Part 7 (1/2)
Four greats is a long time to wait before you can finish your thesis,” she said.
”We didn't have to wait at all,” said Time-Circle. ”Somewhere there was a minor calibration error between the forward-time channels and the back-time channels.Before we sent out the test signals, we received a response back from the future saying that all the signals had been received and giving the number of bits that had made it through each channel. They all agreed with the theoretical prediction of 864 bit-greats.”
”But suppose you had then decidednot to send the test messages into the future?” she asked.
”One of the students suggested that,” he replied. ”But I had already trod their edges on that subject early in the project. Until we have a theory for these machines so we can understand the implications of creating a paradox, we can't afford to take a chance.My guess is that every major paradox causes a bifurcation of the universe. But it would take a good theory to suggest an experiment that wouldprove that bifurcation had taken place.”
”And you have a good theory?” she asked.
”Until a few turns ago, I thought I did,” he said dejectedly. ”Now, I'm not so certain.”
”What happened?”
”After the success with the three multi-great transmissions, I had no trouble getting the grant committee to authorize the construction of a 24-channel machine with a greatly increased channel capacity in each channel. Getting the money approved took a while, and while the preliminary design work was underway the time came for the first of the transmissions to be received, the one sent over two greats of turns. The two ex-students as well as members of the grant committee were there as the message came out of the machine from two greats in the past, and they watched as I measured the bit count and sent the confirmation back to myself in the past. I should have quit then.”
”What happened?”
”Since I now had two channels free in each direction, I decided to show the committee how the Time-Comm machine worked by sending a messagesix greats into the future. As I prepared the message for the forward-time channel, I was a little surprised that the back-time channel had not already indicated the message had been received. Thinking that the differential calibration had drifted off so that the back-time channels were now shorter than the forward-time channels, I sent the message off six greats into the future and waited for a reply.”
”And?”
”It didn't come,” he said. ”I didn't find out what had happened until a great of turns later, long after the grant committee had decided to hold up on the construction of the new machine.”
They had finished eating, and the faculty dining compound was nearly empty.
”You have to get back to your work,” he said. ”I can't do anything until the next channel clears a few dozen turns from now, so you spread the fields and I'll snuggle along behind and tell you the rest of the sad story.”
She headed across the grounds of the Inst.i.tute and he switched to a soft electronic whisper that tickled through her hide.
”I was really dejected until the time came for the reception of the three-great-long message. That came through on schedule, and I sent the reply through the back-time channel. Almost as soon as the reply was on its way through the channel into the past, the channel was full again with a message from the future, eight greats away. At eight greats time distance, you can only send 108 bits of information, so the message was brief. Both the six greatand the eight great messages had been received, but the response to the six-great message had been blocked by some spontaneous emission in the back-time channel.”
”Spontaneous emission?”
”That bewildered me at first. My time communication theory, although based on the quantization of s.p.a.ce and time, didn't predict any spontaneous emission of signal energy in the channels,” he said. ”I brought in a bright theoretical student, and we soon found a third-order effect that could produce spontaneous emission of a bit pair that travels simultaneously backward and forward in time for a short period, then emerges in the receiver. Even though the 'message' is only one bit, that is enough to keep the channel from being used by any other message. It is only supposed to happen once every dozen generations or so, and it had to happen just as I needed that channel to impress the committee.”
”Did your new results get the committee to resume the work on the 24-channel machine?” she asked.
They were just as suspicious of the coincidence as I was,” he said. ”They decided to wait until we saw the noise in the channel and could learn more about it than could be sent with 108 bits. Sure enough, about 72 turns later, out came a single bit and the channel indicator registered 'Channel Occupied' for almost two greats when suddenly the back-channel was empty and a forward-channel was 'Occupied.'
Neither transmitter had activated. I a.n.a.lyzed and re-a.n.a.lyzed everything and was about to approach the committee for restarting the construction of the new machine when the final blow fell.”
Neutron-Drip stopped moving, and her edges flowed back about his in a semicircular embrace.
”Last turn I responded to an alarm and found that another back-time channel has noise in it. What is worse, it was not a single bit, but three bits with a nonsense meaning. The chance of spontaneous emission of three bits is infinitesimal. The machine has a noise source. And until we understand it, we shouldn't spend money on a larger machine. But with only four channels, it will take forever to find out what the problem is.”
”But once you find out, you can send a message back to yourself with the answer ...” she started.
”There you go, creating paradoxes again,” he said. ”If it were possible, 1 would have already done it, and 1 wouldn't be here whispering my troubles into your trailing side.” He moved around her and pushed off across the compound.
”Enough of my problems,” he said. ”How about showing me how you are going to set up that net around the East Pole to trap crustquakes?”
06:57:52 GMT TUESDAY 21 JUNE 2050.
Qui-Qui was surprised when she received a letter from the rejuvenation selection committee. She sent her acceptance message at once, then called her manager, Grey-Stone.
The picture over the video link was that of a small middle-aged male painted in the bright diagonal stripes that went out of fas.h.i.+on 20 greats ago. The already rapidly moving eye-wave pattern became even more agitated as he recognized his famous client.
”What problem have you got now?” said Grey-Stone. ”You never call me unless you've got a problem.”
”No problem at all,” said Qui-Qui. ”It's good news. I have been selected by the rejuvenation committee for treatment. Of course, the treatment takes a half-great.”
”Ahalf-great!” came the loud reply over the video link. ”You don't have a half-great free on your schedule until 2899!”
”I do now,” she replied. ”I go west for the final interview and tests two turns from now. Unless they find something that disqualifies me, I start treatment immediately after that.”
”But your contracts ...” Grey-Stone said.
”Renegotiate them,” she replied. ”Just remind them they will be getting the experience of an old, flabby Qui-Qui in the body of a young, firm Qui-Qui.”
She watched the traveling wave motion in Grey-Stone's eye-stubs slow to almost a complete halt as he pictured the image she had created.
”At twice the original fee!” he finally said.
”That's why I have you for my manager,” she replied with a rippling overtone in her tread. ”There is nothing too audacious for Grey-Stone.”
She paused, and her eye-stubs stood still while she rippled her bountiful eye-flaps in her famous gesture of shocked, innocent bewilderment.
”Of course ... it could be ... ,” she said, the ripples of her eye-flaps coming to a stop. ”That ... the treatment leaves me flat.” She flicked off the video with a chirp of amus.e.m.e.nt as Grey-Stone's eyes stood straight up in shock.
Qui-Qui programmed her housekeepers to keep her three compounds in shape while she was gone and took the Jump Loop to the West Pole Rejuvenation Center. She had been a.s.signed there to be close to her clan home of White Rock City. At the Rejuvenation Center she had no problem pa.s.sing all the physical examinations. The last step was a final interview with the senior physician in charge of the Center, Sabin-Salk. During the examinations, Qui-Qui had had plenty of time to think. Now she had some questions.
”What I don't understand,” she said, ”was why I was selected instead of some scientist or writer or musician or politician?”
”According to our evaluation, you happen to be one of the best cheela ever laid on Egg,” Sabin-Salk said matter-of-factly. ”You are an expert in communication with other cheela. With a different background or training you too could have been a writer or a musician or a politician, perhaps even a scientist, in fact, if it weren't that you are too honest to deceive people, with your intelligence, good looks, and charisma, you could probably even convince people you were a G.o.d and start a new religious cult.”
”But all I am is an entertainer,” she protested.
”I don't think even you believe that,” he said. ”To the average holovid viewer you are nothing but twelve big eye-flaps. But those who have talked with you know that behind those eye-flaps is one of the tightest brain-knots on Egg. You have a lot of friends in large compounds. Your choice was no accident.
”Now, let me take you around the treatment facility and show you what you must undergo. The procedure will not be easy.” They entered the first compound where there were a couple of robotic attendants and a lot of exercise equipment.
”First we must exercise you and feed you until you have built up a good supply of flesh in your body.
The dissolver enzymes will use that as the building material to produce support structures in the intermediate plant body. Those support structures must be of high quality or they will break in the strong gravity of Egg.”
Qui-Qui noticed someone exercising under the guidance of a robot in the far corner of the room. It was a large male, almost as large as she was. The robot spoke something to the male, who muttered curses as he increased the tempo of his exercise.