There was no jail in Fulsome, just a coal mine that no one ever came out of. They called it 'working off your debt', but the street term was much more...colourful: The Black Hole. I ain't gonna rot in no mine."What's your business in Fulsome?" The man asked, his voice blessedly bland. Ben let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding."Tiddlywink convention."The inspector gave Ben another bland look."Personal." He concluded. "Duration of stay?" Two days." Pass through the turnstile." He. The first checkpoint was unmanned, but had cameras pointed at the entrance and exit. If anything, it looked as if we were driving onto the grounds of an expensive golf club. A pristine road meandered through trimmed topiary and rows of palm trees, past fountains and ornamental gardens lined with garden furniture that looked as if it cost more than my indoor furniture had. If anyone ever wonders what has happened to the rain forest, I think I can point them in the right direction.All this. More

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