by M. J. Konkel
“The problem is that people are crammed in closer together than they are used to, and the campers and RVs are small and so people are feeling confined, and they're venting at their neighbors,” said Joe.
“They are also testing their limits and defining boundaries now that they have new neighbors, and conflict is sometimes a part of that. At least it is for some people,” added Karen.
“Karen tells me that you have been making progress, Professor,” Joe changed the subject abruptly. It got suddenly quiet around the table as everyone seemed to want to hear what the Professor would say.
The Professor didn't seem to notice the attention as he answered, “I don't know if I could call it progress yet. I do have a theory, a crude mathematical model that describes the branes and their relationships to one another. I need to refine the model and that requires a lot of calculations.”
“Can we use this model to help us get out of here?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. It will tell me how much energy is needed to initiate the translocation.”
“And how long will it take to figure that out?”
“I have already done that. Well, at least a crude back of the envelope calculation. It will take many terawatts of power delivered over a very short time interval. We’re talking in microseconds.”
“Terawatts? What does that mean? That sounds like an awful lot of energy.”
“It is power and a lot of it. Trillions of watts. It is up in the range of a typical lightning bolt. Of course, lightning bolts are highly variable.”
“Lightning? Oh my God! You were struck by lightning that night,” Karen exclaimed.
“I know. I have been thinking about that a lot. Only it doesn't make sense. If only I could remember what happened that night, it might help.” The Professor stared off into space.
“What doesn't make sense?” Joe prompted, wondering what the Professor had been thinking about.
“What?” The Professor was brought back.
“You were saying?”
“Oh! Yeah. If the SEAD was struck by lightning, it should have been fried to a crisp. And, certainly, the Wurtzberg crystal was burned out, but the rest of the device is just fine. Still, it can't be just a mere coincidence that the energy needed for an interbrane translocation matches what is in a typical lightning bolt and one struck that night.”
“So, what is next?”
“I need to redo my calculations and confirm that I really am in the right ballpark for the required energy. And I need to figure out how the SEAD could have survived a lightning strike. I think that until I can figure that part out, we are stuck here.”
How many of these branes are there anyway?”
“If the theory is correct, it is such a large number that for all practical purposes, you can say it approaches infinity.”
“Infinite?” Karen exclaimed.
“Not truly infinite. It is just infinite to our human minds that cannot comprehend such large numbers. Every time an event can go two different ways anywhere in our brane, the brane splits with one brane going one way and the other following the other path. Now imagine how often that is happening at the subatomic level. And each brane that splits off will spawn additional branes. Then think that this has been happening since the birth of the universe over thirteen billion years ago and factor the enormous size of our universe. Finally, include that every other universe is just as valid as ours, so they are splitting constantly as well. It is an accelerating explosion of the multiverse. The only way for us to express the total number is as an integer that approaches infinity.”
“If there are an infinite number of branes, then how will we find the right one to go back to?” Karen asked. Joe thought she appeared to be understanding the Professor better than he.
“Remember, approaching infinite, but not infinite. Now, each of the other branes is a certain distance from each other. This is not a distance in the four dimensions we are used to, but …”
“Four dimensions?” Karen appeared as puzzled as was Joe.
“Including time, yes. As I was saying, we can only go so far across the multiverse in one translocation. We have a small number, relatively speaking, of nearby branes to choose from when we translocate. I know the settings on the SEAD, assuming they weren't changed by the person who took them out of my room. Then I could get us back if I could just figure out how to activate it without wrecking the whole instrument.”
“Are there other branes then that have us in them, attempting to get home?” Karen wondered aloud. Joe thought he was now understanding the conversation. Maybe.
“Oh, yes. Nearly an infinite number of them.”
“What would happen if us from another brane just happens to pick the same brane as we do to go back to? Do we meet ourselves?” Joe inquired.
“That is a very interesting question. I don't think that could happen though. We would be occupying the same physical space. I think that the brane that we would be traveling to would split in two and we would go to one and the other us would go to the other.”
“Let me see if I understand this,” Joe asked. “Every possible thing that could ever have happened did happen in one of the branes?”
“Not quite. Most of this is on the molecular level or sub-molecular level. Is the measured spin of an electron up or down? Did this virtual molecule pop into existence or not? Did this atom decay at this instant or not? Rarely does a brane split occur because of events on the macromolecular level, because events in the world up here that we see are rarely ever truly random. They only seem that way because we can’t see all the molecular events that make up the event that do observe. The possibilities on the molecular level can add up though to huge differences in the observable world. Look at this brane we're in, for example. But not everything that could possibly happen happens. That would only be true in an infinite number of branes. We live in a multiverse of finite branes, albeit one that approaches infinite. Let me give you an example of a brane that doesn't exist. There is no brane in which I could challenge you right now to a one on one basketball game and win. That is just not possible, even in an almost infinite number of branes.”
“I think I see,” said Joe, although he felt like his brain was splitting trying to follow.
“Yeah, I think I get it too,” said Rob. “Then in none of the branes would there be a Spanky that tells a joke that is actually funny. Want to know why?”
“Why is that?” Mike bit on it.
“It would take Spanky having brains. Get it? Branes?”
“What happens during this translocation? Did a piece of this world go to our old world?” asked Joe, ignoring the joke that was at Mr. Span's expense. Mr. Span may not be a genius, but he had enough brains to figure out how to steal an election.
“Oh yes, indeed! The realities of the two branes interchanged. In our old world, they will have found by now that all of this area is a wilderness filled with dinosaurs and other strange creatures and exotic vegetation. I'll bet that this area right now is swarming with biologists and paleontologists eager to catch some dinosaurs.”
“They better have some mighty big nets. The freddies are not exactly butterflies,” remarked Joe.
“We need to get the kids down to sleep,” reminded Karen.
Joe and Karen said good night to everyone before leaving. They found Robbie and James at the playground and took them back to their camper and got them into pajamas. Joe read a bedtime story to them – The King, the Mice and the Cheese by Nancy and Eric Gurney. Having a whole library of books meant that he was able to read a different book to them every night except for the occasional night when it was raining outside and too dark inside to read at bed time. On those nights he or Karen would make up a story, or they would just talk for a while. There were also nights when the kids just wanted to hear an old book that was familiar. Sometimes familiarity was comforting. He no longer needed to stay until they fell asleep; they had adapted to the camper being their new home. Joe wasn’t sure if he wo
uld ever get used to it. He went to a cushioned lawn chair outside under the awning to lie down and stretched out his tired body.
“Got the kids to fall asleep?” asked Karen.
“Yep.”
“That’s good. There is something I want to ask. It has been a couple of weeks since I told you about what Mr. Durst said.”
“And you want to know when I am going to confront him about it.”
“Actually, I hope you don’t.”
“Keep quiet? You know that goes against my every fiber.”
“We have no proof. We have only a confession that only I heard from a man that is now dead. It will come down to Span’s word against my word.”
“That is why I haven’t confronted him yet. Span is smart enough to know that people will believe you before they believe him.”
“So?”
“He will say Durst lied. Durst didn’t have exactly the best reputation. Then people will not know what to believe,” explained Joe.
“Without proof, Span will still be leader.”
“Yes, but at least most people will know, even without the proof, what type of man he is.”
“I think they already know what type of man he is, but there is something else to consider,” added Karen.
“What’s that?”
“The precedent that would be started if he is forced out.”
“What precedent?”
“Accusations without proof being brought against the leaders of our community.”
Joe was quiet for a time as thought about it. She had a good point, but he hated not doing anything and letting that bastard get away with it.
“Then what are you going to do?” Karen finally broke the silence.
“I am going to tell Roger and Judd about it, but ask them to keep it quiet. Then I will let it ride until the election. We agreed that new elections would happen on the first Tuesday in November. Span can’t do anything to stop that.”
“I agree. I don’t think he can stop it or win it.”
“Nonetheless, I think that we should work with the council to change how the vote for the leader works out. If no one gets over half the vote, then there should be another election later that just pits the top two vote getters against each other. A few days later.”
“And all ballots have to be saved until well after the election.”
“There should also be a requirement for overseeing the counting.”
“Span won’t want the election to run like that.” Karen pointed out.
“He hasn’t really tried to prevent any of us so far from pushing anything forward. In fact, it makes me wonder why he went to such lengths to be elected leader. He hasn't been pushing any personal agenda that I can tell.”
“I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right. I wonder what his motivation was back then.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. Once we start the discussion on election reform, he won’t be able to stop it. As long as he allows us to open the discussion, it will be as good as done. Of course, we will have to set up a referendum ballot slightly before the election so that it is approved by everyone else on the island. I will discuss it with Roger and Judd beforehand to make sure they are on board.”
“How can we get him to open the discussion up? He is not likely to want that on the agenda.”
“We can ask to start the discussion on some of the details of the election in November and then steer the discussion towards reform.”
“Look at you.”
“What?”
“You’ve become the politician.”
“Politician! Now there was no reason to resort to insults.”
“Do you really think though that Span is just going to give up?”
Their conversation ended as they started slapping mosquitoes and were forced to retreat to the camper for the night, a common evening occurrence. Though on some nights when the wind picked up or when it was raining, the mosquitoes stayed away.
Chapter 25
Ron Latz was among a group of a half-dozen teenage boys that had just returned from a hunting trip up along the ridge. As a hunting trip, it was rather dismal. They bagged only six rabbits and two turkey-sized dinosaurs. However, they made an important discovery they came back shouting about. They found a small herd of cattle that had so far escaped notice of any raptors or freddies. Nestled in a fence-enclosed small ravine, the cattle fattened on new green grass, but they would not escape notice of predators for long. The council convened for a quick emergency session, and all agreed that the herd should be brought back to Ridgeback as soon as possible and then ferried to an island where they could safely graze. During high water, they would be ferried back to Ridgeback where they could be kept in stalls and fed hay until flood waters receded. If they could get these cows to Ridgeback, they would greatly increase their livestock numbers from the lone bull and two cows that they had so far.
Anne was among a group of young people who volunteered. Anne was familiar and comfortable around cattle as much as anyone on the island and thought she could help. Johnny volunteered because he always did, always looking to help the community. Lonnie and his gang volunteered too because they had been politely asked to do something for the community.
*****
Anne heard Ron state there were no roads up to the ravine where the cattle were seen, but there was a footpath. They started out on foot the next day since that's how they were going to bring the herd back anyway. The morning started out nice and sunny but soon turned overcast. Rain held off though as Ron led the team back to where he spotted the herd. The black and white jerseys had safely made it through the night, and they turned their heads towards the approaching team but didn't stop their chewing.
“How do we get these cows to go where we want them to go?” asked Ron, hands on hips.
Anne explained, “We need a couple of people on each side to keep them together and a few people behind them pushing them along. They can yell, run at them, wave their arms or slap their behinds if they still aren’t moving. And someone should be in front, steering the lead cow to where we want them to go.”
“Do we have enough people to do this?” asked Johnny.
“We should. We seem to have a few people AWOL though,” answered Anne.
*****
Lonnie, Darrel and Tim had slipped away from the rest of the group. Hidden in a stand of large old maple trees, Lonnie pulled out a joint, lit it and took in several deep drags before passing it to Darrel. “Go easy on it,” Lonnie insisted. “It's the last one I have.”
“All right,” Darrel said as he took three huge puffs and tried to hold in the addictive smoke, but soon starting coughing as the hot smoke burned his lungs. He stifled the cough as much as he could, so the rest of the group wouldn't hear him.
“Leave some for me,” Tim pleaded as he snatched the joint away from Darrel and took several deep drags too.
Soon the last bit of their pot was gone, not even a roach left. They staggered back to find the rest of the group already starting to drive the cattle down the trail. They were an accident waiting to happen.
*****
“Where were you guys?” asked Ron.
“We were scouting the area to make sure it was safe. What can we do?” asked Lonnie.
“Just stay out of trouble,” Ron retorted
“Help us by keeping them moving,” Anne said, doubtful about their explanation after getting a whiff of an odor. She knew them too well.
The trail was not a well-worn one, having many rocks, holes and fallen branches across it. They had not gone far when Darrel tripped over one of the branches and fell to the ground. He put his arms out in front of himself to break his fall while still clutching his rifle. The rifle went off upon hitting the hard dirt, spooking the cattle. They started to run, and a stampede was underway. Anne saw it all, but it happened so quickly, she did not have time to react before the animals were running. Then to make the bad situation worse, two raptors came from behind a stand of trees and
attacked the lagging cow. Anne and Ron both raised their guns and fired two shots each at the closest raptor, dropping it in its tracks. Anne turned and fired at the second raptor. It took off downhill and Anne pumped once more and fired her fourth shot, the last in her shotgun. The slug slammed into the raptor’s shoulder and it rolled down the hillside, already dead by the time it stopped rolling. Lonnie and Tim were dumbfounded and still just standing where they were when the raptors first attacked.
Anne and Ron ran up to the wounded cow. She was lying on her side; a pair of long deep gashes to the belly was visible, and a pool of blood was forming in the grass underneath her. The cow moaned as Anne knelt and stroked its head. She stared at the cow's closest eye. It was wet and blurry. “Damn it!” Anne looked up at Ron and said, “She is not going to make it. You are going to have to put her down.” Anne stood up and took several steps back.
Ron lifted his rifle, pointing it at the cow's head. But he could not pull the trigger. “I can’t do it,” he said, lowering the rifle.
“It is the only thing we can do for her now. She is going to die anyway, and it will be more humane to get it over with rather than let her continue to suffer like this,” said Anne.
Ron was staring the cow in the eye that was facing up. “I'm sorry,” he said with a catch in his throat. He raised his rifle and pulled the trigger.
Anne saw it was a hard thing for him to do. She consoled, “It was for the best. She was only going to continue to suffer.”
*****
Meanwhile the rest of the herd was racing down the trail. Johnny, eyes wide open, was in front with the herd. They were thundering blindly down the path right at him. He was about to be trampled when he instinctively dove behind a large downed tree trunk. After the herd passed, he rolled away from the trunk, and he saw that the dirt-trail the cows were on curled back and came out into a clearing right below him. He took off down the side of the hill on a shortcut, racing to beat the herd. He got to the bottom just about the same time as the lead cow. He waved his arms wildly and then fired his shotgun into the air. The lead cow turned to her right. She ran back up a slight incline and came to the bottom of a steep bank. She could not go further, so she turned. However, other cows had her trapped against the bank. All the cows were lowing, but they were no longer stampeding.
