Andrew, huddled in the cave of our laboratory. "Yes," I said, with some conceited grandeur. "Yes, I'm a scientist." "Really?" I smiled. "I'm something of an expert on the Higgs, actually." "I heard it's a Pisces." I felt my eyes flicker, involuntary, to the left and right. "Sure," I said. Imaginative, mutable, and no longer where it should be because of the precession of the equinoxes. Pisces fit the Higgs as well as anything. "What's it like?" she asked. "Enigmatic," I said. "I mean, come on, it's the reason the universe is full of stuff." "And what do you do with the Higgs?" she asked. My god, I thought, as she brushed a strand of hair away from her face, I've found a Higgs groupie. "We smash things together and see what falls out," I said, massaging the truth, "at temperatures and energies which haven't existed since the universe began." Now more than a few people were listening to our conversation. Before she left, the girl gave me her phone number. I had to smile; who'd have thought the Higgs was the perfect way to meet women? Certainly not Andrew, who sat in the lab playing the same Captain Beefheart album over and over again. Apparently the Higgs had written liner notes for the reissue. "What the hell, man?" Andrew asked. "What is this?" "Music," I said, as I'd grown to like the Captain. On recommendation of the Higgs, of course. "I think it's just trying to be cool," Andrew