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cite a source, sir?”
    “No,” he said. “I've tried. I've heard it often enough, but I don't know where it comes from.”
    Bill looked at the other panelists. They shook their heads. All were familiar with it, and one even commented that it sounded plausible to her. But nobody could pin it down.
    Another hand went up. A man with gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He had the mien of a department chairman. “The night Robin disappeared,” he said, “is it true he was returning from Skydeck?”
    “That's correct.”
    “Had he actually gone somewhere? Or was he just hanging out at the station?”
    “He'd been out somewhere,” said Bill.
    “Do we know where?”
    “Nobody has any idea.”
    Another hand went up. “What about the black holes?”
    “What specifically were you referring to?” said the moderator.
    “Robin's overall interest in them. What was that all about?”
    “Hey,” said someone on the far side of the room, “who doesn't have a fascination with black holes?”
    They all laughed. “Of course,” said a woman in back, “but is it true he spent time charting their courses? Their trajectories? Whatever?”
    The moderator looked at the other panelists. The panelist who'd not thought it possible that Robin had crossed into another universe was middle-aged, well dressed, and wore a sardonic grin throughout the proceedings. Her nameplate identified her as Dr. Matthews. “It's true,” she responded. “He did do that.”
    “Do we know why?”
    “A hobby, I'd guess. Frankly, I'd be surprised if someone like Robin didn't have an interest in black holes.”
    During the course of the evening, we saw a broadcast interview with Robin in which he dismissed the theory that the universe is a hologram. I was surprised that anyone had ever been able to take that idea seriously, but apparently there was some supporting evidence. “But,” said Robin, “there are alternative explanations for the evidence. There's a lot we still don't know, but sometimes one simply has to fall back on common sense.”
    One of the speakers, Charlie Plunkett, identified as an engineer with Corbin Data, described an attempt by Robin to show that the voices in an allegedly haunted house might actually be connections with an alternate universe. “Unfortunately.” he said, “the results were inconclusive.”
    In a program titled “Alternate Selves,” the panelists discussed the notion that, in an infinite sea of universes, every possibility, somewhere, would come to pass. That meant there were other editions of ourselves out there somewhere. We were consequently asked which of our alternate selves we would, if given the chance, choose to meet. Members of the audience opted for themselves as war heroes, entertainment superstars, lady-killers. The bearded guy beside me wanted to be CEO at Colossos, Inc. “Why? So that I never again have to deal with a boss.”
    A substantial number wanted simply to meet a version of themselves who was accomplishing something that would be remembered. One admitted hoping that “it might still turn out to be me.” That drew applause.
    When his turn came, Alex didn't surprise me: “I'll settle for where I am,” he said. “I love dealing with antiques.”
    Then it was my turn. A few years back, I'd fallen in love for the one and only time in my life. And I let him get away. If I actually had the opportunity, I'd like to meet the Chase Kolpath who had held on to him, married him, and settled into a quiet life. I'd like very much to know how that would have turned out. But I wasn't going to say anything about it in front of that crowd, so I told them I'd enjoy spending an hour with the Kolpath who'd made a fortune as lead singer with the Bandoliers.
    During that same panel, an historian went in a new direction. “His IQ is on the record,” he said. “It was over 260, too high for any human being. Maybe he didn't get carried off by a corporate giant. Or caught in another dimension. Maybe he