Excerpt: The Stephen Hawking Detective Agency

It is easy to forget the origins of "The Grand Detective," awash as we are in the stories of his success now. The names given him by the media alone go a long ways towards demonstrating the adulation he finds among the law-abiding public: "Dark Matter Detective," "Quantum PI," even the "Investigative Hawk." Who among us can remember the great brain confined to a wheelchair, when the exploits of the "Sleuth in the Bionic Suit" looms ever large to push such distant recollections aside?

I remember, though. I remember because I was there for his first, not so famous case. The case that led him firmly away from the path of theoretical physics and down the road of professional sleuthing. I bore witness to the terrible events of that case, saw all that he saw, heard all that he heard, and yet, unlike my good friend and former mentor, I was blind and deaf to the key details that he picked out so clearly.

Perhaps it was his confinement to that wheelchair that honed his mind into the razor sharp detecting element that it now is. Perhaps this chance of biology, a seeming curse at first, is the reason for his brilliant abilities. I don't know. But I can say it was a wonder to watch him work, back in the days when he had only his mind for a shield, his mind and a few loyal friends.