“If you still feel that way in nine weeks, I haven’t been doing my job.”

They emerged into an underground valet garage. Rows of electric cars gleamed in the artificial light, each nosed up to a charging post. Luggage was already coasting out of wall chutes. Jillian squinted, wondering which car might belong to this gangling man who had fought so bravely, and borne his second, terminal defeat with such courage.

A silver needle-wedge coupe glided up to them. Her bags had been piled into the back. Abner punched a tip into his wristlink, touched it to the pimply attendant’s badge. The badge glowed and quietly said:

“Thank you very much, Mr. Collifax. Most generous.” The attendant held the door for them. As they drove up the ramp, Abner chuckled. “You’ve got to wonder, don’t you?”

“Wonder what?” The sunlight made her squint as they emerged into the open. Denver was intimidating. All glowing chrome and dull glass, crowding out life, a mutant forest clawing up into a cloudless sky.

“The attendant,” Abner said after a pause so long her mind had wandered. “He programs his badge to thank you if you tip high. Maybe it curses you if you tip low. I can tip him without touching his hand. They’ve kind of got the people out of the loop, don’t they?”

“You’ve got a weird mind.”

“One of a kind.” He grinned.

Ahead of them lay the Rocky Mountains.

Nestled into the foot of those slate-gray peaks was the Rocky Mountain Sports Research Facility, visible from ten miles away as a symmetrical array of domes and cubes. Jillian experienced a wave of dejr vu as they passed an angle identical to that of the airport mural. Then Abner glided on, and the moment passed.

“How are the academic facilities?”

“You’ll find everything that you need. I don’t think you’ll need that p-core.”

“Just the same-“

“Old friends are the best.”

The car delivered them to the gate in four more minutes. It slid open at the silent urging of their guidance unit.