Runaway World

The Proposition

     The next day, as they were thinking about getting themselves an evening meal, the doorbell rang.

     "More reporters," grumbled Andrew. "I'll get rid of them."

     "Perhaps you should ask for money," suggested David with a grin. "Tell them that, if they want your story, they've got to make it worth your while."

     "There isn't that much money," Andrew replied as he rose from his armchair. "Besides, those types are always happier making up their own stories."

     "We could get a Palace in Mayfair!" the boy protested. "Live among the councillors and the scientists! Have a maid and a butler like the top nobs!"

     Andrew was already leaving the room, though, going for the door, choosing the words he would use it get rid of their visitors. It wasn't reporters, though. Instead, the door opened to reveal Bill Tembo, his superior, the Head of Surface Operations, along with two other men who looked vaguely familiar and definitely important. Passers-by in the street were watching curiously so he invited them in and ushered them through to the living room.

     "Sorry to intrude," Bill Tembo apologised as Susan ushered the children off the good chairs to give their guests places to sit. "This is Councilman Anthony Bear and Councilman Chen Zhuzi."

     "Of course!" said Andrew as the whole family stared in fascination. "I've seen you on the telly. I'm sorry, but seeing you out of context like this..."

     "No need to apologise," said Zhuzi, smiling pleasantly.

     "Can I get you some tea?" said Susan uncertainly. "Or coffee? Or we have hot chocolate?" She was babbling nervously, she knew. Were these men going to reprimand her husband for his failure in recovering the dysprosium? She knew that it was a ridiculous idea. They wouldn't have come in person to punish him, but their presence here had to mean that something big was in the offing and she was trembling nervously as she tried to imagine what it could be. "Come on, Children," she said, beckoning. "Let's go into the back room so they can talk."

     "No, please stay," said Bear, however. "What we have to say concerns all of you."

     "It concerns the children?" said Andrew, suddenly concerned.

     "I assume that, when your rover is repaired, you'll be going out onto the surface again," said Bill Tembo.

     "That's right," Andrew replied. "They say it shouldn't be more than a couple of weeks."

     He'd gone back to the car park that morning, to talk to the fitters. Their rover had already been moved to a garage space where it had been surrounded by radiant heaters to bring its outer hull up to room temperature, a process that would take another few hours. Only then could the chamber be filled with air, allowing the fitters to get a proper look at the vehicle's exterior. Some men had gone inside, though, and had entered the service level where they were tutting to themselves as they examined the floor, and what they'd seen had been enough for them to make a preliminary repair estimate.

     "When you go back out there, I expect you'll be joining another dig site," said Bear. "Looking for more rare and valuable minerals you can sell to the city."

     "I expect so," Andrew replied. "The engineers are always looking for rare earth elements, and they used up their original stockpiles long ago."

     "There's one element in particular we're very keen to get hold of, as you know."

     "Dysprosium," Andrew replied with a glance at his wife.