From the moment he was born, Angus Cooper was destined to know. The son of a policeman and a high school teacher, he was shown the virtues of understanding how one fit into the world as soon as he could make sense of what he was being told. When he was 8, his mother once scolded him for returning from school a few hours late; not because she was overly worried about him, but because of what the neighbours might say about her being an incompetent parent. His father backed her up, pointing the consequences of his behaviour out to him. "Do you know what happens when people get the wrong impression, Angus? Do you know what happens when they turn against you?" he asked with a tone of seriousness that frightened the young Cooper.

Angus had simply shaken his head in reply.

When he was 15, he once climbed to the top of the school hall's roof and stood looking down at the parking lot filled with learners below. Several screams, a terrified principal and a guidance counsellor who tried desperately to seem calm later, he was rescued. His pleas of innocence were met with almost believable "of course we believe you" answers, which he smirked at without showing it. He suspected that his paper-plane-finding excuse would be fairly transparent, but didn't expect that no one would realise what his true intentions were. Jumping was about as far from his thoughts as finding any paper planes; he simply wanted to see how people would react. Realising what power he had over their behaviour made him feel like he knew something they didn't. It also made him realise that people could be used to accomplish a variety of things, as long as they felt in danger. He didn't entertain for a second the thought that the school staff might actually have been concerned about his welfare. It made no difference to how they reacted.

When he reached university, Angus was intent on becoming a psychologist. He spent three years studying things about the human mind that he didn't believe to be true, until one day, he happened upon someone doing something that fascinated him. As he strolled past the chemistry building on campus, a young man with long hair came running out of the main entrance with a test tube in his hand. The sunlight hit him squarely in his face as he raised both arms up into the air and loudly shouted "Oh yeah! Take that! What's your reply to that, huh?!" A few students turned to see what the commotion was, but the young scientist barely noticed them. The grin on his face was contagious. At that moment, Angus Cooper knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to know. Not because he was particularly curious, or because he wanted to understand, but because he wanted to have knowledge to himself, and to himself only.

A blue kaleidoscope moved between bright white spots, blending into a blurred mass on the edges. The blending slowly spread out toward the edges, bringing the blue into focus in the middle of the wheel of colour. The colours became less vibrant, more real, until they couldn't belong to a kaleidoscope anymore. The collar of a shirt started to appear, just as the muffled sound of something that had to be a man's voice became vaguely discernable.

The voice increased in intensity away from a muffle. "Mr Cooper? Angus, can you hear me?"

Angus tried to look to the left, but his gaze was focused on the collar. He grabbed a fistful of grass in his hand, but strangely it felt like bedding instead. An attempt at a groan was more successful: the collar moved rapidly closer into his gaze, again blurring his vision in the process.

"Please try to relax Mr Cooper. You're in hospital. You were in an accident, and you're recovering. Please try not to move."

The collar moved away, back into focus. Just as did, the kaleidoscope begun turning again, fading everything into a blue blur.

"Mr Hughes, am I understanding correctly?"

"Yes you are. Speak to Jessica on your way down, your flights to Kimberley have already been arranged." Thorsten sat back in his chair again, and pulled one of the sheets on his desk closer. He looked up at Tom, who looked slightly confused, but not enough to prevent him from exhibiting his usual confidence.

"Kimberley, the diamond town?"

Thorsten chuckled. "It's quite obvious that you haven't been there before. I believe your end destination is a little off the beaten track. 'Just about in the middle of nowhere' is the term that Jessica used."

"What if she's not interested?"

"Oh, she will be. Angus Cooper was recently hired as research head of the agency funding her work. I'm sure you know what that means."

Tom seemed to suddenly relax, putting a hand into his pocket. It looked as if a smile was almost forming at the corners of his mouth. He turned around to look at the receding light, then walked towards the glass door and extended his hand towards the handle. He hesitated for a moment, thoughtfully staring at the ground, then swung the door open on its frame.

The sun had now disappeared behind the Holsworth building, and Thorsten could look across the expanse of his headquarters without straining his eyes. Even though he'd been asked very politely by his operations director whether he didn't think that having electrochromics installed would be a good idea, he'd never been very enthusiastic about hiding the sun. There was something about the way it made the skyline look like it was radiating energy, that mesmerised him. It was almost as if there was some sort of life force behind the countless skyscrapers that lined the view from the top of the hill. A life force that made each building come alive, that drove each person who added to the building's capacity to be a part of the legs underneath the endless run of everyday life. The golden glow faded slowly as Thorsten leaned back in his chair and put his legs up on his desk. "What if?" he thought. "What if it didn't fade? What if there was no reason for it to fade, ever?"

He looked down at the diagrams on his desk, leaning his forehead on his hand. Even though they were as thin as the paper on which they were drawn, the curves formed by the blue lines made them look decidedly pronounced. He ran a finger along one of the curves, from it's base, up into a column, extending vertically until a juncture broke the flow. The next curve started a mere half a centimetre from the juncture, following the same line as the first, but extending further.

The sudden chime to his left startled Thorsten, his finger nearly missing the jump across the next juncture. He almost absentmindedly picked up the PDA and brought it closer. "Watch Channel 9."

He picked up the control panel and dabbed the TV button, then swiped across the screen to get to 9. The news anchor's voice sounded as mildly interested as always: "...with the only survivor being the department's research consultant, Dr Angus Cooper. Dr Cooper is currently in a stable condition. According to reports, the blast was so severe that several people walking along the opposite side of the street were flung through shop windows. Even the windows of buildings a block away were shattered by the force of the explosion. Police representatives have responded only by stating that an investigation is underway."

Thorsten muted the sound and stroked his stubble slowly. He picked up the phone on his desk. "Jessica. Please tell Tom to make absolutely sure he brings her back."

Thorsten Hughes looked up from his desk. His eyes slowly focused away from the thin lines of the diagrams onto the figure in front of him.

"Mr Hughes?"

"Yes." He glanced over the top his glasses at a tailored, pin-striped suit which looked like it belonged in a wood-panelled boardroom. With the sunset filtering into the office, the light behind the man created a sharp outline around his jacket which emphasized every little thread of the weave. There were no stray pieces of lint or even a hint of ruffle visible in the golden outline. It looked perfectly in place in the office, along with the two men occupying it.

"I'm afraid I have bad news."

Thorsten removed his glasses, pinching the bridge between his eyes while squeezing his eyelids lightly together. As he opened them again, he could see the faint trace of a floating speck of dust in the sharp light. "What is it Tom?"

"It's the latest reports. They don't look good."

"No change?"

"No change. Except for an increase in residual sodium chloride, there's no evidence to suggest that temperature levels are increasing any more. I've spoken to Linden and Denton, they don't sound too optimistic either."

The light fell squarely on Thorsten's face as Tom walked towards the glass wall. He looked up at the source, squinting into the gold as a frown formed on his forehead. Even though the glass panels that made up his office were as clean as anyone could expect them to be, the smudgy remnants of a fingerprint were visible just below where the sun was disappearing behind the Holsworth building. Tom turned around and stepped across the rays, casting a shadow onto the desk. "I know you've said this to me a thousand times. It's not that I don't believe it, because I know you wouldn't have said it and have kept on saying it if it there wasn't a way for..."

"It can be done, Tom."

"Yes, I know. But..."

"Do you really?"

Tom turned around to face the sunlight, squinting into the gold as he raised his hand to block it from his eyes. He sighed softly as he turned back, assuming he couldn't be heard. "It's just, the cost... Excuse my frankness sir, but are you aware of the totals for this quarter?"

Thorsten ran his hand across the stumble on his chin, stroking it slowly. "Whose money do you think it is, Tom?" He smiled. "In case you forgot, I don't sleep much. So yes, I'm aware of the totals, down to yesterday's payment for new spectrometers. It appears Linden has a knack for decreasing their useful lifespan significantly." Thorsten leaned back in his chair and wrapped his hands around the back of his head. "When I spoke to James Denton two days ago, he mentioned that Dr Linden had discovered an interesting trend. It sounded like his new extractions seemed to suggest that there might be a composite solution to the intake problem. Apparently, he had read a research article by a young British geologist who claimed that she had had the same results. Only, she claimed that her success ratio with the compound was 86 percent, as opposed to Linden's best-scenario predictions of 64 percent."

Tom was silent.

Thorsten sat up in his chair and leaned onto the desk with his elbows, putting his fingertips together and forming a triangle between his hands. "Tell me Tom, have you ever been to South Africa?"

Erica stepped onto the sidewalk and waved at an oncoming taxi. It pulled over right in front of her, almost screeching to a halt. She grabbed the door handle, still holding the aluminium case under her right arm and slid onto the back seat. "Richardson Airfield, please."

The taxi pulled away unceremoniously, the driver glancing at Erica in his rear-view mirror with a bored expression in his eyes.

She looked down at the case in her hands, then tightened her grip on the rubber handle. What was Andrews thinking? He knew how close she was. The taxi turned a corner, a huge construction site appearing on the left. The skeleton of what looked like at least a 20-storey building rose promisingly into the sky. Erica leaned closer to the window and peered up at level after level of structure in progress. On the lower levels, there was little activity, but as she moved her eyes upwards, the flurry of workers became denser. Scaffolding rose up the front of the building like a mass of tree branches. Steel tubing was being carried around, sparks flew off the blades of grinders, three cranes hovered overhead; the closest of which swung a pallet of what looked like bricks directly over the taxi, at least 8 storeys up. Erica flinched slightly at the sight.

The fact that Andrews didn't even want to look at the latest data seemed very odd. It wasn't like him; he was - although often oblivious to detail - at the very least usually open to listening. One couldn't call him ignorant. Ignorant. Erica repeated the word to her herself under her breath. She could stand arrogance, that characteristic which was so often cited in one-sided arguments. Even conceitedness was occasionally acceptable, given irrefutable facts. But ignorance? Ignorance was the vilest form of insult she knew. There was no thing as morally wrong as complete disregard for something. Something could be negative, could be unwanted, could be something which sent shivers down her spine. It could be something that proved to her that she was wrong about everything she knew, about everything she thought was right. It could be all these things to her and yet be nothing compared to her being ignorant about it. Everything deserved a chance for proof within reason. Nothing was immune to consideration.

The taxi shook slightly as a pile of bricks collapsed to the left, one of the construction workers steadying himself against the scaffolding as he jerked his neck backwards with a startling stutter. A terrified look suddenly appeared on his face. Erica watched in calm horror as a black steel drum tumbled from above, bounced off a concrete beam and smashed down into a barrier constructed out of orange plastic safety netting strung between a series of steel scaffold tubes protruding at 45 degree angles upwards. The drum stretched the netting down a meter, then bounced back slightly before settling into a suspended state, caught like a fly in an industrial strength web. The web was merely a couple of arm lengths above the worker's now frozen figure.

"What was that?! Did you hear that?" Erica grabbed the headrest of the front passenger seat and looked into the rear-view mirror, hoping the driver would acknowledge her and at least make eye contact. Instead, he simply slowed the taxi to a crawl as they approached the traffic light.

He looked bored. "Guess they're just blowing things up with dynamite or something. Don't they always blow up the ground around big buildings? I'm sure they do."

Erica looked at the worker, who still had his gloved hand on the scaffolding. He was staring at the drum in a way that revealed just how relieved she only imagined he could be. As he looked up, she could see in his eyes that what had just happened was very far from expected. He looked at her with the stare of a man suddenly alive, without much expression on his face, but with a sense of energy that was undeniable. The taxi pulled away with a jerk as the traffic light turned green.

Angus Cooper looked at Ross Andrews, then glanced over at the oak branch Erica had focused on moments before. "Tell me, why did you choose her?"

"Because we thought she'd fail.”

"And why do you think she hasn't?"

"Well, it seems Miss Gimbal has more of a sense of misplaced optimism than I imagined. For some reason, everyone thinks they can change the world at some stage. I'm lucky to have outgrown this, much like I imagine you have, but not everyone is lucky. It's such a pity really, if only she realised how much more she has to gain by learning to be flexible."

Andrews stood up and placed his palms on the table, leaning over as if to tell a secret. His eyes narrowed as he focused his gaze on Cooper. "I used the word 'flexible' because we both understand its meaning. You realise, of course, that neither myself nor the sponsors would ideally want the situation to be this way, but we understand that it has to be. Even though I'm a fan of optimism...", he smiled broadly, "...hell, optimism is what got me to where I am - there comes a time when you have to realise that thinking in that direction can be foolish." He looked down at the dark polished surface of the table, so shiny he could almost make out his chin in the reflection.

"Of course, and now is no time to be foolish. When did he first contact you?"

"Three weeks ago. I received a printed note in a large brown envelope, with only my name on the front. I felt like I was in a spy movie, cloak and dagger stuff, you know? To be honest, I thought it was some kind of prank at first. I asked Alexandra to find out where it came from, but she was just as much in the dark as I was. Apparently some mysterious character had handed it to her in the hallway. Before she could ask him who he was, he'd turned around and walked out the door. I wouldn't say I'm surprised now, but back then it struck me as very odd. I mean, it's not like this is MI5 headquarters!" Andrews chuckled loudly and shook his head.

Cooper got up from his chair and leaned an arm on the backrest. "I got the same. Only, no one got a look at whoever delivered my copy. I just found it on my desk."

Both men were silent for a few moments. Cooper looked up with an inquisitive tilt of his head. "Was yours..."

"Yes, very much so."

Cooper burst into a rambunctious laugh, slapping his hand on his knee. "My friend, it looks like we were both in the right place at the right time. That's luck for you!"

"Indeed! And what's life without a little luck? When such an opportunity crosses one's path, seizing it is the only sensible thing to do. What did that golfer say about making one's one luck? Actually, does it really matter?"

"Hah, no, it doesn't! What matters is that we live in a world where those who learn to roll with the punches can decide their own fate. I tell you what: I'm damned happy that there's someone else out there smart enough to realise what a load of crap this project was from the get-go. Sure, there's always that 'let's make the world a better place' bullshit, but as you said, people outgrow that. Why they don't outgrow it sooner is beyond me. People are deluded, I tell you."

Both men were now standing. Both were smiling broadly, shaking their heads in turn, as if they couldn't quite believe the state of affairs. Cooper turned first to head towards the door, with Andrews pushing his chair in and following just behind him. As he turned the knob and pulled it open, a flash of light greeted him. His body thrown violently backwards, he collided with Andrews in mid air, and both men were tossed through the window, breaking the centre pillar of the wooden frame in the process. Cooper felt a numbing sensation of silence as he fell towards the concrete walkway below, then there was nothing.

SGPD. Smaller lettering below the bold black signage read 'Special Geological Projects Department'. The building was fairly neat, but not maintained like a corporate headquarters would be. An average government building, by most standards. What always surprised Erica was how solidly constructed many buildings from the 1970s were, especially government offices. Liberal use of sandstone and polished granite made the corners and pillars of the entrance seem surely anchored to the ground, with a sense of imperviousness to the masses of people that were usually so common to anything official. She looked at the glint of the granite - paint was such a short-lived and frivolous finish in comparison.

The Mercedes turned in towards the security booms, the guard opening immediately, not looking like he cared much. For all he knew, the black vehicle with its tinted windows could have contained a group of armed robbers. Then again, he knew that people talked about dirt in this place, so what could a robber - or any criminal for that matter - possibly want with dirt?

Erica stepped out into the midday light and walked up the stairs. She looked back to see the grey-suited man carrying the reinforced aluminium case a few steps behind her. Briskly pushing through the rotating doors, she was greeted by a young lady smiling politely, looking as if she had been expecting her for some time.

"Good afternoon Miss Gimbal. My name is Alexandra Fornay, I'm Mr Andrews' new assistant. Will you follow me please?"

"Hi Alexandra. Nice to meet you."

Alexandra turned around and headed over a worn-out carpet towards a wide flight of stairs leading one floor up.

"Excuse me Alexandra, but will Dr Kleinman be joining us?"

"I'm afraid not, there was no mention of him in Mr Andrews' meeting request." They were on the first floor now. "I'm not sure if you've met Dr Cooper before, he's waiting for you with Mr Andrews."

"No. I haven't." Erica frantically scrolled through her mental contact list, trying to find some recollection of the name.

Alexandra knocked on one of the twin doors of the boardroom, pushed it open and politely held it for Erica to enter. Ross Andrews and Angus Cooper sat across from each other at a massive French-polished mahogany table, both turning towards her as she walked in. Angus Cooper. The cover of Popular Mechanics magazine, three months ago. Instantly, Erica recalled the entire article he'd written about peak oil and how he'd discounted solar energy as highly uneconomical and unviable. She remembered having read his summary of the supposed facts, with a conspicuous absence of all the empirical studies her colleagues had done. At the time, she was disgusted, and dismissed his article as popular rhetoric. She thought nothing more of it after having fumed for a few minutes. Now however, he was right there. She couldn't dismiss him any more.

"Ah. Welcome Erica!" Ross Andrews was a jovial man, evidenced by his shape. He was what one could refer to as 'rotund', with a thin moustache, narrow eyes and a neck that folded over his collar at the back. He smiled politely, immediately standing up. "So glad you could join us! I'd like to introduce you to Dr Angus Cooper, our new head of research."

Angus Cooper stood up, smiling broadly as he did so. He looked at Erica, clearly moving his gaze up and down her body before making direct eye contact. Erica knew immediately that she was correct in the summary she'd made of his character after reading the article. "Pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Gimbal. I've been following your work quite closely these last couple of months. How are you finding the desert? Terrible place, isn't it?"

"Pleased to meet you too, Dr Cooper." She smiled faintly. "I like to think that the only terrible place is one where there's no progress. The desert is not such a place, fortunately."

"Mr Andrews tells me that you have a new set of data available. It's always good to move towards some sort of goal, keeps one out of trouble at the very least!"

"Yes, I have." She gently put her laptop bag down on the table, taking out a sturdy-looking silver external hard drive enclosure. "May I?"

"Erica, before we continue, let's quickly unpack the broader project." Ross Andrews looked like he was trying to smile. "Please, have a seat." He gestured towards a chair next to Dr Cooper. Erica looked at him for a split-second before pulling the chair out and perching herself on its tip.

"Just to get you up to speed, we've involved Dr Cooper in an advisory role to assist with the project goals, timelines and current progress. Now as you'll know, we've been looking at ways of reducing the escalating costs of continuing to fund your exploration, bearing in mind of course the fact that your milestone deadlines have been pushed out several times." Angus Cooper stared blankly at the wall behind Ross Andrews. "Now, of course our standpoint is always that of accommodation, and we're naturally anxious to reach the initial project goals - to be able to classify the project as a success."

"If your problem lies with the milestone deadlines, I'd like to use the current data..." Angus Cooper turned towards Erica with a look of attempted empathy. Before she could continue, Ross Andrews put his palm on the polished surface and let out a pronounced cough.

"Miss Gimbal, I'm going to be blunt. With Dr Cooper's assistance, we've been able to determine that your current avenue of research is neither scientifically feasible, nor economically viable." He cleared his throat loudly. "So, the board has come to a decision to suspend funding as of yesterday."

"But as you'll see, my latest data solves a whole list of..."

"With all due respect Ms Gimbal, as much as we'd like to accommodate you, I don't have a mandate to negotiate."

"Then, who has?" Erica moved forward on her chair, almost lifting herself off the tip to stand up.

"I can understand your frustration, but unfortunately the board has already come to a decision."

Erica shook her head slowly and sighed. "Do you mean to tell me that this is it?" She looked at a tree branch just outside one of the windows, then turned to Ross Andrews. "With all due respect to you Ross, do you have any idea of the implications of my latest data? Do you realise what a breakthrough could mean, what the scale of the problems solved will be? Excuse me if I sound emotional, but do you know how this could change the world?"

Angus Cooper smiled faintly at Erica. "Miss Gimbal, I've studied your data, and to be honest I do not think that you have anything close to viable here. It's a pipe dream, any scientist with any credibility knows that what you're saying is possible, really isn't. Don't you think it would be to your advantage to rather stop pursuing this now while we give you the chance, instead of ruining your reputation and career in the process? You're still young, you have such a bright future ahead of you, why risk it all now? Besides, we can offer you a position with a handsome compensation package in the compliance department, what do you say?"

Erica stood up and placed her palms squarely on the table. "I say this: without so much as an ounce of doubt, I can tell that you do not realise what you are doing. I will find an alternative. Good day."

Before either of the two men could reply, Erica grabbed the removable drive and bag, and walked straight towards the boardroom door. As she flung it open, she walked past a desk to her right, picked up the aluminium case and headed towards the stairs. Reaching the door to the outside, she looked down at the label on the case. '63'.

The rocky path had started.

The hum of the Cessna's propeller always reminded Erica of her first flying lesson. It was like a thunderous symphony from above was unleashed when her father fired up the engine that first time, years earlier, before she had any ambitions of soaring like an eagle herself. She was 5 years old, and it scared her in a startling way, even though her father had leaned across and smiled as he brought the beast to life. It was only a few flights later that she started feeling comfortable enough to start prodding him about when she'd be able to take the controls herself. She remembered how he looked at her with pride when she politely asked, even though the only realistic answer he could give was "soon angel, soon".

Now, as she banked across the first signs of vegetation below her, Erica let her mind soak in the hum for a different reason. It reminded her that she was in control of something, that the engine was doing what she told it to do. She thought back to the weeks before, to how it felt for days like nothing was doing what she wanted it to. On several occasions, she had lowered her face into her hands and held it there for what felt like hours, not wanting to see what was in front of her, knowing that it wasn't something she wanted to see. She had completed each test with the same amount of expectation as the very first one. With the same amount of precision. Somehow, it didn't seem to make any difference. The results were always the same.

9000 feet below her, the crisscrossed lines of civilisation had become visible. Civilisation. The word sounded odd, almost as if it was meant to be some sort of reassurance that things were under control. It always reminded Erica of the history books she'd lost herself in as a teenager, of stories about masses of people following a cause they didn't understand, wiping themselves out in the process. She'd spent sleepless nights wondering whether it was arrogant to assume - or even just presume - that people really didn't understand. It felt as if presumption could make her the short sighted one. Did they believe in what they were fighting for, or did they believe because they simply wanted to believe in something? She rolled her shoulders backwards to relieve a slight tension in her neck, then pushed forward to point the nose of the Cessna down and left. As the lines of civilisation became thicker, Erica looked back into the tail of the aircraft, at the carefully packed boxes James had loaded two hours earlier. She smiled. Whatever had happened in the weeks before would hopefully be irrelevant by the end of the day. It had to be. If it wasn't, there would be no paved road ahead - just a rocky path. She liked rocky paths, but travelling along one which could end on the edge of a cliff with no way back was not an ideal scenario by any of her calculations.

The Cessna's tyres complained slightly as they greeted the tarmac. Compared to the makeshift landing strip in the desert, the airfield seemed almost too forced. The dark grey of the runway was harsh on her eyes, like it didn't belong to the world she knew. It always took Erica a couple of days to adjust to the colours of the city after having spent some time in the desert. The dusty hues of the sand gave her a sense of calm that she somehow hadn't found anywhere else. It was not that she didn't like the city. Just that it felt that the city sapped more of her energy than it gave back. With every trip, adjustment back to the never ending noise and movement made her realise just how little need she really had for bustle. Right now, as she stepped into the hangar and walked towards the waiting vehicle, this fact was obvious.

"Good afternoon Miss Gimbal. Let me help you carry that."

He was dressed in a dark grey suit. A neat suit, but not a comfortable suit. For some reason, government officials never looked comfortable in their suits, she thought.

"Thank you. Sorry I'm a little late, there was an unexpected storm I had to find a way around."

"Not a problem Miss Gimbal, Mr Andrews made provision for a possible delay and cleared his afternoon meeting schedule for you."

"OK. Well, that's good to hear." She tried to look unfazed, hiding her smile as best she could.

The box with tubes packed safely into the Mercedes, Erica slid into her seat and buckled her seatbelt. They pulled briskly away and out of the hangar, uneventfully passing through the gates leading out of the airfield. The acceleration heading onto the highway was perceptible, not anxious, but purposeful.

"Oh, just one thing. Do you know if Mr Andrews invited Dr Kleinman to the meeting as well?"

"I wouldn't know, Miss, I'm sorry."

"OK, no problem."

Erica pushed back into the headrest and closed her eyes for a second. As she opened them, she drew a deep breath, then tried to exhale as slowly as she could to steady her heart rate.

The rocky outcrop to the East provided some sense of shelter to the camp, even though she had felt virtually no wind since her arrival 4 weeks earlier. The red rock made her feel as though she was safe behind it, almost as if it would protect her against something. She didn't quite know what this something was, but the position of the tent in an alcove formed by a jutting boulder and a gradually sloping mound of dirt sweeping away from it was somehow cosy.

Each of the four tents was erected in such a way that one could see quite obviously that whoever put it up knew what they were doing. There was no sagging, no flapping, each cable running to its pole was tautly strung at a precise angle. Erica looked at the shadows cast by the cables in the early morning sun. They formed an almost exact half of a diamond, or at least as close to it as she could see through the Land Rover's windscreen. A diamond. A perfect stone, desired by all, possessed in diluted form by many, truly appreciated by few. Her mind wandered back to the city, to display windows walked past daily by thousands, where stones glittered to draw attention to intricately crafted objects of desire. She thought about the millions of women everywhere who wore glittering stones with a sense of worth about themselves, but without giving even a moment's consideration to the power of the substance perched on their fingers. Erica's hands tightened around the steering wheel. She only realised this a moment later, and purposely relaxed her grip.

The Land Rover rolled to a stop next to the largest tent. Just as it did, a tall figure appeared from behind the canvas. The smile on his face turned to a grin as he looked down at the pot in his hands. "Taking your time again, are you?"

"Morning James. I take it you've managed to achieve the ever elusive perfection?" Erica shook her head. James continued to grin. "Joke all you want Miss Gimbal, there is no such thing as an activity in which the words 'perfection', 'art' and 'zen' don't become applicable at some point."

"So which one of the three is applicable today?"

"I think I'll go with 'zen' for this batch. Your tongue will agree, I guarantee!"

Erica laughed. She liked surrounding herself with people who threw themselves into things with calculated abandon. The hulking, forever smiling James was one of these people. She liked how he didn't stop until he was convinced that whatever he was doing couldn't possibly be done any better. He didn't always consider whether better was necessarily required, but it didn't matter. To him, better wasn't some philosophical concept, it was simply how he did things. The perfectly erected tents were a result of better, just as the zen breakfast was.

"I received your message earlier. The Cessna is ready, should I pack the latest samples for you?"

"Yes, thank you. There are four tubes from batch 63 that I have to take with me, they're just behind the passenger seat. Please pack them along with the external drive from Scorpio. I'm going to need all the data I can get."

"Anything else?"

"That should do it. Thanks."

She sat down in a folding canvas chair, looking up just as James handed her a plate. Two eggs on brown toast, half a tomato and baked beans covering a perfectly crumbled mountain of zen. There was something about pap cooked into a crumbled consistency that felt like home. As she dug a fork in and raised it, she looked up to see James staring in anticipation. She shook her head and unloaded the crumbs into her mouth. James looked like he was about to receive news about the fate of the world.

"I think it would be safe to allow you to continue to cook, James."

He laughed. Not with a sense of relief about the fate of the world, but with the smug satisfaction of a mission accomplished.

"I'll get your equipment packed, Miss Gimbal. I sure hope this time will be better."

"I hope so too James, I hope so too."

With the bulky phone back in her pocket, Erica turned to face the increasing light above the horizon. She looked across the expanse in front of her. As far as her eyes could see, there was nothing that anyone used to movement and activity would notice. It was dead quiet. That was always the one thing people who weren't used to her world noticed first. Those who paid attention long enough to stop needing to hear their own voices always uttered a low-pitched "wow" whenever they started to hear that high-pitched buzzing sound that can only be heard in complete absence of noise.

As she took a step forward, she listened intently to her boot crunching into the dirt. With the next step, she tried to focus on the scratching sound her other boot made as it scraped past a small dry shrub that reached only up to her ankle. An outsider would have looked at the shrub and asked why it - and the thousands around it - were dead. Then they'd pause, and ask why it was there in the first place. Why it needed to be there. Why it chose to be there, of all places. Why it didn't rather choose somewhere more hospitable as its home.

Erica smiled as she lengthened her stride and felt the morning air against her face. She put both hands into her jacket pockets. Her hands were cold. With the sun rising, they wouldn't be for long, but she liked the feeling of fleece on her knuckles anyway. The path in front of her wound around a rocky outcrop, revealing the parked Land Rover behind it. From a distance, the Landy with its roof racks packed with shiny alloy cases and high-tech equipment looked strangely at odds with the sand on which it was standing. As she moved closer, Erica dismissed this thought. The vehicle and everything it contained was intended to be there, so it couldn't be out of place.

Stepping onto the running board and swinging herself into the driver's seat, she lowered her head just enough so she could peer out towards the East from underneath the visor. The sun was now a complete circle in the sky. She could feel that it was complete by the warm tingle on her cheek. The day had started, in the middle of nowhere, just as it had started everywhere else. As the diesel rumbled to life with a puff of black smoke, Erica looked into the back of the Land Rover at the dozens of shiny tubes, all perfectly arranged and labelled. She let her eyes wander, slowing down as she reached four of the tubes close to the back of the passenger seat, then turned and looked at the two lines in the dirt in front of her. Her foot lifting, the heavy clutch clunked into action. The track between her and the camp would take 2 hours to cover; not because it was particularly long, but because she didn't like driving fast through the semi-arid landscape. She felt a strange kind of guilt about disturbing the silence she loved so much, so she avoided it in the most reassuring way possible. Erica adjusted her back into the seat and shifted into 2nd gear.

A drop of dew rolled slowly down a petal. Reaching the tip, it started growing until it strained under its own weight, waiting to be released onto an unsuspecting leaf below. The white of the petal looked slightly green through the pureness of the liquid. Just as it seemed as though the petal couldn't hold the weight of the water anymore, an index finger slid underneath it, and the drop rolled onto a bed of skin without fuss. Erica tilted her head slightly as she squinted, trying to focus on the reflections in the tiny ball of water. She moved her hand up towards her face, balancing the drop as carefully as possible on the smooth surface of her fingertip. Halfway up, it started rolling towards the joint . She stopped, tilted her whole hand a little forward, and brought it closer.

The drop turned pink, then peach. As it came closer to her face, Erica started losing her focus. She moved her hand up towards her right eye. The peach burst into a dozen shades, almost as though the hint of sun behind it was commanding the colours to obey its orders and show that light has the power to be more than just one colour.

As she squinted into the sunrise, Erica felt the slight movement of something against her ankle. She looked down just as a gecko scurried from behind her, hurried between her boots, rapidly hiding itself underneath a slate of rock just ahead of her. She looked up again, and realised that the dew drop was losing its grip. It splashed down into the dust where the gecko had passed, blurring its tiny footprints in the process. She looked at her fingertip. The colour was gone, the peach now replaced by a lighter colour as the sun grew above the horizon. The day was starting.

She stood up, raising her body off its temporary perch on her ankles. Both her hands came to rest on her waist as she surveyed the landscape in front of her. Erica couldn't understand why people didn't like the desert. The dusty, sometimes red, sometimes white, sometimes brown hues created a world of colour one needed to slow down to appreciate. Maybe that was it, she thought. The beauty didn't reveal itself until your eyes, your ears, your nose stopped processing things at hyper pace. The desert needed you to stop for a moment for it to show itself. It needed you to take it all in without expectations, without timelines. It demanded all of you for it to make sense.

A vibration inside the pocket of her cargo pants suddenly disturbed the silence. The quietness in the air immediately became more apparent as she reached into the pocket and retrieved the bulky satellite phone. Flipping the aerial open, she sighed. "Hello, this is Erica." The voice on the other end asked a question. "Yes, Erica Gimbal." The sun was almost half a circle now above the horizon. "OK, I'll be there by lunchtime. Goodbye."