Manella, of course, was the first to recover his voice, though even he took some time to get around to speaking.

“Um, well, Lustig. That ought to give them pause for a day or so.”

Under her hands, Teresa felt the tightness in Alex’s muscles. But outwardly, for the others, he maintained an air of confident calm.

“I expect. For a day or so.”

I hear you, Daisy McClennon thought, as she brought together the elements she needed implements bought, stolen, coerced, or designed herself during the last several hectic, sleepless days. I hear you, she mentally told the voices vibrating, ringing, echoing across the vast chaos of the Net. And intervene is certainly what I’m about to do. Oh there were those who still thought she was their tool… as a dog might think a man’s sole purpose in life is to throw sticks and operate the can opener. But just as their schemes neared culmination, so would hers. And always, under buried levels and deceptions, there lie layers deeper still.

Soon, she told those who prayed electronically. Soon you’ll have release from all these worries that beset you.

Soon you shall know truth.

Portrait of the Earth at night.

Even across its darkside face, the newborn planet glowed. Upwelling magma broke its thin crust, and meteor strikes lit the shaded hemisphere. Later, after the world ocean formed, its night tides glistened under the moon’s pearly sheen. For most of the next two thousand million years, ruptures glowed beneath the broad waters, and lightning offset the glistening phosphorescence of emerging life.

The next phase, lasting nearly as long, featured growing continents traced by strings of fiery volcanoes. Eventually, huge convection cells slowed the granite promenade. And yet. Earth’s night grew brighter still. For now life draped the land with vast forests, and the air was rich with oxygen. So flamelight illumined a valley here, a meadow there… sometimes an entire plain.

Within the very latest time-sliver, tiny campfires appeared — minuscule threats to evening’s reign. Yet sometimes curving scythes of grassland blazed as hunters drove panicky beasts toward precipices.

Then, quite suddenly, dim smudges told of the next innovation — towns. And when electrons were harnessed, man’s cities blossomed into glittering jewels. Nightside brightened rapidly. Oil drillers flared off natural gas just

to make easier their suckling of deep petroleum. Fishing lights rimmed shorelines. Settlers lay torch to rain forests. Strings of strobing, pinpoint brilliance traced shipping lanes and air corridors.

There were dark wells, also. The Sahara. Tibet. The Kalahari. In fact, the black zones grew. The methane flares flickered and went out. So did the fishing lights.

Cities, too, damped their extravagance. While their sprawl continued to spread, the former neon dazzle passed away like a memory of adolescence. The effervescent show wasn’t quite over, but it seemed to be waning. As night moved back in, any audience could tell the finale would come soon.

But turn the dial. Look at the planet’s surface, at night — in radio waves.

Brilliance! Blazing glory. The Earth seared. It shone brighter than the sun.

Perhaps it wasn’t over yet, after all.

Not quite.

Crat’s weighted boots were so hard to lift, he had to shuffle across the ocean bottom, kicking muddy plumes that settled slowly in his wake. Occasionally, a ray or some other muck-dwelling creature sensed his clunking approach and took off from its hiding place. Still, all told, there was a lot less to see down here than he’d imagined.

Of course this wasn’t one of the great coral reserves or shelf fisheries, where schools of hake and cod still teemed under the watchful eyes of UNEPA guardians. One of Crat’s instructors told him most of the ocean had always been pretty empty. And yet there was another obvious reason he met so little life down here.

What a junkyard, he thought while moving at a steady pace. I never figured a place so big could turn into such a sty.

He’d seen so much man-made garbage in just the last hour… from rusting buckets and cans and a corroded mop handle to at least a dozen plastic bags, drifting like trademarked jellyfish, advertising discount stores and tourist shops thousands of miles away.

And then there was that kilometer-wide spew of organic refuse looking like a half-digested meal some immense creature had recently voided. Crat knew who that creature was — the Sea State floating town, which had passed this way only a little while before. Despite their nominal agreement to abide by UNEPA rules, clearly the poor folk of the barges had more urgent things to worry about than where their rubbish went. After all, the ocean seemed willing to take everything dumped into it, with nary a complaint.

The towns must leave trails like this everywhere, Crat realized. It was gross. But then, what choice did they have? The rich may worry about garbage disposal, but when you’re poor your concern is getting food.

Which raised another curious question. Why was the barge-city sticking around in this area when the fishing was so poor? Crat suspected it had to do with the Company, which seemed intensely interested in this bit of continental shelf and presumably wanted to keep the floating town around as a base of operations.

Or as a cover? Crat wondered. But he had no idea how to follow up on that thought. Anyway, presumably the company men paid well for the privilege. Hard currency was hard currency, and curiosity generally a waste of time.

“Okay Courier Four. Now take a heading of niner zero degrees.”

“Roger control,” he answered, checking his compass and changing course. “Niner zero degrees.”

Crat liked talking like an astronaut to the company comm guys. Sure, the smelly suit must have been retired as unfit for human use long ago. And it was hard work just lifting your feet to take each step. But the job had its moments. Like when the trainers actually seemed pleased and impressed with his education! That was a complete first for Crat.