Living in California has the curious feature that almost nobody ever wants to think about anything to any degree whatsoever. “I make software that helps people publish online,” I said to one local in the park yesterday. “Cool,” he said, bobbing his head in assent. “You want a mimosa, man? There's refreshments in the cooler there.”

“What do you do?” I wanted know.

“I work at Lawrence Livermore. They have a linear accelerator that’s like... eight miles long and they shoot electrons and antielectrons into each other and try to create alternate universes.”

“So you work with physicists?” I asked, suspecting that he didn’t count himself one.

“Yeah, dude. These guys are constantly”—here he wrinkled his brow and scratched his temple to indicate deep thought—”going ’What if?’ you know?” His expression now was one of the you-ever-think-about-that variety. What did do at the lab?

“I make graphics and 3-D animations about these experiments and stuff. These guys explain it to me and I make pictures.”

There was a sort of boombox-powered impromptu street festival going on around us, with another miscellaneous acquaintance of this man appearing every few minutes. “What’s up, Judy? How you been!?” My interrogateur was exuberant at the arrival of Judy. “You lovin’ the Jay-Z? Yeah! Me too!”

There was a pause, then he said to me, “Check out this woman over here with the blue shorts. Dude, she’s like forty and she’s hot.”

“I got a gal,” he said in answer to my curiosity, “I’m just appreciating.” Then a pause. “Weren’t we talking about something before?”

I reminded him that we were talking about linear accelerators.

“Oh, yeah, so I work with this guy, he’s like seventy. Seven-foot-three or something, and he’s missing like most of these fingers.” He indicated which fingers. “He says, ‘I lost these in the early stages of my physics exploration.’ (giggles very controllably) And he went back to physics! Can you believe that, man? (continues to giggle forcibly; stops suddenly)Yo Judy, there’s a carb on the side of that pipe.” A pause. “Yeah. I’m lovin’ this sun, man. Let’s have another beer, shall we?”

You know what I say: Mo’ sunny, mo’ problems.