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“It’s all right, Stan. I really don’t need a cup of coffee.”

“If you want a cup of coffee you can have some.” I was deeply touched by how much they were willing to sacrifice for me.

“It’s really OK, I’ll be fine.” The woodcutter stopped. Peace came to the room again. “Thanks for everything, Stan.” I let go of his hand and closed my eyes again and pulled the sleeping bag over my head.

I would draw deep into myself until I could talk, move around, without hurting anyone. I wasn’t going to drain any more precious energy.

It wouldn’t have been very hard for me to do without coffee or cars or any of the other things in my life that were the product of so much pain for others. Sure, I had moved out to the farm to grow my own food, make my own house, do without cars, do without so much that was tied up with pain. But maybe if I had done more sooner, maybe if I had trusted and followed more what I knew was right, maybe energy wouldn’t be so desperately critical now, maybe Virginia would be here. Maybe.

Like the Jews in concentration camps as the Nazis took out their gold teeth, we all stopped, froze, didn’t move a muscle, and were passed over for dead. We all became cells of a larger organism. There were billions of us. One of us would breathe and then another, each holding the spark of life for an instant and then passing it on. Playing a shellgame with our precious ember that would bring us all back to full being as soon as the danger had passed. What a brilliant strategy.

But then it dawned on me who I was. I was Curiosity. What a terrible thing to be; Curiosity at the dawn of time. I couldn’t help myself, I knew I was going to fuck everything up.

No one else was interested in talking about things. They didn’t even know what talking was yet. First I’d get them into language and from there build back all the old shit, just to see if I could do it, just because I was curious. As soon as I showed them about fire, the next thing you know I’d be trying to put a telephone together and fucking around with steam engines. If they had any sense at all they’d kill me now, before I go and wreck everything. But they probably wouldn’t have the faintest idea what I was talking about. I’d have to show them how to kill and then it would be too late. They’d be hooked.

I remember things I’d read about Mu—Atlantis. They must have reached this point and then things started all over again in little caves just like this one, where someone screamed in time. How often had things started from scratch again? Was it different every time or always the same? How many ends had I been through? Was I making the same dumb mistakes time after time or was I making some sort of progress?

I couldn’t help thinking things that made me want to laugh. Maybe if I had voted in the ’68 elections things would have turned out differently. Old rock-and-roll songs drifted through my head.

After what seemed like years if not millennia, people started moving around some. I heard the sounds of someone building a fire and opened my eyes slowly. The sun was up and people were getting dressed. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. The sun had come up and life seemed to have survived. I felt a special warmth flowing through my body. Not because it was that important to save energy any more but just to savor life, I closed my eyes and reveled in it. We had made it.

After a while I felt a hand gently shaking my shoulder. “It’s time to get up, Mark.” It was Simon’s voice. He was all right.

If he had come back to life maybe everybody had come back. Maybe even Virginia was all right. I opened my eyes again and smiled at Simon.

“Everything’s OK,” I said. Simon smiled. “Thank God that shit is over,” I said. Simon nodded and we embraced. It was sure good to be back. Good old Simon. Good old people. Good old sun. Good old planet.

Just about everyone who had spent the night there had already left. One guy came back up to the house and said that our car was blocking his way. “You really from Massachusetts?” he asked. “Yup.