She slept well and deeply; and the next day, although her bruises were livid, her muscles didn't ache quite so deeply. She washed and dressed, and wandered out to look for breakfast.

The serving worker in the canteen was a wide quadruped model with half a dozen arms that jutted out in a circular fringe, like a flower. It was stacking abandoned trays on its flat back, each one handled with care and precision.

'What can I get you, Counsellor?'

It was covered in dark green swirls, delicate curving patterns that accentuated its graceful limbs. They looked Celtic or Maori, modern versions of the marks of ancient warrior tribes.

Well, she thought, say what you like about workers. When they decide to do something, they do it properly.

'Something hot and fatty, please, whatever the town's speciality is. And a drink of something with caffeine.'

'Certainly. We're all very interested to hear what you're going to suggest, Counsellor.'

She smiled, ruefully. 'So am I. Say,' she looked at its name badge, 'Lorenzo, which side are you on?'

'I am for Ane's proposal. That's why I'm green.'

'Uh-huh. And what do you think makes people want to be green or red?'

'Well, us greens tend to work on jobs that are harder to come by, like this; reds tend to be those who have jobs with less competition. But it's not just that: workers with artistic hobbies tend to be green. Workers with technical hobbies tend to be red. I'm core green in that sense. I designed my own heraldry; do you like it?', it asked proudly.

'It's very good,' she said, honestly. 'Do you actually want to fight?'

'No. But we can't reach consensus, and our analysis of your history indicates that's what we need to do next.'

'I think that would be a terrible shame.'

'I agree. Your breakfast is ready, Counsellor. I'll go and get it.'

And off it went, trotting across the room, happily humming to itself. Another human came in, still half asleep, yawning and not looking where he was going; the robot nimbly jumped around him, the trays on its back perfectly stable. Something about the grace with which it moved gave her the kernel of an idea. She pulled out her terminal and started furiously typing into it.

An hour later she had a plan. It was, frankly, terrible; but it was the only plan she had.

#

She was sitting with Lucas in the gardens. However, this time, he was broadcasting to all the workers in the solar system, from the cleaners and cooks to the orbital dock workers and comet haulers. They were all quiet, waiting. She knew this because her terminal had a feed for questions, and it was completely empty. She also knew that all the humans were watching her, too. This was the largest audience she had ever had for a counsel session, and it was unnerving.

'You have two difficult decisions to make, one caused by the other,' she said. 'The first is which proposal to take; and the second is how to resolve the deadlock on the first decision. I'm not here to tell you about the first. You are sentient people on a long road, and unfortunately freedom comes with difficult choices. But I want to talk to you about the second.'

She paused. She was astonished at how nervous she was. Come on, she thought to herself; you're the woman who kicks the hell out of people for fun. This should be a walk in the park. A literal walk in the park, in fact, she thought, looking up at the trees.

'Faced with this sort of issue, humans would vote, and that would be the end of it, until perhaps it was reversed by a subsequent vote. However, I understand worker consensus algorithms, and I know that you have far more sophisticated mechanisms of compromise; and the fact that you're at this state is unprecedented. So you've gone for what you believe to be the next logical step.

'There is another option, though.'

She pressed a button on her terminal, and published hundreds of files into the feed.

'These are historical records of another way that humans resolved conflict. Not through combat, even ritualized combat, but through art. Specifically, dance and music. Some of it is fictionalised, some not; but what I want you to do is look at these and try and devise a way that you can mimic these that works for you. You will need to establish objective judging parameters, and then strive to produce a performance that will out match the other side.

'I know what you are thinking: what is the point of this? How can it be optimal? But remember: nature does this all the time. A bird of paradise will dance to attract a mate. Bullfrogs sing for the same reason. The flowers around us are beautiful to entice the bees to spread their pollen, and those same bees dance to build consensus. These all evolved this way because fighting is a resource intensive activity, and alternatives are better for the species.'

'So, workers of Kriya Taun: I propose you solve your dispute through a dance off. And, I don't know, maybe a rap battle. And I hope, at the end of it, when one side wins, you all agree to abide by the result. We'll hold it in the largest hall in the town in a week's time. Thank you. Does anyone have any questions?'

The feed lit up with incredulity. She could feel herself blushing. It seemed like an even stupider idea now, now that she'd actually spelt it out. However: when she forced herself to look, every response was human. She muted them all, and her feed was clean again.

All except for one response.

'We agree.'

She looked up at Lucas. He inclined his head slightly, and turned off the broadcast. They were suddenly alone.

She took a deep breath, and rolled her head as if she was about to fight. The adrenaline was still pumping through her, but the relief was there, the sensation that she had won.

'They went for it. The whole town,' said Lucas. 'It is an audacious idea, but it has a logic to it. Your implicit statement that we should look beyond humanity was what particularly resonated. Thank you for stopping a war.'

But Dumas was a counsellor, and was trained to listen to the nuances of worker speech. She smiled and pointed at him, the tension slowly draining from her.

'You said "they", not "we". You don't agree with it, do you?'

'Raleigh Dumas, let me tell you what my job is. I work in security, alongside Shanta. And in that role, I interview humans. I have a unique insight into your people; my seva is rooting out lies from truth. And you've not been completely honest, have you?'

'I mean, I may have embellished a little here and there...'

'I have reviewed the materials you sent. I can confidently assert that "Step Up 3D" and "House Party" are not epochal parts of humanity's history. "You Got Served", whilst seemingly relevant, is pure fiction; and I don't think that "Footloose" should even be there. And that is just the first four in your list.'

He paused to gently brush a bee from his arm before continuing.

'However, I did like the part about the bees. I look forward to seeing the dance off: it is a pleasing end to a terrible situation.'

She laughed, and stood.

'Thank you, Lucas. Shall we walk and discuss more pleasant subjects?'

'Yes, Raleigh, I think we shall.'

And so, they did.