Glacial prospects shot through with fluorescent light: the catatonia of white-out. Julian struggled to maintain his focus on an aurora australis shimmering against the dawning sky, dreamed on it like some polar rainbow, but the figure in the doorway was too insistent. <<Up>> he said.

Millard again, looming again; he smelt of steak and stale beer. <<Don't mind him>> he said <<a bit slow on the old up-take.>> Julian saw who he was talking to; suddenly he had an incentive to fully wake up.

<<Flora>> she said extending her hand. <<She's transferred here>> Millard said.