walking sticks. All but one of them had false teeth. Three were diabetics, two had pacemakers. One of them was using his second heart.

April's world was the very opposite. She had never seen anything old. Her Complex was a world of flowers, kittens, puppies and children. As far as she knew, the whole outside world was in its infancy too. Everlasting youth. Even the pictures of insects in her school books showed only eggs and caterpillars, lest she wonder where things like moths or butterflies came from. She had never seen a fully grown animal, or plant. When specimens were passed through to her, they were always of seedlings, or sprouting seeds, so she never had an inkling of what the adult world, or the mature world, might be.

"April?" "Yeah?"

"How are you?"

"I feel sick."

"Whereabouts?"

"In my head."

"Would you like something to help?"

"Yeah."

A small door in the wall slid aside. April took the plastic cup and drank. She pulled a face.

"Horrible!"

"Medicine has to be nasty," said the voice sweetly.

"I don't believe you."

"You should feel better in a minute."

"How old are you?" asked April suddenly. The voice was silent for a moment. Surprised.

"I'm the same as you." it said at last.

"Nine?"

"That's right."

"Why can't I see you?"

"Its a secret."

"I want someone to play with."

"You have a puppy, and a kitten."