Energized by Edward M. Lerner

than in the lunar case, did not sometimes approach a full second. “Walking” involved a joystick and then only indicated a general direction. The bot’s onboard nav software figured how to locomote across the landscape.
    He swept his hand again, keeping his fingers straight, still, and together. This time, the landscape shifted as he expected. “I don’t get it. Exploring Phoebe seems like the last thing that would interest you.”
    â€œPatrick, a guy I work with, was into these bots right after Phoebe rentals came online.” She seemed about to say more, and to reconsider. “I tried to interest Simon in remote-controlled exploration. Any kid his age is going to spend time in VR, and this seemed much more civilized than the usual shoot-’em-ups.”
    â€œHow’d that go over?”
    â€œA mom’s suggestion? About as well as you’d expect.”
    Marcus kept gesturing, the landscape swaying in response. “Am I ready for a stroll?”
    â€œUh-huh. Let’s find a pair of bots somewhere interesting.” She did something with her controller and a translucent pop-up materialized over the landscape. “Okay, here’s an idle pair of bots near the Grand Chasm. You take bot three-twenty-seven.” With a gesture, she changed the scene.
    He had seen the Grand Chasm often enough, but never like this. Never so vast. What had changed?
    The horizon was way too close.
    â€œThese bots can’t be more than a foot tall,” he said. “I’m used to watching from the safety cameras, atop eight-foot posts.”
    â€œSize isn’t everything,” she said. And blushed.
    Marcus pretended not to notice, guessing the words had just slipped out. If Valerie was one for flirting or double entendres he had yet to see it.
    He waggled a tentacle at her bot. “So, come here often?”
    Laughing, she managed to make her bot shrug. “Only twice, both times long ago.”
    â€œHmm. Maybe this can be our place.” The line felt hokey, and yet like the first uncontrived remark he had come up with all evening.
    They each arched a tentacle over the railing to peer into the abyss, where scree piles dotted the dark, undulating depths. He saw bots stranded partway down and the tentacle tips of others peeking out from beneath piles of rubble. Trapped before the barrier went up, or did tourists climb their bots over the railing?
    The chasm sides looked unstable, but exactly how treacherous were they? Marcus needed several tries to grasp and drop a stray pebble over the railing. Under Phoebe’s scant gravity, the rock more floated than fell. Finally, picking up speed, it struck a canyon wall and triggered a slow-motion rockslide.
    Few people had ever entered the Grand Chasm, and—as much as geologists ached to explore Phoebe’s most prominent feature—none had gone down very far. Too dangerous, the risk assessments always concluded. Even flying in, a hopper’s exhaust could start an avalanche. Someday, perhaps, when mining was less of a priority, the staff could tunnel into the bottom of the rift.
    Someday remained distant.
    Marcus had long suspected an excess of caution after the early—and unrelated—incident during the establishment of Phoebe base. One geologist had already died on Phoebe, and NASA was determined not to lose another.
    Now, in eerie silence, as the slo-mo rockslide went on and on, Marcus reconsidered.
    Only how was he seeing this? Not sunlight—ever. Not earthlight, given the minimal comm delay. Phoebe had to be more or less overhead at the moment, deep inside Earth’s shadow. Moonlight? The moon was just past first quarter. The light it cast would strike obliquely, the shadows pointing in one direction—only the shadows around the bots pointed every which way. That suggested artificial lighting, yet he saw neither lamps nor spotlights.
    He gave up trying to work it out. “I’m confused. Where