The Prometheus Project: Stranded Part 4

"Ryan's right," said Regan, taking a sip from the plastic water bottle in her hand. "There isn't a fourth dimension. It's a trick question. The universe ran out of dimensions after three."

"You may be right," said her father. "But then again, one of the most popular theories in modern physics suggests there are as many as 10 or 11 dimensions." He smiled. "So I'll tell you the answer. You would have to move in a direction that no human has ever been able to visualize. A direction that no human has ever moved in. A direction that isn't north, south, east or west. Or up and down. Or anything in between."

Ryan frowned. "There is no such direction," he said in annoyance. "It's ridiculous."

"Just because we can't imagine such a direction doesn't necessarily mean it doesn't exist. But even if we can't visualize the fourth dimension, there are still ways we can understand some of its properties. Understand how beings living there would interact with us-with poor humans that can only sense three dimensions."

Ryan shook his head. "I'm still going with the 'you lost your mind' thing," he said.

Their father looked amused. "The best way to grasp some of the possibilities," he said, "is to try a thought experiment."

"A thought experiment?" repeated Ryan questioningly.

"Yes. An experiment you do in your mind only. Using nothing but your imagination. It's an enormously powerful tool in physics. Some of Einstein's greatest breakthroughs were the result of using this technique. The thought experiments we'll be doing first appeared in a book written by an English schoolmaster, Edwin Abbott, in 1884. A book called Flatland.

"Abbott figured the best way to understand how we would appear to fourth dimensional beings," continued Mr. Resnick, "is to think about how beings living in lower dimensions would appear to us. So he imagined a kingdom that existed in a universe with only one dimension. He called this Lineland. And he imagined a kingdom that existed in a universe with only two dimensions. He called this Flatland."

Mr. Resnick raised his eyebrows. "So if there were a kingdom of people that existed in a universe with only one dimension, what would that kingdom be like?"

The siblings looked at each other perplexed. "I have no idea," said Ryan for them both.

"Well, in Lineland, all the inhabitants would be line segments. And they could never change their order. Here, I'll show you what I mean."

He picked up a black marker and pulled off its cap with a loud pop. He went to the whiteboard and began writing squeakily.

Ben Resnick gave his kids a few seconds to digest his drawing and then, pointing to the line segment labeled, "The Queen," he continued. "For example, if you were the Queen, you'd be stuck between the Court Jester and the King. Forever. Without any width dimension you couldn't pa.s.s anyone-if you tried you would just slam into them. Like two trains trying to pa.s.s each other on the same track. Now if you could make use of the second dimension-move side to side-you could just move to a different track, so to speak, and easily get by. But a Linelander can't. Their entire universe exists on a single line and they have no awareness of anything outside of this line."

Mr. Resnick capped the marker and slid it onto the tray at the bottom of the whiteboard. He motioned to his desk. "I'm not a very good artist, so let's move to my computer," he said.

They walked a few yards to his gla.s.s-topped desk, on which sat a sleek laptop computer connected to a thirty-six inch monitor. In less than a minute of searching he found a cartoon drawing that would demonstrate his point and put it up on the screen.

Both kids smiled broadly and barely managed not to laugh when they saw it.

"Dad couldn't draw that?" broadcast Ryan. "Really?"

"We're lucky Dad has such a powerful computer," replied Regan sarcastically.

"So this brings us to Flatland," continued Mr. Resnick, unaware that his kids were teasing him telepathically. "Flatland exists in a 2D universe. So think of Flatland as a giant piece of flat notebook paper. And Flatlanders-who appear as circle-people in the figure-are totally, well ... flat. Flatlanders have no idea there is such a thing as up or down. They can only look and move in sideways directions. So if a Flatland dad suggested to his kids there might be another direction to move in, other than back and forth and sideways, they would tell him he was crazy. Impossible, they would say. There is no such direction, they would say. To us 3D beings, the up direction is obvious. But to the poor 2D Flatlanders, no matter how much you told them about the up direction and described what it was like, they couldn't even begin to imagine it."

"Like we can't even begin to imagine what direction the fourth dimension would be in," said Regan.

"Exactly," said Mr. Resnick happily. "And since their universe exists in only two dimensions, Flatlanders are completely unable to lift themselves off the page. Not even a billionth of an inch. Just like we're unable to move even a billionth of an inch in the direction of the fourth dimension. Whatever direction that is. But unlike people living in the line universe, at least Flatlanders can move past each other."

Regan raised her eyebrows. "That must be a relief," she said playfully.

Regan dropped her empty yogurt container and spoon into a small wastebasket nearby. Ryan decided he was done eating also and did the same with his spoon, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the lid closed on the jar he had been holding and setting it down on one of the few empty s.p.a.ces on his father's desk.

Ben Resnick walked to the whiteboard once again and motioned for his kids to follow. "The key point is that the fewer dimensions you perceive and can operate in, the more limited you are." He hastily drew another diagram on the board.

"So here you see a Flatlander eyeing a bank vault."

"How is that a bank vault?" protested Ryan. "It's just a square. And it's not enclosed."

"Good point," said Mr. Resnick. "It doesn't have a roof. Why do you think that is?"

Regan's eyes widened. Could it be that this was finally beginning to make some kind of bizarre sense to her? "Because it can't have a roof," she said. "Because you can't have any height in Flatland. A roof has to go over something. But there is no such thing as over or under in Flatland."

"You've got it," said her father. "But it doesn't need a roof. Flatlanders have no way to see what's inside the vault. And they can't climb over the line blocking them from the money. So unless they can break through one of the walls there is no way they can get into this vault. But we live and move in the third dimension. So we could get the money. Easily," he said. "We could just reach in from above and grab it. Everyone in Flatland would think the theft was impossible. Like magic. But what seems impossible in one dimension can be laughably easy in a higher dimension."

Ryan scratched his head. "So everything you're saying about Flatland would be true for us also."

His father nodded. "Yes. That's exactly the point of this thought experiment."

"So someone living in the fourth dimension could rob one of our locked vaults," said Ryan. "Just as easily as we could steal from a Flatland vault."

"Very good," said Mr. Resnick, nodding enthusiastically. "Even if our vault had four walls, a floor and a ceiling that were all made of three-foot-thick steel. The Flatlanders can't possibly imagine that their vault is wide open from above. To them there is no above. Same with us. Our sealed vault seems absolutely closed and impenetrable to us. But it would be wide open when viewed from the fourth dimension. And when our money disappeared from a closed vault, we would think it was magic."

"Are you understanding any of this?" asked Ryan.

"I don't know," replied Regan. "But Dad was right. This stuff is making my brain hurt."

"So let's perform a thought experiment that wasn't in Abbott's book," continued Mr. Resnick.

He scribbled on the board once again and said, "Here I've drawn a three-dimensional object, shaped like a wedge of cheese.

"Notice how only its top edge is touching Flatland. So which part of this 3D object would the Flatlanders see?"

Regan rolled her eyes. "Dad, you drew one of the lines thicker than the rest and you have an arrow pointing to it. So I'm going to say they'd only see that." She pointed to her father's drawing. "Are those little circles supposed to be Flatlanders?" she said in amus.e.m.e.nt.

Mr. Resnick smiled with his eyes. "I'm afraid so. Now you see why I went into science and not art. Anyway, that's right, the Flatlanders would see only a line. Now if you and I were standing on Flatland, we could look down over the edge and see the cheese wedge. But not Flatlanders. They can't perceive anything above or below them. The wedge is there-they just have no way of looking in that particular direction. Are you with me?"

Both kids nodded.

"Let's suppose that one day a few Flatlanders stumble upon this line and measure it very, very carefully. Suppose they even name it." His eyes twinkled. "Let's say they call it Prometheus."

He drew a second figure next to his first.

"So now they enter this line right where I have the arrow pointing, and spread out. Notice that the precise point where they enter is part of both Flatland and the surface of the cheese wedge that is facing us."

Mr. Resnick capped the black marker and slid it onto the tray at the bottom of the whiteboard once again.

"So now, as far as the Flatlanders know, they're still on Flatland. They still perceive everything as being in two-dimensions. They have no idea they're now on the surface of a three-dimensional object. One that is touching their realm. All they know is that they're stepping onto a small line that they've measured over and over again. And when they do they're suddenly roaming around a surface that gives them hundreds of times more s.p.a.ce than they expected when they entered."

Ryan was straining so hard to understand he thought his head would explode. "So you're saying you think this is what is going on with us. That our Prometheus touches upon the very edge of a higher dimension."

"Exactly. The Flatlanders in the drawing are roaming around on a two-dimensional surface of a three-dimensional object. We're roaming around on a three-dimensional surface of a four-dimensional object. And just like the Flatlanders, we perceive a city vastly bigger than the measurements we take of it from the outside. And also like the Flatlanders, we can only perceive the three-dimensional piece that's touching us. Which is a hollow, hockey-puck shaped hole carved out of the earth far under Brewster."

Ryan scratched his head, perhaps hoping to stimulate his brain, and his sister appeared to be in a trance as she considered all that their father had said.

"I think I'm getting some of this," said Regan, "but there's a lot that still isn't sinking in."

"Same here," said Ryan.

"Don't worry," said their father. "If any of this makes sense to you you're doing well. Flatlanders can't imagine an up or a down direction. How can they? They live in a two-dimensional universe. Only if you lifted them off the page, so they could see Flatland from above, would they be able to understand. Well, we're just like them. Our minds can't possibly imagine where this fourth spatial dimension might be. And there's no one to lift us off the page, so to speak." He paused. "So you see-"

An outer door burst open and the tall, athletic figure of Captain Dan Walpus charged into the lab. His blue cotton shirt was in tatters. "There's been an emergency, Ben," he said breathlessly. "I need one of your Med-Pens right away."

Mr. Resnick stared at Dan with his mouth open. "Amanda has them," he said, trying to shift mental gears as quickly as he could. "She's packing them for our trip to Isis."

"Where is she?" asked Dan urgently.

"I'll get her," said Ryan, rushing off without waiting for a reply. As much as he wanted to know what had happened there was clearly no time to waste, and he was the fastest member of his family.

"Hurry!" called Dan after him. He turned back to Ben Resnick. "Dr. Harris has been shot," he said, deeply shaken. "In the Enigma building."

Regan gasped while her father shrank back in shock and disbelief. "What?" he croaked thinly. "How can that be?"

As far as Mr. Resnick knew, Dr. Harris didn't have an enemy in the world. He was unanimously seen as a great man with a brilliant mind and gentle soul. A wise and sensible leader who was respected by all. But even if he was widely hated, everyone who was part of the Prometheus Project had undergone extensive psychological testing. All those who had the slightest violent tendencies or were the slightest bit unstable had been weeded out. Or at least they were supposed to have been.

"Will he make it?" whispered Mr. Resnick, unable to keep from wincing as he prepared for the worst.

Dan shook his head. "It doesn't look good," he said grimly. "And, Ben ... there's something else you should know."

From the expression on Dan's face it was clear he was about to deliver more bad news. Ben Resnick took a deep breath and mentally braced himself for another shock.

The tall, square-jawed captain stared at him without blinking. "The Enigma Cube," he said uneasily. "It's missing."

CHAPTER 7.

Lockdown

The entire Resnick family returned to the Enigma building with Dan Walpus. Dr Harris's body was well concealed behind a row of equipment. His thick gla.s.ses had been dislodged from his face when he had fallen. Splattered blood had turned parts of his white hair and beard a dirty red.

When Dan had discovered Dr. Harris, he had torn strips of cloth from his shirt and tied them over the gaping bullet wound in Dr. Harris's shoulder. Amanda Resnick knelt over him and pointed a Med-Pen at these blood-soaked, makeshift bandages, far too horrified and focused to marvel at the uncanny color changes that danced across the alien device. Without the Med-Pen his chances of survival were zero. Even with the device, Mrs. Resnick knew that his chances were not good.

A tear escaped the corner of her eye and rolled slowly down her face, and the eyes of her husband and two children were moist as well. They all held great affection for Dr. Harris, and now there was a chance they would lose him forever.

Dr. Frank Lopez, one of the team's three medical doctors, raced into the building wheeling a gleaming stainless steel gurney. He pushed two fingers into the carotid artery in Dr. Harris's neck for five seconds. "I'm feeling a pulse," he announced, "but it's very weak." He fitted an oxygen mask over Dr. Harris's face and Dan helped him to gently lift the leader of the Prometheus Project onto the gurney. Without another word Frank Lopez rushed his patient outside to a Hauler that had been outfitted as an ambulance.

Two other members of security now manned the door, each carrying an automatic weapon, ensuring the Resnick family and Dan Walpus wouldn't be disturbed. Ben and Amanda Resnick had become the highest-ranking scientists on the team after Dr. Harris, and this was the only reason Ryan and Regan were allowed to stay in the building.

All in all, Dr. Harris had been lucky. Dan had just happened to be near enough to the Enigma building to hear the gunshot. Whoever had pulled the trigger was gone when he arrived, but he had had no time for pursuit. Because he had heard the shot he had searched the entire room and found the well-concealed victim. He did the best he could to bandage Dr. Harris's wound, but knew he had to get an alien medical device as quickly as possible.

And that meant the Resnicks.

Since there was no cell phone reception deep underground, team members were issued personal walkie-talkies with individual frequencies. But the Resnicks had theirs turned off. Fortunately their labs were only two miles away. He had rushed to get them, barking orders to the security team and calling for a doctor as he drove.

"Where's Carl?" asked Mr. Resnick, forcing himself to focus on the emergency at hand and not the fate of Dr. Harris.

"At his parents' anniversary party in Colorado. I'm the ranking member of security in his absence."

"Is he on his way here?"

Dan shook his head. "No. I've put us in lockdown mode. No calls in, no calls out. No one enters Prometheus. No one leaves. Frank will be allowed to take Dr. Harris topside once he's stabilized so he can be flown to a hospital. But that's the only exception. The head of the project has been shot. And if that's not bad enough, an alien artifact that is potentially the most dangerous yet discovered is missing. This is a threat of unknown proportions," he said. "And I'm taking it very, very seriously."

"Good," said Mr. Resnick approvingly. "I couldn't agree more." He looked over to where the Enigma Cube had rested on the floor less than an hour before. "I know the word impossible is overused in this city, but the Enigma Cube simply can't be missing. It can't be. We estimate it weighs 200,000 pounds. It's not the sort of thing you just put in your pocket and run off with."

"What kind of equipment would it take to lift something like that?" asked Dan.

"None that we have around here," replied Mr. Resnick. "Some of the heavy duty machinery used to dig out the cavern next to Prometheus might be capable of it. Might be. But you could never fit it through the entrance."

Dan Walpus clenched his teeth, unable to suppress his fury any longer. "Then we'll just have to ask whoever moved it how it was done," he growled. "Because I'm going to find the person responsible for this before the weekend is out."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Mrs. Resnick.

"Whoever did this is still in the city. And they're not going anywhere. Our computers keep track of the number of people within Prometheus at any given time. As of this moment, there are 628 people here. One of these 628 is the shooter. If we can't account for someone, we'll sweep the city with sensitive heat and motion sensors and find them. There will be no hiding from us."

"What if they go off-planet?" asked Regan.

Dan shook his head. "They would have to go through the zoo building. I posted a guard at the entrance within minutes of hearing the gunshot. I also had Miguel, who was manning headquarters, verify the location of all my security personnel. None of them were near the Enigma building when this happened. I'm positive."

"That was smart," said Mr. Resnick. "At least now we know we can trust security. A lockdown isn't very effective if the person guarding the exit is the bad guy."

Dan sighed. "Well, we're sure no one from security shot Dr. Harris. It's still possible that someone from security is working with the person who did."

"Thanks," said Mrs. Resnick, rolling her eyes. "Now I feel better."

"We need to keep this bottled up," said Dan. "Other than the members of my security team, your family and Frank Lopez are the only ones who know this happened. I'll ask all of you to keep it that way. I was lucky to find Dr. Harris so quickly. The longer the culprit thinks we haven't discovered the crime, the better."

Dan frowned. "And there's something else," he said. "If word gets out there's a killer among us, it will incite panic. Everyone will suspect everyone else. And whoever did this might think their only chance of escape is to take hostages."

"So now what?" asked Mr. Resnick.

"We need to question everyone in Prometheus while they're hooked up to a lie detector. Everyone here has agreed to submit to such questioning in emergency situations. I'll want to do this one at a time-again, to reduce the chances of hostage-taking. And I'll need to be as careful as possible so as not to arouse suspicion. This might take a while, but it can't be helped."