"I'll make up the couch," she said. "And get some coffee together. Love you." "Back atcha, kid," I said. As we approached the tacky little swaybacked ranch-house, he opened his eyes. "You're a pal, Jules." I waved him off. "No, really. I tried to think of who I could call, and you were the only one. I've missed you, bud." "Lil said she'd put some coffee on," I said. "You sound like you need it." Lil was waiting on the sofa, a folded blanket and an extra pillow on the side table, a pot of coffee and some Disneyland Beijing mugs beside them. She stood and extended her hand. "I'm Lil," she said. "Dan," he said. "It's a pleasure." I knew she was pinging his Whuffie and I caught her look of surprised disapproval. Us oldsters who predate Whuffie know that it's important; but to the kids, it's the _world_. Someone without any is automatically suspect. I watched her recover quickly, smile, and surreptitiously wipe her hand on her jeans. "Coffee?" she said. "Oh, yeah," Dan said, and slumped on the sofa. She poured him a cup and set it on a coaster on the coffee table. "I'll let you boys catch up, then," she said, and started for the bedroom. "No," Dan said. "Wait. If you don't mind. I think it'd help if I could talk to someone. . . younger, too." She set her face in the look of chirpy helpfulness that all the second- gen castmembers have at their instant disposal and settled into an armchair. She pulled out her pipe and lit a rock. I went through my crack period before she was born, just after they made it decaf, and I always felt old when I saw her and her friends light up. Dan surprised me by holding out a hand to her and taking the pipe. He toked heavily, then passed it back. Dan closed his eyes again, then ground his fists into them, sipped his coffee. It was clear he was trying to figure out where to start. "I believed that I was braver than I really am, is what it boils down to," he said. "Who doesn't?" I said. "I really thought I could do it. I knew that someday I'd run out of things to do, things to see. I knew that I'd finish some day. You remember, we used to argue about it. I swore I'd be done, and that would be the end of it. And now I am. There isn't a single place left on-world that isn't part of the Bitchun Society. There isn't a single thing left that I want any part of." "So deadhead for a few centuries," I said. "Put the decision off." "No!" he shouted, startling both of us. "I'm _done_. It's _over_." "So do it," Lil said. "I _can't_," he sobbed, and buried his face in his hands. He cried like a baby, in great, snoring sobs that shook his whole body. Lil went into the kitchen and got some tissue, and passed it to me. I sat alongside him and awkwardly patted his back. "Jesus," he said, into his palms. "Jesus." "Dan?" I said, quietly.