Zig Zag
Page 45
She pulled off the blanket and got up, but almost screamed when the pain in her thigh made it clear that it had woken, too, and was planning to stay with her as long as necessary. She had no idea how the wound was going to look today; probably worse. But Elisa didn't want to look. A sudden dizzy spell forced her to lean against the wall for support. She was starving, her hunger violent and uncontainable.
Urged on by this new clarity, she lurched toward the barracks. The sun was a dot on the horizon and the clouds had drifted southward, revealing a bright blue sky. But it still must have been very early.
In the barracks, she found some opened backpacks. Evidently, Carter had been hungry, too. She found cookies and chocolate, and devoured them frantically. Then she found a canteen with some water in it. After drinking her fill, she limped out to the beach.
The sea was calm and gentle, different shades of blue showing through in the sunlight. With the ocean as a giant backdrop, Carter was scurrying around like an ant. He'd built two fires and was on his third. They were all in a row on the shore. Elisa walked over and watched him work.
"I'm sorry about last night," he said, finally, not looking up at her, focusing on his task.
"Forget it," Elisa replied. "Thanks for the blanket. What are you doing?"
"Just taking precautions. I'm pretty sure they know where to find us, but there's no harm in giving them a little extra help, don't you think? Would you mind standing in front of me to block the wind? It's hard to get these matches lit..."
"They should have been here by now," she said, scanning the horizon.
"That depends on a lot of factors. They'll be here; don't worry."
The branches took light. Carter watched them for a second, and then stood and joined her on the shore. She stared out to sea, hypnotized by the ceaseless rhythm of the waves that came ashore and pulled out, leaving behind a layer of foam that sparkled like jewels, waiting to be covered by the next wave. She remembered what the sea had looked like when it was paralyzed—those sharp waves of glass and hard, wiry foam—and she shivered; it was horrible, and sickening. She wondered what Carter would have thought if he'd seen it.
"Still think this is all just a dream, Professor?" Carter asked. He'd unwrapped a candy bar and stuffed it into his mouth. "Well, you think what you like. I'm no scientist, but I know this is 2015, and that today is Monday, March 16, and that they'll be coming for us any time now. You and your privileged little brain can think whatever you want. But that's what I know."
Elisa kept staring out at the horizon. She recalled the words of one of her physics professors: "Science is the only thing that knows, the only thing to give a verdict. Without it, we'd still think that the sun rotated around us and the earth sat still."
"You want to bet?" Carter asked. "I know I'll win. You speak from the head, and I speak from the heart. Up until now, we've been doing things your way, and look where that got us." He nodded over toward the barracks. "So you've seen what wonders your marvelous brain is capable of. Don't you think it's time to trust your heart, Professor?"
Elisa made no reply.
Science is the only thing that knows.
Carter laughed quietly, but she didn't look over at him.
She was searching the sky, as still and empty as if frozen in time.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
MANY people helped guide me through the maddening maze of modern physics. Professor Beatriz Gato-Rivera, at the CSIC Institute of Mathematics and Fundamental Physics, answered questions about everything from university experiments and studies to the most complex issues in theoretical physics, and did so with both patience and kindness. I am tremendously grateful to her. Likewise, I owe Professor Jaime Julve, of the same institute, a debt of gratitude for the warm afternoon we spent together, chatting about all things divine and human. Many thanks to Professor Miguel Angel Rodriguez in the Theoretical Physics Department of Madrid's Complutense University, for having found time for me in his busy schedule at the always hectic end of the term. Other professors at Spanish universities preferred to remain anonymous but were equally patient and enthusiastic, even reading through my manuscript and making important revisions; I thank each and every one of them wholeheartedly. Obviously, any errors or flights of fancy, as well as the unforgiving opinions of some characters about physics and physicists, are not in any way connected to my excellent informers, though in my defense I will also add that it was never my intention to write a scholarly work on string theory nor to express my own opinions; this is a work of fiction. For readers who may be interested in finding out more about the mysterious reality that contemporary physics has opened up for us, mentioning the books on my nightstand might be of use; almost all of them are available in Spanish, published by Critica in its Drakontos collection. Brian Greene's The Elegant Universe is an excellent introduction to string theory. Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time and The Universe in a Nutshell are extraordinary, as are Paul Davies's About Time and Gerard't Hooft's Understanding Elementary Particles by Gauge Theories. I must also add Emilio Chuvieco Salinero's Teledeteccion ambiental (not available in English) to this list for having helped me understand satellite image transmission. I also recommend Paul A. Tipler and Gene P. Mosca's Physics for Scientists and Engineers, which refreshed my memory about many things I'd forgotten since medical school (where we also studied a little physics), and Quantum Questions, edited by Ken Wilber, which is a fascinating collection of texts that are not exactly about physics (some are even mystic), but were written by physicists. And I wanted to save for last a really wonderful book called The God Particle, by Leon Lederman (with Dick Teresi). It not only taught me about experimental physics and those enigmatic monsters known as accelerators, but also tickled me pink (parts of the book are laugh-out-loud funny, like a great comic novel) and made me realize that anything, no matter how dry it might seem, can be fascinating if it's told—or written—in the right way. Congratulations, and thanks, to Professor Lederman.
I would also like to thank the amazing people at the Carmen Balcells Agency, without whom this book would never have been published, the editors at Random House Mondadori in Spain, and my loyal readers who are always, always, one the other side of the page. Finally, I couldn't do anything without the encouragement and enthusiasm that my wife and children show me every single day, or that insatiable reader of good novels who is my father.
J. C. S.
Madrid, August 2005