She checked her other text messages.

They were junk, except for one, which turned out to be gold. It was a note and an attachment sent by one Scott Cleland, whom she had been trying to contact for months. Scott Cleland was the only one of her father's old university associates she hadn't yet succeeded in talking to. He was an astronomer, working with the Geophysical Survey at the observatory on Mt. Mahdi. She had just about given up on him. But here at last was a response to her mail, and a friendly one: the node read it to her, adopting a male voice to suit the given name.

Dear Lise Adams: I'm sorry to have been so slow in responding to your queries. The reason far this is not just procrastination. It took a little searching to find the attached document, which may interest you.

I wasn't close to Dr. Adams but we respected each other's work. As for the details of his life at that time, and the other questions you asked, I'm afraid I can't help you. Our connection was purely professional.

At the time of his disappearance, however, and as you probably know, he had begun work on a book to be called Planet as Artifact. He asked me to read the brief introduction he had written, which I did, but I found no errors and could suggest no significant improvements (apart from a catchier title).

In case there was no copy of this among his papers, I enclose the one he sent me.

Robert Adams' disappearance was a great loss to all of us at the university. He often spoke affectionately about his family, and I hope your research brings you some comfort.

Lise had the household node print the document. Contrary to what Cleland suspected, her father had not left a copy of the introduction with his papers. Or, if he had, Lise's mother had shredded it. Susan Adams had shredded or discarded all of her husband's papers and had donated his books to the university. Part of what Lise had come to think of as the Ritual Cleansing of the Adams Household.

She turned off her phone and poured a glass of wine and took the wine and the six pages of printed text out to the balcony. The night was warm, she had swept away the ash this morning, and the indoor lamps cast enough light to read by.

After a few minutes she went back inside to fetch a pen, came out again and began to underline certain phrases. She underlined them not because they were new to her but because they were familiar.

Many things changed during the interval we call the Spin, but perhaps the most far-reaching change is also the most overlooked. The Earth was held in stasis for more than four billion years, which means we now live in a universe vastly more ancient—and more complexly evolved—than the one to which we were accustomed.