Ishmael waved Hu forward and gestured to the seat that had been made ready for him.

Hu smiled and bowed briefly, almost imperceptibly. He declined the seat and instead sat neatly, in one fluid movement on the floor gesturing for Ishmael to join him on the rosewood veneer.

'The earth would be younger but for this floor.' Hu observed smiling.

'I fear I'm too old to learn to be as flexible as your goodself master Hu.'

Ishmael smiled.

Hu seemed to consider this for a second or two and then nodded. Swiftly he arose, again seemingly effortlessly, and then with a deft, rapid movement eased Ishmael gently to the floor.

Ishmael had almost shrieked in anticipatory arthritic pain, but rather found himself sitting both easily and comfortably.

'Thankyou, thankyou Hu.' he said slightly shocked, more at himself and his ease rather than Hus strange action. How had he done that?

'Minister.' Hu bowed again and settled hiimself down next to Ishmael.

'Forgive me Hu, and thankyou, I didn't realise...'

'I would have sat Ishmael, I'm not one of those mystic Confuscians or Buddhists or whatever.' Hu smiled warmly.

Ishmael smiled back,

'Assumptions?'

'Exactly, Good to meet you.'

Ishmael laughed, he liked Hu instantly.

'Then why....'

'...the floor?'

'Well yes.'

'Can you not feel the song of the wood beneath your bones Ishmael?'

'Of course. Forgive me Hu, but you're sounding pretty mystical and impenetrable now?'

'tell you wha,' Hu replied, 'I'm getting a bit stiff myself now, what say you we we sit on those nice comfortable seats now?'

They both laughed as Ishmael allowed himself to be helped back up and they both made their wat towards his desk.

Over a steamed beer, at Hus insistence, eventually the conversational niceties turned.

'I was being serious in all actuality, about the floor, about its nature, its place and the need to understand its context.' he said eventually.

Ishmael nodded, he had understood the metaphor.

'It's unsustainable,' Hu continued, 'we, the human are unsustainable', he suddenly grinned, a smile so wide that Ishmaels briefly worried that his entire head might fall right off.

'I never understimated you Hu, yet I know so little of you. Allow me to furnish you with that I do know of you.

You are the leader of an obscure quais-religeous movement know as the dancers at the end of time, is that not so?'

Hus smile froze into a faint and perplexed frown.

'You see, Ishmael, we have no leaders, we simply...are.'

Ishmael nodded, trying to read his frown. He leaned forward slightly, placing his elbows on the desk, his hands clasping one another.

'My apologies, It's easy to make...assumptions.'

'And yet assumptions have often been the excuse for mankinds abject cruelty to one another has it not?'

'I understand, but time is short Hu, there is so little of it left, forgive me for pressing the issue, may we live to talk more fully on such matters as mans cruelty and indifference to his fellow. Is it true that you do help people to die?'

The question hung like a Damoclene sword, Ishmael was worried that he's said too much too soon. But time was not his to spare. Hu stood up, and paced briefly.

'Assumption?' Ishmael offered.

'Correct again.' Hu stopped pacing and sat himself back down. 'Got any scotch?' he asked hopefully. 'We call it helping people to "go on".'

'Go on?' Ishmael rose up and approached the drinks cabinet.

'Oh come now minister! You and I share the same sort of connections, there's no need for pretence, we like each other, we have common, connected souls...'

'...you understand that I am not a believer, not in reincarnation or any dogmatic belied, don't you Hu?' said Ishmael as he pulled the stoppeer of the decanter and poured Hu his scotch.

As he turned and gave Hu his glass he noticed that Hus eyebrows had lifted several inches.

Ishmael paused and then sighed,

'Another...assumption?'

Hu nodded again. Taking the glass he waited until Ishmael had sat back down and the leant forward himself.

'What I believe or do not believ has nothing to do with why you asked me here, agreed?'

Ishmael remained silent, he was listening.

'Why do people always have to assume our work has to contain a central tenet, or a rigorous philosophy? We have Buddhists, Catholics, Wicccans and Muslims in our movement. And then there's the atheists, weird bunch I can tell you but clever.' he swallowed the scotch in one gulp.

'Good stuff, any more?'

'Help yourself' Ishmael gestured at the decanter he's laid on the table.

'Thankyou!'

Having poured himself another, more generous serving, Hu took a more modest sip. Then he sighed contentedly and gave a small burp.

'Ishmael, our work is quite straightforward. We simply help people to transfer themselves into the inner void, or inner space as some prefer to call it.'

'Yes, yes, I've heard, I've read, I've followe the cases in court, but what I want here and now is for you, Hu, master of the dancers at the end of time, to explain to me in plain English, exactly what happens. What it all means or what it might mean.'

'Oh bollocks.' Hu sighed. 'I was worried that this might happen. We're going to have to talk philosophy aren't we?'

This time it was Ishmaels turn to smile gently as he nodded, and raised his own eyebrows several inches.

'I think so, Hu.'

'Then get yourself a stiff drink Ishmael, we're going to both need a shed load if you really want to understand.'

'My doctors, I'm afraid...'

Hu waived Ishmaels complaints away with a dismissive gesture of his hand as he reached for another glass and poured a large glass for Ishmael. For good measure he topped himself up again and then paused briefly.

'Better make mine a double' he grinned as he continued pouring.