Tash, too, gets quieter as they approach home. On they drive, in silence.

*   *   *

In the evening they track over Cajon Pass and down through the condomundo hills to the great urban basin. L.A., City of Light. The great interchange where 5 meets 101, 210 and 10 looks utterly unreal to them, a vision from another planet, one entirely covered by a city millions of years old.

Soon they’re back in OC, where the vision at least has familiarity to temper their new astonishment. They know this alien landscape, it’s their home. The home of their exile from the world they have so briefly visited.

Tashi drops Jim off at his ap.

“Thanks,” Jim says. “That was…”

“That’s okay.” Tash rouses from the reverie he has been in throughout southern California. “It was fun.” He sticks out a hand, unusual gesture for him, and Jim shakes it. “Come and see me.”

“Of course!”

“Good-bye, then.” Off he goes.

*   *   *

Jim’s alone, on his street. He goes into his ap. It’s a wreck too; he and his home are of a piece. Same as always. He observes the detritus of his hysteria, his madness, with a certain equanimity, tinged with … remorse, nostalgia; he can’t tell. It’s not a happy sight.

Over piles of junk, the trashed bookcase and the broken CDs and disks, to the bathroom. He strips. His dirty body is surely dinged up. He steps in the shower, turns it on hot. Pleasure and stinging pain mix in equal proportions, and he hops about singing:

Swimming in the amniotic fluid of love

Swimming like a finger to the end of the glove

When I reach the end I’m going to dive right in

I’m the sperm in the egg: did I lose? did I win?

Gingerly he dries off, gingerly he crawls into bed. Sheets are such a luxury. He’s home again. He doesn’t know what that means exactly, anymore. But here he is.

He spends the next day down at Trabuco Junior College, arranging next semester’s classes, and then back home, cleaning up. A lot of his stuff has been wrecked beyond saving. He’ll have to build up the music collection again from scratch. Same with the computer files. Well, he didn’t lose much of value in the files anyway.

The wall maps, now; that’s a real shame. He can’t really afford to replace them. Carefully he takes the tatters off the walls, lays each map in turn facedown on the floor, tapes up all the rips, flattens them as best he can. Puts them back up.