The Sunspacers Trilogy by George Zebrowski

layer by layer, out of fundamentals which themselves do not have the properties to be found at higher levels. Chemistry is one of the first hierarchies of complexity in the slow climb toward a unified science of nature.” She paused and smiled. “I suggest that you grasp problems as you can and work from there to other things, going back only when you must. Don’t be afraid of gaps. Fill them in or learn to live with them.” She smiled again. “You will all do well enough, I expect.”
    She made me believe every word. I realized, with some uneasiness, that what she had said applied also to self-knowledge. What was the use, then, if we could never know ourselves completely?
    Morey and I sat together in Astronomies, which began at 11: 10.
    “I’m Muhammad Azap,” the tall, slightly plump professor said, closing his mouth as if to trap the “p.” He scratched his fine brown hair. “I’ll assume that nothing escapes you. Wing it if you wish. Maybe something interesting has got your attention. Who knows? As long as you remedy weaknesses before term’s end.” He was spooky, but I liked him.
    He turned sideways, as if trying to disappear. “Eight different astronomies from now until May, from visual to gravity-lens observations. What’s the difference between astronomy last century and now? Don’t say there are more kinds of astronomy, or that you have to know more physics.”
    “It’s become more of an experimental science,” Rosalie Allport said softly, “as we’ve moved out into Sunspace.”
    Azap nodded. “Astronomy will become a completely experimental science when human beings and their instruments can go anywhere in the known universe.” He looked at us as if he had delivered himself of a great truth. “Tomorrow the hard stuff. Go to lunch.”
    Morey shook his head as we stood up. “A loon, but I like him.”
    “He must be good to be here,” I said.
    Linda came up the aisle with Jake LeStrange. I tensed, but they didn’t notice me. Then Rosalie Allport came by, and I had a chance to see more than her back for a change. Her hair was tied in a short ponytail. She had clear brown eyes and full but delicate lips. I stared. She smiled and looked away.
    “Come on, let’s go,” Morey said, nudging me a bit too hard.
    I turned and looked at him. He smiled. “I can see how you’re going to waste your time.”
    Human Development A, at 1:10, sounded like a course to housebreak scientific types, to give them culture and couth, as Morey put it.
    We sat down four rows from the pit. Van Cott turned around in front of me.
    “Say, Morey, don’t you think we could get this stuff on our own?”
    “Probably.”
    So they had met, I thought as a smiling, middle-sized man with white hair walked into the pit. He wore an all-in-one black slacks/white shirt combo with green bow tie.
    “A clown,” Morey whispered.
    “Good afternoon. My name’s Christian Praeger. This is probably the only course you’ll take whose subject matter is beyond all of us. I’m not always sure myself what the subject matter is, but it has to do with making some sense of what humankind has done in its short history.”
    Van Cott was shifting restlessly in his seat.
    Praeger smiled. “Does human history make a pattern of some kind? Is there a vision which unifies human knowledge? Einstein once said that he wouldn’t try politics because it was much harder than physics—too many variables, and calling for decisions, not just understanding, where too little was known, at moments when decisions still had to be made, and where partial success was the best that could be expected.
    “There will be a lot of necessary nonsense in this course, but we’ll try to remove it by developing some kind of crap detector. There’s no one way to make one, but it does demand the readiness to shift perspective while retaining a sense of values.”
    “Whatever that means,” Van Cott whispered. I didn’t like admitting that he had a point.
    “As