Wonder of the Waves

by Jim Lombardo

  “Yeah, no pressure, right?”

  Sergio laughed. “Makes me think I deserve a raise.”

  “Listen, help me save the world and that’ll definitely show up on your next performance evaluation.”

  Sergio grinned, but then his eyes strayed over to the lab desk and his smile disappeared. “What’s next, boss?”

  Solemnity took over as the men directed their full attention to the task at hand. The simplicity of the plan was in stark contrast to the awe-inspiring technology being utilized. From his remote location, with Sergio’s help, Anderson would command the periodic release of supercharged protons, just as he had during his previous experimentation. An ordinary cylinder of compressed gas in a remote area of the collider would feed hydrogen atoms into a source chamber. These atoms would have their electrons stripped off, leaving positively charged protons, capable of being accelerated by an electric field. The protons would be fed into a series of increasingly larger booster rings. These were super-cooled vacuum tubes, where pulsing electric fields would push the protons like a child on a swing, while huge superconducting electromagnets helped guide them. As the protons approached the speed of light, they would be divided into smaller separate tubes, such that the two beams were heading in opposite directions along the 60.2 mile orbit. At the site of the Titan detector five miles to the north of Anderson’s desk, two even thinner tubes crossed over each other, and here the protons would be steered by the magnets into direct collisions with each other. Computer programs would record the impact data and translate it into pictures. Anderson would review images harvested at even intervals, and the instant he observed a new speck as he had before, the collisions would be halted as Hannah had instructed.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Refuge

  “Grab your mug!” Sergio cried out to Anderson as the room began shaking for the 13th time that day.

  In Oxford, the recent temblors were now registering as high as 4.8 on the Richter scale. It had been three straight fruitless days of proton beam disseminations with no sign of any anomalies. Anderson was mindful of Hannah’s timeline, and the 15-day deadline she had set was now only three days away. In fact her latest prediction was that the original timetable had been generous. Still, she was advising him to make sure that he tried to sleep at least four hours per night to maximize his productivity. In her opinion, slightly less was more. He grabbed his half-full coffee mug, and quaffed a mouthful. After waiting a few seconds for the tremor to subside, Anderson rested the cup back down on the table and returned his attention to the slides he was reviewing.

  Looking at the pictures, which captured the ferocious proton collisions, never ceased to fill Anderson with wonder, and he marveled at the images of the resulting shrapnel. Some reminded him of dandelions he used to pick as a child. He reminisced of blowing on them, sending the seeds dancing off into the summer breeze. Some images resembled a plate of angel hair pasta, or colorful Fourth of July fireworks. Others reminded him of his old Spirograph, a geometric drawing toy he had played with as a child that had introduced him to interesting mathematical principles. There was pleasure in these Rorschach test-like pictures. But they were bittersweet because the one thing he strained and craved to see was not appearing.

  Anderson scoured the final slide from the most recent batch and sighed. “Hmmm, no, nothing in these that I can see.” He glanced at the safe journey charm bracelet that was taped to the corner of one of his monitors, and he thought about Hannah. “Can you close the window, Sergio, please? I can’t stand that infernal sound anymore. I need to get some earplugs.” Anderson had to choose between fresh air and the incessant bellowing of the beast.

  “Sure, Gordy.” Sergio shut the window and headed back to the desk. “Okay, what’s next, boss? Order another proton emission?”

  “Yeah, thanks, one more round, then I have to obey a six-year-old who’s telling me it’s after my bedtime. And ah, by the way, thanks for your help here, Sergio. I really do appreciate it.”

  “No problem, Gordy. I’m right where I want to be.” Sergio pressed a communication button and spoke. “Control room, please fire 24-RES when ready, and then please confirm.”

  In the next instant, a major catastrophic earthquake struck with an epicenter near the northern edge of the object. Anderson and Sergio were violently tossed to the ground like rag dolls, and the room began shaking wildly. Large chunks of plaster and concrete from the ceiling rained down on them with a crescendo of cracks and thuds.

  “Get under the desk, Sergio!” Anderson screamed through the deafening din, before noticing that Sergio was lying unconscious on the ground with rubble covering his upper torso and head. He grabbed his assistant under the arms and pulled him towards the shelter of the marble-topped lab desk they’d been using. Anderson was making progress when he suddenly lost his footing on the undulating floor and fell forward. He threw a hand out to brace himself, but upon impact, his collarbone snapped. Groaning, he forged onward, managing to get the two of them under the protection of the tabletop.

  “Stop!” he cried out in vain, convinced that a collapse of the building was imminent. Amid the havoc, he pulled his colleague over close to him and carefully brushed the plaster chips off his face. “Sergio! Sergio!” he yelled. But there was no response. Anderson cradled his assistant against his chest as they both were thrown viciously from side to side. He watched from his refuge as more ceiling materials plummeted onto the floor and piled up in front of him. Finally he just shut his eyes and prayed for an end to the destruction. After one full minute, the shaking came to an abrupt halt.

  Anderson waited for the crashing sounds to subside, then pushed the wall of debris away from the cocoon that had been created. Choking and coughing from the airborne dust, he wriggled forward and freed himself from under the table. Groping his way in the darkness for the communication button, he found it, pressed it, and yelled, “HELP US!”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  The Grand Scheme of Things

  “It’s just a broken collarbone. How’s Sergio?” Anderson asked his two bosses staring down at him.

  “He’s still in a coma from the head injury,” explained Dr. Shepard. “They have him in intensive care.”

  Anderson was lying on a cot in a gymnasium at Oxford University, which had been repurposed into an emergency medical shelter, not far from his lab. The hospitals were swamped. He propped himself up on the elbow of his good arm, but dizziness from painkillers overtook him, and he lay his head back down onto his pillow. “I got to get back to my lab,” he said in frustration. “What the heck did they give me? No more meds. I need to think, and we can’t waste time.”

  There was a long pause, and then Dr. Murray broke the somber news.

  “Gordon, I’m so sorry, but the collider…it’s gone. The sensors are showing it’s been breached in 27 different places on the southwestern rim. The Titan control center was also hit hard.”

  Anderson closed his eyes and grimaced. “Oh, my God. What do we do now? Have you spoken to Hannah?”

  “We both chatted with her before we came over here.” Dr. Murray said. “She asked about your...latest results?” Murray searched Anderson’s expression with a fervent hope in his eyes.

  Despite his wooziness, Anderson propped himself back up onto his elbow. “I’m sorry, to you both, to everyone. But there was no new anomaly yet. The results were all negative.”

  Murray pursed his lips to one side, but then nodded with acceptance. “I see. Well, in that case, Hannah has two requests. First, she wants us to immediately begin repairing the SSC again. I told her it would take at least six months to get it operational, even without the earthquakes, but she said we can’t be 100% sure that the object will continue to grow as it has, so she wants us to begin trying without delay. Secondly, she wants you to travel to the supercollider in Japan to continue your research. Basically try to create a new critter there. She believes that
machine has the best chance to succeed now.”

  “Japan? But she told me trying on that collider would be pointless because the atmosphere would be annihilated by the time the two objects met from opposite sides of the world. The Earth’s core would be toast.”

  “She knows that, but it turns out she’s not thinking about us, but the grand scheme of things.”

  Anderson was confused by that, and Dr. Murray explained.

  “Hannah said that even though the Earth and everyone on it would be destroyed by two spheres coming from different sides of the planet, we still need to consider other life forms in the Universe. She pointed out that there are more suns in the Universe than there are grains of sand on all the beaches and deserts of our world. And since the laws of physics and chemistry are the same everywhere, there must be a huge number of planets orbiting these suns that are teeming with life, including advanced civilizations. She reasoned that if we don’t stop the boogeyman here, it’ll continue to grow exponentially, and someday it’ll arrive at their doorstep. So we still need to act, even if we aren’t going to personally benefit.”

  This new reality was disturbing for Anderson to hear, but after absorbing and appreciating the facts, he shrugged. “Okay, I’m going to Japan then.”

  A physician stopped by to check on Anderson just as he suffered another wave of vertigo, his head plopping back onto his pillow again. “Gentlemen, I’d like to run some tests on your friend here,” the man said, “and he’s going to need some rest.”

  “Understood,” answered Murray. “Gordon, take care. We’ll be back first thing in the morning, and if you’re well enough, we’ll escort you over to EPIC to debrief with Hannah on Skype and discuss next steps.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Stonehenge

  After the departure of his colleagues, Anderson closed his eyes and drifted into a strange dream that was as vivid to him as reality.

  “Halt! Stop here,” commanded the robed elder with a white braided beard. Anderson watched as the man struggled to his feet on top of the sled he had been riding.

  “Silence!” he ordered while leaning forward on his finely carved wooden scepter. He cocked his head considerably, as if straining to get one ear as high as he possibly could, and he remained standing there for a protracted period of time. Occasionally, he turned his head slowly from one side to the other, gazing skyward. Anderson knew that he was trying to gauge the level of the humming sound that had been reverberating around his skull for seven decades. Finally, the old man steadied himself and triumphantly raised his arms and staff high above his head.

  “This is it!” he proclaimed. “At ease.”

  The exhausted men, who had been propelling the primeval sleigh, promptly flopped. The pushers relaxed their grips and rested their foreheads on the horizontal oak poles they had been using to push the sled. The tree limbs were covered with sweat and blood from open blisters on their callous-covered palms. The pullers, restrained by their harnesses, fell to their knees to recoup their breath and rest their weary legs. This marked the end of a month-long odyssey, crisscrossing the ancient land of Engalon.

  Anderson overheard one of his fellow pushers, a hulking man with shaggy black hair and beard, whispering to his partner on the pole the three men shared. “Tell me this nightmare’s over...please.”

  His smaller, hollow-cheeked friend sneered and whispered even more discreetly, “Wish I could. But we’re still gonna have to push this nut all the way back to the city.”

  They kept their voices low, because armed guards in the rear would have executed them on the spot for such insubordination to Lord Steffar, who was the high priest, chief medical doctor, and scientist of their megalopolis. The workers and guards next gathered together to heave a two-ton sandstone slab off another sled that had been pushed and pulled behind their leader for the entire journey. Steffar was helped to the ground and he then directed the men on the precise placement of the stone that would mark the centerpiece of future construction.

  “I hate that whacko’s guts. He’s crazy,” said the burly pusher. “Someday I’m gonna bring my wife back here and we’re gonna have a good time right on top of that stone of his.”

  “Oh, I’m sure the Gods will just love that!” his friend joked.

  Later, back at their village, Steffar commissioned a team of four scientists to live at a makeshift lab on the site. Their assignment would be to research and carefully record the movement of all celestial bodies above them for a period of five years. The goal would be to discover and record patterns that would ultimately guide the construction of the stone portal that Steffar had conceived. Anderson felt the gentle tap of the scepter on the top of his head as he bowed before Steffar with his eyes shut during the initiation ceremony.

  Time then jumped ahead in the dream, and Anderson found himself peering through an aperture between two giant pillars of stone, where the sun’s rays were just beginning to angle through. There was a resounding cacophony of rocks grinding against each other in a pattern that reminded him of Hannah’s security door at Los Alamos. This was followed by an extremely bright light that warmed his face and brought an immediate end to all his fears.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Safe Journey

  Anderson woke at early dawn to the incessant growling of the void, which seemed even louder than the day before. Under that smothering blanket of noise, he could faintly hear the chirping of birds. The notes drifted in through the partially open rectangular gymnasium windows near the top of the ceiling, and fluttered around in Anderson’s head as he thought about his dream. Trying to get comfortable, he adjusted his upper body, and pain radiated out from his fractured clavicle. He made a fist with the hand that was injured one month before from swatting at the budding blob, and winced from the lingering soreness. Anger festered within him toward the entity for inflicting this pain, and he knew it wasn’t done with him yet. Lying there, mental images played out in front of him. His mother and father, his youth, the CTI years, his girlfriend he’d neglected for his work, who he would propose to today if he had a second chance. Why had he put his work ahead of their future together? Now, it was going to be too late. He dwelled on the minuscule speck that he had seen that first day, the speck that he alone had created. Is this going to be the story of my life? he wondered. Have I destroyed the entire Universe? His thoughts drifted to Hannah, and the last time he had seen her. He mulled futilely over .

  As the songs of the birds grew louder with the coming of dawn, he remembered the safe journey charm bracelet with the golden swallows that had been left behind at the lab. Anderson managed to sit up in his cot and glanced around. There were about 20 beds arranged around the makeshift shelter. The injured appeared to be asleep on one side of the gym, while on the other side he could see, between a few portable partitions, some medical staff unpacking supplies. Anderson thought of all that lay ahead. He knew that his lab was just beyond the southern fringes of the campus. I want that bracelet, he thought to himself. Pushing off his blanket, he swung his feet around and placed them firmly on the floor. His mind felt much clearer. After adjusting his sling, he pushed himself up to his feet with his good arm, combed his fingers through his hair, tucked in his shirt, and began making his way straight for a door marked EXIT.

  “Sir, are you okay?” whispered a young woman with a white coat as they crossed each other in the doorway of the gym.

  Anderson feigned nonchalance. “Yes, excellent…just have to use the lav. Thanks so much for the job you’re doing.”

  The woman paused and smiled as she recognized him from news reports. But he looked at the floor and continued on his way to avoid a conversation.

  As Anderson left the gymnasium complex, the air was filled with an acrid scent. The early morning half-light revealed the devastation. The university buildings were beset with jagged cracks and broken windows, many off-center and on the verge of collapse. Wanting t
o avoid attracting attention as he passed a number of firetrucks, emergency and police vehicles with lights flashing, he took his arm out of the sling. He picked up and donned a yellow hard hat that was lying on a grassy area in front of a dormitory. Though in significant pain, he forced himself to walk with purpose.

  He continued on his way, shrouded by the last remaining shades of darkness, and after about a mile approached the EPIC building that housed his lab. The entire structure was tilting precariously to one side. The heavily armored SWAT vehicle that had been stationed in front to guard him and his experimentation was gone. However, he saw several of the team members in their distinctive body armor and helmets assisting others who were feverishly digging into a smoldering pile of crumbled ruins, all that remained of an adjacent student center.

  Lowering his face, Anderson veered towards his building’s entranceway. An orange sign had been propped against the base of the doorway. “Extreme Danger! No Unauthorized Entry Beyond This Point.” Although the main door was unlocked, he struggled to move it against its hinges that were off-kilter. He slipped into the familiar but now gloomy hallway, then put his arm back into the sling, took his cell phone out, and turned on its flashlight. Anderson picked his way carefully around fallen debris to a stairwell, then, grasping the railing, he clambered his way awkwardly up to the third floor, until he was surveying his ruined lab.

  Anderson stood for a few moments with glassy eyes, scanning the remains. He reached to flick on the light switch out of habit, but found it already on with the electricity out. Across the shadowy room, he saw the soft glow of one of his monitors underneath a pile of rubble, and he carefully picked his way over to it. He lifted off the large pieces of cement and plaster that were covering his desk, and then carefully brushed away the remaining refuse. Despite the catastrophe, the safe journey bracelet was still attached securely to the corner of the monitor—just as he left it. He gently tugged at the dusty golden charms, and the tape gave way. After studying it briefly, he rubbed it with his thumb and stuck it into his pocket.