He paused, expecting at least one or two of them to be impressed. When they clearly weren’t, he continued. “That makes it roughly the same size as the Grand Canyon,” he told them. This time there were a few appreciative nods. At least some of them have been on family vacations, Ben thought, trying not to be annoyed. But it was too late; he was already annoyed. He hated addressing the summer interns, the dozen or so high school students selected to spend a month at the station learning about marine biology. Most of them were the spawn of generous donors, accepted into the program in return for their parents’ continued financial support. Two or three had a genuine interest in the ocean; the rest just took up space and got in the way.

It was a condition of Ben’s funding that he oversee the intern program. He resented the time it took away from his own work, and each year it was more and more difficult to feign enthusiasm for what he considered enforced babysitting. This year, however, Angela had offered to help him shepherd the would-be biologists, for which he was more than grateful. He looked at her, standing beside him, and shook his head. She stifled a laugh.

“Because the Canyon comes so close to the shore here, we have a wonderful opportunity to study deep-sea life that we otherwise would probably never get to see,” Angela said, picking up the spiel she and Ben had rehearsed earlier that morning. “Numerous new species have been discovered by researchers utilizing our submarine program.”

Ben listened as Angela described some of the research projects carried out at Hopkins. She sounds so enthusiastic, he thought. I remember when I sounded like that. But that had been quite a few years earlier. Now he was just weary of trying to make other people excited. His own work still interested him, but he wished he didn’t have to bother with all of the other stuff, the administrative duties and ass-kissing that seemed to be necessary to keep going. He hated that so much research was dependent on the beneficence of people with money, people who were usually more interested in the glory of patronage than in the actual discoveries their largesse made possible. He was always amazed by how much people were willing to give just to have their name attached to a newly discovered species of octopus. One of these days I’ll probably have to name a nudibranch Archidoris Paris Hilton, he thought, unamused by the thought.

“So we hope all of you enjoy your time here at the Hopkins Marine Station. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me or Dr. Ransome.”

Ben, sensing the weight of two dozen eyes suddenly falling upon him, was jolted back to the moment. He smiled stiffly. “Yes,” he said. “Ask me anything.” Now go away and leave me alone, he added silently.