But the investigation went on. The issue of his fascination with Fourths had come up. Lise's mother was interviewed again, this time by men who wore business suits rather than uniforms: men from the Department of Genomic Security. Mr. Adams had expressed an interest in Fourths: was the interest personal? Had he, for instance, repeatedly mentioned the subject of longevity? Did he suffer from any degenerative disease that might have been reversed by the Martian longevity treatment? Was he unusually concerned with death? Unhappy at home?

No, Lise's mother had said. Actually, what she said most often was "No, goddammit." Lise remembered her mother at the kitchen table, interrogated, drinking endless cups of rust-brown roiboos tea and saying,

"No, goddammit, no."

Nevertheless, a theory had emerged. A family man in the New World, often apart from his family, seduced by the anything-goes atmosphere of the frontier and by the idea of the Fourth Age, an extra thirty years or so tacked onto his expected span of life…

Lise had to admit there was a certain logic to it. He wouldn't have been the first man to be lured from his family by the promise of longevity. Three decades ago the Martian Wun Ngo Wen had brought to Earth a technique for extending human life—a treatment that changed behavior in other and subtler ways as well. Proscribed by virtually every government on Earth, the treatment circulated in the underground community of Terrestrial Fourths.

Would Robert Adams have abandoned his career and family to join that community? Lise's instinctive answer was the same as her mother's: no. He wouldn't have done that to them, no, no matter how tempted he might have been.

But evidence had emerged to subvert that faith. He had been associating with strangers off-campus.

People had been coming to the house, people not associated with the university, people he had not introduced to his family and whose purposes he had been reluctant to explain. And the Fourth cults held a special appeal in the academic community—the treatment had first been circulated by the scientist Jason Lawton, among friends he considered trustworthy, and it had spread primarily among intellectuals and scholars.

No, goddammit—but did Mrs. Adams have a better explanation?

Mrs. Adams did not. Nor did Lise.