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Zanita
    thought him the most interesting and unconventional man she had ever seen.
    Frogs croaked, shooting stars fell, owls hooted, and trees rustled in the wind
    as he discussed, in plain terms, bringing together seemingly dichotomous
    subjects such as absolutism underlying relativistic principles.
    What fascinated Zanita most was his way of taking several divergent topics and
    bringing them together into a cohesive unit, pointing out similarities in
    subjects not often talked about synonymously. He was brilliant.
    He was a man captivated by ideas, both the sublime and the ridiculous. His
    genuine curiosity about every aspect of the nature of the universe was
    contagious. The group was entranced by his enthusiasm as he delved into
    explorations of both the known and the unknown.
    "Facts always remain absolute," he said. "It's everyone's point of view that is
    different, relativistic, although, paradoxically, everyone believes 'their'
    point of view is the correct or 'proper' one. As Einstein pointed out quite a
    while ago: 'I'm right and everything else is relative.' If one listens to two
    politicians in a political debate, one is observing the Theory of Relativity."
    Everyone laughed. "And on that note, I believe we'll call it a night. I thought
    it might be interesting if we caught the new science fiction picture playing at
    the cinema at the mall in Stockboro tomorrow. I hear there are some intriguing
    ideas at work on the nature of space travel and xenobiology. We can have an open
    discussion afterwards if anyone's interested." Everyone was very much
    interested—including the clown, who asked if he could join in. He was assured he
    could.
    Tyber caught up to Zanita in the parking lot as she was heading for her car.
    "So—how was that? Did I keep my promise?"
    Zanita smiled at him. "You did. In spite of myself, I was fascinated like
    everyone else."
    "Hmm... not quite what I was aiming at, but it is a start."
    She reached her car and unlocked the door. "As a friend told me recently, in
    certain matters I would do well to leap before I look." Of course, Mills had
    been referring to a totally different subject. "You have piqued my interest,
    Doc. I will be there tomorrow night."
    He placed his hands against the door of her car, leaning down to speak to her
    through the open window. "It is you who has piqued my interest, Zanita. Did I
    tell you I have a cat? No? Well, I do. Good night."
    Now what did he mean by that? she wondered.
    The following evening, she waited for the group in the lobby of the movie
    theater, trying desperately to stay awake. She had gone to visit her
    grandparents at their farm last evening after the class. Her grandfather had
    been sitting out on the front porch, idly rocking on the swing, enjoying the
    unusually balmy October weather. The natives called it Indian summer, and every
    New Englander knew to enjoy the brief respite while it lasted, for it presaged
    the coming winter.
    As usual, it didn't take long before they were heatedly "discussing" a current
    topic of town politics. Zanita always liked engaging Hank in such discussions,
    often playing devil's advocate just to rile the old man. Hank was something when
    he got going on a subject he cared about; and Hank really cared about everything
    that went on in Stockboro, and for that matter, the world at large. In her
    opinion, it was one of the traits that had made him a great reporter. No story
    was ever just a story to him.
    Unfortunately, she had succeeded only too well in riling him up, for the
    discussion went on well past midnight, with neither one of them aware of the
    time. It wasn't until her grandmother came out onto the porch dressed in her
    robe to shoo them inside that they came to their senses.
    Due to the hour, Zanita elected to spend the night in her old bedroom. When she
    made her decision, she hadn't counted on The Hogs hitting town.
    It was around two in the morning when the pack squealed into the backyard,
    reminding her of