and Mrs. Robinson were registered), they sat and held each other for a long time. Then Tracy kissed him and said, "It's only nine on the coast. Let's call the kids." "The kids," he repeated. "I thought you'd want to talk to them. Hear their voices." "Yes," he said, hoping the dream wouldn't end before he talked to the children he had never met, never hugged or kissed except in a new memory. He took the receiver she handed him, dialed a number he had never dialed before, but knew as well as his name, waited while it rang twice, and heard the click as a handset was picked up across the continent. "Hello," said a stranger he knew so well. He could not speak, and again the voice said, "Hello?" "Peter?" he said, his voice choked with joy and terror. "Dad? Hey, how's your party?" They were the words of a boy whose voice had not yet changed, shrill and piping, sibilants hissing over the wires. "The party is .
