Professor Hilbert’s model of the Multiverse looked something like Professor Stefan’s, except that the bubbles³⁰ weren’t all pressed quite so tightly together. There were little gaps between them, and there was life in those gaps. Creatures, intelligent creatures, existed in those spaces—and, yes, they were dangerous and evil and wanted to consume humanity, but that didn’t make them any less interesting. Somehow, the little town of Biddlecombe had become a focal point for these creatures. Professor Hilbert was very curious to find out why.

But now he was about to be distracted from his important thoughts by a small child’s need for a bag of bull’s-eyes³¹ or a quarter pound of acid drops.³² Putting in place his false beard, which itched something awful, Professor Hilbert walked from his desk to the sweetshop. A young girl, who looked slightly familiar, was waiting at the counter. Professor Hilbert tried to recall where he had seen her before. He thought that she might be a friend of Samuel Johnson’s.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“My name is Maria Mayer and I’d like to talk to whoever is in charge, please,” said the girl.

“Of the sweet factory?”

“No, of the scientists.”

Professor Hilbert coughed and straightened his false beard.

“No scientists here, young lady, not unless you count the science of making great sweeties!”

Maria stared hard at him.

“Seriously?” she said.

“Seriously what?”

“Seriously, is that the best you can do? I know you’re scientists. The whole town knows that you’re scientists. I have a pet rabbit named Mr. Fluffytail. Even Mr. Fluffytail knows that you’re scientists, and Mr. Fluffytail eats his own poo.”

Professor Hilbert wasn’t sure what poo had to do with anything, although he vaguely recalled that Mr. Pennyfarthinge’s basement had contained a number of boxes of Uncle Dabney’s “Rabbit Droppings.” They appeared to be pieces of chocolate-covered fondant but they’d smelled a bit funny and nobody had been in any hurry to try them out. They’d simply thrown them away, but now Professor Hilbert was wondering if they hadn’t missed a trick by not selling them as Christmas treats to the Mr. Fluffytails of the world.

“If there were scientists here, which there aren’t, what would you want to ask them?” said Professor Hilbert.

“I wouldn’t want to ‘ask’ them anything,” said Maria. “I’d want to tell them something.”

“And what would that be?” said Professor Hilbert, only just resisting the urge to add “little girl” to the end of the question. Even though he managed not to say it aloud, he did speak it in his head, and he got the impression that Maria had somehow heard him say it.

Maria’s eyes narrowed. Her scowl deepened.

“Actually, now it’s two things. The first thing I’d tell them is that at least one of them needs a lesson in not being a smarty-pants.”

“Yes, and the second?”

Maria placed a map of Biddlecombe on the desk, a map marked with an inverted pentagram.

“That he’s a smarty-pants in a whole lot of trouble.”