by ASF
“Wait a minute!” Alex gripped the table. “That’s Geneva time, isn’t it? What’s the time difference between the Fermilab and CERN?”
“Seven hours, I think,” said Katerina.
Alex checked his watch. “Oh my god! That gives us just over an hour.” He slid his chair back. “We’ve got to try to convince the Director to shut it down.” He stood. “Please. Let’s go.”
Takeo looked down at the table and stayed put. “It could be injudicious for a staff member to confront the director.”
“You mean you think he might fire you,” said Katerina.
“The thought did occur.”
“Well, I have a safe university position.” Katerina stood. “I’ll go.”
“Professor Wakabayashi?” said Alex.
Takeo toyed with his pocket chess set and did not raise his head. “With regret.”
“I understand,” said Alex, softly. “We’ll come back after our meeting and let you know what happened.”
“Thank you.” Takeo paused. “Perhaps, though, one should not mention the dog to the director.”
The director’s secretary informed them that the director was unavailable. And she would not reveal where he was at the moment. No amount of pleading and arguing from Alex and Katerina resulted in the director becoming less unavailable.
Alex checked his watch. “Come on, Katerina. Let’s get out of here.”
They stormed out of the office. On a door across the hall, Alex saw the sign,
Michael Decker
Deputy Director
“Maybe he can do something,” said Alex.
“Let’s hope,” said Katerina.
They walked in to confront Deputy Director Decker. Alex was prepared for a fight but he didn’t get one. Decker was relaxed and casual, not even wearing a tie. Apparently, he did not have a secretary.
After Alex explained who they were and why they were there, Katerina showed Decker the data.
Alex, painfully aware of the passage of time, waited impatiently as Decker unhurriedly perused Katerina’s folder.
“I’m not sure that I believe these data,” said Decker.
Alex suppressed a grimace. Damn.
“But I think they justify shutting down the Tevetron while the LHC is live,” Decker continued, “until we can do a thorough analysis.”
Great!
“But unfortunately, I don’t have the authority. The Director will have to approve.”
Damn!
“The director’s not in his office,” said Katerina. “And his secretary wouldn’t tell us where he is.”
Decker scowled. “He’s probably in his not-to-disturb hideaway deep in the Tevatron facility.” He leaned in over his computer keyboard. “But I’d say this is important enough to disturb him—via videoconference.”
The computer monitor came live with the image of a man sitting at his desk. And he seemed angry. Alex couldn’t help noticing the man’s dilated pupils and sweat-glistening forehead.
Decker explained the situation and, without waiting for a response, aimed the camera at Katerina and Alex and had them give the details. As they laid out the arguments, the director fidgeted, almost as if afflicted with a neurological condition.
“You’re sure all this is going to happen?” said the director when they’d finished.
“No. We’re not sure,” said Katerina, “not even half sure. But the risk is there.”
“A very theoretical risk, I assume.” The director crossed his hands on his desk. “I am sorry, but I can’t justify bringing down the Tevatron on such . . . theoretical grounds.”
“We’re sitting on an extension of the New Madrid fault,” said Alex, hoping his voice would imply an urgency that Katerina’s did not. “There could well be another quake right here—this time a big one.”
“Again,” said the director, imperiously, “are you sure?”
“Well, no.” Alex paused. “But I know what a Richter nine earthquake can do.”
“If it happens.”
Alex blew out a breath. “With the Tevatron up and running, especially with the two-Tev upgrade and with the LHC above seven—”
“The LHC,” said the director, scornfully. “If we had just one-tenth their funding, we could replace our magnets with lutetium-doped units and be almost at their power.” He uttered a laugh without humor. “If by some miracle we did have some damage from this quake of yours, then, damn it, we’d take the insurance money and we would buy those magnets.”
“Please,” said Alex. “This could be a real danger to the world.” He glanced at his watch. “And we are almost out of time.”
The director gave a mirthless smile. “When you first came here, only last month,”—the director straightened one finger and pointed it at Alex—“weren’t you the one who applied Rapid-Grow in a circle on the grass above the accelerator ring?”
“I didn’t know anyone knew about that.”
“Well,” said the director, “what’s the joke this time?”
“This is no joke,” said Alex, weakly, the wind now out of his sails.
“We can show,” said Katerina, “that the earthquakes correlate strongly with the Tevatron and LHC running.”
“But you can’t say it’s causal, can you?” said the director. “Correlation doesn’t mean causation.”
“In this case, though,” said Katerina, “it’s very suggestive.”
The director looked away. “Some thought the first atomic bomb test might ignite the atmosphere.”
“Meaning?” said Alex, impatiently.
“Meaning . . .” The director swiveled sharply, directing his gaze at Alex. “I’m not ordering the Tevatron shut down on the recommendation of a postdoc.” The director tapped his desk with a balled fist. “I’d be laughed out of my director’s appointment if I did.”
Katerina made calming motions with her hands. “Look. The idea was to close down the Tevatron when the LHC came online. And it has. So why not shut it down now?”
“Not a chance. We’ve got funding to the end of the year.”
Alex saw the director move his hand forward, and then the screen went black. “As the saying goes,” said Alex under his breath, “there but for the grace of God goes God.”
“You noticed,” said Decker, his eyes also on the now blank screen. He turned his attention to Alex and Katerina. “Can’t promise anything,”—he stood, bringing the meeting to a close—“but I’ll see what I can do.”
“There’s not much time,” said Katerina.
“I know.”
Takeo glanced up from his chess set as Alex and Katerina came back into the cafeteria. It looked as if he’d been playing a game with himself.
Alex threw himself down into a chair.
“It appears the director did not agree with the proposal,” said Takeo.
“Closed-minded idiot.”
Katerina sat. “I wonder,” she said, distantly. “Once the earthquake starts, is there any way to stop it?”
Takeo stroked his chin. After a moment, he said, “If the Tevatron were shut down, the Earth should re-seal and the quake should stop.”
“Then I’m going to try to turn off the Tevatron myself.” Alex sprang to his feet. “Before the LHC powers up.”
Katerina appeared startled. “But the deputy director said he’d—”
“We can’t rely on that,” said Alex.
“Injudicious,” said Takeo. “One would not be able to gain entry to the Tevatron.”
“We’ll see.” Alex spun around, but before he’d taken two steps away, Takeo cleared his throat. Alex stopped, looked around, and saw Takeo beckoning him with his forefinger. Alex walked back to the table. “Yes?”
“How much time would there be between your dog’s howl and the possible earthquake?”
“About ten minutes.”
“So long?” said Takeo.
“The Earth reacts slowly.” Alex wanted to get on with it but was curious what Takeo had in mind.
�
��Might not a better plan be to wait near the Tevatron and wait for the dog to howl? And only then to attempt a shut-down?”
“You’ll come with me?”
Takeo shook his head. “Regrettably not.”
Alex narrowed his eyes.
“Should the dog howl, go to the D-zero entrance,” said Takeo. “If entry is possible, and one goes inside, there is a wooden door about twenty meters in—on the left.” Takeo spoke softly. “The door opens to a corridor leading to a room where there once was an experiment. Inside is an inner room where a beam from the accelerator impacted geological samples. The beam no longer goes to that room. The room is empty now. All equipment has been removed. Go there.”
“Why? What good is it if there’s nothing running there anymore?”
“Ah. Although the equipment has been removed, the inner room is still there.” Takeo leaned forward. “And so is the emergency dead-button inside that room.” He leaned further toward Alex. “Push that button,” he said at a whisper, “and the Tevatron will immediately shut down.”
“Really?”
“And it will take two days to start it up again.”
“That would give us time to take our case higher than the director.”
Takeo nodded.
“Thank you.” Alex turned again to go.
“Wait!” said Katerina at a shouted whisper. “I’m coming with you.”
Alex spun around, paused a second or two, then said, “I really appreciate that, but there’s no way your visitor ID would get you anywhere near the Tevatron.” He took a quick swig from his water glass, the ice having long since melted. “And I’m traveling by bicycle. And I don’t know exactly where on the ring the D-Zero experiment is.” He put down the glass.
Katerina turned sharply. “Professor Wakabayashi,” she said, “drive us, please.”
Takeo gave a throaty sigh. He paused. “All right. Fine. One has been there before.”
“You will?” said Alex.
“The Tevatron has a four-mile circumference,” said Takeo, “and the D-Zero experiment is halfway around.” He stood. “Come.” He headed for the door. Alex and Katerina followed.
As they hurried down the front steps of the building, Wegener fell in behind.
Sitting in Takeo’s car, parked in a lot near the D-Zero entrance, Alex watched anxiously as the dashboard clock inexorably crept toward noon. No one spoke. Even Wegener stayed silent.
Finally, noon came.
Alex held his breath, his arm around Wegener.
“He’s not howling,” said Katerina, almost at a whisper.
Alex checked his watch. It read the same as the dashboard clock.
For minutes, they sat as if frozen.
Then Wegener did howl—a loud howl that Alex knew portended a huge quake. He flung open the car door and sprang out. Wegener followed.
Alex pointed at his dog. “Stay! Wegener, stay!” Alex turned and headed away from the parking area. He forced himself to move at a casual pace, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Hearing the car door open again, he stopped and swiveled around.
Katerina had stepped out. “I’m coming with you,” she announced.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Don’t argue,” said Katerina. “We don’t have the time.”
Alex knew she was right. He turned again toward the Tevatron entrance and heard Katerina coming up beside him. “Walk as if we belong here,” he whispered from the side of his mouth.
“Look,” Katerina whispered, nodding toward a person far ahead of them striding toward the entrance. “Let’s see if we can follow him in.”
They increased their pace until, at the entrance, they were only a step behind. The man in front swiped his card, and as he opened the door, looked behind him.
Katerina, seeming to hunt for her card, smiled at him. He gave a nod that could have almost been a small bow, and held the door open for her and Alex.
Alex feigned a twist of the ankle as he started down the stairs. He uttered a mild oath with what he hoped was an expression of annoyance and mild pain. He grasped at the handrail for support.
“Are you all right?” said the man.
“I’m fine. Just turned my ankle a bit.” Alex flexed his ankle. “I always seem to trip over my feet when I come in here out of a bright sun.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean.”
Alex flexed his ankle as the man first nodded, then continued down the stairs and disappeared into the bowels of the Tevatron tunnel system.
Compact fluorescents set into recesses in the tunnel wall provided a cold, white light as Alex and Katerina descended the steps to a high-arched corridor. The smell of grass and fresh outdoor air gradually gave way to a technological odor—like the scent of distant burnt electronics. A soft thrum of air conditioning and the combined susurrus of numerous machines resonated off the concrete walls—along with the sound of receding footsteps.
“Looks pretty deserted, doesn’t it?” said Alex softly, as he and Katerina padded lightly down the corridor.
“There it is,” said Katerina, pointing ahead and to the left.
They stopped in front of a door. It was where Takeo said it would be. The door was clearly old. It had an actual keyhole rather than a card reader.
Alex tried the handle. “Damn! Locked.”
“What now?” said Katerina.
Alex regarded the door. It seemed more a notice of disuse than a conditional barrier to entry. “Looks pretty flimsy.” He put his shoulder against it and pushed. But the door held. “Damn!” he said again. He took a quick look up and down the passageway, then, with a grunt, threw himself against the door. The wood around the lock split, the sound harsh and loud in the empty corridor. He pushed again. The lock tongue stayed in the door jam while the door itself ripped away and flew open. With a loud clang, the inside handle struck the concrete wall.
“Okay,” Alex whispered as he stepped inside. He felt silly for whispering while the sound of the break-in still reverberated off the hard walls.
The opening revealed another corridor, musty-smelling and dark. There were no working lights set in the walls.
By the dim illumination from behind, Alex and Katerina made their way forward. After ten or fifteen meters, the passageway widened, becoming another room. In the darkness, it looked more like a grotto than a place for science.
At the far end of the room, a sliding door dominated the wall, a massive protection against particle radiation.
“I think the emergency shutoff is on the other side of that.” Alex glanced above the door. “As long as that sign isn’t flashing ‘Danger,’ everything’s okay.”
He saw a recessed handle. “With no power in this lab, we should be able to use this.” He pulled hard and the door, creaking and complaining, opened enough to admit them.
“I hope the shutoff button still has power,” said Katerina.
“Yeah!” Alex looked inside—or tried to. The meager illumination from the corridor only allowed him to see a meter or so into the experiment room, and only straight ahead. “I’ll have to feel around for it. On the left, Takeo said.”
“I’ll try the right side,” said Katerina. “Maybe Takeo didn’t—”
A low rumble interrupted her words.
“I thought we had time,” Katerina called out, her voice quavering.
The ground began to tremble. The shaking grew and Alex heard crashing noises in the distance. He pushed himself against a wall to keep from falling. “Kätchen,” he shouted over the increasingly loud groaning of the Earth. “Get out! Get out, now!” He grabbed the door jam to keep his balance. “I’ve got to find that shutoff button.”
“You come, too,” Katerina shouted. “This could collapse. You could die.”
“Go!” Alex shouted as he staggered into the room.
“No!” Katerina, on her knees, crawled into the room and then, clawing at the metal door, pulled herself to her feet. As she did so, the door groaned and slid closed, leaving t
he experiment room in absolute darkness.
“Oh, no,” said Katerina. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about . . . Hey!” Alex called out. “Here it is, I think. It feels like a button.”
“Push it!”
“Done!”
“Nothing’s happening!”
His hand still on the button, Alex’s mind was fully engulfed in the fearful magnificence of the quake. He was both thrilled to experience a high-Richter quake firsthand and also irrationally afraid it would go on forever.
“Alex?” Katerina called in the darkness.
“Sorry. I’m here. Wait! The quake. It’s weakening—I think.”
A few seconds later, the shaking stopped and room went silent.
“Takeo was right,” said Katerina, relief apparent in her voice.
“Yeah.” Alex released his grip on the shutoff button’s box and pawed around until he found the door handle. “Uh-oh!”
“What’s the matter?”
Alex braced himself and strained against the handle. “The door. It . . . it won’t move.”
“I’ll come and help. Maybe the two of us—”
“No, stay put,” said Alex in grunts, pulling with all his strength at the depressed handle. He released his grip. “This doesn’t have room for two hands—much less four.”
“What’ll we do?” Katerina’s words reverberated in the silent room.
Alex noted the silence. He could hear neither the sounds of machinery, nor of the air-conditioners. My god! That means there’s no air circulating. He shuddered. Maybe it means that we’ll just be breathing stale air. Or maybe—
“Alex?”
“We’ll be all right.” Alex didn’t know if he should try the door again or sit still to conserve oxygen.
“I must admit,” said Katerina with obviously forced brightness, “that I’m beginning to be just a little frightened.”
Alex backed against the wall and slid to a sitting position. “We’ll be okay,” he said again, hoping Katerina couldn’t hear the insincerity in his voice. “Let’s just sit quietly and wait to be rescued.” He sought and found her hand, and pressed it.
“Maybe Takeo will come,” she said.
Alex pictured the diminutive Takeo. We don’t need a particle physicist. We need a sumo wrestler.
“Oh, wait!” Abruptly, Katerina pulled her hand away, and a moment later there came light—from the display of Katrina’s mobile phone.