8
At precisely 7:30 p.m., we were ushered into Ike’s study. Except for the comfortable leather-upholstered couch and two matching armchairs, it was spartan by anyone’s standards. The President’s Texan origins were reflected in the two Frederic Remingtons on the wall and a well-used Winchester 1873 carbine that hung on two wooden pegs over the stone fireplace. Otherwise, the walls were lined with bulging bookshelves. A small rollback desk occupied one corner, and a large and sturdy mahogany conference table was set squarely in the middle of the room, with six straight-backed chairs around it. A globe sat on the table. Ike rose from one of the armchairs as we entered, setting aside the book he’d been reading
“Clarence, Captain O’Brien, welcome. Come on,” he said, taking off his reading glasses, “let’s go over to the table.” He sat at the head and Jones and I sat on either side of him. We sat quietly; he seemed to be lost in thought. My pulse must have been hitting 120 before he finally spoke. It seemed that the beating of my heart must have been audible in the stillness.
“Captain, I’ve had my share, more than my share of moments which made history, of difficult decisions, and of directing that … remarkable courses of action be taken. Moments totally without precedent in human history.” He stopped and gave a faint smile. “And if that opening doesn’t scare you, I want you to know that it sure scares me.
“Quite seriously, I must confess that even in my wildest dreams I have never envisaged a meeting like this. Frankly, I find myself at a loss for words, although I’ve spent long hours trying to find them …” He took out his reading glasses again, and absently began to polish them, seeming to sink into a strange reverie. A moment went by like this, then he shook himself and spoke briskly. “As a general rule, the best place to begin is usually at the beginning. Clarence, would you please begin the briefing by sketching in some of the technical background for the captain?”
“Yes, Mr. President.” Jones leaned across the table toward me. “Lightfoot, there are three ages of modern physics, although the general public, for security reasons, is as yet aware of only two. First, we had classical or Newtonian physics. Isaac Newton’s Principia was published in 1687. His physical theories described a beautiful clockwork universe and were accepted as inviolate for two centuries. His three basic building blocks were the law of inertia, the law stating that the acceleration of an object is equal to the force acting on it divided by its mass, and third, the venerable law of action and reaction. Every school kid still learns Newtonian physics because in any fixed inertial frame of reference, Newton’s laws hold true.
“However, once you get into the late 1880’s and into the 1890’s, you run into some phenomena that just don’t square with Newtonian physics. The real kickoff was the Michelson-Morley experiment in 1887. It was designed to detect the motion of the earth through the ether by measuring the difference in velocity of two perpendicular beams of light. Results of experiment: the ether that Newton had insisted permeated the universe did not exist. Newtonian physics was at a complete loss. Neither could it explain some of the questions raised by the discovery of other phenomena in the 1890s—Henri Becquerel’s discovery of radioactivity in uranium, William Roentgen’s discovery of x-rays, or J. J. Thomson’s proof of the existence of the electron.
“Well, Albert Einstein, who had incorporated Planck’s quantum mechanics into his own unique and brilliant special theory of relativity, could and did explain these things in 1905, thus ushering in the second age of modern physics—the Einsteinian Age. As was the case with Newtonian physics before it, the practical applications of Einsteinian physics explained and predicted many heretofore inexplicable and unpredictable events. Many new discoveries were made; many doors were opened. We learned to think in a new way. While Newton had held that time and space were separate, Einstein proved that they are not. Something can’t exist at some place without existing at some time and neither can it exist at some time without existing at some place. He said that there is no such thing as space and time; there is only space-time. While Newton had us living in a three-dimensional universe, Einstein showed us that, in fact, we live in a four-dimensional universe—or, to be more precise, a four dimensional space-time continuum. It was a whole new ball game. Solid geometry was thrown out the window. It was now fourth-dimensional, or space-time, geometry that the universe had to be described in terms of. Traditional mathematics couldn’t cope with the Einsteinian model; a whole new calculus, called tensor calculus, had to be invented.
“Well, things went swimmingly for a while. Then, just like Newtonian physics before it, Einsteinian physics met its Waterloo; something happened which it said could never happen. But first, some background: you see, according to this equation … ,” Clarence scribbled on a legal pad. He then slid it to the middle of the table and pointed to it:
“According to this equation,” he repeated, “which governs the contraction of an object with velocity, you can see that the faster an object travels, the shorter it becomes. As v approaches the velocity of light, c, the length of the object approaches zero. When v equals c, the length is zero. The object no longer has length; it disappears. O.K., suppose v exceeds c. Let’s say the object is traveling at twice the speed of light, or 2c. That gives you minus three under the radical. This means that the length of the object is now its original length times the square root of minus three. But, any mathematician will tell you that you cannot take the square root of a negative number—such a number is imaginary. Therefore, in this case, the length of the object will be imaginary, and the object will no longer exist.
“Now let’s take a look at another of Einstein’s equations.” Clarence scribbled again and showed me the results:
“The m here is for mass. You can see that as v increases, the radical in the denominator decreases, and, since the value of a fraction increases as the denominator decreases, the mass of the object will increase. If v increases to the point where it is equal to c, the velocity of light, the denominator becomes zero, which means that the mass becomes infinite.
“Einsteinian physics, then, obviously shows us that nothing can travel faster than light. Clearly, the velocity of light is the maximum possible velocity. There it is, engraved in stone. Just like Newton’s ether. Enter tachyons.
“Up until the mid ’30’s, there was universal agreement among physicists that the only subatomic particles were electrons, protons, positrons, and neutrons. Period. Then, in 1935, the Japanese physicist Hideki Yukawa theorized the existence of a particle of mass intermediate between that of the electron and the proton. In 1936, Anderson and Neddermeyer discovered such a particle. It’s called a µ meson, or muon. There are two muons, one positive and one negative, each with equal mass and a charge equal to the electron’s. They’re highly unstable, each decays into an electron of the same sign, plus two neutrinos, with a half-life of about 2.3 x 10-6 second. That’s 0.0000023 of a second to us laymen. In 1947, another family of mesons was discovered: π mesons, or pions. Then things just took off.
“In the eleven years since, a whole new branch of physics, high-energy physics, has emerged. Scientists have discovered, accelerated, employed in interactions, and otherwise tinkered around with mesons, or kaons, nucleons, Л, Σ, ≡, and Ω hyperons, and a whole host of other hadrons and leptons. And one of these years, word of quarks is going to leak out. Scientists have been discovering more and more particles all the time. A case of the more you learn, the more you realize you don’t know. Every new discovery raises fifty new questions.” Ike cleared his throat. “To get to the point,” Clarence continued quickly, “a subatomic particle called a tachyon was discovered just this past January. Its name comes from the Greek word ‘tachys,’ which means swift. An appropriate name, really. It travels faster than the speed of light.” For what seemed an eternity, the only sound in the room was the stately measured ticking of the antique clock on the mantel. Then Clarence resumed.
“So, in turn, Einsteinian physics was revealed to fall short of the m
ark just as Newtonian physics before it. It’s a mistake to think that either of them is wrong; they’re not. They’re just incomplete. They’re both models which hold true up to a point—that point being fixed inertial frames of reference with Newtonian physics and velocities greater than the speed of light with Einsteinian physics. Once you attain speeds faster than the speed of light, all bets are off. Or perhaps I should say were off, because now we move into the third age of modern physics, Jankorian physics. Erbil Jankor …”
“I never heard of him,” I said. Ike smiled tightly. “Almost no one has or possibly ever will. The lid on Jankorian research makes the Manhattan Project look like show and tell time.”
“The President’s hit the nail on the head. Jankor is a genius, quite eccentric, and lives for his work itself; he neither wants nor needs any recognition. There are only four other scientists in the entire country who can understand what he’s talking about, and even they’re not too sure sometimes. All four readily agreed to work under his direction at Oak Ridge, and they’d do it even if we didn’t pay them. That’s how excited they are about this. They swear it’s the biggest thing since the discovery of electricity.”
Already my thoughts began to race wildly. So that was it! I was going to pilot a spacecraft that could travel faster than the speed of light! They were talking about a starship!
“Clarence,” the President said gently, “get to the point. Can’t you see that you’ve got our young friend here worked up to a fever pitch?”
“Yes sir. O.K., Lightfoot, let’s back up a moment to Einsteinian physics, specifically to the time dilation equation. One of Einstein’s equations which is sometimes used to ‘prove’ that nothing can travel faster than the speed of light is this one.” He scribbled once again on the pad of legal paper and slid it toward me:
“In other words, as velocity increases, time slows. If v is equal to c, the speed of light, time is totally suspended, and, if v exceeds c, you run into the same situation we did a few minutes ago in discussing the Fitzgerald-Lorentz contraction, which is that the number you get will be an imaginary number. What we’re talking about is imaginary time. The equation was and still is perfectly acceptable as long as you don’t look at anything that goes faster than the speed of light. That’s the limitation, the boundary if you will, of Einsteinian physics—the speed of light. Once you enter the realm of hyperlight speed, you need a new model.”
Jones stopped and took a deep breath. “Now here’s where you better hang onto your hat, Lightfoot. This is what you’ve come all this way to hear: Jankorian physics coincides with Einsteinian physics up to c, but proves beyond any shadow of a doubt that, at speeds in excess of light, there is a time reversal effect.”
I stared at Clarence, and he looked inquiringly at Ike. This was easily the greatest breakthrough and the greatest secret in the history of civilization, and he was, even at this point, reluctant to go ahead and say the next couple of sentences. Ike nodded.
“What it is is this, Lightfoot if you can accelerate an object beyond the speed of light, you can send it backward into time, the fourth dimension.” I looked at Jones and then at the President, then back to Jones, then back to the President. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Clarence continued. “That’s why it took so long for scientists to discover the existence of those crazy tachyons. They’re so ephemeral because they’re traveling through time as well as through space. They’re only in our space-time window for about one ten-millionth of a second. We catch them ‘on the run’ so to speak.”
I’d regained my voice, if not my composure. “I must be misunderstanding you. This is straight out of H. G. Wells.”
“Precisely,” answered Ike. “Wells also accurately forecast a lot of other things that were quite incredible at the time.”
“You’re telling me that it’s actually possible to …” Ike and Clarence nodded. “But that’s …”
“Yes,” said Clarence, “it does appear to be quite impossible. A perfectly natural first reaction. We all had the same initial reaction. But that just proves how limited, how small, our own minds and imaginations are. ‘It can’t be so because we can’t conceive of it.’ Rubbish. Rubbish that we haven’t managed to jettison even in the middle of the twentieth century. I forget who said it, but someone once remarked, ‘Not only is the universe stranger than we imagine, it’s stranger than we are able to imagine.’”
“But how can it be done?”
“As you may suspect, we’re talking here about an enormous amount of power,” Clarence replied, “an amount of energy that we can’t even comprehend, energy far beyond what can be approached even through known techniques of atomic fission and fusion.”
“So what’s the answer? How do you produce, let alone harness, such power?” Clarence looked at Ike once more and received the nod.
“Antimatter.”
“Antimatter?”
“Yes, the analogue of matter. As far back as 1932, some scientists speculated that there might be antiprotons, bearing the same relation to the proton as the positron does to the electron, that is, particles with the same mass as the proton but negatively charged. In 1955, proton-antiproton pairs were created by impact on a stationary target of a beam of protons with a kinetic energy of 6 GeV (6 X 109 eV) at the Bevatron at the University of California at Berkeley.
“But to go one step beyond that—to construct whole atoms of antimatter—took some doing. Nevertheless, seven months ago, under highly controlled experimental conditions at the L-2 Facility at Oak Ridge, Dr. Jankor created a carbon atom of antimatter, or anticarbon. History will, we believe, mark that day as the beginning of a whole new era.”
“But why?”
“As I said, the power. You see, antimatter is quite inert, quite safe, as long as it doesn’t make contact with its counterpart in matter. However, once an amount of antimatter, say for example, an ounce of anticopper, is combined with an ounce of copper … well, the energy released would be enough to put North America into orbit. It makes atomic fission and fusion look like very primitive techniques by comparison. And indeed they are. In the pre-Jankorian world, there was simply no known way to convert matter completely into energy. For example, when you burn wood or oil or coal or gasoline or whatever, sure, you’ve converted matter into heat energy, but the energy output is not very impressive when you look at all the matter which has not been converted into energy, but into other substances: ashes, exhaust, soot, residue, charcoal, smoke, and so forth. Byproducts. Waste. Even in atomic fission, although there is a vast increase in efficiency, there is still matter residue. However, in matter-antimatter reactions, all matter is converted into energy, and the speed and totality of the conversion … provide for incredible, hitherto undreamed of, power.” Clarence reached into his pocket and brought out the inevitable corn cob and pouch of tobacco. Ike shook his head and smiled at me.
“Capitan, this man’s mind never fails to amaze me. May I offer you a drink?”
“No sir. Thanks, but now that I’m on the edge of my seat, I’d just as soon continue with the briefing. I have the feeling that we’re just about to get to the bottom line.”
“And so we are, Captain,” Ike said without preamble. “We intend to send you back into time.”
9
“Back … into time,” I echoed woodenly.
“Yes.”
“But surely that’s impossible.”
“Son, when you get to be my age, you’ll no longer have that word in your vocabulary.”
“But …”
“Clarence, you’ve been doing an excellent job so far, please continue.”
“Yes sir. It’s like this, Lightfoot. First, all particles—electrons, photons, tachyons, whatever—share a dual wave-particle nature. Like a beam of light, a stream of particles can be focused, amplified, and directed toward any target you wish. Second, unstable particles decay. Pions decay into muons, which in turn decay into electrons; lambda particles decay into protons, and so forth. Tachyons are unstab
le. Third, Jankorian physics is able to tell us at exactly what rate particles decay. Fourth, as tachyons decay, their speed slows. They ultimately reach a point where they cease to exist because all their mass has been converted into energy.
“Therefore, we can control how far a beam of tachyons will travel by controlling its speed at release. Obviously, the faster the speed, the further it will travel back into time before ceasing to exist. At the L-2 Facility in Oak Ridge, we’ve built a super accelerator according to Dr. Jankor’s specifications. Using the power generated by a controlled interaction between a grain of zinc and a grain of antizinc, we can get tachyons up to about any speed we want.
“That beam, along with anything ‘riding’ on that beam, such as you and your equipment, for example, can be sent back into anytime and anyplace with an accuracy of up to plus or minus one month per 500 years and plus or minus two kilometers in distance.”
“How do I ‘ride’ the beam?”
“Nobody except Jankor seems to really understand it. But the general idea is that the atoms of your body and equipment, and, more importantly, the spaces between the atoms of your body and equipment will be stretched out, the gaps widened. The sizes of the atoms and molecules and the distances between them will be terrifically increased, but their relative positions to each other will not change. This expansion will be effected in a chamber set into the L-2 cyclotron. The Jankor Cyclotron, a circular accelerator capable of generating particle energies between a few million and several hundreds of billions of electron volts, is where the tachyons are generated at a central source, the core, and are accelerated spirally outward in a plane at right angles to a fixed magnetic field by an alternating electric field. When the tachyons reach the speed we want, your particles are polarized and inserted into the stream, where they are magnetically attracted to the tachyons. The tachyons are then focused and beamed out to their space-time destination. You ‘ride’ the beam. As the velocity of the tachyons decreases, the atoms and molecules of your body and equipment begin to contract, to spring back to their original distances between each other; remember, their relative positions with respect to each other have never changed. When the velocity hits zero and the tachyons cease to exist, you are you once again, and your trip through space-time will have lasted, in your relative time, two ten-millionths of a second.”
Fifth Gospel:The Odyssey of a Time Traveler in First-Century Palestine Page 6