Einstein's Bridge

by Cramer, John

  Tern winced. “Entirely too damn much,” he said. “Some months I do nothing else. And it gets worse with time. The science bureaucracy of the UK demands more and more paper justification for each shilling they pass along. Moreover, they award themselves salaries for their paper shuffling that are far higher than the salaries of the scientists they are supposed to be serving. More and more science money is being diverted into servicing the science bureaucracy instead of funding real science. It’s a national disgrace.”

  Roger nodded. “Fortunately, one that can be bypassed,” he said. He removed an envelope from his briefcase and extended it across the desk. “The Iris Foundation likes your work and would like to encourage it. This contains a bank draft for £200,000, made out in your name. It’s the first quarterly installment of your Iris Foundation Award. Our legal staff will be in contact with you to advise you on how to manage the funds to minimize the taxes on the Award.”

  Tern looked stunned as he opened the envelope. “But ... ,” he said finally, “what do I have to ... What do you expect in return?”

  Roger smiled. “Not research proposals,” he said. “Not budgets. Not progress reports. Just copies of your papers and the theses of your students as they are published, plus an occasional telephone or personal conversation like this one.”

  Tern smiled. “Your organization is quite civilized,” he said. “I had no idea ...”

  “There is one more item,” said Roger. He handed a single printed sheet of paper across the desk. “This is a summary of lines of inquiry in your field which we feel may prove fruitful. You have no obligation to follow them, but we believe you will find them a useful guide. We suggest that you try some of the approaches and ideas listed here, but I emphasize that this is strictly up to you.”

  As Tern read the sheet, his eyes widened. “Where? ... How?”

  “I’m afraid I cannot, at this stage of our scientific relationship, divulge the source of the information on that sheet,” said Roger. “I can only say that I’m sure you will find it useful information, taken as a guideline, but it must not be used as a rigid plan or program. You are under no obligation to make reference to it or even to acknowledge its existence. In fact, we would prefer that you did not.”

  Tern looked at Roger with suspicion. “You provide this kind of guidance to all of your Awardees? How many are there?”

  “We provide some limited indication of fruitful lines of inquiry to the scientists we support,” said Roger. “Yours is our seventh Iris Foundation Award since the initiation of the program earlier this year.”

  Tern now looked somewhat less agitated. “What are your restrictions on publicity and media contacts?” he asked.

  “We do not intend to directly publicize your Iris Foundation Award ourselves,” Roger answered, “but you may do so if you wish. If asked, we will acknowledge that you are an awardee. We feel that the success of your ongoing work will provide a better basis for publicity than the mere awarding of funds. But you understand your local situation better than we do. We’ll leave those details up to you.”

  Discussion of physics and funding continued for more than an hour. Tern was still staring at the bank draft on his desk when Roger left.

  CHAPTER 7.4

  Energy

  ROGER looked out the window of the ancient but still elegant British Airways Concorde as it approached the Dulles Airport. In the distance he could see the Washington Monument and the Capitol Building. He could also see his face reflected in the window surface. He looked very distinguished with the touch of gray at the temples, a distinguished business figure of perhaps fifty, rather than his actual thirty-two.

  With the chameleon-like body control he had learned, he could alter his weight, height, facial characteristics, even his fingerprints and retinal patterns, to match the persona he was assuming that week. Hair color was harder because of the growing time, but he had learned a few hair-dresser tricks.

  His present persona, one Roger Fulton, had been tied up for the past month in London attempting to streamline and shape their burgeoning financial empire. That had been fairly demanding, and he was feeling a bit out of touch with the basic work of dealing with the SSC problem.

  Roger glanced at the person in the other seat. She was sleeping, but just to be sure he turned the screen of his lapstation so that it was visible only to him. Then, to refresh his memory he decrypted the master strategy file and studied it. It summarized the plan they had hammered out two years ago in Houston, as they had struggled through the difficult initial problems of creating new identities, new appearances, new personae for themselves. The file was short and to the point. It read:

  Basic Strategy

  (1) Generate wealth for power base;

  mining, oil, biotechnology, investments.

  (2) Create a business organization with strong

  investigative and lobbying capabilities.

  (3) Initiate Planck-scale physics research.

  (4) Alter Bush appointments in 1988-89:

  Vice President => not Dole;

  Energy Secretary => not Deutsch;

  Science Advisor => not Bromley.

  (5) Arrange meetings between potential SSC Congressional

  opponents and prominent physicist SSC critics.

  (6) Create uncertainty over SSC magnet design and project

  management; conservatism => higher cost.

  (7) Increase emphasis on foreign SSC participation;

  simultaneously block Japanese $1 billion contribution.

  (8) In 1991 extend the recession; elect Democratic

  President and new Congressmen in 1992.

  (9) Kill the SSC project in Congress.

  They had been doing quite well with item 1. In London last week Roger had calculated that the net worth of their holdings, all carefully concealed by a network of interlocking corporations and holding companies, was, at least on paper, moving past the $4 billion mark. The multi-faceted business organization was also developing well under George’s guidance. He seemed to have real talents as an entrepreneur and organizer. With the creation of the Iris Foundation, money and guidance had been given to a few physicists working the right areas for item 3, and this work was proceeding. They had succeeded with the first part of item 4, and the tactic was working well. Unlike Dole, Vice President Quayle so far had shown little interest in scientific projects, and absolutely no interest in the SSC. His attention was focused exclusively on NASA and the U. S. Manned Spaceflight Program. Roger smiled, remembering the Martian canals.

  The appointment of the Secretary of Energy was their next hurdle. All of the cabinet slots of the Bush Administration except Energy had been filled for almost a month. The politically-oriented press was awash with wild rumors about those being considered for Energy Secretary: John Deutsch, Lee Thomas, General Abrahamson, and even Arthur Schlesinger. Roger was very curious about what George had been doing about the Energy appointment. Well, he would learn soon enough. He folded the lapstation and slid it under the seat in front of him, then pulled his own seat back forward for the landing.

  Roger knocked at the hotel room door. “How was your flight,” George asked as he ushered Roger in.

  “The flight itself was quick and efficient,” said Roger. “Getting here from Dulles was a problem. I wish they permitted Concorde flights from Heathrow to Washington National. One spends longer on the ground than in the air. How’s it going here?”

  “Well, the latest Administration budget puts the SSC cost at $5.9 billion, with completion in 1999. The DOE has finally discovered inflation and that they’ll need some detectors for the machine. They’re still low-balling the detector cost. I think it’s intentional.”

  Roger nodded. “And what’s the news about the appointment of the Secretary of Energy?” he asked.

  “Bush is
still hanging back. My contacts at the Pentagon have been working hard to dissuade him from appointing John Deutsch, who was in the lead for a while. They’re pushing for someone with a military background instead. Their argument is that despite Deutsch’s stint at the Pentagon, he doesn’t have the background to deal with the weapons aspects of the DOE and doesn’t have the command skills to shake up the Department and clean up the messy leftovers from the nuclear weapons program. I think the argument is working. I’m expecting a phone call today announcing the decision.”

  “Who’s the military person of choice? I gather General Abrahamson has been mentioned.”

  “I personally arranged for ‘a highly placed source’ to leak that to the Wall Street Journal,” said George. “It’s amazing what they will print when they hear a good rumor. But it’s pure smoke. The Pentagon people are actually pushing Admiral James D. Watkins. He was a Rickover protégé from the nuclear submarine program, a specialist in ship-board nuclear reactors. He was Chief of Naval Operations until three years ago when he retired. Last year he headed a Presidential Commission on AIDS and did a good job in bulldozing a difficult independent-minded committee into producing the report the Reagan Administration wanted.”

  “Impressive,” said Roger. “But what will he do for us and our SSC problem?”

  “My investigators report that he’s a control freak, a safety nut, and is always very determined to get his own way on everything he touches. During his Navy career, he would delegate the responsibilities so that everyone worked directly for him and reported to him on everyone else. He also had a reputation for being extremely conservative in the administration of his projects. He appoints only people that he’d previously worked with. He takes no chances, incurs no risks. On the ships he commanded, safety was the supreme watchword. He installed extra levels of procedures and documentation in the safety area. We picked up a lot of bitching from former crew members.

  “One of his former subordinates told me an apocryphal joke about the Admiral that had been making the Navy rounds. The story goes that when he was Chief of Naval Operations he was invited to deliver the commencement address at a high school in Virginia near his home. He accepted, but then forgot all about it. Then one Saturday morning the principal of the high school called him to say that the commencement exercises were to start in an hour, and he was coming by in his car to pick up his commencement speaker. The Admiral was horrified. He hadn’t prepared a speech, and he didn’t have the faintest idea what to say. The trip to the high school was a nightmare, with the Admiral in a blind panic, wracking his brain for any idea he might use in his speech. They arrived, parked in front of the auditorium, and rushed in. As they were approaching the front doors of the auditorium, the Admiral noticed that each of the doors was labeled with a large sign that said ‘PUSH’.

  “The Admiral smiled. He had found his idea and could relax. He had his theme and knew what he was going to say to the students. The principal introduced him, and he began his speech. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘you are standing at a doorway through which you are about to pass, into a world where you must make your own way, must accomplish things that will establish the basis for your future lives. I’m going to help you in this by telling you a magic word. This word, if you use it properly, will allow you to go anywhere, do anything, accomplish whatever you want. In my career in the Navy I have used this word many times. It has allowed me to reach my present position, ...’ He went on in this vein for a long time, describing the things that he had accomplished by using the magic word that he was going to tell them.

  “Finally, he reached the climax of his talk. ‘I know that by now you are all wondering what this magic word is,’ he said. ‘I will show it to you now. If you will all just turn around and look towards the back of the room, you will find that my magic word is inscribed in large letters on the rear doors of this auditorium.’ The students did as the Admiral suggested and turned around. Then they broke into gales of laughter. At the rear of the auditorium, written in very large letters on each door, was the word ‘PULL’.”

  Roger laughed. “But that Navy story isn’t fair, I suspect,” he said. “Surely the Admiral has considerable skills at leadership and administration.”

  “Oh, yes,” said George. “And he also has very strong opinions about almost everything and is accustomed to getting his way.”

  “I think perhaps I’m beginning to see ...,” said Roger.

  “I’m sure you can,” said George. “Imagine the collision between Watkins and scientists who are building the SSC. They’re already chafing under all the new DOE project oversight paperwork that’s been laid upon them. The DOE is micromanaging the SSC in a way that was never used at Fermilab or SLAC, and physicists don’t suffer bureaucrats gladly. In our universe, when John Deutsch took over as Secretary of Energy one of his first acts was to streamline and simplify the DOE procedures so that Roy Schwitters, who has just been appointed as SSC Director, had more freedom. There were fewer delays in making technical decisions, and the experts were able to focus more effort on the real work of building a technically difficult and demanding accelerator.

  “But imagine what will happen when Watkins takes over. He’ll do just the opposite. He’ll want to reshuffle the SSC management completely, put his people in charge, and have them report directly to him. He’ll undoubtedly institute new levels of paperwork and oversight, new chains of command. He has no conception of what’s required for a successful cutting-edge science project, so he’ll run the SSC construction like a Navy shipyard.”

  The telephone rang, and George answered it. “George Preston,” he said. He listened for a time, then said “Thank you, General,” and hung up.

  “That was one of our Pentagon contacts,” he told Roger. “Tomorrow, the Watkins appointment will be announced. We did it.”

  “You did it,” said Roger. “Congratulations, George.”

  “Two down and one to go,” said George and winked.

  “Yes,” said Roger. “There’s just one more key appointment on our agenda, the Presidential Science Advisor.”

  “The Science Advisor appointment has been going very slowly,” said George, “but we’re making good progress. My contacts inside the administration have been pushing hard for the idea that we need a Science Advisor from the industrial sector, not an academic. Our leading candidate is George Rathman, the Chairman of Amgen. It’s an up and coming biotechnology company.”

  Roger nodded. “He sounds like a good choice. A biotechnologist isn’t likely to have much enthusiasm for high energy physics or the SSC.

  “Any progress on mounting Congressional opposition to the SSC?”

  George nodded. “I’ve been bringing the right people together. I recall from the SSC battles of our previous history that Senator Bumpers of Arkansas and Congressmen Boehlert of New York, Eckart of Ohio, Wolpe of Michigan, and Slattery of Kansas were among the leading opponents of the SSC in Congress. And the most vocal SSC critics in the physics community were Phil Anderson of Princeton, Rustrum Roy of Penn State, and Jim Krumhansl of Cornell. Roy is an organizer of the Science, Technology, and Society movement, Phil has a Nobel Prize for theoretical work in condensed matter physics, and Jim’s going to be the President of the American Physical Society this year. That gives them some social cachet, so I’ve been arranging social gatherings at which potential SSC-critic politicians are brought together with potential anti-SSC physicists. I can’t tell how it’s working yet, but I’m told that the other night Krumhansl spent an hour bending Boehlert’s ear.” He smiled.

  “The next item on our list is the SSC magnet design,” said Roger.

  “Right,” said George. “You’re going to have to carry the ball on that one. We know that the design of the SSC dipole magnets, with their 4 centimeter apertures, is marginal. They were close to the hairy edge of operability, as it turned out.”

  “Yes
,” said Roger. “Since we already know where the problems are with the design, we must find a way of bringing them to light early and making them appear to be major problems instead of minor ones. The SSC Design Center currently has a personnel shortage and I’ve identified the temporary agency they’re using to recruit extra physicist-programmers to go over the SSC reference design in more detail. I’ve applied for a temporary position there, using my ‘Roger Hilton’ persona.”

  “Great!” said George. “Give me their address, and I’ll write a couple of letters of recommendation for the good Mr. Hilton, extolling his amazing programming skills and his profound knowledge of accelerator physics.”

  “I did that yesterday,” said Roger.

  CHAPTER 7.5

  Magnet Problems

  THE SSC Design Group occupied temporary quarters in a large industrial park in De Soto, Texas, south of Dallas and north of the SSC campus site. The starkness of the building had been softened with paintings and potted plants, but it still had a temporary feel. Removable partitions divided the large open area of the hangar-like structure into small cubicles, each containing a programmer or designer.

  Roger Hilton, temporary-hire physicist/programmer attached to the group, sat in his cubicle looking at magnetic field profiles that traced bright colors on the screen of his X-terminal. It was frustrating to have to use this ancient computer hardware. The small lapstation in his backpack had hundreds of times more computing capacity than the entire SSC computer complex here. But nevertheless, he was achieving his goal.

  “How’s it going?” asked a soft female voice behind him.

  He turned and smiled at Edwina Troy, his boss, and then turned a thumb downward. “I believe we have a serious problem here, Edwina,” he said. “The field of the LBL dipole design looks rather marginal to me. I think they cut a few too many corners to keep the cost down. Look at this multipole expansion of the field. See the red lines? There are big high-multipole components that simply shouldn’t be there. The injected beams are not going to stack properly in the ring.”