... A Short Story

The colloquium had been an outstanding success. Physicists from across the continent had gathered at Stanford to hear Angelo Zifferelli, visiting professor from the University of Turin, discuss the results of a series of unique experiments allowing him to alter the electrical charge of an electron.

Fourteen years after the electron had been discovered by J. J. Thompson in 1897, Ernest Rutherford determined this minute part of an atom carried a negative electrical charge. In time, scientists learned for every negatively charged electron, there was a corresponding positively charged proton which, along with electrically neutral neutrons, formed the core or nucleus of the atom.

They also learned matter on the atomic level did not behave like matter observed by scientists like Isaac Newton. When Newton measured natural forces, he was certain the outcome applied to any situation of which he could conceive. When physicists in the 1920s measured atomic forces, they were never certain.

Professor Zifferelli had used dice as his example of the probability problem of subatomic physics − perhaps because of Einstein’s oft-quoted “God does not play dice with the universe.” He explained when a gambler throws dice, he had none of the details of the throw, of the dice themselves, nor of the table upon which the dice were thrown. The ignorance of these details precluded predicting an exact outcome of the throw. Oh, you could calculate the probability of snake-eyes, but that was a simple mathematical probability; nothing like predicting the behavior of electrons, protons, and neutrons. In the world of quantum mechanics, the physics developed to explain the nature of atoms, natural laws governing the decay of a neutron, for example, were inherently probabilistic. Scientists did not lack the details of what happened; they were not ignorant of the process. There was simply no way to say when the neutron would decay into an electron and proton. All they could say was it was probable the neutron would decay within, say, in the next instant and in the next twenty-five minutes or so.
 
The same probability, Zifferelli continued, applies to the sun. “Our average-size star has a probable lifetime of ten billion years. It has already burned for half that time. So you would think it would burn for another five billion years, but you’d be wrong. Because of its atomic nature, the sun’s lifetime is only a probability. It could continue its thermonuclear reactions for five billion years, or it could already have begun expanding to its red giant phase, the first phase of its death. If that were the case, we’d know the answer in about eight minutes, the time it takes for light from the sun to reach earth. ”

But Professor Zifferelli had not come to Stanford to talk about the sun or improbable activities within an atom. He had come to talk about something much smaller − the electron.

“With so much uncertainty in the behavior of atoms, we wonder why there are particular measurements we make that are constant,” he said, noting the speed of light and the force of gravity as examples.

“The electron’s charge and its mass − along with the mass of the proton − are also constants,” Zifferelli said. “If you were to measure these dimensions of any atom anywhere in the physical universe they would be identical, within of course the accuracy of the instrument used to measure them.

“Why,” he continued, “these particular phenomena are constant, we do not know. Why the electron has a negative charge of one point six, oh, two, one, seven, seven, seven, three, three times ten to the minus nineteen coulomb, we do not know.” 

For those who don’t understand scientific notation, 1.60277733 X 10^-19 coulomb can be written thus: take 160277733 coulomb − the measure of electric charge − and put a decimal point and eighteen zeros in front of it. It’s an incredibly small number, but it doesn’t change no matter which electron you measure, and there are billions, and billions, and billions of electrons in the universe.

“What we do know is this,” Zifferelli said. “If the observed charge of an electron were much different than it is, the conditions in the universe permitting the development of life would not have occurred. And there would be no humans to observe that charge.”

That was true, of course, until the professor from Turin had devised an experiment that would allow him to double the charge of an electron. He had his apparatus in a lab at Stanford, but for his colleagues in the lecture hall, he showed a video. As the DVD played, Zifferelli narrated.

“It is elementary for all of you, but let me simply state, if the charge of an electron were doubled, by the nature of the force involved, the atom would shrink to one-quarter of its present size. The twelve-foot ceiling in this room would be reduced to three feet. But, unfortunately, there would be no eighteen-inch-tall Angelo Zifferelli standing here talking to you. Perhaps some other form of life would have evolved, but it wouldn’t be us.

“We wanted to see if it were indeed possible to create atoms only a quarter of their normal size. And, if we could, imagine the practical applications of this special form of matter to electronics, medicine, and many other fields of endeavor. That is what my associates and I set about in my laboratory in Turin to find.”

The video dissolved from images of the lab and its apparatus to a computer screen across which flowed a series of numbers. To the average person, they were just that − a series of numbers. But to the men and women in the lecture hall, they were exhilarating, intoxicating, almost overwhelming. They were a revelation as shocking as Archimedes’ discovery that a body immersed in water is buoyed up by a force equal to the weight of the fluid it displaced − or Copernicus’ declaration the sun, and not the earth, was the center of the solar system. Indeed, Professor Zifferelli had managed to shrink the size of an atom of hydrogen to one quarter its original dimensions by doubling the charge on its single electron. Trial after trial after trial flashed on the computer screen; the results never varied. Everyone in the room was certain when the Nobel prizes were next announced, Angelo Zifferelli would be the sole recipient of the prize for physics.

Following the lecture, some of the senior faculty at Stanford wanted to witness firsthand the experiment conducted by Zifferelli, and the professor was enough of an egotist to accommodate them without thinking their skepticism an insult.

Early next morning, the scientists gathered in the lab crowding around the boxy apparatus consisting of a cluster of wires and tubes and cables hooked to a cylindrical reaction chamber . Zifferelli was assisted by two doctoral candidates, namely Yitzhak Lindlemann and Harrison Bridghampton, III. Both were from New York; Lindlemann from the Bronx, Bridghampton from St. James, Long Island. Both had been exceptional undergraduate students at Columbia and were destined to become renowned theoretical physicists.

One of the faculty observing the experiment was Dr. Robert Weldenheim, professor emeritus and the oldest educator at Stanford. He asked Zifferelli what the basis of his experiment was − what, in fact, were its mechanics.
 
“I am using the molecular beam method. But, you know, this is old technology,” the physicist said, which it indeed was. The molecular beam method was devised in 1911 by Louis Dunoyer and had been used for nearly a hundred years to coax the secrets of the atom from Nature.

“At this end of the apparatus,” Zifferelli explained, “I introduce hydrogen atoms, which − as you know − pass through the collimator, where the atoms are arranged into a parallel beam. The collimator also restricts the flow to some extent, so only a few atoms at a time cross the chamber.”

Pointing to a gun-like instrument in the middle of the vacuum chamber, Zifferelli said, “With this device I am able to inject enough energy into the single electron of hydrogen, effectively doubling its charge, which I then measure at the far end of the chamber.”
“But how do you do that?” Dr. Weldenheim asked.

“It’s all in my paper,” Zifferelli said, not wanting to get entangled in the complex mathematics that made his experiment possible.

Zifferelli and his assistants meticulously set up the experiment, checking and re-checking each detail. When he was convinced everything was ready, Zifferelli asked Dr. Weldenheim to press the button commencing the experiment. It was a great honor and, with a slightly palsied hand, the old man pushed the button. Nothing happened for a few moments as the hydrogen atoms silently slipped into the chamber along their predetermined path. Then there was a buzz and a flash of blue light from the apparatus. Then silence. All eyes turned to the computer screen where the readouts had begun to scroll. Again, as they had seen in the DVD, the numbers proved Zifferelli had doubled the charge of the electron, thus reducing the atom to a quarter of its normal size. Everyone applauded as if they had heard a perfect rendition of Bach or had seen the last dab of paint applied to the Sistine Chapel.

As the applause subsided, Zifferelli overheard Bridghampton asking Lindlemann, “What do you suppose would happen, if Ziff reduced the charge by half?”

“Humph,” Zifferelli interrupted. “Mr. Bridghampton?”

Harry blushed at being caught in his side comments.

“Perhaps you’d like to share your question with all of us. It is, after all, relevant to our general discussion.”

Harry cleared his throat. “I was just asking Iz what would happen if, instead of doubling the charge, you cut it in half.”

“Do you have an answer, Mr. Lindlemann?” Zifferelli pressed.

“The obvious answer,” Lindlemann said, “is the hydrogen atom would increase in size by a factor of four. It would, in fact, be four times larger than it is now but, since the hydrogen atom is so small, I expect all we’d see is another set of numbers on the screen.”

Just then, the carillon across campus chimed eight o’clock. Most of the faculty had teaching obligations. They thanked Professor Zifferelli for his demonstration and said they would see him later that evening at a reception so students and the community could meet the paragon of physics from Italy. Harry and Iz set about helping the professor secure his experiment, turning off power and disconnecting tubes and wires and things.

“Do you really think you would quadruple the size of a hydrogen atom just by cutting the electron’s charge in half?” Lindlemann asked Zifferelli.

The older man shrugged. “Who knows? It’s theoretically possible, but no one’s ever tried it.”

“Couldn’t you do that with your apparatus ... and find out? After all, you did say the atom is so small, quadrupling its size would hardly take up any more room than you now have in your reaction chamber.”

“Actually,” Zifferelli pointed out, “you said that, but I suppose it could be done. Just remember, experiments explore the unknown. It often doesn’t pay to be hasty. There could be consequences you cannot imagine and would not expect − consequences that are not always beneficial or advantageous. You will recall, when the United States detonated the first atomic bomb in New Mexico, Enrico Fermi was convinced it would ignite the entire atmosphere.”

“You mean, it’s dangerous to play God,” Lindlemann said.

“You could put it that way.”

“But isn’t that what physicists do all the time?”

“Only the incautious ones, my young friend,” Zifferelli said.

Sometime after the apparatus had been packed away and the scientists had left the lab, Harry caught up with Iz at the student union. Iz, as usual, had a cold meal in front of him. As usual he was more involved digesting a dauntingly complex article on theoretical physics than his hamburger and fries. Harry slid into the booth across from his friend. Iz looked up from his journal. He had seen that look on Harry’s face before; it usually meant mischief.

“What’s up?”

“I think we ought to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Modify Zifferelli’s experiment and halve the charge on an electron.”

“You crazy!”

“No, man. Think about it. He’s only done half the job and he doesn’t seem interested in doing more.”

“So?”

“So, we do it,” Harry whispered conspiratorially. “And we get the credit. We could use it for our dissertation. We’d get our degrees that much faster. It could kick start our careers. It might even get us a Nobel.”

“You’re dreaming.”

Harry shook his head. “No. I’m serious, Iz. I’m going to do it. What I want to know is, are you with me in this?”

“You know what we’d have to do?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “We’d have to borrow Zifferelli’s apparatus.”

“More like steal it.”

“No. We’d only borrow it. After we run our experiment, we’d give it back.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Iz. It’s our big chance.”

“How would we do it?”

“Did you read his paper?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. So?”

“I’ve spent the last couple hours crunching numbers. Based on his equations, I got most of it figured out. We’d only have to make a few minor changes to the equipment, basically reversing the process he used to double the charge. And I know exactly where we could do it.”

“Where?”

“There’s a cavern in Nevada. The government dug it when they were considering burying nuclear waste there, but it didn’t work out. Now it’s just a big hole in the mountain.”

                           * * *
“And you’re sure nothing else was stolen.” The detective walked slowly around the jumbled mess that had been an orderly laboratory a few days earlier.

“Only my apparatus,” Zifferelli said. “That’s all they took.”

“They? You think there was more than one person involved in this break in?”

“I think my two assistants, Lindlemann and Bridghampton, stole my experiment.”

“That would make this an inside job, professor,” the detective said. “From my experience, this place has all the appearances of forced entry.”

“They did this to make it look like outsiders.”

“Really. But, look at the door. Look at the books and papers pulled off the shelves. Look at all the stuff that’s been busted up. These guys were looking for something, professor. Did you have something of value here? Computer files? Some kind of rare metal? Maybe a stash of money ...?” He left his question hang in the air.

“Do you not consider my experiment valuable?”

“I don’t know anything about it. Could they fence it somewhere for cash?”

“Materially, it is only worth a few hundred dollars. I doubt anyone but a recycler would be interested and he would only offer a few cents a pound for the metal. Its value is in what it does, not what it’s made of.”

“If you say it’s valuable, then it must be ... at least to you. But, I keep thinking there’s got to be more to this.”

“I expect there is,” Zifferelli said. “And when you find Lindlemann and Bridghampton, you’ll find my apparatus and the answer to why they took it.”

“You have any idea where they may have gone? Where we can look for them?”

“Not really,” Zifferelli said. “But they will want to be totally alone. So,
I would suggest you begin looking for a large place where there are few people.”
“How large? Bigger than this room?”

“Oh, much bigger. And not necessarily a room or a building, but someplace sheltered, where they won’t be seen, where they won’t easily be found.”

                           * * *
“This better work,” Iz said. “Or we’re going to have the shortest careers in the history of physics.”

“You worry too much,” Harry said.

The two young scientists had carefully removed Zifferelli’s apparatus from the lab at Stanford late one night. Then they had trashed the room to make it look like someone who didn’t know what was there had broken in. They had piled everything they needed − lights, generator, food and other essentials into the bed of a rented pickup and had driven for the second time to the cavern in the Nevada Sierras. On their first trip, they had scouted the site and installed a fuel tank for the generator and water tank big enough to support them for the few days they’d be there.

After unloading all their equipment, they had parked the truck nearly a mile away, hidden in an arroyo, and had walked backwards most of the way back to the cave, sweeping away their tracks. Satisfied no one would spot them, they had set up the lights and their camp. They had worked continuously since then to set up their experiment and modify Zifferelli’s energy gun. Because of the uncertainty of what they were attempting, they built a metal cage and wired it so it carried a positive electrical charge strong enough to repel any errant negative charge they might create. The cage served as their control room from which they captured and analyzed data on a sophisticated network of computers.

Knowing they had limited time before someone figured out where they were, they had not stopped for meals, instead grabbing snacks whenever they could. They also had slept but a couple hours at a time and usually one of them continued work while the other slept so as not to slow their preparations. Now everything was ready.

“You’re sure you’ve got the math right, Harry?” Iz demanded.

“You checked the equations yourself. The math is right. The gun is right. When we shoot those hydrogen atoms, we’ll cut the electronic charge in half.”

“And then what?”

“What do you mean, what?”

“What happens when the hydrogen atoms get four times bigger?”

“Come on, Iz,” Harry chided. “You know as well as I do, there’s mostly space between an electron and a proton.”

“Yeah, I know relative to the size of the electron and proton, there’s more space between them than between the earth and sun.”

“So what’s the problem?” Harry asked. “That vacuum chamber is mostly space. It can hold a lot fat hydrogen, Iz.”

“I’m sorry, Harry. I guess I’m just being silly.”

“No, man. We’re driving straight into the unknown. I’ve got butterflies myself. It’s only natural to wonder what the outcome will be.”

“So what will it be?”

“The gun will blast. We’ll see the burst of blue light. And then nothing.”

“Nothing, Harry?”

“Until the numbers show up on the computer. Then you’ll see. If the people at the colloquium were impressed with Zifferelli’s numbers, wait until they see ours.”

They were using a simple hydrogen generator, one that used electrolysis to separate hydrogen and oxygen from water. They released the oxygen to the back of the cavern, far enough away it would not contaminate their work or prove to be a fire hazard. Pure hydrogen flowed into a holding tank, from which they could extract it in a continuous, thin stream and direct it into the molecular beam chamber. Their power generator hummed near the cave entrance, its exhaust vented to the outside.  It produced enough kilowatts to run their lights and their experiment.

 Harry made a few more adjustments to the apparatus.

“There. That’s done. What’d you say, man? Shall we go for it?”

Iz and Harry climbed into the metal cage and latched the door behind them. They booted their computers and powered up the apparatus.

Harry and Iz looked at each other; Harry grinned mischievously.

“Go ahead, partner,” Harry said. “The honor’s yours.”

Iz pressed the button. Its pilot light changed from red to green. They waited while the hydrogen began moving from the tank into the vacuum chamber. They heard the familiar buzz. But, instead of the blue light, there was a blinding flash that shot from the chamber. They heard a horrendous rumble an instant before the ground shook as if the earth at that moment had decided to quake. The quake was followed by a powerful shock wave that shattered the apparatus, throwing pieces in every direction, and tumbled the lights, which fell and broke, leaving them in total darkness. The explosion not only knocked out the lights but also left the two men lying unconscious in their crumpled cage.

Sometime later, Iz regained his senses and pushed back the debris of what had been the control panel. 

In the darkness, he felt around for Harry, who whimpered, “What happened?”

“Don’t know,” Iz said. “Something must have gone wrong. You OK?”

“I think so. Nothing’s broken. How about you?”

“Come on, Harry. Let’s get out of here.”

They pried the broken cage door open and crawled onto the cavern floor.
“Take hold of my hand,” Iz said.

“What! You bang you head or something?”

“It’s the only way we can keep from getting separated in this darkness. We have to climb toward the entrance,” Iz explained. “Up there.” He pointed pointlessly toward a faint patch of light high above them at the top of the ramp that led into the cavern.

“What time do you think it is?” Harry asked.

“Nighttime. If the sun were shining, the light from the entrance would be much brighter. We must have been out for hours, Harry.”

Hand in hand, they crawled like Siamese twins or like two kids in a three-legged race, only if it had been a race they would have been far too slow to finish anywhere but last.

“Phew,” Harry wheezed as they paused to catch their breath. “I don’t remember this path being this long.”

“It’s the darkness,” Iz said. “Makes it seem longer.”

“That − and the fact every muscle in my body is complaining,” Harry complained.

By the time they reached the entrance, day had broken and light streamed into the cavern.

“Man,” Harry said. “I must have really taken a whack to the head. Is it me, or does the sun seem a lot brighter?”

“It’s brighter. And it’s giving me more of a headache than I already had. I wish I hadn’t lost my sunglasses.”

“Sunglasses?” Harry carped. “We lost everything, man.”

“Don’t remind me,” Iz growled. “Remember, this was your bight idea.”

“Too late to turn back now,” Harry said. “We’re in it up to our toenails. Come on, let’s see if we can find our way home.”

“Or what’s left of it.”

No sooner had Harry and Iz stepped out of the cavern, then they winced under a booming voice that declared ... “So. There you two are.”

If Harry had measured it, the huge voice would have exceeded 120 decibels, well above the threshold of pain. He covered his ears with his hands, squeezed his eyes shut, and waited for the throbbing in his head to subside.

When he finally squinted from one eye, he saw Iz looking up, his mouth hanging open in utter astonishment. Slowly Harry turned to see what his friend was staring at.

There, before them, was an angry Angelo Zifferelli, standing tall − twenty-four feet tall.

“It worked, Harry,” Iz whispered. “Better than we ever imagined.”

“Sort of,” Harry said. “But I think we came up a bit short.”


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