---

---

After he had eaten, Herne was about to resume his reading when he heard a self-important bustling in the corridor, and the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Into his room strode a tall man with grey hair. He wore a suit that had seen better days. A handkerchief had been folded and pushed into the jacket breast pocket. His garish tie was clamped to his white collared shirt by a large gold pin. He rounded on Herne.

'I'm looking for a boy called Herne or something. Do you know where he is?'

Herne made to stand up, but the man had come so close that to stand up would have meant they would be nose to nose. Herne looked up, while trying to back his chair away.

'I'm Herne,' and he put out his hand.

The man ignored the gesture. He was carrying a clipboard loaded with papers, which he consulted.

'Right,' he said after a moment, 'my name is Mr Hogswill. You're working on my project now, and if there is one thing I demand its commitment and performance.'

'That's two things,' said Herne and he regretted it immediately.

'What's two things?' snorted Mr Hogswill.

'Commitment and performance, two things.'

'Oh, very clever. I can see I'm going to have to keep a close eye on you.'

'I'm sorry,' said Herne, 'it wasn't intended that way. Anyway I'm working for Duncan at the moment.'

'I am Duncan, but you call me Mr Hogswill, understand. I see from your CV your new here and you haven't done much yet either. You'll learn the way things are. Now, what did you want?'

Duncan put the clipboard down on the table. Papers gently slipped from the board and scattered themselves on the floor. Duncan swore, then bent down to pick them up. He turned to Herne.

'Well don't just sit there. Show some bloody initiative. Help me here.'

Herne scrambled out of his chair and picked up the papers. Duncan sat down on the desk and waited for Herne to finish.

'Well?' he said.

'Um, well, John has told me a little of what the project is about.'

'John! People say he's good at R & D, but he's not what I'd call a solid project man.'

'Oh, right, anyway, I think I've got all the information I need to get started ... '

'Get started! What is it with you bloody RANbD people eh? Fred in the main plant has been at it for two weeks and he's nearly finished, and you're just about to get started. Well done.'

'But John only put me on this job a few days ago.'

'Well if that's all you've come to tell me you wasted my time.'

Duncan started to pick small pieces of fluff from his jacket. Herne watched him in stunned amazement.

'Err, no, that wasn't it,' said Herne, 'I just wanted to know about the schedule, how long I've got to do the work.'

'The schedule is of no concern to you,' said Duncan, picking away at a stubborn bit of fluff. 'The schedule is a project management matter. Remember that. As far as I'm concerned you're getting paid to program and that's what I want you to do. I'm going to give you a work package and I want you to get on with it, OK.'

Duncan took a form from his pile of papers. From an inside jacket pocket he extracted a gold pen and scribbled some words on the form. Then with an exaggerated flourish he signed his name and handed it to Herne.

'That's all.' He picked up his papers and headed for the door.

---

As Herne came to he realised his leg was a little damp. Clumsily he reached down and his hand touched something moist. As he drew it near to get a better look, he noticed a strange, spicy smell in the room. The thing was piece of lettuce. He looked down and groaned. He had been sleeping in the remains of his kebab. He clambered off the floor and headed for the bathroom. Herne's state of mind could not be described as a little out of focus. Which is why, on encountering the locked bathroom door, he assumed it must be stuck and forced it open. There was a scream.

'Strewth!' shouted Herne by way of a reply. 'Who are you?'

'I'm B Thomas, now get out.'

Herne studied the naked and rather soapy figure standing in the shower.

'But you're a woman!' he protested.

'Oh well done. Now get out!' screamed B Thomas.

Herne took another good look, just to make sure, and left.

---

---

For some time he said nothing. Herne kept pace and enjoyed looking out to sea. Leviathan was right about one thing, the walk along the esplanade into Brighton is magnificent. Some evenings, as the sun sinks low over the sea behind Worthing, it casts a particular light over the town. When the light becomes noticeable it is orange. It changes effortlessly into vermilion and then finally into alizarin crimson. Herne reckoned he was enjoying the middle of this evening's vermilion phase. A fine sea mist kissed the beach. In the distance Herne could make out the remnants of the West Pier and beyond that the lights of the Palace Pier. The air was still. The only sound was that of gentle waves tickling the pebbles. The mist made a watercolour of the sunset, and the air carried the scent of the sea.

'This is just glorious,' thought Herne. 'This is why I like being here. All this and Brighton as well.'

---

---

'Yes, the Big Idea, ready-to-hand and present-at-hand. Consider a roofer, a chap who does a lot of hammering. He hammers in nails all day long. He is a past master at hammering. He has a set of tried and trusted hammers which he uses. When he uses one of these tools it is ready-to-hand. It is there in his hand, and he is able to use it to complete his job. The hammer is so good at what it does that it almost becomes transparent. Our roofer isn't really conscious that he has a hammer in his hand. He is conscious of the fact that he is getting his job done in an efficient manner. Then, to his surprise, the hammer breaks. Say the head flies off and smashes one of the new tiles he has been fixing in place. Suddenly he can no longer do his job and the reason is the hammer. The hammer becomes the focus of his attention. It moves from being ready-to-hand to being present-at-hand i.e. it becomes the subject of conscious thought. It is in that transition, that our roofer will make his quality judgement. If he has had the hammer for a long time, he may just decide that it was an old hammer and was probably due to break anyway. The point is that in that situation he may not mind, he may even feel nostalgic. The chances are the hammer will go up in his estimations rather than down. He will think better of the hammer, and the people who made. He may even look out for that make of hammer again when he goes to replace it. You follow?'

---

'Are you absolutely sure this safe?' asked Herne. 'I mean are you absolutely sure that your brain doesn't fry, or you don't get put back together in some hideous way?'

'Look at me. Do I look like I'm put together the wrong way? Do I talk like a lunatic?'

Herne didn't answer.

'Of course it's safe,' Leviathan persevered. 'I've been through the DIREF hundreds of times now, and have never suffered any side effects. In fact it's spectacularly uneventful. You will find it a crushing anticlimax, I'm sure. What lies at the other though is simply delightful. Come on, adventures! Are you ready?'

Herne nodded. Leviathan punched some numbers into the pad beside the door. Herne heard a solenoid bolt fly back. Leviathan reached for the handle and slowly opened the door. Light poured out into the corridor. It was brilliant white, but strangely gentle, not hard. Herne had seen it, or something like it somewhere else, but couldn't quite remember what or where.

'Stay close now,' said Leviathan, and he stepped into the light. Herne followed him. When they were both through, Leviathan turned and shut the door. Herne's eyes were getting used to the light. He could see the DIREF. It was short as Leviathan had said; perhaps no more than 5 meters in length. Looking closely he noticed that it was like a tunnel. The walls and ceiling were one continuous arc of white light.

---

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