"You talked to me a long while back about Frank Drinkwater. Drinkwater, and others like him, have maintained for years that there is no other intelligent life in our galaxy. He claims that the lack of radio signals from distant stars provides the proof. He also thought the lack of von Neumann machines confirmed that we are alone. He was too impatient. Now, obviously, he's wrong.

"We've been sitting in our tree chirping like foolish birds for over a century now, wondering why no other birds answered. The galactic skies are full of hawks, that's why. Planetisms that don't know enough to keep quiet, get eaten.

"I'm just about done now. Too tired to elaborate. Maybe you've already thought this through. Maybe you can find it useful, anyway.

"You've been my own goad and barb sometimes, Art. Thank you for that. You are my very dear friend, and I love you.

"Take care of Ithaca, as much as she needs it.

"My love to Francine and Marty, too.

"I hope and pray you all make it, though for the life of me, I can't figure out how."

Harry had known, almost by instinct. He was still alive, hanging on in Los Angeles, too weak to do much besides sleep. Arthur suddenly felt a panic at the thought of a world without him. What would he do? Now, more than ever, Harry was necessary ...

"Art," Francine said. He tried to relax and brought his gaze down from the ceiling, to her face. "Are you thinking about Harry?"

He nodded. "But that's not all." Without considering the consequences, moving ahead on an instinct he hoped was as good as Harry's, he had made up his mind. "There's something big going on," he said. "I've been afraid to tell you."

"Can you tell me?" she asked, squinting as if reluctant to hear. Enough change, enough shock in the news without it coming into her house any more than it already had.

"It's not a government secret," he said, smiling. He told her about the encounter in the airport, the information in his head, the formation of the network. It spilled from him in a confessional torrent, and he interrupted only to let Gauge in when the pup howled miserably in the garage.

Francine watched her husband's shining eyes and his beatific face and bit her lip.

When he was finished, he shivered and shrugged all at once. "I sound completely nuts, don't I?"

She nodded, a tear falling down her cheek.

"All right. I'll show you something very strange."

He went to the locked upper-hall cupboard and drew down a cardboard box. In the bedroom, he drew off the fid. Within the box, to his surprise, lay not one but two identical spiders, motionless, their green linear eyes glowing. Francine backed away from the open box.

"I didn't know there was another," he said.

"What are they?"

"Our saviors, I think," Arthur answered.