As the group left the transit station the sun had sunk just below the noticeably nearby horizon, revealing the distant red binary Ophiuchi stars in the silvery-blue evening sky. Ervin took the opportunity to cast a glance over the Jehangir-Shawiri estate. Before them laid a vast sprawl of terraced gardens, domed structures, and pavilions, spread out between two hills. The complex looked like a village on its own, lanterns lining the footpaths that meandered between ornately decorated buildings. In the valley, a river carried strings of lantern-lit boats upstream, away from the ocean that lay beyond.

"Do you have fish in your seas?", Ervin asked Luara, as the group left the station and descended a flight of stairs.

"Unfortunately, our ocean water is too saline to harbor life. But the rivers and lakes do contain fish. And where the rivers flow into the sea, we cultivate various shellfish for their pearls. It is one of our exports."

"That makes sense," Max said. "Small and desirable, worth the cost of lifting it into space."

"Indeed," Luara nodded in agreement. "Although we export delicacy food products too. Cost-effectiveness is subjective."

"I couldn’t judge such things, as I do not have much experience in the way of food."

"Please don’t tell me they’d dispose you before you would go hungry," Luara said with concern.

Max appeared to find the idea funny and smiled.

"It might work, but I suppose our schedule masters have already considered and rejected that plan as the decrease in productivity and the increase in accidents exceeds the cost of nutrients. We wear a harness to carry our supplies with us, which would be replenished automatically during recuperation. In addition to the nutritional solution, we would require a constant supply of liquid oxygen, as the atmosphere of a Flow microplant is sterile and unbreathable."

"Charming place," Charobim said sarcastically.

"Yes. I suppose it is natural to long for one’s home. I was specifically created to thrive under those circumstances, after all," Max replied, his voice completely serious.

Charobim threw a worried glance Ervin’s way, who returned a telling look.

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The group arrived at the entry gate to the estate. There was a slow coming and going of people. To Ervin’s surprise, there were no guards.

How things have changed while I slept, Ervin thought, thinking back to his time on Earth, where the elite of the Five Great Families lived in total isolation from the common folk, an insurmountable divide perpetuated by both the forces of economics and the muscle of private armies.

Hedges of fractal-shaped plants lit by an arrangement of colorful lanterns gave the gardens a surreal appearance during the night. Halim guided the group over increasingly winding paths that led up the slope of the hill. Max became aware of a subtle, strange noise carried on the wind. As they got closer, he tried to make it out. It vaguely resembled the noise he had encountered in the pub and later the transference station, and assumed it must originate from a large group of people talking. The irritating, distracting cacophony grew louder as they walked under an archway that led them into an orchard.

Ervin was moved. He had not heard the chanting of scripture verses since his youth. Amidst the olive trees and surrounded by hanging lanterns, a group of people was working to collect the harvest and prune the trees of dead wood. Ervin watched as they sheared the fruit from loaded branches with rakes, and others collected full tarps with a crane and loaded them onto a small, open-topped vehicle.

"If one day our world has gardens a tenth as beautiful as yours, I’ll be a happy man," Ervin said to Luara, as he sighed in the cool evening air. "Did your family gift us the plants we received recently?"

"Not to my knowledge," Luara answered. "Our flora is genomed to be acclimatized to this gravity. Also, it seems our worlds do not share any Mover connections yet. Otherwise, we could send you some of our olive oil and food as well. But our world is open to your people. Any of your colonists are welcome to visit in person and enjoy our products."

"Actually, this touches on one of the issues our colony is having. We only have a few thousand people. Our commander - I mean our feudatory - is carefully attempting to find people willing to immigrate. From what I gathered, her trip to Earth did not result in an agreeable outcome. And we already had a few people leave for more pleasant worlds."

Luara’s eyes flashed, but Ervin failed to notice. "It is the people and the culture that makes a world, not its comforts. Tragically, for the most part, those left behind on Earth lack any semblance of norms and values and are of a disruptive disposition. They will not fit into any of the cultures that exist on other Human worlds. Allowing them to immigrate unchecked will indubitably erode the native culture to the point of untenability."

The group reached the top of the hill onto the final terrace with vast geometric water features that led to a palatial building. Ervin observed the water’s behavior, with little streams and droplets of the transparent flickering liquid defying the low gravity, dripping slowly from fountains in long strands. Streams leaped back up after a drop and danced across carefully arranged ornaments of polished stone. Deep red pheasant-like birds observed from their roosts on the top of the central iwan as Halim led the group into the palace.