Dr. Julia Kristin Anderson came around the corner. “Hello, Professor Shwartz—I mean, Ray,” she said, and smiled.
Ray smiled back at her. Kristin had her Ph.D. for a year now; they were more colleagues than teacher and student. And yet she still couldn’t break her old habits of calling him “Professor.”
“It’s OK, Kristin. At least you didn’t call me ‘Director.’ What’s up?”
She squatted down next to the wall that Ray had just examined, and checked it herself. “Completely intact.”
“I thought we might have had a resurgence of the fire ants,” Ray said, “but I doubt even they could chew through that. ” They laughed for a moment as Kristin stood up, and then Ray continued. “So what news do you have for me? It’s obviously not a problem with the ring. ”
Kristin’s face settled into a more somber expression. “I wanted to tell you this personally.” She paused.
“Yes?”
“Apparendy, there’s nothing wrong with either the scintillators or the computers. The particle detectors should be working perfectly.”
Ray closed his eyes and sighed. “Damn. That’s what I was afraid of. How many beams have we run since the collider became operational? Almost a hundred, right?”
“Ninety-three, if we include the beams at the beginning that did yield data.”
“It wasn’t enough.” Ray pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket. “Damn it, Kristin, I wish I could figure this out. The SSC was my major goal in life. I know this may sound silly, but it was to be the grand culmination of the years I had spent doing physics. By now, we were supposed to have found the Higgs boson and verified the theory of Grand Unification. Instead, we’re getting nothing.”
He passed the sheet over to her. “I mean, look at that. Everything points to the collider running smoothly.” He ticked points off on his fingers. “We re having no problem generating proton beams and antiproton beams in the containment rings; you and I have just ascertained that the ring walls are unharmed; and now you’re telling me that the detectors are fully functional as well.”
She studied the sheet and nodded. “True.”
“Well, then, Dr. Anderson, tell me, what piece of equipment is malfunctioning? Because I certainly can’t figure it out!”
She glanced around the room. “I don’t think anything is malfunctioning at all.”
“Nothing at all.”
“That’s right.”
“Then why aren’t we getting any data?”
“Professor—Ray, are you willing to entertain a—well, listen to a hunch?”
“I’ll accept anything at this point.”
She smiled. “I hope you’re telling the truth, because what I’m about to suggest sounds totally ludicrous. You ever read any Sherlock Holmes?”
Ray nodded. “A long time ago.”
“My husband just turned me onto the stories, and they’re fascinating. Anyway, in one of the Sherlock Holmes stories, he says, ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’ ”
“Yes, I remember that quote. Someone had it hanging in his office back at Harvard.”
Kristin shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I was reading that story and had our problem in the back of my mind when something clicked. Assuming all our equipment is functioning properly, what do our results tell us?”
“They tell us that Congress will cut our funding next year.”
“Seriously.”
“Sorry.” He sighed. “Although I am serious. If we don’t show positive results, Congress will take its 10 billion dollar loss and leave Waxahachie with a big hole in the ground.”
“I know. I remember the budget fights of the nineties; I almost had to leave graduate school because of it. But that’s not my point.”
“OK. You want to know what it means if all our equipment is functioning properly.”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” Ray stood up and walked over to the wall opposite the one the corridor shared with the ring. An old map of the SSC hung there, at eye level, with a red X next to the words, “YOU ARE HERE.” The overall picture looked like two small circles on top of a larger circle, reminiscent of Mickey Mouse’s head.
“Here,” Ray said, pointing to the two small circles, “we’re generating protons and antiprotons.”
“Right.”
“Then we inject them into the main collider.” Ray pointed to the larger circle.
“Right.”
Finally, Ray pointed to a rectangle that bordered the circle on the bottom. “And here, the detector should see a shower of subatomic particles when the two beams collide. But we don’t get that, except for those first few runs.”
“No, we don’t.”
“And you claim that the equipment isn’t at fault. So what do you think is happening?”
Kristin glanced around the room again, like she wanted to avoid eye contact. “Ray, I think the beams are just disappearing somehow.”
“Disappearing,” he echoed.
“That’s right. It would explain why the equipment checks out, and why we’re not seeing any collisions. Before the beams have a chance to collide in the detector, they—they go away.”
“You’re joking, right?” he asked, staring straight at her and frowning.
She glanced away, and quietly said, “No. I’m not.”
Ray sat down again. “Kristin, the only reason I’m not laughing in your face is because I respect your work too much to dismiss your ideas immediately. But you have to admit that this is a ridiculous thing to suggest.”
“I know. I already said that.”
“True, you did.” He smiled. “And, in point of feet, your idea does seem to fit the data. Perhaps we ought to investigate it, just so we can eliminate it as absurd. It’s not as if we’ve got anything else to work on here.”
Kristin stood up to leave. “Thanks, Ray. With your permission, I’ll go have people start moving detectors around the ring. Maybe we’ll be able to localize exactly where those beams are when they vanish.”
“Fine, I’ll authorize it. Just one thing before you go.”
She stopped. “Yes?”
“If those beams are disappearing, where are they going?”
She shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
2. Spin Down
Roy Schwitters looked out over the site of the latest explosion. With his handkerchief, he mopped his bald head and rubbed the perspiration out of his beard. The hot Sun beat down on him and Sheriff Kingsley, making Roy wish he could return to his air-conditioned office at Harvard. The flat grassland, which stretched all around for many miles, had been torn up in this one spot. Dirt and metal fragments mixed together, scattered about in a nearly perfect circle, twenty meters in diameter.
Roy studied the area for a few minutes. He walked around the circumference of the debris, occasionally squatting down to pick up a piece of metal or a handful of sand. When he finished, he brushed off his pants, positioned himself so the Sun shone behind him, and turned towards Kingsley.
“You’re right,” he said. He spoke, as always, in a soft unaccented tenor monotone. “It does look like there was an explosion inside the old SSC tunnel.”
“That’s what we figured when we found the first four holes, but we weren’t quite sure,” said Sheriff Kingsley. “Jack Levinson’s story confirmed it.”
“I see only one problem,” Roy said. “There’s nothing we did that would cause explosions to emanate from the tunnel. We never even had a chance to run one beam.” He gazed wistfully around him.
“We know,” said Kingsley, “but this was the fifth explosion, and they’ve all only happened around the ring where you scientists were going to do your experiments. That’s why I called you, Dr. Schwitters; frankly, I was a little surprised that you were willing to come back, after all that happened. But I am grateful.”