by Kōji Suzuki
When the distance between them had grown to around twenty meters, Isogai came to a sudden stop, finally seeming to have sensed that no one was following behind. He turned straight around and, seeing that he had left Saeko alone, started to hurry back down the steps, moving at almost a full sprint. His slim black trousers and leather jacket gave Saeko the impression of a bat flying down out of the sky. The smooth rhythm of his steps suggested a history as an athlete, although Saeko couldn’t remember anything of the sort in the file. He stopped beside her, putting a hand around her waist.
“Are you all right?” Something about his look was so intense that Saeko found herself pulling away again. It seemed that he had the habit of coming closer than was comfortable.
“I’m fine, just a little tired.”
“I did it again, didn’t I?” He looked up at the sky in an exaggerated swing. “I’m sorry, really. Sometimes I just get lost in my thoughts. It’s this habit I have; I just forget that there are people around me. I don’t notice until someone points it out to me. I try to watch out but … Let’s just say it’s a steep learning curve.”
His tone was deeply friendly and earnest. Saeko was glad to see that her analysis had been correct, and she decided to be more tolerant of him in the future. “That’s how it should be, your job is to think after all,” she assured him. After all, she had a strong innate respect for people that took thinking seriously.
Isogai blinked, wide-eyed, then laughed, rubbing his head and propping up the collar of his jacket. He looked quite pleased with himself. “Do you want to rest and chat for a while?”
Saeko knew that Hashiba was still waiting for them at the shrine. “We’d probably better hurry, the others are waiting for us. Maybe we can talk while we walk?”
With that, she started back up the steps. Isogai tried to match his pace to hers but the effect was rather awkward. He started to joke about the time he’d spent working for the military facility. He seemed like a different person, as though he’d reassigned himself as her entertainer.
“You know the Pentagon is already using technology they developed based on analysis of captured UFOs. The stealth bomber, for one. Optical communications, another. We even have aliens held captive underground. They work as advisors for the government.
“Another fact: the aliens are DNA-based life forms, like us. Think about it. That means that, given the right circumstances, the creation of life is almost inevitable. They’re about a meter high with big heads, no hair whatsoever—just like me. You know the facility introduced Steven Spielberg to one of the aliens to help him put together a movie. You might have heard the rumor before. Do you know the film?”
Isogai asked this with such a good poker face that Saeko couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“So have you seen these aliens?” she asked back.
Isogai laughed and waved his hand back and forth. “No, no, these are all just urban myths—no such things as aliens. At least, I’ve never met one.”
He was attempting to lighten the atmosphere by telling tall tales that normal people could enjoy, but Saeko couldn’t help wondering what it was that had got him so caught up in his thoughts earlier.
“So, what’s got you so preoccupied anyway?” Presumably it was something fascinating enough to make him completely forget himself.
Isogai’s expression changed immediately. Saeko got the impression that whatever it was, it was pretty important. “Actually I find it a little hard to believe. Apparently, the value of Pi has changed.”
Pi. Saeko knew the basics; it was a number that continued randomly and infinitely beyond the decimal point, never revealing a pattern.
3.1415926535897932384626433832795028…
Had he meant that some new discovery had been made about the number?
“A colleague of mine called Cyril Burt—good friend, actually—was given a report by another mutual friend I used to work with at the facility, Gary. He researches number theory at Stanford.
“Just three or four days ago he was running some generic tests on some new computers they were having installed. One of the tests was to have the computer calculate the value of Pi to 500 billion digits. It’s a relatively standard computing test to check for errors in logic. We already know the value of Pi to a trillion digits, so it’s easy to tell if the calculation goes wrong on the way.
“Now, the value of Pi is such that no matter how long we were to run a computer, we would never be able to finish the calculation. Pi is an irrational number and can’t be represented as a fraction. Each number below the decimal point will be a number from 0 to 9, and at no point will anything resembling a numeric pattern appear. This has already been proven using mathematic theory.
“Anyway, Gary had set up the computer to sound an alarm if the calculation didn’t produce the expected numbers. As I said, a simple test to check the computer’s processing ability.” Isogai paused for a moment, eyes unfocused as though he were lost in thought.
“So the alarm sounded?” Saeko prompted.
“Exactly.”
“Meaning, a pattern emerged?”
Isogai shook his head, looking genuinely disturbed. “As I said, I find it hard to believe, but after a certain point, the numbers stopped. The computer just produced a succession of zeros.”
Saeko recalled part of her father’s writing—he had also written about Pi:
Irrational numbers continue ad infinitum as a chaotic concatenation of numerals with no point of destination. Imagine if I were to suddenly find a repeating pattern in a number that had heretofore been defined as irrational!
“That must have been pretty terrifying for Gary.”
“Terrifying, yes … That’s exactly what it was. He wasn’t afraid at first because he didn’t believe the results for a moment. I guess he swore at the computer for coming up with an error and set about reinitializing the test.
“But he couldn’t find any errors in the program. He called on some friends to help. Pretty standard researcher thing, always trying to remain objective. He wanted a second opinion, probably thought he was just missing something obvious.”
“But they didn’t find anything either, right?”
Isogai smiled a little, looking pleasantly surprised that Saeko was following the conversation. “Do you want to see it? I’ve got the data from the test in my laptop.”
Isogai stopped suddenly and pulled his laptop out from his shoulder bag. He sat on the edge of one of the steps and booted up the computer. Saeko sat next to him and watched as a succession of numbers appeared on the computer’s display. The stream of numbers quickly filled the screen. At a certain point, the numbers became a succession of zeros.
… 053944282039301274816381585303964399254702016727593285743666441109625663373000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 …
Beyond the decimal point, some numbers reached a point where they became periodic, endlessly repeating a given digit or set of digits. For example, 17 divided by 7 yielded 2.428571428571428571 … The 428571 pattern repeated endlessly. Numbers that terminated in a repeating decimal pattern were classified as rational. By contrast, numbers such as Pi or the root of 2 were defined as irrational since their decimal representation went on forever without ever terminating in a pattern. Yet, the number on the screen devolved into a clear pattern, a never-ending line of zeros.
Saeko scanned through the numbers on the screen. As she did so, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the dividing zone between the random numbers and the succession of zeros represented an abyss, something beyond the realm of her comprehension. It seemed like a dividing line between life and death. The random numbers were life, dynamic and vibrant. In contrast, the procession of zeros brought to mind a frozen world where all forms of life were precluded by a boundless emptiness. The random numbers were full of color and variety, the zeros monotone and dull.
Is it an omen?
She felt awe, sensing a will that pervaded the universe. If it wa
s the will of a god, though, what was this saying? Was it a positive message? Or a warning? Saeko couldn’t believe that it was the former. She felt morbidly certain that this was not a good sign for the universe.
“Is it possible that the random numbers return later?” Perhaps it was just some astounding coincidence. Perhaps things just returned to normal.
“They thought of that and pushed the computer to continue the calculation. The zeros just went on and on, and the random strings of numbers never recurred. That was when they started to really worry.
“It wasn’t a problem with the machine. They had professionals check it and nothing was found. When the results of the objectivity tests came back, confirming that the pattern of zeros was real, Cyril said he started to shake.
“It’s happened everywhere, this is universal. Computers all over the planet are coming up with the same result once they hit 500 billion digits. The same pattern of zeros.”
So computers throughout the world were coming up with the result after exactly the same number of decimal points. Saeko tried to gauge the implications, yet each time found herself returning to the same basic question. Wasn’t Pi just a value? Did the change have any impact for the everyday world?
But she knew better than to ask. From all that her father had taught her about math and physics, she already knew the answer. Pi was fundamental in a number of equations used to describe various phenomena of the universe. If the value changed, then it necessarily followed that there would be real-world impact. When numbers went awry, when mathematic theorems failed, it was nothing less than a sign of a collapse in the laws of physics. But even with that understanding, it didn’t quite feel real. She had no yardstick; there were no precedents to help her contextualize it.
A chill crawled up her spine as she slowly became cognizant of the ominous threat. The revelation was so massive that it was simply impossible to process it all at once. Bit by bit, her physical reactions began to catch up with the information her mind had already processed, and she felt the hairs on her arms begin to stand on edge as fear began to penetrate the core of her consciousness.
Isogai closed the lid of his laptop and put it back in his bag, and they resumed climbing the steps. For a while neither spoke, concentrating only on the task of walking. A gust of wind blew across the path, strangely warm for the time of year. The wind died down as suddenly as it came, leaving the branches still and quiet.
There was a faint sound coming from above, like crumbling earth. The high sun was beginning its descent towards the west. Over the past few days, the dryness of the air had seemed to amplify the sun’s light, making it sharp and blinding. Today, however, the light seemed strangely muted, although it was still too bright to look directly at the sun. Scattered and diffused, different somehow from the warm glow of dawn or a dusky sun, it broke through the canopy in mixed shades of orange and crimson.
Saeko traced the path of the light through the trees until a point where it seemed to darken; she stopped dead as the view of the giant crater opened up before them. Isogai continued for a few more steps before coming to a halt at the crater’s edge.
Saeko stood speechless, unable to process the change in the familiar landscape. The crater stood vast and silent, exuding a suffocating odor of freshly uncovered earth. From where she was standing, the gaping hole looked exactly like the figure zero.
A small cry escaped her lips, but Isogai’s reaction was more muted. Never having been to Herb Gardens before, the gaping hole simply looked to him like the beginnings of a construction site for a vast underground facility.
Hashiba had walked a quarter of a way around the rim of the crater. Kagayama stood with one foot against a shrub, peering over the edge. When Saeko and Isogai appeared around the corner they waved them over, feeling strangely jovial.
Saeko stepped forward to introduce Isogai but couldn’t seem to find her voice. Fortunately, Isogai stepped forward and introduced himself, shaking hands with Kagayama and Hashiba—a quick perfunctory shake for Kagayama, a more enthusiastic shake for Hashiba. Still clasping Hashiba’s hand, Isogai stepped towards the edge of the crater and scratched his nose with his other hand.
“That’s a pretty strong smell,” he observed.
“What do you make of it?” Hashiba managed to get free of Isogai’s grip and held his hands up as though in defeat.
“I guess I would have to say it’s a giant bowl-shaped hole in the ground.” Isogai smiled. His cheeks looked slightly flushed.
Hashiba realized that Isogai needed to be brought up to date with events, including the sudden appearance of the crater. Judging from the calm, they were probably the first people to have found it.
The crater looked like a circle at first sight, but a more careful look revealed that it was more of an oval. Its walls were wavy and pleated, like the plastic casing of a caramel custard, the kind you unmolded onto a plate, though this crater was more triangular, pyramid-shaped.
Saeko remembered that she had seen something similar before, during a driving holiday through England’s Peak District with her father. There had been these hills off the side of the road. Her father had explained that they were called “mounts”; they were not naturally formed and had been constructed for some purpose by the ancients. They had reminded Saeko of the mound-like shapes of Japan’s prehistorical tombs.
Isogai stood up straight and put on a serious face, licking his lips. “It looks like a meteor impact, but that’s not it, is it?”
“No recordings of any impact, it seems.” Hashiba explained that they had called the meteorological agency and confirmed that no tremors or vibrations had been recorded, nothing to indicate a meteor strike.
“So it just looks that way,” Isogai said to himself, approaching the crater’s edge. He bent forward and put a finger to the loose soil on the surface. “No external pressure, then. When did you say this appeared?”
“We’re not sure,” Hashiba answered. “Perhaps just an hour ago. At most half a day.”
“So the question is how it appeared.”
“Agreed. We have no idea. As far as we know, it just appeared out of the blue.”
“Okay. So it doesn’t seem to be a meteorite impact. And it’s doubtful that someone turned up with a digger and just dug the thing out.”
“Right.”
“Are you really sure about this? I mean, if that’s the case then we’re all in trouble here.” Isogai took a step closer to Hashiba, pointing a finger at him.
Hashiba was surprised by the accusatory gesture and looked across to Saeko, questioning. “What does he mean, trouble?”
Isogai unzipped the front of his jacket and placed his bag on the ground, as though preparing himself. Saeko preempted him.
“E=MC2.” Her voice was a whisper.
Isogai clapped his hands together and threw his head back; he was becoming increasingly excited by the developments. “Exactly! That’s the problem right there. E=MC2. Einstein’s equation taught us of the vast levels of energy concealed in ordinary matter. If you were to convert even a single gram of matter into pure energy you could instantly boil a stadium full of water. We all know how this translates into weaponry. A nuclear warhead releases a vast tumult of energy through mass atomic fission. Atomic fusion works to the same principles. Nuclear weapons only use a small amount of mass, but we all know the terrifying results. Now, there’s actually another, much more efficient way of releasing this energy: collisions with anti-matter.”
“Anti-matter?” Hashiba repeated subconsciously. He had heard the word before but wasn’t sure of the details.
“Matter is made up of atoms,” Isogai explained, “while atoms, in turn, are made up of protons, neutrons, and electrons. We know that there are also a set of anti-particles that have the same mass but demonstrate exact opposite electrical charges. When the universe began, these particles and anti-particles existed in equal numbers. For some reason, however, the anti-particles have disappeared. Particles and anti-particles are like pa
irs of identical twins, if you like. They look exactly the same but have completely opposite personalities. In basic terms you can think of a particle as having a plus-one value and an anti-particle as having a negative-one value. If you put the two together, each cancels out the other and you get a clean slate: zero. In other words, if they meet, they cease to exist.”
“And the existence of these anti-particles has actually been proven?” Kagayama asked, frowning.
“Not just proven. They’re actually being made using a high-energy particle accelerator at the CERN laboratory in Geneva.” Isogai explained how the machine worked and how the particles were kept separate from each other. The others stood listening. “Now, the particle accelerators are not the only places where anti-particles are being made. They’re also formed naturally in space. Occasionally, the particles formed in space have been known to enter our atmosphere. If the anti-particles were to reach the surface through a complex route involving electromagnetic waves and the earth’s internal structure, then it’s possible that they could bring about disappearances of people. Or the formation of a huge crater.
“But let’s think about this for a moment. If this crater was indeed created through the mass disappearance of soil … Well, you can probably see what I meant when I said that we’re all in trouble. Let’s say the 500,000 tons of earth here was transformed through a collision with anti-matter. The byproduct of that would be the immediate and ferocious release of an enormous amount of energy. We’re talking about the destructive equivalent of around 500 billion nuclear warheads. In other words, more energy than if the world’s entire stockpile of nuclear weapons were all detonated at once.”
The horrific destruction that would tear through the earth was beyond imagination, a veritable depiction of hell on earth. The planet would literally be ripped to shreds.
“Of course, if that was the case, I doubt we’d be standing around like this. The world would have ceased to exist the moment this crater was formed.”
The Earth still existed, that much was clear. Saeko kicked uneasily at the earth around her. The soil was soft and warm.
