1n1REzE

Peter Watts 32 Blindsight
(But where are they)
(Are they coming
back)
(Anyone)
JIM MOORE VOICE ONLY
ENCRYPTED
ACCEPT
The text window blossomed directly in my line of sight,
eclipsing the debate. I read it twice. I tried to remember the last
time he'd called from the field, and couldn't.
I muted the other windows. "Dad"
"Son," he replied after a moment. "Are you well"
"Like everyone else. Still wondering whether we should be
celebrating or crapping our pants."
He didn't answer immediately. "It's a big question, all right," he
said at last.
"I don't suppose you could give me any advice They're not
telling us anything at ground level."
It was a rhetorical request. His silence was hardly necessary to
make the point. "I know," I added after a moment. "Sorry. It's
just, they're saying the Icarus Array went down, and—"
"You know I can't—oh." My father paused. "That's ridiculous.
Icarus's fine."
"It is"
He seemed to be weighing his words. "The Fireflies probably
didn't even notice it. There's no particle trail as long as it stays
offstream, and it would be buried in solar glare unless someone
knew where to search."
It was my turn to fall silent. This conversation felt suddenly
wrong.
Because when my father went on the job, he went dark. He
never called his family.
Because even when my father came off the job, he never talked