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suspicion will always be there.”
    She mentioned something called the nanodrive, which would allow us to cross to Andromeda. And she praised Robin's work on colliding universes, and how exciting it would be if we could somehow communicate with these other realities. “Imagine meeting another version of yourself,” she said. “Although I confess that some of my associates tell me that, for some of us, one is quite enough.”
    That got some laughs. “I'd love to think,” she continued, “that somewhere, we are all gathered at another Jubilee Country Club. But instead of mourning for Chris Robin, he is standing here with us, our guest of honor, sharing a drink with Harry over there.” Everybody turned toward a tall, white-haired man who smiled. Those who had glasses raised them in his direction, and the rest applauded.
    She sat down to more applause and had to rise again when it did not subside. The president thanked her for her illuminating remarks. “If that is so,” he added, “I'd be inclined to wonder whether that happy group could imagine our situation.” He paused, sighed, and announced that the first two panels would start at the top of the hour.
    A screen at one of the conference rooms announced that the opening topic would be “The Multiverse.” The room filled up quickly, while the panelists took their places behind a table. I should mention that the attendees all seemed to be professionals of one kind or another. They were articulate, obviously knowledgeable, and enthusiastic.
    The panelists talked about how a multiverse was the only way we could rationally explain our own existence, where the requirements for a universe friendly to life were extreme: a gravity constant within narrow limitations, the tendency of water to freeze from the top down, the weak and strong nuclear forces, and a number of other very precise settings. “You have to have a lot of universes, an enormous number of them, in fact,” said the panel moderator, a short bald man who drummed his fingers constantly while talking. “You have to have literally billions before the settings can become right by accident. Unless, of course, you're willing to admit divine intervention.”
    The discussion sailed quietly along for about twenty minutes. Then one of the panelists, a heavyset man with a shock of white hair hanging in his eyes, delivered a jolt: “What we have to ask ourselves,” he said, “is whether Chris really was taken by someone, or whether he did find a way to cross over. Do any of the panel members believe that might actually be possible?”
    Among the other three panelists, two hands went up. “'Anything that is not expressly forbidden is possible,'“ said one, a young woman who might have been a model for one of the clothing companies. “But I think the likelihood is remote.”
    The others nodded.
    A hand waved in the audience. Another young woman. “If he could have actually gone to the other side, wouldn't he have taken someone with him? To serve as a witness? But nobody else disappeared that night. At least not on Virginia Island.”
    The panelists looked at one another. The moderator drummed his fingers some more. “It's a valid point, Jessica,” he said. “But he might not have wanted to risk someone else's life until he was sure he could do it and return.”
    I looked at Alex. “That's pretty wild stuff.”
    “Gives the notion of the Universal Cab Company a whole new meaning,” he said.
    A bearded man seated beside me wanted to know whether there was any truth to the claim that Robin had predicted the earthquake. That he knew it was coming because it was the result of colliding branes. At first I thought he was talking about people, but then I recalled that physicists use the term brane to indicate the edge of a universe. Assuming universes have edges.
    The question went to a panelist named Bill. Bill was tall, thin, clearly well into his second century. “I've heard that story,” he said. “Can you