Bob asks. Micah is standing at the window, staring down at Argus City. It is nightfall, at least until the sun rises again in ninety minutes. He doesn't know how people adjust to the frequent sunrises. Maybe their windows are timed to the station's orbital schedule, and darken each time the sun breaks like a nuclear bomb over the city. I don't care, Micah says. Do I really have to spend twelve weeks learning this stuff? Twelve weeks is the Earth course length, Bob says. You're already here. You can learn what you like when you like, on an as-needed or as-desired basis. Or you can simply walk the halls alone, a rogue gunslinger who doesn't need anything from anybody. Adjust for drama, Bob, Micah grumbles. Three tones. What a shame, Bob says. I was good at it. Where do you think I should start? Bob says, Perhaps a history lesson. I can tell you how the station fleet came to be, when the first station was constructed in orbit, and describe the current status of all twelve stations. Let me save you some time, Micah says.
