The God Particle

by Tom Avitabile

  “Well, I guess that’s not too bad.”

  “So then you’re not disappointed?”

  “I should make like I am so I can get you to do my bidding.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  “I got plans for you, big boy.”

  Bill knew that tone and that look. This was going to be a good weekend!

  As soon as Bill went past the gate his immediate thought was, it easy to see why FDR first called this place Shangri-La. It was a beautiful patch of Maryland countryside. The grounds were, as he expected, meticulously kept. It was Navy neat, with the Seabees assigned to run it and the Marines assigned to protect it. Little Richie ran from the car and took to the place like he was visiting Grampy and Granny Alice. While watching him run down the path toward the horses in the paddock, Janice gave him one of those looks a wife gives to her husband that says, “You did good.”

  After dinner they did what most families might do on a weekend night — they watched a movie. Only here it was in a private movie theater and it was a clean release print of Dumbo. Richie sat between his mommy and daddy and was entranced by the color and the sound. Bill and Janice held hands across the back of the seats until their hands went numb. Janice liked having wine with her movie, and Bill enjoyed the president’s favorite, kettle corn.

  Bill put Richie to bed. Tomorrow they would ride the horses and maybe fly a kite. It took all of five minutes and Richie was deep in the land of nod. Janice was already in the bedroom, reading the guest book. “Oh my God! Menachem Begin slept in this very room. Alan Dulles. Margaret Thatcher. Cynthia Nixon Cox. Sure that makes sense. Amy Carter! John D. Rockefeller. Bob Hope! This is so incredible.

  Bill looked over her shoulder, grabbed the pen, and scribed, Mr. and Mrs. William Hiccock, and the date. He closed the book and said, “Now let’s make a little history of our own!”

  Like kids, they jumped on the bed and practiced a kind of diplomacy that would surely cure all the ills of the world.

  ∞§∞

  Having anything one could imagine for breakfast was a reality check that one was indeed in a most exalted place. Chocolate chip pancakes with a face made of cherries and whipped cream was set before Richie by the Navy steward. Janice had her ‘firm’, not runny Eggs Benedict done perfectly; Bill had the breakfast of astronauts, steak and eggs. At nine thirty, the horses were brought around. Being the parents of an eighteen-month-old, they were suddenly challenged with what to do with him?

  Janice sighed, “I guess you can ride first; I’ll stay with Richie and go later.”

  “That’s no fun; it’s about being together,” Bill said.

  As they puzzled with the minor dilemma, one of the Marine guards quietly stepped away.

  “Well, maybe we’ll ride some other time.” The resignation in Bill’s voice registered.

  “No, Bill. You go, honey.”

  Bill’s attention was suddenly totally taken by the Marine who reappeared leading a pony.

  “Sir, I couldn’t help overhearing. I got a little guy of my own and this will work just fine if your boy can sit up by himself.”

  “He’s a virtual genius at sitting up on his own, isn’t he, Daddy?” Janice said, her whole day starting to take shape.

  “Corporal…?”

  “Bradley, sir.”

  “Thank you, Bradley. How does this work?”

  “Well, if you don’t mind an easy walk on the trail, I’d be happy to lead the little cowboy here.”

  “Oh, we couldn’t ask you to do that.” Janice said.

  “Like I said, I got a little fella, just about his age, and I miss ’im. So you’d be doing me a favor.”

  “Corporal, you’ve got the detail.”

  Bill lifted Richie into the safety saddle on the miniature stallion, strapped him in, and then mounted his own horse. They rode at a walk through the beautiful trails and breathtaking routes that cut through the rolling hills and scenic valleys. Richie was given to outbursts of laughter as Mommy or Daddy’s horse would raise his tail and do what horses did when they raised their tail. His laughter settled into both parents like warm honey. They could see Corporal Bradley was trying to hide his bittersweet delight, no doubt imagining his own son laughing.

  Taking it all in, Bill was prompted to say, “Bradley, if we ever get to come back to this unbelievable place, I’ll ask the boss if you can bring your son. The boys can play together and ride together. What’s your son’s name?”

  “Darelle, and if you can get the president to okay that, you got a play date, sir!”

  Lunch was as unbelievable as breakfast. Janice had mused about white truffles, and magically, linguini with shaved white truffles appeared. Bill finished off the best French dip roast beef he had ever had, and looked at his watch. It was quarter of two and the professor was due at two. He excused himself from the front porch table where the stewards had set up their lunch, leaving Janice and Richie reading a storybook.

  In the visitor’s guest office, Bill fired up the computer and went onto his SCIAD network and had three flagged e-mails from particle physicists on the rings. He read all three e-mails and was actually three minutes late to the helipad where the Sikorsky and Dr. Roland Landau, professor of atomic science at University of California at Berkley was waiting.

  “Sorry. I was up at the main house doing a little research, Professor.”

  “No problem; thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Professor Landau said.

  He was a tall, thin man with a white mustache and thick grey-white hair and steel-blue eyes. His broad shoulders and the way he carried himself told Bill he had probably played ball as a youth.

  They made their way up to the main house into one of the meeting rooms and Bill closed the door. “Professor, your claim is, to say the least, astounding.”

  “Yes, I am aware that I traversed very hallowed ground to reach my conclusion, but I think the peer review will show my methods are coherent and my hypothesis on firm footing.” The older man’s soft friendly eyes belied the fact that his brain was rapier sharp.

  “What will you call this potential discovery?” Hiccock asked.

  “There is no better name than that of our quest for all these decades — the God Particle.”

  “Well, the Higgs Boson branch of particle physicists will be miffed, but I must say, if your protocol bears fruit, it is an appropriate moniker.”

  “We may be on the precipice of an entirely new branch of science and understanding that will catapult man’s grasp of creation a thousand-thousand years. But please, Dr. Hiccock, don’t misunderstand me. I stand on the shoulders of the great Peter Higgs and his theoretical discovery of the boson. I feel my work is consistent with his findings and further advances that breakthrough work.”

  Bill took in the professor; last week he had never heard his name, but soon he could be as well-known and revered as Einstein.

  “I’m sorry, Professor, but I am still stuck on the fact that, until recently, I’ve never heard of you.”

  “Of course, that’s understandable. Right after July 2012, when they found the resonance of the Higgs boson, I applied for a small research grant and was given unprecedented access to the data generated at Cern. It was during my analysis that I found the key to the next level of exploration.”

  “May I ask?”

  “I recognized anomalies in the decay of the particle that could be proof that the Higgs is not a fundamental particle.”

  “Whoa. That’s an astounding thesis, Doctor.”

  “If my postulate is correct, then extreme agitation would reveal properties that could open a whole new branch of particle physics.”

  “So you want to use the next power level of the LHC to find evidence of a Techni-Force?”

  “Yes, if the Higgs boson is not a fundamental particle, but in fact, made up of Techni-Quarks, then we might be able to shake them loose.”

  “Or split it.”

  “Well, if, as I believe, the Higgs is a product of super-sym
metry, then a dark-matter companion to the particle may exist. So we wouldn’t be splitting it as much as shining a light on it to see it’s dark matter shadow, if you will.”

  “That could tie together the Standard Model with the inconvenient paradoxes of the 2012 discovery.” Bill’s mind reeled with the possibilities, “I see now why you got the grant, Professor.”

  “It all happened very fast from there. I presented to the board at LHC, and they approved my protocol to diagnose the particle under extreme force destabilization.”

  “That’s quite a feat, reviewing terra-bytes of data and seeing something every other scientist in the world missed.”

  “It was, I assure you, pure luck meeting blind chance.”

  The humility he displayed made Bill feel bad about the rain he was about to sprinkle on the man’s parade. “I am duty-bound by all that I know of science to ask the following question, Professor.”

  “I know your next question; I wish I knew with scientific certainty that the risk can be contained. I can only tell you that at the foothills of the atomic age, there were many learned and weighty thinkers who predicted that an atomic chain reaction, once initiated, could not be stopped and that everything, all of Earth, would be consumed in atomic fire. They were resolute and certain of their math, their findings and their beliefs. Yet, almost eighty years of atomic energy and research later, we are all still here, as is the Earth.”

  Bill was well aware of the atomic controversy of the late 30s and early 40s, but the atomic bomb ended all that when it only evaporated the Nevada Salt Flats and left the rest of the Earth intact. Still, he knew that if he had been advising President Truman at that time, he would have warned against detonating the “gadget” in the atmosphere. “Do you have insight into the controlling method to arrest the possible calamitous outcome, as barium rods are used to control an otherwise very unstoppable nuclear chain reaction?”

  “At this time no. But I believe that discovery is at hand. In fact, the latest data from the LHC at CERN may be indicative of suppressing plasma.”

  “Professor, the president has asked me to advise him on this. I feel it is the most crucial scientific decision since the Manhattan project. I cannot be a proponent of further active research, or an attempt at agitating, splitting or illuminating the particle without simultaneously developing the safeguards, because this time the critics may be right.” Bill didn’t have to remind Landau that along with the critics being right, it would also be the end of all existence if the God Particle didn’t like being dissected.

  “I fully understand. I do not envy your position, Dr. Hiccock, but providence and fate have chosen you. May your judgment be guided by divine intervention and inscrutable logic.”

  “Professor, I believe you have just uttered the first scientific prayer.”

  ∞§∞

  The car was at the reception desk promptly at 6 a.m. Having said their goodbyes the night before, Brooke didn’t awaken Mathilde to say goodbye, and she surmised they would see more of each other now. The car was to take her to the train terminal in Nice, where she would board the Côte d’Azur. As Brooke walked behind the young hotel bellman who was pushing the cart with her luggage on it, she couldn’t stop thinking about what Mathilde said about him and his butt. She found herself staring as he held the cart back from rolling down the steep path to the hotel’s entrance area. She couldn’t get rid of the image her cousin had planted in her mind the night before about what he liked to have done to him in the back while she was pleasuring him from the front. She literally had to shake her head to wash the riveting images that formed in her mind anyway. “Here you go, Benji, thank you,” she said in French as she handed him more than twice what would have been considered a great tip. As she got in the car, he shut the door. His crotch was now eye level with her through the rear seat window. She laughed to herself, and when he turned around to answer someone who called out to him she found herself staring at his now infamous butt. All she could say to herself was, God bless you, Mathilde.

  At 9 a.m. she was in the Office of the Ports in Marseilles, to track the shipment of P784 from its point of embarkation.

  Here the computer age sped things along quite nicely. The shipment originated from the Picardie region in Northern France and had been shipped by rail to the port, where it was loaded on the rusting tanker/freighter destined to Saint-Eugene in Algeria. By 11 a.m. Brooke was aboard the TGV to Paris. From the high-speed train she requested the embassy to find out about the Picardie Company that made the chemical. They, in turn, notified her that upon her return to Paris a meeting had been scheduled for her with Joey and Director Dupré.

  ∞§∞

  “…so then when Mitchell was elected, somehow they got my name and he offered me the post.”

  “May I just say, Dr. Hiccock, that your tenure has been a much needed boost to science and technology.”

  “You are too kind, Professor, but all I do is cheerlead for the team, a team with star players on it like yourself.”

  “Yes, but if you’ll allow me an analogy, you are the star quarterback of that team.”

  Bill was genuinely touched that this giant of science knew of his gridiron past. “Tell me, are my suspicions correct that you played some organized ball at one point, as well?”

  “Yes, I was picked up by the White Sox in ’58. But I never made it out of the farm system, then my wife died, and I knew I’d never remarry, so I used every dollar I had saved for tuition and went back to school. There I found my new game in atomic physics.”

  “Ah, I guess sports has played a role in both our lives.”

  Then his mood turned serious. “May I ask something that may be rather indelicate?”

  “Sure. Feel free.”

  “There is a rumor that you have a private science network. If that were true, how would one such as myself be afforded membership in such an indispensable enterprise? I believe I have suitable enough credentials, but I will leave that assessment to your judgment.”

  “Professor, may I be blunt?”

  “Science is blunt.”

  “Although at first I didn’t recognize your name, I see now that that was my oversight. This is the first time I have focused on you or your work. In fact, I used that very network to garner information on you this morning. My network, Scientific Community Involved in America’s Defense…”

  “Yes, that’s it, SCIAD!”

  “Exactly, well that was the outgrowth of several threats and attacks against our country, which in many cases, I am happy to say, have been thwarted by a strong scientific analysis and investigation. I would be happy to consider you as an “outer ring” member. My assistant, Cheryl, will be in touch next week when I return to Washington after this little vacation.”

  “Yes, thank you. And I do apologize that the timing of our meeting necessitated interrupting your family time.”

  “Thank you for coming here and making it less intrusive.”

  “Well, I’d best be going.”

  “Allow me to walk you to the helipad.”

  “That won’t be necessary; go enjoy your vacation.”

  “We are not scheduled to ride until four, so I have ten minutes.”

  As they walked back down the path to the heliport, the professor asked for clarification, “What are the outer rings?”

  “Forgive me a little scientific bravado, but I have organized SCIAD in the model of an atom’s electron shell. The inner rings K, L, M, and N hold Class One security clearance. They are cleared by the president to see raw, top-secret intel. The second group of rings, O, P, Q, comprise people who may not want, or would not do well under, the federal scrutiny that Class One would involve. Yet, their scientific opinion and acumen is of great service to our nation.”

  “And am I correct in assuming that the nucleus would be you?”

  “In fact, that is my screen name in the network.”

  “Well, again, I would be honored to contribute in any ring.”

  “Thank yo
u, and good luck, Professor.”

  With that, Landau was met by a Marine Guard who took his briefcase and escorted him up the steps of the helicopter. The older Sikorsky unit might have served as Marine One in the past, but was now assigned to ferry missions of lower level personnel to and from the White House to Andrews or Camp David.

  Little Richie came crashing into the back of Bill’s legs as he watched the professor board. “Hey, you! Trying to chop-block me?” Bill said as he reached around and threw Richie a few feet up and caught him, bringing him in close in his arms. “Let’s watch the helicopter go.”

  They stood and watched as the door closed, the turbo fans spun up, and the green and white hulk rose at a slight angle, then started turning toward Washington.

  Instinctively, Richie waved bye-bye and said, “Bye-bye! Bye-bye!” Bill just kissed his cheek.

  Suddenly there was a hot flash that smashed into the side of Bill’s head. Richie’s face glowed orange as Bill’s central nervous system kicked in, turning him to shield his son just as the first shockwave hit with a deafening explosion. The force knocked them both to the ground. Bill was able to use his elbows to prevent crushing his son beneath his weight. From the corner of his eye, he saw the orange plume of fire and black smoke rising up as the hulk of the copter spun out of control and exploded on impact into a shattered mass of metal and parts. Flaming debris landed twenty feet from them. He put his head down and covered his son with his body and his mind. It took a few seconds for Bill’s hearing to return, and then he heard the sounds of Marines and Seabees trying to take control of a situation that was out of control. A voice said, “Dr. Hiccock, come with me, sir. Now.”

  Bill got up, cradled his son’s head ,and trotted back to the house with a Marine in front and one behind. A few feet from where they were blown down, a six-foot part of the chopper’s rotor blade impaled the ground and jutted out like a twisted knife. Once in the main structure, the doctor on call and the paramedics checked Bill and his son for wounds and concussions. The two Marines who had been helping on the helipad were rushed in. One was bleeding; the other was out cold.