in spite of himself. "So how would this 'tachyon television' work?"
"I haven't figured out the specifics, but the basics are simple enough. Again, like tardyons, tachyons exist as naturally charged and neutral species. Like neutral tardyons such as neutrinos, neutral tachyons are almost impossible to detect, since they would interact with matter only weakly, if at all. Charged tachyons, however, should interact with matter and so should be detectable, theoretically. Since tachyons by their very nature always travel superluminally, they should give off Cerenkov radiation continuously, so could be detected in that manner. The problem is they can never shut off this radiation because they cannot slow down to subluminal speeds, so they would shed all of their energy in one bright flash and enter the transcendent state, and since that state has zero energy, the tachyons can no longer give off light. They could acquire more energy by interacting with matter or an energy field, but as soon as they do they would immediately liberate it as a flash of light and reenter the transcendent state.
"Your researcher's design takes advantage of this. He electrifies the superstructure to collect, channel, and focus the tachyons onto the lens; they then interact with the material of the lens to create Cerenkov radiation, which displays an image in the glass."
"How can particles create an image?"
"A cathode ray tube such as in a television set does it all the time," Kathleen said. "The tube focuses a beam of electrons onto the back of the screen, which is coated with phosphors, chemicals that give off light when energized. The stream of electrons hit the phosphors, transferring some of their energy and causing them to glow, and together they form a picture we can see. This setup is even simpler; the tachyons are their own phosphors."
"Mind you," Jeremiah broke in, "this is all very speculative. Your researcher does not explain how transcendental state tachyons, which exist at every point along their trajectory simultaneously, can carry the information needed to produce an image, nor does he provide any evidence that he is actually using tachyons or that they even exist."
Carroway flashed a surprised expression. "Why wouldn't they? You seemed convinced they were."
"No, I was describing theory. Tachyons have never been observed, despite numerous attempts to do so. Also there are a number of theoretical problems with their existence. For one thing, quantum theory states that any particle can also be described as a wave, but if you derive the wave equations for tachyons they turn out to be subluminal waves. In other words, actual equations derived from established theory contradict the theoretical nature of tachyons. For another thing, if they existed, tachyons would permit temporal communication, which would violate the causal ordering postulate of special relativity. For a third--"
Carroway interrupted with some impatience. "Yes, yes, I get the picture. So was he able to get it to work?"
"He claims that he did, but he does not understand how. Also he seems to be unsure of how the lens can form an image, or filter out the noise of charged tardyons from the tachyon signal, but he speculates that the lens material may account for that."
"Does he explain how he formulated the glass?" For the first time, Carroway sounded excited.
"No, but he states that he obtained it from a grimoire entitled Ye Booke of Darke Wysdome, written by a Wyllame Jons."
Carroway flinched from surprised. "We have that book, in the staff library! One of our folklorists obtained it for his legitimate research." And without waiting for instructions he dashed off to retrieve it.
Kathleen waited a few minutes before speaking. "You plan to activate, don't you?"
Jeremiah looked up into his wife's face. "I'm frankly curious to see what would happen, aren't you?"
She nodded, but with a grim look. "Yes I am, but we should proceed with caution. Laban's right, this thing could be very dangerous."
Jeremiah turned back to the notebook. "As much as I respect his knowledge, Laban tends to be overcautious. One of our unresolved disagreements involves how aggressively science should investigate the unknown. He is of the opinion that there are things man can never understand, and to investigate them would jeopardize our collective sanity. I on the other hand believe that the more we know, the better we can understand, so we should actively pursue our research despite the risks. I won't ask you to stay, Kathy--"
She displayed a lopsided grin. "If you're foolish enough to try this, then I'm foolish enough to help; maybe I can keep you from loosing your head, figuratively or literally."
"Then I need you to check the equipment and try to figure out how it works."
Kathleen nodded, but when she tried to leave, Jeremiah caught her hand. When she looked back, he spoke in a soft tone: "Thank you, dear heart."
Smiling warmly, Kathleen bent down and they kissed.
Carroway returned a few minutes later, triumphantly hefting a good-sized book bound in tattered black leather covers. "I have it!"
Jeremiah checked the notebook. "Turn to page one-fourteen."
Opening the book, Carroway started leafing through it, frowning. "There are no page numbers."
"Then count pages," Jeremiah suggested evenly. Carroway's frown deepened, but he complied.
After some moments, though, he said, "Look, on this page." And he pointed to a 114 printed by a felt-tip marker on the upper left corner.
Jeremiah took the open book and examined the page. "The writing is cramped and the ink faded, so it's difficult to read, but...'On the Preparatione of a Scrying Glasse'. Hmm. The ingredients seem fairly mundane, except for certain items that might meet magical requirements but would have no technical value; 'eye of newt', and 'tongue of bat', and so forth. There is one, though, that seems suggestive; a ground-up ore-bearing rock." He read a little more. "The frame seems to contain an odd assortment of metallic and nonmetallic additives, including two that are semi-conductors. Researching the properties of these ingredients alone could take years."
"Jerry, come look at this," Kathleen called. When he and Carroway joined her, she indicated the machine in front of her. "The electrical field needed to charge the superstructure was generated by nine static generators."
"What's a static generator?" Carroway asked.
"It's a device that generates a static electric charge by rubbing a felt belt against another piece of fabric. It's useless as a source of power, but to give objects an electrical charge it's perfect. The charge is sent through these cables--" She indicated the line running from the machine. "--to the superstructure, and as long as the generators are running the structure will remain charged."
"Go ahead and start them up," Jeremiah said quietly.
Nodding, Kathleen reached for the on switch. Before she touched it, however, she stopped. "That's odd; the switch is already on." She switched it off, then flipped it on again. Nothing happened.
"Is it broken?" Carroway moaned.
"Maybe a circuit breaker's been tripped."
Instead of responding, Jeremiah went over to the lens. In front of it sat a chair and a jury-rigged console. He quickly examined it.
"I thought as much." Sitting down, he reached over with his right hand and pulled down on a lever until it lay against the console. At the same time, the machine Kathleen had switched on purred to life. Letting the lever go, it immediately snapped back to an upright position, and the machine died.
"A deadman switch," Carroway evaluated.
Jeremiah pulled on it again. "Start the other machines."
"Why aren't the others working?" Carroway inquired.
"It's possible the machines have internal circuit breakers, that trip when the power is interrupted." Kathleen went over to the next machine. As with the first, when she switch off the ignition and then turned it back on, the machine activated itself. Kathleen proceeded around the room, switching each unit on. In moments a multitonal hum filled the room.
She watched the gauges of one. "The structure is charging."
"Are you sure?" Carroway stepped forward and reached out a hand. "It doesn't look any differ
ent--"
"Don't touch it!" Kathleen barked, and Carroway jumped back as if she had hit him. "It may be just static electricity, but there's enough now to burn your hand and stop your heart, and it's still building."
Unnerved, Carroway back away from the device as if it would strike him.
Kathleen joined her husband at the console. "He must have used the switch as a safety device in case of trouble. The charge would dissipate almost immediately, cutting off the tachyon signal." She looked at the other controls. There were only three dials, but none had any markings.
"These look like rheostats, for changing the amount of the power being fed into specific systems. But to where? The charge is going into the structure directly." She examined the frame supporting the lens.
"There." She pointed to the right side. Jeremiah and Carroway saw a metal rod attached to the frame. It had a bend in its middle, so that part of it hung down. At the end of that part were attached a pair of metal leaves. Even as the two men watched, the leaves began to separate.
"Your researcher must have used that to indicate when the frame had acquired a sufficiently charge," Jeremiah speculated. "Perhaps the dials adjust how much power is fed into the lens." He started turning them clockwise, but once again nothing appeared to happen. However, when he adjusted the third dial, he noticed a curious glow on his wife's face.
"Ted, go shut off the lights." The director quickly complied, and as soon as the
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