Copyright © 2006 Karen Jordan Allen
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
WE ARE THE CAT
by Carl Frederick
Carl Frederick is a theoretical physicist, at least theoretically. After a post-doc at NASA and a stint at Cornell Uni-versity, he left theoretical astrophysics and his first love, quantum relativity theory, in favor of hi-tech industry. The inventor of the first commercial digital modem, he now works as the chief scientist of a small company doing AI software. He has two more-or-less grown children and shares his house with a pet robot. For recreation, Carl fences épée, learns languages, and plays the bagpipes. He lives in rural Ithaca, New York. (He tells us rural is good if you play the bagpipes.) A graduate of the Odyssey Writers Workshop, his work has primarily appeared in Analog. Carl also has an interactive novel on his website—www.dark zoo.net—. You can click on the story to change the points of view and to expose sub-plots. (While there, you can also hear a nifty translation of the fruit-fly genome to music.)
Over the din of falling rocks crashing against the sheer walls of the shaft, Paul heard a scream of pain.
“God damn it,” Paul shouted, “I said don't look up.” He squeezed himself into a cleft in the flare-out chamber. And cowering there, just meters from the entrance pit, he hoped that none of the rocks raining down onto his hard hat would be massive enough to break his neck.
He turned his head slightly, slewing the beam of his miner's lamp to illuminate Alex. At the same moment, the beam from Alex's lamp moved as well and Paul squinted against the sudden brilliance. Had they been under the sunlit sky and not in the blackness of a cave, they would be looking each other in the eye.
Again, Paul heard a sound of pain, this time a moan, and swung his head and beam to the source: the third spelunker, Conrad Frith. Almost buried in the tumble of rocks, Conrad had slumped to the cave floor and seemed unconscious. His hard hat sat askew on his head, and the electric miner's lamp was dark.
As abruptly as it had started, the pummeling of rocks subsided and the roar of the limestone avalanche, amplified by the resonances of the caverns, went silent. When his hearing had adjusted to the eerie quiet, Paul could hear only the dripping water from the tips of the stalactites.
After a few moments, when he felt confident that no more rocks would fall, Paul pushed himself out of the small cleft in the cave wall and surveyed the damage.
He moved toward Alex, just a few meters away. “Are you okay?"
Alex took a step away from the wall that he'd squeezed against, but then let himself slide down to a sitting position. His face, which had registered fear, now showed a mix of relief and pain. He winced as he massaged his left leg just below the knee.
“Jeez,” he said. “Hurts like hell.” He explored the limb with both hands. “But I don't think it's broken.” He wiggled his shoulder blades and let out a breath through pursed lips. “But other than that, yeah, I guess I'm okay."
Again, Paul heard the sound of falling rocks, but this time just a gentle clatter. He directed his lamp to the far side of the entrance chamber and saw Conrad freeing himself from the debris. “Conrad,” Paul called out. “You okay?"
“Yeah. I think so."
Clambering over the rock-strewn cave floor, Paul made his way over. “No you're not.” He shone his light strong into Conrad's face. “There's blood pouring down your forehead."
Paul called over his shoulder, “Alex, there's a first aid kit in the drag pack. If you can walk, would you get it?"
“Yeah, just a sec,” Alex called back.
Paul removed Conrad's hard hat and, in the beam of the laser diode headlamp, he saw Conrad's Germanic-blond hair glisten a dark crimson.
“Oh shit,” said Paul under his breath.
“Jeez!” cried Alex, and Paul turned at the sound.
Alex tugged at the drag-pack line; the rope drew taut, one end vanishing under a pile of small boulders. “Buried,” said Alex, “and even if we could dig it out, it'll probably be crushed flat."
“Damn it.” Paul whisked off his gloves and zipped down his one-piece coveralls. He worked his way out of the elastic-cuffed sleeves, took off his shirt, and passed it to Conrad. “Here. Press this against your head."
Shivering in the damp cold, Paul fumbled with the zipper and struggled to regain the warmth and security of coveralls and gloves.
“Okay,” said Paul, catching his breath. He took back his shirt and, though impeded by his thick gloves, managed to fashion something of a turban. He secured it on Conrad's head with the sleeves. “Score one for Boy Scout training."
Although a section of cloth covering Conrad's head was turning red, Paul let out a sigh of relief as he noted that the blood flow seemed to be stanched.
“Thanks, um...” said Conrad. He looked pained for a moment. “Thanks, Paul."
“What's the matter?” asked Paul. “Does it hurt?"
“No. It's not that.” Conrad looked away, avoiding Paul's gaze. “It's just that for a moment, I forgot your name.” He shook his head. “And that scares me a little."
“I wouldn't worry about it. You probably have a slight concussion."
“Concussion, yeah.” Conrad sounded relieved.
“I hope this cave has another entrance,” said Alex, softly, from behind.
“It doesn't,” said Paul, still preoccupied with Conrad's condition.
“You're sure?” It sounded more like a plea than a question.
“Never absolutely certain about anything,” said Paul. “I'm a quantum theorist."
“Boy, you're a great help,” said Alex. “Thank you, Dr. Heisenberg."
Paul swiveled around, his beam making a quick circle around the cave walls. Alex had spoken with his usual flippancy, but a tremor in his voice gave him away.
“Well, it's your fault,” said Paul, smiling. “What we get for taking an undergraduate along on a grad-student outing."
“Oh no,” said Alex.
“Just kidding."
“It's not that.” Alex pointed. Where there had been an entranceway to the vertical pit, a mountain of glistening rocks stood against the cave wall. “There's no way we can dig our way through that."
Paul suppressed a gasp and fought down a sudden panic. He was the cave leader and he knew he had to display calmness. “Theoretically, that should not have happened."
“Jeez. Theoreticians,” said Alex, shaking his head and sending an oscillating beam of illumination against the cave wall.
“Switch off your light,” said Paul. “Let's see if we can see any daylight."
Paul and Alex switched off their lamps; Conrad's was already dark.
“Nothing,” said Alex.
“Keep your light off,” said Paul. “Give our eyes time to adapt."
Paul struggled to see gradations of darkness, but there was no light. He had the notion that he'd suddenly gone blind and that there was no one in the dark with him. Listening hard for human breathing, he heard nothing but the occasional sound of dripping water.
Why do I do this, he wondered. But he knew the answer. Despite the cerebral rush he got from doing physics, he seemed to need a matching visceral high—an adrenaline rush. And boy, am I ever getting that now. God, I'm scared shitless.
“Alex?” he said after what seemed a lifetime, but could only have been a few seconds.
“Yeah?"
“Okay, lights on.” Paul flipped the switch and felt warmed, even by the cold, blue-white illumination of the laser diodes.
But Alex's lamp stayed dark.
“Damn,” said Alex. “Now my light's broken.” He pounded on his head-mounted lamp, then took off his hard hat and flipped the switch a couple of times. Still no light. “Jeez. You'd think the Outdoor Club might invest in some new equipment."
Paul sucked in a breath. Now they had only one light source between them. Paul shivered with a mental image of total darkness. As he turned to look at Alex, he realized he was moving his head slowly—as if a fragile
treasure were balanced on his hard hat. Damn it. We should all go back to using carbide lamps.
Conrad, meanwhile, absently toying with his hard hat, started as the lamp blinked on. “Hey,” he said, “'and there was light.’”
“Thank God,” said Paul. He looked over to where the drag-pack was buried, keenly aware of the loss not only of the first aid kit, but also of the crucially important alternate sources of light.
“Keep the lights switched on,” he said. “Batteries should last a week, so if we don't mess with the switches, at least we'll have light. And it's a live cave so we don't have to worry about drinking water."
“A week,” Alex mumbled under his breath. He nervously worked the switch on his dead lamp. “How long do you think it'll be before someone rescues us?"
“Don't know,” said Paul. “When you got the gate key, how long did you say we'd be caving?"
Alex stopped playing with the switch, but he didn't answer.
“Alex?"
“No one was home, so I just took the key off the hook."
“Did you leave a note?” Paul spoke softly, trying to keep his voice steady.
“No, but when he gets home, he'll see the key's missing."
“God damn it,” said Conrad, sitting, his back against the cave wall with his hard hat resting on a knee. He moved the hat to direct the beam into Alex's face. “For all we know, the guy's vacationing in New Zealand. And...” The beam wavered, casting Alex's silhouette flickering against the far wall.
“What's wrong?” said Paul.
“I forgot where New Zealand is."
Alex gave Paul a puzzled look. “It's near Australia,” he said. “Anyway, someone's bound to see the van, not to mention Quantum."
“I wouldn't count on it,” said Paul. “Only the owner and other cavers use that road.” Paul looked down at his hands and willed them to stop shaking.
Conrad closed his eyes. “The road is roughly north-south and we're at latitude 41.5,” he said, “and his leash reaches to the stream.” Conrad slapped a hand against the cave floor four or five times, the glove making squishing sounds against the thin layer of mud. “So, at this time of year, considering the length of his leash, where it's tied to the car, and the path of the sun in the sky, Quantum should always be able to find some shade in the shadow of the van."
“Jeez.” Alex slapped the wet rock of the cave wall. “We're trapped in a cave and all you can do is calculate if your dog's going to be comfortable."
Conrad opened his eyes, and his eyes were wild. “It took me a lot longer than it should have.” He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, then bit his lip.
“In the absence of mass,” he blurted out, suddenly, “space doesn't become flat, it becomes undefined—stochastic."
“What?” said Paul.
Alex wrinkled his nose.
“If there's no mass, we don't need space,” said Conrad.
Paul saw Conrad's hand begin to shake. “What the hell are you talking about?"
“It's right, isn't it?” Conrad spoke with none of his usual assurance.
“You okay?” said Paul.
Conrad put on his hard hat, then winced. “Ouch.” He adjusted the hat, then stood. “I'm scared, guys. I'm losing my memory. I can almost feel it vanishing."
Alex and Paul stared at him.
“I've got to keep exercising my memory.” Conrad leaned his head back against the cave wall. “I've got to talk about stuff."
“There are other things we could talk about beside physics,” said Alex.
“I'm a physicist,” said Conrad. “There's nothing else. It's what I am."
Paul, despite himself, laughed. “Come on, Conrad. Don't you think you're exaggerating a little?"
“No.” Conrad looked away, into the blackness of the cave. “I come from a poor family.” He spoke barely above a whisper. “We never had anything."
He turned and looked directly at Paul. His expression, Paul realized, was not the usual mixture of cool reserve and intense concentration. Conrad's face showed a real emotion—anguish. And his eyes, watery-bright in the beam of Paul's lamp, gleamed like tiny, blue bicycle reflectors.
“All I have is what I know and how well I can think.” Conrad stroked his cheek, leaving a smudge against his nose. “I don't smoke. I don't drink. I won't do anything that could impair my mind. And now this.” He walked over and sat facing Alex and Paul. “Please. I don't know what else to do."
“Okay,” said Paul. “Nothing much we can do anyway—except wait.” Paul suddenly wished he weren't the leader; then he wouldn't have to hide being scared.
“We could look for another entrance,” said Alex. “There might be one."
“There might,” said Conrad, his voice calm, like his normal self—but his eyes gave him away.
Paul worried. Conrad always had a sharp memory. “Conrad,” he said with forced calmness. “We've done this cave a lot together. It's a simple cave. We've never seen even the hint of an alternate entrance."
“You see? I'm losing it!” Conrad shouted. His voice, harsh, reverberated against the walls. He jumped up and then pounded a gloved fist against the wall. “So, in the case of the two slit experiment,” he said with a strained steadiness, “even if we measure which slit the particle went through, the interference pattern is not affected as long as the measurement is not remembered."
“What?” said Alex. “That's not true. Any measurement of which slit the electron goes through, destroys the pattern."
Paul smiled. He didn't know how therapeutic this conversation was for Conrad, but it was certainly taking Alex's mind off their problems.
“That's the establishment view,” said Conrad. “But it's wrong. Look. An electron is charged. It has a field, and when it goes through a slit, the atoms making up the walls of the slit feel the effect of the field. So those atoms are making the measurement. But they don't ‘remember’ the measurement. It's a question of memory.” Conrad's voice wavered. “...of memory."
“It's all right, Conrad,” said Paul, “I can't be certain there's not another entrance."
“Blessed are the uncertain,” said Alex, “for maybe they shall see Heisenberg."
Paul shot him a look, then turned to see Conrad ambling off further into the cave. “Conrad, wait.” He scrambled to his feet. Alex stood as well.
Conrad stopped and looked back.
“So, what you're saying is,” said Paul, humoring his friend, and Conrad very much seemed to need humoring, “is that only if a measurement is remembered and then communicated to the rest of the world, will the interference pattern go away."
“Precisely. And the argument holds for Schrödinger's Cat as well."
“That's nonsense,” said Alex. “Memory is not a physics concept."
Paul resisted the urge to kick Alex in the shins.
“Okay, a flip-flop,” said Conrad. “Imagine the latch being set if the slit atoms detect the electron."
“A flip-flop isn't a physics concept either,” said Alex.
Paul idly wondered which of Alex's shins was the bruised one.
Conrad turned and began strolling toward a sliver-like passage dimly seen against the far wall. Paul, despite himself, couldn't help thinking about the physics. He followed after Conrad. Alex shuffled along as well.
“All right,” said Conrad. “Forget about flip-flops. Think about time-reversal."
Paul stopped. “Wait. Are you saying that if you time reverse an experiment, and the time-reversal makes sense, then it is not a measurement?"
“Yes.” Conrad continued walking. “I think so. I think that's what I think. If there's no arrow of time, then.... “Conrad picked up his pace.
“Where are you going?” asked Alex.
“To look for another entrance."
“Come on, Conrad,” said Paul. “Let's sit down. Conserve strength and all that. We can talk physics.” He plopped down on a smooth-topped calcite formation and indicated that Alex and Conrad do the same. Al
ex sat, but Conrad kept walking.
“Hey, Conrad,” said Alex. “Sit down. I thought you wanted to talk physics."
Conrad stopped for a moment, started to turn, then paused and continued walking toward the far passage. “Yes,” he said, “I did. But I'm forgetting basic ideas. I remember saying things about them but I don't remember why."
“Please, Conrad,” said Alex. “I'd like to ask you about some physics stuff that bothers me."
Paul felt a new respect for the sophomore physics major. Alex was certainly trying to help.
“Look,” Alex went on. “When it really comes down to it, I don't really even understand magnetism. How can a magnetic field go through a vacuum? It wouldn't really be a vacuum then."
Conrad stopped and looked back. “The world is more complicated than it seems."
“Don't give me that,” said Alex. “That's just using fancier words for ‘I don't understand it.’”
“I understand it.” Conrad sighed. “At least I did up until a few minutes ago.” He turned and continued walking.
“Sit down,” said Paul. “It's just the effects of the concussion."
“Maybe.” Conrad quickened his pace. “But I don't want you to see me turn into an idiot. I don't want you to see me unable to do physics."
Alex started to get up, but Paul waved him to stay seated. They both watched as Conrad faded into the dark passage, his light flitting from wall to wall as he walked.
“You shouldn't have let him go,” said Alex when all hint of Conrad's light had disappeared.
“How do you suggest I could have stopped him? He's not exactly the sort of person you can give orders to.” Paul clenched a fist. And I'm not about to humiliate my friend.
Alex let out a sigh. “I guess.” He looked at Paul. “But now that he's running on write-only memory, he could get lost."
Paul looked over at the far passage, too far away for his miner's lamp to pull it from the darkness. “This is a simple cave—pretty linear geometry."
Asimov's SF, September 2006 Page 13