Fascinated by physics， Stephen concentrated in the subject at Oxford's University College， but did not distinguish himself. He partied， took a great interest in rowing and studied only an hour or so a day. Moving on to Cambridge for graduate work in relativity， he found the going rough， party because of some puzzling physical problems； he stumbled frequently and seemed to be getting clumsy.
Doctors soon gave him the bad news： he had ALS， it would only get worse， and there was no cure. Hawking was overwhelmed. Before long， he needed a cane to walk， was drinking heavily and ignoring his studies. "There didn't seem to be much point in completing my Ph. D.，" he says.
Then Hawking's luck turned. The progress of the disease slowed， and Einsteinian space-time suddenly seemed less formidable. But what really made the difference， he says， "was that I got engaged to Jane，" who was studying modern languages at Cambridge. "This gave me something to liver for." As he explains， "if we were to get married， I had to get a job. And to get a job， I had to finish my Ph. D. I started， working hard for the first time in my life. To my surprise， I found I liked it."
What particularly interested Stephen was singularities， strange beasts predicted by general relativity. Einstein's equations indicated that when a star several times larger than the sun exhausts its nuclear fuel and collapses， its matter crushes together at its center with such force that it forms a singularity， an infinitely dense point with no dimensions and irresistible gravity. A voluminous region surrounding the singularity becomes a "black hole，" from which —— because of that immense gravity —— nothing， not even light， can escape.
Scientists years ago found compelling evidence that black holes exist， but they were uncomfortable with singularities， because all scientific laws break down at these points. Most physicists believed that in the real universe the object at the heart of a black hole would be small （but not dimensionless） and extremely dense （but not infinitely so）。 Enter Hawking. While still a graduate student， he and Mathematician Roger Penrose developed new techniques proving mathematically that if general relativity is correct， singularities must exist. Hawking went on to demonstrate - again if general relativity is correct - that the entire universe must have sprung from a singularity. As he wrote in his 1966 Ph. D. thesis， "There is a singularity in our past."
Stephen later discerned several new characteristics of black holes and demonstrated that the amazing forces of the Big Bang would have created mini-black holes， each with a mass about that of a terrestrial mountain， but no larger than the subatomic proton. Then， applying the quantum theory （which accurately describes the random， uncertain subatomic world） instead of general relativity （which， it turns out， falters in that tiny realm）， Hawking was startled to find that the mini-black holes must emit particles and radiation. Even more remarkable， the little holes would gradually evaporate and， 10 billion years or so after their creation， explode with the energy or millions of H-bombs.
Hawking has visited the U. S. 30 times， made seven trips to Moscow， taken a round-the-word journey， and piloted his wheelchair on the Great Wall of China. On the road， the activities occasionally deviate somewhat from physics. One night Stephen accompanied a group to a Chicago discotheque， where he joined in the festivities by wheeling onto the dance floor and spinning his chair in circles.
Recently， Hawking， who has no qualms about recanting his own work if he decides he was wrong， may have transcended his famous proof that singularities exist. With Physicist James Hartle. He has derived a quantum wave describing a self-contained universe that， like the earth's surface， has no edge or boundary. If that is the case， says Hawking， Einstein's general theory of relativity would have to be modified， and there would be no singularities. "The universe would not be created， not be destroyed； it would simply be，" he concludes， adding challengingly， "What place， then， for a Creator？"
