When one of the physics professors said he had seen a program written by Jeff that computed the orbits of all the man-made satellites, Professor Rhinehart had retorted, “So what? So has the group at the Jet Propulsion Lab.” The other had countered with, “Yes, but Wells did his at age fifteen from information supplied by magazines and on a PC!”
“He had better breaks than I did early on,” Rhinehart said defensively whenever he heard anyone lauding Wells’ abilities in the faculty lounge. “His mother was a research scientist and adviser to Presidents Reagan and Clinton. With her as a tutor, he couldn’t help but succeed.”
There was but one thing Rhinehart could not begrudge the young man: Wells had a singular gift of being able to take very complex equations and reduce them to simplified programs that would run on just about any computer system to which he had access.
Rhinehart had done everything in his power to keep Wells off the geological research project. But in the end the final selection had been made by the faculty team, and Jeff Wells was the first student selected to assist the senior staff. He was resigned to the fact that he could not block Wells’ appointment to the project, so the professor shifted his energy to making Jeff’s life as miserable as possible—a task for which he found himself well suited.
I’ve got him now, Rhinehart thought gleefully as he hastened to maximize on Wells’ single error thus far. He called his counterpart at Livermore, Dr. William Eison. “Bill, this is Jack Rhinehart. I need your help.”
“Good to hear from you, Jack,” the burly mathematician on the other end said.
There was an edge to his voice that made Jack pause for a second, but then he dismissed it. “One of our research students ran our seismology equations through the university’s computers and came out with some different results, Bill. Obviously he’s made an error and my equations are correct, but I’d like to have you run them through your system.”
“Okay, Jack, I’ll run your numbers through Gerta, but we cooked that program three ways from Sunday already. If there was a flaw, I think we would have caught it. What does your whiz kid think he’s found anyway? Have we missed the blow off of Mount Saint Helens again?”
“No, but listen to this! He says his equations show the big quake will hit Japan some time early next year, and it will be about an eight.”
“You’re kidding! I’ll be sure to run his numbers twice. If he’s right, I’ll move to Arizona and buy some beach-front property.”
“What are you saying? You think he has a chance?” Rhinehart asked incredulously.
“Probably not,” the overweight scientist said with a grunt. Rhinehart could almost see him shifting his sagging paunch under his belt. The man had always eaten entirely too much cafeteria food. “But who knows when it comes to computers? I still don’t really trust ’em. One of these days we’ll all be taking orders from one of ’em if we’re not real careful.”
“Probably so,” Rhinehart agreed. “Idiot,” he said aloud after he hung up the phone.
Two days later Jack Rhinehart was roused out of a sound sleep by the electronic beeping of his telephone.“Yes, who is it?” he growled into the receiver.
“Rhinehart, it’s Eison. That kid who ran these numbers . . . who is he?”
“He’s a doctoral candidate by the name of Jeff Wells. Why? Why are you calling at six in the morning anyway?”
“We’ve been at these numbers for the last twenty hours and we can’t find a flaw in his logic. It looks like your whiz kid has hit upon the greatest discovery in seismology since the seismograph was invented.”
“You mean to say you believe his calculations?” Rhinehart shouted as he bolted upright in bed. “But that’s nonsense. He doesn’t know beans about earthquakes.”
“Maybe not, but I can tell you this, his insight is like none I’ve ever seen in my sixty-two years. We need him here as quickly as possible.”
“Th-that’s impossible,” Rhinehart sputtered.
“Never say impossible,” Eison said with an air of contempt in his tone. “We’re sending the jet down to John Wayne Airport to pick him up in an hour. Have him there.”
Depression swept over the scrawny instructor as he heard this news. A dumb kid is going to get the recognition I should have, he thought as he slipped his heavy glasses on. “I’ll come up with him, Bill.”
“Sorry, we don’t need more hands right now, and we’re gonna be overrun with reporters and politicians when this news breaks.”
After hanging up the phone, Rhinehart sat in numbed silence. Then he called one of his lab assistants and told him to notify Wells of the waiting plane. He was fuming when he slammed the phone down. “There’s no justice,” he shouted to his empty apartment. “No justice at all!”
That plane ride to the Livermore Laboratory would change Jeff Wells’ life forever. For the next three days he was bombarded with questions about how he had devised the equations used to integrate all the billions of bits of data used in his calculations.
Jeff spent hours sitting around the big conference table in the “think tank” room at Livermore, trying to explain his equations to the top physicists at the research facility. Often in frustration they would throw up their hands and demand that Jeff diagram his concept on the chalkboard. More often than not, all this accomplished was more frustration.
“But I don’t understand, Dr. Wells,” one of the obviously frustrated mathematicians said gruffly as he leaned forward in his chair. “Who taught you to do this?”
“No one taught me,” Jeff responded as he sat back down in his chair. “And it’s not ‘Doctor.’ It’s just plain Jeff.”
The red-faced scientist sat back in his chair, careful not to notice the smirks on the faces of several of the less-stuffy scientists.
The focus of the conference shifted from questioning Jeff on his formula to why he predicted the earthquake to be imminent and centered in the Tokyo area. He explained his computations to the small group of scientists, who were transfixed at not only what they heard but what they saw.
Jeff pushed a button recessed into the table top, swinging a hidden computer keyboard into position. As he began to type in the commands that initialized his program, the only sound that could be heard in the room was the slight mechanical ring of the plastic keys as he punched in the data. As if in unison with his actions, the wall on the opposite end of the room divided and began to retract into a hidden cavity, revealing a wall-sized flat-screen display.
Dr. Eison, along with Jeff, had labored several days to convert Jeff’s program to operate on the massively-parallel computer system nicknamed “Gerta.”
The display screen, covering nearly the entire wall, sprang to life. A computer-generated model of the earth was displayed in full color: The oceans were painted a light shade of blue and the land masses reflected variations of green and brown. The known geological faults were displayed as red dashed lines, and small glistening satellites circled the globe at all heights and directions.
Jeff began to demonstrate his program while Dr. Eison discussed the concept of using variations in the satellites’ orbits to monitor changes in the earth’s magma. By the end of the thirty-minute session, those in attendance were believers.
Later that day, Jeff was asked to repeat the demonstration for the benefit of the entire Livermore scientific team and the reporters who had been invited.
“No one can be absolutely certain of the timing of a major earthquake,” Jeff said as he sat down at the computer console and began initiating his program once again. “The difficulty is that the forces are released as the earth’s plates slide past each other. Friction can cause the force to build up and suddenly release or skip, much the same as when you press chalk against a chalkboard. Sometimes it slides along; other times it grates and skips.”
When he heard Dr. Eison clear his throat and noticed the frowns from some of the attending seismologists, Jeff realized he had committed a faux pas; he had taken a complex technical subject and reduced it to laymen’s terms.
That made a big hit with the press, but it rankled those who made their living by keeping things complicated.
“Anyway,” he continued, “Dr. Landill of JPL Labs documented minute changes in the orbits of several satellites throughout the last two decades, which were unaccountable except for changes in the earth’s gravitational field. These were thought to be random changes and largely ignored, except by the satellite trackers. I felt they might be related to earthquakes on the surface, so I programmed an equation to factor in these changes with the known epicenters of recent quakes.”
“Impossible,” argued one of the scientists who had missed the earlier session. “We have been trying for years to accumulate and process that kind of data.”
“I believe you can now,” Jeff responded confidently as he pressed the “enter” key on the big console. Instantly the full-sized screen on the wall blossomed into a scaled replica of the earth in three dimensions, just as it had in the earlier demonstration. With each stroke of the keys, more detail came into focus. Suddenly satellites began spinning around the globe, each in its own unique orbit.
As Jeff manipulated his program, the red lines began to appear once more on the earth’s surface. “These represent known active faults,” he explained for the benefit of the reporters and scientists who had missed the earlier session. “Notice how the orbits of the satellites crossing over the fault lines cause them to shift.”
The shift in the orbits of the low-altitude satellites was the most dramatic; the high-altitude satellites had the least reaction.
Jeff explained, “I have exaggerated the orbital variations to make them more measurable. The satellite orbits you see on the screen are amplified by a factor of ten to the fourth power.” Even the most stoic scientists stared in awe as they watched the computer-enhanced graphics display the orbits of several hundred satellites superimposed over fault lines in the earth’s surface. Each knew that what he was seeing was as revolutionary to the field of geology as the splitting of the atom was to physics.
“How can we be sure that your program is accurately depicting these changes and not creating them?” someone in the group asked.
“I thought that might be a possibility too,” Jeff replied patiently, “so I applied the equation to some past seismic activity to verify the results.”
Swiftly moving his fingers across the keys, Jeff initiated another subroutine. The screen shifted from a total Earth view to the continent of Asia. A dark red line dominated the landscape.
“This was the site of the 2010 earthquake in Beijing, China,” he said, still typing commands. “It measured 6.7 and, as we all clearly remember, resulted in the loss of approximately 1.5 million lives. As you can see, the actual date and magnitude are displayed on the screen. Thus far, this is historical data gathered from seismographic devices in the area. Now we’ll roll the program back and use only the data known before November 16, 2010—the actual date of the disaster.”
Jeff ran his program, using only the information available before the actual earthquake in China. The results were inconclusive. Then he punched up another overlay that included the satellites passing over the area. “This is data from Dr. Landill’s observations,” he noted. Suddenly, the program came alive. A warning indicator flashed on the screen with an arrow pointing directly at the city of Beijing. The program then showed a steadily increasing probability of a major earthquake, predictable as much as two years in advance. As time progressed, the calculations became more and more precise until one month before the disaster the warning shifted to an alarm predicting an earthquake on the order of 6.5 to 6.8 on the Richter scale. The orbit of a low-orbit U.S. spy satellite developed what looked like a wobble on the expanded scale of the computer-enhanced program.
Finally, using data from several other lesser quakes, Jeff demonstrated the capabilities of his program. “It is not as accurate with smaller quakes,” he apologized.
“That’s like apologizing for the brush strokes in the Mona Lisa,” one of them muttered, setting the entire room into laughter—with a few exceptions.
“With some more refinement, I believe we will be able to predict major earthquakes accurately, both in time and magnitude,” Dr. Eison added from his position next to Jeff. “We’ll take this prototype program and work out the details. Show them the real thing, Jeff,” he said somberly.
As his fingers flashed across the keyboard, Jeff progressed to the last stroke necessary and then halted.
Dr. Eison announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, what you are about to see has already been screened and verified by members of my staff. For the immediate future, it cannot be made public. That is the responsibility of President Kilborne and his national security adviser. You will be advised when the information can be announced.”
“Okay, Jeff. Proceed,” Dr. Eison said as he sat back down.
The screen shifted back to the global picture of the earth. Then, as it rotated slowly, the image first zoomed in on the North American continent. Then the United States. Finally, the state of California filled the entire twenty-foot screen.
Jeff clicked on several more keys and small red lines began to appear on the outline of the state.
“These are fault centers,” Dr. Eison explained. “At present, they have not been given an intensity value.”
As Jeff tapped more keys, the red images shifted to bright and dark shades. The brightest appeared in the lower third of the state’s image, very near Los Angeles. A second lighter red image appeared in the upper third of the screen, near San Francisco.
Dr. Eison explained, “The image at the top is the San Francisco fault.
Conventional wisdom has been telling us the Pacific Plate will rift here.
And we have been concentrating our evacuation training here. If you will, please, Jeff.”
Jeff changed the image so that the state of California was superimposed over that of the entire globe. Suddenly, satellites appeared, crossing in nearly every conceivable angle.
“The heavenly super highway,” Dr. Eison said.
As the orbits of each satellite passed over California, each dipped and wobbled. It looked as if some mighty magnet was trying to dissuade them from passing that way. Homing in on the northern fault, the program began to spit out calculations. Earthquake Predicted: 2013; Location: San Francisco fault; Magnitude: 5.6 to 5.8; Estimated Damage: Minimal.
A hushed sigh went out from those in the room who had family and friends in the Bay area. A major quake had been predicted there for so long that everyone thought the end might come any day, but a 5.8 earthquake was like a popgun to that area; it might rattle a few buildings, but little more.
Without speaking, Dr. Eison motioned to Jeff to continue. The program now zoomed in on the other side of the Pacific rim, namely the southern part of Japan, where another bright red line appeared. Once more the calculations began: Earthquake Predicted: 2013; Location: Tokyo; Magnitude: 8.2 to 8.4; Estimated Damage: 2.3 to 2.5 million deaths.
The gasps were audible in the room, but even as the nonscientists were trying to comprehend what they had just seen, the image was zooming in even closer. The display showed the city of Tokyo in computer imagery just after the quake struck. Virtually no buildings were left intact in the downtown area. For forty miles around, the program displayed massive fires and destruction.
The next caption read: Residual Tremors Predicted: 6.5, 6.3, 6.0, 5.4, 4.9, 3.5 over the next 72 hours. Predict Tokyo uninhabitable for at least twelve months.
Even as the roomful of scientists and reporters was trying to absorb the enormity of it all, the screen shifted to the next caption: Tsunami expected in Pacific basin. Amplitude: 300 feet; Rate of Travel: 300 to 400 mph; Expected Target: Philippine Islands and U.S. West Coast. Inland wave in California predicted at 16 feet.
“The earthquake will create a tidal wave—called a tsunami—that will travel across the Pacific at the rate of 300 to 400 miles per hour,” Dr. Eison explained. “It will hit the Philippines and California with
the force of a multimegaton bomb. It will hit the southern coast of California and sweep inland, virtually wiping out everything in its path at least one mile inland.”
“Doctor, do you realize what you’re saying?” shouted one of the reporters. “Thirty million people live in the area you describe.”
“I realize that all too clearly,” Dr. Eison answered solemnly. “I hope we’re wrong, but I don’t think so.”
“What are you planning to do?” asked another reporter. “I live in L.A. and so do several million of our readers.”
“That’s really not up to me. That is a decision for the governor and the president.”
This is our chance to take Governor Crow out of the race, thought Cal Rutland, aide to presidential candidate Mark Hunt. All we need is a disinformation campaign. . . . As Jeff answered other questions, Rutland reviewed his e-mail he’d typed out on his cell phone. “Senator Mark Hunt: Believe I have found the man to analyze computer capabilities. Jeff Wells, a student at California Institute of Technology. You’ll read about his work shortly. Cal”
2
THE ILLUMINATI
When the news about the predicted California tidal wave leaked, the public reacted predictably—with panic and outrage. The press demanded that Governor Crow do something. However, there was nothing that Governor Jerry Crow could do to prevent the natural disaster, and his popularity rating dropped dramatically; it was exactly what his competitor’s election committee was hoping for. Mark Hunt was gunning for him, and for the first time, Jerry had little choice but to duck and cover.
An avid and vocal gay rights activist, Crow had hopes of being the first gay to run for the presidency under the banner of a major political party. His successful moves to revoke the tax-exempt status of most of California’s religious institutions had won him national acclaim. And his petition to the FCC to revoke the licenses of religious broadcasters in California had launched him on the path to the White House. When the FCC granted his petition, this same strategy was used across the country to unseat the several thousand religious broadcasters then in place. With many of those stations now under the control of gay power groups, Crow finally had his national forum.
The Illuminati Page 2