'A little before my time – though you'd be surprised how many people don't realize it.'

'Now I've some good news. Joe – Prof. Anderson – has finally given his – what was the phrase? – OK. You're fit enough to go for a little trip upstairs... to the Lunar Level.'

'Wonderful. How far is that?'

'Oh, about twelve thousand kilometres.'

'Twelve thousand! That will take hours!'

Indra looked surprised at his remark: then she smiled.

'Not as long as you think. No – we don't have a Star Trek Transporter yet – though I believe they're still working on it! But you'll need new clothes, and someone to show you how to wear them. And to help you with the hundreds of little everyday jobs that can waste so much time. So we've taken the liberty of arranging a human personal assistant for you Come in, Danil.'

Danil was a small, light-brown man in his mid-thirties, who surprised Poole by not giving him the usual palm-top salute, with its automatic exchange of information.

Indeed, it soon appeared that Danil did not possess an Ident: whenever it was needed, he produced a small rectangle of plastic that apparently served the same purpose as the twenty-first century's 'smart cards'.

'Danil will also be your guide and what was that word? – I can never remember – rhymes with "ballet". He's been specially trained for the job. I'm sure you'll find him completely satisfactory.'

Though Poole appreciated this gesture, it made him feel a little uncomfortable. A valet, indeed! He could not recall ever meeting one; in his time, they were already a rare and endangered species. He began to feel like a character from an early-twentieth-century English novel.