Few matters had ever been as meaningful to life on earth as the one before Rock at the foot of his back bedroom's twin bed. Its complexity was almost beyond his ability to understand, but he knew he must. Everything—absolutely everything—depended on him.
Nothing about any part of this puzzle was clear, but he suspected a correlation between the hundreds of multiple-digit numbers emitted from a quilt on the bed and a song on his alarm-clock radio that had played nonstop for hours might provide a clue.
Rock's cat Jo looked on quizzically, a common posture for her in his experience.
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