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.