Broken Symmetry

10. Spin Down

Roy Schwitters looked at the group of people he had assembled here on this empty plain, for what he hoped would be a historic first. Harold Volin, of course, who had figured everything out down to the last millisecond; they stood at T minus ten minutes. There were some of the other scientists recruited to work on the SSC as well, gathered around the makeshift cryonic chamber, half the height of a man, which they had managed to construct to contain the SQUID. They had barely an inkling of what was about to transpire.

And finally, mostly recovered but still seeming a bit weak, was Jack Levinson, one of the two teachers who had been witness to the explosion that had first dragged Roy back to the SSC. Levinson kept darting his head around, as if he expected to see another explosion any moment.

Or, perhaps, he expected to see his deceased friend Daniel Strock bicycling over, revealing his death to be a practical joke. Roy shook his head at the depressing thought, and looked away. He didn’t mean for today to make up for what Levinson had gone through, but he felt that the man had just as much right to be present as Roy himself did.

Just then, Harold tapped Roy on the shoulder. “Look,” he said, pointing in the direction of the afternoon Sun, and away from the scientists gathered around the SQUID. Two figures could be seen emerging from a car, a good distance away. They began to approach the small group of scientists.

“I was afraid this might happen,” Roy said. “Let’s see what they want.”

In less than a minute, the two men stopped in front of Roy and Harold. Roy recognized Sheriff Kingsley, who nodded his head by way of greeting. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, odd for a man who always made himself fit in anywhere.

“Hello, Sheriff,” Roy said. “I don’t think I remember your friend’s name.” It was the FBI agent who had tried to coordinate everything at the beginning; Roy had ignored him in favor of Kingsley, which he was now just beginning to think might have been a politically bad move.

“Sam Stratton,” the agent said by way of reintroduction. “The sheriff told me you would be here.” Stratton pointed at Kingsley, who looked at Roy as if pleading for forgiveness.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Stratton?”

Stratton pulled a paper out of the pocket of his blazer and handed it to Roy. “You can pick up and leave. I’m ordering all of you out of this area immediately.”

Roy took the paper, smiled, and thrust it back at Stratton without reading it. “Sorry, no can do.”

Kingsley cleared his throat and spoke up. “Doc Schwitters, be reasonable. I told this fellow that you would.”

Roy shook his head. “Sheriff, we’re about to witness something very important here. We can’t go just yet.”

“Listen to me,” Stratton said. “Is it true what Sheriff Kingsley told me? Have you predicted another explosion for this piece of the ring, in just a few minutes?”

“Not an explosion. A beam.”

“Same difference, if I understand what’s been going on. You’re endangering yourself and everyone else here! I’m ordering all of you to move to a safe distance.” He waved the paper in Roy’s face.

Roy frowned. “Mr. Stratton, I—”

“Roy!” Harold interrupted.

“What is it?”

“I think my calculations were a little off.” He pointed behind Stratton and Kingsley. “Look at the SQUID.”

Roy turned towards the metal cryonic canister, which held the SQUID inside. “My God.”

“It’s a trick,” Stratton said.

Kingsley turned around, and whistled. “No, it’s not.”

Slowly, Stratton turned his head around. The air ten feet away from them radiated with thousands of tiny sparks, as if a thousand tiny thunderstorms filled the area with lightning. The scenery behind the area wobbled, as if it was no longer the real three-dimensional world, but a painting done upon a canvas of rubber, stretching in all directions, back and forth. A soft warbling noise slowly increased in volume.

But what made it most frightening was that the other scientists were part of the scenery. Their bodies appeared to stretch, as if they were made of water, with waves passing through them, causing distortions in their shape.

Waves that were heading towards Roy and the others.

Stratton’s jaw dropped, and he let the paper fall to his feet. “What in God’s name is that?” Stratton exclaimed.

Harold looked at Stratton and smiled impishly. “Wave-function collapse.”