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alive, in good health, and apparently enjoying their unique form of afterlife. There was also the extreme security, totally unexplained, and the “unfortunate accident” that required them to try to recruit Harry. He decided to put it all behind him, forget about what happened, and just go back to his research and teaching.
    But things would not work out as easily as Harry planned. On his second day back from the strange visit with Walt and Brad Lincoln, Harry found that his research funding was being cut almost completely. The messages came by email and informed him that formal letters were on the way. The messages were very clear and gave no explanation other than a general need to reduce expenditures, both at the government agencies that funded about half of his work and at the non-profit foundation that covered the other half with matching grants. All that was left now was a very small amount that the university contributed to offset some of its usual fee and to provide office space, phones, and computers for his graduate students and postdocs. The university contribution would surely be eliminated when the other funds were withdrawn. This was a disaster. What would happen to the students and postdocs who were in the middle of their projects? Harry would probably be able to scare up some other funds from sponsors of his past work, but that wouldn’t help the others in his lab. They’d be left out in the cold.
    He needed to act quickly and call in all the favors he could, and he was making a list of people to call when Walt popped into his office.
    “I heard the bad news,” Walt said. “What are you going to do?”
    “I don’t know. It all hit so fast and out of the blue. I can’t understand it. The research was going well, and everyone seemed pleased with our progress and even with some of the initial results. We had rave reviews when we demoed the non-invasive brainwave actuated arm and hands. And the eye-track robotic control went over big too. I thought that our sponsors at DOD and NSF were onboard for the long haul, and the Chronos Foundation also seemed eager to co-sponsor the government efforts. We had plans for a huge number of applications, and now it just looks like the bottom fell out. What’s even more confusing is how all three messages came at the same time, as if all three sponsors had coordinated beforehand. It doesn’t make any sense.”
    “So, what are you going to do?”
    “I don’t know. What can I do except try to find other sources of funds?”
    “I think that I can help there,” Walt replied. “As you know, the sponsors of our project have very deep pockets. They could pick up the full funding for your lab without batting an eye, but they’d need a quid pro quo.”
    “What kind of quid pro quo?”
    “You agree to sign on and I can guarantee that your lab will be well funded, essentially forever if they keep producing high quality research. Of course, you’d need to get someone else to take over, since you’ll be working with us, but I think that either Juliet Davidson or Greg Hoffberg would be happy to absorb your students and postdocs. Either of them would do a good job in your place. Maybe not as good as you, but that’s why we want you and not them.”
    “That sounds a bit like extortion, Walt. You’re putting me between a rock and a hard place. Can’t you try to get me some funds without this total commitment? I’m not sure that I want to leave here and join some strange outfit, to do something that you can’t tell me about, and to work on a project that seems to me to be a big hoax.”
    “Sorry, Harry. I can’t do anything to help you unless you help us. That’s the bottom line. But like I said the other day, you wouldn’t regret coming onto the project once you get the full picture. It’ll be more exciting, challenging, and important than anything you did before or would do in the future. And the bonus is that all your research and your students and postdocs