When the NSA's invincible code-breaking machine encounters a mysterious code it cannot break, the agency calls its head cryptographer, Susan Fletcher, a brilliant, beautiful mathematician.
I called up Shimano's U.S. headquarters in Irvine, Calif., and convinced the company to let me evaluate this voguish velocipede for Scientific American.
Not yet, Paul. I don't think you can reach him at the office now, either. He phoned me five minutes ago to say he was stopping for a hair-cut on his way home.
We'd gather up as much paint as I could fit in my trunk, I'd call my most trusted art homies, my amazing husband always by my side, and we'd paint every inch of the exteriors in monochromatic fashion.
When she finally had to go home she wrote a long personal letter to each of her students and exhorted them to call her if they ever needed anyone to talk to.
I thought about calling a locksmith -- at least I had my cellphone, but at midnight, it could take a while for a locksmith to show up, and it was cold.