Thuy maxed out; everything turned white, then black. She woke to Jayjay patting her cheek.

"We have to steal Luty's Ark of the Nants," murmured Thuy. "We have to win this." Her head ached. She fumbled for her memories, trying to reconstruct her big insight about how to fix Jil. Incantatory programming-which meant what? The details weren't happening anymore. And Thuy's vision of the Big Pig's face was fading too. Off to one side, the sheep cropped the grass as if nothing had happened.

"Ask Azaroth," said Jayjay, guessing Thuy's train of thought.

"Yes, yes, I've got it," said Azaroth, bringing his big, insubstantial head down near Thuy's. He opened his mouth and a shimmering mesh bulged out like a tongue. The mesh did an odd, higher-dimensional jiggle, and then it was wrapped around Thuy's head. "Ready?" asked Azaroth.

"Don't worry," Jayjay reassured Thuy. "He's done this with me lots of times."

"All right," said Thuy, a little weary of the headtripping. "Go ahead."

Thuy's insights into the language web came percolating back into her brain. Decoupled from the Pig, she was able to butcher the whale of inspiration into manageable packets. Now she knew how to deprogram Jil; now she knew how to destroy the controller nanomachines that her friend had snorted with her sudocoke.

The Big Pig was working with Luty, but there was hope, for the Pig was helping Thuy, too. Why was that again? The Pig had said, "I want a gnarly show." But there was more than that. The Big Pig wanted Thuy to get the nant farm away from Luty. That's why the nants had been the first thing Thuy had thought of when she'd come to.

Thuy was also thinking about how to finish Wheenk. She could almost see the ending; she had a richer control of language than ever before; but she still needed-the thought came unbidden-pain. Which meant what? No way to tell. There was no other path than forward.

"I'll jump back home," said Azaroth. "I'll tell Gladax what's up. I think she'll be willing to risk another visit here. We all feel the same way about the nants. I'll tell Gladax and then I'll jump to your ExaExa."

"Let's go to the Merz Boat now," Thuy said to Jayjay. "We'll pick up Craigor and Jil."

"Help me carry the ordnance," said Jayjay. "I'll handle the guns and ammo; you carry the box of grenades."

"Must we lug this crap?" asked Thuy.

"For sure," said Jayjay, looking excited about it. "And I think we'd better pick up four little submachine guns too. I was searching the orphidnet, and I'm liking the Fabrique Nationale P90. We'll swing by the factory on the way."

"The factory's in California?"

"Well, no, it's in Belgium. Near LiИge."

"You're losing it, Jayjay. This isn't a video game."

"When we get to the ExaExa plant it's gonna be a lot like a video game-a game where we only get one life apiece."

"Oh, all right, we can pick up those guns if doesn't take too long. But-"

"I've got the orphidnet link to the Fabrique Nationale warehouse right here."

"Hold on," said Thuy, reluctant to leave paradise and go to war. "Could we-could we hop down to the village for breakfast first?"

"Okay," said Jayjay, softening his tone. "One more treat. I'm feeling like this is a practice honeymoon."

"Oh, Jayjay. You mean that?"

"I do."

Thuy and Jayjay teleported to Hanga Roa, Easter Island's sole town, leaving their munitions by the moai where they'd slept. Jayjay was so proud of his teleportation discovery. Her cute Jayjay.

In the town, dogs slept in the palmy street. Walking hand in hand, the couple came upon an eatery called the Tuna-Ahi Barbecue; two women were serving breakfast on a crushed-shell patio in back. Thuy and Jayjay had coffee and a kind of pancake called sopaipillas, with grilled tuna on the side. Flowers bobbed in the breeze. On Thuy's way out, a flat-faced boy walked up to her and gave her a pointed shell with an intricate pattern of brown and white triangles. Life on Earth was perfect.

Thuy and Jayjay teleported back to the moai to pick up their rifles and grenades, then went to Belgium for the submachine guns, and then to the Merz Boat. The hops got easier each time. The two landed in the stern, laden with weaponry.

"Vibby," said Craigor, seeing the goodies. He was puttering in his workshop, losing himself in his art.

Yesterday's rainstorms had cleared away; the sky was a clear blue bowl, the breeze light and almost balmy, even though it was January 19. Good old California.

"Where's Jil?" asked Thuy. "I think I can fix her."

"If only," said Craigor. "I sure as hell can't."

"From what I hear, you're the one who spun her out, Craigor," said Thuy. "We never finished talking about this last night. Don't you love your wife?"

"You want to start that same bullshit again?" said Craigor, his face turning hard. "What are you, a friggin' counselor? Like I told you before. I'm getting older. I want to get some women while there's time. It's not as if Jil didn't cheat on me, too. And I didn't say a thing. If she could just mellow out and for once give me some slack, we wouldn't be having this problem. But no, she's gotta do her big dramatic drug-relapse number and I'm the bad guy. I don't know where you goddamn women get off being so-"

"I hear you, man," interrupted Jayjay, giving Craigor's shoulder a quiet pat. "But now we want to see Jil."

Craigor led them to where Jil sat in the sun by the cabin, looking sour, bedraggled, and strung out. Now that Thuy knew the truth, she understood that the orphidnet sparkles within Jil's head were nanomachines.

"Love cycles useless rain in the tea," said Thuy to Jil, guided by the precise and logical incantatory programming principles that Azaroth had helped her bring back from the Big Pig. "Stun rays squeeze the claws of Flippy-Flop the goose mouse. Caterwaul hello, dark drooping centaur dicks. Are you good to go-go, gooey goob? Able elbow boogie brew for two in the battered porches of thine ears, Jungle Jil. Comb out and pray. Pug sniff the cretin hop lollipop of me and you, meow and moo." She rambled on like this for a minute or two, freestyling a gnarly flow of Dada apothegms.

One by one, the evil bright sparks in Jil's brain were winking out. And then Thuy was done, and Jil was joyful, tearful, her old self.

"I know I've been awful," was the first thing she said. "I'm getting back into recovery."

"I've been bad, too," said Craigor halfheartedly. "I know, I know. But-"

"Oh, spare me the details," said Jil wearily. "Let's not start arguing again." She turned to Thuy. "I'm sorry for lying to you about Bim Brown. And for calling you names and saying your ego is too big."

"Well, it is big," said Thuy. "That's why I'm a metanovelist."

For the first time in days, Jil laughed.

"Hi, Mom," said Bixie from the cabin door, looking hopeful, attracted by the happy sounds. "Oh, Bixie," said Jil, holding out her arms. "Give me a hug.

I've been sick and now I'm getting well. I will. I'm ready. I can do it. I know how."

The girl ran to her mother, then hesitated awkwardly. Jil stood up and embraced her. Momotaro came out as well, leaning against Jil, his arms twined around her and Bixie, Jil's hand smoothing the hair on his head. Craigor took a half step toward the group and stopped. His eyes were wet with tears. He walked over to the gunnel and stared at San Francisco in the distance.