and they’re a hard lot to frighten. Nobody likes going around thinking the world could fall in on their heads at any moment. We’ve seen a marked upswing in emigration applications and requests to terminate work contracts and ship out early. The next scheduled gulf cruiser isn’t due for another six months, but if one put in tomorrow, I reckon we’d wave ’bye-bye to a third of our population.”
A passenger train loomed ahead on the track. The pod, being smaller, lighter and faster, had to tuck in behind the tapered end of its rear carriage until a station appeared. The train pulled in at the platform while the pod leapfrogged around it on a passing siding.
“What do you mine here?” Dev asked. “Helium-three would be my guess.”
“Bingo,” said Kahlo. “Alighieri’s got it by the crap-ton. No atmosphere, so there’s been nothing to prevent the regolith soaking up solar radiation, for millions of years. The He-three deposits are distributed evenly throughout the crust, extending to a depth of two thousand metres and more.”
“Rick pickings. Fusion power for everyone.”
And, Dev thought, who was more energy-hungry, more rapacious when it came to power consumption, than Polis+? The artificial-intelligence empire relied not on agriculture, nor on physical labour, but on its machines, and machines guzzled electricity.
Alighieri, blessed with the raw materials to keep thousands of aneutronic nuclear reactors fuelled for centuries to come, was just the sort of world Polis+ coveted and would like to claim for its own.
The pod entered a tunnel bored into the far wall of the Calder’s Edge cavern. Outside the windows, ribbons of geological layers rippled up and down. Seams of quartz and feldspar flashed by like horizontal lightning bolts.
“We may be a small planet, but we punch above our weight economically,” said Kahlo.
“Any internal troubles? Civil unrest? Radical elements?”
“None to speak of. We have a pretty sensible citizenry, and I keep a tight lid on things. You get folks going on a bender every now and then, and the drying-out tank’s never short of occupants. Sometimes native Alighierians and itinerant workers clash, but it’s bar arguments, rowdy neighbours, that level of nuisance, usually. The unions get stroppy from time to time and call a strike, and we have to oversee the picket lines. Nothing we can’t cope with.”
“People come and go, though.”
“Yes. We get migrant miners dropping by to do tours of three or four years. There’s a constant turnover. Every gulf cruiser that comes drops off about twenty thousand of them and takes a similar number away. The total mining workforce tops out at a quarter of a million at any time. Another couple of million of us – second- and third-generation Alighierians – are in service industries that support the mining biz, or else in administrative roles. A million more are children or other dependents. That’s just Calder’s Edge.”
“There are other cities?”
“A couple. You’ve got Xanadu. That’s our nearest neighbour, about seven hundred kilometres due west. Then there’s Lidenbrock City, way over on the side of the world. We don’t have much to do with Lidenbrockers, or them with us.”
“Troglodytes,” muttered Stegman.
“Uncalled-for, Stegman,” Kahlo scolded.
“But it’s true.”
“Still uncalled-for.” She resumed her conversation with Dev. “Unlike with Lidenbrock, relations between Calder’s Edge and Xanadu are open and cordial. There’s a direct rail link, calling at all the major townships along the way. Lots of Calder’s folk have relatives there.”
“They having earthquakes, too? Over in Xanadu?”
“None that we’ve heard about.”
“And who runs Calder’s Edge?”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone has to be in charge. You have a mayor? A prime minister? A president? Who’s top dog?”
Kahlo hesitated briefly, and Dev noticed Patrolman Utz aiming a sidelong look at her, as if
A passenger train loomed ahead on the track. The pod, being smaller, lighter and faster, had to tuck in behind the tapered end of its rear carriage until a station appeared. The train pulled in at the platform while the pod leapfrogged around it on a passing siding.
“What do you mine here?” Dev asked. “Helium-three would be my guess.”
“Bingo,” said Kahlo. “Alighieri’s got it by the crap-ton. No atmosphere, so there’s been nothing to prevent the regolith soaking up solar radiation, for millions of years. The He-three deposits are distributed evenly throughout the crust, extending to a depth of two thousand metres and more.”
“Rick pickings. Fusion power for everyone.”
And, Dev thought, who was more energy-hungry, more rapacious when it came to power consumption, than Polis+? The artificial-intelligence empire relied not on agriculture, nor on physical labour, but on its machines, and machines guzzled electricity.
Alighieri, blessed with the raw materials to keep thousands of aneutronic nuclear reactors fuelled for centuries to come, was just the sort of world Polis+ coveted and would like to claim for its own.
The pod entered a tunnel bored into the far wall of the Calder’s Edge cavern. Outside the windows, ribbons of geological layers rippled up and down. Seams of quartz and feldspar flashed by like horizontal lightning bolts.
“We may be a small planet, but we punch above our weight economically,” said Kahlo.
“Any internal troubles? Civil unrest? Radical elements?”
“None to speak of. We have a pretty sensible citizenry, and I keep a tight lid on things. You get folks going on a bender every now and then, and the drying-out tank’s never short of occupants. Sometimes native Alighierians and itinerant workers clash, but it’s bar arguments, rowdy neighbours, that level of nuisance, usually. The unions get stroppy from time to time and call a strike, and we have to oversee the picket lines. Nothing we can’t cope with.”
“People come and go, though.”
“Yes. We get migrant miners dropping by to do tours of three or four years. There’s a constant turnover. Every gulf cruiser that comes drops off about twenty thousand of them and takes a similar number away. The total mining workforce tops out at a quarter of a million at any time. Another couple of million of us – second- and third-generation Alighierians – are in service industries that support the mining biz, or else in administrative roles. A million more are children or other dependents. That’s just Calder’s Edge.”
“There are other cities?”
“A couple. You’ve got Xanadu. That’s our nearest neighbour, about seven hundred kilometres due west. Then there’s Lidenbrock City, way over on the side of the world. We don’t have much to do with Lidenbrockers, or them with us.”
“Troglodytes,” muttered Stegman.
“Uncalled-for, Stegman,” Kahlo scolded.
“But it’s true.”
“Still uncalled-for.” She resumed her conversation with Dev. “Unlike with Lidenbrock, relations between Calder’s Edge and Xanadu are open and cordial. There’s a direct rail link, calling at all the major townships along the way. Lots of Calder’s folk have relatives there.”
“They having earthquakes, too? Over in Xanadu?”
“None that we’ve heard about.”
“And who runs Calder’s Edge?”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone has to be in charge. You have a mayor? A prime minister? A president? Who’s top dog?”
Kahlo hesitated briefly, and Dev noticed Patrolman Utz aiming a sidelong look at her, as if
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