“Afraid I’ll blab about it?”
“It’s not for me to be afraid about such things. My personal advice? Don’t blab about it. But you know your rights. You can’t be detained just because you think you might have seen a camouflaged gawker in the middle of nowhere.” Ariane seemed to consider her next move before adding, “Otherwise you’d see a lot more Survey people bottled up in this café.”
ARIANE WAS RIGHT ABOUT DOC. HE HAD LEFT HIS HOME IN THE misty campus of Stromness—a habitat in the predominantly Ivyn part of the ring, consisting entirely of university—and was en route to Cradle. Along the way he was spending a bit of time on the Great Chain. So when Kath Two finally took the obvious step of getting in touch with him directly, he responded within a few minutes and told her where he could be found.
At about the same time, the diode on Kath Two’s wristband turned green, informing her that she was free to leave. She went to the room she’d been sharing with Beled to find that he had already departed. She gathered up her sterilized possessions and went to the exit, where the robot that was the door inspected her wristband. Apparently it liked what it saw, because it unlocked itself and allowed her to pass through. At the same moment the wristband sprang free and went dark. On her way out she tossed it into a bin.
Half an hour’s floating along Eye passageways took her to the On Ramp, where she piled onto a capsule along with two dozen other visitors, strapped herself in, and was fired like a bullet down a gun barrel whose muzzle, at just the right moment, synched up with an arrival platform on the Great Chain. One gee of simulated gravity took effect as they were swept up into the rotation of the circular city. Attendants, stationed near the capsule’s exit door, helped the new arrivals onto the platform and looked each one in the eye to make sure they were all right. People who weren’t accustomed to sudden shifts in gravity were apt to suffer from dizzy spells or worse. Most of the attendants were Camites. This was a considered choice, ratified by many centuries of practice. Even the most hot-blooded Dinan would be willing to admit to one of these unassuming people that he was feeling woozy. The elaborate Dinan code of chivalry obliged them to show special politeness to Camites, whom they identified as weak and childlike.