Greg." He ran thick fingers through his hair. "I've been working evenings as well as days–may as well use the light–and I'm probably tired.
But mainly I'm frustrated. I keep getting noise and it scrambles up the signals."
A sudden flurry of subdued activity in the lab caught their attention.
The technicians who had been casually chatting a minute before were now looking purposeful and prepared. Peterson was threading his way across the lab floor. He came to the door of Hunfredo's office and nodded curtly to the two men.
"Sorry I'm late, Dr. Renfrew," he said, offering no explanation, "Shall we start on it right away?"
As Peterson turned towards the lab again, Markham noticed with mild surprise the caked mud on his elegant shoes, as though he had been walking in ploughed fields.
It was 10:47 a.m. Renfrew began tapping slowly on the signal key.
Markham and Peterson stood behind him. Technicians monitored other output from the experiment and made adjustments.
"It's this easy to send a message?" Peterson asked.
"Simple Morse," Markham said.
"I see, to maximize the chances of its being decoded."
"Damn!" Renfrew suddenly stood up. "Noise level has increased again."
Markham leaned over and looked at the oscilloscope face. The trace danced and jiggled, a scared random field. "How can there be that much noise in a chilled indium sample?" Markham asked.
"Christ, I don't know. We've had trouble like this all along."
"It can't be thermal."
"Transmission is impossible with this going on?" Peterson put in.
"Of course," Renfrew said irritably. "Broadens the tachyon resonance line and muddles up the signal."
"Then the experiment can't work?"
"Bloody hell, I didn't say that. There's just a holdup. I'm sure I can find the problem."
A technician called down from the platform above. "Mr. Peterson?
Telephone call, says it's urgent."
"Oh, all right." Peterson hastened up the metal stairway and was gone.
Renfrew conferred with some technicians, checked readings himself, and fretted away several minutes. Markham stood peering at the oscilloscope trace.
"Any idea what it could be?" he called to Renfrew.
"Heat leak, possibly. Maybe the sample isn't well insulated from shocks, either."
"You mean people walking around the room, that sort of thing?"
Renfrew shrugged and went on with his work. Greg rubbed a thumbnail against his lower lip and studied the yellow noise spectrum on the green oscilloscope screen. After a moment he asked, "Have you got a correlator you could use on this rig?"
Renfrew stopped for a moment, thinking. "No, none here. We have no use for one."
"I'd like to see if there is any structure we could bring out of that noise."
"Well, I suppose we could do that. Take a while to scrounge up something suitable."
Peterson appeared overhead. "Sorry, I'm going to have to go to a secured telephone. Something's come up." Renfrew turned without saying anything. Markham climbed the stairway.
"I think there will be a delay in the experiment, anyway."
"Ah, good. I don't want to return to London just yet, without seeing it through. But I'll have to talk to some people on a confidential telephone line. There's one in Cambridge. It will probably take an hour or so."
"Things are that bad?"
"Seems so. That large diatom bloom off the South American coast, Atlantic side, appears to be expanding out of control."
"Bloom?"
"Biologist's word. It means the phytoplankton are coming to terms with the chlorinated hydrocarbons we've been using in fertilizer. But there's something more to this one. The technical people are scrambling to find out how this case differs from the earlier, smaller effects on the ocean food chain."
"I see. Can we do anything about it?"
"I don't know. The Americans have some controlled experiments in the Indian Ocean, but I gather progress is slow."
"Well, I won't keep you from the telephone. I've got something to work on, an idea about John's experiment. Say, do you know the Whim?"
"Yes, it's in
But mainly I'm frustrated. I keep getting noise and it scrambles up the signals."
A sudden flurry of subdued activity in the lab caught their attention.
The technicians who had been casually chatting a minute before were now looking purposeful and prepared. Peterson was threading his way across the lab floor. He came to the door of Hunfredo's office and nodded curtly to the two men.
"Sorry I'm late, Dr. Renfrew," he said, offering no explanation, "Shall we start on it right away?"
As Peterson turned towards the lab again, Markham noticed with mild surprise the caked mud on his elegant shoes, as though he had been walking in ploughed fields.
It was 10:47 a.m. Renfrew began tapping slowly on the signal key.
Markham and Peterson stood behind him. Technicians monitored other output from the experiment and made adjustments.
"It's this easy to send a message?" Peterson asked.
"Simple Morse," Markham said.
"I see, to maximize the chances of its being decoded."
"Damn!" Renfrew suddenly stood up. "Noise level has increased again."
Markham leaned over and looked at the oscilloscope face. The trace danced and jiggled, a scared random field. "How can there be that much noise in a chilled indium sample?" Markham asked.
"Christ, I don't know. We've had trouble like this all along."
"It can't be thermal."
"Transmission is impossible with this going on?" Peterson put in.
"Of course," Renfrew said irritably. "Broadens the tachyon resonance line and muddles up the signal."
"Then the experiment can't work?"
"Bloody hell, I didn't say that. There's just a holdup. I'm sure I can find the problem."
A technician called down from the platform above. "Mr. Peterson?
Telephone call, says it's urgent."
"Oh, all right." Peterson hastened up the metal stairway and was gone.
Renfrew conferred with some technicians, checked readings himself, and fretted away several minutes. Markham stood peering at the oscilloscope trace.
"Any idea what it could be?" he called to Renfrew.
"Heat leak, possibly. Maybe the sample isn't well insulated from shocks, either."
"You mean people walking around the room, that sort of thing?"
Renfrew shrugged and went on with his work. Greg rubbed a thumbnail against his lower lip and studied the yellow noise spectrum on the green oscilloscope screen. After a moment he asked, "Have you got a correlator you could use on this rig?"
Renfrew stopped for a moment, thinking. "No, none here. We have no use for one."
"I'd like to see if there is any structure we could bring out of that noise."
"Well, I suppose we could do that. Take a while to scrounge up something suitable."
Peterson appeared overhead. "Sorry, I'm going to have to go to a secured telephone. Something's come up." Renfrew turned without saying anything. Markham climbed the stairway.
"I think there will be a delay in the experiment, anyway."
"Ah, good. I don't want to return to London just yet, without seeing it through. But I'll have to talk to some people on a confidential telephone line. There's one in Cambridge. It will probably take an hour or so."
"Things are that bad?"
"Seems so. That large diatom bloom off the South American coast, Atlantic side, appears to be expanding out of control."
"Bloom?"
"Biologist's word. It means the phytoplankton are coming to terms with the chlorinated hydrocarbons we've been using in fertilizer. But there's something more to this one. The technical people are scrambling to find out how this case differs from the earlier, smaller effects on the ocean food chain."
"I see. Can we do anything about it?"
"I don't know. The Americans have some controlled experiments in the Indian Ocean, but I gather progress is slow."
"Well, I won't keep you from the telephone. I've got something to work on, an idea about John's experiment. Say, do you know the Whim?"
"Yes, it's in
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