The Great Hydration

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The desert rover laboured up the slope, sand falling from its long wheelspokes, until it gained the top of the big dune. There the driver disengaged the inner and outer wheels and jerked a lever which applied the brake. The vehicle came to an abrupt halt, its inner wheels continuing ineffectually to turn, still driven by the never-ceasing radium motor.

The two Analane who had come so far gazed fascinated down the other side of the dune. A range of distant hills marked the limit of a level plain. In the foreground stood the numerous pavilions of the World Market, their bright colours glittering against the shining yellow sand.

“Our journey is over. We have arrived.”

Hrityu, the driver, turned to glance at his companion Kurwer. Both were typical of the tribe of the Analane: humanoid, lean, rubbery, skin a luminous blue in colour, purple crests dividing their smooth pates. Hrityu raised an arm as slender as the rest of him, and began to name the various pavilions which were scattered over two langs or more. In the midst of the complex was the huge Hydrorium, the refuge of the market masters, fronted by the gaudy Pavilion of Audience where they deigned to meet with visitors. Round about lay the Pavilion of Mining, the Pavilion of Vehicles, the Pavilion of Extravagances, and more—all places where bargains could be struck, and knowledge and techniques exchanged between races from anywhere across the globe.

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