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I have been at the party for some time when I am approached. A group of us are watching a troupe of Kanuma acrobats dive and spin and leap inside their water bubble, the bubble itself shifting and changing from one complex shape to another as its provolved masters flash their fins, school in tight formation, and use thin-film LEDs painted on their scales to make their bodies glow and sparkle in vivid patterns.

The bubble has just transformed itself into a 10-meter construction of looping and interpenetrating tubes of water, the Kanuma inside streaking through the tubes on different paths and barely missing each other where the channels cross when I feel a permission-to-approach signal in my sensorium. Turning, I find a servitor waiting politely near my elbow. For tonight’s festivities it wears the form of a humanoid made of glass, artful rainbows and refractions running though its apparent transparency. It holds a tray on which sits a formal icon of introduction, a complex shape of folded flexx, in the Terran Federal style. It seems someone wishes to speak with me.

I reach out and touch the icon while projecting acceptance of its delivery. Immediately it unfolds, a self-animated piece of origami, and presents its message in flowing text along its surface. It seems I have a fan here among the gathering. Someone who has followed my travels across the Terragens sphere, always enjoying my posted descriptions, and looking forward to many more. If it is convenient, might I join them here for a private meeting to discuss an opportunity for travel and experience beyond anything I have achieved to date? Please indicate my preference (Y/N).

Briefly, I consider. There is no possibility of harm coming to me here in the angelnetted environs of Siris. And I had already started to think it might be time to end the evening and return to my quarters. At worst I might find myself accosted with an overly adoring fan, or perhaps subjected to an unwelcome sexual advance. Or a welcome one. Regardless, the list of likely possibilities seems short and uniformly easy to retreat from if I so choose. Deciding, I reach out and tap (Y).

Immediately, the icon refolds itself, this time into the shape of a small, humanoid figure, which bows deeply toward me and then turns to point the way that I should go to meet its author. The servitor turns as well and politely requests that I follow it to my meeting.

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