Spock! Good to see you! Well, an answer - for you, not your readers, I guess - but make of it what you will.

Ahem. Being an Ambassador, as little people don't know, is about making deals with the BIG people, in fact the RIGHT BIG people, and placating or otherwise paying off the WRONG big people. The little people don't matter in this case at all. All they need is to see you bowing and smiling in public, and kissing a few babies.

The problem with that kind of career, what you would call a Public Service Career, is that it's rather high profile, and once you're VISIBLY tarnished, as I was by allegations of corruption, all those other corrupt politicos who don't want to APPEAR tarnished in the voters' (or little people's) eyes, want nothing more to do with you. Of course I wasn't corrupt, or at least no more so than anyone else in the business. But to be SEEN to be corrupt is most unhelpful. And once that happens, well. I had assumed I could call in favours from old acquaintances - but I was disappointed. Rats don't hang around to protect other rats when they are in danger of drowning.

Mind you, we certainly were not poor; when we moved out of Manu Valley it was with a comfortable fortune, thanks to certain investments. While not (quite) millionaires, neither I nor Eleonore will ever need to work again, unless we want to, so no: we don't need to spend any time searching for jobs. We've even hired a new butler, once we got established in the new house, a large one close to the Bay, the kind of property people tend to call "Legacy Builds", and there's lots to do around here, water sports, theatres, you name it. It makes Manu Valley look like a backwater. Spock, you and your new wifey really should come and have a break here!

The clone voucher? That wasn't something I went looking for: rather it was a gift from someone, (and no, I won't name them) at the Manu Valley DISH (Darwin Institute for Science and History) in return for certain favours. But since I had it, I thought it might buy a little peace from my dear old Eleanore's nagging. She isn't going to admit she's past it, but she's broody! So basically it meant I didn't have to be so worried when she approached me at bedtime with a gleam in her eye and a bottle of scented oil. Chortle.

So anyhow, I went to the Future, you know, and it looked - all right. Played with a jetpack and a hoverboard, like a kid. Found muscles I didn't think I still had, and, well, I thought I had kept up my fitness from my pro cycling days, but I still have the bruises! There were some folks claiming to be my descendants - I hadn't figured out until now how that happened, but I see now they must be descended through Lancelet. Well, good on him! It was a very bright, shiny future, but I didn't really feel too settled there. I suspect everyone was living on happy pills. Oh it wasn't all sparkly clean, there was this huge, grimy, Wasteland, I went out to have a look. Maybe that's where I picked up this bug that's hitting me so hard since I got back.

I need some fresh air now, so I'll log - thanks for writing. It's good to hear from old friends who aren't rats! Do come visit, come for a weekend, anytime - I know as Newspaper Editor you are pretty busy, but give us a ring when you have time. I'm usually here, and Eleonore has given up her silly notions of career now she has Lancelet to fuss over. We can drink to our descendants!