"I don't know any Darrow," I say, though even if I did I'm not sure I could think of it now. My mind is racing between the pain in my arm and on my palms and Jim and how far away the stars are.

There are so many colonial planets, it's possible I've missed the name of a province or a city in one. I'm not an expert in geography. I'm not really an expert in anything except trying to write about everything.

But he is, and he must be smart if he's a doctor. If. Maybe that's why it's so jarring that what he's saying makes so little sense. As little sense as what I'm saying is to him. "What do you mean 'turned up'?"