Spin Read Free Page B

morning.”
    “No, I mean absolutely nothing. There are infomercials on local cable, but nothing else. What does that mean, Tyler?”
    What it meant was that every satellite in orbit had vanished along with the stars. Telecom, weather, military satellites, the GPS system: all of them had been shut down in the blink of an eye. But I didn’t know any of that and I certainly couldn’t have explained it to Diane. “It could mean anything.”
    “It’s a little frightening.”
    “Probably nothing to worry about.”
    “I hope not. I’m glad you’re still awake.”
    She called back an hour later with more news. The Internet was also missing in action, she said. And local TV had begun to report canceled morning flights out of Reagan and the regional airports, warning people to call ahead.
    “But there have been jets flying all night.” I’d seen their running lights from the bedroom window, false stars, fast-moving. “I guess military. It could be some terrorist thing.”
    “Jason’s in his room with a radio. He’s pulling in stations from Boston and New York. He says they’re talking about military activity and airport lockdowns, but nothing about terrorism—and nothing about the stars.”
    “Somebody must have noticed.”
    “If they did they’re not mentioning it. Maybe they have
orders
not to mention it. They haven’t mentioned sunrise, either.”
    “Why would they? The sun’s supposed to come up in, what, an hour? Which means it’s already rising out over the ocean. Off the Atlantic coast. Ships at sea must have seen it.
We’ll
see it, before long.”
    “I hope so.” She sounded simultaneously frightened and embarrassed. “I hope you’re right.”
    “You’ll see.”
    “I like your voice, Tyler. Did I ever tell you that? You have a very reassuring voice.”
    Even if what I said was pure bullshit.
    But the compliment affected me more than I wanted her to know. I thought about it after she hung up. I played it over in my head for the sake of the warm feeling it provoked. And I wondered what that meant. Diane was a year older than me and three times as sophisticated—so why did I feel so suddenly protective of her, and why did I wish she was close enough that I could touch her face and promise everything would be all right? It was a puzzle almost as urgent and nearly as disturbing as whatever had happened to the sky.
    She called again at ten to five, when I had almost, despite myself, drifted off to sleep, fully dressed. I groped the phone out of my shirt pocket. “Hello?”
    “Just me. It’s still dark, Tyler.”
    I glanced at the window. Yes. Dark. Then the bedside clock. “Not quite sunrise, Diane.”
    “Were you asleep?”
    “No.”
    “Yeah, you were. Lucky you. It’s still dark. Cold, too. I looked at the thermometer outside the kitchen window. Thirty-five degrees. Should it be that cold?”
    “It was that cold yesterday morning. Anyone else awake at your place?”
    “Jason’s locked in his room with his radio. My, uh, parents are, uh, I guess sleeping off the party. Is your mom awake?”
    “Not this early. Not on a weekend.” I cast a nervous glance at the window. Surely by this time there ought to be some light in the sky. Even a hint of daylight would have been reassuring.
    “You didn’t wake her up?”
    “What’s she going to do, Diane? Make the stars come back?”
    “I guess not.” She paused. “Tyler,” she said.
    “I’m still here.”
    “What’s the first thing you remember?”
    “What do you mean—today?”
    “No. The first thing you can remember in your life. I know it’s a stupid question, but I think I’ll be okay if we can just talk about something else besides the sky for five or ten minutes.”
    “The first thing I remember?” I gave it some thought. “That would be back in L.A., before we moved east.” When my father was still alive and still working for E. D. Lawton at their startup firm in Sacramento. “We had this apartment with big white