by Robert Graf
They worked through lunch and by late afternoon had tested thirty historical events from wide ranging topics: Presidential elections; wars as old as Rome’s conquest of Carthage; medical discoveries like penicillin; even the World Series. All passed or failed exactly as Wikipedia stated.
“Unimaginable as it appears, my hunch was right,” she marveled, emotionally numb, and continued before he could interrupt. “Einstein was right, there is a hidden variable—the past, a universal Wikipedia— somewhere out there, and entangled communication is the link.”
“Remember what you said?’ there is no ‘somewhere else’,” he jeered, glaring at her. “What‘s doing the editing?”
What indeed? And that scared her even more. Her stomach growled. “I’m tired and hungry, and I don’t see any point in continuing.”
Jon’s expression hadn’t changed for the last hour —sullen and resigned. “This is impossible. I don’t like it, still I have to accept your hypothesis, for now. And you have to tell Hooper.”
She didn’t miss the emphasis on “for now”. “I’ll set up a meeting for tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait.”
[Saturday, San Francisco]
Ann drove her old hybrid to the City amidst the morning commute, the radio tuned to the local traffic station. She hadn't slept well, agonizing about what to tell Hooper. What will he do once he realizes the failures weren’t simply a technical issue? That unknown occupied her thoughts as she descended from the Williams tunnel to the Golden Gate Bridge, its orange towers rising above the grey, swirling fog. Across the bridge the skeletal Sutro Tower poked above the fog-shrouded hills of the City.
She endured the traffic clogging the financial district before parking in her reserved spot beneath Global’s high-rise. Security guards passed her but not before lecturing her about her ID photo being out of date. She kept her temper, barely. The elevator released her on the executive floor, and she forced herself to calm down before she entered the conference room.
Ann took a seat at the oval table and gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the fog-bound Bay Bridge. The hologram in the table's center showed Jon at his office desk, for a change dressed in trousers and a shirt, fiddling with his tablet. She shifted her weight, unable to get comfortable, glad she’d worn her blue business suit.
Seated at the head of the table, Hooper, in a charcoal gray suit, wore his perpetual scowl. MacDougal, the balding security chief, sat at the other end of the table, wearing a dark grey suit and blue tie. His noncommittal expression revealed nothing.
As if reading Ann’s mind, Hooper spoke. "I asked Ian to be here since you insisted security was paramount. He has assured me the video link to moonbase is thoroughly encrypted. He even swept the room for bugs." He glanced from her to Jon and back. "I'm waiting."
Ann mentally crossed her fingers. "We have an explanation for the transmission failures."
Hooper's scowl changed to a surprised smile. "I'm absolutely delighted. What did you find?"
Ann gestured toward the hologram. "Jon determined that failed transmissions aren’t detected at the receiver. Entanglement isn't broken, and electronics function correctly."
The smile reverted to a frown. "You said you knew why the failures occurred."
"Yes, that's the good news. The bad news is they can't be prevented."
The scowl returned, the voice deepened. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Why was she stalling? You're afraid. "It's like this —falsehoods, lies, won't transmit. Besides communication devices, EntComs are truth detectors."
Hooper's face registered disbelief, then anger. "Are you trying to be funny?"
MacDougal interrupted. "Roger, wait a minute. Dr. Grey, you mean a polygraph?"
Keep it simple, they're not scientists. "Nothing that crude. Simply put, the EntComs somehow access a seemingly infinite database of past events. Transmission failures are false statements about that past transmitted after the entanglement timestamp. True statements are unaffected. That implies the past is linked to the system’s entangled quantum state. We don't understand how, and that's extremely upsetting.” Which is the understatement of the century. Seeing their puzzled expressions she continued. “Think of it this way: Our tablets have spell checkers; well, now we have truth checkers."
“What is this ‘entanglement’ you keep talking about?” MacDougal asked.
“EntComs are based on entangling a gas, natronium, a form of exotic matter. The gas molecules are bathed by lasers such that the sub-atomic properties are inseparable. By that I mean the molecules’ quantum states cannot be measured separately. When an entangled molecule’s properties are changed, its partner’s properties take on whatever other values are correlated.”
MacDougal looked even more bewildered.
Ann felt the familiar frustration when trying to use words to explain physical phenomena that can only be expressed clearly and unambiguously with mathematics. “We chose the quantum spin imparted to the individual gas molecules. We know experimentally that the allowable values are integers: zero and one. The entangled value must be one. So when one molecule’s spin is changed, we know what its entangled partner’s value is. This occurs instantly; there is zero time delay. The corresponding spin values are set no matter how far apart they are. This is what we were testing—one EntCom is at the UN moonbase, the other our lab in Petaluma. They could be at opposite sides of the solar system.”
MacDougal shook his head. “Boffins. If I asked your age and you lied, the EntComs would crash?"
"No, they don't crash, the message disappears." She didn't expand on the topic; she couldn’t.
Hooper focused on the hologram. "You believe this fantastic claim?"
Jon nodded, his expression unhappy. "I hate the explanation, yet I have to accept it, unbelievable as it seems. Nothing else fits, so far."
"Exactly how did you discover this?" Hooper demanded.
Ann steeled herself. “Jon, play the video.”
Jon disappeared.
A hologram of the Petaluma lab, Farid, and the technicians appeared. Ann’s image hurried in, sat down and typed “In 1492 Christopher Columbus did not discover the Amerixas.”
Jon’s voice interrupted. "Forgot your spell checker?"
Ann’s image fixed the typo and sent the message.
The error octagon flashed bright red; the tablet showed "Transmission Failed,"
"We've created a truth detector, an honest-to-God real one. Can you get that through your thick skull?" Ann’s image shouted.
“Cut,” Ann said; Jon repapered.
The only sound in the room was the faint hum of the ventilation.
MacDougal’s eyes narrowed. "Your concern for security seems justified."
Ann admired his British sense of understatement.
"That’s preposterous,” Hooper said. “There must be a simpler explanation."
"There may be, but this result is so extraordinary we couldn’t wait. We tested thirty historical events from Wikipedia, and the EntComs correctly tagged them as either true or false. There were no mistakes." Seeing is believing… "You should test it yourself."
Hooper’s expression radiated disbelief, yet he remained silent.
Jon broke the silence. "Whether this explanation is correct or not, consider this: Once NASA begins using the EntComs, they’ll inevitably have similar failures. This cannot be hidden."
Hooper frowned. “Have any NASA people observed these failures?”
“No,” Jon answered. “They’ve observed some of the acceptance tests in the lab, but nothing untoward happened.”
MacDougal gazed at Hooper with raised eyebrows. "Indeed, what then? When is the contract due? Can you delay or cancel?"
Hooper angrily shook his head. "Absolutely not. The contract’s worth millions, and there are penalties. The system has to be installed in their Jove Explorer before the launch window closes. We have a major ad campaign planned. And we have a commitment for two more systems on Mars once t
his is successful. What a fucking mess." He glared at Ann. "Can you turn the ability off or make it optional?"
Ann spread her hands in a helpless gesture. "We don't have the faintest idea how this works, so right now, no. I suspect the eventual answer will also be no. Entanglement is an all-or-nothing proposition. Granted, we selected quantum spin to measure for communication; there are other properties.”
"What's the fix?" Hooper demanded.
Ann looked to Jon for help.
He looked away.
"There is none," she confessed.
Hooper’s face darkened in fury. "I don't pay you to tell me it can't be done. Fix the God-damned thing!"
Ann flushed but didn't dare reply, afraid of what she'd say.
"With all due respect, Mr. Hooper," Jon explained, "This is a fundamental physics issue, not a design or engineering issue."
Hooper opened his mouth then shut it and sat, tight-lipped.
MacDougal fixed Ann with an unfathomable gaze. "Besides you two, who else knows about this?"
She could feel Hooper's angry stare sweep across her. Careful. "The techs obviously, and Farid, the head engineer, he built the things. Other than that, no one else. We gave them the day off before we tested our hypothesis.”
"How many devices do you have?" MacDougal continued.
Hooper answered, "One EntCom system and two spare cores that had to be re-entangled, which screws the profits. The Board is not happy. All are deliverable to NASA, and we’re late. Each system costs a million to produce and takes weeks."
Ann feared that would change once Hooper recognized what he really had. MacDougal worried her more; he seemed to grasp the implications.
Hooper focused on Jon. "Can you document the problem without explicitly saying what it is?"
"I can cobble up something, but it won't stand up to real scrutiny,” Jon answered.
Hooper refocused on Ann, lips pursed. “I have to see this truth checker in action. I’ll see you in Petaluma at,” he glanced at his watch, “one o’clock.” He stood. "I think we're done here. Ian and I have a few things to discuss."
The hologram vanished.
Ann pushed back her chair, stood and left.
◆◆◆
Roger Hooper yanked the door shut. Damned woman can't even close a door. He strode to the floor-to-ceiling window and stared out at the fog swirling around the Bay Bridge. "Can we contain this?"
MacDougal glanced up from his tablet. "Right now there's Dr. Grey and two techs on the moon, Dr. Grey, engineer Farid and two techs in Petaluma, and us. I have to assume the worst case, that the engineer and techs have discussed their work with family, drinking buddies and who knows who else. At least the boffins had the presence of mind to dismiss them. Oh, and their boss, the engineering VP. “ He paused. "The husband is correct. It cannot be kept secret. The good news is that the claim is so fantastic no one will believe it. That will change as NASA uses the system."
“The Greys signed non disclosure agreements.”
MacDougal looked thoughtful. “But that was for communications. What they’ve discovered is not proprietary as I understand it, it’s fundamental physics.”
Hooper felt a headache looming. "It’s what I’ve got lawyers for. So we have what, weeks, months?"
"My guess is months.” MacDougal shrugged. “Who knows? Are these things that hard to manufacture?"
Hooper turned away from the window and gazed at MacDougal. "The hardened components I've farmed out. The difficult part is obtaining exotic matter and entangling it. I bought the company that produces it, so that's in hand. It's a complicated manufacturing process. We've already put in millions in R&D. So, short of locking people up there's no way to prevent leaks?"
"No. We're not a military organization or a cloak-and-dagger outfit. That brings up a disturbing thought. When the government learns about this, all bets are off on what their reaction will be."
Hooper waved his hand in dismissal. "They can do nothing. We're a well-known, publically-traded, multi-national corporation, and the EntCom is patented." He smiled. "Besides, we've contributed considerable funds to congressional races."
"But if even a small part of what Dr. Grey claims is true, the thing is incredibly dangerous." MacDougal thought for a minute. "Here's what I can do. Her husband and his techs are at the moonbase, that’s as good as being locked up. I can restrict their communications and monitor them more closely. Hers I can't do much about. By the way, they're having marital difficulties. As for the other techs and engineers, I'll review their dossiers. Can you reassign them quickly?"
Hooper grunted agreement. He didn't give a shit about their personal lives so long as nothing interfered with the project. "I hope they are wrong. Regardless, I'll have the VP reassign all the techs but leave the engineer. I want you in Petaluma this afternoon with me to witness whatever they’ve found. And think of some event to test.”
MacDougal slipped his tablet into his coat pocket. "Righto. See you then."
After MacDougal left, Hooper stared out the window at the fog. He didn’t need this. What to do? Priority one: Verify their incredible claim. If true, create a cover story, though that would be tricky. The Board knew there were some acceptance issues, but that's all they needed to know. Next, do further testing, but where? The moonbase was out. He grimaced. Might as well stay in Petaluma. The husband had to stay at Tranquility to oversee the ship installation. Meanwhile get his wife to thoroughly test their discovery. And then? How to profit from the discovery?
First he had to come up with an event to test, a fact few could possibly know, one not even Google could find, something personal. For the first time in years he had the unsettling feeling circumstances were out of his control.
◆◆◆
Ann signed the logbook.
"You're back already, Dr. Grey? Something special?"
"Yes, Ricardo. CEO Hooper will be here at one o’clock.”
Ricardo grimaced. "Thanks for the warning. By the way, engineer Farid is working from home."
Just as well. One less leak for MacDougal to worry about. She strode down the hall and through the door marked Restricted. She switched on the lights and wall-mounted screen and powered up the EntCom’s tablet. The wall screen showed an empty moon lab, so she sat and worried. Their discovery, once it became public, wouldn't just inconvenience Global. It would force the physics community to rethink a hundred forty years of research and experiments. Yet that was the least of the consequences. How would the world react? Not well, she feared.
Something else bothered her. What? Communication! It didn’t matter for truth checking. The hardened electronics and sophisticated engineering were unnecessary. She studied the untidy mess comprising her prototype and smiled. It would work just fine as a truth checker. That had to wait, first she had to demo whatever Hooper had in mind.
Ann, in the operator's chair, listened, trying not to fidget while Jon gave a detailed explanation of their analysis.
Hooper, in his charcoal-gray suit, stood beside her and listened. MacDougal stood to Hooper’s side, observing quietly.
“That’s what we know so far,” Jon finished.
Hooper pointed at the tablet’s red octagon. "That always signaled your transmission failure?"
Jon’s image in the wall screen nodded. "Yes. Every failure has triggered the error logic. The entanglement status remains green."
"Well, that’s something." He fixed Ann with his perpetual frown. "Demonstrate your truth checker."
She looked to the wall screen. "Jon, ready?"
"Yes."
She typed “In 1492 Christopher Columbus did not discover the Americas”, checked her spelling and tapped Send.
The error icon flashed scarlet.
For a split second a startled expression transformed Hooper's scowl into wide-eyed wonder.
MacDougal jerked and blinked. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.
“We’ll reset,” Jon said.
They tapped the Reset icons, the
blinking red icons subsided.
“I’ll send the correct statement,” Jon said as he typed.
“In 1492 Christopher Columbus discovered the Americas” flashed on Ann’s tablet.
Neither Hooper or MacDougal even blinked.
Hooper pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and gave it to Ann. "Test these."
Ann read out loud: “Is Ann-Marie Kraft's father a citizen of India? Did Samuel Press vote for Roger Hooper?”
The questions meant nothing to her. “I need to rephrase them." She entered "A citizen of India fathered Ann-Marie Kraft."
"Why did you do that?" Hooper demanded.
"Whatever the truth-checker actually is, it doesn’t understand the immediate present—now. It's as if each message is evaluated for past, present or future tense."
Hooper’s expression remained skeptical. "Get on with it."
She tapped Send. The message appeared on the remote tablet.
Jon sent the opposite. Both error icons flashed scarlet.
They reset.
Ann rephrased Hooper’s second test: Samuel Press did vote for Roger Hooper. “Questions are unaffected,” she explained. ”did” failed; “did not“ passed.
She watched Hooper for a reaction: Nothing. She felt disappointed, she expected something. "Do you have any more?"
"No, Dr. Grey, that was most disturbing. It seems like magic." He plucked the paper from her hand. “Ian, do you have anything?”
MacDougal stepped forward. “Yes, Roger.” He motioned to Ann. “Dr. Grey, test the following: Hadi al-Alwani stole Ian MacDougal’s watch in 2005.”
Ann typed as he spoke. “Spelling correct?”
MacDougal studied her screen. “Correct.”
“Did” passed; “did not” failed.
MacDougal’s noncommittal expression briefly slipped. “It is magic.”
Ann kept her mouth shut. She didn’t have an explanation, but she’d get one.
"Have you found any fact the EntComs got wrong?" Hooper asked.
She shook her head. "No, but we don’t have enough data to substantiate our claim. Did your tests transmit as expected?”
