You gave him one of those?" said Heineman, eying the thing covetously. "The way you were talking, I thought that'd be the last thing you'd do!"
        "You're just jealous," said Atlanta.
        "Jealous!" said Heineman.
         Heineman Yakaskam was a scion of the Family Jubiladilia, a senator of Islam Demaxus and a candidate for the forthcoming elections for the presidency of the Federated States of Chalakanesia. It was inconceivable that he should be jealous of a child's toy.
        "You know," said Atlanta, "I think you really are jealous!"
         That was so close to the truth that it hurt.
         At the meager age of twenty-eight, the dignity which Heineman so desperately wished to possess did not come naturally to him. He had to work at it. But, try as he might, it was hard to maintain his dignity in the face of assaults by Atlanta, who was older, taller, stronger and fiercer, and who steadfastly maintained that she could remember changing his nappies, allegedly when she had been four years of age and he but two.
        "I must admit," said Heineman, conceiving and conceding a small fraction of the inconceivable, "it's the most marvelous toy. So. You bought it for him. I take it this means you admit the attractions."
        "The attractions?" said Atlanta. "Heineman, it's just a toy! I bought it for him, not me."
        "But you admit that it's progress," said Heineman. "The skyship, I mean."
        "Oh, Heineman!" said Atlanta, with a laugh which was half scorn and half grin. "Not a political speech, please! Can't you save it for the senate? Progress! How romantic!"
        "It's a fact," said Heineman, sounding hurt because he was hurt, because his belief in the shining grandeur of progress had all the fervor of religious faith. "This isn't politics, it's truth. Progress is a statistically proven fact. You can measure it. The reality of progress. You can't deny it. Skyships, and, and — "
        "Fryguns," said Atlanta.
        "All right, fryguns, but still — you chose the toy!"
        "It's his third," said Atlanta. "His Full Third."
        "Is it?" said Heineman.
        "You should know," said Atlanta. "You're his uncle."
        "I don't think being his uncle gives me any special responsibilities," said Heineman huffily.
        "Oh no," said Atlanta. "Oh no, you wouldn't."
         That was how the day began, the day the skyship came. Little boy Loki went to the beach early that day, taking along his skyship and the toy shark Igi-Igi. Though the skyship was an expensive present, it had been poorly chosen, for it was much too elaborate for him to be able to properly appreciate, and he soon abandoned it in favour of shark and seashells.
         By noon, Loki's uncle Heineman had appropriated the skyship, and was using it to demonstrate the wonders of progress to everyone who would listen. It really was a most marvelous device, for it came apart to show the interior, plush in its elegant luxury, complete with staterooms for the rich and, built high above the observation deck, a special bar exclusively for first-class passengers.
         Heineman was still at it when lunchtime came.
        "In ships like this," said Heineman, "we'll be able to fly all the way to Cherwin Skam in less than a day."
         He demonstrated, sending the ship in a smooth arc through the compliant air.
        "Heineman," said Olabadilia. "Not at the dinner table. Please."
         In response to his mother's command, Heineman put the skyship down on the table. From the far end of the table, Loki eyed the skyship phlegmatically, chewing on a tough and fibrous mollusc which he had found in his seaweed soup.
        "If you're finished with that thing," said Atlanta, "how about giving it back to Loki? It is his present, you know."
        "It's too old for him, Atlanta," said Olabadilia.
        "Mother," said Atlanta. "He's my child."
        "You wouldn't know it," said Olabadilia, "not from the amount of time you spend with him."
        "At least I breast-fed him," said Atlanta. "That's more than you did for me."
        "Can we have less of these gynecological mysteries at the dinner table?" said Kansko Chansko.
        "Gynecological mysteries!" said Atlanta, turning on her father. "You wouldn't know a gynecological mystery if it jumped up and bit you on the nose!"
        "Atlanta," said Kansko Chansko, "I'm your father."
        "So I'm told," said Atlanta. "But the more I think about it, the more I'm inclined to think that mother here was parthenogenetically prodigal."
        "I can't stand this," said Heineman.
         And got up, taking the skyship with him.
        "Heineman!" said Atlanta. "That's Loki's!"
        "So sue me," said Heineman, converting one of Atlanta's favorite phrases to his own use.
        "Couldn't we just have a nice quiet meal sometime, with nobody arguing?" said Olabadilia.
        "Do what I do," said Dug Mantis. "Wear ear plugs."
         By early afternoon, people were starting to gather at various places on the Mexicus Hojo to observe the arrival of the skyship.
         Old man Zinjanthrop had cunningly caused the entire exterior of the House Jubiladilia to be rigged with scaffolding, which went up and up and up to a viewing deck which teetered in space a full storey above the roof. Furthermore, being ancient enough to appreciate the infirmity of others, Zinjanthrop had made his carpenters set up a kind of glorified windowcleaning hoist to take people to the heights, and had hired so many Gan musclemen out of Westport that he had enough rope-pulling power on hand to keep this improvised lift going up and down all day. It went up and down very slowly, but it went.
         Thanks Zinjanthrop's foresight, the members of his Family and their selected guests had a perfect full-circle view without having to go elbow to elbow with the hoi polloi at popular viewing points like the seafront at Ezakinfin.
         From up on Zinjanthrop's viewing deck, you could see the full length of the narrow peninsular known as the Mexicus Hojo, bright in the sunlight of a perfect day. Knots of people were moving on foot down Qin Sistock Maruka, the road of white crushed coral which ran down the spine of the peninsular to Ezakinfin, the fisherman's harbor at the peninsular's southern end.
         The House Jubiladilia was about halfway along the Mexicus Hojo, on the eastern side of Qin Sistock Maruka. That meant that it was well removed from the waters of Ezakinfin, which was where the skyship was scheduled to actually touch down. However, Zinjanthrop had laid on a number of praus. They were drawn up right now on Eastbeach. In the evening, the Family Jubiladilia and its selected guests would take to those praus and cruise in style to Ezakinfin, to inspect the skyship at their leisure.
         That afternoon, there was a light surf breaking on the bright white pearlsands of Eastbeach. Heineman hoped it would die away before evening, for, like Zinjanthrop, he wanted perfect weather for the Family's guests, so the skyship's arrival would be remembered as a social triumph for the Jubiladilias. These things were important if you were in politics — and, since Heineman was a candidate in the forthcoming presidential elections, his Family was in politics with a vengeance. So he hoped for good weather for the evening.
         As it was, however, Zinjanthrop's magnificent viewing deck meant that a good many people were going to remember the munificence of the Jubiladilias forever, regardless of any grace or disaster which attended the evening's boating trip.
         That afternoon, Heineman spent most of his time parading along Zinjanthrop's soaring viewing deck. As it grew later and later, some people began wondering if the skyship would be coming at all, but Heineman was far too busy for any such worries. He still had Loki's toy skyship, and was demonstrating and explicating tirelessly. Atlanta had never known him so genuinely enthusiastic about anything.
        " — all the way to Cherwin Skam in less than a day," said Heineman, speaking to Senator X'm X, who must have known all about it anyway, assuming he'd attended the senate briefings given by La Lantis.
        "Heineman," said Atlanta, who had come to the heights so she could peer down into neighboring gardens, "that's wildly impossible. The thing might get ditched down as it is, they can hardly handle the metapsychic effects as it is. You know it's much, much worse in Cherwin Skam, they couldn't fly the thing anywhere near there."
         Atlanta had a point. The scientists of the Conference had allegedly cracked the problem of building a power supply which could shield itself from Chalakanesia's metapsychic faultline while simultaneously providing lift sufficient to keep a skyship in the air, but proof of this would have to await the successful arrival of the skyship itself.
         And even if the skyship did make it to Lexis without breaking up, what would that prove? Here in Lexis, at the southern end of the island of Islam Demaxus, Chalakanesia's metapsychic field was at its weakest and narrowest. Further north, the metapsychic faultline was wider, thicker, stronger, its interactions with human minds and energy-transmitting devices getting ever more potent as one moved in the direction of Cherwin Skam. So a skyship which managed to make it as far as Lexis might well be destroyed if it headed north. And, besides, as everyone knew, field strength fluctuated erratically, and a really strong spike could knock out even the best-shielded of devices — even here in Lexis itself.
        "You know, Heineman," said Atlanta, when her brother failed to rise to the bait, "even if your precious skyship gets here in one piece, one good spike could crack it like an egg."
        "We never get spikes down here," said Heineman. "Not big ones. Or hardly ever."
        "But you were talking about flying the thing to Cherwin Skam," said Atlanta. "They get spikes there all the time. Really big ones."
        "I'm talking about the future," said Heineman, "when these things get fixed."
         That was what was so attractive about the notion of progress. One day — not tomorrow, perhaps, but someday surely — all problems would be resolved.
        "Oh, Heineman!" said Atlanta. "You're such a fool."
        "If so," said Heineman, "then I'm in good company. Mark my words. This day will go down in history."
        "Of course it will," said Atlanta. "It's Loki's Full Third."
         And so it was.
         It was the last day of Alsh Gravis, the Month of Marriage, the ninth month of Chalakanesia's thirteen-month year. It was Hog 550, which is the year Belta 2365 by our calendar, and little boy Loki was a full three years old, and hence was celebrating his Full Third. The good thing about being a child in Chalakanesia is that you get to celebrate two birthdays every year: the actual anniversary of your birth, plus the communal birthday which everyone celebrates in the month of Zavrakeltic.
         But nobody outside the Family Jubiladilia was taking any notice whatsoever of Loki's Full Third. The talk was all of the imminent arrival of the skyship, and by late afternoon the entire length of Westbeach was lined with people scanning the horizon, and the crowd of people heading down Qin Sistock Maruka toward Ezakinfin had thickened to a veritable parade. Some interlopers tried to make it into the grounds of the House Jubiladilia to win access to Zinjanthrop's much-envied viewing stand. A few succeeded: there was muscle sufficient to repulse all comers, but Dug Mantis had been left in charge of the muscle, and was less than ruthless in exercising the right of repulse.
        "I've never seen so many people," said Belinda Skin Damsup Del Dorn, on her arrival on the Jubiladilia viewing stand. "Where do they all come from? My, aren't we high! Is this thing safe?"
        "They've come from all over," said Heineman,ignoring the query on safety. "This has really put Lexis on the map!"
        "Well, I hope everyone gets what they came for," said the lady Del Dorn, shading her eyes as she tried to look to the west. It was difficult, because the Western Ocean, the Ocean of Solasalassa, was well on the way to becoming a sea of burning sun. "The sun's a bit low. If the ship doesn't get here soon, it'll be just about night."
        "It's a bit of a problem," conceded Heineman, realizing that if the ship was much more delayed then it would be flying straight out of the setting sun, "but I think there's still every chance of everyone getting a good view."
         Still, it was a worry. If the ship failed to arrive by nightfall, it would be the most dreadful disappointment. Lexis would never live it down.
         Over the last few months, people had been arriving in the city of Lexis from all over Chalakanesia, some coming by sailing ship from as far away as Midas Makorum and Cherwin Skam. Most of these travelers put themselves down as pilgrims, alleging that they had come to Islam Demaxus to pay homage to the ancestors at the famous mirarilusistans of Lexis. But nobody was much fooled by that. On the island of Islam Demaxus itself, everyone who could travel had come south to Lexis, drawn by the same lure: the fabulous skyship and the promise of progress.
        "Oh!" said the lady Del Dorn, gasping with fear and excitement as the scaffolding trembled.
        "It's perfectly safe," said Heineman.
        "Is it?" said Atlanta, frowning, and looking down. "I think we're getting far too many people on this thing. That's Dug's fault, most of these people shouldn't even be here."
        "Atlanta's a pessimist," said Heineman. "She doesn't believe in progress. But she'll see."
        "Atlanta's a realist," said Atlanta, "and she's giving serious thought to getting down from here before the whole thing collapses. As for progress — if progress is such a big deal, then how come they have slums in Barth Banchup Bakchakris?"
         A good question, since Barth Banchup Bakchakris was the home port of the Zuzu Magore, the much-anticipated skyship.
        "What would you know about Barth Bakchis?" said Heineman, abbreviating the city's name in that faddish manner which outsiders think sophisticated, but which the city's true inhabitants consistently deplore. "You've never been out of Chalakanesia in your whole life."
        "Neither have you," said Atlanta. "As it happens, Yulius used to tell me about Barth Banchup all the time. He was born there, and he told me plenty. They have street gangs, little kids with no parents, then shopkeepers get upset, and shoot them because they're a nuisance."
        "Speaking of children," said Olabadilia, joining them on the viewing deck, "where's Loki? Hello, Belinda! How nice to see you here. Isn't it crowded?"
        "It's getting crowded because there are too many people up here," said Atlanta. "I think I'd better go have a word with Dug."
        "Dug?" said Olabadilia. "What's he got to do with it?"
        "He's in charge of security! This is his fault!"
        "Oh, Atlanta," said Olabadilia. "You're so — so — "
        "Censorious," said Heineman. "Censorious, pessimistic, and utterly opposed to progress. Parochial Chalakanesia made flesh."
        "Thank you, Heineman," said Atlanta heavily. "The perfect politician. You've just won my vote, that's for sure."
        "Yes, Heineman," said Olabadilia. "You shouldn't speak to your sister like that. And, speaking of votes, why aren't you wearing your suit? You don't look much like a senator, not dressed like that. You look more like one of those street beggars."
         Heineman was wearing bright red open-weave plastic reef sandals, loose-fitting white cotton trousers, and a matching jungle shirt from Midas Makorum, which was designed to hang freely rather than being tucked in. It was a very comfortable outfit, but it had to be admitted that it lacked something in senatorial dignity.
        "Zinjanthrop specified informal dress," said Heineman carefully.
        "Zinjanthrop!" said Atlanta scornfully. "Don't you ever have any original thoughts of your own?"
        "Speaking of thinking," said Olabadilia, "where is Loki? I asked you that before, Atlanta."
        "He got overtired," said Atlanta, "so I gave him to Baz."
        "But he should be here," said Heineman. "He'll regret it, later, if he isn't."
        "Oh, Heineman!" said Atlanta. "What do you remember from when your were three years old?"
        "I remember the rickshaw burning," said Heineman.
        "That was when you were six," said Olabadilia.
        "Six?" said Heineman.
         Then said no more, for the lady Del Dorn grabbed his arm, and pointed, and a great shout went up from all the people on the Mexicus Hojo.
        "The ship!" said Heineman. "The ship!"
         As the shouting continued, a free-floating head and its associated hands came soaring up to the heights. The hands were gripping a leather harness. Suspended in that harness was little boy Loki, who was fiercely clutching the toy shark Igi-Igi, and who was screaming ecstatically.
        "Loki!" cried Olabadilia, grabbing her daughter Atlanta. "It's Baz, she'll get him killed!"
        "I'm sure it's perfectly safe," said Atlanta.
        "But she'll drop him!"
        "He can't be heavier than one of those sacks of flour she humps around," said Atlanta. "Besides, you said he should be here to see this."
         Loki was now hanging out of reach above their heads, kicking and waving. As if jealous of his prodigious view, a sudden rush of people tried to clamber to the heights of Zinjanthrop's viewing stand, and the scaffolding shook beneath their weight.
         Down in the garden, Dug Mantis had suddenly realized the danger. The whole creaking structure of planks and bamboo was not far from collapse. A little more stress, and the whole thing might come crashing down in a heap of screams and splinters. Dug was shouting furiously for people to get down. But nobody paid him any attention whatsoever. Everyone was exhilarated, intoxicated, fascinated by the sight of the ship from Barth Banchup Bakchakris.
         At first it was small, scarcely a blip in the distance, hard to see against the blaze of the setting sun. However, as it came sliding in from the west, the ship rapidly gained in apparent size. And soon it was huge: a huge glistening white saucer gliding through the heights above the sea.
         A saucer?
         That was what it looked like at first blush, from a distance, though closer inspection showed that it looked more like three quoits sitting on top of each other.
         The ship was the Zuzu Magore. It had a crew of seventy-nine, and carried a goodwill cargo of food-gifts and medical supplies. If it succeeded in touching down as scheduled in the sheltered waters of Ezakinfin, then the metapsychic faultline would have been defeated by technology, and a new age would have begun.
         In such a new age, ships of sail would be a thing of the past, at least if Heineman's vision of progress was to be believed. The skyships which plied the skies above the Gulf of Heaven and the Chasms of Hell would run routinely to the islands of Chalakanesia, previously interdicted by the metapsychic faultline, perverter of probabilities, destroyer of machines, manipulator of dreams.
         As La Lantis had been at pains to explain, the new era would be all gain and no loss, and Heineman for one believed them. In senate debates, Heineman had followed the line taken by La Lantis, saying that skyships would bring tourists in bulk, and wealth, speeding imports and exports, with ease of transport increasing Chalakanesia's exports dramatically.
         Cynics said that there was not much which Chalakanesia could hope to export to the high-technology civilizations of the Conference, the civilizations of Heaven and Hell. There was xzinither, of course, but the supply of that was strictly limited, and exports were already running at close to the maximum. Still, even cynics admitted that there was (potentially, at least) big money in tourism.
         The big fear of many — a fear largely unstated, but present nevertheless — was that the successful intrusion of the machines of Heaven and Hell would lead to a resurrection of the wars in which those two great Powers had fought each other on the territory of Chalakanesia. La Lantis had given quiet assurances that this would not happen — but, even so, as the Zuzu Magore drew near the Mexicus Hojo, more than one person gave thought to the wars of the past.
         At the northern end of the low-lying residential peninsular of the Mexicus Hojo was the commercial center of the city of Lexis. Further north again there rose the heights of the mountain known as Flanjegus Mo. On the heights of that mountain sat Jol Medlis, Hell's ruinous fortification — and more than a few bethought themselves of that monument to destruction, even if they were too intent on the approaching skyship to glance in that direction.
         Jol Medlis, a citadel made of the artificial armorstone known as sablax, was a reminder of the wars in which Heaven had fought with Hell. Chalakanesia had suffered the most devastating effects of that war, including the complete and irreconcilable destruction of the island of Moish Aran, previously the site of one of the greatest of Chalakanesia's mirarilusistans.
        "Never again!" said the war memorials.
        "Never again," promised La Lantis, in quieter tones -diplomatically eschewing exclamation marks.
         But many feared that good resolutions would not be good enough in the brave new future which they now faced.
         In many ways, Chalakanesia had done well out of the metapsychic faultline, which had made it a buffer zone between Heaven and Hell. Trade between those two great Powers necessarily passed through Chalakanesia, which profited accordingly. However, skyships which could land in Chalakanesia could also overfly it, cutting out Chalakanesia's middleman role altogether — and if that happened, what would be the effect on the local economy? It might be devastating.
         Still, while some had such worries, most of the people in the crowd were concentrating on the skyship, that citadel of sunlight, that uplofted wonder of awesome size, which came cruising toward them, its speed dropping as it neared the shore. They could hear it, now. It made a low, penetrating hum which resonated deep within the bones of the skull.
         As the Zuzu Magore drew near the coastline, the hum grew deeper and lower as the ship slowed its speed to scarcely more than that of a seabird. The Zuzu Magore was confident of its ability to sustain its mass in the sky, for it was as much a part of the sky as the clouds. Or so it seemed to the onlookers, to whom that stately low-humming approach conveyed an impression of immense reservoirs of effortless power.
         But on the bridge of the skyship, there was concern, and concern was approaching the point of panic.
         The dials on the bridge showed the hideous truth all too clearly. The ship was losing contact with the device which provided its power supply.
        "We're going down," said the chief engineer.
         As he spoke, a head bulged out of his skull. It was his own head in duplicate. The duplicate head floated free. His life had abruptly entered catastrophe mode.
         All those on the bridge looked wide-eyed at each other, then the captain punched the Screamer and said:
        "La Lantis! La Lantis! We're going down!"
         The ship's instrumentation confirmed this. The giant stack of quoits was losing power, was spinning toward a crash. Theory had met its doom at the hands of fact. It would be a miracle if anyone escaped alive.
         Now those waiting on the Mexicus Hojo could see that the ship from Barth Banchup Bakchakris was in trouble. It was coming low, too low. Purple flames wraithed from its golden flanks.
         But the most telling sign of the ship's panic was the incredible stream of ghosts which poured out of it. The crew, unused to the effects of the metapsychic faultline, were unable to restrain themselves from ghosting. In panic, their self-control lapsed into incoherence.
         Ghosts streamed out of the ship, so it trailed in its wake a banner of insubstantial floating wraiths. Not all the ghosts were entirely insubstantial. Some had mass — and, consequently, fell. Their thin screams wailed through the sunlight. In sympathy, many of the spectators screamed themselves. Dogs howled hideously.
         Standing on Zinjanthrop's scaffolding, which was rocking queasily underfoot, Heineman Yakaskam Jubiladilia felt the shadow of the ship pass over him. Driven by the ship, the shadow flickered across the Mexicus Hojo, then out across the waters of the Eastern Ocean, the Ocean of Vishna Elmira. Then the ship arced into an inward-turning spiral.
         The ship's spiral took it south of Ezakinfin in a great curve which brought it back over the Western Ocean. Still locked into that spiral, the ship began to make its second run across the Mexicus Hojo. It was very low now. Heineman could see people running in panic on Qin Sistock Maruka. The ship was so low it looked as if -
        "It's going to hit that house!" said Atlanta.
        "Impossible," said Heineman.
         Then the skyship clipped the roof of one of the great houses of Eastbeach, tearing away tiles and timber in a great burst of exploding debris. Belinda Skin Damsup Del Dorn screamed, and clutched Heineman's arm. The low, deep hum of the ship intensified to a roar, a roar which sounded as if it could break ice and split granite. Heineman clutched his hands to his head, trying to block out that terrible noise.
         Grappling for the sky, the ship clawed its way upward, breaking out of its lethal spiral, straightening out and heading out to sea, making for the east. The roaring became a hurricane howl. The ship began to zig and zag violently. Even so, it was accelerating, gaining speed, and for a moment it looked as if it might win the sky and escape destruction.
         Then, abruptly, the hurricane howl dropped to less than a whisper. In deafened silence, the ship scudded down toward the sea. It hit the waters off Eastbeach, skipped like a skimmed stone, bounced thrice, crashed into one of the rocks of the Spliars, and started to settle.
        "Oh," said the lady Del Dorn. "Oh. Oh. Oh!"
         Then she started to sob, and clutched to Heineman for comfort.
        "Let him go, you silly girl," said Atlanta. "Heineman, get her down from here. If we're not all down very shortly, this whole contraption is going to fall to pieces."
         Heineman saw Baz go swooping down with little boy Loki. She landed with him in the west garden, near the iodine tree. He wished he could get down as quickly, for he feared that Atlanta was right, and the scaffolding was not far from collapse.
         Down below, Dug Mantis was of like opinion, for he could see Zinjanthrop's scaffolding flexing and shaking, on the verge of buckling destruction. Dug's shouted warnings had previously gone unheeded, but, now that the spectacle was over, people were more ready to listen to him, and to descend to join the spectators who were mobbing to the pearlsands of Eastbeach.
         By the time Atlanta and Heineman reached those sands, the Zuzu Magore had almost drowned down beneath the waves of the Ocean of Vishna Elmira.
        "It's going under," said Atlanta.
        "It's supposed to float," said Heineman. "It said in the briefing papers, if it has to ditch, it floats."
         With that, the ship's uppermost carbuncle sundered from sight and was gone.
        "So much for briefing papers," said Atlanta.
         La Lantis — the research establishment representing the joint interests of Heaven and Hell in the city of Lexis — had been monitoring the flight of the Zuzu Magore.
         La Lantis soon had vugs at work, their freedoms enabled by the same vug machine which allowed Baz to manifest herself in the House Jubiladilia as a disembodied head and hands. Thus liberated, rescue workers from La Lantis went skimming across the waters as disembodied heads and hands, and began dragging all surfaced survivors shorewards. But vugs cannot work beneath water, and a quick count showed that fewer than thirty of the crew of the Zuzu Magore had surfaced.
         Twenty-three had surfaced alive, though some of these were hideously burnt. Another five had come up dead, to float face-down in the warmth of the waters of the Ocean of Vishna Elmira. The vugs brought back the dead along with the living.
         In the confusion, Heineman got separated from both Atlanta and the lady Del Dorn. To tell the truth, this suited him perfectly. He absolutely did not want to have anything whatsoever to do with Atlanta for the rest of the day, not now that her pessimism had been proved right. She would be absolutely insufferable. And as for Belinda Skin Damsup Del Dorn — well, Heineman had to be careful not to have too much to do with that woman for fear of reprisals from his wife.
         So Heineman was quite happy to be a solo spectator, and was mingling with the mob when he was found by the vug Baz. She was not working for La Lantis. She was there in her capacity as a servant of the Family Jubiladilia.
        "Heineman! Heineman!" said Baz. "There you are!"
         Heineman turned to face Baz, whose free-floating head was at the level of his own. Her hands were twisting together in a frenzy of concern.
        "Heineman," said Baz. "You're wanted at the House! Now!"
        "Who wants me?" said Heineman, with cold correctness, thinking it might be either his wife or the lady Del Dorn, and thinking that he didn't want to see either of them.
        "You're wanted by your grandfather! By Zinjanthrop!"
         Zinjanthrop's command could not be disobeyed. Heineman's coolness vanished on the instant, and he allowed Baz to lead him at the hustle to his grandfather's side. He found Zinjanthrop on the beach in front of the House Jubiladilia, giving orders to an army of messengers, servants, skinmasters, boatmen, fishermen and muscle-workers.
         The Zuzu Magore had sunk. Crewmembers might yet be alive in the sunken wreckage, and, if so, they would die unless promptly succored. But the experts of La Lantis had no means to salvage the ship. Accordingly, they had turned to the Family Jubiladilia.
         It had been a long time since anyone had turned to the Family Jubiladilia for help. Ever since Atlanta Ignalina Jubiladilia had accused her own Family of renting out defective skins to strangers, their use had been shunned by the public at large. Deprived of lucrative skin-rentals, the Family had gone through lean times indeed, often feeding on no more than the sealife which its own skinmasters retrieved from the depths.
         But now the Family Jubiladilia was back at the center of things. Nobody else on Islam Demaxus maintained a fleet of adaptive skins; no other Family had the same diving expertise; and nobody but Zinjanthrop had the depth of experience required to organize a major wreck dive effectively at such short notice.
         Heineman was utterly confused by the complexity of the organizational effort which Zinjanthrop was masterminding. Heineman was an accountant by training, a senator by profession. He was happiest when things were laid down on paper for his considered review. Here, by contrast, everything was provisional, the situation changing from moment to moment as people, boats and supplies proved available or otherwise.
         By contrast, Zinjanthrop was in his element. In the bloody light of sunset, he organized the loading of praus. The prau, the traditional shore boat of Chalakanesia, is basically a deep canoe which rides high out of the water thanks to the support given by its two outriggers. Its stability makes it an ideal diving platform, and its shallow draught comes in handy for getting out across coral reefs. On Zinjanthrop's orders, praus were loaded with skins and skinmasters, blankets and ropes, with local flare-torches and foreign-made gel-torches, and with picnic baskets complete with flasks of coffee.
         It was almost dark by the time Heineman reached his grandfather, the scene already lit by flaring torches, by the gold-and-purple metapsychic wraiths which were starting to come to life in a sky which would soon be night, and by the coldwater glimmer of emergency gel-torches.
        "Heineman!" said Zinjanthrop. "Get in the boat! I want you at the wreck!"
         Heineman hesitated.
         In all his life, Heineman Yakaskam Jubiladilia had had precious little to do with the sea. He usually never went swimming from one year to the next. And he had used a skin only once, on his sixteenth birthday. He had not enjoyed the experience.
        "I think," said Heineman, "that I'd be more useful ashore."
         At that, his grandfather grabbed him by the ear, pinched it cruelly, then hissed into it:
        "Heineman! You're a senator! A senator who wants to be president!"
         Then Zinjanthrop, still holding onto the ear, used it to give Heineman's head a good shake.
         Released, Heineman felt dizzy.
         Heineman did not want to risk that sea, that surf, and the dangers of a wreck-dive, but he had very little choice. Zinjanthrop was right. The presidency was at stake. If Heineman didn't go, if he didn't join the rescue effort, then he would be in danger of standing disgraced. His refusal to go could be the basis for a potent smear, if Gorkindachina found out about it -and, by all accounts, Vignis Vo Gorkindachina had a potent intelligence-gathering system.
        "I'll go," said Heineman. "I'll go, I'm going. I'm off."
        "Don't talk about it," said his grandfather. "Just do it!"
        "Here," said Heineman, offering Zinjanthrop the model skyship which belonged to little boy Loki.
        "Take that!" said Zinjanthrop. "Give it to Dug, he'll need it!"
         Then Zinjanthrop gave Heineman a push, and Heineman went stumbling after the nearest prau, which was already being pushed out to sea.