The design of actual machines, of course, is not at all simple. Shortly after Faraday's discovery of electromagnetic induction in 1831, a number of technologists started to fabricate small hand-operated generators. But it was not until 1873 that the Belgian engineer Zenobe Theophile Gramme built the first truly commercial electric machine. The alternating current motor of Nikola Tesla, which set the standard for worldwide use of electric power, was patented in 1888. What Tesla designed—and others after him—we can duplicate here in Engineering Village. As soon, of course, as we get Ruffin and his cohorts some copper wire.
—————
While large-scale generation of electricity was being developed, other geniuses were gaining access to an even more wondrous mystery of the universe: electromagnetic waves that travel through space. Through space!
In the early 1860s, James Clerk Maxwell, a Scottish physicist, looked at the electricity-magnetism phenomenon from a new perspective. Since these two forces seem to create and modify each other, back and forth, over and over again—electricity makes magnetism, magnetism makes electricity—in an unending mutual propagation, one could perhaps infer that a wave was involved. After all, what is a wave but something that goes up and down, back and forth, over and over again? Maxwell theorized that when electrical oscillations are created, this generates waves: waves that travel through space. Not electrons moving through wires, but electromagnetic waves moving through space! It's difficult to grasp the concept, and we really can't come up with a satisfactory physical representation of these things. But the fact is that Maxwell developed mathematical formulas predicting the behavior of such waves, and these formulas were born out by experiment.
Physical confirmation of theoretical concepts was some time in coming. Maxwell published his wave theory in 1864, and it wasn't until 1888 that Heinrich Hertz proved that electromagnetic waves actually did exist. He showed that they could be made in a laboratory, transmitted through the air, and received by an "antenna." This was truly the greatest magic act of all time.
Using high-voltage electricity—which by this time could readily be produced—he created a spark between two coils. A few feet away, he set up a receiving mechanism consisting of two rods with a spark gap between them. As Hertz had hoped, the waves created by the first spark were detected, as evidenced by a spark appearing in the second gap.
The rest, as we never tire of saying, is history. Once it was shown that electromagnetic waves could be generated by mechanical means, and transmitted through space, it was only a question of time before the few feet became a few hundred feet, a few thousand, a few hundred thousand. In 1901, Marconi sent a radio signal across the Atlantic Ocean.
While sending and receiving these waves across long distances is marvelous, the question of utility arises. If all you can send is a spark, or a blip, you're restricted to a Morse Code-type communique. On the other hand, if you can imprint lots of information on your wave—it's called modulation—then you've done something very, very special.
This is what electronics engineers have been working on for the past hundred years, first with vacuum tubes, then with transistors and minuscule integrated circuits. Maxwell's electromagnetic waves, imprinted with enormous amounts of information— speech, music, pictures—are generated, transmitted, received, unscrambled, and amplified. The result has been a cornucopia of fabulous products—radio, television, cellular telephones, whatever your heart desires, and more.
Isaac Newton said that if he could see farther than others it was because he stood on the shoulders of giants. Just so should we here in Engineering Village pay homage to the giants who preceded us: Volta, Faraday, Maxwell, Hertz, Tesla, Marconi, and many others. I fancy, not that our engineers stand on their shoulders, but rather that these great men were advance members of our surviving party, scouts who landed on the beach before we arrived, planting their banners in the sand, claiming the land on behalf of a renewed high civilization.
When later that evening I shared some of these thoughts with my Focus Group friends, they were far from overwhelmed. "It's just physics," Roxy said. "Let's not get carried away."
"Gimme a break," I protested, "I'm not talking about the ultimate meaning of life. I'm referring to a magnificent human achievement. I'm celebrating the genius and insight that enables us to do the most extraordinarily wonderful things."
"Like snoop on our neighbors," Herb said.
"And make atom bombs," Roxy said.
Tom threw up his hands. "What's with you guys all of a sudden?" he fumed. "I thought you had a sense of respect for the natural world."
"Oh, I don't know," said Roxy. "All those invisible rays. I suddenly feel like we're drowning in them."
Tom turned to me: "You may have to fine-tune your presentation, Wil. I don't think you're getting through to this audience the way you had hoped."
I grimaced and shook my head until Mary came to my defense.
"This is God's universe," she said. "Without agitated atoms emitting electromagnetic radiation, there would be no plants, no life, no anything. The fact that we've come to understand something about these phenomena—and to use them to good effect— that's cause for pride and humility and veneration."
Herb and Roxy leaned forward and seemed to be composing their retorts when Sarah held up her hand and, like a kindergarten teacher faced with an unruly class, called "time-out." Then she said, "I don't think we need to be arguing about this. There are plenty of ways in which we can relate to the universe, and let's agree that in such matters it's each to his own. As for me, I find consolation— and inspiration—in art."
Then, turning toward me, she added, "And in love."
"And," Mary said, "in faith."
"And"—now it was Tom joining in—"I would say, creative work."
"And in fun," Roxy said, her spirits rising.
"And in debunking whatever and whomever we please," Herb said, pugnacious but smiling.
It was my turn to say something, but there seemed nothing left to say. Then, suddenly, a thought came to me, fleeting and more mysterious in origin than the electromagnetic waves we had been considering. I heard myself say: "And in marrying and having children."
That ended the evening's debate.
12
It was well past midnight when Wil Hardy was roused unceremoniously and ordered to report to a special, secret meeting called by the Coordinating Committee. Secret? This was a first. By a firm consensus, both Inlanders and Outlanders had agreed that, although not every meeting would be open to everyone, there would be no secret committees formed or secret decisions taken by anyone in a position of authority—ever. So, this development was alarming to Wilson Hardy, Jr., and he would be sure to speak to his father about it at the earliest opportunity. Meanwhile, he was gripped by nervous excitement as he threw on some clothes, assured the half-asleep Sarah that he would be back shortly, and ran off into the night.
There were about forty men and women gathered for this post-midnight meeting, and the recording secretary recognized all of them, except two who looked like natives from some foreign island—Africans perhaps, yet somehow different. He couldn't immediately put his finger on it—that is, how they were different— and he was quickly distracted by his father and Captain Nordstrom, who signaled for him to join them.
"Son, we need you to take notes, here, but you cannot share anything about this meeting with your friends, even with Sarah. We must have your word on this."
"Sure, Dad, but why? What the heck is going on, anyway?"
Dr. Wilson whispered hoarsely: "Just listen and take accurate notes. I don't mean to be so cryptic, son, but you'll soon see why."
Captain Nordstrom was solemn as he opened the proceedings. "I call to order this special meeting of the Expanded Defense Committee, as authorized by the Coordinating Committee. Although Dr. Hardy or I have spoken to each of you privately, I must say for the record"—he shot a stern glance at Wil—"I must say that what we discuss here shall remain completely con
fidential. We do this not to exclude anyone, of either community, but rather to prevent rumors and alarm from spreading among the people. Is this understood and accepted by everyone?"
Wil Hardy looked up from his notetaking. Expanded Defense Committee? Rumors and alarm? He thought about Sarah asleep in their little shelter. There was something ominous afoot, and he had an urge to run back and hold her in his arms. But clearly he had to stay in place to do his job. He started to scribble in his own form of shorthand, afraid to miss a single word of the discussion.
All of the attendees indicated their assent, and Nordstrom went on: "Several hours ago, two men from Madagascar landed about ten miles from here and found their way to us by following the shoreline. They were lucky they chose to walk in this direction. If they had not—that is, if they had walked north instead of south— they could have been lost for days, or forever. Our security detail encountered them and brought them to me. One of these gentlemen began to speak to me in French, which, it turns out, was the official language of Madagascar during the French colonial period. Neither of them speaks English, so French it shall be. They have been fed and given water. They are exhausted and dehydrated, but otherwise healthy.
"I have asked two of our experts to help us: Richard Frost, a recognized authority on the history and culture of Madagascar; and Rene Picard, a nuclear engineer graduate of the Ecole Polytechnique, who is one of the most eminent members of the French engineering establishment Dr. Picard, of course, is a native French speaker who will serve as our translator."
"A votre service," Picard said with a slight salute.
Wilson Hardy, Sr., stood and spoke. "These two men escaped from an apparently terrible situation on the island of Madagascar. The young man is a fisherman and mechanic who was able to operate the motorboat that brought them here. The elderly gentleman is Pascal Ralaimongo, a schoolteacher and respected patriarch of his village. We have asked him to describe for us the conditions existing in his homeland. Mr. Ralaimongo, if you please."
Young Will Hardy, looking closely now at the "refugees," realized that the facial characteristics he could not quite identify were Malayan, and he immediately thought of the pirate crew that had been described by Harry McIntosh and his fellow fishermen. Yet these two men were obviously not pirates. In fact, both smiled in friendship, obviously grateful that they had made it to this safe haven. Ralaimongo was a small, stooped man, with narrow shoulders and wispy gray hair. He wore a multicolored polyester shirt with long sleeves and only a few surviving buttons. His canvas trousers were worn and stained, and frayed rope held the soles of his sandals to his feet. After expressing his thanks to these kind people, he told them his story, through Picard.
It seemed that the northern part of the large island of Madagascar had been consumed by flames from the sky, and then wildfires had spread through most of the south. As in South Africa, the tsunamis had devastated all coastal communities. But, in contrast to the Ulundi Circle, where farms and livestock areas in the highlands had been spared providentially, in Madagascar the inferno and the floods had destroyed crops and animals as well as people. A group of survivors—perhaps as many as three or four thousand— with Ralaimongo as their designated leader, had tried to make do by sharing the few food resources, while also hunting, foraging, and attempting to recultivate the scorched fields.
However, as if heaven-sent devastation was not enough of a trial, the struggling band of survivors had been set upon by a group of convicts who had escaped from a demolished jail. These criminals—some of whom had been serving time for committing piracy on the high seas—were banded together, ruthlessly attacking and robbing anyone unlucky enough' to be in their path.
Ralaimongo and his followers were astonished to discover that the villains were led by a young woman, an American who knew their language—among others—and was called Queen Ranavolana, after dynastic rulers of old. Just how she had become a leader was unclear to the schoolteacher. He was impressed by her linguistic facility and her intelligence; but it was obvious that she had more of an affinity for the criminals and pirates than for the general population.
She played on the pirates' fears and superstitions, encouraging them to believe that she was somehow connected to the conflagration, sent by the Creator to be their saviour. Ralaimongo also questioned her sanity. Was she crazed, unhinged by the holocaust? Or was she totally in control of her faculties, making decisions that only she could explain? Why did she choose to adopt the name of the notoriously wicked queen? And what was the meaning of the red sails, which apparently were colored with paint found in a warehouse, augmented, some of the people said, with blood? What kind of blood? Or worse, whose blood?
The committee members were riveted by the man's tale of horror, but he was not finished. Picard struggled to keep up and to keep his own emotions out of the translation.
"I am certain that our escape, Jono's and mine"—he pointed to the young sailor who had accompanied him on the voyage—"that our action will result in recriminations. Others will pay for our freedom. I regret this very much. However, it was necessary that someone attempt to get away to tell this story, to ask for help. We were told about the Queen's encounter with your fishermen, which was described to us as if it were a grand military coup. Supposedly, she outwitted your people and took their fish without firing a shot, frightening them into submission."
At this point, Harry McIntosh, who was included in the group selected to attend the special meeting, jumped up to protest. "She surprised us, yes. But she sure as hell didn't scare us. I told you, Captain, sir—"
"Yes, Harry," Nordstrom reassured him. "We know the truth. You do not need to be defensive. Our guest is merely reporting the propaganda as it was related to him. No criticism intended." He turned to the older man. "Continue, please, sir."
"Yes, well, she filled the people's head with nonsense. We two, among many others, could see through her lies and perceive her evil intent. Yet we were frightened and did not know what to do. The Queen was not reluctant to execute any dissenters or so-called troublemakers, anyone who disagreed with her on the slightest matter. And she had the men—these criminals—to carry out her wishes." Tears welled in the old man's eyes, then fell down his leathery cheeks. "I have seen many people killed, many good people—without justification, with no trial. My family is gone, all of them annihilated in the disaster that destroyed our island home. I have nothing more to lose. But it hurts me to see innocent people treated in such a way."
"Monsieur Ralaimongo," Dr. Hardy interjected, speaking slowly so that Picard could translate, "will you please repeat what you told us earlier about this woman's plans as they affect our community? All of us here would like to help you and your people as best we can. But it is vitally important that we understand just what we are confronting."
"She—Queen Ranavolana the Terrible—plans to invade your settlement and strip you of every bit of food and equipment that her men can carry away. And eventually she will return with an army of occupation. She believes that she is destined to rule the entire world—that is, the part of the world that has survived the catastrophe."
These words fell on incredulous ears, and several members of the Expanded Defense Committee started to speak at once. Jane Warner, who had been added to the committee because of her knowledge of the "safety zone" line as it might have affected Madagascar, asked Picard to repeat exactly what Ralaimongo had said. At the same time several of the committeemen from Ulundi, including Peter Mavimbela, started to speak animatedly among themselves in Zulu. Within moments, the entire meeting was in an uproar of shock and anger.
Pieter Kemm stood, shaking his fist. "Captain Nordstrom, we must mobilize our people immediately! Our Zulu comrades will agree, I'm sure, to an emergency conscription. The Ulundi leadership will act responsibly and quickly. Just tell us what we must do."
"First thing," Nordstrom said, raising his hands, "is to calm down. Everyone, please. Just calm down."
The two refugees were alarmed by t
he response of the people present, and Ralaimongo looked to Captain Nordstrom and Dr. Hardy for guidance. Did they want him to continue to speak?
Dr. Hardy said, in an even tone intended to quell the upset, "The one thing we don't want to do is panic and run around in circles. Of course, we must take measures to defend ourselves against this possible attack. I say 'possible' not because I do not believe what Mr. Ralaimongo has told us, but only because we do not know the size and strength of the forces that might be deployed against us."
"That is true," Nordstrom said. "However, our military leaders have already debriefed our new guests, and based upon their appraisal of the situation I believe that they have some preliminary ideas." With this he turned to General Allen White of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.
General White, along with Deck Officer Carl Gustafsson, had sat at the head table and listened to the proceedings, but to this point he had said nothing. Now he stood and walked around to the front of the table, where he could face his colleagues and fellow survivors directly.
He stood before them, erect and poised. Although his engineering specialty had led to a career that was not specifically combat-oriented, Allen White had seen active duty as a younger officer in the U.S. invasion of Grenada and in the Gulf War. His trim gray hair and mustache (which he kept meticulously neat and precise, even in these difficult living conditions) accented a firm, angular jawline. His blue eyes were capable of warmth or ice, depending on what the situation required. And his voice was crisp, just the right volume for the size of the gathering, exuding confidence.
"Thank you, Captain Nordstrom and Dr. Hardy. Ladies and gentlemen, friends, we have indeed heard some alarming news this morning. But, as Dr. Hardy has said, we don't yet know how serious the threat is. I strongly recommend, however, that we assume a worst-case scenario and plan accordingly.
The Aftermath Page 24
