16 Regulators
Daniel Rice drove up the busy boulevard through Austin, Texas, crossing over the Colorado River. Dozens of gleaming office towers lined the other side of the river, and the Texas state capitol building loomed at the far end of the street. Austin wasn’t the modest city he remembered visiting as a child. Tourists still came to witness a million or more bats emerge each evening from crevices under the Congress Avenue bridge, and many of the older sections of downtown still had that 1970s look, but an entirely new business district had sprouted skyward over the years, giving Austin a big-city feel.
A few minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot next to the J.J. Pickle Federal Building, one of those dated “modern” buildings from the age of Led Zeppelin and ABBA that now looked terribly out of place among the skyscrapers. In the lobby, he searched for Environmental Protection Agency on the list of agencies. Fifth floor.
It felt good getting back to work. Real work. The kind that didn’t involve alien cyborgs or guest appearances on late-night television shows. His current assignment was positively dull by comparison, and in Daniel’s mind dull was just fine. The case was still related to the new dimensional technologies trail-blazed by Fermilab, but then maybe everything would be from here on out. The world had changed eight months prior. Science, culture, and business too.
It was an unusual circumstance. The EPA had issued an air quality permit to a power plant in Texas. Nothing strange there. But the director at the EPA was concerned about this case, primarily because four more permit applications just like it had come in. It wasn’t every day that a major power plant proposed to redirect effluents into another dimension.
The EPA was stumped. The proposal satisfied every regulation. It certainly wasn’t illegal dumping. Didn’t produce any hazards to flight, or wildlife, or water quality. The caps at the top of smokestacks weren’t even a visual eyesore. They had no reason to deny the permit—except that it didn’t feel right.
The EPA administrator had called Spencer Bradley, the president’s national science advisor and director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy, and Bradley had put Daniel on the case.
A scientific investigation. It was what Daniel did. Or at least, it was what he used to do before he’d become the primary representative of the human species to an alien civilization, before he’d conducted five Q&A sessions with Core, and before he had become the face of science to the general public. Even if the case was dull, it felt like coming home.
This type of meeting was always tricky. Ostensibly, it was a technology review between the EPA and representatives from the power company. But in this case, the power company, ElecTrek Inc., had asked a contractor to represent them—the guy who had come up with the plan, Davis Garrity.
The office of the EPA district manager, Jeffrey Finch, was small, with a dirty window overlooking an alley. Finch pushed an oversized paper across his desk to Daniel. It was a diagram of the power facility, showing an orange-and-blue cap at the top of each of three smokestacks. The cap made a right-angled turn with dashed lines indicating that it somehow disappeared into four-dimensional space.
Daniel brushed his hair back with one hand as he examined the diagram. “Impressive, if it really works. They’ve tested this?”
Finch, a younger man with curly hair and wire-rim glasses, sat back in his chair. “I’ve seen it myself. Amazing stuff. I really don’t understand how the 4-D part works, but the cap reduces the emissions to zero. The ElecTrek Bastrop County generating station is easily meeting every EPA standard—heck, zero is zero. They’re banking daily carbon offsets that are blowing every other utility out of the water.”
Daniel looked up from the papers. “I know what the 4-D technology can do. It’s astonishing, no question. And maybe this pipe invention could work.” Daniel shook his head. “But damn, they got this system up and running fast. Have you reviewed the process they’re using to create this containment dome?” He pointed to the curving dashed line enveloping the power facility.
“I haven’t,” Finch said. “Only the emissions control device, which in this case is the cap. It’s dead-simple: a twelve-foot-wide cover made from PVC. No moving parts, and it doesn’t affect the power plant’s function in any way. There’s really nothing else for us to review.”
“There’s the four-dimensional space they’re using as a dumping ground.”
Finch shook his head. “Our legal guy says that’s beyond scope. The Clean Air Act speaks to emissions control devices and air quality standards—in three-dimensional space, mind you. ElecTrek has fulfilled their obligation to demonstrate control and meet the standards. I don’t have the legal authority to ask them to do any more.”
Daniel recognized the problem, an age-old dilemma of regulatory authority precisely constricted by the very legislation that had created the regulations in the first place. It would literally take another act of Congress to expand their authority to another dimension of space. Government oversight usually lagged well behind the pace of technology.
Finch glanced at a message flashing on his phone. “One minute, Mr. Garrity just arrived.” He stepped away to an outer office and came back with two men in tow. He introduced Daniel to Davis Garrity and Ralph Lewis from the Texas CEQ. A Texas state official accompanying Garrity provided a big hint that the businessman had done his homework and established the right connections.
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Rice,” Davis Garrity said. “I’ve seen you on TV talking about four-dimensional space, and in a very entertaining way, I might add. I do love your descriptions of this strange outer space fellow you’ve been talking to. Quite the story.”
“It is, Mr. Garrity,” Daniel answered. “Quite the story. But today I’m playing a different role, as a federal science investigator invited here by the EPA.”
“Of course,” Garrity said. “I understand you have some questions about the ElecTrek project?”
Before Daniel could respond, Lewis interjected. “We can save you and the feds a helluva lot of time. This whole thing’s gonna be on the local news tonight. The nice folks over at TV4 were all over it. Davis and I just got back from the Bastrop plant. Still no emissions. Clean as a whistle.”
Daniel sat down and waited for the others to take a chair. The meeting wasn’t going to end until he had all the information he could gather, pleasantries notwithstanding.
“Glad to hear,” Daniel said. “We all like clean power plants. Commissioner Lewis, I understand that your state agency had to sign off on the permit in addition to the EPA. Did anyone in your office conduct a review of the process that creates the containment dome over the ElecTrek facility?”
“Not directly, no,” Lewis said. “Texas CEQ doesn’t regulate airspace, but we did pass the permit application along to the FAA. They declined to comment.”
Daniel nodded. He could just imagine what people who regulated aviation safety thought about receiving an air quality permit application. “I’m not surprised. Not within their domain either. Gentlemen, it seems that we have multiple agencies, none of whom are responsible for examining this new technology.” He turned to Garrity. “Mr. Garrity, do you mind if I ask some questions about this process?”
“I’ll do my best to answer,” Garrity responded.
“Great. Let’s talk about neutrinos. To create four-dimensional space, you have to start with a coherent beam of neutrinos, right?” It was a fairly basic question, one that Daniel had explained multiple times in science programs targeted at high school–aged kids.
Garrity looked slightly perplexed, like he’d been asked to name the capital of North Dakota. “Uh, right. Coherent neutrinos.”
Daniel leaned forward in his chair. “Can you tell me what kind of positioning accuracy you have for a neutrino beam that is targeting Austin, Texas, all the way from Romania?” Neutrinos stopped for nothing, not even the bulk of the Earth, so there was no reason to doubt that the Romanians could send a beam through ten thousand kilometers of rock. Accuracy was the o
nly question.
“Oh, the lab handles all of that,” Garrity said, very sure of himself. “I couldn’t tell you how many miles we are from Romania, but I do know the scientists over there are very accurate.”
Daniel stepped up to the next level but still stuck to a question that anyone creating 4-D space would need to understand. “Okay. There are a couple of techniques for maintaining a permanent 4-D bubble. Are you locking the phase oscillation or using the newer harmonic resonance technique?”
Garrity’s face went blank. “Uh… I know we have that covered, but I’d have to ask my colleagues in Romania to be sure.”
The pattern was plain—a test was in order. “How about the chakra of the phlebotinum atoms?”
“Don’t worry, Romania’s got that covered too. They take care of it all.”
Daniel nodded. “Mr. Garrity, how well would you say you understand the process of redirecting effluents into four-dimensional space?”
“I’ve got a patent pending on it. I invented it.”
“Nicely done, it is a clever idea. But I’m a little concerned about the basis in science. Mr. Garrity, there’s no such thing as phlebotinum and atoms don’t have chakras. People don’t either, by the way.”
Garrity shrugged. “So what? Like I said, Romania handles it.”
Daniel took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to let this slide. They’d already seen a major blunder from the Chinese attempting to use this technology. “I understand your reliance on your partner in Romania. But it’s clear that you personally don’t have any knowledge of the process or even the basic facts of the science.”
Ralph Lewis interrupted, holding up a hand in front of Garrity. “Dr. Rice, let’s not talk about your facts or my facts—it doesn’t get us anywhere. Let’s talk about what works. Go out to the Bastrop facility and see for yourself. It works.”
It was always astonishing how badly mangled the meaning of words had become in the modern world, especially those words related to science. There was a time when a fact had been an accepted truth. Not anymore. For some, the word fact had become synonymous with a claim or assertion. Any person offering an argument could simply stack up their own set of alternative facts and, in their mind, be entirely justified. It often left Daniel wondering if there was any hope for the evolution of the species.
Daniel glanced at Finch, who just shrugged. He probably dealt with this type of ungrounded argument all the time. It wasn’t the time for confrontation; this was a mission to gather information.
“Okay,” Daniel said. “I’ll take you up on your offer to visit the plant.”
“Stan Wasserman’s your man,” Lewis said. He nudged Garrity, who wrote a phone number on a business card and handed it to Daniel. “I’ll let him know you’re coming.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Daniel sat alone at an Austin hotel bar, absorbing the events of the day. A late-afternoon tour of the Bastrop facility had provided an opportunity to witness firsthand the remarkable application of 4-D technology. The plant manager had walked him through the combustion building, where pulverized coal was blown into a firebox that boiled water to steam and spun huge electric turbines. Inside, the facility was hot and noisy, but outside, the towering smokestack looked unused, capped at its top without a trace of smoke coming out.
Clean energy from coal. It would certainly make a good brochure or television commercial, but it didn’t sit right with Daniel’s wider view of how things should work. Somewhere out there in the weird world of four-dimensional space was a cauldron of exhaust. Maybe it would remain safely tucked away in its own corner of the universe, but the number of unknowns was disturbing.
Daniel picked up his vibrating phone from the bar counter. A call from Spencer Bradley, probably to see how the initial meeting had gone.
“Hi, Spence,” Daniel answered. “I’ve made contact, but I can’t say I have any answers yet.”
“It’s not that,” Bradley said. His voice was serious. “It’s news. Very bad news, I’m afraid.”
Daniel felt his body tense. “I’m here.”
“There’s been a terrible accident at Fermilab. An explosion of some kind. There were casualties.”
A chill ran across the back of his neck. He felt he knew what Bradley might say next.
“One of them was Nala Pasquier. I know the two of you became close. I’m so sorry.”
The phone slid down Daniel’s cheek as his grip loosened. He stared straight ahead, absorbing the meaning of Bradley’s words. Tears began to fill his eyes.
17 Fermilab
Missing and presumed dead.
Bradley’s information was not likely to be wrong. Fermilab had reported a massive explosion that had produced a forty-meter hole in their underground facility. Expressions like presumed dead always left a door slightly ajar to allow for hope, no matter how slim the chance. But when crisis comes, rational people force their intellect to dominate emotion and reckon with reality. Daniel was not there yet.
She couldn’t be dead, he thought. Daniel recognized the symptoms of denial. The psychiatrists would probably label him as a textbook case. Nala wasn’t just a lost colleague, she was a lost lover. And not just any lover, a regret. A relationship full of mistakes. A woman he had wronged through neglect.
You’re compensating, the therapists would tell him. Your personal guilt is clouding your normally analytical mind.
Beautiful, bright, talented Nala. A ballet dancer with an attitude. A brilliant physicist with a wicked tongue. Silenced. When had he seen her last? It was March… no, April, at a Fermilab communication session with Core. He had stayed in the office for only a few hours and given her no more than a light hug. Just a shadow of the burst of intensity their relationship had enjoyed a few months prior.
The guilt poured over him. He had abandoned the relationship, and he was still not sure why. Some of it had been the logistics of busy professionals living in two different cities. But it wasn’t just that. Daniel couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was hard to imagine how any psychoanalysis mattered now. Nala was dead.
But no… she isn’t.
His analytical mind wouldn’t permit the conclusion. There simply wasn’t enough evidence. Yes, an explosion. Yes, missing people presumed dead. But this was Fermilab, where alternative explanations were entirely possible. When Soyuz astronauts had disappeared, everyone had jumped to the same conclusion. Missing and presumed dead. There was a lesson to be learned. In the insanity of the four-dimensional world, things disappeared routinely.
The hotel bar was nearly empty. Daniel took a sip from his glass of bourbon. He pushed the chunks of ice around with a finger. Nala used to do the same thing, an endearing quirk. She’d said she didn’t even notice she was doing it, perhaps just a nervous thing.
He remembered the first time he’d met her—an interview at her office and a clandestine meeting at a bar later that night. She was nervous then. He was the investigator and she was the informant. He’d been tough on her.
Daniel’s eyes teared up and his throat tightened.
How things had changed since that first night. Nala was the kind of person who held you at arm’s length until she knew you. But once that barrier dropped, she didn’t hold back. Laughs turned to playfulness. Sweet kisses escalated to aggressive sexuality. Any hesitation she displayed in public was quickly abandoned once things were private. Clothes and inhibitions disappeared quickly. Daniel had soaked it up. Every man wants to be wanted, and Nala seemed to have learned that lesson early in her adult life.
He wiped away a tear rolling down his cheek. You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. True words. As life clicks by, the missed opportunities and the unspoken words are things that stick with you, often painfully.
His mistakes were obvious now, even if he still didn’t understand why he’d made them in the first place. Text messages that he didn’t take the time to answer. Busy—will get back to you. More than one phone call that he’d cut off to rush off to… what
? Something more important? At least, it had seemed important at the time. He’d missed her birthday even though she’d told him twice.
And then there was Haiti, a missed opportunity if there ever was one. She’d invited him to join her on a trip ostensibly to visit her mother in Port-au-Prince. Contrary to most people’s expectations, including Daniel’s, Haiti wasn’t a vast slum among the palm trees. Luxury resorts dotted a coastline of white-sand beaches and turquoise water. They would stay together in a beach cottage, she offered.
She described a tropical heaven, a winter getaway. But from Daniel’s perspective it was much more. It was alone time with Nala. He imagined days walking barefoot on the sand and nights unwrapping the pleasures of this unpredictable woman.
He’d been ready to book the flight when all hell had broken loose at work. An email from a prominent scientist had accused the administration of covering up the real purpose of their sessions with Core. An alien weapon had been offered, the scientist had said. It was described as a miniature hydrogen bomb that could be embedded almost anywhere without detection and would render nuclear détente irrelevant to whichever country could grab the technology first. Many had believed the story.
It had taken Daniel several weeks to uncover the source of the misinformation and dispel the rumor. In the meantime, the personal opportunity had slipped by and Nala had gone to Haiti alone. Another time, they’d both said, but time has a way of pushing forward and leaving those opportunities behind.
Her texts had become less frequent and then stopped altogether. He would give anything to speak with her once more. To apologize. To start over, if he could.
Daniel picked up an extra napkin from the bar and dabbed his eyes. The analyzing in his head would no doubt go on for months. In the end, if acceptance of Nala’s death was required, it would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.
The Quantum Series Box Set Page 42