The Dali comment sparked Einstein’s memory. The man was Marcel Duchamp, the noted artist. They’d had a brief encounter decades ago in Prague. He too appeared not to have aged.
Duchamp’s attention was drawn to the wall beside the bookcase, to an impressive reproduction of Diego Velazquez’s 1656 painting, Las Meninas. Strangely, the rectangular mirror in the painting’s background, a portrait of King Philip IV and Queen Mariana of Spain, seemed to be real. In it he could see his own reflection superimposed upon the image of the royals.
The king and queen came alive. With the jerky movement of marionettes, they pivoted and dashed away. Their retreating figures shriveled to miniscule dots against a blurred horizon.
A fierce light filled the mirror, so intense it seemed as if the sun itself was burning within the glass. Duchamp was forced to shield his eyes.
Einstein had an angled view of the painting. From his perspective, the unnatural light flowing from the mirror seemed to curve toward him, as if some invisible gravitational body of immense proportions was warping its journey. Its brightness caused him to avert his gaze.
The blinding light vanished. In its place, Stella, in a shimmering dress of many colors, stepped out of the mirror’s frame and into the room. Einstein recognized her from his two previous encounters, or at least from the two he could remember. Had she interacted with him on other occasions over the years that he couldn’t recall?
“It is good to see you again, Stella,” he offered, unsure of his own sincerity even as he uttered the words. She was clearly a transformative entity, capable of spatiotemporal achievements that transcended his theoretical understanding of the universe. Yet she was also a lover capable of endowing a partner with remarkable feelings of serenity. He judged it best to compliment rather than criticize.
“Salut,” Duchamp said in his native French. His ethereal muse – or more properly, their ethereal muse judging by Einstein’s reaction – also appeared not to have aged. Perhaps she was like a Readymade work of art, forever frozen in the instant of its creation.
“Good evening, gentleman. Welcome to this actuality.”
“A place that would seem to exist in violation of scientific principles,” Einstein proposed.
“It seems neither dream nor hallucination but something else entirely,” Duchamp said.
“Your inquisitiveness is understandable. But perhaps you could contain your queries. I have a proposition.”
Stella walked to the center of the study, to a small table with a chess board that Einstein was certain had not been there a moment ago. Flanking the table were a pair of straight-backed wooden chairs. A chandelier appeared above to cast a warm glow upon the kings and queens, bishops and knights, rooks and pawns, all properly aligned for the start of a match.
“I promised you both a game.”
“And I recall that moment,” Einstein said. “Yet surely you don’t expect us to just sit down and play chess without further explanation.”
“He makes a good point,” Duchamp said.
“The explanation is contained in the playing of the game.”
Duchamp glanced at Einstein, saw no objection and nodded to Stella. “Is there a prize for the winner?”
“Only the inherent satisfaction of victory over a worthy opponent.”
“A curious proposition,” Einstein said. “However, I understand that Duchamp is a most accomplished player whereas I remain a mere amateur.”
“While that may be true,” Duchamp countered, “your analytical prowess is unmatched.” He turned to Stella. “It would be foolish to underestimate his chess abilities. But in the spirit of fairness, I am open to playing with a handicap of two pawns.”
“It will not be necessary to remove any pieces from their starting positions. In this game, each of you will have one chance to create a new rule. If I deem the rule fair, the chess board shall transform accordingly. Your suggestions must appeal to my sensibilities and not produce near-instantaneous victory, but otherwise be without limitations. You may request the most unorthodox of ideas. Surrealist excursions into the impossible, the bending of time and space… whatever your bodies and hearts desire.”
Einstein nodded in acceptance of the challenge. “Creating rules has always been a passion.”
“And breaking them is mine,” Duchamp added, taking a seat at the table.
Einstein assumed the opposite position and studied his opponent’s face, well aware of the eccentric artist’s skills as an innovative thinker.
Duchamp grabbed a white pawn and, out of Einstein’s view, enclosed it in his hand. He extended his fists. “My left or my right?”
“Your right.”
Duchamp opened his right fist, revealing the pawn.
“Good luck,” Einstein said, replacing the piece alongside its comrades.
“To you as well.”
“Begin,” Stella instructed.
A dual-faced chess clock appeared beside the board, ticking like a muffled metronome.
Einstein moved his white King’s Pawn two squares forward. Duchamp moved his Queen’s Bishop one square forward, invoking the well-known nineteenth-century Caro-Kann Defense. Einstein moved his Queen’s Pawn forward two, and Duchamp followed suit with his Queen’s Pawn.
Einstein chose the exchange variation as his pawn took Duchamp’s, who in turn recaptured with his own pawn. Einstein moved his King’s Bishop to queen Three.
A few moves later, Einstein offered his King’s Knight as a sacrifice with the hope of gaining the initiative.
“I see that you wish to inject some fresh blood into this old line,” Duchamp said. “Even in chess, things are not always black and white.”
Following the cautious opening dance, they parried each other’s threats and initiated new lines of attack. Each began to experience the sensation that their minds were synchronizing and that they were anticipating one another’s thoughts. Einstein wondered whether their intertwining intellects could generate an infinitely growing feedback loop. Duchamp wondered if Stella’s grand game was to cross-fertilize their collective unconscious through the medium of chess, perhaps to interlink art and science.
Their muse stood off the side, silently observing.
Neither man perceived the passage of time: their focus was entirely on the game. Pieces were moved cautiously or with swift certainty. Threats were made and dodged. The chess clock ticked onward.
Following a grueling chase, Duchamp was able to capture Einstein’s menacing knight. Despite his material advantage, Duchamp’s king was in an exposed and perilous state. He began to feel anxious about missing out on the spoils for the victor, that potential moment of transcendent insight.
“I propose the rule that we activate the duality of gender, and that Einstein and I have our kings and queens transform into one another.”
Stella hesitated for the briefest moment then nodded. “Your appeal is accepted.”
She waved her hand at the board, altering it accordingly. Duchamp’s previously endangered king found itself in the comfort of his queenside pawns. He breathed a sigh of relief.
They continued to play. Duchamp traded his knight for Einstein’s bishop and, perceiving that he had the advantage, sensed a tactical opportunity. He leaned his chin on his palm and studied the position carefully. He knew that he would have to get rid of Einstein’s second, equally troublesome knight. If he sacrificed his rook for the knight, a few moves later Einstein’s queen would be put in jeopardy.
After additional minutes of deep thought, a plan emerged. Duchamp played rook captures knight.
Einstein studied the move and projected the future ramifications of capturing Duchamp’s rook. The loss of material was inevitable. After losing his queen, Einstein’s pieces were gradually eliminated. The only remaining pieces were the two kings and Duchamp’s queen.
Unwilling to concede defeat, Einstein turned to Stella with a bold suggestion.
“I propose that we transpose colors. Black becomes white and white becomes black.”
Stella agreed with the artist. “The recommendation is denied.”
Einstein contemplated another escape plan. Knowing that space and energy are intertwined, he realized that if the finite could expand, his king might find a new trajectory.
“Just as our universe is both finite and infinite, I’d like to invoke a new rule. I propose that the edges of this board expand unto infinity such that the board will no longer have any borders.”
“Also unfair,” Duchamp said.
“Your request is deemed fair, and is accepted.”
Within the space of a heartbeat, the study vanished. Along with Stella, Einstein and Duchamp found themselves floating above a chessboard that extended in every direction as far as their eyes could see.
Even knowing it was hopeless, Duchamp moved his Queen and checked Einstein’s King, which in turn retreated. This chase proceeded for a little while longer, until Duchamp couldn’t hide his disappointment.
“It is impossible to checkmate you with only a queen and king if there is no edge to the board, as you will always be able to keep running away. I concede that the game is a draw.”
“Agreed,” Einstein said, turning to Stella. “Given the unorthodox nature of the game and the transformative rules you’ve allowed, I suspect that any match would be destined to end without a winner.”
“Which suggests,” Duchamp added, “that as players we never had free will, that the game was rigged from the start.”
Stella smiled and vanished. The infinite chess board converted into a black featureless plane.
* * * * *
She stood in the darkness on the desert floor, poised to witness the first of this day’s two sunrises from a perspective not possible for humans. The four-legged steel tower rose a hundred feet above her; the pre-dawn air was crisp and cool, and endowed with faintest of breezes. A thunderstorm with heavy rain had struck several hours earlier, forcing the experiment to be postponed. But now it was time: July 15, 1945. The detonation would occur at 05:29:45 hours.
Considering her interactions with the two lifestreams – Duchamp and Einstein – it seemed fitting that the test in this isolated area of New Mexico was called Trinity.
Whatever guilt might have plagued her about her role in sending destructive ripples through the bipedals’ future had been vanquished before she’d arrived here in the desert. Guilt was a byproduct of the physical and emotional upheaval brought on by her interactions with the two men.
The chess game had been the key to reversing those effects. Concentrating on the game had freed her from her growing addiction to the ways of the humans. The match had helped restore her intellectual focus, thus lessening the influences of physicality and emotionality induced by being trapped in Duchamp and Einstien’s lifestream.
The realigning of consciousness into its proper and familiar framework rendered the attractions of being marooned, as well as the contaminating influence of guilt, less troubling.
Rockets were fired into the darkness from afar to signal the event. A distant siren wailed a last warning. Bunkers filled with specialized instruments 800 yards from the tower would measure the flash, heat, radiation and shock impact. Other instruments were situated overhead, suspended by weather balloon or parachuted from aircraft.
The closest humans would bear witness from bunkers 10,000 yards away.
However, many of the Manhattan Project’s scientists and engineers, those who had actually designed and built the bomb, were observing from safer distances.
She could sense their presence. Some were slathering faces and arms with a final coating of sunblock, and donning thick dark glasses prior to aiming their binoculars and telescopes in her direction. None would be able to see her, of course. At most they might perceive a vague shadow or a swirl of sand, or perhaps experience an amorphous tingling as their magnifying devices focused on the spot occupied by her non-corporeal essence.
Einstein was not among the observers. The man whose theories and letter to President Roosevelt were pivotal in making the test possible had been considered a security risk and kept in the dark about the development of the atomic bomb. In his later years he would come to regret the letter, claiming that if he’d known the Germans would fail to develop the bomb he never would have lifted a finger.
But he had. He couldn’t have helped it. Ultimately, none of the humans could have. It was not their fate, not something preordained. It was simply the fullest expression of their identity.
From far away, an order was barked, a signal issued, a circuit closed. The detonators triggered. Directly above her, the bomb ignited.
The flash of light came first, followed an instant later by an expanding eruption of fire. Any organic lifestream in her spot would have been reduced to vapor. Her proximity dictated a different outcome.
The blast ascended in a billowing cloud to 8,000 feet in the fraction of a second.
The expanding fireball, a rage of chromatic mutation, swiftly climbed higher, punched through the clouds above. A thunderous roar shook the ground. A thermal windstorm cascaded across the desert, destroying everything in its path.
The humans’ first atomic detonation would be measured as equivalent to 18,600 tons of conventional explosives, enough energy to meet her dual objectives. Later bombs thousands of times more powerful would be responsible for wiping out the majority of the species.
The bomb’s energy reversed the effects of her faux-physicality, freed her from the finite yesterdays and tomorrows of Duchamp’s lifestream. Disengagement, her first objective, was an unqualified success. She was propelled back into her native form, a pure observational context.
From her restored perspective, she turned her attention back to the nuclear cloud ascending into the early morning heavens. Employing senses beyond human capacity, she looked deep into that mushrooming cascade in order to bear witness to her second objective, the expulsion, an ethereal bundle of luminescence birthed within fires too hot for any mortal to survive.
The glowing infant was only the latest in a totality of expulsions stretching back through the existence of the universe. Vague memories of previous expulsions touched her, all part of that repeating pattern consisting of fascination with an Anomalous Tripartite world, entrapment in a lifestream and sexual liaison with a partner or partners to fertilize her seed. Those seeds, planted amid countless Anomalous Tripartite species, might grow into adults who drastically altered the direction of their civilization, although it was just as likely that an expulsion lived its short life with no discernible impact upon planetary events.
Had she still been trapped in Duchamp’s lifestream, she supposed she might have acknowledged a preference for one of those possibilities. But she felt nothing for the infant, neither passionate need or desire, nor any other type of human emotion typifying the mother-child bond. The only matter that concerned her was that the expulsion not perish amid nuclear vapors.
To that end she snatched the core of its unripened consciousness from the incinerating fires and transferred it into the nearest survivable habitat forty miles away, the womb of a migrant farmer’s wife, surname Rodriguez. The woman was on the verge of delivering her first child.
The newborn girl emerged, crying heartily. The midwife cleaned and cradled it, and cut the cord. An instant later, mother and nurse raised their eyes in tandem to the bedroom window, gazing into the darkness in wonderment at the strange distant light.
Her task accomplished, she turned her attention back to the superheated air above ground zero. The mushroom cloud reached its apex and began to wither. Soon it would be gone. Soon the day’s second sunrise, however brief, would come upon the desert.
THE END
APPENDIX 1
Princteon, USA 1933
White Albert Einstein
Black Robert Oppenheimer
1. e4 e5
2. Nf3 Nc6
3. Bb5 a6
4. Ba4 b5
5. Bb3 Nf6
6. O-O Nxe4
7. Re1 d5
8. a4 {Nc3 or d3 would have been stronger.} 8...b4 {Black should have replied ...Bc5}
9. d3 Nc5 {retreating with Nf6 is better}
10. Nxe5 Ne7
11. Qf3 f6 {Be6 still held some hope for Black}
12. Qh5+ g6
13. Nxg6 hxg6
14. Qxh8 Nxb3
15. cxb3 Qd6
16. Bh6 and Black resigned. 1-0
Hyères, France 1928
White:Marcel Duchamp
Black: E. H. Smith
1. d4 d5
2. Nf3 Nf6
3. c4 e6
4. Nc3 b6
5. cxd5 Nxd5 {recapturing with the pawn is more common}
6. Bd2 Ba6
7. Ne5 Nxc3
8. Bxc3 f6 9.e3!? {Duchamp plays aggressively and offers to sacrifice material for an attack. While this is not the best move, it certainly is creative.}
9. ...fxe5? {Smith falters here. Stronger would have been to continue 9...BxB 10.Qh5+ g6 11. Nxg6 hxN 12.Qxg6 Kd7 RxB where white has compensation for the sacrified material.}
10. Bxa6 Nxa6
11. a4+ Qd7 {Instead of 11.. Qd7 the move ..c6 was equally playable and after white takes the knight on a6, the position is also slightly in white’s favor.}
12. Qxa6 Be7? {there was no need to give up a free pawn. Smith should have played pawn takes pawn.}
13. dxe5 O-O {Now white’s advantage is signficant.}
14. O-O c5
15. Rad1 Qc7
16. Qc4 Qc6
17. a4 Rad8
18. f4 Rxd1
19. Rxd1 g6
20. Rd6! {A brilliant final blow, which breaks Black’s fortress.} 20...Bxd6
21. Qxe6+ Rf7
22. exd6 Qd7
23. Qe5 White’s advantage is overwhelming and Black resigned. 1-0
APPENDIX 2
Albert Einstein
Old Grove Rd.
Nassau Point
Peconic, Long Island
August 2nd, 1939
F.D. Roosevelt,
President of the United States,
White House
Duchamp Versus Einstein Page 5