by Mark Alpert
“I don’t like this school anymore,” Michael finally said.
David took a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. “We’ve talked about this, Michael. I think the teachers here are helping you a lot.”
“No, they’re not. I’m not learning anything here.”
“You’re learning how to get along with other people. And that’s very important.”
Michael shook his head. “I don’t like this school. I want to go to a different one.”
The boy’s voice was calm, but David noticed that the staff members were watching them carefully. He needed to end this argument before it escalated. “All right, I understand. Let me do a little research, okay? Maybe I can find another center where—”
“You don’t have to do that.” Michael picked up the sheaf of papers. “I already found another school and downloaded the application.”
He handed the papers to David, who began leafing through them. It was a long application, with half a dozen pages of essay questions. The pages were out of order, but David could see that Michael had answered each question in his beautifully neat handwriting. He’d written essays about his personal goals and favorite hobbies and fondest memories. He’d even attached the application fee, five twenty-dollar bills he’d saved from his allowance. David finally found the first page of the application and saw the name of the school written at the top. It was Columbia University.
“I want to study physics,” Michael said. “I’m going to become a physicist.”
David’s eyes welled. Of course, he thought. It was the perfect choice.
Michael pointed at a box at the bottom of the last page. “This application requires your signature. Where it says ‘Parent or Guardian.’”
David wiped his eyes. Then he picked up the pen and placed the page on the table so he could sign it.
“It’s my pleasure,” he said. “You’ll make a great physicist, Michael.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Part of the fun of writing science thrillers is putting real technologies and scientific principles into the fiction. Here are some of the facts and theories that I incorporated into The Omega Theory:
QUANTUM COMPUTERS. I became interested in this field in 2008 when I edited an article written by two leading experts on quantum computing—Christopher R. Monroe of the University of Maryland and David J. Wineland of the National Institute of Standards and Technology. Monroe invited me to his lab at Maryland’s College Park campus, where researchers are taking the first steps toward building ultrafast computers that use ions to perform calculations. The code-breaking computer in The Omega Theory is based on the ingenious devices I saw during that visit. (I simplified some of the details; real ion traps, for instance, require additional electrodes and oscillating electric fields.) You can read more about the technology in “Quantum Computing with Ions” (Scientific American, August 2008).
IT FROM BIT. For decades theorists have kicked around the idea that the universe is a computer, running a program that put the Big Bang in motion. The eminent physicist John Archibald Wheeler put it this way in his autobiography, Geons, Black Holes, and Quantum Foam: A Life in Physics (1998): “Now I am in the grip of a new vision, that Everything is Information. The more I have pondered the mystery of the quantum and our strange ability to comprehend this world in which we live, the more I see possible fundamental roles for logic and information as the bedrock of physical theory.” In the 2006 book Programming the Universe, MIT researcher Seth Lloyd described how quantum fluctuations at the beginning of time could have generated simple programs that organized the universe, laying down the physical laws that would govern all of the subsequent calculations. My own contribution to this topic is to pose the question: If the universe is a computer, what could make it crash?
EXCALIBUR. During the 1980s, Edward Teller—father of the H-bomb—promoted a radical idea for missile defense: shoot down Soviet ICBMs using high-energy X-ray lasers powered by a nuclear explosion in space. After researchers tested the concept in underground nuclear blasts in Nevada, the project—first dubbed Excalibur, then Super Excalibur—became the centerpiece of the Star Wars program. Later tests showed, however, that the technology wasn’t as promising as advertised, and the government abandoned it. Excalibur never became a weapon, but it was a step into the unknown, and it’s easy to imagine that this unprecedented physical phenomenon could have unforeseen effects. An excellent book about the project is Teller’s War by William J. Broad.
TURKMENISTAN GEOLOGY. A catastrophic accident at a Soviet drilling site in Turkmenistan’s Karakum Desert left a sinkhole that became the burning crater of Darvaza, where the natural-gas fires have been raging for decades. Yangykala is also a real place in Turkmenistan, as beautiful as the Grand Canyon but with far fewer tourists. The Camp Cobra cavern is similar to Kow Ata, a huge cave at the foot of a mountain in the Kopet Dag range. And yes, Kow Ata has an underground lake. You can go swimming there, but it’s a little spooky.
The same people who helped me polish Final Theory, the first book in the David Swift series, came to my aid again while I was writing The Omega Theory. My friends at Scientific American were generous with their support and encouragement. The members of my writing group—Rick Eisenberg, Johanna Fiedler, Steve Goldstone, Dave King, Melissa Knox, and Eva Mekler—plowed through stacks of manuscript pages and patiently pointed out my mistakes. My agent, Dan Lazar of Writers House, made sure that I met my deadlines, and Sulay Hernandez of Touchstone edited the book with care and imagination. And once again I owe a great debt to my wife for reminding me how lucky I am.
Table of Contents
Cover
Copyright
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EPILOGUE
