"I turn on and off with the radio now."

"It's okay really because that's not the something I'm supposed to give you anyway."

She handed me the package.

"What is it?" I said.

"They want you to hold it here because they trust you and there's no other safe place. Someone will come and pick it up at the right time."

"Who wants me to hold it?"

"Happy Valley Farm Commune."

"What's that?"

"It's a new earth-family on the Lower East Side that has the whole top floor of one tenement. Some of them are ex-Desert Surfers."

"They don't trust each other. But they trust me."

"I guess so," she said. "Three of them are outside now. But they didn't want to come up. They want to show you they respect privacy. They want to return the idea of privacy to American life. They have shotguns, they have handguns, they have knives, they have blowtorches, they have army explosives, they have deer rifles. They stole whatever's in that package. I'm supposed to tell you that Dr. Pepper is going to analyze the contents as soon as they can find out where he is. So once they find him and either get him to Essex Street or go to wherever he is, someone will come over here and get the package. I'm supposed to say Dr. Pepper, analyze, Essex Street, get the package. I'm pretty sure that's it."

"Your friends aren't too well organized, are they?"

"They're getting it together. It takes time, I guess. They're new to the city and all. But they think what you're doing right now is really something."

"What am I doing?"

"Returning the idea of privacy to American life."

"Nice seeing you," I said. "Always nice to see nice people. If you ever want the package and I'm either unconscious, dead or not here, have your friends kick in the door. I'll leave the package in an obvious place."