Timeline. Part 17

The night was cold and the sky filled with stars as they stepped off the airplane onto the wet runway. To the east, Marek saw the dark outlines of mesas beneath low-hanging clouds. A Land Cruiser was waiting off to one side.

Soon they were driving down a highway, dense forest on both sides of the road. "Where exactly are we?" Marek said.

"About an hour north of Albuquerque," Gordon said. "The nearest town is Black Rock. That's where our research facility is."

"Looks like the middle of nowhere," Marek said.

"Only at night. Actually, there are fifteen high-tech research companies in Black Rock. And of course, Sandia is just down the road. Los Alamos is about an hour away. Farther away, White Sands, all that."

They continued down the road for several more miles. They came to a prominent green-and-white highway sign that read ITC BLACK ROCK LABORATORY. ITC BLACK ROCK LABORATORY. The Land Cruiser turned right, heading up a twisting road into the forested hills. The Land Cruiser turned right, heading up a twisting road into the forested hills.

From the back seat, Stern said, "You told us before that you can connect to other universes."

"Yes."

"Through quantum foam."

"That's right."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Stern said.

"Why? What is is quantum foam?" Kate said, stifling a yawn. quantum foam?" Kate said, stifling a yawn.

"It's a remnant of the birth of the universe," Stern said. He explained that the universe had begun as a single, very dense pinpoint of matter. Then, eighteen billion years ago, it exploded outward from that pinpoint-in what was known as the big bang.

"After the explosion, the universe expanded as a sphere. Except it wasn't an absolutely perfect sphere. Inside the sphere, the universe wasn't absolutely h.o.m.ogeneous-which is why we now have galaxies clumped and cl.u.s.tered irregularly in the universe, instead of being uniformly distributed. Anyway, the point is, the expanding sphere had tiny, tiny imperfections in it. And the imperfections never got ironed out. They're still a part of the universe."

"They are? Where?"

"At subatomic dimensions. Quantum foam is just a way of saying that at very small dimensions, s.p.a.ce-time has ripples and bubbles. But the foam is smaller than an individual atomic particle. There may or may not be wormholes in that foam."

"There are," Gordon said.

"But how could you use them for travel? You can't put a person through a hole that small. You can't put anything anything through it." through it."

"Correct," Gordon said. "You also can't put a piece of paper through a telephone line. But you can send a fax."

Stern frowned. "That's entirely different."

"Why?" Gordon said. "You can transmit anything, as long as you have a way to compress and encode it. Isn't that so?"

"In theory, yes," Stern said. "But you're talking about compressing and encoding the information for an entire human being."

"That's right."

"That can't be done."

Gordon was smiling, amused now. "Why not?"

"Because the complete description of a human being-all the billions of cells, how they are interconnected, all the chemicals and molecules they contain, their biochemical state-consists of far too much information for any computer to handle."

"It's just information," Gordon said, shrugging.

"Yes. Too much information."

"We compress it by using a lossless fractal algorithm."

"Even so, it's still an enormous-"

"Excuse me," Chris said. "Are you saying you compress a person?"

"No. We compress the information equivalent of a person."

"And how is that done?" Chris said.

"With compression algorithms-methods to pack data on a computer, so they take up less s.p.a.ce. Like JPEG and MPEG for visual material. Are you familiar with those?"

"I've got software that uses it, but that's it."

"Okay," Gordon said. "All compression programs work the same way. They look for similarities in data. Suppose you have a picture of a rose, made up of a million pixels. Each pixel has a location and a color. That's three million pieces of information-a lot of data. But most of those pixels are going to be red, surrounded by other red pixels. So the program scans the picture line by line, and sees whether adjacent pixels are the same color. If they are, it writes an instruction to the computer that says make this pixel red, and also the next fifty pixels in the line. Then switch to gray, and make the next ten pixels gray. And so on. It doesn't store information for each individual point. It stores instructions for how to re-create the picture. And the data is cut to a tenth of what it was."

"Even so," Stern said, "you're not talking about a two-dimensional picture, you're talking about a three-dimensional living object, and its description requires so much data-"

"That you'd need ma.s.sive parallel processing," Gordon said, nodding. "That's true."

Chris frowned. "Parallel processing is what?"

"You hook several computers together and divide the job up among them, so it gets done faster. A big parallel-processing computer would have sixteen thousand processors hooked together. For a really big one, thirty-two thousand processors. We have thirty-two billion thirty-two billion processors hooked together." processors hooked together."

"Billion?" Chris said.

Stern leaned forward. "That's impossible. Even if you tried to make one ..." He stared at the roof of the car, calculating. "Say, allow one inch between motherboards ... that makes a stack ... uh ... two thousand six hundred ... that makes a stack half a mile high. Even reconfigured into a cube, it'd be a huge building. You'd never build it. You'd never cool it. And it'd never work anyway, because the processors would end up too far apart."

Gordon sat and smiled. He was looking at Stern, waiting.

"The only possible way to do that much processing," Stern said, "would be to use the quantum characteristics of individual electrons. But then you'd be talking about a quantum computer. And no one's ever made one."

Gordon just smiled.

"Have they?" Stern said.

"Let me explain what David is talking about," Gordon said to the others. "Ordinary computers make calculations using two electron states, which are designated one and zero. That's how all computers work, by pus.h.i.+ng around ones and zeros. But twenty years ago, Richard Feynman suggested it might be possible to make an extremely powerful computer using all thirty-two quantum states of an electron. Many laboratories are now trying to build these quantum computers. Their advantage is unimaginably great power-so great that you can indeed describe and compress a three-dimensional living object into an electron stream. Exactly like a fax. You can then transmit the electron stream through a quantum foam wormhole and reconstruct it in another universe. And that's what we do. It's not quantum teleportation. It's not particle entanglement. It's direct transmission to another universe."

The group was silent, staring at him. The Land Cruiser came into a clearing. They saw a number of two-story buildings, brick and gla.s.s. They looked surprisingly ordinary. This could be any one of those small industrial parks found on the outskirts of many American cities. Marek said, "This is ITC?"

"We like to keep a low profile," Gordon said. "Actually, we chose this spot because there is an old mine here. Good mines are getting hard to find now. So many physics projects require them."

Off to one side, working in the glare of floodlights, several men were getting ready to launch a weather balloon. The balloon was six feet in diameter, pale white. As they watched, it moved swiftly up into the sky, a small instrument bundle hanging beneath. Marek said, "What's that about?"

"We monitor the cloud cover every hour, especially when it's stormy. It's an ongoing research project, to see if the weather is the cause of any interference."

"Interference with what?" Marek asked.

The car pulled up in front of the largest building. A security guard opened the door. "Welcome to ITC," he said with a big smile. "Mr. Doniger is waiting for you."

Doniger walked quickly down the hallway with Gordon. Kramer followed behind. As he walked, Doniger scanned a sheet of paper that listed everybody's names and backgrounds. "How do they look, John?"

"Better than I expected. They're in good physical shape. They know the area. They know the time period."

"And how much persuading will they need?"

"I think they're ready. You just have to be careful talking about the risks."

"Are you suggesting I should be less than entirely honest?" Doniger said.

"Just be careful how you put it," Gordon said. "They're very bright."

"Are they? Well, let's have a look."

And he threw the door open.

Kate and the others had been left alone in a plain, bare conference room-scratched Formica table, folding chairs all around. On one side was a large markerboard with formulas scrawled on it. The formulas were so long that they ran the entire width of the board. It was completely mysterious to her. She was about to ask Stern what the formulas were for, when Robert Doniger swept into the room.

Kate was surprised by how young he was. He didn't look much older than they were, especially dressed in sneakers, jeans and a Quicksilver T-s.h.i.+rt. Even late at night, he seemed full of energy, going around the table quickly, shaking hands with each of them, addressing them by name. "Kate," he said, smiling at her. "Good to meet you. I've read your preliminary study on the chapel. It's very impressive."

Surprised, she managed to say, "Thank you," but Doniger had already moved on.

"And Chris. It's nice to see you again. I like the computer-simulation approach to that mill bridge; I think it will pay off."

Chris had time only to nod before Doniger was saying, "And David Stern. We haven't met. But I gather you're also a physicist, as I am."

"That's right...."

"Welcome aboard. And Andre. Not getting any shorter! Your paper on the tournaments of Edward I certainly set Monsieur Contamine straight. Good work. So: please, all of you, please sit down."

They sat, and Doniger moved to the head of the table.

"I will get right to the point," Doniger said. "I need your help. And I will tell you why. For the last ten years, my company has been developing a revolutionary new technology. It is not a technology of war. Nor is it a commercial technology, to be sold for profit. On the contrary, it is an entirely benign and peaceful technology that will provide a great benefit to mankind. A great great benefit. But I need your help." benefit. But I need your help."

"Consider for a moment," Doniger continued, "how unevenly technology has impacted the various fields of knowledge in the twentieth century. Physics employs the most advanced technology-including accelerator rings many miles in diameter. The same with chemistry and biology. A hundred years ago, Faraday and Maxwell had tiny private labs. Darwin worked with a notebook and a microscope. But today, no important scientific discovery could be made with such simple tools. The sciences are utterly dependent on advanced technology. But what about the humanities? During this same time, what has happened to them?"

Doniger paused, rhetorically. "The answer is, nothing. There has been no significant technology. The scholar of literature or history works exactly exactly as his predecessors did a hundred years before. Oh, there have been some minor changes in authentication of doc.u.ments, and the use of CD-ROMs, and so forth. But the basic, day-to-day work of the scholar is as his predecessors did a hundred years before. Oh, there have been some minor changes in authentication of doc.u.ments, and the use of CD-ROMs, and so forth. But the basic, day-to-day work of the scholar is exactly the same exactly the same."

He looked at each of them in turn. "So we have an inequity. The fields of human knowledge are unbalanced. Medieval scholars are proud that in the twentieth century their views have undergone a revolution. But physics has undergone three three revolutions in the same century. A hundred years ago, physicists argued about the age of the universe and the source of the sun's energy. No one on earth knew the answers. Today, every schoolchild knows. Today, we have seen the length and breadth of the universe, we understand it from the level of galaxies to the level of subatomic particles. We have learned so much that we can speak in detail about what happened during the first few minutes of the birth of the exploding universe. Can medieval scholars match this advance within their own field? In a word, no. Why not? Because no new technology a.s.sists them. No one has ever developed a new technology for the benefit of historians-until now." revolutions in the same century. A hundred years ago, physicists argued about the age of the universe and the source of the sun's energy. No one on earth knew the answers. Today, every schoolchild knows. Today, we have seen the length and breadth of the universe, we understand it from the level of galaxies to the level of subatomic particles. We have learned so much that we can speak in detail about what happened during the first few minutes of the birth of the exploding universe. Can medieval scholars match this advance within their own field? In a word, no. Why not? Because no new technology a.s.sists them. No one has ever developed a new technology for the benefit of historians-until now."

A masterful performance, Gordon thought. One of Doniger's best-charming, energetic, even excessive at moments. Yet the fact was, Doniger had just given them an exciting explanation for the project-without ever revealing its true purpose. Without ever telling them what was really going on.

"But I told you I needed your help. And I do."

Doniger's mood changed. He spoke slowly now, somber, concerned. "You know that Professor Johnston came here to see us because he thought we were withholding information. And in a way, we were. We did have certain information that we hadn't shared, because we couldn't explain how we got it."

And, Gordon thought, because Kramer screwed up.

"Professor Johnston pushed us," Doniger was saying. "I'm sure you know his way. He even threatened to go to the press. Finally we showed him the technology we are about to show you. And he was excited-just as you will be. But he insisted on going back, to see for himself."

Doniger paused. "We didn't want him to go. Again, he threatened. In the end, we had no choice but to let him go. That was three days ago. He is still back there. He asked you for help, in a message he knew you would find. You know that site and time better than anyone else in the world. You have to go back and get him. You are his only chance."

"What exactly happened to him after he went back?" Marek said.

"We don't know," Doniger said. "But he broke the rules."

"Rules?"

"You have to understand that this technology is still very new. We've been cautious about how we use it. We have been sending observers back for about two years now-using exmarines, trained military people. But of course they are not historians, and we have kept them on a tight leash."

"Meaning what?"

"We haven't ever let our observers enter the world back there. We haven't allowed anyone to stay longer than an hour. And we haven't allowed anyone to go more than fifty yards from the machine. n.o.body has ever just left the machine behind and gone off into the world."

"But the Professor did?" Marek said.

"He must have, yes."

"And we'll have to, too, if we're going to find him. We'll have to enter the world."

"Yes," Doniger said.

"And you're saying we're the first people ever to do this? The first people ever to step into the world?"