A long line of spectators trickled toward the arena where the Life on Mars  holoshow was about to start. Nika and her best friend, Nazreen, drifted with three other friends, Dean, Ahimsa, and Cat, into the stream of people flowing through Hyde Park.

Shivering, Nika pulled tight the collar of her yellow puffer. Her mood was dark. With three days left before the Triumvirate , she feared her showdown with Yuke Corrigan would end in a foregone conclusion--his win.

A cold, dry summer evening was darkening into night and parklights illumined a leafy exuberance of trees, bushes, fields--and pools of people. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts she barely noticed the crowd, until Nazreen gave her a nudge.

"There's a terrific amount of people here, isn't there? Perhaps we should hold hands so we don't get separated."

She nodded and held Nazreen's hand in the long, serpentine line. Nazreen was dark-skinned, diminutive, and in her mid-twenties. She worked in a robot-free care home, and wore a green knotted headscarf, a green kameez, and tight green leggings. She and the other friends had persuaded Nika to share a rare evening out. Ahimsa was a robot technician in his late-twenties who dressed in shades of indigo; Dean, a sound-wave physicist in his mid-twenties with long green hair, was clad in a bleached denim shirt and faded jeans; and Cat, a twenty-year-old dancer in a Real Flesh bar--who, like Dean, was not a chromer--wore a motley of purple, gray, and black.

She estimated another two hundred fifty meters of shuffling would bring them to the arena. They trudged past Speakers' Corner where the tree-lined walk girded with iron railings became a wide clearing filled with soapbox orators, loudly holding forth on a variety of subjects. She and her friends wandered among the lamplit crowds and paused behind a cluster of people listening to one of the speakers.

A portly, balding man in his late sixties wearing an orange suit and orange scarf was in full flow, denouncing the evils of AI and the loss of masses of jobs to robosourcing. He was dressed in shades of orange from his shoes and socks to the frames of his glasses.

"Brothers, sisters, fellow workers, the time to take action is now--before we become extinct. Millions of us've been replaced by robots and automated systems. Nobody can can get a job any more--except for a tiny few. What we were promised by the champions of AI has turned out to be a crock of shit. We were told to expect a wonderful transport system, sterling health care, control of climate upsets, and access to boundess knowledge. Instead of which, we live in a two-tier world. Flyin' cars, top robomedics, the superior benefits of an ajna and the fast-as-light neuronet for the rich, while we, the workforce that used to be the backbone of this country, are forced to exist on Basic National Income. BNI is a scam. You only get it if you let some bank put a chip under your skin, so they know what you're worth--which is nothin' if you ain't got a payin' job. I'm on Bloody Not-enough Income and I can't afford to rent an ajna. I have a freepad on my wrist, so I have to do all my messagin' and surfin' on the slow-as-shit internet. And if you lose your wristpad, you have to get by with an old smartphone and a toody like our parents did."

There was a sprinkling of laughter from his listeners. Nazreen leaned toward Nika and whispered in her ear: "My mum and dad are the same. Smartphones and toodies are all they have. They're so old school they call their toody a laptop."

She twitched a wry smile. Like all employed people, she used the ajna on her forehead for exclusive access to the neuronet. Her aj, for which she paid a hefty monthly rental, had become her go-to telepathic device, lavishing her brain with all the data she could wish for and enabling her to research and publish papers directly from her thoughts.

"Aren't we lucky we have jobs," Cat whispered in her other ear. They stood side by side as the orator harangued the crowd.

"I may not have my job much longer," she said, "if the bosses decide to fire me."

Nazreen shook her head, her jade ajna glowing in the sunset's luster. "What I can't understand is how a twenty-year-old man can make a sexual harassment complaint against a twenty-five-year-old woman. It's not like he's a child."

"No, but I'm his tutor. And we're supposed to keep our clothes on during tutorials." She rolled her eyes.

Nazreen looked outraged. "How can he produce evidence of you doing naughty things with him--when you didn't?"

Ahimsa cut in. "Unfortunately, Naz, these days a person can fake holographic evidence of anyone doing anything to anybody--and no one can tell whether it's real or not.

She smiled thinly. "I think that's what Yuke is doing. He's using a program called Presdigitation, which creates such realistic holoscenes you can't tell whether they're made up or they actually happened. It all looks completely real."

Nazreen blushed. "You mean he could make it look  like he and you did naughty things together, Nika?"

"Absolutely," Ahimsa interjected. "He only needs to get hold of a holo of Nika in a swimsuit and presdigitate it with porn scenes--"

"--or a holo of me in the nude," she said, remembering the recording her masseuse had made of her at the gym. "I guess I'm screwed."

"But it still comes down to whether the judges at the hearing believe  it or not," Cat said. 

She made a despairing gesture. "Of course they're going to believe it. Their jobs are on the line, just like mine."

Nazreen had been shaking her head as Nika talked. "A workplace tribunal is a complete farce. The bosses are so biased. You need to take this guy and his complaint to a proper court with a judge and jury."

She looked at her in dismay. "How can I afford to do that after I lose my job?"

They lapsed into silence, as the balding speaker continued to hammer out his arguments.

"My friends, the bonfire of jobs, fueled by technocapital, has incinerated the workforce. The greedy few at the top are eliminatin' jobs an' keepin' us all in poverty. And what's the government doin'? Cuttin' taxes on techno-bloody-capital, so we'll never get an increase in our BNI."

The speaker stooped to pick up a water bottle and took a swig. "The employers are laughing their socks off. By investin' in machines to do the work, they've cut labor costs to the bone. They've now got workers who never take time off, never get sick, always work a hundred percent efficiently... Some are even programmed to love their bosses." There were a few loud guffaws from the crowd. "My friends, thanks to AI, slave ownership is back and the capitalists are the masters."

"How do the bosses get away with owning slaves?" someone called.

"Cuz the slaves are machines and there's no law to stop 'em."

A man standing behind Nika yelled in a sneering voice: "What're you gonna do about it then?"

"Get the people to rise up," the speaker urged. "As long as this government is in power, every new technology'll be used as a tool of oppression. We need to take over the Houses of Parliament and make new laws. Show the buggers we the people are the masters."

"Yeah, and get ourselves mashed by the robot riot cops," another man heckled. "We tried that before and they beat the shit out of us." 

"That's cuz there weren't enough of us," the speaker countered. "We'll be unbeatable once the people take to the streets en masse--like the French did. Their struggle put an end to  feudalism. Ours is gonna finish off capitalism." He stooped and took another swig from his water bottle. "Also, unlike the French and the Russians, we've got an ace up our sleeve. Before AI, the bosses could buy off the workers by givin' 'em jobs and a wage packet." He paused and glared at his listeners. "But now their luck's run out cuz there ain't no more jobs to offer--thanks to AI--and none of us want to live on BNI all our lives." He gave his audience a wicked smile. "So the bosses are up shit creek, an' that's why this time  we're gonna win."

Dean turned to the others. "He's talking about the revolution."

Ahimsa nodded. "With a mass uprising we'll be fighting fire with fire."

"But how are we ever going to beat the bots?" Nika said. "We need some kind of robocide."

"Ahimsa and I are developing something along those lines." Dean looked at Ahimsa and smiled.

"Bring it on," she replied. "The sooner we get rid of those purple monsters the better."

Nazreen nudged her. "Are you thinking of joining the revolution, Nika?"

"The way things are going--yeah, I am."

They drifted away from the speaker and she caught the faint sound of warm-up music coming from the arena. The line wriggled slowly past Marble Arch and began trickling through the entrance to the holoshow. People filing into the arena were getting their wrists tagged by bot stewards. While the others sat behind them, she and Nazreen secured a pair of seats in the front row.

Music from the show's promoters blared out songs that celebrated the Pan Asian Federation and its Martian colony. The noisy promotional songs came to a loud crescendo, and lights flooded the rows of sitting spectators. Above them, a vast skyscreen lit up in the cold, windy air.

The hectare of shining smartfab began pouring down holographic images of another arena, and a hubbub arose from the seated crowd. It ended when a man's melodious, chocolate-brown voice rolled out from the center of the holoscene.

"Welcome, and greetings to the people of London from the Pan Asian Federation. The members of the PAF--comprising the countries of China, India, Japan, Korea, and Taiwan, invite you to a day in the life of Nova Terra, our colony on the planet Mars. Joining you on this Martian adventure are some of our friends from Jakarta, Indonesia, in simultaneous time."

There was a scattering of gasps and cries from the seated crowd. The light beaming down from the skyscreen solidified to reveal another audience, mostly brown-skinned and wearing light summer clothes, that gradually came into clear focus until it hovered a few meters above the crowd.

A gallery of spectators, made of light, peered down at the rows of flesh-and-blood spectators and were stared at in their turn. Both audiences roared their appreciation as a tall, brown man in a white open-neck shirt and white slacks strolled toward them, spreading his arms and smiling.

"Greetings, people of flesh and people of light. Actually you're all people of light in your neighbor's country, and people of flesh in your own. I should know--I'm one myself. My name's Jay, and I hope you're all appreciating your new neighbors. Welcome to you all!"

That the man in white was a light-created hologram, like his new audience, didn't deter the London crowd from shouting a reply. They knew he could hear them. 

"Hello, Jay!"

She was slightly overawed by his features, which were a mixture of African and Asian. His face was round and pleasant--not classically handsome, she thought. She guessed he was about thirty. His black hair was shoulder-length, his curls loose and tousled. No, not classically handsome. Better than handsome.

He's definitely a tall drink of water.

"Okay," Jay said, "Now that we're all acquainted, let's take a walk together on Planet Mars. You can breathe the atmosphere on this  planet just fine, since it's made of light. Are you ready?"

Jay's face beamed and his voice bubbled with enthusiasm. "All right, let's go. Our first stroll is along Vera Rubia Ridge on Mount Sharp."

For the next two hours the audience, wrapped around by a strange rugged terrain, were led by Jay on a wild virtual trek across trackless dunes, past jagged craters and shimmering glaciers in a rust-colored arctic desert. Alongside ancient dried-up riverbeds they glimpsed half-buried ruins. All the while Jay's soft voice echoed over the arena.

The sensation of being on another planet brought appreciative murmurs from the audience.  She looked around at the rows of entranced faces and heard gasps of "ooh!" and "aah!" that rose and fell. She felt her scalp begin to prickle.

They're all part of an illusion, and they're happy to be spellbound.

Jay ended his leisurely tour by entering the complex of dwellings that formed the PAF's new colony. Inside a giant terrarium enclosed in a huge dome of smartglass he chatted with human and robotic colonists. Scientists and various experts--among them mineralogists, geneticists, biosphere specialists, and archeologists probing the remains of an ancient civilization--were eager to trumpet the PAF's progress in recreating earth's complex ecology in the new Martian environment.

Buried under a dizzying landslide of facts and figures, her brain began to drift out of focus. Her only fascination lay in Jay's soft voice, seductive as a sorcerer's charm, echoing from the holoscenes. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the glowing skyscreen beaming its stream of images and sounds.

"Are you starting to feel tired?" Nazreen was looking at her with red-rimmed eyes.

"Not really, but I'm finding it hard to pay attention to the show and think about all the implications..."

"Yes, there's a lot of strange stuff here," Nazreen said. "Look, I'm getting tired and the others are, too. Shall we go?"

She laughed. She was glad she had a friend who knew when to call it a night.

"What about some nosh?"

"Good idea," Nazreen said. "These light-people from Jakarta are making me crave Indonesian food. Let's go to the Nasi Goreng."

Dean, sitting behind them, added "I second that."

The restaurant she and her friends loved was just off the Edgware Road and walking distance from the arena. It was dark inside and Indonesian dance music curled around their ears. At the Maitre D's lectern, a young woman in a red sarong, a yellow silk waistband, and gold sandals was swaying to the music. She led them through an arch to a table at the back of the restaurant, and gave them menus.

"Are you starving?" Nazreen said to her. She nodded.

"Shall we order now, or wait for the others and order together?" 

"I can wait," she said.

They perused their laminated booklets and salivated. The cuisine was mostly Balinese, with a few generic Indonesian dishes such as nasi goreng. She was attracted to lawar,  a salad of chopped coconut, garlic, chilli, and a choice of pork or chicken. She also liked the look of tom: duck or chicken cooked in spices and wrapped in banana leaf. Nazreen leaned toward a house version of satay, called satay lilit, made with minced, spiced beef pressed onto skewers made from lemon grass. That all the meat was lab meat didn't blunt their appetites.

When Dean, Ahimsa, and Cat had finished choosing their appetizers, everybody ordered fresh fruit juice. Nazreen chose guava and she picked sugar cane.

The waitress returned, and the table was soon spread with an array of aromatic dishes and bowls, with crinkly chips made from tapioca root to dip in them. She devoured her share of appetizers and struggled through the main course. When the waitress came back, Nazreen suggested they skip dessert and go back to her flat for coffee.

She hesitated. "Your place is a bit too small, Naz. Let's go to mine."

"Well, you do have a nice big flat," Nazreen said. "So why not?"

Her seven-seater Wandering Star gave them a comfortable journey above the glowing streets snaking across North London. She led them from the docking bay into her apartment through a pair of French doors. The living-room lit up with a soft yellow hue when they walked in, and a welcoming note, like the opening bar of an overture, rang through the air.

"I can never get used to these smart flats and the way they instantly respond to your arrival," Dean said. "It creeps me out."

"I think it's really nice," Cat said. She and Ahimsa made themselves comfortable on the sofa. Nazreen sat on one of the cushions scattered over the Afghan rug, and Dean found a seat on Nika's gold-painted Egyptian chair.

"I'll make the coffee," she said, "since I've given Robo the night off. There's also chilled Chilean mead in the fridge, if anyone's interested."

They nodded approvingly and she sauntered into the kitchen. She returned with the coffees, went back, and brought a bottle of mead and glasses on a tray.

"Shall we talk or hang in the VR room?" She placed the tray on a low, marble-topped table.

"Let's talk. I'm done with Virtuals--I lost a packet sitting in on an InterPoker school," Dean said.

"What are you doing the rest of the weekend, Nika?" Cat asked.

She sank down on a cushion with her coffee. "Well, much as I'm dreading it, it's high time I visited my mother."

Nazreen gave her a pained look, and she shrugged. "At least I'll get to do a few laps on the Heath. I'm running in the college half-marathon this year. I can only take Mum in small doses, anyway."

"Maddy--Nika's mum--lives in a really nice house near Hampstead Heath," Nazreen said. "It's like a palace."

She laughed. "She makes a lot of money, that's why."

"What does she do?" Cat asked.

"She's a sex worker--top-money clients prefer human cuddles to a droid's." She drained her coffee mug. "Mum's been begging me to come and visit her ever since her nephew, my cousin Harley, moved in. He's a troubled teen."

"Are you going to counsel him?" Nazreen said.

"No. I leave counseling teens to you, Naz." 

She got up and began pouring mead for the others and herself. After they had taken their drinks, she sank back on her cushion. "Anyway, I think I'm the one who needs counseling."

Nazreen looked at her and made a face. "You mean because of the harassment thing? Don't worry, Nika, you have right on your side. The profs will give you the benefit of the doubt."

She rolled her eyes, then swallowed the contents of her glass.

"I think Naz is right," Ahimsa said. "Even if this guy creates a fake sex scene with sophisticated holoware, it's still only virtual. It's not like anybody saw you both doing...anything."

She slammed her glass down and exploded. "You bet your arse no one saw us doing anything, because nothing happened!  It's a complete stitch-up. Yuke's trying to force me to up his grades. He wants me to do his bidding like a slave. "

"Well, if you require character witnesses for your defense," Nazreen said, "you can be sure of our support."

"I hope it won't come to that, Naz. I'm pretty sure Yuke'll back down when I challenge him face-to-face."

Nazreen shook her head doubtfully. "You may not get the chance if he refuses to attend."

"What do you mean? Doesn't a defendant get to face her accuser?"

"Not necessarily," Ahimsa said. "It depends on the workplace protocol."

She stared at him. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Well, it better be the protocol in my workplace, or I'll sue ELU as well as Yuke-bloody-Corrigan."

"You may not be able to afford a lawsuit, Nika," Cat said. "Sexual harassment is something you could be fired for--it's grounds for instant dismissal."

She felt a momentary bolt of fear, then she laughed.

"If my employers are willing to believe outright lies rather than my honest testimony, I might as well be fired."