“I’m always interested in the reactions of new colonists. You see, I was born here. I’m third-generation Edenite, and I never expected anything better. I wasn’t lied to, and I feel sympathy for everyone else who was. Some Earthies can’t handle it. They arrive expecting perfect weather, food dangling from the trees waiting to be picked, gentle streams that never flood.

“There actually are one or two places like that here on Eden, down on the equator. We’ve only just located them. Planetary exploration is dependent on local means of transportation, not to mention limited available manpower. Meanwhile we’re stuck here in the so-called temperate zone, tied to the GATE because moving it might break the link with Earth. Chances are good that it wouldn’t, but we’re not secure enough yet to take the risk, though some of us don’t care if we ever hear from Earth again, supplies or no supplies.

“Right now we’re working on a repulsion rail system that will take us to the Auraxis coast. But it’s far from perfect there, just better weather on balance.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lisa asked.

“Seasonal hurricanes, occurring with a greater frequency than they do on the Gulf Coast of North America.”

“We’re from North America.”

“Good. Depending on what part, you’ll handle the transposition better than some. Every so often we get colonists from Imperial Russia, Scandinavia, and Canada. They don’t mind the climate here.”

Eric found a vacant chair, sat down. He was starting to relax a little. “So it’s all a lie, then, to induce valuable people to emigrate, to participate in the ‘lotteries’.?”

“Oh, we have our libraries and our little symphony and our discussion groups, but there isn’t much time to spare. Keeping warm and fed occupies everyone’s time. Psychological testing of colonists before they’re sent through pretty well eliminates the potential snobs. We do get a few once in a while, though, who claim they’re above physical labor.”

“What do you with them?”

“Not a damn thing. No work, no food. We’re very democratic here. No one’s starved yet, to my knowledge, but some people die before they should. There’s a lot of bitterness here. It festers, and eventually it kills." He shook his head. “This is not paradise. Not according to the descriptions I’ve read."

“I wonder if Garden is as bad?” Lisa murmured.

“We’ve no way of knowing, of course, since there’s no communication between the colonies any more than there is back to Earth. There’s not much we can do about it. We can’t build a plasma drive, and even if we could, the protesters would be dead before it reached Earth, let alone returned with a reply. It took the drone probe which discovered Eden a hundred and thirty years to make the round trip.” He shrugged.

“Like I said, I’m third generation. It doesn’t bother me as much as it does the newcomers.”

“But it still rankles?” Eric said.

“Sure. Nobody likes to be lied to, even before they’re born.” He shifted his position on the edge of the table. “Now what about you two? You said something about possible trouble?”

Eric took Lisa’s hand in his. Having arrived on a world founded and maintained by lies, it seemed only fair to tell the truth.

“We’re not your ordinary new colonists. We’re artisons. At least, Lisa is. I’m something else. Call me an artison-plus.”

“Oh, artificial persons.” Eric expected anything except Jeeter’s casual nonchalance. “We have a number of them here.”

Lisa gaped at him. “But I thought the colony worlds were only for specially picked humans.”

Jeeter laughed, smiled at her. “Do you think you’re the first folks with trouble to have slipped through here?”

“Every attempt we’ve ever heard of was met with failure,” Eric told him.

“Of course! But what about the attempts you don’t hear about? D’you think, as popular as the government has made emigration, that they’re going to publicize incidents where the unchosen have made it through the GATE? They’d have trouble with unauthorized attempts every hour.

“Oh, we do get an occasional bonafide criminal who makes it through. You’d be surprised how many ways there are to disguise someone’s identity.”

“Don’t count on it,” Eric murmured.

“Their attitude changes fast once they step through. Either they cast off their past or they don’t make it. Eden has no room for those who think they can live off the labor of others, and this population’s too smart to be fooled. Crime isn’t in fashion here. In that respect, maybe we do have one small aspect of paradise. The really brutal types, the killers and arsonists, aren’t smart enough to make it through.

“In addition there have been four or five artisons who’ve made it through, and one robot. You can meet the robot if you like. He’s ninety-four and something of a local icon.”

“How on Earth could a robot sneak through?” Eric wanted to know.

“Disguised himself as a mobile excavator and was sent through with a supply shipment. We admire that kind of ingenuity on Eden. It’s what keeps you alive in the winter.”

Lisa eyed the snow outside. “It’s not winter?”

“Mid-spring,” Jeeter told her somberly. “I said it wasn’t paradise. Even the equator gets some snow. As for your personal concerns, forget ’em. There’s no origin prejudice here on Eden. Life’s difficult enough without fabricating additional problems.”

Eric wrestled with himself before adding, “There’s something more. I said I wasn’t your usual, garden-variety artison. I … I don’t really know enough about myself to say all that I am. I’m human. I know that. But I wasn’t … manufactured … on Earth.”

Jeeter made a face as Eric struggled to interpret the expression. “We’ll, that’s a new one. You seem human enough to me, and it speaks well for you that you’re not trying to hide anything." He looked to Lisa. “You vouch for him?"

She leaned her head on Eric’s shoulder. “For the rest of my life.”

“Good enough for me. You do your work and help out and contribute to the colony, and I don’t care if you’re one of Satan’s imps fled from hell." He slipped off the table and moved to his console, studied the information displayed.

“Doesn’t look like we’re going to get anyone else through today.” He touched several switches, and the steady hum that had enveloped the GATE Terminus faded. “No point in wasting power. It’ll notify us if a transposition is in progress. Usually there’s a week between shipments.

“Tell you what. Since you’re such an interesting couple, I’ll run you through the reception line myself.” He led them to the back of the barn. The line of newly arrived colonists had shrunk considerably. None of them glanced back at Lisa and Eric, save for one curious older gentleman.

“I don’t remember seeing you two during the orientation session.”

“Late additions,” Eric told him. He turned away, accepting the explanation.

“Move over, Mari.” A dark-skinned lady smiled openly at Eric, moved to another chair, and relinquished her console to Jeeter. It was a compact, portable unit, easily shipped through the GATE. Eric was curious about the local manufacturing facilities. High technology didn’t appear to be a priority item on the Edenites’ agenda. On the other hand, a colony in existence for a century and a half ought to have some capabilities, founded on basic equipment shipped out from Earth. As a design engineer, he’d probably find out soon enough.

Jeeter confirmed his feelings after Eric had outlined his electronics background. “Glad to have you with us, though I don’t think you’ll have much time for theory and design. This equipment is made to last, and we’ll be producing our own memory and logic components some day soon, but there’s always need for good repairmen. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.” He made some notations, glanced expectantly at Lisa.

“What about you? What’s your specialty?”

Eric stepped in to spare her potential embarrassment. “If it’s acceptable, she’s just going to be a home-maintainer for a while.”

“We’ll find something for her. There’s plenty of work to go around. Not for an ex-model,” he said, guessing correctly. “There’s no high fashion on Eden. We’re more concerned with keeping warm.”

“I’ll do anything assigned to me,” Lisa said quickly. “I’m … stronger than the average woman.”

“No problem. It doesn’t matter what you used to do, only what you do now. Remember, this is not terrestrial society. This is a highly motivated, rigorously sorted collection of intelligent human beings. There’s nothing like it anywhere on Earth. Maybe on Garden.”

“But despite your intelligence and social balance, you’re still angry at having been lied to,” Eric said.

“Sure, but there’s no point in making speeches since we can’t do anything about it. Stress leads to high blood pressure, protein breakdown, and an early death.”

“I see what you mean about balance. Are you a typical example? Nothing seems to bother you for more than a second or two.”

“I expect I’m average. We do have our designated iconoclasts. We’re not all engineers and agri specialists. You might recognize a couple of famous actors in our opto producing group. There are something like seventy-five thousand of us now. Our birthrate is steady and healthy, our children superior, and there’s a steady infusion of fresh blood from Earth. We’ve grown enough to allow some diversity.”