("Well, all right.") I spoke aloud: "He's ready, Doctor."
"Half a minute. Start your camera, O'Toole." Dr. Babcock touched something on his desk. "Commander Frick?"
"Yes, Doctor," Frick's voice answered.
"We're ready. You coming in?"
"All set here," I heard my boss answer. "We'll come in."
A moment later he entered, with Anna Horoshen. In the meantime I took a look around. One whole wall of the computation room was a computer, smaller than the one at Los Alamos but not much. The blinking lights must have meant something to somebody. Sitting at right angles to it at a console was Mr. O'Toole and above the console was a big display scope; at about one-second intervals a flash of light would peak in the center of it.
Anna nodded without speaking; I knew she must be linked. Pat said, "Tom, you've got a girl named Anna Horoshen aboard: Is she around?"
("Yes. Why?")
"Say hello to her for me—1 knew her in Zurich. Her sister Becky is here." He chuckled and I felt better. "Good looking babes, aren't they? Maudie is jealous."
Babcock said to Frick, "Tell them to stand by. First synchronizing run, starting from their end."
"Tell them, Anna,"
She nodded. I wondered why they bothered with a second telepair when they could talk through myself and Pat. I soon found out: Pat and I were too busy.
Pat was sounding out ticks like a clock; I was told to repeat them... and every time I did another peak of light flashed on the display scope. Babcock watched it, then turned me around so that I couldn't see and taped a microphone to my voice box. "Again."
Pat said, "Stand by—" and started ticking again. I did my best to tick right with him but it was the silliest performance possible. I heard Babcock say quietly, "That cut out the feedback and the speed-of-sound lag. I wish there were some way to measure the synaptic rate arose closely."
Frick said, "Have you talked to Dev about it?"
I went on ticking.
"A reverse run now, young lady," Babcock said, and slipped headphones on me. I immediately heard a ticking like the ticks Pat had been sending. "That's a spectral metronome you're listening to, young fellow, timed by monochrome light. It was synchronized with the one your brother is using before we left Earth. Now start ticking at him,"
So I did. It had a hypnotic quality; it was easier to get into step and tick with it than it was to get out of step. It was impossible to ignore it. I began to get sleepy but I kept on ticking; I couldn't stop.
"End of run," Babcock announced. The ticking stopped and I rubbed my ears.
"Dr. Babcock?"
" "Huh?"
"How can you tell one tick from another?"
"Eh? You can't. But O'Toole can, he's got it all down on film. Same at the other end. Don't worry about it; just try to stay in time."
This silliness continued for more than an hour, sometimes with Pat sending, sometimes myself. At last O'Toole looked up and said, "Fatigue factor is cooking our goose, Dec. The second differences are running all over the lot."
"Okay, that's all," Babcock announced. He turned to me.
"You can thank your brother for me and sign off."
Commander Frick and Anna left. I hung around. Presently Dr. Babcock looked up from his desk and said, "You can go, bub. Thanks."
"Uh, Dr. Babcock?"
"Huh? Speak up."
"Would you mind telling me what this is all about?"
He looked surprised, then said, "Sorry. I'm not used to using people instead of instruments; I forget. Okay, sit down. This is why you m-r people were brought along: for research into the nature of time."
I stared. "Sir? I thought we were along to report back on the planets we expect to find."
"Oh, that—Well, I suppose so, but this is much more important. There are too many people as it is; why encourage new colonies? A mathematician could solve the population problem in jig time—just shoot every other one."
A Mr. O'Toole said, without looking up, "The thing I like about you, Chief, is your big warm heart."
"Quiet in the gallery, please. Now today, son, we have been trying to find out what time it is."
I must have looked as puzzled as I felt for he went on, "Oh, we know what time it is... but too many different ways. See that?" He pointed at the display scope, still tirelessly making a peak every second. "That's the Greenwich time tick, pulled in by radio and corrected for relative speed and change of speed. Then there is the time you were hearing over the earphones; that is the time the ship runs by. Then there is the time you were getting from your brother and passing to us. We're trying to compare them all, but the trouble is that we have to have people in the circuit and, while a tenth of a second is a short time for the human nervous system, a microsecond is a measurably long time in physics. Any radar system splits up a microsecond as easily as you slice a pound of butter. So we use a lot of runs to try to even out our ignorance."
"Yes, but what do you expect to find out?"
"If I 'expected," I wouldn't be doing it. But you might say that we are trying to find out what the word "simultaneous" means."
Mr. O'Toole looked up from the console. "If it means anything," he amended.
Dr. Babcock glanced at him. "You still here? "If it means anything." Son, ever since the great Doctor Einstein, 'simultaneous' and 'simultaneity' have been dirty words to physicists. We chucked the very concept, denied that it had meaning, and built up a glorious structure of theoretical physics without it. Then you mind readers came along and kicked it over. Oh, don't look guilty; every house needs a housecleaning now and then. If you folks had done your carnival stunt at just the speed of light, we would have assigned you a place in the files and forgotten you. But you rudely insisted on doing it at something enormously greater than the speed of light, which made you as welcome as a pig at a wedding, you've split us physicists into two schools, those who want to class you as a purely psychological phenomenon and no business of physics—these are the 'close your eyes and it will go away' boys—and a second school which realizes that since measurements can be made of whatever this is you do, it is therefore the business of physics to measure and include it... since physics is, above all, the trade of measuring things and assigning definite numerical values to them."
O'Toole said, "Don't wax philosophical, Chief."
"You get back to your numbers, O'Toole; you have no soul These laddies want to measure how fast you do it. They don't care how fast—they've already recovered from the blow that you do it faster than light—but they want to know exactly how fast. They can't accept the idea that you do it 'instantaneously,' for that would require them to go to a different church entirely. They want to assign a definite speed of propagation, such-and-such number of times faster than the speed of light. Then they can modify their old equations and go right on happily doing business at the old stand."
"They will," agreed O'Toole.
"Then there is a third school of thought, the right one....y own."
O'Toole, without looking up, made a rude noise.
"Is that your asthma coming back?" Babcock said anxiously. "By the way, you got any results?"
"They're still doing it in nothing flat. Measured time negative as often as positive and never greater than inherent observational error."
"You see, son? That's the correct school. Measure what happens and let the chips fly where they may."