The thinnest covering of luck was upon him like fresh dew. Whilst he slipped in and out of consciousness, the position of the planets, the music of the spheres, the flap of a tiger-moth's diaphanous wings in Central Africa, and a whole bunch of other stuff that Makes Shit Happen had decided that it was second-chance time for Archie. Somewhere, somehow, by somebody, it had been decided that he would live.