Gravity Rising (The Parallel Multiverse Book 2)

by Ward Wagher

“I’ve seen those, too,” she said. “The idea sounds good until you do the math. A planet the size of Earth is an awfully big heat sink. We don’t have the capability to create that much dark surface. And any kind of a significant volcanic event would wipe out any gains we might make.”

  Larry seemed thoughtful as they walked. “So, are we going to have glaciers drifting down to the middle of the continent?”

  “Could,” she said. “Although it’s surprising we haven’t seen a lot of glaciation so far. There are some indications from the previous ice age that the climate changed rapidly, as in, almost overnight. In our current epoch, we’ve seen a gradual drift downward in temps, and the ice has expanded. But, it has done so over a couple hundred years.”

  “So, we cannot really do anything about it?” Larry continued.

  “Oh, there’s no question we can affect the climate on a local level. There are case studies, particularly about the Los Angeles basin prior to the troubles. But, even there the geography supports the formation of temperature inversions. So, I am not even sure we could claim that man was responsible.”

  “I don’t know how you can be happy with something that never resolves to a solid answer.”

  Maggie laughed. “And you’re happy with trying to resolve gravitic equations?

  “Well, I don’t have the layer upon layer of chaos theory to contend with,” he replied. “My math is simple by comparison.”

  “Then why haven’t you figured out what was wrong with Clenèt's equations?”

  “Oh, that was below the belt, Maggie,” Larry exclaimed. “Clenèt's math is not as complex as climate modeling. It’s just that it leads off in the direction of the unknown.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Maggie said. “It led to gravitic fusion reactors.”

  “Yes, but that was a side effect. He just stumbled across the fusion application.”

  “Then, what was he working on?” she asked.

  “He never said. That’s the topic of my doctoral research. He was making progress towards something, and then he just stopped.”

  “People don’t talk about that,” she said.

  “No, they don’t. It’s kind of a mystery. It has bugged me since I happened upon it.”

  “And, here we are,” she said as the turned into the entrance to the Palmetto Hotel.

  “And remember,” Larry said. “You get the bed, tonight. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “Then, I’m paying for the hotel this time,” she retorted. “Honestly, Larry, I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

  “And that explains the moaning and groaning when you drag yourself to your feet in the mornings.”

  “I didn’t say it was comfortable, Larry. I just said I didn’t mind.”

  “You don’t do the hair-shirt routine very well,” he said.

  They were still arguing when they stopped at the desk in the lobby of the hotel. The desk clerk interrupted the argument and after paying for the lodging, they made their way to their room. They returned to the lobby and ate dinner in the small dining room adjacent to the lobby. They watched out the front window as they ate.

  “It’s nice to see a town where they light the streets at night,” Maggie said. “Cambridge is so dark.”

  “They have a fusion plant here,” Larry said. “It’s along the Broad River, wherever that is. Anyway, they have power to burn.”

  “Not many people out, though.”

  “I don’t blame them. The weather is atrocious. If this keeps up, nothing will be moving in the morning.”

  Maggie continued gazing out the window. “I’m just as glad to stay inside tonight.”

  “You and me both.”

  § § §

  They awakened to a stillness outside that accompanied the heavy snow. Maggie looked out the window at the street below.

  “There are tracks in the street, Larry. I think we could get out and get to the college if we can find a ride.”

  “Oh, good. Let’s check to see if they serve breakfast at this place.”

  “Always thinking about your stomach, as usual,” Maggie said. “But, I guess I’m hungry, too.”

  They trotted down three flights of stairs to the lobby and stepped into heavy breakfasty smells when they came out of the stairwell. The hotel cooks had laid out a buffet in the restaurant. Maggie and Larry took full advantage.

  “There is definitely more pork here,” Maggie said, as she scanned the row of trays containing hot foods.

  “I think I like that,” Larry said. “Venison sausage gets a little old for me.”

  “I’ve not had much pork,” Maggie said, “but, this smells heavenly.”

  “Well, eat up,” he said. “It’s cold out there and you’ll need the protein.”

  “Thinking of that,” she said, “do we know where the college is? Or, how to get there?”

  “I thought we would ask somebody,” Larry said.

  “We can check with the desk when we finish here,” Maggie said. “It looks like traffic is moving, but it may still take us a while to get there.”

  Larry continued eating breakfast. He had sampled most of the items on the buffet. “This is really good. I think I could get used to this.”

  “We won’t be getting used to it if we cannot find work.”

  Larry cocked his head to acknowledge the point. “Can’t argue, Mags.”

  They washed the breakfast down with several cups of hot tea, which also seemed to be of much better quality than back in Cambridge. Finally, they stood up. Larry stretched and stifled a belch.

  “I hope I didn’t eat too much.”

  “Little late to be worrying about that,” Maggie said, poking him in the stomach.

  The desk clerk looked puzzled when they asked for directions to Carolina College.

  “Y’all won’t fahnd people at th’college today, folks,” he said.

  “Because of the snow?” Maggie asked.

  “Naw. ‘Cause it’s Sundee. Folks is in church, y’know.”

  “Church?” Larry sqaeaked. “What would they be doing in a church, of all places?”

  “Y’all ain’t frum around heah, is ya?”

  “We came down from Boston,” Maggie explained. “I hope we didn’t offend you.”

  “Naw. ‘Round heah, folks go t’church on Sundees. ‘Spect the good Lawhd is due ah wooship. If’n y’all don’ go t’church, y’all kin hang aroun’ heah t’day. Ya don’ wanna be out in this any moh than really necessary.”

  “All right,” Larry said. “Thanks. I guess everybody will be back at the college tomorrow, right?”

  “Raht,” the desk clerk said. “They’s a trolley goes past heah ever’ hour. Tek ya to th’front gate o’ the college.”

  “That’s good to know,” Maggie said. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Wasn’t nothin’ Dawlin.”

  Larry brought his computer down to the lobby and spent most of the day pulling his research materials together. Maggie worked at her computer, although Larry was not sure what she was doing. She had become more closed-mouth about her personal research and became grouchy when he inquired about it.

  They spent another night in the hotel. Since Maggie was paying, Larry spent another uncomfortable night on the floor.

  “I told you I didn’t mind sleeping on the floor,” Maggie said as she watched him struggle to his feet in the morning.

  “You bought the room, you get the bed,” he said. “I feel bad enough letting you cover the costs.”

  “We’re a team, Lawrence,” Maggie said primly. “We share our resources.”

  “I feel like a freeloader.”

  “Once you pick up your new stipend, I guarantee you will be picking up the slack, Mister.”

  “Okay, okay,” he muttered.

  A new batch of snow had drifted over the city during the night, but on this morning, people were out shoveling the sidewalks, as the traffic packed down the snow in the streets.

  “Looks a little different on a Monday,” M
aggie commented.

  “Were all those people in church yesterday?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. They certainly weren’t out and about downtown.”

  “Definitely not like Cambridge,” Larry commented.

  They waited in the hotel lobby and then scampered out to catch the trolley. It really was not a trolley in the sense that Larry had understood the term. This was more like a bus. However, it carried them across the downtown and deposited them at the door of a four-story building with a Carolina College sign above the door.

  “This must be it,” Maggie said.

  Larry thought that she had made an unnecessary statement but refrained from criticizing. The snow was trampled around the front of the building, and they had no trouble making it to the door. Larry opened the door and motioned for Maggie to enter. He then followed her. He swung through the door and ran into Maggie, who was stopped motionless in the lobby of the building.

  “Uh, sorry, Mags. What’s going on? Oh…”

  A receptionist sat in the lobby of the college building, and what they saw was the scowling face of Mrs. Willow.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Larry and Maggie stood in the lobby of Carolina College frozen by the apparition before them. Maggie grabbed his hand and squeezed hard.

  “Yes, yes,” the old lady barked, “how may I help you?”

  Larry felt like his mind was running in circles. He began to look around and then down at the nameplate on the front of the desk: Mrs. Weidenholz. There couldn’t be two people who looked this much alike or sounded identical. Especially someone as ferocious as Mrs. Willow. Larry recovered first.

  “Uh, ahem, yes.” he cleared his throat. “I was hoping to meet with someone in the physics department.”

  “And what would you wish to speak with someone in the Physics department about?” Mrs. Weidenholz demanded.

  “Um… I am seeking a position with a stipend to complete my doctoral work.”

  “We do not have any positions open in the Physics department,” she stated flatly. The determined look she gave them contained the implicit challenge. And she clearly had no plans on doing anything except winning the exchange.

  “Please,” Larry said, “we have come all the way from the Boston area. Could I at least speak with someone?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, indicating she wasn’t the slightest bit sorry. “It is simply not possible.”

  “Excuse me,” Maggie said, “but do you have any relatives in Boston?”

  “No, of course not,” Mrs. Weidenholz said. “Don’t insult my intelligence by asking inane questions.”

  Maggie snapped her mouth shut and looked over at Larry. He stood still, staring at the old lady behind the desk. He repeatedly clenched his fists and released them.

  “You are not being very helpful,” he finally said.

  “I have no need to be helpful to refugees from the north,” she snapped. “This school has all it can do to support Carolingians. Now, good day.”

  Larry shook his head and looked at Maggie. “That sounded kind of final to me.”

  She grimaced and then shrugged. Larry was suddenly overcome with despair. He was never going to find another position. He would probably spend his life shoveling cow stalls. And the few cows he had seen had the same disposition as this old bag at the desk. There was no escape.

  “Mrs. Weidenholz, I would be happy to speak to these people,” a short, bald-headed man said as he walked into the lobby. “They’ve obviously come all this way. We should have the courtesy to at least meet briefly.”

  The little man did not wait for the old lady to respond. He turned to Larry and Maggie and stuck out his hand. “Hi, I am Dr. Dan Arlien. I run the Physics department here at the college.”

  “I am Lawrence Berthold,” Larry said, shaking his hand. “And this is Maggie Bosstic. We’re from Cambridge.”

  “MIT?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Then you are a long way from home. Well, come on down the hall to my office so we can talk. Mrs. Weidenholz could you arrange for a tea for our guests.”

  “Of course, Dr. Arlien,” the old lady said sweetly. Any evidence of her previous animosity was now in abeyance.

  They followed Dr. Arlien down the hallway where he waved them into a small office. They settled into the chairs in front of a paper-laden desk. He climbed into the chair behind the desk.

  “You will have to excuse Mrs. Weidenholz. She’s not at her best in the mornings… what am I saying? She’s never very cordial. I heard you say Physics, and my curiosity drove me out to the lobby to see who had come to visit.”

  “I really appreciate you taking the time to see us,” Larry said.

  “Yes, well, I have trouble staying on one topic most of the time. My life generally is measured by the interruptions. I had gone nearly ten minutes without one, so your arrival was welcome. Now, how are things at MIT. Is Fluffy well?”

  “Dr. Pournelle is his usual self,” Larry said. “I didn’t know he knew anybody down here.”

  “I have corresponded with him over the years,” Arlien said. “I would not call him a friend, but our conversations have been cordial.”

  “He was my doctoral advisor,” Larry said.

  “Indeed?” Arlien said. “You are speaking in the past tense?”

  “Yes. I lost my stipend. I am searching for a new position.”

  Arlien steepled his fingers as he studied the pair. “Losing your means is most unfortunate. How did it happen?”

  “I am not entirely sure, Sir,” Larry said. “Fluffy… Dr. Pournelle offered no reasons; just, that the stipend was ending.”

  “That is most unusual. What is your specialty, young man?”

  “I guess gravitics. I was working to resolve and harmonize the inconsistencies in the Westerly and Clenèt equations as related to gravitic theory.”

  Arlien snorted. “Fluffy and I have argued about those equations for years. He doesn’t believe it’s possible to harmonize them. In my opinion, either the math is correct, or it is not. Clenèt stumbled across a major, major advance, but could never make the math work.”

  “That has always puzzled me,” Larry said. “I was hoping to offer a solution to the problem.”

  “And you would immortalize yourself by doing so, young man. But, I do not think it’s likely. I never met Clenèt, of course. He was before my time. But, I have always thought he was a sloppy scientist, whose accomplishments were more the result of serendipity rather than any particular talent.”

  Larry looked shocked.

  “What’s the matter?” Arlien asked. “Did I just destroy one of your idols?”

  “I don’t want to sound disrespectful,” Larry said, “but I have spent a lot of my academic career studying the accomplishments of Westerly and Clenèt. It seems to me that there should be some supporting framework to what they have done.”

  “Yes, yes. Westerley developed a solid theoretical basis for laser-fired fusion. And he backed it up with solid engineering. Clenèt was very haphazard in his work. He somehow arrived at manipulating gravity fields and then built his test apparatus. I have studied it. It worked by the narrowest of margins. In fact, he was maybe a half percent away from an uncontrolled reaction. We are fortunate Boston still exists.”

  “I never heard that,” Larry said.

  “You are saying he nearly blew up the town?” Maggie asked.

  “That is precisely correct, young lady.”

  “Then how come nobody talks about it?” she asked. “I’ve studied Clenèt in some of my classwork. He is never portrayed as anything other than a sober, careful scientist.”

  “Are you a physicist?” he asked her.

  She shook her head. “No, I’m working on my doctorate in climatology.”

  Arlien snorted. “Another unnecessary field. No offense.”

  Maggie said nothing, but she was glaring at the diminutive little man.

  “Oh, now I have gone and upset you,” Arlien said. “I am ver
y sorry. My prejudices are coming through.”

  Maggie laughed. “You are not saying anything I haven’t thought, myself.”

  “Then why are you in this field?”

  “I often wonder. I guess it’s because I want to restore some respectability to the field. I think there is some legitimate science under the tatters of the past.”

  Arlien now laughed. “Good for you. You’ve got spunk.”

  There was a light tapping and the door swung open. Mrs. Weidenholz eased into the room carrying a tray with cups, a teapot and a plate of scones.

  “Ah, here we are,” Arlien said. “This looks great Mrs. Weidenholz.”

  “Please do not spill it this time, Dr. Arlien,” she grumped.

  He grinned at Larry and Maggie. “Five years ago, I dumped an entire teapot on my desk. She has not let me forget it.”

  “If it happened once, it can happen again,” the old lady said as she backed out of the tiny office.

  Maggie jumped up and poured the tea for everyone.

  “Ah, thank you,” Arlien said. “It is nice to be served by a lovely young lady.”

  “I suppose I need to come to the purpose of my visit,” Larry said.

  Arlien grinned. “You’re looking for a job.”

  “Actually, I would like to complete my doctorate. I was hoping for some kind of a stipend, or maybe a teaching fellowship.”

  “What are your qualifications, young man?”

  Larry pulled a sheaf of paper from his coat pocket. “I brought my CV if you would like to look at it.”

  Arlien quickly scanned the pages and then handed them back to Larry. “Can’t help you.”

  “Just like that?”

  “I don’t have any openings. Physics is a small department at Carolina College. We have only one funded position for doctoral candidates, and that is filled. I hate to disappoint you, but there is nothing available.”

  “Is there any work available?” Larry asked. “My personal funds are limited right now.”

  Arlien placed his hands on the desk and folded them carefully. He watched them as he rubbed his thumbs together. Then he looked up at Larry and Maggie.

  “What I would suggest, Mr. Berthold, is that you reconsider your educational plans. I am very much afraid you are at a dead end. You have a solid CV in nuclear and particle physics. Our power plant here in Columbia is always looking for bright, young people. Perhaps you should check with them.”