1.

The anticipation inside the new intercity transporter seems to ricochet off its glass walls and buzz audibly, despite the ten councilors’ respectful silence. Jason looks at the scenery to hide his excitement: a Byzantium sun lights up the Southern Highway as they cut across the wilderness towards Star City, the host for the tri-city vote. Every now and again, Benedetta gives Jason’s knee a squeeze; like most people aboard, this is her first trip to Star.

“How long left?” she asks, despite having her own timepiece, a gift from Jason, strapped to her wrist.

“Half an hour. Not bad for a maiden voyage.”

The new transporter, a gift from Cutter Industries, finally equaled the speed of hover-jet bikes, thanks to its eight rotors and three pulse generators. They had left Empire four hours ago and been treated to undulating desert, dramatic ravines and secret waterfalls, owing to the vehicle’s glass dome. A state-of-the-art shading system tracks the sun’s position so that, above each passenger, a little spot of shade is created. In spite of the blistering weather, the autonomous vehicle is as cool as any city lobby.

Jason tears his eyes from the landscape to admire the interior of Cutter’s creation: fourteen seats are arranged around the oval chamber, all occupied by councilors, judges, senators and military advisors of his own selection, a few of whom have activated the tables, which pop up from the vehicle floor at the press of a button, to read through reports. Mattie eats a sandwich on his right, and Benedetta reads a book, between pointing at macaws and squeezing Jason’s leg, on his left.

“Shall we tell Mattie?” he whispers in her ear. She bites her lip and nods, dark eyes sparkling. “So, Mattie, have you heard the good news?” Jason tries to keep his voice down so as not to alert the po-faced officials.

“What news?” His mouth is full of