Theo sat at his desk in his office, a plastic Donald Duck peering down at him from atop the monitor, thinking of how to phrase what he wanted to say. He decided to be simple and direct. After all, he'd need to place the information in the form of a classified ad in hundreds of newspapers worldwide; it would cost a fortune if he wasn't concise. He had three keyboards — a French AZERTY, an English QWERTY, and a Greek one. He was using the English one:

Theodosios Procopides, a native of Athens, working at CERN, will be murdered Monday, October 21, 2030. If your vision related to this crime, please contact procopides@cern.ch.

He thought about leaving it at that, but then added a final line: "I am hoping to prevent my own death."

Theo could translate it into Greek and French himself; in theory, his computer could translate it into other languages for him, but if there was one thing that his time at CERN had taught him it was that computer translations were often inaccurate — he still remembered the horrible Christmas-banquet incident. No, he would enlist the aid of various people at CERN to help him — and also to advise him which newspapers were significant in which countries.

But one thing he could do immediately: post his note to various newsgroups. He did that before going home to bed.

Finally, at one in the morning, Lloyd and Michiko left CERN. Again, they abandoned her Toyota in the parking lot — it was hardly unusual for people at CERN to pull all-nighters.

Michiko worked for Sumitomo Electric; she was an engineer specializing in superconducting-accelerator technology, on long-term assignment to CERN, which had bought several components for the LHC from Sumitomo. Her employer had provided her, and Tamiko, with a wonderful apartment on Geneva's Right Bank. Lloyd was less well paid, and didn't have a housing allowance; his apartment was in the town of St. Genis. He liked living in France while working mostly in Switzerland; CERN had its own special border crossing that allowed its staff to pass between the

two countries without worrying about showing passports.

Lloyd rented the apartment furnished; although he'd been at CERN two years, he didn't think of it as being his home, and the idea of buying furniture, which would be a bear to import back to North America, didn't make sense to him. The provided furnishings were a bit old-fashioned and ornate for his tastes, but at least everything coordinated well: the dark wood, the burnt-orange carpet, the dark-red walls. It had a cozy, warm feel, at the expense of making the place look smaller than it really was. But he had no emotional attachment to this apartment — he'd never been married or lived with anyone of the opposite sex, and, in the twenty-five years since he'd moved out on his own, he'd had eleven different addresses. Still, tonight there was no question that they should go to his place, not hers. There would be too much of Tamiko at the flat in Geneva, too much to face so soon.

Lloyd's apartment was in a forty-year-old building, heated by electric radiators. They sat on the couch. He had an arm around her shoulder, and he was trying to comfort her. "I'm sorry," said Lloyd.

Michiko's face was still puffy. She had periods of calm, but the tears would suddenly start again and they seemed to go on forever. She nodded slightly.

"There was no way to foresee this," said Lloyd. "No way to prevent it."

But Michiko shook her head. "What kind of mother am I?" she said. "I took my daughter half a world away from her grandparents, from her home."

Lloyd said nothing. What could he say? That it had seemed like a wonderful thing to do? Getting to study in Europe, even if only at age eight, would have been a terrific experience for any child. Surely bringing Tamiko to Switzerland had been the right idea.

"I should try to call Hiroshi," said Michiko. Hiroshi was her ex-husband. "Make sure he got the e-mail."

Lloyd thought about observing that Hiroshi probably wouldn't evince any more interest in his daughter now that she was dead than he had when she was alive. Even though he'd never met him, Lloyd hated Hiroshi, on many different levels. He hated that Hiroshi had made his Michiko sad — not just once or twice, but for years on end. It pained Lloyd to think of her trudging through life without a smile on her face, with no joy in her heart. He also, if he were brutally honest with himself, hated Hiroshi because he had had her first. But Lloyd didn't say anything. He simply stroked Michiko's lustrous black hair.

"He didn't want me to bring her here," said Michiko, sniffling. "He wanted her to stay in Tokyo, go to a Japanese school." She wiped her eyes. " 'A proper school,' he said." A pause. "If only I'd listened to him."

"The phenomenon was worldwide," said Lloyd gently. "She would have been no safer in Tokyo than in Geneva. You can't blame yourself."

"I don't," said Michiko. "I — "

But she stopped herself. Lloyd couldn't help wondering if she was going to say, "I blame you."Michiko hadn't come to CERN to be with Lloyd, but there was no doubt in either of their minds that he was the reason she'd decided to stay. She'd asked Sumitomo to keep her on here, after the equipment she was responsible for was installed. For the first two months, Tamiko had been back in Japan, but Michiko, once she'd decided to extend her stay, had arranged to have her daughter brought to Europe.

Lloyd had loved Tamiko, too. He knew the lot of stepfather was always a difficult one, but the two of them had hit it off. Not all youngsters are pleased when a divorced parent finds a new partner; Lloyd's own sister had broken up with her boyfriend because her two young sons didn't care for the new man in her life. But Tamiko had once told Lloyd that she liked him because he made her mother smile.

Lloyd looked at his fiancee. She was so sad, he wondered if he'd ever see her smile again. He felt like crying himself, but there was something stupid and masculine that wouldn't let him do that while she was also crying. He held it in.

Lloyd wondered what impact this was going to have on their upcoming marriage. He had brought no other agenda to his proposal than simply that he loved Michiko, totally and completely. And he did not doubt Michiko's love for him, but, nonetheless, to some degree, there had to have been a secondary reason for Michiko to want to marry him. No matter how modern and liberated a woman she was, and, by Japanese standards at least, Michiko was very modern, she still had, in some measure, to have been looking for a father for her child, someone who would have helped her to bring up Tamiko, who would have provided a male presence in her life.

Had Michiko really been in the market for a husband? Oh, yes, she and Lloyd were terrific together — but many couples were terrific together without marriage or any long-term commitment. Would she still wish to marry him now?

And, of course, there was that other woman, the one in his vision, the proof, vivid and full-blown…

The proof that, just as his own parents' marriage had ended in divorce, so, too, would the one he was supposed to enter with Michiko.