We call our devoted little band the "Eldorado Exploring Expedition". We've sworn ourselves to secrecy. When we talk we are desperately aware of the things required in the work of this world and all others in which we are present. To tear treasure out of the bowels of the land is the desire of our enemies. The question is, at what point does one need to take up arms against an oppressor?

The convicts line up in two rows before the guardhouse, waiting for work to begin. They are surrounded by ranks of guards with loaded rifles and stun guns. There is an Indian agent who counts the convicts and sends them to work in parties where they are required. Long ago, in the United States of America, such groups were called "chain gangs". I set off for the engineering workshop. It's held in a low, metal building. The courtyard in front of the main entrance is heaped up with piles of various materials. This facility contains workshops for locksmiths, carpenters, a paintroom, and so on. The General used to come here. He worked in the paintroom, boiled the linseed oil, made up the paints, and carried out research with regard to new binding agents.

There is an officer who oversees the engineers. Several engineers are of a lower rank. They end up supervising the work that the convicts do. I've begun chumming with a few of the mechanics in the station, in spite of their imperfect manners. There is a foreman, Nikolai, a boiler-maker by trade. He's a good worker. He's a lanky, bony, dark-faced man, with big intense eyes. His forehead is perpetually creased in worry. Most of his hair seems to have fallen out long ago, though he still sports a long beard. In this respect, he reminds me of my old friend, Charon. Nikolai likes to tie up his beard in a kind of white serviette he made just for the purpose. It has loops that go over his ears.

Nikolai tells me that "the General's driver - that Rick had left him for the space corps, I decided that was my chance and I managed to get over all right but he already had another driver, a Sergeant Somebody, I forget his name. So there I was, with no status. But I still managed to see a little of it, from the back seat you might say... you probably saw most of the hot places yourself. Where were you stationed?"
"Y.W.C.A.," I say.
"What?" He straightens up, slowly. Looks me in the eye, "You wouldn't be trying to kid me, would you?"
"Why?" I come back. "Don't it work? What I think right now is -"
"Folks don't come in here to think," Nikolai is staring down at his hands again. "They come here to do business and then get out. Do you aim to do any business or don't you?"
"Are you going to let me?" I slap him on the back and shout, "We shall have silicate crystal!"
"No! Silicate crystal!" as though he can't believe his ears. Then in a low voice, "You... eh?"
I put my finger to the side of my nose and nod mysteriously.
"Good for you!" he cries, snapping his fingers above his head, lifting one foot. We try a jig. We caper about in the dust.
"After all," says this boiler-maker in a reasonable tone, "why shouldn't we get the silicate crystal?"
Why not, indeed!
"Three weeks," I say, confident.