When he put it that way, there was no question what my life was about.

I mean, it was that old thing that everybody used to say when I was a kid. "I want a world that works for everybody, with no one and nothing left out."

The only question was what could I do to bring it about? I had to do some serious soul-searching here.

Maybe there had been lies told about the renegades.

It made sense. The old order is always threatened by the new. The people I had met here weren't renegades. They were committed and joyous. We weren't renegades, we were family.

I knew what my problem was. I still wanted to test Jason. That was my programming. I had to test everything. I was looking for that one little thing that would prove to me that this whole thing was some kind of con, some little piece of damaged integrity on the part of Jason that would allow me to justify my disloyalty.

But even as I looked at that, I knew that it was my responsibility to create my participation, not anybody else's. And even Jason had to be given the same space to make mistakes as anybody else.

But-I was still a guest here. Not a host. Not a member of the family. Not a member of the Tribe.

Jason said I'd have to ask, and he also said I'd know when it was the time to ask.

I wasn't the only guest. There were several of us; the nervous looking boy who'd stood next to me my first night in the circle, his name was Andy; a quiet woman called Deese; most of the children; and surprisingly, Ray and Valerie.

Ray explained it to me, "Being a member of the Tribe means you get to-have to-participate in the Revelation. I have a heart condition and," he shrugged apologetically, "I still have too much investment in survival. I'm afraid I'll die in the Revelation. Jason says that I can't be a member of the Tribe until I'm willing to put its survival over my own. I'm not afraid to die, but I think I can be of more value to the Tribe this way. Jason says one of these days I'm going to have to get off it." Valerie was Ray's daughter. She didn't want to join without him. And that was that.

In my own case, I still felt terribly uncertain. I wanted to talk to Lizard.

There once was a lady named Lizard,

who got lost in a pink candy blizzard,

with a fellow named Jim,

who wanted to swim . . .

I couldn't think of a rhyme. Wizard. Gizzard? I couldn't think of a last line.

Did it matter?

Yes, in a way, it did.

I didn't like leaving things unfinished. Incomplete.

But then, I'd never finished the limerick about Jason either.

I'd feed him to worms,

just to see how he squirms . .

But I didn't want to do that any more either.

I wanted to know what he knew. I wanted to learn everything I could from him.

Did I really need to finish those limericks?

Probably not; they didn't matter. They were leftovers from another time and another Jim McCarthy.

Sometimes though, at night, I'd ask myself why I was trying to learn so much so fast. Was it because I wanted to sneak away one night and report back to Oakland what I'd learned about the worms? Or was it because I wanted to stay here and be with Jason? I thought about Oakland.

Had they come looking for me? They probably thought I was dead.

Had Lizard mourned me?

I felt sad about that. I didn't want her to be unhappy. I wanted her to be here with me, so I could share this with her. I could feel the difference in myself. I wanted her to feel it too. She would be able to stop being so damned angry and hostile all the time and let some of her joyousness out.

That was a funny thought. If Lizard Tirelli ever let loose a real smile, she'd probably break her face. But it'd be worth it. If she let out even the tiniest piece of the joyousness inside her, she'd probably blind half of California with the glow.

But she'd probably hate me if I tried to bring her to this. She wouldn't understand.

Her survival mind would go crazy, gibbering like the ape it was descended from.

Just the same, it was fun to think about. No, it wasn't. I'd go crazy when she started to sleep with the others. I'd only want her to sleep with me.

But that was my survival mind. The hell with it.

She wasn't here and I couldn't have her.

And maybe I shouldn't have her anyway. Most of the time when I was around her, I was crazy. Or she was. Or everybody else was. Jessie and Frankenstein stopped me after breakfast one morning. They needed my help. Would I explain to them how to use the AM-280?

I shrugged and followed them up to the main building. "What's the problem?" I asked. "Are the bikers back?" We'd been hearing motorcycle noises on the road for a week, not very often and usually late at night; but all three of the worms had become very agitated, prowling and sniffing and listening very alertly. Falstaff and Orson disappeared into the forest almost every evening.

"Just taking precautions," said Jessie. "That's all." She unlocked the weapons and began laying them out on the table. "Better clean them first, Jim. Nobody's touched them since you arrived. "

My survival mind twinged at that. Was this a test?

"What's the matter?" asked Frankenstein.

"Huh? Nothing. Why?"

"Your face just clouded for a minute. Did the guns remind you of something?"

"Uh, yeah-it wasn't important." I turned away to cover my doubt. Maybe it was important.

Behind me, I could hear Jessie and Frankenstein exchanging a loud glance. They had to know.

One of the guns was covered with . . .

"I wish you'd cleaned this," I said.

. . . Jon's blood.

I reached for a rag and a can of oil. "And we should recharge the laser-sight."

I worked the mechanism to pop the magazine out.

It was a full magazine. This gun was still loaded.

I slid the magazine back in. It clicked satisfyingly into place.

The thought occurred to me: I could be out of here tonight.

Jessie and Frankenstein were still sorting through the other weapons. They weren't paying any attention to me at all.

I could kill them right now, if I wanted to.

My survival mind said I should.

But-I didn't want to kill them.

I just wanted to leave.

This had to be a test. Where were the worms?

Damn!

My survival mind wanted to leave. I didn't know what I wanted.

I slid the safety off quietly, thought for a second, then slid it back on.

Jessie turned around to me. "Can we use it?"

I was studying the controls. "I wish you'd left it plugged in, but it's still got half a charge." There was something wrong here. I started to dismantle the weapon. "Why'd you leave it like this? Don't you know how to take care of a gun?"

"Sorry," said Jessie. "You're the one who's got the military mind. "

Frankenstein just grunted.

"You're awfully trusting, Jessie," I said, handing her the magazine. "You handed me a loaded gun."

I peered down the barrel--

"No, we know who we're dealing with, Jim," she replied.

--it was clogged with something. I poked at it with a cleaning rod.

Chewing gum.

I held it up for both of them to see. "But you had your doubts, didn't you?" If I had tried to fire the gun, it would have exploded in my hands. It would have been very messy and I would have been very dead.