All the other questions he fielded over the next fifteen minutes were easier to deal with, mainly because he was unable to give definitive answers. He could not say what the Odin Project’s chances of success were, when it would be completed, and the beams fired for real, or whether he knew of other ways of getting energy to the Earth’s core. He batted away the other obvious questions: yes, he was confident the Project could be kept secure; no, there had been no political pressure on the choice of the magnets’ locations – the decision had been entirely scientific. And he also stressed that the original idea of using neutralino beams had been Qiang Lee’s, not his.
The question he dreaded being asked didn’t come up and he was relieved when the session ended. The one major detail he had deliberately left out of his talk was what happened if anything went wrong. If just one of the eight beams misfired, or missed the central collision point, then the energy pulse produced by the other seven would be out of kilter and … well, he tried not to think about that.
31
Monday, 17 June – CERN, Geneva
As the audience filtered out of the lecture theatre, Marc excused himself from the throng who had come down to talk to him. Qiang was engrossed in a spirited technical discussion with several CERN physicists, so he wandered out into the concourse where people were gathering and headed for the long coffee table on the far side. A serving bot glided towards him on the other side of the table.
What would you like to drink, Professor Bruckner? it asked in a singsong voice.
The bot was little more than a white plastic cube, the size of a human torso, with arms. It reminded Marc of a headless Bender, the robot from the animated TV series Futurama that he’d enjoyed as a teenager. These days, he’d got so used to the wide range of humanoid bots that worked behind bars and shop counters around the world that he’d forgotten how little CERN cared about anthropomorphizing their service robots, opting instead for minimalism and practicality.
‘Black coffee, please,’ he said to the cube.
Taking a sip of the strong brew, he wandered around in search of Sarah, quickly finding her in conversation with a group of younger men and women whom he recognized as local CERN scientists. Sarah was holding her coffee mug in both hands, laughing at something one of them was saying. He sensed an inner self-assurance and resolve about her that was in stark contrast to her feelings of helplessness and worthlessness in the weeks following the Event. He also noted as he approached that, despite the plainness of her clothes – a pale blue blouse over comfortable-looking black trousers and flat shoes – and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked stunningly beautiful.
Just before he reached the group he was intercepted by an eager-looking young man who grabbed his hand and shook it enthusiastically. ‘That was a great presentation you gave, Professor Bruckner. Do you really think it can work? I mean, will we get the necessary luminosity if we need a double in-flight decay?’
‘You mean, are we sure we will still have enough neutralinos after the losses in the beam before and after the bending magnets?’
The young scientist nodded earnestly.
‘At each stage there will inevitably be some loss, so we need to build in some redundancy when we generate our initial beams. But in answer to your first question, yes, I do believe it will work. All the simulations say it is possible … just. In any case, it has to work. What other choice do we have?’
With a parting nod, Marc retreated before the man could ask him anything else. When he joined the cluster around Sarah he noted that three of the group had adopted the familiar expression of people focusing on their retinal AR feeds. Then, almost in unison, several pulled out pocket pads and tapped a few commands on them. Marc looked over at Sarah, but she was watching the physicists expectantly.
‘Excuse us …’ said a man Marc recognized as a senior CERN technician called Carlo ‘… but it looks like the beam is about to be turned on shortly for today’s run and we need to get back to the VENICE control room.’
Sarah looked perplexed. ‘Venice?’
‘Sorry,’ said Carlo with a wry smile, ‘VENICE is the name of our dark-matter detector. It stands for Very Energetic Neutralino-Ion Collider Experiment – basically a giant underground camera the size of a fifteen-storey building.’ He saw the amused look on Sarah’s face and added, ‘Yes, I know. Sometimes it seems like we spend as much time inventing acronyms for our experiments and equipment as we do carrying out the science itself.’
‘Huh, that’s nothing,’ said Sarah, ‘you should hear some of the names of our space missions.’
Marc turned to her. ‘They’re colliding a beam of dark matter onto an iron target and analysing those highly rare collisions when they take place.’
‘And how is this related to the Odin Project?’ she asked.
‘Well, we still need to understand how the unstable, heavier dark-matter particles decay, so this sort of routine experiment is a vital part of the Project.’
Carlo nodded at them. ‘Why don’t you come along? You can see for yourself.’
‘OK,’ replied Marc. ‘Let me first go and let Qiang know I’m disappearing for a bit.’
The dazzling sunshine contrasted with the dim lighting inside the lecture theatre complex and the polarizers on Marc’s contact lenses kicked in within seconds.
‘The VENICE building is about a klick away, so we’ll take the buggies,’ said Carlo, leading Marc and Sarah across the quad to where several of the CERN vehicles were parked. The three of them climbed into the first one. Carlo tapped the destination on a small display screen on the dashboard and the car moved off silently.
As they joined the CERN perimeter road Carlo pointed to a large grey structure in the distance that looked more like an aircraft hangar than a science laboratory. ‘The VENICE complex is housed inside that building over there.’
‘Presumably we won’t see much of the detector itself,’ said Sarah, ‘since all the action is deep underground.’
Carlo nodded. ‘Afraid so. You’ll have to make do with the inside of the control room. Definitely not advisable to go down to the guts of the accelerator since this is the dangerous form of dark matter, the stuff that decays into nasty products that will do a lot of damage to living tissue.’
The rest of the short drive was covered in silence. Marc looked over at Sarah, who was staring out of the window lost in thought. He followed her line of sight – patterns of colourful lilies lined the roadside – and he wondered what was going through her mind. He had hoped to be able to spend more time with her, to get to know her, but they had both been incredibly busy recently.
They arrived at the VENICE building and followed Carlo inside. Marc enjoyed telling visitors that the aircraft hangar-sized structure was just the tip of the iceberg – the top bit of the VENICE complex that was above ground and which housed the all-important control room. And it was to this centre of operations that Carlo led them, their footsteps echoing around the building. Once inside the air-conditioned room, Carlo excused himself and went over to talk to several scientists who were staring up at two large screens displaying a myriad of scrolling numbers, graphs and colourful diagrams, showing the status of the experiment. Marc and Sarah stood and watched as about twenty other scientists busied themselves with their computer screens. Several turned and nodded to Marc then quickly returned to concentrate on their tasks.
‘This is all just official protocol, you know,’ Marc whispered to Sarah. ‘Because Fabiola, the CERN Mind, will have everything under control. She always does.’
Sarah nodded. ‘Not surprising really. An AI, plugged in and networked to millions of electronic components, is much better placed to fix any technical problems herself rather than rely on us flawed humans.’
On a whim, Marc grabbed Sarah’s hand. ‘Come with me. I want to show you something.’ She looked puzzled and amused but didn’t resist. He escorted her back out of the control room, down a ramp and across the cavernous building past an area filled with c
ranes and other heavy lifting equipment. He knew the perfect spot to get a closer look at the VENICE detector. Anyway, they would just be in the way in the control room. Their route eventually led them across a twisting metal gangway where they had to duck under pipework and tread carefully over hundreds of thick cables on the ground.
As they walked, Marc talked about the CERN Mind. ‘As you can probably guess, Fabiola isn’t networked to the Cloud, so there’s little chance of cyberterrorists or hackers getting into her systems.’
‘I think Fabiola is brilliant,’ said Sarah. ‘There’s an air of confidence and control about her that’s reassuring.’
Marc grinned. ‘Well, that’s the idea, of course,’ he said. ‘The human-looking avatar’s appearance and voice were designed to exude complete competence. In fact, I sometimes think of her as supernaturally omnipresent.’
They climbed up a metal staircase and onto a walkway that stretched across a vast concrete chasm in the centre of the building. After a few metres, the walkway widened out to a viewing platform. They had arrived at one of the twenty holo stations scattered around the lab. ‘Watch this,’ he said, touching a wall display, and two overhead projectors began to hum. Like a phantom materializing in between them, the CERN Mind suddenly appeared as a human-sized holographic projection, startling Sarah, who stumbled back a step.
‘Hello, Marc. Hello, Sarah. What can I do for you?’ said Fabiola in her gentle voice with its unmistakable Italian accent.
Sarah looked delighted with this party trick. ‘I know I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s running the entire CERN complex and so can identify everyone who’s on site, but it’s still nice. Hello, Fabiola.’ Fabiola smiled. She’d always looked to Marc so much like the real person on whom she was based, and whom he knew so well, that he sometimes had to remind himself that he was talking to a computer and not a human being. But for people who had never met the real Fabiola Gianotti, the avatar looked like a kind, elderly aunt from some fairy tale.
He addressed the hologram. ‘Fabiola, can you tell us what’s happening here today?’
‘Certainly, Marc. We’re carrying out a routine experiment. In ten minutes, I’ll be generating a neutralino beam at a luminosity of ten to the power of eleven particles per pulse and directing it onto atoms of iron in a target at the centre of the VENICE detector located beneath us.’
‘Thank you, Fabiola. Well, in that case we won’t take up any more of your time as we know how busy you are.’
‘On the contrary, Marc, I am happy to discuss this with you, if you like. Unlike humans, I am able to multitask.’
Marc winked at Sarah. ‘I know, Fabiola. That was a joke.’
Just then they heard a loud metallic ring, as though something heavy had been dropped. Its echo resonated around the giant building. Marc quickly tapped the hologram off and they both leaned over the railings of the walkway and peered into the large concrete cavern, twenty metres below.
‘Was that the dark-matter beam hitting the iron target?’ joked Sarah.
‘Oh, very good. You solar physicists are so droll,’ chuckled Marc, but he continued to concentrate on the floor far below them. Although he hadn’t ever been down there, he knew it formed the roof of the shielding above the giant particle detector itself. He could see several manhole covers that would provide ways down into the bowels of the colossal instrument, deep underground. Hmm … probably nothing. Just strange that there would be anyone down there right now— Just then, he caught a glimpse of movement over on the far side. Someone – it looked like a man – disappeared into an open hole in the floor.
What the fuck? … Who would be crazy enough … no, stupid enough … to go down there just as a run is about to start? If the beam was switched on now that would be a suicide mission.
He felt Sarah touch him lightly on the shoulder. ‘Hey, you OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
He shook his head. ‘Not a ghost, no. A real live idiot climbing down into the detector.’ He kept staring over at the open manhole through which the man had disappeared, hoping he would emerge again.
As he watched, another thought bubbled up to the surface of his consciousness, and now it hit him like a freight train. Fabiola had said that the beam of neutralinos had a luminosity of ten to the power of eleven. What to mere mortals would be just numbers with lots of zeroes, was for Marc Bruckner a world of mathematical symbols, colliding particles, heat and light. Such a high luminosity was one hell of a lot of dark matter concentrated onto one spot – in fact, a million times more ‘punch’ than there should be. It had to be a mistake. Yet that’s what Fabiola had said, and Fabiola was a powerful AI that wouldn’t just make a mistake like this. What the hell was going on?
He turned to look at Sarah. ‘I know for sure he shouldn’t be down there. But I think something else is very wrong. I have a horrible feeling we shouldn’t be here either.’
Sarah stared back at him. ‘What is it?’
He took a deep breath. ‘The intensity of the neutralino beam is too high. It’s even higher than the beams we used in the Antarctic test, and they caused one hell of a bang. The information Fabiola gave us can’t be right.’
He spun back to the wall and tapped the pad to reactivate the holo. When the avatar of the CERN Mind materialized again, he said, ‘Fabiola, why is the beam intensity so high?’
The silver-haired avatar smiled again. ‘This luminosity is required to achieve optimum results for the current run.’
‘What fucking optimum results?’ Marc shouted. He was starting to panic. ‘You do know what sort of energy would be produced with a ten to the eleven luminosity, right?’
‘Yes, Marc. When the first pulse hits the target, it will release an energy equivalent of twenty-three kilotons of TNT – the power of a small thermonuclear warhead. I have estimated with 99.97 per cent certainty that this will happen. No other pulses will be necessary.’
His mouth suddenly went dry and tasted acidic. Was he going mad? Did the CERN Mind just say she was about to generate a dark-matter beam that would destroy CERN? For a moment, he was lost for words. Then, ‘You bet your digital ass there won’t be any more pulses. Because there won’t be any more CERN! Fabiola, switch off the beam, now. I command you.’
‘I’m sorry, Marc, you don’t have the authority.’ The hologram smiled sweetly, like a mother telling her small child he couldn’t have another cookie.
He looked over at Sarah, who was just staring at the holo. She now turned to him. ‘We should get back to the control room and warn people.’
‘This is quicker,’ he said and, keeping his voice as steady as he could, he addressed the Mind: ‘Fabiola, patch me through to the control room.’
Instantly, an image of the control room appeared on a screen on the wall behind the hologram. He knew at once that he wouldn’t be telling them something they didn’t already know. All around the room, people were shouting. Some were relaying data, others barking orders. One or two were just sitting back helplessly staring at computer screens no longer under their control. Carlo suddenly appeared in close-up, sounding frantic and scared. ‘Marc, sorry, can’t talk now. We have a crisis.’
‘I know, Carlo. Some fucker has just hacked Fabiola! Look, I’m closest to the detector, so I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Hang on,’ replied Carlo. ‘We’re trying to get back into the system, but it seems Fabiola has locked us out. None of the standard override protocols seem to be working. We’re sending a team over. You should stay where you are.’
‘Sod that, Carlo. Anyway, someone’s already down there now. You do know that, right? Just tell me this: how long do we have until the beam comes on?’
‘Just under eight minutes. Marc, if we can’t get in and stop the run in the next two or three minutes we will have to evacuate.’
‘Evacuate to where?’ screamed Marc. ‘If this is the work of the Purifiers and they destroy CERN then that’s curtains for the Project, and humanity.’
He turned back to S
arah. ‘I’m going to try to switch off the beam manually. You need to get the hell out of here, quick.’ He wondered whether the man he’d seen had realized what was about to happen and was already a step ahead of him. Or was he part of whatever was going on?
‘The hell I am. You might need my help,’ said Sarah. ‘Besides, if this thing goes off where did you think I was supposed to go?’
Marc didn’t stop to argue. Nodding, he said, ‘Shit, Sarah, I’m sorry I’ve got you mixed up in this. OK, come down after me.’
He opened a gate in the railings, turned around and started to climb down a metal ladder bolted to the wall. He could hear Sarah’s feet just above him. His hands were sweating, and he almost lost his grip. It didn’t help that he was shaking too. He didn’t like heights at the best of times, but he managed to push aside the thought of how far he would fall if he slipped.
He jumped the last five rungs and landed awkwardly. But he was up and running straight away across the featureless expanse of concrete towards the manhole cover. Without looking back, he heard Sarah running a few paces behind him. Their footsteps echoed off the walls of the chamber. Marc reached the opening where the man had disappeared and knelt down to peer into the blackness.
‘Hello? Who’s down there?’
No response. Shit, they’d have to go down into the detector – there was no way back now and the seconds were ticking by. He spun round and dropped his right leg in, feeling with his foot for the ladder rung. As soon as he found it, he lowered the rest of his body into the blackness and started the climb down. No time to act the gallant gentleman and wait for Sarah.
Three metres later he hit the ground and gave himself a few seconds to get accustomed to the dark. The room was crowded with instruments blinking their coloured telltales, and the minimal lighting lent everything an eerie alien glow. He was accosted by a dozen different sounds, from the hissing of vacuum pumps and the hum of magnets to the beeps of detectors, sensors and alarms. It seemed every bit of space was being used. He was fighting off his feelings of claustrophobia as Sarah joined him.
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