Timescape. Part 17

Wait. Two points, Gordon." She ticked them off.

"One, I didn't arrange any meeting. Maybe Cliff was looking for us, but I didn't know about it. h.e.l.l, I didn't even know he was around here. Two---Gordon, do you think our getting married will solve anything?""Well, I feel that--""Because I don't want to, Gordon. I don't want to marry you at all."

He came up out of the muggy press of late summer in the subway and emerged into the only slightly less compacted heat of 116th Street. This entrance and exit were relatively new. He dimly remembered an old cast-iron kiosk which, until the early '50s, ushered students into the rumbling depths. It stood between two swift lanes of traffic, providing a neat Darwinian selection pressure against undue mental concentration. Here, students with their minds stuffed chock full of Einstein and Mendel and Hawthorne often had their trajectories abruptly altered by Hudsons and DeSotos and Fords.Gordon walked along 116th Street, glancing at his watch. He had refused to give a seminar on this, his fist return to his Alma Mater since receiving his'doctorate; still, he did not want to be late for his appointment with Claudia Zinnes. She was a kindly woman $ 2 !.

who had barely escaped WarSaw as the n.a.z.is were entering it, but he remembered her impatience with late students. He hurried by South Field. To his left students cl.u.s.tered on the shallow steps of Low Library.

Gordon headed for the physics building, perspiring from the effort of carrying his big brown suitcase. Among a knot of students he thought he Saw a familiar face."David! Hey, David!" he called. But the man turned away quickly and walked in the opposite' direction.

Gordon shrugged. Maybe Selig didn't want to see an old cla.s.smate; he always had been an odd bird.Come to think of it, everything here now seemed a little bit odd, like a photograph of a friend with something retouched. In the ellow summer light the buildings looked a little more scruffy, the people wan and pale, the gutters slightly deeper in trash. A block away a drunk lounged on a doorstep, drinking from something in a brown paper bag. Gordon picked up his pace and hurried inside. Maybe he had been in California too long; everything that wasn't crisp and new struck him as used up.Claudia Zinnes was unchanged. Behind her warm eyes lurked a glinting intelligence, distant and amused. Gordon spent the afternoon with her, describing his experiments, comparing his apparatus and techniques with her laboratory. She knew of spontaneous resonance and Saul Shriffer and the rest. She found it "interesting," she said, the standard word that committed you to nothing. When Gordon asked her to try to duplicate the exper'tment with Cooper, at'

first she brushed aside the idea. She was busy, there were many students, the time on the big nuclear resonance magnets was all booked up, there was no money. Gordon pointed out how similar one of her present setups was to his own; simple modifications would make it identical. She argued that she didn't have a sample of indium antimonide good enough.

He produced five good samples, little slabs of gray: here, use them any way you want. She arched an eye- 3 s2 Gregory Ben fordbrow. He found himself slipping into a persona he had forgotten--pushy yid schoolboy, hustling the teacher for a better grade. Claudia Zinnes knew these routines as well as anybody living, but.gradually his pressure piqued her interest. Maybe there was something to the spontaneous resonance effect after all.

Who could tell, now that the waters around 'it had been muddied so? She gazed at him with the warm brown eyes and said, "It's not for that you want me to Bu-a warning finger--let the curves speak for themselves.

He smiled and made little jokes and felt a little eerie, living in his student persona again, but somehow it all came together and worked. Claudia Zinnes slipped from "maybe" and "if" to "when" and then, seemingly without noticing the transition, she was scheduling some time on the NMR rig in September and October She asked after some of his cla.s.smates, where they were, what sort of jobs. He saw suddenly that she had a true affection for the young people who pa.s.sed through her hands and out into the world. As she left she patted his arm, brushed some lint from his damp summer jacket.As he walked away across South Field he remembered the undergraduate awe that ran through him in those first four long, hard years. Columbia was impressive. Its faculty was world famous, the buildings and laboratories imposing. Never had he suspected that the place might be a mill grinding out intelligent trolls willing and able to wire the circuits, draw the diagrams, to spin the humming wheels of industry. Never had he thought that inst.i.tutions could stand or fall because of the vagaries of a few individuals, a few tininspected biases. Never. Religions do not teach doubt.

He took a taxi crosstown. The cab banged into potholes on some of the side streets, a jarring contrast s * s with California's smooth boulevards. He was just as glad Penny had refused to come; the city wasn't at its best on the grill of August.

They had been tense with each other since the marriage thing came up. Maybe a short separation would help. Let the whole subject drift downstream into the past. Gordon watched the blur of faces going by outside. There was an earthen hum here, like the sound the IRT made going under Broadway.. The hollow, heavy rumble seemed to him strangel; threatening with its casual reminder of other people going about their other lives, totally ignorant of nuclear nagnetic resonance and enigmatic sun-tanned Cali-ornians.

His obsessions were merely his, not universal.

And he realized that every time he tried to focus on Penny his mind skittered awa)5 into the safe recesses of the spontaneous resonance muddle. So much for being captain of his fate.

He got out of the cab into the street where he grew up, blinking in the watery sunlight. Same beat-up trash cans adding their perfume, same grillwork, same Grundweiss grocery down the corner. Dark-eyed young housewives toting bags, herding their chattering children. The women were conservatively dressed, the only hint of undercurrents being their broad, lipsticked, sensuous mouths. Men in gray business suits hurrying by, black hair cropped short.

His mother was on the landing, arms spread wide, as he came up. He gave her a good-son kiss. When he came into the old living room with its funny, close flavors--'t's in the furniture, the stuffing, it's with us for life," she said, as though the stuffing was immortal--it washed over him. He decided to just let everything go. Let her tell him the months of carefully stored gossip, show the engagement pictures of distant relatives, cook him "a good home meal, for once"--chopped liver, and kugel and fianken. They listened to calypso rhythms on the ancient brown Motorola in the corner. Later they went down to see the Grundweisses"He tells me three times, bring $ 2, Gregory Ben fordthat boy down. I'll give him an apple like before"-- * and around the block, ha'fling friends, discussing seriously the statistics of earthquakes, heaving a softball into the waning summer light for a bunch of kids playing in a lot. The next day, just from that one throw--"Can you believe it?"--his arm was sore.He stayed two days. His sister came over, cheerful and busy and oddly calm. Her dark eyebrows moved with each arch of a sentence, each surge of her face, making dancing parentheses. Friends dropped by.

Gordon went all the way over to 70th Street to get some California wine for these occasions, but he was the only one who drank more than a gla.s.s. Still, they talked and joked with as much animation as any La Jolla c.o.c.ktail party, proving alcohol an unnecessary lu2 bricant.Except his mother. She ran out 'of neighborhood news soon enough and then relied on his friends or his sister to carry the conversation. Alone with him, she said little. He found himself slowly drawn into this vacuum. The apartment had been thick with talk as he grew up, except in the last times of his father, and a silence here unnerved him. Gordon told his mother about the battle over his work. Of Saul Shriffer. (No, she had not seen the TV news, but she heard. She wrote him, remember?) Of spontaneous resonance. Of Tulare's warning. And finally, of Penny.

His mother didn't, wouldn't, couldn't believe a girl would turn down a man like her son. What could she be thinking of, to do that? Gordon found this response unexpectedly pleasing; he had forgotten the ab'tlity of mothers to sh.o.r.e up sons' egos. He confessed to her that somehow he had gotten into the habit of thinking he and Penny would settle into something more conventional ("respectable," his mother corrected). It had come as a surprise that'Penny wasn't thinking in parallel.

Something had happened to him then. He tried to explain it to. his mother. She made the familiar, encouraging sounds. "Maybe, I don't know, it wasPenny I wanted to hold on to, now that everything 2 selse is going kaput ..." But that wasn't quite what he meant, either: He knew the words were false as soon as they were out. His mother picked up on them, though. "So she doesn't know what's what, this is a surprise? I tried to tell you that." Gordon shook his head, sipping tea, confused. It was no use, he saw. H was all jumbled up inside and he suddenly didn t want to talk about Penny any more. He started on the physics again and his mother clattered the spoons and teapot with fresh energ 'smiling, "Good work, yes, that's good for you now. Show her what she's lost by-" and on she went, longer than Gordon wanted.

He felt a momentum building in him, an urgency. He Veered from these muddy matters of women. As his mother's voice droned in the heavy air he thought about Claudia Zinnes. He shuffled numbers and wpment in his head. He was making some plans en her phrases gradually penetrated: she thoughthe was leaving Penny. "Huh?" he sputtexl, and she said blankly, 'Well, after that girl rejected you--" An argument followed. It reminded him far too much of the debates over when he had to be home from dates, and what he wore, and all the other small things that finally drove him to an apachixent of his own. It ended with the same sad shaking of the head, the "You are fartootst, Gordon, fartootst..." He changed the subject, wanted to call up Uncle Herb. ''He is in Ma.s.sachusetts.

He bought a consignment of hats cheap, now aOeS up there to spread them around The market .fell poosh when Kennedy wouldn't wear one, you know,but your uncle figures in New England the men, their heads are cold." She made more tea, they went for a'

walk. The silences widened between them. Gordon made no attempt to bridge them. His mother was aboil over Penny, he could see that, but he'd had enough. He could stay longer, but the spreading silences promised more trouble. He stayed overnight, took her to an off-Broadway play and topped it off with crpes at Henry VIII's. The next morning he caught the 8:28 United for the coast.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EiGHT.

AUGUST.

12, ! 963.

COOPER LOOKED DOUBTFUL. "YOU THINK THIS IS.enough?""For now, yeah. Who knows?"--Gordon shrugged--"Maybe for good, too.""I at least ought to fill in some of the high field observations.""Not that important.""After what that committee did to me, I want to be sure "''More data isn't th.e answer. You need more background reading, more a.n.a.lysis of your data, thingslike that. Not more numbers churning out of the lab."

"You sure?"''You can close out your run by tomorrow."* "Umm. Well, okay."

In reality, Cooper probably could strengthen his case with more data. Gordon had always disliked the practice of overmeasuring every effect, though, 3 2 7.mostly because he suspected it deadened the imagination.

After' while you saw only what you expected to see. How could he be sure Cooper was really taking all the data as it came?This was a justifiable reason for b.u.mping Coopert, off the NMR rig, but that wasn't why Gordon did it.Claudia Zinnes would be starting up in September. Ifshe found anything anomalous, Gordon wanted to be*.

running simultaneously.Gordon came home from the lab hungry. Pennyhad already eaten and was watching the 11 o'clocknews. "Want anything?" he called from the kitchen.. "No.""What's that you're watching?""March on Washington.""Uh?""Martin Luther King. You know."He hadn't been paying any attention to the news.He asked nothing more; discussing politics withPenny would only set her off. She had been elabo-rately casual since he had returned. There was anodd truce between them, not a peace."Hey," he called, coming into the living room,which was lit only by the pale electric glow of theTV. "Dishwasher won't go on.""Uh huh." She didn't turn her head."Did you call?""No. You, for once.""I did last.""Well,/'m not. Hate that. Let it be broke.""YOu spend more time with it than me.""That'll change, too.""What?""Not busting a.s.s to fix meals any more.""Didn't think you had.""How'd you know. You couldn't fry b.u.t.ter.""Two points off for credibility," he said lightly.'"You know I can cook some things, anyway.""Come on."

3 2 a Gregory Ben ford"I'm serious," he said sharply. "I'm going to be in the lab a lot and--""Loud and prolonged applause.""For Chrissake.""I won't be here much, so."

"Neither will I except in and out."

"Least you're doing something now.""c.r.a.p, that's not what you're on the rag about."

"Metaphorical rag?""Real rag, metawhatever rag--how do I know?"

"I thought you thought maybe real rag. Otherwise maybe you would've touched me since you got back.""Oh.""Didn't notice, huh?"

Grimly: "I noticed."

"Okay, why?""Wasn't thinking about it, I guess."

"Think about it."

''you know, busy.""Think I don't know? Come on, Gordon. I saw your face when you got off that plane, We were going to have a drink at the E1 Cortez, look at the city.

Lunch.""Okay. Look, I need dinner.""You dinner, I'll watch the speech.""Good. Wine?""Sure. Enough for later?""Later?""My mother should've taught me to be more direct.

Later, when we f.u.c.k.""Oh, yes. f.u.c.k we will."They did. It wasn't very good.

Gordon broke Cooper's experiment down to the basic components. Then he rebuilt it. He checked each piece for shielding, looking for any way an unsuspected signal could get into the circuitry. He had *.

3 2 o most of it rea.s.sembled when Saul Shriffer appeared, unannounced in the lab."Gordon! I was just at UCLA and thought I'd drop by.""Oh, hi," Gordon murmured, wiping his hands on an oily cloth. A man with a camera followed Saul into the lab."This is Alex Paturskl, from Life. They're .doing a piece on exobiology.""I'd appreciate a few shots," Paturski said. Gordon murmured yeah, sure, and Paturski quickly brought in reflecting screens and camera gear. Saul talked about the reaction to his announcement. "Dreadful example of closed minds," Saul said. "n.o.body is following up our lead. I can't get anyone in the astronomical community to give the idea five seconds."

Gordon concurred, and decided not to tell Saul about Claudia Zinnes. Paturski circled them, clicking and bobbing. "Turn this way a little more, eh?" and Saul would do as directed. Gordon followed suit, wishing he wore something more than a T-shirt and jeans.

This was, of course, the one day he had not worn his usual slacks and Oxford broadcloth."Great, gentlemen, just great," Paturski said in conclusion. Saul inspected the experiment a moment.

Gordon showed him some preliminary warmup traces he'd taken. Sensitivity was low but the curves were obviously clean resonance lines."Too bad. More results could open this whole thing up again, you know." Saul studied him. "Letme know if you see anything, okay?""Don't hold your breath.""No, I suppose not." Saul appeared momentarily dejected. "I really thought there was something to it, too."'"Maybe there is.""Yes. Yes, of course, perhaps there is." He brightened.

"Don't get the idea that it's all over, eh? When it's died out a little, and people have stopped hooting with laughter at the very idea--well, it'll make a 3 3 o Gregory Ben fordgood article. Maybe. something for Science t.i.tled 'Tlt-ing at Orthodox Windmills.' That might go over."

"Well, Alex and I have to be off. We're going up through Escondido to Palomar.""Doing some observing there?" Gordon asked casually."No. No, I don't do the observations, you know.

I'm more an idea man. Alex wants to take some pic-tures, that's all. It's an awesome place.""Oh yes."In a moment they were gone and he could get back to his experiment.

The first day Gordon got the NMR rig back on the air there were signal-to-noise problems. On the second day stray leakage waves clouded the results. One of the indium antimonide samples acted funny and he had to cycle the rig down, dump the cold bath and pull the defective sample. That took hours. Only on the third day did the resonance curves begin to look right. They were rea.s.suringly accurate. They fit theory quite well, within the crossbars of experimental error. Beautiful, Gordon thought. Beautiful and dull. He kept the rig running all day, in part to be sure the electronics stayed stable. He found he could take care of ordinary business--coaching Cooper; making up lecture notes for the coming semester; cutting the tiny gray indium antimonide bars on the hot-wire, oil-immersion setup---and duck into the lab for a quick NMR measurement every hour or two. He settled into a routine. Things got done. The curves remained normal.

"Professor Bernstein?" the woman said, her voice pitched high and grating. He wondered idly .if her accent was midwestern. "Yes," he said into the telephone.

3 3 I."This is Adele Morrison with Senior ScholasticMagazine. We.-are doing a major piece on the, uh,claim you and Professor Shriffer have made. We aretreating it as an example of controversy in science. Iwondered--""Why?""Pardon?""Why bring it up? I'd prefer you just forgot about.i.t."

/."Well, Professor Bernstein, I don't know, I Pro-fessor Shriffer was most cooperative. He said he thought our readership--which is high school Se-ni0rs, you know--would learn a great deal from such a study.""I'm not so sure of that."

"Well, Professor, I'm afraid I'm only an a.s.sistant editor here, I dofi't make policy. I believe the article is--yes, here, it's already in galley form. It's mostly an interview with your colleague, Professor Shriffer." "Uh huh."The voice rose higher. "I was asked to see if you had any final comment on the, uh, status of the, uh, controversy. We could add it to the galleys now if---" "No. Nothing to say."

"You're sure?

The editor asked me to""I'm sure. Let it go as is."''Well, all right. We have several other professors quoted in the article and they make some very critical comments. I thought you should know that."For a moment it tempted him. He could ask their names and listen to the quotations and frame some reply. The woman was waiting, the phone spitting that faint hiss of long distance. He blinked. She was good; she'd almost hooked him into it. "No, they can say what they like. Let Saul carry this one." He hung up. Let the scholastic seniors of this great nation think whatever they wanted. He only hoped the article wouldn't increase the rate of crank visits.

2 The summer sun bleached everything into a flatness stripped of perspective. Penny came in from surfing and plopped down beside Gordon. "Too many wipeouts," she explained. "Rip tide, too. Kept sucking me into the pilings.""Running is a lot safer," he observed."And boring.""But not worthless.""Maybe. Oh, that reminds me I'm going up to see my parents some time soon. I'd go before cla.s.ses,but Dad is off on some business trip.""What reminded you of that?""Huh? Oh. Well, you said running wasn't worthless, and I remembered that I had a student last semester who used the longest word in the English language, deliberately, in a paper I was grading. It's 'floccinaucinihilipilification.' It means 'the act of esti-mating as worthless.'""Um. Really."'/eah, and I had to look the d.a.m.n thing up. It isn't in any American dictionary, but I found it in theOxford English.""And?""That's the dictionary my Daddy gave me."

Gordon smiled and lay back on the sand, hoisting an Esquire up to blot out the sun. 'ou're a highly nonlinear lady."''Whatever that means.""It's a compliment, believe me."

''Well?"

''Well what?""Do you want to go up to Oakland with me or not?"'at's what this is about?""Despite your attempts to avoid it, yes.""Attempts to--? Penny, you've been reading toomuch Kafka. Yes, sure, I'll go."''When?""How should I knoW? It's your trip, your parents."

She nodded. An odd, pinched expression ap- TIMESCAPE.

peared on her face, then vanished. Gordon wondered what she was eeling but he knew no simple way to ask. He opened his mouth to begin a fumbling approach, and then gave up. Was going to Oakland part of the courtship dance, taking the boy home to be viewed? Maybe that was only an east coast phenomenon; he wasn't sure. After announcing that she didn't want to marry him, and then staying on and living with him as though things would just keep going that way, Penny had become an utter mystery to him. Gordon sighed to himself, giving up on the whole subject.He read for a few minutes and then said, "Hey, it says here the Test Ban Treaty is in effect.""Sure," Penny murmured, rolling over from her drowsy sleep in the sun. "Kennedy signed it months ago.""I must've missed it." Gordon thought of Dyson and Orion, a strangely appealing dream that was now dead. n.o.body was going to get out to the planets right away; the s.p.a.ce program would limp along on liquid fuel rockets. It struck Gordon that the times were pressing in now. New ideas and new people were coming into the old La Jolla of Chandler's day.

The same Kennedy who had pushed the Test Ban and killed Orion was also federalizing the Alabama National Guard, to stop George Wallace from using them against the desegregation program. Medgar Evers had been killed just a few months before.

There was a feeling running through the country now, that things had to change.Gordon tossed the magazine aside. He rolled over beneath the sun's broiling and began to doze off. A sea breeze brought a sour reek of the rotting kelp bank farther down the beach. He wrinkled his nose.

The h.e.l.l with the press of the times. Politics is for the moment, Einstein said once. An equation is for eternity.

If he had to choose sides, Gordon was on the side of the equations.

: 3 a Gregory Ben ford That evening he took Penny out to dinner and then dancing at the E1 Cortez. It wasn't the sort of thing he usually did, but the strange, stretching tension between them needed attention. They talked during dinner. Over drinks afterward, he began, "Penny, the thing between us, it's complicated ..." She replied, "No, it's complex." He hesitated and murmured, "Well, okay, but ..." She said sharply, "There's a difference."

And for some reason that made him angry.

He decided to shut up, let the evening go on in the mindless, evening-out-with-the-wifey way she seemed to like. It was odd how she could be a very intelligent, uncompromising literature student one moment, and then in the next come on as ordinary, middle-America, relentlessly oatmeal. Maybe she was part of this time, of things changing.They danced only to the slow numbers. She moved deftly, lightly, in a slim pink dress. He wore heavy black shoes left over from New York and now and then would miss the beat. The male vocalist sang, in a bluesy voice, "People stay, just a little bit longer We wanna play, just a little bit more." Penny suddenly hugged him to her with remarkably strong arms. "Sam Cooke," she murmured into his ear He didn't know what she meant. The idea of knowing who had composed a certain pop song seemed, well, faintly incredible.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

'AUGUST 28, 1963.

THE.

NOISE LEVEL IN THE NMR MEASUREMENTS.began to rise. Each day it was a little higher. Usually Gordon would notice' the change in the first data-taking of the morning. He attributed it at first to the slow failure of a component. Repeated checking of the obvious points in the circuitry turned up nothing.

Testing of the non.o.bvious didn't help, either. Each day the noise was worse. At first Gordon thought this might be a new sort of "spontaneous resonance"

effect. The signal was too choppy to tell, though. He spent more time trying to lower the signal/noise ratio.

Gradually it came to take up most of his working day. He began to come in nights. He would sit before the on-line oscilloscope and watch the traces. Once, when he had a meeting early the next morning, he.

slept overnight in the lab. A Fourier decomposition of the noise spectrum showed certain harmonic components, but this clue led nowhere. Meanwhile, the phase-averaged noise level rose.

3 - 6 "Gordon? This is Claudia Zinnes."

"Oh, h.e.l.lo. I hadn't expected to hear from you so soon."

"We have had some delays. This's and thats's.

Nothing fundamental, but I wanted you to know we should be on the air within a week."

"Good. I hope . ."

'Wes. Yes."A Santa Ana wind was blowing outside. It pushed with a dry, heavy hand through the low coastal mountain pa.s.ses, bringing the desert's p.r.i.c.kly touch.

Brush fires broke out in the hills. The red wind, some natives called it. To Gordon, sealed in his air-conditioned lab, it was a mild surprise as he left for home late at night; the air seemed thick and layered, ruffling his hair.

He remembered this hot, dry touch the next day as he walked across to the chemistry building. Ramsey, unable to reach him in his office, had left a message with Joyce, the department secretary. Gordon crossed between the buiIdings on the ornate hexagonal tiered bridge. Entering the land of chemistry brought a sweet-sour aroma, too strong and many-flavored for the air system's whine to banish. He found Ramsey in a forest of flasks and tubes, talking quickly and ureCisely to a graduate student. Ramsey t.i.trated a so-tion as he spvke, pointing out color shifts, adding a drop of milky stuff at a crucial moment. Gordon found a welcome chair and sagged into it. This jungle of clamps and slides and retorts seemed possessed of more life than a physics lab; the knocking of pumps and ticldng of timers was a complicated heart, pacing Ramsey's earnest search. On the wall hung a chart of the gigantic molecular chain that. carbon dioxide descends to become carbohydrate; a ladder forged by photons. A liquid scintillation counter a ?

muttered, tocktocking through a series of isotopically labeled flasks. Gordon shifted, finding a ledge to lean on, and toppled a Lily cup. Nothing spilled. He in, spected it and found a sludge of coffee, thick as glue and mottled by mold. All things here were alive. He had a sudden vision of this gla.s.sy palace as a wilderness of nucleic acids, responding to the dry brush of red wind outside. His NMR lab seemed silent and sterile by comparison. His experiments were insulated from the pulse of the world. For the biochemists, though, life cooperated in the study of itself.

Ramsey himself looked more vital, squinting and hovering and talking, an animal padding through the 'lanes of this chemical jungle."Sorry, Gordon,. had to finish that--say, you look kinda worn out. This weather got you down, fella?"Gordon shook his head and rose, following Ramsey to a side office. A slight giddiness swarmed through him. Must be the air in here, he thought. That, and the Santa Ana, and his shallow, momentary sleep of the night before.Ramsey was already several sentences ahead of him before Gordon registered the fact. "What?" he said, his voice a croak from the dryness."I said, the clues were all there. I was just tooblind to see them,""Clues?""At first I was just looking for preliminary data.

You know, something to kick off a grant, get the funding agencies interested. Defense, I guess. But that's the point, Gordon--this is bigger than DODnow. NSF should go for it.""Why?""It's big, that's why. That line, 'enters molecular simulation regime begins imitating host'--that's the giveaway. I took a solution like the one that message described. You know, land runoff stuff, pesticides, some heavy metals--cadmium, nickel, mercury.

Threw in some long-chain molecules, too. Had a grad student make them up. Latt.i.tine chain, like the mes- s $ 8 sage said. Got a friend at DuPont to loan me some oftheir experimental long-chain samples.""Could you find the labeling numbers the mes- sage gave?"Ramsey frowned. "Nope, that's the puzzler. Thisbuddy of mine says they don't have anything calledthat. And Springfield claims they don't have anAD45 pesticide, either. Your signal must've gotmessed up there.""So you couldn't duplicate it.""Not exactlyrebut who needs exactly? What theselong-chain babies are is versatile."'qcIow can you be---""Look, I took the batches down to Scripps. TookHussinger out to lunch, talked up the project. Gothim to give me some sea water testing troughs.They're first cla.s.s< p="">

"Sure, only that's a later stage. Those long-chainb.a.s.t.a.r.ds go like Poncho, I tell ya. That sea waterstarted out ordinary, super-saturated with oxygen.After two months we started getting funny readingson the oxygen column. That's a measurement of theoxygen budget in a vertical column of water, maybethirty meters high. Then the plankton started to go.Just c.r.a.pped out on us--dead, or funny new forms.""How?"Ramsey shrugged. 'Your message says 'virus im-printing.' Mumbo-jumbo, I think. What's virus got todo with sea water?""What has a pesticide got to do with plankton?""Yeah, good point. We don't know. That otherphrase you had--'can then convert plankton neurojacket into its own chemical form using ambient oxy-gen content until level falls to values fatal to most ofthe higher food chain'--sounds like somebodyknows, right?"

3 3 o "Apparently."'Yeah, 'cuse that's smack on what we found."

"It scavenges the oxygen?""And how." He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "Spreads like a sonofab.i.t.c.h, too. That mixture turns the plankton into itself, seems like. Makes some pretty lethal side products, too--chlorinated benzenes, polychlorinated biphenyls, all kinds of c.r.a.p. Have a squint at this."A photograph, produced with a flourish from a folder. A lean fish on a concrete slab, eyes'glazed. Its lips bulged, green and laced with filaments of blue.

A pale sore beneath the gills."Lip cancers, a.s.symetries, tumors--Hussinger turned white when he saw what it did to his sample stock. See, he usually doesn't worry about pathogens getting into the troughs. Sea water is cold and salty.

It kills disease-carriers, all except some ..."Gordon noticed the pause. "Except what?"

"Except some viruses, Hussinger said.""Uh huh. 'Virus imprinting.' And these fish---""Hussingr isolated my troughs and stopped it.

All my sample fish died."The two men stared at each other. "I wonder who's using it down in the Amazon," Ramsey said softly."Russians?" The possibility now seemed quite real to Gordon."Where's the strategic advantage?""Maybe it's some kind of accident.""I dunno ... You still don't know why you're get-ting this over your NMR rig?""No.""That Saul Shriffer c.r.a.p"Gordon waved it away. "Not my idea. Forget it.""We can't forget this." Ramsey held up the fish photo."No, we can't.""Hussinger wants to publish right away.""Go ahead."

3 4 o Gregory Ben ford''you sure this isn't a DOD thing you're working on?"'q/o, look--that was your idea.""You didn't knock it down."'qet's say I didn't want to expose my source. You can see what happened when Shriffer got hold of it.""Yeah." Ramsey peered at him, a distant and a.s.sessing look. ''you're pretty sly."Gordon thought this was unfair. "You brought upthe DOD angle. I said nothing.', .

"Okay, okay. Tricky, though.Gordon wondered if Ramsey was thinking to himself, Shifty Jew. But he caught himself as he thought it.