Asimov's Science Fiction: October/November 2013 by Penny Publications Page A
Authors: Penny Publications
Tags: Asimov's #453 & #454
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his questions, respectful but probing, bring into focus the bumbling ineptitude of my initial investigations and make painfully clear, though I know it isn't his intent, just how much easier things would have been if I'd told him early on.
"So you want to seriously explore teleportation?" Leonard asks at the end of my explanation.
"I do. Why—do you think it's a mistake?"
"I think I agree with you," he says, and nods. "It's just, the stakes are so high! I wish there was a way to be sure. Could we ever forgive ourselves if it fails, if Isaac is destroyed?"
"Isaac knows the risks better than anyone, and he doesn't seem to have any doubts."
One corner of his mouth lifts up. "Is Isaac capable of doubt?"
I can only shrug.
"All right, Abe," Leonard says. "Since Isaac's already done all the hard physics, I guess all that's left for us is some impossible engineering."
"Yup," I say, more grateful than ever to whatever fates sent Leonard my way.
Working side-by-side with Leonard on problems no one's tackled before is a reminder of what I've been missing in the recent years of running a large, multi-institution project. Between us, there's no pride, no ego, only intense curiosity and a willingness to bring to bear whatever methods help us get to a solution. My more physical intuition helps guide Leonard's deep mathematical thinking and his derivations motivate my designs, back and forth, like a resonating wave, with an occasional sprinkling of Isaac's quantum wizardry, so that our combined capability is not doubled but squared. After a few weeks, our concept for realizing Isaac's teleportation scheme takes root, branches out, blossoms. It is exhausting, exhilarating work, and, all too soon, it is complete—not because we're finished, but because we're out of time.
Klat-harr-rik-ik-harr, klat-harr-rik-ik-harr. Late in the evening before I go up on the final Prometheus tune-up mission, Leonard and I are running the last of our rounds of tests, simulating pieces of the teleportation protocol, when the main readout screen goes dark.
GET A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP
"Hck!" goes Leonard's throat.
I glance over—his eyebrows are doing their best to join their follicle brethren atop his head. He looks at me, squints, purses his lips, tilts his head, shrugs.
"I can see where Isaac's coming from," he says. "His life depends on us staying focused tomorrow." He pauses, then adds, "No pressure."
"Right. You know, part of the reason I went into physics over, say, medicine, is so there'd be no chance anything I worked on would ever be life-or-death. Joke's on me."
DO YOU STILL WANT TO ATTEMPT TELEPORTATION? I ask for the nth time.
YES
"You'll ask again tomorrow, before you go through with it?" I say to Leonard. "Of course. Are you hoping he'll back out at the last minute, after all we've been through?" "A part of me is. Definitely. You?" He nods. "What are we going to do, Leonard—after, I mean? If we go through with this, one way or another, after tomorrow..." "There's still the launch to prepare for. After that—tell the world and collect our
Nobel Prize?" I can't help but chuckle. "Right. That'll pass peer review." He looks over at Isaac's hardware. "We can't keep this to ourselves forever." "Let's just get through tomorrow, and then we'll worry about forever." Leonard rubs his temples. "I just wish there was a way for us to know if it works, to know if Isaac made it." He lets out a long sigh. "Have you thought about what you'd do in his place? Risk death for a chance at the greatest adventure?" "I suspect curiosity is one thing we have in common. You and I haven't risked our lives, but we've made plenty of sacrifices to devote ourselves to the most interesting problems we could think of." Leonard slowly shakes his head. "Sacrifice is a strong word," he says. "I guess there are things I've given up, but they all seemed like easy decisions. At the time, anyway." Then you've been very lucky, I think but don't say. What I do say is,
"So you want to seriously explore teleportation?" Leonard asks at the end of my explanation.
"I do. Why—do you think it's a mistake?"
"I think I agree with you," he says, and nods. "It's just, the stakes are so high! I wish there was a way to be sure. Could we ever forgive ourselves if it fails, if Isaac is destroyed?"
"Isaac knows the risks better than anyone, and he doesn't seem to have any doubts."
One corner of his mouth lifts up. "Is Isaac capable of doubt?"
I can only shrug.
"All right, Abe," Leonard says. "Since Isaac's already done all the hard physics, I guess all that's left for us is some impossible engineering."
"Yup," I say, more grateful than ever to whatever fates sent Leonard my way.
Working side-by-side with Leonard on problems no one's tackled before is a reminder of what I've been missing in the recent years of running a large, multi-institution project. Between us, there's no pride, no ego, only intense curiosity and a willingness to bring to bear whatever methods help us get to a solution. My more physical intuition helps guide Leonard's deep mathematical thinking and his derivations motivate my designs, back and forth, like a resonating wave, with an occasional sprinkling of Isaac's quantum wizardry, so that our combined capability is not doubled but squared. After a few weeks, our concept for realizing Isaac's teleportation scheme takes root, branches out, blossoms. It is exhausting, exhilarating work, and, all too soon, it is complete—not because we're finished, but because we're out of time.
Klat-harr-rik-ik-harr, klat-harr-rik-ik-harr. Late in the evening before I go up on the final Prometheus tune-up mission, Leonard and I are running the last of our rounds of tests, simulating pieces of the teleportation protocol, when the main readout screen goes dark.
GET A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP
"Hck!" goes Leonard's throat.
I glance over—his eyebrows are doing their best to join their follicle brethren atop his head. He looks at me, squints, purses his lips, tilts his head, shrugs.
"I can see where Isaac's coming from," he says. "His life depends on us staying focused tomorrow." He pauses, then adds, "No pressure."
"Right. You know, part of the reason I went into physics over, say, medicine, is so there'd be no chance anything I worked on would ever be life-or-death. Joke's on me."
DO YOU STILL WANT TO ATTEMPT TELEPORTATION? I ask for the nth time.
YES
"You'll ask again tomorrow, before you go through with it?" I say to Leonard. "Of course. Are you hoping he'll back out at the last minute, after all we've been through?" "A part of me is. Definitely. You?" He nods. "What are we going to do, Leonard—after, I mean? If we go through with this, one way or another, after tomorrow..." "There's still the launch to prepare for. After that—tell the world and collect our
Nobel Prize?" I can't help but chuckle. "Right. That'll pass peer review." He looks over at Isaac's hardware. "We can't keep this to ourselves forever." "Let's just get through tomorrow, and then we'll worry about forever." Leonard rubs his temples. "I just wish there was a way for us to know if it works, to know if Isaac made it." He lets out a long sigh. "Have you thought about what you'd do in his place? Risk death for a chance at the greatest adventure?" "I suspect curiosity is one thing we have in common. You and I haven't risked our lives, but we've made plenty of sacrifices to devote ourselves to the most interesting problems we could think of." Leonard slowly shakes his head. "Sacrifice is a strong word," he says. "I guess there are things I've given up, but they all seemed like easy decisions. At the time, anyway." Then you've been very lucky, I think but don't say. What I do say is,
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