Smarter (an Ell Donsaii story #2)

by Laurence Dahners

  At the 3PM lab meeting that day Johnson quizzed each of his grad students about their research progress. When he got to Ell he said, “So, do you understand the math in that paper?”

  “I believe so sir.”

  “Believe?”

  “Sir, I do understand it.” Ell tried to project confidence with her second answer.

  “OK, if you understand it, then explain that second equation that purports to show how entangled but separated particles can connect through this 5th dimension of hers.”

  Ell took a deep breath and had her AI throw up the equation on the wall screen, then begin solving it as two “manifestations” of a particle were separated farther and farther in physical space, demonstrating that using the conventions of her own math, the particles could remain connected through an additional “fifth” dimension.

  Roger listened in growing astonishment as “Ellen” responded to question after question thrown at her by Johnson. At any moment he expected her to break. He’d seen other grad students crumble under less punishing barrages of questions than the ones Johnson was pounding her with. She not only didn’t become flustered, she answered every question as if she’d already considered it herself. Johnson was asking them in a very pointed fashion, readily showing his doubt that she would be able to answer. At first Johnson almost seemed frustrated that she didn’t stumble, and then seemed to be listening carefully to her explanations, almost as if she was the teacher and he the student. Roger’s opinion of the young woman skyrocketed. He’d been thinking of her as a clueless new grad student with an impossible assignment, but if she could understand the Donsaii math this thoroughly and this quickly she must be pretty smart! It’s a shame that she has a project with so little chance of success, he thought to himself.

  “Well?” Johnson rasped, “You do realize that this ‘spin bumping,’ if true, would violate relativity?”

  “Yes sir. If it worked you would be able to transmit, information at least, instantaneously. Uh, I assume that you are referring to the fact that that would be faster than the speed of light and thus violate relativity?”

  “Yes, and relativity has stood up to a lot of testing in the past without even a quiver.”

  “Um, yes sir. But, because the purported fifth dimension is small, distances within it are tiny and therefore information transmission there can be slow and still appear to be faster than light in the dimensions that we are aware of.”

  Johnson grunted, “That is so unlikely you’d just as well buy tickets for the lottery. Are you sure you want to beat your head on that wall?”

  “Yes sir. I’m fascinated by the theory.”

  “OK, Seems like you understand this crazy Donsaii math and as you’ve run us through it, so far it does agree with existing physical evidence. However, let’s assume that the ‘faster than light’ part of her theory is as ridiculous as it appears and that no one else in physics is taken in by it. Some theoretician is going to poke a hole in her math any day now. But, there might be, just might be, some people believing other parts of Donsaii’s theory. Do you see any other testable phenomena that we can attack?”

  Attack? Ell thought to herself, that’s pretty prejudicial. “Sir, I’ve been thinking about the observer phenomenon in the double slit experiment where single photons act like waves if no observer determines which slit the photon goes through and like particles if there is an observer?”

  “Yes, yes, we’re physicists, we know about the double slit experiment.”

  “Well, if Donsaii’s theory is right, the methods used so far to ‘observe’ the photon interfere with the connection of her ‘cloud’ of ‘photon manifestations’ through the postulated 5th dimension.” Ell found it weird to be referring to herself in the third person.

  “Come on Symonds! I suppose you think we should find a way to ‘observe’ that doesn’t interfere with that connection?”

  “Uh, yes sir.”

  “But I’ll bet you don’t have any ideas as to just how you are accomplish that little miracle?”

  “Uh, no sir.”

  “I was afraid of that. We need proposals that have some possibility that there’s a mechanism that we can build to test them. Even if you don’t know how to build a mechanism, you at least need to propose an observable physical phenomenon and then we can figure out whether it is feasible to construct a means to examine that phenomenon.

  Ell said nothing and Johnson sighed, “Do you understand how we might build something to test ‘spin bumping’?”

  “Uh yes sir. In broad terms anyway.”

  “OK, then stay after the lab meeting and we’ll talk specifics.”

  After the meeting Dr. Johnson brusquely took Ell through the lab pointing out some of the equipment that he thought might be useful in testing spin bumping, then gave her a list of equipment that she could check out from the department’s supply room. “Now, you’re going to need to read through the manuals and documentation on this equipment and find some published papers that used the equipment so you can see how other investigators have used these types of equipment for similar studies in the past. Figure out how you might assemble something to test this ‘spin bumping’ crap. And, sure, spend some time thinking about how you could observe double slit photons without disturbing this ridiculous “5th dimension connection” too. But, what you really want is a prediction that can be tested robustly enough that detractors won’t be able to criticize our testing apparatus when Donsaii’s predictions don’t pan out.”

  “Yes sir.” Ell said quietly.

  “You may feel like I’m throwing you in the deep end here.” Ell nodded. “But that’s where great physicists are born, they learn to swim.”

  He turned abruptly and, as usual, left without saying goodbye, leaving Ell cross-eyed over the mixed metaphor of being born by learning to swim.

  Ell returned to her tiny apartment, cooked a frozen pizza and spent the night familiarizing herself with the manuals for the equipment Dr. Johnson had suggested. The next day after running the “Intro to physics” lab, she searched the literature for publications where other physicists had used the lab equipment she now had at her disposal. It turned out that reading those studies really did help her understand how the equipment could be used, though not necessarily how it could be used for her own experiment.

  Over the next few days she began trying to set up an apparatus to test spin bumping. As Professor Smythe had suggested she intended to attempt it using entangled carbon 60 buckyballs in order to have a large symmetrical molecule which she could immobilize and then “bump” the spin on the shell electrons of one of the carbons according to the predictions of her new math. Roger came over and watched her a moment. Her concentration appeared fierce, “Hey Ellen, what’cha doin’?”

  “I’m trying to figure out how to immobilize a buckyball so that I can probe it with the atomic force microscope.”

  “Hmmm, aren’t you just trying to perturb the electrons on a carbon molecule that is part of a symmetrical large carbon molecule?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, some atomic force microscopy probes already have a carbon nanotube attached to the tip as a “point” to make them ‘sharper.’ If it didn’t matter to your project whether the carbon macromolecule was on the AFM probe or the AFM probe was poking the molecule, you could just use a probe with a carbon macromolecule already on it.”

  “Tips really come that way?” She eyed him suspiciously, “Or are you just riding me?”

  “Yep,” he grinned, “they come that way. Hey, we lab rats’re going out for beers tonight. And, I’m thinking you owe me a beer for telling you about the probes, eh?”

  “Oh, I’m not old enough…” Ell suddenly remembered that her Ellen Symonds persona was old enough to drink, “I mean, ‘young enough’ to be fooled into buying you a drink. I think you probably owe me a beer for providing a new target for Johnson’s wrath at the lab meetings, don’t you?”

  Roger laughed, “Tell you what, I’ll buy you a beer
for providing a target and you buy me a beer for the AFM suggestion. We’re leaving at 6 and going to West 87. You up for it?”

  Ell considered, it was a Friday night and it would be good to get out and make some friends. “Sure, if I’m not done here, I’ll just meet you there a little later.”

  Ell felt a little weird walking past the bouncer whose AI undoubtedly queried her “Ellen” AI, “Fred,” and found a purported age of 23. The bouncer hardly glanced at her, trusting the tech completely. This being her first time in a bar, she goggled as she looked around at all the huge screens showing various sporting events. There were people that ranged from students to construction workers seated at tables and in booths and a number of pool and foosball tables scattered around.

  She walked up to Roger and poked him in the ribs, “Hey, nice wild goose chase you sent me on!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Yeah, AFM probes do come with carbon nanotubes attached, but those nanotubes aren’t ‘entangled’ with another molecule! I’m embarrassed to admit I wasted an hour finding and ordering a probe before I thought of that little detail!”

  “Oops! I must tell you however, that that is the very first time I’ve ever made a mistake.” He grinned unrepentantly down at her.

  Ell punched him in the arm, “This means that I don’t owe you a beer for the probe suggestion. You, however, still owe me a drink for taking all of Johnson’s flack.”

  Roger’s eyes widened, then Ell heard Johnson’s voice over her shoulder, “Ms. Symonds, are you impugning my teaching methods by calling them ‘flack’?”

  Ell ducked her head and turned to see Johnson right behind her with a beer in his hand, “Uh, no sir!” She was relieved to see a twinkle in Johnson’s eye.

  “Good, because that’s how great physicists are born, they learn to defend themselves.”

  “Really sir? How long have you been cultivating these mixed metaphors?”

  To her relief he grinned again, “That’s how great physicists grow, they plow under some metaphors. Roger is a poor grad student who can’t possibly afford to buy you a beer, so I’m buying. What’ll you have?”

  “Uh, a coke sir.”

  “You don’t have to teetotal just because I’m here. I’d be happy to get you a beer.”

  Ell gulped, feeling guilty, but having decided that she didn’t want to take advantage of her false identity to drink underage, she said, “It’s OK, sir, I don’t drink. A Coke’d be great though, thanks.”

  Johnson turned and left without saying anything. Ell turned back to Roger, “Is he mad that I didn’t have a beer?”

  “Nope, you worried because he didn’t say anything, just went back to the bar?”

  “Yeah, kinda.”

  “Get used to it. Haven’t you noticed he never says good bye or in any way indicates the conclusion of a conversation?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Just how he is. I’m pretty sure he’s got Asperger’s syndrome.”

  “Huh?”

  “You know. A kind of autism. Very high functioning but poor social skills. He’s genius level physics, but weird to talk to. And as you’re finding out, he can be very hard to get along with.”

  “Oh.” Ell saw Johnson returning with her Coke, so she stopped talking to Roger and waved to the other grad students sitting around the little table. “How’s it goin’?”

  They all nodded and responded with some version of “fine.” A redheaded young man Ell hadn’t seen before said, “I’m Jerry, from the Sponchesi lab.”

  Roger said, “Sorry, I forgot you hadn’t met everyone. This is Ellen Symonds. Dr. Johnson has assigned her to try to test that new theory of Donsaii’s.”

  A chorus of “Ouch,” and “Poor girl,” came from the group.

  Johnson stepped up and handed Ell her Coke. “What are you guys moaning about? It shouldn’t take her long to prove that theory wrong and she’ll get a paper out of it.”

  Roger said, “Proving a negative is tough though.”

  Johnson rolled his eyes. “Please! That theory has so many holes in it; you could use it to strain spaghetti. With a little work she should be able to find all kinds of predictions that don’t work!” In an abrupt change of topic, he said, “Anyone want to apply some real world physics to the pool table over there?”

  Johnson, Roger, Jerry and another grad student named Al headed over to the nearest empty pool table, leaving Ell to sit with Emma, also from the Sponchesi lab and James, a very handsome grad student, also from Johnson’s lab. Emma said, “That’s really tough being assigned to that Donsaii paper. The math is completely incomprehensible.”

  Ell said, “I understand the math OK. I don’t know much about testing apparati though.”

  Emma’s brown eyes widened. “Really? Well if you can understand that math, I’ll make you a deal. You help me with the math on my project, and I’ll help you with your equipment.”

  James snorted, “Don’t agree to that devil’s bargain Ellen. The math on her project is really weird too! At least make her help you with your equipment first. Actually, that’d be a good deal, she can make machines sing.”

  “Really?” Ell said, “I could sure use the help. What’s your project?”

  As Emma described her work James rolled his eyes and then looked around the room, bored with shop talk. Ell was relieved to learn that Emma’s project involved a part of quantum theory that she was very familiar with because she’d worked with it some before coming up with her own theory. James interrupted, “How about some foosball? You ladies can gang up on me.”

  Emma shook her head, setting her tight brunette curls bouncing. “Just say no, Ellen. He’s really good and loves to lord it over the rest of us.”

  James said, “How about if I just use one hand?”

  Emma stood with a sigh, “Come on Ellen, he won’t rest until he’s beaten us. You mind playing goalie?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t played much before.” Ell said, nervous because she hadn’t actually played foosball at all before and didn’t have any idea how well people normally performed at the game. She’d have to be careful not to exhibit her real hand-eye coordination for fear of freaking someone out. Nonetheless, she wanted to make friends and playing games would be part of the package. She got up and walked with them over to a table.

  Emma showed her the table and the two grips for the goalie player, advising “Ellen” that if she just positioned her players carefully and didn’t move them much, she’d do “OK.”

  James dropped a ball in and Emma started wildly striking at it with her forward players but the ball rolled past her to James’ back row players who quickly captured the ball and passed it up to his forward players where he stopped the ball and said, “Now Ellen, what you want to do is try to place your goalie players where they might stop my shot.”

  Ell didn’t like his condescending tone but wiggled her two rows of players around a little as if in response to his suggestion, placing them between his current location and the goal. She aggressively tamped down the excitement which was threatening to send her into her “zone.” “Like this?” she asked.

  “Well yeah, but,” James bumped the ball over to his middle player and hit it hard toward the opening in front of the goal that Ell’d left when she had positioned her players to block his side player.

  Ell saw what he was doing and instinctively moved her player to block, moving much faster than she should have. Much faster than any normal person could react, so fast that her man was there in plenty of time to block the shot and drive it the length of the table into James’ goal. In a panicked realization of what she’d just done she wildly bounced her players back and forth, spinning them as if it had been an accidental flailing move rather than the purposeful shot it had been.

  Emma crowed delightedly and lifted her hand for a “high five.” “Oh yeah! Way to go. We should just go sit down while James is eating that crow!”

  Ell slapped her hand against Emma’s saying, “I’m
pretty lucky sometimes.” She watched James’ stunned expression out of the corner of her eye. They played more, Ell now careful to let most of James’ shots sail right past her. She blocked a few but no more driving them back to the other end!

  Ell found herself back at the table. As usual, Johnson had just walked out the door and gone home without saying goodbye to anyone. Emma and the handsome James seemed to be making eyes at each other and Ell was sitting between Roger and Jerry. Jerry had a great sense of humor and kept both of them in stitches with his analysis of the denizens of the bar, each of whom he proposed had an alter ego. “What about James?” Ell asked. “What’s his alter ego?”

  “Oh him!” Jerry waved his hand deprecatingly, “He’s actually a ‘male escort’ for one of the ‘services’ in town. Women needing a discreet man to accompany them to an old enemy’s wedding and such; he’s there to provide a little arm candy.”

  Ell snorted with mirth as she looked over at James’ aquiline blond good looks. “And Emma?”

  “My goodness, you didn’t know?” He leaned forward conspiratorially, “An industrial spy. No one’s sure yet just what country she’s spying for but be very careful what you tell her about your discoveries on the infamous ‘Donsaii’ project.” Jerry and Roger both chortled delightedly at the thought of an industrial spy wanting any part of “Ellen’s” project.

  Ell raised her eyebrows, “I’ll be sure to freeze her out on the critical details.” she said with a crooked grin. “What about Roger here? What’s his alter ego?”

  “Oh, that’s just so sad. What you see is what you get. Nothing more to ol’ Rog’ than what you already know. Shallow as a sheet of graphene is our Roger.” Jerry grinned at Roger.

  Roger snorted. “Not true! I’ve just completely concealed my alter ego behind this simple ‘Clark Kent’ façade.” He turned to Ell and stage whispered, “It’s just that Jerry has never seen to my true depths!”

  “OK, how about you Jerry? What’s your alter ego?”

  “Me? Li’l ol’ me?” Jerry put his hand dramatically on his chest. He leaned forward and stage whispered, “Actually, I’m an alien, visiting from Alpha Centauri. I’m evaluating the human race for admission to the Galactic Congress. Unfortunately, I’m having to report that these beings I find myself surrounded with don’t even know about the fifth dimension that connects quantum particles.” He waggled his eyebrows at Ell, “You, my dear, are these humans only hope!”