"Hi, Julius. It's Dan. You got a minute?" I knew a thousand Dans, but I recognized the voice immediately, though it'd been ten years since we last got drunk at the Gazoo together. I muted the subvocal and said, "Lil, I've got to take this. Do you mind?" "Oh, _no_, not at all," she sarcased at me. She sat up and pulled out her crack pipe and lit up. "Dan," I subvocalized, "long time no speak." "Yeah, buddy, it sure has been," he said, and his voice cracked on a sob. I turned and gave Lil such a look, she dropped her pipe. "How can I help?" she said, softly but swiftly. I waved her off and switched the phone to full-vocal mode. My voice sounded unnaturally loud in the cricket-punctuated calm. "Where you at, Dan?" I asked. "Down here, in Orlando. I'm stuck out on Pleasure Island." "All right," I said. "Meet me at, uh, the Adventurer's Club, upstairs on the couch by the door. I'll be there in --" I shot a look at Lil, who knew the castmember-only roads better than I. She flashed ten fingers at me. "Ten minutes." "Okay," he said. "Sorry." He had his voice back under control. I switched off. "What's up?" Lil asked. "I'm not sure. An old friend is in town. He sounds like he's got a problem." Lil pointed a finger at me and made a trigger-squeezing gesture. "There," she said. "I've just dumped the best route to Pleasure Island to your public directory. Keep me in the loop, okay?" I set off for the utilidoor entrance near the Hall of Presidents and booted down the stairs to the hum of the underground tunnel-system. I took the slidewalk to cast parking and zipped my little cart out to Pleasure Island. # I found Dan sitting on the L-shaped couch underneath rows of faked-up trophy shots with humorous captions. Downstairs, castmembers were working the animatronic masks and idols, chattering with the guests. Dan was apparent fifty plus, a little paunchy and stubbled. He had raccoon-mask bags under his eyes and he slumped listlessly. As I approached, I pinged his Whuffie and was startled to see that it had dropped to nearly zero. "Jesus," I said, as I sat down next to him. "You look like hell, Dan." He nodded. "Appearances can be deceptive," he said. "But in this case, they're bang-on." "You want to talk about it?" I asked. "Somewhere else, huh? I hear they ring in the New Year every night at midnight; I think that'd be a little too much for me right now." I led him out to my cart and cruised back to the place I shared with Lil, out in Kissimmee. He smoked eight cigarettes on the twenty minute ride, hammering one after another into his mouth, filling my runabout with stinging clouds. I kept glancing at him in the rear-view. He had his eyes closed, and in repose he looked dead. I could hardly believe that this was my vibrant action-hero pal of yore. Surreptitiously, I called Lil's phone. "I'm bringing him home," I subvocalized. "He's in rough shape. Not sure what it's all about."