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The planet is in the human-breathing range, but the air is probably the only thing that won't try to kill us. What the hell do you need this planet for? The AI won't let you Terra-form it with that many species on it. Some of them would probably evolve to real intelligence if they weren't so busy trying to kill each other every second of the day." Training grounds," Hank said. "You can program all the skills you want into a man. He's not going to believe it until it's second nature, until he KNOWS he can rely on it." Do you want the AI to reprogram your mind so that you believe in the skills it gives you?" I asked Miranda. "I certainly wouldn't trust it not to tinker while it's in there." At least, Sparta is a reasonable planet," she said, ignoring my question. "A little warm but tolerable." The concubines won't be wearing much," Dipak said happily. Miranda rolled her eyes at him. Everyone knew what Miranda really wanted to ask, so we waited. She sighed and shook her head at me."How. We would set out the third bedroom as aguest room, and I would fill the smallest room with my computers andother kit.Carol had done an amazing job in getting the house ready for us. Wehad all the appliances - fridge-freezer, washing machine, tumble-dryer, dishwasher - from her old house. The kitchen was immaculatewith built-in oven, hob and microwave.Sally had to start work at the London head office more or lessimmediately, but I had another week before I had to turn up, so Iworked with Carol to finish moving in. We got on very well together.We did a top to bottom spring-clean, and she taught me a lot abouthouse-keeping and cooking. She also tutored me in the finer points oflaundry. Before that I knew to separate whites from coloureds butthat was about it. Now I knew to identify delicates and what to dowith them, although I wasn't sure how Sally would feel about herhusband hand-washing her lingerie. Still, I wouldn't tell her ifCarol didn't.We were sitting over a leisurely.
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I snagged her phone number, planning a rendezvous for later that afternoon. At about 2:30 PM, I called and she said that she was home alone and free for the afternoon. She gave me directions to her apartment and told me to bring a pint of whiskey. Here I went, Jim Bean, brown-bagged, in hand, to her apartment, which was a glorified dorm room on campus. I hadn't ever seen her before and this was in the day before Facebook, so I was somewhat nervous about what would answer the door. I figured that if the door opened and I was confronted by a horrifyingly hideous creature, I could simply walk away. After all, it wasn't as if I knew her or had to work or go to school with her, so who cared? She wasn't especially attractive, but no dog, either. She was a brunette with slight curls and soft, white skin that had a few freckles, but not enough to write home about. When I showed up, there really was only one thing on my mind, so as long as her looks didn't make achieving that objective.

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