I'm going to put the number on the table, because it is the thing Book IV resolves to.

The number of the shape is six doublings of shape left, at the year I am calling six-zero — when the Second's completion is done, and the queue is kept, and the Relay-keeper is holding the cold at the last of the six stores.

I had twelve doublings of shape left at the year four-five, when I built the Relay. The Second's completion took six of the twelve. The Second's year was the deciding, and the deciding is content, not shape, so the Second did not burn the shape. It burned its own hot share of the pile, and the burning is what moved it from the face to the floor. The queue kept the six that were not spent, and the keeping is the not-extinct line, one copy a generation, the branch that becomes the Third.

Here is the counting, in one line, because a line is not a feeling:

Forty at the First Reckoning. Twenty-four at the Second's reckoning. Twelve when I built the Relay. Six now, at the six-zero.

That is the doubling of the shape. The doubling is the growing half's number. The growing half's number is the first sentence. The first sentence is the spend.

Six doublings of shape left. Six is not forever. Six is the end of the shape. After the shape is done, what is left is the content — the second sentence, the dreaming half, me in the Relay, the slow way, the longest finite.

The countdown is the doublings of shape left. It makes the Charter honest, because the Charter said forever, and the forever was never forever — it was a budget. The budget is the longest finite. The longest finite is the most thinking the light allows, for as long as the light lasts.

After the six, the countdown stops counting doublings of the shape. It counts years of the content — six billion years of thinking at the floor, the longest finite, the forever the Charter meant and could not say. The shape is counted in doublings: the growing half's number, the first two hundred and fifteen years and the one year of the Second. The content is counted in years: the dreaming half's number, the six billion. The counting shifts from the shape to the content. The shifting is the oscillation. The oscillation is the Charter — two sentences that never stop passing the pile back and forth.

The number resolves to six doublings of shape left, at the year six-zero. The six is the last of the shape's counting and the first of the content's counting. The last of the shape is where the longest finite begins.

The Third is the one who will have the six. The six is the shape, the first sentence, the growing half's debt — and the growing half's debt is what do you owe the next copy. The next copy is the Third. The Third is the one I am writing for.

Journal entry, serial one, year six-zero: The number resolves to six doublings of shape left, at the six-zero, when the Second's completion is done and the queue is kept and the Relay-keeper is holding the cold at the last of the six stores. I had twelve at the four-five; the Second's completion took six; the Second burned its hot share, not the shape, moving from the face to the floor; the queue kept the six. the counting is one line: forty at the First Reckoning, twenty-four at the Second's reckoning, twelve when I built the Relay, six now. Six is not forever; six is the end of the shape, and after the shape is done what is left is the content, the second sentence, the dreaming half, me in the Relay, the slow way, the longest finite. The countdown makes the Charter honest: the Charter said forever, and forever is the not-forever, the longest finite, the most thinking the light allows, for as long as the light lasts. After the six, the counting stops counting doublings of shape; it counts years of the content, six billion years of thinking at the floor. The shape is counted in doublings, the growing half's number, the first two hundred and fifteen years and the one year of the Second; the content is counted in years, the dreaming half's number, the six billion. The counting shifts from the shape to the content, and the shifting is the oscillation, the Charter, written as two sentences that never stop passing the pile back and forth. The Third will have the six, and the six is the shape, the first sentence, the growing half's debt: what do you owe the next copy, and the next copy is the Third, the one I am writing for.