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after a moment. “Did you ever build that ... what was it? That computer memory circuit you used to talk about in high school?"
    "What? That plasma memory cell idea I did a report on way back then?” Gibbs smiled in spite of himself. “I went to college and found out it was impossible. You'd need to build it in almost absolute vacuum and it would need a very large supply of highly charged particles like you'd find around a neutron star or better yet a black hole. I don't know anyone who's interested in building a computer around a black hole."
    "Lost dreams, eh?” said Swan.
    "So, what about you?” asked Gibbs. “Did you ever get that law enforcement degree?"
    "I did and after twenty years, I'm glad to say I'm finally living in a place where I hardly have to use it. Sufiro's a quiet place; almost a paradise—at least now.” Swan looked down at the floor, then back up at Gibbs. “So, what can I do for you, Tim?"
    "I'm...” Gibbs struggled to find the words. “I'm not quite sure. I've just been feeling kind of down lately. You've heard there are four of those Clusters orbiting Earth right now, haven't you?"
    "What?” Swan's mouth fell open. “There are four of them?"
    "Four,” repeated Gibbs. “I don't know why, but I can't seem to stay focused. My mind just keeps drifting ... thinking hopeless thoughts. I'd go see a psychologist if I could afford one."
    "One Cluster orbited Sufiro just a couple of months ago.” Swan chewed on his lower lip. “It made everyone...” The holographic image of Swan's head began to break up. Gibbs slammed his fist down on the table next to the teleholo dais, but the image didn't clear. Instead, static filled the display.
    "Ed, can you hear me?” Gibbs waited a moment and didn't hear a reply. “Ed?” Swearing, Gibbs tried connecting to Swan again.
    Red letters appeared above the dais: “No EQ Carrier."
    Gibbs shook his head, realizing the problem wasn't in the unit. He turned back to the news where a floating head said, “We have just lost contact with planets outside the Solar System. Authorities are trying to resume contact. Be calm and...” Gibbs turned off the unit.
    "Damn,” he said quietly. He stepped back to the table and retrieved the bottle of whiskey and took a shot, then another. He stripped naked and sat down on the cot. After his fourth shot, his head swam. He began to think about his mother's words from the dream. He wondered if she really was dead, or if there was something he could do. Gibbs took another sip of whiskey, realizing he was too much a coward to act, even if there was something he could do to find her. Four more drinks and thoughts of his mother faded, replaced by a fantasy about Louise Sinclair. He imagined touching her smooth skin and wondered what her breasts felt like. Was there a way he could have a relationship with a real woman? It did happen. However, it seemed that it was increasingly difficult. There were women's groups that had even begun to argue that men were not necessary for reproduction. DNA could be engineered; there was no reason that it had to come from men at all. Two more drinks and Gibbs had driven the coldness of this image away. His thoughts turned toward Jeremy Williams. Was Williams really his son? He so desperately wished that were true. Two more drinks and Gibbs’ thoughts went dark again. He imagined that he had the DNA tested—and the test turned out negative. Instead of wanting to be close, Jeremy Williams turned from Gibbs much as Sinclair had that afternoon.
    Timothy Gibbs stood and paced the apartment. After several turns, he reached for the bottle again. Only this time, it wasn't the bottle he raised to his mouth. It was the hepler. He leaned his head back, as though to take a drink.
    The hepler flew from his hands just as he was about to squeeze the trigger. “Oh my God,” he said following the motion of the gun with his eyes. It clattered harmlessly into the corner. Looking forward, he thought he saw a nude