"It was a cold day in Cloud City. Every day is a cold day this high up. We were well into the second half of the year, nearly at the end of the ride up the gravity well, and every strut, support, and doorway was jeweled with methane ice. I shrugged deeper into my anco, and wished I'd indulged in an insulated rebreather..." Transhumanist noir mystery stories, featuring Jupiter's finest private investigator.