Reach was a first. It was the first planet to be colonized outside the range of most starship's jumps. It was the first planet to be colonized by two companies at the same time. The UKPC – United Kingdom Planetary Corporation and CCP – La compania de colonizacion planetal (of Spain) – both laid their claims. A filing issue, because of the new distance, led both proposals for colonization to be accepted. When, a month after the arrival of colonists, the UNO recognized the issue, both companies were steadfast in their right to the planet.

For the first hundred years, the two halves of the planet began a development race. The UN worried that this could have escalated into an arms race. It almost did. Then, a genius move prevented destruction. An ambassador from Argentina mused on combining governments to form a single planet. The Ricardo proposal, as the plan began to be called was tabled for later discussion by both competitive bodies.

The UKPC maintained a bustling metropolis with trade from European and North American holdings funding the economy. This half was farmed only for the inhabitants and a few reserves which were kept. The UKPC only traded financially from this planet. This was helped by the government – conveniently run by the company and thus, for the company.

The CCP had done the same. Otherwise, a population argument would have seen their holdings on the planet disappear in a few decades. The CCP, unfortunately had a smaller clout in finance and thus did began to fall behind. The colonists were poorer and less skilled with the nature of work called for in the banking world Reach had become.

For another three hundred years, the hemispheres of the planet lived on in blissful ignorance of their counterpart. Yet, at year SC (since colonization) 404, the two halves found each other. Both halves, taking advantage of the climate and the geography of the equator, had let their cities spread along a 300-kilometer band around the middle. Both halves' farming could be managed in the temperate zones and the continent in the centre – named 'Seam' by the cricketer (who saw the planet as an orbital bowl) and geologist the UKPC employed four hundred years ago and named 'Media Tierra' by the less imaginative CCP counterpart – did not break around the planet.

The Seam did cause a huge drought crisis as winds only blew slight chills – a drop of a degree every December – from North to South and it rarely rained. Rain ever occurred only because of the temperate zones, but since the planet was a little bigger and less dense than Earth, most of the other severe problems did not occur. In fact, hurricanes never did cause issues and there was scarce volcanic or seismic activity in Media Tierra.

Yet due to geography, at 404 SC, there was no room for the development race. The Ricardo proposal – under three hundred years of dust – shot up in the priorities. Both governments chose representatives and they met at the most neutral place – the North Pole. There, holed up in freezing blizzards, the delegates were given a month to form a government.

From that room came what both companies considered to be a cunning constitution – for ethical and economic reasons. The UKPC was handed over legislation and the CCP judiciary. Both sides had the power to repress the other. If they did not collaborate, the planet was doomed to fail.

The immediate result of this was an election, citizenship changes and a new tax system. Soon, by 405, a third, overseeing branch of government was made – by the people, to be fair to the companies and make sure that neither overstepped.

Social ramifications followed. The hemispheres, after centuries of competition, could not coexist. The two halves fought a social and racial war. Hate crime, protest and segregation followed for another century. The government agreed to let the mix occur slowly instead of repeating the volatile reaction performed earlier.

By 555 SC, the societies were fully integrated. The slurs and stereotypes lived on as relics and memories. The key terms – Latino and Brit – stayed, however, taking on socio-economic meanings. Latino referred to the poor as Brit referred to the rich. Other than that, the planet was a bi-racial mimicry of Earth.

Economically, the planet was quite standard – both colonizing companies kept a hold on the planet's major money while entrepreneurs dealt with the smaller concerns. The government, being extremely socialist, managed all basic necessities – food, health and education primarily. Food was the only part of life which was managed outside the Seam. In the temperate zones, islands were extremely cultivable and thus, robot plantations grew all the necessary food. This was sold by the government.

The central city, labelled Reach City, was a remarkable example of the status quo. Computers designed the tera-lopolis to optimize psychological comfort – two thirds of every cubic kilometre had to be in sunlight at all times of the planet's day. Only 5% of the city could know their true altitude at any time. The city housed 50 trillion – the structure stretched 300 kilometres wide circumnavigating the planet's 30,000 kilometre circumference and rising 800 metres everywhere. The city was, of course, a cluster of districts. Some districts – like Madrid Lejo were extremely Spanish – uprooted from terrestrial Spain. Others were uprooted from England – Greatest London being the prime example. Business took place in the lower levels and residence further up – the higher, the costlier. Transport was handled entirely by publicly owned maglev cabs and busses which operated on road-like tracks. A central computer optimized cab assignment to handle everybody's transport needs.

Petra Ral's demographic was one which demonstrated the duality between the word Latino and its true racial implication. To anybody who did not know her, Brit would have been a more suitable term. She was pale, ginger and hazel-eyed. Even her gait and composure would have confused those familiar with the planet's classes. She walked with an air of confidence and focussed calm. Unlike the stereotypical Latino, she did not hunch or relax or appear in any way lazy. She appeared energetic, upright and powerful. In fact, she could even seem dangerous when incorrectly provoked. Yet, to those who knew her or heard of her background, she was a Latino.

The illusion, however, worked to her advantage as she stepped out of the familiar La Frontera district and walked to World's End. She crossed the hemispheres with no inkling of the border she walked over. Instead of taking a maglev cab, Petra decided to walk. While walking, she reviewed her responses to the possible interview questions. Why be a secretary? She liked helping people. Why him? He'd hiring. What qualifications? Her education (she was up to college-level) and her punctuality. Did she have more? Did she need more?

On the 42nd level of the district of World's End was the UKPC office. It was a long way down, but slopping streets provided excellent views of the sprawling district. The UKPC office was in a block where its 100 metre altitude was invisible. Sun shone on the building in the afternoon during either solstice and in up until the evening on the equinox days. Today, in the morning, the sun had yet to reach. The region was in a shadow. The building tried to compensate for this. The structure was an entirely white Greek design. It looked like a Pantheon in size, colour and grandeur. Inside, however, the building fast-forwarded the millennia and looked modern. The lowest level contained classical cubicles while, on either side, two glass cubes framed in metal rose up to contain executive offices. These overlooked the cubicle field, reminiscent of the office of a factory-overseer.

In the left cube, on the third level, was the office Petra was to be interviewed in. Nerves hit her, as she had been expecting. She took the elevator up and reached the third level. She had come with fifteen minutes to spare. Hidden in the centre of the cube, Petra found a smaller cubicle field. The offices she could see from the lowest level formed the edges of the cube. The fifth office on the right was the one she was to be judged in.

Following best practice and her own guesses on her to be boss' attitudes, she knocked meekly on the door. Receiving no response, she opened the door to an empty room. She took in everything she could see. Fortunately, the window (or glass wall) faced the wall of the building. Petra would not be distracted by the lowest level's activity. The desk was bare and the two seats inside were ergonometric. There was a projector on the side, possibly for an interactive interface.

A small scoff, right behind her ear shook Petra out of her reverie. "Are you Ms. Ral?" A voice said. Petra slowly turned and extended her hand with the most confidence she could muster.

"Yes. Mr. Ackermann, right?"

"Nice to meet you." He said, not suggesting the nice in his tone in any way.

"Am I too early?"

"There's no such thing." Levi walked past Petra and entered the room. For an executive, Petra expected a taller man. She could not place much about him, but was certain he was a Brit – he did fit the class. "Come in." He said as an afterthought.

Petra stood by the chair, wondering what Brit etiquette required her to do. Did she need to ask him for permission to sit? It became too late to know as Levi sat and said after a second's scrutiny: "Do sit."

As Petra sat down, trying not to made a fool of herself before the interview and panicking about his reaction and their meeting, Levi wondered exactly who was vying to be his secretary. She seemed alright. Her application suggested a Latino background, but her presence hid it well. Her lack of enthusiasm shined from both her composure and his expectations – what kind of a person would want to be his secretary? She was ginger and hazel-eyed and short. Why did he care? – those things were irrelevant, yet they popped into his head. Well, height was a bit of a hidden criterion. Collecting his thoughts, Levi began his small spiel: "As you may know, it is odd for me to be conducting this interview, in all honesty it is barely worth my time and preparation. Yet, seeing as my past secretary was a dismal flop, you have the chance to change my conception of your occupation." Levi paused for effect. Petra was, internally, trembling – of all things, this level of hate was not an expectation; yet, she hid her fear well as Levi looked for fear and found barely any. "Now: to the interview. First things first: why do you want to be a secretary?"

"I believe that in being a secretary, I get to express my one key desire: helping people."

Levi stopped in his tracks. Her accent said it all. She was as Latino as the mayor of Madrid. "Is that it?"

"Pretty much." It was, however, subtle – in fact it only stood out due to his incorrect prejudice.

"Great. Enthusiastic of you. Now, you're a Latino, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you think that will affect you?"

"I'm hoping to count on the greater nature of the Brit culture to not let it count against me."

"Sure. Do you speak Spanish?" This would help Levi deal with some of the new business he had planned to create.

"Yes."

"I see. Why is it that you applied to be my secretary?"

"I felt that the challenge would be great as, as you have mentioned, you are a busy man, and I do like a challenge."

"Great. I'll tell you about your predecessor. She was less organized than I am and had me late for every one of her appointments. I, being the charitable soul I am, ended up more as her secretary than she was mine."

"I will not falter in that way."

"I'm most certain. She was late for her interview and babbled most repulsively throughout."

"Thank you very much." So it went well?

"You're welcome. In fact, you're welcome here tomorrow at seven."

"Thank you." Petra was overjoyed. She did not expect the prompt decision, but could not dislike the one that was made.

"I'll send out everything over the Stream. I have your ID, right?"

"PetraRal Re."

"Great. You can call me Levi in the future."

"Thanks Levi." The name was a nice one – quirky, she decided.

Petra walked out of the office. She mentally texted her father. The procedure was simple – there were government-issue implants to handle the communications. This functioned much like an old cell-phone, but with quicker, inherently intuitive controls. Her father was quick to congratulate her through text.

As she reached her residential level, the second lowest at level 66, Petra's vision filled with Levi-related data. His appointments and records came up instantly and every detail was meticulously organized by value. A note was attached to the database which fabricated. "Two things: don't touch this, read it all. I expect you to be up to speed tomorrow morning."

Petra sighed – she had gotten a little more work than she accounted for. She skimmed through the data, checking the basic structure and the content's summaries. It all seemed quite trivial – there were not many meetings, but Levi's to-do list was full. He had added a folder called "Secretary." Browsing this, Petra was welcomed by a short note: "So, you're not stupid. Figure it out." There were two types of files: notes and programs. The two included programs were a call re-direct program so that Petra could choose which callers to let through (a computer could have done this but the majority of surveys suggested that clients preferred a human touch) and a super-secure messaging program. She blinked the mess of open files away as she walked in and saw that it was lunch time.

She walked into her apartment. The interior and exterior pointed to a simple colloquialism: Latino Hut. The exterior was almost uniformly grey and bare. A few, small and obsolete windows stuck out, lighting the three rooms of the allotment. The three rooms added to this image being barely lit and minimally furnished. There were things – a few clothes in either room, a few utensils in the kitchen and few other utilities scattered about. Nothing in the flat, however, existed for pleasure or decoration.

Petra walked in and dispassionately scrubbed a pot to ensure its cleanliness. The government did not allocate cooked food for Petra's social class – the families could not afford it. Thus, Petra catalogued the contents of her fridge, improvising a Mexican salad. That, fortunately, did not tax on their minimal electricity allocation.

Petra served up this tortilla free taco as Mr. Ral entered. "How was work?" Petra asked.

"Alright. The usual bore. I hear you'll come to know tomorrow." Mr. Ral had a similar job to the one Petra had applied for. Because of Petra was young – only 18 – she was not ambitiously leaping up the social ladder. Yet, she had concrete plans to be a Brit by the end of her life.

"Yeah. It was surprisingly easy and Mr. Ackermann – he prefers Levi – is quite busy."

"So you'll be a tad entertained. It's stupid, you know, the only reason I'm not higher up is because the bloody Brits are being stupid."

"I'm pretty sure it's not just them."

"It is."

"Dad!" Petra hated her dad's prejudices and had tried her best to change his ways, but to little avail.

"Really. See the world, you'll understand."

"I will. And my understanding will prove you wrong."

"Have fun."

"I will."

Mr. Ral smirked, enjoying the mock-argument. It was funny to hear Petra agree in an angry tone. He had also said "have fun" belligerently.

Mr. Ral sat at the small table they owned – a plastic affair any richer person would have dubbed disposable. "So, what's for food?"

"¡Tacos sin tortillas, son mi creacion original!"

"Bueno." Mr. Ral tried some. "No son mal."

"Gracias."

"But actually, where did you get this stuff?"

"The fridge."

"Wow. I should check that some time."

"It contains wonders."

Mr. Ral ate slowly, relishing Petra's miracle. "So, how's this Levi guy, anyway?"

"A bit rude, but alright."

"I hope he's not stupid."

"He doesn't seem to be."

"He pompous?"

"No."

"Arrogant?"

"No." Petra knew the pattern – her father was testing his prejudices. "And he's not a prick or anything or that sort either."

"Ok. Tell me more when you get to know him better."

"Will do."

After lunch, Petra passed an interesting afternoon studying Levi's life. She learned quite quickly, and unsurprisingly, that he was a bachelor. She further found out that he was very busy – in fact, during his fourteen working hours (6 am to 8 pm) he was only free for thirty minutes and singly-booked for two hours. For the other eleven and a half hours, Levi had two or three concurrent meetings he would have had to attend. She really did have her work cut out.