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shifties if we did that’
    And when Lari had attended school or rec, the other kids reminded him constantly of his outlaw position in society with a simple nickname.
    â€˜Pass it here, sister.’
    â€˜Get lost, sister.’
    â€˜Sister.’
    â€˜Sister.’
    â€˜Sister …’
    As he’d gotten older, the taunts had become more whispered. His father rose higher and higher in DGAP, his mother shone brilliantly and then disappeared, and Janil, the real brother in the family, began his own meteoric rise in her place.
    But the resentment hadn’t died; just gone underground.
    That’s Larinan Mann. That’s Dernan Mann’s copygen.
    The strong resemblance between him and his father didn’t help, either: the same dark eyes, the same long face and fair colouring.
    When his mother was there it had been easier. She’d understood. She’d always been there to stroke his hair when she caught him crying into his pillow, to squeeze his hand in silent sympathy when a well-pitched whisper floated out of a crowd, to wipe the blood from his knees and the tears from his eyes.
    And in the early mornings, when the low horizon was only just beginning to glow, she would return from her own work, wake her youngest son and lead him, still sleep-addled and dozy, down through the machine-crowded maintenance level and out into the sunrise, where the two would stand silently, watching the morning. Lari’s teeth would chatter in the chill wind that rippled around the circular balcony.
    â€˜Everything happens for a reason, Lari,’ she’d whisper to him in the worst, darkest moments. ‘Everything. Even you. You’re more special than you know, not just to your father and me but to everyone. So, when they point and whisper and tease and poke, don’t ever give them the satisfaction of responding. Because, trust me, darling, the day will come when they’ll all look at you and say “Thank the Sky for Larinan Mann”.’
    It hadn’t happened yet, Lari thought. The woman in the queue was still staring and Lari met her eyes levelly. ‘Is there something you want?’
    The woman quickly looked away, embarrassed.
    A couple of moments later their lift arrived. He slipped into a chair exactly opposite the woman and her partner, enjoying their discomfort as they both studiously avoided looking in his direction, instead concentrating all their attention on the newspanel.
    It was exactly the sort of behaviour his mother had warned him against, but even so, Lari couldn’t suppress a small twinge of satisfaction.
    The other passenger, a man wearing a DGAP jacket, slipped into the seat beside Lari.
    â€˜Morning.’
    Finally letting his stare slide away from the discomfited couple, Lari nodded back. ‘Hi.’ He vaguely recognised the man. He’d probably seen him at a dome social function or something.
    They gripped their handholds and the maglift dropped. Lari felt a slight lurch in his stomach every time the lift changed from a vertical to a horizontal shaft, but like all citizens of Port it was a sensation he knew so well that it didn’t even register in his conscious mind.
    â€˜Off to class?’
    â€˜No.’ Lari shook his head. ‘I’m finished.’
    â€˜A bright one, eh?’ The DGAP man raised an eyebrow. ‘You go through the advanced school?’
    â€˜Of course.’
    â€˜Figures …’ The man nodded. ‘You’re Dernan Mann’s youngest, aren’t you?’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜Good to see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I imagine you’ll get a research placement before a lot longer, then?’
    â€˜I guess.’
    â€˜What are you hoping for? Genetics, Fieldwork, Sequencing? Any ideas?’
    â€˜Actually …’ Lari sighed inwardly. He hated this discussion. ‘No. Still making my mind up.’
    â€˜Very wise.’ Another nod. ‘Have a good