Dr. Comber sat up again and stared at Richard straight-on. “The bachelor’s degree, forsooth! All that is what those mechanicians studied? And what we would have to teach, and find faculty and endowments for, were we to attempt such a thing?”
John broke in. “Richard, you’ve mentioned that place to me before. You did say Caltech was one of the most formidable engineering colleges in the world, didn’t you? A place for untiring near-geniuses to turn themselves into the leading lights of their profession? Out of all that, how much would be essential to do worthwhile work in our world?”
“Now, there’s a thought. Perhaps half could be put to immediate use. Of that, perhaps half is truly essential to do the beginnings of practical engineering work, while continuing formal studies. The Grantvillers call a student at that stage an ‘engineering trainee.’ Perhaps a little less than that. Thermodynamics is the key, for steam engines, and steam engines are practically the gateway to an industrial revolution. That comes about mid-way. So, a quarter perhaps.”
Dr. Comber sat back and folded his hands in his lap. He nodded gravely. “A quarter. So. A faculty of how many to teach such a reduced curriculum? Have you given thought to that question?”
“I’m uncertain. The Grantvillers were wrestling with it when I left, and hadn’t reached firm conclusions. But I think perhaps, if we considered only the minimum at first, and if some courses were given only in alternate years, and if we selected students for their ability to study independently, it might be done with eight or so. Perhaps.”
“Before Pan and Janus, Leamington, do you have the faintest idea of the magnitude of what you propose? It amounts to adding an entire new faculty to those we already have-medicine, law, theology and philosophy. Not only new academic seats, but new rooms-you said laboratories? Acquiring teaching devices such as your pendulum? Novel statutes for the university, I don’t doubt. And more students, likely as not. It’s like to founding a new college. And who would pay for all that? Who could, in these times?”
Richard sat, thinking.
“Put that way, I can’t dispute it. It reminds me of something one of the engineers said to me, in a moment of desperation. ‘If you have a mountain to move, and only a teaspoon to do it with, move the first spoonful. It’s a spoonful you won’t have to move later.’ ”
“I suppose that’s what you’re doing here, teaching what you’ve brought back, and translating this one book of mathematics into proper Latin? Carrying away a spoonful from the mountain you beheld?”
“I think what they brought to our world was a mere wheelbarrow full. A wagon load, at most. The mountain was left behind. But, yes. And were you to bring us that one professorship through your well-regarded diplomacy, I would rejoice for it, and not complain of the fish not caught. It would be another spoonful.”
As they sat contemplating that thought, John took a thick packet from under his arm and laid it before Richard. “I’d thought to give you this earlier, before other matters intervened. There’s a letter for you. It’s from John Pell, in Grantville.”
Dr. Comber looked up. “John Pell! Is it private, or is some of it meant for the university?”
Richard said, “We’ll soon see.” As he opened it, a small, beautifully printed sheet of cream-colored paper fell free from the rest. He picked it up, and smiled. “Well! A birth announcement. Deborah Lucille Reardon was born on November 17 to Landon Reardon and Sarah Beth Cochran Reardon. So Mrs. Reardon has been safely delivered. Good news, indeed, in many ways. The Reardons have been much in my thoughts.”
Dr. Comber was eyeing the corner of a glossy sheet of paper poking out of the stack. “Is that a photograph?”
“It looks to be. A black-and-white one.” Richard pulled it out and laid it on the table. John came closer, to see over their shoulders.
Two figures were seated on a brocaded couch. There was a large picture of a saddle horse in a pasture on the wall behind them. A tall, graceful woman with long dark hair sat on the right, wearing a flowered print dress and a single string of pearls. On the left was a husky man with lighter hair, wearing an up-time business suit. They faced half toward the camera, and half toward an infant sleeping in her lap. They were holding hands.
“It’s a Reardon family portrait. A new one, obviously.”
John mused, “A beautiful woman.”
Richard let slip an involuntary snort of amusement. “Indeed, and a most persistent and determined one, into the bargain.”
Dr. Comber raised an eyebrow. “Oh, how so?”
“You’d need to know the Cochran sisters. They have a long-standing reputation for letting nothing stop them, once they decide a thing must be done. There’s a story that Sarah stayed at the school well past her usual time one day, to deal with a student discipline problem, a boy on the edge of getting himself into serious trouble. By the time she and the guidance counselor were done ramming some sense into his head, the grocery stores had all closed. Nevertheless, she put dinner on the table that night. With a squirrel rifle.”
“Remarkable.”
“Not by their standards. She’s no better or worse a shot than a thousand others. Well, let’s see what Pell has to say.”
He held up the first page where the light from the sky could fall on it. “He sends his best wishes to all of us and hopes that we are well. Manfred von Ochsendorf has joined the high school faculty, and finished his translation of the second volume of the Resnick and Halliday physics series-that’s introductory electrodynamics, the course after the one I’m giving now. The University of Prague was clamoring for it before I left. Oho! He reports that President Piazza has nominated Sarah to the state board of education. That can only mean big things are in the offing over there.”
“How so?”
“For close on a year now, she’s been the de facto leader of a small group arguing that the Grantville schools must better manage the teaching of mathematics and the sciences, to the end that they may concentrate their efforts toward educating a new generation of engineers and scientists with all possible speed. She argues that their survival requires re-creating the essentials of an engineering college of their own era. They’ve been consulting, planning, and persuading among the teachers, the citizens, the public leaders, and anyone else who will listen or speak to them. She once asked me to address the city council regarding the state of mathematics and experimental science here in England.
“The thing is this. Piazza was formerly the principal of Grantville High School. He’s acutely aware of the place education holds in their world. If he’s put forward her name, it means he’s convinced himself of four things. First, that the proposal is sound. Second, that its importance justifies the expense and talent it will demand. Third, that he can rely on her to bring it to fruition if given the authority. Fourth, that Congress will confirm the appointment. For that matter, that Sarah herself will accept the challenge, and the citizens will agree to the public expenditure.”
Dr. Comber leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “You know these people, Richard. Your opinion? Can they carry off such a thing?”
Richard chuckled. “I think every bit of progress will be a struggle, full of unexpected delays and difficulties. To misquote one of their sayings, no plan survives contact with reality. But they’ve already shown a talent for bending to reality-you’d hardly believe some of their educational expedients. With the state government standing behind it, I think they’ll make it work, one way or another.”
Dr. Comber stroked his chin, gazing pensively out at the few scholars taking advantage of the sudden fair weather to read beside the fountain. “A very different set of difficulties from ours, for certain. So they would turn necessity into iron resolve?”
“They have before.”