"Good to know."

"Do you have any plans for the world besides not-blowing-it-up-or-letting-anyone-else-do-so?" Bella asks.

"Not particularly. Why, did you want it?" she jokes.

"Maybe in a few years, when you've demonstrated the necessary level of responsibility," says Libby. "Planets are like puppies that way."

"What's my goldfish-equivalent, then?" Bella asks.

"Good question. Any suggestions?"

"Australia," deadpans Bella.

"There is the slight problem that Australia already has a government."

"That does seem problematic. Oh well. I'll let you know if I think of anything else."

"You do that."

"Mars," suggests Bella idly.

"If you want Mars, you can have Mars."

"I wonder how squares are at long-distance conjuration, I haven't played with that really," muses Bella. "Could put a flag on it so I can prove I was there first if pesky astronauts appear."

"They have a range limit, and Mars is past it. You'd have to bump it up a notch."

"Good to know. What is the range limit?"

"A little more than the radius of the Earth."

"Interesting. I wonder why. Pentagon could manage Mars, if I wanted to spend one on frivolity?"

"I've never tried, but I bet it could."

"What else do you know about coins that I might not?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I think you've been at this longer than I, though."

"True," she says. "But on the other hand, I don't know what you know. Except I'm pretty sure you've either been warned off sevens, never managed to make one, or haven't gotten around to using it yet."

"So far I haven't decided to solve any problems with coins that I couldn't handle with smaller ones," Bella says slowly.

"Don't use a seven," Libby recommends. "Even if it looks like a really good idea. They backfire habitually."