than the one I know,” I said. “And backs it up with some very highly evolved hardware.”
“Of course, what I’m accustomed to is much less advanced than this,” Mellia said. “I don’t know what to make of a lot of this.”
“But you’re sure it’s A-P type gear?”
“There’s no doubt in my mind at all. It couldn’t be anything else—certainly not anything that Deterministic theory might have given rise to.”
“I agree with that last point. This layout would make about as much sense at Central—my Central—as a steam whistle on a sailboat.”
“Then you agree we have to work toward an A-P matrix?”
“Slow down, girl. You talk as if all we had to do was shake hands on it, and everything would switch back to where it was last Wednesday at three o’clock. We’re working in the blind. We don’t know what’s happened, where we are, where we’re going, or how to get there. Let’s take it one item at a time. A good place to start would be this whole A-P concept. I get a strange feeling that its theoretical basis is a second-generation type of thing; that it arises from the kind of observational founda­tion generated by a major temporal realign­ment.”
“Would you mind clarifying that?” she said coldly.
I waved a hand. “Your Central isn’t on the main timestem. It’s too complex, too artificial. It’s like a star with a