They didn't have headsets, and couldn't hear me. They were waving frantically, come in, come in.

I held up two fingers questioningly.

They shook their heads. They seemed to be indicating I was missing the point. At my feet, I saw the nanoparticles begin to come into the room like black steam. They were coming through the edges of the fire door. I had only five or ten seconds now. I stepped back in the airlock. Bobby and Mae were nodding, approving. But the doors did not close. Now they were making other gestures, lifting.

"You want me to lift Charley?"

They did. I shook my head. Charley was slumped there in a sitting position, a dead weight on the ground. I looked back at the anteroom, and saw it was filling with black particles, starting to form a grayish mist in the air. The grayish mist was coming into the airlock as well. I felt the first tiny pinpricks on my skin.

I looked at Bobby and Mae, on the other side of the glass. They could see what was happening; they knew only seconds remained. They were again making gestures: lift Charley up. I bent over him, got my hands under his armpits. I tried to haul him to his feet, but he didn't budge.

"Charley, for God's sake, help." Groaning, I tried again. Charley kicked his legs and pushed with his arms and I got him a couple of feet off the ground. Then he slid back down. "Charley, come on, once more…" I pulled up as hard as I could, and this time he helped a lot and we got his legs back under him and with a final heave, got him standing. I kept my hands under his armpits; we were in a kind of crazy lovers' clench. Charley was wheezing. I looked back to the glass doors.

The doors didn't close.

The air was getting blacker all the time. I looked to Mae and Bobby, and they were frantic, holding up two fingers, shaking them at me. I didn't get it. "Yes, there's two of us…" What was wrong with the damned doors? Finally Mae bent over, and very deliberately pointed with one finger of each hand to her two shoes. I saw her mouth, "Two shoes." And point to Charley. "Yeah, so, we have two shoes. He's standing on two shoes."

Mae shook her head.

She held up four fingers.

"Four shoes?"

The pinpricks were irritating, making it difficult to think. I felt the old confusion begin to seep over me. My brain felt sluggish. What did she mean, four shoes? It was beginning to get dark in the airlock. It was becoming harder to see Mae and Bobby. They were pantomiming something else, but I didn't get it. They began to feel distant to me, distant and trivial. I was without energy, and without care. Two shoes, four shoes.

And then I got it. I turned my back to Charley, leaned against him, and said, "Put your hands around my neck." He did, and I grabbed his legs and lifted his feet off the floor. Instantly, the door hissed shut.

That was it, I thought.

The blowers began to blast down on us. The air rapidly cleared. I strained to hold Charley up and I managed until I saw the second set of doors unlock and slide open. Mae and Bobby hurried into the airlock.

And I just fell down. Charley landed on top of me. I think it was Bobby who dragged him off me. I'm not sure. From that point on, I don't remember much at all.

NEST

DAY 6

6:18 P.M.

I woke up in my bed in the residential module. The air handlers were roaring so loudly the room sounded like an airport. Bleary-eyed, I staggered over to the door. The door was locked. I pounded on it for a while but nobody answered, even when I yelled. I went to the little workstation on the desk and clicked it on. A menu came up and I searched for some kind of intercom. I didn't see anything like that, although I poked around the interface for a while. I must have set something off, because a window opened and Ricky appeared, smiling at me. He said, "So, you're awake. How do you feel?"

"Unlock the goddamn door."

"Is your door locked?"

"Unlock it, damn it."

"It was only for your own protection."

"Ricky," I said, "open the damn door."

"I already did. It's open, Jack."

I walked to the door. He was right, it opened immediately. I looked at the latch. There was an extra bolt, some kind of remote locking mechanism. I'd have to remember to tape over that. On the monitor, Ricky said, "You might want to take a shower."

"Yeah, I would. Why is the air so loud?"

"We turned on full venting in your room," Ricky said. "In case there were any extra particles."

I rummaged in my bag for clothes. "Where's the shower?"

"Do you want some help?"

"No, I do not want some help. Just tell me where the goddamn shower is."

"You sound angry."

"Fuck you, Ricky."

The shower helped. I stood under it for about twenty minutes, letting the steaming hot water run over my aching body. I seemed to have a lot of bruises-on my chest, my thigh-but I couldn't remember how I had gotten them.

When I came out, I found Ricky there, sitting on a bench. "Jack, I'm very concerned."

"How's Charley?"

"He seems to be okay. He's sleeping."

"Did you lock his room, too?"

"Jack. I know you've been through an ordeal, and I want you to know we're all very grateful for what you've done-I mean, the company is grateful, and-"

"Fuck the company."

"Jack, I understand how you might be angry."

"Cut the crap, Ricky. I got no goddamn help at all. Not from you, and not from anybody else in this place."

"I'm sure it must feel that way…"

"It is that way, Ricky. No help is no help."

"Jack, Jack. Please. I'm trying to tell you that I'm sorry for everything that happened. I feel terrible about it. I really do. If there were any way to go back and change it, believe me, I would."

I looked at him. "I don't believe you, Ricky."

He gave a winning little smile. "I hope in time that will change."

"It won't."

"You know that I always valued our friendship, Jack. It was always the most important thing to me."

I just stared at him. Ricky wasn't listening at all. He just had that silly smile-and-everything-will-be-fine look on his face. I thought, Is he on drugs? He was certainly acting bizarrely.

"Well, anyway." He took a breath, changed the subject. "Julia's coming out, that's good news. She should be here sometime this evening."

"Uh-huh. Why is she coming out?"

"Well, I'm sure because she's worried about these runaway swarms."

"How worried is she?" I said. "Because these swarms could have been killed off weeks ago, when the evolutionary patterns first appeared. But that didn't happen."

"Yes. Well. The thing is, back then nobody really understood-"

"I think they did."

"Well, no." He managed to appear unjustly accused, and slightly offended. But I was getting tired of his game.

"Ricky," I said, "I came out here on the helicopter with a bunch of PR guys. Who notified them there's a PR problem here?"

"I don't know about any PR guys."

"They'd been told not to get out of the helicopter. That it was dangerous here."

He shook his head. "I have no idea… I don't know what you're talking about."

I threw up my hands, and walked out of the bathroom.

"I don't!" Ricky called after me, protesting. "I swear, I don't know a thing about it!" Half an hour later, as a kind of peace offering, Ricky brought me the missing code I had been asking for. It was brief, just a sheet of paper.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Took me a while to find it. Rosie took a whole subdirectory offline a few days ago to work on one section. I guess she forgot to put it back. That's why it wasn't in the main directory."

"Uh-huh." I scanned the sheet. "What was she working on?"

Ricky shrugged. "Beats me. One of the other files."