Quan was as good as her word: she was back in fifteen minutes, bearing a carefully folded piece of paper that she placed on Willow's desk with great ceremony. "There you go," she said. "Name and address that goes with that phone number."

"Address?" Willow nudged the paper with a forefinger.

"Yeah, what good's just a name? That's weak trash. I got you a little more."

Willow's mouth screwed up. "I think now I'm a little concerned about MIT's computer security."

"Phhht. MIT? I didn't hack MIT, that might be kinda hard." Quan shook her head as she kicked off her boots and tossed her jacket. "I went through the city. Their security is for shit." She ruffled her hair and flopped onto her bed. "I thought about going through the phone company, but that might've taken, I don't know, half an hour."

"You know," Willow said, never taking her eyes off the square of paper, "I've done some hacking, some of it kinda edgy, kinda out there on the fringe, but-"

"You, edgy?" Quan laughed. "What, you get into the local newspaper? Maybe get full access to the city maps?"

"It was very important." Willow took a deep breath. "More important than you make it sound."

"Yeah," Quan said, shaking her head in mock-seriousness, "I bet you really saved the world." She pointed at the folded rectangle on Willow's desk. "You look at it, don't look at it, I don't care." With that pronouncement she rolled onto her side and pulled her comforter over her. "Turn out the lights, okay?"

"What? Sure." Willow snapped off the overhead light, then sat at her desk, staring at the circle of light cast by her desk lamp and the yellow square inside it.

Willow's fingers worried the piece of paper in her pocket. She could feel the creases where Quan had folded it. The redhead had unfolded the paper before going to bed and looked at the information written there; now, she had to decide what to do with said information. The clouds of last week had given way to bright clear sunshine, a crisp light so very different from California. The beauty of the day did nothing to improve Willow's mood; had she moved across a continent only to find herself in the same predicament she had tried to leave? A small, niggling part of her brain was angry that she had ever reached out toward the mirror, hadn't just left well enough alone, but the larger part of her consciousness knew that there was no way she would have been able to let it go, so she was self-critical coming and going, yet even as she carried on this internal debate she knew that her feet carried her toward the address scrawled in Quan's negligent handwriting. Willow scuffed along Amherst Alley, the breaks between buildings giving a glimpse of the Charles a block away.

Her chest grew tight as she approached the indicated residence hall; she felt odd about this whole endeavor anyway and the fact that the Campus PD building was just across Audrey did not seem like an auspicious omen. Willow turned left and walked past the loading area to where the dorm's lawn fronted Memorial. Adirondack chairs were scattered around the green space, but Willow opted to sit at a round metal table-and-chairs under a mature maple tree. She checked over her shoulder; the fact that Quan had returned with an address as well as a phone number made Willow a little nervous. Whatever her diminutive roommate had done to acquire that information might be over the somewhat vague ethical line Willow had drawn in her mental sand. Still, here she was, her next move unclear. She sat for some ten minutes, mental wheels spinning.

"So, you just gonna sit there all fucking day?"

Willow gasped and almost tipped over backwards off her seat. She caught herself at the last minute and jerked upright, glaring. "Quan, what are you doing?"

"What the fuck are you doing, that's what I wanna know." Quan offered a saucy pout as she settled onto the seat opposite Willow. "Don't be obvious or anything, but keep an eye on that door." Quan tipped her head backward toward a corner of the building with a first-floor cutout and a crowded bike rack. "She could be coming out any minute."

"Wait, what?" Willow's eyes darted back and forth. "What did you do?"

"Pffft, you think I gave you the only copy of that spy shit." Quan shook her head. "Now, watch for anyone coming out."

"Lots of people are coming out."

Quan sighed. "Okay, first, you're looking for a woman, so discount all the guys. Now, look for someone who goes to the bike rack and looks at a bike but doesn't ride off."

"Wha-" Before Willow could complete her question, a girl in an oversized black sweatshirt and black jeans hurried out of the dorm, or at least she hurried as fast as her flip-flops would allow. She went to the bike rack and pulled one out. She crouched and ran her hands over it, spun the wheels, and looked closely at the cabling. Finally, she straightened, looked around before she returned the bike to the rack, and went back into the dorm.

"You get a good look at her? You remember her?"

Willow nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay." Quan tapped that table. "That's Janice Sanderson."

"Wait, I-" Willow's mouth and eyes formed perfect O's. "You called her and told her someone had done something to her bike, didn't you?"

"Told her someone bent a fucking rim."

The redhead pointed a finger at her roomie. "What if she didn't have a bike?"

"Even better." Quan held out her hands, palms up. "I wait a half-hour, call her and tell her somebody keyed her car." She waved a dismissive hand.

"What if she didn't drive a car?"

Quan rolled her eyes. "Then we wait and follow the pathetic loser who walks everywhere."

Willow narrowed one eye. "I walk everywhere." Quan shrugged, wide-eyed. "You walk everywhere."

Quan tapped a finger on her nose. "You sure about that? I could fly. I could have a damn jetpack."

Willow rolled her eyes. "You walk everywhere."

"Are you okay?" Willow jerked and hiccuped as Sophia sat down in the other chair. The dark-haired girl wore a denim trucker jacket with a fleece collar. "Sorry," she said, "didn't mean to scare you."

Willow shook her head. "No, it's okay, I was just kinda… deep in thought."

"Obviously." Sophia produced a roll of Strawberries'n'Creme Creme Savers from her backpack and offered it to Willow. The redhead declined. Sophia popped a candy into her mouth and tilted her head. "So, what's got you so cocooned in introspection?"

Willow tilted her head back. They sat in a secluded study/conversation area behind a staircase. The dull sound of footsteps overhead provided a soothing rhythm. "I don't know… nothing really."

Sophia leaned forward. "Okay, so, are you busy tonight?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

"Lucian found out that Joel Jerome Zelinger is giving a public lecture at Harvard and we're gonna go. You wanna come?"

Willow's forehead creased. "Who?"

"Joel Jerome Zelinger. He's a futurist."

"Which means?"

Sophia's face screwed up while she thought about the question. "I guess he has something to do with the future, maybe predicts it? I don't know, but Lucian's really excited about it. You know how he's always going off about space and time and such."

"Yeah," Willow said, looking down at her book, "I'm aware."

"I guess this guy's the hot new voice in that field-"

"Was there a cold old voice I missed?" Willow cocked an eyebrow.

Sophia's nose scrunched. "It's probably an hour of hot gas summing up the technology of Star Trek, but Lucian's pumped and it's a chance to slum it at Hah-vahd." She laughed. "And we can probably stop by Blackbird for doughnuts."

"Oooooooh," Willow groaned. "Dirty pool."

"The dirtiest. Begin's at eight, so leave at seven?"

Willow shrugged. "Okay, you talked me into it."

"Does he need to take a pill or something?"

"I don't think so. He'll probably calm down as we get closer."

"Or get worse."

"I'm not thinking about that." Willow and Sophia leaned against each other, watching Lucian jiggle one leg while tapping the opposite hand against his other thigh while he craned his neck to look out the window of the #1 bus. Sophia wore layered T-shirts, a black short-sleeve over black-and-white horizontal stripes, and a skirt with a black-and-white plaid. Black tights and teal lace-up boots with white faux-fur trim completed the ensemble. Willow wore a navy-blue long-sleeved tee and pine-green corduroy pants. Her knit cap, scarf, and peacoat completed the ensemble.

"The dexterity, it's almost impressive," Willow said.

"Are we late? Do you guys think we'll be late?" Lucian turned toward them, his eyes wide.

"No, we're going to be fine." Sophia held out a soothing hand. "We've got plenty of time, we'll get a doughnut, then go to the lecture."

"Do you really think he should have sugar?" Willow asked.

Sophia turned her head and whispered, "I don't think it could make things much worse."

"Look, I know I'm, I'm…" Lucian took a deep breath.

"Wigging?" Willow said, then closed her mouth quickly as her two friends gave her quizzical looks.

"I was gonna say, hyper, but, okay." Lucian moved his shoulders up and down. "But this is a big deal, a really big deal."

"And you've already got tickets," Sophia said, "so, we'll have seats."

"Yeah, but they're general admission tickets, so it's first come, first seated. I don't wanna end up in the back of the balcony." Lucian bit his lip.

Sophia and Willow exchanged looks. "I don't think that will be a problem," Sophia said.

"I spoke too soon," Sophia said. Willow reached over with her napkin rom the doughnut shop and dabbed at the other girl's cheek; Sophia pulled away. "What are you doing?"

"Wiping that egg off your face."

"Oooh, so funny."

"Come on, come on." Lucian was a few steps ahead of them, a man doing his best to not break into a run. Willow sort-of understood his jitters; she was surprised at the number of people approaching the Kirkland crosswalk.

"Hey, Lucian, why don't you go on ahead and find us seats, and we'll catch up." Sophia motioned toward the Neo-Classical building looming ahead of them.

"Are you sure?"

Sophia nodded. "We're sure." Lucian immediately turned and began to skip-run toward Lowell Hall. The girls watched him weave through the crowd. "I've never seen him like this before," Sophia said. "Well, at least not since we got here. It's so cute. It is cute, right?"

Willow drew in a hissing breath and made a wobbly motion with her gloved hand. "Cute, deranged, it's such a fine line."

"I hate you." Sophia mock-punched the redhead's shoulder and laughed. The size of the crowd slowed their pace as they neared the front entrance. Sophia stood on tiptoe to try and see over the crowd. "Jeez, it might be full."

"Lowell only holds, like, 300 people," Willow said, "but Lucian already has tickets, right?"

"Yeah." Sophia frowned. "I just don't want him to be disappointed."

"Oh, that's sweet." As they drew close to the door, Willow saw a poster in the display case. The face on the poster was long, with a broad forehead, high cheekbones, and a clipped beard over a strong-verging-on-combative jaw. The hair was cut almost buzz-short in a style Willow thought of as 'please don't notice my encroaching male pattern baldness'. Usually it didn't work, but here it directed the viewer's attention to the deep-set eyes. The intensity of their gaze, even on a promotional poster, sent a tremor along the base of Willow's skull. She blinked as they eased through the door.

"Guys, guys." Lucian stood (or rather hopped) next to a staircase with an odd double railing: the outer rail began at the second step and was polished wood with ornate iron supports; the inner rail was a swooping affair of steel. Lucian waved his hand. "Come on."

"I thought you didn't want to be in the balcony," Sophia said as she shucked her coat.

Lucian's foot was already on the step. "The first two rows on the floor are already full, but I found seats in the front row of the balcony. They're even with the floor seats, just higher."

"Okay," Sophia made a 'go on' wave. "We don't want anyone to jump 'em."

"Won't happen," Lucian said as he scrambled up the stairs. "I've got my coat on one and a glove on the other two, and the guy who's already up there said he'd tell anybody who came by that they were taken." His words dopplered and shifted as he trotted up the curving staircase ahead of the girls.

"Well," Sophia said as they climbed the steps, "it's already been a fruitful experience. I now know that Lucian can be just as nutty as anyone else."

Willow shrugged and rolled her eyes. "The wacky abides." 'The guy' who had watched over their seats was a gentleman in late middle age with tortoise shell glasses and a tweed jacket that reminded Willow of Giles. It tugged at her heart, even though this coat was much more expensive than any three of Giles's.

"Thanks, thanks." Lucian babbled as he collected his coat and gloves, sat down and turned his attention to the stage.

"Really, thank you so much." Sophia leaned toward the man. "I know he's acting a little-" She made a buzzing noise and fluttered one hand.

"It's all right," the man said. "I'm glad he's excited to be here." He stretched out a hand. "Franklin Dubose." The young women took his offered hand in turn.

"Sophia Gravel."

"Willow Rosenberg." Dubose's hand was large and strong, but smooth when she shook it. She remained half-turned toward him. Sophia leaned over her shoulder.

"So, none of you are from Boston." Dubose crossed his legs, pulling at the knee of his immaculately creased twill pants.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Sophia scrunched her face. "I'm from Michigan, Lucian's from Missouri."

"I'm from California." Willow offered a half-wave.

"Students, I assume." Dubose touched the temple of his glasses.

Sophia nodded. "MIT, all of us."

"Well, excellent. I hope we enjoy the presentation."

"Who is this guy?" Willow asked, the image from the poster flashing through her mind.

"Oh, he's very much on the cusp of being the pop-science figure of the moment." Dubose touched his glasses again. "It should be very interesting."

Willow nodded and turned to face the stage as the lights dimmed. The thrum of conversation died as two spotlights snapped on, forming a hard, bright circle against the raised wooden floor of the platform. Another spotlight appeared, drawing the audience's attention stage right as Joel Jerome Zelinger stepped onto the stage. Willow stared. Zelinger was tall, almost seven feet tall, with broad, square shoulders and long arms and legs. He wore a deep-lapeled black jacket that hung to mid-thigh, black jeans, and black boots with some sort of silver detail on the pointy toes. His shirt was a shiny light gray with a banded collar and covered placket. He took long strides toward the spotlight and his coat streamed out behind him. Willow thought he looked like a giant bird of prey. He reached the illuminated circle in the center of the stage and looked at the audience, those deep, glittering eyes sweeping over the crowd; when they passed over her, Willow experienced a repeat of the same sensation she'd felt when looking at the poster.

"Good evening," he said in a deep voice with a hint of a nasal rasp. "Thank you for coming." He put his hands behind his back. "Tonight, we stand at the end of a century, a century that has seen humanity take its first halting steps toward the stars, turn night into day, develop the ability to cross continents in a matter of hours, communicate with someone halfway around the globe instantaneously, and access all the information of the preceding centuries from any point on the globe. It's truly been an age of marvels." He paused and took two steps to his left; the spotlight followed him so smoothly its movement was near-undetectable. "But… what if I told you that we stand on the brink of discoveries that cast all of that into shadow?" He spread his arms and the length of his limbs, the drape of the black coat, the breadth of his hands, all reinforced Willow's first association; the man looked like a great black falcon. The projection screen on the wall behind Zelinger lit up. "In 1966, Star Trek first aired on American television. A picture of William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy filled the screen. Willow winced as Sophia's elbow dug into her ribs. Zelinger held up one hand as though he could stop the world. "I know what you're thinking, 'A century of marvels and you open with Star Trek'?" Laughter rippled through the packed hall. "Well, the impact of television and the thoughts of Marshall McLuhan are a topic for another night, but what I want to point out is that Star Trek is the point in the culture when many, if not most, Americans in particular, became aware of the concept of antimatter.

"Now, let us be clear, this was not a new concept, not even in 1966. Antimatter was first proposed in rudimentary forms in the 1880s, and in 1898 Arthur Schuster hypothesized the existence of anti-atoms and even antimatter solar systems and thought that if matter and antimatter came into contact with each other, annihilation would result." Shatner/Kirk and Nimoy/Spock were replaced by a black-and-white image of a bald man with an impressive beard. "Schuster even believed that antimatter might have negative gravity." Zelinger paced the floor with long strides, the heels of his boots clicking on the polished wood. "In 1928, Paul Dirac published a paper that established the modern theory of antimatter and led to the discovery of the proton, and ever since then in physics antimatter has been used to describe subatomic particles with opposite charges." A slide of a man with receding hair, intense eyes, and a thin mustache appeared on the screen.

Zelinger spun to face the audience, his index fingers pointed toward them; Willow felt he was pointing directly at her. "This is the modern theory of antimatter, but I want to explore a concept closer to the Star Trek idea of antimatter as a source of energy, possibly destructive, possibly constructive. I wish to, in fact, reach back to the time before Schuster's theories were abandoned, to his idea of antimatter solar systems." Zelinger closed his eyes and his fingers pointed toward the ceiling. "What if our turn to the subatomic has blinded us to the celestial? What if there are not only antimatter solar systems, but an antimatter universe? And I know, I know, you're saying 'Wait, I thought this was about the future'." Zelinger walked to the very front of the stage. "It is. Look at where we are now. It's an assumed fact that dark energy exists, we're that close-" He held up a slender forefinger and thumb "-to admitting that dark matter must exist as well, since the universe cannot function as we observe it without them. On top of that, string theory has introduced the idea that we can see and measure only a tiny slice of reality." A slide of luminous neon webs popped onto the screen. "Ancient philosophies rest on the idea of duality and balance: light and dark, male and female, day and night. Could that be a foundational truth of the universe? For the rest of the evening, I want to share with you why I believe that we are about to discover that we are not alone, but that our neighbors will not come from distant planets, but are perhaps already here, separated from us by a gossamer web of frequency. I believe we are about to discover the world beside us."

Willow felt her chest tighten and her hands grow cold.