The Rising(79)
“Einstein’s theory of relativity,” Sam said, just loud enough to be heard.
“I know that,” Alex said meekly. “Don’t I, Sam? And I even know about string theory and black holes and wormholes.” He smiled at her.
The professor half rolled his eyes. “The ability to create a wormhole changes the very nature of the journey,” he said, starting to fold the strip of cardboard over. “Notice how close the two points are now, the distance between them shrunk by folding space over. That’s what a wormhole is, a theoretical passage through the space-time continuum to create shortcuts for long journeys across the universe. How am I doing, young lady?”
“Perfectly on point,” Sam told him. “Einstein and another scientist named Nathan Rosen used Einstein’s theory of relativity to theorize that bridges through space-time could exist connecting two different points. A shortcut, like you said, like cutting through the woods instead of taking the long way along the street.”
“I’m impressed, young lady.”
“I’m interning at Ames.”
“Are you now?” the old man said, raising his eyes just enough to make her think his response hid something else. “I’m really impressed now. Only the best and the brightest, as they say. And did you learn anything about wormholes at Ames?”
“No.”
“They contain two mouths with a throat connecting them together. The mouths would most likely be spheroidal. The throat might be a straight stretch, but it could also wind around, taking a longer path than a more conventional route might require.”
“But they’re likely to collapse after milliseconds,” Sam noted. “Isn’t that the whole problem in conceptualizing them?”
“Challenge, young lady, not problem, but, yes, generally. My specialty, what brought me to Laboratory Z, was an expertise in the more theoretical realms of quantum mechanics, specifically realms dealing with exotic forms of matter. Exotic matter, which should not be confused with dark matter or antimatter, contains negative energy density and a large negative pressure. Such matter has only been seen in the behavior of certain vacuum states as part of quantum field theory. But if a wormhole contained sufficient exotic matter, whether naturally occurring or artificially added, it could theoretically be used as a method of sending information or travelers through space.”
“Artificially added,” Sam echoed. “That was your specialty, wasn’t it?”
“Actually, playing the fiddle was my specialty. But artificially adding exotic matter to the construction of a wormhole, what we called a space bridge, was a close second. Now, I won’t bore you with the details of the myriad of development and construction issues we faced in building the particle accelerator we needed. Even you, young lady, wouldn’t be able to grasp their intricacies and dynamics,” the professor said, as if speaking only to Sam now. “It was, suffice it to say, the most advanced work in applied physics done to this day by the best minds gathered since Teller and Oppenheimer shared the same room in the Manhattan Project. But you’d need a doctorate in quantum mechanics to even begin to understand the principles involved. You know how it began and how it ended. The middle, on the other hand, the middle was wrought with setbacks and misfires. We had some success and in 1997 actually managed to erect a wormhole that remained stable for all of a hundredth of a second. A remarkable achievement in itself that, of course, in no way satisfied us. Instead if left us only after more, seeking something we were hardly ready to find,” the professor said, his voice sounding sad and bitter at the same time.
“You caused the fire,” Alex blared suddenly, eyes wide in realization. “Trying to keep the wormhole open longer was what did it.”
“Not at all, young man. We had nothing to do with the explosion that originated in our particle accelerator. Nor did we have anything to do with the wormhole we’d created actually opening. That wasn’t our doing at all.”
“Then whose was it, Professor?” Sam asked before Alex could find the words.
“Someone from the other side,” he said, folding the cardboard over anew and tapping the top.
79
THE OTHER SIDE
“WE WERE JUST TRYING to open a wormhole to space,” the professor continued. “No specific destination or designation. Just a bridge to the great out there. But somebody on the other side seized the opportunity to home in on Laboratory Z as a destination point in the fold, home in on the beacon we’d provided.”
“Why?” Sam wondered.
The professor answered her with his gaze fixed on Alex. “I had no idea until today, until now. Your story, your very existence, is the missing piece I’ve been looking for. I don’t think this was the first time someone from that other side opened a wormhole to our world, not at all. But it might have been the most important.”
Alex leaned over, shrinking the distance between them. “Because of me?”
“Because of what happened after. The explosion and resulting fire, young man. Whatever caused it didn’t originate with us; it originated on the other side in a desperate attempt to close the wormhole from that end before anyone else could follow you through. I’m going to assume this makes a degree of sense to you, to both of you.”
Thoughts flooded Alex’s mind, all the revelations of the past forty-eight hours that had begun with getting wrecked on the football field. He thought of his mother’s tale tucked inside Meng Po for safekeeping, proof in the form of Dr. Chu’s lab results currently squeezed into the back pocket of his new jeans, all the dots it had left dangling connected by the professor’s assertions and Laboratory Z’s work on forging wormholes in space.