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considering ways to speed up the typing process. The ideal solution would be some sort of human-machine interface through which he could upload his programs directly into the computer. That would save a tremendous amount of time.
    At the same time, he was wondering how to deal with the coming situation. He knew from experience that not everything would go according to plan, because other people were involved. Computers did what you told them to do, but people had a tendency to do what they believed they were supposed to do.
    He set another part of his brain working on ideas for alternative plans, just in case anything went wrong.
    Victor was aware that most people didn’t—or couldn’t—use their brains in the way that he used his. The average person could keep no more than six or seven different thoughts going at once, and most of those were of the “what will I have for dinner?” variety.
    But Victor could run dozens of different thought processes at the same time; he could program his brain as efficiently as he could program a computer.
    A mental alarm reminded him that he’d now been working for eight solid hours and that it was time to take a break.
    Victor pushed himself back from the computer terminal, yawned and ran his hands through his hair.
    The phone buzzed again. “Mr. Cross?”
    “What do you want, Jeff?”
    “Can you spare a few minutes?”
    “What’s the problem?”
    “We’re having trouble getting the nucleus up to speed. Or, rather, we can get it up to speed, but then it’s not stable.”
    “Sounds like an imbalance in the mag-lev platform. Put Rose on to it. She’s the expert.”
    “I already asked her, Mr. Cross. She said you told her the diagnostic scanner was more important than anything else.”
    “All right. I’ll talk to her.”
    Victor Cross left his office, went out onto the walkway and peered down at the cavern below. Dozens of people—most of them in military uniforms—milled about.
    In all, the complex was currently home to over a hundred people, with another hundred expected to arrive within the next day.
    As Victor walked along the rough-hewn corridors, he met two workers awkwardly carrying a life-sized glass statue of a girl. Victor stopped them. “I told you to bring her to the upper storeroom. That’s up on level one. She already was on level one! What are you doing down here with her?”
    The two men exchanged a nervous glance. One of them said, “Er…It kind of fell. Over the rail.”
    Victor glared at them. “What?”
    “It was an accident, sir! I tripped and, well, it just fell over the edge. I tried to grab it but it slipped out of my hands.” The man nodded to his companion and they set the statue back on its feet.
    Victor walked around it, examining it carefully. It appeared to be intact, other than the finger marks in the light coating of dust.
    “She fell from level one down to here? That’s six floors. And no fractures, cracks or chips. Not even a scratch.”
    “Yes, sir. Sorry. I don’t know what this thing is made out of, Mr. Cross, but it’s not glass. Whatever it is, it seems to be absolutely invulnerable.”

5
    T HE W AGNERS ’ M YSTERY D AY PARTY passed off the same as it had every year; the adults all drank too much and started singing, and the younger kids fought over board games.
    After a couple of hours, Colin and Danny decided that going for a walk was a more attractive option than listening to Colin’s uncle Norman trying to entertain everyone by repeating the same old jokes he’d told the previous year.
    Colin and Danny walked in silence for a couple of minutes, shoulders hunched against the rain, until Colin was sure that there was no one around.
    “So…How did you do it, Dan?”
    “How did I do what?”
    “You know what I’m talking about. How did you move fast enough to save Susie?”
    Danny shrugged. “Just lucky, I suppose.”
    “That wasn’t luck.”
    “Of course it was. What else could it be?”
    “That’s what