They took a sneaky and indirect route to the waterfront, staying as far as 
possible from the clusters of drunks winding through the constellation of 
incandescent bordellos like cold dark clumps of rock wending their way through 
a bright nebula of young stars. They made their way to a public M.C. on a 
streetcorner and picked out items from the free menu: boxes of water and 
nutri-broth, envelopes of sushi made from nanosurimi and rice, candy bars, and 
packages about the size of Harv's hand, festooned with implausible block letter 
promises ("REFLECTS 99% OF INFRARED!") that folded out into huge crinkly 
metallized blankets. Nell had been noticing a lot of rough shapes strewn around 
on the beach like giant chrome-plated larva. Must be fellow transients wrapped 
up in these selfsame. As soon as they had scored the goodies, they ran down to 
the beach and picked out their own spot. Nell wanted one closer to the surf, 
but Harv made some very well-considered observations about the inadvisability 
of sleeping below high tide. They trudged along the seawall for a good mile or 
so before finding a relatively abandoned bit of beach and wrapped themselves up 
in their blankets there. Harv insisted that one of them had to stay awake at 
all times to act as a sentry. Nell had learned all about this kind of
thing from her virtual adventures in the Primer, and so she volunteered to stay 
up first. Harv went to sleep pretty soon, and Nell opened up her book. At times 
like this, the paper glowed softly and the letters stood out crisp and black, 
like tree branches silhouetted against a full moon.