The question came up on the green shortly after four and was still open at dusk.

Six first-years sat in a rough circle and considered whether we are alone in the universe. Asked what they meant by alone, they said intelligence. None of them had been in the city a month. The circle had been a pair, then four, and by five a gallery had formed — students who stopped on the path and did not continue, some standing, some sitting down without being invited.

The case for solitude was made first and made with confidence. The distances are enormous. The window is narrow. Nobody has called.

The case against was made by someone lying on his back.

The discussion went on. Positions were restated in the same order. A phone was produced, consulted on a matter of arithmetic, and put away.

Present on the green throughout, and not consulted: grass. Trees on three sides. Fungus at the base of the trees. One squirrel, which crossed the circle twice carrying something and did not stop. One rabbit, which sat about forty feet from the circle for the length of the discussion and did not move.

By seven the gallery had thinned and the question was left where it was found.

The rabbit was still there.