A little late, I pulled my Ferguson Cross-Country '62 into the space reserved for me and stepped out. The clouds were low and moving fast but the rain was soft on my bare grey head. The dark walls of the Laboratory rose close by. I felt the mass of it blocking off the light wind and, with the wind, the chill wetness of an autumn morning. It was good to be back, I thought, back to the quiet excitement of research, the prideful interest in my students, the comforting presence of my friends. A female figure splashed by me hurriedly, her arms full of large brown envelopes. I half turned. "Lottie," I started to say ... it was the Lab's messenger girl ... but she was gone already. "Funny," I muse…
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