whether any part of us survives death.”
“Oh.”
“Okay?”
“And what did he decide?”
“I couldn't determine whether he'd ever reached a decision. Chase, Robin explored the fringes of science. He was looking for breakthroughs in areas that are considered beyond the pale by most of his colleagues. He asked questions nobody else dared to ask.”
“Like whether there really are alternate universes.”
“Yes.”
“I thought the notion of alternate universes was an established fact.”
“Mathematically. But Robin apparently wanted to find a way to cross over.”
“Oh.”
“And he thought maybe we were getting occasional visitors from one.”
“You're kidding.”
He laughed. “I think he was hoping. In any case, a lot of people are fascinated by the fact that he disappeared on the same night as the Kolandra Earthquake.”
“I suspect a lot of people disappeared that night.”
“He wasn't in the area where the quake hit.”
“So what are they suggesting happened?”
“The theory is that there was a collision that night. Between universes. That's what caused the quake.”
“That's crazy.”
“Ah, Dr. Kolpath, I'm glad to have that settled. However that may be, some of the enthusiasts-but I suspect none of the physicists-think Robin took advantage of the collision to cross into the other universe.”
“Okay. I know you're not buying into any of this. Are you?”
He laughed. “Of course not. But the more extreme elements make for good copy.”
“I don't think,” I said, “that lunatics buy antiques.”
“It doesn't matter. They'll raise the general level of interest in Robin. That's all we need.”
“Okay.”
“Some of the wackier elements claim he was looking into the possibility that there are ghosts. They've been arguing that he knew about people, or entities, who'd gotten caught in dimensional fluxes. And can't get clear. Plato described graveyards as being restless at night. He thought it was a result of people's being too materialistic. Tying themselves to the pleasures of the world. Then when they die, they can't untangle their souls. Robin's idea, according to some of these people, was that if you're in the wrong place when there's a collision, you can get permanently snared.”
“Is any of this on the record?”
“Not really. Look, Robin was given to kidding around. So it's hard to know what he really thought about a lot of this stuff. He'd appear at different events as a speaker, and somebody would ask the question, were there really such things as people trapped in the dimensions, or in cemeteries, and he'd play along. 'Of course there are,' he'd say. All you have to do is watch him in action, and you get the sense that he knows what he's saying is preposterous, but some part of him hopes it's so.”
“Okay-”
“He wasn't given to ruling things out simply because they seemed absurd. If collisions actually happen, he says somewhere, there could easily be casualties.”
“That's a pretty spooky notion.”
“Yes, it is.”
“But nobody's going to take this stuff seriously.”
“Chase, as far as we're concerned, nobody has to take it seriously. It doesn't matter whether the ideas have any validity. Only that people get excited about them. Anyhow, the timing's perfect. It's this weekend, and I'm going to head over there. You want to come?”
I put it out of my mind until, near the end of the week, Jerry Muldoon called. Jerry was a retired psychiatrist who had probably talked with a few too many patients. He was the most dispassionate guy I'd ever known, a man whose smile was automatic, and whose ability to portray empathy was nonexistent even though he thought he was good at it. Alex was on the circuit with another dealer, so I asked if I could help.
“I understand,” he said, “that you have some personal effects that once belonged to Chris Robin?”
“Yes, we have access to some, Jerry. But they haven't been placed on the market yet.”
“Magnificent,” he said. “What actually do you have?”
I told him. Then asked how it happened that he knew about them.
“I just happened to hear about it.” His tone suggested he'd outmaneuvered us. “Word of something like this gets around. You know what I mean? Can I see what they look like?”
“Not yet, Jerry. The owner wants to keep them under wraps for the time being. But I'm glad to hear you're interested. If you like, we'll notify you as soon as they become available.”
“What's the delay?”
I couldn't very well tell him that Alex was planning some backroom conniving. “They're still clearing the official documents,” I said.
“Damn.” He sounded genuinely disappointed. The odd thing was that Jerry had always been a collector of objects associated with the collapse of the Ilurian Era. That's literally several worlds and sixteen centuries away. He'd done some ancestral research and convinced himself that his forebears were among the thieves chased out during the Rebellion, so he was interested in anything connected with them. We'd been able to get a few modestly priced items for him: a dissembler-which is a weapon since outlawed-that had once belonged to an earlier Jeremy Muldoon, a vase that had been the property of a prostitute associated with one of the rebels, and one or two other objects from the period. But I'd never known him to be interested in other antiquities.
“Did you want these for yourself, Jerry?” I asked. “Or are you acting as someone's agent?”
“Are you kidding, Chase? They would be for me. Absolutely.” Outside, two capers were chasing each other through the snow, waving furry tails. “All right. You will let me know, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“As soon as you have something.”
Three minutes later, there was a second call. It was more of the same.
“Sure,” Alex said. “I leaked the story.”
“Why?”
“Call it a test run.”
“I'm amazed that anybody would care that much about a physicist. Even one who disappeared. I mean, we have pilots who've disappeared, pharmacists, librarians, all kinds of people. So you've dug up responses from a few people who don't have enough to do. What's it prove?”
“Chase,” he said, “you need to stop thinking about Robin as a physicist.”
“Really? What would you suggest?”
“Try 'celebrity.'“
“It's been a pretty well-kept secret.”
“You travel,” he said, in his locked-on imitation of Collier Ibsen, the actor who'd made a career of playing tough guys, “in the wrong circles, sweetheart.”
THREE
A myth is occasionally a scientific explanation that hasn't been made yet.
We got a few more calls from potential customers asking about Chris Robin, and Alex looked quite pleased.
