Jump Starting the Universe

by John David Buchanan

  “Dr. Nextemplis, it is our great pleasure to finally meet you,” said the rectangular being on the right. His words were melodic like the melody in a soft piece of violin music. Celix could see the folds in the leather and upholstery buttons in the back of the seat through his torso.

  “It’s you I’ve been hearing,” said Celix still looking through his chest.

  “Forgive our intrusion,” said the translucent being on the left, “we thought it best that we conduct a simple test and monitor your response.”

  “Did I pass?” he said, thinking the being on the left sounded like a cello.

  “We are sorry…” they both started, “if we have offended you,” one finished.

  “We should explain our reason for being here. First my name is Zemka,” said the being on the right and this is Dezma, and you are correct, we are Perlucidians.

  “Do you read minds as well as administer tests?” asked Celix tersely.

  “No, but our species is highly intuitive and I assumed you were familiar with us through your studies,” said Zemka. Celix shifted in his seat but did not respond.

  They all sat for a moment and then Dezma spoke.

  “Dr. Nextemplis, let me be brief and to the point. We are in danger; we are under attack from a most retched enemy.” The music was heavier and darker. “Some of our people have been attacked without provocation. You may have studied our enemy, the Shumbrans. If you have then you know something of their nature, they are devoid of mercy and compassion. Anonymous sources have provided us information indicating the Shumbrans have created a weapon, that for us could be a doomsday machine,” he said.

  “The weapon inflicts excruciating pain,” added Zemka, “as it shears the molecular bonds of its victims.”

  “The device is called a matrix deconstructor,” Dezma said. Celix sat and listened. He was familiar with the Shumbrans but had never met one, and based on his studies he wasn’t in any hurry to do so.

  “We have no sources of information within the Shumbran community,” continued Dezma, “but we have other sources, such as equipment vendors and shuttle craft drivers, who have warned us that a prototype of a new handheld weapon is complete and that the Shumbrans are now trying to determine if the deconstructor technology is effective and scalable. Our informants indicate it is effective against Perlucidians, and if it is scalable, not only do they have a hand held weapon but the Shumbrans could install the device on space cruisers.”

  “If that were to happen, there is no way our race can protect ourselves, we could be annihilated,” said Zemka.

  “Dr. Nextemplis, the Shumbrans recently tested the new weapon on a kidnap victim. They were unaware that a nanocamera placed by a friend to the Perlucidians was being used to film their test. For them to know the video exists would put a valuable ally in grave danger. Whether you decide to help us or not we ask that you never mention the video. With that agreement, can we play it for you?”

  Celix nodded and Zemka turned on a machine that projected a hologram in the space between them. Three short dark figures could be seen milling about where a translucent being had been restrained at the wrists and ankles. Celix could hear music that was overwhelmingly sad. It seemed to be the saddest melody he had ever heard, and he understood. The shackled Perlucidian asked to be released, but he knew his request was hopeless. One of the dark figures made an ugly noise, like jeering a condemned man who was known to be innocent, and then reached across to a nearby table and retrieved a small rectangular instrument. Another figure joined them but he was not a Shumbran. The music became slow and peaceful, and the Perlucidian had a calm look that indicated he would not be bullied into begging for his life, he would not give the Shumbrans that satisfaction. The Shumbran offered the small rectangular device to the man, but he refused it. The Shumbran made another jeering noise and raising the rectangular object he pointed it at the Perlucidian. The music was calm and peaceful. The Shumbrans were irritated, they expected their hostage to beg, to weep, to moan and wail and plead, but he didn’t, he simply stood, resigned to the outcome but not allowing any negative emotion to worm its way into his thoughts.

  In a fit of temper the Shumbran yelled so loudly the man who had joined them jumped and appeared very nervous. They wanted fear, they wanted distress, they wanted panic and dread but the simple yet elegant musical sounds continued. The Perlucidian watched as the rectangular object was raised and pointed at him. Whatever the device was it had been activated. Celix could feel pain in his ears and he unconsciously rubbed one of them attempting to mute the annoying sound he heard. Suddenly the device issued a sharp report and a beam of light hit the prisoner. He was suspended in a latticework of pulsing red threads, the music became fainter, and the Perlucidian melted; all that was left was a puddle on the floor. The Shumbran laid the weapon down on the table and stepped forward to inspect what was left of their prisoner. The man picked up the rectangular device and said, “I want to borrow this for another test.”

  A gravelly voice replied, “Of course Zypho, I’m sure it will put an end to your ongoing dispute.” The video suddenly ended and Celix felt sick. The Perlucidians in the back seat were talking to each other and Celix could hear the slow, sad music and he understood; the victim had been their friend. He wanted to speak, but waited for them to finish.

  “What do you want from me?” asked Celix.

  “We need help developing a weapon,” said Zemka.

  “Sorry,” said Celix, “I won’t be a part of that. I’m terribly angry about what was done to your friend, but I won’t contribute to the problem.” Zemka and Dezma spoke to each other quietly. Celix heard music and somehow understood exactly what was being said. It wasn’t a weapon to kill Shumbrans that they wanted; it was a weapon to protect their own people.

  “I can help with that,” said Celix before either Zemka or Dezma could try to explain.

  “You understood?” asked Zemka.

  “I understood you want protection not aggression,” said Celix.

  “We are most grateful Dr. Nextemplis. The matter as you can see is extremely urgent, when could you join us?” asked Dezma.

  “I have only one more class to teach this afternoon, and then I am finished for the semester. I can let the Dean know I have an emergency and I’ll ask him to have someone oversee the final exams. We will need to make arrangements for the tests to be picked up so I can grade them and post the results; I have to finish my commitment,” he said.

  “We can arrange to have the exams brought to you,” said Zemka.

  “Then I will return to school to teach my class and speak to the Dean. In three hours meet me at my home.”

  He scratched his address on a piece of paper and handed it to Zemka. Dezma knocked softly on the glass and the driver opened the door for Celix to get out.

  “Welcome to the team Dr. Nextemplis,” said the driver, “my name is Cal, Cal Liesson. I’m somewhat of a tinkerer and I’ll be helping develop hardware for the project. On the walk back to the university Celix had already started constructing theories about how the Shumbran weapon worked. He couldn’t think of anything else. Bits of all the biology, chemistry, engineering and physics he had taught and studied were whirling around in his brain. How do you deconstruct a being made of silicon, and more importantly, how do you shield them from deconstruction?

  The next three hours seemed like minutes. Celix decided he would not tell Liz he was leaving. If the Shumbrans discovered he was involved they might try to get information from her and the less she knew the better. The Dean didn’t ask any questions about his emergency departure but he was disappointed that Celix did not know when he was coming back. He quickly conducted a computer search on Cal Liesson. A tinkerer, what an enormous understatement, he thought as he quickly scanned several articles about Dr. Liesson, the bloke’s a certifiable genius.

  Celix drove his transport home but didn’t remember anything about the drive. There was a transport in front of his home and sitting on the fender was Cal. Celi
x pulled in and parked. Then he wondered, is this real? Am I being played somehow? All he knew about Perlucidians indicated they were not liars or con men; they were not hypocrites. He didn’t know much about Dr. Liesson but from what he had read earlier that day he didn’t seem to be the type who would be involved in a charade. “No, this is real, he thought, as real as it gets and there’s no room for doubt.”

  Celix got out of his car as Cal approached and said, “No trouble then Dr. Nextemplis.” Celix reached to shake his hand and replied, “Absolutely none Dr. Liesson.”

  Cal shrugged, “Well, that doctor thing is not necessary really,” he said.

  “I agree, please call me Celix. I’ll just pack a few things and we can be off.”

  “Fine,” said Cal, “Zemka and Dezma are waiting at their cruiser; the journey won’t be long.”

  For two and one half years they worked in a secret lab with assistance from Perlucidian scientists. Their labors led to the development of the Stage-1NL Planetary Shield that was deployed to protect Perlucidia from Shumbran spaceships fitted with the deconstructor weapon, and the Stage-2NL shield, that was designed for protection of personnel and spaceships. The film shown to Celix by Zemka and Dezma was eventually shown at the Intergalactic Parliamentary Proceedings of 2987.6 on Nargussian Delta 2. A contingent of Perlucidians in attendance convinced Parliament to vote for an immediate ban on production of all deconstructor weapons under the authority of G-201, which forbid the production and distribution of weapons intended for the express purpose of committing genocide. Parliament passed the bill by an overwhelming majority; Shumbran representatives voted no. While the bill successfully stopped the production of new deconstructor weapons, it was not successful in requiring 86,000 deconstructor weapons to be forfeited and destroyed since that portion of Bill W-87b required a unanimous vote. Perlucidia continues to deploy a Stage-1NL Planetary Shield and many of its citizens carry the Stage-2 device for personal protection.

  Because of their work on the Stage-1NL Planetary Shield, Celix and Cal were made honorary MPs in the Perlucidian Parliament and a statue of Dr. Nextemplis and Dr. Leisson was erected in the lobby of the Capitol Building on Perlucidia. The likenesses of the two men were made of an almost clear substance, but not glass, and they stood on top of a low round base of dark smoky colored material that looked like black onyx. The symbolism of that statue was not lost on anyone, except the Shumbrans. Celix arrived home three years after he told Liz, “I’ll see you after.” She was still quite upset.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE GIFT

  No academic discussion of nanites ever occurs without invoking the name of Dr. Hector Gambolez, whom we mention now so as to not break a long standing academic tradition. Scientists occasionally, and cleverly I might add, announce the discovery of the smallest particles in existence. It happens so often, “We have found the smallest particle in existence,” that the phrase has become a standard punch line in bars near universities that conduct research on really small stuff - really, really small stuff. Scientists by and large have an abysmal sense of humor don’t you think?

  Scientists say “small stuff” has been around for a long time, and no, they don’t know how long. If we knew the answer to that we would know the answer to a raft of other “how long” questions. Of course if the answer to the “how long” question didn’t quite fit with certain of our widely held scientific theories, we might not report the answer at all. So, maybe we do know how long – we’re just not telling. Back to Dr. Gambolez.

  Gazing through a small beam of light that highlighted little specks of dust resulting from yet another failed laboratory experiment (this one ending in quite a nice explosion), Dr. Gambolez, dazed but not seriously injured this time, thought it was such a waste to have those ubiquitous little particles swirling about with nothing to do. Whether this thought was truly a stroke of genius or the thoughts of a brain concussed to the point of bleeding we don’t know and neither does Dr. Gambolez (which lends support to the concussed brain theory, as does his brief stay in the head trauma unit at Simblian Central Hospital). Either way we know that after leaving Simblian Central, Dr. Gambolez became obsessed with tiny specks of everything. He swooned over dust in the sunlight, inspected little bits of bits on the black lab tables at the university, collected samples of accumulated debris on top of door frames in restaurants (who mistook him for a health code inspector and were afraid to stop him so they offered him free lunches). He was even caught trying to get swab samples from students’ backpacks. Fearful that the stay at Simblian Central had not been long enough to affect his complete recovery, the University of Technology at Simblian reportedly forced Dr. Gambolez to take a sabbatical. It was a nifty way of saying, “go away please.”

  It wasn’t long after the forced sabbatical that Dr. Gambolez found that his garage was full of tiny bits of dust, and oil, and metal, and cement, and wood fiber. Not only were all those accidental particles particularly abundant but Dr. Gambolez found he could add significantly to the particulate volume if he employed an electric saw, grinder, sander and lathe to virtually everything in his garage, and, to several items pilfered from his kitchen. His wife Anne didn’t complain. She didn’t know, at least not at that very moment. Anne was busy each day as CEO of a very large research and development firm.

  Although Dr. Gambolez relates a slightly different story of how his research in the garage progressed we are going with Mrs. Gambolez’s version. Mostly because the afternoon before their big dinner party Anne found their antique silver serving platter mostly reduced to dust in the garage while Hector, with a “here’s Johnny” smile on his face, stood by with a large commercial grade sander at the ready. Also, the head trauma thing helped us make our decision to side with Anne.

  As CEO of Research and Development, Inc. Anne had invited several of the company’s C level employees to her dinner party. Hector agreed to act less obsessed and generally got on well with the guests, especially Guy Mikes, the head technology officer. Hector noticed a few specks of dust on his silver butter knife and asked Mikes if he was interested in small bits like dust. Anne flinched; convulsed might possibly be a better descriptor. Much to Anne’s amazement Mikes said yes, he was interested in small bits of stuff, and indicated he was doing some research on how small particle sizes affected a material’s characteristics. Before long Tagur, Vice President of Biomechanical Software Programming, was involved in the conversation as well since Hector had postulated that dust-like particles might be “programmable.” The discussions raged for hours and long into the morning of the next day.

  The following week Research and Development, Inc. announced the formation of its new Particles Division. A number of very well researched papers were presented in various peer reviewed scientific journals for several years and ultimately Dr. Gambolez announced the invention of nanites. Nanites, are tiny “machines” capable of tracking down and killing viruses in people or animals, or delivering medicine directly to particular spot on a diseased tissue or organ, or resurfacing the titanium sleeves in the modified combustion chamber of a Whittsner propulsion system. The list of purported uses goes on and on, ad infinitum.

  Dr. Hector Gambolez is now the recipient of numerous patents and enjoys putzing around a state of the art research lab at the Particles Division of Research and Development, Inc., the fastest growing division in the company. When the security staff recently reported that Dr. Gambolez was crawling around on the ground outside his office looking intently at something in the dirt the Director of Security told them exactly what to do – LEAVE HIM ALONE.

  It should be mentioned that the University of Technology at Simblian has changed its “forced sabbatical” policy. And, in an attempt to redress its previous actions, Dr. Gambolez was invited to be a guest lecturer at the Department of Biology where he intends to present a paper entitled Things on Ground.

  At this point you might be wondering about Dr. Gambolez’s rendition of the particles story. Dr. Gambolez’s story was th
oroughly documented, and all notes, recordings and videos memorializing the events as he remembered them have been placed in a secure top-secret storage facility alongside a file entitled The Answer to How Long. There are some answers we are simply not ready for. There are some answers we dismiss regardless of their accuracy. And, there are some answers that are absurdly wrong. When proper science takes a back seat to the personalities of a person or persons of science, absurdly wrong answers often gather support like penny stocks collect investors. Interestingly, the odds of the long term success of both appear to be eerily correlated.

  Finally, shares of Ultrium Ltd. (ULT) as listed on the Basubia stock exchange are at a 52 week low. Its price to twelve-month-trailing-earnings ratio is basically of no interest (#÷ O) but it is consistent and therefore believed to represent no more risk than when it was at its 52 week high. Dr. Larry Sumpia, Dr. Hegvold Dunita, George, and Dr. Lynn Gadge (all four being the same person) believes ULT is a great value play because the laboratory at Ultrium Ltd. has assured them, I mean him or possibly her, they are somewhat closer to actually inventing Ultrium. When pressed (pick one of the personalities above and insert here, or not, it won’t affect the outcome - we’ll choose George) George indicated Ultrium may be the next super metal, or it might be a cellulose type fiber, or possibly a third strong option is that it may be a gel hand cleaner. Suffice it to say the lab is clueless but the stock brokers are selling it like hot cakes. Who wouldn’t want a hot cake? Ultrium Ltd.’s reps are very quick to point out that George’s opinion means the product has three potentially addressable markets. That’s three times as many markets as some other invention whose scientists are only inventing one product. The brokers are also quick to point out that even before its release Ultrium already appears to be three hundred percent greater than products from similar laboratories with only one use. Other remarkable broker statements include: if you own some, more is better; buy it high sell it low, buy it high again – don’t worry, what’s important is that you are still in the game. My personal favorite – buy what you don’t know, too much information clouds an investor’s judgment and may cause them to miss valuable buy high sell low opportunities.