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astrophysicist. .. then maybe they hired her because they were interested in space research of the type she'd done at Zubrovski Labs. "But if he can explain, then by all means . .. take me to him."
    Blackwood's office was in a different wing of the building which looked like it had been constructed back in the thirties. The man couldn't be very influential around here, then, if he hadn't managed to get one of the plush new offices near Jacobi's. They stopped in front of a dark wooden door that bore the single inscription Blackwood . The sign looked as old as the rest of the building; then Dr. Blackwood was no doubt as ancient as Jacobi.
    Jacobi pushed open the door without knocking; catching Suzanne's raised brow, he explained: "We're pretty informal around here, Doctor. You'll get used to it." He poked his head inside, then looked back at Suzanne and put his finger to his lips. "Blackwood's lecturing. We let the local schoolchildren visit from
    time to time. I'm not sure who enjoys it more." He stepped inside and motioned for her to follow.
    "How nice," Suzanne murmured behind him. She eased the door shut as quietly as possible. Blackwood stood speaking with his back to them; before him, a group of children Debi's age listened, wide-eyed, whether totally intent or totally lost, Suzanne wasn't sure. She and Dr. Jacobi tiptoed off to one side of the room. Neither Blackwood nor the children seemed to notice.
    "Insofar as science is concerned," Blackwood was saying, "I doubt we've ever experienced a more exciting period in human history. Aided by the computer and other modern research techniques, startling discoveries are happening at an exponential rate...."
    The room looked more like a child-scientist's playground than an office: the ceiling was plastered with astral maps; a huge mobile of the solar system hung suspended, as did other celestial bodies, and through this makeshift cosmos sailed an inflatable plastic model of the starship Enterprise. About a dozen antique telescopes were aimed at the open window, and above the desk hung a framed poster of Schiaparelli's Mars, complete with canali.
    Jacobi settled against the wall to listen. Next to him, Suzanne tried not to stare at Dr. Blackwood. She'd pictured him as looking like her old boss at Zubrovski Labs, Dr. Solomon, overweight and almost totally bald, his pale eyes magnified by the thick lenses of his glasses. She certainly hadn't pictured him looking like . .. like ...
    This. Nice-looking. Probably in his late thirties.
    Tall, over six feet, with curly, golden brown hair. And for God's sake, dressed like a college kid in a flannel shirt, khakis, and suspenders, no tie. She realized that her mouth was slightly agape, and closed it.
    "A wise man once said"—and at this point Blackwood caught sight of Jacobi and winked; Jacobi nodded back—"that a person who tries to know something about everything will eventually know everything about nothing, while the person who tries to know everything about one thing will eventually know nothing about everything."
    Suzanne frowned. "Who said that?" she whispered in Jacobi's ear.
    He shrugged, still smiling. "Knowing Harrison, he did."
    Blackwood droned on. The kids were starting to fidget. "Of both the physical and theoretical sciences, it is crucial for you to always remember that assumptions are fraught with danger. Scientists can't function unless they can postulate theories based on assumptions. But the good scientist will always remain cautious, for to assume even the obvious is to oftentimes overlook the obvious. To help illustrate this point"— and here he withdrew a pocket watch from his khakis —"let me give you a practical example." He opened the watch and stared at its face, counting dramatically. A couple of the kids stirred and began paying attention as they realized something was about to happen.
    "Five," Blackwood intoned, "four, three, two, one!"
    In one of the nearby offices, a man screamed.
    Blackwood's lips