Dark Matter

by John Rollason

  If only I could get a sample of the box's material for analysis. He tried milling it, it was extremely hard going, but he managed it. That's odd, it wouldn't budge before. Then he realised that he had removed the radioactive disc, which must have been its power source. He removed a small section of the box and placed it in the tunnelling electron microscope. Now he was getting an image. The material was composed of gold, iron and carbon atoms. They were arranged in a Buckyball structure, like the outside of a football, sixty atoms arranged to make an almost perfect sphere. He knew of the nature of Buckyballs. Carbon 60 had been identified as one. It was incredibly strong; a single Buckyball had been tested by slamming it into a stainless steel object at fifteen thousand miles per hour, it survived totally unaffected

  He let the microscope continue to trace the surface of the material. The image grew on the display; dozens of the Buckyballs were now visible. They were all orientated in the same direction. He removed another section of the box, from an adjacent side to the first. These Buckyballs were also orientated in one direction, but different to the first sample. However when he compared the original orientation of the first sample to the second they were all pointing in the same direction, regardless of their place on the cube. He tried another sample from each of the remaining surfaces. They all pointed in the same direction when they were on the cube. He had seen the box change shape several times and it appeared that each time the Buckyballs were orientated in the same direction. They must be able to be orientated, steered to point in one direction. The question was why. Why would you want to be able to steer the atoms? What advantage would it bring? He decided it was time for a coffee and a cigarette.

  The air outside was fresh in his face, the coffee hot but not scolding. As he drew on his cigarette, his mind floated over the surface of the material. He let it wander. He looked down on the sea of Buckyballs below, noting their orientation. They changed direction whilst he was looking. They changed again and again. His mind swooped lower skimming the surface. Still it didn't make sense. It came to hover above just one Buckyball and then descended down inside it. It floated there watching the Buckyball move around it. The movement reminded him of something but he wasn't sure what it was. Their movement was orchestrated like a wind farm, continually making adjustments to face the wind. He imagined a wind blowing though at a sub-atomic level. He added some colour to the wind so he could see it interact with the Buckyballs. The wind passed through the surface, right through the material itself. Some of it was stuck though. The Buckyballs seemed to capture an exact amount of wind each, held within each of the moving spheres. It was only held for an instant, and then released to allow the next particles of wind to enter. The wind is the key, his mind said. The magnetic properties of the iron atoms could combine with the diamagnetic ones of the carbon atoms to steer the Buckyballs. They could also be used to pass power from one Buckyball to the next. That leaves the gold atoms, which are the most abundant as well. They must be providing the temporary capture of the wind. The wind must be composed of Deeth particles, he realised. If you could capture Deeth particles, no matter how briefly, you would have an enormous force at your disposal. That must be where its strength comes from. I was trying to drill through layers of Deeth particles! Moving at a billion times the speed of light and with incredible mass it would have been like trying to push a drinking straw through a brick wall…

  He headed back into his laboratory wondering to himself, how do I validate my theory without blowing up my lab again? I need to build a software model to test the theory. Shit, I have so much to do and so little time...I’m going to need some help with all this.

  He remembered that both his computer and the entire web were still infected with the virus. That is going to make it even more tricky. What I need is a virtual classroom, where I can bring in the brightest minds from around the world to work on the problems with me. But I need a way of doing this that protects them from the contagion. He sighed, realising that he needed some initial help before he could get more help, meant that he was initially limited to the students on the campus. He headed over to the vice chancellor’s office.

  He didn't have an appointment, but felt that the amount of funding he was bringing in to the university allowed him considerable latitude. Besides, by making this request the vice-chancellor will be able to claim even more money from Research Angel.

  'Oh hi John, good to see you how's things going?' The vice-chancellor rose from his desk and moved round it so he could shake John warmly by the hand. It’s amazing how the smell of money changes people, John reflected.

  'Fine thanks. However I do have a request.' He decided that it would be best to keep things pleasant, and his manner deferential.

  'Sure. How can I help?'

  'I would like two research students, Computer Science and Physics if possible.'

  'I don't see a problem with that. I'll have Mary look in to it for you. Anything else?'

  'That's the thing, I'd really like to do it myself, if that's OK. I don't know quite what I'm looking for but I'll know it when I see it.'

  'I see.' The vice-chancellor replied. ‘I must say it is an unusual request as it would mean giving you direct access to the permanent records of students which you aren’t really cleared for…and that could leave the university exposed in all sorts of ways, particularly discrimination…’ He mulled it over some more. 'OK John. I'll have Mary give you the access you need. Just...be careful OK?'

  'I will, don't worry.'

  The student personnel system was a little cumbersome to use, but after a while, he got used to it. Little information was held within the system, so he had to keep dropping out of it to look directly at the relevant students file. It made for depressing reading. Cambridge students are amongst the brightest in the country. They generally come from good backgrounds, have excelled academically in good schools, the vast majority of which were private. Birds of a feather, John thought. He was being unfair and he knew it. They had applied themselves diligently and achieved a great deal. He knew he could choose almost any of them and they would do a brilliant job. However he wasn't looking for just brilliant, he was looking for exceptional.

  This is getting me nowhere fast. He had looked at dozens of students now but none of their records spoke to him. He decided to change direction. The system supported limited queries, so he ran a search for students with very good exam scores but with poor attendance or other negative marks against them. The search brought back just five names with the requisite Computing and Physics courses. He pulled a copy of their full records and decided to read these before interviewing them personally. If he didn't find what he wanted, he would come back and try something different.

  John didn't like doing this kind of work. He generally considered it to be a waste of his time; he had to remind himself that this was an investment of his time. The return would be two people helping him, which in turn would lead to dozens of people helping all around the world. It will be worth it, he assured himself. The candidates were at least an interesting bunch.

  One in particular stood out. Barry Edgers. He was currently facing a major disciplinary. Amazingly, in his last year, with only his dissertation outstanding, he had finally been caught and identified as the Phantom. John had heard of the Phantom, even crossed swords with him so to speak. He had hacked into every university system three years before. All that is except John's. He had leaked all the staff's pay and benefits, posting them on the university's intranet, much to the embarrassment of the faculty staff. It was rumoured that he had hacked most of the finance, security, and military systems worldwide from right inside the university. That had never been admitted or proved. His attendance record was frankly abysmal. His attendance at lectures in his first year had been sporadic to say the least, then when he was confronted by the Computer Science lecturer he not only argued with him, he walked up to the front of the lecture hall and disproved the theory that the lecturer had spent the previous hour expounding. He didn't atte
nd lectures much at all after that, and frankly, his presence wasn't missed. He had joined the Computer Science club, but was ejected for solving the monthly problems the same day and posting them on the intranet. According to his personal tutor, Barry had recently taken to spend much of his time in the college bar, doing what, he didn't know. John looked at his watch; no reason I can't interview and have a beer at the same time is there?

  He smiled at the girl serving him in the bar. The last time he had seen her was when he had been slipping out of her room on the way back to his own. She smiled back. No hard feelings then, he took his pint and headed off in the direction she had indicated that Barry would be. Doesn't spend much time in the gym by the looks of things. Barry was overweight, not seriously so, but he was in contrast to most of his fellow students. He was hunched over his computer, fully engrossed in whatever he was doing. John took the seat opposite him. John stared at Barry, his eyes burrowing into him. Barry started to stir; he was becoming aware of the presence of someone opposite. He ignored it. It didn't go away. He continued to ignore it. It persisted. He gave up and looked at the person opposite him.

  'Can I help you?' Barry asked, not trying in the least to keep the irritation out of his voice.

  'Yes, you can.' John replied evenly.

  Barry blinked. He wasn't used to this, people normally just went away, or better yet didn't trouble him in the first place. He looked at the guy opposite; he had a grin he wanted to punch.

  'What do you want?' Barry asked.

  'You. Or more precisely your assistance.'

  'To do what?'

  'I can't tell you that.'

  'Oh and why not?'

  'I can't tell you that either I'm afraid.'

  'So you can't tell me what you want me to do and you can't tell me why you can't tell me.'

  'Got it in one.' John slowly clapped his hands, hoping this was working. It was.

  'Is it illegal?'

  'I'd prefer not to answer that.'

  'So how am I supposed to decide whether I should help you or not?'

  'Good question. Let me put it this way. I think you arrived here looking for something. I think you were looking for the best and brightest minds in the country to help you develop your skills. I think you found what you consider to be fairly ordinary and not very bright minds, and those were the tutors and lecturers. What you thought of your fellow students I can only guess at, but not repeat in polite society. I think you found other things to challenge you, but were not and are not satisfied by the challenge. I think you will leave here a very unhappy person unless....'

  'Unless what?'

  'Unless you put your trust in me. I have a challenge for you that might be beyond you, but I'm willing to give you a go. That is, if you want a challenge.'

  Barry looked at him, considering carefully what he had said.

  'Who are you?'

  'John Deeth, pleased to meet you.' John extended his hand. Barry grabbed it.

  'Barry Edgers, count me in, but I doubt it will be that interesting.'

  'We'll see.'

  John told Barry to report to his lab the next morning as he still had four others to see. Unfortunately, for John none of the others had the spark he was looking for and so he reluctantly returned to the personnel system to start again. This time he widened his search parameters by looking at all computer science awards, one name consistently appeared, Neil Tavistock. His file was not there though. He called Mary about it.

  'Neil, yes I know Neil. He wouldn't be in the main system as he is special needs and we have to administer their needs separately.' She told him where to find his file.

  'What sort of special needs is he?' John was a bit worried.

  'It’s all in his file, but he is an autistic savant. He's incredible, truly incredible. He has at least five degrees, plus a masters and PhD in Pure Mathematics, however he has virtually no interpersonal skills and has a part time helper without whom he would forget to wash, dress and eat.'

  'Thanks Mary, much appreciated.' John hung up. He wasn’t sure he had found the right person so he looked through Neil Tavistock’s personnel file.

  Neil Tavistock was on a full grant. His fees and expenses paid for by a philanthropic businessman who, after winning the battle with his own autism, had established a foundation to help others with autism and particularly savants. Neil was pretty much unaware of all this. According to his file he hadn’t liked moving out of his mum’s house, he had felt settled there, but they had moved most of his belongings into his new room on campus and decorated it in the same style as his old bedroom. Through the tireless efforts of his support worker Debbie, he had managed to attend both lectures and tutorials. Debbie, apparently, was ever at his side for reassurance and he had even made a few friends on campus. Mostly support staff, he seemed to have a preference for cleaners and cooks. Debbie had noted “Neil finds that other students talk too much, too fast and all about non-things, like what they did off campus and to each other. This is the kind of conversation that Neil doesn’t care for at all.”

  John approached Neil's personal tutor. She listened politely whilst John outlined, in rough, what he was looking for, and why he wanted Neil. When asked how Neil would react to such a proposal she just laughed.

  'What's so funny?' John asked.

  'Sorry, it’s not you. It’s just that Neil is, well, particular in what he will and will not do. You can ask him by all means but he will just give you a simple yes or no. He doesn't negotiate, doesn't understand any such concept. He is very black and white. Talk to his carer Debbie first, she will be able to help you as much as anyone. Otherwise I just wish you good luck.'

  He took her advice and found Debbie on her own. Neil was in a tutorial having learned to cope with most of these on his own. Debbie was outside the refectory, smoking. John introduced himself and joined her. He explained what he wanted and waited for her response.

  'So you can't tell me anything about it and just expect me to help you get Neil to agree?'

  'Firstly I expect nothing. Secondly I suspect that you will do whatever you feel is in Neil's best interests anyway so there is no point in my trying to persuade you.'

  'That's true. Can you at least tell me what type of work and what would be involved?'

  'I'll do my best. It’s very difficult work, or at least I suspect it to be. If Neil were a builder, it would be like asking him to design and build a house within another house without the occupants knowing. Every room, every hall, every staircase must exactly fit with the existing one and no one should be able to detect it.'

  'Sounds impossible.'

  'It may be. But it’s what is needed and it really is needed. Will you help?'

  'I think Neil would enjoy the impossible. OK we'll see him when he is next free. One thing though.'

  'What's that?'

  'If this is so secret how will you persuade Neil not to say anything to anyone? He doesn't really do espionage.'

  'Oh. I hadn't considered that.' John desperately wanted Neil now he had found him. I’ll have to find some way of dealing with the security risk though...

  Neil was in the refectory. It was five minutes past four in the afternoon and he had a cup of tea and a scone at five minutes past four. That was what he did. His favourite seat was free today. The days when it wasn’t, he remembered as not being good days. So the fact his seat was free helped him to decide it was a good day today. He arranged his cup handle to point at forty-five degrees and sliced his scone with his table knife. He spread the butter on each side, turning the half scone clockwise as he spread. He then put on the Apricot jam, this went on counter-clockwise. He placed both scone halves back on his side plate, the top side to the top of the plate and the bottom side to the bottom of the plate. He wiped the knife clean with his paper napkin and placed it next to the side plate on the table. He lifted his cup and took a sip of tea. He replaced his cup and took a bite from the top half of the scone. He knew it would be easier to bite the scone first then sip the
tea but this was his pattern and he had learned to deal with it.

  Someone sat down next to him on his left making him feel instantly uncomfortable. He looked to see who it was. He relaxed a little when he saw it was Debbie. Then someone sat in front of him. He looked at him but didn't recognise him. He tensed up. Only the comfort of the tea and scone was keeping him going. It wasn't time to see Debbie. He saw Debbie at fifteen minutes past four in his room. It was only eight minutes past four, he didn't need to look at his watch his mind just kept track of the time. She is seven minutes early and in the wrong place. He felt distinctly awkward. Remember what you have been taught, different or unusual can be a good thing. He repeated this mantra to himself several times. He started to feel a bit better. Debbie broke the silence.

  'Neil, this is John. He wants you to help him with something special. Would you like to hear what he has to say?'

  'OK.'

  Debbie looked at John and nodded. She had told him to speak slowly, distinctly and to keep his speech even, avoiding any emphasis.

  'Hello Neil. I'm John.'

  'I know that.' Neil replied.

  'Good.' John managed not to react. 'I have something special I would like you to do.'

  'I know that too.' Neil took another sip and bite.

  'That's good too. I work in Physics, but I have a very important computer problem I would like you to help to solve. Would you like to do that?'

  'What problem?'

  John looked at Debbie.

  'I'll go and get a cup of tea. Excuse me.' Debbie left them to talk.

  'Well I need to setup virtual classrooms around the world but there is a problem with the web and I need to circumvent it to avoid being noticed.'