The streets are virtually empty save for a few groups of people probably heading home from parties. By now, the puddles have become minilakes that are still not easily seen in the shadows. Everyone's shoes are soaked through. A neon bank sign flashes "41 degrees."

3:10 a.m.--Arrival at the Loeb. Ford and VanDyke bang on the door. Three cast members of "Death of Santiago" cautiously let the two in once they see the SafeStreets reflective sashes. Apparrently, the caller has decided to go it alone but the escorts search both sides of the theater anyway. Mission aborted. The escorts head back into the rain.

When asked if SafeStreets plans to operate in the snow, VanDyke replies, "Unless not enough people show up to work the shift, yes. At least I hope so. We've only had to close down once, on April 9, because there just weren't enough volunteers to operate."

3:25 a.m.--On the way back the pair decides to detour at Store 24 to buy another two-liter bottle of Coke and a Hostess doughnut 12-pack.

3:45 a.m.--The doughnuts have been eaten. Umbrellas now drip in the classroom's corner as the vigil continues. A jar of instant Maxwell House coffee and a plastic teapot sit untouched on the floor.

"I'd much rather be out escorting," says Bell. "But even if no one calls, I think our presence is important. If people want to walk home, we're there for them."

4:00 a.m.--By now, staffers intermittently stare at the clock. The earlier conversations have largely died down. During the lull, VanDyke reflects on the object of all this waiting.

"I really can't give any other reason for why SafeStreets volunteers decide to put themselves through this once every two weeks except that they care," says VanDyke. "We're not a high-pressure, structured group, there are no mandatory meetings or things like that. Volunteers come and sign up because they think SafeStreets is important."

4:20 a.m.--A Harvard security guard finishing up his shift stops in to say "goodnight."

"The story behind the phone is kinda funny," says VanDyke, resuming discussion. "When we first started Harvard gave us a brand new phone, but it didn't work very well..."

"Yeah, whenever someone called, they'd fade out in a minute and we'd have to say `Hurry up! Quick, tell us where you are!'" adds Bell. "Obviously, we needed a new phone. So someone subscribed to Time Magazine and got a free phone. It works much better."

4:55 a.m.--Time to clean up. Ford logs out--presumably without much to say after this unusually quiet night--and locks everything back up in the filing cabinet as the other volunteers put the room in order. The light in Room 112 goes out for the night.