"I'm not sure I'd put it behind all the other problems," says Gregor. "There are plenty of problems whose solutions are worth less than a planet."

"Yes, but terraforming an existing rock is faster. Are you short on large space rocks?"

"We might end up wanting a planet in a place where there aren't any conveniently located large space rocks. I haven't given the matter extensive thought yet."

"Fair enough. Then I will make a planet before addressing - I don't know what classic minor annoyances are operative in this world and century. I'll say something bound to be hilariously dated. Spam e-mail."

"I think that's past hilariously dated and into the realm of 'I genuinely don't know what you're talking about'," says Gregor.

Cam cackles. "I assume you still have electronic communication. It used to be very common for people to propagate excessive advertisements and incompetent scams and chain letters with it."

"I suspect excessive advertisements and incompetent scams are eternal, but apparently they've changed sufficiently in the last several hundred years to make that phrase out of date."

"Fair enough." Wag, wag.

"Hullo, coz."

"Hello, Ivan," he says brightly. "Care to come for a visit? There's someone I'd like you to meet."

"You look entirely too pleased with yourself. What gives, Miles?"

"Mysterious top-secret doings which present no danger to your life or limb and which I will explain in full when you show up."

"Because you're terribly uncreative and the only things that I might regret coming to have a look at are the ones that result in me hopping home on one leg? Well, that's me wholly reassured."

"I asked Gregor if I could borrow you and he said yes. Consider yourself officially reassigned to Whatever You Say, Miles duty for the forseeable future."

"...whatever you say, Miles. Does this mean I'm begging off work now or merely that I'm turning up for dinner?"

"Eh, turn up for dinner. It's not scale-of-hours urgent."

"Right then. I'll be by."

"See you then," he chirps.

And at dinnertime, Ivan is by. Apprehensive, but still by.

Miles greets him at the door, just as suspiciously cheerful as he was around lunchtime.

"Okay, get it over with, what's the story, coz?"

"It must be seen to be believed," he intones. "C'mon."

Ivan sighs long-sufferingly and follows.