Turbulence by Giles Foden

typical. Of all the brilliant men I met during that peculiar wartime winter, he was the most able to express his ideas with philosophical cogency. But in the end it was always blood with Brecher. I don’t know how many times I saw his serious, energetic demeanour bent down over the cue, or listened over the click of the balls to him giving voice to some theory of the blood.
    I tried to ignore him because it was all so seductive. I mean biology: you have to keep some areas of intellectual enquiry off-limits, pretending they are an uninteresting lumber room off to the left.
    Otherwise you end up wandering down a maze of interconnecting caves until you enter the cavern of the central mystery. A place filled with sublime terror, where there is regularity but no fixed criteria for judging it; a place where you know theterms in which the mystery might be stated but not what it actually is. I suppose knowing the horror of this is the price of the relativity Ryman and other more famous thinkers have bought for humankind.
    At the time I had no such fears. ‘I’m actually hoping to work with Ryman,’ I said. ‘He lives up here. I wondered if you had come into contact with him. Sir Peter Vaward, our director, said you may be able to help me in this regard.’
    Pyke’s eyes widened. ‘Ryman … yes, I knew he was in these parts. The king of turbulence! I once went to a fascinating seminar he gave – we were at Cambridge together – but I’ve never met him socially. Not sure I can be of any use to you.’ He knelt down and rubbed the sea lion behind the ears. ‘I thought Ryman was a conscientious objector, anyway. Wouldn’t have anything to do with the war. How come he’s letting you work with him?’
    â€˜It’s a bit complicated,’ I said, thinking on my feet.
    â€˜Mind you, I might need your help myself,’ said Pyke. ‘With a fluid dynamics problem …’
    â€˜Involving sea lions?’ I asked, bemused.
    Pyke laughed. ‘No. Another project. Lev works in all weathers.’
    The animal opened its mouth to display a ferocious looking set of teeth. ‘He can see in low light, which allows him to dive very deeply.’ I looked doubtfully into the sea-lion’s cloudy eyes.
    â€˜There’s another team training dolphins, down in Devon,’ his trainer continued. ‘At Ilfracombe. Teaching them to carry tools to divers. They’re also using them for hydrodynamic studies, to improve the performance of torpedoes. Lev here, his job will be to find mines on ships and be a prophylactic against attacks by frogmen.’ Pyke talked very freely, I thought again.
    The sea lion roared, as if in appreciation of his master’s voice. It was a spine-tingling noise at such close quarters andthe beast’s breath did not exactly make you want to kiss it. But when he flapped his Tibetan ears, all the fearsomeness went out of him.
    â€˜Toss him another herring, Julius,’ said Pyke.
    The other man did so. ‘Human and animal in perfect harmony,’ he said as he threw it.
    â€˜Julius is an idealist,’ said Pyke. ‘But now and then he stoops to earth. He’s using crystallography to uncover the structure of haemoglobin. The secret of life is hidden there, isn’t it so, Julius?’
    Brecher pulled a face, then shrugged.
    â€˜In blood?’ I prompted.
    â€˜In blood,’ said Brecher. ‘And other proteins. Cells in general. After the war it will be the job of scientists to unlock that secret more fully. We will be like explorers looking for a new continent.’
    â€˜Inspiring, isn’t he?’ said Pyke, slapping Brecher on the back. ‘I keep asking him to join Combined Ops, but he won’t. Why don’t you come to Canada with me, Julius, to work on Habbakuk?’
    â€˜Habbakuk?’ I asked.
    â€˜Ah, sorry, old chap, that’s the other project. Can’t say too much about it