Not quite a pounding, mind you, but rather insistent, nonetheless.

My boss, Dr. Solarian, didn’t even bother to look up from his display. Mumbling, he made a “get-that-won’t-you” sound, and I put down my coffee, and rose to answer the door.

“Kosmos Enforcement Agency! Open the door!”

To say I was surprised was an understatement. I knew about the KEA, of course, but they’ve always occupied the same headspace as Interpol or the FBI. They’re the guys who police governments and dictators, not junior adjunct physics professors trying to earn tenure.

The door opened, two KE agents in their dark blue uniforms stepped through, and looked past me.

“Dr. Solarian? Robert Solarian, physics professor?”

I shrugged my shoulders, and nodded my head towards the complex array of lasers, mirrors, and ampules of rare gasses. I used to tease my boss that we were “doing science with literal smoke and mirrors”, but he never thought it was that funny.

“Doctor, we’re going to have to insist that you power down your equipment IMMEDIATELY and come with us. Your experiment seems to be out of control, and you’re going to need to answer some questions.”

My boss’ face went from fascination to consternation in an instant.

“What do you mean? I haven’t done anything wrong! This experiment is at a crucial stage; I can’t just shut it off like a…”

The taller of the two KE agents cut him off mid-metaphor: “Sir, your experiment triggered some sensitive alarms in some very important places. You need to shut your equipment off RIGHT NOW and come with us. We’re arresting you for violating Kosmos law.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about? This system–”

“Is breaking the law.”

“WHAT LAW?” screeched Solarian. I’d heard him rant about university politics before, of course, but he’d never achieved THAT pitch. He must be really upset.

“Your experiment seems to have broken the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Entropy, Doctor. You’ve broken Entropy. Put your hands behind your back…”