Thomas Bailey awoke to the sun streaming in through his window. It was 25.6 degrees Centigrade outside, which considering the fact that he was in the Antarctic Circle in the middle of summer, it had no right to be. He rubbed his eyes and went up to the window, opening it and looking out at the streets of the Imperial City where his apartment was. The courier, a man named Da'ai the Swift, grunted in Antarctican, "It's polite to keep your window closed if you're expecting us.1" "Directly from the Institute," grunted the Courier, handing him an envelope with the seal of the IIPES on it.